Demanding Satisfaction [Bride Train 9] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (32 page)

Sophie insisted Smythe was not Isaac, but Max refused to believe her. He’d read the reports of other Pinkerton agents, mapped out the when and where of the attacks, then checked them against Smyth’s known travels. She, however, couldn’t prove a thing, so he dismissed her opinion as mere women’s intuition. The arrogant man had his plan all set and nothing would change his mind!

Josh believed her, though he wasn’t sure who else it could be. Sam wavered, weighing all sides. But Josh had to stay in the saloon with Max, leaving her vulnerable. At least Sam would be in her room, waiting.

Hammer, looking too satisfied, returned and Sophie rushed back to work. She kept her back to the bouncer, hoping he’d keep away as long as possible. She looked up at Josh, hoping her fear didn’t show. His wince, followed by an encouraging wink, proved she was terrible at pretending. She picked up a heavy tray of bottles. Fear might work in her favor. She wouldn’t have to pretend to be scared when—

“Queenie!”

Bottles crashed from her tray when she jumped. Because there was so little room, most of them landed on half-drunk men. The few that made it to the floor rolled away unbroken. She had no doubt Abby would charge her for them anyway.

“Time to go upstairs, whore. And none of your lip, or I’ll give ye a good one!”

A band of iron gripped her upper arm. She couldn’t run from Hammer’s grip, nor could she scream. All her air had escaped when he grabbed her. He shook her, though she hadn’t tried to run. He hauled her around to face the stairs. Abby waited halfway up, her face screwed up in a triumphant sneer.

Hammer’s long fingernails dug into her flesh as he dragged her toward the stairs. Whoops and catcalls erupted around the room. The noise broke Sophie’s frozen terror, and she remembered what she had to do.

“No!” She screamed, punching and kicking anyone in reach. She couldn’t see anything but flashes of lamps on tables as she was dragged past. She was hollow inside, cold and remote in fear. But from her skin out she burned with fury. She was not going to go easily. They would have to—

Someone covered her mouth with a hand. She bit down, hard, on the soft flesh. A roar was the last thing she heard before her head exploded in pain.

“Fool girl. You’re lucky you didn’t get your head knocked off.”

The words sounded muffled, as if she was under water. They came from one side. Sophie tilted her head to hear better. Pain erupted, so bad her stomach heaved.

“Don’t move. Here. This might help.”

A cool cloth was laid on her forehead. Shooting pain faded to a deep throbbing.

“You got Abby good,” said the voice. “Took a piece right out of her hand. If you bit Hammer like that, you’d be dead, but Abby can’t hit so hard. Good thing Hammer thought it was funny.”

Sophie chanced opening her eyes. A woman, no, two of them, wavered in front of her. After a moment they joined.

“Tess?”

“Humph! You haven’t the sense God gave a squirrel. Getting between those two!” Tess took the cloth, dipped it in a basin of cool water, wrung it out, and put it back on Sophie’s forehead.

“Oh, that feels good.”

“It better. I’m supposed to be giving you that cuppa tea.”

Tess pointed with her chin to a metal cup. Steam rose from it in lazy curls. Sophie realized she was chilled, and shivered. She didn’t remember it being that cold in her room. Gentlemen guests liked their comforts. She looked down. A thin stained sheet was all that covered her.

“My dress!”

“Hush. Whores gotta be stripped to get punished. I put it where Abby wouldn’t find it. That cat would rip it to pieces, and it so pretty and all, like a fire.”

She struggled to sit up, but Tess pushed her flat.

“I was told to put drugs in your tea. You have to pretend when that man comes.”

Sophie shuddered with something other than cold. “What man?”

Tess looked over her hunched shoulder. Sophie could see nothing beyond the lantern’s small circle.

“You know,” Tess whispered. “Mr. Isaac. He…” She clenched her jaw. “He hurt me. I…” She shivered. “I
can’t
. But you’re not afraid.”

Tess’s fear sent cold fingers to grip Sophie’s gut and squeeze. She touched Tess’s hand. “What did he do to you?”

