Merciless (14 page)

He grimaced. He laid back down with a sigh. “I suppose you're right. Maybe it wouldn't hurt us to slow down a little.”

“I'm glad you agree.”

“I'm being forced to,” he pointed out. But he smiled.

She shrugged. “I want you to get well.”

“Me, too.” He gave her a long look. “But Rourke is going
back with you. I don't like it,” he confessed. “But I have to agree that he'll take care of you.”

She felt insecure. “You don't think someone would really try to hurt Markie?”

“They killed my niece.”

She swallowed a rush of panic. “Yes.”

“They won't get Markie. I promise you they won't,” he said.

She let herself relax, just a little. “Thanks.”

“And we'll talk some more. Tomorrow.”

She hesitated. But his smile was intoxicating. Her heart jumped. She smiled back and nodded. “Tomorrow.”

 

Joceline jumped out of bed, aglow with the newness of her relationship with Jon and hope that there might really be a future for them. She was herding Markie toward the kitchen when she opened the door and ran into a nightmare.

Cammy Blackhawk gave her and the child a glare that would have stopped a rampaging horde.

“What are you doing in my home?” she asked coldly.

Joceline wasn't usually lost for words, but she had reason to fear this woman and her reactions. She hesitated. “Working.”

“Not for me,” Cammy said haughtily. “I have never invited you here! I never would! And to bring that…that child here! How dare you!”

Joceline bent and lifted Markie into her arms. He was
looking upset already. He stared at the dark-haired woman with wide, shocked eyes.

“Please lower your voice,” Joceline said stiffly. “You're upsetting Markie!”

“As if I care,” the other woman replied haughtily. “You had your fun and he's the living proof of it, proof that you have no morals whatsoever!”

Joceline bit her lower lip. “You don't know a thing about me,” she said huskily.

“I know all I need to. You're here trying to turn my son's head, to make yourself attractive to him! You're chasing him because he has money and you're poor!”

“You stop yelling at my mommy, you bad old girl!” Markie said angrily.

Cammy was momentarily diverted by the child, which gave Joceline enough time to turn on her heel and go back the way she'd come.

“Where are we going, Mommy?” Markie asked.

“Home, baby, as soon as I can pack.” Her heart was beating overtime. She was almost in panic mode, she, who rarely panicked. She'd never seen such hatred in another human's eyes.

“Good,” he muttered, and buried his face in her neck. “I don't like her. She's mean!”

“You stay away from my son!” Cammy added haughtily. “I've brought my young friend here to take care of him while he's recuperating. We don't need you!”

Well, that meant he wouldn't miss out on any exciting
fashion news, but it was beyond Joceline's whirling mind to vocalize the thought.

She put Markie down and started putting things into her ragged old suitcase. Cammy stood in the doorway, waiting, her arms folded tight over her chest. It outraged her that the woman had been here, with Jon, alone in her own house while she was in Europe!

“Make sure you don't take one thing that isn't yours,” Cammy snapped.

Joceline ignored her.

Markie clung to his mother's legs. “I don't like it here,” he told her. “I want to leave.”

“We're going in just a minute, baby,” Joceline told him.

The child's voice was husky and he was breathing oddly.

Joceline went down on one knee. “Breathe. Breathe. Look at me. Just breathe, okay? Don't think about it. Just breathe. Here—” she grabbed the rescue inhaler “—breathe in. Again. Yes. Better?”

He nodded. His chest rose and fell rapidly, but with less force. His breathing regulated, just a little, as the medicine started to work.

“What's wrong with him?” Cammy asked, reluctantly.

“Nothing at all. Get your toys, sweetheart.”

Markie picked up a worn bear and a ragged cowboy doll and hugged them to his chest. He was still a little shaky. Joceline was worried sick but she didn't dare show
it. She finished putting their few articles of clothing in the suitcase, stuffed Markie into his jacket and put on her own. She picked up her purse and the suitcase.

“You're welcome to check my luggage,” she told Cammy.

The older woman was looking at them with eyes that saw more than they wanted to. They saw poverty and hopelessness and reluctant acquiescence to an unreasonable demand.

“We'll go now,” Joceline said. She took Markie's hand and led him out the door. She stopped and turned, her chin lifting with quiet pride. “Can you please ask someone to drive us to the bus station in town? It's too far for Markie to walk.”

“You don't have a car?”

