Authors: Kat Martin
“Morgan! You say the son of a bitch was in her bed?”
“Well, not when we went in, but from the looks of things, he damn sure spent the night there.”
“That little tramp. I should have known she’d be with Morgan. He was right here under our noses all along. I’m surprised we didn’t turn up any trace of him.”
“She sure is pretty, boss,” Andy put in. “The smoothest, whitest skin I’ve ever seen. And those breasts, so full and round and—”
“Shut up, you fool!” Chuck clenched and unclenched his fists.
“Sony, boss,” Andy whispered in his high, soft voice.
“So that was Dan Morgan.” Bill Sharp seemed amused. “I’ve been wantin’ to run into him for years. He’s got quite a reputation. Man who kills Morgan’ll add more’n a notch to his gun. I’d like nothin’ better’n to draw down on him.”
“And I’d like nothing better than to see Morgan dead,” Chuck said. “You’ll have your chance at him, Sharp. You just better hope you’re faster than he is.”
“Oh, I’m faster, all right. Morgan goes up against me, he’ll be dead, all right.” Sharp leaned back in his narrow oak chair, his booted feet stretched out carelessly in front of him.
“Right now,” Chuck said, “the important thing is to get the girl back to Keyserville. We’ll have to be more careful this time. Morgan’s no fool. He’ll be ready for us.” He stopped pacing and turned to stare out the window. The streets were noisy with early morning traffic. A newsboy hawked the
Alta California
, his voice easily carrying up three stories to the open window of Chuck’s room.
“I think I might just have an idea how we can lure her away from Morgan’s protection,” he continued.
“How we gonna do that, boss?” Andy asked.
“All in due time,” Chuck assured him. He smiled and sank down on the narrow iron bed beneath the window. “All in due time.”
Elaina strode briskly across the thick fringed rug to the inner office of the prestigious law firm of Douglas, Wright, Wright, and Jones. The younger Mr. Wright represented her, along with Richard Marley and the Golden Duchess Mine.
“You’re looking lovely, Miss McAllister,” Louis Wright told her. “But then, you always do.”
“Thank you.” She accepted the chair he offered and
leaned back against the tufted brown leather. She could smell its musky scent, though the chair was far from new.
Louis Wright seated himself behind his massive rosewood desk. “Let me begin by handing you another bank draft. This one, I’m pleased to say, is even larger than the last.”
Elaina accepted the ivory envelope and carefully tucked the draft into her reticule. The bag matched her rich brown silk faille walking suit. Its overskirt of a lighter brown rustled with her movements. She’d kept a fleet of seamstresses busy since her arrival and been rewarded with an elegant wardrobe of the finest dresses, hats, gloves, parasols, and lacy lingerie.
“I didn’t come here about the money. I came to see how our offer to purchase the Blue Mountain Mine is progressing. I know it’s only been a few days, but I was hoping you might have some word.”
“I’m afraid, Miss McAllister, we’ve run into a problem on that score.” Louis Wright tapped his pencil against the green felt pad on his desk. “It seems the Anthracite Mining and Colliery Company has already made an offer to buy the property. The sale is due to be closed right away.”
“I see.”
“Now, unless you’d be interested in purchasing the property from the new owners—”
“No, Mr. Wright. At least not yet. I only wanted to buy the mine in order to improve conditions there for the miners. Do you know anything about this new company?”
“Only a little.” Louis Wright scratched his balding head. Though still a young man, he was losing his sandy hair rapidly; a few telltale strands rested on the shoulder of his navy blue suit. “But they have an excellent reputation.”
“What about their employees? Are they treated fairly?”
“I can’t say for certain, but as far as I know, there’s no record of unrest at any of their locations.”
“That’s what matters most to me. Maybe we can keep an eye on things, and if it looks as though conditions aren’t getting any better, we’ll offer to buy them out.”
“Fine,” Wright agreed.
Elaina handed him a piece of paper. “I want you to send a draft to Henry Dawson in the amount mentioned on that paper. You can reach him in Keyserville at the address I’ve written on the bottom.”
“The attorney looked at her questioningly.
“It’s an old debt,” she told him. “I’ve wanted to repay Mr. Dawson for some time.”
“I’ll see to it personally.”
“I’d also like you to handle the purchase of the Hotel Keyserville. Pay whatever’s necessary. When you’ve completed the transaction, I’d like the deed drawn up in the name of Ada Lowery. I want her to receive not only the property but also enough money to restore the hotel to its original condition.”
