Velvet Thunder (13 page)

Jack approached the Smyth home, cutting through the darkness swiftly, like a hot knife through butter. A candle burned in the window, lighting his way up the walk. He smiled in anticipation and rapped his knuckles against the carved oak door.

Rachel opened the door immediately, dressed in a transparent nightgown of scarlet lace. The room behind her was dimly lit by red tapers. The faint glow of candlelight failed to reveal her more obvious physical imperfections. With her flaming hair hovering around her torso like a silken cape, she was a sight to accelerate any man's heart.

Any man save the blond lawman watching the twosome intently from across the street. He knew Rachel for the hard-hearted, lying, murdering trollop that she was. And if it was the last thing he ever did, he would see her punished for the heinous crimes she had committed.

“I thought you would never get here,” Rachel said flatly, drawing the judge into the room and slamming the door, hiding them from the jewel-green eyes that burned in the shadows.

The seductive mood was shattered. All coquetry was gone from Rachel's voice. She took Jack by the hand and led him to her bedroom. A bottle of wine rested on a small table beside a flickering candle. Two wineglasses had already been filled. “Sit,” she ordered.

Jack sat down, somewhat bemused.

She perched on an embroidered chair and stared soberly into his eyes. “Tell me, Judge, do you miss Chicago?”

A flash of surprise crossed Jack's face before he hid his alarm. “I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Mrs. Smyth. I've never been to Chicago.”

She smiled like a hound on the scent of a hare. “Indeed? Does the name Josh Elam mean anything to you? You remember, the president of the First State Bank of Chicago?”

Jack's color rose in the dim light. “Go on.”

“It's not very flattering that you don't remember me.” Jack searched his memory for a woman who resembled Rachel. The vision of a raven-haired teller came to mind.

“Ah, you do remember. That's better.” She smiled, the air of seduction evident in her expression and demeanor once again. “I must compliment you. Your scheme was the finest piece of double-dealing chicanery I had ever seen. As I recall, you walked away with one hundred thousand dollars.”

“You have a good memory, my dear. With admirers like you, I regret leaving Chicago.”

“Oh, I don't think so. If you had stayed around, Josh Elam would have lynched you.” She made a show of reaching for her glass of wine, taking a sip, and staring wide-eyed at Jack over the rim. “When I saw you in the bank this morning, I knew you were involved in another scam. And that masquerade you put on tonight, acting coy about your big strike . . . how shameful.” Her expression said something else altogether. “Those fools hanging around the governor haven't the sense God promised a cross-eyed mule. Else they would have seen right through you.”

“But they didn't see through me.” His expression was mildly menacing. “And they won't unless you tell them.”

“Oh, I won't tell them,” she whispered huskily. “I want in on the deal.”

“Why should I let you in?”

“I could send you to jail for the rest of your life”—she paused, a hard glint entering her eye—“you wouldn't like jail. I've been there. It's not a nice place at all.”

“You, in jail?”

She waved his question away. “It's not a subject I care to discuss. That's in the past. I'd rather discuss the future. Our future. I have much to offer you. I'm in a position to know the governor's thoughts on nearly every subject, practically before he even thinks them. Since he obviously fits into your plan, not having to second-guess his next move could be invaluable.” She raised her perfectly arched brows fractionally.

“I'm still listening.”

“I'm also quite adept at using my feminine charms as a means of persuasion.” She smiled and fluttered her dark eyelashes provocatively.

This time Jack was unmoved by Rachel's flirtations. “What do you want out of all this?”

“A share of the take. And I want out of here. When you leave, I want you to take me with you. Unless I miss my guess, when you pull this off, you'll have to go far, far away. I want to go with you.” Where Jay Hampton can never find me, she added silently.

“And what about your husband? What if he presents a problem?”

“Then we'll just have to kill the son of a bitch, won't we?”

Jack studied her for a moment, considering her proposal. She was correct; prior information regarding the governor's thinking could prove invaluable. Her feminine charms might also come in handy somewhere down the line. Furthermore, since she already knew who he was, he either had to take her in or kill her. At the moment he didn't want to kill her. It might raise suspicions. And her body was tempting. “You're in.”

He summarized his actions thus far, as the seduction commenced. As he spoke, he reached across the table and took her hand. First, he explained, he had gotten himself appointed district judge of Adobe Wells through the efforts of Willard Banes. This enabled him to raise capital through taxes and fines. Second, he had either bribed or intimidated the mayor and town council until they allowed him to take over Sandy Johns's land, which was the ideal setting for his diamond mine, far enough out of town to provide privacy, close enough to be readily accessible. He left out the part about having Jeff Johns shot. That act had discouraged opposition from anyone else. If only his men had checked to be sure the breed was dead. . .

