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His stomach tightened every time he thought of any member of the Archer family. They were the same bunch
who tried to kill his sister-in-law, Mariah, the same clan that swore to destroy the Beckers, and the same
gang that nearly ended his own life.
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Reed forbade himself from touching the ugly scar at the base of his throat. He knew he recognized that Eric
fellow. He was kin to Ames and Sierra Archer.
How could he be so blind?
Hell! How had Deli Gold kept him so occupied as to not notice? And more than that, had she done it on
purpose?
Reed shook his head. He couldn't put two thoughts together, at least not two sane thoughts. He didn't need
verification that Eric Archer had a role in getting rid of Deli. That was the Archer's way, always at the bottom
of something.
Who did Eric think he fooled with his sashaying walk and refined vocabulary? Looking after Deli, he'd said.
Reed clenched his jaw. He'd find out exactly what Eric wanted from her before sun down. He had more than
enough time.
Steering Matthew's old mare into the wide barren road through the center of town, Reed switched his gaze to
the left then to the right. Now aware of Eric's presence kept the hairs on the back on his neck raised. Surely,
he'd be ambushed at any moment.
Narrowing his eyes, Reed stopped in front of Chestnut's Place. He scanned the bright red sign that appeared to
be the only upkeep Chestnut did for the two-story building. Dull voices buzzed to his ears from within the
foul establishment.
Coming to his senses, Reed dismounted and slapped the mare's reins over the hitching post across the front of
the walkway. He lifted his jaw a notch and ignored the tinge of guilt Deli had laid upon him before he'd left.
She had been right about one thing. Eric did not appear capable of dirtying his hands to so much as slap a fly
away from his face. Although knowing what he knew about Eric's brother and sister, Reed found it hard to
believe that completely true.
He pushed through the saloon doors and stood just out of their way as they slapped into place and came to a
stand still. The kid behind the bar didn't bother to look up. No one did.
Shrugging his way through two men in a heated debate, Reed reached the bar. "Hey, kid."
The young bartender lifted his hand, waving Reed to wait.
Impatient, Reed tapped his fingers. If the kid had been a day past boyhood, he would've given him a word or
two, and it wouldn't have been kind.
"What'll it be," the kid finally said.
"I'm looking for Eric Archer," Reed answered, his composure withering.
"That's mighty nice to know."
"How about telling me where I can find him?"
"You didn't say that," the kid said too smartly.
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"Is he here?"
"Archer? Here?" He shook his head and swiped his nose on the back of his hand. "Why the hell would he be
here in the middle of the day?"
Reed leaned forward so as to get a better look at the boy whose chest scarcely reached the bar. "How about
telling me where I can find him?"
Giving Reed his back, the kid emptied a shot glass, swiped it with a filthy cloth, then slid it back under the
bar. "I expect he's at his place of business."
"And that would be...?"
"Across the way."
Reed glanced over his shoulder and stared passed the top of the half doors. Vaguely, he could make out a line
of shops.
He turned back to the kid who had resumed cleaning glasses with the dirty towel. Reed narrowed his eyes and
inspected the boy's stringy brown hair and close-set eyes. He looked more intent than most the criminals
Reed and Matthew tracked, but not nearly as dangerous.
"What're ya lookin' at," the kid said, not looking up.
"Shouldn't you be in school?"
"We all should be doing something," the kid said. He jabbed his thumb into his chest and added, "Darrell
Martin's place is right smack behind the bar. I'm the youngest 'tender for miles around, an' people respect me."
Not buying the tough demeanor, Reed slowly nodded. "How old are you kid?"
"Twelve. Going on thirteen. And I ain't no kid."
"Oh, I can tell," Reed said in the same voice he would use on a three year old, a voice that earned him a scowl
from Darrell. "So, you say Ames...I mean Eric is across the street?"
"That's what I said."
Reed stepped away from the bar and gave Darrell a wide smile. "Thanks, kid."
He pushed his way through the same two arguing men he'd encountered on his way in, though they appeared
to be the best of friends now. One of them went as far as patting Reed on the back as if they were long lost
comrades.
Reed shrugged off the touch and took a long step to escape the stench of whiskey-burnt tongues and
unwashed teeth. How could Deli stand it?
Stepping into the street, he scanned the opposing buildings and crossed the dirt road. Archer's "establishment"
stood out as crisp and clean as he did over at Chestnut's Place. Reed paused in front of it. This could evolve
into a mistake that might ruin a good man's reputation or end his life.
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The calmness he now felt disappointed Reed. He wanted Archer. Any of them. They needed to pay for what
they'd done. But his initial rage had dissipated.
He never should've stopped to talk to Darrell. He'd given himself too much time calm.
Reed paused and eyed the clear glass door that read: Eric Archer, Entrepreneur.
Entrepreneur? Of what?
Reed shook his head and opened the door. A tinkling bell, sounding more like the arrival of a lovely fairy,
rang above his ears. Suspicious, he glanced around the room. The solid wood floors shone like morning dew
and spread to the walls and ceiling.
Reed spun in a slow circle, not quite sure of what to make of the place, and not particularly caring for the
feeling of being boxed in.
He took a back step toward the door then paused.
Pitiful. He'd have to get a hold of this aggravating fear.
Scoffing himself, Reed smiled and walked to the single desk in the corner of the quaint room. As if they had
been prepared as a display not to be touched, a stack of books, their edges entirely lined, set on the corner of
the dark wood desk. A sheet of paper, completely blank, had been centered in the middle. Reed knew he
could've measured it and found it set perfectly in the center. Behind the desk and just off to the side, a
rectangle doorway led to a second room.
Reed leaned forward and peaked into it from afar.
He dropped his attention to the stack of books and resisted the temptation of opening one.
"If you'd give me just a moment..." Eric's clear voice said from the back room. The clickety-clack of his shoes
echoed throughout the entire place.
"What the hell am I doing here?" Reed murmured.
Just because this man shared Ames Archer's name, didn't mean they shared the same blood, or the same heart.
"Why, Mr. Becker," Eric chirped, coming through the doorway with his hand extended. "What a pleasure it is
to have you visiting my place of business." He took Reed's hand and gave it a soft, gentlemanly shake.
"Please, why don't you join me? Although, I am positive it's safe to assume you happened upon my
establishment by chance." He paused and glanced hopefully up at Reed. "Or perhaps, you're interested in
doing business?" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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