Last of the O'Rourkes Page 11

  WHERE WERE THEY? DRESSED in tan coveralls with a fake name tag over the pocket and his hair slicked back against his scalp, he’d placed the flowers at the foot of the casket, and had even set out some of the late arriving arrangements, but there was no sign of either O’Rourke or the bitch. He stepped back, making himself as inconspicuous as possible at the edge of the olive grove.

  The same grove he’d waited in a few short weeks earlier.

  So much had changed since then. He’d felt the power grow, experienced the soul-searing rush of heat when he’d held a life in his hands, when he’d taken that life.

  His fingers twitched with the recollection of what followed, that most satisfying lesson in terror he’d given the bitch. Slashing her across the belly... He took a deep breath, replaying the moment, closing his eyes against the deep welling of pleasure.

  Sounds of footsteps jerked him out of his silent world.

  He watched the mourners enter the quiet grove. Their voices slipped in and out of his range of hearing, a subtle cacophony of grief. Hell, she was just an old broad, a nobody! Didn’t they understand the power?

  “No,”the woman was saying. “He couldn’t be here today. The police think the killer was after a woman he’d offered protection to. Mom never said too much about her, only that she was pregnant and almost lost the baby.”

  “How awful. Are they at the house? Were they there when your mother was...well, you know?”

  “I don’t know. They’re not there now. I talked to Seamus the other day...did you know he’s paid for everything? It’s such a beautiful casket, and the flowers are lovely. He was always so good to Mom.”

  “Where do you think they’ve gone? Is the woman, the one who’s pregnant...is she his girlfriend?”

  “Oh, I don’t think so.”

  The woman laughed . It wasn’t right, laughing at her mother’s funeral. Bitches. They were all alike. Out for themselves, never cared a whit about anyone else.

  “Mom always maintained Seamus was gay. She never knew him to bring a woman home in all the years she worked for him. Otherwise I’m sure she would have been trying to set us up.”

  “Gay? Seamus O’Rourke? Gawd, what a terrible loss to womankind!”

  “That’s what I always said. The man is so good looking, he’s obviously successful and to top it off, he’s really nice.”

  Their voices softened, blended in with the general hum of conversation. He tried to pick out details, and finally decided he’d have to move a bit closer. Suddenly he recognized a familiar face. Sandy Wilson...the police detective working the case!

  He slipped back in amongst the olive trees.

  “Hello, Linda. How are you holding up? I’m really sorry about your mom. I only met her a few times, but she was an absolute delight.”

  “Thank you. Thank you very much. Guess I’m doing as well as can be expected. I still expect her to come flying through the door at the end of the day, chattering a mile a minute. I never realized how much I’d hate the silence.”

  She wasn’t laughing now. Hell, he’d done the broad a favor. That old woman could talk your leg off. She reminded him of his mother...which meant he’d really done her a favor. He edged a bit closer.

  “Officer Wilson? I’d like to introduce you to my friend Mona. Officer Wilson is working on Mom’s case.”

  Once again the conversation blended into a rumble of meaningless sounds. He moved quietly among the twisted trunks and branches, finally reaching a point close to the two women and the police detective.

  “...not really sure. Someplace safe from harm, I’m sure.”

  “I remember Mom telling me about a place over near the Russian River, a summer home Seamus’s parents used to have. I think if I were looking for a place to get lost, that’s where I’d head. Good food, good wine...” Soft laughter followed.

  He strained to hear more.

  “Wherever they are, I hope it stays private.”

  He slipped back into the shadows. So, Officer Wilson didn’t want to talk about the Russian River? It wasn’t far, just up the highway in Sonoma County. This sounded promising. It was time to call for reinforcements. Time to call in some markers. He could barely contain the smile that twisted his lips. He wasn’t all that familiar with California, specifically Sonoma County, but there was someone who knew it well. Someone who owed him big time.

  His fingers twitched. So close. She was really very, very close. Grinning broadly, he headed back through the dark grove of olives for his car.

