Timeless Passion: 10 Historical Romances To Savor by Rue Allyn Read Free Book Online Page B

staring.
    “Gentlemen, there’s no problem. Is there, Mr. Trahern?” Cerise’s voice held as much warning as curiosity.
    “No.” Dutch released his grip and sat.
    The onlookers breathed a collective sigh as the tension eased.
    The judge dropped to the floor but kept his feet. He straightened his shirt, dusted the sleeves of his jacket, and returned to his seat.
    “It’s no skin off my back, if you choose to sweat like a miner to earn your grub. But don’t act all high and mighty with me, when I know just how much blood you’ve got on your hands.” He spoke for Dutch’s ears alone.
    “That’s a lie. You know nothing about me.”
    “You can call me a liar all you want. Don’t change nothin’.” Jem snarled. “I know what I know. I’ve got my sources of information, and they’re real reliable.” He nodded his head in the direction of Cerise Duval, who urged her audience to bid more than $1,500. What else could the judge know about the killing done years ago and Dutch’s failure to defend an innocent girl? Failure that was the direct result of his own youthful fear of Duval. No, despite the horrors of that incident, Duval and the judge had come out of it worse than Dutch. Duval was a proud woman, careful, savvy, and not above manufacturing evidence if need be. But the calculation in the judge’s narrowed gaze told Dutch the man was bluffing.
    “Liar is one of the nicest things I can call you.” Dutch tried to keep his tone as indifferent as possible. But under his calm façade, temper roared for freedom. He badly wanted to smash something.
    “Perhaps, but seein’ as how you think so poorly of your pa, why’d you bother to accept my invitation?”
    “Because I want that information you promised and I want you to leave town.”
    Hands busy with the cards again, his parent shrugged. “I like San Francisco, and information has a price. ’Sides, I always got use for cash. How much are you payin’?” The judge stacked the cards in front of him. Avarice and something akin to panic gleamed in his eyes.
    “You asked for $4,000. That’s more than you deserve.”
    “I deserve whatever it’s worth to get rid of me. Now, are you paying my askin’ price?”
    Within his inner coat pocket Dutch had just over $4,000, but he wasn’t telling the judge that when he might get rid of him for less. Dutch stared hard at the man, wondering for the thousandth time how the judge could possibly be his father.
    Voices rose again in the auction room. “Well I got me seventeen hunner’d, an’ I wanna taste o’ that first-timer real bad. I’m biddin’ it all, Madame.”
    “Thank you kindly, sir. The bid is now $1,700. Seventeen hundred dollars, once. Come now, gentlemen. The collective wealth of San Francisco is in this room. Surely one of you can see the value in this priceless, once-in-a-lifetime experience. To take a lady on her journey into womanhood requires a man with the stomach to bid a great deal of money. Why, $2,000 is almost too little for such a treasure. Seventeen hundred, twice.”
    Murmurs ran through the crowd, but no one spoke up.
    Dutch shook his head slowly. His lips thinned in disgust. He reached into his coat, removed half the cash and stuffed it into the envelope he’d been toying with. “For a man with the salary of a California District Court Justice, you’re awfully desperate. I’ll give you half now, half when your information checks out.”
    The judge grabbed for the packet.
    Dutch lifted the money over his head, out of the older man’s reach. “What’s got you so all fired anxious? What did you do, murder someone else?”
    “None of your business.” The words strangled from the judge’s throat. His gaze on the envelope, he rose and moved toward Dutch.
    Dutch stood too. A good foot taller, he shook the envelope in his raised hand. “I’m making it my business, and if you want this you’ll tell me everything about Trey and what you know about slavers using Trahern-Smiley ships