Slightly naughty things may happen.

12. Soiled Doves

Deputy Belikov was in his own world of trouble.

After nearly a full day's ride, Dimitri arrived at his destination late in the afternoon. Argenta was a similar sized settlement to Saints Town – with all the basic amenities – and it didn't take the deputy long to find the particular parlour house he was looking for. He doubled back to tether his horse outside the saloon then crossed the street with a grimace.

Of all the missions Alberta could have sent him on, this was possibly the worst. He would have preferred robbers, murderers or escaped criminals – anything but this. Trying to banish all thoughts of Rose Hathaway from his mind, he tightened his lips and approached the door of the local bordello.

The brothel's main parlour was not especially large but it was lavishly decorated; a liquor cabinet and serving counter off to one side, comfortable chairs lining the walls, rich carpets underfoot, and heavy curtains draped across the windows and doorways. There was even a piano in one corner. The whole place appeared clean and proper, and would have been entirely respectable except for the six or seven soiled doves lounged about the room in nothing but their underwear – a few engaged in flirtatious conversations with the gentlemen guests who were very much at their ease.

The deputy removed his hat and glanced around, not knowing where to look.

'What do we have here, girls?' a busty woman approached him as he entered, practically naked in a corset, black stockings and pretty, knee-length bloomers.

She came right up to the newcomer like she owned the place and the other girls hung back to see how the encounter would play out.

'Hmm... A nice, big man,' she walked around the deputy slowly, inspecting him like he was a piece of meat. 'Do you like big girls, mister?' the dove stepped close enough that her ample bosom grazed his sleeve, 'or do you like them small and sweet?' she suggested when she got no reaction, drawing his attention to a beautiful waif with golden skin and long, dark hair who was watching him from the other side of the room. 'Whatever you fancy I'm sure we can accommodate your tastes.'

Dimitri coughed, averting his eyes. 'You misunderstand. I'm not here to partake of your services, ma'am. I'm a deputy sheriff.'

That piqued her interest. 'Ooh! A lawman. We don't mind a bit of brass around here, sweetheart. So long as you're a man where it counts,' she groped at the front of his trousers and her eyes bulged. 'You come upstairs with me, deputy, and I'll make sure you leave here a very happy man. The name's Alice, by the way,' she breathed close to his ear, her fingers creeping teasingly along his arm.

The man shrugged his arm away, never breaking his expressionless mask. 'Sheriff Peterson informed me you've been having trouble with a customer. I'm here to sort out the problem,' he explained evenly.

Alice looked put out. 'You'll want to talk to Aunt Rhonda then,' her top lip pulled up with a hint of disdain. 'That's her over there.'

Following Alice's gaze, Dimitri made his way across to the woman who was seated on a high-backed chair a short distance away from the wet-bar.

'Aunt' Rhonda – the brothel madam – was a tall, refined-looking woman in her forties who would have once been a great beauty. Her dark hair was piled high, and the neckline of her wine-coloured dress plunged low, her décolletage barely concealed by a sheer layer of gauze that extended up to her throat. In addition to her fine clothing, the madam sported a delicate lace shawl and a pair of gold earrings that bobbed enticingly as she turned her head to watch the deputy approach.

Dimitri appraised her carefully as he drew nearer, noting that the woman's hair was not black as he'd first suspected, but a deep shade of auburn.

'Good afternoon, ma'am. My name is—' he began, but Rhonda held up a jewelled finger.

'I know who you are, lawman. Hold out your hand,' she commanded, her gaze haughty and mysterious.

The deputy frowned. 'I'm only here because Sheriff Peterson said you have some business that needs attending to. Nothing more.'

The woman eyed him steadily. 'Hold out your hand or I will have no business with you, and then what will you tell the sheriff when you return home?'

Dimitri's jaw tensed. 'Only if you tell me why it's so important to you,' he demanded, flexing his fingers by his sides. He'd already been poked and prodded by Alice, and he didn't plan on getting the same treatment from this woman too.

