Diablo (23 page)

Perhaps the more information he could provide Masters, the more slack the man would give him. A couple of months. Just a couple of damned months and he could probably hand over Sanctuary without a shot.

Hildebrand picked three other men for the game, and they found a table. Kane discovered that his luck had returned. His cards were not just good, they were a gambler's dream. No matter what he did, what risks he took, he won and kept on winning. One by one, grumbling men left the table, everyone but Hildebrand.

“All or nothing?” the man said, his eyes as cold as a snake's. “Turn of a card?”

Kane was developing a real dislike for Hildebrand, but he didn't need another enemy—God knew he had enough of them—and his intuition told him that he would win again. He always did when he ran a streak. In cards, anyway. “You're crazy,” he said. “I can't lose tonight.”

“I want to see how much guts you have,” Hildebrand said. “Scared?”

“There must be two thousand dollars there,” Kane said. “You got money to throw away?”

“I got enough. I'm going to get more,” Hildebrand said. “What's the matter, Diablo? I thought you were a man who liked taking risks.”

It was a taunt. Kane was being baited and he knew it. He also suspected he knew why. No one had said anything about his visits to Thompson's home, but he'd sensed a growing resentment in the past few days. The other guests might not know for certain, but they suspected he'd been chosen to stay at Sanctuary. And they didn't like it.

“It's your risk,” Kane shrugged.

Hildebrand lowered his voice slightly. “I take it you decided to refuse my offer?”

“I don't like banks,” Kane said, remembering Hildebrand's earlier proposal.

“I changed my mind,” Hildebrand said. “I have something closer in mind.”

Those warning bells started ringing in Kane's head again. They were getting real familiar. Too damn familiar. He felt like a man running through a battlefield targeted by a thousand cannons. Every time he dodged one ball, he was running straight toward another incoming one.

Kane shrugged his indifference. “I have plans of my own.”

“Mind saying what they are?”

“Yeah,” he said. “You want this deal or not?”

Hildebrand smiled. It was a cold smile. “Go ahead. I trust you.”

He didn't, not worth a owl's hoot, but Kane didn't care. He shuffled and laid the deck on the table. “You first.”

Hildebrand put his fingers on the deck, then lifted about a third of it, showing a king of hearts at the bottom. He grinned.

Kane studied the deck for a moment, then lifted a few cards of the remaining two-thirds. They both saw it at the same time. Ace of spades.

“You have the devil's own luck,” Hildebrand said.

“Sometimes.” Kane gathered in the pot of money and asked the barkeep to send it to the hotel for him. Six months ago, he would have been elated. Now he didn't care. It wasn't going to do him a damn bit of good where he was going. But he wouldn't let Hildebrand know that. He smiled, and he knew it was every bit as cold a movement of lips as Hildebrand's own.

They were surrounded now, the other “guests” drawn by the high stakes. Kane moved, pushing his chair out and getting to his feet. “It was a pleasure, Hildebrand.”

Hildebrand smiled. It wasn't pleasant. “Have a nice trip, Diablo.”

Kane nodded and moved toward the door. It had been a mistake coming here. Despite the glasses of whiskey he'd consumed during the game, he felt as sober as a teetotaler. Something was happening. He could feel it. He'd been tested for some reason, and he wasn't sure whether he had passed or failed.

He ran over his options for the rest of the evening—there were damned few—and headed toward the stable. At least, he could control his horse. And that seemed about the only thing he could control.

Andy was gone, and as he saddled the gray, he thought about how he would lose him soon, too. The horse belonged to Masters, just as he did.

The horse needed no urging to move into a gallop, obviously as restless as Kane felt. Together, they rode away from Sanctuary and, Kane hoped, toward a few hours of comparative peace. He was only too aware that he might be back in a cell in a few days, waiting again, along with Davy, for a rope. He hadn't succeeded in the task given him; he still didn't know the exact location of Sanctuary. He was risking everything on the chance that Masters would give him more time, and Masters had not seemed like a man prone to lengthening a chain once he had a man on it.

