The Fall of Rome (19 page)

“He’s told me so more than once. You see, he adored my mother and she never fully recovered from childbirth. She died when I was two.”

“He blames you.”

“It pains him something awful to even look at me.” She reached down and opened the locket around her neck to show him the picture within. “See?”

“Your mother?”

She nodded.

“The resemblance is striking.”

“Her name was Juliet. Papa destroyed anything that reminded him of her. My grandmother gave this locket to me just before she herself died. That was about ten years ago.”

“This locket means a lot to you.”

“My only cherished possession,” she blushed, “except for this quilt.”

He tucked her long hair behind her ears, stroked her cheek. “You humble me.”

She traced her fingers along an applique. “I love it.”

“I’m glad. So,” he said, his tone suddenly tight, “your father treated you poorly and you decided to run away.”

“Actually, he sent me away. He recently remarried, and his new wife didn’t fancy my presence. I guess living in the shadows as I’d always done was no longer good enough. I think he wanted me out of his life forever because he promised me to an old acquaintance of his. A cattle baron in Texas.”

London frowned. ‘You were on your way to get married?”

“I didn’t have a choice.” Cheeks hot, she looked away. “I had no money. No family. And I’m ashamed to say, no gumption to strike out on my own. But then I met Tori and she offered me an alternative. A new life. I’m a gifted pianist, and I had your telegram offering Tori a job.” She pushed off of him now, squared her shoulders. “I’m sorry that I tried to dupe you, London, and I’ll understand if you turn me out. But I’m not going back to my father, and I don’t want to go to Texas. Maybe another saloon would hire me or--”

He cut off her words with a kiss, and this time when she felt his tongue teasing the seam of her mouth, she opened. Lightning cracked and thunder boomed. A storm raged--both outside and in her heart and mind. Frightening and exhilarating in its intensity.

She fought to catch her breath as he eased away. “Do you fancy me, Victoria Barrow?”

“Yes.”
More than I dare to say
.

His dark eyes sizzled with intrigue. “Do you fancy an adventure?”

“With you?”

He nodded.

“I do.”

He smiled. “Music to my ears.”

Tucson

Two hours at Levin’s Gambling Palace and Rome was ready to call it a night. Something was wrong with Kat. She played the part of the besotted lover well enough, but when it came to playing cards, her focus was off.

He’d thought by giving her back her daddy’s lucky coin, he’d wipe away the last of her doubts regarding her “rusty” skills. He’d expected her to dazzle the ruffle-shirted professionals with their diamond-studded cuffs and quirky superstitions. He’d expected her to rake in a mountain of money. She was more than capable. But she lost more than she won.

They’d played a few rounds together, but then she’d cited the need to shake things up. She moved off to try her luck at another table, and Rome tried not to take it personally. But damn, he could swear she was avoiding him. Was she that nervous about tonight? Had he scared her with that kiss, a kiss that had come from someplace inside of him that he hadn’t even known existed? Did she think he expected a night of
hot, meaningless sex
? He expected anything but. He wanted to learn about Frankie. Wanted to know Kat’s dreams for the future. He wanted to make love to her and wrap himself around her until dawn.

Maybe
that’s
what she was afraid of. Getting too close, too attached. Did she worry that he’d walk away after they trapped Brady?

Of course, that’s exactly what he’d initially planned to do. Seduce her and break her heart.

Christ.

“Seems to me you’re more interested in your lady than this game, Huckleberry.”

Rome shifted his focus to Seth. “No offense, Dupree, but she’s a lot prettier than you.”

The other men around the table glanced nervously from the former detective to the purported hired gun. Seth played his part to the hilt. He indicated the pile of chips in front of Rome. “I’d say you’ve won more than your fair share this evening. Why don’t you do us a favor and vamoose?”

Rome narrowed his eyes on the man, silently thanking him for the pardon. “Not that I’m taking direction from you, Dupree, but in this case, I have a sudden hankering to make better use of my time.” He pushed away from the table, scanned the room for his brother. Shakespeare was whooping it up, playing chuck-luck. Rome rolled his eyes, looked back to Kat, and saw an old geezer yapping in her ear. He watched with a sickening feeling as her life’s blood seemed to drain away.

At that inopportune moment, a man from his past got in his face--a pretty boy with an ugly disposition. “If it ain’t Rome Garrett.”

