Night of the Wolves (10 page)

And below that:

Cody nodded. “Let’s hurry this up and get things over with.”

They worked together to quickly widen the hole, and then Cody jumped down to stand beside the coffin.

The seal was broken, as he’d expected.

He threw open the lid and was hit by an almost physical wave of shock.

The coffin was empty.

A
LEX DIDN’T EVEN CONSIDER
telling Beulah where she was going. The other woman wouldn’t have been happy about her visiting the saloon, stepmother or not.

It was past midday, but as she entered the room and waited for her eyes to adjust to the dim light, it seemed to her that both the dining area and bar were empty, very strange for that time of day. Jigs was not at the piano, and none of the girls were around.

Suddenly a head popped up from behind the bar. It belonged to Roscoe Sheen, the bartender. He had been there for as long as she could remember.

Except that he hadn’t been around the other night.

“Roscoe,” Alex said, trying to cover the fear that had jolted through her at his abrupt appearance.

“Why, Miss Alex. I heard you’d come home. Welcome home.” Roscoe was old, tawny-colored and strong. She was pretty sure that he was a mix of every race known to man. He had a broad smile and kind eyes, and he worked the bar so Gerald Sweeney, who owned the place, could spend his time “auditioning” the girls.

Roscoe came out from around the bar and shook her hand, but she stepped back as soon as she could. “Good to see you, Roscoe. I’ve been in here twice since I got back, but I hadn’t seen you yet.”

He didn’t blush or look away. “I wasn’t here the night the outlaws came. I was out at my daughter’s farm for a few days. Just got back in town this afternoon.” He scuffed his shoe along the floor. “I heard about the town meeting,
and I have to say, all this talk of vampires sounds plumb crazy to me. But I’m fond of living and willing to do whatever it takes to keep this place afloat, on account of I’m hoping to buy it from Sweeney one of these days.” He rolled up one of his sleeves. “As glad as I am to see you, Alex, I don’t think you came over here to have a chat with me. What’s up?”

“I heard my father’s widow works here,” she said.

Roscoe’s smile froze in place. “Linda.”

“Right. And I’d very much like to meet her.”

“Hey, honey! Good to see you,” someone called from the upstairs railing. Alex looked up as Sherry Lyn, the tall brunette who had been there for years, waved down to her.

Sherry Lyn had evidently just woken up. She was in short silk pajamas that revealed the shapely length of her legs and had thrown a feathery robe around her shoulders. Clearly she didn’t much care who saw what part of her anatomy.

“Hi, Sherry Lyn,” she said.

“What are
you
doing here?” the other woman asked.

“She came to meet Linda,” Roscoe answered for her.

“That makes sense,” Sherry Lyn said, still staring down at Alex.

“Is she here? I saw her last night, but I didn’t find out who she was till after we’d left.”

“I think she’s around,” Sherry Lyn said, shrugging. “I don’t rightly know for sure. We’ve all taken to locking our doors after…after our gentlemen callers have left,” she said. “Come on up. I’ll show you to Linda’s room.”

“Thank you,” Alex said. She had been in the saloon several times before, but she’d never climbed the stairs to the quarters where the fancy ladies conducted their
business, and she felt awkward and just a little bit excited to be doing so now.

“Come on, sugar,” Sherry Lyn said, smiling broadly, and for a moment it was as if she’d become a young and mischievous girl once again. “We don’t bite, Alex, you know that.” She frowned. “Sorry. Bad choice of words.”

Alex shook her head and smiled, wondering why, if her father had to fall in love with one of the girls at the saloon, it couldn’t have been Sherry Lyn. The brunette had a gentle soul. She’d once used her savings to help out a young man from a nearby ranch, and people had speculated that they might marry.

But Alex had heard that he’d gone off to war and hadn’t come back. Not even in a box. His remains were lying somewhere in Northern Virginia.

Sherry Lyn shivered when Alex reached her. “Vampires…Do you really think Milo is a vampire? I mean, trust me, honey, you don’t need to be a vampire to be a monster. I’ve met my share of folks through the years, and I’ve known some real monsters who were pure human.”

“I believe you,” Alex told her.

“Right there, honey. That’s Linda’s door,” Sherry Lyn said, then knocked loudly on it.

A voice responded imperiously, “Yes? What is it?”

“Visitor for you, Linda,” Sherry Lyn said.

“I don’t receive visitors at this time of day,” Linda called back.

“It’s your stepdaughter,” Sherry Lyn said dryly.

A second passed, and then the door flew open. Linda ignored Sherry Lyn and stared at Alex, then smiled slowly.

“I’ll leave you two to get acquainted,” Sherry Lyn said.

Alex murmured a thank-you as the other woman walked away with a swish of silk.

Linda was attractive, she had to admit. Older, like Sherry Lyn, but tall, shapely, and with a handsome, character-filled face. Alex wasn’t certain that Linda would ever be considered beautiful, but, beyond a doubt, she was interesting.

“So you’re Eugene’s daughter, come home from the big city,” Linda said, standing in the door of her darkened room, the only light sifting past the edges of the heavy damask drapes. Like Sherry Lyn, she was dressed in a robe, hers decorated with pink-dyed plumage, and very little else. She didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed about her skimpy attire, either, as she flung out an arm dramatically and said, “Come on in, have a seat.”

The only possibilities were Linda’s bed—quite rumpled—and the chair sitting in front of her dressing table.

Alex chose the chair.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to impose, or to arrive too early,” Alex said.

Linda sat on the bed. “I’ve always been a late riser—always. I’ve hated mornings for as long as I can remember. But then, my mother was a whore. I was born in a whorehouse just outside of Dallas, and I’ve always kept whores’ hours. I managed to get some education because my father was in the city government, and paying my mother kept her from telling his wife about me.”

