Payton's Woman (28 page)

Apparently forgetting
about the money, he bolted for the door.

“Tell me were Larry is.”

He halted his retreat
and turned back. An angry snarl twisted his expression. He came toward Betsy. “Give
me the money.”

She grabbed for the knob
on the center drawer. Ritter bounded around the desk and slung her away with
his arm. She fell backward into the chair.

He yanked open the
drawer. Perhaps he expected to find money, but when he saw none, he looked
stupefied.

Betsy crawled out of the
chair and reached past him for the gun.

When Ritter realized her
intent, he grabbed for the weapon also. They both fumbled with the gun before
it slipped from their grasp. The revolver bounced on the carpet and slid across
the floor.

A fight erupted between
the two. Betsy clawed at his eyes with her nails. Ritter struck her in the face
with his opened hand. A flurry of hands and fists and nails pummeled through
the air and found their mark. Blood oozed from rips in their skin. Red welts
popped out on their faces.

The ferocity of the
fighting stunned Julia. She moved away from them until her back pressed against
the wall. She scooted along it until she found herself trapped in the far
corner of the room.

“How dare you lay your
hands on me.” Betsy reached for her cane that set against the chair. “I’ll kill
you.”

She raised the cane high,
but Ritter grabbed at it before she cracked him over the skull. He ripped the
cane from her hand. Betsy crossed her arms over her head just as he hit her
with the cane. The force of the blow knocked her forward onto the desk. She looked
dazed but managed to press her hands on top of the desk and push herself upright.
With her hands splayed on the flat surface, she prevented her body from swaying.

Her chest swelled as she
took a deep gulp of air into her lungs. Her mouth opened, but before a screech bellowed
passed her lips, Ritter hit her again. And again.

Horrified at the
savageness of the beating, Julia could do nothing but watch him bash in her
skull with the ebony cane. He dropped it and took a step back.

Betsy’s body lay across
the desk. Dark red blood oozed from the numerous openings on her head. Her
lifeless eyes stared at nothing.

He dashed for the door,
but when he grabbed the handle, he pulled his hand back as though too hot to
touch. His eyes darted about the room. Then he saw Julia.

She stood wedged in the
corner of the room, frozen with fear from the deadly violence she’d just
witnessed. Her hand covered her mouth. Her wide eyes stared at him.

He rushed toward her,
but instead of coming directly at her, he went to the window. He threw up the
sash and climbed out.

Julia sucked in heavy
gasps of air and expelled them rapidly. Her heart thumped so hard she thought
it would split open her chest. She grabbed at the wall for support in case her
wobbly legs wouldn’t hold her upright. Her eyes squeezed shut so she couldn’t
see the carnage that lay before her. With her eyes closed, she tried to think,
but only one thought came into her mind.

She had to get out of
this room.

Her eyes opened. She saw
the gun on the floor. If her wits failed her, the weapon may be her only way
out. She picked it up, stuck it in her cloak pocket, and bolted for the door.

The guard saw her running
toward the front entrance. She didn’t need to playact her terror. She pointed
in the direction of the room she had just left. “He beat her to death.”

As the guard ran down
the corridor to the room, Julia ran out the front door. Frantically, she looked
up and down the street. She needed a carriage to take her away from this horrible
place. Near the end of the block, a man climbed from a public conveyance. She
ran toward it.

Ritter dashed out of the
alleyway right in front of her. He didn’t bother to look around as he made the
corner. He continued down the street at a rapid pace.

Her mind sharpened as
she squelched down her panic. She tried to sort out the details of the
conversation she had just heard. Ritter had mentioned Payton. He’d seen him
recently and knew he searched for Dunbar. The pieces fit awkwardly into a
strange puzzle, but she could see the finished picture. If she followed Ritter,
he would lead her to Payton.

Chasing after the man
who had just killed a woman would be extremely dangerous. She had watched him
beat Betsy to death. But she needed Payton. She would do anything to find him.

