Chapter One
Tombstone, Arizona—1881
The stranger from the east arrived on the late evening stagecoach.
Jake sat at the table, dealing a round of cards as he entered. Looking up,
he noticed the fine gentleman dressed all in black. His gaze traveled over
the front of the man, he imagined the body beneath. When Jake looked at
the man's face, he found a pair mesmerizing dark eyes staring back at
him.
Disconcerted by his own immediate response, Jake forced his
attention back to the other man at his table. When he finished dealing the
cards, he looked at his own hand. The king on top was good, but the
three on the bottom weren't worth a damn. He'd need another card.
"Call 'em, my boy." Raymond waited for Jake to decide.
Immediately, Jake knew from Raymond's grin he was all set and
didn't want any more cards. Drawing the next card from the deck, Jake
laid down a nine. His hand had gone over.
"Your pot, Raymond." Disgruntled, Jake gathered up the cards.
"'Nother round, Jake?" Raymond asked as he gathered the money to
his side of the table.
"Nah." He stacked all the cards, then laid them down in front of
Raymond. When Jake glanced toward the bar, he saw the stranger still
watched him. As casually as he could, Jake got up and headed toward the
bar counter.
"On a losing streak tonight, Jake?" the bartender asked as he set a
glass down on the counter and filled it with a shot of whiskey.
Jake grabbed the glass and downed the shot, ignoring the question.
With a laugh, Robert set the bottle down in front of Jake. Straddling the
stool, Jake poured another drink before he turned to look at the man still
eyeing him. "You want something?"
"Are you Jake Mathers?"
The cultured voice had a slight accent, and Jake figured the guy
might be English. "Who wants to know?"
"I'm William Tolliver. Your brother Jason sent me to find you."
Inwardly, Jake stiffened. What the hell did his brother want now?
Laying a gold piece on the counter, Jake grabbed the bottle then stood
up. "Upstairs. In my room."
The bartender slid a key over the counter, and Jake took that as well.
Not bothering to look back to see if William followed him, Jake went up
the stairs at the back of the bar. When he reached the room, he unlocked
the door then left it open as he went inside. Every damn time Jason sent
somebody to track him down, his brother wanted him to return to Boston.
With no regard for courtesy, Jake plopped down on the bed and
settled the bottle next to him. William entered the room, and Jake
muttered, "Shut the damn door."
After he closed the door, William grabbed one of the old chairs and
pulled it closer to Jake, then sat down. "I've got a message from your
brother, Jake."
"Yeah, he wants me to return to Boston. Fat chance of that
happening." Jake guzzled from the bottle, giving William a sour look.
"I suppose that part would be up to you. I'm only here to tell you
that your father died. Since your name is on the will, you are needed to
sign the paperwork."
The death announcement didn't surprise Jake, but the other part did.
"Bastard disowned me as last I recall."
"Your brother managed to convince your father not to do that."
Aware of the gaze that kept roaming appraisingly over him, Jake
was too pissed to react to it. Taking another healthy drink from the
bottle, Jake refused to say anything to the man.
In the silence, William sat forward and reached out, grabbing Jake's
chin and forcing Jake to look at him. "I'm leaving on the stagecoach at
dawn. Either you are on it or you're not."
Glaring at him, Jake jerked his head away. William got up and left
the room without saying another word. Silently, Jake fumed. No matter
how many times he had told his brother not to bother intervening for
him, Jason still did. It completely threw him to realize that his father
hadn't cut him out of his will.
It meant both he and Jason were very wealthy men. The life of the
Bostonian elite hadn't appealed to Jake and he'd struck out on his own,
heading west to Tombstone. In the last ten years, he'd managed to make a
decent living for himself. In between odd jobs at different mines and his
gambling, he did quite well.
Restlessly, he rolled onto his stomach and set the bottle on the stand
near his bed. Did he really want to go back to Boston? Part of him
wanted to see Jason again. His brother had been the only decent thing in
his life. With their father dead, Jake wouldn't have to worry about seeing
the old man. Or listen to his tirades. The old man had done his best to
drive a wedge between Jake and Jason. It didn't work because both of
them had been too close, but it finally drove Jake out of the house when
he'd turned seventeen.
Desire to see Jason rose in Jake, he missed his brother but still
refused to return to Boston. By the time he finished nearly half the bottle,
the alcohol fuzzed his brain and gave him little room for anything other
than the maudlin need to see his brother again. Before he passed out for
the night, he'd already made the decision to return to Boston.
