SEDUCTIVE SUPERNATURALS: 12 Tales of Shapeshifters, Vampires & Sexy Spirits (28 page)

“I’m okay, but everyone’s looking for the priest.”

“Michael? I saw him about an hour ago,” Gracie said.

“Bill knocked on our door and said they’ve checked every room in the house and can’t find him.”

Reilly and Gracie exchanged a glance. “Well, he couldn’t a have gone far,” Reilly said calmly. “Not in this storm.”

But thirty minutes later they’d gone through every room upstairs and down, and there was no sign of Michael. His bag was still in his room, his bed neatly made, a Bible on the nightstand. But the man himself was gone.

“What about the cellar?” Reilly said. “It’s the only place we haven’t checked.”

Analise and Brendan sat at one of the tables with Chloe and Jonathan. Tinkerbelle and Romeo circled at their feet, picking up on the tension.

Gracie led Reilly and Bill to the narrow door in the kitchen that opened onto a steep stairway. “It’s not really a cellar. It’s more a crawl space than anything,” she said, reaching for the string attached to the bare bulb that dangled overhead. The light came on, illuminating twelve rough wooden steps leading down to a pit as black as ink. “This is crazy. He’s not down there.”

There was a flashlight in a wall mount by the door. Bill pulled it free and switched it on. Juliet nudged in between their legs and started into the dark. The three were halfway down when the overhead bulb suddenly brightened and then dimmed, brightened and dimmed again. They paused looking up. The kitchen phone began to ring.

“Hold on,” Gracie said and hurried up to answer it. But when she lifted the receiver the phone was dead. She tapped the hook switch and listened again. Nothing. Slowly, she replaced the receiver and turned back to the waiting men. “It’s dead.”

But it began to ring again immediately, and each peal grew louder and louder. At the same time the kitchen lights blinked off and then on. Through the open door she could see the lamps in the front room doing the same.

Reilly came up the stairs and took the receiver from her hand, listened, then hung it up, but it kept ringing until Gracie felt like her eardrums would pop. Reilly pulled the phone off the wall and disconnected the line that went in the back, but the ringing kept on.

“What the . . .”

The bare bulb in the stairway exploded, sending shards of glass in a rain over Bill. And the ringing stopped.

“Mom?” Analise said from the other room. “What’s going on?”

Brendan said something in answer, but Gracie couldn’t hear over her pounding heart. In the silence that followed, one by one, the lights switched off until the gathering gloom of the late afternoon cloaked the first floor of the Diablo.

Gracie looked at Bill, who stood frozen on the cellar stairs. The hand that clutched the flashlight looked very white against the darkness.

“That was weird,” Reilly said.

The understatement caught Gracie off guard. She gave a shaky laugh. “Yeah.”

He moved to the door and looked in at the kids sitting with Chloe and Jonathan. “Everyone okay out here?”

Owl eyed, they nodded. Brendan even smiled. Reilly raised his brows at that.

“Stay put. We’ll be back up in a minute.”

Back in the kitchen, he took Gracie’s hand. “You want to wait up here?” he asked.

Of course she did, but she shook her head.

“All right then. Let’s see what’s down there.”

Somehow Gracie managed to take the first step and then another, concentrating on the weak flashlight beam as she followed the two men down.

Diablo Springs: Chapter Twenty-Four

June 1896

Arizona Territory

I was once again in control of myself by the time the others came laughing up the walkway, and I joined into their easy conversation with a composure that surprised even me. I felt Sawyer’s eyes watching and I knew inside he was laughing at me, but I ignored him and went on as if he wasn’t there. I still had to talk to him before the evening concluded, and I needed to seem calm when I did so. There were things to be settled before the doors of the Diablo opened for business.

When the others went upstairs, I decided I wouldn’t have a better opportunity to speak with Sawyer alone.

I found him at a table with a ledger book in front of him. He looked up when he saw me.

“I’ll ask about a stagecoach tomorrow,” he said, his tone serious. “Small place like this, it may not come regularly. May not come at all.”

