Page 18 of The Copper Heir (The Gilded West #1)

Chapter Nine

H unter opened his eyes to a searing headache and a heavy feeling deep in his gut that said something was wrong.

Horribly wrong. His eyelids felt as if they weighed ten pounds each, but he managed to open them with some effort.

When he did his eyes were gritty and his mouth was as dry as if he’d eaten a bucket of sand.

The world swung precariously as he sat up, hanging his head between his knees until his stomach settled and everything righted itself.

What the hell happened? It took a moment longer for the fog hanging over his brain to lift and for him to get his bearings.

He lifted his head and realized that he was still in the cavern, then it all came rushing back.

The saloon, the kidnapping, the woman who’d been such a complete surprise, that kiss. Holy hell, that kiss.

Emmy! He rose so fast he banged his head on the rock ceiling of the cavern. “Dammit!” Pressing a hand to the wound, he crouched, looking around to see if he could find her, but the cavern was empty. Maybe she’d gone out to stretch her legs.

He prayed—prayed for the first time in years—that the bastard who’d been shooting at them hadn’t come back and found her.

He wasn’t entirely certain the man had been one of Campbell’s.

If he wasn’t, there was no telling what he’d do to her.

Heart beating a harsh rhythm in his chest, he moved on his knees to the opening and peered out.

It was mostly dark though, only a small sliver of sunset lighting the mountain.

But it was enough to see the shadow coming up the path.

For one blessed moment relief filled his chest, but then Cas called his name and Hunter realized his earlier calls were what must have woken him.

“Hunter, you are here!” Cas called with relief. “We didn’t see the black and I thought something had happened.”

“He’s not there?” Tension coiled tight in his shoulders as he realized exactly what that meant.

“No, he’s not under the trees.” By this time Cas had come close enough that he could make out his brother’s furrowed brow. “Did you leave him somewhere else? Where’s the girl?”

“She’s gone.” The girl had poisoned him with something and then stolen his horse. That kiss had only been to catch him off guard, to make him take whatever drug she had put into his whiskey. It had all been an act. The little lying wench.

As he turned to grab his gear, a tiny light in some dark recess deep within him wondered if he was judging her too harshly.

He’d looked deep into her eyes, he’d seen the uncertainty and longing within them, and he knew it had been more than just a kiss for her.

Molars grinding together, he silently vowed to find her no matter what it took.

He needed to get to the bottom of whatever this was between them.

Hunter stood in the foyer of Victoria House and seethed, his rage threatening to burn out of control.

The girl had left him days ago and only one person stood in his way of getting her back.

Social etiquette required that he at least wait for the woman descending the steps to actually reach the bottom before he strangled her.

“Now, Mr. Jameson, you’re not actually suggesting that I turn over the poor little dove who came to me for sanctuary?

I’m sure it doesn’t bear repeating, but you know my stance on such matters.

” Glory Winters, the madam of the most exclusive brothel in Helena, couldn’t have been more than thirty, but held herself like a queen.

Stepping off the bottom step of the elaborately curved staircase, she came to a stop a few feet before him.

The heels of her silk-encased slippers left tiny divots on the Persian rug in her wake.

She was elegantly dressed as always in the latest fashion from Paris, in a gown of royal blue silk.

The shining red of her hair, her crowning “glory”, was twisted up in a thick pile atop her head, impeccable as ever.

He’d never wanted to shake it out of place as badly as he did right in this moment.

“Cut the bullshit, Glory. She’s mine and I want her back.” Days of dead ends and hard riding had left him short-tempered and ready for murder.

“Are the rest of you gentlemen as sociable as Mr. Jameson this evening?” Calm and collected, her rouged lips parted to flash a white smile as she looked over at Cas, who only scowled back, and then on to Zane, who raised a brow.

Zane was the only one of the group to look as if he wasn’t fresh off the trail.

He’d returned the day before and had had a day of food and rest.

Hunter knew that he himself must look at least as bad as Cas, neither of them having had a decent bath or shave since his brothers had found him in the cavern.

They had left Zane to continue on to Helena with his charges while he and Cas had followed the girl’s tracks north.

