The Gambler (6 page)

"How did you get in?"

Her voice was very weak, and for an instant Raven wondered if she might faint. But then he remembered who she was. The killer woman. Fainting was unlikely. Murder, on the other hand...

"It wasn't difficult." He considered taking a step forward, but every inch of his body ached. If he moved, she would surely see his weakness, something he could not afford to reveal. Not with
her.
"Burle let me in."

Her brow wrinkled slightly, and for a moment it seemed he could see her mind work. "But... Jude?" She turned slowly, almost as if she were afraid of what she'd see.

The old man lay unconscious on the bed. His legs were spread, his boots still on, and his mouth ajar. He snorted in his stupor and twitched.

She said nothing. In a moment she turned back to Raven. Her expression was unreadable again, as if she'd found that secret place where she stowed her emotions.

Raven knew she'd see the whiskey bottles strewn beside the bed. Was she surprised by Jude's condition, or had she seen him intoxicated a hundred times before?

She took a deep breath and pursed her lips now. Neither narrow nor frail, her face possessed strong, well-defined bones and an unexpectedly full mouth. "It's your fault."

Her words yanked him from his examination of her. "And how exactly would you go about deducing that?" he asked, intrigued as much by her words as by her brittle self-control.

She gripped her hands tightly together in front of her soiled skirt, and for a moment he thought she would answer. But he had misjudged her, and hardly for the first time. "You have no right to be here."

Raven tilted his head, allowing a hint of a smile. "Burle seemed to believe differently. He seemed to believe you owe me something." Raven took a painful step forward, thinking himself quite an innovative cad for the lies he spread so easily. In truth, he'd seen the open window and crept up the roof just as she must have done. Clancy, damn his hide, would be proud of his deceptiveness. But even without Bodine's careful tutelage in the ways of deceit, Raven would have been inspired by the girl's charming presence to use whatever means necessary to preserve his life.

She backed away now, her eyes shifting from side to side as she rounded the end of the bed. "Go away or I'll... I'll scream for the sheriff."

Raven allowed himself to laugh. "Don't you think we've bothered the good Deputy Hackett enough for one night?" he asked. He knew his words would remind her of her failed escape of some hours earlier.

"Get out," she insisted, tossing her head slightly. Maverick wisps of hair skittered outward, as if fleeing from the sparkling light of her eyes. "I'm not afraid of you."

"Then why are you backing away?"

She stopped abruptly, as if she'd been unaware of her retreat. "What do you want?" Her nostrils were slightly flared.

"I just want to know one thing, darling. What did you do to Chantilly Grady?"

He could have sworn that for just a fleeting moment he saw honest surprise burn across her features. But in an instant it was gone, replaced by her usual, careful veneer. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Raven lifted his brows and painfully crossed his arms against his chest to study her askance. "Your lies get better and better."

Her nostrils flared again. "You think I'm lying?"

"I
know
you're lying."

"All right." She nodded once and smiled tightly. "Then please tell me what I did to Chantilly Gady."

"Grady," he corrected, volleying with one of his own, patently insincere smiles. From the bed Jude snored a single, snarled note. "Perhaps you didn't have time to learn her full name before you killed her."

"Killed
her!" The words came out in a hard whisper.

Raven studied her in silence. If she was lying now, he had sorely underestimated her ability. "Where'd you get the Bible, Charm?" he asked, not giving her time to recover her composure.

She shoved one fist into her pocket and eyed him warily, as if she thought he might fling himself at her again. Which in fact, he had seriously considered doing. Disabling sparks of sundry aches, however, warned him against such foolishness.

"I already told you where I got it," she said tightly.

When Raven was ten years old, another boy had called him a bastard. Even now, Raven could remember the hot rage that had infused him. It had felt so good to hit him, to grab hold of the boy's hair and thump his head against the red Kentucky clay.

Raven took a deep, cleansing breath. Rage solved nothing. Rampant emotion caused only a delay of practical resolution. Besides, there was no need for such anger now. "Yes, from your father's favorite cousin once removed, I believe. Penny Petunia, wasn't it?"

"Pritchard," she corrected tightly. "Petunia was the pigeon."

"I'm getting really tired."

"Me, too. Why don't you leave?"

"I'm waiting with bated breath to hear more about the pigeon."

