Hawk's Prize Page 14

  Chantalle glanced out the window as the sun dropped rapidly toward the horizon. Tricia and Drew had been gone for three days. They had two long nights behind them, and she was concerned for Tricia in so many ways. Drew had described to Chantalle the approximate area where Willie’s family ranch was located, and they’d had plenty of time to reach it and inform Willie’s parents of his demise. She knew Willie’s parents wouldn’t waste time in coming to claim his body, and that Drew would waste even less time in returning to find Willie’s killer—providing he did not get distracted along the way.

  Chantalle’s expression grew tense. She had expressed her disapproval of Tricia’s insistence on traveling with Drew, but Tricia had made up her mind. Tricia had insisted they owed Willie that much, and Chantalle had been unable to talk her out of it. What worried her most was the fear that Tricia had lied to herself about her motives. Chantalle had seen the glances that Drew and Tricia occasionally exchanged. If Chantalle had realized how close the two would become, she would have found someone else to tend him during the critical days of his illness.

  Aware there was no point in such retrospection, Chantalle forced those thoughts from her mind. Tricia and Drew still had not returned.

  Where were they? What had happened to them?

  Chantalle took a breath and made her decision. If they didn’t come back before sunset, she’d send a search party out to find them in the morning.

  With that matter firmly settled in her mind, Chantalle stared out the window. The question Colonel Madison had asked her just before concluding his interview returned again to mind.

  Could there have been any reason other than robbery why someone would want to hurt Willie?

  She had responded in the negative, and Colonel Madison had appeared to dismiss the thought, but his question had returned to haunt her.

  Simon Gault’s hatred for Whit Hawk—the man who had thwarted him at every turn and who she had come to believe was possibly Drew’s brother—was an accepted fact. She also knew that Angie was not above passing along information to Simon whenever it benefited her.

  Was it mere coincidence that the first person she’d asked to deliver an important message to Whit Hawk at La Posada had not lived to deliver it? Was it also a coincidence that poor Hiram Charters’s body had been found on the trail with his pockets turned inside out just like Willie’s, so that his death, too, was pronounced a robbery?

  Chantalle had recently sent Will to La Posada with another urgent message for Whit, telling him she had something important to discuss with him.

  She knew Simon well. He was vindictive and would do anything to get revenge on Whit—but would he go so far as to have Willie killed to prevent a possible reconciliation between the brothers?

  Chantalle took a shaky breath as a final, chilling question came to her mind. Did that also mean that the threat to either Whit or Drew remained?

  Angie’s familiar footsteps sounded in the hallway, and Chantalle turned sharply toward the door. She stepped into the corridor as Angie attempted to pass with a grinning, well-sated cowpoke beside her. Forcing a smile, Chantalle said, “If you don’t mind, Johnny, I need to talk to Angie. You know the way downstairs. Just tell Jake I said to give you a drink on the house when you get there.”

  Grinning more broadly, Johnny replied, “Thank you, ma’am. That’s right kind of you.”

  Noting Angie’s surprise, Chantalle walked back into her office. She closed the door behind Angie as the sultry brunette followed her inside. She said flatly in response to Angie’s raised brow, “I need to know something, Angie. Did you tell Simon that I sent Will with a message for Whit Hawk shortly after Drew collapsed downstairs?”

  Angie looked at her blankly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Angie. This is too important. I know Simon pays you to keep him informed about what happens around here.”

  “You’re crazy, Chantalle. Simon is a regular here, and I’m the only woman who can handle him, but that’s as far as it goes.” She shivered unexpectedly. “To tell you the truth, I’m not even sure of that anymore. He gives me the creeps.”

  “But his money doesn’t.”

  “I told you, I don’t spy for Simon.” She shrugged again and added, “You know me. I keep my eyes and ears open around here. I might’ve mentioned some things to Simon when we were together, and maybe he showed me his appreciation whenever he could, but that’s in the past. Things are different now. He’s getting to be more than even I can handle.”

  Chantalle raised her brows. “I thought no man was a problem for you.”