Rhonda sighed. 'I've foreseen that I will be killed by a dark-haired man, and I want to make sure it's not you,' she explained, reaching out and taking his hand before he could protest further. 'Ahh… Not surprising,' she murmured to herself, closing her eyes as if she were reading his soul. 'You're a killer, certainly, but not the one who's coming for me.'

Thinking she was finished, Dimitri tried to pull away, but the clairvoyant gripped his hand like a vice.

'Wait. I'm getting a message,' her eyebrows drew together tightly. 'The spirits say that you would do well to heed this warning… Pins and needles, needles and pins. Death awaits the one who hesitates.'

Rhonda opened her eyes and released the deputy's hand as if nothing had happened.

'What on earth is that supposed to mean?' he asked, more irritated than amazed. His grandmother Yeva had been trying to scare him his whole life with her morbid predictions – he didn't need anybody else divulging cryptic messages from the other side.

'You'll find out when the time is right,' the woman replied dismissively, 'but, enough talk of fate and fortune. We have business to discuss,' she waved her drink in the air as an invitation for him to sit in the chair beside her. 'What has Alberta told you, exactly?'

Dimitri opted to stand, placing his hat on the chair and folding his arms. 'Sheriff Peterson said there's been a man bothering your daughter. Does she live here? Upstairs perhaps, or with relatives in town?'

Rhonda smirked. 'She works here like the rest of us, sweetie. We like to think of it as a family business. That's my girl there. Ambrosia.'

The deputy let himself snatch a glimpse at the pretty little redhead who was currently draped over the lap of a man at least twice her age.

'She seems very young,' he remarked uneasily, his eyes sliding across to another girl half-reclined on a chaise lounge, her modesty only protected by thin cotton undergarments and a mane of dark hair that tumbled down over her shoulders. 'Do you think it's entirely appropriate she's already working here?'

This time Rhonda laughed. 'Appropriate is not a word we hear too often in this neck of the woods, deputy. But you stick to your principals. I'm sure they'll get you far. Now, unless you're planning to pay like the rest of the men here, get your eyes off my pretty dove and tell me what you propose to do about our little problem.'

Dimitri snapped his attention back to the older woman. He didn't realise he'd been staring. He'd only been looking at the girl's hair. It was dark and glossy with a natural curl. Rose had hair that colour, but he'd only ever seen it pinned up. He wondered what it would look like splayed out around her face. The man blinked the image away hastily, anxious to suppress the unexpected swelling in his trousers.

'I apologise,' he cleared his throat, returning to the matter at hand. 'So tell me exactly what has happened to cause you alarm. Has the man harmed Ambrosia? Threatened to harm her?'

'No,' Rhonda took a sip of her drink, looking at him over the rim of the glass. 'Not yet, at least.'

Dimitri's brow wrinkled. 'He doesn't pay?'

'No. He pays alright,' she lowered the glass again, resting it on the small lamp-table next to her chair.

'Then what is the problem?' the deputy's patience was wearing thin.

He wanted to sort this mess out and be gone from this place as soon as possible. He'd noticed out of the corner of his eye that the Rose-girl had shifted across to the piano and was now leaning over it as she joined in to sing a bawdy tune about four young maidens in an alehouse. It was a mental image he couldn't afford to dwell on, given how over-active his imagination had become since those stolen moments with his charge in the treehouse fort at the Draymore ranch, and their midnight tryst by his campfire.

The expression on Rhonda's face darkened. 'He's obsessed,' she confided. 'Won't leave Ambrosia alone. For the last few days he's turned up drunk and disorderly, and he gets angry when my girl refuses to see him. In my opinion, it's only a matter of time before he hurts somebody.'

Dimitri narrowed his eyes slightly and lowered himself into the chair beside her, resting his hat on the table between them. 'Start from the beginning,' he suggested quietly. 'I'll need to know the whole story if I'm going up against a man with a violent temper and liquor in his belly – people like that can be unpredictable and I'm not fond of surprises.'