  SEAMUS STRAIGHTENED UP IN front of the open door of the refrigerator and glanced over his shoulder at Kat. She stood framed in the kitchen doorway wearing the same pair of blue sweats she’d been wearing all week long, the pair she had to wash and dry every night if she wanted something other than her nightgown to wear during the day. “Think you could handle a trip into town?” he asked.

  “I’d take a trip to the moon if you offered. The walls are closing in.” She flopped down on one of the kitchen chairs and dropped her running shoes on the floor. He watched as she awkwardly slipped her feet into the shoes, working around her ever-expanding middle. “I can’t believe how far away my feet seem to be getting,” she grumbled.

  “Need any help?” Seamus shut the refrigerator door and ambled over to the table. “I learned to tie my shoes even before kindergarten, you know. Always was a precocious child.”

  She glanced up at him, one blue eye twinkling through a part in the hair that had fallen over her face. “I can tie my own shoes, thank you. This week,” she amended. “Clothes are another matter. If you think it’s safe to go into town, I need to find some other things to wear. Look at this.”

  She pulled the sweatshirt up to reveal the waistband of the pants cutting into the flesh below her abdomen. Then she stretched the band out and away from her stomach.

  Seamus gulped. He could see the upper edge of thegash where it ended near her hipbone. The knife wound had healed to a pale pink scar, but he didn’t think there could be anything lovelier than Kat Malone entering her seventh month of pregnancy. The skin stretched smooth and sleek over her growing baby, and what had once been a tiny little indentation for her navel was now a full-fledged belly button.

  “What used to be a cute little innie turned into an outie overnight. I think I need some bigger pants. Are there any clothing stores in this little town of yours?” She rolled the sweatshirt back over her belly.

  Seamus knelt down to tie her shoes, pleasantly surprised when Kat stuck a foot out for him without protest. “We’ll find you something. We’re just about out of groceries, too, and I’d like to top off the gas tank in the Jag. I didn’t take the time to fill it when I made my last run to town.”

  “Think we’ll need to make a quick get-a-way?” Her voice held a teasing quality, but Seamus was certain he sensed an underlying fear.

  “No, that’s not the reason. Here, give me your other foot.” He tied the laces and stood up. “I don’t want to risk running out of gas if we’re still here when you decide to go into labor. The last thing I want to do is deliver a baby.”

  “I’m at least two-and-a-half, three months off. You don’t think we’ll be here that long, do you?” She held her hand out and Seamus pulled her to her feet.

  “Hopefully not, but until we get the all-clear from Sandy Wilson, I’m not budging. C’mon. Let’s put together a list of what we need.”

  GUERNEVILLE WAS JUST AS Kat remembered from her brief visit months before with Riley, an eclectic gathering of shops and restaurants stretching along the highway, surrounded by towering redwood trees and bordered along one side by the lazy flow of the Russian River.

  Riley’d explained to her that the community was a magnet for people who lived what he’d termed “alternative lifestyles,” a Mecca for gays and lesbians, transsexuals, transvestites and everyone in between.

  For a small town girl from Pennsylvania, Kat’s first visit truly had been an eye-opener, but she’d thoroughly enjoyed the brief time she and Rile
y had spent here. She’d suffered enough intolerance in her life, merely because she’d chosen work in what was essentially a man’s field, to ever be intolerant of another’s lifestyle.

  Seamus found a parking place on a narrow side street and helped Kat out of the low-slung car. “Let’s just wander,” he said, slipping her hand into the crook of his arm and taking off at a leisurely pace.

  People smiled as they passed and it suddenly occurred to Kat it was her pregnancy that caught their attention. She glanced at Seamus just as he turned in her direction. His glance held hers for a heartbeat before he looked away.

  He’s thinking the same thing I am, that people assume we’re married. They look at the two of us and see husband and wife, with baby on the way.

  She didn’t know whether to be angry or amused. This was the first time she’d been out in public with a man since her pregnancy had become noticeable.

  Riley should have been the one at her side, not Seamus. She tensed, began to slip her hand away from his arm before another thought intruded.

  Riley should have been here...but would he have? She’d never know, and would always wonder whether her easy-going, devil-may-care lover would have accepted responsibility for the baby.

