A saloon on the wrong of side of Helena wasn’t how Castillo had wanted to spend this night. He’d spent two days chasing Bennett Derringer only to have to deal with the unexpected presence of Caroline Hartford at the ranch the night before, coupled with the unpleasant conversation with Tanner. A day of playing attentive suitor to Caroline and that damn kiss just a few hours ago had nearly made him forget all the reasons he couldn’t have her.
Castillo was in no mood for saloons. He wanted to sleep in his comfortable bed back at the Jameson Ranch for one whole night and forget the mess his life was in right now. But that fire had been a signal. He’d gone out to meet one of the hands who’d told him Zane wanted to meet him in town.
It was early in the week, but the place was busy. A sign written in chalk out front had advertised a faro tournament, so most of the tables were filled with men competing. A woman in a low-cut gown and an abundance of cosmetics played what might have been a pleasant tune on a piano in the center of the room, but Castillo’s head pounded with every chord.
A few men at the tables took in his presence inside the door, but most were too busy concentrating on the cards before them. It was just as well. Castillo was in no mood to be friendly. In fact, he might appreciate a fight tonight to ease some of the frustration threatening to boil over inside him. It was a stupid disposition to bring to a saloon, evidence that he shouldn’t be here. He wouldn’t be here if Zane hadn’t sent him a message to meet.
Castillo kept his hat on as he stepped into the room on his way to the bar in the back. He wasn’t Castillo Jameson tonight. He wasn’t even Castillo Reyes tonight. He hoped that, with his hat pulled down low, he looked just like any other straggler passing through town. Someone these men would notice just enough to avoid.
He caught sight of Zane sitting at a table in the corner and changed course. “Do you have anything?” he asked as he pulled out the chair beside his friend and sat down facing the door.
“Good evening to you, too, brother.” Zane flashed a smile that did nothing to make him look friendly and upended a shot glass, filling it with whiskey from the bottle on the table.
Castillo grunted and looked over the men around them. He didn’t expect Bennett to be there playing faro, but Castillo had made many enemies over the last few years, so he was always looking for them in places like this. “Have you found out anything?” he asked again.
Zane threw back the whiskey and the smile dropped from his face. “I think there’s a spy at Victoria House. Someone went through my room. They didn’t take anything, so I can only assume they were looking for information.”
“Money?” Castillo asked.
“I keep a hundred or so in the armoire. It was still there.”
Castillo let out a breath. “A hundred is a lot, especially for someone working at the brothel.”
“It wasn’t touched.”
Castillo grimaced at the implication. Victoria House was the most exclusive brothel in Helena. Glory Winters, the brothel’s madam, had approached Hunter for help a couple of years ago when a group of men had decided that they’d be better at running such a lucrative establishment than she would. Castillo and the gang had provided the necessary muscle to make the men realize they’d have more success in another town. Since then, Castillo and Glory had become associates of sorts, coming to each other with bits of information the other might need. He didn’t want to think of her as a traitor, but he couldn’t rule out the possibility.
“The spy either didn’t need the money or is being paid more than that.” Glory was richer than sin and, as far as he knew, was the only one in that brothel who wouldn’t be tempted by that amount of money. She was also the only one who knew about their outlaw activities. It didn’t make sense that she’d have anything to do with Derringer, but Castillo had to consider it. “Have you mentioned this to Glory?”
Zane shook his head and his jaw clenched as his gaze passed over the room. Clearly, the possibility that she was somehow in cahoots with Derringer, or whoever had ordered Zane’s room searched, had occurred to him. Zane, who knew firsthand the risks involved with loving the wrong woman, harbored a soft spot for the madam. For his sake, Castillo hoped she wasn’t a spy.
Castillo tossed back the drink and rose to his feet. “Let’s go talk to her.”
Zane nodded and followed him out. A light drizzle had begun to fall while they were inside, but Castillo didn’t hurry his steps. It was a short walk to Victoria House, and they’d need to keep their eyes open for anyone who could be following them. Castillo had given it a lot of thought and he didn’t think Bennett’s presence in the area was a coincidence. Derringer had likely figured out who he was and was hoping to take him out before Castillo found him. That was the most logical explanation.
