Anyplace But Here (Oklahoma Lovers Series Book 5) (14 page)

“Oh my God.” She hurried to her closet and withdrew a garment. Not sure how to undress and dress again with Hunter there, even with his back turned, she pulled the frock over her nightgown. She quickly buttoned up the front, then hopped on one foot as she slid her boots on. “I’m ready.”

Hunter picked up her suitcase with one hand and caught her arm with the other. “How easy is it to get down the back staircase? Is there anything blocking it?”

She shrugged. “No. It’s an easy way out.”

“Good. I’ll go first. The back stairway would be the safest, and be sure to hold onto my hand.”

“What about the rope?” She eyed it, lying on the floor like a dead snake.

“I wasn’t sure how we were going to get out, but if we can just walk out that’s much easier. We won’t need it.”

They left the room and strode to the rear of the house. Emily hung onto Hunter as he cautiously made his way down the stairs. Even though she’d been up and down these stairs several times, under duress and in the dark nothing looked familiar. They both breathed a sigh of relief once they opened the back door and stepped onto the porch.

“Come on, I have an automobile parked a block away.” Hand in hand they moved away from the door and rounded the corner of the house. They’d taken no more than a few steps when the sound of a gun being cocked brought them up short.

“Good evening, Mrs. Smith. Are we going for a late night stroll?” Martin stood, feet apart, a gun pointed directly at them.

Emily squealed and backed up, banging into Hunter’s chest. “Why are you pointing that gun at me, Martin?”

Hunter shoved her behind him. The scant moonlight threw Martin’s face into shadows, the outline of his body against the ground behind him huge. She peeked around Hunter and moved her hand to her chest, trying to calm her rapid heartbeat.

He grinned. “A better question is why you are running around the outside of the house in the dark with a strange man. Are you being kidnapped?”

She shook her head. “No.” She eased out from behind Hunter and reached her hand out in appeal. “You must let us go. Please.”

Martin shrugged. “Now since Mr. Smith is paying me to watch you, why would I do that? I would get fired.”

Hunter walked closer to the man, but stopped when the driver raised the gun higher. “Look, Martin. Mrs. Smith is in danger living here. You must know that. You drive them everywhere.”

“It’s none of my business what my employer does. Except give me a paycheck. My business is to drive her where she wants to go and watch her. I ain’t gonna lose my job.” He gestured with the gun. “Go on back, Mrs. Smith.”

“You wouldn’t shoot me.”

“No. I wouldn’t. But I would shoot your friend here and tell Mr. Smith I killed a man who was trying to kidnap his wife.”

“No!” She moved forward with her hand out. “Don’t shoot him. I’ll go back.”

“What kind of a man are you, to allow her husband to treat her like this?” Hunter growled.

“A man with a paycheck.” He gestured with the gun one more time. “I will do you a favor, though, and not tell Mr. Smith about this little visit we had.” He added, “As long as it doesn’t happen again.”

Emily’s shoulders slumped and she turned toward Hunter. He pulled her to his body and held her close. “Tuesday at the dressmaker’s,” he whispered in her ear.

She nodded. Wrapping her coat tightly around her body, she returned to the prison that was her life.

Chapter 14

Hunter banged the steering wheel with his fist.

Damn. So close
.

Had he known Martin was so determined to do his job that he carried a gun, his plan would have been much different. It had been a difficult lesson, but now he knew.

He could have easily taken the man down, but he wouldn’t allow the chance that Emily might be hurt. And the noise of a scuffle would only bring Louis out, most likely with a gun of his own.

Martin sure as hell wouldn’t shoot the boss’s wife, but she could have accidentally been hit in the process. It was better to make a different plan now that he knew just how determined Louis was on keeping Emily a prisoner.

Filled with frustration and an overdose of guilt at being so poorly prepared, he started the automobile. Another failure to protect those he cared about.

Still dealing with the emotional rush at their near escape, he decided to swing by the hotel and maybe have a drink with Jeremy. See how he was doing with the investigation.

The dining room in the hotel was closed, but the bar was doing a brisk business. Surprised Jeremy wasn’t there, he took the stairs two at a time to the third floor, and knocked on his door. It took a few minutes, but eventually the door swung open.

Jeremy looked like hell. His eyes were bloodshot, he was covered with sweat, and he hadn’t shaved in days. Hunter shoved the door open and his lips tightened as he took in the scene.

The bed was unmade, clothes strewn all over the floor. A scatter of twenty dollar bills had been left carelessly on the bed, and several vials alongside a needle cluttered the top of the dresser.

He brushed past Jeremy and picked up the needle. “I thought you were done with this.”

“I am. I just needed a little bit to sleep.”

“You’re full of shit.” He dropped the needle and rested his hands on his hips. “And you look like shit, too.”

“Nice to see you, too, buddy.”

“It’s not funny, Jer. This stuff will kill you. Don’t you find you need more and more?”

Jeremy held his hand up, palm out. “Hey. Mind your own business. We’re friends, you’re not my mama. I can stop anytime I want to.”

