The Fall of Rome Page 15

  Her fingers had trembled as she’d read his perfectly penned script. Something to brighten your life, he’d written, as you have brightened mine.

  Heart pounding, she’d untied the red bow and ripped open the wrapping paper to find a beautiful hand-stitched quilt. Whoever had constructed the quilt had been enormously creative as each block featured varying mosaic designs bursting with cheerful combinations of red, yellow, and green. She was in awe of the workmanship and entranced with the creation itself.

  She wasn’t sure which stunned her more, that London had bought her a gift or that she’d brightened his life. She couldn’t imagine how. Thus far she’d thrown up on his boots, caused him a sleepless night, upset his housekeeper, and disappointed his customers. He couldn’t have been referring to her embarrassingly amorous reaction to his kiss, because he’d purchased the gift prior.

  She never got the chance to ask him or to thank him, since he hadn’t returned to her room for the rest of the day. Her only visitor had been Mrs. Chen, who’d fussed over her, bringing soup and medicinal tea and news that London was busy.

  The sun set and still he hadn’t come.

  She knew he had a business to oversee. Every now and then, laughter and raised voices floated up though the floorboards. A saloon probably stayed open at least until midnight. But what if something other than business had snagged London’s attention? What if he’d somehow discovered her true identity? What if her father had miraculously claimed her body and discovered the switch? She didn’t think he’d bother sending out a search party, but what if the cattle baron did?

  Her anxiety had mounted when the thunderstorm hit. The ferocity of the wind and rain rattled the windowpanes as well as her nerves. Unable to sleep, she’d ventured into this parlor, lit a lamp, and curled up on the sofa with her quilt and a book. No lack of reading material in this apartment. London had shelves of adventures. She was three chapters into Oliver Twist when she heard the main door to his apartment open and close.

  Seconds later, London walked into the room. She wanted to leap to her feet and throw herself into his strong arms. Instead, she laid aside the book and wrapped the quilt tighter.

  He stood on the threshold, hands braced on the jamb. An impressive figure, he seemed to fill the entire doorway. “Hell of a storm,” he said. “Figured you’d have a hard time sleeping. I came up to make sure you’re all right.”

  “That’s very kind of you.” She blushed, embarrassed that he considered her skittish.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Much better, thank you. Just a little restless. I hope you don’t mind, I borrowed one of your books.”

  He glanced at the novel and smiled. “Truth told, I’m glad you’re making yourself at home. I wanted to check in on you earlier, but it’s been a day of calamities.”

  She noticed now that he looked a little tired, though it did nothing to diminish his devilish good looks. “Nothing dire, I hope.”

  He shifted his weight. “Let’s see. A misunderstanding between two patrons turned into a scuffle. A delivery was made, only there were several mistakes. I made arrangements for a trip, only to learn I’m not needed. Situation under control, my brother wired.”

  “But that’s a good thing, that last thing. Right?” Selfishly she would’ve been crushed if he’d been called away.

  “All things considered,” he said with a faint smile, “a good thing.”

  Sensing there was more to his day, she prodded, “what else?”

  He moved into the room and sat in the chair across from her. “My niece, who spends more time with animals than people, mistook a spotted skunk for a cat.”

  Victoria’s eyes widened. “Oh, no.”

  “I spent a good two hours tracking down every tomato I could find so that Kaila could scrub the kid from head to toe in an attempt to remove the odor. I offered to help with the task, but my future sister-in-law insisted she could handle Zoe. Zach, on the other hand . . .” London’s lip twitched. “My nephew stole his first kiss. The girl socked him in the mouth, then tattled. Her father pitched a fit. Since my brother isn’t here to have a man-to-man with

  Zach, Kaila enlisted me.”

  Victoria scrunched her brow. “I saw Zach at the Cafe Poppy. He couldn’t have been more than--”

  “Nine.” He shook his head. “We’ve got another Rome on our hands.”

  “Who’s Rome?”

  “One of my younger brothers. The wild one. The charmer. You’ve probably heard of him. Wells Fargo detective. Dime-novel legend.”

  “I don’t read dime novels.” She hoped she hadn’t insulted him. Obviously, his brother was somewhat famous. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not.” He raised a brow. “You’re full of surprises, honey.”

  Her face heated and her heart pumped. “So are you.” She gripped the soft edges of his gift. “Thank you for the quilt, London. It’s beautiful.”

  “Like the lady wearing it.”

  She blushed and looked away. “I’m not beautiful. My features are uneven and I’m overly thin and . . .She trailed off when he shifted to the sofa. Her father’s assessment of her endowments, or lack thereof, were chiseled in her brain. Saying them aloud . . . she felt ridiculously self-absorbed.

  Seated next to her now, London cupped her chin. “Your features are unique and you have the spirit of an angel. You’re beautiful, Tori.”

  Her eyes brimmed with tears. “I can’t do this.”

  “Do what, honey?”

  “Lie. To you. You don’t deserve such treachery. I surely don’t deserve your kindness.”

  He thumbed away tears. “You’re not capable of treachery. If you were, we wouldn’t be having this discussion. Just take a breath and take it slow.”

  “I’m not Tori Adams.”

  “I had a feeling,” he said, lips curving. “A few things didn’t add up. So who are you?”

  “I’m going to add to your day of calamities.”

  “I can handle it. Trust me.” He winked and squeezed her hand. “Shoot.”

  His calm demeanor gave her the courage to press on. “Victoria Barrow.”

  “The woman killed on the train?”

  “No,” she croaked. “That was Tori Adams.” Overwhelmed with grief and guilt, she spewed her story. How they’d met on the train, their shared first name and love of music. Their physical resemblance and their opposing lifestyles. “I didn’t want my life, so she gave me hers.” She massaged her pounding temples. “I don’t remember how it happened. I just remember the blood and . . . and her generosity. She pressed her reticule in my hands, told me to remember all we’d discussed. She called me Tori and told me I was free.”

  “So much for slow,” London teased gently and she realized she’d been rambling a good while.

  She took the handkerchief he offered and blew her nose. “I’m sorry I just, I needed to tell you before I lost my nerve.”

  London leaned back against the sofa and pulled her onto his lap, quilt and all. “What are you afraid of, Victoria? Who are you running from? What did Tori mean when she said, you’re free?”

  She swallowed, knowing it was inappropriate for him to hold her like this, but not caring. He made her feel safe and cherished. She rested her head on his shoulder, and mentally embraced the moment. “I’m an only child, daughter of a jeweler from San Diego. My father, Gerard Barrow, wishes I was never born.”

  London stroked her hair. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

  “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 grandmot
her 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.”

  CHAPTER 26

  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 co
uld 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.”