SEDUCTIVE SUPERNATURALS: 12 Tales of Shapeshifters, Vampires & Sexy Spirits (198 page)

Taylor closed her eyes.
What am I going to do?
What am I supposed to do?

“Taaaay-lor! C’mon with me—we’re gonna play some cards!” An even more inebriated Henry put an arm around Taylor and dragged her to a nearby card table.

Taylor stood stiffly next to Henry in front of a large oval table covered in dark green felt with the images of thirteen cards intricately painted along one side—all spades—running from the Ace through the numbered cards and ending with the King of spades.

At least a dozen people were elbow-to-elbow around the edge, waiting for the betting action to begin. The dealer scanned the crowd for players and quickly welcomed Henry as a newcomer to the round.

“Relax, Taylor, and you’ll be fine.”

Taylor’s ears pricked up at her father’s soothing words. She’d never seen anything like the card game they were playing and she searched for clues as to what she was supposed to do. Why couldn’t it have been poker?

Henry threw his gold pieces on the table, saying, “Give me some checks!” and Taylor watches as a man tossed him some chips for the next round.

“That’s the house banker.”

Thanks, Dad.
Though the whole thing was crazy, at least she didn’t feel alone. With her father’s help, maybe she could somehow pull this off. She hoped so.

Next the man shuffled a single deck of cards, cut it, and placed it in a box.

“That’s the dealing box.”

Henry turned to Taylor and asked, “Well, what’ll it be, pal? Choose me a card to win this turn and the first spoils are yours.”

A feeling of panic threatened to suffocate her right then and there.

She took a deep breath and watched as the game started. Some of the men had already dropped chips on the painted cards on the table. The dealer removed a card.

“That’s called the soda—he’ll discard that one.”

Then banker drew a card from the box, putting it face up on the table to the right of the box. A Queen.

“That’s the banker’s card.”

Groans followed as the banker scooped away any chips placed on the painted Queen.

Then players dropped chips onto the painted card images as they shouted their predictions as to what card would appear next. She had no idea what to do.
Dad?

“Bet ten dollars on the King as the next card—that’s called the player’s card.”

“Ten on the King,” she repeated aloud.
Okay, Dad, hope you’re good at this.

Henry slapped Taylor heartily on the back and said, “That’s the spirit! Here we go!” He placed two red chips on the table’s painted King of Spades as the dealer reached for the next card.

Dad, are you sure about this?

Her heart in her throat she felt her father’s presence disappear.
Dad?
Nothing. Taylor forced her attention to the Faro box, crossed her fingers, and visualized the next card to be a King. What else could she do?

Henry cheered thunderously as the dealer slid the next card out of the box and exposed the King of Hearts as the winner for that round. Taylor stared in disbelief as Henry merrily placed four red chips in her hands.

“And here’s twenty for your trouble, Taylor.” Henry winked and turned back to the table for the next round, thrilled at his apparent change in luck.

Taylor backed away from the table, clasping the chips tightly. She returned to her place at the bar, finished her lukewarm beer, and placed her bowler back on her head just as Jackson walked toward her.

“Another beer?”

“I don’t think so, but where can I cash these in?” Taylor opened her hand to show him the chips.

“You had good luck at the Faro table, I see.” There was a warmth in Jackson’s smile that echoed in his voice as he reached out to take the chips from Taylor. “I can take care of that for you.”

As he scooped up the chips from Taylor’s outstretched hand, Jackson abruptly stepped back and turned away, transferring the chips to his other hand and shaking out his fingers.

Odd, Taylor thought as she followed his movements. She did notice, though, that as Jackson’s fingers had grazed her palm a pleasant tingle had traveled from her hand, up her arm, and ending in the pit of her stomach. Had he felt something to?

She continued staring at him What was it about him? Something in the man’s easy manner soothed her and, though there was no obvious reason for it, he seemed somehow familiar and safe. Probably just wishful thinking, she considered, but at least he seemed to make her feel a tiny bit more at ease.

As Jackson cashed in her chips, Taylor suppressed a yawn. It was well past midnight, and she grasped and held onto the thought that if she could just find a safe place to sleep, she would either wake from the crazy dream she was having or at least be rested enough to try to deal with the strangeness of her new normal.