“Step aside, Butch.” Butch McCree, a rustler and a two-bit road thief. Rome and Boston had apprehended him and turned him in to the law two years back.

“I did time ‘cuz of you.” He balled his hands into fists. “I’ll never be the same.”

“You did time because you held up a Wells Fargo stage. Now move. I won’t ask again.” Rome spotted Kat rushing for the door. He sidestepped Butch, but the son of a bitch, grabbed him and whirled him around. Rome ducked his punch and landed one of his own.

The bastard slammed into a table, and a brawl broke out between a passel of ticked-off gamblers. Butch came up swinging, but Seth interceded, leaving Rome free to sprint after Kat. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Athens nabbing the geezer who’d sent her into flight.

He cleared the doors in time to see Kat’s skirts flapping in the wind as she raced off on a horse in a torrential downpour. Furious and concerned for her safety, he freed a drenched buckskin from the hitching post and gave chase. Now they’d both risked their necks for stealing another man’s horse.

Lightning cracked, spooking Kat’s horse and illuminating the scene as the steed reared and she careened into the muddy street.

Rome was on his feet and at her side as she pushed herself upright. “Are you all right?” he shouted over the rain.

“Where’s the horse?” She knocked away his hands and pushed to her feet. The horses were trotting back to where their owners had left them. “I have to get to the convent!” She eyed the stable one block up and took off, slipping and sliding in ankle-deep mud.

Heart in his throat, Rome nabbed her by the waist and hauled her onto the boards under a veranda. “What did that old man say to you, Kat?”

“Brady! He was at the Star!” she screamed over the thunder. “He killed Johnson! He’s going after Frankie! I have to stop him. Please let me go!” Gown and hair sodden with rain and mud, chest heaving, eyes haunted, she looked half-crazed.

She tried to run, but he grabbed her wrist. “It’s dark and that’s a goddamned monsoon, Kat. You’ll get lost or swept away by a flash flood. You’ll get yourself and the horse killed.”

“But he’ll steal my baby!” She wrenched away with a strength that shocked him and darted for the stables.

When he caught her, she fought him, lashing out with fists and words as the sky wept and grumbled. Heart pounding, he overpowered her and hauled her into his arms. He ignored her pummeling fists and made his way through the blinding rain.

He nearly plowed into Seth. Never a fan of Rome’s tactics, the lawman motioned to his kicking, screaming captive. “What the hell, Garrett?”

“She’s bent on riding to the convent. Said Brady’s going after Frankie and seems to think she can stop him.”

“Tell him to let me go!” Kat shouted to Seth.

He shouted back over rolling thunder. “Can’t do that, hon.”

She continued to rail as Rome headed for the hotel.

Seth kept pace. “Athens dragged the bearer of bad news over to the sheriff’s office to spew his tale. Bottom line: Brady hit Kat’s saloon two nights ago.” He touched Rome’s shoulder as they stepped onto the boardwalk. “Either Boston escaped with Frankie or Brady’s got her by now.”

He didn’t mention the latter would mean the outlaw had killed Boston to get the kid, because they both knew that’s what it would take. Rome had never felt as helpless as he did at that moment.

Kat went limp with exhaustion, and he knew she’d just absorbed the crushing reality. There was nothing she could do. Rome glanced at Seth. “I need to get Kat dry and warm.” Seth nodded. “Athens is sending a wire to Camp Grant. Soldiers can make it to the convent in a few hours.” He sleeved rain from his face, softened his voice. “I know it’s hard, but we’re better off sitting tight until we learn more.”

Throat tight, Rome nodded and carried Kat into the hotel. The front desk clerk gawked.

Rome didn’t offer an explanation, just issued an order. “Send up a tub and hot water.”

“But it’s late--”

“I don’t care.”

“It’ll cost you--”

“I don’t care!” Jaw clenched, he carried her up the stairs and into her room. He kicked the door shut, set her to her feet. She’d gone stiff and silent. Shock? “Talk to me, Kat. Who was that old guy?”

“Skeet Appleby,” she said in a scratchy voice. “A regular at my saloon. Said his woman locked him out that night. Said Johnson told him if he washed off his stink, he could sleep in the back room. After Johnson dozed, Skeet snuck back into the bar to snitch a bottle of whiskey. That’s when he heard them break in.”

“Brady?”

“And his gang.”

