Cooper's Woman (6 page)

“Watch where you point that thing,” Coop ordered. “You might shoot someone accidentally.”

“When it comes to you, there won't be anything accidental about it,” Denton sneered as he doubled over to scoop up his weapon. “Next time you go barging in on the boss I'll drag your dead carcass out by your boot heels—”

Denton's voice dried up when he realized Coop had drawn a six-shooter and had buried it in his soft underbelly. Coop had used the art of intimidation against outlaws dozens of times. He didn't like the looks of this whisker-faced, tobacco-chewing hooligan whose sketch could likely be found on a Wanted poster.

“One quick shot and I'll have
your
job,” Coop threatened. “Doesn't make a damn bit of difference to me, as long as I get paid.”

Coop retrieved both of Denton's pistols and his dagger. He tossed them into the bushes as he limped toward his horse. “I don't think we're going to be best friends,” he said before he reined away from the burly henchman.

He heard Denton cursing a blue streak while he groped in the shrubs to locate his weapons. Coop had the distinctive feeling that he had made an enemy of Oscar Denton. But then, Coop had many enemies among the outlaw population of the world.

One more didn't make that much difference.

A
lexa had endured as much of Elliot's tiresome company as she could stand that evening, while taking their meal in the dining room then adjourning to the parlor to sip wine. She was relieved when Oscar Denton lumbered inside around ten o'clock.

“Pardon, boss, but this message arrived for you. I thought you might want to see it immediately.”

“Goodness, look at the time.” Alexa rose to her feet. “I should be going. Thank you, Elliot, for a most delightful evening.” She was quite pleased with herself because she hadn't gagged on the words.

Alexa exited the room before Elliot called her back. She had even managed to avoid further discussion of a possible betrothal. She had chattered nonstop, hoping to bore Elliot into a coma. She had nearly succeeded. Then Oscar showed up to provide her with an excuse to leave.

Once outside the house, Alexa inhaled a restorative breath of evening air. She scurried toward the rented carriage that waited on the circle driveway. She grinned, recalling that she had outsmarted Miguel this evening by sending him into town with Kate to retrieve the carpetbag she had purposely left behind at the hotel.

Alexa hadn't wanted Miguel hovering around, in case she had the chance to do a little snooping—which she intended to do now. She was eager to find out who had sent the missive to Elliot. Miguel, of course, would have nagged her relentlessly to let Coop do the investigating.

Unfortunately, his arrival this evening disturbed her and left her wondering whose side he was really on.

Alexa drove the carriage down the beaten path then veered into a grove of pine trees to avoid detection. She had a clear view of the office window and noticed a lantern had flared to life. She could see Oscar's and Elliot's silhouettes in the window. A moment later Oscar exited.

The guard dragon returned to his post on the front porch. Good. If he wasn't circling the house at regular intervals, she could tiptoe up to the window to see what was going on in Elliot's office.

Suspicion continued to hound Alexa. She wondered if Coop would show up for another consultation with Elliot. What was he up to? Was he planning to double-cross Mr. Chester?

She'd shoot him herself if she discovered he was professionally unreliable and corrupt. She'd shoot him
twice
to compensate for the disconcerting realization that she couldn't trust her instincts as well as she thought she could. Then she'd blast him a third time for disappointing her personally.

Maybe her father and Miguel were right. Maybe ex-bounty hunters and so-called detectives couldn't be trusted completely. Her instincts might have failed her in this instance because of her fierce physical attraction to Coop.

She pricked her ears when she heard the clatter of hooves, indicating a late-night visitor had arrived. She squinted, trying to determine if it was Coop or the unidentified man from the line shack who approached the ranch house.

Alexa cursed under her breath when she stumbled over the hem of her gown. Halting near the garden gate, she shed her petticoats, and then tossed them over the white picket fence. Hurriedly she fashioned her dress into breeches so she could scurry through the shrubs without being snagged.