“So stop now.”

“I said ‘when I want to.’ I’m here to help you out, do a job for you. If I fall down on the job, then you can kick my ass.”

Hunter leaned against the dresser and glared at Jeremy. “When was the last time you ate?”

“Breakfast.”

He grabbed Jeremy by the arm. “Come on. The café down the street is still open. I could use some food myself.”

They left the hotel and headed east toward The Harvest Café. It was a small place, mostly frequented by locals rather than tourists. The food was plentiful and good, they were open all hours, and the price just right. Not glamourous in its decorations, but you couldn’t eat wallpaper.

They took a table near the front of the café and ordered sandwiches and coffee. Hunter finished his, but it was obvious Jeremy was forcing himself to eat. He was a grown man and made his own decisions, but it would be worthwhile to keep an eye on his friend since he was counting on him to help get Louis behind bars.

“How’s the investigation coming along?”

Jeremy pushed his plate aside and pulled his coffee cup closer. “I visited Smith’s office earlier this week. I told him I came from an oil rich family looking to make investments into local businesses. He jumped at the chance to tell me how risky that was, and I would be much better off putting my money with their firm.”

Hunter snorted. “Did you pick up anything?”

“Yeah. He’s a crook. There’s no doubt. He was much too anxious for me to write him a check without giving me very much information or time to consider his proposal. I could practically smell the greed oozing from his skin.”

“Where will you go from here?”

“I have some contacts who know the stock market pretty well. There’s also a men’s club in town I can get into as a guest. They allow visits to promote memberships. From what I understand a lot of the swells go there and talk about the stock market. Both Smith and his partner, Sanders are members, so I’ll use my ‘guest’ visit and see what I can come up with. If they’ve been running a scam for as long as you say they have, there has to be dirt somewhere.”

“Emily says he’s used her in the past to get information on several of his clients that he can use as ‘leverage’ to keep them from demanding too much from him.”

Jeremy gave a low whistle. “Nice guy.”

“I’m working on getting Emily out of there. He’s a danger to her, and I don’t like it.”

Jeremy leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s your relationship to Emily? You’re going through an awful lot of trouble to help a married woman.”

“I met her in Guthrie while I was recuperating from my injury. She was a Harvey House waitress. Things were going along well before Smith dragged her back. She’s the first woman I’ve met that makes me think about home and family.”

“Sounds like she’s got you hooked.”

“Probably. But until I can get this all straightened out, including getting Smith for my father’s murder, anything between us is stalled.”

“If I have my way the scum will be behind bars shortly. I also sent a wire today to Ellsworth. Thought I could get whatever they had in their records on the bank robbery and the death of the teller and your father.”

“Will they send it?”

“Contacts, Henderson, contacts.” Jeremy’s grin brought back memories of how many times they’d worked together, solving cases and chasing down criminals. Before Hunter’s career was shot out from under him and before Jeremy’s dependence on morphine started.

The good old days.

“Mr. Smith, that Mr. Adkins is here again.” Miss Blake stuck her head in the door, annoying Louis once more. What the hell was it with weak women? Was he to spend the rest of his life having to put up with them? His secretary wouldn’t even come into the room. He’d bet her chunky legs were shaking, too. He might have to fire the bitch and hire a man.

“Get in here and close the door.”

She eased the door closed and took tentative steps toward him. “He is demanding to see you.”

“Demanding? In my office? Who the hell does he think he is?” he snarled.

Miss Blake raised her hand to her throat and swallowed several times. “Can I send him in?”

“Where’s Mr. Sanders?”

“He called on the telephone earlier and said he was visiting with a client this morning.”

Louis snorted. The only client his weak-livered partner visited was Jack Daniels. Sanders was another one he had to get rid of. Why he should be surrounded by sniveling morons was beyond him. “Have Adkins wait twenty minutes. If he hasn’t left by then, show him in.”

She scurried out of the office like a mouse with a cat on its tail. He glanced briefly at the window, wishing not for the first time that his office was on the ground floor. Not that climbing out a window to avoid a client was very dignified. But he knew why Adkins was here. This was not his first visit. He wanted all his money returned. What he’d given them, plus the large amount of interest Louis had promised the man.

He had to get that oil man to invest with them. For the first time he began to worry. Was Sanders correct, and it was all coming to an end? The house, the Club, the lofty lifestyle? He was too old to start over. Not that thirty-seven was very old. But he’d made a comfortable life for himself here and didn’t want to give it all up.

Damn that whimpering wife of his, too. When he married her, he thought with all the money she’d been left by her parents that they were set for life. But beautiful gowns to show her off, memberships at the best clubs, his mansion, and elaborate entertainments to impress clients had cost a fortune. And now her inheritance was gone.

Maybe she had another relative somewhere out there who was ready to meet his maker and leave her more money.

His thoughts were interrupted by shouting and banging, and finally his door flew open.

“What the hell?”