At some level, she thought she had to consider she just might need to work at trying to accept her bizarre situation, but at that very moment, she simply wanted to close her eyes and sleep. Things might seem more clear in the light of day, right? That was her hope, anyway.

“Here you go, Taylor. I’m Jackson, by the way, Jackson Hoyt.” He extended his hand with a smile.

As she reached out to grasp Jackson’s hand, Taylor returned his smile. His hand felt warm in hers and she felt a shiver of pleasure as he squeezed her fingers. “Thanks. Maybe you can do me another favor and tell me where I could get a room for tonight.”

“At this hour, you’ll probably want to try the hotel next door, though I think they’re full tonight. There was a big land auction today that brought in a lot of people from up north.”

Taylor bit her lower lip, trying to hide her immediate feeling of frustration.

“If they’re full, just come on back and you can use the cot in the storeroom for tonight.” Jackson’s smile quickly faded, almost as though he regretted the words he’d spoken.

Taylor bent for her suitcase, forced her mouth into a thin-lipped smile, then turned to forge a path through the boisterous crowd. She tried her best to imagine herself in a soft, clean bed, her head snuggled into a big feather pillow. If she could just get a good night’s sleep, surely this would make some kind of sense, right?

As she reached the doorway, Taylor tripped over an uneven floorboard and she felt herself falling. Strong arms reached out to catch her just before her knee could make contact with the floor.

“Hey, there! Watch yourself, now. I don’t want nobody breakin’ a leg in my gamblin’ house tonight.”

Taylor quickly recovered her footing and looked into her rescuer’s face to thank him. Before her stood a tall, classically handsome man with deep set blue eyes, dark blonde hair, and a long handlebar mustache.

“You all right, little fella?”

Taylor struggled to her feet, adjusting her vest and pulling her hat low onto her forehead. She felt vulnerable and small next to the towering man. “Yes, I’m fine. I just tripped. Thank you, Mr.—”

“It’s Earp. Wyatt Earp. Now, you’re sure you’re not hurt?”

Taylor’s eyes widened in amazement as, sickeningly, the room suddenly whirled and she lost her tenuous hold on reality. The sounds in the room quieted and the dim light faded to black as she felt her knees buckle, realizing she was falling into the arms of the famous frontier Marshall.

Forever Rose: Chapter Four

Taylor woke with a start, her heart thumping madly and her eyes snapping open. She had no idea where she was, or what had happened.

Breathing in shallow, quick gasps, she searched for something familiar, something to help her clear the haze. Her eyes slammed closed in desperation and she told herself to breathe slowly and calm down, try to make sense of things. As her mind floundered, she frantically grasped for reality.

Think…think.

The last thing she remembered was tripping, and then fainting in the arms of…
Wyatt Earp? Really?
She had no luck remembering anything after that.

Sounds of heavy, steady breathing came from the other side of the room. Eyes once again open wide, Taylor listened. As her vision adjusted to the darkness, her gaze focused on a narrow cot across the room. Someone was asleep there—a body was hidden beneath a thin blanket. She envied the peaceful slumber, suddenly feeling like she was trapped in an unwanted, never-ending nightmare.

The body rolled over and faced her direction. She carefully pushed away her own blanket, relieved to find herself still fully clothed except for her shoes. Then she stepped over her suitcase and hat, and tiptoed silently across the room to see who was there.

Jackson
.

His sleep looked as peaceful as a child’s, she thought as she knelt on the floor beside him. A black tendril of hair had fallen onto his forehead and she gently brushed it back. Jackson’s mouth curved into an unconscious smile, and for some strange reason, it comforted her.

The room suddenly darkened and Taylor looked up, her heart pounding as a shadow passed in front of the window. She saw the silhouette of someone peering in, hands cupped around his eyes. When the shadow moved she quickly stepped back across the room and into her bed, her heart now in her throat, hoping she hadn’t been noticed. Through half-closed eyes, she watched and waited.

The shadow reappeared at the window and she heard a tapping noise. Taylor pulled the blanket up to her nose, trying to muffle her own anxious breathing.

