CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

A FTER THEIR CONFRONTATION LAST NIGHT , C AIN HAD BEEN ESPECIALLY solicitous in his lovemaking. Such a big, virile male. She hadn't known he could be so tender. Her emotions were in even more turmoil than when he'd showed up at the bar last night, jealous and accusing.

Perhaps she had forgiven him too easily. But Cain seemed to be suffering from the same anxiety she was. She had never felt so conflicted about a man before. She wasn't ready to get seriously involved. And yet she couldn't handle the thought of losing Cain.

Maybe Cain felt the same way.

Or maybe not.

Time would give her the answers. In the meantime, she had a business to run, and she needed answers of a different sort.

That afternoon, Jenny went to the library. First, she browsed books that told the early history of Jerome. The town had come into being when some of the richest copper deposits ever found were discovered in the area. As many as twenty-three different nationalities worked in the United Verde Mines.

The town was just as wild as she had heard. The first wooden structure was Butter's Bar, a two-story brothel and saloon owned by Nora "Butter" Brown. An article dated November 27, 1879, insisted that Wyatt Earp had an encounter with Billy the Kid in Butter's Bar. An altercation in the street had sidetracked the men and saved Wyatt from having to kill the Kid.

Butter had written in her journal that she had spent the night with Wyatt, a true gentleman, one of the best nights she had ever enjoyed. No one seemed to know if the story was true, but Butter, who was murdered by her opium-addicted husband in 1905, never backed down on her claim.

Jenny smiled. For Butter's sake, she hoped it had actually happened.

Jenny finally found an article that zeroed in on the Copper Star. An earlier hotel in the same location, owned by the same man who had built the Star, had burned down twice before the turn of the century. The last conflagration had destroyed half the town, leaving ten people dead and forty missing.

The Star had been rebuilt and reopened in 1899, but in the Wickedest Town in the West, the deaths just kept mounting.

By now, Jenny knew that thousands of people had died in Jerome over the years. She hadn't known most of them were cremated in the blast furnaces, their ashes dumped on the slag piles and later used for concrete aggregate in the sidewalks.

When people visited Jerome, they were literally walking on the remains of dead people.

Jenny shivered.

The hours slipped past. A stop in the Mine Museum and Gift Shop netted a stack of books about ghostly happenings, which she carried into her office and sat down to read. A story caught her eye about a ghost in the Liberty Theatre, the redbrick building around the corner from the Star.

A woman in the theatre was supposedly murdered by her lover while the piano was playing loud enough to cover up the sounds of her struggle.

Jenny's gaze sharpened on an article about ghosts in the Star. A woman known as the Lady in Red had been seen wandering the upstairs hallways. She mostly appeared in room 1, where she'd been visited by a past owner of the hotel. True or false—who knew? Jenny had never seen her.

She sighed. There were tons of ghost stories, but none of them explained the murder that had happened in room 10.

Jenny wasn't sure if that was good news or bad.

She worked a while in the saloon, helping Barb serve cocktails and delivering food, then went back to the Grandview, arriving in time to join Cain for drinks.

The bar was nearly completed. The mahogany tables and chairs had arrived and been carefully positioned around the room. Softly lit, gilt-framed desert landscapes hung on the wood-paneled walls.

The bartender, a woman named Hannah McKenzie, an attractive redhead in her forties, was working behind the long, polished counter, sliding wineglasses onto the rack upside down by their stems.

Behind the bar, dozens of bottles of alcohol rested on clear-glass shelves: Maker's Mark, Wild Turkey, Stolichnaya, Beluga Gold, Grey Goose, Sapphire, Bombay, Cuervo, Patron, and dozens of others, all beautifully illuminated by lighting below each shelf.

Cain rose as Jenny approached. In crisp blue jeans, white shirt, and a brown tweed sport coat perfectly tailored to his broad-shouldered, V-shaped body, he looked yummy.

He turned to her, a faint smile on his lips, reminding her of what had happened in his room last night. Desire clenched low in her belly. Faraday also stood up, distracting her, thank God.

Cain reached for Jenny's hand and pulled her toward him, leaned in, and brushed a light kiss on her cheek.

"You remember Nick?" The detective was black-haired and good-looking, with a keen intelligence in his intense blue eyes.

"Of course. Nice to see you, Nick."

"You, too, Jenny."

Cain seated her in the chair next to his, and the bartender appeared at the table. Cain and Nick already had rocks glasses in front of them. Cain drank Johnny Walker Black.

"I'll have what Cain's drinking," Jenny said. Whiskey not wine. Cain's mouth edged up. By now, he knew she was different from the other women he'd dated. He would get used to it. Or not.

He turned back to Nick. "Where were we?"

