Free The Fall of Rome by Beth Ciotta Page A

rage.
    “You can relax, boys,” he said. “I won’t be goin’ after Kat. She’ll come to me.” He threw back the last of his drink, bundled the letters, and headed for the door.
    Snapper jerked a thumb. “What about Piss-Pants?” Bulls-Eye paused about six feet away. “You a betting man, Gus?”
    He swallowed. “No, sir.”
    “Bet you I can shoot that fly off the crown of your hat.” Before the man could counter, smoke curled from the nozzle of Brady’s gun.
    Blood spurted from the hole in between Gus’s eyes. “Oops.” Bulls-Eye tossed a quarter at the dead man’s feet as he walked out into the night.
    Elroy followed, thinking his cousin had turned a whole lot meaner this past year.
     

CHAPTER 11
     
    Rincon Mountains
    Seth had waxed poetic about the sunset, but Rome was more taken with the sunrise. Maybe it’s because he’d seen so few. The few he had witnessed had been through bleary eyes. Whenever possible, he slept in. The only time he rose early was when necessitated by a case. He wasn’t the most hospitable person in the morning, or so he’d been told. Cranky from too little sleep and too much whiskey. Not to say he woke with a hangover every day, but he confessed to tying on a bear most nights.
    He hadn’t touched a drop since his pact with Him. Each day that passed, especially the nights, proved more of a challenge, but he’d be damned if he’d succumb. He’d never lost a battle of will in his life. Until he was certain he could partake in moderation without it becoming a nightly routine, he wouldn’t partake at all. As for the other habits he’d promised to purge--philandering and thinking of Kat---he figured he was on track in a roundabout manner.
    Hopefully, the Almighty would cut him some slack, seeing he’d given up one of them cold.
    This morning his head was acutely clear, and all manner of thoughts buzzed between his ears. Wide awake predawn, he’d risen and dressed. Restless and not wanting to wake the house, he’d gone out for a walk. The air was dry and cool, the deep blue sky a dramatic backdrop for massive clouds of red and orange, their edges tinged in explosive gold. He’d stared up at the colorful phenomenon a good ten minutes before setting off down a rocky path flanked by saguaros, prickly pears, mesquite, and cottonwood trees. The quiet would be deafening if not for the crunch of his boots over rough terrain and his riotous thoughts.
    He kept thinking on the night before. Dinner with Kat. One thought dogged him throughout: She’s changed . Namely, she was more subtle. In appearance. In manner. In the past, she’d had a way of demanding attention, but last night she’d shunned the spotlight, preferring to talk about the Garrett clan. He wanted to know about her mysterious half-sister. How did she die? How did her husband die? When? Had Kat taken Frankie under her wing days ago? Months ago? Years? Where was her niece now? How had Kat looked after her while gambling at the tables? Did she resent the responsibility? When he’d asked about the girl, she hadn’t taken the opportunity to brag, so he assumed she wasn’t a doting guardian. Then again she was eager to entrap a murdering outlaw in order to protect the kid. That was a powerful indication of affection.
    His mind swarmed with additional questions. Why would Brady target the kid? Why did Kat break off with the man? Last night she’d refused wine. In the old days, she’d been as much of a drinker as he. She’d also been a night owl, staying up all hours and sleeping late. Self-indulgent, like him. Impetuous, like him. Cocky and flirtatious, exactly like him. They’d been the perfect match.
    Until a no-account sidewinder had slithered into their lives.
    Rome perched on a boulder and lit a cheroot. He savored the smoke and the knowledge that, if all went according to plan, he’d catch the rat that had continually eluded not only him, but also the Pinkertons and a passel of local lawmen for years. Snagging