Courting the Cop (16 page)

“It’s nothing,” Abigail murmured, gulping down the last of her tears. “I’m just…cold and tired, that’s all.”

“We’ll get you home soon, and then you can make some hot cocoa and go to bed.”

Katherine’s words were surprisingly comforting. She’d been a good mom, Abigail thought. She didn’t deserve a lowlife like Michael as a son. And when he was finally arrested, she would be devastated, even though it would be best for everyone, including her. Abigail hugged the poor woman’s arm tighter.

They turned the corner into Hillcrest Road. The streetlights were further apart here, the shadows deeper. A figure emerged from the darkness and stepped in front of them.

Abigail gasped as she recognized Michael O’Brien looming over them.

“Michael—” Katherine choked out, coming to a dead halt.

“Where the hell you been?” His sour breath gusted over the two women. He didn’t wait for an answer, jerking his head in the direction of Katherine’s house. “Get inside.” His cold eyes shifted to Abigail. “Both of you.”

His hand was thrust into his jacket pocket, something hard pointing straight at them. A gun? Abigail didn’t want to find out. Next to her, Katherine was trembling as she tugged Abigail forward. She fumbled for her door key. Michael was breathing laboriously right behind them. A shudder of revulsion worked its way through Abigail.

They stumbled into Katherine’s house, and it was almost as cold inside as out. Michael slammed the door shut, causing both women to jump in fright.

“What-what do you want, Michael?” Katherine asked.

“You know what I want,” he barked. “You got it?”

“I gave you everything I had last time.” His mother wrung her hands. “I’ve given you every spare cent I have.”

“It’s not enough! Didn’t you ask around, like I told you?”

“I don’t have any rich friends—”

“Jesus, Ma, don’t you understand?” Michael dragged his fingers across his shaven skull. “I need to come up with ten grand or it’s curtains for me.”

Katherine’s voice shook. “I-I wish I could help you, son—”

“Argh!” He gouged his head again. “You’re fucking useless! You know that?”

Katherine gasped.

“Don’t speak to your mother like that,” Abigail burst out, unable to contain herself.

His head jerked toward her. Cold, enraged eyes zoomed in on her. Abigail’s heart sank.

“I know you.” Dread gathered like a hard lump in the pit of her stomach. “You’re that interfering bitch I ran into at the library.” He moved toward her, menace in every step. “Why are you always butting your nose in when I’m talking to my mother?”

Abigail gulped deeply and tried not to let her voice waver too much. She didn’t want to show him how terrified she was, the bastard.

“I’m a friend of Katherine’s. I care about her. She’s given you everything she can, so why don’t you leave her in peace?”

“Why don’t you leave her in peace?” Michael mimicked in a mocking tone. He eyed her up and down, inspecting her, and the leer that spread across his face sent a chill down her spine. “Been out on the town, have you? Let’s have a look at you.”

Without warning he grabbed her by the lapels and ripped her coat apart. Abigail was too shocked to react.

“Hey, you’re pretty hot.”

Abigail felt his revolting gaze move over her like a lizard’s tongue. Fear shook her.
This is not happening
. But it was. This frightening nightmare was real.

“Michael, leave Abigail alone,” Katherine protested, her face stricken, her eyes imploring.

Michael trailed his fingers down Abigail’s cheek, and she almost vomited. He reeked of stale sweat and desperation, and desperate men did mad things.

The phone in her purse rang, and everyone jumped as if a bomb had gone off. Abigail pulled the phone out.

“Don’t answer it!” Michael had the gun in his hand, and it was aimed right at her.

Abigail glanced at the screen of her phone. “It’s Brody.” Just saying his name gave her a rush of comfort. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

“Who the fuck is Brody?”

“He’s her boyfriend,” Katherine answered thinly.

Abigail nodded as a vague hope came to her. “Yes, he said he’d call around about now, to check that I was safely home. If-if I don’t answer, he’ll know something’s wrong and he might come over or-or even call the police.”

Michael shifted his grip on the gun, plainly indecisive, as the phone continued to ring.
Please please please, Brody, don’t hang up
, Abigail prayed.

“Okay.” Licking his lips, Michael motioned with his gun at Abigail. “Put him on speaker phone and tell him you’re home safe. No funny business, you got that?”