Castillo had stabled his horse across town and left one of the men behind to keep watch. But the streets were dark in this part of town, and now that they were deserted because of the rain, he wondered if it wouldn’t be better to have another man with them. The air was thick with the smells of mud and horses. The sounds of music and revelry were partially muted behind closed doors and windows. If there was ever a time to corner them alone…this was it. Zane’s hand went to the gun hidden in the holster beneath his coat, and Castillo knew he was worried, too.
Victoria House was a three-story brick building that towered over all the other squat structures in the district, and it would’ve been at home on the reputable side of town had it not been a brothel. Castillo exchanged a look with Zane and they navigated the two blocks to reach it. Despite the mud, they kept to the street and avoided getting too close to any darkened storefronts. Part of him wanted Derringer to confront them now, just to get it over with. But a confrontation in the dark on Derringer’s terms wouldn’t be wise.
“Let’s go in the back,” Zane said and took the turn into the alley. “There’s a dinner tonight and likely to be too many people in the foyer.”
Castillo agreed and followed Zane, but they both stopped when a shadow separated itself from the dark exterior wall of the general store. As they watched, it darted across the alley to disappear around the corner of the building and down a small alley barely wide enough to walk through without turning sideways. Castillo caught Zane’s eye, who nodded and went back the way they’d come to make his way around the building and intercept the shadow at the other end. Drawing his gun, Castillo quietly headed to the corner and drew back the hammer as slowly as he could so it wouldn’t make more than a soft, metallic click. He paused when he reached the corner, his back against the brick wall and his pulse pounding in his ears.
The shadow wouldn’t be Derringer. If the man was connected to him, he’d be a lackey, but at least Castillo would be one step closer to the man. He strained to listen, but couldn’t hear anything except the steady patter of rain on cobblestones. Out of habit, he pressed his palm to the golden cross that hung on a chain around his neck, tucked inside his shirt. His mother had given it to him when he’d been a boy, telling him that it would keep him safe. It had seemed to work so far, though he was certain dodging bullets and chasing outlaws wasn’t what she’d had in mind. Nevertheless, he mouthed a prayer, not daring to speak the words aloud. When he’d waited long enough for Zane to make his way around the building to reach the other end of the narrow outlet, he yelled, “We have you trapped. Throw down your gun.”
For a full minute there was nothing and then the shadow reappeared, brandishing a scrap piece of wood that had probably been lying in the darkened alcove. Before Castillo could react, the length of wood knocked his gun out of his hand. Castillo dived forward, tackling the shadow to the ground. The man grunted at the impact when he hit the ground with Castillo’s weight on top of him, but he wasted no time in striking back, catching Castillo with a fist to his chin that left him reeling. He rolled from the impact but didn’t loosen his grip, so his assailant rolled with him.
Castillo recovered before the man could get another punch in and hit him hard with a right hook that knocked him backward. Following him down, Castillo took another hit to his cheekbone before landing enough blows to leave the man on the defensive, his hands raised to cover his face. Footsteps approached from the narrow alley, coming so fast that for a moment Castillo wasn’t sure if it was another attacker, but he turned to see Zane running out of the alley.
“There’s no one else down there,” Zane said.
Castillo turned his attention back to the man on the ground beneath him. “Who the hell are you?”
The man’s head lolled. He seemed to be only half conscious.
“Let’s get him inside before someone else comes,” Zane said. As if to emphasize his point, a wagon drove by on the main road, the driver whistling a tune though rain continued to drizzle.
Castillo nodded. “We’ll take him to Glory’s.” Though the madam wouldn’t like it, they needed somewhere to question him. Castillo took the man’s gun and rose, and Zane reached down to sling him over his shoulder. Castillo picked up the gun that had been knocked out of his hand, and together they made their way through the dark alley to the gate in the tall, wooden fence that led to the courtyard behind the brothel.
“Good. Still unlocked.” Zane kicked it open and led the way inside with his burden over his shoulder. Castillo latched it behind them and rushed up the steps to the back door.
The door led into a servant’s hallway. A girl he vaguely recognized screeched when he forced the door open and stumbled inside. She dropped the pile of linens she’d been holding and rushed away from them toward the front of the house, no doubt going to alert her mistress. That meant they’d have only a few precious moments alone with the man before Glory found them.
“This way.” Castillo led them to a storeroom off to the left and shut the door behind them. Zane set the man down onto a crate of bottled whiskey. In the light, Castillo could see the man was young, probably around twenty. The flesh around his eye was already beginning to swell, but he was alert as he looked back at them, fear making him tremble.
