Wildstar

by Nicole Jordan

"Mr. Sommers, when people try to kill me, I get a bit upset. When I'm forced to go back on my word, I like it even less. I promised you I'd protect your daughter, and she nearly died. I'm not about to walk away now. I'm sur­prised you would consider it, either. I didn't think you were the kind of man to accept defeat."

  "I told you, it's Jess I'm worried about."

  "So am I. But I'll handle Burke and his hired guns, this time for good."

  "You mind telling me how you plan to do that?"

  "By making it in his best interest to leave the Wildstar alone." And he would fight this war on his own terms, us­ing all the weapons at his disposal, not just the pitiful re­sources Riley Sommers possessed. "If it would make you more comfortable, we'll draw up a contract specifying that you can buy back my quarter interest a year from now for the same price, plus ten percent. Once the Wildstar has be­gun showing a profit, you shouldn't have any trouble with that financing."

  Watching Devlin closely, Riley rubbed his whiskered jaw. "You look like an honest man."

  "Thank you," he said with a wry twist of his lips.

  "No offense meant. I just need to be sure I'm doing the right thing. It's my daughter's future, maybe her life we're talking about."

  Devlin waited.

  "You wouldn't maybe be doing this for Jess, would you?"

  It was as close to asking for a declaration of intentions as a father could get without coming out and demanding one.

  "That has something to do with it," Devlin said care­fully. "I admire your daughter, Mr. Sommers. She has more determination than any woman I've ever known— and more courage as well—but sometimes hardheadedness isn't enough. She needs my help, whether she realizes it or not. And so do you. Selling me an interest in the Wildstar happens to be the easiest way to achieve our mutual goals. Either way, I'm involved for good. Burke has dynamited his last competitor."

  "I guess I'd be a fool to turn down your offer then," Riley said finally.

  Devlin flashed his slow smile. "You don't look like a fool."

  "Well, then, maybe we should shake on it." Riley reached out his hand—gingerly, because of his wound— and Devlin took it.

  "Think you could call me Garrett, partner?"

  The older man grinned. "Sure, if you'll call me Riley."

  "Good," Devlin said, satisfied. "If you're agreeable, we can go down to the claims office this afternoon and fill out the paperwork."

  "Today's Sunday. The claims office will be closed."

  "Then we'll have it opened. That's one of the advan­tages of having wealth. You can afford to do business on your own terms. I only have a few thousand cash on hand, but I can wire my bank in Chicago to transfer the rest of the money here."

  "Lord, I forgot about the money." Riley suddenly looked a bit overwhelmed, like he couldn't believe his good fortune. "I don't know what I'll do with so much all at one time."

  "You'll figure it out." Devlin took a sip of coffee. "In addition to increasing the size of the mine crew, I'd also like to hire some help for Jess at the boardinghouse. She's working herself into the ground."

  Riley's wondering look vanished as he shook his head firmly. "That'll have to be between you and Jess. I don't interfere with her business." He paused. "Jess doesn't know about you, does she?"

  "About my having money? No. I didn't see a compel­ling reason to tell her." He didn't explain why he hadn't wanted Jess to know about his wealth. But he doubted Riley would take kindly to hearing such suspicions voiced about his daughter. Especially when all the evidence sug­gested they might be unfounded. Jess had yet to respond like any other woman of Devlin's acquaintance—a trait he found both refreshing and quite often infuriating.

  "She won't be too happy to learn she's been cottoning up to a rich fellow," Riley commented.

  The memory of just how Jess had cottoned up to him last night gave Devlin a distinctly lustful surge of pleasure, a feeling that was immediately tempered by sobering real­ity. Last night had been a profound mistake. It would have been far better for both of them if she had stayed a million miles away from him. Just as it probably would have been better if he'd told her who he was. "What exactly does she have against rich fellows?"

  "Well, you see, she hasn't had too many good experi­ences with them over the years. Burke especially hasn't set much of an example. And I guess maybe I encouraged her . . . I taught her to believe that having money doesn't mean as much as having an upstanding character. Plus, her ma told her watch out for—" Riley suddenly faltered, his face coloring.