  Seamus had. Without any hesitation at all.

  Of course, part of that acceptance was due to the fact he wanted her baby.

  She tightened her hand on his arm, as she refused to think beyond today. There was no point worrying about the future.

  Whenever she did, her first thought was to ask herself if she and her baby even had a future. She glanced nervously about, almost expecting Tim Anderson to jump out from behind a display rack.

  Seamus pointed to a woman dressed in a brilliantly hued tie-dyed dress, then led Kat into a store with similar dresses on display.

  Twenty minutes later they walked out into the bright spring sunlight. Kat giggled and hugged the plastic bag close to her chest. “Did you have to pick the one with the big blue sun on the front? It looks like a bulls-eye on my belly. Not quite the thing for a hard-working, gun-toting agent to wear.”

  “I thought it was rather becoming.” Seamus lifted the bag out of her hands and wrapped her fingers back in place around his forearm. There was a definite twinkle in his eyes. “It’s you, Kat. The subdued shades, the intricate design...”

  “Subdued? How can you call turquoise, chartreuse, hot pink, yellow and purple tie-dye subdued? As far as the intricate design, it looks like every other dress in the shop!”

  “Not when it’s on you.” Seamus halted in mid-stride and smiled down at Kat. That alone made her pause. Very few men were tall enough to smile down at her. Then he frowned slightly, as if thinking through his words.

  “On you it’s unique. You looked like a wild-eyed gypsy when you put it on. Definitely not the look of an investigative agent.”

  She thought about how Seamus must see her. Even pregnant she knew her carriage and demeanor radiated a self-confidence she didn’t always feel. It did, however, lend her an aura of authority she’d put to good use in her work—and her private life—over the years.

  She returned Seamus’s unwavering stare with her own, wondering. How did one define “the look of an investigative agent?”

  As if working out the definition for himself, Seamus silently studied her, his eyes as dark as the primal forest. Kat felt herself drawn into their depths, and sensed something deeper in the moment, something indefinable taking place between them on the narrow sidewalk.

  Seamus blinked and the moment ended. His eyes twinkled with mischief and he chuckled as if enjoying a private joke. “Let’s amend that,” he said, once again taking her hand and placing it over his arm. “You look like a very pregnant, wild-eyed, blond gypsy.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  Arms linked, they continued on down the street.

  THEY WANDERED IN AND out of almost every store on the block, picking up a few baggy knit dresses and some tee shirts for Kat, blue jeans and soft flannel shirts for Seamus. A bookstore caught Kathleen’s attention and she dragged Seamus across the street, dodging the slowly moving traffic.

  “We definitely need to go in here,” she said. “The reading material at the cabin is a bit dated.”

  “What? You don’t like my Hardy Boy mysteries?” Seamus followed her into the store.

  “I liked them better when I was nine.” Kat slipped out of his grasp and headed for the romance section.

  Seamus followed her. “Somehow, I pictured you reading Stephen King or John Grisham or even Tom Clancy. Not...” He plucked the book Kat selected out of her hands and glanced at the cover. A bouquet of flowers with the title and author’s name in script told him absolutely nothing. “Hmmm...never heard of her.”

  “It’s a romance and I’ve read everything she’s written. Except this one. Now give it back.”

  “So. The tough detective reads romances.” He held the book out to her. “What’s the draw.”

  Kat’s expression suddenly grew very serious. “The draw? Only the bad guys get hurt. The hero and heroine may have their problems but they work them out and fall in love. Best of all, there’s always a happy ending.” She bowed her head a moment, hiding those brilliant blue eyes from Seamus. “There aren’t enough happy endings in life, Seamus. I don’t want to read something that makes me sad, especially now. Understand?”

  He studied her a moment, clearly seeing the woman beneath the façade, the tough, sweet, sometimes vulnerable woman he’d grown to care about so much. He tucked another bit of Kat’s personal information away in his heart.

