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Able made a grumbling noise in the back of his throat. “I’ve never liked that man. Don’t trust him.”
“You and me both.” She opened the door leading to the servants’ quarters in the back of the house and paused to make sure no one followed them. Closing the door behind them after Able had stepped inside, she said, “He wants Victoria House.”
Able drew in a sharp breath through his nose. “He won’t get it.” The light of the electric wall sconce reflected off his medium-brown skin, revealing a brow that was smooth and not furrowed in worry. His dark eyes were calm. Quiet and sensible, he’d become the barometer against which she measured the scope of their problems. There wouldn’t be reason to worry until he was worried.
Nodding her agreement, she said, “It’s nothing we haven’t faced before.” A couple of years ago they’d faced a similar threat, only this one had been a group of investors looking to purchase the place from her at a value far below market. Little had they known that Able was part owner and any decision she made would have to be corroborated by him. Once they’d found out they’d resorted to force instead of seduction. In the end, they’d dealt with those men and she had confidence that Harvey could be handled as well.
“Is everything else going well?” she asked.
“Fine. We’re a little busier because of the faro tournament across the road, but everyone is behaving themselves.”
“In that case, I’ll go get a little work done in my study and give Harvey some time to leave. Let me know if I’m needed.” Able agreed, and Glory took the back stairs up to her study on the mansion’s third floor. The top floor was private. Her apartment was attached to her study and the other ladies who lived at Victoria House full-time had rooms there. It wasn’t decorated quite as ostentatiously as the rest of the house. The wall color was a soft cream with a blue-and-gold runner softening her steps in the hallway. Each door boasted a wreath or some other decorative trinket that reflected the resident’s personality. In short, this floor felt like home and was a respite from the bustle of the rest of the house.
Up here the William Harveys of the world felt far away. Glory let out a breath, already anticipating the nice long soak in her bathtub she’d take when the evening was over. It seemed like the nights were getting longer, or maybe she was simply getting older. She’d be thirty in a couple of years, which didn’t seem particularly old, but this wasn’t where she’d imagined herself at this point. Life was strange in that way. Nothing ever seemed to happen the way she meant for it to happen, but she’d learned that it could still be good. She had about a million things to be thankful for, not the least of which were security and independence. It was more than she’d had a decade ago.
She was smiling when she approached her study, but the smile faltered when she realized that the door wasn’t latched. A gentle nudge revealed that her assistant’s desk sat empty. Glory turned on the wall sconce to reveal that no one was in the antechamber at all. How odd. Charlotte, her assistant, always closed up when she finished her work for the evening. A stack of correspondence ready to post the next morning sat on the corner of Charlotte’s small desk, exactly as she’d left them. It was possible that Charlotte had forgotten to lock up, but a strange sense of foreboding made her stomach tumble.
Glory took in a deep breath, consciously avoiding looking across the room at the door that led to her study. Glory was the only person with a key to that door. If it was open then it meant that someone had broken in and she’d have to face that her sanctuary wasn’t really a sanctuary at all. But she was being silly. Of course it was locked. To prove it to herself she put her hand into the hidden pocket of her skirt and wrapped her fingers around the warm metal of the key. It was still safely with her. Charlotte had simply forgotten to close the door to the hallway.
Her heart pounding, she turned toward her door. It was mercifully closed. An exhale of relief left her feeling deflated and weak. She put a hand on the corner of Charlotte’s desk to keep her balance. Even after all these years she was wary of any irregularity. She knew all too well how quickly life could come crashing down with very little warning.
There was no light coming from beneath her door and no sound came from within her study. No one had been inside. She knew that, but her heart resumed its pounding as she approached the door with her key in hand. The cool metal of the latch chilled her palm and she gave it a quick turn to test the lock. Her key held useless in her other hand, the door latch made a clicking sound as it unlatched. She gave a little push and the door creaked, swinging open to reveal the interior of her office. Moonlight flooded in through the windows facing the street, spilling onto the carpeted floor. No one was inside, but nevertheless she moved forward cautiously.