  "I've heard the stories," Devlin said gently. "From what I can tell, your wife was a wonderful woman."

  "She was. And I was damned lucky to get her. She might of been in love with Burke, but she married me," Riley added, his tone defensive.

  Devlin remained silent. He had put some of the pieces together before now. Jenny Ann had chosen Sommers over Burke, not because of love but because of what Burke wouldn't offer her. Marriage and family. Just what Jess wanted. Devlin shied away from the thought. It seemed odd, though, that Jenny Ann was still the cause of this in­tense rivalry. Ashton Burke must have felt something stronger for her than simple lust to still be holding a grudge after all these years.

  Apparently Riley was remembering those years, for his look grew distant. "I did my best for her, even if I couldn't give her any of the fancy things she deserved. If only I could've made that big strike before she died . . . I could've given her everything Burke was able to."

  The pain in his voice made Devlin uncomfortable. Fin­ishing his coffee, he rose, thinking it kinder to leave Riley alone with his memories.

  "If you'll excuse me?" he said politely. "I'd like to catch up on some of the sleep I missed last night. Will you wake me in a few hours so we can take care of our busi­ness?"

  "Sure." Riley looked up, his brow wrinkling. "Are you gonna tell me what you aim to do?"

  Devlin's smile was not a pleasant one. "It's simple. First I'm going to get the legal right to carry on this war my way. Then I'm going to have a little talk with Ashton Burke."

  Chapter 12

  The darkness was quiet and soothing. When Devlin brought a cheroot to his lips, an orange glow faintly lit up the huge bedchamber. Burke should arrive home any time now.

  Devlin was actually looking forward to the confronta­tion. Until now he'd been hampered in his actions, unable to use the vast wealth he'd accumulated over the past ten years, or the power he'd grown accustomed to wielding— because he'd wanted to keep his real purpose quiet. But now he had little to lose, with the outlaws' trail cold. And now he was every bit as determined as Jessica to terminate Burke's career of intimidation and destruction.

  He glanced absently around the shadowed bedroom as he waited. Not ostentatious but certainly opulent, with its crystal globe hanging lamps, satin gilt wallpaper, thick pat­terned carpet, and forest-green tapestry drapes. The huge four-poster bed was a masterpiece of polished walnut and rich brocade, while the comfortable, overstuffed armchair that Devlin was sitting in was covered with fine leather. Ashton Burke had excellent taste.

  The silver king also had no apparent qualms about dis­playing his wealth. His mansion was staffed with an army of liveried servants, including footmen and a butler.

  Devlin had met the butler earlier tonight. It had been a simple matter to learn of Burke's plans for the evening from Lena, and then confirm them with a formal call at Burke's residence in Georgetown, According to the butler, the Englishman was attending the opera.

  It had been more simple still to wait an hour, then climb up to a second-story window under cover of darkness and let himself in. Much of the household was asleep now, for it was well after midnight.

  Some ten minutes later Devlin heard the rattle of car­riage wheels on the street below. Eventually the murmur of voices reached him, then the sound of footsteps climb­ing the stairs. Finally the bedroom door swung open.

  The room suddenly brightened as a fair-haired gentle­man in elegant evening dress entere
d carrying a lamp. He shut the door, set the lamp down on a small table, and be­gan tugging at his cravat.

  Devlin thumbed back the hammer of his Colt.

  At the ominous click, Burke froze.

  "No sudden moves," Devlin said softly.

  Slowly the Englishman turned his head to stare into the shadows at the intruder. Gesturing with his revolver, Dev­lin indicated the adjacent chair. "Please join me for a moment, Mr. Burke."

  "At gunpoint? Is that really necessary?"

  "I have something to say to you, and I want to be cer­tain I have your undivided attention."

  After a slight hesitation, Burke moved to the other chair and sat down, crossing one elegantly clad leg over the other at the knee. "Very well, I'm listening."

  Devlin had to admire the man's coolness, but it had the effect of raising his own blood temperature. He thought of Jess the night of the cave-in—her terror, her vulnerability, her surrender—and he wanted to rearrange Burke's face with his fists. Violently.

