Devils on Horseback: Zeke, Book 3 Page 15

  Dammit to hell.

  * * * * *

  Zeke stared at the amber liquid in the glass. He licked his lips and could almost feel the burn of the whiskey as it slid down his throat. Self-pity roared through him as he realized he sat in the sheriff’s office with a drink. Granted it was the middle of the night, but he’d nearly lost his job that day. Yet there he was, an idiot with an almost insurmountable need for liquor.

  When he began to shake, he knew he had to get out of there and fast. Ignoring the little voice inside his head reprimanding him, Zeke walked outside and turned left, straight for Aphrodite’s.

  If he was honest with himself, he wasn’t actually going to the saloon, he was headed for Naomi’s room. The idea of being with her had beaten back the thirst for whiskey at least temporarily.

  No doubt she was mad at him for whatever transgression he’d committed, as were the Devils, but this time he couldn’t stop himself from following through on his impulse. He crept up the back stairs, pausing as he got to her room. Leaning his forehead against the rough wood, he swallowed the misery and fear with effort. Naomi might be forbidden, but he realized she was an important part of what he needed to survive. Perhaps the most important. For now, he wasn’t thinking clearly enough to figure out why, so it didn’t matter until he could.

  He pushed open the door silently and stepped into the room. The blackness of the moonless night hid her blonde hair, but her scent was unmistakable. Zeke couldn’t stop himself from climbing into her bed any more than he could stop the sun from rising. He was addicted to her.

  When he touched her shoulder, she rolled over, instantly awake. “I’m still angry with you.”

  Her voice was like a balm to his frazzled soul. God, he needed to be with her. “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

  “You don’t even know what you said, do you?” She sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees. “You lied to Miss Cranston about me, do you remember?”

  He did remember and given his current state of mind, would likely do it again. Good thing Naomi wasn’t privy to what the council had discussed earlier that evening. She’d have known he lied again. Life was becoming a series of lies.

  “You treat me as if I’m dirty, to be hidden from view of respectable folks. I’m not a whore, Zeke, and I do have feelings.” She laughed without humor. “I’ve spent the last few years surviving, doing what I needed to do to live. Then you come along and my life turns upside down.”

  Zeke took off his hat and slapped it on his leg. “My life’s been inside out for the past five years. I didn’t mean to hurt you, Naomi. I’m sorry for that.”

  She shook her head. “I can hear the sincerity in your voice, but I also hear something else, a part of you hidden from everyone. It’s that part I think controls you and what you do. You’ve judged me and it seems I’ve come up short.”

  “I haven’t judg—”

  “Oh yes you have. Don’t bother denying it. You judged me the second we met. Let me tell you something about me, Sheriff Blackwood.” She rose from the bed, ethereal in her white nightdress. “The one time in my life I laid on my back for money was to escape from a town called Passman. The bastard mayor had spread enough rumors about me they were ready to lynch me in the morning for stealing.” She paused to suck in a breath. “He offered to fuck me in exchange for twenty dollars, enough to get out. I took it, so I guess you’re right about me being a whore, doubly so if you include what I’ve done with you.”

  Her voice was thick with rage and hurt. He’d had no idea of what she’d done or why, and his assumptions had caused her pain. Before he could apologize or even think about what to do, she walked over to the window, her back to him.

  “I think it’s best you leave.”

  Zeke knew it was for the best, but it still hurt like a goddamn knife to the chest. He deserved her censure and her anger. He’d made a mess of another important part of his life, and he couldn’t do anything but leave.

  He wandered back to his room at the restaurant, unsettled and uneasy. For hours he lay there thinking about how to fix the mess he’d made, what he was going to do about Naomi and how he’d gotten himself so twisted up over a woman. He knew he was in deeper than he’d ever been before. The sun’s pink rays painted the walls of his bedroom before he finally gave up.

  As he walked down the stairs, he heard Lee and Gideon talking and laughing in the restaurant. His eyes stung with tears as he realized just how much he missed them. As a lawman, he knew he wouldn’t be popular, especially with the drunks, but he thought he’d have his friends at his back.

