Chapter 10
Ten
GENEVIEVE
G enevieve weaved through the standard bright white employee hallways, still knowing the layout by heart. Killian stuck by her side like the super glue he’d promised Roman he’d be while Mateo was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps lurking in the shadows? How was she supposed to run when she didn’t even know where her enemies were?
She drove out a harsh sigh. One thing at a time. Getting overwhelmed wouldn’t do her any good. It wasn’t possible to cut the head off the snake yet, but her mom’s other piece of sound advice rang through her mind. Find an ally . Well, Brendan King was out, but one of her best friends from her Reno days was not. She just hoped Archer still worked in The Outlaw.
Genevieve burst through an employee door, unsuccessfully slamming it in Killian’s face as she stepped onto the Wild West casino floor.
Killian grumbled, “There’s no need for that, Ms. Genevieve.”
Genevieve grinned in satisfaction at getting under his skin and increased her pace, hoping to do so even more. A golden statue of Billy the Kid glimmered in the central lobby as she took the familiar escalator to the second floor and peeked in the window of The Wild West Salon. Thank the heavens. Archer! He still worked there. But would she endanger him by confiding in him? Allies , her mom’s voice shouted in her head. It’s not selfish, Gen. It’s survival!
Genevieve pulled open the wood-framed glass door. “Archer,” she screeched, the onset of tears springing to her eyes.
Archer spun around, the chain hanging from his black leather pants flailing with the movement. He gaped, then smiled, placing a hand on his narrow hip. The trendy spiral black-and-white dress shirt he wore had parted open, revealing the top of his bare chest.
Genevieve ran to him, jumping into his long arms.
“Genevieve. Oh my gosh, Gen. Thank god. Where have you been?” He drew her back and looked her over, bracing his hands on her arms. “I’ve been worried sick. Over two years and not a word.”
Genevieve puffed out a breath. “I’m so sorry, Arch. I told you about Marshal. I had to get away from him. Are you mad I didn’t tell you I was leaving?”
His smile faltered. “A little. I wish you had trusted me. Heck, at least called me, girl, and told me you were safe. I would never have told anyone anything.”
Genevieve pinched her eyes shut. “I hate that I walked out on you. It would have hurt me deeply if our roles were reversed, but I didn’t have a choice. It was run or become Marshal’s wife.”
Archer stepped back, eyeing her with concern. “So, Marshal’s changed his mind then? He’s moved on, and you’re just here to visit?”
“No, he hasn’t moved on. He caught me and forced me to come here.” Her lips trembled. “I have a marriage ultimatum. He kidnapped my mom to enforce it. ”
“That son of a?—”
Genevieve placed a quick hand on his chest. “Don’t say it. Don’t say anything that can get you into trouble.”
She glanced behind her. Killian stood outside the salon with his shoulder propped up against a glass window, resting his eyes on her. Only one exit, so she had some space, but still, he was always watching.
Genevieve sighed. “Look, Arch, I don’t want to get into the details. I can’t risk Marshal’s men overhearing us. He knows I used to come in here a lot and probably has listening devices and cameras planted all over this salon. His thugs are likely monitoring our conversation right now. We have to be careful what we say.” She pleaded at him with her eyes. “I just need you. I’ve missed you so much. I didn’t make any friends on the run—I couldn’t—and to not talk to you has been excruciating. You’re my best friend. It’s been a rough few years without you.”
Archer pulled her back into his arms, hugging her fiercely. “For me, too. Even having the freedom to make friends as I wish, I haven’t made many good ones. No one really gets me—no one but you.”
Genevieve grinned, forcing the stress out of her mind. “What is this hair?” She reached up and touched a lock of sea green mixed with teal. “Is this some kind of aqua ocean theme? Are you going merman on me?”
He chuckled. “I changed it last week. Too many years of dying it black. I’m kind of sick of the full goth look. I want some color in my life.”
“Well,”—Genevieve plopped down in his salon chair—“I’m in need of the opposite. I need less color in my life. Do you have an appointment coming up, or are you free?”
Archer pulled a slow smile. “I’ll make myself free. Maybelle,” he yelled across the salon, “can you cover my ten o’clock? ”
“Sure,” the woman chirped in a lively tone. “Take the day off if you want. More tips for me. I can double up, no problem.”
Genevieve brought her fist to her mouth, covering a huge yawn. Roman had driven straight through, making only gas stops as promised. They'd arrived at The Outlaw in the wee hours of the morning, beating Jed's required time by twelve hours. She'd napped in the car, but barely enough to get through the day.
Archer rubbed a long lock of her fire-red highlights between his fingers. “ What is this?” He tsk-tsked. “I’m not digging it.”
“I needed to draw attention to my hair and away from my face.”
He fanned out his hand. “Well, it doesn’t work.”
She giggled softly. “I agree. Can you get me back to normal?”
