“I’ll go get the gent. Keep an eye on her, Otto.” Harvey strode around several tables and entered a doorway on the left side of the long bar.
“Will do.” Otto winked at her with a leer. His hand snaked beneath her coat and slid down her waist. She swallowed hard, doing her best to ignore his massive paw as it roamed over her body.
Calmly, she twisted her hands to the side. Nausea roiled in her stomach from Otto’s bold fondling as her hand grasped the smooth handle of the dagger. Jerking her arm back, she whirled around with the blade outstretched, slashing the arm of the randy jackass. Otto jumped away with an oath, clasping the scored limb to his body as if she’d severed it off.
“The bitch cut me,” he murmured in surprise.
Wasting no time, she turned, ready to flee to the entrance. The blade was yanked from her grasp, and she was spun around as two strong hands clamped down on her shoulders.
A cruel voice greeted her. “How good of you to join us, Rebecca. It’s splendid to see you again.”
She knew who held her prisoner even before she looked up into Philip Westerly’s mocking blue eyes.
…
Eager to see her again, Christopher headed toward the room where Rebecca slept. He should be tired after a full night awake, exhausted even. Instead, he’d never felt more alive. Warm sunshine streamed through the eastern windows as he passed through the hallways.
He couldn’t suppress a smile. While on watch, he’d contemplated what existed between them. What was, and what could be, until he’d finally seen the light.
The raw emotion he felt toward Rebecca was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. It was a powerful mixture of possessiveness, desire…and love. His grin widened. He loved her. The feeling overwhelmed him, warmed him. And when he’d kissed her before she’d gone to bed, he’d caught a glimpse of the possibility that she loved him too. He couldn’t wait another moment before he talked to her, held her. Reaching the bedroom door, he knocked then turned the handle.
He swung the door wide and scanned the room. Empty. Where was she?
A glint of silver on the bed caught his eye and he walked toward the source. Rebecca’s silver locket and his lucky coin rested on top. Why had she left it here? He picked it up, and feeling the etching on the other side, turned the pendant over. On the back, he read the inscription—Give All to Love. His hand clenched around the smooth metal, and dread settled in his chest.
He rushed out the door and toward Rebecca’s quarters.
From the other end of the hall, Hazel approached, holding a tray with tea.
Meeting Christopher’s stare, Hazel stopped short. “Is something wrong?”
“Where’s Rebecca?”
“I thought she was asleep.” Hazel met him just outside Rebecca’s room. “I was just going to check on Richard. I’m afraid while I waited for the water to boil for tea, I dozed for a while.”
They stepped inside.
Richard lay sprawled on the floor face down. Christopher rushed to the man and eased him over to his back.
Moisture glittered in the old man’s eyes. “Rebecca, my Becca. It’s all my fault,” he wept.
Christopher’s heart dropped. “Do you know where she went?”
Richard nodded, tears shining on his weathered cheeks. “She came back here an hour ago. She thought I was asleep…I was too ashamed to face her. Now she’s gone,” he sobbed, his body shaking with sorrow. “I should have stopped her, but I couldn’t speak. She told me…” His eyes reflected the pain of discovery.
Hazel turned a worried stare to Christopher. “I don’t understand. Where did she go?”
“Quinn,” he bellowed, calling to his driver as he bent low beside Richard to help him up.
Rebecca’s father jerked away and struggled to his knees. “I have to go after her.”
Christopher’s stomach clenched so tight he felt sick. Rebecca had left him her prized possession… She knew there was a possibility she wouldn’t be coming back. “Where are the men who did this to you?”
Richard stood on shaking limbs, using Hazel for support. “The Rusty Nail.”
The Rusty Nail was a low-class card room on the east side of town. They’d start their search there. Christopher headed for the door just as Quinn arrived.
“You wanted me?”
“I need the carriage,” he said as he strode by.
“Wait,” Richard called from behind him. “I’m going with you.”
“You’re not strong enough,” Hazel murmured, trying to lead him back to bed.