  She wanted happy endings. What was so unusual about that? He wouldn’t mind one himself. “Yeah,” he said, stepping back out of Kat’s light. Distancing himself before the need to touch her won out over his common sense. “A happy ending would work really well for me right now. I’ll be over there...” He gestured toward the far end of the store. “Stay out of trouble, okay?”

  She was adding books to a growing pile and merely nodded when he left. Seamus headed straight for the women’s section of the store, where he picked up a couple of books on childbirth and delivery. One had a picture of a very pregnant woman on the cover. It took a few moments before he realized he wanted the book because the audacious tilt of her chin reminded him of Kathleen.

  He set the book down and grabbed another instead.

  He’d moved on to the action/adventure section when a sudden movement to his right caught his attention.

  “Seamus? What the hell are you doing here?”

  His agent clasped him on the shoulder in greeting. Damn! The last thing he wanted was to run into anyone he knew.

  “Of course, I guess I should’ve known you’d love this town.” The smaller man grinned broadly. There was no ignoring the knowing twinkle in his eye.

  Seamus suppressed a groan. “Hey, Frank. How ya doin? Didn’t you get my message?” Seamus fought the urge to glance in Kat’s direction. He hoped she wouldn’t choose that moment to join him.

  “No. Must’ve missed it. Hope it wasn’t important. It’s good to see you. I’m surprised you’re not home working on that book. The editor won’t wait forever, you know. Especially since it’s out of your usual genre.”

  Seamus plastered a jovial grin on his face, one he definitely wasn’t feeling. This meeting could really complicate matters. “Needed a break, Frank. Figured I’d take a run up here and clear my head. What’re you doing here? This isn’t your usual stomping grounds.”

  “Unlike yours, eh?” Frank laughed knowingly and winked at Seamus. “I’m at a writers’ conference in Santa Rosa. Thought I’d take the afternoon off and check out the local color.” He nodded in the direction of a pair of handsome young men dressed in matching leather pants and vests. Heavy chains linked them together. The shorter of the two rested his head against his partner’s shoulder.

  “It doesn’t get much more colorful than Guerneville.” Seamus had seen the two enter the shop a moment earlier, but at the mention of local c
olor, his imagination slipped back to the vision of Kathleen in the tiny dress shop modeling the full-length tie-died dress.

  Suddenly the object of his vision appeared directly in front of him. “Seamus, I think I’ve got more than enough. Are you about ready to go?”

  “Well, well. Hello.” Frank’s naturally bulging eyes bulged even further as his gaze moved from Kat’s face to her belly, then back to Seamus. “This is a surprise, Seamus.”

  In more ways than one, I bet , Seamus added.

  Frank’s gaze darted from Seamus to Kat to Kat’s middle and back to Seamus. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

  “Uh, yeah, Frank. Meet—” He caught Kat’s startled expression, smiled and said, “—my friend Kitty.” He returned Kat’s frown with one of his own. “Kitty, this is Frank Montero, my agent. I was just telling him we were here on a day trip.”

  “Nice to meet you, Frank.” Obviously sensing Seamus’s discomfort, Kat turned back to him and smiled sweetly. “It’s a long drive home, darling. We’d really better be going. Are you going to get these or am I?” She nodded at her armful of paperbacks.

  “My treat.” He nodded at the befuddled looking agent, took the stack of books out of Kat’s arms and added them to the basket he’d partially filled, then turned back to Frank. “I’ll call you in a couple of days to let you know when I’ve got something more to send. Good seeing you.”

  Then with a hand planted firmly against Kat’s back, he walked her to the cash register by the front door, paid for the books and bundled her outside before Frank could hit him with questions.

  They’d barely reached the sidewalk when her laughter exploded, deep and earthy and filled with humor. “Kitty? Where in the hell did you come up with that? I don’t see myself as a Kitty, Seamus. No way.”

  “I’d already started the K sound before I though better of giving your name. I doubt he’ll remember it anyway. Frank’s still trying to reformat everything he thinks he’s known about me for the past ten years.”

  Chuckling, Seamus led Kat down the block to the street where he’d left the car. They stowed their purchases in the trunk, climbed into the car and headed for the grocery store at the far end of town.