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Ezra Standish put down the phone with a sigh. Mr. Larabee had requested his presence at lunch, at the Saloon. He groaned at the throbbing in his head, and peered through bloodshot eyes at the bedside clock. Lord, it wasn't even ten o'clock. An unspeakable hour. He hauled his aching body out of bed and made a mental note to himself to never, ever go out drinking with the boys after consuming several of Rain Jackson's lethal margaritas.He shuffled into the spacious bathroom. He had vague memories of leaving the cookout, blearily ensconced in the sidecar of Mr. Wilmington's motorcycle, followed by a whirlwind round of bars and tequila shots.
Then Mr. Wilmington had insisted they all stop at that Body Art parlor... the one owned by the amazingly buxom redhead...someone nattering on about a special design...things became very hazy after that. He frowned, absently reaching back to rub his throbbing buttock. Had he passed out, taken a fall and bruised his hip? It was especially tender today.
Standish dropped his silk pajama bottoms and stepped into the gleaming shower cubicle. He sighed with bliss as the steaming water poured over his stiff, aching body. He soaped himself slowly, feeling much more refreshed, and marginally more awake.
After rinsing he stepped out, reaching for the plush bath sheet, and automatically checking his appearance in the foggy, floor length mirrors opposite the tub, before heading into his large walk-in closet. As he dropped the towel and turned to reach for his heavy silk dressing gown, something in the side mirror caught his eye. He froze, staring into his own horrified green eyes. They wouldn't dare...would they? He frantically wiped the steamy mirror and took a closer look. Blinked, and looked again. Slowly, he peered over his own shoulder.
An outraged shriek rang through the elegant townhouse as the horrible truth dawned. Those perfidious, treacherous, ignoble, shameless, unchivalrous bastards had had the gall to tattoo Ezra P. Standish's previously pristine posterior. There would be hell to pay.
Inez' Saloon, Outskirts of Four Corners
Chris Larabee eased the big, rumbling Harley into its customary line up with the other bikes parked outside of the Saloon. Vin pulled up beside him on the gleaming, blood red Honda Magma he was currently riding. Tanner's venerable Indian was up on blocks at the ranch, sidelined while the engine was rebuilt--again. It was increasingly difficult to keep the antique bike on the road, but Vin loved it, and patiently searched for parts every time the damned thing decided to kick the bucket.Chris grinned at his partner, enjoying the sight of that tanned, wind flushed face, the dark blue eyes bright and sparkling. Vin had his long hair knotted back in its usual tangled ponytail under a blue bandanna, and wore a battered leather vest sporting the Dark Angels logo over his denim shirt. His jeans were old and faded and clinging in all the right places. Larabee thought he looked mighty fine.
Glancing down the row of bikes, Larabee saw that Buck, JD, and Raphael were already present. Josiah was working at the convent gardens today, and presumably Nathan was at the Mortuary. To his mild surprise, he also saw Ezra's BMW parked nearby. He had just turned his head to comment to Vin on Standish's early arrival, when the sharp crack of a pistol shot from inside the Saloon jerked them to hyper alertness.
Larabee drew the Colt automatic he wore clipped in a belt holster at the small of his back. Vin had already fluidly yanked the compact Mossberg shotgun he favored from his bike's saddlebag, and racked a shell in. Moving swiftly and covering each other they shouldered their way inside the dim bar, guns leveled. It never occurred to either of them, NOT to enter.
What they found brought them up short. Inez stood behind the bar, hands on hips, glaring at the trio of Dark Angels huddled uneasily against the far wall. Everyone in the bar, with the exception of Inez, Ez and the three in the corner wore broad grins. Buck, Rafe, and JD huddled together, hands up, while Ezra Standish threatened them with a pearl handled derringer. There was a bullet hole in the plaster three inches to the left of Buck's head, and his moustache was twitching in consternation.
"Now Ez, don't be that way, you know we were ALL drunk..."
Buck spoke soothingly to try and calm the irate conman. The big scoundrel brightened at the sight of Chris and Vin, and waggled his brows in a silent plea for rescue.
"Yeah, Ez, ya ain't the only one! We all got one."
JD piped up from behind the relative safety of Wilmington's tall frame.
Raphael sighed and closed his eyes. The whelp's motor mouth would be the death of them all. Chris and Vin exchanged amused looks, and lowered their weapons.
"Someone want to tell me what the hell's going on here?" Chris asked mildly, as he tucked his gun away.
