“Cousins huh?” Darcy asked turning her doe eyes on him. The gaze was like a punch to the gut and he tensed at the dark sorrow in their depths.
Closing the door and turning the engine on Blake slipped the car into gear and pulled into the street.
“How many cousins?” Darcy asked turning to look out the window.
“Lots. Where do you want to go?”
“Just drive,” Darcy said, still gazing out the window. “I’d like to get out of the city for a while.”
Blake drove for an hour, leaving Cheyenne behind and rolling out into the prairie. Homes, ranches, and farms dotted the area where the winter browned grass was beginning to find hints of green.
“You’d better turn around,” Darcy said, waving negligently at nothing.
Blake pulled off the side of the dirt track and checked his mirrors preparing to turn back toward the city but stopping as big black Oldsmobile rolled up next to them.
“Darcy is everything alright?” A dark-haired man with hard eyes peered past Blake to the woman on the other side.
“Fine, fine,” Darcy smiled. “I just wanted a little jaunt out of the city. We’re headed back now to do some shopping.”
The man shot Blake a hard look. “The boss don’t like Darcy goin’ too far,” he said, waiting to end his hard gaze until Blake nodded. “See ya back at the Dog and Bone,” he finished pulling out in a skid of gravel and dust.
Blake shot Darcy a glance then turned the car around and headed back to the city. “What was that about?”
Darcy shrugged. “Pierce is kind of protective,” was all she said.
Chapter 6
For the rest of the day, Blake ferried the woman all over Cheyenne, stopping at various shops where she tried on a plethora of clothing, coats and jewelry. By the time the sky was growing dark the back of the car was full of heavy boxes and Darcy wore a dark mink coat, pulled up to her chin. The shimmering fur wrapped around her slight form like armor, and he could see that she felt more alive in it than she had in the heavy wool she had discarded at one of the shops.
“Isn’t that a little warm?” Blake asked, indicating the fur, as they pulled into a street near the speakeasy.
“Wearing mink is not about being warm,” Darcy snapped. “It is for being seen.” As the car came to a stop, she opened the door and stepped out sashaying to the door where a little window opened at her knock. Two seconds later, she had disappeared into the darkness within, leaving Blake feeling alone and confused by her attitude as he struggled to carry the rest of her purchases indoors.
Throughout the day Darcy had peppered him with questions about his life and family. He had carefully given her the information she had wanted without breaking his own story line and felt that if nothing else she was starting to see him as a real person. When Pierce had offered him a job, assuming he was down on his luck and out of work, he had told them he’d had a falling out with his family because he hated the country and wanted the excitement of the city.
It was easy to sell the story with enough fact to fit the fiction. Blake grinned, thinking of his mother and her dreams of seeing the bright lights and action of larger towns and big cities. A dream that only came true because she had been forced to marry his father. He chuckled, thinking back on his family and the stories of how Clay Allen had met Meg James. His life had hinged on that encounter, and he had tried to share a little of himself with the woman he had been charged with.
Climbing out of the fancy custom made car, Blake stretched then began to collect the boxes and bags Darcy had worked so hard to acquire. Half of him suspected that he had been sent on this shopping spree for Darcy to find out if he were what he claimed, and half of him thought it had been simply to get them both out of the way. No matter what the motive, he had rather enjoyed getting out of the dark recesses of the speakeasy.
Despite himself, Blake felt sorry for the woman he had ferried about Cheyenne all day. Though she was lavished with all manner of gifts and had the money to do just about anything she wanted, it was obvious that she was not free to do as she wished or go where she wanted.
“You go on inside,” a rough voice barked as Blake pulled two large boxes out of the car. “I’ll carry these up to Miss Darcy’s place.” Jim, the lumpy man and another of the bouncers jerked his head toward the door. “She’s already hittin’ the sauce pretty good and might need someone to keep an eye out for her.”
Blake met the man’s pale eyes. He had a face like a squashed cauliflower, his big jug ears sticking out to both sides. The man was a bruiser, a brawler, and exactly what he seemed; Hired muscle. Still there was a light in his eyes when he spoke of the young woman who all but belonged to his boss that made Blake think Jim also had a soft spot for Darcy. Blake handed off the boxes he carried and hurried toward the front door. “I’ll do my best.”
Darkness engulfed him and Blake blinked to adjust to the dim lighting of the speakeasy, it was always like that when you stepped inside. Discordant music came from a small platform near the back of the place and the sound of clinking glasses, laughter, and the shuffle of poker chips filled the