Rome frowned at her hushed, monotone voice. Definitely shock. He started unfastening the hooks, buttons, and laces of her many layers and pitching drenched articles of clothing into the corner.

“Skeet hid under the bar. All I know is that they were looking for me and Johnson wouldn’t tell them anything so Brady shot him. He killed the sheriff, too. Gus was only nineteen.” Rome swore under his breath, wrapped Kat’s chilled, naked body in a blanket, and placed her on the bed.

“He found the letters from Sister Maria.” Her voice cracked. “He knows about Frankie.”

“Hush now.” He smoothed her wet hair out of her face, then moved swiftly to answer a knock on the door.

Athens. Not as Sherman Shakespeare, but as himself. Soaked to the bone, he hovered on the threshold, voice calm and low. “Something went awry. I don’t know how Brady found out about Kat’s saloon, but he did. According to Mr. Appleby, Brady tortured the bartender before killing him. Don’t share that with Kat. She considered the man a friend.”

Rome processed this and blew out a breath. “Go on.” “He didn’t get any information out of the barkeep, but the sheriff told him Kat had taken off with the Garrett brothers for Tucson. As thanks for the news, Brady killed him, too. The murdering thug was set to ride here until he read some letters from a nun, something about Kat’s niece. He told his boys he wouldn’t have to go after Kat, she’d come to him.”

Rome clenched his fists. “Son of a bitch.”

“I wired Camp Grant. Heard directly back. Soldiers are on their way”

Rome caught a flash of angst in his brother’s green eyes. “You’re worried about Boston.”

“Aren’t you?”

“If something bad happened to him, I’d feel it in my gut.” They’d been tight as ticks for too long.

“Sound awfully sure of yourself.”

“Like London always says--”

“Don’t borrow trouble,” Athens finished. He glanced over Rome’s shoulder. “How is she?”

“Not good.”

Athens worked his jaw. “I’ll let you know as soon as I hear something.”

Rome shut the door in his wake.

“Is it bad news?” Kat asked in a shaky voice.

Rome sat on the bed and pulled her into his arms. “I want you to stay calm and listen to me.”

“But--”

“Do you trust me?”

She bit her lip and nodded.

“Truth is, Brady’s had plenty of time to make it to the convent. Us riding in a full day after isn’t going to change what’s already gone down. Athens wired a nearby fort. Soldiers are on the way.” He framed Kat’s pale face. “You have to have faith that Boston protected that girl. My little brother has more sand than the desert.”

She shivered and he could well imagine her dark, ugly thoughts. “But Brady rides with a gang. Even with that other Peacemaker there, your brother would’ve been outnumbered. What if Brady got the best of them?”

Rome thanked God she didn’t know about Manning. He ignored his own dark thoughts. Boston wouldn’t have been in this position if Rome hadn’t told him to
get his own damned life
. “Then we wait to hear from the bastard. Apparently Skeet overheard Brady saying he wouldn’t have to come after you, you’d come to him. If he’s got Frankie, he’s not going to hurt her. He’s going to use her as bait. He knows you’re in Tucson. He’ll send word letting you know where they are. I know it’s hard, baby, but we have to sit tight.”

She stared into his eyes for what seemed a lifetime. Tears fell and her breath hitched. “I have to tell you something.” She was interrupted by another knock on the door.

Rome forced himself to move. “It might be Athens with more news.”

It was the bath he’d ordered.

He glanced over his shoulder, saw Kat curl into a ball, her face hidden beneath the cover. Gut clenched, he helped the man tote in the brass tub. Fifteen minutes later it was filled with steaming water, and once again, Rome was alone with Kat.

He stared down at her, his brain pounding from fifteen minutes of fast-paced deducing, his heart racing due to a wild but logical conclusion. He factored in things she’d said and things she hadn’t said, her expressions and reactions, and Frankie’s exact age. He sat on the bed and placed a hand on her hip. “I remembered right first time around, didn’t I, Kat? You’re an only child. There is no sister. Frankie isn’t your niece.” He spoke past the choking lump in his throat. “She’s your daughter.”

She rolled over and faced him, and though she was no longer crying, her eyes were red and puffy and she looked tortured as hell. “I was going to tell you tonight.”

He battled mounting frustration. “Why didn’t you tell me before? When you first mentioned Frankie at the ranch? Or the next morning when we walked together? Or, for chrissakes, this morning when I revealed my own stark truths?”