Outlaw Moon Read online

  “Gideon’s going to assume we’re in this together, since you told him we’re old friends,” he continued in a gentle yet firm voice, “and between your white show horse and my trained dog, we’re as easy to spot as two circus performers at a wake. Much as I like you, Amber, we’ll have to split up to decrease our chances of getting caught. It’s the only way.”

  Her crestfallen expression stabbed at his heart. “But—well, maybe we should get rid of Maude and Miss—”

  “No!” The sudden fury in his voice surprised him, and Jack looked away in agitation. “We’ve been through too much together, Maudie and me. She’d come after me, no matter how dangerous it was, and the only way to stop her would be to—well, I couldn’t do it. The dog stays.”

  Amber had witnessed a startling range of emotions on Rafferty’s lean face: fierce protectiveness, anguish, and a love so intense she wondered if this outlaw had ever stood up so staunchly for a human. Would he defend her if the need arose?

  She sighed. “Where’d you figure on going?”

  “Canada. It’s the only place I’ll be free now.” Even as he answered, he knew he shouldn’t have. He felt her pulse beneath his hands, saw the fear on her face as she pondered striking out alone—even though that had apparently been her original plan. But he couldn’t fall for her defenseless, forlorn expression.

  “So maybe you should get off at the next station,” he continued. “Change trains—change direction, and take up in a new town under a new name. Still plenty of places they’ll never find you, Amber. Places you could make a life for yourself.”

  She hated the way her lip was quivering. Suddenly her exhaustion, and her frustrations over Gideon, and now her dashed hopes about Rafferty, were taking their toll. Amber rose unsteadily to her feet to escape his gaze, hardening herself against words that might soon fly between them like poisoned arrows. “I...I don’t have a lot of money,” she stated, “and when I saw you in here, I thought maybe if I could share your car for just a few—”

  “I’m not paying your way, Amber! You should’ve thought about your expenses before—”

  “I didn’t ask you to!” she fired back. Amber pivoted to glare at him, hurt yet proud, unaware of how her anger made her all the more glorious as she stood a few feet away from him. “I can support myself, thank you! I’ve already met some men on this train who’ll empty their pockets when I hustle them—”

  “I just bet they will!”

  “—at monte or poker, or tell their fortunes,” she went on. Amber placed a hand on one hip and jabbed the air with her finger. “You men are all alike—lucky for me! You assume that because I wiggle when I walk, all I’m good for is—”

  “And what if they play but don’t pay?” Jack countered. “What if they sic the conductor on you for lewd and indecent behavior, now that Thomas has probably informed them you’re a wild woman who chases after trains for my money?”

  “I’ll pick their pockets.”

  “What?” Rafferty grimaced as he stood up on his bruised feet, unable to believe she’d given that answer with such a straight face. “Is this a warning to me—what they call ‘honor among thieves’? You’re worse than I am, woman!”

  Amber rolled her eyes. “You wouldn’t think so if you knew how often those wealthy old pigs snatch their money off my table, when my predictions don’t suit them. It’s easy, really. They stuff the bills in their coat pockets and stalk out. I slip out the back of my tent and wait until they’re standing in a crowd at one of the sideshows. Then I just brush into them.

  “They’re usually too absorbed in the scam onstage to feel a thing—and if they do glance down, they see my smile and my cleavage, rather than their money disappearing. I’m only taking what’s mine. It would work the same way on a train.”

  Rafferty shook his head as he realized just how well this lace-edged little schemer could use every asset she had to its fullest advantage. Those assets were only an arm’s length away ... it would be so easy to coax her into bed and sample the talents she undoubtedly relied upon when she needed cash but didn’t have her marked cards handy.

  But that thought was a prime example of the way Amber LaBelle was lowering his resistance, hustling him as she did her customers, with her effortless, sloe-eyed charm.

  He cleared his throat. “You’re leaving, Amber, because it’s best for both of us. And once you’re dressed and through that door, honey, you won’t get in here again.”