She hurried down the
street at the same rapid pace. Ritter no longer ran but moved quickly down the street
for a few blocks. He zigzagged down a couple of side streets and increased the distance
between them, but she still had him in her sights. After another few blocks, he
disappeared into a lodging house.

As her pace slowed, she
tried to remember more of what he’d said to Betsy. He needed money. Then he
planned to leave town. But first he had to get his things.

Her little bag dangled
around her wrist. She searched through it for money. Twenty dollars was all she
found. It wasn’t a lot, but it might be enough to make him talk.

She touched the revolver
hidden in her pocket. Apparently, Ritter didn’t have a gun since he’d used
Betsy’s cane to kill her. Knowing this gave her a distinct advantage. When she
came face to face with him, she would keep the weapon in her hand.

Summoning her courage,
she headed down the street to where Ritter lodged.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Night closed in around Payton,
but his view of the street remained visible. The sky was clear, the moon
bright, and the fog had not rolled in. Lamps hung outside most of the
establishments and helped illuminate the walk.

He spotted Ritter when
he turned the corner. The man, looking scared and out of breath, moved at a
brisk pace as he headed toward the lodging house. Ritter flung open the front
door and dashed inside. Payton decided to give him a few minutes before he followed.
He wanted Dunbar occupied with Ritter before he barged into the room to
overtake them both.

As he stepped out of the
alleyway where he waited, his eye caught sight of someone else. A woman hurried
down the boarded walk. She clutched her skirt in front so her petticoats didn’t
tangle with her legs during her haste. A dark-colored cloak covered her body. She
had the hood pulled over her head, and not a single strand of hair peeked from
beneath the edged. And yet, this woman seemed familiar. Although she hurried, her
movements appeared elegant. She held her head high, her shoulders square. Her hips
swayed gently. Her long legs carried her gracefully over the walk.

The muscles in his chest
constricted. His breathing halted.

It couldn’t be her. Julia
wouldn’t be foolish enough to come back to the Barbary Coast and wander around,
lost and alone.

But she didn’t look lost.
She seemed to know exactly the direction she took. She stopped in front of the
lodging house where both Dunbar and Ritter had entered.

His mind tried to
conceive what possible reason she would have to be standing in front of a
filthy boarding house.

Ritter’s words tumbled
around in his brain. What did he say? He was to meet a woman. He didn’t trust
her. She loved that son of a bitch Dunbar.

Love?

His world tilted. His
mind whirled into a black void of obscene proportions.

The woman turned her
head and glanced around at her surrounds. That motion revealed her profile.

“No.” The word tumbled
out like a growl. His hands clenched into fists. His blood pumped through his veins
so hard he thought his head would explode. When she went into the lodging house,
Payton followed.

The woman of whom Ritter
had spoken would pay money for proof that Dunbar lived. But why Julia? What did
she want with the man? The only conceivable answer enraged him. Julia loved
Lawrence Dunbar.

He pushed open the door
to the lodging house. If he found her with him, he didn’t know what he would
do. The palm of his hand wrapped around the butt of his Colt. He knew he would
kill Dunbar out right. It wouldn’t be in cold blood. It would be in a hot,
furious fit of anger. He’d put a bullet right between his eyes. But Julia...

His hand moved from his
weapon. His fingers tightened and flexed. His mind’s eye could see his hands slip
around her slender throat. But could he actually squeeze her windpipe until all
the breath left her body?

He’d find out shortly.

He bolted up the stairs.
The room Ritter occupied set at the back of the building. He stormed down the
hallway. Other men loitered in the corridor, but he pushed them out of his
path.

He stood in front of the
door. His rage consumed his thoughts. His hands gnarled into claws. While one
hand went around the Colt, his other hand reached for the knob.

The door jerked opened
before he grabbed it. Julia darted from the room so quickly that her body
smacked into his chest. The momentum threw her back a step. She grabbed at the
door jamb to regain her footing. She tried to dash past him for the hallway,
but he grabbed her wrist.

His other hand held his
weapon. He used his foot to kick the door open wider.

