by kps
"Come on, honey," he said now, his voice low and soothing as he slipped an arm around her shoulders and led her toward the stairs. Several of the girls stood at the parlor door, having watched the entire episode from the time Evers had hit the girl, and one of them called out a lewd suggestion while the other girls giggled. Jenny tensed, but before she could whirl with a retort, her escort tipped his hat in mock respect and said, "Ladies, I got better things to do than listen to you giggle. And I think you all got a few farmer boys and office clerks back there pantin' after your wares!"
A fleeting smile touched her mouth as the girls gasped and, thoroughly chastened, flounced back to work. Then, with leaden feet, Jenny began to climb the steps again, going as slowly as she could. A second later there was a humiliating pat on her derriere, and her face flamed at the order to "Get a move on, miss!"
For the second time that night Jenny forgot that she was supposed to be docile and cooperative. She whirled, swung her hand with a fist, and a moment later, as the man ducked neatly to the left and simultaneously threw an arm around her legs, she was; slung over his shoulders, being carried up the steps as easily as if she were a down-filled pillow.
Jenny struggled, screaming the few mild curses she knew, striking uselessly at his broad back. In his left hand he carried a bottle of expensive house whisky, the kind Evers was afraid to water down, and Jenny made an attempt to grab it, hoping she could bring it crashing down on his head.
That failed, as well. He seemed able to forestall her every move before she could translate thought into action. In a minute his long legs had carried them from the landing to the door of room twelve. The key turned in the lock and all was lost. The bedsprings creaked as he dumped her unceremoniously on the bed, set the bottle on a nearby table, and returned to lock the door.
Just as he was turning the key, the sound of a crash and splintering glass made Dev wheel around. Jenny had bounced off the bed, quick as a cat, and grabbed the bottle, breaking it against the table's edge. She stood there now, holding the jagged top third of it by the neck, extended toward him as a defensive weapon. She looked every inch a wildcat, with claws extended, disheveled and bruised, a force to be reckoned with because of her unpredictability. A tousled mane of black curls spread across her shoulders, and her scarlet wrapper, loosened in the struggle, hung half-open. "Don't come any closer," she threatened,
"or I'll be the last woman you ever spend your filthy money to buy."
Noting the direction of his stare, Jenny used her free hand to gather the robe across her breasts, never taking her eyes from his face. He still hadn't moved, but she had the impression he was sizing up the threat she posed, measuring the chance of disarming her without injury to himself.
"There's no need for that, now," Dev said in a low, reassuring tone, slowly moving forward and keeping his eyes, not on the weapon, but on her face, watching warily for any change that might precipitate a sudden offensive.
"Don't come any closer!" Jenny warned, her voice rising with a frightened pitch. She took a step backward, even as he steadily advanced, and suddenly the mattress touched the back of her knees and she was hemmed in. He was only three feet away when she tensed, raising the glass high with a determination to go down fighting.
A split second later she was sprawled across the bed on her back, pinned beneath the stranger, and his strong fingers gripped her wrist, forcing her to drop the weapon.
It rolled behind the brass headboard and crashed to the floor. Jenny glared, steeled against the inevitable assault thatshe had only managed to delay, not avert.
"That was a waste of good liquor, Miss Bryant," Dev commented dryly. "We could have had a toast to your rescue." Jenny's eyes widened with surprise, their blue-gray color reminding him of Jared's. She looked closely at him, and as she realized his identity, the tenseness seemed to ebb out of her. Dev rolled to one side, giving her a hand up.
"You ... you're Dev Cantrell?" Jenny managed to stutter. "In the flesh, miss, and happy to have found you at last; it's been one hell of a month!" Dev grinned, She knew she should feel relief ... gratitude that he had found her, but all Jenny could think of was her fury at the past half-hour's charade. Why hadn't he told her sooner? "I could have hurt you with that piece of glass," she said accusingly. The skeptical look in his eyes, telling her he'd never taken the threat seriously, further fueled her anger. "Your month could not have been worse than mine, Mr. Cantrell, and you only added to my misery with that manly display of domination downstairs!"
