Renee Ryan (13 page)

“How very noble of you,” she muttered. At least, that’s what he thought she said.

Hard to tell with the blood rushing in his ears.

What would he do if another man sought her favor?

Nothing. He would do nothing.

They might have shared a moment of intimacy in this room, one he would never forget, but she’d made it clear, on several occasions, what she wanted in life. Permanence, respectability, a decent man to cherish her into old age.

He could give her none of those things, not without the risk of hurting her in the future.

He hated to see her stiff posture, hated knowing he’d been the cause of her discomfort. He wanted to see her smile again, to watch her eyes crinkle in amusement at something he said.

He wanted her to know he cared.

Perhaps that explained why he took her hand and placed it against his heart. “The Lord brought us together for a reason, no matter how temporary. It’s up to us to figure out what comes next. I’m willing to do the work. Are you?”

She answered without hesitation. “Yes.”

They stood staring at one another. The moment should have been charged with tension. Oddly enough, it wasn’t.

And he knew why.

With Annabeth, everything felt exactly right, even when everything should be all wrong.

Dangerous, dangerous territory.

Chapter Thirteen

E
yes checking the perimeter of the property, Hunter arrived at Mattie’s brothel just as the sun disappeared behind the mountains. The startling array of pinks and oranges was an awe-inspiring end of the day, one usually set aside for rest.

He wasn’t surprised the Sabbath had no meaning on this side of town. The vulgar revelry seeping out of every establishment told its own tale. He considered leaving and returning in the morning, but his conversation with Mattie couldn’t wait another day.

Hunter had made a drastic mistake this afternoon. He’d let himself have too much free rein in Annabeth’s company. Kissing her had been a bad idea. He’d known that from the start. Still, when he’d held her in his arms and stared into her beautiful eyes, he’d forgotten all about honor and duty and the man he was trying to become.

Now, he had nothing but regret.

He suddenly wanted to punch a wall, to howl in frustration, to do something drastic.

No, that was the man he used to be. The new Hunter surrendered his destructive impulses to the Lord.

Praying for control, he set his jaw at a determined angle and entered Mattie’s brothel.

One of the girls approached him, hips swaying, intent in her heavy-lidded gaze. He stopped her pursuit with a firm shake of his head.

Frowning, she switched directions. The moment she was out of sight, Jack appeared on the other side of the parlor. He met Hunter halfway across the room. “Not another step.”

Hunter blew out a hiss. “I don’t want any trouble. Just tell Mattie I need to see her immediately.”

“Sorry, Hunter, not tonight.”

Here we go again.
Praying for patience, he swept his gaze around the room then set out once again.

Jack stopped him with a palm to his chest.

Stone-cold still, Hunter dropped a pointed glare at the other man’s hand. “Out of my way.” He lowered his voice to a deadly whisper. “Now.”

To his credit, Jack didn’t flinch. He did, however, drop his hand and step back. “She’s entertaining a personal friend.”

Possible.

All right, probable.

Hunter paused.

Barging into the middle of one of Mattie’s private sessions would only antagonize her. Not the best course of action considering the delicate nature of his own business. “I’ll wait until she’s free.”

“Wait? You?” Jack raised his eyebrows. “Did I hear that correctly?”

Hunter shrugged. “I’m in no hurry.”

“Suit yourself.” Jack cut a glance over Hunter’s head. “But you can’t stay in here. This room is for paying customers.”

“Fine. I’ll wait—” he considered his options “—in the kitchen.”

Jack nodded and stepped aside to let Hunter pass.

Entering the kitchen, he looked around for the most advantageous seat. He chose a straight-back chair near the stove, angling it in a position that would ensure he caught Mattie the moment she left her rooms.

After a half hour of cooling his heels, Hunter considered leaving and coming back later. But there was a good chance if Mattie finished up before he returned she would find another “personal friend” to entertain in his absence.

No, Hunter wasn’t budging from this spot until he had his audience with the queen, er...discussion with the infamous madam.

Unfortunately, the half hour turned into an hour, which turned into three, which turned into an endless night. He must have fallen asleep at some point, because he jolted awake as the first threads of gray morning light fell across his face.

Stretching his legs out in front of him, he rolled his shoulders and winced. Kinks had taken up residence in every part of his neck and back.

So. Mattie had left him to wait in the chair all night.

Hunter hadn’t expected her to pull something this mean-spirited, though he should have. This was Mattie Silks he was dealing with, not some green ingenue. Underhanded tactics were a part of the woman’s everyday repertoire. And yet, the fact that she’d kept him waiting—
all night—
actually made him...