“Who the hell are you?” Castillo demanded.
“J-Johnson, Rob Johnson.” He gave them an insolent glare as he spat a mouthful of blood onto the wooden floor.
Zane shrugged when Castillo looked at him to see if the name meant anything to him. Castillo wasn’t able to place it amongst the lowlifes they’d met over the past several years, but then again, it wasn’t a very memorable name. “Do you know who I am?” Castillo asked.
“No, didn’t ask.” Johnson drew forward a little as he gave Castillo a closer look.
“What’s that mean?”
When Johnson just glared, Zane reached forward and grabbed a handful of his shirt, nearly pulling him all the way up to his feet. “Better start explaining yourself real quick, boy.”
Johnson’s eyes widened as he looked from Zane to Castillo and back again. “I meant that I was told to follow this one.” He nodded at Zane, who still held him. “He’s been staying at the brothel here, and I was told to watch him and follow him.”
“Who told you this?” Zane asked. “Glory?”
The man’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “Fella I met over at the Alhambra.” The Alhambra was a saloon just a few blocks over, nearer the edge of town. It was said that men went into that hellhole and never reappeared. “Gave me twenty dollars to take the job. Said he’d give me fifty if I could deliver the Spaniard to him.” He tilted his chin up toward Castillo. “You’re the Spaniard, ain’t you? The fella said he wanted you dead or alive, and the big fella here would lead me to you.”
“What man?” Castillo asked. There must’ve been something menacing in his voice, because Johnson began to quake.
Before Johnson could answer, the door swung open and Glory stood framed in the doorway. Her dark-red hair was piled artfully on her head and she was dressed like she’d just stepped from the most elegant salon in Paris in a gown of black silk with an underskirt of pinstripes in gray and white. She looked like an elegant lady, but her eyes were blazing with fury. “What are you doing?” For all its anger, her Southern accent put a cultured slant on her words.
“Do you know who this man is?” Castillo asked.
She narrowed her eyes at Castillo, as if considering if she would deign to answer him, but after a moment looked at the man Zane was still holding. “No. Now get him out of my house. All of you, out.”
Zane dropped the man, who landed hard on the wooden crate of whiskey bottles. The bottles wobbled and clinked together inside the crate. “You’re saying you didn’t hire this man to follow me?” Zane asked.
“What? No, of course not.” Glory drew herself up to her full height, which was still short of Zane’s chin even though she wore heeled shoes.
“I told you,” the man said, drawing everyone’s attention back to him. “A man hired me.”
“What is going on?” Glory demanded.
“This ass was following us. Trapped him in the alley and he attacked Cas.” Zane explained without looking away from the man. “Who hired you?”
The man shrugged. “I didn’t catch his name.”
“A man hired you to kill me and you didn’t ask his name?” Castillo raised his voice.
“Didn’t say I didn’t ask, just that I didn’t know it. He wouldn’t tell me. He paid me twenty dollars. Looked like he was good for the rest.”
“What did he look like?”
“Dressed like a dandy and had real soft hands. Talked like he was better than me. Figured he was from one of them mining companies. What’d you do to piss him off?” Now that Glory was here and obviously not on their side, Johnson seemed to have rediscovered his courage.
“What color was his hair?” Zane asked.
“Hard to tell. He was wearing a hat, but what I saw was white,” Johnson answered.
Derringer. Castillo’s blood ran cold at the confirmation. Derringer was probably in his early fifties, but he’d had a headful of the purest white hair that Castillo had ever seen. They’d figured he’d dyed it, since he was trying so hard to hide, but apparently not. It wasn’t absolute confirmation, but Castillo knew in his gut the man was Derringer.
“How were you supposed to meet him to collect your money once you had me?” Castillo asked.
“He said to ride south and he’d find me.”
Castillo nodded toward the hall and Zane turned. Johnson started to get to his feet, but Zane turned back toward him. “Sit down and stay there. We’ll be right outside the door. If you break one bottle, I’ll put a bullet through your skull.”
Johnson blanched and nodded as he sat back down. Glory backed into the hallway, and Castillo and Zane followed her out, closing the door behind them. “I don’t like this brought into my house,” Glory said as soon as the door shut. She kept her voice low so it wouldn’t travel down the hall or through the walls to the high-society gentlemen eating a late-night dinner in the various dining rooms on the ground level. “I don’t allow guns in here or men like that creature.” She jabbed a finger at the storeroom.
