Jane jerked her head up and looked at Harlan Dugan, realization dawning. He met her gaze, his eyes narrowing as he realized the game was over.
“Tell her who she is,” Joe warned him, his fingers still curled in the front of Harlan’s shirt.
“I’m his daughter,” Jane said.
Chapter Eleven
Joe stepped back, releasing Harlan Dugan’s shirt. He looked at Jane, his expression tinged with both surprise and concern. “His daughter?”
“So you remember me now?” Harlan asked, his face an impenetrable mask.
“Not entirely,” she said. “Just enough to know you used me as your shill from the time I was a child.”
“People always fall for the kids,” Harlan said with a faint smile. “And you were good, kitten. Real good. You were a natural with a story.”
Jane looked away, her stomach roiling. Joe’s hand settled in the middle of her back, but she drew away, not wanting him to touch her right now.
Harlan looked at the motel room door. “Reckon we could go inside and have a little sit-down? I’m not as young as I used to be, and all this standing around is bad on my knees.”
Jane looked at Joe. He seemed reluctant, but after a brief pause, he unlocked the motel room door and ushered Jane and her father inside.
Harlan took a seat at the small table by the window, leaving Jane and Joe to sit on the edge of the nearer bed. “This place is nicer on the inside than it looks on the outside,” Harlan commented. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “You mind?”
“Yes,” Jane said firmly, the phantom smell of tobacco lingering with her, making her stomach churn even more.
Harlan put the half-empty pack back in his breast pocket and drummed his fingers on the table. “Why were you looking for me?”
“What’s her name?” Joe asked.
Harlan looked at him. “Who are you, anyway?”
“He’s a friend,” Jane said firmly.
Harlan looked around the motel room, taking in the signs of obvious cohabitation. “Should I be saving up to pay for the wedding?”
“Just tell her what her name is.” Joe’s voice was low and tight, the look in his eyes deadly.
“Shannon,” Harlan answered after a short pause. “Shannon Erica Dugan. Born on Valentine’s Day twenty-six years ago.”
So she was twenty-six, just as she’d told Joe. Good to know there was something she hadn’t lied about. “What about my mother?” she asked. “Where’s she?”
“Buried next to her mama in Gallup, New Mexico. She didn’t stop bleeding after you were born.”
Joe touched her again, his hand warm against her spine. This time she let it stay, needing the feel of him beside her just to stay upright. She struggled against a powerful, unanticipated sense of loss. “How long has it been since you saw me?” she asked, her voice strangled.
“About eight years. You hit the road once you were legal and never looked back.”
“Did I leave with someone?”
Harlan’s eyes narrowed. “I suppose there was a fellow. Isn’t there always?”
“But you never met him?” Joe asked.
“No. I suppose I’m not the sort of daddy a girl would want to take a boy home to meet.”
“Ever heard of a man named Clint Holbrook?” Joe’s hand pressed more firmly against Jane’s back as he asked the question she’d been dreading.
“No,” Harlan answered quickly. Too quickly. He rose to his feet. “I think you had the right idea, kitten. You were smart to get outta here the first time. You’d be smart to do it again. The sooner the better.”
“That’s it? That’s all you’ve got to say to your daughter?” Joe stood to face Harlan, his body radiating with anger. “God, you’re a piece of work.”
Harlan ignored him, leveling his dark gaze with Jane’s. His voice held an urgency that made Jane’s nerves hum. “Get outta town. You hear me? There’s nothing here for you anymore. Take the next plane out of here and go have yourself a nice life.”
Jane stood, her knees wobbly. She caught Joe’s hand as he took a step forward. “You know who Clint Holbrook is,” she said to Harlan. “I need you to tell me everything you know about him.”
Harlan paused with his hand on the knob. He turned to look at her, letting his gaze linger as if imprinting her in his memory. “Good luck, kitten,” he said.
He opened the door and left.
Joe took a step toward the door, as if to follow him, but Jane caught his hand. “No. Let him go.”
Joe threaded his fingers through hers, crouching to look her in the eyes. “I’m sorry…Shannon.”
She shook her head, tightening her fingers around his. “I’m not Shannon Dugan. Not anymore. Please don’t call me that, okay?”
He lifted his other hand to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. “What do you want me to call you?”
She lifted her chin and met his gaze. “Jane. Just call me Jane.”
CLINT HOLBROOK glanced at the display panel on his ringing phone. Arching one eyebrow at the name, he pushed Receive. “Holbrook.”
“You were right. She showed up.” Harlan Dugan’s voice was tinny and hesitant through the phone receiver.
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know. She found me at the Lady Luck. She wouldn’t tell me where she’s staying.”
Clint could tell the man was lying. His lips curved in a half smile. Who would have figured the old bunko artist would have some residual affection for his daughter?
“She said she was heading out of town soon. I tried to get her to tell me where she was going next, but she doesn’t trust me,” Dugan added.
“Not a problem,” Clint assured him, thinking through his next options.
“You’re still gonna pay me the five grand, right?”
Clint smiled again, finding pleasure in knowing once again a man’s price. “Of course. My associates will be in touch.” He rang off and dialed another number.
A deep voice answered. “Gibb.”
“I have a job for you,” Clint said. “I need you to deliver $5,000 in cash to Harlan Dugan. You will find him at the Lady Luck Tavern tonight after seven. Please give him the money and a message from me.”
Quietly, deliberately, he told Gibb exactly what message he wanted delivered to Harlan Dugan.
“I GUESS that didn’t quite go as you expected,” Joe drawled softly from somewhere behind her.
Jane’s lips curved in a grim smile. “Actually, it did.” She let the curtains drop and turned to face him, her eyes adjusting slowly to the darker room. “It went exactly as I expected.”
He patted the mattress next to him. She hesitated a moment, her instincts leaning heavily toward isolation rather than comfort. But finally she crossed to the bed and sat beside him.
