Tarnished Angel (49 page)

    Ross still felt incredulous. This deep well of emotion was the force behind the driving anger that had left him little peace from the moment his eyes had first touched on Devina Dale. He knew this was not pure lust. He had experienced lust for many women, but he had never known the concern, anxiety, regret, and
soulshaking
tenderness this woman inspired in him. This emotion that bound him to
Devinathis
desire to hold her as a part of him, to keep her safe, to care for her; this melting heat that soared to life deep within him each time his eyes touched her; this
tendernesshad
no part in so base an emotion as lust.

    Devina stirred in his arms, interrupting Ross's train of thought, even as unrelenting tenderness stirred anew. Devina's slender nakedness fitted naturally against his side. Ross drew her closer, turning her against him more fully. His eyes dropped briefly closed with sheer joy as her breasts pressed full and warm against his chest, as he fitted her head into the curve of his throat. He slid his hand down to cup her small, from buttocks, to fit her securely against the warmth of his groin. He felt the responsive swell of his body and he gave a low, disbelieving snort.

    His hand slipping into the silver-blond hair that teased his chin, he held Devina close within his embrace as he lowered his head to cover her mouth lightly with his. Devina stirred, and he drew back from his kiss. She was exhausted. She had to rest.

    Guilt forced Ross's gaze down the length of Devina's slender leg, toward the swollen, angry bruise on her ankle. It would be another day, maybe two, before she regained her strength, began to return to herself. He was beset with conflicting emotions at the thought.

    When she was stronger and no longer physically dependent on him, would she hate him for pressing his attentions on her while
 
    she was so weak? Would she turn away from him? He only knew that he could not, would not allow that to happen.

    It no longer mattered to him that Devina's name was Dale, that hatred, contempt, and distrust were waiting to separate them in the world outside this cabin. Devina had no part in the old score he had to settle with her father, and he would hold her separate from it. He would overcome her objections just as firmly as he had overcome her resistance to his lovemaking.

    And in the meantime, he would love her. How very well he would love her. He now realized that for him, it could be no other way.

    Night had fallen, but Tombstone had come alive with the garish lights of the dance halls, raucous music, shrieking laughter, and rowdy calls and conversations conducted at a shouted pitch as drunken cowboys stumbled from one saloon to another. But Jake had had his fill. Swaying in the doorway of the Alhambra Saloon, he raised his glass and downed the last few swallows of beer. Turning with the slow deliberation of a man finding it difficult to maintain his balance, he slammed his glass down on the nearest table and walked uncertainly out through the swinging doors. He paused, tipping his hat to the gaudily dressed young woman who turned her brightly painted face in his direction.

    "Good
evenin
', ma'am."

    He continued walking, hearing her harsh laughter as he tripped on a warped board in the sidewalk, managing at the last minute to save himself from coming down hard on the swaying wooden walk. He took a deep breath and attempted to clear his whirling head.

    Damn, he was drunk.

    Turning abruptly, Jake steadied himself before stepping down into the street. He looked sharply in both directions, amused at his own caution.

    
Jake, old friend, you have
somethin
' to do
, he told himself,
and now's the time to do it. Drunk or not, now's the time
.

    With great deliberation, Jake walked across the street in a wavering path. It came to him that it had taken most of the day, but he was finally almost numb. A joke, that's what it was, a joke. He wondered just how long this numbness would last.

    Grinning with satisfaction, Jake reached the other side. Well, that hadn't been as hard as he had thought. He attempted to step    up onto the walk and tripped again. The same harsh female laughter sounded behind him, and he turned with a widening grin to lift his hat in its direction. He was beginning to like the sound of that laugh. He really must be drunk.

    Turning back to the task at hand, Jake stared at the floating step as it rose and fell unevenly in front of his eyes. He gave it a hard kick, smiling as it flattened into place. He negotiated it with a new confidence and beamed as he stood at last on the sidewalk.

    Straightening his back victoriously, his chest swelling with pride in his achievement, Jake launched himself forward, then recognized his error as the impetus thrust him headlong into a hazy, uncertain direction. Jake caught hold of a doorway as it passed by and pulled himself to a swinging halt. He squinted into the blurry darkness, trying to determine his whereabouts. He grinned. Right, he was going the right way, after all.

    But his second launch was not working out favorably. Attempting to draw himself up short, Jake staggered and tripped on the damned weaving walk, attempting to hold it down with his stamping feet, but somehow that didn't work. Instead, he toppled head first and belly down in a full, gliding slide that landed him, dusty and much the worse for wear, in a dark doorway.

    Jake looked up around him. A smile stretched across his lips. Pretty good, pretty good d. d. d. He reached into his pocket and withdrew his bandanna. The damned slippery cloth eluded his grasp and fell to the walk beside him, and he was able to retrieve it only after a long, arduous search. He wiped it across his perspiring face. This was damned hard work!

    Slowly, laboriously, he stumbled to his feet and fixed his gaze on the Occidental Hotel. Not too far, not too far d. d. d. He'd make it.

    When he had finally regained his equilibrium, Jake took a stately step forward. He was quite proud of himself. He took another. He was even more proud. His legs were beginning to obey him, and even if his head wasn't completely clear, he was pretty damned clever.

    No,
sirree
: Nobody, but nobody, could've seen him slip that note under the door of Till-Dale Enterprises, where he had landed so unceremoniously a few minutes before. Tomorrow
mornin
' that damned clerk would open the door, pick up the note, and within the hour there'd be hell to pay in Harvey Dale's office.

   Feeling better than he had in days, Jake navigated the weaving sidewalk with a new satisfaction. Inside a week, or maybe two, he and Ross would be gone from this damned town, and they'd both put everything behind them.

