"Shh. Keep your voice down,” Mac instructed, still chuckling. “We're just making sure Barlow doesn't recognize her. If he does, he might bolt or attempt to carry out his original plan to kidnap her.” His voice hardened as he added, “Not that he would get away with it."
Roy continued to look dazed by the transformation. “Good idea ... I guess."
Mac reached beneath his seat and retrieved his satchel. He took the picture of Raquel out and handed it to Roy. “I want you to scout out the hotels and see if they're registered. Paradise is a fairly large town, and the conductor says there are two hotels; the Empress and the Paradise hotel.” He tapped the picture. “I don't have a picture of Barlow, but that's his lady friend."
Roy sneered at the photograph. “She don't look like no lady to me. She looks like a saloon whore.” When Mac growled a warning, Roy hastily apologized. “Sorry, Mrs. Cord. With you dressed like a man and all, I forgot to watch my mouth."
"We'll wait at the train station until you get back,” Mac said. He glanced out the window, spotting a church steeple in the distance. “Looks like we're here. Get going, and don't dawdle. If you see them, don't do or say anything, just get back here."
"I don't dawdle," Roy declared indignantly. “What are you going to do when we catch'em?"
"I'm going to get Savannah's money back, and turn them over to the sheriff."
"What about the bounty money?” Savannah asked.
"I'll collect it later."
Her lips curved in a surprisingly bitter smile. “Oh, I forgot. What's a few hundred dollars compared to the five thousand waiting on you in Angel Creek?"
Roy whistled. “Five thousand dollars! Who—"
"None of your business,” Savannah and Mac said simultaneously.
Mac fought the urge to wipe that bitter smile from her beautiful mouth by telling her that he didn't intend to collect her father's offer. But he refrained, because he wasn't quite ready to risk telling her the truth. Let her go on believing the worst for now. Sooner or later she would find out that the last thing on Mac's mind was money.
God willing, by that time she might love him just a little, and the knowledge wouldn't send her running.
* * * *
"Mac, what are you going to do about Roy?” Savannah asked as they stood guard over her mountain of trunks and hat boxes the porter had stacked on the depot platform.
Mac shifted restlessly at her question. He'd been lost in a pleasant fantasy that involved a big feather bed and a naked Savannah. “I'm not sure what you mean."
"Well, someone is bound to be worried about him. Who does he belong to? Where are his parents? Where is he from?"
"He hasn't told you anything about his past?"
Savannah shook her head, pacing from one trunk to the next. Mac was glad the station had emptied quickly, because she did not move like a man. She didn't frown like one either. Hell, there wasn't anything manly about Savannah. She was pure femininity.
"No, nothing. I've asked him, but he just clams up and gets that stubborn look in his eyes. I'm afraid for him, Mac."
"I'll look after him, don't worry. Eventually, I think he'll grow tired of tagging after me."
She paused and braced her booted foot on a trunk, her expression now thoughtful. Her long coat fell to the side, revealing a curvy length of her leg encased in his trousers, and an interesting amount of her bottom. He'd been a fool to think his clothes could hide her lush curves...
"Mac?"
"Hm?” Mac blinked and forced himself to focus on the hat box at his feet. One of many. He felt a surge of pride as he remembered that Savannah had designed each and every one.
"Do you think Daddy might be interested in adopting Roy?"
He pictured George Carrington's florid complexion, remembering how ill he looked. For a moment he thought about mentioning his suspicions to Savannah, but changed his mind. She'd probably think it was a plot he and George concocted to gain her sympathy. “It's worth a shot, I suppose."
"Will you talk to him about it?"
Mac could deny her nothing. He nodded, relieved to see Roy approaching them at a fast clip. “Well?” he demanded as Roy joined them on the platform.
Roy braced his hands on his knees and sucked in air as if his life depended on it. “He's registered at the Empress,” he finally gasped out.
"Get us a carriage for Savannah's trunks,” Mac ordered, slapping a few coins into Roy's hand.
Groaning, Roy trotted off to find a carriage.
Mac turned to find Savannah watching him. “I want you and Roy to check in at the Paradise hotel and wait for me there."
