by Beth Ciotta
“Honestly?”
“Honestly.” London brushed his thumb over her cheek.
She blushed and cleared her throat. “One more thing.”
He hoped it had something to do with the intimacies they’d discussed this morning. Christ, how he ached to make love to his wife. “Yes?”
“Although I can’t change what happened on the train, I can, hopefully, avenge Tori’s death.”
His smile slipped. “How so?”
“Paris mentioned that Emily’s husband is riding with a posse in an effort to catch Bulls-Eye Brady and his gang. If they do catch them--”
“Not if,” he said, wanting to assuage her fears, “when.”
“When they catch them, the outlaws will go to trial, yes?”
“That’s how it should work. Yes.”
She took a breath, straightened her spine. “I want to testify against them. I’m not positive I’ll be able to identify the ones who wore masks, but I can definitely identify the man who . . . who . . .” She blinked back tears. “He has to pay for his crimes, London. He needs to be locked away for a long time. Forever if possible.”
He admired her courage and determination, and he believed she’d follow through--it’s what he’d initially hoped for--but he worried about her sensitive side. “Tori”
Her mouth curved at the sound of her preferred name. “Yes?”
“Justice is harsh and swift in these parts. If Brady’s found guilty, your testimony won’t send him to jail, but to the gallows.” He clasped her hand and smoothed his thumb over her knuckles. “Can you live with that?”
She fingered her locket then met his gaze. “I’ll have to. The alternative, him somehow going free or escaping ...” She shuddered. “Knowing he was out there terrorizing people when I could have stopped him. That I couldn’t live with.”
He shook his head, smiled. “Is it any wonder I fell in love with you?”
She blinked. “You love me?”
He realized then that he hadn’t actually put into words what he’d felt at first sight. He cupped her delicate face. “The moment you walked through my door, you changed my world. You stir me. You touch my heart as no woman has ever done. I can’t explain the sensation. It just is, and it spurs yearnings and desires completely foreign to me.”
“Oh, London.”
He thumbed away tears of joy and continued to speak his heart. “I want to wake up next to you every morning. I want to have children with you. Grow old with you. Yes, I love you, Tori Garrett. And I want nothing more than to show you, in a physical sense, husband to wife.”
She touched his face in kind, her eyes shimmering with curiosity and affection. “I’ve been afraid to speak it. It seemed too soon. It happened so fast, and it’s overwhelming and beautiful and frightening.” She caught her breath, smiled. “I love you, too, London Garrett. I ache to know you in the intimate way a wife knows her husband. I wish we didn’t have to wait until tonight,” she said on a sweet sigh.
Smiling, he stood and swept his blushing bride into his arms. “We don’t.”
Pima County
Sated from their passionate lovemaking and emotionally exhausted, Kat had fallen asleep in Rome’s arms. For the first time in years, she’d slept peacefully. No nightmares. No dreams. Just healing, all-consuming blackness.
When he woke her, she felt disoriented. At first all that registered was his intensely handsome face. She smiled a little, remembering how he’d made her forget.
“You make me feel like I’m the only man on earth when you look at me that way, sugar.”
“You’re certainly the only one who matters to me.” Her voice sounded hoarse, as if she hadn’t used it in a spell, and it was a sappy thing to say, but she couldn’t help herself. After so many years of holding in her true emotions, it felt good to speak her heart.
“You’re killing me, Kat.” He smoothed her hair from her face. “Under different circumstances, I’d keep you in this bed for a week straight.”
She heard a hint of urgency in his tone and noticed, suddenly, that he was fully dressed. Her heart fluttered with alarm. “What time is it?”
“Time to move out.”
She palmed her forehead and focused. The room was awash with shadows, and the air was cooler. “How long was I asleep?”
“A few hours.” He kissed her on the forehead. “I’ll meet you at the stable. I said our good-byes to our hosts. Make use of the back door unless you want to be waylaid by Aida, who was damn insistent about our staying for supper.” He kissed her again, this time on the mouth. “Make haste, sugar.”
