Hawk eased himself higher, leaning sideways to get a foot on the sill and a hand on the window frame. Then he swung round and in, powering through the window so that he landed full length beside the woman.

  His gloved hand clamped over Leonora’s mouth as she started in surprise, his right lifting the Meteor to cover the door.

  Leonora relaxed as she recognized him, making no move to break free. Instead, she smiled with her eyes and eased back on the mound of pillows in a position of blatant invitation. Hawk took his hand from her mouth.

  ‘Jared,’ she whispered, her voice seductive. ‘You came back.’

  ‘Sweeney?’ Hawk’s voice was a low rasp. ‘Where is he?’

  ‘With Ace,’ she smiled. ‘Looking for you.’

  She touched his cheek, fingers rasping on beard stubble, the touch tensing him.

  ‘It’s all right.’ Her voice was soothing, reassuring and husky with desire. ‘We’re on the same side.’

  ‘How you figger that?’ he asked, rising to push open the door. Covering the room beyond with the shotgun: it was empty. ‘I’m going to kill them.’

  ‘Good. That’s what I thought.’

  Anticipation lent an edge to her voice and Hawk swung round with disbelief registering on his features. Leonora was smiling still, the robe spread open around her, its frothy darkness accentuating the smooth honey tone of her flesh. Her nipples were hard, standing dark and enticing against the paler color of her full breasts. Her legs were long and smooth, parted to show the triangle of dark hair where they joined.

  ‘Does that surprise you?’ A hint of amusement echoed in her words. ‘Do you think I enjoy this?’ She gestured at the room. ‘Being locked up all the time? Having Ace watch me everywhere I go?’

  Hawk shrugged, eyes moving from her face to her body, desire mounting despite his tension.

  ‘I hate this godforsaken town.’ She spat the words, eyes flashing dangerously. ‘I hate being locked up. I hate Charles. I never thought it would be like this.’

  ‘You married him,’ Hawk said. ‘For better or worse.’

  ‘It’s worse than I expected.’ She laughed bitterly. ‘He promised me we’d stay here just long enough to get his businesses started, then we’d go back to St Louis. He talked of Paris. Rome. All those foreign places.’

  She rose on the pillows, the movement tumbling the gown clear of her shoulders so that she lounged fully naked, staring at Hawk.

  ‘He’s not even a man,’ she said. ‘Not like you. Kill him, Jared! Kill him and Ace! Then his money comes to me. We could go a long way on all that money.’

  Hawk began to smile as his plans changed. This was better than he had expected. He went over to the woman, looking down at her.

  ‘It’s what I wanted all along,’ she said. ‘I knew you were the one when I first saw you. I knew you’d have the guts to do it.’

  Hawk nodded as her hand touched his thigh, pulling him towards her. His knees touched the bed and he bent over her, watching as her eyes closed and her lips parted. She moaned as he kissed her, drawing his hand down to cup her breast, pushing it lower until he felt hair under his fingers and her thighs closed, then eased apart. He pulled away, fighting the desire inside him.

  ‘He’ll be back,’ he grunted. ‘Him and Ace.’

  ‘You can take them both.’ She retained his hand, moving it against her. ‘Then it’s all ours. I’m all yours.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Hawk smiled at her.

  Then came onto his feet as footsteps echoed on the stairs.

  Leonora pulled on her robe, touching her lips in silent warning as she pointed to the door. Hawk stepped behind it, holding the Meteor as she went into the main room and the outer door swung shut, a key turning in the lock.

  ‘Charles,’ he heard her say. ‘Where’s Ace?’

  ‘Gone looking for that killer.’ Sweeney sounded frightened, the authority in his voice wavering. ‘I told him to look all night if needs be. I want Hawk found and dead.’

  Leonora laughed. ‘You needn’t have looked so hard.’

  Hawk came out from the bedroom, relishing the look of pure fear that blanched the color from Sweeney’s face. The man’s eyes opened wide and his fleshy lips parted in a gurgling cry of sheer terror. Hawk rammed the Meteor’s barrel hard against the swell of his gut. The woman laughed, letting her robe fall apart as she sneered at her husband. Sweeney was shaking now, his body trembling as spittle dribbled unheeded from his lips. His eyes moved frantically from the Meteor to Hawk’s cold face to Leonora’s. The acrid stink of urine filled the room and a dark patch spread across the gray material of his pants.

