House of Mirrors (24 page)

But Jamie wasn’t done with him. “Friends.” She spoke the word with such scorn, he might as well have called her a whore. “That’s all I am to you.”

“I believe I’ve made that clear a number of times.” Rafe moved toward her. “If I’d had an interest in you, don’t you think I would have followed up on it by now?”

She shook her head, sending her curls tumbling. “Sometimes love is that way. You don’t see the person who is perfect for you is right in front of you. But I believed sometime, someday, you’d come to your senses.”

A chill that had nothing to do with the breeze went through him. With her hair wild around her face and her eyes so wide and glistening, Jamie looked a little mad. And she spoke the words with such conviction that Rafe realized she had, against all odds, somehow believed she had a chance with him.

He reached out to touch her arm, determined to soothe her yet not leave her with any illusions. “Miss Jamie”—he added the title to put some distance between them—“I’m sorry I couldn’t care for you as you evidently do for me. You’re a beautiful woman, but it’s simply not in my nature to be attracted to you. I’m sorry.”

She gave a scoffing snort. “Talbot, that moon-eyed hayseed. The very idea of it is disgusting.”

The pity Rafe felt for her quickly evaporated, and his temper flared. “Enough. I’m going now. Good luck in your future endeavors,” he said coolly as he released her arm and turned away.

“Oh, I have great plans,” she promised, her little-girl sadness instantly replaced by poisonous venom. “Jack and I both do. I guess I knew I couldn’t count on you. So I made plans of my own. I’m taking care of what should be mine.”

Rafe had stooped to pick up his bag, but he dropped it again and faced her. And when he looked into her eyes, he feared that she truly was insane. They nearly sparkled with savage glee.

“What plans?” he asked.

“Did you think I’d stay with a poky little show like this forever? The Orcully Brothers have promised me star billing—headliner on the poster, even above their elephant, Gracie.”

Rafe took a deep breath to calm his racing heart.
Treat her like a trained bear gone rogue: slow and easy and calm
. “Why did they promise you that, Jamie?”

She laughed, a high-pitched tinkle that made the hair on his arms raise. “Why do you think? But what do you care? You’re as good as gone.”

“I’m as good as gone,” he agreed slowly. “So you can tell me. What do you mean, Jamie?”

“All these little accidents. It took you long enough to put two and two together and see it was more ’n bad luck. I thought you’d be smarter than that.”

“You and Jack did this together?”

“Well, yes. Isn’t that what I just said?” She laughed again. “Not that it matters to you now. I’m nothing to you. And the show is nothing to you. You’re leaving, so what do you care about any of it? But just so you know—the House of Mirrors was all mine.”

“Jesus Christ, Jamie. What have you done?”

For a moment Rafe was too shocked to move as his thought came out of someone else’s mouth. Then he whirled around to face Jack Treanor, still wearing his jaunty red coat from his trip to town to drum up business. The man had evidently just arrived back. He was holding his horse, prepared to tie it to the picket line for the night, when he’d come across Jamie and Rafe. Rafe had hidden his dismay and hoped he could smile and walk away, but then he saw Treanor reaching into the belt beneath his jacket.

“Treanor,” he began, but the other man was pulling something from his belt.

He gave a long, low growl, still directed at Jamie. “Jamie. Why couldn’t you leave the drama behind? You stupid fool. He might be on his way out, but he still gives a damn,” Treanor snapped. He dropped the horse’s bridle and pulled a pistol. He pointed it at Rafe and jerked his head toward the far side of the paddock. “Over there. Come on.” When Rafe hesitated, Treanor added, “Don’t think I won’t use this.”

With the surreal sense of walking in a nightmare, each step an effort, Rafe plodded in the direction the clown indicated. Treanor’s pistol wasn’t large—little more than a derringer—but it could put a bullet in him if he refused to obey.

And if Treanor decided to keep Rafe’s mouth shut by killing him and disposing of his body, no one would ever know. They’d all think he’d left for England. Meanwhile his family in England would give up on his return after a while, assuming their black sheep had disappeared once again. There was no one on this earth who’d know about or mourn his passing.

