Aces up, p.1
Aces Up, page 1
Aces Up
The Pinkerton Man Series, Volume 3
C.J. Baty
Published by C.J. Baty, 2019.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Aces Up (The Pinkerton Man Series, #3)
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Epilogue
ALSO IN THE PINKERTON MAN SERIES
Murder in New York
Other Works by C.J. Baty
About the Author
Aces Up
Copyright © 2019 C.J. Baty
First Edition June 16, 2019
Published in the United States
Cover Art by Select-O-Grafix, LLC
http://selectografix.com
Editing by Edits with a Touch of Grace
https://www.facebook.com/editswithatouchofgrace/
Cover content used for illustrative purposes only, and any person depicted is a model.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to an actual person, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
The following story is set in the USA and therefore has been written in US English. The spelling and usage reflect that.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Owner, except where permitted by law. To request permission and for all other inquires, contact C.J. Baty by email.
Cbaty27@gmail.com
DEDICATION
This new addition to the Pinkerton Man is dedicated to those readers who have fell in love with Stiles (Langberry) Long and have followed him along the way. Readers, like you, encourage authors, like me, to carry on telling the stories. Thank you so much for reading, and leaving a kind word here and as a review. It is very appreciated. Thank you.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENT
My family and I live in a small community where visiting local businesses is a must to help people keep their jobs. One such place for us is a Waffle House© less than a mile from my home.
I generally have coffee there every morning, and I am usually carrying a notebook with me when I enter. The waitress’s there know I am an author and for years they’ve asked when they could be in one of my books. Well, I’m happy to say you will find them in Aces Up.
Precious Peach, Roxie, Trixie, Darlin’, Dolly Ann, and Cowboy are all based on the wonderful characters who serve my coffee, give out hugs, and bless me with their friendship.
Without them this story would not have happened. I love you guys and forever you will be a part of this story.
Chapter One
“NO!” Stiles shouted.
The idea that McCullough, the head of the Pinkerton Agency in St. Louis, would even entertain the idea of Michael O’Leary on an assignment was absurd. Stiles couldn’t let his lover be put in this kind of danger.
“The poker game at the Maverick Saloon in Colorado will be the perfect time for O’Leary to try out his wings. Stiles, he’s an excellent card player and from what I’ve been told by the New York office, he handled himself quite well in that situation.”
“Handled it quite well? He was nearly killed by that lunatic Father Francis!” Stiles knew he was still shouting at his superior, not to mention his actions were out of line.
McCullough leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, and waited patiently for Stiles’ rant to be over.
“Shit.” Stiles mumbled.
“Are you finished?” McCullough asked.
Stiles could only nod. He felt his face flush.
“Would you care to give me a logical explanation why O’Leary shouldn’t go on this assignment?”
The calmness in McCullough’s voice and posture unnerved Stiles. The man could have reprimanded him, yet he was patiently waiting for a reply.
There was a possibility that McCullough suspected the relationship between Stiles and Michael. He had never asked outright, and Stiles hadn’t offered. Things were different in this country than they had been in England. There, he had lived under the constant cloud of threat for being a man with his desires. This was different. Michael was his everything.
“Michael is more than a friend to me,” Stiles offered.
“And?”
“I could have lost him in New York — I can’t go through that again.”
“Stiles,” McCullough’s face softened as he leaned forward and continued. “That’s a personal reason... One you are entitled to have and is no business of mine or the agency. Do you have any tactical reason why O’Leary couldn’t do the job?”
“He’s not a trained agent,” Stiles blurted out, though he was weakening.
“Neither were you on your first assignment,” McCullough replied, then smiled. “I believe you did just fine. You’ll be there. Lizzie will be there, and you’ll have extra backup. Michael O’Leary is the man for this assignment.”
Hours later, Stiles resigned himself to the fact that he wasn’t going to change McCullough’s or Michael’s minds. It didn’t ease his own mind, his conscious, or his agitation with Michael, who was more than excited to be involved in the case. His constant happy rambling as he packed was annoying, to say the least.
“Have you finished packing?” Michael asked.
Stiles didn’t answer.
“Do we need to pack riding clothes? I imagine there may not be enough carriages in Durango for the number of people flooding into the city.”
Stiles poured himself a whiskey from the decanter on the dresser. He sipped at it slowly but still didn’t answer.
“I think it will be warm enough to sleep naked,” Michael snickered.
Stiles perked up at that statement. “What did you say?”
“Finally, I have your attention. Are you going to be angry with me during the entire assignment, Stiles?”
Stiles sat in the chair by the fireplace in their bedroom. Michael crossed the room and kneeled at Stiles feet. He placed his hands on Stiles knees.
“Talk to me, please,” Michael said, his face earnest and open.