Richard pulled away. “No. I can’t desert her again.”
Christopher needed to leave, now. Already he could be too late, and yet, the look of anguish in the man’s eyes made him hesitate. “Quinn?”
“He can stay with the carriage, sir,” Quinn replied, already swinging Richard’s arm around his shoulders.
“Good. Let’s go.” Christopher wasted no more time. He led the way out the door, Rebecca’s necklace clutched in one hand, and a vow to save her on his tongue.
…
Rebecca’s wrists burned from the ropes that bound them behind her back, and her arms ached. With the gag in place, her throat had become as dry as the desert. Even though Otto guarded the front door and Mr. Westerly—No, he was no gentleman… Philip sat at a table a mere five feet in front of her, her legs had been tied at the ankles.
Otto’s hungry gaze haunted her from his position across the room.
What were they waiting for?
Philip entertained himself with the dagger he’d taken from her. He tested its weight in his hand, then tossed the knife and caught it, his movements sure and swift.
She wanted to scream at him. Why was he holding her prisoner?
A movement from the entrance caught her attention as Otto sauntered toward them. He headed to the table where Philip sat, his eyes darting in her direction. He stopped within a few feet of Philip. “Me and the boys want a piece of her before we do the job,” he demanded. Philip’s brows slanted in displeasure, and Otto shifted his weight. “After your turn, that is.”
Philip leaned back in his chair, contemplating Otto’s request. He glowered at the oversized man for several long moments, and she thought perhaps Otto would back down. Instead Philip turned to her. “I suppose we could have a little fun while we wait.”
Rebecca flinched when he rose from his chair, its legs grating against the dusty floor planks. The dagger in his hand, he limped toward her, still favoring his right leg.
He bent over her with a lazy grin. Her heart racing, she stared at the shining blade as he touched its tip to her heavy coat, pushing the garment off one, and then both, of her shoulders. The wool slid down her back until her restraints stopped its descent.
Her breath quivered as the hard steel came back, slipping beneath the collar of her peach dress. It sliced the light material open with a quiet hiss. Philip’s hand pulled back, and the left side of her bodice gaped open, nearly to her breast.
“I’ve always been attracted to you, Rebecca.” Philip’s head dipped low to the skin he’d bared. Although she tried to twist away, his tongue licked her exposed skin in a wet caress that made her shudder with disgust. The pinch of his bite that followed startled her, and she cried out. The gag muffled the sound. In a panic, she struggled to rise and yanked at her restraints, but he held her in place. Philip straightened with a smile, eyeing his handiwork, an angry round mark already beginning to bruise. “Now when Christopher Black sees you again, he’ll know you were mine.”
As if only now noticing Otto standing behind him, Philip waved him away and dragged a chair to sit before her. After hours of choking on the rag in her mouth, Philip relieved her of the loathsome thing. “Beg me to release you. Say you’ll do anything I ask.”
She couldn’t speak at all at first. It took a few difficult swallows for moisture to return to her mouth. She yearned for a glass of water, but refused to ask Philip for anything. Instead, she glanced at the hands he’d pla
ced on her knees and croaked out, “Why are you doing this?”
He laughed as if she’d told a joke. “You know, you’re just like your father. So naïve.” His hands scrunched the material of her skirt, slowly bringing its length off the floor. “He came to see my three friends while we were away at the Henley estate. Made it too easy for them to carry out my orders.” The surprise must have been evident on her face because he smirked. “Yes, he was here, in this very room.”
“You told them to beat my father and leave him on the Endicotts’ doorstep? Why?”
“To force your hand and make you give yourself up.” Philip shook his head. “Of course, I hadn’t expected you to leave town. I barely had time to follow much less let my men know to hold off.” With a disgusted frown, he spat over his shoulder, “As useless as they are, they only succeeded because your dear father offered himself up. Lucky for them, it all still worked out in my favor.” His gaze returned in a leer that made her shiver. “Like you, your father thought this was all about money. The old fool probably still does, even after the beating he received.”
