Читать книгу Charity House Courtship - Renee Ryan - Страница 11

Chapter Two

Laney tried to formulate a new strategy as the large, beefy man named Hank escorted her through the hotel lobby. Unfortunately, Marc Dupree followed closely behind them. So closely, in fact, that she could smell his spicy, masculine scent.

The heady aroma left her slightly light-headed, and her mind filled with the same hopelessness that had been gnawing at her all evening.

No. She couldn’t give up. Not now. Not ever.

Maintaining her outward calm, she kept her steps slow and steady, her expression mild. Despite what the hotel owner might think, the five hundred dollars in Laney’s reticule belonged to her.

Of course, per her deal with Judge Greene, Laney couldn’t disclose the reason he’d given her such a large sum of money. She would have to come up with another explanation, one that would protect the promise she’d made and still satisfy Dupree’s suspicious mind.

As if reading her thoughts, the annoying man moved in closer still, narrowing the distance to mere inches. “Thinking up a good lie, are you?”

Arrogant brute.

He thought he had the situation all figured out.

When he was so very wrong.

“I’m warning you now,” he continued in his low, husky baritone. “I’m not a man easily fooled.”

Her breath caught on a gasp. Oh, she had no doubt he was a sly one. The sense of danger pulsating out of him nearly overwhelmed her. But she coaxed her fear into compliance and focused on putting one foot in front of the other.

Hank’s hold on her arm remained remarkably light. Laney considered making a break for the rotating doors behind her. But she sensed if she tried to escape, the hired ruffian would tighten his grip to painful proportions.

Mind working quickly, she considered other options. Even if she managed to get away from Hank, there was the matter of Marc Dupree. Laney could feel his suppressed anger as he walked directly behind her.

Again, he leaned in close. Too close. “I wouldn’t try to run if I were you.” The warning sizzled in the tiny space between them. “You’re no match for Hank. Or me.”

Laney seethed at the man’s self-assurance. Nevertheless, she knew better than to fight at this point. Not without an escape plan.

Praying for a calm she didn’t possess, she allowed Hank to usher her inside a small room in the back corner of the hotel.

Dupree entered a few steps behind them and shut the door with a resounding click.

The moment Hank released her arm Laney pivoted around and took a step forward. Dupree shifted directly in her path, an ironic twist of his lips.

Out of ideas but not out dignity, she opened her mouth to express her outrage over his behavior. Unfortunately, words eluded her.

Eyebrows raised, Dupree stared at her, waiting, taking her measure, silently challenging her to defend herself.

The noisy din from the hotel lobby pervaded the cold mood in the room.

Laney ignored the racing of her pulse, putting it down to sheer desperation, and returned Dupree’s glare with equal intensity.

The handsome, chiseled features and square jaw created a deceptively appealing picture, as did the thick black hair against his smooth, olive skin. In contrast to his severe good looks, the crisp white shirt he wore, red silk vest, and matching neck cloth added a refined dignity not often seen in the West.

For a brief moment, as she continued holding his stare, Laney detected a familiar restlessness in his blue-blue eyes, the kind garnered from a painful past much like her own. A kindred spirit?

Hardly.

This might be her first face-to-face meeting with Marc Dupree, but she’d heard all the rumors. His reputation as a ruthless businessman was legendary around town. Known for demanding unreasonably high standards from his employees—as well as everyone else around him—she doubted he had an ounce of mercy in his heart.

Such a man would never understand what had brought Laney here tonight. She would be wise to consider him no different from the heartless banker who’d called in her loan six months early.

Apparently finished with his silent scrutiny, Dupree turned to Hank and handed over Laney’s reticule. “You know what to do with this.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

Pretending to misunderstand, Laney reached out as Hank swept past her. “Oh, how kind of you to walk that over to me.”

Hank paused midstep.

“Ignore her,” Dupree ordered.

Cocking his head, the big man eyed her cautiously. She thought she detected a note of sympathy in his eyes but then he shook his head and continued on his errand.

As if bored with the whole affair, Dupree leaned against the shut door and crossed his arms over his chest. His casual stance was an illusion, of course. Laney easily detected the concentrated focus behind that bland manner of his.

Recognizing the sensation in her stomach as fear, she forced herself to speak as though nothing was amiss. “Come now, Mr. Dupree. Considering the late hour, perhaps you would be so kind as to return my reticule now. I’m sure we can have our little discussion some other time.”

His expression never changed, but his gaze narrowed ever so slightly. “Not a chance, honey.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Laney caught Hank reaching out to a small, metal safe situated on the floor next to a sturdy-looking desk.

Renewed panic reared, abrupt and violent, stealing her ability to think logically.

Knowing Dupree watched her as closely as she eyed Hank, Laney inched slowly into a new position, lowered her lashes and focused covertly on Hank’s fingers working the dial.