  “Fine,” she retorted, realizing that this argument was getting her nowhere. Rafferty was every bit as unlovable as he said he was, and she should’ve listened. “I’ll put my clothes back on, and march the length of the train announcing that there’s a wanted murderer back here, and that I’ll share the reward money with whoever ties you up and delivers you to the law. Even with my split, I won’t have to worry about money again for a long while. If that’s my thanks for saving you and your dog—”

  “You wouldn’t!”

  “Wouldn’t I?” Amber swayed past him to retrieve her clothes from beneath his bed. “Sounds like the easiest money I ever made! Why didn’t I think of it before, instead of being so damn nice?”

  The squeal of the brakes and the slowing of the train made Rafferty think again. They were still in Nebraska, where he was on a lot of posters, and the telegraph operator at this next depot could have a marshal here pronto to haul him in. Perhaps he should humor her . . . eluding that big, blue-eyed detective sounded preferable to being fitted for a noose tomorrow. And the set of Amber’s jaw told him she could incite men to swarm all over him without batting an eye. She was a woman who bore watching. In more ways than one.

  “Amber, I ... I carry on sometimes,” he said with a chuckle—but he moved to block the door, just in case. “I’ve got nothing against sharing my quarters with you for as far as the train goes—”

  “I’ll pay for my meals and half your fare.”

  “No need—no need!” he said, grinning broadly at her. “If you tend to your business and I tend to mine, we’ll make pretty fair partners in crime, actually. You’re just as underhanded as I am, Amber, and I admire that in a woman! Just takes a little getting used to, is all.”

  Amber smiled sweetly at him. He was indeed underhanded—might try to toss her out anywhere between here and Canada—but at least he was taking her seriously now. She let her blouse slither off the tips of her fingers, watching the hope rise in his dark, unsettling eyes.

  “All right, partner,” she purred, “we share this car and our expenses—and I will earn my keep handily, Rafferty—and we’ll probably share a few secrets and dreams along the way. But there’s one thing we won’t share.”

  “What’s that?” he breathed. Now that she was being reasonable, he realized he could do a lot worse than share a luxurious private Pullman with an exotic beauty like Amber LaBelle.

  “The bed. It’s all mine.” And before he could argue, she whistled for Maude to jump up and join her in it.

  “Well I’ll be damned,” he muttered. The two of them snuggled up beneath the sheets, thicker than thieves—which proved how fickle females of any species could be.

  “Sweet dreams, Jack,” Amber breathed. “And if you wake me up, you’ll be sorry. Real sorry.”

  “Well I’ll be—” Rafferty let out a tired sigh. He could either stand here on his aching feet, getting more aroused by the minute as he thought of the conniving, beautiful woman in his bed, or he could catch some shut-eye and change her mind when they were both rested.

  He limped over to the loveseat and curled up as best he could on its hard, curved cushions. Even so, his feet hung over the end. This would not do for the rest of the trip north—and that woman would learn to compromise, to take what he was so willing to give her!

  The thought made him smile, and as he drifted off he had visions of making those bloomers and her camisole disappear. Sweet dreams, indeed.

  Chapter 9

  Jack awoke with amorous intentions, but was immediately disappointed. No
t only was the bed empty, but it was neatly made up and Amber had left the car—with Maude! He sat up too quickly, groaning when his muscles cried out from sleeping on the uncomfortable loveseat. Any woman who’d steal her lover’s horse and jewelry would think nothing of disappearing with another man’s dog, so he’d better dress and be on her trail before—

  But her clothes were hanging beside his in the carved armoire, her carpetbags stashed behind his boots. He had no idea how she’d smuggled them in here, but a whiff of her mysterious perfume lingered to settle him down: Miss LaBelle would be back.

  He ran his fingers through the folds of her colorful skirts and lovely silk blouses, thinking she’d have been better off to stay with the cocky little showman who’d probably purchased these pretty clothes for her. Lord knows he couldn’t provide her with such finery, and a few days together in these intimate quarters would convince her that Jack Rafferty had little to offer her as a traveling companion, either. He sighed at the thought, regretting for the thousandth time the drunken, split-second brutality that had ended a whore’s life and altered his own forever. This cabinet space, and maybe a few hours of pleasure in this bed, were all they were fated to share.