"I want to go with you."
"No."
"Why not?” She indicated her disguise with a wave of her hand. “He'll never recognize me."
"Maybe not, but Raquel might if she sees you up close."
"Then take Roy,” Savannah pleaded. “I don't want you going after Barlow alone."
"Your faith in my ability never fails to amaze me,” Mac drawled.
"Mac, I know you're good at your job, but I worry about you."
"Then you know how I feel."
"Don't change the subject."
Mac sighed. “Roy isn't experienced enough to be of help, Sav. Surely you know that?"
"I guess you're right."
He feigned amazement. “Did you just admit that I'm right?"
Her lips twitched, although she tried to look forbidding. “Don't rub it in, Mac."
"Come here and give me a good luck kiss,” he growled, feeling an uncontrollable urge to have her against him, if only for a few seconds.
"A kiss? Shouldn't we get married or something first?"
"Or something,” he muttered, pulling her unresisting body into his arms. “Sarcastic minx."
She fell against him, giggling. “Mac ... if someone sees us, they'll think you're kissing a man."
"Who cares? I know what's beneath those clothes, remember?"
Her eyelids drooped and voice grew husky as her mouth inched closer to his. “Yes, I do remember, and I'm not likely to forget."
Good, Mac thought as his lips met hers, because he knew that he would never forget. He hoped he wouldn't have to. And tonight, after Barlow and his lady friend were safely in jail, he intended to add a few more memories...
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Twenty
The door to Barlow's hotel room wasn't locked, and Mac soon discovered why.
It was empty.
The only indication that they had been there was the still rumpled bed and the stench of urine rising from the chamber pot. So, they hadn't been gone long enough for the hotel staff to clean the room.
Mac slammed his fist into his open palm. Damn! This time they'd been so close ... Who had warned them? Had Barlow known they were coming, or was his leaving just a coincidence? If only he hadn't stopped at the sheriff's office on his way to the hotel to inform the sheriff of Barlow's presence in town! The delay had been a waste of time anyway, as the sheriff had not been in.
Well, the time of Barlow's departure was one mystery he could solve, Mac decided, returning to the hotel desk clerk. “I'm looking for Ned Barlow in room twelve ... but no one answers. Has he checked out?"
The hotel clerk consulted his ledger. “Yep, he did. You just missed him by about fifteen minutes, sir.” As Mac turned away in frustration, the clerk called after him. “Oh, he left a package. Are you perchance Mackenzy Cord?"
"Yes, I am.” Mac tensed, his eyes on the package the clerk held out to him. With a bad feeling in his gut, he took it and tore away the brown paper wrapping.
It was a heavy gold locket, about an inch in diameter, and Mac knew instinctively it was the locket Barlow had taken from Savannah on the train. Barlow was taunting them, letting Mac know by leaving the locket behind that he knew they were following him.
Ignoring the curious clerk, Mac opened the locket. He recognized the tiny likeness of a younger George Carrington on one side. On the other si
de was a beautiful blonde woman who looked remarkably like Savannah. Her mother, Mac presumed. No wonder she treasured the locket. It was possibly the only picture Savannah possessed, since Sylvia Carrington had died when Savannah was very young.
He snapped the locket closed, then curled his fingers around it. Barlow would rue the day he thought to laugh in Mackenzy Cord's face. The man might be clever, but he couldn't out-fox Mac. But first ... first he needed to get Savannah to Angel Creek and out of danger. Mac wasn't so foolish that he didn't recognize a worthy foe.
After Savannah was safely settled, he would find Barlow and his clever little lady friend and help put them behind bars where they belonged.
It would be his last job as a bounty hunter.
* * * *
Confident in her disguise, Savannah watched from her position across the street as Mac emerged from the Empress Hotel. He paused on the boardwalk, looking left and right, but thankfully, he never glanced in her direction. He'd have her hide if he saw her, she knew. Nevertheless, she melted into the shadows of the porch in front of the saloon and pulled her hat low over her face.
She watched him stride off in the direction of the Paradise hotel, wondering why he was alone and what could have happened. Where was Barlow and Raquel? She hesitated, torn between the urge to take a look for herself, and sticking to her original plan to beat Mac back to the hotel. He would not only be furious to find her gone, he would be worried.