Chuckle. A moment later, he gave fully into his laughter.

Ornery, sneaky, devious, devious woman.

Though she may have won this round, he would take the next.

Still smiling, he stood, stretched his legs again, then pulled his watch from a vest pocket. He flipped open the lid and read the time. If he didn’t leave now, he’d be late for his appointment with the lawyer across town.

A rumble of thunder had him glancing to the sky just as he exited the brothel. Dark, ominous-looking clouds rolled in off the mountains.

Hunter increased his pace. He thought he saw a shadow dart in the alley behind him. Glancing quickly over his shoulder, he saw nothing out of the ordinary. Just a trick of the light filtering through a seam in the clouds.

Several blocks into the finer part of town, a pair of ladies in pristine walking dresses, hats in the latest fashion and matching pale pink parasols approached him from the opposite direction. They gave him a wide berth, as if they knew who he was and where he’d been.

He gave a mental shrug. This wasn’t the first time the “good people” of Denver had avoided him. He doubted it would be the last. Some would always consider him nothing more than an outlaw with loose morals and no conscience.

His thoughts shifted to Sarah and his steps faltered.

As his daughter, would she suffer guilt by association?

It was a question that had plagued him since he’d received Mattie’s letter all those weeks ago. The Bible taught that the sins of the father would carry into three generations. But, as the prison minister had also pointed out to Hunter, the Lord’s blessings carried into a thousand generations for those who turned from their sins.

Hunter clung to that hope, determined to be a blessing rather than a curse to his daughter.

Resolve quickened his steps once again.

Three seconds later, the rain let loose in driving sheets. People darted for cover.

Not wanting to be late for his appointment, Hunter shoved his hat over his eyes and shouldered through the downpour. He didn’t ease up on the pace until he was outside a majestic, two-story brick building. Glancing at the gold-embossed placard, he read the name aloud. “Bennett, Bennett and Brand Law Firm.”

He’d been here once before, last week when he’d made today’s appointment with Reese Bennett’s law clerk. He stepped inside the building. Waiting for his eyes to adjust in the darkened entryway, he removed his hat and shook off the rain as best he could.

Moving forward, he realized the desk where the clerk had been prior was empty. He was alone in the large reception area. Was he too early?

He took a deep breath and looked around, relaxed his shoulders. The place reeked of money and success. Even the smell of furniture polish, leather and wood paneling denoted wealth. Knowing the law offices were down the hall beyond the reception area, Hunter rounded the empty desk and set out in that direction.

Portraits of mature, stodgy-looking men hung on both walls along the corridor. The last portrait stood out from the rest, primarily because the likeness of a much younger man stared back at him. With his black hair, dark, serious eyes and stern expression, the man looked overly determined, as if he wouldn’t rest until the job was done to his satisfaction.

Hunter read the nameplate on the bottom of the frame.
Reese Bennett, Jr.
Excellent. The lawyer he’d come to see.

He continued his trek and stopped at the door with Bennett’s name on the front. He knocked twice.

No response.

After a moment, he raised his fist to knock again but a voice stopped him midreach.

“You’re five minutes early, Mr. Mitchell.”

Swinging around to face the newcomer, Hunter connected his gaze with Reese Bennett, Jr. The lawyer was Hunter’s same height, and had his same build. But where Hunter had on his usual unassuming attire of black pants, black vest and black coat, Bennett wore a perfectly tailored gray suit with a brocade vest and red silk necktie.

“I’m punctual by nature,” he said at last.

“Indeed.”

Bennett dropped his gaze and surveyed the puddle forming at Hunter’s feet. “Well, now that you’re here—” the lawyer lifted his head “—we might as well get down to business.”

“Excellent suggestion.”

“This is my father’s office, Reese Bennett, Sr. I’m at the end of the hallway.” Without further explanation, he set off at a clipped pace.

Hunter followed, matching the man’s steps with purposeful strides of his own.

Once inside his office, Bennett pointed to one of two chairs facing his desk. The man certainly didn’t waste words.

Hunter liked his style already.

Settling in the appointed seat, he placed his hat on the leather chair beside him and took a moment to look around. He was immediately struck by the serviceability of the decor. Understated, masculine, nothing overdone, the kind of office dedicated to work first, last, with no nonsense in between.

Another point in the man’s favor.