“You mean champagne blonde? Of course. You look amazing with?—”
“No, no.” Genevieve caught Archer’s gaze through the mirror. “My natural hair color—I want it pure golden brown for the first time since I started working here. Ain’t no way I’m going to give Marshal the satisfaction of thinking I’m ever going to be the compliant green Genevieve that used to give in to his every command. I’m not that woman anymore.”
Archer leaned over her head and braced his chin on top of her hair, holding her eyes through the mirror. “You go, girl! You do you , and don’t let anyone tell you different.”
“That’s right.” Genevieve smirked, taking a deep breath of pungent salon air. “No more giving in.”
“And I’ll quite enjoy your attempts not to, my dove.”
A startled gasp hissed between her lips. Archer’s crystal blue eyes popped wide open, and he quickly backed away. How had she not seen Jed through the mirror? He moved like a dangerous jungle cat.
Jed winked at her, strolling up to her chair. He kissed her temple and hovered his lips over her ear. “You not giving in to my every command sounds sexy as hell.” After a long pause, he bit her lower lobe. “Say anything you like, but do so knowing that I’m listening. I hear and see everything you do.” He skimmed his lips up the side of her face and pressed another kiss in the hollow of her eye before righting himself and adjusting his cuff links. “I’ll fetch you later tonight for dinner, dove. I’ve got some clients I need to see to, so go about as you please until then.”
She raised her chin. “And what if I were to say no to your commanding dinner request?”
Jed smiled like he’d been given the best gift of his life. “Then I will quite enjoy making you say yes.” He brushed his fingers across her cheek down to her mouth, plucking her plush lower lip before walking out of the salon with Luke, Roman, and Ace on his heels.
Archer stood frozen in place with his mouth dangling open. He snapped his jaw shut and shook his head. “Damn, I see what you’re up against.”
Genevieve tucked her shaky hands under her armpits. “I’m so glad he left you alone. Especially after you said, ‘Don’t let anyone tell you different.’ Even though you were just supporting me, it was still an act of defiance. Once I realized he was there, I thought he’d toss you out on the pavement.”
Archer let out a disbelieving snort. “I know—me too. I thought I was fired for sure or worse. Almost wet my pants. Marshal’s never set foot in here before.”
“Yeah, that’s because I was compliant before. He could always count on me to be where I said I would be. Now he’s keeping tabs on everything I do.” Genevieve slowly released the air from her lungs. “Let’s talk about anything else. I don’t want to risk Marshal distancing you from me.” She studied Archer through the mirror while he parted the tip of his comb through her hair, separating the strands and pinning them this way and that. “How do you get away with looking like a Waterworld rock star when the theme of this place is the Wild West? I always wondered that.”
Archer laughed. “My boss has never said a thing to me about it. I think it’d be pretty hokey if all the employees wore boots, spurs, and shirts with fringes and tassels. Though I do believe the traditional saloon and some restaurants have an employee dress code, don’t they? You probably know more about that than me.”
“The brochures we created featured employees in western wear, but I didn’t pay much attention to what they actually wore in the themed restaurants and businesses. My dates with Marshal were usually in formal settings in some eye-catching dress, and for work, I wore a colorful blouse and slacks.”
“I remember.” He nodded. “You look hot in business clothes. Sophisticated.”
“Thanks,” she beamed, so glad to be in the comfort of an ally. “Same thing I wore working for Mr. King…I mean, never mind.”
Archer raised a brow. “Who’s Mr. King?” He chuckled. “What a name. Will I be meeting Mr. King?”
“No, Jed would kill him.”
Archer jerked back in surprise. “Mr. King is Marshal’s competition?”
“No, he’s my new boss”—Genevieve hesitated—“or at least he was. I guess I can’t ever go back now. Mr. King said he likes me, but he said that before he found out I was the ex-girlfriend of a powerful criminal.”
“Ex-girlfriend?”
“I meant fiancée,” Genevieve said loudly, probably not fooling Jed’s men, but she needed them to believe she was on board. Cupping her hands, she motioned her head for Archer to lean down. “I’ll never give in to Marshal,” she whispered. “Never. Just the thought of being controlled for the rest of my life—I just can’t, Arch. Not to mention, he’s a corrupt creep—people’s lives are at stake. That means I have to cut off the head of the snake.”
With a stunned expression, Archer whispered, “What does that mean?”
“I need to take him down. I’ll do whatever it takes to put him in jail. When the time is right, can I count on you?”
Archer blinked and nodded through the mirror. “Of course,” he mouthed. “Besties for life.”
“Besties for life,” she returned. “Let’s get my hair fixed and then go get some drinks out by the pool. Do you still like strawberry mojitos?”
“Like?” Archer raised his brows as if the answer was obvious. “Love ‘em. Strawberry, peach, pineapple, mango…who cares? Bring ‘em on.”
“Perfect, they’ll just think we’re shooting the breeze if we’re drinking,” she whispered. “And they shouldn’t be able to listen to our conversation if we’re outside.” I hope anyway, and then maybe we can come up with a plan.