    His smile not quite as bright as before, Jake turned into the lobby of the Occidental Hotel. He'd had enough. In a lot of ways, he'd had enough…

    A slender, shadowed figure walked along Allen Street in the darkness of the overhang. It drew back cautiously as the lurching, weaving figure of Jake Walsh turned into the lobby of the Occidental Hotel. It paused a moment longer, making certain the drunken fool did not decide to turn back and emerge once more onto the street.

    Satisfied at last at the safety of its endeavor, the shadowed figure slunk stealthily up the street, coming to an abrupt halt in front of the offices of Till-Dale Enterprises. It turned to peer through the window into the darkened interior of the office. A smile flickered across its lips as its keen gaze fastened on the folded note lying on the floor just inside the doorway. The smile broadened, the hiss of satisfaction that accompanied it going unheard amid the din of the street. The time of waiting was almost over.

    The shadowed figure turned abruptly and moved back in the direction from which it had come. It turned quickly into a nearby alley and disappeared from sight, knowing the satisfaction of a mission accomplished, a job almost done.

Chapter XVIII

    ''I'm sorry, Harvey, it's out of the question."

    Harvey's aristocratic face registered his shock at his partner's softly spoken response. Incredulous, he stared for a few silent moments into George
Tillson's
sober countenance. He took a step forward, narrowing the distance between them within the already limited confines of his Till-Dale office.

    "What do you mean, out of the question?" Tightly clutching the lock of pale silver-blond hair that had fallen out of the ransom note in his hand, Harvey took a deep breath. "There's no doubt the note is genuine. This is my daughter's life we're talking about!"

    George
Tillson
raised a graying eyebrow. "Harvey, if the situation were reversed"

    "This isn't a theoretical situation, George. My daughter's life is at stake here." Harvey's face colored an apoplectic red. His chest began an agitated heaving.

    "That's beside the point, Harvey. I have no intention of"

    "George, I warn you…" Harvey's rage was instantaneous, reverberating in the stillness of the small room as he took another step forward. Quaking with the force of his fury, he stood threateningly over the smaller man.

    George's narrow face tightened, his eyes turning cold.

    "Don't threaten me, Harvey. You're in no position to alienate me, you know. You have damned few friends as it is, and you need my goodwill right now, more than you ever have in your life."

    "Your goodwill!" Harvey shook the ransom note in his partner's face. "My
friend?
Is that really what you call yourself? You read this ransom note. You know what I have to do."

    George
Tillson
shook his head. "No, I don't. I only know what that note tells you to do. The price you're being asked to pay for your daughter's release is not at all reasonable."

    "Reasonable! I don't care if the price is reasonable! I'll pay any price that bastard Morrison asks to get my daughter back safely."

    George's gaze did not waver. "Unfortunately, Harvey,
I
will
not
." Anticipating Harvey's reaction to his words, George attempted a conciliatory smile and patted Harvey's arm reassuringly. "Harvey, I don't mean to be unkind or unreasonable. I know how you feel. I just want you to stop and think a moment."

    Harvey jerked his arm free. "No, you don't know how I feel, George. You couldn't, or you wouldn't be arguing with me right now. Your wife is waiting for you at home, and your children are safe in boarding school. You leave this office each night and go to a home where your wife makes you welcome. I haven't had that luxury for many years."

    Impatience flicked across George
Tillson's
face. "Harvey, Harvey, this is George you're talking to, remember? I remember when you had Regina waiting for you at home, and I remember the many nights you
chose
not to go home to her, but to visit one of your many mistresses instead! Regina was a beautiful and loving woman, and I have no doubt you loved her in your way, but you've had no lack of mistresses since her death, and I doubt that you've spent a lonesome day or night without her. So, please, don't expect me to fall for that hogwash you're handing me."

    Harvey's flush deepened to a purple hue. "So, my past indiscretions have come home to roost, is that what you're telling me, George?"

    "I'm telling you no such thing."

    "You're telling me that I'm overreacting, that if I lose my daughter as I lost my wife, I'll go on just as I did before, that my mistresses and the bodily comfort they give me will make me forget that Devina, the child of my body, my own flesh and blood, is lost to me forever. You're telling me that I should accept that eventuality because the price asked to return Devina safely is too high."

    George
Tillson's
lined cheek twitched with discomfort. "Harvey, you are reading entirely different meanings into my words."

    "Then tell me, damn you, what you
do
mean!"

    George stiffened at the heat of Harvey's attack. He pulled his slight frame up to its full height and raised his chin. Staring Harvey directly in the eye he spoke softly, distinctly.

    "I'm telling you that you're wasting your time trying to stir my sympathy with that story about my having a wife and children safe at home. Harvey, I have a wife waiting at home who loves me because I have taken the time to love her back during the many years of our marriage. You never did that for your lovely and unfortunate Regina. In the time since her death, you've been too busy gratifying your ego and your lust to truly mourn her or to cultivate a real relationship with another woman. It's only now when Devina is threatened, that you realize you have no one to turn to for comfort. It's unfortunate that Devina has fallen victim to Ross Morrison's desire for revenge, but you're at fault there also, aren't you? From the beginning, I objected to the methods you used in acquiring Bradford Morrison's mine, but you assured me they were all aboveboard and that the fellow understood the legal technicalities of the contract completely."

    Harvey stared in silent fury at his partner's calm expression. "Yes, George, you registered your objections to my conduct of the whole Morrison affair, as you have many times in the past in other situations. But, George, you raised no objection at all to the enormous profits my 'questionable' transactions have reaped."

    George
Tillson's
narrow lips curved into a smile. "That's right, Harvey, I neither objected to nor refused to accept my share of the enormous profits this company has made. And I do not intend that those enormous profits shall cease."