The madam picked up her drink and looked into its depths. 'Several months back, I took some of my little doves out for a wagon ride to take care of the miners who are still trying their luck on the goldfields. On the way home we ran into some trouble with one of our horses and a passer-by stopped to help. He got talking to the girls while he was tending to the beast and then we each went our separate ways. I thought that was the end of it till he showed up here, asking for Ambrosia.'

'Then you let him in to see her?' the deputy clarified.

'Of course. Got his name down in the ledger here.' She rose to retrieve a book from a drawer behind the counter and flipped through the pages, running her finger down the list of names to point out the signature Marshall de Silva. 'He looked a bit rough from the road, but he certainly behaved in a gentlemanly manner and he didn't baulk when I told him the fee for Ambrosia's particular services.'

Of all the women in the trade, red haired girls and Indians fetched the highest price.

'And the first visit was without incident?' Dimitri enquired, as the madam returned to sit beside him.

Rhonda gave a hint of a smile. 'He didn't even touch her. Just sat on the edge of the bed and asked her to talk.'

The deputy allowed himself a smirk. 'Sounds like an expensive conversation.'

'Not all men are after the same thing when they come through our doors, deputy,' she reproved, before continuing on with her account. 'Marshall came back every week after that. He would only see Ambrosia and he only paid to talk, except last week something happened that changed things. He'd normally visit us on a Saturday but he stayed in town overnight and turned up here again early Sunday evening. Ambrosia was booked in to see another customer, but Mr de Silva offered to pay twice the price so I made arrangements for him to see her. Only things didn't go so well.'

'How so?' Dimitri's voice was apprehensive.

'I heard raised voices and he left after only ten minutes. Stormed out you might say.'

'But he came back,' the deputy prompted.

She nodded.

'A few hours later. He smelt of liquor and insisted on seeing Ambrosia right away but I told him no. I could see he wasn't himself and it's against my policy to admit a man when he is too drunk to remember his manners. Marshall didn't like that. He pushed right past me and barged in while my girl was with another customer - threw the man out and started ranting about some red-haired woman called Sonya. Ambrosia screamed at him to leave her alone, and my servant boy enlisted the help of two gentlemen to toss the troublemaker out on the street. The next morning he was back - banging on the front door and making a ruckus. When I went downstairs to move him on he still stank of whiskey. Told me he wouldn't leave town until he'd seen Ambrosia, whether she wanted him or not. That's when I sent word to Alberta.'

Deputy Belikov nodded, taking it all in. 'Just one more thing. Why Alberta? Don't you have your own lawman here?'

Rhonda scoffed. 'Sheriff Alto and I used to have an understanding. I paid his bribes and he'd make sure the do-gooders left me and my girls alone. When he decided to ask for a fatter cut of the takings, I decided to tell a few of the local gossips about the size of his manhood. We haven't been on speaking terms since.'

Dimitri raised an eyebrow. 'I'd hate to be the man to cross you,' he almost smiled.

'I wouldn't recommend it,' the madam eyed him with a smirk, then lowered her voice, forcing him to lean closer to hear what she was saying. 'You know... I still see selected customers by appointment – just the ones who please me,' her hand stretched out to stroke Dimitri's cheek. 'I might have an opening in my schedule if that would interest you?'

The deputy jumped to his feet at once and glared down at the woman, angry he had allowed himself to become too comfortable in a place such as this. He opened his mouth to refuse but was distracted by a commotion on the other side of the room.

'Out of my way,' a voice commanded roughly, and there was a small shriek from one of the doves as a scruffy-looking man entered the room, slamming the door behind him.

Dimitri whipped his head around to catch sight of Ambrosia – who had joined the party at the piano – shrinking down behind the instrument to hide.

So this was Mr de Silva.