“Where did the diamonds come from?” She sighed as his fingers inched up her arm, brushing the outside of her breast in passing.

“Through an acquaintance of mine in South Africa I bought uncut diamonds to entice even the most conservative capitalist.” He placed his fingers on Rachel's cheek, slowly tracing her porcelainlike skin down her neck. “I've hired miners to give the project an air of legitimacy. Two of them had served time in prison for salting mines. The promise of a generous reward persuaded them to try it again. The diamonds are embedded in the walls and ceiling of a hidden chamber. It'll take an expert to discover the fraud.”

He rose and walked around to her side of the table. Standing, she placed his hands on her breasts, then slid them down over her lace gown to rest on the swell of her hips. His breathing quickened.

“Go on,” she whispered.

“I plan to convince Clark and Governor Casson that the mine is genuine. Using their influence, I'll sell my interest to the highest bidder, then clear out of town before the scam is uncovered. By the time mining engineers are hired and production has begun, I'll be long gone.”

Rachel placed her lips on his. Her tongue moved lightly across his mouth.
“We'll
be long gone.”

He nodded. “Undoubtedly, the governor will send an expert to inspect the mine. If I refuse, Casson'll shy away from the deal. But if I have advance warning, I'll be able to ensure that the expert agrees with our story.”

“And what of Colonel Banes and the two miners who salted the cave? What's their cut?” Rachel's voice was husky, sensual.

“The two miners have already been taken care of. I'm the only one who knows where the diamonds are,” he continued. “As for Banes, I haven't decided on his fate yet. Right now he's useful. Whether he survives or not remains to be seen.”

Rachel smiled appreciatively at the judge when he finished his tale. “Judge Jack,” she said softly, brushing her hips against his, “you're a brilliant con. But do you have what it takes to help this lonely lady get through a dreary night without her husband?”

“Let me know in the morning,” Jack growled hungrily. With a sweep of his arm he cleared the table of bottle and glasses. Broken crystal lay about them, crimson wine soaked into the expensive rug under their feet.

“Down on your back,” he ordered harshly.

Rachel obeyed, jerking her gown up to her waist.

With her obvious charms bare and spread for him, Jack ripped his trousers open. Buttons joined the shattered remains on the rug as he fell upon her. Vigorously, he entered her in one long thrust. He pounded into her like a stallion covering a mare and wrapped his hands around her pale neck.

Her eyes grew wide as he tightened his hold. At first fear, then uncontrollable passion, darkened her gaze. He cut off her breath, causing the sensations below her waist to sharpen, grow more intense. Vigorously, she bucked against him. Just as she was about to lose consciousness from lack of air, violent completion seized them both.

Shouting his fulfillment, he collapsed on top of her, releasing his hold.

“That was the best,” she rasped, rubbing the bruises that were forming on her neck.

“We're just getting started.”

The look in his eye as he led her to the bed made Rachel shiver. She wondered if she had finally met a man more evil than she.

Surely not.

 

 

When Judge Jack and Colonel Banes reached the bank the following morning, there was mass confusion outside the stone building. The street and sidewalk were filled with reporters from various newspapers and magazines throughout the country. Elbowing their way through the crowd, Jack and Banes saw Governor Casson, Mr. Clark, and three expensively dressed gentlemen waiting for them.

Clark hurried their way. “Please let these men through,” he shouted over the din of voices.

The reporters' shouts merged into one voice.

“Where's the strike?”

“Can we see the diamonds?”

“Why is the governor here?”

Mr. Clark raised his hands for silence. Jack and Banes slipped past him into the bank. “We will inform you of the results of our meeting when we are finished.” With that, Clark joined the others.

“I apologize for the crowd . . .” Governor Casson began lamely. “I have no idea how word of your strike spread so fast. I sincerely hope you don't think that I or any of my staff had anything to do with this.” To the governor's relief, Jack appeared unperturbed by the mob.

“No. Of course not. It's hard to keep something like this bottled up,” Judge Jack said, gazing at the three strangers standing behind Governor Casson.

Casson cleared his throat. “I have taken the liberty of inviting these gentlemen to the meeting. Wilhelm Reins from the Territorial Office of Mines”—he pointed to the tallest of the three—“Sterling Travis from the Albuquerque Territorial State Bank”—the fattest—“and Ronald Albano”—the happiest—“who owns and runs a jewelry store here in Santa Fe. I hope you have no objection.”

Jack managed to look mildly put upon. In reality, he was amazed at how fast the governor had worked, and quite pleased.