  His terror seemed to excite the woman. Her nipples were still hard and her tongue licked at her swollen lips as though in anticipation.

  Hawk said, ‘You make a sound an’ you’re dead.’

  Sweeney nodded. Hawk backed him across the room until he was in front of a chair.

  ‘Pull it across.’ The gunfighter pointed to the open door of the bedroom. ‘Then sit down.’

  Sweeney did as he was ordered. Hawk lashed his wrists and ankles to the chair and stuffed a gag into the man’s mouth. Sweeney was sweating, oblivious of the fear stain covering his pants as he stared in huge-eyed terror at the muzzle of Hawk’s shotgun.

  ‘That’s fine.’ Hawk holstered the Meteor. ‘You owe me, Sweeney. Now I start to collect.’

  Deliberately, taking his time, he unbuckled his gun belt. Sweeney’s eyes followed his movements, puzzlement showing through the fear until they opened wider still in disbelief as Leonora came across the room and began to tug at the gunfighter’s clothing.

  Hawk let her strip him, settling back on the bed as she dropped the robe and moved to cover him. She was on her knees, legs either side of Hawk’s thighs, her hands stroking him, touching him with eager, lascivious intent. He felt his own excitement mount, the promise of her body sweetened by the tang of revenge as Sweeney began to choke against the gag. Leonora laughed.

  ‘You see, Charles? You see what a real man can do?’

  Sweeney’s face was purple. Strangling cries bubbled from under the gag and tears of rage, tears of pain, formed in his eyes. He screwed them tight shut, shaking his head from side to side as though willing the vision of his wife and Hawk to disappear. Then, as though forced by some private torture, they opened, staring red at the bed.

  Leonora lowered herself onto her elbows. Her mouth closed on Hawk’s, sucking in his tongue as her breasts brushed against his chest. She drew back, shifting her body so that the firm, soft weight of them hung above his face. He caressed her, his mouth fastening on her nipples as his hands stroked her thighs, her buttocks. She moaned, moving herself against him so that his excitement peaked and he thrust up, hands on her hips as he pulled her down. She gasped as she shifted again, rising on her knees to impale herself on him. She ground against him, eyes glazed with ecstasy as he answered her urgency, hands cupping hard on her breasts.

  It was as good as the promise in her eyes. Better. It was the culmination of promise and revenge, and Hawk gave himself over to it with the abandonment of rage and lust combined.

  It seemed to last a long time and no time at all. The woman began to shudder as her pleasure approached its climax. A wailing cry burst from her parted lips as Hawk groaned and drove furiously against her. Her eyes closed and her head arched back, her hands clutching Hawk’s tight against her breasts. Then she rolled from on top of him, stretching beside him with her mouth nuzzling at his shoulder. One hand rested idly on his thigh, the other stroked his hair. The gunfighter sighed and opened his eyes.

  Then he began to laugh and the woman frowned, lifting on one elbow.

  ‘What is it?’

  In answer, Hawk pointed at Sweeney. The fat man was still in the chair, but his head lolled to one side. The bonds holding his wrists were driven deep into the pudgy flesh, as though he had sought to burst free. His manicured nails were broken where they had ripped at the fabric of the chair. His face was ashen, a bluish tinge showing around the parted lips, the tongue protruding in pink obscenity. Mouth and nostrils gaped wide, as if he had tried to suck in sufficient air to keep his heart beating. He was dead.

  Hawk rose, lifting the lolling head. When he let it go, it flopped down, Sweeney’s dead eyes staring at the floor.

  ‘I guess he’s heartbroken,’ he murmured. ‘He couldn’t take it.’

  In answer Leonora licked her lips, moving her hips against the rumpled sheets as she stared with smoldering eyes at Hawk’s body.

  ‘Come here,’ was all she said.

  Hawk winced as his shirt rubbed on the scratches covering his back. Outside, the first light of dawn was paling the sky, cloud starting to pile on the northern horizon. Leonora lay on the bed, her body sheened with sweat, her hair tangled about her face. Her lips were bruised and swollen, her eyes slumbrous with spent desire.