Rebecca tried to keep calm even with Philip’s hands massaging her bare knees. “What is this about, Philip?”
He ignored her question, his fingers inching up her legs, kneading the flesh beneath her skirts, torturing her.
“Please tell me. I need to know.”
The smug smile returned. “Say that again. I’m afraid I may not have heard you.”
She clenched her teeth, loathe to beg him again, and gritted out, “Please. I’ll do anything.”
As she’d hoped, his progress stopped for the moment. “Silly girl. I find it hard to believe you don’t know what your precious Mr. Black is up to these days. He’s been very busy searching out a killer.”
“Nathan Gebhardt’s murder,” she breathed. “Do you know who killed him?”
“Yes.” His eyes gleamed. “I did.”
The truth chilled her. “I thought a woman killed him.”
“Hmm. So everyone thinks. That’s where you come in.”
He was so smug and arrogant, Rebecca wondered how she could have been taken in by him. “No one suspects you.”
“That’s right, because everyone believes it was you. If you disappear, all will assume you ran away from your crime, and I can go on doing what I do best.”
“What is that?” She noted from his roaming eyes that this conversation was beginning to bore him.
“Taking money from the rich.” His fingers flexed.
“With your uncanny skill at cards?” she guessed, her mind frantic to keep him talking.
“This low class card room isn’t mine.” He huffed out an incredulous laugh. “I’m a member of the bon ton.” His hungry stare roamed over her bare skin, making her shudder. “No, I’m borrowing this rundown hovel and these men from the man your father owes. Or should I say owed?” he added. “I paid off his debt and then some.”
The six hundred dollars. “Why?”
“Because of you, my little decoy. With that money, I controlled your father and you. I gave you one week to pay, enough incentive to make you desperate and foolish. So desperate you stumbled into society with your eyes closed. That money also ensured those thugs would kill you when I said the time was right.” Philip scowled and muttered beneath his breath, “Those idiots weren’t worth the price.”
Her throat closed off, her heart pounding hard enough to bruise her ribs. She almost didn’t want to ask, but she couldn’t help herself. “If your plan is to kill me, then what are you waiting for?”
Philip’s sigh had an “oh, well” quality to it as if the matter were nothing but a nuisance to be overcome. His palm came to rest on her cheek. “Because I’m not done with you yet. You, dear girl, are my bait.”
Jerking her head to the side, she shook off his hand. “Bait for what?”
“Not what. Who.” A secretive smile tilted his lips. “Enough talk of this.” He swept his hands up her legs, his fingers pressing into her thighs. “Now where were we?”
She dared not think about who he meant. She couldn’t bear it. Suppressing a sob, she willed herself to think. He may want no more talk, but she couldn’t say the same. She dipped her head down to catch his eye and pressed, “You were telling me how you take money from the rich.”
His intense stare darkened. She wouldn’t be able to distract him much longer. “With sex. It’s a weakness of all men. You of all people should know how a woman can manipulate a man when she has allowed him a sampling of her favors. How else would a poor servant girl gain access to the lofty circles you’ve breached?”
He grasped her hips and slid her forward to the edge of her chair. In an instant, his mouth came crashing down onto hers in a brutal kiss.
Rebecca stiffened. With only her wits to fight, she willed her body to relax. In moments Philip followed suit, the pressure of his mouth lessening. His defenses weakened, she made her move, biting down hard on his lip.
Philip pulled back with a yelp and slapped her across the cheek. An explosion of light flashed through her skull, but she was able to keep her senses. If her actions delayed Philip’s attack for any amount of time, it would be worth the pain.
He smoothed his fingers over his wound and checked them for blood. His skin wasn’t broken. A small crescent mark circled below his lip. To her horror, the cruel grin returned to his face. “Rebecca, you’re such a tease.”
