Crime and Passion (15 page)

“Not right now, but thank you,” she added quickly. It meant so much to have him accept her this way. “I’ve got to go upstairs and see if Alex is awake yet.” He’d woken up in the middle of the night, coughing and feeling generally miserable. A cold had materialized out of nowhere, and though she wasn’t really concerned, she just wanted to dote on her son for a while and make him feel better.

He nodded. “I’ve already made up a tray for him. I can take it up if you want to be alone for a little while.”

“No, that’s all right. I’ll bring it up to him. You’ve done more than enough for us already.”

“It’s not a matter of doing enough,” he told her. “It’s a matter of family. Face it, you’re part of ours now. No matter what.”

She beamed with gratitude. She knew what he was saying. No matter what turn her relationship with Clay took.

The phone rang just then. Andrew glanced toward it. “Maybe that’s Clay, ready to admit that he was a jackass and that he’s sorry.”

She laughed. “Don’t count on it.”

It wasn’t Clay. She could tell by the look on Andrew’s face after he said hello. Wanting to give him some privacy, she started to leave the room, but the look on the older man’s face kept her from going.

“You sure?” he asked not once but twice. “All right, I’ll be right down.”

It was too early for the call to involve any of the people who had been here this morning. Still, she could see that whatever news he had received had completely unsettled Clay’s father.

The moment he hung up, it was her turn to ask, “Are you all right?”

Numb, afraid to let his mind get carried away, he measured his words out slowly, as if he was debating drawing each one back in again.

“That was someone I used to work with. They found a homeless man dead in the park last night. He had one of those shopping carts next to him, filled with things he must have been collecting over the years.” He shook his head. “Poor bastard.” He’d come across scores of such twilight people during his years on the force, people so down on their luck they couldn’t climb back up again, their minds backing away from reality. “They went through it, trying to see if they could find out who he was. My ex-partner said they found a beaten-up wallet on the bottom of the cart. It had my wife’s driver’s license in it.”

That meant that somehow she’d gotten out. Rose wasn’t lying in some watery grave all these years, she’d gotten out. He’d been right all along.

“So what are you waiting for?” she asked. “Go down to the precinct.”

“Right.” And then he stopped, the fog lifting from his brain. “I can’t leave you alone.”

She put her hand on his shoulder, turning him toward the door. “I am a big girl, Andrew. I can be left alone for a little while. Besides, no one’s going to come,” she assured him. There hadn’t even been a mysterious phone call in the past two days. She was certain that Walken, if he was responsible for all this, had given up the futile attempts.

“If Alex is awake by now, he’s probably bored out of his mind. I’ll go upstairs and keep him company. I’m not you, of course, but in a pinch, his mom’ll still do.” She urged him toward the front door. “Go, find out what this is all about. Maybe it’s the break you’ve been waiting for.”

“Maybe,” he agreed. Andrew took his jacket out of the hall closet and slipped it on. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“I’ll still be here.” She thought of the scene between her and Clay. “At least for now.”

Wanting to rush out, he still paused to reassure her. “You can stay for as long as you like.”

That wouldn’t be right. “This is Clay’s house, I can’t just—”

Andrew held up his hand, curtailing her flow of thought. “Clay moved out years ago. He came back because the guy he’d been subletting his apartment from wanted to move back in. We both knew it was only going to be for a little while, although our definitions of the word seem to differ.

“What I’m saying is that he could be out of here in a week. There’s no reason for you to be leaving on his account. Besides, I still need to get better acquainted with my grandson.”

Her protest was necessary, but only halfhearted. “But—”

“I don’t want to hear another word about it,” he told her with finality as he opened the front door. “Don’t start giving me any grief, Ilene.” He winked before leaving. “So far, that’s what sets you apart from everyone else.”

She took the tray that Andrew had fixed to her son and watched him eat. There was nothing wrong with the boy’s appetite, which was a good sign. As she took the tray away and set it off to the side, she peered at his face. His eyes didn’t look a hundred percent well.

She touched her lips to his forehead. It was cool, but that didn’t immediately mean he was better. “Still feel icky?”

Alex nodded, then looked at her hopefully. “Andrew said he was going to bring me some ice cream to make my throat feel better.”

This after a mountain of pancakes. She shook her head. “That’s only when they take your tonsils out.”

She watched his small eyebrows pull together in consternation. “Do I have those?”