"It flew away."

He felt a smile curve his lips and was surprised to realize it was real. Turning swiftly away, Raven seated himself in the room's only chair. "All right." He moved to stretch out his legs but winced at the shooting shards of pain. He raised his gaze, rapidly checking to see if she had noticed. But
her
gaze had shifted toward the door, and now snapped back to his face. "I'd catch you," he assured her, though he seriously doubted his ability to capture a hoptoad in a water barrel. In fact, sitting down had been a mistake, for he was entirely unsure whether he could rise again. How embarrassing to be found there in the morning, all alone, with Charm and Jude long gone. But no. It wouldn't be embarrassing, for he would probably be dead, if the lady's expression indicated her thoughts. She hated him, Raven deduced. He wondered at that fact now, for most people didn't hate him until they'd known him for at least a full day.

"I just need some answers," he said now, catching her gaze with his. "Miss Grady wasn't anything to me, you understand. This isn't personal. Maybe she was dead when you found her. You just took her possessions. No one would blame you for that. I just need the truth."

She said nothing, but watched him, her body very stiff. Anger flared in his chest again, but he tamped it down.

"She would be twenty-one this year." He paused, waiting.

"I told you." Charm's tone was clipped. "I got it from my mother."

He drew a deep breath. "All right. What was your mother's name?"

"Eloise."

"And her maiden name?"

"Medina."

"Eloise Medina? Really?" He rose slowly, not thinking to hide the pain now. "Have you told her?"

She eyed him nervously as he paced past. "What?"

It was that fake innocence that made him nearly snap. He turned with a start, barely stopping himself from grabbing her to him. "I said, have you told her yet that she has a daughter?" he asked. "Because when I last talked to her, no one had informed her of the birth. And she's a nurse of sorts; you'd think she'd have noticed such a thing as a baby. But wait. How strange. I'm certain she said she's to be married for the first time in just a few months. No former husbands. No former children."

"You're insane!" Charm gasped out the words, backing stiffly away. "My mother's dead."

"That I don't doubt. But Eloise Medina is very much alive. And she wants her niece back. Her
niece!
Chantilly Grady. Ring any bells now?" he asked, gritting out the words.

"No."

"Damn it, woman!" he swore, but suddenly he remembered the miniature painting. Dropping his hand into his pocket, he pulled out a small leather bag. From it he drew out a tiny portrait that he thrust toward her. "Old lady Sophie refused to change with the times. No family photographs. But I managed to find this." He thrust the tiny oil portrait toward her. "This would have been the girl's mother. There may be some resemblance. Does it look at all familiar?"

Charm's eyes widened. There was something about the frail, peaked face in the oval. Something... Eerie silence gripped the room as memories rushed in on her like a dark, consuming wave.

"Was she with Chantilly when you found her?" Raven asked.

A gun exploded in Charm's mind.

"No!" she gasped, certain for the flash of a moment that she herself had been shot. "No!" She was breathing hard. "I don't know her."

"You never saw her before?"

It was hard to breathe. Half-remembered nightmares assaulted her. She dropped the miniature into her pocket. "No," she whispered.

Raven watched her. "You lie," he said evenly. "But blast if you don't do it well. Almost as good as..." he began, and reached for her again.

But suddenly the derringer was in her hand. She backed away a step.

"Touch me again, and I'll kill you," she warned. "I swear I will."

He stopped. His eyes were narrow and shadowed by his dark brows. "Like you killed Chantilly?"

"I told you." Her voice quivered. Where had she seen the face in the tiny portrait? Where? "I didn't kill anyone."

“Then where did you get the Bible?"

"My—"

"Don't say it, Charm," he warned, holding up a hand between them. "I pride myself on my self-control. But I have my limits."

She pursed her lips, trying to think. How was she going to escape? And what about Jude? She couldn't leave him to the mercy of this madman. She longed to glance toward the bed, hoping Jude was awakening, but she didn't take her eyes from the lunatic before her.

"Eloise Medina never married, Charm," he said now, his face expressionless. "Never had a child. She's eccentric, but not so eccentric as to forget such an event. And then there's a darkie named Cora who talks like she knows Chantilly, though she's never seen her. She too is waiting to hear what happened to the girl. You're going to have to work on your lies. You could have said Eloise was a friend. Or even..." He chuckled, looking not the least amused. "Even that you had no idea who she was. There's a fortune at stake, you know. But no. You
don't
know, do you? Else you would certainly have planned to take more than the Bible. Or did you? What else did Chantilly have on her?" he asked, and took a step forward.

