CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

C AIN STOOD IN THE HALLWAY OUTSIDE ROOM 10. J ENNY LEFT HIS side long enough to double-check the door, be sure it was securely locked; then she slid her arm around his waist and pulled him close, keeping him firmly against her side as they followed in Cleo's wake. Still half-dazed, he didn't pull away.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, they went into Jenny's office. Cleo took up most of the velvet settee. Cain sat down in one of the chairs in front of the desk, and Jenny sat down in the other. She reached over and took hold of his hand.

Cain knew he should say something, try to explain what had happened to him upstairs, but he couldn't find the words.

"You all right?" Cleo asked him.

"I'm not sure."

"I saw what he was doing to you," she said. "But you were too strong for him."

Cain just shook his head.

"You felt him," she said. "Now you know what he's like. He won't bother you again as long as you don't invite him in."

"Is that what I did?"

"No. He took you by surprise. That's what he does."

"You talk as if he's a person."

"He was, but it was a long time ago. He was a miner. Near as I can tell, a real bad hombre. He was shot dead right in the street. In front of a bordello, I think. I could see women standing on the sidewalk in front of the building."

"He told you all that?" Cain asked.

"Not in words. It's sort of a nonverbal thing. I watched it happen. It's like you're looking down on the scene. I saw him arguing with someone in front of a small single-story, wooden building. I saw the bullet slam into his chest, the gush of blood. I watched his soul lift away, but something went wrong. Maybe he fought it—I don't know."

"If he died in the street, why is he here?" Jenny asked.

"Earlier, I saw him sitting at one of the card tables in the saloon. He liked it here. After he died, he came back. The bad news is he's made a place for himself in room ten, and he doesn't want to leave."

Cain said nothing. Whatever had happened in that room, it was something he had never experienced before, something he would never forget. Something terrifying.

"What I'm telling you isn't a hundred percent certain," Cleo said. "It's my best guess from the feelings I got, but there's still a lot I don't know, and my information's not always reliable. You might be able to do some research, see if you can find out something about him, find out if what I'm suggesting is true."

"I can do that," Jenny said.

Cleo turned to Cain. "You gonna be okay?"

He managed to nod. "I'm okay, but . . . I'm not sure Jenny should stay with me tonight. The way I felt in that room . . . what if I hurt her? What if—"

"You aren't going to hurt her," Cleo said firmly. "There are a lot of things spirits can do, and a lot more they can't. You just have to remember who's in control. That person is you."

Jenny squeezed his hand. "You would never hurt me, Cain. You didn't do it in that room. You won't do it when we're somewhere else."

He hoped she was right, because he wasn't leaving her alone to spend the night in her room at the Star.

"It's getting late," he said, rising from the chair. "Can I drive you home, Cleo?"

"I'm only a block away. Harder for me to get in and out of that fancy car of yours than it is to walk."

"I'll go with you," Jenny volunteered.

"We'll both walk you back," Cain said.

They made the brief trip, waited until Cleo was inside her apartment building, then headed back to the Jag.

It was nearly two in the morning by the time they were up in his suite, ready to go to bed.

"I'm staying in the guest room tonight," Cain said.

"What?"

"You heard me."

"But—"

"It's not open for debate." He tipped her chin up and settled a brief kiss on her lips. "Get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

He left her in the living room, his mind still heavy with the weight of what had happened in that hotel room. Was there really an entity inhabiting it?

One thing he knew—something had preyed upon the darkest parts of his soul, urging him to do unspeakable things.

Whatever it was, whoever it was—it was evil. The question was what to do about it. He hoped Cleo had an answer.

* * *

After a restless night alone in Cain's big bed, Jenny joined him for breakfast in front of the big glass windows in the living room. They didn't talk about the night before. Cain didn't mention what had happened at the Copper Star, and neither did Jenny.

They both needed time to sort things out, plan what to do next. When the meal was over, Cain suggested driving up to the ranch.

"It isn't that far away," he argued, when she insisted she had to work. "We can relax for a few hours, breathe some fresh, high-desert air, spend the night, and drive back in the morning."

Jenny could see the stress in Cain's face, the lines across his forehead, the tension around his mouth. He was still struggling with the scary moments up in room 10. Cain needed a break, and knowing what she would be dealing with when she returned to the Star, Jenny figured a short break might be good for her, too.

"All right. A night away sounds like a good idea. I just need to grab a few things from the Copper Star before we leave."

His eyes darkened.

"You can wait for me in the lobby. I'll only be a few minutes."