"We were talking about the last stolen horse being found."

"Where?" Jenny asked.

"The gelding was running loose in a rancher's field east of Phoenix," Nick said. "Which only leaves Sun King and makes it clear the theft of the other horses was just a distraction. Stealing Cain's stallion wasn't only about money. I believe it was personal."

Jenny's spine straightened, but Cain remained calm.

Nick continued, "Clearly, you have an enemy willing to go to great lengths to hurt you."

"I've made millions of dollars in the years since I found that molybdenum deposit. Success breeds enemies. That's just the way it is."

"I need a list of anyone and everyone who would go this far to steal something from you."

Cain laughed. "Let's see, should I start with my housekeeper in Scottsdale? She steals the toilet paper every time she cleans my house."

Nick did not see the humor. "I hardly think that's the same. Sun King's worth half a million dollars. He's a horse you want to breed. Whoever stole him wants you to feel it."

Cain took a drink of his whiskey. "All right, I'll get you that list."

"Soon," Nick said, rising from his chair. He downed the last of his drink and set the glass on the table. "We have no idea how far this guy is willing to go." He flicked a glance at Jenny. "There might be other things he'd be willing to do in order to get to you."

Cain's jaw went ironhard. He nodded. "I'll have it for you by the end of the day."

* * *

Back in his suite, Cain sat down in front of the computer in his study, and Jenny walked up behind him. Resting her hands on his shoulders, she dug her fingers into the taut muscles, kneading the tension away. Unfortunately, the feel of her small hands working him over had the opposite effect, and arousal slipped through him, making him hard.

He forced himself to concentrate on the list he was trying to make.

"Do you even know where to start?" Jenny asked.

Cain eyed her over his shoulder. "What? You think I stepped on so many people trying to make money, I can't even remember their names?"

She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Just the opposite. You're a man of integrity, Cain. I saw that right away. I wouldn't be interested in a guy who hurt other people to get what he wanted."

Some of his tension eased. Jenny had faith in him. It shouldn't feel so important, but it did.

"I'm not saying I was a saint. I worked hard. I had to claw my way to the top. I refused to let anyone or anything stand in my way. But I stayed within boundaries. I didn't destroy other people's lives to get where I am today. I didn't lie or steal from them."

"Maybe whoever it is doesn't believe that. They think you're guilty—whether you actually did anything to them or not."

Cain sat back in his chair and breathed a sigh. It made a sad kind of sense. "So where do I start?"

"Start with the present and work backward. Nothing like this has ever happened before, so whatever you did—inadvertently or otherwise—must have happened recently."

He nodded. "Good logic." Though it might not be correct.

"You just went to Scottsdale. You said your company is buying a business."

"Titan Transport," Cain said.

"How long have you been working on it?"

"A little over six months."

"So before King was stolen?"

"That's right."

"Was there someone on either side of the deal who didn't want the sale to go through?"

Cain looked at the blank computer screen. "Okay, I get it." He smiled. "You should have been a lawyer—or a detective."

Jenny grinned. "Thanks."

Cain spun the desk chair around and pulled her onto his lap. "I can think of something a lot more fun than making a list of people who hate me." He kissed her, gently, then more thoroughly.

Cain cursed himself as he thought of what Nick had subtly warned, that whoever had stolen his stallion might go as far as hurting Jenny. Reluctantly, he set her on her feet.

"I need to do this," he grumbled.

"Yes, you do. I brought some reading with me. I'll leave you to it."

"Opal's still here. I'll call down, have her fix a tray and leave it in the oven. When I'm finished, I'll have someone bring it up, and we can eat."

"And afterward?" Jenny teased.

Desire tightened his groin. His gaze ran over her, taking in her sexy curves. "Afterward, I'm sure we can think of something to do."

Jenny laughed.

* * *

Sitting in Cain's living room the following morning, Jenny read through the rest of the books she had purchased at the museum. There were dozens of ghost stories, some a repeat of what she had read last night or heard before.

In the saloon at the Copper Star, a number of patrons had reportedly seen a short Mexican man with a big mustache standing near the bar. A customer had even taken a photo of the hazy figure.

Apparently, he was an actual man named Kito, who had frequented the barroom, cardrooms, and billiard tables in the saloon.

Her heart ached at the story of a young Mexican girl who was impregnated by one of the wealthy town bigwigs. The girl was taken out to Hulk Canyon and shoved over a cliff. People said her spirit walked the town in search of justice.

Lots of stories. No way to know if any of them were true, or which ones might have resulted in a spirit being locked between this world and the next—if there even was such a thing.

She thought of the call she had received from Nell. Cleopatra Swift would meet her this afternoon in the lobby of the Copper Star.

It was going to be interesting to hear what the woman had to say.