by Pam Crooks
The door stood ajar.
Creed swore under his breath.
Their glances met.
They both knew she’d locked it this morning, before they left for church.
Either the damn thing went faulty since then or someone had broken into her apartment. Who or why, he couldn’t fathom. She didn’t have much of value for anyone to steal, and could it be some sick bastard taking advantage of her grief and misfortune after yesterday’s fire?
Creed put a finger to his lips, ordering her silence. He thrust his bag of groceries at her, nudged her aside and went for the knife he kept sheathed at his waist.
His muscles coiled. Carefully, he pushed the door open. The interior of the apartment was dark. Someone had closed the curtains, and he braced for whatever awaited him inside. One step, two, he ventured into the room.
Then three…
A force came at him with the power of a charging bull and sent him hurtling off his feet into the kitchen table. His body slammed hard. Wood splintered. He lost his hold on the knife, but his brain comprehended only the buffet of boot steps against the thin carpet.
Out the door. To Gina.
She screamed, and he heaved himself off the caved-in table in pursuit. Groceries littered the hall floor. A hulk of a man gripped her in his big arms and bolted toward the stairs. Bellowing a roar of rage, Creed flung himself at them.
“Put her down, you son of a bitch!”
He yanked savagely at the man’s grip until it broke free. Gina stumbled back, precariously close to the steps, and she cried out, her arms flailing for balance as she tried to catch herself before she fell. Instinctively, Creed reached for her, his attention split between saving her from breaking her neck and the man who threatened that and more.
Her assailant took advantage of the distraction and drew his arm back with a snarl. Creed grabbed Gina’s wrist at the same moment he swung away to avoid the blow, but the meaty fist was quicker and clipped Creed’s jaw before he could. His head snapped to one side. Pain exploded, and he sprawled onto the floor, bringing Gina down with him.
Her head cracked against the wooden slats with a sickening thud. For a few heart-stopping seconds, she didn’t move. Creed needed a few of his own to clear the stars.
Footsteps thundered down the stairs.
From somewhere close, a door whipped open.
“What the hell is going on out here?” a gravelly male voice demanded.
Creed untangled himself from Gina’s skirts and clawed a look over her. “Gina, are you all right?”
She blinked, shaking off the daze. “I think so.”
A shotgun cocked from the same direction where the voice came from. “Get away from him, Miss Briganti. I got him covered.”
She scrambled to sit up, swayed a little when she did. “No, no, Mr. Denton. Not him!”
“You should’ve shot the other one,” Creed growled and twisted toward the stairwell. The sound of boot soles clamoring downward sounded farther and farther away.
He rolled to his feet. The gun centered over him, the man holding it itching to spray him with buckshot. Black grease smeared his baggy pants, and the undershirt beneath the suspenders looked grimy, but he seemed determined to protect Gina, and that was good enough for Creed.
“Stay with her until I get back,” he ordered and catapulted down the stairs, two and three at a time, past the second level and onto the first. He searched the long center hall, one side, then the other, before rounding the corner at the end at a full run. Flinging open the tenement’s front door, he rushed through and skidded to a stop.
His gaze raked the sidewalk. The street.
Empty, both of them.
Damn it to hell.
He spun on his boot heel and hurried back inside. He had to make sure Gina wasn’t hurt, that the scum who’d tried to kidnap her hadn’t somehow doubled back to try again, and Creed headed toward the staircase leading to her apartment—
But he spun toward Mrs. Sortino’s instead.
He didn’t bother to knock. He shoved the door wide open, nearly ripping the hinges from the frame, and found her standing there, just as he knew she would be.
She cried out in alarm. Funny how a woman her size could jump when she was scared.
“Who was he?” Creed snarled.
She squared her shoulders and flung her chin up. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”
“The hell you don’t.”
“Get out before I call for the police.”
Creed took a threatening step closer. “How did he know which apartment was Gina’s?”
“She’s always entertaining men up there, ain’t she? He knew right where to go.”
Creed thought of the guilt Gina endured from letting him spend the night. From letting him take her to church and renting a horse and buying her a few lousy groceries, and the fury inside him doubled.
“Don’t go thinking you’re the only one, mister,” Mrs. Sortino declared with a sneer. “And there’s that Sebastian feller, too. Oh, no. She’s a loose one, she is. You’re a fool if you think she’s not.”
Creed’s lip curled. “How much did he pay you to tell him where she lived?”
“He didn’t pay me nothing!”
Creed’s glance dropped to the hand she kept buried deep in her apron pockets. He clamped his fingers around the thick wrist, the grip strong enough to let her know he meant business.
“Nothing?” he taunted.
Fear flickered in her expression. He yanked her hand out of hiding and found the few coins she kept in her palm.
“Hell of a landlady, aren’t you, Mrs. Sortino?” Creed thrust her away in disgust, and the coins clattered to the floor. “You think so little of your tenants that you betray them for pennies?”
“He told me he worked with her at the factory and that he wanted to express his condolences from the fire and all,” she said defensively. “Long as he was willing to pay, I figured there wasn’t no harm in helping him do it.”
