The Only Gold (39 page)

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Authors: Tamara Allen

Tags: #M/M Historical Romance, #Nightstand, #Kindle Ready

BOOK: The Only Gold
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Jonah could not make his own tired thoughts piece everything together. “The cashier Barton killed… he wasn’t a banker, either.”

 

“Samuel Wheeler. He was a friend of mine.” The lingering smile faded. “He let us know Barton was targeting veterans denied their pensions, manipulating them into seeking restitution. We pinpointed the federal depositories and met with the board of each bank. I figured if Barton took an interest in this bank, he would enlist Liam or Zeb Satterfield—or even you, once I discovered your father never collected a pension.”

 

“He never sought one.”

 

“I know.” Reid slipped a hand around Jonah’s, more than sympathy in the touch, and Jonah was too bewildered to do other than allow it. Accepting such an incredible story was another matter.

 

“These agents, they took the position of cashier in every bank?”

 

“They took the position most convincingly available. In Grandborough’s case, that turned out to be cashier.” Reid’s lips twitched, the wry light returning. “I told Bennet it might be better if he promoted everyone before hiring me on. I thought I could work the case without open access to all the locks and books—but he refused to let me take the chance. I think it horrified him, the idea that any one of you might succumb to Barton’s persuasion.”

 

Reid was as sincere and matter-of-fact as he’d always been, yet Jonah dreaded being taken in again. The turn of events might reconcile with all that had gone before, but it could as easily be a tale designed to keep him out of the way so Reid might return to the bank and assist Barton in escaping with the money.

 

“Can you prove any of this?” he asked at last.

 

To his surprise, Reid only smiled. “I can’t fault you for being reluctant to believe me. I never thought you’d end up in the middle. It was supposed to be a quick and simple matter, finished in an evening. There was no cause to put you at risk by letting you in on it.” He shook his head. “You turned this thing into a hell of a job. It’s been sheer luck, keeping you alive without giving myself away.” He let Jonah go and stood. “Now you’re out, thank God, and I can go in and finish what I started.”

 

As he pushed back his coat and drew his gun, Jonah realized with a surge of dismay that he did believe everything Reid had told him. “You’re going back in there to arrest them?”

 

“I’m going to make sure they leave with the deposit. I requested this job for Wheeler’s sake, but I couldn’t pass up a chance to watch a practiced bank burglar at work.” Reid suddenly grinned. “I think you’ve had a couple of enlightening days, yourself.”

 

“Enlightening,” Jonah said softly. He watched with growing uneasiness as Reid checked the gun chamber. “How can you go in there alone? They’ll wonder where I am—”

 

“You’re staying here.” The implacable Reid resurfaced. “You’ve got to look after Alice. And I can do my job better if I’m not worried about you.”

 

“But—”

 

“Stay here, Jo. Swear you will.”

 

The hazel gleam was unyielding. Jonah bit back his own frustration. “Very well. I won’t go with you. I’ll go for help.”

 

“Not in this weather—”

 

“I can’t wait here. They’ll already be wondering at your absence. If they turn on you….” Jonah shook his head. “You must let me do something.”

 

Reid sighed. “This is why I didn’t tell you earlier.” He fished a piece of paper from his pocket and a pencil from a kitchen drawer. “Keep this. If the weather clears and Alice is all right, take her here—66 Exchange Place—and tell them everything you know. If I haven’t gotten free by then, they’ll send a man or two to sort it out. That was part of the plan, but I think the weather interfered.”

 

Jonah held on to his arm. “I’ll go now—”

 

“You can’t.” Reid gazed at him a long moment and the fond smile took up its usual place. “I have to go, and I think you understand that better than anyone. Let me do my job.” He leaned forward for a quick buss on Jonah’s cheek and a quicker whisper. “Thank you.”

 

He was at the door when Jonah had the presence of mind to respond. “For what?”

 

In the midst of pulling up his collar, Reid glanced back. “For wanting to save me.” He smiled, brash as ever. “For never really giving me up.”