Mr. Adkins came barreling into the office, his face flushed, eyes narrowed. “Where the hell is my money, Smith?”

Louis took a deep breath. He needed to calm the man down, speak in a quiet voice. Get him to leave. He gave him a welcoming smile. “Your money is right where it should be, Richard. Invested. Earning more money for you.”

“Oh, yeah? Well I’ve been hearing about this money I’ve been earning for over five years now. You keep telling me it’s being reinvested. Well, I’m telling you, I want it. Now. Everything I gave you, plus interest.”

“I can’t just pull all your money out right now. You have to be careful how the Market is manipulated.” He hated the way the sweat trickled down his back. He should not let this idiot threaten him.

“The only manipulation I see going on is right here in front of me. I want my money.
Now
.” He gestured with his chin toward the file cabinet. “Pull your checkbook out and write me a check while I wait. Anyone with all the money you claim to be making for your clients can write a check for my account.”

“You’re not being reasonable, Mr. Adkins. I need a couple of days to transfer funds.”

Adkins studied him, no doubt wondering how truthful he was being. “All right. Two days. I’ll be back on Thursday.” He headed toward the door, then turned. “And you’d better have that check ready. If you’re not here, I’ll be visiting you at your fancy home.”

Louis took a deep breath when the door in the outer office slammed. He pulled his ledger out from his middle drawer and checked his bank balance. There was certainly enough to cover Adkins’ account but that would leave them with virtually nothing. He needed to get more clients.

And where the hell was Sanders that he was never here when irate clients showed up? He shoved the checkbook back into the desk drawer and rose.

“I’m out for the afternoon,” he snapped at Miss Blake as he fled the office.

Fled, indeed. He was a respectable businessman. No client should be able to threaten him. He ought to report the man’s bullying to the police.

After a hearty lunch washed down by several beers and a few shots of whiskey, he drove several miles outside of town to Miss Betsy’s Club For Discriminating Gentlemen. Miss Betsy provided the cleanest and most accommodating girls in all of Texas. One in particular even allowed the rough handling he preferred.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Smith. May I get you a drink?” The madam slithered up to him in a gown much too small for her corpulent frame. Her breasts were in danger of falling completely out, and the slit up the side of her dress showed more leg than a woman of her age and size should have been flaunting.

“Yeah, I’ll take a whiskey. Is Constanza available?”

“Ah, your favorite. She is busy right now, but if you will take a seat and enjoy your drink, she will be available in a little while. In the meantime I can have one of the other girls keep you company.” She winked to indicate just what type of company the girl would provide.

Louis sank into a comfortable, well stuffed chair. Within minutes a young whore sauntered over with two drinks in her hand. Her drink was no more than colored water, but he would be charged for a whiskey for each of them. It was the way things were.

“What’s your name, beautiful?”

“Wendy.” She grinned, giving the impression of a fresh, just-off-the-farm girl. She had a scattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks, a slight space between her front teeth, and a young body. All of that in stark contrast to the dress she wore that barely covered her feminine parts.

He patted his thighs. “Come and sit here.”

She giggled and settled on his lap. She reminded him of his wife, sweet and stupid. He fondled her a bit but since he had one at home just like her, there was no thrill in doing much more. He was anxious for Constanza to be free. She understood his appetites and allowed him more freedom that any other whore he’d ever had. And certainly more than his frigid wife.

A dark mood passed over him at the thought of Emily. He should be home demanding she service him the way he liked instead of paying someone else to do it. He grinned at how shocked she always was when he did things to his liking. After the first few times on their honeymoon when he laid down the law and let her know with a few slaps how things would be, she was much more obedient.

But the revulsion in her eyes every time he touched her made him want to hurt her more. Who the hell did she think she was, anyway? Too good for him? He might have started out as a two-bit bank robber, but dammit, he’d made something of himself.

“Hey, get me another drink.” He yanked lightly on the whore’s hair. “My glass has been empty for a while.”

Wendy’s smile dimmed and she pouted. “Ouch. That hurt.”

“So what? Get me a drink.” He shoved her, and only a quick movement on her part kept her from landing on the floor. She flounced off.

“Hey Betsy, when’s Constanza gonna be done?” He shouted across the room, gaining the attention of several whores, and the men they were entertaining. The drinks were hitting him and he wanted to get down to business before he could no longer perform.

Miss Betsy glided across the floor, nodding pleasantly at the customers. “Mr. Smith, you must be a little patient. She will be finished soon, and I’m sure she will make you very happy.”

He snorted. “She’d better. You sure charge enough.”

“May I escort you to one of our rooms? As soon as Constanza is finished I will send her to you.”

“No. I’ll wait right here. I think you’re hoping I’ll fall asleep.” He pounded his fist on the small table next to him. “And where the hell is the little bitch with my drink?”

Miss Betsy’s pleasant expression changed as quickly as a whore on a time clock as she leaned over him. “Mr. Smith, I must ask you to lower your voice.”

“Get Constanza now. I’ll pay extra.”