“This Ada Lowery, she’s a close friend?” he asked. “More than a friend, Mr. Wright. Much more.”
“You needn’t worry. I’ll begin the negotiations immediately. There’ll be paperwork. I’ll need your signature. Can I continue to reach you at the Palace?”
“No. I’m checking out tomorrow morning. I’ll inform you of my whereabouts just as soon as I arrive at my destination.”
“Which is . . . ?”
“I wish I knew, Mr. Wright.” She smiled wanly. “But wherever it is, I’ll keep in touch. You’ve done a fine job for me, and I certainly wouldn’t want to lose you.”
“Why, thank you, Miss McAllister.” He started to rise. “There’s one more thing I’d like you to handle.”
Louis Wright sat back down. He was beginning to admire this young woman. She knew exactly what she wanted and how to get it. He’d seen few young people—fewer females still—who were as self-assured as she. She sat before him proudly, confidently, as if she’d managed vast amounts of money for years.
“I want to found a hospital in Keyserville. In my father’s name. I know it will be expensive, but I believe I can afford it. I’ll add to it a little at a time as the money from the Golden Duchess comes in. Will you make contact with people who can get the job done?”
“Certainly.” He watched her thoughtfully. “You’re an amazing woman, Miss McAllister. I’m sorry to hear you’ll be leaving. We were all hoping you’d make San Francisco your home.” Before she glanced away, he saw tears shimmering in her golden eyes.
“I was hoping the same thing, Mr. Wright, but some things just aren’t meant to be.”
“I suppose that’s so.” He moved from behind the desk, took her hand in a brief gesture of farewell, and noticed a slight tremor in her touch. For the first time, he realized she was maintaining her control by force of will. She’d fooled him for a while. Now he wondered at her sudden decision to leave the city. He hoped there was nothing seriously wrong, but looking at her forlorn expression, he wasn’t so certain.
“Thank you, Mr. Wright,” she said, her voice stronger again, “for all your help.”
“My pleasure, Miss McAllister.” He wondered at her tremulous smile, then she walked through the open doorway and out into the hall. He watched the gentle sway of her hips as her graceful strides carried her from his view.
Chapter 23
“M
R.
D
ANIELS SURELY
won’t like this, mum.” Flora Thomas clucked and fussed as she helped Elaina finish packing.
“Mr. Daniels has nothing to say about where I go or when I go,” Elaina told her.
The Thomases had turned out to be a pleasant middle-aged couple who obviously cared a great deal for each other, and there’d been no mishaps or intrusions since their arrival at the Palace. Elaina had started packing the evening before, and this morning, with Flora’s help, was just about finished.
“Mr. Daniels was awful worried yesterday,” Flora said. “’E told ’Erbert not to take any chances. If those men came back, ’e was to shoot first and ask questions later. ’E gave ’Erbert strict instructions and a Colt forty-five, and my ’usband knows very well how to use it.” A short, grayhaired woman who had once been blond, Flora spoke with a cockney accent that betrayed her English roots.
“How long have you worked for Mr. Daniels?” Elaina asked, placing a lacy chemise on top of the clothes in her steamer trunk.
“Long as ’e’s been living in the city. Three, maybe four years. ’E’s a fine man, Miss McAllister, and ’e surely does care for you, that’s for certain. I never seen ’im act this way about a woman before, not even Miss Stanhope.”
Elaina slammed the lid of the trunk down a little harder than necessary. “Well, he’s marrying Miss Stanhope, so he’d better get used to caring for her instead of me.”
“Yes, mum.”
Herbert Thomas strode into the room with a skinny, black-haired bellboy in tow. “We be ready whenever you are, miss. But Mr. Daniels is likely gonna skin me alive for lettin’ you go without sayin’ good-bye.”
“I really don’t have time to wait for Mr. Daniels,” Elaina said. “You’ll have to say good-bye for me.” She tried to keep her tone light. “Now, if you two gentlemen will be so kind as to load these into a carriage, I’ll be on my way.”
“Oh, miss, I almost forgot to give you this.” Herbert handed her a slip of paper. “Front desk said a man came in this morning and dropped it off.”
She unfolded it carefully. Inside was a message from Isabelle Chesterfield: She was ill and needed Elaina to come immediately.