She fought to free
herself. Her fist pounded on his back, but he dragged her with him as he
entered the room.

His gaze took in the surroundings
at a single glance. He saw no movement. A candle burned on top of a small
dresser. The bed set in the center of the room. On the floor, on the other side,
lay the twitching body of Ritter. His throat had been slit from ear to ear. He
was a fresh kill. Dark red blood still oozed from the slash across his neck and
pooled around him on the floor.

He jerked on Julia’s arm
until she stood in front of him.

“Who killed him? Was it
you?”

“Let me go.” She tried
to wrench her arm free. She clawed at his fingers in an attempt to pry them
from her wrist.

He lifted her hand so
the candlelight flickered across her fist. Her fingers clutched a revolver.

A bullet hadn’t caused
Ritter’s death. This was the work of Lawrence Dunbar.

The hair on the back of his
neck prickled, and his gaze darted to the hallway. He glanced at the faces of
the men loitering there. None of them were Dunbar. The killer had already
escaped.

In his fury to catch up
with Julia, he’d allowed Dunbar to sneak past him without even noticing.

“Calm down.” He jammed
the Colt into his waistband and ripped the revolver from her fist. He shoved it
into his pocket. Both hands gripped her shoulders. He shook her body while
calling her name.

“Payton?” Her eyes
opened wide. Her body trembled violently beneath his hold. As a result, her legs
went limp, and she almost collapsed onto the floor, but he held her upright.

He needed answers, but they
stood in the doorway of a room that contained a dead man. His murderer might
still be near, and their lives could be in danger. They had to get away from here
first.

He dragged her behind
him as he hurried down the hallway. When they reached the front door, he threw
it open so hard it hit the wall and bounced back against his shoulder, but he
didn’t slow his pace.

Julia stumbled on the
boarded walk and fell. Payton jerked her up by her wrist. He hurried down the street
while hauling her after him. All the while he kept an eye out for Dunbar.

He never ceased their
rapid retreat until they reached the Double Eagle Shipping Company. When they entered
the bedroom, he released her by flinging her in the direction of the bed.

Striking a match, he lit
the lamp so he could keep watch over her. She might try to get away from him
again. At the lodging house, she’d beat on him with her fist in an attempt to
escape his hold.

When he looked at her, he
saw the exhaustion that wracked her body. No longer able to run, she lay curled
up at the end of the bed. Her chest heaved hard and heavy with each breath. Beads
of sweat covered her face. Her hair hung loose. Long, blonde strands clung to
her damp cheeks.

He stripped off his
jacket and cap and threw them across the room. His Colt was shoved into his waistband.
He removed the revolver and slammed it on top of the dresser.

After a few minutes, her
breathing slowed. She pushed herself upright on the bed. Her cloak twisted
around her body. She unfastened the button at her throat, allowing the cloak to
fall away. Her eyes darted around the room. “Why did you bring me here? I don’t
want to be in this room.”

“Stay right there.” He took
a step toward her when she attempted to get off the bed. His hands curled into
fists. “I’ve never stuck a woman, but I am dangerously close at this moment.”

She stared at him in
opened-mouth shock.

“I want some answers.”

“What are you doing
here?” she asked.

“Better yet,” he said,
his voice rising in pace with his anger, “what the bloody hell are you doing
here?”

When she didn’t answer,
he supplied one for her. “I suppose you’re interviewing for another governess position.”

“What’s wrong with you?”
Her voice trembled. “Why are you acting like this?”

“What’s wrong?” He shook
his head. “I find you alone in a room with a man whose throat has been slit and
you ask
me
what’s wrong?”

“How did you find me?”
She sat up straighter. “Have you been following me?”

“I don’t need to follow
you, Julia. All I have to do is follow the trail of dead men you leave in your
wake.”

Her back stiffened. “I
haven’t killed anyone.”

“No, but I’ve killed a
few men.” He looked her over coolly. “But the night’s still early. Who knows, I
just might end up killing a woman before morning comes.”