Nicky watched from her window. She'd almost given up. Kane had been in the saloon for hours. Just as she was about to give up and close the curtains, she saw him. He didn't even look toward the house, nor toward Rosita's, but moved with that lean grace toward the livery.

She waited until she saw him ride out, then quietly left her room. The main room was dark and empty. Her uncle had not appeared after leaving the table, and she imagined Robin was in bed. Wherever they were, she was grateful she didn't have to make explanations.

Nicky hurried down to the livery. She didn't bother to saddle her mare, but led the horse out, closed the door, and, gripping the horse's mane, she vaulted up on Molly's back. Kane had headed toward the stream. To where they had made love? Without looking backward, she headed after him.

Hildebrand watched Diablo leave the saloon. He still wasn't sure whether the outlaw was a possible ally. He did know two things: the man had guts and was lucky. Those were two commodities Hildebrand valued.

He didn't mind losing the money. His life had been spent finding and losing large sums of money. The challenge was what appealed to him.

Right now, the challenge was taking over Sanctuary.

He had discussed the possibility with the Yancy brothers. Unfortunately, one had acted precipitously. Damn fool. Hildebrand didn't trust too many men at Sanctuary. Hell, he didn't trust anyone. He needed, though, someone smart and ambitious but perhaps not as smart and ambitious as himself. He wasn't sure whether Diablo fit in that space.

Hildebrand knew, though, that he couldn't take Sanctuary by himself. He just wondered what Diablo's motives were, the way he had been bootlicking Thompson. Hildebrand went to the door of the saloon and looked out, wondering whether Diablo was going to Rosita's. Instead, he saw Diablo ride out of the livery. Just as he was pondering that, he saw Miss High-and-Mighty Thompson slip from her house and make for the livery. Several minutes later, she rode out.

Was that it? Was she going to meet Diablo? Was that Diablo's interest? Or did he have more—like Sanctuary itself? If so, the two of them were going to clash. He reminded himself that Diablo was leaving, but that just didn't ring true, not with all his visits to Thompson's house and the girl riding out to meet him.

He immediately made a decision. He went to the livery, saddled his horse and rode out in the same direction the girl had taken. If she wasn't meeting Diablo, maybe she might be interested in a little play. If she
was
meeting the outlaw, perhaps he could learn exactly what was going on between Diablo and Nat Thompson.

Kane trotted alongside the stream for a while. He paused at the place where he and Nicky had made love, remembering, wishing. But not hoping. He had few hopes now, and none for himself.

In his mind's eye, he saw her there in his shirt: lithe and young and lovely, her brown eyes misty with wonder and her mouth crooked in a delighted smile. God, he'd wanted her. He still wanted her. He would always want her. He hadn't realized he could love like this, that the longing could run so deep.

Davy loved his Martha like that. He remembered the looks they exchanged, the touches between them. But Kane had never thought he would have anything like that kind of … belonging. Of giving.

Kane shook away the memory. He turned away from the spot, unable to bear even another minute of memories. He was just turning back toward Sanctuary when a sudden thought brought him to a halt. He remembered what Nicky said about a secret way in and out of Sanctuary. This was his last chance to find it.

He guided the horse toward the wall of the valley. He had searched it before and found nothing, but he hadn't known then that there was a secret way through the mountains. It had to be a cave. He'd found no other breaks in the mountains other than those already heavily guarded. He knew he was engaged in a fool's task. He could probably search for months, even years, without finding the hidden path. But he had to try.

Kane circled the north part of the valley wall. The moon was laced by clouds and only occasionally lit the earth beneath. He stayed carefully in the shadows, looking for anything unusual: a bush that shouldn't exist, a trail so faint none but the best tracker could find it. But where the dim moonlight protected him, it also protected the secrets of Sanctuary.

He started back, the trail taking him close to the stream, too close. He couldn't afford sentimentality. He couldn't endure the lacerations it tore in his heart. Still, he found himself heading back to that spot as if driven by some invisible force.

Chapter Fifteen

Nicky approached the clearing alongside the stream cautiously. She had lived at Sanctuary long enough to know it wasn't wise to sneak up on a gunslinger. She didn't see Kane, but the trees provided some shelter, and the night was dark. It was really too dark, she knew, to be riding safely.

