Hawk's Prize (18 page)

She had known what that meant. She had known how it would look if she rode into Galveston in Drew’s arms, and she had no desire to stir up the inevitable talk that would ensue.

As for herself, Tricia cared little about anything anyone said, but she knew appearances were important to Chantalle, who had worked so hard and sacrificed so much for her. Yet the truth was that she missed having Drew’s arms wrapped around her. She missed the sensation of his strong chest supporting her back and his hand casually cupping her breasts. His intimate touch seemed somehow so right, and she longed for it . . . for him.

Tricia glanced again at Drew. He was frowning, and she had noted that he still limped when he walked, but
it was obvious that his leg was rapidly growing stronger. She marveled at the sight of him. He wore his weatherbeaten hat low on his forehead, concealing the thick, dark hair that had slipped so smoothly through her fingers as they made love. His dark brows were drawn down over light eyes that had shone with emotion when he held her in his arms. There was a tension about the posture of his powerful body as he rode . . . an expectancy . . . but he was all male and he took her breath away.

Tricia’s heart pounded. She had not believed she could love a man the way she loved Drew—yet love had never been mentioned between them. They had been close. They had shared moments of exquisite ecstasy, yet she was uncertain what the next day would bring. She felt strangely uncertain.

As if sensing her perusal, Drew turned toward her. He searched her expression briefly. His gaze then dropped to her mouth before he glanced up at her again with a look almost as intimate as a kiss.

All uncertainty dropped away.

Drew forced his perusal back to the streets through which Tricia and he rode. He had felt this same presentiment of danger before, and it worried him. Uncertain what it meant, he only knew that he needed to get Tricia somewhere safe.

He glanced at her again, relieved to see that she wasn’t looking at him anymore. She was a distraction for him . . . an intimate distraction that he could not presently afford.

Driven by a sense of urgency, Drew turned his mount
onto the familiar street where Chantalle’s house stood brightly lit. He glanced at Tricia to see that she was frowning, and he said, “Chantalle will be glad to see you, but I think it would be wise if we didn’t use the front entrance at this time of night.”

Tricia nodded, and the brief locking of her gaze with his sent a familiar longing streaking through him. He fought to ignore it. Other matters presently took precedence over the emotions they shared—important matters that he sensed had somehow resulted in the death of a friend.

That thought played heavily on his mind as Drew lifted Tricia down from her horse behind Chantalle’s house. He nodded at Will when the stableman took their mounts’ reins and guided Tricia toward the back staircase without saying a word. Drew knew what he needed to do, and it would not be easy.

He saw the relief that flashed across Chantalle’s face when Tricia and he pushed open the rear doorway to the second floor and unexpectedly met her standing there. He saw Tricia’s flush of regret for the concern so obvious in Chantalle’s expression, and he remained silent as Tricia stepped forward to hug Chantalle briefly.

They followed Chantalle without a word as she turned toward her office. Drew waited only until the door closed behind them to say, “I’m sorry if you were worried, Chantalle, but Tricia and I accomplished our purpose. We notified Willie’s parents, and they’ll be coming to Galveston to pick up Willie’s body as soon as they can make arrangements at their ranch.”

“I’m glad,” Chantalle said, then waited for Tricia to speak.

“We’re fine, Chantalle.” Tricia glanced at him briefly before adding, “Drew’s leg is getting stronger every day. I’m sure Dr. Wesley will agree that it’ll be completely healed soon.”

“It’s healed already. I don’t need Doc Wesley to tell me that.” Aware how gruff that statement sounded, Drew continued, “I’d like to thank you for taking me in while I was sick, Chantalle. I’ll pay you back for your expenses as soon as I can, but I’ll be going back to the place where Willie and I rented a room for the remainder of my stay in Galveston.”

Drew felt Tricia’s shock at his unexpected announcement. He had purposely neglected to mention his plans to her because he knew she would object. He needed to make sure she was somewhere safe so he would be free to do what he must.

With that thought in mind, Drew took a breath and continued, “It’s getting late and it’s been a long day. I need to leave.”

“Drew—”

Cutting Tricia’s response short, aware that her protest would only make a difficult situation worse, he addressed Chantalle, saying, “Tricia can fill you in on the rest. I have to go.”