For a moment Sophie thought Tess wouldn’t answer. But then she put her hand over Sophie’s.

“What did he do?” Tess released a shuddering breath. “Any damn thing he wanted.” She drew her finger down the line on her cheek. “This was from a red-hot knife. The other scars are under my dress.” Her lips crooked up in a gruesome parody of a smile. “Isaac doesn’t like to see blood. Burns don’t bleed.” She exhaled a shuddering breath. “But the pain and the scars last forever.”

“Oh, Tess. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t feel sorry for me, girlie. Kill him so I can sleep.” She squeezed Sophie’s hand and stood. “Hammer found that man in your room. He said he didn’t trust Isaac not to fuck you and he’d paid gold to have you for himself tonight. He wouldn’t leave, so they tied him up.”

“Sam?” Her heart raced. Sam was supposed to protect her from Isaac. She had to get word to Max. “He has a twin who looks the same. They’re Pinkerton agents. So’s Josh, the one who paid Abby that bag of gold.”

Tess’s eyes widened. “They here to catch Isaac? You’re not alone?”

“Yes. And no, I’m not alone.”

“Oh, thank the Lord.” Tess sagged for a moment, then straightened.

“I have friends here as well. But they don’t know where I—” Sophie suddenly realized she couldn’t hear the noise of the saloon. “Where am I?”

“Back corner of the cellar. No one can hear anything upstairs.”

Cellar? Sophie’s heart pounded. She scrambled to escape. Tess dropped, holding her down.

“Don’t fight me!” demanded Tess. “You’ve got to stop that Mr. Isaac!”

Sophie slumped. Her heart didn’t slow and the need to run didn’t fade, but she wasn’t going to panic. She was an adult, not a child about to be sold into sexual slavery. This was not her stepfather’s hotel and she was no longer alone. Tess would help the Gibsons and her friends rescue her.

So she was in a cellar. It was just a cold place to store food and supplies. The door was open. Unlike the room her stepfather had created, there were no bars locking her in. Tess would find Josh or Max and tell them to let Sam go. They would rescue her from Mr. Isaac before he hurt her. She would survive this and move on, knowing she’d done something important with her life.

“That’s better.” Tess sat up. “You gotta pretend you drunk the drug I was to put in your tea. It’ll make you so wobbly you can’t walk. You’ll hear and feel everything but won’t be able to move. If you do, he’ll know you’re not drugged. You’ll only get one chance to hit him.”

“With what?”

“I put a poker beside the door. There’s a knife under the bed, near the foot. Stab or hit him hard, again and again, until he stays down,” she snarled. She pointed to a brazier on a table near the head of the bed, a metal sheet under it. The tip of another poker was shoved deep in the coals. “I want to stick that right between his legs. I don’t care if he’s dead or not.” Her eyes gleamed. “If he’s still alive, he’ll scream until his throat is raw.”

Sophie thought she’d known fear. But those memories of her stepfather would never bring what she saw on Tess’s face. What had the man done to torture her, and why? Who had ordered it? She decided if Isaac lived, she’d find a way to let Tess take her own vengeance. Not only might it heal some of her nightmares, it would be payment for what Tess was doing to help her catch the monster.

“Please tell Max or Josh that Sam’s tied up and I’m down here.”

“I’ll do it,” said Tess. She handed Sophie the cup. “This is just tea with sugar. Leave it where Isaac will see that it’s empty.” She gave an abrupt nod and walked away, rubbing her scar.

Sophie sat on the bed and sipped the lukewarm tea. It did help to have something in her stomach. When she was done she stood. The dirt floor was colder than the air. She wrapped the thin piece of sheet around her body. It did little but hide her skin. Four strides across the room was the door, which opened into the middle of the room. She peeked out. Nothing but darkness. She took a few hesitant steps to her left down a narrow hallway. The faint glow of a lamp marked the stairs.

She released a breath. She knew how to escape. But she had a job to do first. She checked to make sure she could find the knife. It was the perfect size for her, slim and not too heavy. She left it hilt out, ready to grab. She carefully brushed her feet off before climbing onto the bed. What was the best position to look weak but be able to run if she had to?