She dismounted and walked Molly to the spot where she and Kane had made love, dropping the mare's reins, knowing that she wouldn't wander far. Nicky stood listening for a moment, trying to stave off disappointment that Kane wasn't there. She had hoped, rather than expected, that this was the place she would find him. And now she felt a bitter disappointment that she was wrong. Did she know him at all?

She simply had to see him before he left, even if she had to sneak into the hotel. She had to know if she meant anything at all to him—or if she had imagined that, too.

“Where are you?” she whispered to the night.

As if in answer, she heard Molly neigh a welcome, and she knew a rider was approaching. Then she heard the soft clump of hoofbeats against the earth. Her pulse quickened. She went totally still. But no one rode here at night except Kane; the others were too busy whoring, gambling, and drinking. Still, an edge of fear ran down her spine, and she realized how foolish she had been. She hadn't brought a rifle. She hadn't even stopped long enough to grab the tiny derringer.

A figure materialized out of the night and instantly she knew it wasn't Kane. Another man—he sat a horse well enough, but his silhouette against the dark sky was heavier than Kane's and he rode slumped in the saddle. Molly was several feet away, and Nicky took the few steps to her side. Just as she started for the reins, the mare backed a few steps away.

“Waiting for someone?” the man on horseback said. Just then a cloud moved to reveal the moon, and in the sudden shaft of light, she identified the newcomer.

“Mr. Hildebrand.” She moved toward the horse again, the encounter with Yancy still fresh in her mind. This time, though, she had no weapons.

He wouldn't dare try anything, she told herself. But Yancy had. Something was happening in Sanctuary. The myth of Nat Thompson was fading. Refusing to let her apprehension show, she moved deliberately toward Molly, crooning softly to quiet her.

She kept her voice low, her movements slow—not only because she didn't want to scare off the mare, but because to show fear to a man like Hildebrand was to invite attack. The realization that he must have followed her only made the fear grow stronger.

She reached out her hand and, this time, she gripped Molly's mane. Moving to the horse's side, she got ready to leap to her back.

“Can I help you, Miss Thompson?” Hildebrand had dismounted and was moving toward her.

“No,” she said shortly, not wanting Hildebrand's hands on her. He wasn't an ugly man, yet there was something reptilian about him.

“But I insist,” he said, his voice low and threatening. He was close enough to touch her.

Nicky shuddered involuntarily. She knew she had been incredibly foolish to come out here without a weapon. But she'd not been thinking about anything but Kane, and she'd expected to meet him here. Now she was alone, without a weapon, with a very dangerous man.

“All right,” she said, knowing she wouldn't win this contest by denying the fact that his strength was greater than hers. And once on Molly, she could make a run for it. “Thank you,” she added, trying to keep her voice calm.

But he didn't move. “Do you come here often, Miss Thompson—Nicky?”

“Often enough,” she replied.

“Meeting someone?”

“No.”

“It's dangerous to go riding at night.” His voice was a purr, but there was nothing soft about it.

“I have a gun,” she bluffed.

His hand went to her waist and moved along her trousers, then her shirt. “I don't think so,” he said. “Maybe you wanted someone to come riding after you. I suppose you get lonely here.”

“No,” she said, cringing from his touch.

“Not even for Diablo?”

Her heart slammed against her ribcage. There was a malevolent edge to the question. “No,” she said. “My uncle would kill anyone who touched me.”

“Maybe once upon a time,” he said. “I think he's slowing down.”

“Keep thinking that,” she said, “and I'll dance at your funeral.”

Hildebrand's hand came up and touched her cheek. The action was meant to be provocative, but it wasn't. It was … abhorrent.

She stood absolutely still, afraid to move, afraid to give him cause to continue. “My uncle is expecting me home. I would be grateful if you help me mount.”

“Tell me more about Diablo first,” he said.

She turned and wrapped her fingers in Molly's mane, ready to try to mount herself, but his hands went around her waist and jerked her to him. “Now that's not polite,” he complained. “I bet you don't run from Diablo.”