* * *

Jonah was proud of himself. He’d done a fairly good job all day of keeping busy and distracted and thinking of anything other than Rafe Grimstone. Of course, he’d sneaked a look or two at the man while the carnival was setting up, noting the elegant way he lounged against a booth and simply watched for a change. God, how Jonah would miss that long, lean body, that black goateed, devilish countenance, and the deep chuckle that so often rumbled from the man’s chest.

No lingering on what they’d had. That was what he’d promised himself, but it would be a damn sight easier once Rafe was truly gone, Jonah thought as he hurried from one task to another.

And then the sun was almost set, and the truth of what Rafe’s absence would mean to him crashed down on Jonah all over again. The feelings he’d kept tamped down erupted. He found his feet moving of their own accord toward Rafe’s wagon—where he found Mindy moving her possessions into place.

“I believe he’s heading out right now. You’d better hurry,” she advised.

Jonah nearly raced to the corral, set some distance from the wagons and tents to keep the smell of horse manure away. He searched frantically for a glimpse of Rafe while saddling one of the horses, but didn’t see him. When Jonah caught sight of Chaucer among the other horses, his hopes lifted.
Not too late. I can tell him…or at least see him one last time.

On the far side of the milling group of horses, Jonah saw a flash of red. Treanor’s coat. So the man was back. Jonah walked around the enclosure to talk to him. If Rafe
had
already left on one of the other horses, maybe the advanceman had seen him on the road.

As Jonah drew closer, he stopped and stared at the unexpected trio standing between the corral and the stand of trees beyond. Jack Treanor, Miss Jamie—if the woman even had a last name, Jonah had never heard it—and Rafe clustered close together discussing something in an intense manner.

Jonah held back, his nerves tingling, telling him there was something wrong with the tableau. The jovial clown’s face had once again slipped into an angry sneer such as the one Treanor had worn yesterday when he accused Rafe and Jonah of having an affair in front of the entire company. Jonah had always seen Jack Treanor as a pretty easygoing fellow, especially in comparison to his friends Parinsky and Jamie, but it seemed that demeanor was only a mask for a deeply disgruntled man.

Then Treanor turned slightly, and Jonah saw that he held a gun on Rafe. Jonah ducked beneath the rope into the horses’ enclosure and dodged behind the nearest horse’s hindquarters. His heart thundered as he tried to make sense of what he’d seen.

The only logical conclusion he could draw was that Rafe had learned Treanor was the culprit who’d been sabotaging the carnival and threatened to expose him. How Miss Jamie figured into it, Jonah had no idea, but that hardly mattered. He needed to take action immediately and somehow disarm Treanor.

With what? He had no weapon, not so much as a heavy stick, and physically Jonah was no match for Treanor. If he leaped on the man and tried to wrestle the gun from him, it could prove disastrous. There was no time to get help or arm himself. All he could do was use what was at hand.

And all that was at hand was horses.

Jonah crouched and looked beneath the chestnut’s belly at the trio. Treanor was talking and gesturing with the pistol while Jamie appeared to be entreating him to spare Rafe’s life. Meanwhile Rafe cast a quick glance to the left and right as if gauging whether he dared make a dodge for freedom. Then his gaze swept to Jack Treanor, and Jonah saw from the glint in his eye that Rafe intended to throw caution to the wind and tackle the other man while he was distracted by arguing with Jamie.

Jonah had to stop him before he got himself killed. He wasn’t much of a rider. His father hadn’t owned but one horse, and that was for drawing a carriage. But Jonah had learned during his time with the carnival. He grabbed the chestnut’s long black mane and vaulted onto the horse’s back, kneed it sharply, and charged toward the three.

The portable corral was fashioned from a double line of rope strung between stakes. It was at chest height for the horses, and only a desperate animal would try to leap over it, especially given that there was no area in the enclosure in which to build up speed for the jump. Well, the horse might balk at the jump, but Jonah was desperate enough for both of them. He dug his heels into the horse’s flanks, urging the horse forward.

The animal lunged forward, scattering the rest of the herd, and then sailed over the rope to land in the midst of the people. Jonah was dimly aware of the sound of Jamie screaming and Treanor’s shout. But the horse’s hind leg caught on the rope, and the animal fell, throwing Jonah.

He shot over the horse’s head and landed on the ground with a thud that drove the wind from him. His lungs were crushed. He fought for air, wheezing and gasping. And the world around him spun and flashed light and dark.