The melodic tick, tick, tick, of the spinning lock filled the room, diminishing her chances of an easy escape with each turn. Another few clicks and Hank pulled opened the safe. He shoved her reticule deep inside then closed the door with a hard snap. Another twist of his wrist and the lock went spinning again.

As the tumblers cleared, her composure snapped.

She whipped around to glare at Dupree. “You can’t do this.” Her breath came in short, shallow gasps. “It’s...it’s stealing.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Dupree waved his hand at her in a careless gesture. “I have no plans to keep your reticule indefinitely, nor its valuable contents.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“No? What if I told you I plan to return the large sum of money to its rightful owner at once?”

Her throat tightened at the very idea. “You... Mr. Dupree, you can’t do that.”

“Can’t I?”

“But you...” Her mind raced for a solution to this new, awful threat of his. “You promised to give me a chance to explain.”

“Indeed, I did.” He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Do proceed with your explanation, Miss O’Connor.”

Her gaze automatically tracked toward Hank. Standing partly in the shadows the big man appeared deeply enthralled with his thumbnail.

Laney sighed. “Very well. The gentleman gave me that money for—”

She cut off her own the words, remembering Judge Greene’s adamant request. Never reveal who gave you this money, Miss O’Connor. Or why.

She’d given her word. Yet, due to no fault of her own, she’d already violated a portion of her promise. She could not reveal the rest.

“Joshua Greene gave you the money for...” Dupree prompted.

Laney pressed her lips tightly shut. How to respond?

Think, Laney. Think.

In the ensuing silence, Dupree motioned to Hank. The other man dropped his hand and strode out of the room without a single glance in her direction.

With only the two of them left, a thick blanket of tension fell over the room. Laney prayed for divine intervention.

Please, Lord, show me a way out of this quandary.

No quick solution came to mind. She spun in a slow circle, taking in the room from the perspective of a captive—searching for a route of escape. There was no back door, only a small window high above the floor just to the left of the large desk.

Tossing a smile in Dupree’s direction, Laney sidled in the direction of the window as nonchalantly as possible.

The size was right, but she’d never make it through the tiny opening in her borrowed dress. Perhaps there was still hope. Having eyed an armoire before setting out, she moved back to the other side of the room, and then threw open the cabinet doors.

“What’s this? Several sets of trousers and shirts?” She slanted Dupree a look over her shoulder. “Don’t you keep a room for yourself here in the hotel?”

He didn’t answer her question directly. “As I’m sure you’ve already concluded, Miss O’Connor, there are no additional exits in this room.”

“I don’t have any idea what you mean.”

A patronizing grin slid onto his lips. “Naturally.”

How she hated his condescension. The sneering attitude reminded Laney of Thurston P. Prescott III, the banker who’d refused to give her more time on the remaining portion of her loan. All because of a cold, judgmental heart.

Suppressing a scowl, she closed the cabinet doors and twirled in another slow circle. “Oh, my. You have a fireplace. I say, Dupree, your office is exceedingly well furnished.”

“I like nice things.”

“Of course you do.”

She doubted a wealthy man like him knew what it meant to be penniless and scared, never knowing when the next meal would come. But Laney did. As did the children whose mothers had sent them to her orphanage for safekeeping.

Laney had pledged to those women that she would provide every child living in Charity House a Christian upbringing, the comfort of a warm bed and the promise of three meals a day. She would not fail them simply because a suspicious hotel owner had misread her transaction with a prominent judge in town.

Drawing confidence from the thought of her honorable mission, Laney made her way to the fireplace mantel. She immediately took note of the tin photographs arranged haphazardly across the handcrafted stone.

How odd, she thought. The man leaning against the door, watching her through narrowed eyes, couldn’t possibly have loved ones. And yet, photographs meant family and friends. Drawn to one image in particular, Laney ran her finger along the pretty gold frame.

Concentrating on the photograph beneath her hand, she looked from the stunning woman smiling up at her, to Dupree, then back again. The resemblance was uncanny. Was this his sister? No. He seemed too hard to have a sister.

And Laney was wasting valuable time.

Glancing to the heavens, she prayed for guidance. How do I proceed, Lord? What do I say to protect Charity House and the children?

“Enough stalling, Miss O’Connor.” Dupree pushed away from the door and made his approach. “Your failure to explain your actions here tonight speaks volumes. As such, the money you accepted from Judge Greene will remain secure in my safe, and you will wait in this office while I go in search of the man myself.”

No longer caring about pride, or dignity, Laney met Dupree halfway across the room. “Please, I beg you. Don’t involve Joshua in this.”

“So now it’s Joshua, is it?”