Stiles looked into his lover’s warm eyes.
“I don’t want you to go to Durango. I know I can’t stop it, but I still don’t want you to go.”
“It’s just a card game. There’s nothing dangerous about that.”
Stiles placed his hands on Michael’s face, palming it tenderly.
“We are talking about more than a quarter of a million dollars. People have killed for much less than that. Card sharks, tricksters, con men, just to name a few, will be out to win this pot. We have no idea what they will do to win.” Stiles kissed Michael then rose from his chair.
“Once we board those different trains to Durango, communication between us will be difficult,” Stiles pulled shirts from the bureau drawer, placing them in his valise as he talked.
“We won’t be staying together either.”
“Ah...” Michael murmured.
“You’ll miss me being close by. No fucking until the case is over. I think we’ll live through it,” Michael chuckled.
Stiles carefully undid the buttons on Michael’s vest. He was dressed properly even at this hour, always neat and tidy. Stiles loved to rumple the man. Michael pushed his hands away.
“I’ll do it,” he grinned wickedly. “You always make such a mess of things; besides, I know you’d rather watch me.”
He was right, of course. Stiles did enjoy watching as Michael removed each article of clothing neatly laying it aside. It reminded him of the first time he’d seen Michael undress. It still drove his lust higher, though now it was tempered with the love he had found with this remarkable man.
For now, he shut out all his worry about the upcoming assignment. Now, he concentrated completely on making this moment one to remember. He had no idea Michael had plans of his own.
In all his past relationships, Stiles had been the receiver on very few occasions. However, his relationship with Michael was different from any he’d ever experienced. He was learning to make love with Michael, not just fuck. Michael was teaching him things as well, things that Stiles had only played around the edges with, things Michael seemed determined to instruct him in. Tonight was no different.
“Now, here I stand completely bare and you are still sitting there with your clothes on,” Michael said as he sat on the bed. He leaned back to support his upper body with his outstretched arms. His legs spread open with his growing member dangling between them. Stiles wet his lips with his tongue and choked back a whimper.
“Undress, please,” Michael’s request was more of a command.
Stiles was not as worried about the condition of his clothing as Michael. He was naked in just a few minutes and walking toward Michael and their bed.
Michael brought up one of his hands and placed it on Stiles chest.
“Stop.”
Dropping to his knees, he proceeded to apply wet kisses across Stiles stomach working his way down hi
“Michael,” he moaned as he touched the man’s reddish locks.
Michael’s mouth covered his cock swiftly and swallowed as much of it as he could. He sucked and licked and caressed it with his mouth. It was almost too much pleasure too soon for Stiles to handle. For a brief moment, he thought his knees would give out on him. The sudden removal of Michael’s mouth shocked Stiles.
“On the bed,” Michael said as he stood. “On your knees.”
The command in Michael’s voice did strange things to Stiles’ body. His cock grew harder and his balls ached. A part of him wanted to balk at Michael giving the commands. Another part of him shook with anticipation of what was to come.
Michael stood by the bed expecting Stiles to do as he was told. His cock was flushed red and standing ready for what was about to happen between them. Stiles could see a tiny pearl of seed on the tip... waiting.
Once he was on the bed, Michael moved his hands to the headboard.
“Don’t move them.”
Behind him, Stiles could hear Michael as he moved about the room. He knew he was picking up items that they would need. His body reacted to the feel of the bed as it dipped beneath Michael’s body when he returned. Stiles wasn’t prepared for the sting of the slap that soon followed.
“You’re going to do exactly as I say, or you shall receive another slap,” Michael said. Then as he leaned across Michael’s back, he whispered, “But then I like the way my handprint looks on your ass, so I might just do it again, anyway.”
Stiles’ cock jerked under him and he groaned at the pleasurable sensation the thought of another smack on his ass brought to his mind.
Michael prepared him lovingly and teasingly. He was a master of toying with Stiles until he was on the verge of begging to be fucked. When Michael spread his cheeks, giving one of them a smack before he licked his opening, Stiles nearly leaped from the bed. The sensation of the pinch of pain from the slap and the unique feel of Michael’s tongue in his ass sent waves of pleasure through his body.
“Damn it Michael, stop, please, I’m going to spill. I swear it,” Stiles yelled out.
He could feel the sensation of Michael’s chuckle against his opening and the tender kiss left before Michael withdrew.
One finger followed by another and another until Stiles was bucking against Michael’s hand. When Michael’s cockhead finally penetrated Stiles, he wanted it so badly that he would have begged for it and Michael knew that.
Michael pounded into him relentlessly calling out his name with every thrust. It was exactly as Stiles had needed it to be. Michael was claiming him and branding him so that no other man would ever be able to take his place. When Stiles could hold out no longer, he felt his channel grip Michael’s cock as he spent himself on the sheets below him.