"Well, I had to get you out of there," Dev explained. "I'm sorry-I couldn't just barge in and grab you." He hadn't expected her to react this way, and he. wasn't quite sure what to say next.
Jenny suddenly realized the long ordeal was oyer ... or would be soon. No longer would she have to put up with Bill's abuse or allow another dirty, pawing animal to touch her. She was berating the very man who'd come to save her from it. "Oh, God .. , I'm sorry!" she sobbed an apology, "I didn't mean-"
Silently cursing all the rotten people who'd contributed to the girl's pain, Dev pulled her into his arms and held her tightly, stroking her head in comfort as she wept unashamedly. Jenny seemed no longer to be under the influence of drugs, but Evers undoubtedly had ways to control his girls without them. "That wasn't the first time Evers struck you," he said angrily.
"He's the type who gets a thrill from it."
Still crying, Jenny shook her head, and told Dev about the whip that Bill used to keep all the girls in line. Dev swore to her that Evers would pay for how he'd treated her. "Somebody should've finished him off long before now." Jenny panicked. As much as she hated Bill Evers, she was still frightened of him. The past week and a half he'd reduced her intake of laudanum until she was free of its effects, but when she was at last lucid enough to resist his plans for her, he'd brandished a whip. This light, supple whip, he'd coldly explained during her first encounter with it, wouldn't break the skin or leave marks-the customers wouldn't like that. The first time she'd rebelled and tried to grab it from him, she had failed and had made the added mistake of trying to kick out and scratch at him. She'd learned since then not to resist, for the whipping lasted longer and was more brutal. He'd beat her that first time until she became a Whimpering, terrified child willing to do anything to escape additional pain. The next morning he'd returned, tossing an outfit similar to what she was wearing now onto the bed, ordering her to rise and strip naked. With the memory of the previous day's pain still fresh in her mind, Jenny had obeyed immediately and stood there, docile, while he examined with an almost clinical detachment, the pale red welts from the whipping as he ran his hands possessively over her flesh to impress her with the idea that he was inspecting his property.
Before she dressed in the outfit, he ordered her to lie on her stomach on the bed, and Jenny closed her eyes, expecting another beating, steeling her will not to cry out. A few moments later the bedsprings squeaked under his weight, as Evers knelt between her legs. Realizing his intent to rape her, Jenny had tried to scramble away, but his fingers closed mercilessly on the tender flesh of her thighs, pulling her hips back.
She had screamed then, as he thrust deep into her unprepared body, and Evers had laughed, reveling in her pain and the screams that hadn't stopped until he'd collapsed heavily across her body, extracted the last of his pleasure, and rolled away. When he was through, Jenny had no more will left. Like a puppet, she obeyed his command to rise and dress in the cheap, seductive outfit and then stood there for his approval. None of his taunts penetrated the shell she had erected around her self, to protect her dazed mind from a rape similar to that which her body had endured, not even when, as he left the room, he sneered an order to clean herself up. "You'll start in workin' tonight, bitch, and I don't want no complaints from the customers," he'd sneered, then shut the door and locked it.
Dev wasn't sure he had the right to ask her the details of her captivity, but he felt almost responsible for what she'd been through. He asked if she wanted to ta
lk about it; and, like the breaking of a dam, all the stored-up pain and humiliation came pouring out of her. It was a catharsis, a mental purging of the suffering she'd endured, and thongh, in a dull, emotionless tone, she revealed much of what had occurred, Jenny held back the worst. It was too painful to remember, much less repeat aloud to a man who was nearly a stranger.
When the tale was finished, Dev spoke to her in a calm, soothing manner. He was afraid to give her too much sympathy now, at least until he had her safely out of the house and any hysterical reaction she might have wouldn't interefere with their escape. Already beyond the first, hot flush of outrage, he was now coldly furious, determined to keep his anger in check until Jenny was safe. Then Bill Evers would pay for the misery he'd caused, and he'd never be able to do the same to another helpless woman.
"Do you still have your clothes here?" Jenny shook her head and burrowed more deeply into his embrace, still unwilling to draw away from the strength and safety Dev Cantrell represented. "Okay, now I want you to listen carefully to what I've got to say. Jenny ... look at me."
