The Fall of Rome (28 page)

His wickedly delicious tongue swept into her mouth and burned away her worries. Too soon, he eased away. ”Put those notions out of your head.”

She ached with desire. “I can’t. Maybe you should distract me some more.”

“What would you suggest?” he asked in a playful voice. Suddenly shy, she shrugged. “Can’t you think of something?”

He smiled and started kissing his way down her body.

She gasped, then froze. Was that the front door closing? Then the floorboards creaked. “Someone’s--”

London covered Victoria’s mouth and motioned her to hush as he eased out of bed. Who the
fuck
was in his apartment? An image of Brady exploded in his head. He had his pants on and a gun in his hand before his wife took her next breath. Probably because she was
holding
her breath. He squeezed her hand and whispered in her ear, “Probably nothing, but stay put. I’ll be back.”

She nodded and he moved swiftly and silently across the room and through the door.

Body vibrating with anger and purpose, London peered down the pitch-black hall. Suddenly the door to the guest room--the room Victoria had previously slept in--opened, and a silhouetted figure stepped out.

London advanced, gun cocked. The other man reacted simultaneously. Lightning quick, they were both staring into the business end of a Colt .45.

“Fuck.”

“Fuck.”

“Why the hell did you draw on me, London?”

“What the hell are you doing creeping around my apartment?” London glared at Boston, wanting to hug him and smack him at the same time. “Did you just ride in? Are you all right?” His little brother shushed him. “She’s sleeping.” London poked his head into the guest room. Moonlight shone through the window illuminating a tiny, bundled-up girl. She looked about Zoe’s size. Was this the precious cargo Seth had mentioned in the telegram? “Who is she?” he whispered.

“Kat s
niece
.”

“Huh.” Rome had once mentioned Kat being an only child. Boston’s expression promised a juicy tale. Before he could inquire, another door creaked open.

“London?” Victoria inched into the hall, wrapped shoulder to toe in her quilt. Her waist-length hair looked tousled and sexy as hell.

“Who’s that?” Boston asked.

London slammed the back of his hand to his ogling brother s shoulder. “My wife.”

“No shit.”

London shut the door to the guest room, nudged his brother to the sitting room. “Pour us a whiskey. I’ll be right in.” He turned then and moved to Victoria.
Tori
. “I

thought I told you to stay put.”

“I couldn’t. I couldn’t stand by, frozen with fear, again, and let something awful happen.”

He wasn’t sure how she’d expected to protect him, but he appreciated the thought. Noticing she was trembling, he pulled her into his embrace, and kissed the top of her head. “It’s all right. It’s just my brother.”

“Which one?”

“Boston.” He maneuvered her back into their room and into bed. “I need to speak with him. Try to get some sleep.” He left before she could argue, anxious to glean insight on the Brady case, curious about Kat’s niece. He reached the sitting room, now glowing with the muted light of a lantern. His youngest brother sat on the sofa, looking wrung-out. His clothes were dusty and wrinkled, and his expression was haggard. He offered London a glass of whiskey and they both drank

Boston scratched his head, making his recently cut hair stand on end. “You got
married
?”

“I did.”

“When?”

“This morning.”

“Well, hell.” Looking a tad put out, he stretched his legs and crossed them at the ankle. “Do I know her?”

“Only of her.” London succinctly relayed Victoria’s story. Boston absorbed the information, clearly angered by Brady’s tactics and sympathetic to Victoria’s plight. “Talk about a string of odd coincidences.”

“Too many coincidences. I’m thinking fate.”

Boston downed his whiskey, shot London a bemused look. “Married. Never thought I’d see the day.”

That made two of them. London refilled their glasses. “Tell me about the little girl.”

“She’s a damned pistol, but smart and cute as hell.”

“This pistol got a name?”

“Frankie. Frankie Hart. Kat claims she’s her niece. Said the kid’s parents are dead and she’s now responsible for the girl.” London scratched his forehead. “Could’ve sworn Rome said Kat was an only child.”

“That crossed my mind, too. Gave me pause. In addition, Kat s changed. Doesn’t look or act anything like the vibrant flirt we knew. Plus, some things she said ...” He shook his head “The whole thing didn’t sit right with me. Then I met Frankie.”

“And?”

