Callahan's Fate (10 page)

Cal shifted his hand to the small of her
back, and they moved toward the street without a word.
 
Once outside, she drew a long breath of fresh
air and exhaled.
  
He took her hand and
moved out of the way of the other pedestrians.
 
“Don’t let this spook you,” he told her.

She managed a shaky laugh. “It’s hard
not to, Callahan.
 
Now I feel like we
both have targets painted on our backs.”

“We don’t.
 
Snake’s stoned and probably won’t remember
anyway.
 
C’mon, forget about it.
 
You
wanna
go back
to the beach for a while?”

“No, it looks like it might rain again.”
It did, but besides, the trio of thugs had headed that direction.

He shot her a glance so piercing that
Raine
knew she hadn’t fooled him one bit. “Okay, so how’s
about visiting the New York Aquarium?
 
It’s not far and I think you’d like it, unless you just want to go home
or something.”

Raine
would rather
spend more time with him, and from the grin teasing at the corners of his
mouth, he knew it. “I would like it a lot, so sure, let’s go.”

They whiled away the rest of the
afternoon enjoying the exhibits, and the rain held off long enough so they saw
all of it, including the sea lion show.
 
Neither said anything more about the unpleasant encounter, and the
harmony they’d experienced on the beach returned.
 
Raine
exclaimed
over the fish and animals, Callahan laughed at them and at her, but with such
tenderness he had her smitten by the end of the day.
 

On the train home, the easy rhythm of
the cars rocked her into a delicious drowsiness, and she rested her head
against his shoulder, afraid she’d fall asleep.
 
Cal seemed almost as somnolent as she felt, and they didn’t say much
until they reached her station.
 
He
walked her to the door, and this time, after some frantic tidying in the early
morning hours,
Raine
invited him to come in for a while.

Her narrow kitchen and the tiny room
combining bedroom with living area had never seemed smaller.
 
Callahan filled it with his presence and
physical size.
 
He glanced out at her limited
view over the street below,
then
he turned and pulled
her into his embrace.
 
Cal kissed her
with an increased intensity.
 
His hands
strayed beneath her shirt, and he fondled her crotch through her jeans.
 
Raine
tightened her
grip on his jacket and let her fingers trail through his hair.
 
When his arms tightened around her, she
shivered as a rush of pleasure swept over her.
 
Lord, but she wanted to make love and decided if he asked, she wouldn’t
refuse.

After they’d kissed and caressed for a
long time, however, Cal broke free.
 
“Aw,
baby, I need to go,” he said. He sounded truly sorry. “You’ve got stuff to do,
and so do I.
 
I’ll see you tomorrow,
though, around five at the Thirty-Fourth Street subway station, right?”

“Right, I’ll be there,” she told
him.
 
She ran her hands down his arms and
across his chest, wanting and needing to touch him.
 
“If you get things done and you’re bored,
call me. Or text me.”

His eyes lit.
 
“All right, I will.
 
I promise.”

Callahan brushed her mouth with another
kiss, this one too brief, and put his hand on the doorknob to leave.
 
“See you later, doll,” he said.

“Bye, Cal,” she answered.

He started through the door as she
stepped forward and touched his back.
 
“Wait.”

“What is it?” He halted in place.

“Promise me you’ll be careful,” she told
him.
 
The brief confrontation with Bull
and his pals brought home to her that he had a dangerous job.
 
When he went out on duty, anything could
happen. “Take care of yourself and be safe, Callahan.”

“I’ll do my best, baby.” He turned
around to face her. “But I can’t make any guarantees, so I won’t.
 
But you give me a reason to stay safe, so
I’ll give it all I got.
 
Good enough?”

“I guess it has to be,”
Raine
said.
 
A
thought struck her.
 
“Have you been hurt
before?”

His forehead creased as he frowned.
 
Cal blew hard through his nose and then he
nodded, once. “Yeah, but don’t worry about me, all right?”

Haunted by images of bloodstained shirts,
the terrible red glare of ambulance lights, and the imagined sound of sirens
echoing through her head,
Raine
shook her head. “I
already do, and I will,” she said.
 
“You
matter to me, and I can’t pretend you don’t.”

He grasped her in a fierce hug and held
her tight.
 
Raine
clung to him seeking comfort, and after a long few moments, Cal kissed her
forehead and released her.

“You watch out, too, baby,” he said and
vanished through the door, leaving her alone.

Her two rooms had never seemed so empty
or small.

Chapter Seven

Callahan strode away from
Raine’s
building with an even step, his back squared and
head held high.
 
If she happened to be
watching, he didn’t want her to see any sign of anxiety or show of
weakness.
 
The chance meeting with Snake
Marsh and company rattled him far more than he cared to admit.
  
He remembered making the arrest and sending
the hard-eyed man to jail, and Marsh wasn’t the first
perp
to toss a few insults his way.
 
He could
and did deal with that.
 
But the incident
reminded him of what happened with Anthony and brought the slow, simmering
guilt he’d tried hard to shed to a boil.
 
If
Raine
were to be hurt or worse, Cal knew
he’d never be able to deal with it.
 
It
would gnaw away at his guts and soul like caustic acid, and in time it would
destroy him.
 