The party of seven withdrew into Clark's office. Jack's leather bag lay on the desk, awaiting inspection. An armed guard, standing beside the desk, was dismissed as soon as they entered the room.

Soberly, Jack retrieved the key from his vest pocket, unlocked the bag, and poured its contents out on the desk. There was an audible gasp from all but Jack and Banes.

The diamond experts went to work immediately, inspecting each stone carefully with their convex lenses. Mr. Reins was the first to lay his glass aside. “Governor.” He beamed with excitement, his close-set eyes flashing. “There is no question in my mind; these stones are genuine uncut diamonds.”

The other two laid aside their tools as well.

“I concur with Mr. Reins's evaluation,” Mr. Travis said solemnly.

“Same here,” Mr. Albano added.

Governor Casson thanked the experts for their assessments and summarily dismissed them. “Well now, gentlemen . . .” he began. “What is your next move?”

“First, we'll have our own expert examine the stones. I have contacted Elanzo Welch from San Francisco. He, of course, is one of the foremost geologists in the country. If he agrees with the assessment of Reins, Travis, and Albano, we will then form a corporation and begin production in earnest.”

The men sat in silence for a few minutes.

“I've had some experience in mining ventures. And I'm aware that they take a great deal of initial capital outlay.” The governor paused for emphasis. “Would you be interested in investors?”

Jack pretended to consider the governor's proposition seriously. He ran his fingers slowly along each side of his mustache. It seemed as if time were suspended. He noticed with alacrity that Clark and Casson were barely breathing. “Without committing myself at this point, I would be interested in hearing your proposal.” He appeared to choose his words carefully as he continued. “I assume there will be others besides yourself—”

“Certainly,” the governor hastened to assure him.

“Very good. While I wait for Mr. Welch's report, you can pursue the matter from your end. If you wish.”

Shortly thereafter, Jack and Banes were led out a back door in order to escape the clamoring reporters. They congratulated each other on their success and left respectively for Adobe Wells and Fort Bascomb.

It was almost high noon before Heath and Stevie settled Blue in at Pilar's boardinghouse and left town.

Just as Stevie predicted, Pilar had welcomed Blue into her home. In fact, Pilar seemed almost relieved that the young woman had left the saloon and was now under her protection.

As for Winter, Stevie had taken him aside and asked him to care for Blue while she was gone. One look at Blue's face had brought a sheen to the Indian child's eyes. When asked to help the poor, abused woman, he squared his frail shoulders and vowed to keep her safe.

Heath and Stevie left their odd assortment of friends shortly thereafter. Passing the temporary city erected by the miners, they rode side by side, slowly so as not to attract undue suspicion.

“That was a good thing you did,” Heath said, breaking the silence.

“Which thing?”

Heath caught her gaze, her eyes stygian black, his, sapphire blue. “What you did for Blue.”

Stevie was uncomfortable with his praise. She was even more uncomfortable with her growing desire to please this man—this white man. She shrugged, breaking eye contact. “It was nothing.”

Their conversation died a natural death and they galloped along at a relaxed pace in silence. It was mid-afternoon when they reached the grotto area. The cave was situated in the side of an outcropping of rock that rose a hundred feet straight up from the floor of the plateau. Tall sentinel pines guarded the base of the outcropping, forming a natural shield for the entrance to the cave.

Stevie stretched in her saddle. “We should approach it from over there”—she pointed west—“away from the main road.”

Heath nodded. “Lead the way.”

Riding in a wide circle, she led him to within two hundred yards of the cave. They tethered their horses to a tree and slipped stealthily down to survey the grotto's entrance. Lying on their bellies, they observed dozens of miners passing in and out of the cave like ants streaming to a picnic.

“I never dreamed there would be so many of them,” Stevie said with wonder.

“Most of them will leave as soon as the sun goes down. We can't do anything until then.” He laid his head down, close beside her hip. Startled, she scooted over. He pushed his John B. over his face, hiding a satisfied grin. “I'm beat. Wake me at sundown.”

She balled her fist and hit him square in the belly. Muffling a yelp, he jackknifed into a sitting position, rubbing his washboard abdomen. “What was that for?”

Mindful to keep her voice low, she hissed, “I didn't bring you along to watch you sleep, pal. Surely there's something productive you can do while we wait. Search the area. Do surveillance. Something.”

He raised a taunting brow. “The only thing we need to search is that cave. And we can't get in without being seen. Not till after dark. But feel free to survey the miners to your heart's content. Just don't let 'em see you. Now, if you have no further objections, I'm going to get some shut-eye.” He plopped back into position, then added as an afterthought, “And don't ever hit me again. I might not know it's you having a tantrum and shoot first and ask questions later.”