Surprisingly, Cain didn't argue. He didn't want to go upstairs, and she didn't blame him. Jenny hurriedly grabbed a few items, including her boots and a warm outdoor jacket. More items that would end up in Cain's suite.

Her clothes were beginning to fill the guest closet, but Cain didn't seem to mind. He took the satchel she brought down and carried it out to the Jag.

"I called ahead," he said. "They'll be expecting us."

In minutes, they were on their way down the mountain, the Jag hugging the curves, Cain relaxing more with every mile farther away from Jerome.

"So how's the grand-opening party coming?" he asked as he made a steep turn. It was a great day to be outside, the sun shining, the sky a clear azure blue except for a few stray white clouds.

"Millie and I have almost everything done." The party was scheduled for the last Saturday in October. With Halloween the following Wednesday, they had decided on a glamorous masked affair, formal, the guests wearing elegant sequined and feathered masks a la Mardi Gras that would be handed out at the door.

It would be memorable, Jenny was sure.

"We'll be ready," Cain said. "The crew is just doing pickup work. Completing the last of the finish work. Should be done in a day or two. Millie's got most of the furniture in place."

"She'll have the rest in by the middle of the week."

"What else is there to do?" Cain asked.

"With your permission, we're going to open the bar and restaurant early, serve anyone who happens to come through the door, invite a few of the locals to try us. The staff has already been working, learning their routines, but serving outsiders would give them a little more confidence before opening night."

"That's a good idea."

"We've already sent out the invitations. We got most of the guests' email addresses from your assistant in Scottsdale. She was a big help with that. Millicent also had a list. We've already gotten RSVPs from some of the digital invitations we sent out, but considering the caliber of people we're hoping to attract, we also sent a printed invitation."

Jack Barlow, a Copper Star customer, had put in extra effort to get the invitations printed in a short time, an elegant, gold-embossed picture of the hotel on expensive white, deckle-edge card stock.

Bridget Hayes, Summer's mom, had volunteered to address the envelopes, as calligraphy was her hobby. Bridget and Summer, along with a select number of local business owners, were on the invitation list.

Guests from out of town would be staying in the hotel, which Jenny figured would be full that night.

"Believe it or not, I'm actually starting to look forward to this," Cain said. "I need to have my assistant pick up my tux and messenger it up to the hotel."

"Which reminds me, I have to buy a dress."

Cain flicked her a glance. "We'll go shopping. I'll drive you down to Scottsdale. We'll make a day of it."

"I can find something here."

"You don't have to worry about the price. It'll be a gift."

She shot him a look. "No, thank you. It wouldn't be right for you to pay for my dress."

Cain laughed. "You're the first woman I've known who wouldn't let me spend money on her."

"That's because I'm nothing like the other women you've known."

He grinned. "I figured that out a while back." The Jag rolled out of the mountains into the high desert.

"How's your enemies list coming along?" Jenny asked, changing the subject.

Cain surprised her by reaching into the pocket of his denim shirt and pulling out a folded piece of paper. "Take a look. Maybe you can think of someone I'm missing."

She took the list and gave it a brief perusal. "Let's run through it. Hearing the names out loud might jog something that will help."

"All right."

Some of the names were grouped together. "Roger Duffy, Alvin Cline, and Maryann Whelan."

"Ex-employees. They were all let go for different reasons. There were others over the years—that's just business. But those three resented it more than anyone else. Roger even threatened to sue me if we didn't give him his job back."

"Severance pay?"

"Yes. More than they deserved."

She read the next name on the list. "Raymond Aldridge."

"Outbid him on a deal to buy a cluster of moly claims. Claims turned out to be very productive, worth way more than we paid for them. Ray wasn't happy."

She looked back down at the list. "Rance Decker, Tank Rosen, and Butch Steel."

"Guys in the gang I ran with after I dropped out of high school. They were pissed when I reformed, went back to school, and left them behind."

"Even more pissed, I imagine, as you became more and more successful."

He just shrugged. "Probably." He flicked her a sideways glance. "Like I told Nick, depending on how you look at it, I've probably got an army of enemies out there."

Jenny studied the list. "I don't see Barton Harwell's name. Your former partner couldn't have been happy after you bought him out and then found molybdenum on the claims he sold."

"I haven't seen Bart in years. Last I heard, he was somewhere down in South America. Besides, the price I paid him at the time was more than fair. Bart was happy to take the money."

"His name should still be on the list."

"Fine, if that's what you think, write it down."

Jenny took a pen out of her purse and made a note on the paper.

"I see Ryder Vance's name." Steel Cobras was typed in parenthesis beside it. "Your run-in with Ryder happened after King was stolen."

