The Fall of Rome (7 page)

He’d done it before.

So she’d lassoed her rage, donned her poker face. She’d played nice. Sort of. She’d even told him about Frankie. A split-second decision based on their tense reunion. She’d asked Athens not to divulge specifics about her current life--the location of her home, that she owned a saloon, that she had a niece--but Rome adored kids. She figured if he knew a little girl was in danger, he’d go the extra mile to catch Brady. She knew he already had fierce motivation to squash the notorious outlaw, but he also held a grudge against her. She needed to stack the deck in her favor. She’d do whatever she had to do. That included kissing the man who’d crushed her heart.

She pressed her fingers to her tingling lips, still warm from his hot mouth. She willed her heart to settle. Assured herself that the attraction was purely physical. Some damned chemical reaction. She was only human, and he was exactly as she remembered him, only intensified. More handsome. More cocky. More charismatic.

Difference was, she no longer craved his adoration and good favor. She was no longer drawn to his larger-than-life edge. Their affair had ignited at a vulnerable time in her life. She’d needed a hero. Someone to admire. Someone who made her feel safe and cherished. Someone who made the future less daunting. She’d pinned her hopes and affections on Rome, and when he’d fallen off his pedestal, she’d panicked. She’d looked to another champion. For a moment in time she’d forgotten everything her daddy had told her about reading and playing people. She’d been impulsive and foolish and suffered the consequences of her poor judgment.

That moment in time was history.

She pushed upright, confident she’d recovered her composure. Seeing Rome in person, withstanding a kiss that would have brought the young, needy, and reckless Kat to her knees, was a victory. Yes, he still sparked an almighty hunger, but she’d pretended numbness, held the upper hand. She’d done it. She’d won! She was no longer a slave to girlish infatuation.

In hindsight, she realized the majority of their relationship had been based on the pleasures of the flesh. It hadn’t been enough. She was mature enough now to know it would have never been enough.

After six long, painful years, she could finally chalk Rome Garrett up to her favorite mistake. She could let go of fairy-tale expectations. As long as she kept their physical interaction to a minimum, as long as she retained control of her sexual urges, her heart was safe. All that was left was to banish Brady from her life and the lives of his future victims. Her determination tripled. The sooner they trapped the man, the sooner she could embrace Frankie and a new life. The sooner she could shed the somber persona of Jane Murdock and the baggage of Kat Simmons.

She curled her fingers into her palms, her pulse skipping with anxious hope. “I’m almost free.”

Kat sat down to dinner with a hopeful heart, a nervous stomach, and three handsome men. In her younger days she’d been wined and dined plenty. Her social-bug daddy had trained her in the art of conversation while teaching her the finer techniques of gambling. As a result, she felt comfortable socializing with two or twenty people. Men or women. Given her daddy’s profession, which eventually became her own, she had generally found herself surrounded by gentlemen--the term in some circumstances applied loosely.

As far as social gatherings went, tonight was not unlike any of a hundred nights she’d experienced in her twenty-four years. Trouble was, she’d spent every night of the past two years taking dinner dressed down. It had been a long time since she’d gussied up in feminine finery. She felt out of sorts. Not Kat Simmons--cardsharp. Not Jane Murdock--saloon owner. Someone undefined.

Athens had requested they leave off talk of Brady until Maderia had retired to the caretaker’s adobe with her husband. Presently, the woman shuffled back and forth between the kitchen and dining area, intent on serving her guests an array of dishes. Spicy scents from the ethnic food and the amber lighting from assorted candelabra created a pleasing atmosphere. Athens and Seth accepted glasses of wine while Kat opted for coffee. She was surprised when Rome followed her lead. She easily recollected his fondness for liquor.

After acknowledging the delicious fare and toasting their absent host’s nuptials, Seth waded into personal waters. “So, Miss Simmons. When did you first meet Golden Boy over there?”

She imagined the nickname vexed Rome and couldn’t help smiling. “Six years ago.”

“Five years and ten months,” Rome corrected.

“Not that you’re counting,” Athens said.

“Got a mind for dates, is all.”

His tone was matter-of-fact, but that he’d recalled their acquaintance so accurately troubled Kat.

“Where’d you meet?” Seth asked, pushing her past the uncomfortable moment.

“The Gilded Garrett. In addition to featuring premium theatrical performances, I heard some of San Francisco’s finest card players frequented the Gilded.”