  “That’s what I thought, too, but Simon . . .” Angie hesitated. Her color draining, she added more softly, “I don’t know . . . the way he looks at me sometimes, I think he’d as soon kill me as he would close that bedroom door behind us.”

  Angie’s paleness seemed to confirm her fear, and Chantalle hesitated. Angie glanced away revealingly, and Chantalle realized that the girl had already begun to regret confiding in her.

  Dismissing Angie abruptly, Chantalle watched as the door closed behind the younger woman. She turned back to the window and stared blindly out at the rapidly setting sun. Had Angie lied to her? Maybe. The truth was, she couldn’t be sure of anything.

  Her body aching from the journey, Tricia rode alongside Drew as they entered the city of Galveston at last. Their mounts’ hooves clapped on the cobbled streets as shadows created by gaslights flickered against buildings that had begun going silent for the evening. The traffic of the day had all but stopped on the streets, but Tricia knew that the reverse would be true at Chantalle’s house, where the activity of the evening had barely begun.

  Tricia glanced at Drew, riding silently attentive to their surroundings. She had felt the gradual stiffening of his posture as they approached Galveston. She had noted the regret in his voice when he finally said, “We’ll be in the city soon.”

  She had known what that meant. She had known how it would look if she rode into Galveston in Drew’s arms, and she had no desire to stir up the inevitable talk that would ensue.

  As for herself, Tricia cared little about anything anyone said, but she knew appearances were important to Chantalle, who had worked so hard and sacrificed so much for her. Yet the truth was that she missed having Drew’s arms wrapped around her. She missed the sensation of his strong chest supporting her back and his hand casually cupping her breasts. His intimate touch seemed somehow so right, and she longed for it . . . for him.

  Tricia glanced again at Drew. He was frowning, and she had noted that he still limped when he walked, but it was obvious that his leg was rapidly growing stronger. She marveled at the sight of him. He wore his weatherbeaten hat low on his forehead, concealing the thick, dark hair that had slipped so smoothly through her fingers as they made love. His dark brows were drawn down over light eyes that had shone with emotion when he held her in his arms. There was a tension about the posture of his powerful body as he rode . . . an expectancy . . . but he was all male and he took her breath away.

  Tricia’s heart pounded. She had not believed she could love a man the way she loved Drew—yet love had never been mentioned between them. They had been close. They had shared moments of exquisite ecstasy, yet she was uncertain what the next day would bring. She felt strangely uncertain.

  As if sensing her perusal, Drew turned toward her. He searched her expression briefly. His gaze then dropped to her mouth before he glanced up at her again with a look almost as intimate as a kiss.

  All uncertainty dropped away.

  Drew forced his perusal back to the streets through which Tricia and he rode. He had felt this same presentiment of danger before, and it worried him. Uncertain what it meant, he only knew that he needed to get Tricia somewhere safe.

  He glanced at her again, relieved to see that she wasn’t looking at him anymore. She was a distraction for him . . . an intimate distraction that he could not presently afford.

  Driven by a
sense of urgency, Drew turned his mount onto the familiar street where Chantalle’s house stood brightly lit. He glanced at Tricia to see that she was frowning, and he said, “Chantalle will be glad to see you, but I think it would be wise if we didn’t use the front entrance at this time of night.”

  Tricia nodded, and the brief locking of her gaze with his sent a familiar longing streaking through him. He fought to ignore it. Other matters presently took precedence over the emotions they shared—important matters that he sensed had somehow resulted in the death of a friend.

  That thought played heavily on his mind as Drew lifted Tricia down from her horse behind Chantalle’s house. He nodded at Will when the stableman took their mounts’ reins and guided Tricia toward the back staircase without saying a word. Drew knew what he needed to do, and it would not be easy.

  He saw the relief that flashed across Chantalle’s face when Tricia and he pushed open the rear doorway to the second floor and unexpectedly met her standing there. He saw Tricia’s flush of regret for the concern so obvious in Chantalle’s expression, and he remained silent as Tricia stepped forward to hug Chantalle briefly.

  They followed Chantalle without a word as she turned toward her office. Drew waited only until the door closed behind them to say, “I’m sorry if you were worried, Chantalle, but Tricia and I accomplished our purpose. We notified Willie’s parents, and they’ll be coming to Galveston to pick up Willie’s body as soon as they can make arrangements at their ranch.”