  Resisting the temptation, Devlin lowered the revolver and laid it carefully on his lap. "I'm here to discuss the lit­tle accident at the Wildstar last night."

  "I heard about that. Yes indeed, dangerous thing, dyna­mite. My condolences to you and Miss Sommers. It cannot have been pleasant, being trapped underground."

  "Spare me the bullshit, Burke. You and I both know you arranged it."

  There was a moment of silence.

  "Very well, Mr. Devlin. Why don't you come to the point of your visit?"

  "I'm here to issue a warning. I'm now a partner in the Wildstar mine."

  There was another pause. "And this should concern me?"

  "If you have half the intelligence I credit you with, yes. Fighting me will not be the same as fighting Riley Sommers and his daughter."

  "No? And why not?"

  "Because I can afford to be ruthless. And I've had a good teacher. You told me you knew a railroad baron in Chicago by the name of Devlin. C.E. has a reputation for being remorseless in his business dealings. In fact, he could put even you to shame. I know because he's my father."

  "Indeed."

  The remark was uttered without inflection, but Devlin could almost see Burke's sharp mind churning as he di­gested this new information and recalculated the odds of success against someone of C. E. Devlin's stature.

  "My father taught me a great deal about winning re­gardless of the cost," Devlin said levelly. "And on this is­sue I intend to win."

  "I suppose you intend to tell me what it is you think you'll be winning?"

  "If you insist. I can think of only two reasons why you would want the Wildstar mine so badly that you would kill for it."

  "I did not try to kill for it, Mr. Devlin."

  Even as he issued the denial, Burke shifted in his chair—-a gesture which, if made by any other man, would have been called squirming. He actually looked distressed, Devlin realized with surprise. Was it possible the mine ex­plosion had been an accident after all?

  "The first," he continued, "is that you suspect the Wildstar of bearing rich ore. If, let's say, you happened to deliberately conceal your knowledge at the time of pur­chase so you could acquire the property at a fraction of its real value—and if, furthermore, you used intimidation tac­tics to coerce the mine owner into selling to you . . . Well, you don't need me to tell you that any court in the country would consider that fraud." "And the second reason?"

  "Which is the most likely one, in my opinion. You've struck a rich vein in the Lady J mine which belongs to the Wildstar."

  When Burke remained conspicuously silent, Devlin flashed a cool smile. "I keep a staff of expensive legal tal­ent on retainer, and they tell me some interesting facts about Colorado mining law. Whoever owns the apex of a vein owns the silver. If a lode surfaces on a man's claim, he can follow it all the way to China if he chooses, even if it passes out of bounds of his claim. Even if it crosses several claims. No one else can legally touch it. I think the Wildstar owns the apex of a vein you struck, which makes it Wildstar silver you're mining. That's why you wanted to buy out Sommers."

  Burke laced his fingers in his lap. "I suppose you have proof of these farfetched allegations?"

  "No. But I don't imagine you're willing to let a reputa­ble surveyor into the Lady J to inspect your workings in order to disprove my allegations, either."

  When Burke didn't answer, Devlin relaxed back in his chair. "Perhaps I should mention what I intend to do about my suspicions if we can't reach an agreement tonight. My first step will be to get an injunction to prevent you from mining Wildstar property further. If I bring suit, all opera­tions in the Lady J will have to halt. You won't be hauling ore out of the Lady J for a decade, if then. I'll see to it that the case is tied up in court for years. And I have the capital to withstand costly litigation, even if Sommers doesn't. My second step will be to hire my own army of gunmen and turn Silver Plume into an armed camp. As a pillar of this community, Mr. Burke, is that what you want?"

  The Englishman stared coldly.

  "Think of it, Burke . . . all those court costs and law­yers' fees, not to mention the expense of equipping an army of guards. A half million dollars in lawsuits could prove to be a drain even on your vast resources. Even if you consider it worth the cost to break Riley Sommers, you won't succeed. Because I'll be there to stop you. And I'm warning you now, if anything more happens to either Jessica Sommers or her father, or their mine . . . anything at all . . . one more accident, big or small, you're a dead man. I'll take you out personally. And if I'm not around to do it, I'll hire it done." He paused to let his words sink in. "You can't win this one, Burke. You won't win this one."

