Page 78 of Revenge in a Cold River (William Monk 21)

There was no mistaking the color in Miriam’s cheeks now.

Beata waited.

“Information about Monk,” Miriam replied. “I needed to know Monk’s skills and what kind of a man he is now. I remember him from those days. He was like steel—hard, supple, almost beautiful in his strength of will—and razor sharp. If he was the same man I knew, I knew he would not rest if he knew an injustice had been done to Piers and if anyone could help me get my revenge, it would be him.”

Beata was stunned. “Your revenge? For what? Upon whom?”

Miriam was pale now, all the color gone from her face like a vanished tide.

“On the man who killed Piers, of course. He was never caught, never punished.” The look in her eyes was fury, but far deeper than that, it was pain, utter and devastating loss.

Beata opened her mouth to speak, and found no words adequate for what she was feeling. The sense of loss emanating from Miriam was so strong, it was as though something had crawled beneath Beata’s own skin and torn her own heart out.

“I loved him so much—more than I think he ever knew.”

Beata had a glimpse of understanding. This turbulent, passionate beauty who stirred a kind of madness in some men. Was it possible that Clive could have killed Piers? To have Miriam? No! No, that was…absurd. Aaron and Miriam…the great love story? Aaron the beautiful man, the King of the Barbary Coast?

“I have to know,” Miriam said huskily. “I needed Monk to find his killer.”

“Why? There’s nothing you can do now.” It hurt to say it but it was true.

“I don’t need to. Knowing will be enough. I will show the world that Piers, the most honest, loyal, and brave man in all those wild days, was betrayed by his closest friend.”

Although Miriam couldn’t say his name, Beata’s fears about Aaron were undeniable. “Are you absolutely sure?”

Miriam’s eyes blazed with anger. Her voice was choked with it. “As sure as I can be.”

“Then why have you waited so long? Why now?” It made no sense.

“Why has McNab waited so long?” Miriam demanded.

That was a question Beata did not want to answer. It was Monk’s secret to give or keep, not hers.

“Why do you want to know?” she asked instead.

“You expect me to trust you, but you won’t trust me!” Miriam said.

“Yours is your secret; mine is Monk’s to give or keep.”

“How much do you want to save him?” Miriam demanded.

“You’d let him hang for something he didn’t do?” Beata challenged her. “That won’t get you your…your vindication of Piers.” Was that all she meant? Or was it really only revenge?

Miriam sat perfectly still. “Why did McNab wait so long? What is it that you are not willing to tell me? If you want my help, then trust me!”

There was no way of evading it now and still trying to save Monk. Beata swallowed hard, and told her.

“Monk had a carriage accident about thirteen years ago. He can’t remember anything before that. Nothing of San Francisco at all. And McNab knows that!”

Miriam stared at her. “So he can’t help me!” Her body clenched as if she were trapped. “Poor devil, he can’t even help himself.”

“Stop it,” Beata said sharply. “Don’t you dare give in! You waited until now—why? Why didn’t you do anything about Aaron if you knew he killed Piers? What do you need Monk for anyway?”

“I learned only recently that Aaron killed Piers. Fin Gillander brought me proof.”

“Then what else do you need?”

“It is proof to me, not to anyone else.”