An Agent for Audrey Read online

  This was no gentle kiss, but a fervent, passionate kiss that created an instinctive need to inhale, opening her lips slightly. Taking advantage of her mouth parting, Warren deepened the kiss, and the sensation caused every rational thought to fly out of her mind. Without hesitation, she ran her hands up the length of his broad, bare chest and around his neck, tightening her hold on him.

  His hands were around her waist, pulling her closer, sliding up between her back and the wall. He released his hold on her mouth, and she whimpered in protest before his lips started trailing down her neck.

  A man cleared his throat behind Warren. He lifted his head and glared at the intruder. “What do you want?” Warren growled, slurring his words.

  One of the armed guards from the school gave him an apologetic look. “Have you seen two men riding through town?”

  Warren chuckled in a husky voice. “I have been a little busy.”

  The guard turned his attention toward her, and she saw his gaze lowering to her unbuttoned shirt. She lifted one hand and tugged the shirt closed, giving him a stern stare.

  The guard glanced over his shoulder at the three men still on horseback. “Someone tried to rob the finishing school. We are just searching for the culprits.”

  Giving him a frustrated look, Warren pressed, “Can you go look somewhere else? I’m paying by the hour.”

  The man nodded and turned to leave. Warren gave her a flirtatious smile as he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. This time, his kisses and his movements were slow, deliberate, and achingly perfect. She returned his affection with an equal amount of giving, hoping this moment would never end.

  This was the first time she had been truly kissed, and she learned quickly. Her lips left his as she kissed his chin and along his jaw, moving downwards toward his throat. Suddenly, Warren dropped his arms and stepped back. “The men rode further into town. We should stop now.”

  Feeling her cheeks growing warm, she put her hands up to cover them. “Yes… we… should go.”

  Warren smiled tentatively. “Thank you for going along with that. I was worried we would be involved in a shoot-out.”

  Stepping away to create more distance between them, Audrey attempted to calm her racing heart. “That was quick thinking,” she admitted softly.

  He glanced down at her opened shirt, quickly averted his gaze, and cleared his throat. “You may want to cover up now.”

  She gasped and spun around, trying to make herself decent. What must Warren think of her now? She practically threw herself at him, and he was only kissing her to avoid a shoot-out. Taking a moment to school her features, she took a few deep breaths before she turned back again.

  “Let’s go before they come back.”

  “Audrey, I… uh…” Warren stammered before his words trailed off.

  She knew that he wanted to apologize for his actions, but she didn’t want his apology. She didn’t want him to regret his actions, because she didn’t regret hers. Suddenly, her heart lurched at the realization that he would leave her once this assignment was over.

  Audrey put her hand up to stop him. “Please don’t say anything,” she said, knowing that she’d made a huge mistake. She had fallen in love with her husband.

  Chapter 10

  Warren punched his lumpy pillow in a vain attempt to make it more comfortable. It didn’t work. Turning over to his other side, he tried to ignore the sunlight streaming into the hotel room. He hadn’t slept at all last night. After they returned to their hotel, Audrey had been uncommonly quiet. He had only meant to give the appearance of ravaging her in the alley, but once his lips had pressed against hers… he’d lost control.

  He had kissed women before but never had a kiss affected him so deeply. That kiss shattered all thoughts that he could ever live without her. He had unconsciously allowed Audrey to ease the pain of loneliness he had fought for so many years. He didn’t know if he would survive when she left.

  But Audrey was not his. She was his partner and married to him in name only. Even if he somehow managed to convince her to stay married to him, he knew in his heart that he would never be good enough for her. She was an heiress. He was a bounty hunter turned Pinkerton agent.

  Audrey’s soft hand brushed a piece of hair off his forehead. He opened his eyes and saw her crouched down next to him on the floor. “I am leaving for Mrs. Tucker’s school. The bed is yours if you want it,” she said, smiling at him.

  Looking at her blue gown, he remarked, “You look beautiful.”

  Her smile grew. “Thank you. I am only allowed to wear blue and brown.”