“You greedy bitch.”
Her bushy eyebrows shot up. “I ain’t responsible for the company of the men she keeps, am I?”
He was dangerously close to choking the last breath right out of her. “But you’re willing to let one in her apartment to wait for her without her knowledge?”
“He said she’d be comin’ any minute. How would I know different?”
Creed had heard enough. The woman repulsed him. He spun on his heel and left the room before he did something he shouldn’t.
“I heard the ruckus up there, mister,” she called after him. “You tell Miss Briganti she’s responsible for any damages, y’hear? Mrs. Sortino says so!”
He leapt up the stairs toward the third floor with the same speed he came down and found Gina on her knees gathering the last of the groceries strewn in the hall. Her neighbor, Mr. Denton, held the bag open helpfully, his shotgun set to one aside.
Seeing Creed, she halted. “Did you catch him?”
“No.” He took the bag and helped her up. Denton rose, too, and from the smell of motor oil on him, Creed guessed he worked on machinery for a living. “Much obliged to you for watching out for her.”
Denton gave him a nod. “She had one hell of a scare.”
“I’ll keep an eye on her from here on out.”
The man dragged a wary gaze to Gina. “You got any problems with that, Miss Briganti?”
“No,” she said. “No, of course not.”
“All right, then. I’ll go, but if that hoodlum comes back, I’ll have my shotgun ready for him.”
She paled a little. “I do not think he will come again.”
“You take care, just in case.” Denton picked up his weapon and headed toward his apartment. “Good night.”
He disappeared inside. Creed nudged Gina into her apartment and lit the lantern in the front room. Lamplight glared over the caved-in kitchen table, splintered beyond repair.
Her fingers flew to her mouth. “Oh, Creed.”
<
br /> He set the groceries on the floor, locked the door and frowned. “Not much left to it, is there?”
“I am sorry.” She peered up at him, tears shimmering like black pools.
“For what?” he demanded in a low rumble. “I’m the one who broke it.”
She made a sad, negating shake of her head. “He almost kills you.”
“And you.”
“He almost kills you because of me. You never meet him but still he—” she made a tiny sound of sympathy and touched his jaw gently with her fingertips “—he hurts you. Your face, it is swollen a little.”
“He cuffed me good.” Creed frowned and gave his jaw a few testing wiggles.
“I get you some ice.”
He caught her arm before she could hurry to the icebox. “I don’t need any.”
“But it makes the pain feel better.”
He drew her closer. His brain replayed the image of her falling with him in the hall, the sound of her head striking against the floor still gut-wrenching and vivid.
“Don’t fuss over me,” he said. “You’re hurting some, too. I know you are.”
“Yes.” Her dark eyebrows knitted. She removed her hat and began unpinning her hair. “How do you Americans say it? I have a… goose’s egg.” Freed from its confines, her shining sable mane dropped onto her shoulders and bounced down her back. Her fingertips delved deep. “Here. Can you feel it?”
His fingers joined hers and found the bump. Thankfully, no blood from it. “A goose egg, all right. You need some ice, too.”
“It is not serious.”
She lowered her hand, but his stayed in her hair, the fantasy of feeling the strands between his fingers finally true. In the golden lamplight, his gaze lingered over the fine bones of her face, the olive skin smooth as satin. The beauty he found exotic and arousing.
Gina was an innocent to the violence which had erupted in her world. She had no defense against it. No knowledge. No one to keep her from being destroyed by it in the end.
Except him.
“It was Nikolai Sokolov, wasn’t it?” Creed asked.
“Yes.” She dropped her glance and shivered, as if she relived the scare he’d given her.
Creed cupped her face with both his hands to gently bring it up again, her flesh warm and smooth against his palms. “He knows you saw him start the fire.”
“Yes.”
“He wants to keep you from talking.”
A breath left her. “Yes. Yes, I think so.”
“Well, I know so.” Creed smoothed the pad of his thumb across one delicately shaped cheekbone. Desperation stirred inside him. She had to know what she was up against. “Men like him are fanatics, Gina. Sokolov will stop at nothing to further his perverted cause.”
Her gaze never wavered. “Then I must be careful that he does not find me again.”
Creed blinked down at her. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“He is afraid I will keep him from doing his dirty work, so I must stop him before he does any more.”
Creed released her. “Just how do you propose to do that?”
She hesitated. “I do not know yet,” she admitted finally. “But somehow I find a way.”
“You’ll find a way.”
“Yes.”
“He’ll kill you first.”
The faintest quiver went through her. “It is a chance I take.”
“He’ll break every law to get to you.”
“He is dangerous, yes, but—”
Creed could barely keep from shaking her.
“He’ll burn down the damn apartment building, that’s how dangerous he is,” he roared.
She stiffened. Her lower lip quivered.
Regret and frustration rolled through him. He gripped her shoulders and brought her roughly against him.
“You know he’s capable of it,” he said into the hair at her temple. “He’ll light the match when you least expect it. In the middle of the night. When everyone’s sleeping. You’re on the third floor, Gina. Most likely, you won’t get out in time.”