“So you met Rome at the tables?” Seth asked between bites.

“Under the table,” Rome said.

“I dropped a coin and it rolled under a faro table,” Kat clarified. “Thinking back, I’m sure I looked the fool scrambling to retrieve it while dressed in layers of fine satin.”

“Must have been a coin of great value,” Athens said, forking shredded pork and peppers.

“Only if you’re superstitious.” Kat drank coffee to dissolve the sudden lump in her throat. “My father gave it to me for luck.”

Seth glanced at Rome, then back to her. “Let me guess. Rome was at that table, and when you crawled under, he was already there, coin in hand.”

“Always coming to a lady’s aid,” Athens said.

“A habit I’m trying to break,” Rome said, finishing off his steaming rice and beans. “Tends to end in misery. Mine.”

Kat waited for a spiteful glare, but instead he smiled into his coffee. Laughing at his own misfortune? A glimpse of his old sense of humor? One of the things that had attracted her to him in the first place. She quickly turned her attention to her food.

“Did he give it back?” Seth asked.

Kat blinked.

“The coin that rolled under the table,” Athens clarified.

“I did,” Rome answered.

“But a few weeks and several games of chance later, I gifted it to him. He needed it more than I did.” It had been an impetuous act, one she later regretted because she knew the coin meant more to her than him. Unlike her, he’d never produced the coin for luck, just stowed it somewhere. God knew where it was now. “Not that he’s superstitious.”

“Interesting,” Athens said, trading a knowing look with Seth.

Puzzled by the exchange, she added, “At least he didn’t used to be.”

“Speaking of luck,” Rome said, seizing her attention. “How’ve you been faring at the tables lately?”

“Luck has nothing to do with how I fare at the tables,” she said by way of avoidance. “Skill is on my side.”

“Your confidence is reassuring,” Athens said.

Only she wasn’t confident. She hadn’t participated in an actual game since purchasing the Star Saloon. Preferring not to talk about her present life, she steered the conversation back to the Garretts. “Speaking of skill, how’s London? Still dazzling the city and turning an impressive profit at the Gilded?”

“London recently relocated to Phoenix,” Athens answered.

“I’m surprised he trusted someone else to run the opera house in his absence. I recall him being a controlling man.”

‘You recall correctly,” said Seth. “Bossy. Domineering.”

“Sounds like you don’t like the senior Garrett, Sheriff Wright.”

“Like him fine. And, please, call me Seth.”

“I expect
Seth’s
right fond of London seeing he hurried along his marriage to Emily,” Rome said. “I still can’t believe that sweet kid fell for this arrogant SOB.”

Kat scrunched her brow. “We’re not talking about your sister’s friend, are we? Not Emily McBride. The preacher’s daughter?”

“That’s my girl,” Seth said. “She’s with Paris now. Helping her to prepare for the arrival of her first child.”

“Paris is expecting? But she’s so young.” She remembered Rome talking about his baby sister, a girl with spunk and a talent for music. Of course, they were all older now. Still, Kat’s recollection of Paris was rooted in the stories Rome had relayed, those of a mischievous, eccentric kid.

“To our dismay,” Athens said, “she’s grown and married.”

“To a good friend of mine,” Seth said. “Josh Grant.”

“Small world,” Kat said. She looked to Rome. “Didn’t Emily fancy--”

“She did and she doesn’t. My loss,” Rome said.

Seth toasted him with his glass. “Good answer, Golden Boy.”

Sensing a tethered animosity between those two, Kat stepped away from further talk of Emily. “So Paris is married. Given her musical aspirations, I take it Mr. Grant is artistic?” “Hardly,” Seth said. “Although he did inherit an opera house. Primarily, Josh is a lawman. These days he sheriffs a mining town in the foothills of the Superstition Mountains.”

“Not far from Phoenix,” Kat said.

“That’s right.”

“So the Garretts have transplanted from California to Arizona.” Same as her. What were the chances?

“First Paris,” Rome said, “then Athens and his kids. The rest of us followed. Nothing more important than family.”

Kat’s stomach tightened. She felt the same way, in her own way. A way Rome wouldn’t understand. Not that she needed his approval. She eyed the decanter of wine. She hadn’t had a taste of liquor in years. But she remembered how it altered her mood. How it made her giddy and brazen and numbed negative emotions. She also feared it had contributed to her faulty memory that fateful night. She sipped coffee instead.