Oh God, what was she to do? How could she warn Brody that she and Katherine were in danger? Why oh why wasn’t he on stakeout duty in her bedroom?

With shaking fingers, she answered the call, hitting the speaker-phone button.

“Hi, darling,” she gushed. “I’ve been waiting all night for you to call. What took you so long?”

There was a slight pause. “Er, Abigail? Is that you?” Brody sounded completely bewildered.

“Of course it’s me, you silly hippopotamus! Who else would be hanging on your call? Or do you have other girlfriends waiting for you?”

Another baffled pause. “Abby, have you been drinking?”

“Oh, just a few beers. Guinness Draught, mostly.”

“Beers? You don’t drink beers.”

“Yes, I do. Only this Guinness Draught is too strong, and it’s making me feel a bit sick.”

Another brief silence, this one was broken by Brody sighing. “Okay, I get the message, you don’t want to talk to me, so instead you’re yanking my chain.” There was an edge to Brody’s voice, almost of dejection.

Oh God, this was hopeless!
Couldn’t he figure out that Guinness was as Irish as the name O’Brien? But clearly Brody wasn’t making the connection. How else could she warn him?

“I was hoping we could talk tonight,” Brody continued, his voice oddly soft.

Hang on. He sounded so hesitant. Why was he calling her at all? Didn’t they part ways yesterday? Surely…surely Brody wasn’t having second thoughts!
Was he?

Suddenly her lips were dry and her heart was pitterpattering all over the place.

“Oh, Brody—” she whispered brokenly. She blinked away the blurring in her eyes only to find Michael waving the gun menacingly at her. Her lungs seized up. “Er, n-not tonight,” she stammered, her head spinning in panic. “I’m too tired—”

She never got to finish her sentence as Michael snatched the phone from her, threw it to the ground, and smashed it beneath the heel of his boot. Grabbing her coat, he hauled her to within two inches of his ruddy, snarling face.

“You’re too clever by half, bitch.”

The brutality in his hold was unmistakable. She was about to pay for her clumsiness.

“I have a car. You can take it.” Her blurted words came out of nowhere.

Michael drew back, still holding on to her. “A car?”

“It-it’s nothing fancy,” she stumbled on. “Just an old Toyota, but it’s reliable, and it’s right across the road, parked in my backyard. It must be worth something.”

She could almost see the cogs clicking in his brain as he weighed up his odds. “Okay, bitch.” He spun her around, grabbed her shoulder, and hauled her back toward him until the muzzle of his gun jammed into her spine. “Show me the way.”

“Michael, let her go,
please
,” Katherine pleaded.

“Shut up, Ma.” He shouldered her out of the way and marched Abigail out of the house.

On the sidewalk, she felt him tensing as he scanned the quiet street. No one was about. It couldn’t be more than ten p.m., yet it seemed the entire street had gone to sleep. Even if there were people, she doubted she’d be able to attract their attention, not with a gun shoved into her back.

“It’s r-right over there.” She waved a hand across the street to her property. “We can go through the back gate.”

With a grunt, Michael hustled her forward. The road was rough, and her feet were none too steady. She tried her best to keep pace. The last thing she needed was for them to stumble and his gun to go off accidently. He pushed her into the shadows of the alley.

“Open it.”

By some miracle she slotted the key into the lock on the first go. The gate screeched as she pushed it open.

Someone moved inside the yard. Footsteps thudded. A muttered curse.

Michael fired the gun at the figure as it darted behind the car. Abigail ducked instinctively, her eardrums smarting, her nerves shrilling. The next moment, a hand snared her by the hair, yanking and shaking her.

“You little bitch!” Michael screamed in her ear. He slammed her into the wall of the yard. “You led me into a trap!”

“No,” she gasped. “I don’t know who’s in there.”

“Come out of there,” he yelled at the shadows. “Or I’ll hurt her some more.”

Silence throbbed in the small yard. Then, from behind the car, came a slight shuffle.

“Don’t know the bitch, dude,” an irritated male voice spoke. “I just came for the car.”

“What the fuck? That car’s mine!”

“Hey, I got here first.”

“Yeah? Well, I gotta gun, so I guess I win.”

“How do you know I don’t have a gun?”

Michael hesitated, then ducked his head. “Come on, bro. I need this car.”

“So do I.”