He scraped a hand over his dark stubble, leaned forward, and lowered his voice. “She looks like Kat. Exactly like Kat. A pain in the ass one minute and a charmer the next. Exactly like Rome. I did the math, London. I could be wrong, but I’d lay money.”

Rome and Kat had been an intimate item for six months. It was possible. “Although... given the timing and her relationship with Brady, it’s also possible--”

“Possible,” Boston said. “But I’m laying odds on Rome. After ten minutes in the kid’s company, I’m thinking you’ll agree.”

“Back up a minute. I’m operating on minimal information supplied through two coded telegrams. Why were you at a convent?”

“That’s where Kat stashed Frankie. A girls’ school. Kat worried if our plan backfired Brady might retaliate by striking out at the kid. She agreed to Athens’s plan with the stipulation that we protect Frankie. Athens sent me. Little did I know the kid was a pain in the good sisters’ wimples. Sister Maria essentially told me to hit the road . . . with Frankie.”

“Why didn’t you hole up in a nearby town?”

“Because the only way I could get the minx to cooperate with me is if I promised to deliver her to family.”

“But her aunt was in Tucson and you couldn’t take her there.”

“So I told her about
my
family. Turned the trip into an adventure so she wouldn’t be scared. Told her Kat would meet up with us as soon as she could.”

London blew out a breath. “That could be as soon as tomorrow.”

“What are you talking about? The plan--”

“Somehow blew to pieces.” London retrieved Seth’s telegram from his desk.

Boston read the note, then leaned back against the sofa with a frown. “The only way Brady could’ve known I was headed here is if he heard it from Sister Maria. Which meant he somehow found out about San Fernando. Which meant he went there in search of Frankie.”

“Why would he do that?” London asked. “Unless he came to the same conclusion as you.”

“So he thinks that little girl belongs to him and he’s coming to take her.”

London glanced in the direction of the room where Frankie slept. “Seems that way.”

Boston swayed forward and braced his forearms on his knees. “I can’t believe that bastard would risk showing his face in this town. You know him. I know him. Not to mention his face is plastered on Wanted posters throughout the region.”

“Maybe he’ll send in a gang member,” London said. “Trouble is, we don’t know what they look like.”

Victoria appeared on the threshold. “I might.”

London and Boston stood.

Even though it was three in the morning, ever modest, she’d thrown on a gown and a shawl. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I just... I thought you might like some tea or coffee.”

“That’s all right, honey,” London said, moving to stand next to her. “This is my youngest brother, Boston.”

She extended a hand in greeting. “Pleased to meet you. I’m--”

“My sister-in-law. I know.” He ignored her hand and gave her a hug. “Welcome to the family.”

“Thank . . . thank you.” She was blushing profusely when she eased away.

London bit back a smile and placed his hand at the small of her back.

“About Bulls-Eye Brady’s men,” she said in a soft voice. “I only saw two of them and they were wearing masks over the lower halves of their faces. But I think I’d know their eyes, their voices. And maybe the manner in which they moved.”

“Good to know,” Boston said.

“Absolutely,” said London.

She looked up at him, eyes wide with curiosity and compassion. “Where’s the little girl I heard you mention?”

“In the guest room.”

“I’m going to make sure she’s warm enough. Excuse me.” Boston stepped in next to him and they watched her go. “Sure is polite.”

“Sure is.”

“Caring, too.”

“And pretty.”

“Brave to put herself out there like that.”

“You have no idea.”

Boston slid him a look “Must scare the shit out of you.”

“You have no idea.”

Florence

Riding through the night had been a challenge. Kat had dozed off a time or two in the saddle, but Rome had stayed alert, watching for trouble, keeping them on track. Now the sun teased the horizon, and the horses had reached their limit.

Rome wasn’t sure if it was sleep deprivation or his damn sentimental streak, but instead of stopping at a mission they’d passed a couple of hours back, he’d pushed them farther north to Florence, a verdant town on the southern bank of the Gila River. Seth’s former jurisdiction. The town Paris had duped Josh into believing was her destination when she’d run away from home last year. Due to circumstances Rome still didn’t believe, they’d ended up having to share a room at the Elliot House, one of the town’s hotels. Thinking Josh had compromised Paris, Seth had hauled in a Bible thumper in the middle of the night, forcing an in-room shotgun wedding.

Rome had been pissed at Josh a good while, until he realized how much the man loved his little sister. He’d never known two people more in love, except maybe Seth and Emily, who’d also married quickly. Maybe he was superstitious after all, because he couldn’t shake the desire to share his sister’s good fortune by seeking out that same Bible thumper.

