letter as long as possible to keep things as they were before she’d found it. Her peace of mind might be shattered, but that didn’t mean she had to involve Able. Only she did have to involve him. The letter affected him as much as her, so it was only right to tell him. He took in a deep, fortifying breath as if he knew what was coming and unbuttoned his coat as he sat down.
“I thought you should know that I received this today.” She held up the letter. “Someone is claiming to know who I am.”
His jaw clenched and his dark eyes hardened. “Who sent it?”
She shook her head. “It’s anonymous.”
He held out his hand and she gave the letter to him, dropping the parchment as if it had burned her the second he took it. His brow furrowed as he scanned the letter and tightness squeezed her chest. Glory realized that she was holding her breath, hoping against hope that he’d find something she had missed that would tell them the letter was a hoax, so she let it out and felt her muscles relax.
A knock on the open door drew her attention. Hunter came in followed closely by Zane. Hunter was tall at just over six feet, but Zane towered over him by a few inches. His large frame was strapped with lean muscle, matching Able in sheer powerful strength. If not for Zane’s darker coloring marking his native heritage, she’d imagine there was at least one Viking ancestor in his lineage.
Despite his size, his appearance wasn’t the most striking thing about him, at least not for her. It was his eyes. They were so dark they were nearly black and looked at her with an intensity she didn’t know how to interpret. It was almost as if he could see past the role that she played. As if he was the only one who could look through the brothel madam costume and wonder at the real woman beneath.
The longer she was around him the more she craved that. He was looking at her now as he closed the door behind him. She couldn’t stop herself from staring at the pink scar that started just above his right eyebrow, went down over his cheekbone, before drifting off into his hairline. Time and time again she’d wanted to ask him about it but hadn’t. She knew what it was like to have scars you didn’t want to talk about. Luckily hers were hidden, but she could only imagine how she’d feel if someone questioned them. So she stayed silent on that point out of both respect and self-preservation. The less she knew about him the better. He was an outlaw and she was the madam of a brothel. There was no future for either of them, especially not together.
“Thank you both for coming,” she said, returning her attention to Hunter. He was always the one out of the band of brothers who’d taken the lead in dealing with her. “Please sit down.” Noting there was only one chair available since Able occupied the other, she added, “There’s an extra chair in Charlotte’s office.”
“There’s no need,” Zane said, crossing his arms over his chest as he came to stand behind the empty chair. He gave a nod to Hunter, and his friend sat down in the chair.
“I’ve asked you here because I’ve received a rather disturbing letter.” The paper crinkled as Able finished reading it and handed it back to her. A glance at his face told her nothing of how he felt. If he was worried he was careful not to show it. “Well, perhaps I should simply read the letter so you’ll understand.”
At Hunter’s nod of encouragement, she took a deep breath, loath to read the words again. There was no help for it though, so she plowed forward.
“‘I know who you are. You will understandably doubt my claim, so allow me to elaborate. It is my preference not to give too much away in the event someone else finds this letter, so I will simply say that I know you are from South Carolina. I know that you arrived in Helena in 1876 with nothing but the funds you managed to steal, along with your grandmother’s quilt.’”
Her voice trembled, so she paused to clear her throat. Those were details anyone could guess, she reasoned.
“It’s common knowledge among the staff that I sleep with my grandmother’s quilt and anyone could guess about the South Carolina bit,” she said.
Able nodded in agreement. “Keep reading.”
She took a fortifying breath and continued. “‘I know your true name. I know the details that caused you to run away. I know from whom you ran.’”
She paused as that vile man’s image came to mind. Justin Dubose. Every day that passed she resisted thinking about him, but he was always there lurking in the shadows of her memory. She feared that he always would be.
When she paused, Hunter said, “It’s a clever attempt at extortion, but there’s no solid information to prove they do know who you are.”
His handsome face revealed no hint of alarm. Perhaps that meant she was overreacting, or perhaps it meant he simply didn’t understand the severity of her danger.
Biting her lower lip, she read to the end. “‘Please do not misunderstand my intention. I was hired to find you. I have no personal stake in your recovery. My goal is simply to give you the opportunity to stay hidden. Should you choose to take that opportunity I will disappear with my payment, never to be seen again. Should you refuse, then I have no choice but to report my findings to my employer. The choice is yours. If you wish to stay hidden, have five thousand dollars directed to the account number and bank below. You have one week.’”
There was no signature, only an account number and the address of a bank in Chicago.
The room was silent as she laid the letter on her desk. A myriad of emotions played out in her mind: fear, disbelief, frustration, anger, resolve. In the blink of an eye, she went from uncertainty to somehow knowing exactly what she wanted to do. “We have to find this person.”
“Are the details in the letter accurate?” Hunter asked.
“Close enough.” The waver was gone from her voice, thankfully.
Able stood, his hand going up to the back of his neck to massage away stiffness. “It doesn’t say much, but the things it does say...” His voice trailed off and he walked to the window that looked out over the mansion’s immaculate front stoop and the street beyond, his unfocused gaze taking in the night sky.
Zane walked around to take Able’s vacated chair. Sitting down, he leaned forward, forearms on his knees. “Did you run from someone, Glory?”
She blinked, her body instinctively tensing in reaction to having that old wound prodded. “I’d rather not get into my past. That’s why I want the person caught.”
Zane stared at her, his gaze touching every inch of her face. Maybe he thought if he looked hard enough he’d find the answer there. God help her, a part of her wanted to tell him everything. To share the secret that only Able knew because he’d been there when it had happened. She’d never told another soul, because she’d never trusted anyone enough. She didn’t know Zane well, so there was no reason to trust him, but as she stared into the depths of his sympathetic eyes she wanted to tell him everything. Some small part of her hoped that sharing the burden would make it lighter, but realistically, she knew that wouldn’t happen. Telling anyone else would simply open herself up to more situations like this. The world was ruled by greed. She’d learned that lesson the hard way.
Hunter intervened before Zane could reply. “We can find this person, but it would help if you’d let us know a little more.”
“It’s best that you know as little as possible.”
Hunter frowned but the expression was mild. “If we’re going to help we do need to know where to look for this person. And if a threat is coming, then we need to know who to look for to stop it.”
She wavered and stared down at the letter again. What he said made sense, but there was no way she was letting anyone know where she and Able had come from. She didn’t think that Hunter or Zane would intentionally betray her, but if the wrong person found out they could easily bring the devil himself to her door.
“Glory and I came here twelve years ago.” Able walked over to