Vin had already lowered his shotgun, so that the muzzle pointed to the floor. Inez turned and broke into a rapid stream of Spanish that made Larabee scratch his head in confusion and caused Vin to arch an amused brow. Buck started to step forward and explain, but hastily retreated when Standish aimed his gun directly at his balls. Buck opened his mouth, thought better of it, and meekly subsided in his corner.
Larabee lifted a hand to his mouth to hide his smile. Ezra was as mad as a wet hen. Chris could almost see the steam rising from the man's reddened ears. Apparently one of the boys' pranks was having unforseen repercussions. Inez reached the end of her tirade, tossed her head, and snorted disdainfully. Chris walked over to the bar, and leaned against it thoughtfully. "Let me see if I've got this straight. Y 'all did something to Ez, and he plans to shoot you dead. That it?"
The trio in the corner frowned, then nodded reluctantly. Ezra was so irate he was speechless for all of three seconds. He turned slightly so that he could speak with Larabee directly, and still keep the boys corralled.
"Did something? Did something?!" he bellowed, face scarlet with temper. "These ignoble, wretched, TREACHEROUS spawn of a syphilletic she-goat have assaulted mah person!"
Larabee's lips twitched as he manfully fought back a broad grin. Trust Ezra to use eight words when one would do. Beside him, Vin hastily muffled a snort in the mug of beer that Inez absently slid across to him. Every time Ez opened his mouth, Vin learned a new word.
Chris scratched his goatee thoughtfully, bright wicked eyes on three chagrined faces. He could feel Vin's shoulder shake with silent laughter against his back. He folded his arms, leaned back, and eyed his men solemnly. They began to look worried. Larabee raised a stern brow. "You all get drunk and cornhole Ezra?"
Behind him Vin sputtered and sprayed a mouthful of beer over the bar. Inez squeaked and clapped both hands over her mouth. Down the bar, Tiny rolled off his stool, braying with laughter, while his brother gamely tried to shush him. All the other bikers howled with mirth. In the corner, Raphael gave a choked, protesting squawk, JD stammered a shocked denial, and Buck's jaw dropped in disbelief. Ezra regarded his boss with horror, pistol sagging in his grip, as he visibly deflated. Larabee smirked.
+ + + + + + +
Buck patted the morose conman gently on the shoulder. They all sat at the big corner booth, huddled over the remains of lunch. He pulled up the sleeve of his own T shirt to display the livid tattoo on his biceps.
"So ya see, pard, we all got skunked and came home decorated. Rafe has one on his shoulder, and the kid's is on the calf of his leg. You ain't the only one."
He draped a big arm comfortingly over Standish's drooping shoulders. Raphael and JD grinned encouragement at the Southerner. Larabee and Tanner smirked complacently at him across the table. THEY did not have tattoos. Ezra lifted his head and glared into Buck's earnest, beaming face. "Mr. Wilmington, be that as it may. I do however, note that none of you sport a design on the posterier! I also would also like to point out that not one of you carries THIS particular pattern."
Pushing himself abruptly up out of the booth, he turned his backside to the seated men, and lowered his trousers to display his left buttock. There was a moment of silence. Then Vin snickered, JD dropped his fork, and Rafe guffawed as he nearly choked on a mouthful of beer. Buck gaped, and a broad shark grin spread across Larabee's smirking face. They all burst into raucous, unkind laughter, while Standish rearranged his clothing and glared.
Buck sputtered, and wiped his streaming eyes with one big hand.
"Now Ez, it could be worse..."
JD chimed in earnestly, "The heart is real pretty Ez."
"That bitty baby with the wings is right cute, Ez."
Ezra shot Vin a look of intense dislike."THAT is a cherub Mr. Tanner, not a "bitty baby."
"Sorry, Ez." Mr. Tanner did not look sorry at all. He gave Standish an unrepentant grin.
"Too bad they spelled 'Mother' wrong," Raphael added with a chuckle.
Vin scratched his head, contemplatively."Reckon that must be the southern spelling."
Standish groaned and sank back down in the booth. He lowered his head to his arms. Buck patted his back soothingly. Maybe he would wake up and it all would be a bad dream. Instead of being surrounded by sniggering hyenas, he would be safely ensconced in his beloved feather bed. Instead of calculating the (no doubt exorbitant) cost of laser surgery, he could be blissfully asleep.