She raised her head and gazed up trustingly into his eyes, taking in the resolute authority in his manner. "You're going to have to trust me, to have a little patience yet," he said, his hands firmly planted on her shoulders. "I can't take you anywhere, dressed as you are. I'll have to go find some decent street clothes and come back." For a moment she tensed, and panic flared in her eyes, then Jenny took a deep breath and nodded.
"I'll be all right ... now that I know you're here, that I'll be gone from this place soon!"
"Good girl! I promise I won't take long. Meanwhile I'm going to leave you one of my guns. I'll lock the door and take the key with me. If you hear someone trying to get in, and I don't answer, just aim dead center and squeeze the trigger slowly."
"I can shoot quite accurately," Jenny commented, and with a little of her old spirit returning, added, "You've forgotten who my father is ... he taught me well!"
The confidence in her voice was good to hear, reinforcing Dev's belief that she was strong enough to hold up under pressure. Thank God she wasn't inclined to selfpity or he'd have had a bell of a time getting her out. "I'll be gone an hour at the most, maybe only a half-hour. Just try and stay calm and think about going home. We're halfway there now." For a moment he let his concern show through and asked, "You sure you're feeling okay?"
"Except for a sore lip," Jenny replied, gingerly touching the swollen comer of her mouth. "I'll recover."
Dev handed her the gun, pleased by the confidence she showed in handling the revolver. At the door, he withdrew the key and as his hand reached toward the knob, paused and snapped his fingers. "I almost forgot-you'll be worried about your maid. She's safe, back at the ranch with the housekeeper taking care of her."
Jenny's eyes closed for a moment in relief. She had feared that poor Isa was dead. She half-smiled, all she could manage with her swollen lip, and whispered, "I don't know how I'll ever be able to thank you, Dev; you've done so much already! Now go ... and don't worry, I can take care of myself until you get back. But, please ... do hurry!"
Dev grinned, and Jenny found the expression reassuring as well as disarmingly attractive.
After a quickly whispered, "Nothing could keep me away, Jenny," he was gone. For the first time in weeks, she knew the meaning of hope, and the rattle of the, key locking her in left her with a secure feeling. She hefted the gun, studying the design of the revolver. It was similar to the Colt Navy pistol her father had taught her to shoot. She had an hour to wait, an hour that would pass with infinite slowness.
Lining up the room's only chair ten feet from the door, she settled in it, laid the gun in her lap, and.".. waited.
Downstairs, Dev told Bill that he was satisfied with the girl ... so satisfied he was going to his hotel and would bring a friend back with him. "Now, I paid my money and I got the rest of the evening comin', right?"
Evers looked a little shaken, having duly noted that Dev's hand hadn't moved from its resting place on the butt of his gun during the whole conversation, and he nodded in agreement.
Swinging the key in the pimp's face, Dev warned him that Annie was locked in and she'd better stay that way or he'd be "mighty put out," when he got back. "Nobody better try usin'
a pass key, neither. I got an investment in that little filly, and I mean to get my money's worth out of her."
Evers held his hands up, placating the stranger's touchy mood before it erupted into violence. "I got my money, friend. It don't make a difference to me if you was to bring back ten friends! Whatever you want, anything, it's fine."
Forty minutes later, Dev was back and Evers met him at the front door with a grin that stretched from ear to ear. "Nobody went near number twelve, cowboy," he assured Dev, then slyly joked, "Your girl's virtue is intact!" Then, remembering Dev's reason for leaving, he looked around and puzzled, "What happened to your friend ... find himself his own whore for the night?"
Dev was carrying a large, string-tied box in one hand, a wine bottle in the other. He smiled congenially, leaned over to let Evers get a good look at the drawn Peacemaker hidden by the box and pointed at the whore-master's belly. "Meet my friend, Evers," he said in a low voice.
"We're all going upstairs for a little party. I even brought my own bottle, wasn't that nice of me?" Evers was staring at him with such a stunned look, he snarled, "Get moving, bastard, and don't think of calling out to anyone, or you'll end up with a daylight hole right through your middle!"