She shuffled around on her back until her legs hung over the bed. Her heels rested on the floor. That meant she could push herself to roll sideways. She slumped so her hair covered her face, hiding her eyes but allowing her to see.

But she was only so brave. Lying naked while a monster approached was almost more than she could bear. She covered herself with the sheet. Then she waited.

“Where the devil is Smythe?” muttered Max to himself. Josh had pretended to pass out, his head lolling on his chest. Anyone who looked closely would see the slight slit he used to see. No one here would bother.

“In his saloon, getting drunker by the minute.”

Max jerked in his seat. “Dammit, Ross, do you have to sneak up on a man?” A low chuckle reached his ears.

“Sin owes me a dollar.”

Ross’s quiet voice sounded smug. It made Max want to smash him for playing when something so serious was happening. “What are you talking about?”

“I bet him waiting for Sophie would make you swear.”

Max clutched the bottle in his hand. If only he could throw it against the wall so it smashed all over. Or even better, hit Ross with it. Anything to release his tight muscles and throbbing headache.

“This isn’t a joke! When they took Sophie upstairs, Abby smashed her in the head and knocked her out. Now I don’t know where she is.”

He heaved a sigh. Sophie couldn’t give him one logical reason why Smythe wasn’t Isaac. Not one. But she still insisted it was true. He’d discounted her as a woman who didn’t know how to analyze facts. But his facts no longer added up.

“Sophie might be right,” he admitted. “Maybe Smythe isn’t Isaac.” He shoved his bottle away. “I’m going upstairs.”

“No. It’s not time.”

Max was a Pinkerton agent. He had years of experience tracking, finding, and capturing criminals. Ross, however, had spent his whole life training to be a warrior. He specialized in knives. Max might be impatient, but he wasn’t stupid.

“When?” he demanded.

“When we’re here to back you up,” replied Ross.

“Dammit, I can’t wait!”

“I trust Sophie. Do you?”

It had taken Max a long time to learn to trust his brothers. He could trust Ross and the rest of the Tanner’s Ford men somewhat as they understood predators. But they were not trained agents. He’d never trusted a woman. How could he, when his own mother encouraged his father to attack them to protect herself?

Sophie would never harm anyone weaker, especially a child. Quite the opposite. She’d helped Billy O’Keefe, Casey and Willy Wright, and likely many other youngsters. She was putting her life on the line tonight to stop Isaac. He had to trust her. Because she trusted him, his brothers, and her friends.

The sudden pinch of a knife point under his chin made him grunt.

“I asked a question, Mr. Pinkerton Detective.”

“Yes, I trust Sophie,” said Max, trying not to move his jaw. “But I don’t trust Abby not to hurt her before Isaac gets here.”

The knife disappeared. Max exhaled in relief. He shifted to stand, but a hand pressed on his shoulder. Another hand grabbed his bottle. A large, female hand.

“Hey,” he said in character, “I ain’t finished with that.”

“Then drink it!”

He looked into the face of the woman he’d seen cleaning with Sophie. She leaned over to grab the bottle. Her back faced the room as she peered down at him.

“You do look just like that man locked in Queenie’s room. But she ain’t there.”

“Is Isaac—”

She yanked the bottle from his hand and was gone before he could finish his question.

“What was that?” demanded Ross from out of the gloom.

“She said Sam’s locked in Sophie’s room. I’ve got to get to her.”

He tried to rise, but a hand held him in his chair.

“Is Isaac with her?”

“She didn’t say, but they put Sophie somewhere else.”

“Get Josh and Sam, but leave Sophie where she is,” ordered Ross. “He’ll run if he sees something’s wrong.”

“But—”

“I’ll bring the others. We’ll make some noise.” Ross’s soft chuckle floated into Max’s ears. The hand lifted. “Don’t use the back way. Wait for my signal.”

Those few minutes were the longest Max could remember. A woman he cared about waited, defenseless, while a monster stalked her. One of his brothers would marry her, if she survived.