She cursed the male gender in general and him specifically. But she kept her hands to herself.

Heath covered his face again, ignoring her petulant mutterings. “I have a feeling we won't get much sleep tonight.” His words were muffled beneath his hat. “And frankly, knowing that there was a wolf across the hall from me, I didn't get much last night.”

Stevie snorted. “I can't believe you were afraid of Sweetums. Are you sure you're as tough as they say you are?”

Now Heath snorted. Who wouldn't be uneasy around that yellow-eyed devil? To his profound relief, Stevie had left her wolf at Pilar's, to sound the alarm in case of an intruder, she said.

Actually, she figured one wolf was all she'd need on this adventure. On second thought, glancing down at Heath's body, powerful and compelling even in relaxation, she feared she still had one wolf too many. And much to her dismay, she didn't want to keep her hands to herself.

“Don't forget to wake me.” He turned on his side, stretching lazily, muscles rippling with the effort.

“As valuable as you've been so far, I wouldn't think of making a move without you.” Her feigned sarcasm was thick enough to cut with a knife.

Heath glanced back over his shoulder and winked. “You just haven't had the opportunity to see what I'm really good at, sugar.”

Her cheeks burned and her mouth grew dry. “I'm not sure I want to.”

He swept her with a suggestive look. “You're not sure? Let me know when you decide.”

Stevie was innocent . . . technically . . . but there was no doubt in her mind that he referred to the pleasures of the flesh. And she could well imagine that Lucky Diamond was quite good in that area. “Don't hold your breath.” Her trembling lips said one thing, her woman's heart quite the opposite.

 

 

Two of Judge Jack's men sat by the fire that blazed against the side of the wall just inside the opening of the cave. Whiling away their time, one was whittling a block of wood. A pile of shavings and sawdust covered his dusty boots. Grimacing, the other was drinking coffee as thick as mud and bitter as quinine. His eyes were glazed and fixed, staring blindly into the glowing embers of the fire. He was more asleep than awake.

“I thought I told you to wake me up,” Heath whispered against Stevie's ear, clamping a hand over her mouth to muffle the scream he knew was coming. Slowly, he removed his hand.

“Don't sneak up on me like that! I might not know it's you and shoot first and ask questions later.” She threw his words back at him, a bit unnerved by his nearness.

Actually, she had just awakened herself. She had curled up next to him and slept the afternoon away. Warmed and unsettled by the proximity of his body, she had moved to the edge of the clearing, needing to put as much space between them as possible.

“Very funny.” Brow furrowed, he peered at the guards.

“How are we going to get past them?”

“We'll have to wait until one of them comes out.”

“What if they stay in there till morning?”

He glanced back at her, grinning. “Sooner or later that fellow drinking coffee will need to take a walk.”

She blushed at his implication that the guard would have to answer the call of nature. Stevie was sadly lacking in the area of propriety, but even she knew men didn't speak of such things to ladies. It was a good thing she had a dark complexion. Otherwise she would be red-faced around Lucky all the time, given his suggestive comments and unsettling effect on her. The handsome rake could give the term
redskin
a whole new meaning.

As if to prove Heath's prediction true, the tallest and ugliest of the guards left the warmth of the fire to answer the call of nature, unbuttoning his trousers as he walked into the woods.

Heath moved on silent feet, crossing the area between them and the guard before Stevie even knew he was gone. With a low thump he rendered the man unconscious with the butt of his revolver. He dragged him back to a wide-eyed Stevie and tied his hands and feet with a piece of rope. They waited silently for another twenty minutes.

“Hey, Frank,” the other guard called in a low voice. When he received no answer, he took a step into the clearing. “Frank!” Again silence. Retrieving his long gun, he stepped back into the inner recesses of the cave, out of sight.

“Damn. Guess it was too much to hope that he would come out to see what had happened to his friend.” Speaking as if to himself, Heath continued. “I'll have to wait for the fire to die down before I can go in.”

Stevie and Heath waited in tense anticipation, both aware of the dangers they faced. An hour later only a few embers smoldered in the opening of the cave, providing scant illumination.

Heath turned to Stevie. “You stay here until you hear an owl hoot. Then come on in. If you don't hear it in fifteen minutes, get the hell out of here.”

“I'm coming with you.”

He grasped her shoulder. “No.”

“You can't dictate to me!” She struggled against his grip.

His voice was soft, his hold firm. “Use your head. If I get captured, I'll need you to rescue me. If we go in together, he might get us both.”