“But, Drew—”

Drew tipped his hat, ignoring the look in Tricia’s eyes as he said, “Thank you, ma’am . . . Tricia,” then turned resolutely toward the door. He was hastening down the rear steps as quickly as his injured leg would
allow when he realized that for the first time in his life, he was running away from something.

Drew reached the base of the staircase, grateful that Will hadn’t had time to stable his horse. He mounted up and turned the animal toward the street with the thought that he wasn’t running away because of
fear.
No, the emotion that flushed through him as he dug his heels into his mount’s sides was far more powerful—and he needed desperately to avoid it.

Tricia caught herself still staring at the doorway through which Drew had exited the office so unexpectedly. She turned back toward Chantalle abruptly, struggling against the tears in her eyes as she said, “It’s obvious that I wasn’t expecting Drew to leave so soon.” She shrugged. “I guess he couldn’t stay here indefinitely, especially in light of everything that has happened, but I thought he would give me more warning so I could . . .”

Tricia’s voice came to a halt, and Chantalle said gently, “You don’t need to explain anything to me, Tricia.”

“But I do, because I don’t really understand . . .” Her voice trailed away before she began again more strongly, “I know that telling Willie’s parents about his death was probably the hardest thing Drew’s ever done. I admire him for his determination to honor Willie the only way he could, but I’m confused.” She hesitated briefly before continuing, “Drew identified himself to Willie’s parents as Drew
Hawk,
and they seemed to recognize him by that name. They said Willie had told
them about him, that Willie considered Drew almost a brother.”

“Drew
Hawk?”

Tricia blinked back her tears. “I know Drew has secrets in his past that he feels it’s unsafe to share with me, so I didn’t press him. I think he believes that I missed that slip in the stress of the moment . . . but I didn’t. Now Drew is gone. I’m not sure when I’ll see him again . . . if ever . . . and I don’t know what to do.”

Chantalle’s breathing had accelerated, and Tricia said, “I didn’t mean to upset you, Chantalle.”

“No . . . you didn’t.” Chantalle took a breath. “I just wish I had an answer for you. Besides, I’m not exactly the right person to come to for advice about things like this.”

“Yes, you are.” Tricia stepped up to hug her unexpectedly as she whispered, “You’re a good person, Chantalle. You’ve made mistakes in the past, but you’ve come to terms with them. You’ve also found Captain Knowles. Despite his absences at sea, you and Joshua have made a lasting commitment to each other. You’ve made the best of your life.” She drew back as she whispered, “You’re exactly the right person for me to ask.”

“Thank you, Tricia. I appreciate that. Unfortunately, the only advice I have to give is to wait and see what happens. Whatever uncertainties remain about Drew’s name, I’m sure he’ll clear them up as soon as he’s able.”

“Wait and see . . . somehow that doesn’t seem enough.” Tricia brushed away a tear, then said abruptly, “I’m going to my room. I’ll see you in the morning, Chantalle.”

Watching as the door closed behind Tricia, Chantalle went suddenly still.

Drew
Hawk.

Bruce stood silently in the darkening shadows on the street outside Chantalle’s bordello as Drew rode out onto view and spurred his mount forward. Bruce had come to Chantalle’s that evening on the spur of the moment, hoping to learn something that would satisfy his boss’s rage.

And he had.

Smiling, hardly able to believe his luck, Bruce waited a few minutes as Drew rode down the street. He then followed, keeping a discreet distance behind him.

“I saw him and I followed him, boss. He went to a hotel by the rail yard where it was real cheap and took a room there. As far as I know, that’s where he stayed the rest of the night.”

“The rail yards, you say?” Simon was elated. Due to Angie’s sudden proclivity for keeping her mouth shut, he had been late in learning that Collins and Tricia Shepherd had left the city to inform Willie Childers’s parents of his death. He had been silently enraged at the thought that with each day that elapsed, the possibility grew greater that Whit Hawk would receive Chantalle’s message to come to Galveston. Whit would then learn about the possibility—no, the
probability
—that Drew Collins was in reality Drew Hawk, the brother Whit had searched for most of his adult life.

Simon would then be faced with
both
of the male Hawk progeny, who would undoubtedly join forces against him.