In the near distance, she could hear muffled voices. With her curiosity on high alert, she quickened her pace to reach the corner of the house. Removing her slippers to ensure better footing, she scaled the jagged stones to reach the elevated office window. The feat wasn't too difficult, but clinging to the side of the house like a spider on the wall, to maintain her balance, took considerable strength and effort. Although she broke several fingernails, she managed to sink in her hands like cat claws. She stretched out a leg—practically doing the splits—to find purchase on another protruding stone.

Frissons of excitement coursed through her as she inched sideways so she could peer into the office. She had found her true calling, she realized. This was the kind of thrill and challenge that had been missing from her life. Gathering information, piecing it together and solving puzzles filled her with a sense of purpose.

This new job made her
happy.
However, if Coop was the late-night caller, who arrived to meet secretly with Elliot, she was going to be mad as hell.

She tossed aside the disparaging thought when she heard Elliot's voice drift through the office. It wasn't the cooing, sticky-sweet tone he employed when he was with her, but rather a soft, seductive voice that alerted her that it probably wasn't Coop who had arrived on the scene.

Alexa leaned sideways as far as she dared, and then craned her neck to peer into the window. Elliot stepped into view. He had removed his dark jacket and silk cravat. His crisp white linen shirt hung open, revealing a light furring of blond hair on his chest.

The sight did nothing to stimulate Alexa. However, the auburn-haired woman, dressed in a red satin gown that displayed her ample bosom to its best advantage, seemed to appreciate the sight of his bare skin. She smiled provocatively as she sashayed up to Elliot.

Alexa watched the woman trail her fingertips down the middle of Elliot's chest then skim her hand over the placket of his trousers. That appeared to be all the incentive Elliot needed, for he hooked his arm around the woman's waist and hauled her roughly against him. They commenced groping each other passionately. Articles of clothing and undergarments came off at record speed and were tossed recklessly aside.

Alexa decided she didn't need this lesson in lust and window peeking wouldn't gain her information for this case. She squeezed her eyes shut when Elliot yanked down the bodice of the woman's chemise and feasted on her breasts. Breathless moans and whimpers filled the room and embarrassment flooded Alexa's cheeks. She wanted to flee the scene before the grand finale of this tryst took place in the office.

Anxious to climb down the face of the wall, she clawed at the rough rocks and struggled to maintain her balance. When an unseen hand came out of nowhere to clamp around her bare ankle, she assumed the armed guard had shown up. Frantic to wrest free, she kicked out her leg—and lost her footing.

Alexa swallowed a squeal of alarm, refusing to let Elliot and his courtesan know she had been spying on them. She hoped to avoid capture before Oscar dragged her into Elliot's office to face the consequences.

When the guard jerked her back against his chest, she elbowed him in the jaw. When he didn't let go she reached over her shoulder to rake her broken nails over his neck.

“Ouch, damn it,” came a familiar voice that didn't belong to Oscar Denton. “Stop clawing me, she-cat. I'm here to help.”

Alexa angled herself sideways to peer into the shadowed face behind her. She wished
Miguel
had shown up to assist her. But no such luck.
Coop
was glowering at her. Her mind raced, wondering how she was going to explain her way out of this predicament. Then she reminded herself that she didn't owe Coop an explanation. She was annoyed with him because he had arrived earlier that evening to consult privately with Elliot.

Although that incriminating visit indicated he was a traitor, she couldn't accuse him of betraying her because he didn't know that she and Mr. Chester were one and the same and she planned to keep it that way.

“You scoundrel—” she said with a hiss.

“Call me all the names you want but keep your voice down,” he muttered against her ear.

Coop clamped his hand over Alexa's mouth and clutched her to him when she squirmed for release. When she gestured toward the corner of the house, he noticed her satin slippers sitting on one of the protruding stones. He snatched them up, but he didn't set Alexa to her feet so she could don her shoes. Instead he carried her through the garden to the gate.

He didn't know whether to be angry or amused by her outlandish antics so he decided to be both. But angry first. “What the hell did you think you were doing besides taking the risk of falling off a ledge and breaking your damned neck?” he demanded sharply.

Her chin came up and she refused to back down. “I was spying on Elliot. If it's any of your business, which it is
not.
”

“Ah yes, one of your favorite pastimes,” he murmured sarcastically. “How could I have forgotten?”

