The Gambler (7 page)

Her lips parted. They were pink and full and very well-defined, with a strange little upward tilt, even now.

He waited silently for her answer.

"Please let me go."

Raven gritted his teeth. "You're not listening to me. Tell me the truth, Charm, and I'll let you go. I swear I will."

Still no answer, only her wide, frightened stare on his face.

"All right." He nodded once. “Then I'll have to prove it." He felt like a brute. Hell, he
was
a brute. He pulled her skirt up a scant inch.

"I got it from my mother," she muttered. "I promise you."

He shook his head once, momentarily allowing himself to admire her beauty, if not the originality of her lies. "I'd like to believe you. I really would," he said and pulled at her skirt again.

"All right!" She gasped. "I'll tell you the truth. Just let me up."

Although Raven had never considered himself to be a genius, neither did he like to think he was quite as stupid as she seemed to believe him to be. "Sorry," he said simply. "Tell me now. Then I'll let you up."

"But I... I can't breathe like this."

Raven watched her face. She did look pale, as if the hot blood had left her cheeks in a rush. But the thought of blood made him think of his own. It would be all over the floor, in copious amounts, if he were so foolish as to release her.

He eased off her slightly, however, still holding her wrists. "Now talk," he said, making his tone hard and pinning her with his eyes.

Her lips formed a circle for a moment, making her appear very innocent.

“The truth," Raven reminded.

Her breath came in a sharp gasp. "You're right. The Bible wasn't mine. But I didn't steal it."

He sharpened his glare.

"I didn't," she repeated. She licked her lips, breathing fast now. "She'd been... shot." Her nod was rapid and short. "In the back."

"By whom?"

"I don't know. She couldn't talk."

"And so you stole her Bible? That seems a bit cruel, even for you."

"No! She was badly hurt, and Jude said... He said we couldn't leave her, so I tried to nurse her back to health."

"Was she alone?"

"Yes. All alone. We tried to help her. Truly we did. She lived for three days." Charm shook her head, rolling it stiffly against the woolen rug beneath her. "But it was no use."

He watched her very closely. "She died?"

"Yes. But she wanted me to have her Bible."

"Why?"

Her mouth went round again, like a frightened child's. "We had become very close. Like sisters."

"In a week?"

"It was a long week."

Raven tightened his grip on her wrists and leaned toward her face. "You said it was only three days."

Air left her lungs in a whoosh. "I mean—"

"Want to tell me the truth now? Or just a more convincing lie?"

"It's the truth. I swear it."

"What is? The one about your mother, Aunt Petunia, or the fact that you'd become close to each other?" He glared, wishing he could throttle her. "Like sisters."

"We did."

"Think of a better one, Charm," he warned, leaning closer still. "Or I'll have you hauled off to jail."

"You can't do that."

He nodded once, playing his last card. "Suspicion of murder, darlin'. Who shot Chantilly Grady if it wasn't you?"

Her lips moved again, but no sound came. He wondered curiously if she were praying, chanting something to save her soul.

"I'm tired," he said finally. "But I'm giving you one more chance."

She opened her mouth. He stopped her words with an upraised finger. "Just one."

No sound was forthcoming. He waited. Perhaps now she was beyond speech, he thought, for she looked shocked enough to die.

He shook his head, causing increased pain to shoot along his neck and down to his stiffening body. "I can't disprove the third lie," he said, feeling anger pierce him again. "But I sure as hell can disprove the first," he growled and, reaching down, yanked her skirt above her knees.

Her scream was piercing, and when the lamp hit his head, it was hard and unyielding, sending him into oblivion with a curse for his own carelessness.

Jude Fergusson, it seemed, had not been quite so inebriated as Raven had thought.

It took Raven four days to walk with a semblance of ease, and exactly two minutes and thirty-six seconds for him to swear revenge.

He knew, because an aging miner with a weakness for liquor had clocked the time span between the Fergussons' clandestine departure and Raven's vow for vengeance.

Unfortunately the miner had failed to note in what direction the villains had fled. But it mattered little, for despite the difficulties, Raven had found her.