  A full minute went by while the Englishman considered his options. "What do you want from me, Mr. Devlin?" he said finally.

  "I want you to back off."

  "Very well. I agree."

  "No more attacks on the Wildstar. No more attempts to buy Sommers out."

  "I said I agree."

  Devlin's eyebrow rose. Burke's capitulation had been al­most too easy. He wondered if there was a hidden catch. "You've made a wise decision."

  The silver king's smile was dry. "When presented with unpleasant alternatives, I can be a very pragmatic man." He hesitated, looking uncomfortable again. "For what it's worth, I never meant this situation to get so out of hand. I certainly never intended anyone to be hurt."

  Devlin narrowed his eyes skeptically. "You want me to believe you had nothing to do with dynamiting the Wildstar?"

  "Yes, since it's the truth. I did instruct my mine foreman to pursue ownership of the Wildstar, but perhaps he was a bit too zealous. I have no proof that he engineered the ex­plosion, of course, but it's likely he had a hand in it."

  "You're talking about Hank Purcell?"

  "Yes."

  It was Devlin's turn to remain silent. His jaw muscles clenched as he thought of what he would do to Purcell when he caught up with him. "I trust you intend to rein him in," he said with more casualness than he felt.

  "Oh, indeed. I intend to fire him. I don't keep men in my employ who can't follow orders." The hard edge in the Englishman's clipped reply made it apparent he was quite, quite angry.

  Holstering his revolver, Devlin stood up. "Then I think our future association will be quite amiable." He touched his hat with mock politeness. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Burke. No, don't trouble yourself to get up. I'll show myself out."

  The sounds of men's voices raised in argument woke Jess from a drugged sleep. She rolled over with a groan, every muscle in her aching body feeling like it had been pounded with a drill hammer. Clem was shouting something, and oc­casionally her father's calmer tones would reply.

  Annoyed, she dragged a pillow over her head in a vain attempt to drown out the harsh noise, and tried to hold on to the fleeting snatches of the disturbing dreams she'd been having. Erotic dreams about Devlin. He was kissing her and stroking her breasts and calling her his woman. Then he mo
ved, settling his hard body between her thighs, and she opened to him, welcoming his deep thrusts with a joy that she'd never before felt—

  The argument rose to a shout.

  Unable to ignore the disturbance any longer, Jess lifted her head. She was in her own bedroom, and though the door was closed, the voices seemed to be coming from the kitchen. The room was dim.

  It was barely light outside, she realized with dismay. It had to be early Monday morning. She had slept almost a full day.

  That brought her scrambling out of bed in a hurry. Too much of a hurry, she discovered as blood rushed to her head. She stood there for a minute, swaying dizzily and seeing spots. Quite suddenly she remembered everything that had happened in the mine, and her cheeks flooded with scarlet. She hadn't been dreaming. Devlin's erotic ca­resses had been very, very real.

  Almost frantically, she brushed her tumbled hair from her eyes. Was he here in the house now? If so, could she look him in the eyes after what had happened between them? How ever would she forget the wanton intimacies they had shared?

  Getting a hold of herself, Jess straightened her shoul­ders. She'd never been a coward and wasn't about to act like one now. Besides, no one had ever died of embarrass­ment, as far as she knew. She would stick to her resolve and try to pretend that she'd never lain with Devlin in the dark, never had him moving inside her and bringing her to ecstasy, gifting her with the knowledge of what it meant to be fully a woman.

  It was a tall order.

  The argument was still going on. Hastily Jess pulled her wrapper over her nightgown and shoved her feet into her houseslippers. She had to go put an end to it before Riley and Clem came to blows.

  Opening the bedroom door, she felt her pulse begin to speed in anticipation of seeing Devlin again.

  As she made her way to the kitchen, she could hear Clem ranting. "Twenty-two years you and me been together, and this is what I got to show for it! A knife the back!"

  "Quit carrying on so," her father returned. "It won't change anything between you and me. You'll still get your twenty percent of the profits, once we start seeing any."