Chapter 30
Blade’s old haunt smelled just like he remembered. Stale and edgy, a hangout where wayfaring men waited for riverboats to whistle, and where sins were forgiven on an hourly basis. A slender barmaid, sporting black fishnet stockings and a red ribbon choker that matched her flouncy petticoats, delivered drinks to a table of half-drunk rats.
He approached the bar slowly, straining to overhear words like ‘cries for help’ or ‘redhead’ in the swirl of conversations around him. Unlike Candy, he couldn’t just go home and wait for Fifi’s to open. He had to keep searching or he’d go mad with worry.
When the barmaid’s tray was empty, she deftly avoided one man’s groping hands and strutted back behind the chest-high counter. Close up, she had dark circles under her gaily-painted eyes. Age lines marred the smoothness of her pale skin. “What’s your pleasure?”
“Whiskey,” Blade said.
She filled a short glass. “One bit.”
He fished out a coin and tossed back his drink like a hardcore rat.
“Bad day?” she asked.
“Worst of my life. Have you heard talk about anything stolen?”
“No. The only excitement happened around six, when a loony lady barged in asking if we’d seen a storm. Gave everyone a good laugh.”
He reached deeper into his pocket, palmed a twenty-dollar gold coin, and showed it just to her. “This afternoon, did a man linger like he was waiting for something to happen?”
She glanced at the head barkeep, who’d emerged from behind a curtain and now polished glasses at the other end of the room-long bar. “I’m supposed to sell drinks, not gossip.”
“What if I told you it meant life or death?”
“Buy me a drink.” With a flirty look and laugh, she reached under the counter, brought up a corked bottle, and waved it in the air. “Let’s go get cozy.”
Blade followed her to a table in a dark corner. He knew before he tapped the rim of his glass to hers that she’d poured strong, dark tea. He’d learned a few things from Candy.
He drank every drop she poured and held out his glass for more.
The barkeep kept his distance and smiled.
“Three more like the one in your hand,” she bargained softly.
“What did you see?”
“A man came in about noon, sat here at this table, and nursed a bottle of rum.”
“Notice anything special about him?”
“The knob of his walking stick. It looked like a lion’s head and he tapped it on his palm like a grim reaper, ticking time.” She shivered as if the memory chilled her blood. “He kept going out and coming back. Finally, he went out for good. Never left a tip.”
Peabody! Blade’s mind raced through the possible scenarios.
Only one made sense. Peabody waited for Candy to bring Stormy. Then, Candy lured Emily away so Peabody could kidnap Stormy.
But, how could Peabody abduct her without being noticed?
Fifi’s sales clerk must have been in on the scheme.
Swaying on his feet to appear drunk, he paid the barmaid and staggered out of the bar. When his boots hit the street, he straightened. He drove into the alley behind the old three-story brick building and lit the front lanterns on Jared’s carriage.
Red-eyed vermin scurried into hidey-holes as he snatched a lantern off its hook and stalked forward. Broken glass crunched under his boot heels. He swung the lamp slowly around his knees, searching for signs that Stormy had been forced this way.
The lamplight caught a sanguine stain on a jagged remnant of a whiskey bottle. Beyond it, bloody blots. With Stormy-sized steps, he tracked them in a hellish game of connect-the-dots.
The trail stopped.
Like a bloodhound, he weaved feverishly down the refuse-strewn alley until he found a new trail of dry red drops that vanished altogether at the far end.
Horrific images flashed through his mind.
Cut and bleeding, Stormy resisted at first. She ran for her life but Peabody caught her, carried her to some sort of conveyance, and carted her away.
Blade punched the air with his fists.
Candy was neck deep in this terrible plot. What he couldn’t fathom was why. Married to Jared, she had money, status and privilege—everything she’d wanted when she dumped him. What more did she need? And, why harm Stormy to get it?
Blade ran back to Jared’s carriage and urged the placid horse into a fast trot.
Candy’s reasons could come later, in front of a magistrate.
Tonight, he intended to drag her from her silk-sheeted bed and make her show him where Peabody was hiding Stormy. But, first, he needed weapons.
~ ~ ~
The midnight moon shone through the east window of the stable, casting just enough light to find what he sought. The horses worried in their stalls, and Blade hummed to calm them as he knelt under the mounted tack and pried free a wedged-in trim board.
His metal box was still tucked between the studs, right where he’d hidden it five years ago. He opened the rusty lid, found the familiar six-inch shaft, and pressed the switch. The blade snapped out.
He tested it with the pad of his thumb. Still razor sharp.
Reaching in again, he pulled out brass knuckles, a slender death-choke rope, and the marshal’s star he’d bought at a trading post in Virginia City during his last run up the Missouri. He’d thought to give it to Patrick someday, a surprise gift from father to son.
A shaft of silvery light glinted off a small coin in the bottom of the box. His first pay as a rat, strung on a thin leather cord. When Jared announced his engagement to Candy, he’d quit wearing it. It had brought him no luck.
This time was different. Stormy was much more than a physical partner. She was his equal. His soul’s mate. He slipped the charm over his head.
Someone walked in front of the east window, for a second blocking the moonlight.
Alert, Blade shoved the brass knuckles into his jacket pocket and skipped the box back into its hiding place. He moved stealthily toward the stable door, his hands easily finding the proper hold on the choke rope.
The prowler rounded the corner.
Blade sprang out and coiled the rope around a man’s neck.
Clawing at the rope, the prowler looked up. His eyes widened.
“Jared?” Blade immediately loosened his hold. “Why are you sneaking around?”
“Dammit, Blade.” His brother coughed and rubbed his neck. “I came to see if you needed help.”
“Any word from the kidnappers?”
“No. You learn anything?”
“Yeah.” Blade rewound the choke rope into a compact ball as he walked to the carriage. His brother liked numbers and proven facts. He didn’t have time to justify his suspicions. “I think I know how to find Stormy.”
“I’ll go with you.”
Blade shook his head. He worked best alone. “You stay with Patrick and Natalie. They might need you.”
“Sam and Olivia can watch them. I want to help.”
“I’m not sure you can. Your wife is . . . involved.”
Jared opened his mouth as if to protest, and then looked away. His fingers fussed with the harness on his old gelding. “After you ran away from home, I told myself you’d become a bounty hunter who tracked down criminals and hauled them to justice.”
Blade shook his head. “I’m more selfish than that.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?” He waited for Jared to say he was disappointed in him.
“For being a pain in the ass when we were growing up. I know that’s why you ran away.” Jared stared straight ahead and blinked. “Everyone compared us. It was the only way I could measure up.”
“I didn’t leave because of you,” Blade exclaimed. “It was Father pushing me to be exactly like him.”
“I ended up like him.”
The distress in Jared’s voice resonated deeply. By Society’s standards, his brother was a successful man. But, their father’s shadow loomed large, and Candy regularly belittled him. If Jared helped him rescue Stormy—and unmask Candy—he’d reclaim his self-respect. “Hold out your hand.”
Jared complied.
Blade slipped on the brass knuckles. “If we get into a fight, aim for the jaw.”
“Bet I could do some damage.” Jared closed his fingers and jabbed the air like a one-handed boxer. His eyes glowed with excitement.
“Hit hard and duck.”
“You wouldn’t duck.”
“I would if I was outnumbered. I’ve learned to pick my battles. Now get in and let’s go.”