 

Jonah tried to laugh and his throat tightened. “Insufferable bastard.”

 

Reid did laugh, and after a last admonishment to stay put, shut the door with no subtle emphasis. Alice stirred on the bench—but, to Jonah’s momentary relief, didn’t wake. Too much in his heart surely revealed itself in his face. He collected himself and sought distraction in heating a pot of tea. But as the minutes passed, he was only more heavy hearted with the conviction he should not have let Reid go alone. When Alice woke, disoriented and frightened, Jonah told her everything and was relieved to see it was all as much news to her as it had been to him.

 

“I did wonder at Father hiring Mr. Hylliard,” she confessed. “Father’s always liked you, and I know he thought….” A faint flush touched her pale cheeks. Huddled in her cloak and the drapery of checked tablecloths, she accepted the tea Jonah offered her. “I owe you a great deal for rescuing me.”

 

“That was far more Reid’s doing than mine,” Jonah said.

 

“I must thank him too.” Alice set down her cup. “I know you’re worried. I’m well enough to—”

 

“Forgive me, Alice, but I think you should stay here. I’ve seen neither streetcar nor cab, and it will be no easy walk to Exchange Place or even the nearest police station. We don’t know how much deeper the drifts may be and….” He nodded at her damp skirts. “I’m afraid you’ll fall ill.”

 

She looked embarrassed. “I made a terrible mistake. Father will be so cross when he learns. I wanted to take the train, but the station was overwhelmed with people desperate to ride, and I heard it said the trains were all stuck on the tracks. If that’s true, I’m afraid Father is trapped aboard one of them.”

 

“Probably a good number of the staff too.” Jonah turned away to stoke up the fire. The thought of Mr. Grandborough or any one of the staff walking into the bank while Reid sought to regain control of the situation worried Jonah immeasurably. It was a worry he had to hide. “I will go straightaway and send back the first policeman I can find. I may not return directly, but I’ll have someone here for you as fast as I can.”

 

Despite his effort, Alice seemed to know. “Mr. Hylliard—he’s very resourceful. Very clever. And brave.”

 

“Yes. Stubborn, headstrong, and much too sure of himself.” Jonah drew a soft breath. He would find help. Reassuring Alice on that point, he went into a dining room swept with snow and so sharply colder than the kitchen, it set him shivering. The storm’s force had not lessened, and as he stepped out onto the sidewalk, the wind accosted him, seeming determined to lay him low. He would not reach Exchange Place quickly. He looked toward the bank, hunkered in the snow, and he stood pinned by a terrible premonition that Reid had no time left to spare. He had sworn to go for help—how could he break that promise? To save Reid’s life, he could.

 

He stepped toward the bank, then gasped aloud as a hand seized his shoulder. Buoyed by the revelation Reid had safely returned, he swung around—and gasped again, struggling away from the advancing figure of Scroggs, heavily bundled but unmistakable with his dark eyes glaring over the folds of an ice-encrusted scarf. As Jonah turned, Scroggs seized his collar and dragged him backward with such strength, Jonah fell against him. The gun Scroggs shoved in his face was enough to stop his struggles, and he obeyed as Scroggs pushed him toward the restaurant.

 

Back in the dining room, he did not retreat toward the kitchen, but stayed at the window as Scroggs stepped inside. “Reid sent you searching for me.”

 

Scroggs grunted, seeming amused. “He didn’t like to say where you’d gone. Even with the proper encouragement.” He raised a fistful of knuckles under a threadbare glove. “Not too hard to find you, though. Not hard at all.”

 

Jonah’s gut twisted. “You thought you could force him to tell you? What makes you think—”

 

“We know who he is. What he is.” Scroggs backed Jonah to the wall and pressed the gun muzzle to his jaw. “What about you? You one of them?”

 

“One of—them?”

 

“Not that it matters. You’ve given me enough reason to put a bullet in you here and now.” Scroggs cocked the gun. “And damned if I wouldn’t. But you’ll have a good look at my handiwork before you get a taste of it yourself.”