He raised his head and glared at his so called friends. THEY all sported the sleek, admittedly trendy upraised black-winged Dark Angel logo; while HE bore a puffy red heart, complete with a tiny smirking cherub perched on top, and the word 'Mothah' in bold, elaborate cursive scribbled on a pale blue ribbon that unfurled across the heart. Good Lord, the cretins could not even spell correctly! Only he bore the epidermal equivilant of graffiti upon his person. The sheer indignity of it all, was almost overpowering.
Larabee leered at him and leaned over to give him an encouraging slap on the shoulder. "Come on Ez. Let's head for Sweet Sue's for dessert. Buck can buy you a slice of that pecan pie with the fancy French vanilla ice cream, you like so much. Then you can tell me what you found out about Ella."
Santa Maria Plaza, Four Corners
Ella Gaines twirled before the mirror in the exclusive bridal shop, checking the fit of the lavish lace gown she wore with a critical eye. She made a small moue of distaste, and turned to the patiently hovering clerk."No, this won't do either. Bring me that silk Vera Wang."
The clerk hurried away to fetch the gown, and Ella hummed softly to calm herself as she paced before the tall windows, waiting. She reminded herself to be patient. The perfect wedding to the perfect man required the finest dress available. She raised a bejeweled hand to toy with her hair, gazing dreamily down into the wide plaza.
Santa Maria Plaza was the heart of old town Four Corners. It had recently revitalized due to the trendy, exclusive shops that now joined the venerable establishments of Digger Dan's Bar and Potter's Mercantile. The old Saloon had relocated to the outskirts of town years before.
Sweet Sue's Emporium was tucked into a corner, flanked by a florist and an organic grocery. Restaurants and upscale boutiques crowded the old Spanish style square, which opened onto Main Street. Katherine's Bridal Shop covered half of the second floor of Potter's Mercantile. Only the wealthiest of Four Corner's brides shopped there as she sold only designer gowns.
Ella smiled, head full of visions of her upcoming life with Christopher Larabee. It would be perfect. She was certain of it. She started to turn back to the dressing rooms, then froze, her gaze caught by a familiar wheat gold head in the square below. Her wide smile faltered and died when she saw the lovely blonde seated across from him. Their heads were bent close together, Larabee's eyes intent on her face, one big hand holding her wrist.
+ + + + + + +
Chris Larabee leaned thoughtfully back in the cafe chair, and nodded absently as Ezra finished his tale. The debonair southerner dabbed daintily at his mouth with a napkin and eyed the remains of his pie with satisfaction.
"Ah will admit, Mr. Larabee, that Ah was surprised to learn that Mrs. Gaines had worked her way through three wealthy, elderly husbands in such a short time. Mothah was quite virulent about the subject, she has an extreme dislike of Mrs. Gaines. Ah believe her kindest comments were 'Black Widow' and 'Whore'. Ah suspect Mrs. Gaines may have whisked away a potential candidate for Mothuh's collection of husbands."
Maude Standish had standards. She might relieve a man of his dignity and every dime he possessed, but she would never be so crude as to murder one.
Larabee chuckled and polished his shades on a corner of his black Tee. He slid them back on and stretched lazily in the sun, blonde head tilted back to enjoy the warmth. He grinned impishly at Standish. "I can't say I'm surprised. Ella always has been a man-eater in the worse sense of the word. Hell, she wore out Buck in a single night!"
Standish coughed, then laughed. "Mr. Wilmington was a very lucky man to have escaped, ahem, intact."
Larabee grinned."Hell, Buck always has good luck with women. It's their men he has problems with! If I had a dime for every piece of shot I've dug out of his ass, I'd be a rich man."
They laughed together, both men gazing towards the florist. Buck and JD emerged, both laden with colorful bouquets. Buck, in true Wilmington style often brought flowers home to his girls at Blossom's.
He was flirting outrageously with the plump, grandmotherly proprietor as he left, leaning down to whisper something lewd in her ear. She threw her head back and roared with laughter, then swatted him affectionately on the ass and shooed him down the sidewalk. Shaking her gray head, she fondly watched him go.
Larabee shook his head and turned back to Ezra. "Ez, see if you can find out how much money Ella has 'inherited', where she keeps it, etc. Anything suspicious you can find out about how those husbands of hers met their untimely demises. Also, I want to know how she acquired the Rivera ranch. There's something funny about that. The Jorge Rivera I knew would never sell his family homestead, especially to a gringa."
