Chapter 25

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Philip Huntington sat in a wine–colored, leather arm chair on his private rail car watching the scenery go by. Even the opulence he traveled in wasn't enough to make him forget the depressing countryside they were quickly passing through. Why in the hell someone would want to have a house out here in the middle of this God forsaken place, he would never understand. Most of the landscape was flat, with nothing but grass as far as the eye can see, but some areas did have mountains in the distance. He noticed that within the last couple of hours the mountains had gotten a lot closer. If he didn't need, no want this business venture so badly, he would never leave the east coast.

He'd seen nothing but uneducated, uncouth heathens since he left New Orleans. His lip curled at the memory of the last town the train had stopped in. If you could call it a town. God, it was horrible. There was only one disgusting saloon and there was no way that he would have touched any of the women there. Lord, there's no telling what kind of diseases they carried. Just the thought made his skin crawl.

A knock on the door to his car drew his attention away from the window. Before he could say anything, the porter opened the door to enter letting in the noise of the metal wheels against the track with it. The steady clickity clack was beginning to drive him crazy. Closing the door behind him, the porter stood there for a moment, then cleared his throat.

"Sir?" The man said. Philip simply lifted his brows, not bothering to answer him. Apparently the porter took that for an opening to speak, and did so. Nervously clearing his throat again, he began. "Mr. Huntington, we have encountered a small problem and need to make a small detour." The porter waited, but the other man simply stared through him.

"We will be stopping in Red Valley for at least one night, possibly two. It um, it's nothing like the last town we stopped at. They have a nice little diner with good food." Afraid to say anymore, the porter beat a hasty retreat. He'd heard of the infamous temper this man possessed, and he wanted none of it. Something about him just made his skin crawl.

Dammit! There was no telling how long this short stop would delay him. Small delays like this tend to have a snowball effect. Miguel Gonzales was not someone that waited around. He didn't need this deal, but damn, he wanted it. It just wasn't every day that an offer like this presented itself. After all, he only needed to find buyers for the merchandise that Miguel had shipped to him. And what wealthy gentleman wouldn't want his very own virgin to break in and use as he saw fit. Then, when he was done, sell her to a brothel and buy another one. Yes, he could almost see the money rolling in.

Hopefully this town would be big enough to have a telegraph and he could send a telegram to Miguel letting him know of the delay. Maybe he would be able to find a woman that wouldn't be missed. Lately, since that bitch, Hope had left, he hadn't been able to attain his own release unless he either killed the girl he was with or choked her unconscious. Of course, killing them always gave him the most powerful and fulfilling release. This trip had come at a good time, actually. The sheriff in Savannah had begun to start to ask too many questions about the strangled women that had been turning up for months. Fortunately, most of them had no real family to miss them. And no one could connect them directly to him. Well, he had only been seen with one woman in public. After that, he made sure that his most trusted servant arranged for the girls to be brought to him.

He always ended up killing them but most of them he kept for at least a week. Some of the special ones he kept for more. Smiling, he thought about the last one. It was a shame that he couldn't bring her with him. Philip thought for a moment, she had been his favorite, so far. He was really looking forward to trying out one of Gonzales' girls.

Jumping to his feet, he began to pace with frustration. After a moment, he walked over and poured himself a glass of his finest French brandy. Tossing it back, he refilled the crystal snifter and went to sit back in his chair. He began to plan every detail of what he would do to Hope when he finally found her. Not for one moment did he ever doubt that he would find her.

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