  ‘It’s early,’ she murmured, low and throaty; inviting. ‘Don’t go yet.’

  Hawk buckled his gun belt.

  ‘I want to be ready,’ he answered. ‘I still got a score to settle with Ace.’

  ‘I’ll come with you. I want to see it.’

  She rose in unashamed nakedness, displaying her body in promise of continued pleasure. Hawk watched her as she washed and pulled on a green dress, settled at the dressing table to fix her hair and apply cosmetics to her face. The memory of the night burned in his brain: she was as much woman as he had ever enjoyed. More. Better. And she was rich.

  It was a pity he didn’t trust her.

  He glanced at Sweeney’s body, grinning as he thought of the agony that had burst the fat man’s heart, then turned to the door.

  ‘Let’s go.’

  Leonora kissed him hard once, her eyes excited.

  ‘Yes,’ she husked. ‘Then we’ll come back here.’

  Hawk unlocked the door and went down the stairs with the Meteor in his right hand. The corridor was empty, but he could hear voices below. Ace’s was loudest, a deep bass filled with authority as he ordered the Sweeney men to go on searching for Hawk. There was a bustle of movement and the gunfighter chanced a look around the angle of a wall. Ace was standing at the foot of the stairs coming up from the vestibule. He was wearing the same fancy suit, with the garish vest and the concho-banded hat. He looked tired. The hands were shuffling out onto Main Street, two hanging back to guard the hotel entrance.

  Hawk waited until only the three men were left below. Then he put his left hand on the balcony rail and vaulted over. He landed bent-kneed directly behind a man in a striped shirt, a Colt on his waist. The man started to turn as Ace shouted, right hand snatching for his gun. Hawk smashed the Meteor across his mouth, the blow splitting his lower lip back against his teeth. The man dropped his pistol as Hawk clamped his left arm tight around his throat, yanking him back to form a human shield.

  Across the room, the second guard reached for his gun. But Ace’s voice halted the movement even as Hawk’s finger began to tense on the trigger.

  ‘Leave it, Billy!’

  Hawk shifted position so the Meteor covered the room. Ace was standing with his hands raised, well away from the pearl-handled Colt. He was smiling. He looked oddly confident. Leonora came onto the balcony, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

  ‘Sweeney’s dead,’ Hawk grated.

  The Negro’s eyes shifted from his face to Leonora’s. The smile stayed on his mouth.

  ‘So are you, Hawk.’

  ‘No!’ The woman moved to the head of the stairs, her voice commanding as she looked down. ‘I’m in charge now. You’ll take your orders from me.’

  The man Ace had called Billy glanced at the Negro, then at the woman, then at Hawk. He shrugged.

  ‘That right, ma’am? Mr. Sweeney’s really dead?’

  ‘As can be,’ said Leonora. ‘He died of a heart attack.’

  ‘I guess,’ Billy looked at the Meteor in Hawk’s hand, ‘that does put you in charge.’

  Leonora nodded imperiously, then: ‘Go find the others. Tell them to forget about Jared. About Hawk.’

  Billy nodded. Hawk let the other man go, watching as he joined his companion and walked warily from the hotel. Ace remained exactly where he was, not moving; not lowering his hands.

  ‘I worked for Mr. Sweeney.’ His voice was steady as his gaze. ‘Worked for him a long time. Fact he’s dead don’t make you the boss, ma’am.’

  Leonora came down the stairs to face the Negro.

  ‘Then I’ll pay you off, Ace. You tell me what you think is due you and you ride away.’

  Ace shook his head. ‘I can’t do that, ma’am. I owe Mr. Sweeney too much.’

  ‘He’s dead,’ said the woman. ‘You don’t owe him a thing.’

  ‘That’s not how it is.’ Ace looked at Hawk. ‘He knows that.’

  Hawk nodded slightly, professional understanding linking the two men closer than the woman could grasp. There was a code. Not anything that could really be put into words; not anything they could speak about. But there, solid and real: a kind of platform on which they based their lives. Hawk knew that once he had given his word he would see a job through: Ace was the same. The difference was that now Hawk had given his word to himself: to kill Ace. And the black man had given his word to Sweeney. He had failed to protect his boss, and now he was committed to killing the man he held responsible for Sweeney’s death.

  ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I know.’

  Ace went on smiling. ‘How you want it?’

  ‘Outside,’ said Hawk. ‘On the street.’

  ‘Sure.’ Ace walked across the vestibule like a man in complete control, of himself and his surroundings. He seemed supremely confident. Hawk followed him out, the Meteor back in the holster. Leonora came up behind him.

  ‘Kill him now, Jared! He’s fast.’

  ‘So am I.’ Hawk shook his head without taking his eyes off Ace’s broad back. ‘It has to be this way.’

  Main Street cleared as they stepped into the dust as though some telepathic communication warned the onlookers of the impending fight. The sun shone bright out of the east; the sky flecked for the first time Hawk could remember since arriving in Santa Rosa with streamers of cloud. Off to the north, the cloud was building up in heavy banks, dark against the penetrating blue.

  Ace halted, turning the tail of his coat back over the butt of the pearl-handled Colt. Hawk stood with feet slightly apart, knees slightly bent, right arm loose by his side.

  ‘Let the woman call it.’ There was contempt in the Negro’s voice as he said the woman. ‘All right?’

  Hawk nodded. ‘Call it, Leonora.’

  There was silence. It was as though all of Santa Rosa held its breath. Like the sudden emptiness before a bad storm hits. Leonora glanced from Hawk to Ace, her eyes bright; lustful.

  ‘Now!’

  Ace was fast.

  Fast as anyone Hawk had come up against.

  But Hawk was still alive: more men than he bothered to count were dead.

  His hand closed on the grip of the Colt’s Frontier, hauling the pistol clear of the greased leather in a blur of motion faster than the eye could follow. His thumb snapped the hammer back as his forefinger dragged the trigger tight against the guard. The barrel lifted, describing a short arc that pointed it at the middle of Ace’s vest.

  The Negro had his own gun out, hammer cocked and muzzle lifting. His shot blasted almost simultaneously with Hawk’s, prolonging the roiling echo of sound that bounced off the walls and filled the town with thunder.

  Hawk felt pain scorch his forearm. Felt blood well. He fired again.

  Ace was staggering backwards. The smile was still fixed on his dark face, but now it held an element of surprise. There was blood on the front of his fancy vest, coming out of the hole above and to the left of his belt buckle. Hawk’s second shot took him in the belly. It doubled him over as the .45 caliber slug tore through his insides, ripping them up before it erupted out of his back on a thick column of bright crimson.

  Ace’s second shot flew wild, pluming dust from the street six feet to Hawk’s side. The Negro went down on his knees. His left hand was pressed against the hole in his stomach. Blood spurted from between his fingers, running thick and sticky over the material of his vest, onto his pants. He shook his head. Slowly, painfully; still smiling.

  Hawk watched as he struggled to raise the pearl-handled Colt. He should have been dead, but his natural strength and some enormous effort of will was holding him together. Keeping him alive and moving. Hawk extended his gun at arm’s length.

  Ace’s hand came up.

  Slowly.

  Very slowly.

  Shaking, so the muzzle of the Colt wavered.

  Then he groaned and twisted sideways, arm swinging round to angle the Colt at the sidewalk as he squeezed the trigger and fell into the puddling of his own blood.

  Leonora screamed. A thin, high wailing sound that was suddenly choked off as crimson spurted from both sides of her slender neck. The excitement went out of her eyes, replaced by fear, and she clutched at the entry wound, blood spilling over hands, running slick down her arms. She slumped against the frontage of the hotel, staring blank-eyed at Ace’s body. Then her head turned to face Hawk. She said his name once as an expression that might have been a smile but looked like a rictus curved her lips, then she began to slide down the wall.

  Hawk holstered the Colt and ran towards her. Blood was frothing from her mouth now, coloring her chin and cheeks, bright against the pallor of her skin. He put an arm around her shoulders, feeling the blood coming from the back of her neck mingle with the flow from his arm, where Ace’s first shot had grazed him. Her eyes lifted, devouring his features as if he might give her some hold on life. Then they glazed, going blank as her head slumped forward and her hands fell loose. Hawk felt the life go out of her and stood up.

  The crowd was closing in now, staring at Ace. Staring at Leonora. Staring at Hawk.

 

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