The svelte conman rose from his chair and tipped an imaginary hat. "Ah live to serve, Mr. Larabee. Ah believe mothah would be extremely pleased to see Mrs. Gaines brought down a notch or two. She will be delighted to assist. She detests the woman. Ah will investigate post haste. Now, if you will excuse me, Ah have an appointment with my tailor."
He turned and strolled off across the square. Larabee lazily watched him go, sipping at the beer he held. Across the way, Buck and JD were stuffing flowers in the sidecar of Buck's bike, bickering amiably. Chris had always suspected that he kept the sidecar for the sole purpose of hauling an extra woman around, instead of just one. That theory seemed to pan out, considering the various sets of twins Buck dated.
Larabee snorted. Hell, Buck lived in and ran a whorehouse, owned a strip club, and dated half of the women in New Mexico, and now apparently had his sights set on Vin! It was a wonder Chris didn't have white hair instead of blonde. He huffed out an exasperated breath and ran a hand through his hair.
He knew Buck was restless and felt threatened somehow. He just didn't know how to reassure the big man without giving him the wrong idea. He loved Buck like a brother, but had no intention of being his lover. Since the barbeque, tension had mounted between Buck and Vin. Vin hadn't said a word to Buck since, avoiding him whenever possible. Chris had the impression that Buck wanted to smooth things over, but wasn't sure how.
Sourly, he took another pull from the bottle, and looked around for his wayward lover. He squinted back into Sweet Sue's. Yep, there was a familiar tousled head bent over the candy display, with Sue beaming down at him. 'Probably buying more molasses candy for the horses.' Chris devoutly hoped Vin didn't spoil the damned stallion the way he did Peso. A jealous colt was one thing to deal with, a stallion another. He snorted. That's all he needed, a jealous,1800 pound horse, just waiting to stomp him into a greasy spot on the ground every time he laid a hand on Vin. Groaning, he realized that Peso WAS growing up fast. Shit.
Something bumped into his boot, and he looked down to find a small, remote controlled car had crashed against it and tipped over. He picked it up, turning it curiously in his big hands. 'Adam would have loved that.' He thought with a pang.
"Hey! That's mine." A thin voice shrilled into his ear. A plump, blond boy of about eight hovered next to his chair, a remote clutched in his hands. Chris arched a scarred brow and scowled.
"Are you a Hell's Angel?"The little boy piped up excitedly.
"No kid. I'm worse. Now scram!"
He handed the child the toy.
"Billy!"
Chris sighed, as he recognized the slender, platinum haired woman approaching at a fast clip. She wore a sky blue silk dress and had her pale hair tied demurely back with ribbon. 'Shit. It would be Mary Travis' whelp, and just as nosy as his damned mother.' "Billy! Go sit in the car. Wait for me."
"Aw, mom. I wasn't doin' anything."
The child shuffled off sulkily to climb into a nearby silver Lexus.
She turned a flushed face towards Chris. The last time she had seen him had been...embarrassing. She felt a rosy flush spread tingling over her skin as he turned a handsome, expressionless face towards her, eyes hidden by dark sunglasses. He was the most dangerous man she knew, and undoubtedly the sexiest. He KNEW who was behind her husband's murder. She knew it. She yanked out the chair across from him and sat quickly."Mr. Larabee...I want to ask you a few questions."
His wide mouth split into a leer. "Why sure, Miz Travis. Just as long as you answer mine in return."
His leer grew into a wide, shark grin and she felt the hair on the nape of her neck raise. She glanced around the plaza nervously. She had been elated to see him alone, he was so rarely without one of his gang nearby...or his...lover. Now, she wasn't so sure, and was thankful it was broad daylight and in a public place. Nervously, she began." I think you know who murdered my husband..."
"Sure do," he replied amiably. Her jaw dropped in shock, only to snap shut as he continued.
"The same man that killed my wife and son."
He deliberately removed his shades,leaned over and grasped her wrist hard, cold eyes intent on her face. "Tell ME something Miz Travis, if good old Stephen was meeting Sarah just for information, why did they meet twice a week at the Dew Drop Inn, and register as husband and wife?"
He leaned closer, and this time showed white teeth in something that was not a smile. He gazed almost tenderly into her pale face and spoke gently. "Go home, Mary. Get a life. Raise your son. Mind your own fucking business, and the next time you feel the need to moon over your sainted husband, remember that there were two sets of luggage in the truck that day."