He also booked them into the same hotel. The Elliot House. The innkeeper introduced himself as Mr. Loss. Rome recognized the name--Paris had told the story dozens of times--and took it as a good sign, an even better sign when the room he requested--room number 9--was available.

He’d signed the register
Mr. and Mrs. Rome Garrett
, thinking it was merely a projection of the truth, and hustled Kat up to the room. “You get some rest, sugar. I’m going to walk the horses over to the livery. They need food and water and--”

“Rest. I know. You can’t ride a dead horse. Speaking of--”

“I’m sure Seth’s fine.” Damn. They were beginning to finish each other’s sentences. That was a good sign, too, right?

Kat pulled off her boots and flopped on the bed without argument. “Hurry back so you can get some rest, too, Rome. We can’t stay long. We’re still a good sixty miles from Phoenix”

“I know.”

He hurried along, tended to the horses. He ignored curious glances. Yes, I’m the man you saw sketched on the cover of numerous dime novels. Yes, I’m the one you read adventurous tales about. Only he wasn’t. This was Rome Garrett stripped bare. No pretenses. No illusions. Just a man. A man in love.

He pondered wiring London, only he didn’t have anything of value to share. London was the one with the premium information. Did Boston and Frankie arrive safely? Any sign of Brady? Rome wouldn’t be in Florence long enough to receive a return wire. At least he didn’t think so. On the off chance, he stopped by the telegraph office.

DOG AND CAT STILL ON WAY. DID B AND CARGO ARRIVE? ANY SIGN OF SNAKE? RESPOND POSTHASTE. - DOG

Former dog, he thought as he left the mercantile in search of a specific preacher. It occurred to him that he’d been two-thirds true to his word to Him. He’d given up philandering and whiskey. But as far as thinking of Kat . . . Hopefully the Almighty was prone to giving leeway. He couldn’t stop thinking of Kat because he loved her. Surely he could be forgiven that.

He located Preacher Davis and roused him. Yes, he knew it was barely dawn. Since when was there a decent hour for eternal happiness? He talked the Bible thumper into accompanying him to the Elliot House, pausing when they reached the door marked 9.

The preacher clutched his Bible to his paunchy middle and stared at the door. “I’m experiencing an odd sense of déjà vu.”

“You married my sister to her husband in this same room last year.”

“Ah, yes. At the insistence of Sheriff Wright. Speaking of, you have no witness.”

“I’m thinking you and God count plenty. I just need you to wait here in the hall for a bit.”

“Why?”

“I need to brace Kat.”

“You mean you didn’t discuss this with the young lady first?” He tugged at his banded collar. “Listen, son, this is highly unorthodox.”

“Kat and I are unconventional folk. Give me five minutes, Preacher.”

The man frowned. “By all rights I should still be in bed.”

“Four minutes.” He entered the room and strode to the bed. “Kat. Baby. Wake up.”

“Ten more minutes,” she mumbled.

“I’ve only got four.” He pulled her into a sitting position. “Kat.”

Her eyes flew open. “I’m awake. I’m ready. Let’s go.” He sat next to her. “That’s good, sugar. I’m ready to go, too. But there’s something we have to do first.”

She shoved her tousled curls from her face. “What?”

“Get married.”

She blinked him into focus.

“I’ve got a preacher waiting in the hall, and he’s kind of grumpy so--”

“I can’t marry you.”

His insides froze. “You said you’d marry for love.”

She nodded.

“You said--”

“I love you, Rome.” She raked her hands through his hair, laid her forehead to his. “With all my heart.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Frankie.”

“How so?”

“What if you see her and ... see Brady?” She dropped her hands to her lap, glanced away. “I couldn’t bear it if you turned your back on her. On me.”

He interlaced his fingers with hers. “I won’t.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I just am.”

She met his gaze, eyes shimmering with tears. “That’s not good enough.”

“I need it to be good enough. I need you to trust me. Listen.” He cupped her face and spoke his heart. “This is about you and me. We’re the foundation. I love you, Kat. Frankie is a part of you. So by extension, without even meeting her, I love her, too. No matter what. Do you understand what I’m saying? I don’t want you to think I stayed because of Frankie or fled because of Frankie. I want you to know that I married you because I love you. You”