The Spanish Outlaw (24 page)

As he
rode back to the brothel, his mind kept going over what she had told him. Things just didn’t add up. So far, all the men he had run across who worked for his uncle had all been large, powerful and middle aged. True, they’d all been charming, but the physical description Lucinda gave him just didn’t fit. Slender? Handsome? And younger?

Putting his confusion aside, he kicked his heels into the horse’s belly, pushing the animal faster. Apparently, his uncle was one step ahead of him. Anton couldn’t have that.

As he rounded a hill, a bright orange flaming light appeared above the trees surrounding Eleanor’s brothel. Smoke hung in the air. His heart dropped, causing his whole body to shake, but he pushed the horse faster. Screams and crying absorbed his ears as the whores and the servants rushed from the water well to the house, throwing water upon the flames. Most of the fire was out, thank heavens, but he couldn’t breathe—and the thick smoke had nothing to do with it.

He jumped off his horse and ran to the nearest whore. “Nancy? Where is Eleanor? Where is
Vivian?”

She wiped her tear-stained face and pointed toward the tree. Leaning against it was Eleanor while the cook tended to her wounds. He rushed to her
and knelt by her side. Both eyes had been bruised and swollen, and her lip cut and bleeding. The cook wrapped a bandage around her dainty wrist.

“Eleanor, what happened?”

The older woman cried and shook her head. “I tried to stop them, but they wouldn’t believe me.”

He knelt beside her and grasped her shoulders. “Where is
Vivian?” he demanded in a stronger voice.

“They...took her.”

Nausea rose to his throat, all the while his heart ripped apart. “They? Do you mean my...uncle’s men?”

The older woman nodded and cried louder. “They were too strong for me. I couldn’t stop them.” She lifted her hand and held a folded piece of paper. “This is for you.”

With shaky fingers, Anton unfolded the letter and held it up to the light still coming from the fire. What would his uncle do to Vivian? All the letter said was they had Vivian. In order to get her back, Anton needed to come for her—and bring what his uncle wanted.

Invisible pain stabbed Anton’s chest
, bending him over. He clutched the paper to his mouth, holding back the cries straining in his throat as tears stung his eyes. His uncle would use her as bait...and he’d kill her once he received what he was after.

The ring
. It had to be. Juanito’s men had been after it on the ship, and they wanted it now. It was the only way his uncle could claim the island.

In today’s market, the price of Padre Island would be great.
Juanito would live a life of luxury forever. The island was Anton’s rightful inheritance, and he should keep it for his sons and their sons. But was it worth risking and maybe losing the only woman he’d ever loved? He couldn’t hand over his ring, yet he couldn’t let Juanito torture Vivian, either.

Rocking back on his heels, he reached into his shirt and withdrew the ring hanging on a gold chain around his neck. His heart ached, and he closed his fingers around the jewelry in a tight fist.
Curse his uncle for making him choose. Curse his father for not stopping Juanito years ago. And curse Anton’s tender heart for loving Vivian more than life itself.

Wiping the moisture under his eyes, he stood and took a deep breath. Whoever took
Vivian couldn’t be that far ahead of him. Anton knew where they would go. Padre Island.

But, it was a two day trip to sail from Spain to the island. His uncle may do terrible things to
Vivian during that time. Anton couldn’t allow that to happen. He must get to the ship before it sailed.

“Eleanor, I will get her back. I promise.”

He jumped to his feet and dashed toward the horse, his heart beat harder with each step. He wouldn’t have just let Juanito’s men take Vivian without a fight.

The dark night enveloped him as he rode toward the main town. Shops had closed. People were nowhere in sight.
Juanito planned this kidnapping perfectly and knew when Anton would be gone. 

As he rode toward the docks, he searched for signs of his uncle’s men. Heartache twisted in his chest from the thought that
Vivian’s body may be lying somewhere, undiscovered. He couldn’t think this way. His uncle would use her as leverage. And until Anton handed the ring over, Vivian would be safe.

The clouds moved away from the moon, helping him see the road better. But, something out of the ordinary captured his attention. A cloth hung on the limb of a tree, and flapped in the breeze. He slowed his steed, snatched the white fabric, and rubbed it between his finger and thumb. Felt like part of a woman’s shift. He lifted it to his nose and took in a deep breath. The faint hint of jasmine hung on the cloth.

He smiled.
Vivian.
She must have ripped this off and left it for him as a clue. He’d have to remember to tell her she thought like a great detective in helping him to find her.

Along the path, she’d left other small objects for him to notice. The tie from her bonnet, and closer to the docks, he found her bootlace.
That’s my girl.

Anton urged the horse faster. He’d find his uncle and personally tear the
man’s heart out. Juanito had killed too many people, and it was time his power came to a stop.

The pink tint on the horizon let him know the sun would make its appearance soon. Anton must sneak on his uncle’s ship before that happened. After he had
Vivian safe in his arms, then and only then would he put a stop to his uncle’s tyranny.

Amongst the ships docked, Anton recognized the one that had been following them during their travels to Spain...the same ship
Raúl had tried to take Vivian on.

Anton ducked behind a crate. Peering through the slats of wood, he noticed a group of men standing near the gangplank. All dressed in the expensive clothing his uncle insisted his men wear, and all drinking out of their own bottle of whiskey.

Anton gritted his teeth. None had a care in the world. They were all protected by Juanito’s powerful hand.

One man clapped another on the shoulder,
and then walked onto the ship. When the other man turned and looked toward town, Anton sucked in his breath.
Dios Mio!
By all that was holy, what was Anton’s manservant, Pedro, doing with Juanito’s men?

Bile rose in Anton’s throat, his heart breaking into tiny pieces. Betrayal’s ugly claws wrapped around him and squeezed tightly.

