Chapter 27
Wilder breathed a sigh of relief at hearing Abbie well and back to her sassy self. He ducked into an alley in Globe.
“Abbie?”
“Wild Man? Oh, God! I was worried you were dead.”
There was a warmer quality to her speech that wasn’t there prior to her abduction, as if she knew or felt close to him.
“Your memories are back?” he asked, afraid to hope.
“Yes. Bart’s goons must’ve jarred something loose when they knocked me out.” She paused a second, then added, “I can’t believe you never gave up on me.”
“Part of me had,” he confessed. “Life without you was too hard, and I couldn’t imagine continuing down such a bleak path. I didn’t want to go on, Abbie. My soul was shredded. I was completely out of options when I stumbled upon your dad at Ebba’s.”
“New rule: we both survive, no matter what it takes.”
“That’s a fucking great rule,” he replied with feeling.
She paused for a long moment. “How’s your back? It looked bad.”
“Our friends patched me up. I’ll tell you all about it when I see you.”
“Your standard line when you don’t want to discuss anything deep,” she teased.
“Yeah, well, enough about me. Are you safe? Have they hurt you?”
“I’m fine.”
“Really? Because I was told they found Gus’s and Bart’s bodies in the canyon.”
“Yes. Bart’s demise was an altercation with my foot, and Jennings shot poor Gus in the back when he tried to help me.”
Wilder swore.
“I’m fine, Wild Man. Promise.”
“I love you, Abbie. With all my fucking heart and soul. I don’t know if I ever told you that enough.”
“You did. I love you, too.” Another long pause. “Morcant is a creepy motherfucker.”
“A dangerous one, too,” he warned. “Keep your emotions in check around him. He feeds off strife.”
“So I’ve heard.”
There really wasn’t anything else he felt comfortable saying with others listening in, but severing the link was too much to bear.
“What’s the plan?” she asked, as if she needed to maintain their connection, too.
“I think our friends intend to make it up as they go along.”
“Sounds about right for Draven, I think. He prefers to live recklessly.”
Draven’s chuckle rang inside Wilder’s head. “I’m hurt, chère.”
“I don’t know how these guys do this telepathy thing. All the buzzing brain waves are driving me a little insane,” Wilder confessed.
“You get used to it,” Castor said. “Now, you two be quiet, so we can pay attention to the heist details.”
Although he hated to disconnect from Abbie, Wilder understood the wisdom of Castor’s advice.
She was alive and well, with two fierce protectors by her side.
Three, if he counted the Royal guy. It seemed wherever she went, she collected saviors as well as enemies.
Thank the Goddess for her sense of balance.
Because he had little doubt Isis was behind protecting her, despite what the Fates and Authority wanted.
“Damian and I have arrived in Globe,” he told their group. “He’s implanting a town-wide suggestion about a silver shipment, so no matter who Hasting’s gang asks, they’ll get a similar answer.”
“Excellent,” Castor replied. “We’ll do our part to get them there.”
Wilder left the alley and made his way to the local watering hole.
Damian was in deep conversation with the bartender, and one could only assume it was over the lack of quality booze in the place.
The man’s fussiness was almost comical, and Wilder could definitely see where Alastair had developed his taste for finer things.
He almost wished Al had come along on this trip, but he was certain the appearance of a man who could be Nate’s twin would be disconcerting at best. Threatening at worst.
He caught Damian’s eye in the mirror behind the bar, receiving a nod in return. With nothing left to do until Castor and crew arrived, Wilder found an empty table and positioned himself with his back to the wall.
When he was a child, he loved westerns. Books, movies, and television shows; it didn’t matter.
He ate them up, longing to live in those troubled times.
The lawless Wild West had appealed to his reckless nature.
Yet, having visited the place and falling victim to the ruthless residents, the constant dirty atmosphere, and the relentlessly oppressive vibe, he could say, with all honesty, his infatuation with the past was gone.
Fantasy and real life were miles apart.
One of an endless parade of sex workers sauntered up to him.
“You look lonely, mister,” the girl said, hiking her skirts higher to display a creamy thigh. “I can keep you company for a time.”
She couldn’t have been more than fourteen or fifteen at most, sporting a world-weary air of someone five times her age.
Underneath the grimy clothing, her skin was clean and her ginger-colored corkscrew hair freshly washed.
Freckles stood out on pale cheeks, and her large hazel eyes were dulled by a hard life.
The fact that a virtual child was forced to survive by turning tricks in a mining town full of grungy middle-aged and old men soured Wilder’s stomach.
Hell, he was old enough to be the girl’s father, and the appeal of someone her age was nil.
He battled an overwhelming desire to give her what was left of his gold, but if he showed his stash in this rough crowd, he was as good as dead.
“When did you last eat a decent meal?” he asked.