As soon as her feet crossed the threshold she saw it. It was a square piece of parchment sitting in the middle of her tidy desk, and it seemed to have a nearly ethereal glow in the moonlight. It had not been there when she’d left earlier in the evening.
Turning on the electric sconce on the wall didn’t help. The white parchment lost its glow, but it didn’t seem any less dangerous. It hadn’t been sent by post. There was no envelope, no markings at all. She crossed to her desk, watching the note as if it were a living thing that could jump out and grab her at any moment. Blood pounded through her head, filling her ears with its roar. Somehow her life would change when she read that letter. She just knew it. Good things rarely came along unexpectedly.
Her fingers trembled when she reached for it. The stiff paper was cool under her touch, barely crinkling as she sucked in a deep breath and flipped it open. The first five words on the page jumped out at her, sending a shard of terror straight through her heart.
I know who you are.
Chapter Two (#u6be2ffb6-58a8-5194-a4fe-9e7495edaa9b)
Zane Pierce tossed back the last of the whiskey in his tumbler and rose from his stool at the bar. The woman tending the bar gave him a smile as she picked up the glass and wiped the mahogany beneath it to a shine. “Fancy some company later tonight?”
Penelope was naturally pretty in a quiet way that wasn’t very outrageous. Even with the kohl lining her eyes and her reddened lips, she gave off an air that was almost wholesome. As if she could just as easily be teaching Sunday school at a church across town instead of working at Victoria House. Some men seemed to like that. Since Zane had been around for the past week, he’d noticed a few of the patrons asking to take her upstairs, but she’d turned them all down. Maybe she didn’t “work upstairs,” the code he’d learned referred to the prostitutes who worked on the second floor. Hell, he might’ve even been interested at one time.
He glanced across the length of the dining room to the door through which Glory had recently disappeared. She’d made it clear when she’d allowed him to have a room a week ago that taking refuge in Victoria House meant that her women were off-limits. The castration that would result probably wasn’t worth it, he mused.
“I don’t think Miss Winters would appreciate that.” That was only part of the reason. In reality it was a gentle way to let Penelope down, because the only woman he was interested in was Glory. The truth was that Glory Winters was the only woman who’d caught his interest in a long time.
They’d known each other for a couple of years now and had spent that entire time circling each other. He could probably count on one hand the times they’d spoken. He might’ve thought she wasn’t interested in him except that he heard the way she caught her breath when he passed too close. He caught the looks she flashed his way when she thought he couldn’t see her.
One night earlier in the week he’d caught her staring at him in the lounge at Victoria House. He’d been sitting at the bar drinking a whiskey before returning to his room for the night. She’d been standing just outside the doorway at an angle that should’ve obscured her from view. He only saw her because the mirror above the bar had caught her reflection just right. She’d stood there for a solid two minutes staring at him with a look that he could only describe as pure longing on her face. When he’d turned to talk to her she’d taken off running. He hadn’t followed her because he’d hoped to give her time to come to him.
“Oh.” Penelope nibbled her lip and offered him a shy smile. “I didn’t mean that I’d charge you anything. I don’t work upstairs.”
Something about the woman’s softly worded admission tugged at him. For the first time he found himself wondering what life was like for the women here. Did Penelope want to be a farmer’s wife or was she happy at Victoria House? Was she lonely? He lowered his voice to soften his rejection. “Maybe some other time after I’ve moved out.”
Which could be as early as tomorrow since their hunt for Buck Derringer was over. The search had consumed them for the past few years. Zane had been working on a ranch down in Texas owned by his friend Castillo’s grandfather. Derringer had come around offering improved ranching methods and expertise, and pretty soon he’d swindled Castillo’s grandfather out of his life savings. When Castillo had tried to collect, Derringer and his son, Bennett, had blown through the ranch one night, killing Castillo’s grandfather and leaving destruction. The ranch had burned to the ground. The scar Zane carried on his face was a lifetime reminder of that horrible night. Zane had vowed to help his friend get revenge.
They’d been joined by Castillo’s half brother, Hunter, and had soon become known as the Reyes Brothers. After years of searching from Texas to Montana Territory, Derringer had found them in Helena, Hunter’s hometown. Last week they’d been in a shoot-out with Derringer’s son and killed him, and Derringer had gone into hiding again. Two days ago Derringer had come out of nowhere, shooting at Castillo from an alley. He’d been wounded, but Zane had managed to come to his aid and together they’d killed the bastard.