  When Amber came through the door preceded by his collie, however, his gloomy mood lightened. The palm reader rustled in wearing a shimmering outfit of gold taffeta that flattered her olive complexion, and her secretive smile told him she’d been up to some productive mischief.

  “Brought you some supper,” she said lightly, “and after Maude tended to her business, we took a little tour of the train. It’s going to be a rare and lovely evening—a night of glory and fortune! I can feel the power streaking though my veins, and I’m ready!”

  Rafferty was going to remark about that gypsy mumbo jumbo she was spouting, yet he held back. With her eyes sparkling like the golden chains she wore around her neck, Miss LaBelle probably would coax the cash out of several pockets tonight and he had no room to make light of her talents. “I take it you’ve lined up a few suckers for some entertainment?”

  “Damn right! I knew when I came on board there’d be some willing victims,” she said with a sly chuckle, “but who could’ve guessed there’d be twenty of them, touring together to promote their livestock products? Hayseeds in suits, on a lark their company’s paying for! God, how I love conventions!”

  Rafferty had to laugh as he removed the silver dome from the plate she’d set on the table. “Your enthusiasm for your work warms me almost as much as your ceaseless greed, Amber. I’d like to be a mouse in the corner when you take these fellows on.”

  “Really?” She sat down across from him and deftly riffled through a deck of cards as she studied him thoughtfully. Jack was once again amazed at her nimble movements—especially since she was paying no attention to the lightning speed at which the cards flitted from one hand to the other. “That might not be such a bad idea, Rafferty. What’re you doing tonight?”

  Jack couldn’t admit that he hoped to be peeling her clothes off her, so he cut into his beefsteak. “Gee, I don’t know,” he teased. “Maude and I usually read in the evenings—to keep abreast of current events and cultivate some culture, you know. What’d you have in mind?”

  Sincerely doubting a handsome devil like Rafferty spent many nights alone, she laughed. “Your presence might be an advantage,” she replied in a calculating tone. “I’ve invited these yokels to the parlor car at nine for some palm reading and fortunes, and I’ve given Thomas a little incentive to stiffen up their drinks. Your porter friend told me some things about these men—where they’re from, what they sell, which ones’re married, and who’s in charge. I figure we’ll play these parlor games tonight, and perhaps some poker tomorrow. By then they’ll be primed to let go of their life savings! It’ll be fun you won’t want to miss!”

  Rafferty swallowed a large bite of his buttered potato. “But what’ll I be doing? They know I’m not part of their group.”

  “They also know about your uh, crazed state, and that we travel together,” she replied demurely. “Just sit in the corner with a drink and keep your ears open. Listen for tidbits I can use later, and if they ask you any questions—about private readings, say—you can make the arrangements.”

  He nearly choked on a bread crust. “You’re asking me to be your pimp?”

  “Absolutely not!” Amber smacked the deck onto the table top to emphasize her point. Yet her lips thinned into a catlike grin. “But it won’t hurt for them to think that’s the sort of session they’re getting, will it? Knowing I’m your companion will make the prospect that much more enticing to them, and panthers on the prowl make for poor card players. I’ll clean them out, Rafferty. They won’t be able to afford their next meal, much less a private meeting with me.”

  “And what’s in it for your old sex-crazed friend?”

  “Ten percent of my take. How about it?”

  He snickered, already envisioning this sly huckstress at her work. “I’d be silly to turn down a sure thing, wouldn’t I?”

  “Damn right!” she crowed, and she reached over to squeeze his arm. “You’re a sport, Jack. I’ll feel a lot safer with you in there, defending me if those cock-and-bull cowboys get rowdy. You might even earn yourself a private session with Madame LaBelle.”

  Jack raised an eyebrow. “Cock-and-bull cowboys? Thought you said they were salesmen.”