Bill's usually pale complexion grew paler with barely contained terror. What the hell did this man want from him? "Look, mister ... whatever your name is, I ain't done nothing. Put that thing away .•. guns make me nervous!" "Move it," Dev said, raising the gun just high enough so that Evers could look down its barrel, "unless. you want your guts spread out all over the floor. That might be bad for business." As usual with a man who took pleasure in dealing out pain to others, Bill Evers had turned into a quivering mass of jelly at the prospect of his own suffering. "Now, you son-of-a-bitch," Dev growled through gritted teeth, "Smile, just like you and I were old friends, going up to share a drink." With his knees threatening to buckle and a sickly smile pasted on his face, the pimp stumbled toward the landing and started up the steps, slowly at first, then faster as the gun barrel slammed into his shoulderblade.
He kept his mouth shut, worried that he'd say something to set the gunman off. At the door to number twelve, Dev knocked and called out, "It's me, open up!" A moment later the latest girl Evers had acquired from Lil Conti opened the door and stepped back, her expression of relief changing to tense wariness when she saw the pimp. Dev gave Evers a shove, sending him stumbling into the room, and ordered him to sit, then locked the door and handed Jenny the box. "Get changed. I got a little business to discuss with our 'friend' here."
"I don't know what kinda lies this bitch has been telling," the trembling Evers whined, "but I ain't done a thing to her. These sluts wouldn't know the truth if it hit 'em in the face!"
"And I suppose you would?" Dev tossed the bottle to Evers and ordered him to take a drink.
The bottle had originally contained wine, but Dev had dumped it out and used a bottle of tonic ... laudanum ... he'd found at Bella's place to refill it. Let the man have a little of his own medicine, he'd thought at the time. He wanted Evers in a relaxed state so that they wouldn't have any trouble getting out of his bordello. Now, as he waited for Jenny to finish changing into the boy's clothing that had belonged to Bella's son, Dev was wondering if a whole bottle of the liquid would kill Evers or just make him sick as a dog. Jenny was listening to the conversation with mixed feelings. From the cold, calculating sound of Dev's voice he had some plans to make Evers pay for the misery he'd caused her. She heard the sound of the cork pop, then a strangled protest from the pimp that he wouldn't drink. "I know what this is ... you ain't gettin' me drugged. You'll just have to take the risk of drawin' somebody's attention by shootin', cowboy."
&
nbsp; Then Dev's voice-Jenny could tell he was smiling -calmly answered. "Where should I start, eh? A shattered kneecap makes walking difficult. And if I hit the right nerve in your shoulder, you'd never lift a whip or anything else again." There was a pause as though Dev was considering his options, and Jenny could imagine the abject terror in Evers's eyes as the gun barrel moved from target to target, emphasizing the threats. A moment later she heard the man swallowing.
It took her a while to get the boots on, but Dev wasn't rushing her, so she struggled silently, still trying to listen to the conversation. Evers was told to drink several more times, and as the minutes passed his voice took on that hazy, distant sound she remembered from her own experiences. When she finally emerged from behind the screen, he was slumped carelessly in the chair, looking much less nervous than he had when he'd arrived. A little more than half the bottle was gone, and Dev was relaxing on the bed, guns holstered. There was no longer a need to keep one trained on the man.
"Well, he won't be able to stop us," she commented, then turned for Dev's approval. "Will I pass as a young man?"
Dev took his eyes away from Evers, who wasn't going anywhere in his state. The clothing fitted her well, and she was slender enough to look like a young boy; except that she still looked very curvacious in the tightfitting pants, and the shirt-well, nothing could really hide the full roundness of her breasts, though the snugfitting plaid shirt pressed them tightly against her chest.
With the hat hiding the heavy masses of her hair she might pass a quick, cursory glance from anyone down below. And that was all they'd really need. "You'd never really be taken as a boy, sweetheart," he said with a grin, watching the becoming blush that stained her cheeks a delicate rose color, "but it'll do until we get out the door. Just don't stop even if someone calls out. And I'd ... uh ... hold my breath passing the parlor, if I were you. Those buttons look ready to pop any second!"