“I meant...Judge Greene.” The correction came too late. She saw the censure in Dupree’s eyes.

“I’m afraid, Miss O’Connor, Joshua involved himself—and consequently me—when he agreed to meet you in my hotel. Since I imagine he’s smart enough not to use his real name on the register, I must ask an indelicate question. Which room is he waiting for you in?”

Laney stifled a groan that rose up in her throat.

This man seemed determined to think the worst of her. With very little evidence, he actually believed Judge Greene had rented a room in this hotel with the express purpose of spending the evening with her.

Laney would be insulted if Dupree wasn’t so completely incorrect.

Then again...

Perhaps his mistake was a blessing. Perhaps Laney could use this man’s ugly assumption of her character to her advantage.

Why not buy herself some much needed time while he went on his search. A search that would prove highly unsuccessful.

“Joshua is in room...” she paused, blinked, and then pretended to accept defeat at last “...912.”

For an endless moment, Dupree studied her face. Laney held her breath. The look of disappointment in his eyes—disappointment in her—nearly made her rethink her plan.

Should she tell him the truth? Maybe he would understand her situation. Maybe he would care.

And maybe Marc Dupree was no different than the shady banker demanding his money before their agreed upon deadline. Simply because he thought the children in her orphanage didn’t deserve a safe home in which to live. Not because they were bad children, but because of how their mothers chose to earn their living.

A living that Marc Dupree had accused Laney of conducting here tonight.

No. She couldn’t trust him.

The risk was too great.

With renewed determination, she lifted her chin a notch higher.

Dupree’s lips twisted into a frown. “Stay here.”

Without another word, he turned on his heel and slammed out of his office.

At the sound of the lock striking into place, Laney blew out a hard burst of air.

Stay here. As if he’d given her any other choice.

At least he wouldn’t find Judge Greene on the ninth floor. Or any floor, for that matter. Denver’s most respected federal judge had already exited the building by way of the back alley. By now, he was probably enjoying the rest of the evening with his very proper, very naive wife.

Dupree would be furious when he returned to his office empty-handed. Laney didn’t plan to stick around to find out just how angry. Of course, if there was no money waiting for him in the safe there could be no reason to approach the judge, now or in the future.

No evidence. No shady dealings.

Laney knew what she had to do. And she had precious little time in which to do it.

Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, she looked frantically around the room. A new plan began formulating in her brain. One that would require a different ensemble than the ridiculously fancy dress she wore now.

She hurried across the room and flung open the doors to the armoire. Smiling wryly, she reached for a pair of worn trousers. Then thought better of her choice and dug deeper.

One by one, she tossed out clothing items until she found the most expensive pair of trousers and the finest linen shirt among the lot.

Kicking off her shoes, she made the change as quickly as possible. Her fingers shook over the buttons but she remained focused. Shoving up the too-long sleeves, she folded her discarded dress into a neat ball then rushed over to the safe.

Thankful she’d paid attention to Hank’s fingers working the lock, she spun the dial around, clearing it, then proceeded to get down to business.

Three turns to the right, two more to the left, a final one to the right and...

Click.

Blessed success. It took both hands to open the surprisingly heavy door. She eyed the contents, took only what belonged to her, then pushed the safe closed.

Feeling contrary, she scribbled a quick note to the owner of the hotel—it was the only proper thing to do after all the hospitality he’d given her—then, with a bold sweep of her arm, cleared the desktop of all papers.

She jumped onto the desk.

Looking to the window, she let out a chuckle. She’d scaled too many walls, jumped on and off too many trains, to let a measly little slab of glass three feet above her head daunt her now. A quick flex of fingers, a check to make sure she’d secured her reticule tightly around her wrist and she was ready.

Mind focused on one task at a time, she grabbed the window’s frame with one hand and felt around for the opening with the other. Finding the lever at last, she unlocked the latch and pushed the glass forward until she’d created a substantial slit. Careful to avoid catching the silky material on any random piece of wood or metal, she threw the borrowed dress out the opening.

Her foot found a toehold in the wall’s masonry. Pulling with her arms and pushing with her feet she raised herself up. Once she was halfway through the window, she grasped the outside casing and tugged again. One final push and she was free.

Free.

Tumbling toward the ground, she used the momentum of the fall to gather her balance.

As always, Laney landed on her feet.

Smiling, she picked up the dress, checked the condition of her reticule and took off at a full run. She made it exactly five steps before colliding into a solid mass of silk-encased muscle.

“Oh!”

The dress plummeted from her clutches. Head reeling, mind focused on escape, Laney instinctively bent to snatch the garment as quickly as possible. Her progress was halted midreach.

Powerful arms trapped her from behind, while an annoyingly familiar voice rang in her ears. “It would appear, Miss O’Connor, you have no idea who you’re dealing with.”