But Thomas’s expression remained steady, almost gentle. “Vincent doesn’t know me from any other miner in the territory. If he did catch me, he’d just think I was a drifter looking for something to steal. He has no reason to connect me to you.”
She clenched her skirts as she stared at him. The easy confidence in his voice only made her worry more.
Then his mouth tipped on one side, his eyes taking on that mischievous glint she was becoming familiar with. “Rose, I’ve been in and out of places I wasn’t supposed to be since I could walk. This is just another locked door.”
Robert frowned. “It’s awfully risky. You could get caught.”
Thomas flashed another grin. “You know me, brother. I never get caught. Besides, I can mail the letters to those judges and solicitors while I’m out. Maybe even hand-deliver a couple.”
She stared at Thomas, her chest tightening with each word he spoke. The fire popped in the hearth behind him, but the sound seemed muted beneath the roar of her own pulse in her ears. He made it sound so simple, so reasonable—as though Vincent were just another obstacle to overcome rather than the calculating predator who had owned her life for five years.
“Thomas, you don’t know him.” The words scraped against her throat. “Vincent isn’t like other men. He’s…he watches everything. Studies people. He has ways of making you tell him things you never meant to say.”
The memory of his pale eyes surfaced unbidden—the way he could look at a person and peel back every layer of pretense until nothing remained but naked truth. How many times had she watched him break down a man’s defenses with nothing more than patient questions and that terrible, knowing smile?
Thomas’s expression gentled, and he took a step closer. “Rose, I understand you’re scared. But Vincent’s never met me. At least, not since I was a tot. He has no reason to suspect I’m anything more than another drifter looking for easy money. Men like that—they expect petty theft. They don’t expect someone with actual skill.”
She forced herself to take in a breath. Maybe he was right.
A hand rested on her lower back. Gentle. Reassuring.
James.
The warmth of his palm spread through the fabric of her dress, but it couldn’t quite calm the wild flutter of panic in her chest.
She looked up into Thomas’s face, searching for any sign of the recklessness she feared. But beneath the easy smile lay something more serious—a careful intelligence that reminded her of his older brothers.
James’s hand pressed more firmly against her back. “If Thomas is determined to do this, then we need to plan it properly. No rushing in without thinking it through.”
She let her breath out, and the weight on her chest eased a little. She would have to trust him. And tell him everything she could think of that might help.
“I need to tell you about the layout. And about Murphy—he’s the one who owns the saloon. He’s not like Vincent, but he’s loyal to him. Vincent pays him well for my performances, and Murphy doesn’t ask questions about things that aren’t his business.”
Thomas nodded, his expression growing more serious as he listened. “What time does the saloon close?”
“Around two in the morning usually. Sometimes later if there’s a big poker game.” She closed her eyes, picturing the familiar routine that had governed her life so many years. “Murphy always does a final walk-through before he locks up—checks the main room, counts the till, makes sure all the lamps are out.”
“And Vincent’s office?”
“It’s down a hallway that runs behind the main bar. Before the back staircase at the end of the hall.”
Thomas nodded, his expression intent. “So the office is between the main saloon and the back stairs?”
“Yes. About halfway down the hall.”
She could almost see him mapping it out in his mind. “What about the lock?”
“Heavy brass. Vincent always made a show of using it, even when he was just stepping out for a moment.” The memory of that metallic click made her stomach clench. “He keeps the key on a chain in his vest pocket.”
Thomas spewed question after question at her, and she did her best to answer them all. His methodical interrogation reminded her of Robert’s legal mind, but with an edge of excitement that was purely Thomas’s own. By the time he seemed satisfied, her entire body ached from reliving her life in that place.
“All right.” He straightened, that familiar glint of mischief now tempered with something more serious. “I’ll leave at first light, get to Virginia City by Monday afternoon. That gives me time to scout the place before the saloon gets busy. I’ll decide whether it’s best to sneak in while a lot of people are there, or wait till after they close.”
The knot in her stomach tightened again. Even with all their planning, the thought of Thomas walking into Vincent’s territory made bile churn in her middle. She’d seen what Vincent did to people who crossed him—the quiet threats, the way problems simply disappeared.
As though he could sense this new wave of distress, James’s hand moved against her back, a gentle reminder of his presence. “Thomas knows what he’s doing,” he said quietly, though she could hear the worry he was trying to hide. “And if anyone can talk his way out of trouble, it’s him.”
Robert cleared his throat. “If you plan to take the letters, I guess we’d better start writing them.”