But curiosity was killing her!
Another figure emerged from the doors of the hotel and fell in behind Mac, snagging her attention. Recognizing the deputy from Jamestown—the one who had accosted her outside the hotel when she'd tried to sneak away from Mac—Savannah gasped. She quickly smothered it, reminding herself that she was supposed to be a man. The last thing she needed to do was draw attention to herself—
"If it's a shoulder you need, mine's for sale, sweetheart. And for you, I'm half price."
Too late, Savannah thought, cringing inside Roy's stifling coat at the sound of the soft, sultry voice behind her. She lowered her chin to her chest, attempting to hide her face. In a low growling voice she hoped sounded convincingly masculine, she said, “No, thanks.” Hopefully, it would be enough to—
"Don't be frightened, sweetie,” the feminine voice crooned somewhere close to her ear—too close. “If it's your first time, Alissa will teach you everything you need to know about pleasin’ a woman."
Savannah could feel her face heat up, and her ears catch fire. Apparently the whore had mistaken her mortification for shyness. She opened her mouth to respond with a more vigorous refusal when the whore's words sake in and sparked an idea. It was an outrageous, brazen ... and very, very naughty idea.
Mac would kill her if he knew she was even contemplating such a thing. So she wouldn't tell him, of course.
Slowly, Savannah straightened and faced the woman. She took her time looking her over as she gathered her courage. Surprisingly ... and sadly, Savannah realized the woman wasn't much older than she was. Shorter, with red hair and arresting green eyes, Alissa boldly displayed her wares in a bright green dress that revealed a shocking amount of bosom. Against the whiteness of her powdered face, her red lips and equally red cheeks made a garish contrast.
Beyond the woman's flagrant display of sexuality, Savannah saw her desperation ... and desolation. Granted, Savannah had wealth on her side, but she, too, had felt desolate at times. She took a deep breath. Perhaps they could help one another.
Thrusting her hand out, Savannah stated boldly, “You said you could teach me how to please a ... woman.” She took another deep, fortifying breath, inwardly cursing Mac for binding her chest too tightly. “Could you teach me how to please a man?"
Alissa's jaw dropped. She closed it. Her green eyes narrowed to mere slits. The flaming spots on her cheeks darkened. “So you're that way, are you? I should have known a pretty boy like you—"
"No! I'm not—” Savannah put a hand to her scalding cheek and looked quickly around her. The board walk in front of a saloon was not the place to be blurting out that she was a woman! “Can—do you have a place where we can talk in private ... Alissa?” When the woman looked as if she would refuse, Savannah added, “Please? I'll make it worth your while, I promise."
"All right. Follow me.” Alissa turned and started through the doors of the saloon.
Savannah's gaze widened on her retreating back as she realized where Alissa was headed. “Wait! Alissa, we're not going in there, are we?"
Alissa shot her a pitying look over her shoulder. “Honey, if you plan on making a living on your knees, you'd better get used to saloons.” She jerked her head toward the swinging doors. “This is where I work, and this is where I live. Unless you can afford a hotel room...?"
"Um, no. I'm—I'm fine.” Savannah swallowed hard and forced her numb legs to move.
Mac was going to kill her.
* * * *
Mac was going to kill Savannah.
"Tell me one more time."
"I've explained it four times, Mac!” Roy protested, shaking loose from Mac's iron grip on his shoulder. “I don't know how to say it any plainer."
When Mac continued to glare at him, Roy heaved a great, long-suffering sigh.
"Okay, okay. You left after we loaded the trunks onto the wagon, right?"
"Right."
"The moment you disappeared, Savannah made the driver stop and let her down. She said she'd be back before you got back, so I shouldn't worry."
"And where was she going?"
Roy scratched his head. “Something about finding a hat shop ... and checking out the competition, just like I said four times before."
"Don't get sassy,” Mac growled, so frustrated he felt as if he could blow any moment. Barlow had eluded him, and now Savannah was gone. For all he knew, Barlow had Savannah! Icy beads of sweat peppered his brow at the possibility.