  Moving to a sitting position, he ran a hand through his disheveled hair. “Explain to me why you are going back to the school.”

  “I know we found the printing press, but there is more to this investigation. I can feel it.”

  “And if Mrs. Tucker or Mrs. Quinn suspect you of the break-in?” he asked as he buttoned the top buttons on his shirt.

  Audrey smirked. “Then I have a pistol and a dagger to fight the two women off.” Her smile dimmed. “However, I truly don’t believe it will come to that. A counterfeiter is a far cry from a murderer.”

  Taking his hand, he rubbed the back of his sore neck. “Go with your instinct,” he encouraged. “Somehow, the money is being distributed to the town. We can’t wrap up this investigation until we find out who the runner is.”

  Audrey nodded in agreement as she placed her hands on her skirt and stood. “I will be back before supper.”

  “While you are gone, I will meet with Sheriff Walker and Mr. Douglas and send a telegram to the Denver office, updating them on the status of our assignment.” He reached out and grabbed her hand. “Be careful. Do not hesitate to retreat if you suspect something is amiss.”

  Her face softened, but instead of the cheeky comment that she would normally make, she replied, “I will.”

  “If you are not back by supper, I will storm the school and take you by force.” He smiled and let go of her hand.

  She laughed, just as he hoped she would. “Now that would be a sight to behold.” She moved toward the door, opening it, but she turned back and gave him a wistful smile. “I will see you later, husband.” And with that, she departed, closing the door behind her.

  As tempting as the bed was right now, Warren knew he had a lot to accomplish during daylight hours. He changed into another pair of trousers and a fresh shirt, adjusted his necktie and reached for his hat on the table. He walked downstairs and helped himself to breakfast before starting his list of tasks for the day.

  Stepping through the door of the sheriff’s office, he saw Deputy Harper leaning back in his chair as he greeted him. “Mr. Kimball, how may I help you?”

  Warren’s eyes scanned the one-room building. Behind the two desks sat two unoccupied cells with cots in them. “Is Sheriff Walker in today?”

  “I am now,” the sheriff said from behind him.

  Warren stood aside, allowing the sheriff to enter.

  “What can I help you with?” the sheriff asked.

  Briefly glancing at the deputy, he inquired, “May I speak to you privately?”

  “No need,” Sheriff Walker said as he sat down in his chair. “You may speak freely around my deputy, Agent Rockwell.”

  “Agent Rockwell?” Deputy Harper said with an uplifted brow.

  Stifling a groan, Warren sat down on a chair, facing the two men. “My name is Warren Rockwell. I am a Pinkerton agent assigned to track down a counterfeiter in these parts.”

  The deputy placed his elbow on the desk and dropped his chin into his hand. “Is your wife a Pinkerton agent, as well?”

  “Yes, she is,” he confirmed.

  Deputy Harper straightened. “That explains how she could fight off that man so valiantly and why she carries a pistol.”

  The sheriff looked confused. “Mrs. Rockwell was attacked?”

  “Travis got drunk and mistook her for an employee of Ruby’s Theatre,” Deputy Harper explained.

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p; Ah,” the sheriff replied. “I hope she beat him soundly.”

  The deputy laughed. “I don’t think the fellow will make that mistake again.”

  The sheriff turned his gaze back to Warren. “Have you made any progress on your case?”

  Warren nodded. “Last night, Audrey and I searched Mrs. Tucker’s school and discovered an older building on the property that held a printing press, templates, paper, dye, and everything else needed to counterfeit bills.”

  The sheriff’s brow rose. “That is highly suspicious. I thought Dwight was the only one with a printing press in town. What was on the templates?”

  “It was dark in the shed, but we believe it was a template for a one-dollar note,” Warren continued, leaning forward in his seat. “In addition, Audrey has noticed some alarming behavior at the school.”

  “Such as?” Sheriff Walker asked.

  “Did you know that the school employs armed guards to patrol their gated property?”

  Deputy Harper spoke up, “That is not surprising. There are so few women in these parts that a desperate man might resort to kidnapping to obtain a bride.”

