Earth Enchanted (5 page)

Jack took the bag from her. “I’ll give you a lift.”

“I’m sure you have things to see to. It’s no problem to call a taxi.”

“Yeah, sure, except it’s always a problem to call a cab. I’ve kept you, and it’s the least I can do.”

* * * *

Jack’s Camaro roared its way up the drive as he admired her brother’s choice of living space. Roses climbing up the side trellis were a nice touch. He reached the front doorstep, pulled up to the curb, and cut off the engine.

“Thanks for the ride, Jack, and the coffee.” She gathered her purse and bags, while he walked around the car and opened her door.

“This was fun, Olivia. We should do it again before you go back to Ireland.” He held his breath. It was a big step for him. One he hadn’t taken before, and wasn’t sure if he was ready to chance now. “I know you’re visiting your brother and probably don’t have a lot of time, but if you could free up an evening, I’d like to take you to dinner.”

She didn’t let him wonder for long. “I’ve no plans for tomorrow evening. What time should I be ready?” Liv gave him another sunny smile.

“Seven,” he said, and took her free hand in his. Still not being entirely sure of himself, but not ready to slip away, he brushed a kiss across her knuckles. The familiar nature of the kiss, one he might have given a grandmother, shouldn’t have disturbed him, but he found himself wanting to run. Toward her or away? He couldn’t be sure.

“I’ll see you then.” He didn't drive away until she was safely inside.

* * * *

Liv stepped inside the house, closed the door, and then leaned against it until her heart leveled out. She walked into the kitchen, still rubbing her fingers where he’d kissed them. Ryan was already there, trying to act like he’d been cooking, but he’d been watching her and Jack through the kitchen window. The room gave off an aura—or was that smoke from burning meat?—of black and brown she didn’t think she’d seen before. Chicken? Well, it smelled like chicken anyway. Maybe it should be buried.

“Ryan, what are you torturing in that skillet? Here.”

He took the book she shoved at him, forcing a grin, but she wasn’t fooled and set that aside for later.

“A cookbook? ‘One Hundred and One Almost Gourmet Meals for Dummies.’ Very funny.” At least it brought a smile to his face. “That bad, huh?”

“I went shopping at the bookstore and that was the first to catch my eye. You study, boy-o. I’ll cook.” The time spent with Jack had put her in a good mood, so she really wasn’t trying to pry, much. It was hard, when she could see could see how worried he was.

She dumped the chicken he’d been cooking, got out fresh, and started over. Maybe it didn’t have anything to do with his job. Perhaps a woman was causing him sleepless nights? Nah, she didn’t think so. She hadn’t seen signs of that anywhere. Yes, she’d looked. Was he still pining over Kate? That had been years before, but she could see that having a lot to do with it. So she was curious, it wasn’t a crime. Still, she couldn’t shake the thought that he was in real trouble, and didn’t want to involve her. Too bad, she was already involved.
I’m family, am I not? We stick, and I’ll not go back until this is settled.

“Where have you gone to, Livvy?”

She fumbled for an excuse. “Just nowhere at all. I was thinking about a conversation I had with another author I met today.”

* * * *

So Mr. Macho in the muscle car was a writer. His attention caught, Ryan glared at her with slit eyes. “What? I thought you went shopping.”

“I did, and they were having a book signing. Don’t you pay attention to what’s going on around you? Anyway, as I was late getting there and me being a writer as well, he asked me to go for coffee. So we went.”

He stood so quickly that the chair flew backward and fell over. The abrupt movement caused Liv to jump back in defense and lose the knife she was using to cut up the chicken.

Was she crazy?

“Let me get this straight. You went out for coffee with someone you just met in a bookstore. I should be the last one to have to remind you how many psychotic maniacs are out there! You could have been killed. Or far worse you could have been raped and maimed and left alive! Have you no more common sense than that, Liv?”

As soon as he said the words he knew he’d overreacted. Liv didn’t know he was watched from all sides, that because of him, she could be in danger. His mind took a mental step backward as he asked himself the question. Why hadn’t he thought of that when he’d called and ask her to come?

Never one to back down from a fight, Liv threw the chicken into the sink with a wet plop.

“I don’t have to answer to you!” she shouted back at him. “You’re the one being ridiculous over a bloody cup of coffee. He’s harmless. I’m not a baby, Ryan. I know how to look out for myself.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and stalked to the window. It was the only way he could keep from strangling her. “Sure, you do, but you’ve only been here two days. You can’t just go running off with strange people.”

“How dare you talk to me like a child? I’ll do what I like, Ryan Michael Corrigan.”

He winced at her use of his full name. Didn’t only mothers do that to strike fear?

“…When I like and you can make what you want of him tomorrow evening.”

“Why?”

“We’re going to dinner. He’ll be here at seven. I expect you to be decent to the man.”

“You’ll break the date. He could be dangerous.”

Liv growled at him. “You listen to me. I will not. If I want to go, I’ll go. If I decide to have an illicit affair or elope I’ll let you know if I feel like it. No man, brother, father, lover or friend, tells me how to live my life. Ma raised me better than that, and you too.” Both their tempers were winding down now. The tears were starting to come on her part, and the guilt washed over him, just like it always did. He couldn’t help being overprotective. He’d been just shy of twenty when their father had died. She’d been fifteen and he’d slid into that father figure role.

“What’s his name?”

“Jack Roarke. You won’t do anything that will make me want to torture you?”

Was it possible to turn the blood cold with a breath? Yeah, he knew Jack Roarke all right. Why had she had to run into him, of all the people in the world? He’d have rather it been a killer than him.