  “I’m glad,” Chantalle said, then waited for Tricia to speak.

  “We’re fine, Chantalle.” Tricia glanced at him briefly before adding, “Drew’s leg is getting stronger every day. I’m sure Dr. Wesley will agree that it’ll be completely healed soon.”

  “It’s healed already. I don’t need Doc Wesley to tell me that.” Aware how gruff that statement sounded, Drew continued, “I’d like to thank you for taking me in while I was sick, Chantalle. I’ll pay you back for your expenses as soon as I can, but I’ll be going back to the place where Willie and I rented a room for the remainder of my stay in Galveston.”

  Drew felt Tricia’s shock at his unexpected announcement. He had purposely neglected to mention his plans to her because he knew she would object. He needed to make sure she was somewhere safe so he would be free to do what he must.

  With that thought in mind, Drew took a breath and continued, “It’s getting late and it’s been a long day. I need to leave.”

  “Drew—”

  Cutting Tricia’s response short, aware that her protest would only make a difficult situation worse, he addressed Chantalle, saying, “Tricia can fill you in on the rest. I have to go.”

  “But, Drew—”

  Drew tipped his hat, ignoring the look in Tricia’s eyes as he said, “Thank you, ma’am . . . Tricia,” then turned resolutely toward the door. He was hastening down the rear steps as quickly as his injured leg would allow when he realized that for the first time in his life, he was running away from something.

  Drew reached the base of the staircase, grateful that Will hadn’t had time to stable his horse. He mounted up and turned the animal toward the street with the thought that he wasn’t running away because of fear. No, the emotion that flushed through him as he dug his heels into his mount’s sides was far more powerful—and he needed desperately to avoid it.

  Tricia caught herself still staring at the doorway through which Drew had exited the office so unexpectedly. She turned back toward Chantalle abruptly, struggling against the tears in her eyes as she said, “It’s obvious that I wasn’t expecting Drew to leave so soon.” She shrugged. “I guess he couldn’t stay here indefinitely, especially in light of everything that has happened, but I thought he would give me more warning so I could . . .”

  Tricia’s voice came to a halt, and Chantalle said gently, “You don’t need to explain anything to me, Tricia.”

  “But I do, because I don’t really understand . . .” Her voice trailed away before she began again more strongly, “I know that telling Willie’s parents about his death was probably the hardest thing Drew’s ever done. I admire him for his determination to honor Willie the only way he could, but I’m confused.” She hesitated briefly before continuing, “Drew identified himself to Willie’s parents as Drew Hawk, and they seemed to recognize him by that name. They said Willie had told them about him, that Willie considered Drew almost a brother.”

  “Drew Hawk?”

  Tricia blinked back her tears. “I know Drew has secrets in his past that he feels it’s unsafe to share with me, so I didn’t press him. I think he believes that I missed that slip in the stress of the moment . . . but I didn’t. Now Drew is gone. I’m not sure when I’ll see him again . . . if ever . . . and I don’t know what to do.”

  Chantalle’s breathing had accelerated, and Tricia said, “I didn’t mean to upset you, Chantalle.”

  “No . . . you didn’t.” Chantalle took a breath. “I just wish I had an answer for you. Besides, I’m not exactly the right person to come to for advice about things like this.”

  “Yes, you are.” Tricia stepped up to hug her unexpectedly as she whispered, “You’re a good person, Chantalle. You’ve made mistakes in the past, but you’ve come to terms with them. You’ve also found Captain Knowles. Despite his absences at sea, you and Joshua have made a lasting commitment to each other. You’ve made the best of your life.” She drew back as she whispered, “You’re exactly the right person for me to ask.”

  “Thank you, Tricia. I appreciate that. Unfortunately, the only advice I have to give is to wait and see what happens. Whatever uncertainties remain about Drew’s name, I’m sure he’ll clear them up as soon as he’s able.”

  “Wait and see . . . somehow that doesn’t seem enough.” Tricia brushed away a tear, then said abruptly, “I’m going to my room. I’ll see you in the morning, Chantalle.”