  “Or that the children have excessively strict rules… as do the teachers.”

  Sheriff Walker leaned back in his chair, placing his hands on top of his gun belt. “How did Mrs. Rockwell obtain this information?”

  “Mrs. Quinn offered her a job as a teacher, and she accepted it,” he explained.

  Sheriff Walker shifted toward his deputy and asked, “What do you think?”

  Deputy Harper leaned back in his seat, looking thoughtful. “The printing press could easily be explained by the need to print books or by the school’s impressive art program.”

  Nodding, the sheriff conceded, “Good point.”

  “And as for the strict rules,” the deputy began, “Mrs. Rockwell could have made an incorrect judgement, which is not entirely fair to Mrs. Tucker.” He frowned. “I almost consider her actions criminal.”

  Warren could not believe what he was hearing. “Criminal?” he snapped.

  The sheriff shot him a warning look. “You did just admit that you and your wife trespassed on the school’s property.”

  Warren sighed in exasperation. “Did you miss the part where we discovered a printing press in a ramshackle building on the school’s property?” he asked, his tone filling with anger. “Or that my wife found templates that could be used for counterfeiting?”

  “Slow down there, Mr. Rockwell,” Deputy Harper ordered, his tone patronizing. “We will take this information and look into it.” He gave him a warning look. “We don’t take orders from Pinkerton agents.”

  “Fine. I understand,” Warren declared, standing up. He glared at the two lawmen. This visit had been a waste of time. He would take care of this himself. “Good day.” He tipped his hat and turned to walk out the door.

  “Wait,” Sheriff Walker ordered.

  Warren reluctantly turned back to face him.

  “Where is Mrs. Rockwell?” the sheriff asked.

  “She is at the school,” he revealed. “Audrey is tracking down additional leads.”

  Sheriff Walker groaned. “I can understand your frustration, but you must let us take care of this. There could be many reasons why Mrs. Tucker has a printing press on her property, and we can’t just harass the widow without solid proof.”

  Stepping closer to the sheriff’s desk, Warren said, “You were a Texas Ranger. If you were in my boots and saw the same evidence, what would you conclude?”

  Pressing his lips together, Sheriff Walker bobbed his head up and down. “I would come to the same conclusion, that Mrs. Tucker is a counterfeiter.” Leaning forward, he placed his forearms on his desk. “We will ride over in two hours and ask Mrs. Tucker a few questions. I just need to catch up on some paperwork first.” He reached over and grabbed a stack of papers from the desk.

  “I will be back in two hours,” Warren stated as he walked out the door.

  Deciding it was time to meet with the banker, Warren strode down the street and into the bank. He gave the teller his politest smile. “May I see Mr. Douglas?”

  At that moment, Mr. Douglas walked from the back room. “Mr. Kimball, what a pleasant surprise. Please, come back to my office.”

  Warren tipped his hat to the teller before he went around the counter and into the back office. He sat on the chair across from Mr. Douglas.

  “How can I help you?” the banker asked pleasantly.

  Deciding to get right down to business, he admitted, “My real name is Warren Rockwell, and I am the Pinkerton agent assigned to track down the counterfeiters in this area.”

  Mr. Douglas regarded him for a long moment before asking, “May I ask what happened to Mr. Meyer?”

  “Mr. Meyer made contact with you?” he asked, his brow raised in question.

  “He did. Then he just disappeared one day. I had assumed he left to run down a lead,” Mr. Douglas shared.

  Warren took his hat and tossed it onto the chair next to him. “Mr. Meyer sent his last communication from Hickory Creek, indicating he was chasing down a lead. However, he is missing and presumed dead.”

  Mr. Douglas’s eyes widened. “Dear heavens! Last time I saw him in my office, he wanted to know who owned Ruby’s Theatre.”

  “And what was the answer?”

  “I informed him that Mrs. Tucker bought the place about two years ago,” Mr. Douglas revealed. “She also owns the…”

  “…finishing school,” Warren interrupted.

  “Yes, and she also owns one of the saloons, as well.”