She heard Jackson stirring and slowly turned her face toward him to watch through the slits of her eyes. He cocked his head toward the sound of the tapping. In one quick movement, he pulled a knife from under his pillow and leaped out of his bed. He appeared instantly alert and ready for anything. Then he walked noiselessly to the window and motioned to the man to go around the corner.

Then he turned toward her.

Taylor closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe evenly. Soon she felt Jackson’s own breath on her cheek as he seemed to check if she was asleep. She waited until she was sure he had left the room before she opened her eyes again. Carefully, she slipped out of her bed and walked toward the doorway. Muffled, low voices came from the hallway, and she moved closer, listening.

“We can count on you, right, Jackson?”

“I’ve got everything under control. The Marshall trusts me like a brother now, so all we have to do is pick the right time. And I don’t think you should come here anymore. It’s getting too dangerous. Now go.”

Taylor heard footsteps and dashed back to her bed. She had just pulled the blanket back into its original position when Jackson entered the room.

This time, Jackson didn’t come near her. She heard the creak of the cot as he settled himself, then a soft moan.

Taylor listened for his breathing to become slow and steady before she finally opened her eyes, waiting until she was absolutely certain he was asleep. She looked first at the shape of Jackson on the cot, and then towards the window.
What in the world had just happened?

Whatever it was, she didn’t have a good feeling about it.

Taylor settled back on the cot and clasped her hands behind her head, staring at the ceiling. She spent the next few hours willing the sun to rise, certain it would help bring some kind of clarity to the situation she was in.

Okay, somehow I’m stuck here. In the past. In the backroom of a saloon owned by Wyatt Earp. In San Diego. I guess that part’s good, though I sure wish I remembered more local history.

Taylor reevaluated everything that had happened since she had stepped off the train earlier that night. After the fifth time through the scenario, she fell into an exhausted sleep. This time she slept soundly.

* * *

“And who might this be, Wyatt?”

Taylor’s eyes fluttered open to the sound of a woman’s cheerful voice.

“Ah, you
are
awake. What’s your name?”

Taylor focused on the face of the young woman who stood next to her bed. “Taylor. Taylor Martin.”

“Well, hello, Taylor. I’m Mrs. Earp. You may call me Josie.”

Taylor opened her eyes fully and took in the entire image of the woman who stood next to Wyatt Earp. She guessed her to be in her early twenties, with a very youthful face surrounded by long, dark hair that she wore loose and draped over her shoulders. The woman looked very exotic and she found she liked her immediately.

Taylor cleared her throat before speaking again. “Good morning. I’ll just get my things and be on my way. I’ll be checking into the hotel next door.”

“Wyatt, dear, aren’t they full next door? Didn’t you tell me they had no vacancies?” Josie asked.

Taylor straightened her clothes, then sat up and reached for her shoes.

“Oh, no rush, now. It’s just that Wyatt thought you might be sick, collapsing and all last night. Are you sure you’re well?”

Taylor stared back at Josie Earp, whose expression now seemed like a mix of puzzlement and concern. Then she moved her gaze toward Wyatt. “I’m fine, really. And thank you for letting me stay here last night.” Looking into the deep blue eyes of the famous Marshall, she offered her most sincere smile. What she really wanted was to be on her way before any more questions were asked.

Wyatt stared back at her, then asked, “Have we met somewhere before?”

Taylor flushed, but remained silent.

Wyatt continued to scrutinize Taylor. “Now you’re sure you’re feeling up to moving around? Are you stayin’ a while in San Diego?”

Taylor placed her hat on her head, stood up with suitcase in hand, and tried her best to look organized and confident. “Well, I haven’t really decided yet, but—”

“Wyatt, aren’t you looking for some help around here?” Josie nudged her husband with her shoulder and gave him an encouraging glance. “San Diego’s a wild city, and not a safe place for anyone to be alone.”

“Well, Taylor,” he said, “I sure could use some cleanin’ help here during the afternoons. Why don’t you think about comin’ back here in a couple days after you’re good ‘n rested and we can talk about it.” Wyatt wrapped one arm around his wife’s waist and gave her an affectionate squeeze. “Now, we should let Taylor, here, go find a proper room.”