“My car wouldn't make it past downtown San Antonio, Mrs. Blackhawk,” Joceline said with painful pride. “Mr. Blackhawk flew us up here.”

“I'll have one of the hands drive you to town.”

“Thank you. We'll wait on the porch.” She tugged Markie along with her.

Cammy picked up the in-house phone. “Have one of the men drive Miss Thingy to the bus station with her…son,” she spoke into it. “She's on the porch.”

“I'll drive her myself, you raging old bat,” came an Afrikaans-accented tone over the phone. “And you can take your prejudices and your old-world attitudes and go straight to hell with them.”

The phone on the other end was slammed down. “I never!” she exclaimed, outraged.

She stormed into Jon's bedroom. Her protégée was trying to puff up his pillows while he glared at her.

“That terrible man told me to go to hell!” she told Jon, fuming. “What sort of people do you have working here?”

“Who told you that?” he asked, furious.

“That Rourke person,” she said angrily. “I only asked someone to take your secretary to town to catch a bus…”

“Joceline? Catch a bus?” He sat straight up in bed. “Damn it!”

“Now, Jon…”

He reached for the phone. “Get me Rourke. I'll wait!” He glared at Cammy. “Rourke, what's going…she did what?” He listened. “Yes. You go with them. Take her to the airstrip…I'll send the pilot down. Tell her…hell, never mind, I'll tell her myself.”

He hung up. He got up. “I'm going back to San Antonio. Get the hell out of my bedroom!” he told the blonde and his mother.

“Jon,” Cammy said gently, “I'm sorry. Please. Don't get up. You're ill…”

“I was getting better until you decided to destroy my life!”

Cammy bit her lip. Tears were forming in her eyes. “Jon, that woman has designs on you. I don't think you really understand…”

“You're the one who doesn't understand,” Jon shot back. He was furious. “You're not going to manage my life for me. You're not going to tell me whom I can marry, or what I can do. You're my mother, not my owner!”

Cammy shifted her stance. “You're sick and now I've upset you. I'm very sorry. I'll apologize to what's-her-name later…”

“Her name is Joceline,” he said in a tone that threatened.

“Yes, of course, Joceline…” She straightened. “She had a child out of wedlock,” she began.

“So did you,” Jon shot back furiously.

Cammy's face went white as a sheet. “Wh-what?”

“Except that you chose termination over delivery, isn't that right?” Jon persisted, while the blonde stood by in total shock and without saying a word. “You were afraid that my father wouldn't want the child, since you weren't married to him at the time, and you had a termination. It wasn't until he proposed that you realized what you'd done, but it was too late then, wasn't it?”

She leaned back against the wall, shattered. “I never told anybody!”

“Dad drank,” he said coldly. “When he drank, he talked. He'd have married you, he said, if you'd only told him in time. He grieved for the child. He grieved for you, for a decision you'd made that he thought would tear you apart.” His eyes were cold. “But it didn't hurt you, did it, Cammy, since you can sit in judgment on a woman who had more courage than you did.”

She closed her eyes and shivered.

“Uh, this is obviously a very private conversation. I think I'll just wait outside,” the blonde said, tiptoeing out of the room.

“You can wait with her,” Jon told his mother. “I'm leaving, as soon as I can get dressed.”

Cammy opened her eyes. They were dark and troubled. “I thought it was the only thing I could do,” she said in a distant tone. “I never thought about how it would be, after…” She looked up at him. “I never wanted you to know.”

“My father wished that he didn't know,” he returned. “You're so self-righteous, Cammy. You're right, everybody else is wrong. You know just what other people should do, how they should live, who they should marry,” he added coldly, nodding toward the closed door. “But who are you to make those decisions?”

Cammy folded her arms over her breasts. “I want you to be happy.”

“And you think living with your Vogue-obsessed candidate would make me happy?” he asked incredulously.

She swallowed. “Maybe…maybe I've been a little overboard.”

“A little.” He glared more. “Let me tell you something. If I had to marry a woman like that—” he nodded toward the door “—to get a child, I'd be a bachelor forever. Looks don't matter to me. There are qualities far more important.”

She shifted again. She looked guilty. “That little boy. He doesn't breathe right.”

“He has asthma,” he said coldly. “He has violent attacks that land him in hospital. Especially when he's upset!” Cammy grimaced.

“Joceline isn't going to have an easy time of it, thanks to you, and I'm going back to San Antonio with…with…!” He grimaced and almost fell.