 

Jonah could not stay silent, though each word carved a jagged path through him. “Reid. He’s dead?”

 

Scroggs leaned in, his whiskey-tainted breath hot on Jonah’s skin. Eyes pitch-black burned in his sallow features with unnerving vehemence. “Nothing so quick. Nothing so easy for one of them that shut me in a dark, muddy hole for seven years. I’ll take it out of his hide before I pack him off to Hell—”

 

A muffled clatter from the kitchen silenced him. Jonah held still, contemplating the insanity of trying to take Scroggs’s gun. That option vanished as Scroggs shoved him hard against the wall, and thrusting an arm across his throat, pressed the muzzle to his head. “Come out of there,” he shouted, making Jonah jump. “Come out or your friend here is dead.”

 

The door burst open and Alice stood, white-faced. “Don’t hurt him.”

 

Scroggs stared at her. “I’ll be damned. This sweet little sparrow belong to you, Woolner?”

 

Anger brought Jonah a measure of calm that surprised him. “Speak of her with more respect.”

 

Scroggs leaned forward, the press of his forearm stealing Jonah’s breath. “I’ll speak of her as I like. Who are you, girl?” He looked at Alice. “Answer quick.”

 

“Alice—”

 

“Don’t,” Jonah gasped. Scroggs pulled him forward and slammed the butt of the gun against his jaw. Only when his head stopped spinning did he realize he was on the floor, shards of icy glass cutting into his palms. Glass from the window, he hoped, and not his glasses, wherever they’d gone. Bright spots of blood lay in the patches of snow and Jonah blinked, trying to check his hands before he discovered his jaw was bleeding.

 

He struggled to rise, and Scroggs seized him by the coat collar and dragged to his knees. Cold metal tapped sharply against his aching skull. The damned gun. Scroggs lay the length of the muzzle under Jonah’s jaw, forcing his head back. “Maybe I’m no gentleman, but I got enough smarts to know when to keep my mouth shut. You—well, you’re going to behave yourself, or Miss Grandborough will suffer for it.”

 

“Leave her here and I’ll come back to the bank with you. I’ll do anything you want.”

 

“Leave her? I don’t think so. The girl’s worth more gold than fits in that vault of yours. Just understand, I won’t hesitate to bring her value down, if you cause me a minute’s trouble.” Scroggs chuckled. “I think even a gentleman such as yourself can follow my meaning.”

 

Jonah wondered what trouble he could be, under the circumstances. Another minute with his head pressed back and the gun compromising his breathing would send him to the floor. The relief when Scroggs abruptly released him was tremendous, though his head ached all the fiercer. Sinking deliberately to hands and knees, he felt around for his glasses, praying they weren’t broken. Before Scroggs could force him to his feet, Alice was beside him, her arm around his shoulders. “I’ve got them,” she whispered. “Can you stand?”

 

He had no choice. Alice tried to steady him as he rose, but Jonah would not lean on her, afraid of sapping her own returning strength. On his feet, he swayed but did not fall, even when Scroggs pushed him toward the kitchen. There, at Scroggs’s instruction, Alice gathered biscuits, cheese, and any other edible scraps they might carry away. Jonah took the burden from her, and with Scroggs prodding them along, they left the restaurant. As they stepped into the storm, Alice stayed close, and Jonah put an arm around her, hoping to protect her from the worst of it. She slipped his glasses into his hand, and despite the wind, he put them on, glad for one less disadvantage.

 

The telegraph pole had fallen further, and those ice-sheathed wires not yet covered with snow rocked in the wind. Jonah shielded Alice as they ducked the wires to get to the door Scroggs held open. Absent the gaslight, with the windows shuttered and buried, the sense of entombment in the lobby prevailed; still, Jonah felt a strange relief to be back. As Scroggs took up the dark lantern, Alice shivered and held on to Jonah all the tighter. “Father will come,” she whispered.

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