With a jerk, he pulled his shirt free from the waist of his trousers. Rebecca tried to sit up, to move herself back in the chair. He shoved her down, and his hands freed the buttons that concealed his obvious arousal.
She gave a small cry and kicked out in the hope of catching his shins. Grabbing her legs, Philip picked up the knife and bent down to free the ropes that bound her ankles.
Someone cleared his throat behind her. “I was told to let you know your lady has arrived.”
She’d never thought she’d be so glad to hear Otto’s voice.
“Tell her she can wait,” Philip snarled.
Before Philip could continue, Otto interrupted again, “She says she wants to speak with you right away, or she’ll come down to get you.”
Philip glared at Otto, then closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he adjusted his clothing back into place. “Otto, the ignorant lout, thinks someday he’ll win her favor—the favor of a whore,” he grumbled before he strode away, the knife in hand.
Rebecca straightened in her chair, scooting back as far as she could and wriggling her body until her skirts covered her legs once more, surprised Otto had been so bold as to interfere. He pined for the woman upstairs so much he would risk Philip’s rage? Just what kind of lady was she?
Twisting in her chair, Rebecca met Otto’s gaze. His stare devoured her bared skin.
She held her breath, her nerves already quaking when Philip bellowed from the stairs, “I’m not through with her, Otto. You touch her, and you die. Go outside and check the perimeter.” Philip’s angry footfalls knocked on each step as he climbed to the second floor.
After a glance back toward the staircase, Otto studied her a full minute before sauntering to the front entrance.
The air in her lungs left her in a rush of relief. Once the door slammed closed behind him, she worked the ropes that bound her hands to no avail. Swallowing hard, she scanned the room, her eyes catching on a few fragments of broken glass that lay with the trash littering the floor.
Her pulse jumped as an idea took hold. She rocked herself forward and stood, her ankles still tied. With one particularly sharp-looking piece of glass in sight, she tried to shuffle forward and fell. Her knees hit the hard floor, and with a wince, she tumbled to her side.
Her gaze darted to the doors and stairs, hoping no one heard her crash to the floor. No one came. She scooted across the dusty planks until she could reach the glass. Her body trembled, but she willed her hands steady. Looking over her shoulder, she carefully picked up the shard of glass and sawed at the ropes that tied her wris
ts. Freedom would soon be hers.
…
Spying the men he sought guarding the perimeter of the Rusty Nail, Christopher jumped down from the carriage a block away. “Go to the police. Tell Bryce Barkham what’s happening.”
Quinn nodded and flicked the reins. Rebecca’s father would be better off with Quinn for the time being.
Christopher raced past the rundown card rooms, saloons, and boarding houses that had buzzed with activity mere hours ago. He slowed his pace when the Rusty Nail came into view, then stopped.
The slovenly ass Rebecca had called Otto walked along the side of the building. Once Otto turned the corner to the front, Christopher dashed toward a door. The stale smell of cheap liquor mingled with the foul odor of rotting trash. He tried the knob. Locked. He hurried past a haphazard pile of barrels and crates, peered around the corner, and jerked back. The older gunman stood guard at the rear of the building.
Christopher shook his head and looked up. A slight overhang traveled the length of the wall. He eyed the tall barrel beside him, then climbed on top. Gauging the distance, he sprang up from his shaky perch. As his legs dangled over the edge, he swore under his breath. He gathered his strength, swung himself up.
Climbing through a bedroom window, he entered a sparsely furnished room, undoubtedly used to entertain customers with more carnal pursuits, and heard two people nearby. He pulled from his waistband the pistol he’d retrieved from his home and sidled to the door, careful not to make a sound. A man and woman argued across the narrow hallway. He recognized the man immediately. What was Westerly doing here?
“What have you done to her?” the woman accused. Her voice seemed somehow familiar, although Christopher couldn’t quite place it.
“Just having a bit of fun.” Westerly laughed. “Don’t look at me like that. She bit me.” His chuckles grew louder. “All right, I took a nip too.”
Once Upon a Masquerade Page 21