Devil in Texas(33)

"Spoken like Aphrodite in Ares's arms."

"Don't start."

"Cass is dynamite. You are fire. Attraction is natural."

"Attraction is stupid." Sadie began the unpleasant task of gluing putty on her nose.

"Mais well." Wilma's lips twitched. "Take Cass to gogo, and the sizzle will fizzle. In time. Maybe."

Gogo, as the Cajun called it, was the last thing Sadie should be doing with Cass. "And when Baron finally takes the bait, how do I explain I'm too busy for a rut, because his bodyguard is in my bed?"

"You say, 'You have competition, Pig Senator. Please me if you can.'"

It was Sadie's turn to fight a smile. "Now I see why you are the illustrious Madam, and I am merely the bawd."

"Not so mere, chere." The Cajun's dark eyes were much too insightful for Sadie's peace of mind. "Since you plan to sleep here tonight, I can only assume your stage shimmies failed to entice the right man?"

"Abysmally."

"It is said, the old bull is ailing."

"I'm starting to think the old bull's a steer. No wonder his wife doesn't sleep with him."

"Mrs. Westerfield has turned shrew. She blames Baron for her miscarriages. What man could desire such a woman?"

Sadie frowned. "You're defending that butcher?"

"Non. But one must understand one's enemy in order to defeat him."

"Has he ever walked through your door since coming to Lampasas?"

Wilma shook her head. "And yet, he is getting his satisfaction somewhere. Only a monk can go without—and sometimes, not even then."

Thoughtfully, Sadie drummed her fingers on the vanity. "So what you're saying is, I have competition."

"A secret lover, perhaps. A mistress he hides from his wife."

"Great. Just what I need. Another complication."

Wilma tapped her lips, a far-away look stealing into her eyes. "To compete with such a rival, you will need a new weapon in your arsenal of love."

Sadie gazed critically at her reflection, trying to guess what Wilma meant. The woman had an uncanny way of intuiting future events. It was downright spooky. "Another wig?"

"No, chere. It is time to introduce a new player to the game. A worthy opponent. One who makes our pig of a senator rise to the challenge."

Sadie arched an eyebrow. "I'm listening."

"Senator Swine does not see you as you wish to be seen, so during your gala performance on Devil's Eve, let us show him what he's missing. Through the eyes of his political nemesis."

Sadie's breath hitched. "You mean Rex?"

"Mais oui. Cass already believes you and Rex are lovers. He'll give the lie credence, should Baron become skeptical."

Sadie's heart kicked at this idea. It was brilliant, like all of Wilma's ideas. But was the cost too high?

Cass would never forgive her for "finally admitting," after all these years, that she'd been having an affair with Rex. More to the point, matters between Cass and Rex could escalate to lethal proportions.

As if guessing her concern, Wilma fixed her with a stern stare. "Do you or do you not want to see Baron pay for his crimes?"

"I do, but—"

"Then you must remember why you took this assignment. Baron must be stopped. He hides behind the trappings of his office, ordering the murder of innocent farmers, while other men—like your Cass—go to the gallows in his stead."

Sadie fidgeted. Everything Wilma had said was true.

"I just can't bear the thought of a high-noon showdown, that's all. Especially over me."

Wilma patted her shoulder. "If anyone can handle Cass's guns, it's mon po po."

"Your po po?" Sadie hiked an eyebrow.

Wilma blushed prettily. "Uh... policeman."

"Right." Sadie cleared her throat. Like Rex, Wilma was scrupulously discrete about her private life. But a body would have to be blind not to see how Wilma's eyes sparkled whenever Rex entered the room—and vice versa. Sadie was delighted they'd found each other. She just hoped their affair survived this mission.

"What if Rex doesn't... can't... well, you know." Sadie blew out her breath. "Wilma, he just doesn't think of me that way!"

Wilma looked amused. "You are capable of holding the man's hand, are you not? And stroking his cheek?"

"I'm not worried about my theatrics. Rex is the straight-laced son of virtue."

Wilma chuckled, as if at a private joke. "Have faith, chere. A mistress knows all her lover's secrets. Baron will want to know about Rex's campaign. He'll take the bait. You'll see."

Sadie bit her lip, envisioning an enraged Lucifire with blazing six-shooters.

That's exactly what I'm afraid of.

As if the matter was settled, Wilma rose from her perch and reached for her lantern. "I must return to my sodbusters, chere. They are clamoring for more liquor. Shall I arrange your invitation to a poker game?"

Sadie sighed, inspecting her pesky sideburns for signs of peeling. "You might as well. Some sodbuster in this town must know who took potshots at Baron. I'm hoping the sniper can lead us to a farmer with a big enough grudge, that he'll testify against Baron."

"Bien. I shall have Gator watch over you."

Wilma turned to go. A moment later, the madam's spiky heels stopped clicking on the limestone. "Qui c'est q'ca?"

Sadie glanced over her shoulder. Wilma had raised her lantern and was frowning at her stacks of contraband.

"What's the matter?"

"Perhaps nothing. It is just that I thought this crate of bourbon was under the Glenmorangie. To make the scotch easier to access when mon po po is in the house."

Wilma set her lamp on a pickle barrel and lifted the crate's lid. It was stamped with black block letters that read, Ripy Brothers Distillery. Tyrone, Kentucky.

Sadie crossed to Wilma's side. "You're worried. Should I be?"

"I do not think so..." But the madam's brow remained furrowed. "Perhaps I did not tally the bourbon correctly. I shall have Cotton re-inventory the Wild Turkey in the morning."





Chapter 11



As inky indigo spread across a cloudless sky, Cass grimaced. A hoity-toity gala wasn't the way he'd envisioned spending Devil's Eve.

Violins and woodwinds were making a high-falutin' noise in the gaily lit musicians' pavilion at Hancock Park. Everybody who was anybody in Lampasas had congregated here to raise money for the hospital's new wing. To Cass's way of thinking, this charity fandango was really just an excuse for a lot of rich folks to sip champagne, munch on snails, and show off gold watch fobs and diamond earbobs.

Oh. And to watch Sadie perform.

Apparently, his social-climbing ex-lover had become quite the darling of the Grand Park regulars. Even he had to concede that the way she'd filled out her skin-tight, black satin gown last night should have been grounds for a public indecency charge. He'd been sorely tempted to punch out Baron's lights when the randy old skirt-chaser kept ogling her breasts. Cass was almost relieved to know that Poppy had accompanied her husband to Sadie's recital tonight.

Almost.

The truth was, Poppy was getting on Cass's nerves. She kept finding reasons to stand beside him, brush against him, stroke his arm. Cass didn't like the way his body responded to her attentions—and especially when his brain didn't want the complication. In truth, he was more than a little insulted. Poppy thought nothing of risking his job, his friendship with Baron, and maybe even his freedom from a penitentiary, because she'd decided he'd make a suitable stud pony.

But Poppy was wrong to think he was free with his seed just because he was a womanizer. To think he might have slipped up somewhere, leaving his baby in some long-forgotten lover's belly, had the power to give him nightmares. No child should have to grow up without a father. He, Collie, and Sadie could all attest to that fact.