“Yes.”

The hopeful look made a reappearance. “Can we take them out?”

She laughed. “Not today. I’ll see about some ice cream later,” she promised, when he looked dejected. There wasn’t much she’d deny him. Fortunately for both of them, she thought, Alex reacted well to being spoiled. There wasn’t a bratty, demanding bone in his body. “Right now why don’t we see if
The Cat in the Hat
wants to come out and play?”

Reaching for the book, she thought she heard a car pulling up. Andrew hadn’t been gone all that long. She was certain he couldn’t have gotten the information he wanted so quickly.

Clay, maybe it was Clay.

She called herself an idiot when her heart began to pound. “Listen, I think I hear someone coming.” She saw the eager look on her son’s face and guessed what he was thinking. “Oh no, you stay here young man. I’ll go see who it is.”

Making him promise to remain in his room, she closed Alex’s door and all but flew down the stairs. Praying all the while. As she got to the foyer she heard the doorknob being turned. Reaching for it, she yanked the door open, ready to throw herself into Clay’s arms.

“Forget your key?”

Her wide smile froze. It wasn’t Clay. The man on the doorstep was tall and muscular. His eyes were flat. She’d never seen him before.

“I never had one.”

Chapter 15

T
he next moment the man began to force his way in. Ilene grabbed hold of the door with both hands and tried to slam it shut in his face.

The effort was futile. She was far from a weakling but he had height and girth on his side. Using his shoulder, he shoved his way into the house as if she were no more of a deterrent than a flea.

Her eyes never leaving his face, she backed away. When she saw the opened telephone book someone in the house had left out, she heaved it at him. He ducked in time. She began grabbing and throwing anything she could get her hands on.

The intruder blocked every throw with his arm, and all the while he kept relentlessly coming at her. A sense of panic mounted in her chest.

Where had he come from? Had he been watching the house all along? “What do you want from me?”

“It’s not what I want. I’m just the messenger.” His voice was low, unflappable. “And you know what this is about. Don’t make this any more difficult than it already is, Ilene,” he taunted her. “You don’t want this to be painful.”

“Just final, right?” She struggled to keep her voice from cracking. “Someone’ll be back any minute.” She knew they wouldn’t be, but hoped
he
didn’t. “You’re not going to get away with this.”

There was mild amusement on his face as he watched her get behind the sofa, placing it between them. “You’d be surprised at what I’ve gotten away with over the years. And in a few minutes none of this is going to matter to you anymore.”

“Mama?” Her eyes darted toward the top of the stairs. Alex wasn’t there, but in another moment he would be. Panic spiked up high within her. She saw the man looking toward the stairs.

“Stay where you are, Alex,” she called.

And then, to her horror, she saw the man turn from her and head toward the stairs. Adrenaline flowed through every part of her body. He was going to hurt her son. She couldn’t let that happen.

“No!”

With a wild cry, she threw herself at the man, managing to tackle him. He crashed to the floor at the foot of the stairs.

Caught completely off guard, he’d been able to offer little resistance. He went down, hitting his head against the bottom step.

It was enough only to daze him for a split second. His face contorted as he cursed loudly at her. She tried to move out of his way, but he grabbed her. His large hands went around her throat.

She knew he was going to kill her.

Struggling, she managed to bring her knee up and make solid contact with his groin. The blow made him wither long enough for her to scramble away.

Enraged, he grabbed her leg and dragged her back down. She hit her head.

Everything started to spin.

She felt his hands go around her throat again. This time his body pinned her down, completely immobilizing her.

Ilene tried to scream. Nothing came out. There was no air.

No air.

Desperately trying to hang on to consciousness, she still felt it slipping through her fingers.

Who was going to take care of Alex?

And Clay…

Clay…

A darkness closed in around her, taking with it all thoughts, all surroundings.

Everything.

Leaving only blackness in its place.

And then there was noise, a distant, faraway noise. Like someone shouting. But she couldn’t grasp hold. She was too weak.

And then there was a louder noise, like thunder cracking. The weight on her chest grew intolerable, pressing her down. Crushing her.

Then there was nothing.

She was dead.

But if this was heaven, it was awfully noisy. And rough. Something, some
one
was handling her, pushing on her body. No, on her chest.

One, two, three…

Air, there was air. Air was being blown into her mouth. Minty air.