  When he got down to the bottom step, they both turned to look at him. Lee scowled while Gideon looked sad and disappointed. Zeke ached to sit with them and talk, to just be with them, but judging by their expressions, he wasn’t welcome.

  “No matter what you think, I was doing my job, nothing more. I gotta do something that matters so I can be human again.” He choked back a sob. “If you want to hang me for that, then so be it. I wouldn’t change what I did. A man’s got to hold onto his integrity and honor or there won’t be enough to feed the buzzards.”

  Gideon looked at him as if he’d gone loco, and perhaps he had. Zeke could hardly get a breath in and he had to go now. He turned and ran like a coward. Out of the restaurant, ignoring Lee’s shout, he kept going.

  Zeke found himself on the steps of the saloon, breathing like a bellows. Young Gregory Conley stood on the street, staring openmouthed, yet Lucy opened the door and smiled and Zeke forgot all about the minister.

  “Come on in, sugar. You look like you could use a friend.”

  * * * * *

  Zeke swam in a sea of pain and confusion, one made of whiskey and cigars. He vaguely remembered laughter, some bad piano music and at least two bottles of whiskey. At some point, he remembered cutting his hand on a glass, groping Louisa’s ass—or was it Carmen’s?—and falling asleep at the back table.

  After he emptied the contents of his stomach onto his own clothes, the world started to whirl around faster and faster. He saw faces swimming around him, and as hard as he tried to block everything and everyone out, he saw her.

  Naomi.

  She watched him with tears glistening in her eyes and her hand pressed to her mouth. There was some shouting and then gentle hands picked up him and he knew no more.

  Naomi wanted to go back downstairs and punch Lucy. She deliberately gave Zeke too much to drink until he nearly choked on his own vomit. Naomi wondered what set off the binge drinking, but Zeke obviously had a high tolerance for alcohol because he didn’t stop until he was halfway through the second bottle of whiskey.

  His brown gaze had been so full of pain and self-loathing, it made her heart hiccup just to look at him. There must be a wound deep inside the aloof sheriff that made him want to literally drown himself in alcohol. Of course, she knew he had secrets—everyone did—but his must be poisonous enough to be killing him slowly.

  She never expected to see him so incapacitated. He couldn’t even stand, much less take care of himself. His hand was bloodied and cut up by something. Fortunately Joe was there to help her get him up the stairs to her bedroom. She thought about getting his brother or cousin to help, but figured he didn’t want them to see him in this state.

  “Just lay him down on my bed, Joe.” Naomi opened the door wide and they stumbled in, nearly dropping him. With more than a few mumbled curses, they made it to the bed and got him on his back. He smelled of whiskey, vomit, sweat and something she thought was desperation.

  It was going to be a long night.

  “Thanks for your help.” She sucked in a much-needed deep breath, then gave Joe a quick kiss on the cheek. “You’re a true gentleman.”

  “Ah, if only you knew, Miss Naomi.” He chuckled rustily. “That Zeke is a good man, just lost his way a bit with the hooch. Shouldn’t’ve been drinking in the first place ’ca
use he hasn’t in three months.” Joe shook his head. “Crying shame what that devil’s brew will do to a man.”

  Naomi’d had no idea Zeke had a drinking problem or that he hadn’t had any in months. Something had set him back on the path to self-destruction and Lucy had helped him along. Naomi didn’t know what or why, but she intended on finding out. She agreed with Joe wholeheartedly. Zeke was a good man and he deserved happiness, even if she was angry at him for the way he treated her. She sighed when she saw the mess that was the man who held her soul in his calloused hands.

  “You take good care of him, y’hear? I’ll fetch some hot water for you to get him cleaned up.” With one last baleful glance at Zeke, Joe left the room, closing the door behind him.

  Naomi tried to shake off the foreboding that gripped her when she looked down at Zeke. He deserved much more than to be a stumbling drunk. She mentally pinched herself to get moving. In minutes, she’d removed his stained clothing and tucked him under the sheets. No need for modesty, after all, they’d seen every square inch of each other.