The years of searching were over, but Zane wasn’t ready to leave Victoria House just yet. He’d taken a room here to root out Derringer and while their enemy had fallen, Zane hadn’t moved one step closer in uncovering the mystery of the brothel’s madam. No one was willing to talk much about the madam or her past. It was as infuriating as it was intriguing.
Penelope gave him a smile and a disappointed shrug before moving on to help another customer, while Zane turned back to the dining room. William Harvey had stood from the table he’d occupied with Glory and was making his way out of the room. Zane couldn’t stop himself from glaring. He’d nearly come off his stool when Harvey had grabbed Glory. He’d have gone over to stop the son of a bitch from touching her if Able hadn’t intervened.
Zane followed behind Harvey to the front door, making sure the man didn’t try to find her. He had no idea what they’d been talking about, but it had been apparent that she had left their conversation upset. Harvey stopped to talk with a man Zane recognized as a banker and frequent guest of the house, so Zane paused in the shadows, unwilling to let Harvey out of his sight as long as the man was in the house. After a few minutes, Harvey said his goodbyes, retrieved his hat from the doorman and left.
Zane breathed a sigh of relief and made his way to the servants’ hall and out the back door. Some time ago Glory had purchased the property that adjoined Victoria House in the back. It had been a boardinghouse hastily built to accommodate the influx of miners. At some point it had fallen into disrepair, so she’d restored it. The second floor was now a temporary home for women who needed it. Women who were abused or abandoned and often had nowhere else to go. The first floor had a set of apartments occupied by Able and his wife on one side, while the other side had been turned into a makeshift clinic for her ladies that he’d heard was better equipped than the town’s hospital.
That’s where he was headed now. They’d taken Castillo there because the hospital’s doctor was a known drunk. He had a reputation for killing as many as he saved, and the gang hadn’t been willing to take the chance on their leader’s life. Castillo was still there recovering from his gunshot wound, and they needed to discuss what to do next. His boots clicked on the cobblestones of the courtyard and a few lanterns lit his way across the fenced-in enclosure. The second-and third-floor windows of Victoria House were boarded over with decorative shutters to preserve privacy. A few of the ladies who weren’t working were taking advantage of that privacy and the mild summer night to play a game of dice.
“Evening, ladies.” He gave them a nod as he passed. They returned his greeting and a few watched him with interest. None of them had approached him in the entire time he’d been in residence. He’d discovered that, due to his size and the nasty scar that covered part of his face, women tended to be afraid of him. Penelope had probably only warmed up to him because he’d had a drink at her bar each night before going to bed and maybe she’d realized he was harmless. He almost laughed at the description. Well, harmless for a wanted outlaw.
A few minutes later Zane walked into Castillo’s room, where Castillo’s new wife, Caroline, was busy fussing over him. She fluffed Castillo’s pillow and stroked his cheek as his friend looked up at her, clearly besotted. The fool. Zane had to stop himself from shaking his head. He’d learned his lesson about women and love with Christine. Even the thought of her made his scar tingle.
Although Zane hadn’t let his feelings be known about the matter, he was of the opinion that Castillo would’ve been paying more attention to his surroundings on the morning he was shot had Caroline not been with him. He might’ve noticed Derringer sooner. Instead, Derringer had gotten the best of him and left him with a bullet wound in his abdomen. Caroline, who was studying to be a physician, had stitched him up. Though Castillo seemed to be on the mend, they weren’t out of the woods yet as infection could seep in at any time. It just proved the point that men like them had no business with women. Well, not for more than a casual affair. Anything more intense would be too risky.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, jarring the couple apart.
“Like I got shot in the gut,” Castillo said in his slightly accented English. “But I’ll live thanks to the doc here.”
Caroline grinned and brushed back a strand of black hair that had fallen across his forehead. “Not a doctor yet, but soon.”