A year and a half later, he still hadn’t
come to terms with Anthony’s death or shed the blame he’d put on his own
head.
 
Aidan had told Callahan it wasn’t
his fault, to grieve, not choke on guilt, but he hadn’t listened.
 
So Aidan put the distance of the continent
between them and moved to Los Angeles.
 
When he died, Callahan paid to have his remains brought home and buried
at Green Wood cemetery in Brooklyn beside Anthony, Grandma, Aunt Birdie, and
their mother.
 
It didn’t provide any
closure, though, and he’d carried a double burden of regret and blame since.

Shay had never pointed any fingers and
welcomed him into her home.
 
The boys—Alex,
Sean, and Timmy—adored him, and he played the generous uncle as often as he
could stand.
 
She intended to be
supportive and kind, but all she did, in his opinion, was heap coals of fire on
his head where they smoldered.

En
route to the
subway, he saw a liquor store and entered.
 
He bought a fifth of Jameson’s fine Irish whiskey, his favorite poison
when he sought oblivion.
 
It always went
down smooth and eased his pain if only for a short span.
 
Some respite was better than none at
all.
 
Callahan resisted drinking until he
reached his apartment.
 
Once inside, he
tossed down his keys, kicked off his shoes, and took the first slug.
 

The liquor traveled down his throat and
impacted his belly with warmth.
 
After a
few more drinks, he began experiencing the effects of it.
 
Some of his tension, his terrible emotion
eased, but most of the fear remained.

 
Caring for
Raine
brought him happiness, but it made him vulnerable, too.
 
Cal hated that because it meant he could be
hurt emotionally.
 
He didn’t give a shit
about
physically
—he would die for
Raine
if a situation warranted—but he doubted his ability
to live with any additional torment.
 
Fear made him mean, and he knew it.
 
If he didn’t take control of himself, sooner or later he would vent on
Raine
and she might walk away.

With a burst of resolve, Callahan put
down the bottle.
 
He screwed the lid back
in place and stared at it.
 
As if she
were present, he heard his Aunt Birdie’s voice in memory, the words as tragic
and powerful as they had been back then. “Buddy, don’t get hooked on anything,
not booze or drugs or even cigarettes,” she had told him.
 
Then she lit one and took a hard drag. “It’s
not worth it, and it’ll destroy you.
 
Be
better than me.
 
Be stronger and braver
and tougher.
 
Do
it for me, kid, and remember.”

 
I wish Aidan had remembered what you said,
Auntie,
he thought.
I wish I’d
reminded him.
 
If I had, maybe he’d still
be alive.

If he allowed himself to start thinking
about his brothers, he’d drain the bottle and go out for another.
 
Callahan resisted and realized he had one
lifeline, one thing to prevent him from getting drunk, one ray of light to
combat the darkness threatening to consume him—
Raine
.

Cal picked up his cell,
then
put it down.
 
What the hell would he say to her? Should he share the truth and tell
her about his brothers? If he did, would she judge him? He reflected on their
conversation on the pier.
 
She said she
wouldn’t.

He yielded and phoned her.
 
When her voice filled his ear, he welcomed
it.
 
“Hey, baby,” he said. “It’s me.”

“I know. So you made it home?”

“Of course I did.”

Although he schooled his voice to sound
normal, he must have failed because her tone changed.

“You sound funny.
 
Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sure, I’m good.” He tried to
sound cheerful.

“I don’t think so,”
Raine
said. “Callahan, what is it?”

“Aw, shit.” His tongue tied into a
knot.
 
Where in hell would he begin to
tell his tale of woe?

“Talk to me,” she told him. “What’s
happened?

When he made no answer, she drew a hard
breath. “Oh, God, did you run into Bull and his bunch or something?”

Her intuition impressed him.
 
Somehow
Raine
understood whatever had messed him up was connected.
 
“That’s close, but not quite,” he said.
 
“What happened earlier, it brought back some
memories, and they’re not good ones, baby.”

“Oh, honey.” Callahan marked the
endearment, the first she’d used toward him.
 
“Is it something about the Marshes, or is it about your brother?”

The question struck his heart like a
well-aimed arrow.
 
Although he resisted
the urge to drain the rest of the bottle, the raw emotion threatened to bring
him down hard.
 
“How do you know that?”
he asked.
 
His voice broke.

“I listen,”
Raine
told him. “From some of the things you said and the way you talked about your
brothers, I figured something had happened and you’d lost at least one of
them.”

Her calm, soft voice with its almost-Southern
flavor usually soothed him, but at the moment she evoked his bitter grief and
heavy guilt.
 
Callahan wanted to rage and
weep simultaneously, but he drew on what willpower he had remaining and didn’t.
“They’re both gone,” he said after a pause. “Anthony and Aidan are dead.”

“Cal, I’m so sorry.
 
I can’t imagine dealing with that kind of
loss.
 
Do you want to talk about it?”

His reply shot from his mouth.
“No!”
 
When she made no reply, he said.
“Yes.
 
I do, and I don’t.
 
If I talk about it, it becomes real and I
have to deal with it.
 
Most of the time,
I’d rather not.
 
But when I don’t…”

“It eats you alive,” she said. “Why,
though?”

Callahan shut his eyes and took the
plunge.
“Because it’s my fault that my brothers are dead,
Raine
.”