She started to choke, to cough. To gasp. Air…she needed more air.

Her eyes flying open, she sucked it in, grasping huge chunks and feeding off them. Until the darkness began to abate.

It was several seconds before she realized that she was looking up at Clay.

Clay.

Relief flooded through her, washing away the fear. She sat bolt upright, throwing her arms around his neck and sobbing his name.

He was afraid to release the emotions churning so violently inside of him, afraid that if he did, he was going to break down so badly, he might never be able to pull any of the pieces together again. She’d been so still when he’d administered CPR it had scared the hell out of him.

And now he couldn’t say anything, couldn’t think. So he said nothing, only held her close to him, stroking her hair and thanking God that he wasn’t as pigheaded as he’d once been. That he had given in to a sense stronger than his pride and returned to try to sort things out with Ilene.

If he hadn’t, there would never have been anything more to sort out. She would have been—

He wouldn’t let his mind go there.

When he could finally trust his voice, he asked softly, “Are you all right?”

She raised her head from his shoulder and weakly nodded. “Yes.” The word crawled slowly up her constricted throat.

The man he’d shot had been so strong looking, Clay had been afraid he was going to break her neck. He raised her head slightly to examine her throat. “You’re going to have bruises.”

She took a deep breath. It was a little easier this time.

“But I’ll live to see them.” She looked over toward the slumped form of the man who had just tried to kill her. He wasn’t moving. “Is he dead?”

Reluctantly Clay shifted away from her and felt the man’s pulse. It was reedy, but it was still steady. “No. Just knocked out.”

There was no question in his mind that if the hired killer had carried out his agenda, he would never have left alive. This would have been one matter he wouldn’t have left to the courts.

Rising to his feet, he took out his cell phone and punched in a code. The moment he heard the line being picked up, he quickly recited the particulars that would get them immediate special assistance.

“Mama?”

By the time she looked, Alex had made it to the bottom of the stairs, his small face a mask of fear. Drawn by the noise and the raised voices, he’d finally ventured out of his room. He flung himself into her arms, clearly frightened.

She struggled not to cry. Tears would only frighten the boy more. So she summoned the steadiest voice she could, under the circumstances, and stroked his head as she held him to her. “It’s okay, baby, it’s okay. Nobody’s going to hurt you.”

Pulling back, he looked at her with his huge, inquisitive eyes. “You, Mama, are they going to hurt you?”

Her heart swelled as she drew her son to her again, holding him against her chest. He was so old for his tender years. But it was Clay who addressed the boy’s concern and answered his question.

“No, Alex, nobody’s going to hurt you or your mother ever again.” Sirens heralded the ambulance’s approach, as well as the squad car that was following in its wake. Clay looked around. “Where’s my father?” he asked suddenly. He realized that he hadn’t seen the car in the driveway. At the time, the flung-open door had stolen all of his attention.

Her head still swimming, she struggled to remember. “He got a call from an ex-partner. Something about finding your mother’s wallet.” She looked at the man who was beginning to come to. “I guess he must have been watching the house.”

“Or had someone place the call.” Which meant that a great deal of work had been put into not only learning where Ilene had been taken, but into finding out everything about the people who had taken her in. His first thought was that there was a mole somewhere in the department. Very few people outside the family actually knew where she was staying.

She hadn’t thought of that, hadn’t thought of anything except protecting her son. But now that Clay had brought the matter up, the idea chilled her down to the bone. It made Walken seem like a monster who didn’t care what kind of consequences his actions had. “That’s terrible.”

“Not as terrible as things might have been,” he said significantly.

The next moment the house was filled with paramedics and police personnel, not to mention Santini, who had caught Clay’s call into the department on the police scanner.

Circumventing the man on the floor, he crossed to Ilene and her son. “Everybody all right here?”

Taking Clay’s hand, the other lightly braced on Alex’s shoulder so he wouldn’t feel slighted, Ilene got to her feet. The room swayed a little, and she held on to Clay’s hand more tightly than she’d intended. She saw the concern in his eyes.

“We’re fine.” She deliberately looked at Clay. “Now.”

“You’re still going to the hospital.” Clay beckoned to one of the paramedics. “I want you thoroughly checked out.”

She began to protest, though there wasn’t much feeling behind the words. Her energy level still hadn’t returned.

Santini edged over to her side. “Better listen to him.”

She smiled. “Do I have a choice?”