Pedro was the traitor.

No wonder Anton’s uncle had been one step behind him the whole time...because Pedro knew what Anton was doing. He fisted his hands and brought them to his pounding head, closing his eyes. How long had his so-called friend been in
Juanito’s employ? Anton’s stomach lurched, and he clenched his jaw. Had Pedro been lying to him all this time?

Breathing slowly in through his nose and out his mouth, he tried to calm his anger, but the more he thought about Pedro’s treachery, the more upset Anton became. He must use this frustration and let it guide him on the ship. His anger would be his weapon...along with his pistol.

Within minutes, all the men who’d been gathered by the gangplank walked onto the ship. Anton crept in the shadows until he reached the water. Immersed in the cool liquid, he swam toward the ship. Every few strokes, he stopped, looked, and strained to listen for any sign of being discovered. His uncle would know Anton would do all he could to save Vivian, which meant Juanito would be ready for when Anton made his move.

This only meant he needed to be more cautious.

He reached the ship and held to the side as he listened for signs of alarm. Nothing. Although his heart told him to hurry, his mind told him to be careful. Juanito wanted to win—no matter whose lives were taken.

* * * *

Vivian’s head pounded so hard it threatened to split her skull apart.
What in the blazes happened?
Since it hurt too much to open her eyes, she tried lifting her hand to her face, but found it useless. Somehow, her limbs had become heavy weights.

Through the intense pain throbbing through every inch of her body, she struggled to see. A familiar scent hung in the air and tickled her nose, but she couldn’t remember what it could be. Her body rested upon something soft, but for the life of her, she didn’t recall her mother’s bed being this uncomfortable.

Then her memory cleared, and she remembered being hit over the head. Three men forced her out of the brothel while two others beat her mother. Before they left, they set fire to her mother’s place. Through her groggy state, she still remembered to leave scraps of clothing along the way for Anton to see. She had no doubt he would find her.

The movement of her surroundings rolled like waves...just like it did when she sailed with Anton. Her stomach lurched, and she peeled her eyes open. They were on a ship! How long had they been sailing?

The bright light straining her blurred vision made her squint. She mouthed Anton’s name, but her voice only croaked. Cotton dryness lodged in her throat, and she swallowed. “Anton?”

A deep, unfamiliar
, eerie chuckle came from within the room. She shivered. Blinking, she tried to focus and get her bearings. The light from the lamp fell on the man sitting in front of her only a few feet away. He had dark skin like Anton’s, but this man’s formal attire was far different than she had seen before.

He sat
as regal as any prince. Ribbons and gold metals draped across the dark suit covering his broad chest. His arm rested on the table next to him as he drummed his fingers on the hard wood. Diamonds from his rings glittered in the light.

“Who...” She swallowed again. “Who are you?”
She tried to move her hands, but the rope tied around her wrists burned her skin. She tested her feet, and they too were bound. “Why am I tied?”

He chuckled again, and the evil sound grated on her nerves. She grimaced and her stomach rolled.

“
Pretty señorita
. It is obvious why Antonio has taken a liking to you. Not only are you very beautiful, but you have a wild spirit most men would love to tame.”

She clenched her jaw. This must be Anton’s dominant uncle. He even dressed fancier than the King of England, for heaven’s sake. “Who are you and what did you do with Anton?”

He leaned forward, his face coming into view. She sucked in a breath. He did resemble Anton quite a bit. He had the same dark, wavy hair, except the older man had streaks of silver near his ears. But he had the same strong jaw covered with a trimmed goatee that enhanced his powerful appearance. It wouldn’t be hard at all to prove Anton was related.

Confidence built inside her.
Juanito couldn’t prove Anton was illegitimate, especially if the all-and-mighty uncle didn’t have Anton’s ring. That could be why Juanito had kidnapped her. Perhaps he wanted to make a trade. Her heart sank. No matter what happened, Anton couldn’t do that. He had to prove his identity first.

“Who am I?” he asked. Leaning back, he linked his fingers across his stomach. “I may be your worst terror if you do not cooperate with me.”

He narrowed his eyes on her, and chills ran up her spine.

“What do you want?” She tried not to let her voice waver or her
body shake. But, inside her stomach her nerves rolled quicker than the waves outside the ship.

A low chuckle rumbled through his chest as he shook his head. “For now, I only require your company. Eventually, Antonio will come to rescue you...and I will allow it. But in the end, he will give me what I desire most.”

If she ever needed investigator skills, it was right now. She had to get out of this—or talk Juanito into letting her go.

She glared. “I take it you don’t know the man I know. Anton doesn’t care about me. He will go about his business now that I am out of the way.”

He arched a brow. “Indeed? Then why did he risk his own life to save yours on several occasions?”

“Where have you learned this, may I ask?
Because you have been given false information.”

“Oh, I think not, my dear. I am well informed in matters that are important to me.”

Inwardly, she cursed. How could she sway him? Obviously, she couldn’t. But she couldn’t give up, either.

She let out a heavy sigh. “Believe what you want, then. I just thought to let you know your effort in kidnapping me was a waste.”

Chuckling, he stood and walked closer to her. She withdrew as much as she could into the mattress, but it would not hide her from his touch. When he stroked her cheek, bile rose to her throat.

“Ah,
Señorita
. The things I do are not a waste of time, just as I trust the men in my employ. It might come as a shock to you, but Anton’s manservant, Pedro, was not whom he appeared to be.”

She
gasped, her chest clenching.

“That is correct, my dear. This is how I know Antonio’s feelings. Even if he does not come for you, I will make use out of you one way or another.” His
gaze slid down her neck to her bosom.