She narrowed her eyes at the disarming grin that was more or less a constant part of his handsome face. “Thought you said for me to get the hell out of here.”

Standing, he dropped a light kiss on her brow. “Only if you're sure I'm dead.”

She took his hand. “Don't say that. Even teasing.”

He bent slightly, breathing his words against her cheek. “Ah, Miss Johns, it almost sounds like you care.”

She jerked back. “Of course I care. I'd have to ride all the way back to town for help if you got killed. And I'm scared of the dark.” She paused for effect. “Besides, I might not find anybody else dumb enough to go up against the judge with me.”

“You may be right,” he deadpanned. “Never let it be said that you're not all heart.” Smiling, he chucked her under the chin, checked his weapons, settled his hat on his head, then made to leave.

She touched his arm. Looking intently through the darkness, she saw golden flecks of starlight dancing in his eyes. She also saw an emotion that disturbed her. No man had ever looked at her like that. “Be careful,” she cautioned, speaking to both Heath and herself.

His answer was a light kiss on her lips. “See you in a minute, sugar.”

He crawled on his belly toward the cave. Keeping to the far side of the opening, away from the smoldering fire, he edged inside.

At first, he heard nothing; then a shuddering sigh betrayed the miner's position. A dying ember glowed brightly for an instant, just long enough to reflect the guard's eyes. He was squatting down on his haunches not more than ten feet from Heath, wholly unaware of Heath's presence.

Heath gathered his legs under his body and lunged like a mountain lion. He slammed the guard back against the rock floor, knocking the breath from his lungs. A fluid shift and he circled the guard's neck with a steel-hard arm. The man fought, kicked, gasped, then stilled. Heath placed two fingers alongside the miner's neck. A slow but steady beat pulsed against his fingers.

Rising, Heath stepped to the aperture and mimicked the hooting of an owl. Almost immediately, Stevie stood before him.

“I see you don't take orders very well,” he observed wryly. She shook her head, not at all repentant. “I never have been good at that. Pa was always commentin' on it.”

“I bet.”

“Besides, I'm your boss. Remember?”

Smiling indulgently, he took her by the hand and pulled her into the cave. He struck a match, revealing several oil lanterns lined up on one side of the entrance. He lit two of them and handed one to Stevie.

The lamps gave off an eerie glow in the dark cavern as Heath secured the felled guard's hands and feet and dragged him away from the entrance. When he halted abruptly and Stevie ran into him, he recognized her unease. “You okay?”

“Let's just get this over with and get out of here.” It struck her as odd that she could find her hiding place so threatening. As a child, whenever she was frightened, hurt, or when the children in town would spit on her and ridicule her for her Indian ancestry, she would crawl into her mama's lap for comfort and security. Swan always comforted her, stroking her hair, telling her that the circle of her arms was Stevie's hiding place. There, no one could hurt her, she was completely safe.

After her mama died, when she was hurt or frightened, she would run to this cave, her hiding place, where no one could find her or hurt her. But now Judge Jack had defiled it. Tears stung the backs of her eyes. What did a person do when they lost the one place on earth they felt secure?

As if he sensed her need, Heath circled her shoulders with his arm and drew her to his side. He smiled when she leaned against him. They were standing in a large cavern that stretched as far as the eye could see. It was starkly beautiful. Formations of stalactites, stalagmites, anthracites, helictites, gypsum flowers, and needlelike crystal aragonites, created by the dripping of calcareous water over thousands of years, picked up the glow of the lanterns. Millions of tiny particles reflected the light in brilliant colors of red, blue, and yellow.

The chamber looked like a cathedral from the Middle Ages. A narrow set of rails over which the mining cars ran wound its way into a rift leading off from the main room.

“You okay?” Heath asked again when her trembling stilled.

She nodded, embarrassed to meet his eye. She stepped out of his embrace. Her gaze fell on a shiny object lying between her feet. “What's this?”

The small crystalline rock sparkled in her dusky palm. Heath cupped her delicate hand in his own and rotated it from side to side, allowing the colored light to play in the center of the stone. His warm hand cradling hers and the cool surface of the rock against her palm were so at odds that Stevie was momentarily amazed.

“I don't know. Ever see anything like it in here before?”

She shook her head, not trusting her voice.

“Well, hang on to it. We'll get it analyzed when we get back to town.” He jerked his head. “Let's see what else we can find.”

She tucked the rock into her pants pocket. They followed the rails down the rift for some four hundred feet, then came to a small compartment, which ended in a cul-de-sac. There was evidence of ongoing excavation all around them. This was clearly where the miners had been doing their work, though the area was so cramped, not more than ten men could safely swing their picks at one time.