"Why in the hell did I have to fall in love with such a stubborn, pig-headed—” he began to mutter.
"Because she's not like all the rest of the woman you've known,” Roy said, surprising Mac with his perception.
And Roy was right, of course, but in his present mood, Mac wasn't inclined to tell him.
"She's one of a kind, is our Mrs. Cord,” Roy added sagely. “Not your usual, run-of-the-mill simpering miss, let me tell you. She's bright, and talented—"
"All right, all right,” Mac interrupted. “Maybe I won't wring her neck. Maybe I'll just bend her over my knee—"
"Now you're talkin'!” Roy stood on his toes and clapped him on the back. “Come on. I'm sure we'll find her drooling over one of those feathered—feathered things the lady's wear.” He grimaced. “I wouldn't say it to her face, you know, but I can't understand why they'd want to walk around with those ugly things on their head."
"Hats, Roy. They're hats, not things."
Roy shook his head vehemently. He removed his hat, revealing a thick mop of dark hair. There was a round, darker line where his hat had been. He pointed to the silver band, then ran his fingers lovingly around the brim. “No. This is a hat,” he explained so seriously Mac's lips twitched despite his efforts to remain straight-faced.
"So it is,” he agreed softly, sensing the hat held a sentimental value to the kid. “Was it your father's?"
"No!” Roy's lips tightened, and a hard glint entered his eyes, reminding Mac that for Roy adulthood was just around the corner. “It belonged to the man who raised me—who was nothing like my father."
Mac wisely dropped the subject. It was the first time Roy had even hinted at his past, and he didn't want to push him. “Let's go find a hat shop. There's got to be one in a town this size."
They found the hat shop, but no Savannah. An hour later, with the sun sinking fast in the sky, Mac and Roy had looked in every window, peered in every shop from the dry goods store to a shoe shop, with no luck.
Mac was seriously worried, and by the grim look on Roy's face, he wasn't alone. They paused in fr
ont of a saloon to decide their next move.
"Maybe she's back at the hotel by now,” Roy suggested, trying to sound optimistic and failing miserably. He yanked off his hat and began to twist it around and around.
Up and down the boardwalk shops were locking up for the night. Soon, Mac knew the only place left open would be the saloons. Behind him, he could hear laughter, and the tinkling of a piano.
The saloons were the only places they hadn't looked.
His gaze met Roy's in silent question. “She wouldn't be in there."
"No. Of course not."
A worried silence fell between them. In the saloon, the piano began another lively tune. Their was a shout of drunken laughter, then someone began to sing in a wobbly, off-key voice, nearly drowning out the sound of the piano.
"I sure could use a drink, though,” Roy mumbled. When Mac shot him a sharp look, he added quickly, “Of water, that is."
Mac rubbed his jaw and nodded. The possibility of finding Savannah in a tavern was ludicrous, of course, but they were thirsty. They could grab a drink and continue their search. Maybe she did find her way back to the hotel, and was now fast asleep.
He certainly never considered for one moment that he would find Savannah in the saloon. She was a refined lady through and through. Wild horses couldn't drag her into a disreputable place like ... a ... saloon.
With a muffled curse, Mac whirled and pushed through the swinging doors. Roy stumbled into his back as he halted abruptly just inside the room. Mac scanned the crowd, an odd assortment of lumberjacks, cowboys, shopkeepers, and the ever-present whores. Nothing remotely resembling a tall, pretty woman dressed in men's clothing, he noted with a relieved sigh. “See?” he said, turning to Roy, breaking their vow of ignorance. “I knew she wouldn't be.... “He trailed away as his gaze landed on Roy's face.
The kid was staring, mouth agape, at something across the room.
Mac forced himself to follow Roy's gaze, knowing by Roy's expression that he wasn't going to like what he saw.
And he didn't.
Strolling downstairs was Savannah on the arm of a whore. Unaware of their presence, she was laughing and chatting to the painted, nearly bare-breasted woman as if she'd known her half her life, when in fact Mac would bet his life savings that Savannah had never been within shouting distance of a woman of ill repute. If she had, he doubted that she would have known it.
Hero For Hire Page 14