“Apologies.” Castillo inclined his head in mocking deference. “I had nowhere else to take the man who was trying to kill me.”
She took in a deep breath, and her voice was calmer when she spoke again. “Who is after you this time?”
Castillo debated how much to tell her. He didn’t completely trust her, but he did need her as an ally in this. “His name is Derringer. He’s the man who killed my grandfather.”
She nodded. “I haven’t heard that name before. Now I understand why Mr. Pierce has been my guest the past couple of days.”
Zane flashed her a grin. “Your charming company is always reason enough to stay.”
She rolled her eyes and pointed toward the storeroom. “You all have to go. I can’t risk the law knowing he’s here. And I can’t have you here if someone is looking for you. I’m sorry, but I have to protect the women who live here.”
“Sorry, pretty lady, we can’t leave. He stays until we know what’s going on.” Zane crossed his arms over his chest.
“You cannot stay.” She forced the words out through gritted teeth.
“You have a spy,” Castillo said. “If Zane stays he’ll help you figure out who it is.”
“I don’t have a spy,” she said.
“You do,” Zane said. “Someone went through my room.”
She sighed and crossed her arms over her chest, mimicking Zane’s stance. “That was me. I was in your room. I knew something was going on and you weren’t telling me what it was, so I went through your room to try to figure it out,” she admitted. “You should know I didn’t find anything except a sketch pad full of drawings many would consider obscene.”
Zane didn’t say anything to that, but he smiled—a real smile—the skin around his eyes crinkling.
“Let Johnson stay, Glory. Just until after the wedding, then we can move him out to the ranch. We can’t keep him there with all the guests arriving. Zane will stay here and keep an eye on him.”
“I’d be willing to offer any other…” Zane paused and allowed his gaze to travel down her body “…services you might need.”
“Keep your breeches on, cowboy.” Then she looked at Castillo. “Fine, he can stay until the wedding, but Zane watches him and is responsible for him. You pay for any damage he causes, and you owe me big after this—all of you, and that includes Hunter.” She moved her finger between them both. “Take him down to the cellar. I have to get back to my guests.”
She turned to go but stopped and turned back. “And I won’t have anyone killed here in cold blood. If he’s hurt or conveniently disappears, I will contact the sheriff.” With that, she swept down the hallway and disappeared through the door that led to the main part of the house.
“It has to be Derringer.”
“Bennett was no coincidence,” Zane agreed. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep asking around and see if I can get anything out of Johnson in there.”
Castillo nodded. “I can’t stay. Remember the girl from the train? She’s a Hartford. She was at the ranch when I got there.”
Zane cursed under his breath. “She recognized you, I assume?”
“Yes. It’s a long story, but now I have to pretend to be a suitor so she won’t tell anyone.”
At this confession, Zane threw his head back and laughed. Castillo didn’t find it particularly funny, but something about the laughter was contagious and he chuckled.
“That’s rich, brother.” When he finally stopped laughing, Zane said, “Can’t wait for the whole story. I hope you know what you’re doing.”
Castillo wanted to say that he did, but he couldn’t. The truth was that Carolina had barely left his thoughts the entire ride into town, and—if he was honest—he was looking forward to seeing her tomorrow. Instead of commenting on that, he said, “I need to get back to the ranch and let the boys know what’s happening.”
Zane nodded. “Let me know if you need my help.”
“Many thanks, as always, brother.” Castillo clasped his arm and then made his way through the large house. Since he didn’t have a captive with him, he took the hallway to the front door. He’d rather walk the main road and avoid dark alleyways for the rest of the night.
Unfortunately, there was a group of men in the foyer, looking as if they’d just arrived for a bit of late-night entertainment. They were taking off their coats and handing hats dripping rain to a couple of maids. Castillo barely spared them a glance, as he had no time for conversation tonight and he’d not spent enough time in Helena to make social acquaintances.
The butler murmured “Good night, Mr. Jameson,” as he opened the door for him. At the words, one of the new arrivals swung his head around as if recognizing the name. Castillo caught a glimpse of light brown hair and a thin, pale face. He didn’t recognize the man, so he kept walking. He needed to ride home tonight and meet with the men about increasing the numbers on watch.