"I'll kill you!" She drew in her breath, holding the derringer in both hands. But terror made her shake, and doubt gnawed at her, making her fingers stiff. "Leave me alone. What do you want from me?"

"The truth." He stopped. "Just the truth."

"She was my mother," Charm said.

In that instant Raven lunged. She squealed and twisted, but he held the derringer now. They spilled to the floor, crashing down together on their sides. They gasped for breath as they tussled for control of the gun.

"Let go!" he ordered, his tone scraped and hard, but she fought back, trying to tear the weapon from his grip.

"No!" she cried, but he was stronger, and she was losing the battle. Bending her leg, she banged her knee against his thigh. He gasped in pain, and seeing her advantage, Charm struck again. But this second assault seemed to do nothing but enrage him further.

With a grunt, he yanked at her hand. The gun exploded. Charm shrieked, but in an instant she saw his face again, miraculously unscathed.

The gun was suddenly beyond her reach. His hands encircled her wrists in a painful grasp.

"What did you do to Chantilly Grady?" he barked right into her face.

Charm sucked in sharp gasps, trying to control her terror.

"What?" he asked, gritting his teeth and gripping her arms harder still.

"Nothing! I didn't know her. I didn't!"

"Then where did you get the Bible?"

"I told you," she whispered. "My mother."

"The devil!" he rasped.

"It's true."

He ground his teeth then smiled grimly through them. "Then
you
must be Chantilly Grady."

She stared at him, unable to move.

"Is that it?"

Breathe. She had to remember to breathe. "No."

"But you got the Bible from your mother," he said, his tone bitter. "So it must be. But there's a way to tell." He raised his brows at her, looking like evil personified. "Proof. You want to know how?"

She failed to move, but stared up at him, transfixed, horrified.

"A scar," he said. "Grady had a scar. On her thigh. So let me see yours."

"No!"

"No scar? But surely there must be one. Let me look."

"You're mad!"

"Could be."

"Let me up."

"Show me the scar."

"Get up!" She tried to shove him aside, but he was much too heavy.

"So uncooperative," he spat, "when in the name of fairness, you owe me proof. And Eloise Medina... your mother," he scoffed. "She'll want proof that she bore a child. Strange that she could forget such a thing. She'll be grateful when you refresh her memory, I'm sure," he said, and taking both wrists in his right hand, began pulling up her skirt with his left.

Charm bucked against him, desperately trying to dislodge him. He teetered off her hip, and she lurched up, trying to scramble away. But he was on her again, pressing her back onto the floor.

"Blast it, woman! I didn't start this, but I'm sure as hell going to finish it." Grabbing her skirt again, he yanked the thing up. She thrashed wildly beneath him, pummeling him with her knees. He grunted, trying to quell the shattering pain and managing to still her motion with the weight of his thigh across hers. "Tell me the truth," he ordered, staring into her face. It was flushed a bright red. "Tell me," he repeated, but quieter, for even now he felt himself falling into the wide pools of her eyes.

"Please." The single word was soft and pathetic. "Let me go."

Raven opened his mouth. He wanted to swear at her, for she had no right now to appeal for mercy. Not after the kicking, pushing, and shooting she had done. And yet... She looked very fragile suddenly, with eyes so wide and frightened they seemed to wound his soul. And here he'd thought he no longer had a soul. No longer needed one.

"Listen." His voice sounded hoarse to his own ears, making him feel foolish. "I'm being paid to find the girl." He took a deep breath, trying to pull himself from her eyes. "She'd been given a Bible by her mother. A small Bible, bound in white leather." He paused, trying to unravel the mystery. "Inside it said Eloise Medina." Their gazes held. He wondered how long it had been since either of them had breathed normally. "There wouldn't be two Bibles exactly the same," he said, answering his own unspoken question. "There couldn't be. But I'm not accusing you of anything, Charm. I won't turn you in. In fact..." She looked very young lying there, and he wondered how old she was. "I'm not on the best of terms with the law myself. Just tell me the truth. Where did you get it?"