  Watching as the door closed behind Tricia, Chantalle went suddenly still.

  Drew Hawk.

  Bruce stood silently in the darkening shadows on the street outside Chantalle’s bordello as Drew rode out onto view and spurred his mount forward. Bruce had come to Chantalle’s that evening on the spur of the moment, hoping to learn something that would satisfy his boss’s rage.

  And he had.

  Smiling, hardly able to believe his luck, Bruce waited a few minutes as Drew rode down the street. He then followed, keeping a discreet distance behind him.

  Chapter Nine

  “I saw him and I followed him, boss. He went to a hotel by the rail yard where it was real cheap and took a room there. As far as I know, that’s where he stayed the rest of the night.”

  “The rail yards, you say?” Simon was elated. Due to Angie’s sudden proclivity for keeping her mouth shut, he had been late in learning that Collins and Tricia Shepherd had left the city to inform Willie Childers’s parents of his death. He had been silently enraged at the thought that with each day that elapsed, the possibility grew greater that Whit Hawk would receive Chantalle’s message to come to Galveston. Whit would then learn about the possibility—no, the probability—that Drew Collins was in reality Drew Hawk, the brother Whit had searched for most of his adult life.

  Simon would then be faced with both of the male Hawk progeny, who would undoubtedly join forces against him.

  No, he would not allow it! He would make sure that the brothers were eliminated before that could happen—one at a time. Then he would take care of the sisters. He would destroy every last person who had ever borne the Hawk name. Nothing else would satisfy him.

  He also knew that nothing would happen . . . until he took the first step.

  The first step—Drew Hawk.

  Simon no longer cared about making Drew Hawk’s death appear to be an accident. Nor did he care what Colonel Clay Madison of the Adjutant General’s Office deduced after Drew was dead. No one would suspect him anyway.

  Taking a breath, Simon looked at his hireling. Bruce’s face flushed as Simon said ge
nerously, “You did well, Bruce. Willie Childers’s death didn’t work out the way we planned, but we won’t suffer the same fate with Drew Collins.”

  Again basking in the light of Simon’s favor, Bruce said, “That’s right, boss. Just tell me what you want me to do and I’ll take care of it.”

  “The answer to your question should be apparent,” Simon said. “Eliminate Drew Collins, of course! I’ll need him out of the way before the situation becomes too complicated. I expect you to take care of it as soon as possible—the sooner the better. Delay doesn’t work to our advantage anymore.”

  “All right, boss.”

  “But I need a definite plan in order to avoid any suspicion that might come up.” Simon smiled as a thought struck him. “I’m invited to a soiree at Willard Spunk’s house the day after tomorrow. I’ll arrive early and stay late, and I’ll make sure that I’m in obvious attendance the entire evening. I will be my usual charming, relaxed self. I may even arrange for company in the private, wee hours if I can find a woman there who suits my fancy. You’ll be able to take all the time you want to eliminate Collins then, and no one will believe I had anything to do with his death.”

  “That sounds good, boss.”

  “So it’s settled, then.”

  “Yeah . . . sure. You said the day after tomorrow?”

  “Yes, the day after tomorrow—Friday evening, you idiot! And make sure you don’t fail.”

  Bruce’s broad smile paled in the face of Simon’s displeasure. He replied, “It’s as good as done, boss.”

  Simon replied with barely restrained menace, “It had better be.”

  Tricia walked out into the hallway of Chantalle’s house. Unable to help herself, she glanced toward the empty room at the far end, and the torment inside her increased. It had been two days since she had seen or heard from Drew, and she ached with the pain of his absence. She had busied herself as she had done before, working in the kitchen, and later in the afternoon at Chantalle’s books, but she had found it difficult to concentrate on either task. She recalled the sensation of Drew’s lips against her cheek, her eyelids, and then her mouth. She remembered how his kiss had deepened until she had accepted his loving assault with joy rising inside her. She tried to evade recollection of the touch of his palms against her skin, his fluttering kisses against her breasts, then the ultimate sensation of feeling him deep inside her.