Clay’s partner winked at her. “He always gets his vehicles thoroughly checked out before he commits to them.”

Puzzled, she looked from one man to another. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that Santini’s got entirely too much time on his hands.” Clay looked down at Alex. It was the first time he’d seen the boy since he’d found out that he was his father. He felt something strange going on inside of him. The lid on his emotions threatened to blow sky-high any second. “You ever ride in an ambulance before?” Alex shook his head. “If you’re real good, maybe we can get them to let you sound the siren.”

Alex looked very serious. Behind him, the paramedics were strapping his mother’s potential killer onto a gurney. “Will they take care of Mama?”

Clay moved out of the way as the paramedics guided the gurney out to the ambulance. Here he was, trying to distract him, and all Alex could think of was his mother’s welfare. He was bowled over by the boy’s maturity. “Yes.”

Alex nodded solemnly. “Okay.”

Unable to resist, Santini ruffled Alex’s hair. “Great kid you got there.” It wasn’t entirely clear whether he was addressing Ilene exclusively or not.

The first paramedic went to Ilene. “Can you walk?”

“My head’s a little fuzzy and I’ll probably have to forget about a professional singing career,” she cracked, running her hand along her throat, “but there’s nothing wrong with my legs.”

“If you’ll follow me,” the man requested, “we’ll see about getting you to the hospital.”

But as the man began to take Ilene to the back of the opened vehicle, Clay put up his hand. He nodded at the man he’d wounded, the man he still wanted to kill with his bare hands. They’d loaded him on first. “She doesn’t ride with him.”

The man didn’t frighten her any longer. She had Clay. Ilene placed her hand on his arm, drawing his attention. “It’s all right.”

No, Clay thought, it wasn’t. The bastard had tried to kill her, he wasn’t about to put her through having to share space with him. Clay looked at the paramedic. “I called in for two wagons.”

About to answer him, the attendant was relieved to hear the sound of a second ambulance approaching. “And there it is now.” He smiled at Ilene, obviously happy to withdraw. “They’ll take good care of you.”

With that, he climbed into the rear of the vehicle and pulled the doors closed behind him.

Right outside the E.R. exam room the halls were littered with Cavanaughs. Almost all of them had poked their heads in at one point or another while Ilene waited to be ministered to by the doctor and hopefully released. Andrew had been almost the first on the scene and he had taken Alex under his wing after first expressing his profound apologies for ever having left her.

She’d absolved him of any responsibility three times over before he’d finally retreated with her son. His grandson.

They made a nice pair, she’d thought. All in all, it had turned out alright. Her son now had the grandfather she’d always wanted him to have. An attentive one who cared about him.

The man who had come to kill her was going to live. Not only that, but according to Santini, once he’d come to, he seemed more than willing to name names in exchange for special consideration. The first name he’d given them was Walken’s.

There was no need for her to remain in hiding any longer. The way things were going, she would be able to reclaim a normal life very, very soon.

But she wasn’t thinking about that now. All of her attention was fixed on the man who had refused, even after the E.R. doctor had strongly recommended it, to leave her side. He’d stood by her, holding her hand all through the exam, asking more questions than she would have ever thought to ask.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he took her hand in his. He knew he had to talk fast. The doctor might return any second to release her and then she’d be engulfed by the mob that had collected outside the door. He needed to get this out before then.

“Why did you come back?” Ilene asked.

“Because I remembered that the last thing that happened between my parents was an argument. I’ve seen the toll it’s taken on my father and I don’t want that happening to us.” And then he smiled as he finally allowed relief to flood through his veins. She was going to be all right. And for as long as fate allowed, she was going to be his. He was determined about that. “Besides, I thought I could talk you into accepting my proposal by using my charm.”

He still wanted to marry her. Despite the deception. She looked into his eyes and knew that he loved her. Really loved her. It was all that mattered. She blinked, in vain trying to keep back the tears that were suddenly gathering. “Yes.”

About to launch into a whole list of reasons why she should marry him, Clay stopped abruptly. “Yes?” he echoed uncertainly.

Her smile spread to every part of her. If she had ever felt any happier, Ilene couldn’t remember when. “Yes.”

He feigned a dubious look. “But I haven’t even turned on my charm yet.”

Lord, but she loved this man. Sometimes, she thought, happy endings did happen. And this was hers. “Heroes turn me on.”