She drew back, but he refused to let her go until she heard every word he had to say.
“Think of your neighbors,” he said. “Mr. Denton. You think it’s fair to see them suffer because you’re too stubborn to listen to me?”
Sable lashes pressed close together, the reality from all he said leaving her shaken and pale.
“No,” she whispered.
“Mrs. Sortino would help him do it if she had the chance. Don’t think she won’t,” Creed pressed on.
The lashes parted wide. Gina shook her head in denial. “Even she is not so cruel.”
He recalled what Sokolov had given the old crone. Pennies to satisfy her greed. The bribe Gina didn’t even know about.
“Ever hear of insurance money? She’d conspire with him if she thought she could make a few thousand bucks off you or any of her tenants.”
This time, Gina didn’t protest. But she swallowed hard.
“You mean nothing to her,” he said more quietly. “And you mean even less to Nikolai Sokolov.”
“What do I do? Hide like a little mouse?”
“You’re not safe if you don’t.”
“I will not hide!”
He released her. The decision came to him without his conscious thought.
“I’m taking you away from here,” he said grimly.
She gaped at him. “What?”
He took the time he needed to work through the plan. The advantages, the disadvantages. He went to the window and yanked back the curtains, braced both hands on the sill and stared down into the street below.
Tails flicking, the palomino and the bay stood next to one another, hitched to the rail, just as he’d left them. All along the dirt street, dreary tenement apartments towered side by side, each structure separated by a few scant feet from its neighbor. Block after block they towered, their existence as bleak as the people who lived inside them.
His gaze lifted to the sky, dimming with the pink-orange hues of the gathering dusk. He thought of another sky, the one he grew up under, a few miles beyond the Los Angeles city limits. A sky that blanketed a different world filled with wide open space, fresh air and clean living. The only world he’d ever known that would be protected and safe.
Call him all kinds of a fool, but there was nowhere else.
He straightened, drew the curtains closed and turned back to Gina.
“Throw your things together,” he said. “We’re leaving.”
Chapter Eleven
Creed had assured her he wouldn’t be taking her far, but the longer they rode away from the city, the more uneasy Gina became.
Since the day she arrived from Sicily with Mama, she had never left Los Angeles. The tall brick buildings, the people, the smells and the noise, they were all so familiar. A part of her life, her routine, her thinking, for three long years.
But this, this was different, she mused, her gaze scanning the broad countryside. The land that sprawled green and vibrant for as far as she could see wasn’t the California she knew. The vastness, the silence, left her disoriented. Even the air was different. Crisper, untainted from the belching chimneys of factories and restaurants.
Pure and free.
She felt guilty leaving the city to escape Nikolai, no matter how unappealing she found its crowded conditions. She should have remained close to her apartment to wait for word about her mother. Who would know where to find her when it finally came?
Which was why Creed brought her out here, of course. So no one would know. It was how he intended to protect her from Nikolai. By just making her disappear.
She didn’t want to be a coward, but she understood the decision Creed had made. She had to think of the very real possibility her neighbors could be hurt because of Nikolai’s vengeance. She had seen what his wrath against Mr. Silverstein had done to all the seamstresses, hadn’t she? Besides, what if Nikolai sneaked into her apartment again? Creed would not b
e with her to help…
Still, she reined the bay to a stop and twisted in the saddle for another look behind her, just to make sure Los Angeles was really not so far away, and she could return whenever she wanted to.
Which she did, of course. Soon. She had to.
“Is it still there?” Creed asked.
He halted, too, a little ahead of her. He looked amused at her worry, though he knew it had taken all the trust she had in him to convince her to leave.
“Yes.” She shook off the unease and took up the reins again. “How much more do we go?”
“Just ahead into the valley.”
He waited for her to draw up beside him before they resumed riding. It wasn’t long before a small, coarse-looking dwelling appeared, all by itself, with only a lean-to on one side. At Creed’s low-voiced command, they pulled up in front.
She stared.
Whatever she’d been expecting, it hadn’t been this.
“You look surprised,” Creed said and hooked a knee over the saddle horn. He was completely at ease on the horse, as if he’d been born on one.
“I am.” She tossed him a glance. “What is it?”
His mouth curved. “It’s called a line shack.”
Her gaze returned to the tiny structure, hardly big enough for one person, let alone two. Did he intend to leave her here all by herself?
“I do not know what one is,” she admitted carefully.
She prided herself on the English she’d learned when she came to America, but this term she couldn’t recall. Could he possibly live here? Or his family?
From beneath the brim of his Stetson, his narrowed gaze swept slowly over the expanse around them. He fell into deep thought, as if he delved into his past and forgot she was there.
“We’re on Sherman land, Gina,” he said finally. “My father’s ranch. He has an outfit that works for him, cowboys who help take care of his cattle and horses. One of the things they have to do is keep the fencing in good shape so the stock doesn’t wander off.”
She studied the rough-hewn shack, stark in its simplicity. No flowers to brighten the weathered wood, no grass to soften the dirt and weeds, not even any other shacks around for company. “And this is where the cowboy who checks the fence stays?”