Supper?
The door shut behind him, and she scrambled to dress. She peered out the window, cursed when she saw the stagecoach. Mrs. Slater had mentioned they were expecting a southbound stage around six this evening. Why had Rome let her sleep so late? How would they make up for lost time?
She shoved her feet in her boots, tugged on her brown slouch hat, and heeded his advice. Hearing the chatter of a half-dozen voices, she circumvented the kitchen and the aroma of fried chicken and blew out the back door. She still felt as if she only had half her wits about her when she hit the stable.
Rome was just adjusting the stirrups of a saddled giant. The frisky beast pawed at the dirt and snorted. “Only horse Vern had to spare just now. Spirited bastard.”
So this is how they’d make up time. No longer riding double. Heart thumping, she neared the grey gelding. “I can handle him.”
“I’m sure you can.” He took her elbow and steered her to his mustang. “But I’d feel better if you’d take Stargazer.” She started to argue but again sensed urgency. “You heard something about Brady, didn’t you?”
“From the coach’s shotgun messenger.”
“A Wells Fargo man?”
Rome turned her to face him. “There was an incident at a sheep ranch, and he heard about it when they made a mail drop in a town four hours north of here.”
“What incident?”
“A hired hand came in from the range and found his boss shot dead. Found the boss’s wife tied to their bed.” Kat’s breath caught and tears stung her eyes.
Rome pulled her into his arms. “It’s all right. She’s alive and unharmed. Just scared and upset. Apparently the gang took refuge in her house during the storm. They blindfolded her, so she didn’t see anyone. Heard talk though. Seems Brady’s lost two of his gang members--one in the storm, one by her husband’s hand.”
On shaky legs, Kat clutched the back of Rome’s duster and buried her face in his shoulder. “Given she was a witness, I’m surprised they let that woman live.”
“So am I,” he said. “Although Brady probably wasn’t counting on her being discovered so quickly. Thing is, word’s out he’s in the region. Pinkertons and Federal Marshals will be on the scene in the next couple of days. Wouldn’t be surprised if Wells Fargo sends a couple of men. The man’s days are numbered.”
Kat pushed off and stared up at Rome. “Unless he moves fast.”
“Real fast.” He kissed her--swiftly, sweetly--then helped her mount Stargazer.
“Don’t worry, baby,” he said as he swung into the saddle of the grey. “Just ride.”
In tandem, they spurred their horses and hit the road at a gallop. Assuming they had a chance to catch Brady before he caught up to Boston and Frankie, Kat leaned into the wind and concentrated on keeping up with Rome and his spirited steed. She envisioned a future with no worries. She thought about the lucky coin tucked in her skirt pocket and rode.
CHAPTER 35
Phoenix
Victoria stared out the window adjacent to London’s bed. From their second-story position she could easily see the night sky, a sky filled with twinkling stars. She imagined Tori Adams winking down at her. She was not only free, she was blessed.
Wrapped in her husband’s arms and her treasured quilt, she kept reliving her wedding day over and over. Mostly, the parts after London had carried her to bed.
She’d heard
lovemaking was painful the first time. It was. But only for a heartbeat. London had attended her body so lovingly and thoroughly, she’d been out of her mind with scandalous want by the time he’d entered her. He’d prepared her mentally and physically, so she knew what to expect. His kisses stole away her fears and her shocked gasp as he broke through her virginal barrier. Yes, there was pain, but then, because he’d combined tenderness with passion, any discomfort was soon replaced with indescribable pleasure. Pleasure she wanted to experience over and over again.
“You’re asking for trouble wiggling against me like that, Tori.”
She smiled, liking her new nickname, liking the sound of London’s sleepy voice so close to her ear. She turned in his arms. “I’m sorry I woke you,” she said, combing her fingers through his thick, disheveled hair. She studied his moonlit face, thinking him the most devilishly handsome man in the world. Her body pulsed with desire. “But since you’re awake, do you think we could do it again?”