No, he would not allow it! He would make sure that the brothers were eliminated before that could happen—one at a time. Then he would take care of the sisters. He would destroy every last person who had ever borne the Hawk name. Nothing else would satisfy him.

He also knew that nothing would happen . . . until he took the first step.

The first step—Drew Hawk.

Simon no longer cared about making Drew Hawk’s death appear to be an accident. Nor did he care what Colonel Clay Madison of the Adjutant General’s Office deduced after Drew was dead. No one would suspect him anyway.

Taking a breath, Simon looked at his hireling. Bruce’s face flushed as Simon said generously, “You did well, Bruce. Willie Childers’s death didn’t work out the way we planned, but we won’t suffer the same fate with Drew Collins.”

Again basking in the light of Simon’s favor, Bruce said, “That’s right, boss. Just tell me what you want me to do and I’ll take care of it.”

“The answer to your question should be apparent,” Simon said. “Eliminate Drew Collins, of course! I’ll need him out of the way before the situation becomes too complicated. I expect you to take care of it as soon as possible—the sooner the better. Delay doesn’t work to our advantage anymore.”

“All right, boss.”

“But I need a definite plan in order to avoid any suspicion that might come up.” Simon smiled as a thought struck him. “I’m invited to a soiree at Willard
Spunk’s house the day after tomorrow. I’ll arrive early and stay late, and I’ll make sure that I’m in obvious attendance the entire evening. I will be my usual charming, relaxed self. I may even arrange for company in the private, wee hours if I can find a woman there who suits my fancy. You’ll be able to take all the time you want to eliminate Collins then, and no one will believe I had anything to do with his death.”

“That sounds good, boss.”

“So it’s settled, then.”

“Yeah . . . sure. You said the day after tomorrow?”

“Yes, the day after tomorrow—Friday evening, you idiot! And make sure you don’t fail.”

Bruce’s broad smile paled in the face of Simon’s displeasure. He replied, “It’s as good as done, boss.”

Simon replied with barely restrained menace, “It had better be.”

Tricia walked out into the hallway of Chantalle’s house. Unable to help herself, she glanced toward the empty room at the far end, and the torment inside her increased. It had been two days since she had seen or heard from Drew, and she ached with the pain of his absence. She had busied herself as she had done before, working in the kitchen, and later in the afternoon at Chantalle’s books, but she had found it difficult to concentrate on either task. She recalled the sensation of Drew’s lips against her cheek, her eyelids, and then her mouth. She remembered how his kiss had deepened until she had accepted his loving assault with joy rising inside her. She tried to evade recollection of the touch of his palms against her skin, his fluttering kisses
against her breasts, then the ultimate sensation of feeling him deep inside her.

His mumbled endearments echoed in her ears. Memory of his soft groan of fulfillment raised a flush to her cheek, and recollection of the rosy afterglow that had held the two of them in its grasp brought tears to her eyes.

She loved him . . . but he seemed to have forgotten her.

Could it be that everything between them had been a lie? Could it be that she had merely fallen prey to seduction?

No. Tricia shook her head. She had seen a depth of emotion in Drew’s eyes that could not have been feigned. She had heard a tremor in his voice that had bespoken feelings that for some reason he had chosen not to voice. She had sensed the wonder he experienced in the throes of their lovemaking—because she had experienced it as well.

They were meant to be together.

So . . . why had he left her?

Tricia approached the door of Chantalle’s office as evening shadows deepened. She was about to knock when it opened as Chantalle instructed firmly, “Remember, Will, get an early start. Leave at dawn, and make sure you stress that it’s imperative for Whit to come see me as soon as possible.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’m counting on you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Smiling belatedly when she realized Tricia was standing there, Chantalle said, “It looks like you’ve already
finished your work for today, Tricia. Will and I are done talking, too, and Polly must have supper ready by now. We’d better hurry because the traffic downstairs will start getting heavy soon.”

Tricia forced a smile in return. It occurred to her that some things changed while others never did. She fell into step beside Chantalle as the older woman started down the staircase. Tricia glanced back at Will as he hurried toward the rear entrance and asked, “What was that all about, Chantalle? It seemed pretty urgent.”