"True, but this is a list of my enemies, and I think Ryder would consider himself one of them."

She nodded. "Couldn't hurt to have him checked out." She looked back down at the list. "What about women? Maryann Whelan, your former employee, is the only female on the list."

Cain's gaze sliced to hers. "I try not to make enemies of the women I spend time with."

"I don't think that's possible. There are bound to be a few you've slept with who felt used or betrayed, some who might want to take revenge for being dumped."

Cain sighed. "Let me give it some thought."

Jenny didn't press him. There had to be a string of women who were pissed when he ended their affair, brief as it might have been. It wasn't hard to imagine herself in that role. She wouldn't be angry, she realized. She would be brokenhearted.

Since it was bound to happen sooner or later, Jenny shoved the depressing thought away.

For the rest of the trip, the scenery kept her entertained. Before they reached Prescott, Cain made the turn north toward Kirkland. As the Jag drove through the rolling desert hills, the miles slipped past. Up ahead, she could see the green, irrigated pastures of the ranch. The Jag turned down the narrow lane toward the sprawling Spanish-style house, and Maria came out on the front porch to greet them.

Cain stopped the car, turned off the engine, and both of them climbed out.

Maria smiled as they approached. She wiped her hands on the yellow apron tied over her jeans. "Welcome. You are just in time for lunch, Se?or Cain."

"Great. I'm starving. You remember Jenny?"

" Sí. Welcome back, Se?ora . "

"Thank you. It's nice to see you again."

"I will set places for you both in the sun-room."

Cain grabbed the small overnight bags they had brought, carried them into the house and down the hall to his room. Jenny wandered the house, ending up in an intimate glass-walled space filled with plants, some of them overgrowing their colorful pots. It was the perfect room for a day like today, sunny, but tinged with a sharp October chill.

The table was set with bright-colored place mats and pottery plates. Maria walked in, carrying a tray laden with bowls emitting the delicious aroma of chilies and brazed meat.

"That smells delicious," Jenny said.

Maria flicked her a glance. "So the two of you are still together." She took the food off the tray and set the bowls in the middle of the table.

"You didn't think we would be?" Jenny replied. "Well, neither did I."

Maria's chin went up. "Cain is a good man."

"Yes, he is. That's the reason we're still together."

Some of the stiffness went out of Maria's shoulders. "Perhaps I have been wrong about you. Perhaps you are good for Se?or Cain."

"I'd like to think so."

Maria's smile actually looked sincere. "Enjoy your lunch."

Cain passed the broad-hipped woman as he walked into the sun-room. "What was that about?"

"I think she was surprised to see me here again. Apparently, a relationship that lasts any length of time is a novelty where you're concerned."

Amusement touched his lips. "I suppose that's true. In your case, we're only getting started."

Jenny felt an expected pang. Half of her hoped it was true. The other half was terrified it might be. "We better eat before it gets cold."

The chili Colorado was delicious, the tortillas freshly made. After lunch, they put on their boots, grabbed their jackets, and headed for the barn. Billy saddled Rosebud, the palomino mare she had ridden before, while Cain saddled his big red roan, Gladiator.

Once they were mounted and on their way, the wind died down, and the sun on their shoulders kept them warm. It was a lovely way to spend the afternoon, though Jenny noticed Cain was carefully working to keep his distance. There was no making love on a blanket near the stream, as she had fantasized about on the way to the ranch. There were no fun sexual innuendos.

It bothered her until she realized that, after what had happened in the hotel last night, Cain was afraid of what he might do to her when they made love. What he'd experienced had affected him greatly. Brian Santana was dead. Leslie Owens and Mary Dennison had almost been killed.

But Jenny knew in her heart that Cain would never hurt her. He was stronger than whatever had tried to control him. Tonight, she was going to prove it.

They were back in the barn, Billy unsaddling the horses, when Denver walked toward them through the open barn door. His suntanned face looked pale, his features drawn tight.

"What is it?" Cain asked.

Denver pulled off his hat and held it in front of him. "King's back. Sanchez found him in the east pasture. No idea when or how he got there, but . . ."

"Is he all right?" Cain frowned at the look on Denver's face. "Something's wrong. What is it?"

Denver ran his tongue over his lips. "He's not the same horse, Cain. He went after Sanchez, chased him clear out of the pasture. He attacked Quinn, bit him, chased him, and tried to stomp him into the ground. He's gone completely crazy." Denver's fingers tightened on the brim of his hat. "The thing is, whoever took him . . . they gelded him, Cain. King's not a stallion anymore."