Cammy rushed forward and caught him. She helped him back to the bed, fighting tears. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”

“Damn it!” he ground out as he lay back down. He was too weak to carry out the threat.

She smoothed back his clean, dark hair as she had when he was a sick little boy. “It's all right. I'll make everything all right. Don't you worry. You just get well.” She bit her lip, hard. “I'm sorry!” Tears were rolling down her cheeks.

Jon didn't reply. He was so angry he couldn't even manage words.

 

Joceline fought tears all the way to San Antonio. She was upset, but Markie was even more upset. She knew already that his agitation meant a hospital visit. He was building to an attack even with the medicines he used.

“I'm sorry, love,” Rourke said gently. “I mean it. Cammy can be a…” He grimaced as he glanced at the child. “Well, she can be a pill.”

“Not her fault,” Joceline replied with a tight smile. “She doesn't know me.”

“Her loss,” he replied, and the tenderness in his tone brought a muffled sob from her throat.

“Now, now.” He sat down beside her and pulled her close, rocking her. “Not to worry, the world's still going around. Right, me boy?” he asked Markie with a grin.

Markie was worried about his mother. She was crying. That mean old woman had upset her. But the big man sitting with them made him feel comforted, as if it would be all right. He smiled back. Sure. It would be all right. If he could just breathe…!

But it wasn't all right. Joceline went home with Markie, and they'd no sooner gotten inside the apartment when he started choking.

She called Rourke, who rushed them to the emergency room. They waited outside for news while the doctor saw Markie.

“He'll be all right,” Rourke promised her.

His phone rang. He got up and answered it, moving off a little. He looked worried. He said something, hung up and went back to Joceline.

“I have to go,” he said quietly. “I can't explain. I've been working on a case with some other people and they've come up with a strategy that I think, I hope, will work! I'll get one of my men to watch out for you. I promise,
you won't know he's around. I don't want to leave. I have no choice.”

“It's okay,” she told him. “Thanks for getting us here.”

He pulled a bill out of his pocket and stuffed it into her coat. “Don't fuss,” he said firmly. “You'll have to get a cab home. I'll make this up to you, I promise. Call me when you know how the boy is. Okay?”

He jotted down his phone number and handed it to her on a slip of paper. “Okay,” she said.

He winked at her and went out the door, obviously distracted.

Joceline bent over her lap, taking deep breaths. She'd been through so much. Now she was faced with a bigger hurdle. Jon's mother had shot her right out of his life. Cammy wanted Jon to fire her and get another “secretary.” She was the most possessive, rabid mother on earth and Joceline's faint dream of a future with Jon had been nipped in the bud.

It was probably for the best, she told herself. After all, she was keeping dire secrets. But what else could she have done? She'd made the only possible decision. Now she had to pay for it. And go on paying for it.

She burst into tears. It was just too much: the robbery, Jon getting shot, that horrible man threatening to kill her little boy, the possible loss of her job and now Jon's awful mother bulldozing her right out of the house. She hadn't even been allowed to say goodbye. It was just too much!

“Oh, no, you mustn't. You mustn't cry so!”

She heard the voice as if in a dream, and felt arms close
around her and hug her close and rock her. “It will be all right. You'll see.”

She must be dreaming, she told herself. Probably she'd been hit in the head and was in a coma. Because unless her senses were truly deceiving her, this was Cammy Blackhawk hugging her tight and assuring her that everything was going to be all right. Hallucinations, she told herself firmly. She was having hallucinations….

Cammy produced a handkerchief and wiped her eyes. “I spent many nights in emergency rooms with Jon, when he was so small,” she said in a conciliatory tone. “I know how frightening it is. But Jon outgrew his asthma. Your son will, too. You'll see.”

Joceline bit her lip. She didn't know what to say, what to do. It was incredible, that the woman had followed her here. Why was she being kind?

“You don't trust me,” Cammy said, and nodded. “Sit down. Let me tell you a story.”

Joceline sat on the chair beside her, the hardest sort of chairs in the world that they seemed to love to put in hospitals.