He remained motionless now, watching from a shadowy corner of the saloon. Since New Eden boasted only a half dozen wooden structures, the Red Eye was generally well occupied. But it was not yet dusk, and the miners who frequented the place would flock in later.

For now there were fewer than a dozen patrons in the room, five of whom occupied the same table. It was there that Raven's attention was held. Three of the men were large burly fellows who appeared to have been drinking since making enough ore to buy the booze. Or perhaps they were trappers, for they wore hides of uncertain origins draped upon their massive shoulders like trophies of war.

Raven shifted his gaze to the fourth man. Jude Fergusson sat with his brows pulled low, impatiently tapping the table with two blunt fingers. During his search, Raven had been afforded time to craft several possible scenarios concerning that man. None of them was complimentary, but all of them were interesting, and should assure a rise from the old man if properly stated. At the moment, however, Jude's past transgressions seemed insignificant, for Charm was there, too.

Raven filled his lungs with a deep waft of smoky air and waited, savoring the anticipation of approaching her. Gone was the girl's stained traveling suit. In its place was a shimmering gown of scarlet hue. It hugged her bosom with lusty intimacy before sweeping over her hips to fall to the floor in ruffled layers. Raven took another deep breath, knowing he'd forgotten her effect on him. But it wasn't just on him, he realized grimly. On all men. Not one of Jude's opponents was looking at his cards, for Charm took that precise moment to bend over her father's shoulder.

Damn her conniving, luscious, mouth-watering little body.

"You in or out, Henri?"

Raven could just barely hear the giant's husky question. A grumbling response followed as cards were tossed to the table. None of the gamblers, however, took his eyes from the girl. It wasn't long before the game was completed, for, indeed, who could concentrate with Charm looming softly curved and smiling at her father's side?

Anger diffused Raven in hot waves. He stood with slow, well-controlled impatience, quietly pushing himself from the table to cross the dim room. "Mind if I sit in?"

Her expression made it all worthwhile. All the pain. All the searching.

"You!" she whispered in surprise, but Jude's welcome was not so benign.

"Damn you!" he roared, lunging to his feet. But a table and three men occupied the space between them. Raven smiled with smug satisfaction.

"Good to see you again, Fergusson," he said with a nod. "And you, too, Miss Charming."

Her face, he noted with some satisfaction, was as pale as a silver dollar, and her eyes were just as round.

Raven brightened his smile.

"I'll kill you!" Jude growled.

"Seems to be a family custom," Raven said. "In fact..." he began, drawing a cheroot from the inside pocket of his silver-embroidered vest, "that's exactly what I wanted to talk to you about." From a mental file Raven pulled a possible scenario with casual aplomb. "Killing. Randall Grady, to be specific."

Jude dropped like a fallen stone back to his chair. The blood drained in a rush from his face.

Raven raised his gaze to Charm again, enjoying every moment. "I ain't no ghost. Though I can't blame
you
for that fact. Now we have us a little something to clear..." But Jude's breathing had become harsh and rattling, interrupting Raven's words.

Charm dropped to her knees beside him, touching his arm as she examined his pasty face. "Are you all right?" she asked, but Jude was beginning to list toward the left. She teetered under his weight, trying to keep him from falling. "Help him! Please!"

There was little Raven could do but assist, for Jude's three large opponents seemed nailed to their chairs, and surely a dead man could give him no answers. So, he rushed about the table to push the failing fellow to the right, balancing him there as Charm rose rapidly to her feet.

"Have to lay him down," she murmured. "Here. Over here." She motioned toward a red settee.

Raven wrapped his arms about the old gambler's torso and followed her, half dragging Jude along. In a moment the old man was propped up on the frayed, red velvet of the once elegant settee.

"There now. You're gonna be fine," crooned Charm, immediately on her knees again. "Somebody get him some water. And hurry."

From the table behind, two men bumbled away to do her bidding. Raven stood idly by, feeling ridiculously out of character and irritably impatient for his carefully planned revenge.

Water was brought in a shot glass, carried hurriedly along by a lumbering grizzly of a man. Liquid sloshed generously across his coarse fingers as he panted to a halt by Charm's side. "Here y' go, miss," he said, pressing the nearly empty glass toward her.

