Final Table
Page 21
Blackmore Agency. Austin.
IT WAS LATE when Annie pulled through the gate onto Blaine’s newly expanded property to drop Jack off.
“Come on in for a beer, Annie. The boss will be freaked out if you don’t come in and see him.”
Annie blew out a breath. “Okay, just one. I’m ready for bed.”
“We should have stopped half way home instead of pushing it through,” said Jack. “Would have been easier.”
“I have work to do,” said Annie. “I need to be home.”
Lexi barked and greeted them in the front hall, and as soon as she was inside, Blaine grabbed her in a hug.
“I’m so glad you came in, Mom. It seems like I haven’t seen you in a week.”
Annie pushed Blaine’s black hair out of his eyes. “Is that Jackson’s coat on the hook?”
“He’s sleeping over and tomorrow we’re going to get a couple of new fish. I said he could have one of his own.”
“He’ll love that.”
Blaine slipped his arm around her waist and herded her into the kitchen. “Farrell and I are having a couple of beers. Misty went to bed already and so did Carm.”
Annie sat down at the table and Farrell fetched her a beer from the Sub-Zero.
“Did Santana get back to his club okay?” asked Blaine. “I had my mind on my case and didn’t really catch why you and Jack had to go out of town.”
Jack nodded. “All turned out well. All cleaned up.”
Farrell rolled his blue eyes.
Annie relaxed and enjoyed her beer with the boys. She hadn’t had any down time for weeks, and when she did have a moment to herself she stressed about Jesse.
“Hey, I thought I heard people partying in the kitchen while I was trying to sleep,” said Travis. He focused on Annie. “I didn’t know you were coming, Annie-girl.”
“Just bringing Jack home. How are you managing, Travis?”
“Good. I’m back to work half days and feeling tons better.”
“I thought… never mind.”
“You thought I’d be going to Ginny’s like everybody else. Nope. This was the right choice for me. A faster recovery and I can keep up to date with what’s happening.”
Jack finished his beer, stood up and stretched. “Long day. I’m sacking out people.”
“Good night, Jack,” said Annie. “Thanks for everything.”
“Mom, you look tired,” said Blaine. “Why don’t you sleep here tonight? Jacks will be so surprised when he gets up in the morning and sees you.”
“I do have a bag in the truck from my trip. I guess I could if you want me to.”
Blaine beamed a smile. “I do want you to. You’ve never stayed at my house before.”
“Give me your keys, Mom,” said Farrell, “I’ll go get your bag.”
“Thanks, sweetheart. This will be fun. A sleepover with my boys.”
EPILOGUE
Blackmore Agency. Austin.
BLAINE worked in his office for the following week, wrapping up details of the case and filling out reports for the Chief.
Some of the items stolen during the robberies were found at the Triple-D Auction house, identified by the forensic techs and put into evidence—to be returned to the rightful owners at a later date.
Mrs. Brennan’s jewelry was recovered to her delight and as a way of thanks, she invited Misty to give readings to a small exclusive group of her friends.
Danny Diaz was released from Saint Michael’s Hospital and transferred to the infirmary at Travis County Jail where he awaited his trial in the lockup. Ballistics confirmed that the gun belonging to Danny Diaz was the gun used to kill both Mrs. Melanchuck and Juanita Andrews.
Blaine was notified of trial dates for Marko Balboa, and Pedro Vasquez, both charged with attempted murder.
Tana Nichol’s fingerprints were found on several of the stolen items recovered from the auction house and she was re-arrested and charged with armed robbery. The business she ran, Austin Security Pros, was closed down.
Sybil Richards, the receptionist for Triple-D Auctions professed to know nothing about stolen goods being cleared through the auction house. She claimed to be horrified to find she was working for thieves and murderers. She wasn’t charged but lost her job when the auction house was closed down.
Jackson picked out a Koi and placed it lovingly in Blaine’s pond with the others. He calls Carm twice a day to inquire about his fish.
I sincerely hope you enjoyed Final Table, book eight in the Blackmore Agency Series. If you would like to continue to book nine in the series, Cat, I’ve included some pages for you.
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Author Notes from Carolina:
December 31st.
Final Table is the last in the first group of Blackmore books – all with Blaine on the cover. The next eight will have covers by various artists but the characters will remain the same.
With Christmas behind us and a new year beginning it’s the perfect time to add more tolerance and kindness to our lives. Take time out to enjoy every day.
A special thank you to the fans who take the time to reach out and share their ideas, support, and opinions. You know who you are, Holly, Lynn, Dorothy, Shelley, Diane, Wendy, Shirley and Freda, Dawn, Alice, Billy and Melinda, Jim and Gayle, Ava, Terry and Celestia to name a few.
To access my author page on Amazon and see all my books published to date, click here.
Carolina Mac is the author of fifty books in four different series and a serial called Kin. The Regulators Biker series, The Quantrall PI series, The Paradise Park series and The Blackmore Agency series.
Carolina lives with her family in Ontario, Canada.
CHAPTER ONE
January 19th.
Judge Campbell’s Residence. West Austin.
The night before.