The stranger at the door was well built and probably in his early thirties. He wore a modest, dark-brown jacket and trousers, and the chain on his waistcoat suggested he was a man of some means – not rich per say, but clearly not a vagrant. Although his attire was of a certain standard, his outer garments were crumpled and muddy in places, his collar marked with sweat and his necktie undone. From what could be seen of his face – half hidden by the hat that was pushed down over his eyes – the man had a strong jaw, covered in bristly overgrowth that was out of keeping with his well maintained moustache. If Dimitri were to hazard a guess he'd say this was a well-to-do man who'd fallen on hard times.

Marshall de Silva scanned the room briefly then, not seeing who he had come for, bypassed the other girls and their customers without a second glance. The smell of alcohol became more pungent as he stalked towards the bar, his whole attention on the woman in charge.

'Where is she?' he growled at the madam, who had risen out of her chair.

Rhonda took a step toward him, lifting her chin defiantly. 'I've already told you that my daughter doesn't want to see you. Now, leave us alone or I will be forced to take action.'

By 'action' Dimitri figured she was referring to him. He adjusted his posture, keeping a casual appearance but preparing his mind and body for a fight.

Marshall wasn't going to take no for an answer. 'I'm tired of waiting,' he hissed, pulling a gun from his belt and training it at the woman's chest. 'You will let me see the girl. Now.'

There was a flash of movement off to one side.

'Didn't your mamma teach you it's a sin to speak rudely to a lady?' Dimitri murmured, the muzzle of his pistol pressed firmly against the base of the man's skull. 'I don't know who you are exactly or what you want with the girl, but you're not going to get it today, I promise you that.'

The man froze then slowly turned his head until the deputy's gun was just below his ear. 'Go ahead and shoot me if you want to, or get the hell out of here. I've got business with Ambrosia,' he spat bravely, though his words were slightly slurred from the liquor.

Rhonda telegraphed a meaningful look towards Dimitri, urging him to act, but the deputy hesitated, squinting at the shadowy profile of Marshall's jaw.

In a flash, Deputy Belikov's gun whipped up and flicked the man's hat clear off his head, and a moment later Dimitri's eyes widened in recognition and surprise. 'Micky?'

'You know this man?' Rhonda spluttered, still wary of the fact there was a gun pointed at two of her greatest assets.

The deputy slid his pistol down between his target's shoulder blades. 'This man is no Marshall,' he explained with a deep frown. 'He's a sheriff. Sheriff Micky Tanner, of Silver Springs. I did a job for him a while back when I was a bounty hunter. What the hell are you playing at, man?'

Micky looked confused. He'd been so focused on Rhonda that he barely noticed there was another person close by, nonetheless an armed Russian giant. His expression shifted between anger and panic, then something inside him broke and he raised his hands in surrender, allowing Dimitri to pluck the gun from his fingers.

'I wasn't going to hurt her, I swear,' Sheriff Tanner blurted out. 'I only wanted to see Ambrosia.'

'I'm afraid I can't let you do that, Micky,' Dimitri kept an edge of warning to his voice in case the man should resort to using his fists. 'How about I take you somewhere to sober up and we can talk about this in the morning?'

The drunken sheriff narrowed his eyes suspiciously. 'I'm not leaving town till I see her,' he persisted.

'When you're all cleaned up and back to your normal self I'll see what I can do,' Dimitri assured him, ignoring the insistent shake of Rhonda's head. There was no point antagonising the man in this state. It was best to give him the impression he'd won and deal with the details later. 'Now let's get you someplace more comfortable,' the deputy suggested, grabbing his hat from the table and leading Micky Tanner from the room.

Two cold buckets of water, twelve hours of sleep and a greasy hotel breakfast later, Sheriff Tanner was finally in a condition to talk.

'I'm sorry you had to see me like that, Dimitri,' he rested his elbows on the table next to their empty plates and rubbed his bloodshot eyes.

It was so late in the morning that the lunch time crowd were already beginning to arrive.

'Some things have happened since I saw you last. Things I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy.'

Deputy Belikov studied his companion's troubled face. He didn't know Micky Tanner well enough to consider him a friend, but the few times they'd met, the sheriff seemed to be a pleasant man - not given to drunkenness or violence. He must have suffered a great trauma to let himself become so out of control.