After moving aside a stack of books from a chair on the opposite side of the desk, the lawyer sat. He checked a ledger, turned the page with a whispery flutter and then he set the book aside.

“So, Mr. Mitchell.” Bennett folded his hands on the desk and leaned forward. “What can I do for you this morning?”

“I should think it obvious.” He ran a hand through his hair, the only part of him that had avoided a complete drenching. “I’ve come to acquire legal advice.”

“Ah, then I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

Hunter recoiled at the blunt dismissal. “I haven’t even told you what I need yet.”

“No. But my primary focus is family law and estate management.” He gave Hunter an apologetic grimace. “I do not handle criminal cases.”

“You know who I am, then.”

“I know who you are, where you’ve been and how long you’ve been out.”

“You discovered all that in three short days?”

Bennett unfolded his hands, sat back and gave Hunter a placid look. “I make it my business to know my potential clients.”

Hunter held the man’s stare. He had nothing to hide, not from Reese Bennett, nor anyone else. His past was just that. The past. But some people had no forgiveness in them, and no ability to look beyond a man’s mistakes.

Was this well-dressed, serious-minded attorney one of them?

Hunter didn’t think so. There’d been no judgment in the other man’s tone.

Or had he missed it? “If what you say is accurate, then you know I have paid my debt to society.”

“True. Unless you’ve been up to something in the past few days I don’t know about.”

A valid point.

Hunter used to be up to a lot of
things
in his former life, bad things. He’d been ruled by impulse, gratifying every desire, every impulse, whenever and however he wished. He touched the Bible in his coat pocket, a physical reminder his sinful behavior was over once and for all.

“Just so we’re clear, Mr. Bennett, I have done nothing to warrant needing a criminal attorney at this time.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I have recently discovered I have a nine-year-old daughter living at Charity House.”

The man’s only response was an arched eyebrow.

“It’s a type of orphanage, of sorts, for prostitute’s children who have nowhere else to go and—”

“I’m acquainted with Charity House.” Bennett’s mouth tipped in the semblance of a smile. “Marc Dupree is a friend.”

Good to know, but not particularly relevant at the moment. “I need an attorney to help me gain custody of my daughter.”

Just saying the words reminded Hunter how much he was looking forward to becoming Sarah’s father, permanently. He desperately wanted to take her to the Flying M to meet his family, to settle down for good.

I’m homesick,
he realized. Had been for years. He could admit that now, if only in the dark recesses of his mind.

Bennett shifted in his chair, the sound breaking through Hunter’s thoughts. “Can I assume, then, that the child’s mother has had a change of heart since leaving the child at Charity House and is planning to fight you for custody?”

“Maria is dead.”

“Ah.” Bennett shifted in his chair again. “Was the child conceived out of wedlock?”

“No. I was married to Sarah’s mother at the time of her birth.” Hunter proceeded to tell the lawyer the story of his estranged relationship with Maria.

When he came to the portion of the tale where Maria had intentionally hidden Sarah’s existence from him, Hunter felt nothing but sadness. Not anger, not even frustration. But sorrow.

Sarah would never know her mother.

But she had an aunt who loved her. The thought of Annabeth made his heart pound in his chest. She was always there in his mind, lurking on the edges, already an integral part of his life. Kissing her had merely sealed the deal.

A portion of him softened at the memory of her wrapped in his arms, filling him with something more than need, more than longing. Joy. Peace.

Was she the one to bring warmth into his heart, and in his home? Would laughter follow?

Maybe even love?

He stopped there, knowing the danger of allowing his mind to go any further down that particular path. Hunter wasn’t deserving of Annabeth’s love. Someday she’d find that out on her own. And when she did—

“If the child’s mother is dead, and you were married to the woman at the time of her birth, why do you need to fight for custody?” Bennett paused, considered Hunter a moment, then began again. “Did your wife have a legally binding agreement with Marc Dupree?”

“No.” Hunter shook his head firmly. “Maria only had a verbal understanding with Marc and his wife. They have vowed to make Sarah’s transition from their home to mine as easy as possible.”

His gratitude increased tenfold with the retelling of their kindness.

“Then there doesn’t appear to be anything keeping you from claiming your daughter.”

“That’s precisely why I’ve come to you, Mr. Bennett.” It was Hunter’s turn to lean forward and command the other man’s gaze. “I plan to take Sarah away from Charity House and raise her on a ranch outside the city. I want you to ensure nothing stands in my way. No hidden loopholes in the law. Can you do that?”