Jessie's War (Civil War Steam) (9 page)

Anxiety set his heart
disturbingly out of rhythm with the ore crushers. “Tortured how?”

“Dunno. Gal inside said his
hands been broke before he was shot.”

Luke had seen the deputy the
sheriff had put in charge of this murder. Young. Inept. A man the army had
turned down. There were no suspects and never would be, but he had to ask
anyway.

“Got any suspects?”

“Nope.”

Jessie.

At that moment, the doors
swung open, and the undertaker walked out with two attendants, carrying a
stretcher upon which rested a sheet-draped body. A hand dangled limply from
beneath the sheet, swollen and blue, the fingers bent at unnatural angles.

He stepped back from the knot
of the crowd to survey it. In the windows of the hotel across the street, he
saw a few faces framed in the windowpanes, bright and curious. Nothing to
indicate that this was anything more than just another murder in the seediest
hotel in Virginia City.

Yet something told him it
was.

At that moment, fingers
traipsed across his back. He turned, and the small woman behind him flinched
before her features settled into a coquettish smile. “Hiya, handsome.” Her
voice was throaty and suggestive.

He scowled and turned back to
the crowd, searching for someone who didn’t belong. Looking and hoping for a
different woman. “I’m not interested.”

The woman inserted herself
between Luke and his companion, looping her arm through his. “You don’t
remember me, do you, Luke?”

He stiffened. “No.”

The woman was just a little
bit of a thing, with pale brown hair and cornflower blue eyes. Pretty, in a
tired, used up sort of way.

She gave him a sad, weary
smile. “I’m one of Vivian Flannigan’s girls. She sent me to find you. Told me
all I had to do was follow trouble, and I’d find you. I found trouble, and here
you are. Recognized you straightaway.”

Luke studied the scene in
front of him, dismissing her, yet she didn’t take the hint in his silence and
go. “Well, it was nice catching up with you, but I have work to do.”

The girl tightened her grasp
on his arm as he tried to move away. She gestured to the body with her head. “You
know who’s underneath that sheet?”

His body tensed, and his
fingers twitched near his pistol until he clenched his fists. “No. Do you?”

The girl awarded him with a
long, slow blink. “I’m told it’s Hiram Andersen.”

He wanted to explode into
motion, to grab her by the shoulders and shake her until every last bit of
information spilled from her lips. But he didn’t. His immediate reactions were
all wrong, and had been since he first set foot in this town. Willing his body
to relax, he attempted a convivial expression and smiled down at the girl.

She took a step back.

“Is that so?” His voice was
calm.

“Mm. If you want to know
more, you’ll have to come with me.” She ran her hands along the lapel of his
jacket and met his eyes. With a gentle tug, she pulled him close, and he bent
down. Her lips moved against his ear. “Pretend you enjoy my company, Luke.
There are eyes everywhere in this town.”

Given the state of Hiram’s body,
Luke would be willing to bet a year’s wages some of those eyes belonged to
Rebel spies.

* * * *

Jessie followed one of Vivian’s
girls into the parlor, where the madam lounged on a settee facing the door,
somehow looking both seductive and proper at the same time, and she wondered
how she managed to pull that off. Jessie could barely pull off prim, and more
often than not settled for something between uncomfortable and hostile.

Heavy velvet drapes covered
the windows, darkening the parlor, and candles in elaborate sconces cast pale
light into corners where scantily clad women lazed on chairs or settees of
sumptuous fabrics. A girl played the piano in the corner, the melody both
plaintive and heartbreakingly passionate. The barkeep, the only man in the room,
stood behind an elegant mahogany bar dressed in white tie and tails, a large
mirror in a gilt frame hanging above him. Romantic and dim, this was a place
where a man and his chosen woman could pretend intimacy, hidden by shadows.
Those bedrooms in the back were where the transactions took place, but out here
was where the seduction, with its illusion of high-end propriety, began.

When Jessie entered, Vivian
set down the book she’d been holding. “Ah, Miss White.” She nodded to the other
girls. “Good work.” She placed her hands on Jessie’s shoulders. “I’ve sent a
girl out for Luke. I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”

Jessie wished she felt half
so certain, but she was secretly grateful. Not that she’d say so, but still. “Not
sure he’ll come. I’m not even sure I want him to.”

Vivian’s mouth twisted into a
disapproving grimace. “He’ll come. And since you’re here and not on the street
because of him, you might want to show him a bit of appreciation when he gets
here.”

Jessie blinked, trying to
clear her head. She shouldn’t have had that last jigger of whiskey. Or the one
before that. “I… I’m in some trouble, Miss Flannigan.”

The smile Vivian gave her
curdled in Jessie’s stomach. Or maybe that was just the whiskey. “Every one of
my girls is, Miss White. That’s why they come here. You got someone else to
claim you? Help you out?”

Jessie shook her head.

“Then you’ve got two options.
Go with him or stay with us. Though there’s no such thing as free in a place
like this.” She touched Jessie’s face gently. “I have to admit, I’m rather
tempted to keep you. Nothing like a savage beauty to bring in the customers.”

Jessie got the feeling she
ought to be offended by the suggestion, but the liquor had taken away the edge
of her indignation. After all, she’d been called worse things in seedier places
than this.

The bell above the door
tinkled delicately as someone entered the parlor. Vivian turned, standing in
front of Jessie, shielding her.

The gesture shook Jessie
almost as much as Luke’s sudden return had.

“Luke.” Vivian stepped aside.

“Where is she?” He didn’t
pause to take in his surroundings, nor did he look at the other girls or
Vivian, as beautiful as they were

Luke’s looked only at Jessie.

“Got herself in a spot of
trouble,” Vivian said.

His silvery eyes met Jessie’s.
“So I’ve gathered. Jesus, what are you wearing?”

