The Fall of Rome (4 page)

Brady clenched and unclenched his fists. The gang knew about his beef with the Garretts. Hell, they all had a beef. Rome and Boston had tracked them more than once on behalf of Wells Fargo. But Brady’s grudge ran deeper. Years ago, London Garrett had barred him from his family’s highfalutin opera house. The slight still rankled. But it was Rome whom he hated with a vengeance. He’d celebrated for three days and nights when he’d read Wells Fargo had fired the famous brothers. Had noted with interest the gossip regarding their current antics and whereabouts. Good to keep track of your enemies. Now it seemed a new enemy, Miss Tori Adams, was in cahoots with the old.

Brady stabbed a fresh cheroot between his teeth. “Have me a mind to ride north.”

“You can’t be serious,” said Cody from behind.

“You don’t want to go to Phoenix, Jed.” This from his cousin who finally slid from his saddle and approached real careful-like. “You want to ride south, to Casa Bend.”

“Never heard of it.”

“Not surprised,” said Elroy. “Barely a one-horse town.” Brady fired up his tobacco and studied the man through a cloud of blue smoke. Elroy had always been on the wiry side, but the man had lost so much weight, if he turned sideways, he’d disappear. His clothes were ratty; his boots wore thin. He was pert near unrecognizable. Killing him might’ve been kinder than kicking him out of the gang. Surely ill luck had plagued his cousin a good long while. “I’ll bite. What’s in Casa Bend?”

Elroy had always been good for a tall tale and a laugh, but just now he was dead-dog serious. “Kat Simmons.”

The name burned through Brady’s body, igniting dormant frustration and desire. He didn’t flinch, but his men gave him space. All except Cody. He didn’t know about Brady’s obsession with Kat. This past year, he hadn’t mentioned her name because he’d given her up for dead. It was that or go
loco
. Rumors that she’d married another man . . . Just thinking about it spurred murderous thoughts. “If you’re wrong, Elroy--”

“I’m not, It’s her.”

He turned to his men. “Get ready to ride. I want that necklace, but the skinny bitch will have to wait until I visit Kat.” Cody bristled. “Who the hell is Kat?”

“Bulls-Eye’s woman,” Boyd said.

“From what I’ve witnessed,” the gunslinger said, “a wink and a smile lands you any lady you want, Brady. What’s so special about this one?”

She’s the only one who got under my skin
. “That’s my business.”

Cody gritted his teeth and glared at their boss. “So instead of making for the border, were going to risk our necks so you can make time with some skin and then swipe a stupid necklace?”

Snapper whistled low.

Brady snuffed his smoke. “Counting on you to lead the way, Elroy.”

“You’re invitin’ him to ride with the gang?” Cody griped.

“I am.” He glanced at his kin. “If he’s learned his lesson.”

Elroy nodded. “I have.” Then he buttoned his lips.

Unlike Cody. “But he’s a damned liability, slow on the draw, quick on the talk. Besides, you said it yourself, Bulls-Eye. The gang’s comprised of seven. Lucky seven. Don’t be an idiot.”

Mule and Amos peeled away.

Brady relaxed his bandaged shoulder and smiled. “You’re right, Cody. If Elroy comes along, we’ll be one too many. Admittedly superstitious, I’m the last one to tempt bad fortune. He pulled his iron quicker than hell could scorch a feather.

“Bull’s-eye,” whispered Mule as Cody took a slug to the heart and crumpled to the dirt.

Brady winked at Elroy, the man who’d offered up his most earnest desire. “Seven it is.”

Santa Cruz Valley

On the rare occasions Casa Bend felt like a prison, Kat saddled her horse and rode like the devil was on her heels. Which he was. Unless he’d given up. She prayed he’d given up, but given current developments she couldn’t count on it.

Believing Frankie was safe at the convent for another few weeks, she’d telegraphed a law official in Yuma stating she could bait Brady out of hiding. The first time she’d divulged her real name in more than five years. He’d wired back, saying she’d be visited by a couple of top-notch bounty hunters posthaste. That meant any day now.

Today, she’d been too anxious to tend bar, so she closed the Star and saddled Blaze. Kat gripped the reins, leaned low, her head ear-to-neck with her horse, and kneed the spirited creature faster. She raced along the Santa Cruz River, the circumstances that had led her to this moment crawling through her mind. Regret, shame, and anger pumped through her body like a runaway locomotive.

