I face him. “Do you care more about your reputation than our future together?”
Virgil chuckles to himself, shaking his head, but his attention stays fixed on Kodiak. “You’d let the world believe you’d perished? For a woman?”
“Yes, I’d die for that woman,” Kodiak says, unflinching. “Alice, what are you saying?”
“I’m saying you can stop running. Live for me. Here. Put down roots.”
His eyes flutter slightly and he exhales—one sharp, soft breath.
“So let me get this straight,” he says, half to himself. “You want to fake my death with Collier’s body. Hand him over to this bastard”—he nods at Virgil, who merely raises an eyebrow—“and let him walk into town a hero with a bag of bones for a bounty check, while I pretend to rot in a shallow grave and go dig potatoes behind this inn for the rest of my life.”
“It doesn’t have to be here,” I say gently. “Just not running. Not killing. Not hiding.”
Kodiak shakes his head, gun pointed at Virgil. “This is madness.”
For the first time, Virgil relaxes, hand slipping off his gun. He crosses his arms. “It is madness—but it’ll pass. Disfigure the face, strip the clothes, leave something to identify him by. The law will see what it wants to see.”
“Kodiak, put the gun down,” I say.
He shakes his head. “You might trust this bastard, but I’d sooner wrestle a rattlesnake than take his word.”
Virgil snorts—half disgust, half boredom. He lifts his hands in mock surrender, then slowly unbuckles his belt and sets the holstered weapon on the bed. “Unlike my brother, I do not let emotions cloud my judgment. I’m nothing if not pragmatic. And it seems our dear Alice has offered quite the novel solution.”
“She ain’touranything,” Kodiak growls.
“Kodiak, please. Put down the gun.”
He exhales slow, eyes scanning Virgil for hidden steel. Then, at last, he holsters the pistol.
Virgil smooths his sleeves. “This debacle has cost more than I care to admit—chiefly, my time. Then, of course, there is the chore of reuniting our New Orleans guests with theirmissing trinkets and soothing the gossip that followed. I’ve no interest in petty revenge games with you and Princess Stargazer. My concerns lie in investment, expansion of our metropolitan hospitality divi?—”
“Get on with it, Virgil,” Kodiak snaps.
“It’s in everyone’s interest to end this in a way that serves us all. From the beginning, we only meant to resolve an inconvenience for our partners. Now, if Kodiak Randolph is to die, well, then his crimes die with him.”
Kodiak’s gaze drifts to the fire’s low glow, the damp coat slumped across the chair, the pistol at his hip. The deed on the table. Fragments of a life come apart. He rakes a hand through his hair. “You’d carry this lie into town?”
Virgil’s jaw sets. “Not if you plan to make a fool of me. If I stake my name on your death, Randolph, you best stay dead.” Virgil turns to me, voice edged with skepticism. “And why in God’s name should I trust the word of an outlaw? Be damned foolish of me to do such?—”
“I’m a man of my word,” Kodiak cuts in. His voice is quiet, but it lands like a gunshot. He looks to me, then back at Virgil. “And why should I trust this dandy won’t go whisperin’ to the sheriff anyway?”
Virgil lets the silence stretch, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Well, since we’re all speaking plain,” I add, “there is the matter of the property.”
Virgil narrows his eyes. “What about it?”
“Collier’s money would have bought the deed, but he’s gone now. I assume you’d prefer to complete the sale. We get peace. You get the bounty, the sale of the inn, and to walk into town every inch the hero. Seems like quite a rich bargain for you. Why would you spoil it by crossing us?”
I glance at Kodiak, his jaw tight, shoulders coiled, but he doesn’t move.
Virgil nods, satisfied. “Of course I’d honor my end of the bargain, assuming you deliver on all of your promises and stay well out of sight and memory.”
I nod in agreement. “I’ll see that we do, and I’d be happy to spare you the displeasure of our company ever again.”
Virgil steps toward the door, then pauses with his hand on the frame. “Very well then. I’ll collect the body come first light tomorrow.” His gaze flicks to me. “But try not to make it too neat. No one trusts a clean story.”
Then he’s gone, boots echoing down the stairs.