“Is it important, miss?” Herbert asked.
“Yes, I’m afraid it is. I may have to delay my departure a bit, but whatever happens, I’m leaving the hotel.” Herbert nodded and proceeded with the job of loading the trunks on the cart. He was a tall gray-haired man, narrowly built but not skinny, with eyes that rarely missed a move. Elaina went down ahead of the Thomases, paid her bill at the front desk, then followed them out to the rented carriage. When the bags were loaded, she turned to face the couple and suddenly felt the sting of tears.
“Thank you for all your help. You’ve both been very kind.”
“We were only following Mr. Daniels’s orders,” Herbert told her.
“It’s been a pleasure, mum,” Flora said. “Is there anything you want us to tell Mr. Daniels for you?”
A lump swelled in Elaina’s throat. Was there anything she wanted to tell Ren? Only that she loved him, would always love him. That she would miss him every day of her life, that every waking moment and lonely night would be an agony without him. That despite all that had happened between them, she hoped he’d be happy. Hot tears threatened.
“No,” she whispered. “Good-bye.”
She climbed into the carriage and gave the driver the directions to Isabelle Chesterfield’s house on Maiden Lane. She should have gone to see the woman sooner, but she had been so busy that she’d simply sent a message declining the woman’s hospitality and thanking her for the offer. She just hoped nothing was seriously wrong.
As the carriage rolled away, she sat with her back to the driver, watching the hotel fade into the distance, and glimpsed the window of her bedroom on the top floor—the room she and Ren so recently shared. She tried to push images of the tall handsome man away, but they only became clearer. The tender look in his light blue eyes, the feel of his hands on her body. Finally her vision blurred, but she blinked back her tears. The window disappeared from sight, and the carriage merged with the noisy city traffic.
Something was wrong. Ren could feel it in his bones. Something had nagged him all night, something Elaina had said, or perhaps it was the way she’d said it. He checked his watch. He was supposed to pick up Melissa and Jacob for the Fourth of July picnic in half an hour, but they would have to wait. He’d send his driver over with a message after he stopped by the hotel.
The carriage rolled up in front of the Palace. “I’ll just be a moment,” he told his driver. He wanted to see Elaina and still this nagging suspicion he’d been fighting since dawn. With purposeful strides, he crossed the plush red carpet in the lobby, passed the front desk, and headed toward the stairs.
“Mr. Daniels?” came Timothy O’Banyon’s cool, slightly arrogant voice.
Ren was surprised to see the thin-faced man. Timothy
usually worked the night shift. Ren changed direction, returning to the front desk.
“Are you looking for Miss McAllister?” Timothy asked, his look slightly smug. Ren grimaced as he imagined the way Elaina would handle that look in the future, once he was married to Melissa and Elaina was his mistress. She’d hate those knowing glances, the snickers behind the hands. The thought tugged at his heart.
“Yes,” he answered curtly. “Is she upstairs?”
“I’m afraid she’s checked out, sir.”
“Checked out!”
“Yes, sir. Less than an hour ago.”
Ren swore beneath his breath. He should have known something like this would happen. He’d seen it on her face; he just hadn’t wanted to believe it. “Do you know where she was heading?”
“No, sir, but she did get a message this morning.”
Ren reached inside his light brown suit coat and removed his pocketbook. “Would you happen to remember what was on that message, Timothy?”
Timothy O’Banyon licked his lips. “We aren’t supposed to give out that sort of information.”
Ren pulled a bill from the brown leather wallet.
Timothy eyed the money greedily. “But I suppose in your case I could make an exception.”
Ren pressed the bill into the thin man’s palm.
“It was from someone named Isabelle Chesterfield. Said she was ill and needed Miss McAllister to come immediately to an address on Maiden Lane. I’m not sure which house number.”
Ren knew the street. It was only a few blocks long. “Thanks. Oh, there’s one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“Could you send a man to the Stanhope residence on Jones Street to tell Jacob Stanhope to go on to the Fourth of July celebration without me? I’ll meet him there later.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“You’ve been very helpful.”
“My pleasure, Mr. Daniels,” Timothy fawned. “Good luck.”
Ren walked back through the high-ceilinged lobby and out the massive double doors. He climbed into his carriage, giving instructions to his driver to head for Maiden Lane. The clap of firecrackers, the roar of sirens, and the echo of gunfire could already be heard throughout the city, though it was still early in the day.