Rafe jumped backward as Sultan hurtled toward him after unexpectedly leaping over the corral fence. He had an impression of hooves coming toward his face, a big hulking body looming above him, before he scrambled out of the way. He dropped and rolled, and when he came up, he was inside the paddock.

With a glance, he took stock of the situation—saw Jonah hit the ground and Treanor fall flat on his arse. Rafe didn’t stop to consider. He rushed at Treanor and knocked him the rest of the way to the dirt. He grabbed the man’s wrist and squeezed until he let go of the pistol. Then Rafe punched him in the face and seized the gun. After scrambling to his feet, he gave Treanor a kick in the ribs for good measure and growled, “Don’t move,” then went to check on Jonah, who lay facedown in the grass.

Rafe felt as if a steam locomotive was running through his veins. Everything was happening so fast and so unpredictably. His pounding heart leaped into his throat as he crouched beside the sprawled figure and rested a hand on Jonah’s shoulder. In the background, the horse snorted and squealed; perhaps its leg was broken from the aborted jump, but all of his focus was on Jonah as he carefully turned him over.

When Jonah groaned and blinked, relief flooded through Rafe. “Are you all right? Anything broken?”

Jonah grunted.

Rafe leaned over his body and hugged him carefully, but even that gentle embrace made Jonah groan again. Rafe straightened and brushed Jonah’s hair from his forehead. His forehead was hot and sweaty, but his hair cool and smooth as always. Such fine hair, each strand like spun silk, Rafe marveled inanely.

But then he jerked himself back from sticky sentiments. Now was not the time. He rose, and a quick glance around told him that Jamie had taken the opportunity to disappear, but Treanor still lay on the grass.

Rafe stalked over to him. “Get up.”

Treanor reluctantly climbed to his feet.

In the meantime the horse’s screaming had attracted the attention of many of the showpeople, and they ran toward the paddock. Crooked Pete was the first to reach them. He bent over Sultan’s thrashing body and soothed the great beast with that magic only Pete possessed.

“It’s not serious,” he announced to Rafe as he examined the animal’s leg. “What the hell happened here?”

“Found our culprits,” Rafe answered succinctly, certain he’d have to run through the tale many more times before the night was over. He would not be leaving for the train station tonight.

And as he glanced over at Jonah, who was sitting up and rubbing his ribs, Rafe was suddenly glad he wasn’t going to be leaving after all.

Chapter Twenty-two

Jonah was exhausted and fairly drunk by the time he’d told the story a half dozen times to various groups of people and accepted more drinks than he’d ever consumed in one sitting. He needed the alcohol to steady his nerves, he told himself. But the truth was, it felt good to have his fellow showmen stand him one drink after another and welcome him completely into their company for perhaps the first time. If anyone wondered why he’d been out in the paddock at that time of evening or guessed he’d been looking for Rafe, they gave no indication of it.

“Jamie’s run off, I guess,” Mindy announced as she joined the group sitting in the chow tent. “Looks like she ran straight to her wagon and grabbed a few of her things while the rest of us were at the paddock.”

“How can you tell? Her place is always a mess,” Ellen Fisher said.

“Her favorite dog, Toodles, is missing.”

“Some of us should go after her, bring her back and make her pay for what she’s done.” Henry rose from the table, ready to take action, but he swayed on his feet. He’d started drinking long before Jonah had.

Claudia waved him down. “Sit. Let the girl be. She’s going to be miserable enough out there on her own. What do you want to do? Run her out of town once we catch her again? Our world’s a small one, and I, for one, am going to tell everyone we meet what she’s done to us. Orcully might hire her, but no one else ever will.”

Jonah glanced at the large woman and at Dimitri, stuck to her side like a burr. Easy for her to be charitable about snotty Miss Jamie now, because Claudia had the prize Jamie had been too blind and arrogant to claim—Dimitri’s considerable devotion had been transferred to her.

“What about Treanor?” Fisher bellowed, determined to make someone pay for their woes.

“Locked in Lance’s cage till we decide what’s to be done with him,” Parinsky answered. “What do you think, Grimstone?”

Jonah moved his bleary gaze slowly over to the man who made his head spin more than the alcohol did. For a man who’d had a gun held on him and had been in a fistfight with his captor, Rafe managed to look as cool and unruffled as a well-groomed cat.