He withdrew his hand, slid his shades back on, lazily leaned back, and took another sip of beer. Dismissing her as coolly as a king would a serf. Shaken, she opened her mouth, but found she could not speak. She rose dizzily, and, pushing her chair away, stumbled towards her car. Impassively, he watched her go.
Standing stock still in the window above, Ella dug her long nails viciously into her palms and bit her lip until she tasted blood. Her gaze was riveted on Larabee like that of a starving animal. Sensing the touch of eyes, she turned her head slightly, and focused past Larabee.
Dark hungry eyes met implacable, glacial blue. While she was watching Larabee, Vin Tanner was watching her. She froze, held by that laser sharp stare. He never blinked, just leaned against a post and stared until she shivered, dropped her eyes, and turned away. Predator had just met predator, and lost the first battle in a war she did not yet realize she was waging.
Ella turned a bright, false smile on the shop clerk and turned to indicate the plaza below.
"Tell me, who is that blonde woman? She looks so familiar..."
The woman adjusted her bifocals and peered out the window. She smiled in recognition.
"Why, that's Mary Travis. You probably saw her on the local news. She's a reporter with KLVN."
The clerk stepped behind Ella and began to help her undo the multitude of tiny buttons on the gown she wore. She sighed and shook her head. "It was so tragic. Her husband was killed about five years ago with a car bomb. The entire family went into shock. Why, I thought Eveline Travis would have to be hospitalized before it was over..."
She prattled on, while Ella nodded and smiled in all the right places, absorbing information. Her mind was busy sifting through what she had learned. Had Chris murdered the man in order to be with the wife? She frowned. That didn't make sense. He would have married or moved in with the woman by now. Also, the Christopher Larabee she knew would never callously murder his own son. Well, it didn't matter. The woman would be dead soon, anyway. She turned a bright smile on the clerk."I've just remembered an appointment. I won't have time to try on the Vera Wang today, but I will be back in town in a few days. Do you think you will have that Dior in stock soon?"
"Certainly Ma'am. It is the peak wedding season. We expect a new shipment of gowns tomorrow. If I may ask, when is your wedding?"
Ella gave her a bright, dazzling smile.
"Oh, we haven't set the exact date, but soon, very soon."
+ + + + + + +
Chris Larabee felt a familiar presence at his back and gave a small, private smile. He lazily tilted his head to meet smiling blue eyes. Vin was leaning against the nearby post. He held both a bag, and a large bakery box."Hey, Cowboy."
Larabee leered happily up at his young lover."You buy out Sue's again? Kid, you're lucky you still got teeth."
Vin gave him an indignant scowl, then sniffed hauntily. "Reckon you won't be wanting any of this peach pie, then. Reckon I can eat it all myself."
Larabee's eyes widened. Sue's pies were delicious. He pushed his chair back and hastily stood.
"Now, pard. You wouldn't hold out on me would you?"
Vin smirked and ambled on towards the bikes. Larabee caught up in two long strides, and draped a long arm over his shoulders. He glanced at his blond lover, noticing the easy smile and relaxed face. It seemed to him that Chris was happier these days, smiling and joking more, while he drank less. He hated to bring a scowl to that handsome face. "Ella's watching you."
"What? When--?" Larabee frowned, turned sharp eyes on him.
"Just now. From the window of that Bride store."
Vin slanted a glance over to judge his reaction."Looks like she was trying on a dress."
Larabee groaned. Goddamned crazy woman. That's all he fucking needed."Aw, shit. Let's get the hell out of here."
Vin grinned."Ain't afraid of no skinny, little woman, are ya, Cowboy?"
"Hell, yes! If you knew this one, you would be too! She's the type that eats you alive, spits out the remains, and looks around for dessert afterwards. I hope to hell she's got her sights on someone else. Ez says she's already buried three husbands."
They almost made a clean getaway. Vin had just finished carefully bungee cording his precious pie to the back of his bike, when a familiar red convertible pulled up behind them, blocking the way. Ella gave Chris her familiar barracuda grin."Chris. I'm glad I caught you."
He gave an inaudible sigh. 'Not if I can help it, lady.' "Ella."
He remained astride his bike, obviously ready to leave and not interested in chitchat. Vin kept his head down, hair screening his face as he fussed with the placement of the damned pie box, but Chris was sure he saw a hidden smirk. He forced himself to nod politely at the woman. She beamed back.
"My foreman says you've already done wonders with my horse."
"Not me, Ella. Vin is doing all the hard work." He folded his arms and gave her a hard look.
"Looks like that stud has been beaten regular, Ella. You know anything about that?"