“Your niece,” Rome said out of the blue. “How old?”

“Frankie’s five,” Kat answered without making eye contact.

“Bet she’s a cutie.”

Now she glanced over. “Why would you bet that?”

He shrugged, smiled. “All kids are cute. Even when they’re terrors. Especially little girls.”

The observation warmed her heart. It also proved unsettling. Yes, she’d counted on his fondness of kids to advance her goal. She hadn’t counted on him being amiable. Where was the hostile man who’d greeted her at the door?

“
My
niece,” he pointed to Athens, “his daughter, Zoe, is also five.”

Kat arched a brow. “A terror?”

“A handful,” Athens said. “Although not as cantankerous as my son, Zach, who’s nine. Luckily, Kaila doesn’t mind. In fact, she seems to enjoy the challenge.”

“Kaila?”

“Kaila Dillingham,” Seth said. “The beautiful and sophisticated Englishwoman he proposed marriage to.”

Kat had read about Athens’s first wife’s tragic death in the newspapers. Killed in the midst of a train robbery.

Just like Victoria Barrow.

So that was it. She’d sensed earlier that Athens had a personal stake in thwarting Brady. Did he think Brady was responsible for his wife’s death? She’d heard Rome and Boston had tracked and dealt with her murderers. Maybe Miss Barrow’s death had simply opened old wounds. She prayed he’d find peace and happiness with the Englishwoman. She smiled across the table at the lawyer turned lawman. “When’s the wedding?”

“Soon.”

Rome grunted. “He’s been saying that for a month.” Athens wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I’ll tell Maderia that we’ll clean up after ourselves. The sooner she’s out of earshot, the sooner we can get down to business.”

Hot damn
. Kat knew Athens’s plan for trapping Brady was pretty straightforward, but the sooner he dispensed the details, the sooner she could retire to her room. She didn’t trust Rome’s lightning-quick transformation. She resented the way it quieted her anger. The physical attraction was bad enough. She didn’t want to like him. Not even a little.
Dangerous
, her gut warned.

“Good luck,” Seth said to Athens. “Matt said Maderia has a problem with men in her kitchen.”

Kat pushed away from the table while nabbing two empty plates and a serving bowl. “I’ll do it.”

The men stood when she did.

Rome eyed her with curiosity. “You’re going to wash dishes?”

She smirked at his incredulous look. “Believe it or not, it’s another one of my skills.”

“Since when?”

Since trading one profession for another.
“Let’s just say I’m a woman of many talents.”

“Thought I knew them all,” Rome said quietly as she walked by, careful to keep her distance.

Her pulse quickened at his flirtatious tone, but he didn’t render her weak in the knees. Not even when he flashed one of his devilish lopsided grins. No, sir. She didn’t trust this transformation one bit. Instead, she took enormous pride in knocking him down a peg. “You thought wrong.”

Santa Cruz Valley

They struck in the middle of the night.

They didn’t find her at the saloon. Didn’t find her in the adobe out back. But they did find a daguerreotype of her pa. Proof enough for Bulls-Eye that Elroy hadn’t been mistaken. Up to that point Elroy had kept his fingers curled into fists, worried his cousin was going to rid him of a few more digits.

Instead, Bulls-Eye took his frustration out on the bar-keep they’d found sleepin’ in the back room of the Star Saloon. “Ever see a man try to walk without his toes?” he’d asked after Amos and Itchy tied the buffaloed cuss into a chair and pulled off his socks.

Elroy couldn’t decide if Pratt was brave or stupid. He was sure as shit tough. He didn’t scream when Bulls-Eye shot off his big toe, or even the next two after. Didn’t give up no information either. Bulls-Eye was getting more huffed by the minute, Elroy more squeamish. The front door slammed open, and Snapper stepped in draggin’ a clammy-faced poke by the scruff of his neck. A tin star hung from his sweat-stained shirt. “This,” Snapper said, “is what I guess passes as the law in this one-horse town. I’m guessing he serves more tax notices than justice. Came runnin’ down the middle of the street still strappin’ on his hardware. Lost hold of the buckle when Boyd sent a bullet whizzin’ past his ear.” Snapper wrinkled his nose. “Pissed his pants, too.”