Caught off guard by his response, her expression became uncertain, and she looked as if she didn’t know what to do. She glanced around, then pasted on a come-hither smile before turning back to Wilder. “I could eat if that’s what you want, but I’m good for a quick tup, too.”
Keeping the grimace off his face was work. “I’m happy to buy you a meal, hon, but I’m not interested in anything else.”
“Your tool not workin’, mister? I can help. Swear.”
He wasn’t discussing his “tool” with a child, no matter how worldly, so he gestured to a chair. “Have a seat. I’ll order us some food.”
“I can sit with ya, sure, but it will cost you a dollar. You sure you don’t want to go upstairs?” she asked, apprehension causing her to dart another glance at the person Wilder suspected was her pimp.
“Sit down, child,” Damian ordered from behind her.
The command in his voice had her complying, and he slid a bowl of stew in front of her, then offered a second to Wilder.
“Eat, girl, and when you’re done, you’ll point out your employer.”
She paused, spoon halfway to her mouth as she got her first good look at the Aether’s jaw-dropping good looks. But she quickly regrouped.
“He’ll kill me, sir,” she mumbled before shoveling in steaming bites.
“Not on my watch,” he assured her.
An understanding passed between them. Damian’s calm assurance eased the young woman’s fears.
“Tell me about your mother,” he said out of the blue.
Wilder wasn’t sure where he was going until the girl’s face crumpled.
“Ma?” the girl asked. Her lip trembled, giving away her plight, before she bit it.
“What happened to her?”
“She up and died last year. Pox, Doc said.” She gave a half-hearted shrug, then tucked into her bowl. “She wouldn’t have wanted this for us kids. But Pete, he promised her he’d take care of us. She didn’t know he ran girls with Bart.”
“Bart? Would that be Bartholomew Mercer from Perdition Ridge?” Wilder asked.
Her nose curled as if smelling something foul. “Yeah.”
“I see.” And he did. Abbie’s fate would’ve been the same as this child’s had people not cared enough to search for her, and had she not gotten lucky in the canyon. “What’s your name?”
“Molly Mae.” She wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve and winced. “Ma would be sore at me for doin’ that on account it ain’t ladylike.”
“Molly Mae, you said ‘kids’ meaning plural. How many siblings do you have?”
“I gots me one sister and a half-brother, Gus. His Pa was a mean’un, though.”
Gus. The boy who had been shot trying to save Abbie. Christ, it was a blow. One he wasn’t ready to deliver on this poor girl.
Wilder met Damian’s considering gaze. “An Evie project?”
“I think that would be best. She’ll make it her mission to save the lost lambs in Pete’s care.”
He grinned, happy to know his great-great-grandmother was a woman of action.
“You want to tell her, or should I?” He nodded toward the first of Evie’s ‘lost lambs.’
“Please, be my guest,” Damian replied with a small smile.
The girl sucked in her breath, causing his frown.
“Must be tough looking as gorgeous as you do,” Wilder quipped.
Damian’s voice was pained as he said, “You have no idea.”
“Nothing wrong with good looks, mister.” Molly waved her spoon as if to emphasize the point. “’Specially when you got a handsome heart. Or that’s what Ma would say. The two aren’t mutually excluded.”
“Exclusive,” Wilder corrected. “And your mother was right.”
A rotund man in a green suit approached. His greasy hair was slicked back, and his graying, bulbous nose spoke of drinking to excess. “Molly’s here for work, not sittin’ around. You gents want her company, it’ll be five dollars apiece.”
Wilder was one heartbeat away from ripping the fucker’s head off when Damian touched his arm.
“I’ll handle this one, Thorne.” Rising, he faced the pimp. “Molly no longer chooses to be in your employ, Pete. She has a brighter future ahead of her, as do your other staff.”
“If you’re thinkin’ you can just come in here, an—”
The fucker dropped dead.
One second, he was bristling; the next, his skin turned ashen, and then he was on the floor at their feet.
“Was it something I said?” Damian asked drolly.
More like something he did, and Wilder shared a shocked glance with Molly.
She recovered faster, grinning as she dug into her stew.
Christ, to be so jaded! It reminded him of Abbie’s new matter-of-fact attitude.
“Mortals in this century don’t have the luxury of softer feelings, Thorne,” Damian telegraphed via their link.
He nodded a response, mentally preparing himself for the coming shitstorm.
“Molly, my dear, would you be so kind as to round up your friends to dine with us? I’d like to tell them about their good fortune,” Damian said.
She eyed her empty bowl with regret.
“There will be more for you when you return. Promise.” After she darted away, he rose and pressed a hand to Wilder’s shoulder.
Perhaps it spoke to the power the Aether wielded, but he could swear a current swept through him.
“I’ll leave you here, Thorne. I need to pay a call on Evie and Nate to tell them about their new school for unfortunate souls.
Also, the bill for the children’s meal will be covered. ”
“Appreciate it.” Wilder waved him off with a grin and dug into his stew.