Her eyes widened."Why no, Chris! I had no idea."
She gave a little frown."It must have been one of those Mexican grooms."
Dismissing the subject of the abused animal with a toss of her head, she continued, eager eyes glued to Larabee's face. "I wanted to invite you to my birthday party, Chris. You will come, won't you? It will be just like old times."
Seeing the frown growing on his face, she hastily continued, "And do bring some of your boys, that should liven things up! Senator Royal will be there, Congressman Sikes, as well as Judge Travis and other prominent citizens. A few friends of my late husband. Lots of business connections..." she hinted, as she gave him a sweet smile. "Do come. I'll send you the invitations."
"I'll think about it Ella." He gave her a dismissing nod and ended any further chance for conversation by deliberately starting, and revving the engine of the big Harley. She frowned, but waved and drove on. Vin tossed his head back and flashed Chris a white smile, shaking his head. Larabee just flashed his familiar smirk right back. Side by side, they pulled out of the plaza and headed for home.
Inez' Saloon, Three Days Later
Chris leaned back in the booth, long, black clad legs propped on up on the opposite seat. Ezra sat across from him, examining the small stack of engraved invitations. The southerner thoughtfully tapped a card against the table top. "Ah do believe we should take advantage of this golden opportunity Mr. Larabee. It would be a prime opportunity to...ahem...""Case the joint?"Larabee asked dryly. He took a sip from his shot glass.
"To investigate and initiate potential business opportunities." Standish finished smoothly.
Buck leaned forward, frowning. One big hand toyed with his moustache as he ran scenarios through his head. "Travis is gonna be there. Not to mention Sikes and Royal. We got a room full of politicians with a taste for vice. Travis has a 65,000.00 gambling marker floating. Royal is a collector...likes exotic women, among other things. Sikes drinks like a fish and snorts coke . I think we should take a shot at installing a few digital cameras before the party."
" Blackmail? Suggestions, Buck?"
Larabee asked curiously. It never failed to amaze him. Buck and Ez scheming together was a frightening thing. They could find ways to squeeze money out of a rock. He found the thought of fleecing Ella of her ill gotten gains curiously appealing.
Buck beamed at him. "We can thank Raphael and his infinite multitude of doting female relatives. His cousin Julia is Ella's maid. Ella treats her like a dog. Julia will be happy to help. She used to work for the Riveras. Julia says she can hide a few mini-cams easily. Thanks to her, we already got the floor plans and security set-up. Ella is gonna be in town most of the day tomorrow getting fitted for her party dress."Buck rubbed his big hands together and beamed at Larabee.
"We got enough invites. I say we show up at staggered intervals. Keep Ella busy, meeting and greeting. Nathan and Rain go in first, get the grand tour, check the cams. Then me and the kid escort in a couple of my best girls. Royal's eyeballs will pop out of his head when he sees Ebony, and Chantal can play Sikes. They're great actresses. The kid can hit Ella's computer and get a crack at her records..."
Ezra cut smoothly in, taking up where Buck left off.
"You, Mr. Larabee, arriving alone, will be the primary distraction as far as Mrs. Gaines is concerned. Then, Mr. Tanner and Ah will make an appearance. Ah will slip into the den at the first opportunity and examine the safe. Mr. Cordova de Martinez and Mr. Sanchez will be outside investigating the grounds and checking out the security."
Ezra spread his hands wide, then folded them. "Ah foresee only one potential problem."
Puzzled, Chris and Buck looked at him curiously. Standish gave a long suffering sigh at their obtuseness. "This is a Black Tie affair gentleman. Howevah are we going to persuade Mr. Tanner to don the appropriate attire?"
Three heads swiveled as one to where their sharpshooter was leaning over the pool table, playing eight ball with JD.
Vin wore faded jeans, tattered at the thighs and knees, dusty, scuffed cowboy boots, an ancient, torn, tissue thin white T shirt, topped by his old black leather motorcycle jacket. When he bent to take his shot, the holster at the small of his back was clearly visible. The haft of a skinning knife protruded from the top of his left boot. His wild, wind-tangled mane was carelessly tied back with a bootlace. Sensing he was being observed, he squinted suspiciously over at them.
Chris eyed the lean behind and long legs appreciatively. He grinned evilly across at Ezra.
"I'll leave that up to you Ez. You being the fashion expert and all."