A heady mixture of relief and disappointment coursed through me. He intended to help me get home. Home? The notion seemed foreign to me. I had no home. Home, for me, would be where I made it. But the relief that he didn’t intend for me to sell my body for him—to him—brought a rush of feeling.

“Thank you,” I said. I knew he was right about the stagecoach. I’d made the same realization myself. In the best of circumstances, I would be here for a few weeks. In the worst . . . Well, I wouldn’t think of that. Either way, I would need money. I had only one dress, and though all of the girls had generously shared with me, none of them had much themselves.

I knew my parents would not approve of me earning wages in a saloon, no matter how nice it was, but I think even they would understand that my choices were limited. If I could convince Sawyer of my worth, I might save myself the other, more uncertain fate that awaited me.

I took a deep breath, mustering my courage, and went to sit at his table. He looked up, surprised, and then back down to the ledger book. He turned pages and frowned.

“I found this behind the bar. Looks like his accounting for the cost of this place. I can’t make much sense of it though.”

I leaned across the table. “May I see it?”

“You understand numbers?” he asked, surprised.

“I am a banker’s daughter.”

It appeared that was good enough for him. He nodded and gave me the book. I studied it for a moment, but it didn’t take me long to figure out why the previous owner had gambled the place away.

“He owed,” I said. “He owed quite a bit. From the looks of it, he still does. I guess that would be you now. You owe.”

Sawyer scowled. “The hell I do.”

“Evidently, he sold bits of the saloon to any takers that wanted some. Either you pay them their money or they get a share of your profits.”

“It says that?”

I showed him the note written on the pages.

“I knew it was too good to be true,” he said.

“No, it’s not. When you open your doors, you’ll be making money hand over fist.”

“I’ll need to.”

“That brings me to something . . .” I took a deep breath and plunged forward. “I have a proposition for you.”

“I think we’re past that,” he said.

I ignored the baited words and the tone that made me feel hot inside. “I assume you’ll have gambling here?” I said.

“Hell, I’m not opening a boardinghouse. It’s a saloon. Of course there’ll be gambling.”

I stiffened my back at his sarcasm and continued. “It may surprise you to hear this, but I know how to play cards.”

“It won’t be pinochle played at the table.”

“I realize that. Truth be told, my father was a gambler.”

“Your father was a banker.”

“And a gambler. A poor one, as luck would have it, but a gambler all the same.”

“And you?”

“I am very good.”

My voice made a strange hitch over the double meaning of my words, which didn’t occur to me until midsentence. Sawyer watched me with guarded interest.

“I propose that you bank me into a game,” I said.

“And why would I do that?”

“Because I will split my winnings with you.”

“Seems to me, that’s not one of your better propositions. I’m the only one risking anything.”

“I know it seems that way, but I promise you, I won’t lose.”

Sawyer grinned. “Now there’s a bet I’d take. If I had a dollar for every man I’d heard say that one, I’d be richer than God.”

I chewed the inside of my lip, wondering what I could do to convince him.

“You got something to put up for collateral?” he asked.

I shook my head. “I have only the clothes on my back.”

“You willing to wager them?”

Just like that, the temperature in the room rose. The temperature of my blood went with it. Already hot, I felt like steam might rise from my skin at any moment.

“Name the game.” My tone was not near so bold as my words, but his smile let me know the meaning was taken. I was playing with fire here, and I liked it.

He leaned back in his chair, letting his gaze make a lazy voyage over my body. “I was down south in Texas not too long ago. Learned a game called Hold’em. Ever heard of it?”

I couldn’t have been more pleased. “Yes,” I said. “My father played with a banker from Robson, Texas, who taught him. I do know the game.”

And it was one I’d had an instant connection with. I understood the strategy and loved the excitement and challenge of it. Sawyer looked suitably impressed, and I couldn’t help my triumphant smile. Spurred by the small victory, I grew bolder. Leaning across the table, I asked, “If I am wagering my clothing, what will you wager?”

“Every goddamned thing I own,” he said softly.

I looked up, startled and jittery. Excited beyond the game at hand.

He seemed to sense my tension, and he smiled. My heart tripped over itself at the look he gave me.