“I mean it. He’s been hurt badly, and you won’t be adding to that.”

By me, he thought. Ryan knew every detail the press leaked, and some they didn’t.

“I’m sorry, Liv. You’ve come to visit, and we’re already fighting.”

“Just like home, isn’t it? You’re forgiven, just don’t be a jerk.” She went back to cooking dinner.

They ate in silence, Ryan still thinking about all that had happened and what she didn’t know.

Ryan sat alone in his dark study, and waited. The call would come at midnight, exactly. He knew it, expected it to come. It was never late. He had the ringer switched off, of course, so it wouldn’t wake Liv. When the caller ID flashed green, he picked up the receiver, and spoke quietly into the phone.

“I’m here.”

“Do you have the lady?” the man on the line asked. His voice seemed to come through sand.

“I have her, and she’s safe.” It was what he always said, meaning he picked up the Madonna statue, and she was hidden.

“Ground her for two weeks, and then bring her to the usual place.”

“Yes, sir.” He just wanted this conversation over so he could go on with life for another day and pretend everything would be okay. If only he had something useful to hand over, maybe he could squeeze his way out of this mess. The broken silence interrupted his whining.

“Corrigan, I don’t have to remind you to come alone, or not to involve anyone else, do I? Remember the last time?” The man was laughing at him, the sickening sound of someone who knew what it was to murder and reveled in it. “Yes I can see you do. You dug her grave nice and deep with that little call, and ruined a great many lives in the process. You didn’t even manage to do anything to help yourself either, so I’d think twice before trying again.”

His skin iced cold while his stomach wrenched itself into knots. “I remember. It will not happen again.” Another pause left the dread hanging in the air.

“No, this time I’ll make sure it will matter to you.”

Temper struck in full force when his tormentor scoffed at that young life lost. “It did matter. She didn’t deserve what you did to her.”

“Take care not to raise your voice to me. I only have so much patience for fools. Your mother’s garden is nice this time of year. She plants something new every day...”

Ryan sunk into the chair at the thought of losing his mother.

“And your brother haunts those brooding cliffs that overlook the sea, sits for hours with a brush in hand and never paints a thing, just stares. Quite boring, that one, though according to my sources he maintains an interesting string of Irish lasses at his beck and call.”

He’d known his family would be targeted if he tried to escape again.

“But no, I don’t think I’ll have to go that far, will I? You’ve made things nice and tidy. Olivia is a beautiful woman. I won’t let her die easy. No, I think I will have my fill of her first. Can you see her begging for her death, Corrigan? You remember that, because her breath will be gone before I will grant her request for mercy.”

Ryan could see the picture clear in his mind, her pretty dark hair soaked with blood, eyes staring blindly. He’d not be the cause of anyone’s death, never again. No, he’d do what he was told until death caught him, or God saw fit to save his miserable soul. “I won’t try anything. There’s no need to hurt her.”

A reply didn’t come. The line had gone dead.

One minute later, he picked up the receiver again.

“Corrigan, you have a clear line.”

He took a deep breath and prayed what he said wouldn’t kill someone he loved. Words hold so much power, he thought. “The drop went as planned. I have the lady. I’m supposed to hold the statue two weeks, then give it to the guy who picks it up.”

“Good, keep to the plan. We’re going to get this guy.” Federal Agent Gabriel Spiller was a very goal-oriented type of man, and it was making his life hell.

“He threatened my family. My sister’s staying with me, and I know he’ll make good on his threat. He has before. I want out!” Ryan shouted into the mouthpiece. “I know he ordered the hit on that cop, dead because of me.”

“I don’t have to tell you how deep you’re in, too deep to back out now. This was your choice. I could have you doing time, but in exchange for your cooperation you’re a free man. As free as you’ll get until this is over. I couldn’t put guards on you or your sister or they’d know you’d been talking to the authorities. My hands are unfortunately tied. Get me something on him, and if you want your family to stay breathing, do it fast. That’s the only help I can give you. Follow his instructions, and mine.”

The line went dead, again.

* * * *

Sleep wouldn’t come. Eyes that were so like another’s she’d just met haunted her dreams. Why couldn’t she get him out of her head? Liv had tried to work, but everywhere she turned in her mind, Jack was there.

Macy’s story refused to flow from her mind and onto the screen. Liv thought she’d forever be caught in limbo. Screaming in the hands of a madman, with him poised on the brink of delivering the deathblow. No, the story would end eventually.

She guessed the part of her mind that wrote wasn’t ready to end it. Did we ever really know the end of a tale? Or do those who we create in our minds go on forever in the ether of the unwritten page? How would her own life story end if she could read the last page first? She could die tomorrow, or she might fall asleep one night in her old age. Things like that hadn’t bothered her until today. She was thankful for the time she was given on this earth, and tried to do the best she could with it. So why was she suddenly so discontent? He was the problem. Jack Roarke had sneaked into her head with his troubled puppy-dog eyes. She wondered what had happened for his wife to die so young. Why did he seem so reclusive, despite his forward behavior toward her? For now, she could do nothing but wait and see what the next day would bring.

Chapter 6

Liv chose the floaty blue dress she’d caught on sale. Her dark hair fell in untamed rioting curls to her waist. Playing her make-up down to a minimum, she let her natural features shine. He’d be there in ten minutes, and she was wrecked on the inside. No sleep, no work to filter her troubles into. Maybe this hadn’t been a good idea. She’d never been good at the dating thing, which was why she kept to herself usually.