  Warren reached for his hat, feeling a surge of panic wash over him. Not only was Mrs. Tucker a counterfeiter, but it appeared that she was a murderer, as well. And Audrey was on her property, unprotected.

  Without taking time to excuse himself, Warren ran out of the bank and into the post office to send a telegraph to the Denver office. Once that was done, he rushed back toward the hotel to collect his gun belt and holster. He would bring Audrey home safely.

  As he ran out of the hotel, buckling his belt buckle low on his hips, he headed toward the Sheriff’s office. He couldn’t give a dang about the sheriff’s paperwork. His time was up.

  Riding up to the school, Audrey was surprised to see Mrs. Tucker standing stone-faced on the front porch, clearly waiting for her. Audrey dismounted and started to secure her horse when the headmistress said, “My men will take care of your horse. I would like to speak to you for a moment.”

  Handing off the reins to a guard, Audrey followed her down the hall and into her office. Mrs. Tucker went around her desk and sat down. “I am glad that we have a moment to chat before classes begin.”

  Lowering herself on a chair, Audrey tried to keep her expression cordial. “What would you like to talk about?”

  Mrs. Tucker’s expression turned even colder. “Did you trespass on my property last night?”

  Relaxing her face and carefully keeping her appearance expressionless, Audrey replied, “No, I did not.”

  Mrs. Tucker regarded her cynically. “I find it interesting that we have never had anyone trespass on our property since I’ve owned it. Then, someone trespassed on the same day that I hired you,” she said, her voice flat.

  “That’s quite a coincidence,” Audrey remarked calmly, keeping her hands clasped in her lap, giving nothing away.

  “I don’t believe in coincidences, Mrs. Kimball,” Mrs. Tucker declared, arising abruptly. “Mr. Johnson, will you come in here, please?”

  Audrey heard boots stomping on the tile outside the door. The guard from last night entered the room. Pressing her lips together, she met his gaze, hoping it was dark enough in that alley that he wouldn’t recognize her.

  Mrs. Tucker came around the desk. “Mr. Johnson,” she paused, directing her gaze toward Audrey, “is this the woman you saw near the livery last night?”

  Mr. Johnson turned his lecherous gaze toward her face, and his eyes roamed down toward her chest, no doubt rememb
ering her state of undress from the night before. “Yes, it is.”

  “That will be all,” Mrs. Tucker said.

  Before turning to leave, Mr. Johnson winked at her before he left the room.

  Mrs. Tucker’s eyes narrowed, a cruel rawness turning them almost black. “You are fired, effective immediately.”

  Not daring to move, fearing this was a trick, Audrey asked, “And I am free to go?”

  “Good heavens, I am not a monster,” Mrs. Tucker stated. She waved her hand toward the door. “Leave, before I change my mind and decide to press charges.”

  Rising slowly, Audrey kept her gaze on the headmistress as she took the few steps toward the door. After closing the door behind her, she walked toward the main entrance, glancing over her shoulder at the empty hallway. Being mindful of the guards outside, her hand slid into the pocket of her dress, and she gripped her gun, feeling reassured that she could protect herself should the need arise.

  As her left hand rose to open the door, a bag was pulled over her head, and a rope was tied tightly around her waist, immobilizing her arms. Without warning, she was lifted and tossed over someone’s shoulder. She tried to wriggle, but a hand pressed down on her back.

  “If you keep moving, I will drop you on your head,” the man’s voice warned as he started up a set of stairs.

  Instead of fighting, she focused and tried to memorize the number of steps and directions he turned. She highly doubted that they’d discovered she was a Pinkerton agent, so they would vastly underestimate her. That would be in her favor. Furthermore, they hadn’t killed her yet. Another point in her favor.

  The man stopped on the third floor, and a door creaked open. He stepped into the room and dropped her onto the hard floor. “Make yourself comfortable,” the man grunted. “Mrs. Tucker will deal with you later. Too many witnesses to kill you during the day.”

  Lucky me, she thought, as she wished she could rub her sore behind. Why couldn’t criminals nicely lower their victims to the ground? Why did they just toss them down?