“Might be.” The fact that his mother was half Mexican, half Indian while his father was white wasn’t something he cared to discuss.
Betty Lou seemed to realize she’d hit a nerve. She slid closer, massaging soapy fingers over his scalp. “I think it’s real handsome.”
Through partially lowered lids, Raz noted with pleasure the gentle sway of her bosom as she scrubbed. She’d gotten damp while washing his back, and the camisole clung to her like a second skin. Rosy nipples, outlined against the wet material, practically begged for his attention. Her breasts were mere inches from his mouth, close enough to easily…
Of course, he’d have to set either the drink or the cigar aside to do that. He chose instead to simply watch, anticipating the pleasure ahead.
“Tell me more about this H.H. O’Hara.”
“Oh, the poor man,” Betty Lou sighed. “His daughter’s been kidnapped. I hear he’s right beside hi’self with grief.”
“Does he know who did it?”
She ladled rinse water over his hair. “They left a ransom note, but H.H. ain’t one to be told what to do. So he’s offerin’ a lot of money to the first man that brings his little girl back alive. With her virtue intact.”
“Her virtue?”
Betty Lou pressed a towel to his sodden hair. “H.H. don’t want nobody touchin’ his baby girl. That’s why he’s offerin’ such a big reward.”
Reward? He bolted upright in the tub, sloshing water over the sides with the sudden movement. Removing the cigar, he turned his full attention to Betty Lou. “How big?”
She moved behind him to knead the muscles in his back. “I hear’d tell it was ten thousand dollars.”
Drink midway to his lips, he paused. Ten thousand dollars?
Without a word, he handed Betty Lou the glass and rose from the tub. He felt her curious stare as he slid on trousers over still-dripping skin. Grabbing his gun belt, he strapped it on, then went for his boots. He shrugged into his shirt without bothering to turn it right side out or button it, rummaged through his trouser pockets for a handful of eagles and pressed them into Betty Lou’s palm. “This should take care of you for the rest of the night.”
His fallen angel looked downright disappointed, red-painted lips pouting prettily. “Where you goin’, sugar?”
Raz dropped his hat on over wet hair, then bent to place the cigar between her parted lips. “Triple H.” With a wink he strode toward the door. “Whiskey, women, and a fine cigar go a long way to make a man feel comfortable, but only one thing keeps a man warm at night, darlin’.”
She gave a huff of indignation and put a hand to one rounded hip. “What’s that?”
He tipped his hat to her and opened the door. “Money.”
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This Moment In Time Page 11