Victor smirked. “I’ll deal with you later.”
Alden glanced back at the judge. “This isn’t right.”
“Step away from him, Mr.Payne,” the judge commanded.
“Not until he releases Miss Labrie.”
Instead of responding, Judge Roth nodded toward the other two men in the room. They flanked Alden, each of them taking an arm and pinning it behind him. He wrestled against the men as Victor moved around him, shoving Isabelle toward the door.
The judge sighed, pointing toward the wall. “Take him to the jail.”
Isabelle braced herself against the doorpost. “But he’s supposed to take care of Isaac.”
“He’ll only be in jail until you and Mr.Duvall leave town.”
As Alden struggled to break free, she glimpsed the sorrow in his eyes, a rawness that spoke of fear. And a tender love.
She closed her eyes as Victor pushed her into the street, the image of Alden embedded into her mind. Her heart.
Alden did care for her, in spite of her past. More than she could ever have dreamed.
She’d cling to that picture of his love for the rest of her life.
Chapter 45
Columbia
August 1854
Brandy burned the lining of Victor’s throat, inflaming his stomach, but it didn’t stop the pounding in his head. The last two silver dimes in his wallet were spent and still there was no relief for his pain.
After all these years, Mallie was finally his, yet she wasn’t as he remembered. The beauty remained, flourished even, but her respect for him was gone.
She’d fought him back in her hotel room, giving him a lump behind his ear. He’d wrestled her down and tied her to the post of her bed, threatening all manner of things if she screamed again, not the least of which was kidnapping Isaac if she didn’t cooperate. He was still stronger than she—and a good inch taller—but she defied him with eyes that used to fear him, eyes now filled with disgust instead of awe.
And those eyes reminded him of Eliza.
He’d go back to the hotel room when the darkness came, after the brandy cured his head. Then he wouldn’t care one whit about Mallie’s eyes. He’d teach her to revere him again, and she wouldn’t be able to fight back this time. Nor could she drain his power away. No matter what she did, he would remain in control.
When he was finished, Mallie would call him master again.
He took another swig.
Captain Ahab had triumphed in darting his whale before Moby-Dick took him down, but there was no victory for Victor yet. Nor was there any money left to take Mallie and Isaac on a coach back to Sacramento. He’d searched her hotel room for an hour, but all he found were two measly dimes.
If Eliza were here, she’d be laughing at him again. Was Mallie laughing too?
A new hatred began to burn inside him with the brandy.
He’d loved Mallie with his entire heart, doing everything to provide for her, love her, and she was laughing at him. Mocking him because of his ragged clothing, his incompetence. Because he couldn’t read.
No one laughed at Victor Duvall.
Mallie was his, and she would pay for her scorn.
As he stood up from the bar stool, the tables and mirrors around him began to spin. Even the chandelier overhead rocked back and forth.
A man wearing a long overcoat slid onto the stool beside him. “It looks like you need another one,” he said.