Buck's moustache was twitching with stifled amusement. He slapped Ezra jovially on the shoulder. "You're a brave soul, Ez. Sooner wrassle a gator, or kiss a rattler, myself. Should be interesting to see how much of his personal arsenal you can persuade him to leave at home."
Ezra groaned and closed his eyes. He shuddered at the thought of his upcoming trials and tribulations as Mr. Tanner's personal valet. He snorted. Only Mr. Larabee was persuasive enough to force him to act as dresser to a mulish, recalcitrant, unstylish Texan. He leaned forward and banged his head gently on the table top. Buck patted his back consolingly and discreetly slid a folded napkin between his head and the hard wood.
Gaspar's Les Hommes, Santa Maria Plaza, Four Corners
Gaspar St. Pierre (formerly known as Casper Meeks) winced at the foul stream of profanity issuing from the dressing room at the back of his exclusive men's shop. He arched a brow at the series of thumps and thuds that followed. In his opinion, Mr. Standish was either an extremely courageous individual, or a fool."Gawdammit, Ezra, I said no!"
"Mr. Tanner, Ah insist!"
"NO!"
"Yes!"
"NO!"
"Ain't gonna wear no sissy shoes, Ez!"
Gaspar gasped in horror and ducked as a pair of expensive, handcrafted Italian loafers sailed over his head to thud on the floor. Hurriedly, he bent to rescue them.
"Mr. Tanner, Ah implore you..."
"I said no Ezra, and I fuckin' meant it! Ain't gonna wear this cum'bun thing neither!"
The hapless cummerbund followed the shoes to drape gently on top of Gaspar's carefully marceled toupee. Good heavens! The man was indeed a Philistine!
Vin Tanner had reached the end of his considerable patience. He had reluctantly obeyed Chris' request that he meet Ez at the men's store to suit up for the party, only to be poked, prodded, measured, and forced to stand still and try on a dozen versions of the same damned monkey suit! The bow tie was choking him to death and the danged shoes had pinched his toes. He had had enough. He stormed out of the dressing room, yanking off the detested tie as he went, high cheekbones flushed with temper. Ezra followed, desperate, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "Mr. Tanner, Ah nevuh thought of you as a coward!"
Vin stopped in his tracks, and Ezra froze, swallowing hard, as a pair of artic blue eyes focused on his face."What did you call me?"
Vin's voice was dangerously calm. Ezra gulped, abruptly remembered whom he was dealing with, and tried again, appealing to the sharpshooter's honor. "Sir, you are a Tanner! You cannot leave Mr. Larabee unprotected in that Black Widow's clutches!" He lifted his hands imploringly, cunning green eyes on Vin's visibly wavering expression. He leaned forward and murmured softly for Vin's ears alone. "She has already murdered three men. You know as well as I, that obsessive personalities such as she seldom relinquish the object of their twisted desire."
He stepped closer, and dropped a gentle hand on Vin's shoulder. He spoke quietly, green eyes sober. "Ah do not think Mr. Larabee realizes just how dangerous this particular female of the species is, Mr. Tanner. His perception is colored by his past memories of the woman, as exasperating, but relatively harmless."
Vin nodded slowly, dropped his head and studied his socked feet. Ezra held his breath. Vin raised his head. "Ain't wearing them sissy shoes, Ez! Or this danged tie neither!"
Ezra groaned and slumped in in defeat.
"Sirs, if I might offer a few minor suggestions?"
Gaspar squeaked up bravely. He was determined to rid his store of this untamed Texan as soon as possible and protect his precious merchandise. Two heads turned hopefully in his direction.
+ + + + + + +
An hour later, Ezra held his breath as Vin emerged from the dressing room. His gold tooth glinted as a broad, triumphant smile spread across his face. The defiant duckling had successfully transformed into an elegant swan! Vin shyly examined his reflection in the mirrors, oblivious to the fact that a male clerk hovering nearby was visibly drooling.
He wasn't wearing a trendy, modern tuxedo. Instead of a bow tie, his plain, white banded collar shirt was fastened by a single, jeweled button. Over the shirt he wore a severely cut Deacon's vest with a hidden button placket, made of antique, cobalt blue silk that accentuated the color of his eyes. His black coat was of an old fashioned cut as well. High collared and tapered at the waist, the long, pleated tail swirled out dramatically, like a nineteenth century opera coat.
Instead of the detested loafers, he wore sleek, black snakeskin western boots. His carefully tamed mane was held neatly back with a lapis bolo tie. His was a statement of old fashioned, timeless elegance. He looked as though he had stepped out of an antique western daguerreotype.