“I see,” Alex said.

“Oh, I doubt if you see anything at all—no offense.” She looked up at the ceiling for a moment. “Your father
was quite a man. I can only imagine what it was like, growing up as his child, in a world filled with respect.”

“Did you love my father?” Alex asked, deciding that the other woman’s bluntness gave her carte blanche to be equally blunt.

“Did I love Eugene?” Linda repeated. “Yes. Does that make you happy? I mean, you can hardly be angry that he married. He left an ironclad will. The house is yours. His effects are yours. He did leave me a little money, though. He wanted me to choose a different lifestyle,” she said with a sad smile.

“Did he not leave you enough?” Alex asked. “He left me the boardinghouse, but surely you know, as he would have, that I’d be happy if you made it your home.”

Linda laughed, but not unpleasantly. She actually reached out and stroked Alex’s face. “You truly are his child. So earnest and compassionate. Alexandra, your father left me enough money to make a choice, and I’ve made my choice. While he was alive and we were together, I did my best to live the life your father chose. But he’s gone now, and though you may not understand it, I like this life, Alex. I like men. While your father was alive, I was content with him. But I have no intention of being an upright and lonely widow, trying to fit in with the so-called decent folk, all the while knowing they’re talking about me behind my back.”

“Linda, I would never let anyone—”

Linda burst into laughter, then sobered quickly. “I’m so sorry—I know you mean well. And I see that you are outraged by injustice, just like your father. Thing is, I’m reckoning the North will win this war and laws will change, but not people. It takes decades for people to
change. And you know what? They may accept white, black, any religion, Northerner, Southerner—but the world is never going to accept whores into the ranks of decent folks. My time with your father was good, but it’s over and I’ve made my choice. But I thank you, and I’m glad to have met you.”

Alex stood up. “I’m glad to have met you, too. And if I can ever do anything…”

“Thank you, but you go on now. This isn’t a fit place for you to be.”

“Just remember that you’re welcome at the boardinghouse anytime.”

Linda nodded, and Alex decided she had gone as far as she could go. She hadn’t much liked the woman the night before, but now she was far more impressed. And happy. At least she felt that her father had enjoyed Linda’s companionship—and, though she certainly didn’t want to dwell on it, Linda’s sensuality—during his last days.

But how the hell had he died?

The door to the boardinghouse was locked when she got back, but she had brought her key and let herself in.

The house was quiet. She could hear the old grandfather clock in the parlor ticking away the time, but nothing else.

“Beulah? Bert?” she called as she made her way to the back of the house and into the kitchen.

“Oh!” she exclaimed.

The bathtub was occupied once again.

Cody Fox was staring at her. His head leaned easily back against the wooden rim, and his knees were bent, allowing his long frame to fit within the confines of the tub.

The heat of the water created a rising mist of steam around him.

His flesh was deeply bronzed and sleek. Moisture shone on the muscled contours of his chest and arms.

She should have apologized for her error, and backed away, but she didn’t. Couldn’t. She simply stood there, staring, her mouth frozen in an O.

He stared at her, then smiled slowly and said, “I gather you’re enjoying the view. In any case, this is your house, after all, so please do come on in. Don’t mind me.”

She knew he expected her to blush and go running. Well, it wasn’t going to happen. Something about his superior tone really irritated her. He’d enjoyed taunting her this morning, making her wonder just exactly what had occurred during the night, and now it was her turn to make him sweat.

She wasn’t easily cowed. After all, she had just paid a visit to the whorehouse.

She shut her mouth and sauntered on in, taking a glass from the cabinet and setting it down while she primed the pump over the sink. “Mr. Fox, I hope you’ll excuse me for saying so, but you do seem fond of flattering yourself. I can’t say I’m all that interested in your…natural state.”

She filled her glass and turned casually, leaning back against the counter and staring at him with casual disinterest. “I trust you had a good day?”

His smile seemed sad for a moment. “I believe we’re moving in the right direction, yes.”

She grew serious herself, frowning. “How do we make a move in the right direction? Help will never come from anywhere else. And Milo Roundtree and his group of…of vampires will be back, won’t they?”

“Yes, eventually, they will.”

“So how on earth do we ever stop them?” she asked.

“Perhaps, my dear Miss Gordon, you’d be kind enough to pass me a towel,” Cody said.

She saw the towel Beulah had apparently left for him, lying on the table. She reached for it and handed it to him, trying not to look down and to keep her gaze casual.

She wished that her heart weren’t beating quite so hard. Or that she didn’t feel so tempted not only to look at him but to touch the sleekness of his skin.

Honestly, it was his eyes, she thought, that she’d first found so arresting. And then, of course, the lean contours of his face, the strength of his jaw. And she found his grin charming, despite herself. Not to mention that he was strong and brave and had twice saved her life.

His muscles rippled as he rose, discreetly wrapping the towel around his waist as he did so.

She was unsurprised to see that her assessment had been completely correct. He was a handsome man, deeply tanned, tall and ruggedly muscled.

And she was standing too close.

Far too close.

Not to mention that she slept far too near him…

Suddenly she was overwhelmed by longing. She wanted to be held by him, and she wanted…more.

But just what “more” consisted of, she wasn’t sure. She barely knew him, and yet she had never met anyone—even her fiancé—who fascinated and compelled her more.

“Excuse me,” she said, her tone as dignified as she could make it. “Please excuse my intrusion. I’ll leave you alone to dress.”

With those words, she mustered her pride and departed
at last. As she walked out, she was afraid that she would hear him laughing at her.

She was relieved when she didn’t.