Deadly Fortune Read online

  “Jesus,” she breathed.

  “This wagon is too small,” Clint said. “Get down on your knees.”

  “Anything you say. Just don’t stop.”

  She lowered herself to the floor of the wagon, and Clint did the same. As soon as he was able, his hand found her sensitive spot once again and rubbed a little harder. Before long, he slipped a finger inside her just enough to feel how moist she was. Gigi’s pussy was slick and plenty ready for him.

  All Clint had to do was move his hard shaft between her thighs and Gigi spread her knees apart a bit more while lifting her backside a little higher. The slope of her ass formed a smooth line down to her back, the sight of which made Clint even harder than he already was. When he slipped inside her, it was like putting out a fire that was about to rage out of anyone’s control.

  “Oh God,” she moaned while grabbing one of the nearby boxes so strongly that she almost pulled the entire stack down onto them both.

  Clint reached out with both hands to cup Gigi’s breasts again. Her body was just the right length for him to do that while grinding his cock deep into her. She let out an almost animal moan while arching her back. He couldn’t help smiling at what he was doing to her. It did Clint some good to drive a woman as crazy as most of them could drive a man at any given time. He savored the moment while putting his hands on her shoulders and pounding into her with powerful thrusts.

  Gigi turned to look at him over her shoulder. A few beads of sweat rolled down her face and her mouth hung open without making a sound. She clenched her eyes shut the moment Clint entered her and remained still with every inch of his cock filling her dripping pussy.

  For a few seconds, Gigi stretched her arms in front of her like a cat. She lowered her chest to the floor and pressed her palms against the boards at the front of the wagon as she started rocking her body back and forth. Clint reflexively stood still and allowed her to slide him in and out of her.

  Now he was the one who was speechless.

  Her backside was plump and round as a perfectly ripened fruit. Clint rubbed it as she impaled herself on him again and again. Just when he thought he was about to explode, she pushed herself against him and slowly ground her hips in a slow circle.

  His rigid cock was held tight by the muscles between Gigi’s thighs. The slightest movement was all she needed to perform in order to drive him out of his mind. Clint gripped her ass in both hands, held her firm, and took back the reins by pumping in and out of her in a rhythm of his choosing.

  Suddenly, Gigi straightened her arms so she could prop up the upper portion of her body. Her breath came in quickening gasps, and she tossed her hair straight back while craning her neck. Her climax was powerful and lengthy, ending only when she no longer had the strength to keep herself up on all fours. Before Clint could move within her again, she turned around to face him.

  “I told you to stay on all fours,” he said.

  Smiling, Gigi replied, “Shut up,” and pushed him down onto his back. The moment Clint’s shoulders hit the floor, she wrapped her lips around his thick penis and began sucking him.

  Clint was already feeling damn good, and when she started running her tongue up and down along his shaft, he knew he wouldn’t be able to control himself for long. Reading his movements and groans as well as she could read any spread of Tarot cards, Gigi licked and sucked his cock to drive him straight over the edge.

  Every now and then, she drew her lips in tight on him and then took every last inch into her mouth. Then, she allowed him to slip from her mouth so he could only feel her tongue sliding all the way down to the base of his shaft before returning to his tip. Dragging her fingernails along Clint’s stomach, she took him into her mouth once more so she could bob her head vigorously up and down.

  Clint’s heels scraped against the floor and his hands sifted through Gigi’s hair. Soon, his hips began to pump and he arched his back as his pleasure built to its boiling point. When she felt him tense, Gigi sucked him harder and faster.

  From there, it was only a matter of seconds before he exploded into her mouth. Gigi made a soft humming sound that he could feel all the way down to his toes. Her tongue slipped back and forth against his erection until she’d swallowed every last drop he had to offer. When he was spent, Clint could barely open his eyes.

  Gigi climbed to her feet and looked down at Clint in much the same way a she-wolf watched a deer that it had just crippled. “You’re full of surprises, Adams.”

  “I could say the same about you,” Clint replied once he had enough breath in his lungs.

  “If it’s all the same to you, I should probably get dressed.”

  Since he barely had the energy to lift his head, Clint told her, “Sure. Go on and do that.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  “Where are you going?” Gigi whispered in the darkness.

  Several hours had passed since she’d gotten dressed, undressed, and then dressed again. She and Clint had lined the floor of the wagon with thick blankets, making it comfortable enough to lie down there. It was time to leave, however, and Clint had barely unlatched the little door at the back of the wagon when he’d been discovered.

  “I’m taking a stroll,” he replied. “Go back to sleep.”

  “I wasn’t asleep. Neither were you.”

  “Then it’s about time you got some rest.”

  She came at him from the back of the wagon so quickly that the entire thing rattled with the impact of her feet. “Don’t presume to tell me what I can or can’t do, especially when we’re inside my wagon!”

  “That’s perfect,” Clint said as he stepped outside. “Because I am no longer in your wagon. I suggest you stay there and wait for me to come back.”

  “Why?”

  “Fine, then. Do what you please. Get yourself killed.”