She was being too modest. She’d spent her childhood apprenticing under her father, and Zane had seen firsthand how efficiently she’d worked on Castillo. She knew what she was doing. “We’re thankful you were here,” Zane said, walking farther into the room to stand with a hip leaned against a bureau.
Hunter sat in a chair beside the bed. “Caroline says he’ll be stable enough that we can move him to the town house in the morning.”
Zane nodded his agreement. The town house was more secure, and they’d be able to post their men around it. So far it seemed that Derringer had been alone and no one would come to avenge his death, but they needed to take precautions just to be sure. Not to mention the fact that the clinic was essentially attached to the brothel. The Jameson name and wealth could only protect Caroline’s reputation for so long. If she had any hope of showing her face in polite society again, they needed to get her away from Victoria House soon.
“Let’s move him before dawn then,” Zane said. “Less people around to worry about.”
As they made plans for moving Castillo, Zane realized that this really would be his last night in Victoria House. His last night close to Glory. His last chance to explore the strange attraction between them. But she’d been so careful to never let him get close, he didn’t know how he was going to make that happen. She never let anyone get too close. As far as he could tell, Able was the only one she trusted. At first, he’d been able to respect that. He knew how it felt to keep others at a distance. He’d done it himself most of his life. But staying at Victoria House for the past week had made him want things with her that were better left unexplored.
If only he could heed his own advice.
Part of him knew that he should let it go, but another part, a stronger part, of him wondered if there was something holding her back. Some reason that she wouldn’t approach him even though she was clearly interested. Damn, he’d give anything to know her secrets. She kept herself so guarded they were impossible to figure out. One night wouldn’t be nearly enough time.
“Glory?” Hunter’s voice made Zane jerk his head up. He found Glory standing in the doorway as if his thoughts had somehow conjured her. She wore the same emerald green gown from earlier. Her deep red hair was piled impeccably atop her head. She was easily the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. It was more than her looks though. It was the way she held herself, the way she ran the brothel with confidence and competency. She was like a queen.
Only when he looked closer did he notice the tension lines around her mouth and the worry lines creasing her brow. She seemed pale. He pushed away from the bureau, ready to chase Harvey down for whatever he’d done to her, but her voice stopped him.
“How are you feeling, Castillo?” she asked, doing her best to put on a calm facade.
“Much better, thank you,” Castillo answered.
“Thank you so much for opening your home to us.” Caroline came around the foot of the bed. To her credit, she extended her hand toward Glory as if she didn’t care the woman was a brothel madam. “I’ve never seen the hospital in town, but the stories make me fear what would’ve happened had we taken him there. Your setup here is one of the nicest I’ve seen. It rivals my father’s own practice back in Boston.”
Glory smiled and shook her hand. “Please don’t thank me. It’s the least I could do. I’m happy everything’s turned out well.”
Hunter added, “We’re indebted to you, as usual. If you ever need anything—”
“Actually, I do need your help,” Glory said, turning her attention from Caroline to Hunter. Zane noted she managed not to look at him even though he stood close to Hunter. He couldn’t help but feel she did it purposefully.
“Anything. What do you need?” Hunter asked as he came to his feet.
“If you and Mr. Pierce could come to my study as soon as possible, I’d be grateful.”
Mr. Pierce. She’d only called him by his given name once. It had happened last week when he and Castillo had captured a man who’d been following them and brought him to her storeroom to interrogate. She’d been so angry at them for daring to endanger her ladies, and she’d forgotten her resolve to only use his last name. It wasn’t much, but he’d decided to call it progress and he’d made it his mission to get her to call him Zane again.
“Has something happened?” Zane asked.
She finally looked at him, her eyes going slightly wider as she took a deep breath. He couldn’t be sure with the low lighting but he’d bet that he could see the pulse in her throat flickering. Her tongue came out to moisten her lips and something deep inside him clenched.
But aside from the anger, he saw fear in the depths of her eyes and it raised the hair on the back of his neck. “Are you in danger, Glory?” he asked.
“Please come to my study. I—I’ll tell you both everything.” She turned and left without giving him a chance to say anything more.
Now there was an invitation he couldn’t refuse.