Vin checked the fit of the coat carefully, totally oblivious to the admiring looks from other patrons of the store, finally satisfied that it covered his guns. Ezra beamed at Gaspar as he pressed a substantial wad of cash discreetly into his palm. He clapped the man jovially on the back."You are a miracle worker, sir!"
Gaspar bowed graciously. Ezra beamed at his elegantly clad colleague. Mr. Larabee was going to be very pleased. Perhaps, it would result in monetary compensation...
Laribee Ranch
Chris Larabee yanked viciously at his lopsided tie and swore furiously as he made yet another attempt to tie the damned thing correctly. He had not worn formal dress since Sarah was alive. An avid social climber, Sarah Connelly Larabee had had big plans for her husband. She had been sorely disappointed."Fuck!"
Chris swore again and ran a frustrated hand through his blond hair. He had forgotten how much he hated dressing up. Sourly, he wondered if fleecing Ella was worth the pain of formal wear. He sure as hell hoped that Vin was faring better. He smirked at his reflection. Larabee had decreed that as long as he had to suffer through a boring party, then so did Vin. That was one task he had been glad to assign to Ezra. He had been forced to sternly order the mulish Texan to allow Ez to outfit him.
Tanner had argued hotly that he was better suited to recon the outside security, but Larabee had pointed out it was best that that job go to Raphael and Josiah. Rafe, because he was already acquainted with the layout of the house and grounds, and Josiah, to keep him from fixating on some unlucky socialite. Besides, if Chris had to suffer formal dress, then so did Vin. Fair was fair. Vin had finally complied, storming out of the house angrily, but not before a resentful, searing blue glare had promised Chris there would be hell to pay later. No one ordered Tanner around without dire consequences.
There was a deep wolf whistle from behind him and he turned to meet Buck's admiring stare.
"Looking good, Old Dog!"
"Not so bad yourself, Buck."
Larabee replied absently, glancing at Buck's darkly handsome reflection. He swore as he managed yet another lopsided bow.
Buck chuckled and stepped forward."Let me give ya a hand with that old pard. Lift your chin."
Chris stood still obediently, and let his friend expertly knot the black tie. Larabee was exquisite in formal wear, tall and sleekly elegant with his wheat blond hair gleaming. The subtle scent of his Lagerfield cologne made Buck's mouth water.
Buck finished, then ran a gentle knuckle down the side of Larabee's smoothly shaven face. Looking hungrily into Chris' eyes he murmured,"Been a long time since I seen you clean shaved. I think it was at your wedding. You do that to surprise Vin?"
Annoyed, Chris caught Buck's hand and pushed it from his face. He met his oldest friend's eyes squarely. "Yeah, Buck, I did. That's something you need to get used to." More gently, he added,
"We'll always be friends Buck, but we got bad history as well as good."
Wilmington huffed a resigned breath, wincing at the memory of his and Sarah's betrayal of Chris' trust, and stepped reluctantly back. Chris was never going to forgive him for that affair. He folded his arms and leaned against the door jamb, watching as Chris ran a brush quickly over his mussed hair, watching Buck's reflection warily in the mirror as he did. He decided to change the subject. "You gonna ride in the limo with the girls and me?"
"Nope. Gonna ride my bike. Hope to hell this is worth the trouble," Chris grumbled as he slid on his jacket, then reached for his leather duster.
Buck's eyes crinkled in amusement."Reckon it will be worth it just to see if Ez can fit a Texas Hellcat into a tux!"
"I don't know, Buck. That boy was plenty mad when he left here."
Buck chuckled and slapped Larabee jovially on the back.
"What you want to bet that Junior wears his boots in?"
Chris gave a derisive snort. "That's not a bet Buck. That's a given."
They headed amiably down the hall, Buck's long arm draped affectionately over Chris' shoulders.He needled Larabee as they went."You buy Ella a nice birthday present?"
"Hell, no!"
"Guess she just figures you're her present, anyway."
"Aw, shit. It's bad enough that I have to make nice with her," Chris grumbled.
The damned woman was in for a shock. He wasn't about to fuck her, just to give Ez and Buck a chance to make money. Besides, Vin would cheerfully shoot him if he did. Feeling much put upon, he sourly followed his oldest friend out the door. Maybe he would just drag Vin home early. He had a feeling the claustrophobic young Texan would be ready to bolt after only an hour or so of polite company anyway.
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