  “They are,” she replied impishly. “And they hawk products that have to do with breeding and animal husbandry. Think of the jokes you’ll hear after they drink a bit.”

  Rolling his eyes, Rafferty realized that the sort of session he’d been dreaming of was unlikely, busy as Amber would be these next couple days, yet the prospect of watching such an attractive con artist in action was an opportunity not to be missed. He glanced at the clock on the night table. “All right then, I’ll bathe and get suited up so I can arrive in the parlor car a little early. Never hurts to have your shill read the room before you make your entrance.”

  “That’s the spirit.”

  “And then,” he continued, rising from his chair to brush her temple with a kiss, “I’ll watch you fleece those farm boys and count my money, honey—but I don’t want my pay in cold, hard cash. Something warm and soft and willing would suit me better. You know what I’m saying?”

  Amber felt her color rising when the outlaw flashed her a mischievous wink. He’d done it again—turned one of her schemes to his own advantage! As he slipped behind the Japanese screen that concealed a small bathtub, she realized the sort of payment he was hinting at had been fluttering in the back of her mind since Jack first appeared in her tent. She pushed her erotic thoughts even further back at the furtive sounds of his undressing, because such notions could ruin her concentration at all the wrong times!

  But when his long Johns flopped over the top of the screen, she could no more deny her yearnings than she could stop breathing. Jack Rafferty was in her blood, an even sharper need than challenging the uppity, moneyed men she met each evening. He was so perfectly proportioned, so witty yet sadly magnetic when he spoke of his past. And when he peeked around the screen, her heart scampered like a squirrel.

  “Amber, my dear, I need your help,” he said, rakishly wagging his dark eyebrows at her.

  “H-how’s that?”

  “Seems I have no bath water. Do you suppose you could get Thomas to bring me some?”

  “Why, certainly!” she gasped, relieved that his request would take her out of these close quarters where a nude man was flirting with her. “I—we’ll be right back!”

  “I’ll be waiting,” he said with a low, baritone chuckle. “And if I sit just so in this tub, there’ll be room for both of us to enjoy a little—”

  She slammed the door against his shameless innuendo and leaned on it to catch her breath. The wind out here was nothing compared to the wild emotions howling like a hurricane in her heart. Jack wanted her—expected her—as his reward, and if he weren’t so damned hard to say no to—
r />   But she must. Because Amber knew that once Rafferty claimed her that way, all rational thought would cease to exist. And for a lady con artist, that was a fate worse than being held accountable by twenty randy, liquored-up men in the breeding business.

  Rafferty lit one of the fine, thin cigars he’d found in the pocket of the pin-striped suit and sat back to watch the evening unfold. Thomas was setting up the parlor car’s lavish bar and approached his corner table with a faceted crystal decanter.

  “Yo’ tea, sir,” he said in a low voice. “Sure I cain’t get you nothin’ stronger?”

  “Positive. You’re a prince, Thomas.” Jack pulled a bill from his back pocket as the porter poured some of the amber liquid into a snifter. “This ‘brandy’ will keep me alert, in case any of these men get the wrong idea about Amber as she tells their fortunes. If you overhear any of them plotting to take advantage of her, I trust you’ll tell me?”

  “Oh, yessir! Cain’t have nothin’ nasty happenin’ to a nice lady like Miss Amber!” he replied. “Cain’t wait to see ’er lead them salesmen around by their—”

  When the car’s door opened to admit three of the men in question, the porter gave him a sly wink and returned to his post at the mahogany bar. “What’ll it be for you gents this fine evenin’?” he called out in a sing-song. “Sure as I’s standin’ here, it’s gonna be yo’ lucky night!”

  Madame LaBelle knew how to play up to the various kinds of customers she dealt with, and Thomas, too, was aware that flashing his pearly grin would earn him bigger tips from well-heeled passengers who felt themselves superior to him. The porter’s immaculate white jacket concealed a muscular build, however, and Jack sensed the man would drop his step-and-fetch-it act the moment these loud-talking revelers pushed him too far.