Wild Country (The World of the Others #2)- Anne Bishop Page 0,157

table and having the chance to judge your opponent.

“You had a question, Mr. Blackstone?” Tolya asked.

Parlan met Tolya’s eyes. If he were sitting across the poker table from this … man … could he bluff his way to a winning hand or would he acknowledge a dangerous adversary and fold? He had a strong feeling that it wouldn’t take more than a hand or two for the vampire to be able to spot the most subtle kinds of creative dealing—and he suspected that the response to anyone caught cheating would be lethal.

He should call Judd and Lawry and arrange another place for a rendezvous. But, damn it, this was the only viable town in the whole area that had access to the railroad as well as highways. It was one of the few towns in the northern Midwest Region that had a growing population and opportunities to own a business without any capital required. It was the only place he’d seen lately where he felt they had a chance to disappear into the rest of the population for a while—after they found the person who had connected Dalton with Cooke and Webb and was responsible for his name being on that damn poster.

“You’ve traveled around the Midwest, Mr. Blackstone?” Tolya asked.

“A professional gambler is like a professional entertainer,” Parlan said with a smile. “Moving around is part of the business. Was part of the business. I’m looking to settle down now, have my own place.”

“Running it with those other men?”

“Running it with my family. Those men were looking for an investment. I didn’t have the cash to purchase a business, so …” Parlan shrugged. “But it sounds like it’s elbow grease that’s needed, not cash.”

Tolya nodded. “I understand.”

Did he? Parlan wasn’t sure what the vampire understood.

“We’re trying to identify two men who came to Bennett recently,” Tolya said. “Would you be willing to look at pictures? Perhaps you’ve crossed paths with one or both of them during your travels and could supply a name.”

“I’ll give you what help I can.”

Tolya opened a slim leather case and removed a folder. “These are police photos. You understand?”

Parlan nodded. Had Judd anticipated the body would be found this soon?

“There is this one.” Tolya took one photo from the folder and set it on the table in front of Parlan.

Charlie Webb. Just a head shot, so there was no way to tell how he died, but that had to be Judd’s work.

“Don’t recognize him. Sorry.”

“Then there is this one. We know he attacked the daughter of a rancher who lives north of Bennett. He also threatened a young woman who lives in town.”

Parlan prided himself in having no tells—at least none a mark could detect—but he couldn’t stop himself from sucking in a breath when Tolya put the other photo on the table. The half a head positioned on the hood of the car spoke of a savagery even Judd couldn’t match.

“Do you know him?” Tolya asked.

“No.” Parlan swallowed hard. “What happened to him?”

“Namid’s teeth and claws found him.”

“What was he doing that far away from the town?”

“He wasn’t that far away. He was still within the town’s old boundaries but outside of the new boundaries. Here, you can cross into the wild country simply by crossing the street. And as soon as you cross that line, you’re prey.” Tolya tucked the photos back in the folder. “Of course, even within the town, where human law does apply to some extent, humans who misbehave are seen as prey.”

It was said so casually, Parlan wondered if Tolya Sanguinati knew who he was and was hoping he’d slip and indicate in some way that he knew Cooke and Webb—because if he knew those men, he would also know Dalton Blackstone.

Blackstone wasn’t a common name, but if forced, he could admit to some distant kin named Dalton Blackstone—someone who was a decade older and had a son named after him. But that meant his own son definitely needed to change his looks and arrive in town using an alias.

He needed time to get a feel for this place, to get a sense of what he should do. He needed to find out if Dalton was in danger of being hunted by whatever had killed Cooke.

“I’d like to take a look around and think about reopening one of the saloons on my own,” Parlan said. “I noticed the Bird Cage Saloon was open for business, so am I right in thinking you don’t object to the business itself?”

“You