This Gun for Hire Read Free

her room is.” Gaslight flickered in the narrow hallway. Shadows came and went across Honey’s troubled face as she shook her head vigorously. Quill was unmoved. “Show me.”
    “No. It’s nothing but trouble for me if I do. You, too.”
    “I’ll knock on every door.” He counted them quickly. “All four.”
    In response, Honey doubled her efforts to hold him back by circling her other arm around his. She squeezed. “You don’t understand. You’re a stranger here. Let it be.”
    Quill looked down at her restraining arms and then at her. “I don’t want to hurt you, and I will if I have to shake you off. And I
will
shake you off. Let me go.” He was used to being taken at his word, but she was right that he was a stranger, and so he allowed her a few extra moments to make a decision about the nature of his character. He held her gaze until he felt her arms relax, unwind, and then fall back to her sides. “Which room?” he asked quietly.
    Honey tilted her head in the direction of the room on her right. “You are hell bent on makin’ trouble, aren’t you?”
    Quill had no answer for that, at least not one that he cared to entertain now, so he merely shrugged. He was not surprised when Honey, clearly disappointed by his lack of response, sighed heavily.
    “Go,” she said, waving him on. “But don’t ever say you weren’t—” She stopped abruptly, startled by a thud heavy enough to make the door she had pointed out shudder in its frame. A second thud, only a slightly weaker echo of the first, caused the floor to vibrate.
    Quill moved quickly, pushing at the door while it was still juddering. He expected some give in it, but there was none. He looked over at Honey. She had turned toward him, hands raised, palms out, a gesture that was meant to absolve her of all responsibility and remind him he was on his own.
    Behind the door, Quill could hear scuffling sounds and labored breathing. He examined the door; saw there was no lock plate, and therefore no key. He raised an eyebrow at Honey. This time she was the one who shrugged.
    Quill turned the knob again and threw his shoulder into the door. It moved a fraction, but he could feel resistance on the other side. From below stairs, he heard Mrs. Fry calling for Honey. She did not hesitate to desert him to answer the summons. Once he heard Honey offer assurances to the madam, he paid no more attention to their exchange.
    When Quill put his shoulder to the door again, it moved just enough for him to insert his fingers between the door and frame and provide additional leverage.
    “Good way to get your knuckles crushed.”
    Quill recognized the voice immediately, and nothing about it was masculine. He withdrew his fingers.
    “Very wise.”
    Katie Nash did not show herself in the narrow opening, but neither did she close it. Quill did not know what to make of that. “Are you all right?” he asked.
    “No one’s holding a gun to my head, if that’s what you mean.”
    He wondered if that were true. He heard some more scuffling, a husky moan, and then . . . nothing. He glanced down the hallway and saw that Honey was no longer standing at the top of the stairs. He waited several long beats before he pushed at the door a third time.
    The response he got for his effort was, “What do you want?”
    “In.”
    “I am with someone.”
    “I know.”
    “I do not entertain two men at one time.” A brief pause. “Unless they are brothers. I believe I would make an exception for brothers.”
    “Winfield
is
my brother.”
    “His name is Whitfield.”
    “That’s his
last
name. Winfield’s his first.”
    “Uh-huh.”
    Her dry response raised Quill’s smile. He was coming around to the notion that she was just fine, but before he quite got there, he heard her swear softly. This was followed by another thud against the door, this one hard enough to shut it in his face. “Oh, for God’s sake,” he muttered, and twisted the knob and pushed.
    This time he was met