“When I was very young, my grandfather liked to have parties with his friends. They drank and passed out. So I could sneak out of the house and nobody noticed. I liked this older man a lot. He worked for the reservation police in those days…” She smiled at the other woman's surprise. “Yes, I lived on the reservation in Kyle, South Dakota, because my grandfather was there. My mother had married very young and died having me. My father, well, he just
disappeared and left me with my grandparents in South Dakota. When my grandmother died one winter, it was just me and Grandpa.” She sighed. “To make a long story short, I was in love and I went too far. I…was afraid he wouldn't want the child. He was very religious, you see.” She averted her eyes. “I did what I thought I should do. Then he married me and I realized…” She swallowed. “He never spoke of it again. He already had McKuen, and then I had Jon. So we had our two sons and we raised them to be moral and socially conscious and to never do anything they would be ashamed to announce in church.”

Joceline was listening, shocked.

“I judged you,” Cammy said quietly. “I had no right. I didn't have your courage. You kept your baby.”

Joceline averted her eyes. “I made a decision. I never knew if it would be the right one. I knew that Markie would never know his father.”

“That is a tragedy.”

“A big one.”

Cammy took the younger woman's cold hands in hers. “I am sorry for what I said to you. For the way I acted. I am most sorry for the difficulty it has caused for your son. But he will be all right. Jon had such attacks. They were always terrifying, but they always ended and he was fine.”

“Markie has weak lungs.”

“So did Jon. It was one reason I was very strict about not letting him smoke.” She sighed. “Alas, I could never
stop his father, and I did try. Then McKuen took up those awful cigars…!”

Joceline smiled. She bit her lip. “Is Jon all right?”

“Yes. He tried to come back to his apartment here. He was very angry. It was my fault.” She lowered her eyes. “I worry about him so much. I don't want him to be left alone.” She bit her lip and lifted her dark eyes to Joceline's. “They say I have high blood pressure. They want me to take pills for it. I don't want to. I hate medicine.”

“But you must,” Joceline said gently. “You don't want to have a stroke. Dying is not the worst thing that could happen to you. You could be paralyzed. When I was little, my grandmother had one. She was paralyzed on one side and laid in her bed that way for two years before she died. It was so sad. You must take the medicine!”

Cammy drew in a long breath. “I could die anyway.”

“No. You're going to be a grandmother,” she said and managed a smile even through her misery. “Very soon, too.”

Cammy brightened. “I'd forgotten. My second grandchild.”

Joceline nodded. Her eyes were curiously sad. “Yes. Your second one.”

“I suppose I should think about that and stop trying to force Jon to marry girls I like,” she said, grimacing. She studied Joceline. “Rourke wants to marry you. It makes Jon furious,” she added with a soft chuckle.

“Markie likes Rourke,” Joceline said noncommittally. “He has lions on his farm in South Africa.”

“Africa is a very dangerous place—you should not take a child there,” Cammy said firmly. “And Rourke is no mother's idea of a suitable husband for her daughter!”

Incredible. Cammy was actually trying to discourage her from marrying Rourke?

Before she could say anything else, the emergency room physician found her. He smiled. “Not to worry,” he said in a British accent, “the boy's going to be fine. We had to give him several treatments, but we've cleared his lungs. I think it's safe for you to take him home now.”

“Will he need antibiotics?”

“No. Just the preventive inhaler. Do you have one?”

“Yes.”

“And the rescue inhaler, if you need it,” he added. He smiled. “He's quite a bright little boy. He was worried about you. There had been a quarrel, I gather?”

“Yes, and my fault.” Cammy stepped forward. “But it's all over now.”

The doctor seemed surprised. “Then I'll take you to Markie.”

Joceline and, to her surprise, Cammy fell in behind him.

Markie looked horrified when he saw the older woman walk in with his mother.

Cammy went forward before Joceline could speak and lifted the child in her arms. “I am very sorry,” she said softly, and she smiled. “I am a mean old woman, but I think I can get over it. Would you like an ice cream?”

Markie seemed torn between indignation at the woman's
treatment of his mother and the promise of a rare and special treat. He looked at Joceline for guidance.

She actually chuckled. “I think the offer of ice cream is going to save the day.”

Cammy smiled back.

They took Markie to the hospital cafeteria and he did get ice cream, but only after a suitable meal, for which Cammy paid and accepted no argument.

She sipped black coffee and refused dessert. “I never eat sweets,” she told them. “An old habit. When I was a child, we were told that sugar was the foundation of all health problems and we were only allowed candy or cake on very special occasions.”

“Are you a Native American?” Markie asked curiously. “We study them in school.”

Cammy nodded. “My blood is mostly Cherokee, but I have grandparents who were Lakota Sioux and a grandfather who was Comanche.”

“Can you speak it?”