She was so busy berating herself for her past mistakes, she lost track of the present. She didn’t hear or see the two oncoming riders until they were nearly upon her. Fearful Brady had materialized from her thoughts, she pulled up too hard and fast. Spooked, Blaze reared. Unfocused, Kat went head over back end. She landed in the grass with a bone-jarring thud. By the time she caught her breath, the men had dismounted.

They closed in, their faces shadowed by their Stetsons, their bodies silhouetted against the brilliant blue sky. Judging from the attire and aura, they weren’t cowboys or sheep-herders. Rangers, maybe. Or Federal marshals. Even though she couldn’t read their expressions, she was keenly aware of their powerful confidence.

The taller one offered her a hand up. “You alright, ma’am?”

He didn’t sound threatening, but all the same she refused his help. “Backside’s bruised along with my pride. Other than that,” she said, pushing to her feet, “right as rain.” Mortified, was more like it. She brushed off her britches and smoothed damp curls from her flushed face. A gifted horsewoman, she hadn’t been thrown in a coon’s age. Frazzled nerves had made her sloppy. She shifted to make sure Blaze had settled and in doing so, locked gazes with the tall man’s friend.
Dear God
.

“Hell’s fire.” He swept off his hat. “Kat?”

No way, no how was she going to bluff her way out of this one. “Morning, Boston.”
Boston Garrett
. She couldn’t believe it. With the exception of numerous dime-novel sketches, she hadn’t seen him in years. Coincidence?

Breathless, she scanned the area for Rome as the two were typically attached at the hip. She’d invested an awful lot of energy trying to remember how she’d betrayed him and trying to forget how he’d forsaken her. She could handle the days. It was the nights, the dreams of what had been, what was, what could never be, that tortured her soul. Even though Rome had broken her heart, she’d clung to the best parts of him. If she were ever to get on with her life in the romantic sense, she needed to let go of fairy-tale expectations. The newspaper article touting his scandalous fall from grace had damn near done the trick. Maybe seeing him in person would cinch the deal. Only the man was conspicuously absent.

Dizzy with relief and disappointment, she palmed her forehead.

The taller man steadied her.

“I’m fine.” Because she had long ago mastered her poker face, he believed her.

He removed his hat, revealing a head of barbered blond hair. He was handsome in a quiet way, gentler in manner than Boston. “You’re Katrina Simmons?”

He looked so incredulous, she almost laughed. “Unfortunately.”

“Athens Garrett,” he said, remembering his manners. He offered his hand again, this time in greeting.

This time she took it, mostly to convince herself that these two were real and not figments of her crawl down memory lane. They were real all right. “The politician of the family,” she noted, fighting to keep calm. The only Garrett brother she’d never met, and now here they were in the middle of nowhere--face to face. Fate, her mind whispered as dread iced down her spine.

“Former politician,” he said while surveying the area. Wasn’t a whole lot to see beyond the blue sky and wide open spaces, but he surely took his time. ‘You riding alone, Miss Simmons?”

“Obviously.”

“Convenient.”

“How so?”

“We were riding for Casa Bend in regards to your telegram.” He fingered the brim of his hat, studied her with kind green eyes. “Given the sensitive nature of the subject, the more privacy, the better.”

Thrown for a loop, she dabbed the back of her hand to her moist brow. “Are you saying you’re the bounty hunters I was told to expect?”

“Yes and no.”

“Meaning?”

“The bounty hunter portion’s a cover.”

She stood riveted as he explained that he was the director of a new government agency. Her throat constricted when he stated the agency’s overall mission. If they intended to tame the West by tricking and trapping elusive outlaws, then surely a man as menacing as Bulls-Eye Brady was at the top of their list. Were the Peacemakers her and Frankie’s salvation? Were her days of running and hiding numbered?

“I assume you heard about Brady’s latest train robbery,” Athens said.

She curled her fingernails into her palms. “Read about it in the
Arizona Weekly Citizen
.” Unlike the article on Rome, she’d had no desire to read the awful report more than once. This time a woman had died. A woman who’d stood up to Brady. She’d mourned Victoria Barrow’s death. She’d also spent sleepless nights worrying that the incident had happened near Yuma. She’d worried that Brady was headed deeper into the Territory, closer to Casa Bend. Were the Peacemakers on Brady’s tail?

“I heard he rode for Kansas,” she said. Barroom gossip. Wishful thinking.