“I told you that I am determined to discover Elliot's true character, personality and expose any secrets he plans to keep from me,” she reminded him as he set her to her feet.

“Nice breeches, by the way,” he smirked. “Are those the latest fashion in your uppity social circle?”

She glared flaming arrows at him while she crammed her feet in her slippers.

“What the hell are you doing here?
Really,
” he inquired.

“I could ask you the same question,” she countered, tossing the comment he'd made last night right back in his face. “Why did you call on Elliot during dinner this evening?”

Coop plucked up her discarded petticoats from the fence and tossed them over his shoulder. He delayed in answering her question by clutching her hand and leading her through the gate. He walked briskly toward the carriage where he'd tethered Bandit.

Alexa jogged to keep up with his hurried strides. “You haven't answered my—”

“Shh-shh-shh!” He made a stabbing gesture toward the front of the house where Oscar Denton stood as a posted sentinel.

Thankfully Alexa didn't fire more questions while he scooped her up and set her on the seat. With Bandit tied behind the carriage, Coop hopped up beside her. Before she tried to interrogate him again, he laid his finger to her lips to shush her. Then he grabbed the reins and drove off.

She waited until he'd gone a quarter of a mile before she half turned on the seat to stare intently at him. “This is far enough. I demand to know what you wanted to talk to Elliot about. Do you work for Elliot? And why are you here now?”

He avoided the first question and said, “I wanted to know why a woman, who has more money than God and as many social connections as the governor, is practically walking a tightrope outside the window. Who is in there with Webster?” he demanded.

“A dark-haired harlot, judging by the skintight red dress she was wearing before it came off,” Alexa replied. “They were having a tête-à-tête and I saw far more than I wanted.”

She stared accusingly at him. “You scared another ten years off my life when you grabbed my ankle. At this rate I won't last until my thirtieth birthday.”

Coop decided now was the time to tell Alexa about the madam. This should be the crowning blow that convinced her
not
to marry Webster The Philanderer.

“Webster has standing appointments with Lily Brantley, the owner of Lily's Pleasure Resort,” he reported. “Three nights a week, I hear. Regular as clockwork. I don't know how often they have these late-evening trysts at his office.”

He expected Alexa to recoil as if she had been slapped. Instead, she cocked her curly blond head and frowned. “Lily's Pleasure Resort…” Her voice trailed off then she shook off whatever thought had distracted her momentarily and focused absolute concentration on Coop. “Do you work for Elliot?”

Coop hesitated, unsure whether he should lie or tell her the truth. He really preferred to tell her nothing at all. The less she knew about his reasons for being in Questa Springs the better off she'd be.

“Answer me, damn it,” she snapped impatiently.

Her harsh language made him chuckle. “Not the Goody Two-shoes I mistook you for, I see.” He clucked his tongue. “I didn't know blue-blooded ladies were allowed to curse.”

She stared pointedly at his leg—the one he'd forgotten to bind up before he skulked around Webster's ranch. “Not the invalid I mistook
you
for, either, are you? Does Elliot know there is nothing wrong with your leg? How long have you been working for him and in what capacity? The same capacity as Oscar Denton? Are you one of his hired guns that he planted in town to gather information and protect him from the resentful neighbors and business competitors that he says are trying to ruin his reputation?”

Coop's brows swooped down over his narrowed gaze. He appraised Alexa astutely. He'd seen glimpses of her inner strength and depth of character during several telling moments. He was thoroughly convinced now that she was no airheaded female whose greatest aspiration was finding a man to support her in the manner she was accustomed.

“Who
are
you?” he asked flat out.

“You know who I am. I'm Harold Quinn's—”

He waved her off. “No,
who
are
you?
” he said sharply.

She crossed her arms over her full bosom and stuck out her chin. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“Ha!” he burst out. “Don't play dumb with me, lady. You're anything but. First, you poison your bodyguard so you can tail Webster. Then you save Mrs. Fredericks from a thrashing, at the risk of your own injury, I might add. Now you've ditched Miguel so you can scale walls and spy on Webster and his concubine. What the hell are you really up to?”