  Although she stepped to the very edge of the wagon’s little doorway, Gigi didn’t set foot outside. “You think I may get killed?”

  “I think you’re being watched by killers. Killers, I might add, that you’ve already upset. I’d say that puts you in a pot of hot water.”

  “You’re going back to my house?” she asked.

  “You really are talented. Now get back inside and wait for me to come back.”

  Gigi pulled herself into the wagon and shut the door. Before Clint could take a full three steps away from that wagon, she opened the door again and announced, “I’m staying here because it’s the smart thing to do—not because you told me to do it.”

  Without breaking his stride, Clint said, “You really put me in my place. Well played.”

  He didn’t have to see her to imagine the expression on her face when she shut the wagon’s door again.

  Clint made his way across town, confident that Gigi would know better than to try and follow. She could very well sneak around behind him, but she would have the good sense to give him a wide berth for the time being.

  He wasn’t even halfway to the spot where the fish vendor and Madame Giselle’s place shared an alleyway when Clint could hear commotion from that street. Apparently, those carts didn’t close down at normal business hours. In fact, once he got close enough to see that stretch of property for himself, Clint was certain there was a whole new category of things being sold there.

  As he walked along with his hat pulled down to cover a good portion of his face, Clint could feel the tension coming from those around him. Men watched him to make certain he would pass them by without causing any trouble. Transactions were being made that were obviously not meant for prying eyes. Clint’s imagination ran wild with the possibilities existing in such a place.

  Every breath he took was tainted by smoke that would make his head spin if he drew in too much. The spot where he’d purchased his meat on a stick was now occupied by a man who was older than the hills and selling something that he kept mostly concealed beneath a blank
et. Judging by the movement beneath that tarp, Clint didn’t even want to know what the old man was showing his customer.

  Clint continued walking at a pace that wasn’t going to draw any undue attention his way. Anyone walking down that street, whether they had business there or not, was surely going to be spotted. The trick was not to look overly bothered by it. Clint didn’t look directly at anyone, but didn’t look away either. All the while, he searched the faces of local denizens for one or two familiar ones. It wasn’t an easy task for a man with only one set of eyes.

  Having made it all the way to the fish vendor’s cart, Clint took a quick look toward the tent bearing Madame Giselle’s name. The only living thing he spotted was a mangy cat sniffing around one of the vendor’s crates that had been left beside the cart.

  As much as Clint wanted to investigate a bit closer, he knew better than to be so obvious. After everything he’d seen and heard, he would have bet a small fortune on the fact that someone was nearby keeping an eye on that place at any time. He just hoped anyone doing that job at the moment was tired, distracted, or both. Considering the thick stench of opium drifting through the air, there was an even better chance that someone staying put for too long was too far out of their own skull to notice Clint anyway.

  Despite all that, he took the more cautious route by passing that alley altogether and pretending to be interested in whatever was being sold from the back of a cart that still bore fresh bullet holes in its side. After looking over the shoulder of a man who plainly didn’t want him there, Clint moved along. As far as he could tell, there wasn’t anyone following him.

  There were only slightly fewer people in the merchant district at that time of night, but they were conducting their business much more quietly than during the daylight hours. Clint drifted from vendor to vendor, collecting one nasty scowl after another. Finally, he made it to the alley that allowed him to get to the house where Gigi conducted her business.

  When he approached from the other end of the alley, Gigi’s house was the first place he spotted. He almost didn’t recognize it since he couldn’t see the tent attached to it right away. Clint kept his head down and his hands in his pocket to present the smallest silhouette possible for anyone who might be looking at him. Considering how disinterested everyone seemed to be in him, Clint felt like he was putting on a performance for a theater full of empty seats.

  Clint stayed still for a few moments. As he watched the house, he meandered slowly toward a thick cluster of shadows nearby. By the time he brushed a shoulder against a wall, he felt as if he was almost completely invisible.

  “So,” said someone that Clint couldn’t see, “are you going to keep circling the place like a vulture or are you going to come in?”

  TWENTY-TWO

  Clint’s hand twitched toward the Colt at his side as his eyes searched for the source of the voice he’d just heard. Even when he spotted the shadow in the entrance to Gigi’s tent, he wasn’t completely certain it was anything at all.

  “Well, come on,” the shadow said as it waved at him. “Might as well get yourself in here.”

  Clint felt like a fool for not seeing the man in the tent, especially since he’d been looking in that exact spot for a sign of trouble. Now that he was granted a good look at the man who’d been waiting there, Clint could see the badge pinned to the man’s shirt. The shadow disappeared inside the tent, so Clint stayed quiet as he followed it inside.

  “You move like a damn cat,” Clint said after he’d ducked through the tent flap. “It’s a mite disconcerting.”

  Sheriff Wheeler had one hand in his pocket. The other was idly tapping one of the mystical books situated on a table nearby. Half of his black coat was hooked around his holster in what was most certainly not an accidental fashion. “It helps to walk lightly around here,” he said. “Especially at this time of night.”