Chapter Three (#u6be2ffb6-58a8-5194-a4fe-9e7495edaa9b)
Glory rushed across the courtyard toward the sanctity of her study as fast as she could without rousing suspicion. Only she couldn’t really think of it as her safe place anymore after someone had broken into it. As she fled she could still hear the echo of Zane’s deep voice reverberating within her. She didn’t just hear his voice, she felt it, bouncing off the hollows inside her and smoothing out their edges. He’d been wreaking havoc on her emotional state all week without even realizing it. She wanted him to leave so that she could stop thinking about him, but the thought of possibly never seeing him again made her feel bereft.
It wasn’t his fault she couldn’t stop thinking about him. Glory couldn’t even figure out why he affected her so. It had simply always been that way and she couldn’t stop whatever he did to her as much as she wanted to. Instead of trying anymore, she simply ignored it.
Grabbing the key from her pocket with more force than was strictly necessary, she shoved it into the lock of her study door and pushed it open, half expecting someone to pop out at her. It was as empty as it had been before, and that damned letter was still on her desk except this time it was open just as she’d left it. From across the room, her gaze caught on those five little words.
I know who you are.
They were ominous. Able was the only person in the whole world who knew her true identity. No one else knew her real name or where she had come from. She’d made up several stories and told them all at various times with a wink and a smile. The wealthy patrons of Victoria House didn’t care where the madam was from. All they really wanted was a bit of intrigue, so she told them she was a runaway countess, or the long-lost granddaughter of the famous pirate Jean Lafitte. Once, a rumor had started that she was an illegitimate Russian princess, and she hadn’t bothered to refute it. If they believed the stories it was because they wanted to. Because of her accent, most assumed she was a Southern belle whose family had been displaced during the war. She never confirmed or denied anything. The stories were good for business, because they kept her mysterious.
The truth would not be good for business. As a matter of fact, the truth could very well get her and Able killed. The shock of that settled into her bones as she walked to stand behind her desk, staring down at the letter. The words written in black ink on the parchment sent cold tendrils of fear curling down her spine. She shivered and forced a deep, even breath to keep the terror at bay. She refused to allow one simple note to paralyze her with fear.
But it was jarring, because she’d never received a note like this since her escape. It was certainly plausible that someone from her old life had tracked her down, even after all this time. It was also true that she’d made many enemies in her line of work—namely men who wanted the fortune she managed—and would relish bringing her past rushing back to meet her. Harvey came to mind immediately. Had he somehow had a hand in this? Was this a move to push her into accepting his friendship?
Well, she wasn’t a sixteen-year-old runaway anymore. She had ways to fight back now.
Able walked in with a wary expression on his face. She’d sent word for him to meet her here before she’d gone to talk to Hunter and Zane. It was unusual for her to call a meeting with him this late at night, especially when they were so busy.
“Is there something wrong?” he asked, his gaze searching her face.
She waved her hand to the empty chair across from her. Some part of her wanted to hold off the sharing of the letter as long as possible to keep things as they were before she’d found it. Her peace of mind might be shattered, but that didn’t mean she had to involve Able. Only she did have to involve him. The letter affected him as much as her, so it was only right to tell him. He took in a deep, fortifying breath as if he knew what was coming and unbuttoned his coat as he sat down.
“I thought you should know that I received this today.” She held up the letter. “Someone is claiming to know who I am.”
His jaw clenched and his dark eyes hardened. “Who sent it?”
She shook her head. “It’s anonymous.”
He held out his hand and she gave the letter to him, dropping the parchment as if it had burned her the second he took it. His brow furrowed as he scanned the letter and tightness squeezed her chest. Glory realized that she was holding her breath, hoping against hope that he’d find something she had missed that would tell them the letter was a hoax, so she let it out and felt her muscles relax.
A knock on the open door drew her attention. Hunter came in followed closely by Zane. Hunter was tall at just over six feet, but Zane towered over him by a few inches. His large frame was strapped with lean muscle, matching Able in sheer powerful strength. If not for Zane’s darker coloring marking his native heritage, she’d imagine there was at least one Viking ancestor in his lineage.