CAT stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. A few more lines around her eyes than she’d like and a few too many freckles across her nose. A good cover-up would fix that. No gray hair, at least not yet. Still dark red with lots of natural highlights. The gray might be on its way—coming in fast and furious after tomorrow.
Forty-seven years old and tomorrow she’d be the new Governor of Texas. And after the swearing-in ceremony and the dinner and all of the formal hoop-de-do, she’d be moving to the Governor’s mansion on Colorado Street. Some pretty impressive people had lived there before her. Sam Houston, George W. Bush, Miriam Ferguson. Would she measure up? Or would she show the people of Texas they’d made a horrible mistake?
Was she ready for her new life? A life where every move she made, every word she spoke in public, every outfit she wore would be recorded, filmed, photographed, judged and open to public scrutiny.
Frightening—that’s what it was. From tomorrow morning on, her life would be an open book. She had to assure that it would be a book she wouldn’t be ashamed to have people read. Funny when it came down it, how much did it matter what anybody thought of her? Only one person’s opinion counted anymore. Why?
Tomorrow would be a long and stressful day and sleep was what she needed most—if sleep was possible, she was so wound up. Her cell rang in the bedroom and she hurried out of the ensuite to grab it from her dressing table. “Hi.”
“Can I come over?”
“Not a good idea. There could be media people already stationed outside watching the house.”
“I’ll be discreet. No one will see me. Leave the garden doors unlocked in the dining room.”
“Umm… I need sleep before my big day tomorrow. I don’t want to be on flat screens all over the US with bags under my eyes.”
“I’ll see that you get plenty of sleep. Plus, I’ll supply other necessities you need and…enjoy.”
The Blackmore Agency. Austin.
BLAINE sat in his office staring at the e-mails on his screen. He ran the Blackmore Agency from his renovated Victorian mansion located in the East Cesar Chavez area of the city of Austin, and on any given day he received hundreds of e-mails. From Powell Corp., the billion-dollar business he ran with his mother, Annie, dozens from Powell and Associates—his legal firm left to him by his step-father, (now expanded to three branches), and from The Blackmore Agency, his and Jesse Quantrall’s effort against violent crime in Texas.
A gentle tapping sounded on the closed door, then Misty stuck her head in. “Are you busy, sweetheart? What do you think of this one?”
This is the fourth dress she’s modelled for me.
“Looks gorgeous on you, sweetheart. I love you in blue with your long, blonde curls.”
She twirled around once and smiled.
“Do you know what Cat’s wearing?” he asked.
Misty inhaled a little too quickly. “I should have found that out first, shouldn’t I?” She moved closer to the desk, the way only Misty moved—floating silently on air like a hovercraft in a female body—unnerving to anyone not aware of her powers. “Can you call her?”
Blaine laughed. “You’re kidding me, right?”
“She’s your best friend. She dotes on you.”
Blaine shook his long black hair and his bandana flopped onto the desk. “No, she doesn’t.” He glanced at the time on his computer. Ten after ten. He picked up his cell and it rang in his hand. It startled him.
“Hey, sweetie, I’m nervous. Just wanted to hear your voice.”
“Don’t tell me, I’m the grounding factor in your world.”
“Something like that.”
“What are you wearing tomorrow?”
Cat giggled. “Why? Are we wearing matching outfits?”
“It’s not me that’s concerned. Misty doesn’t want to be arrested by the fashion police.”
“Green is my best color.”
“Red hair, green eyes. I got it.”
“What color is Mrs. Powell wearing?”
“Damned if I know. She wears whatever she wants and has never once consulted me,” said Blaine.
“She has an unlimited budget,” said Cat. “That fact alone makes me nervous.”
“I don’t think you’re exactly starving, and why are you worrying? Is there going to be some red-carpet bullshit I don’t know about?”
Cat giggled again, and Blaine thought he could hear somebody talking to her in the background.
“I better go, sweetness. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You will.”
Coulter-Ross Ranch. La Grange.
ANNIE sat at the kitchen island enjoying a beer with Declan. On staff the past few years as her medic, he tended to illnesses and injuries of the boys in the safe-house who were unable to leave the property because of their paroles.
“Did you try your tux on, sugar pop?” asked Annie.
“They measured me in the shop,” said Dec. “I’m sure it will be a perfect fit, and why worry? No one looks at the men anyway. Why would they with all the glam that will be going on? What are you wearing or is it a surprise to all of Texas?”
Annie giggled. “Doesn’t matter what I wear, all eyes will be on Judge Catherine Campbell, the new Governor.”
“Hope it isn’t four years of hell for young Blaine,” said Dec. “He’s the one who has to work with her.”
“I wasn’t happy when he committed to her publicly on TV,” said Annie, “but it might work out. She doesn’t give off a trustworthy vibe—at least not to me.”
“Tomorrow’s her first day. Let’s give the lady a chance before we burn her at the stake.”
“Yeah, Let’s.” Annie tipped up her Lone Star and finished it. “Let’s have another one.”
“Your wish…” Dec winked at her.