Abigail rubbed her sore shoulder where Michael’s manhandling had made her collide with the brick wall. Trust her luck to have two criminals arguing over who had first dibs on stealing her car. Maybe she could slip away while they were busy bickering with each other. Michael had let go of her as he concentrated on the other guy hiding in the shadows. She edged back, keeping close to the wall as she calculated how far she was from the open gate. One step, and then another. She was getting closer…

Michael spun around. “Where d’you think you’re going?”

He lunged for her, but she twisted away from him, desperate, instinctively acting for survival. His fingers snagged at her hair, but she ignored the pain as she fought to keep out of his grasp. His other hand grabbed her by the throat and squeezed. She choked as his fingers throttled the air out of her lungs. She scrabbled uselessly at his hand, panic clouding her vision as she struggled for breath.

A muffled roar. The air gusted around her before the pressure lifted off her throat, and merciful air filled her lungs. Gasping, she fell to her knees as the yard exploded with yells and scuffles and commotion. Raising her dizzy head, she saw the extraordinary sight of Brody kneeling over a prone Michael, cuffing him with rough efficiency. Relief and gratefulness flooded her, and tears welled in her eyes.

“Abigail? You okay?”

Gentle hands lifted her to her feet. Detective Shane Jackson, looking her over with obvious concern.

“Yeah.” She managed to nod. Blinking hard, she made out a couple of police officers on the other side of the yard busy handcuffing a skinny guy wearing a beanie. “That’s Spike,” she murmured in surprise. Who would have thought that Spike would pick tonight of all nights to hit her place? “He and Michael O’Brien were arguing over my car.”

“Lucky for us. They were too distracted to notice we were here.” Shane peered more closely at her. “We should probably get the ME to check you out.”

“No, I’m fine, honestly.” She drew in a deep breath to steady herself and pushed her messy hair away from her face. “So Brody realized something was wrong from my weird call?”

“Yup. Grabbed me and a couple of uniforms and rushed straight here. When he saw O’Brien with his hand around your neck, he went ape shit.” Admiration lurked in Shane’s expression. They both turned to watch as O’Brien bleated and squirmed on the ground. Brody leaned over him with a menacing growl and administered a harsh jab to the fugitive’s back. O’Brien squealed, and Shane shook his head. “I’d better go over there before he does something stupid like break the punk’s arm.”

Shane loped over to Brody to mutter something, and after a moment Brody visibly collected himself. Together they hauled the handcuffed man to his feet. Michael’s face was smeared with dirt, his eyes spitting as he cursed the entire world.

Someone behind Abigail let out a groan, and she spun round to see Katherine, chalk-white, her gaze pinned on her son.

“Michael,” she moaned as he was led away. She reached out trembling hands for him, but the jerk never even acknowledged her.

The older woman crumpled, and Abigail had to dart forward and put her arm around her to stop her from falling.

“It’ll be okay,” she said even though she wondered how it could ever be okay for a mother to see her son being arrested.

Tears slid down the worn tracks on Katherine’s face. Abigail patted her back, feeling worse than useless.

Minutes later, Brody approached her, and all the tension flooded back, making it difficult to breathe or to focus on anything except the tight line of his mouth and the hard sheen in his eyes.

“You both okay?” The question was brisk, impersonal.

“I am,” Abigail said. It was obvious that Katherine wasn’t.

Brody nodded. “Good.”

He wore his cop face like a suit of armor, warding her off. She couldn’t understand him. First, that unexpected call from him, and then him racing in and rescuing her, and now this standoffishness. What was with him? But she was too tired and shaken up to figure him out. If this was how he wanted to act, then so be it.

“We’ll need both of you to come down to the station and make statements,” he said.

“Right away?”

“If you’re up to it.” He motioned to a police officer standing by who stepped forward. “Officer Patel will drive you to the station when you’re ready.”

Katherine squeezed Abigail’s arm. “I need to go to the station. I need to see my Mikey.”

But Brody was already shaking his head. “Sorry, ma’am, but he won’t be allowed any visitors apart from his lawyer while he’s in custody. You’ll have to wait until he’s transferred to jail.”

Katherine uttered a pained moan, looking totally defeated. Abigail threw a dark glance at Brody, puzzled and annoyed by his cold manner. She knew he’d been hanging out to catch Michael O’Brien for years, but now he’d succeeded he could at least show a little compassion toward his mother.