Despite his size, his appearance wasn’t the most striking thing about him, at least not for her. It was his eyes. They were so dark they were nearly black and looked at her with an intensity she didn’t know how to interpret. It was almost as if he could see past the role that she played. As if he was the only one who could look through the brothel madam costume and wonder at the real woman beneath.
The longer she was around him the more she craved that. He was looking at her now as he closed the door behind him. She couldn’t stop herself from staring at the pink scar that started just above his right eyebrow, went down over his cheekbone, before drifting off into his hairline. Time and time again she’d wanted to ask him about it but hadn’t. She knew what it was like to have scars you didn’t want to talk about. Luckily hers were hidden, but she could only imagine how she’d feel if someone questioned them. So she stayed silent on that point out of both respect and self-preservation. The less she knew about him the better. He was an outlaw and she was the madam of a brothel. There was no future for either of them, especially not together.
“Thank you both for coming,” she said, returning her attention to Hunter. He was always the one out of the band of brothers who’d taken the lead in dealing with her. “Please sit down.” Noting there was only one chair available since Able occupied the other, she added, “There’s an extra chair in Charlotte’s office.”
“There’s no need,” Zane said, crossing his arms over his chest as he came to stand behind the empty chair. He gave a nod to Hunter, and his friend sat down in the chair.
“I’ve asked you here because I’ve received a rather disturbing letter.” The paper crinkled as Able finished reading it and handed it back to her. A glance at his face told her nothing of how he felt. If he was worried he was careful not to show it. “Well, perhaps I should simply read the letter so you’ll understand.”
At Hunter’s nod of encouragement, she took a deep breath, loath to read the words again. There was no help for it though, so she plowed forward.
“‘I know who you are. You will understandably doubt my claim, so allow me to elaborate. It is my preference not to give too much away in the event someone else finds this letter, so I will simply say that I know you are from South Carolina. I know that you arrived in Helena in 1876 with nothing but the funds you managed to steal, along with your grandmother’s quilt.’”
Her voice trembled, so she paused to clear her throat. Those were details anyone could guess, she reasoned.
“It’s common knowledge among the staff that I sleep with my grandmother’s quilt and anyone could guess about the South Carolina bit,” she said.
Able nodded in agreement. “Keep reading.”
She took a fortifying breath and continued. “‘I know your true name. I know the details that caused you to run away. I know from whom you ran.’”
She paused as that vile man’s image came to mind. Justin Dubose. Every day that passed she resisted thinking about him, but he was always there lurking in the shadows of her memory. She feared that he always would be.
When she paused, Hunter said, “It’s a clever attempt at extortion, but there’s no solid information to prove they do know who you are.”
His handsome face revealed no hint of alarm. Perhaps that meant she was overreacting, or perhaps it meant he simply didn’t understand the severity of her danger.
Biting her lower lip, she read to the end. “‘Please do not misunderstand my intention. I was hired to find you. I have no personal stake in your recovery. My goal is simply to give you the opportunity to stay hidden. Should you choose to take that opportunity I will disappear with my payment, never to be seen again. Should you refuse, then I have no choice but to report my findings to my employer. The choice is yours. If you wish to stay hidden, have five thousand dollars directed to the account number and bank below. You have one week.’”
There was no signature, only an account number and the address of a bank in Chicago.
The room was silent as she laid the letter on her desk. A myriad of emotions played out in her mind: fear, disbelief, frustration, anger, resolve. In the blink of an eye, she went from uncertainty to somehow knowing exactly what she wanted to do. “We have to find this person.”
“Are the details in the letter accurate?” Hunter asked.
“Close enough.” The waver was gone from her voice, thankfully.
Able stood, his hand going up to the back of his neck to massage away stiffness. “It doesn’t say much, but the things it does say...” His voice trailed off and he walked to the window that looked out over the mansion’s immaculate front stoop and the street beyond, his unfocused gaze taking in the night sky.
Zane walked around to take Able’s vacated chair. Sitting down, he leaned forward, forearms on his knees. “Did you run from someone, Glory?”
She blinked, her body instinctively tensing in reaction to having that old wound prodded. “I’d rather not get into my past. That’s why I want the person caught.”