'I'm very sorry to hear that, sheriff, but I have to be frank. The way you're behaving can't continue. Whatever gripe you have with Ambrosia has to stop. She may be a working girl, but that doesn't give you the right to push yourself on her.'

'I would never do such a thing,' the other man professed adamantly. 'I never touched her once. Never plan to. It's not like that.'

'Then what is it like? You need to explain to me what's going on,' Dimitri's voice was firm. 'What do you want with the bordello girl, and who is this Sonya you've been asking about?'

Micky reached into his jacket pocket and slid a photograph across the table for Dimitri to see. 'This is Sonya,' he stated, not trusting himself to say more.

Dimitri glanced down at the photograph then back to the sheriff in disbelief. The girl in the picture looked nearly identical to Ambrosia, only she would have been at least five years older and had a dusting of freckles over her nose.

'And Sonya is…?' he prompted.

'Was,' Micky answered tightly. 'Sonya was my fiancée. Until she killed herself one year ago today. Only now I don't think she committed suicide. I think she was murdered, and Ambrosia knows who did it.'

The deputy took a deep breath to calm his racing thoughts. 'Sonya who?' he asked carefully, but he suspected he already knew the answer.

'Sonya Karp.'

Thirty miles away, Rose was also seated at a hotel table, sipping from her second glass of lemonade. With Mason gone, Adrian Ivara had taken the liberty of joining his young guest for a drink, and the pair had been engaged in light conversation for nearly an hour.

The hotel owner had initially noticed Rose Hathaway for her good looks (and, if he was honest, because she seemed enamoured with Deputy Belikov, which made the chase that much more exciting). What Adrian hadn't expected to discover, however, was that the young woman was deserving of his attention in every way. She was like a mulled wine at Christmas; sweet and spicy, warm and bright, and the cause of much merriment. The slightly guarded attitude she'd shown at the start of their conversation gradually slipped away, and by the time Rose had polished off a large slice of mock apple pie she was in fine form.

'So what is that accent anyway?' the girl asked her host, a playful glint in her eye. 'I can't say I'm an expert on European languages, but you sound like a vampire to me.'

Adrian smiled broadly, revealing a row of perfect teeth – surprising, considering the number of cigars he went through in a day. 'While the prospect of sinking my teeth into you is a pleasant one, I'm afraid I must disappoint you on that count, Miss Hathaway. My family comes from a beautiful city on the border between Hungary and Rumânia. I can't seem to kick the accent, but it's a hit with the ladies so I'm in no rush to change it.'

The man waggled his eyebrows and Rose rolled her eyes in return. Mr Ivara was pushing the boundaries of propriety with nearly every word he uttered, but he did it in such a comical manner she didn't feel threatened. He was like this with everybody. It was just a bit of harmless fun.

'So that explains where you're from, but what on earth brought you to a town like this?' she quizzed. 'I'm surprised the local yokels haven't kicked you out, with your fancy clothes and highfalutin ways.'

Adrian smirked, taking a delicate sip of his cocktail. 'Some were a bit suspicious at first, but they warmed to me quick enough when they realised I could hold my liquor. That Drosman kid from the general store challenged me to a drinking contest the first night I was passing through. Suffice it to say, he ended up under the table, and I now own the saloon.'

Rose chuckled.

'But to answer your question,' Adrian continued, 'I couldn't stand living with my parents a moment longer, so I left home and travelled around until I found somewhere that suited me better.' Mr Ivara's carefree demeanour cooled a little, and he took another mouthful from his glass. Just the thought of that sanctimonious bastard he called Father made him want to drink until he was numb.

'What's wrong with your parents?' Rose asked curiously. She'd often longed to be part of a proper family so it seemed strange for somebody to wish theirs away.

'Mother isn't that bad, I guess,' he conceded, 'but my father is a man with big dreams and high expectations. I knew I couldn't live up to his standards so I decided to take control of my own fate. On my twenty-first birthday I withdrew a sizeable portion of my inheritance and bought this saloon – partly to show Father I could succeed at things my way. Partly because I knew it would annoy the hell out of him.'

