Page 56 of Discovered Magic
Across the street, a light burned in the apartment above the mercantile, outlining Bart’s distinctive figure. Wilder couldn’t shake the feeling he was watching them specifically, and his skin crawled. He barely suppressed the urge to draw Abbie back into the shadows of the restaurant.
“Tell me about Bart,” he said softly.
She looked up from the biscuit she was buttering. “Why?”
“He gives me the creeps. I can’t put my finger on it, but I didn’t appreciate the way he talked about you earlier.”
Slowly, she turned her head toward the street.
“I’ve overheard Red say he’s the type who thinks to control women. Routinely tries to buy her girls.”
He clamped his jaw to hold back what he wished he could say.
Abbie gasped. “He offered money to Draven for me?”
“I was trying to hide that little factoid from you,” he replied with a healthy sigh. “But yes, and Shadow had to hold me back from killing him on the spot.”
“He should’ve let you.”
Her thought was matter-of-fact, bordering on uncaring, and Wilder couldn’t help but wonder if the callousness was from her experiences here.
“Yes,” she answered aloud, after a sip of her beer.
“God, Abbie. I should’ve realized when we couldn’t find your body…” Choking back the regret, he clamped his lips together and shook his head. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“Not… your… fault,” she stressed, despite the effort to speak. “Not.”
“Our enemies?—”
Slapping her palm over his mouth, she glared. “Not.”
Her reaction was so much like her old self, he had to laugh. Before she could draw away, he kissed her palm.
“Fine. If you say so.”
With a decisive nod, she bit into her biscuit, not at all hiding her smile behind the gesture.
He grinned in response.
Goddess, he missed this. Their easy camaraderie and willingness to understand. The way they had always sought to ease each other’s hurts or fears.
“As my date for the night, would you like to go to a dancing hall or the saloon after?”
“Both are for the so-called soiled doves hereabouts,” Cookie said, sliding the last chair onto the table next to them. “Good girls don’t frequent those places, my boy.”
“Oh. I didn’t know.” Feeling foolish, Wilder finished the last of his beer. “Is there somewhere else?”
“During the daylight hours, I’d say a walk along the boards or a drive outside of town. But this late?” Their host scrunched his nose. “I wouldn’t recommend hangin’ out after dark. The bad elements come a’callin’, seekin’ trouble.”
“Understood. Thank you, Mr. Cookie.”
“Just Cookie. And you watch old Bart, yeah? He’s a predator, that one.”
Wilder hadn’t realized the restaurateur had overheard their conversation.
“I know what you are,” the man said, eyes narrowed in shrewd study of him. “The others ’round here, they don’t, but I’ve been around a long time. The Devil’s Backbone is where they all come to test their skills.”
“And Sheriff Jonas? He always able to put them down?”