Breathing a word of thanks, she gently urged Jude to take a sip. But even that tiny bit of liquid seemed to be too much for the old man.

"Is it your stomach?" Charm asked, leaning nearer her father.

"I'm all right." His tone sounded ghastly, vividly belying his words. "Just get him the hell outta my sight before I kill 'im." He waved toward Raven, but his strength failed to sustain the lift of his arm. It fell limply over the edge of the settee as his lids dropped closed.

"Jude?" Charm's tone was desperate and ragged.

The old man's lips moved, and she leaned across his chest to hear him.
"My
gal," he whispered, trying to pat her hand. "So sorry. Shoulda learned who he was. Shoulda—"

"Just rest for a spell." She forced a smile. "Everything's going to be fine. You'll see. Just rest. Then I'll get you to your room." Her voice wobbled slightly, and when she reached out, her hand did the same.

Tears? Raven wondered. Were those real tears in her eyes? But no! He was forgetting her identity—and after all the pain she'd caused him. She was an even better actress than he'd realized. Not to mention the old man, who surely deserved some kind of award for his touching performance.

"I'll have some answers first," Raven said. Remembering the pain the Fergussons had caused him, he stepped nearer the settee. "About—"

"Have you no heart?" She looked up from the floor, and, indeed, in her forest-deep eyes there were tears.

Raven stared at her, temporarily forgetting his concussion, his throbbing groin, his aching back. God, she was beautiful.

"No heart at all?" she whispered.

Raven brought himself back to reality with a painful lash of his memory. "No," he said evenly. "None. And I believe we've played this game before. It was amusing, but once is enough."

"Can't you see he's terribly ill?"

"What I see is that you think me terribly stupid."

She pursed her lips. Anger darted in the kaleidoscope recesses of her eyes. "Then you're not completely blind."

Raven gave her a cold smile. "All you need do is tell me the truth about Grady."

"I told you before." Her voice wavered, and her gaze flickered to the trio of men who shuffled about not far away. "I don't know any Grady."

Raven canted his head at her. "Then maybe your father can tell me what happened to the girl. Hey! Old man," he said, shaking the limp shoulder. "That was a good try, but it's time to talk now."

"What are you doing?" Charm demanded, jerking to her feet. "Are you crazy? He needs his rest." She yanked at Raven's arm, but he caught her hand in a carefully controlled grip, pulling it near his chest.

"I've had just about enough of your entertaining lies. Now I'll have the truth."

"I told you the truth."

"The devil you did!"

"This fella botherin' you, miss?" asked a voice from behind.

Charm's wide gaze was trapped on Raven's. "Let me go," she ordered.

"Over your dead body," he said, managing a smile.

"He bothering you?" asked a second man. The first one stepped closer, his movements agitated.

Charm's gaze held on Raven's.

"Yes," she whispered. "He is."

"Let the lady go, mister," said yet another rough voice. Raven knew better than to turn his back to Charm when he spoke to the grizzly men. Despite the damage they could do him, Charm Fergusson could, no doubt, do worse.

"She may be a lot of things, friend," said Raven quietly, still holding her gaze, "but a lady, she's not."

Three large bodies shuffled closer. "You'll be 'pologizing to the
lady
now, mister, or you'll be sayin' adieu to your teeth."

It dawned on Raven, rather belatedly, it seemed, that Charm had found herself not one but three large and well-fermented champions. He scowled mentally and turned while still holding her arm. "My apologies to one and all," he said. If he'd learned anything from Clancy, it was to know when to back away with his hands in the air. The problem was, he only had one hand to lift at this particular moment, for he would not let go of the girl and risk her escape. "But I have a matter of some importance to discuss with Miss Charm."

"We said t'let go of the lady."

Raven tried another smile. Things looked grim. Sober men he could reason with. Intelligent men he could bargain with. These men were neither. But lying he could do with anyone. "The truth is, boys..." he began with a single shake of his head. "She's my sister."

For a moment the three men looked baffled.

"The hell!" exclaimed the closest of them in dubious disbelief.