'Well, that's a mature attitude,' Rose tried to jest with him.

'Snark at me, if you will. I'm twenty-two now and clearly far more mature than you are,' Adrian retorted, smoothing out his neat moustache as if to prove his manliness.

If Rose possessed the ability to raise an eyebrow she would have done so now. 'How could you possibly imply that I'm immature? You've barely known me a week.'

An evil thought popped into Adrian's head. 'I saw you practically swoon when the deputy lifted you down off his horse yesterday morning. Do I sniff a childish little crush?' he teased.

'I don't know what you're talking about, Mr Ivara,' she frowned in embarrassment.

His cheeky smirk widened. 'Then I suppose it won't bother you to know where Deputy Belikov is right now?'

'Where is he?' Rose asked, a little too quickly.

There were benefits to owning the only hotel in town. Rhonda's messenger boy had eaten breakfasted at the saloon yesterday and wasn't shy about the purpose of his visit. Adrian briefly considered lying to save the girl her blushes, but the chance of making a little mischief was just too good to pass up.

'Let's just say if he's not back before sundown the deputy is probably getting more satisfaction out of his job than necessary,' he said with a wink.

'What's that supposed to mean?' Rose demanded, her anxiety rising.

A little voice in Adrian's head told him this was his chance to back down, but he was enjoying the pretty flush that was spreading across the girl's cheeks, and the sherry cobbler was clouding his judgement. The man leaned forward to whisper something in his companion's ear.

'How dare you!' Rose whispered coarsely, glancing around to make sure nobody at the nearby tables had heard what Adrian said. 'He's not like that. He would never!' The young woman pushed her chair back in anger and glared down at him. 'I'll be returning to my room now. Maybe you should keep rumours like that to yourself in future,' and she stormed off, as much as one could storm with a sprained ankle.

The anger and distress on Rose's face instantly filled Adrian with shame. He hadn't meant to hurt her. That was the last thing he wanted to do. He'd just meant it as a bit of a joke. For the first time in his life, perhaps, Adrian Ivara felt the uncomfortable sting of remorse. He'd offended plenty of women before, but never one he wanted to impress as much as Rose Hathaway. He had to find a way to make it up to her. He vowed to watch his tongue in future. Try not to goad the Russian oaf too much. He'd be a better person. Whatever it took to make Rose see he was worthy of her.

And he'd start by buying her a present.

.

Author's Note:

SO… what did you think of Dimitri in the brothel? Explaining that to Rose is going to be awkward as hell! On that note, my facts on Wild West bordellos are based on research – redheads really did get paid more, and the madam got to have her pick of the clientele… Who wouldn't offer Dimitri a place on their schedule?! Anybody seen Penny Dreadful? I started watching that this week & can't stop thinking how similar Josh Hartnett looks to Danila/Dimitri in certain scenes. Yum!

Did you like the inclusion of 'Ambrose' & his aunty Rhonda the fortune teller? Pretty obvious place to insert blood whores into the story. I had to make Ambrosia a redhead to go with the plot - sorry for breaking canon there. Any guesses on what the prediction might mean?

Adrian – I think a few of you have been concerned that I've written Adrian OOC, but hopefully now you see where I'm going with him. When Rose met Adrian in Frostbite he was a bit of a womanising jerk, but he gradually revealed his deeper side as they got to know one another. My Adrian will be on the mend now he's had the epiphany that Rose is truly worthy of his attention. (Also should remind those of you who don't know, I haven't read the whole Bloodlines series, so my impressions of Adrian are based how he was portrayed in VA, not the gushy Sydney side of him I've heard about.)

Next chapter we'll learn about more of Micky/Sonya's story (it might seem like I went off the reservation for a bit there, but I do have a plan) and Romitri should reunite at the end as well. Eek. I'm getting nervous and excited. The love charm scene is coming up soon folks!