Athens shook his head. “We think he’s holed up in the region.”

She crossed her arms over her roiling stomach, breathed deep. Various scents teased her nostrils. The smell of horses ridden hard. The smell of the swollen river. The smell of confidence--the Garretts. The smell of fear--hers. They filtered through her system, reminding her this bizarre moment was real. “I haven’t been with Brady for several years.”

“We know you headed east, then essentially dropped out of sight,” Athens said.

“Brady and I didn’t part on good terms.”

“So you thought it best to stay clear of the bastard,” Boston said. “Smart.”

“If I were smart, I wouldn’t have gotten involved with him in the first place,” Kat said. She refused to show the extent of her shame and fear. Strong and steady. “I’ve tried hard to put the past behind me, but it won’t let me be.”

“I sympathize,” Athens said.

She wagered he had his own demons, given the flash of pain in his green gaze. A gentle soul, her instincts told her, with a guilty conscience.

“So you’ve decided to go to war,” he said.

She shifted and struck a confident stance. “I’ve decided to take a stand against a despicable menace.”

Boston smiled. “Smart
and
brave.”

“Not brave,” Kat countered. “Selfish.”

“How so?”

She pondered what to share. “I have a niece. Five years old. My responsibility. Brady’s obsessed with me, and I defied him. No telling what he’d do if...” she trailed off, not wanting to speak the unthinkable.

“Having a five-year-old daughter myself,” Athens said, “I understand. What we have in mind--”

“I’ll do it.”

“You haven’t heard the plan.”

“Being a politician, excuse me, government agent, I’m sure it’s clever. Men like you don’t play to lose. I’m in.”

Boston studied her down-to-earth appearance. “You’ll have to slick up.”

Time was, she’d take offense. Instead, she took Boston’s comment as a compliment. She’d worked hard to downplay her so-called beauty. Given her appreciation for frippery, initially the transformation had been a trial. These days she didn’t give her plain attire and lack of face paint a second thought, although her new persona had never felt completely natural. Blending with honest, hard-working folk had kept her safe, but it wouldn’t aid PMA in their quest to snag Brady. “In other words, you want Kat Simmons, not Jane Murdock.”

“We want a woman qualified to compete in a poker tournament. A woman who’ll garner attention and spark talk.”

“A woman who’ll make the newspapers. Between word of mouth and the press, Brady will know where to find me faster than chain lightning with a link snapped.” She smiled. “Like I said, you’re clever.”

Athens angled his head. “As you said, you haven’t been with Brady in years, and he has strong reason to stay in hiding. We want to ensure he’ll come around by resurrecting an old rivalry.”

That could only mean one thing. “You’re going to pair me up with Rome.” Amazing, she said his name without flushing. Amazing, she actually looked forward to the ruse. If she played her cards right, she’d condemn Brady to hell for eternity and banish Rome from her heart for good.

“That a problem?” Boston asked.

A nonchalant shrug belied her inner anxiety. “Whatever it takes.”

“You’ll be protected,” Athens said.

“What about my niece?”

“Whatever it takes.”

Phoenix

The day crawled into night, and the night stretched on forever. The Last Chance was locked down, and London was locked away in his office, restless as hell. He sat at his desk, tapping a pencil on his accounts ledger. Hard to concentrate on numbers while contemplating problems of another nature. Hard not to obsess.

London loved his family. Unconditionally. But sometimes they taxed his patience. Take Athens. He had no business putting himself in harm’s way. To London’s knowledge, he’d never fired a gun, yet he was determined to personally bring down one of the West’s most notorious outlaws, Bulls-Eye Brady.

As director of PMA, Athens, alias:
Fox
, had a list of targeted desperadoes. Bulls-Eye Brady was one of many. Until he killed a woman. Then he became public and personal enemy number one. Athens’s first wife, Jocelyn, had been gunned down in a train robbery, and though Victoria Barrow hadn’t died from a bullet, she’d sure as hell died by Brady’s hand.

London figured his brother was dealing with demons even bigger than Brady. “Regret’s a helluva thing,” he muttered. Even though he understood Athens’s motivation, he begrudged his active role in the case. Proficient with guns and fists, London should’ve been the one riding with Boston. The one scheming with Rome and Seth. Instead, he was holding down the fort, so to speak, business as usual in his boring-as-hell life. “What is it, Parker?”