Michael gripped his hips tightly, thrust forward and released his seed in hot spurts deep inside Stiles. They crumpled to the bed in a pile of sweat, seed and sweet nothingness. It had been a perfect joining of their bodies and souls.
Sometime later, Michael kissed Stiles’ shoulder and then his temple. “Will you please stop worrying about Durango? Everything is going to be fine.”
Stiles returned the kisses and kept his thoughts to himself. He was not likely to stop worrying, but he would do his best to keep Michael safe from harm. That he could promise.
The bedroom door banged against the wall startling Stiles awake. He stretched lazily, the effects of last night’s love making left him with a sweet ache.
“You look like the cat who swallowed the canary,” Michael said as he sat down a bed tray of coffee, juice, and a dish of pastries.
Stiles took the cup of coffee and grinned at Michael. Thinking of the second round of last night’s excursions.
“It wasn’t a canary I swallowed last night.” His eyebrows arched playfully.
Michael’s face flushed, and he choked on his juice.
“You ass.” He laughed as he wiped the juice from his freshly shaven face.
“Your train leaves at ten. Is everything packed?” Michael asked.
Stiles stopped smiling. The train ride to Durango, Colorado would take five days. He would arrive ahead of the train that Michael was taking. There would be time enough to survey the saloon and its exists that could cause issues during the games. He would meet with the Sheriff and his deputies, get a report from Lizzie, who was already at Maverick’s working in the saloon, and have plenty of time to miss Michael.
“It’s going to be fine, Stiles,” Michael assured him. “Nothing is going to happen to me. I made a single reservation at Maverick’s. Lizzie will get herself assigned to my table when I’m playing. And, most importantly, you will be there.”
“I know.”
Stiles left the bed to take a bath. He soaked in the hot water as long as he could, trying not to think about the lonely nights that lay ahead. When emerged from the bath, he dressed and then added a few things to his valise. He could no longer delay. It was time to go.
“I think you forgot something,” Michael said as Stiles approached him.
Looking around Stiles asked, “What?”
“You didn’t shave.”
“Oh that. I’m thinking of growing a beard on this assignment. Rough, rugged Pinkerton agent. You know?”
Michael laughed so hard he had to sit down in one of the parlor room chairs.
“Well, I guess I’ll see how it looks in a week,” Michael said as his face softened. “I know you don’t think it’s possible, but I love you.” He kissed Stiles.
“Someday, you’ll be able to say it out loud to me when I’m not in danger. I know it.”
There were times when Stiles hated train travel. This was one of them. He could have afforded a private berth, but the agency preferred the agents travel together. So, here he sat with two young agents excited to be on their first ‘real’ assignment, and assorted middle of the road persons: young mothers with crying babies, old men arguing about the President’s latest speech they had read in the paper, one or two loners who kept to themselves staring out the window as the train moved forward. Then there was... her.
She could have been Michael’s age or older. Attractive, with makeup that highlighted her eyes, which was her best feature, her beauty disguised her age. Light golden red hair piled on her head in the latest fashion of which he was sure Lizzie would have approved. She was stunning, to say the least, though her mind seemed totally focused elsewhere. She didn’t seem to notice the distraction going on around her. It was what she held in her hands that struck Stiles as odd... a deck of playing cards.
Stiles watched as she folded the cards onto themselves over and over again. Then she shuffled and picked cards out of the deck at random. As if she was playing a game in her mind. She used the flat material of her dress stretched across her lap to deal the cards. He wondered who she could be.
The following day he got his answer.
“Lily? My God, it is you! Lily Diamond.”
The man who spoke was close to Stiles’ age, dressed in a clean well-pressed suit, though it was last year’s cut.
“Have we met?”
“I can understand why I’m so forgettable. Chicago. April 1903,” he answered.
“I’m afraid...”
“Thomas Barton,” he offered.
She either didn’t know the man, or she was one of the greatest actresses Stiles had ever seen. Better yet, with a name like Lily Diamond, she was an experienced player with a poker face.
“You cleared three tables to win a lot of money. I unfortunately sat at the first table and was cleaned out by you,” Thomas answered, then he added. “I admit, I was green, but I did learn much from watching you at work.”
Stiles noted the man didn’t look angry, but there was a sharp edge to his words. The way his body stiffened affirmed that.
“Can I assume you are attending the game at Maverick’s in Durango?”
“You can assume anything you like, Mr. Barton,” Lily answered. Her face still stoic. “I wish you better luck than you had in Chicago.”
With the final blow to the man’s ego, she turned toward the window. He was left stunned and very agitated. Tipping his hat, he walked up the aisle past Stiles. From the stiff movement of the man’s walk and the tick in his right jaw, Stiles could see the man was furious.