They’d lost them once she’d hit the train tracks.

It had appeared she had followed the railroad east, her tracks leading them that way until they had disappeared.

Once they had reached Billings, Hunter had checked the depot and found a telegram from Glory waiting.

The madam was the only one in Helena who knew they were the notorious Reyes Brothers.

She had come to him once for help when men with money and greedy appetites had moved into town hoping to take over her business.

Since then they had coexisted in Helena as associates, helping each other out when the need arose, which was rare since they generally kept their outlaw activities farther south.

But because of her unique position, she’d occasionally have access to information they needed.

During their cooperation, they had set up a system of alerts, just in case they ever needed to communicate.

Glory had recognized his horse when the girl had arrived and sent a coded telegram to him that would be received at each stop along the railroad, both east and west. She hadn’t mentioned the girl in the telegram, just that his horse was in Helena and he’d hopped on the first train headed in this direction, hoping like hell that she was there, too.

There had been no time to send for his personal train car, so they’d endured the trip with minimal food and no baths. Once the train had reached Helena they’d found Zane waiting at the station and had come directly to the brothel. The comforts of home would have to wait until he found her.

“Glory.” It was a warning growl. The only one she’d get. He wouldn’t physically harm the madam, but he’d smash through every polished wood door in the sprawling, three-story mansion until he found Emmy.

She didn’t so much as bat an eyelash and the large specter of a man, who had shadowed her for as long as Hunter had known her, took a warning step away from the wall, the soft light from the electric chandeliers shining off of his dark skin.

Hunter spared him a look. “Evening, Able.” As impeccably clothed as Glory, in his evening dress with a roll-collar coat and waistcoat, Able gave him a nod, but the warning in his eyes was clear.

No one was allowed to disrespect Miss Winters.

Giving her man a dismissive wave, Glory let her smile slip away and her eyes hardened.

“That young woman came to me for sanctuary, I won’t allow you to come in here and do her harm.

I sent you the telegram as a professional courtesy because she rode into town on your horse.

The horse is waiting for you down at your town house.

Emmaline, however, is not coming with you. ”

Emmaline.

Her name was Emmaline. The green fist of jealousy slipped its fingers around his heart, only stoking the flames of his anger.

He had no reason to be jealous that this woman had been given her name from her own lips while he hadn’t, but he couldn’t stop the emotion and ground his molars together to get a handle on it.

“That woman stole my horse and ran from me. I will have her.”

“No, you won’t. She’s not yours—”

A brisk rap on the front door silenced her and when the doorman opened the massive door to allow the newcomer inside, her smile moved seamlessly back into place, settling into the unlined mask of the welcoming madam that she wore for her clientele.

“Mr. Westlake, how good of you to join us tonight.” She stepped smoothly around Hunter and his brothers to greet the older man and accept his hat.

While she helped him with his outer coat, she made pleasant small talk, impressing Hunter with her knowledge of the banker’s family, and he responded as if they were old friends meeting on the street.

He’d never seen Westlake here before, but he shouldn’t be surprised that he visited the establishment.

Almost every man in town had been inside at one point or another and not necessarily for the company of the females who resided here.

There wasn’t a place in Helena to get a better beefsteak or game of cards.

“There’s a fire blazing in the front parlor and a few men are already playing cards,” Glory said, her Southern drawl a little softer and more evident now that she wasn’t angry and biting her words out. “Go on in now and I’ll send Jeannette with your usual Scotch.”

Westlake greeted them each by name before addressing Glory again. “Oh, no, my dear, I didn’t come for cards tonight. I came for the...” Sparing them a glance, he dipped his head closer to Glory’s and continued in a whisper that everyone could hear, “The other entertainment in the Black Chamber.”

Hunter’s eyebrows rose in surprise before settling back into the impatient scowl he’d been wearing. In the years he’d visited Glory’s establishment he’d never heard of the “Black Chamber”. No doubt another scheme the clever proprietress had come up with to separate eager men from their money.

“Oh!” She seemed surprised. “Oh, that... I wasn’t—”