Read Online Turner's Vision by Suzanne Ferrell - Free Book Online
Authors: Suzanne Ferrell
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her antics.
His thoughts sobered quickly as a young man entered the room.
Stephen .
The shock of seeing him here was quickly replaced by a good dose of cynicism.
Why should it surprise him that his half-brother would be mixed up in this mess? It had been years since he’d seen him, but he would’ve known him anywhere. In those years he’d grown into a likeness of himself. Stephen had the same blond hair and above-average height, although stockier. The only physical difference were his eyes—Stephen’s were the same shade of ice blue as Micah’s stepmother, Julia. He wondered if on closer examination, they had the same cold, calculating glint to them.
Stephen sat at a table on the opposite side of the room, also partially covered in shadows. Micah watched as he signaled for drinks.
Earlier in the day Micah convinced the owner it was in his best interest to let his man work as the barkeep. Simon set a bottle and five glasses in front of his brother. Stephen poured himself a drink. He drank it quickly, refilling his glass just as the door opened to admit two more players in this mystery.
Jonathan Gibson strode into the room, confident in his power, while his brother David hovered in his shadow. They sat in the two chairs at Stephen’s left.
As the three men at the table exchanged words and drinks, the door to the tavern opened again. This time a short, lean man of oriental descent entered the room. Glancing around to take in all the room’s occupants, he moved to the table where the men were seated. He refused the drink Stephen offered him. This was a very cautious man.
The four men talked in hushed tones, occasionally looking around the room and at the door. Micah slumped down in his chair, with his head almost lying on the table. From a distance anyone looking at him would see only a one eyed sailor sleeping in a drunken stupor.
After about half an hour, the door opened once more. The man entering looked more nervous than his fellow conspirators. The banker walked over to the table. He took the last seat, accepting a glass of liquor.
The conversation resumed and Stephen signaled for another bottle. Micah watched in horror as the woman brought out the drink. She wore a skintight corset, cut so low and so tight her normally small breasts bulged out the top.
Micah looked up into and nearly groaned. She’d painted her face like any doxy he’d seen on the streets of Washington and Denver. He watched as she leaned over, whispering something in Stephen’s ear, nearly pushing her breasts into his face. Suddenly, his brother pulled her onto his lap, kissing her behind the ear. From where he sat, Micah saw the look of sheer panic cross her face.
I should let her get herself out of his mess. Instead, he pushed himself out of his seat.
The man who looked like a softer version of Micah lifted the hem of her dress, his hand groping at her shapely legs.
Panicked, Claudia let out a squeal of protest.
The one-eyed sailor hobbled from the corner over to the table, weaving precariously as he came nearer the men. Just as he started to pass Claudia and the man holding her captive, the disgusting sailor reached out and yanked her from the drunk’s hands. The glasses on the table slid to the floor, and the younger man was left to decide which he wanted to save—the bottle of whiskey or Claudia.
The bottle won.
“Aye, missy. What’cha mean, taking someone afor me?” The man’s breath reeked of alcohol and garlic, while his clothes were enough to cause the people around them to move away. “You’se promised to me fer the night, and I don’t be sharin’.”
“I never…” Claudia began to protest, then she saw the steel colored eye without the patch. A deep sense of relief spread through her. She decided to play along with her rescuer. “I never was planning to make you share, Otis. I promise.”
Micah lifted her onto his shoulder, her rump hiding his face from the men at the table. He carried her out the
His thoughts sobered quickly as a young man entered the room.
Stephen .
The shock of seeing him here was quickly replaced by a good dose of cynicism.
Why should it surprise him that his half-brother would be mixed up in this mess? It had been years since he’d seen him, but he would’ve known him anywhere. In those years he’d grown into a likeness of himself. Stephen had the same blond hair and above-average height, although stockier. The only physical difference were his eyes—Stephen’s were the same shade of ice blue as Micah’s stepmother, Julia. He wondered if on closer examination, they had the same cold, calculating glint to them.
Stephen sat at a table on the opposite side of the room, also partially covered in shadows. Micah watched as he signaled for drinks.
Earlier in the day Micah convinced the owner it was in his best interest to let his man work as the barkeep. Simon set a bottle and five glasses in front of his brother. Stephen poured himself a drink. He drank it quickly, refilling his glass just as the door opened to admit two more players in this mystery.
Jonathan Gibson strode into the room, confident in his power, while his brother David hovered in his shadow. They sat in the two chairs at Stephen’s left.
As the three men at the table exchanged words and drinks, the door to the tavern opened again. This time a short, lean man of oriental descent entered the room. Glancing around to take in all the room’s occupants, he moved to the table where the men were seated. He refused the drink Stephen offered him. This was a very cautious man.
The four men talked in hushed tones, occasionally looking around the room and at the door. Micah slumped down in his chair, with his head almost lying on the table. From a distance anyone looking at him would see only a one eyed sailor sleeping in a drunken stupor.
After about half an hour, the door opened once more. The man entering looked more nervous than his fellow conspirators. The banker walked over to the table. He took the last seat, accepting a glass of liquor.
The conversation resumed and Stephen signaled for another bottle. Micah watched in horror as the woman brought out the drink. She wore a skintight corset, cut so low and so tight her normally small breasts bulged out the top.
Micah looked up into and nearly groaned. She’d painted her face like any doxy he’d seen on the streets of Washington and Denver. He watched as she leaned over, whispering something in Stephen’s ear, nearly pushing her breasts into his face. Suddenly, his brother pulled her onto his lap, kissing her behind the ear. From where he sat, Micah saw the look of sheer panic cross her face.
I should let her get herself out of his mess. Instead, he pushed himself out of his seat.
The man who looked like a softer version of Micah lifted the hem of her dress, his hand groping at her shapely legs.
Panicked, Claudia let out a squeal of protest.
The one-eyed sailor hobbled from the corner over to the table, weaving precariously as he came nearer the men. Just as he started to pass Claudia and the man holding her captive, the disgusting sailor reached out and yanked her from the drunk’s hands. The glasses on the table slid to the floor, and the younger man was left to decide which he wanted to save—the bottle of whiskey or Claudia.
The bottle won.
“Aye, missy. What’cha mean, taking someone afor me?” The man’s breath reeked of alcohol and garlic, while his clothes were enough to cause the people around them to move away. “You’se promised to me fer the night, and I don’t be sharin’.”
“I never…” Claudia began to protest, then she saw the steel colored eye without the patch. A deep sense of relief spread through her. She decided to play along with her rescuer. “I never was planning to make you share, Otis. I promise.”
Micah lifted her onto his shoulder, her rump hiding his face from the men at the table. He carried her out the
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