  A soft knock at the door signaled Joe’s return. She opened it only to find Carmen outside the door.

  “Look, Carmen, I’m not doing business so find someone else to yell at.” She was not in the mood for the Mexican woman’s diatribe.

  “I don’t want to yell at you.” Carmen put her hands on her hips and looked at the floor. “I thought you, well, you know what I thought. But I see how you look at him all night, and then when he was sick, in your eyes I see the truth. You love him.”

  Naomi opened her mouth to deny it, but she didn’t. She recognized the truth in the words even if she couldn’t say it out loud.

  “I just want to say I’m wrong. Louisa yelled at me and, well, we will take care of the rest of the night without you.” Carmen finally met her gaze and Naomi saw a wary acceptance in there.

  “I, um, thanks, Carmen. I really appreciate you telling me, and please tell Louisa I said thank you.” Naomi felt like the world had tilted the last two hours and didn’t know what else to say to the other woman.

  “Good night then.” Carmen saved Naomi the trouble of talking more by doing her normal thing and leaving abruptly. For once, Naomi was grateful for her co-worker’s unusual habits.

  Naomi was shutting the door when Joe popped up with a bucket of water, steam rising from the top.

  “Here you go, girl.” He walked into the room just as Zeke threw the covers off. “Well now, he’s gonna catch a chill.”

  Naomi felt her cheeks heat at the sight of a naked Zeke in her bed. “He’s starting to fuss a bit as the whiskey moves through him.” She quickly covered him up. “Please put the water here by the bed.”

  Joe set the basin down, then shook his head as he looked down at Zeke. “Damn, I mean, pardon me. Darn shame, that is. You take care now, y’hear? There’s folks who would like to see the sheriff fall down and never get up, if’n you know what I mean.”

  “Who?” Naomi scowled at her friend as protective urges flooded through her. Someone wanted Zeke gone as sheriff? From what she’d heard and been told, he was a popular sheriff, bringing order to the town in only a month on the job. Besides that, he and his friends had saved the town from annihilation a year ago. How was it possible someone wanted Zeke dead?

  Joe shrugged, his gaze unreadable. “Just whispers I hear in the saloon, nobody in particular. Just be careful.” With that, the enigmatic older man left her alone with a drunk, naked Zeke.

  A shiver crawled up her spine at his vulnerability, that someone wanted him permanently gone. She trusted Joe and if he told her Zeke was in danger, it was the truth. Naomi cupped his whiskered cheek, the rasp of the stubble on her hands almost as loud as the cacophony through the floor. She expected him to look innocent and sweet in his sleep, but he looked just as dangerous as always.

  More so since he now depended on her to get through the next twelve hours.

  Naomi grabbed her tattered shimmy from the peg on the wall and tore a piece off to get him cleaned up. She wiped him down, getting most of the muck off him, although the smell of the whiskey wasn’t going anywhere soon, even his sweat reeked of it.

  She took his clothes and got the worst of the vomit off and hung the clothes up to dry. As she was putting the bucket of water outside the room, Zeke came to life behind her.

  “Fucking bitch,” he growled from the bed. “Why did you do it? Why?”

  There was fury in his tone, but more than that, there was agony. Deep, vicious pain dredged from down in his soul, which she recognized all too well. Naomi closed the door and walked over to the bed, determined to do what she could to help Zeke.

  He grabbed her arm when she got close enough, twisting it until she almost screamed in agony. Being on her own for the last few years gave her some tricks though. She pinched the skin between his arm and his chest until he let her go. Rubbing the burning skin, she fell to her knees and looked at the man who was so hurt and angry he lashed out even when unconscious.

  She blew out a breath and carefully reached out to brush the blond hair from his forehead. Matted with sweat, the normally vibrant locks were as pitiful as the man who owned them.

  Naomi had a lot of time to think as she took care of Zeke, too much time really. It was disturbing to see him reduced to a crawling drunk. He seemed to be so strong and capable, albeit arrogant. Yet she knew the liquor was only a temporary balm to whatever was eating him up inside.