“Jesse will be going,” said Annie, as she pulled two more Lone Stars out of the Sub-Zero. “He’s part of the Blackmore Agency and he’ll have to be there.”
“Will his presence bother you?”
“Not much. I’ll always love Jesse, even though he’s never gotten his act together as my husband, my lover, or even my boyfriend, many moons ago. He has no clue how to have a relationship. He loves me, but he insists on living at his own ranch and raising his daughter over there. Can I accept that? Not really, but there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. I can’t leave fifty people stranded over here at Coulter-Ross without jobs or a home.” Annie shrugged. “What am I going to do?”
Declan grinned. “You’re going to forget about Jesse Quantrall and show me what you’re wearing tomorrow. Judge Catherine Campbell will come in second no matter how she tries to steal the show.”
Quantrall Ranch. Giddings.
JESSE tucked Charity into her crib and read her a story. She had turned one in October, and was only beginning to say a few words, but Jesse felt it was important to read to her to get her used to a bedtime routine. And he also did it because it was Annie’s routine with Jackson and Lucy, and Charity had become part of it when they lived at Coulter-Ross. Should he have stayed there with his wife and raised his daughter there, or was he correct in thinking, Charity should be raised on Quantrall land—land that would belong to her someday?
He was busy today with horses in the arena and hadn’t phoned Annie to see if they were going together to Judge Campbell’s inauguration.
Should he call her now? He’d better. He switched off the light in Charity’s room and moved next door into his own bedroom, sat on the end of the bed and scrolled to Annie’s number. She answered on the second ring.
“Hey, cowboy, what’s up?”
“I wondered about tomorrow. The inauguration, I guess I’m expected to go,” he said, “I’m on the list of the Blackmore Agency people. Are we going together?”
“Sure, can do,” said Annie with no hesitation. “Dec is going as my escort because I’m invited, and I didn’t want to go alone, but come over and we’ll all go together.”
I didn’t call and now she’s going with Dec.
“I should have called earlier in the week, sweetheart. I’m sorry, I didn’t think of it.”
“No problem. It’s not like it will be a fun night at Boots or anything. We just have to tolerate it and see it through for Blaine.”
“For a little while there a few months back, I didn’t think he was going to support her,” said Jesse. “They were having words.”
“I’m not a big fan of the red-head,” said Annie, “but I don’t have to work with her.”
Jesse chuckled. “What time should I come over?”
The Blackmore Agency. Austin.
BLAINE had a little impromptu meeting in the kitchen after Misty went upstairs to bed. She had her own house and didn’t officially live with him, but she was there most of the time, along with her dog, Hoodoo, a big Bernese Mountain dog.
Farrell sat down at the table with a beer in his hand. “What’s up. Nice of you to wait until the game was over, bro.”
Blaine’s foster brother, Farrell Donovan, lived and worked with him. They were hardly ever separated. Lately, Farrell had been working out like a madman—since his breakup with Mary Polito—and had bulked up considerably. His weight was close to two hundred now. Six feet tall with long sandy hair, the two of them looked nothing alike.
There were several other members on the Agency team, but they lived elsewhere.
“Did you ask Mary to be your date for the inauguration?” asked Blaine.
“Uh huh, I did. Not so much for the date thing, but I thought she would want to have the inside track to write the whole thing up for her column in the paper.”
“I agree. She can get a more personal take on the whole process if she’s there as an invited guest and not part of the press mob.”
“That’s what I told her.”
Farrell nodded. “We are, but it’s better this way. Never gonna be any different for us. She wants to get married and have a family because she’s close to thirty. I’m twenty-three, and I’m not ready. The age difference is never gonna change.” Farrell tipped up his beer. “Same for you and Misty. That’s why you had your last breakup. Same thing.”
Blaine nodded. It was the same. He was fond of Misty, and thought he might love her, but she was too old for him. Farrell was right. It would never change.
CHAPTER TWO
January 20th.
Inauguration Day.
Judge Campbell’s Residence. West Austin.
CAT was awake before dawn pacing the floor in her room and wearing a path in the carpet. Her nerves were on edge and she wanted a drink but knew she couldn’t have one. There would have to be a lot of changes in her personal life if the next four years were to be successful. Self-sacrifice and hard work were the watchwords.
And not a lot of sex or a lot of partners. Ugly rumors could spring up and swirl around the Capitol and kill any chance she might have of re-election. Re-election? She laughed out loud. Here she was thinking of running again, and she didn’t even have day one under her belt.
Reggie wanted to get married and that might be the best thing. If she had a husband—even one she didn’t love—there would be no rumors about her love interests or who she was seeing—no fifty shades of fantasy in the Governor’s mansion for the media to sensationalize. She’d have to rethink his proposal as a safety measure and a means to an end.
First, she’d run it by Blaine. He was her sounding board and her lifeline. Blaine didn’t know about her affair with Reggie, and she had to tell him—soon. Reg worked for Blaine—one of his attorneys at Powell and Associates—and if Blaine—she called him ‘the short fuse’—found out before she told him, there would be another blowup and yet another trust issue. The boy was big on trust. She’d found that out the hard way.