His mouth curled into a lazy smile. “We’ve done it twice already and for extended periods of time, honey.”
True. In between they’d slept and later he’d served her dinner in bed. He’d told her how his family wanted to throw them a wedding reception and she’d assured him she didn’t mind. She thought it was sweet. She’d asked about his brothers, and he’d explained how they were all part of a special law-enforcement team. He’d mentioned playing a small part, and she’d said, “How exciting,” to which he’d replied, “Not so much.” Then he’d segued into talk of making babies, and they’d ended up making love a second time. He’d been a little less gentle and she’d burned even more.
Just thinking about it heated her blood. She pressed up against him and wiggled.
He groaned and smoothed his hand over her bare hip. “Don’t you feel tender down there?”
“A little,” she confessed.
He leaned in and kissed her mouth, her forehead. “Tomorrow morning’s soon enough.”
She stilled. “But--”
“All right, then. Have mercy on me. You wore me out.”
“I find that hard to believe.” His body was a work of art. Like one of the sculpted statues she’d seen in a museum. Granite sinew. For a big man, she’d been stunned by his agility and impressed with his restraint and stamina.
He smoothed his hand over the side of her face, tucking her head into the crook of his shoulder and neck. “It’s been a long day. An eventful week. It’s long past midnight, honey. You need to sleep.”
“I can’t.”
“Nightmares?”
“No.” She snuggled closer. She thought about how he’d obliterated a lifetime of unhappiness in a few short days. All she’d ever wanted was to be appreciated and loved. London made her feel all that and more. “My mind and heart, they’re full and racing. I never dreamed I could be so happy. Part of me thinks it’s too good to be true. What if something or someone ruins it? What if I go to sleep and wake up and we never happened? What if--”
His wickedly delicious tongue swept into her mouth and burned away her worries. Too soon, he eased away. ”Put those notions out of your head.”
She ached with desire. “I can’t. Maybe you should distract me some more.”
“What would you suggest?” he asked in a playful voice. Suddenly shy, she shrugged. “Can’t you think of something?”
He smiled and started kissing his way down her body.
She gasped, then froze. Was that the front door closing? Then the floorboards creaked. “Someone’s--”
London covered Victoria’s mouth and motioned her to hush as he eased out of bed. Who the fuck was in his apartment? An image of Brady exploded in his head. He had his pants on and a gun in his hand before his wife took her next breath. Probably because she was holding her breath. He squeezed her hand and whispered in her ear, “Probably nothing, but stay put. I’ll be back.”
She nodded and he moved swiftly and silently across the room and through the door.
Body vibrating with anger and purpose, London peered down the pitch-black hall. Suddenly the door to the guest room--the room Victoria had previously slept in--opened, and a silhouetted figure stepped out.
London advanced, gun cocked. The other man reacted simultaneously. Lightning quick, they were both staring into the business end of a Colt .45.
“Fuck.”
“Fuck.”
“Why the hell did you draw on me, London?”
“What the hell are you doing creeping around my apartment?” London glared at Boston, wanting to hug him and smack him at the same time. “Did you just ride in? Are you all right?” His little brother shushed him. “She’s sleeping.” London poked his head into the guest room. Moonlight shone through the window illuminating a tiny, bundled-up girl. She looked about Zoe’s size. Was this the precious cargo Seth had mentioned in the telegram? “Who is she?” he whispered.
“Kat s niece.”
“Huh.” Rome had once mentioned Kat being an only child. Boston’s expression promised a juicy tale. Before he could inquire, another door creaked open.
“London?” Victoria inched into the hall, wrapped shoulder to toe in her quilt. Her waist-length hair looked tousled and sexy as hell.
“Who’s that?” Boston asked.
London slammed the back of his hand to his ogling brother s shoulder. “My wife.”
“No shit.”
London shut the door to the guest room, nudged his brother to the sitting room. “Pour us a whiskey. I’ll be right in.” He turned then and moved to Victoria. Tori. “I
thought I told you to stay put.”