“How about we each start with two dollars. We’ll see how you do?” he said.

He stood, went to the bar, and got a deck of cards from behind it. Then he poured two cups of coffee, added a splash of whiskey from the small flask he carried to his own and sugar to mine. I blinked with surprise when he set it before me.

“Thank you.”

Before sitting down, Sawyer counted out some money and laid it on the table in two piles. He took a sip of his coffee and then slid one pile over to me.

“We’ll play quarters,” he said.

I took the pile of coins, counted them, then stacked them neatly. Sawyer seemed amused by this, but I didn’t let it bother me. I knew I had his full attention now as I dealt us each two cards. He looked at his and threw a coin into the center of the table. I called and turned three cards face up. There was a king of hearts, a nine of hearts, and queen of spades. In my hand I had both the ace and ten of hearts. Sawyer bet once more, and I called again. I turned the two of diamonds out, and we bet again. The next card was the five of hearts. I fought to keep my face blank as I studied the cards. He barely glanced at them before tossing another coin in. This time I raised him. His brows shot up, and he assessed his cards again. I took a sip of coffee, smiled when I tasted the sugar, and waited. He looked cool as the day was long, but I didn’t think he could beat my flush. He called my bet, and I happily showed my hand. I’d beat his three kings.

His grin held a hint of surprise and a spark of admiration. I pushed the cards his way and scooped back my winnings. He shuffled and dealt, and I won again. The third hand I bluffed him into folding.

As I reached for the winnings, he asked, “What’d you have?”

“A winning hand, Captain.”

And with that, I mixed my cards in with the others and waited for him to deal. I won that one, too. He fished another couple of dollars out of his pocket and put them on the table. I relieved him of those, as well.

“Your daddy taught you?” he said when he called and I set down my three jacks to his two pair.

I nodded. “All of us. He so wanted to be good at the game, but his face was open. Always open.” I looked down, missing that. “My momma thought it scandalous that he had us playing cards at the kitchen table, but I think she liked it. She wasn’t very good, but she laughed a lot when we played. My grandma—now there was someone you didn’t want to play cards with. She was lucky, too. The cards always came to her.”

By the end of my little speech tears were in my eyes and my throat was thick with emotion. “We thought if we played with Daddy, it would help him get better and he wouldn’t lose so much.”

“Did it work?”

“No. He didn’t have the mind for it.”

“He was a banker.”

“But he never understood odds, even in his investments. He always believed what he saw, not what made sense.”

He raised his brows at that. “And you?”

“You have to ask?”

He smiled at me and shook his head. I counted my winnings and then split them into three piles.

“Here is the two dollars you started me with. And here is half of my winnings.”

I’d come out two dollars to the black. He jangled the coins in his hand before pocketing them.

“So,” I asked. “Will you bank me?”

“Ella, I will bank you.”

I smiled, only realizing then how tense I’d been. A lot had depended on my winning his confidence. If Aiken came back now, I wouldn’t be so afraid he would force me into another situation like the mining camp.

“I can balance your books, too,” I said.

He looked at the green ledger book and back at me. I didn’t have to prove anything to him there. He slid it across the table, and I picked it up. I stood, aware that he watched every move I made with those Mississippi eyes of his. They sent chills down my spine and heat spiraling through my veins.

“It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, Captain,” I said.

He reached out and caught my wrist in his hand as I moved to step past him. I paused and looked at him questioningly. I thought he was as surprised by his reaching for me as I, though I couldn’t have said exactly why I thought that. I looked down at the place where his sun-browned fingers wrapped around my white skin. His thumb moved across the pulse that beat there, and slowly, he reeled me closer. I watched the colors in his eyes swirl and darken, and I didn’t fight him.

When I was standing beside his chair, my legs bumping his thighs, he spoke.

“It’s not going to be pretty down here, when it’s filled with miners and the likes.”

“I know, Captain. I never expected it would be.”

“A woman like you isn’t used to that.”

I faced him then. “I would rather see them over a card table than a bed.”

He stood and I stopped myself from backing up. Our shift in vantage points brought his body close to mine. I wondered if he could see the bravado of my words.