  “I’ll watch over you.” She cupped his cheek. Tomorrow she would deal with Lucy and find out why she deliberately encouraged Zeke to get drunk.

  Zeke tried to swallow but it seemed every drop of moisture was gone from his mouth. The taste of whiskey and vomit told him all he needed to know. He’d gone to the saloon and after that, everything was blurry. He tried to take a deep breath, but the pain in his chest stopped it cold. However, he smelled something much more familiar and welcome—Naomi.

  As if he’d conjured her from a dream, her soft fingers touched his face, which was currently pressed into a pillow. Her pillow. The idea she was taking care of him made his throat close and he started to choke. God knows he never wanted Naomi to see him like this.

  After she rolled him on his side, she rubbed circles on his back until the coughing subsided. She wiped his face and helped him back up onto the pillows in a sitting position. Still, he didn’t open his eyes.

  “It’s all right, Zeke.” She continued to dab the cool cloth on his forehead. “Everyone stumbles now and then.”

  Zeke had vague memories of the night before, most of them bad. Yet through it all, Naomi’s presence had been constant. She pressed a tin cup to his lips and the sweetness of the water coated his mouth. He tried to slurp more but she pulled it away.

  “Too much and you’ll get sick.” She squeezed his hand. “Are you even going to look at me?”

  Reluctantly, Zeke opened his eyes to slits and knew he shouldn’t. Tears blurred his gaze but he saw the earnest love in the hazel depths of her eyes. He expected much less, even recrimination, censure and disgust. Yet what she gave him in return made him look away.

  “Zeke, please look at me.”

  “Why did you help me?” He kept his gaze averted.

  “I help everyone who needs it. Many a time I needed some and didn’t get it. I’m going to get some warm water to wash you up.”

  Blessedly, she walked out of the room, leaving Zeke to his own misery. Swimming in the hell of his own making, he curled up in a ball and wept.

  He didn’t know how long she’d been gone, but he must have fallen asleep. Zeke woke to her pulling the sheets down and the cool air hitting his naked body. He wasn’t embarrassed to be nude, she’d been intimate with him too many times now for that, but he wasn’t ready for her gasp.

  Zeke popped one eye open to find her staring at his body, her hand pressed to her mouth and an expression of pain on
her face.

  “What? What’s wrong?” He sounded as if he’d been gargling rocks.

  “Sweet Jesus.” She perched on the edge of the bed and reached out a shaking hand. “You have so many scars.” Her fingers traced the outline of the pink scar on his left shoulder from a year ago.

  “A man ain’t a man unless he’s got scars.” He didn’t want her to continue worrying over him. He sure as hell wasn’t worth it.

  “But you’ve been hurt so much.” She skimmed over the ragged scar from a knife wound.

  “I can handle it.” He stopped her hand. “Don’t worry.”

  She nodded but he could see her biting that plump lower lip as she dipped a rag in a basin of steaming water. “Let’s get you cleaned up properly then.”

  Even in the surgical tent during the war, he’d never had a nurse or a corpsman give him a good washing. The last time anyone had done it for him, he’d been in short pants and in his mama’s care.

  Zeke closed his eyes and held back the tears. He was so lost in what could be, should be, but wasn’t. With every stroke of the warm cloth, he finally heard what she was trying to tell him, what he refused to listen to.

  Without words, she told him she loved him, that she worried for him, that she wanted to take away his pain. Zeke’s head pounded right along with his heart as he paid attention to what was in front of him. Naomi had come to mean more to him than anything and he’d ignored everything but her body. He couldn’t allow her to throw her heart away on a man like him.

  After he fell asleep, Naomi left the saloon and headed to the restaurant. She knocked on the door with a trembling hand. When Gideon opened it, he looked behind her in the predawn light.

  “Where is he?”

  “In my room at the saloon. He’s drunk about two bottles of whiskey near as I can tell and he’s suffering for it.” She swallowed the lump in her throat before it stole her voice.

  “He’s a man in so much pain he can’t remember a time without it.” Gideon’s blue gaze locked with hers. “Zeke might seem like a cold man but that’s only to keep a lid on what he can’t control.”