“I couldn’t. I couldn’t stand by, frozen with fear, again, and let something awful happen.”
He wasn’t sure how she’d expected to protect him, but he appreciated the thought. Noticing she was trembling, he pulled her into his embrace, and kissed the top of her head. “It’s all right. It’s just my brother.”
“Which one?”
“Boston.” He maneuvered her back into their room and into bed. “I need to speak with him. Try to get some sleep.” He left before she could argue, anxious to glean insight on the Brady case, curious about Kat’s niece. He reached the sitting room, now glowing with the muted light of a lantern. His youngest brother sat on the sofa, looking wrung-out. His clothes were dusty and wrinkled, and his expression was haggard. He offered London a glass of whiskey and they both drank
Boston scratched his head, making his recently cut hair stand on end. “You got married?”
“I did.”
“When?”
“This morning.”
“Well, hell.” Looking a tad put out, he stretched his legs and crossed them at the ankle. “Do I know her?”
“Only of her.” London succinctly relayed Victoria’s story. Boston absorbed the information, clearly angered by Brady’s tactics and sympathetic to Victoria’s plight. “Talk about a string of odd coincidences.”
“Too many coincidences. I’m thinking fate.”
Boston downed his whiskey, shot London a bemused look. “Married. Never thought I’d see the day.”
That made two of them. London refilled their glasses. “Tell me about the little girl.”
“She’s a damned pistol, but smart and cute as hell.”
“This pistol got a name?”
“Frankie. Frankie Hart. Kat claims she’s her niece. Said the kid’s parents are dead and she’s now responsible for the girl.” London scratched his forehead. “Could’ve sworn Rome said Kat was an only child.”
“That crossed my mind, too. Gave me pause. In addition, Kat s changed. Doesn’t look or act anything like the vibrant flirt we knew. Plus, some things she said ...” He shook his head “The whole thing didn’t sit right with me. Then I met Frankie.”
“And?”
He scraped a hand over his dark stubble, leaned forward, and lowered his voice. “She looks like Kat. Exactly like Kat. A pain in the ass one minute and a charmer the next. Exactly like Rome. I
did the math, London. I could be wrong, but I’d lay money.”
Rome and Kat had been an intimate item for six months. It was possible. “Although... given the timing and her relationship with Brady, it’s also possible--”
“Possible,” Boston said. “But I’m laying odds on Rome. After ten minutes in the kid’s company, I’m thinking you’ll agree.”
“Back up a minute. I’m operating on minimal information supplied through two coded telegrams. Why were you at a convent?”
“That’s where Kat stashed Frankie. A girls’ school. Kat worried if our plan backfired Brady might retaliate by striking out at the kid. She agreed to Athens’s plan with the stipulation that we protect Frankie. Athens sent me. Little did I know the kid was a pain in the good sisters’ wimples. Sister Maria essentially told me to hit the road . . . with Frankie.”
“Why didn’t you hole up in a nearby town?”
“Because the only way I could get the minx to cooperate with me is if I promised to deliver her to family.”
“But her aunt was in Tucson and you couldn’t take her there.”
“So I told her about my family. Turned the trip into an adventure so she wouldn’t be scared. Told her Kat would meet up with us as soon as she could.”
London blew out a breath. “That could be as soon as tomorrow.”
“What are you talking about? The plan--”
“Somehow blew to pieces.” London retrieved Seth’s telegram from his desk.
Boston read the note, then leaned back against the sofa with a frown. “The only way Brady could’ve known I was headed here is if he heard it from Sister Maria. Which meant he somehow found out about San Fernando. Which meant he went there in search of Frankie.”
“Why would he do that?” London asked. “Unless he came to the same conclusion as you.”
“So he thinks that little girl belongs to him and he’s coming to take her.”
London glanced in the direction of the room where Frankie slept. “Seems that way.”
Boston swayed forward and braced his forearms on his knees. “I can’t believe that bastard would risk showing his face in this town. You know him. I know him. Not to mention his face is plastered on Wanted posters throughout the region.”