  Before Clint could wonder if they were truly alone inside the tent, he saw Patrick stick his nose out from the next room. After getting a curt nod from Clint, the tent’s lone guardian went back into the main room and waited.

  “What brings you here?” Clint asked.

  “I should be the one asking you that,” Wheeler replied. “This is my town, after all.”

  “But not your tent. At least, not as far as I know.”

  “Not yours either, if I’m not mistaken.”

  “I’m friendly with the owner.”

  “Yes,” Wheeler replied in a smug tone. “So I’ve heard. How do you know Miss Pietrov?”

  “We go back a ways,” Clint said.

  “Are you on familiar terms with a man by the name of Wilhelm Torquelan?”

  “Not as such, but I’m looking to change that.”

  The lawman’s eyebrows lifted a bit. “Are you, now? Looking for employment?”

  “No,” Clint said. “Just looking for him.”

  “For what purpose?”

  “For the purpose of asking why the hell he wanted to kill me. Actually, I have a pretty good idea of why. I’d still like to hear it from him, though.”

  The sheriff’s pale face looked much more comfortable in dim lighting. At least he didn’t look so much like something that had been left out too long to bake in the sun. His eyes narrowed with a lawman’s suspicion, and his mouth was completely lost beneath his brushy mustache. “And once you see him, I imagine you’d want to kill him for sending those men after you.”

  Clint shrugged and walked around the small space enclosed by the tent’s canvas walls. “Normally, after one man tries to kill another, their next meeting doesn’t turn out well.”

  “Not for one of them, that’s for certain.”

  “But you were expecting trouble,” Clint pointed out. “Or am I supposed to believe you just like to spend time in this tent at the wee hours of the night?”

  “I’m always expecting trouble,” Wheeler told him. “That’s what I get paid for. And you, Mr. Adams, are trouble.”

  “Me? I’m no outlaw.”

  “I didn’t call you an outlaw. You’re trouble.”

  “Seems you’ve heard a thing or two about me,” Clint said. “Probably nothing more than rumor and wild talk from a bunch of drunks.”

  Sheriff Wheeler stood so he could see Clint and both doors leading from the tent. Hooking his thumbs over his gun belt, he said, “I’ve heard that you’re the sort of man who comes to a quiet town and doesn’t leave until there’s been blood spilled in the streets. Whatever happens to put that blood there may not be your fault exactly, but it wouldn’t have been spilled if you hadn’t shown up in the first place.”

  “All I came here for was a drink and to cool my heels before moving along.”

  “I’d say that falls in line with what I just said.”

  “I suppose it does,” Clint admitted with a shrug. “What would you have me do when someone takes a shot at me? Shake the other man’s hand and let him be on his way?”

  “That would help men like me perform their duties much easier, but no. I wouldn’t expect that of someone.”

  “Speaking of expectations,” Clint said. “I would expect a lawman in this town to keep a tight rein on a street like this one. I see, despite some things I’ve heard about you from a few of the locals, that you do a fairly good job of that.”

  “A fairly good job?” Wheeler sneered. “I got the drop on you, didn’t I?”

  “Fair enough.”

  “And who’s been saying unfavorable things about me?”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  Scowling, Wheeler said, “It was that gypsy woman, wasn’t it?”

  From the corner of his eye, Clint could see Patrick doing his best to stay hidden while keeping watch on what was going on in the rest of the tent.

  Since Clint wasn’t about to answer that question, Wheeler tried his luck with another one. “What did she say about me?” the l
awman asked.

  “I never said it was her!”

  “Then what did anyone say?”

  Exasperated, Clint said, “That you’re a useless lump of a man.”

  Wheeler looked as though he’d just been stricken by a kick below his belt. “Useless?”

  Clint shrugged. “You asked and wouldn’t let up. If it helps you feel any better, I can see that’s not a fair assessment of you.”

  According to the sour look on Wheeler’s face, it didn’t help him feel better at all. Then again, it was the same sour expression the lawman had worn since the first time Clint had ever seen him. Whatever aggravation the lawman was harboring, he swallowed it down like the bitter pill it was. “I figured someone would be coming along sooner or later. That’s why I waited here.”

  “You were expecting me?”

  “If not you, another one of Torquelan’s men. Now that he’s lost a few of those men, retaliation is inevitable.”

  “He lost a few men?” Clint asked.

  Wheeler’s expression became even more sour. “Are you really going to tell me you had nothing to do with that?”

  Clint’s poker face might as well have been cut from bedrock.

  “Or that you didn’t even know about it?” Wheeler added.

  “I guess I did hear a thing or two along those lines,” Clint said.

  “Then I’ll ask you up front. Did you have anything to do with that?”

  “With those men being shot?”

  “Of course.”

  Clint took a breath and started to speak when he was stopped by a swiftly raised finger.

  “Fair warning,” Wheeler said. “If you ask if I’m talking about Torquelan’s men just to buy yourself some time, I’ll toss you into jail on principle.”

  “In that case,” Clint replied, “yes. I did have something to do with that.”