Jessie studied her dress.
Scandalously low, the bodice was nothing more than a crimson corset held
together by a series of intricate laces and silver buckles. Two thin wisps of
black, lacy fabric rose from the corset to cover her breasts.

Barely.

She was a girl in a brothel,
and she looked the part. Heat rose to her cheeks.

“Had to put her in something.
Her dress was ruined.” The older woman cast a wicked smile in Luke’s direction.
“I do hope you’re not disappointed.”

“No.” Luke’s voice sounded
strained. Rough. He turned to Jessie. “Tell me what happened to you after you
left the house. You lied to me when you said you hadn’t seen Hiram.”

“No, I didn’t. I hadn’t
seen him. He sent me a letter a few
days ago.”

“You knew what I meant, Jess.”

“Does it matter now?” The
fight inside her died. Luke was quiet, so she continued. “I went to see Hiram
at The Globe
.”

“And then what happened?”

For the first time since she’d
fled Hiram’s room, tears filled her eyes. Between Luke’s being here, the shock
finally wearing off, and the alcohol, all she wanted to do was wrap herself in
a blanket and cry. Maybe sleep for a spell, if she could.

“They killed him.” The words
came out in little more than a strangled whisper.

His expression didn’t change,
and his gaze dipped only briefly before returning to her face. “Who?”

“I don’t know!”

“You didn’t see them?”

“No.”

For a moment, Jessie thought
Luke looked relieved, but in the next instant, his expression settled into
impassivity. He didn’t care. He never would.

“Then maybe they didn’t see
you either. Or if they did, they’re looking for an Indian in a buckskin dress,
not a girl dressed like
that
. A bit
of luck, if that’s the case.”

Jessie didn’t feel lucky. Not
even a little.

Suddenly, Luke wrapped her in
his arms, threading his hands into her hair and walking her backward until he
had her pressed against the wall. Bending his head, his lips gently touched
hers.

She didn’t know why he did
it, and she wasn’t prepared for either his kiss or the rush of desire coursing
through her. Though she meant to push him off, she wrapped her arms around his
neck, pulling him closer until her body was flush against his. Her head reeled
from the feel of him, the hardness of his chest, the strength of his arms. His
hands were warm where they rested on her waist, and she opened her mouth to
take more of his heat.

She was so tired of being
cold.

As she took his lower lip
between her teeth, she was rewarded with a growl she remembered from long ago.
He teased the seam of her lips and opened her up, and the sensation of him
exploded against her tongue. It stole what little coherent thought she had
left. His kisses always had.

She shouldn’t do this, not
with him or anyone else, but that was one more thing she didn’t care about. To
hell with propriety. To hell with the anger of the past and the uncertainty of
the future. To hell with everything but this moment and this man.

Luke kissed her in the same
way he did everything else, passionate and reckless. His hand left her waist
and gently stroked her sides, and beneath the flimsy lace of her corset, her
nipples tightened. He ran his fingers inside the lip of fabric without touching
anything, and as she arched into his hand, the groan escaping her lips was both
frustrated and wanting.

She wanted more. She wanted
everything.

He sucked gently on her lower
lip before breaking the kiss, but his arms still encircled her, his chest flush
against Jessie’s. He bent his head. “Is he gone yet?”

“Yeah,” a woman said.

“Well, I’ll be,” another
whispered. A round of assents trickled through the room.

Luke flashed Jessie a brief
smile, but when he lifted his head, his expression was bland, as if what had
just happened meant nothing to him. He turned to Vivian. “Stranger?”

Jessie’s eyes shifted from
Luke to Vivian and back, as she tried to make some sense out of what had just
happened. She found herself clinging to him and allowed her hands to fall to
her sides. She hadn’t heard anything, hadn’t even realized someone had come in
after Luke.

“I’ve never seen him before,
and he didn’t seem to be interested in what I have to offer.” She gestured to
her bosom. “Quite a show you put on there.”

Heat scorched Jessie’s
cheeks.

Luke ran his hand through his
dark hair. “Couldn’t think of anything else to do without being obvious, and I
am
in a brothel. Who got her soaked?”

“Not drunk, Bradshaw.” She
allowed anger to conceal the hurt she didn’t want to admit she felt.

He frowned. “You’re full as a
tick, and I knew it the moment I walked in the door. I can taste the whiskey on
you.”

Jessie was just sober enough
to be embarrassed.

“She needed something for the
pain, and she refused laudanum and opium.” Vivian sounded amused. “So we gave
her whiskey. She’s had quite a shock.”

“How much?”

“A couple of jiggers,” Jessie
said. “None of your business, anyway.”

“The hell it’s not. I need to
know how sober you are before I get you out of here.” He caught her chin and
studied her, and her whole body went soft in anticipation of another kiss. “Two
ponies and that’s it?”

“Might’ve been a few more
than that.”

“You eaten anything today?”

“Just breakfast, which you
were kind enough not to poison.”

His thumbs stroking her
cheeks, he chuckled.

Jessie didn’t think to
suppress her smile in response until after the fact.

“So, not much.” He turned to
Vivian. “You got any coffee?”

“Always,” Vivian replied,
snapping her fingers. Within a minute, a cup of coffee appeared at Jessie’s
elbow.

“Drink it. I have to get you
out of here.” She frowned up at him, but his tone brooked not argument.

“Bradshaw, I…”

Luke waved away her words. “Drink.
You need to sober up.” To Vivian, he said, “Do you have a room she could stay
in for about an hour?”

“You’re kidding, right?”
Vivian laughed. “By the hour’s the only way I rent my rooms.”

Luke grinned and put a hand
on the older woman’s shoulder. “We’ll be leaving out the back at dusk, so if I
don’t see you, thank you for what you did today. How much do I owe you?”