She was opening the buttons of his fly with practiced ease. This wasn’t the first time she had reached into a fella’s pants, Longarm thought. Then he was beyond thinking much of anything as her nimble fingers freed his organ and closed around the throbbing, rock-hard pole of flesh.
Janice’s tongue darted out of her mouth and licked over her lips. “Nice, very nice,” she whispered in his ear. I’d dearly love to have that big ol’ thing inside me right now, Custis. I suppose we’ll just have to make do, though.” Her palm slid up and down his shaft with maddening slowness.
Longarm tried not to gulp. “You’d best be careful,” he managed to say, “or you’re liable to get more than you expect, ma’am. I mean Janice.”
She purred like a cat and said, “Oh, I expect it, all right. In fact, I crave it, Custis. You just go ahead and give it to me any time you’re ready.”
“Lordy!” he muttered. He had run across some brazen women in his time, but Janice Cassidy took the cake. He couldn’t believe what she was doing to him … just like he couldn’t believe he was letting her do it in the middle of this racetrack clubhouse.
He felt his climax approaching inexorably. Janice must have felt it too, because with her other hand she plucked a lacy handkerchief from the bosom of her dress, and got it under the table without any wasted motions. Yep, definitely not the first time she had done this, Longarm decided. He put the palms of his hands on the table and pressed down hard as spasms rippled through him. Janice had the handkerchief in place to catch his seed as it jetted out. Longarm drew a deep, ragged breath as she used the cloth to wipe him clean and squeeze the last of his juice from him. She had sure as hell drained him. A pulse was hammering in his skull, and he was light-headed.
Janice tucked him back into his pants and said with a smile, “See, I told you you’d remember me.”
“I don’t reckon I could ever forget that,” Longarm gasped out.
“Button yourself up discreetly, Custis,” she said as she put the handkerchief away in her bag.
“Yes, ma’am.” He was a tiny bit annoyed with her superior attitude. She probably thought that she had him right where she wanted him now. It would be mighty nice, he told himself, to get this sweet little honey onto a soft mattress between some cool sheets and bring her to a screaming, shuddering climax Maybe one of these days … If not for those damned counterfeiting plates!
He sighed. “I’ve really got to be going now. I’m sorry, Janice.”
“No, that’s all right,” she told him. “You go ahead and do your duty, Custis. I’m not sure what it is, mind you, but I’m certain it’s important.”
“It’d have to be,” he muttered as he finished fastening his pants. He pushed himself to his feet.
“Remember what I told you about coming to see us.”
“Yes, ma’am. I mean Janice.”
Senator Padgett turned away from the bar and started toward the table, Julie Cassidy on his arm. They increased their pace a bit when they saw Longarm standing up.
“Leaving us so soon, Marshal?” asked Padgett as he and Julie returned to the table.
“Got to catch a train,” Longarm said. He shook hands with Padgett and then smiled and nodded at Julie. “Be seeing you, Miss Julie.”
“I hope so,” she said, and he caught the undertone of desire in her voice. She might be a lot cooler on the outside than her sister, but Longarm had the feeling that the fire burned just as hot inside.
He gave the senator and the twins a smile and a casual wave and started toward the door of the clubhouse, fishing out a cheroot as he went. His teeth clamped down on the cylinder of tobacco as he stepped out of the cool dimness of the building into the late afternoon heat.
Leon Mercer was walking toward him, pausing every couple of steps to drag his shoe on the ground. The man was frowning darkly and muttering. Longarm grinned as Mercer came up to him. “Step in something, Leon?”
“This is a racetrack, Marshal,” Mercer said. “There are horses all over the place. How could one help but step in something occasionally?”
“That’s mighty true,” agreed Longarm. “That’s why it pays to watch where you’re going.”
“Indeed.” Mercer gestured at the clubhouse. “Is the senator still inside?”
“Yep.”
“Good. Some journalists want to talk to him about the tariff bill Congress will be considering in the fall. I’ll get him.”
“Good luck dragging him away from those Cassidy sisters,” Longarm said dryly.
For the first time, Longarm saw a faint smile on Mercer’s face. “Oh, he’ll come along. It’s a rare politician who can resist the lure of the press.”
Longarm chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder. “I reckon you’re right about that too. So long, Leon.”
He walked quickly back to where he had left the rented buggy as Mercer disappeared into the clubhouse in search of Senator Padgett. The afternoon had been surprising in more ways than one, Longarm thought as he untied the team from the hitching post and stepped up into the buggy. Whether it had been meaningful or not was something he just couldn’t say as yet.
He turned the buggy back toward the hotel.
As soon as he stepped into the lobby of the hotel after returning the buggy to the stable, he knew something was wrong.
Damned wrong.
Captain Bishop of the Albuquerque police was standing next to the desk, talking to the clerk on duty. The clerk’s face was pale and haggard, and his forehead had a sheen of sweat on it that Longarm sensed had little to do with the heat. The man’s eyes widened as he glanced over and saw Longarm coming into the lobby. He raised his arm and pointed at the lawman.
Bishop turned to face him, and the local badge-toter’s expression was grim. Longarm frowned as he walked quickly over to the desk. “What’s happened?” he asked.
“I’ve been wondering where you were, Marshal,” Bishop said without answering Longarm’s question. “Nobody around here seemed to know.”
“I went to the horse race,” Longarm said. “Anything wrong with that?”
“Did you place any bets?” asked Bishop.
Longarm’s frown deepened. “Didn’t feel like it.”
“You should have,” Bishop said coolly. “You were obviously running a string of good luck this afternoon. You’re still alive, and your friends aren’t.”
Longarm didn’t want to start cussing a fellow lawman in public like this, but he was getting mighty exasperated with Bishop. His jaw taut with anger, he asked, “What happened to them?”
“Come upstairs and see for yourself.” Bishop inclined his head toward the staircase on the other side of the lobby.
There were a couple of blue-uniformed officers at the top of the stairs, Longarm saw as he and Bishop started up to the second floor. He noticed now too that the lobby was empty of hotel guests. Clearly, the police had taken the place over and Clamped the lid on tight. Worry gnawed on Longarm’s brain. Bishop had said that the other three deputy marshals were dead, and Longarm had a pretty good idea what that meant. He didn’t expect to find those printing plates upstairs when he got there.
The two policemen stepped aside to let Longarm and Bishop pass. The first thing Longarm noticed as he and the captain started down the hallway was the huge bloodstain on the carpet runner, about halfway down the corridor. Right outside the door of the room where Bud Seeley and Horace Truelove were supposed to be standing guard over the plates, in fact.
Longarm’s insides twisted. Nobody lost that much blood and lived to talk about it. There was no corpse in the hallway, though. He said, “Where are they?”
Bishop grunted. “Inside the room. One of the other guests found that pool of blood and ran downstairs screaming. The clerk and one of the porters came up here and found the bodies inside. The clerk used his key to get in when he noticed more blood running out from under the door.”