* * * *
Boston
Staring at the place that had been his home for fifteen years, Jake
remained frozen in his seat. Too many memories played in his mind and
kept him in place as he mutely looked at the house. Remembered tears of
anger and painful bruises left on him echoed in his mind, along with the
hateful silences and bursts of anger from his father.
William, sitting across from him, leaned forward and rested his
hand on Jake's knee. "Your brother is waiting for you, Jake."
Jake looked back at William but really didn't see him. His gaze
returned to the white porch of the old gray stone mansion. The door to
the house opened and Jason stepped out, then ran down the stairs toward
the coach. One of the servants opened the coach door and finally Jake got
out. Immediately Jason enveloped him in a tight hug.
"I wasn't sure you would ever come back," his brother whispered to
him.
Jake couldn't say anything. He struggled as it was to keep the tears
back. Tolliver stood beside them, remaining silent.
"You must be hungry. Delia has dinner ready." Jason's broad,
familiar smile brought one to Jake's lips. In that instant, it had seemed as
if he'd never left home.
"I don't know about William, but I'm starving. Nothing can compare
to Delia's cooking." Jake walked up the porch stairs and into the house
with his brother.
"I'll leave you two to dinner while I retire to my room. It's been a
long journey." Smiling at both of them, he bowed his head slightly then
headed toward the stairs.
Laughing, Jason's hand pounded Jake across the back. "You're
looking mighty fine, brother. Being out west must agree with you."
"I did pretty well, Jason." Jake tried to imagine his brother in the
rough and tumble world of Tombstone and could barely hold back his
grin. Truly, Jason had become one of Boston's finest in his fancy gray
suit. Seeing a gold chain dangling from Jason's pocket, Jake reached out
and fingered it. "You've become a gentleman, Jason. How did you
manage to fake that?"
As they settled in the dining room, two servants began bringing in
trays of food. Once they finished, they left, shutting the door behind
them. Jason grimaced at his brother. "I'll have you know I have a box at
the Boston League Opera, I am the chair of the Bostonian Theatre, and I
contribute regularly to the symphony."
"Oh, my Lord." Jake stared at him, open mouthed before he burst
out laughing. After a moment, Jason joined him in the laughter. They
both knew most of Jason's refined tastes were no more than a front.
After helping himself to the carved roast, Jake piled several of the
vegetables onto his plate. "Have you given up your women for one of
Boston's finest daughters?"
"Not as yet. I've managed to escape quite a few traps laid in my
direction. Have you given up on your young men yet?" A smirk curved
Jason's lips as he filled his plate.
"That'll never happen." After his brother had caught him with one of
the stable hands, Jason had kept Jake's secret from their father. As
religious as their father had been, he would have outright killed Jake had
he known.
To Jake, the time he had been away seemed to melt as the two
reminisced while they ate. Occasionally he watched his brother, amazed
at the outer transformation. Yet, Jason hadn't really changed at all. Even
the house itself felt more relaxed and neither of them mentioned their
father. As the elder brother, Jason became the head of the household and
things had indeed changed.
After they finished dinner, Jason escorted him to his room. Instead
of his old bedroom, Jason had been thoughtful enough to let Jake have a
room in the west wing near his and Mr. Tolliver's. Jason continued to his
own bedroom as Jake entered his. The first thing Jake saw was a bottle of
whiskey sitting on the stand near the bed. He had to grin at his brother's
thoughtfulness.
Shedding his shoes and shirt, he moved toward the washbasin.
When a knock sounded at his door, he said, "Come in."
He heard the door open and close as he washed his hands and face.
Turning, he expected to see one of the servants. Instead a pair of
fascinated dark eyes were fixed to his chest.
"I just wanted to check and see how well you were settling in, Jake,"
William murmured as he walked toward Jake.
During their entire trip, Jake had had the feeling that William had
been far more interested in him than he let show. There'd been moments
when he'd caught William staring at him most oddly. Yet, in the crowded
coach no overtures had been made from either side. "It's not quite the
same here as when my father was alive."
"I knew him quite well, Jake." William stopped in front of him,
raising one hand to let his fingers trail lightly over the bare skin of Jake's
chest. "He had an exceptional head for business, but would never have
been able to accept our secret."
Feeling the feather soft touch, Jake's hand caught at William's. "You
mean our desire for men?"
"That is exactly what I am talking about." Leaning closer, his lips
covered Jake's. Before William could do more, Jake's tongue flit over his
lips then pushed into his mouth. Jake had been lusting after William for
the whole damn trip, and he wasn't about to let this opportunity pass him
by.