“I can speak a little Cherokee,” she said, smiling. “We lose the native languages if they aren't spoken. I try to remember what my parents taught me.”

“Jon's father was Lakota, wasn't he?” Joceline asked.

“Yes. His blood was full.” She laughed. “His mother thought I was unsuitable, because my blood was mixed.”

Joceline was shocked.

“As you see, prejudice has no home,” she added. “I married him anyway. They did not speak to us for two years. When Jon was born, they softened.”

“Children do that.”

“Indeed.”

Joceline felt so worn. She was burned out, from the trauma of Jon's shooting and their changed relationship, not to mention the flight from Oklahoma with a furious Cammy at their backs. And now, here she was, Joceline's worst enemy, buying them ice cream. Jon had been right: Cammy wasn't who she seemed to be.

She spooned ice cream into her mouth and frowned. Something suddenly occurred to her, something she'd been far too upset to consider. “How did he know?”

Cammy blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Somebody broke into my apartment,” she explained. “Kilraven and I think it was to get a file that I took home with me. How did the burglar know I'd taken the file home?”

“Did you tell someone?” Cammy asked.

“Just Betty, at our office, when we were having coffee.” The spoon paused in midair. “No.” She dismissed that thought at once. “She's been there longer than I have. She's one of our most trusted employees.”

“Someone else in the office?”

“There are so many people who work there,” Joceline said uneasily. “Not only the agents and clerical staff, but we have a lot of part-timers who come in to help. We have linguists and information specialists, computer programmers, payroll…” She frowned. “Well, one of our part-timers was at the table, but it couldn't have been her. You see, her father is a homicide detective for the local police
department.” She laughed. “I suppose someone could have overheard us and mentioned it to another person, you know how that goes. It's a busy office.” She sighed. “It's been a very hectic week.”

“I know what you mean. I have spent the past few years certain that one of my sons would be killed by some criminal,” she said heavily. “They work at such dangerous jobs, like my late husband.”

“They're very good at what they do,” Joceline said gently. “And very careful.”

“Yes. You're right.” She smiled. “I worry too much.” She looked down at her coffee. “I made a decision. I hope it was the right one.” She looked up. “Jon will need you, very much.”

Joceline wondered at the phrasing, but Cammy quickly changed the subject.

Cammy took them home in a cab and paid for it, ignoring Joceline's protests. “It was my fault, all of it,” she said gently. “This is the least I can do.”

“Thank you.”

Cammy studied her quietly. “You love my son.”

Joceline clammed up. “He's my boss. Of course I'm…fond of him.”

Cammy's dark eyes had narrowed. The little boy holding Joceline's hand was suddenly so familiar to her that she felt a pang of terrible conscience. He did act so much like Jon, at that age…

She was adding up facts. Jon's date with Joceline years ago at a party where he'd been drugged, about nine months
before Markie was born; her seemingly out of character behavior to give birth to a child out of wedlock when she was such a religious person; did that add up to something that Cammy hadn't seen?

She felt a pang of conscience for the things she'd said to and about this brave young woman. She had another secret of her own that she couldn't share with anyone. She was walking into a very great danger that she hadn't confided even to her own sons. She hoped she was doing the right thing. She'd been reluctant at the time; she hadn't been too well-disposed toward this young woman and her child. Now she felt better about the decision. It was going to be painful for other people, as well. But if it would save a life…

She didn't let on about her suspicions. She simply smiled, and waved, with one last, lingering look at Markie, and let the cabdriver take her to a hotel room she'd reserved. She leaned her head back against the seat, thinking silently.

When she got to the hotel, she had company just briefly. She was told what to do, and when. But before she followed the instructions, she called McKuen.

“What do you know about Joceline's son?” she asked bluntly.

“Nothing I'd ever tell you, Cammy,” he replied with equal bluntness.

“I went to see her. She had to take her little boy to the hospital because of me,” she added with some shame. “I never felt so guilty about anything.”

McKuen relaxed a little. “That was nice.”

“Jon threw me out of the house,” she added sadly. “He wasn't even speaking to me when I left. I sent my young friend home, Charlene, you know. I remembered the little boy trying to breathe because I upset him so much. I was sorry for what I did. I wanted to try to make it up to Joceline and her child, so I called her apartment and when she wasn't there, I figured out what must have happened, so I called hospitals until I found them. That man made threats. Will she and the child be safe in her apartment?”