by E B Corbin
"What gun?"
"Don't play dumb with me. The shotgun this old lady had earlier!" Sean jerked Roxy's arm with his left hand while his right kept the knife against her throat.
Even though Roxanne knew the shotgun lay hidden behind the sofa, she shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know."
"Sure you do." A deeper jab with the knife made more blood spurt from Roxy's neck. He tugged her closer. "Get it, now! I'm not fooling around here. Move before she dies!"
Roxanne saw her mother frown and tweak her mouth signaling her daughter not to do it. Roxy dared not shake her head with the knife so close. But, seeing no way out, Roxanne slowly moved toward the sofa. "Take it easy, I'll get it."
"Don't try anythin' fancy. I'm wat-chin' you." Sean's snarl came out garbled.
The shotgun rested on the floor, broken open the way Roxy had left it. Both cartridges shone from the barrel. Roxanne closed the break until a click sounded.
"Hey! Stop what you're doin'!" Sean swung around, keeping Roxy in front of him.
"I couldn't lift it the way it was," Roxanne lied. She at least wanted the advantage of being able to pull the trigger at the first opportunity. But Sean seemed mollified as he fought to keep his eyes open. As the high from whatever he was on started to wane, she hoped he'd grow tired enough to fall asleep.
"Sit it right there." Sean indicated the low-slung coffee table in front of the sofa. She set it down with the barrel facing out so he couldn't grab the handle from his position. Then she backed away.
"Quit movin'!" he shrieked. "Sit on that there chair." He nodded at the chair against the wall as he and Roxy inched toward the coffee table.
"I can't do both," Roxanne argued. "Which do you want me to do? Not move or sit in the chair?"
Confusion filled his bloodshot eyes. "Just... don't move." He kept her in sight as he approached the gun.
When Roxy's knee hit the table, she pushed it a bit further out of reach. Sean swiveled her around then released her elbow while his left arm stretched for the gun. He couldn't snag it without bending his knees, and as he did so, the knife inched away from Roxy's neck.
It allowed Roxy enough space to step forward and kick. Her boot slammed into Sean's bad knee causing him to drop the knife. He collapsed against the table, crying out in pain.
Then she grabbed the shotgun by the barrel and swung the butt into his head, hard and fast. Sean crumpled to the floor.
Roxanne ran toward the teenager on the floor. "Christ! Did you kill him?"
"No, of course not," Roxy harrumphed. "If he called me an old lady one more time, I swear... "
The consequence of her sudden maneuver caught up with her; she put a hand on her lower back with a grimace.
Once again, Sean was tied to the straight-backed chair when the law enforcement agents came to retrieve him. Pete and Tiffany apologized profusely for not informing them sooner that they hadn't located the teenager. If the two women had known, they would have been better prepared.
Callahan showed up not long afterwards. He took one look at the congealing blood on Roxy's neck. "You need to get to a hospital."
"No, thank you," Roxy said. "I hate hospitals."
"You might need stitches," Roxanne put in.
"Bleeding's stopped. I'm not going."
Callahan grinned at Roxanne. "Like mother, like daughter."
She gave up and grabbed her coat. This called for another trip to the police station. It was like returning to a dentist's office after a root canal. No way to avoid it.
The sheriff stood joking with Gertie when they traipsed in. Sean's limp grew worse with every step, while a raw lump blazed on the side of his forehead. With his stooped shoulders he resembled the Hunchback of Notre Dame and looked more broken down than a geriatric patient.
The smile left Walters face. "Call Cummings," he ordered Gertie and signaled Callahan to his office.
Pete locked Sean in the empty cell in the two-cell jailhouse. Roxanne and her mother waited under Gertie's disapproving eye until the sheriff and Callahan joined them some time later.
The sheriff frowned as he stood to one side with his hands hooked on his belt. With his shoulders thrown back the buttons on his shirt strained to the bursting point. Roxanne thought she heard one pop.
Callahan cleared his throat. "We discussed the latest developments with Sean's father," he began. "It took some convincing but because of the additional charges against his son and the fact that the kid is high on meth, the mayor finally agreed that the boy needs a wake-up call."
Walters took over. "Roxanne, if you drop the civil suit in the rape, Mayor Cummings has consented to pay Sandy's tuition at the college or university of her choice. He'll cover tuition, room and board and give her spending money for at least four years or until she completes her degree."
The offer was better than Roxanne had expected and she also knew Sandy would be thrilled at keeping the rape private and off the record. Hopefully, Ruthie would feel the same. "I'll discuss it with my client and get back to you."
"Don't take too long," Walters said. "Cummings could change his mind."
Roxy huffed. "Well, if he does, I hope he's prepared to defend his son against an attempted murder charge." Her fingers circled the gauze Roxanne had insisted on wrapping around her neck.
"About that," the sheriff said. "I told him there was no way we could overlook Sean's behavior any longer. I'll book him and let the judge and jury decide the outcome. Cummings agreed. Said it was the best way to get Sean in rehab and maybe save his life. The boy's hooked on meth and Cummings knows it."
"How do you know it's meth?" Roxy asked.
"Because the Staties have had a problem with labs popping up around here. The high school kids make perfect consumers--they're dumb enough to think it's a lark." Walters shook his head in disgust, then clapped his hands. "So are we agreed? I'll book Sean on two counts of aggravated assault, two counts of firearms violations and one count of arson. Some of them may not stick since he's a juvenile, but I think it's enough to make any judge think twice before granting bail."
"We can add in a few federal firearms offenses, too. Sean's not going to walk on this." Callahan casually wrapped his fingers around Roxanne's hand. "I think it's safe to say he's going to be buttoned down for some time."
The sheriff stepped back. "Now if you folks will excuse me, my jail just filled up and I have some paperwork to attend to."
A cell phone dinged and everyone made a move for their pockets. Roxy held hers up first. "It's Conor and Niall. They're back and want to know why I'm not home." She tucked the phone in her coat pocket. "I'd better be on my way. I need a ride."
"Take Roxanne's car," Callahan said. "I'll drop her at the B&B."
Roxanne bristled at the suggestion but decided to let it pass. She had unfinished business with Callahan--personal business that she'd put off far too long.
Pete nodded at the sheriff and said he'd be back for his midnight shift, while the others caravanned out of the parking lot.
At the B&B, Puka greeted them at the door with a bark. The golden retriever leapt on Roxanne with unrestrained joy. At least there was no doubt how the dog felt about her after all this time. She let him lick her face as she stroked his shaggy head before Gabe pulled him away.
He and Kate were eager to hear the latest. By the time they were filled in and their questions answered, dinner was ready. Kate had kept the lasagna and garlic bread warm while waiting for their return. Although the dinner conversation was lighthearted for a change, the agents dominated the discussion with tales of their past exploits and threw verbal jabs at Gabe for his bad arm and the sling he wore.
Lost in thought, Roxanne jolted when Callahan took her hand and led her into the hall. "I'm going back to Chester's place."
She hesitated before taking a deep breath, then blurted, "Don't go."
His eyes widened. "All the available rooms here are taken."
"You can stay in mine." She kept her voice low so the others wouldn
't hear.
He hesitated as he stared into her eyes. "Are you sure?"
With a nod, she glanced away from him, bracing herself for his rejection.
The refusal didn't come. Instead, Callahan called his good nights to all and led her up the stairs.
Her hand wavered at her first attempt to fit the key in the lock. Callahan stepped close and steadied it. When the door opened she felt the warmth of his palm on the small of her back, lightly urging her forward. He closed the door and raised his eyebrows. "You can change your mind if you want."
She shook her head. "No. I'm tired of pushing you away." A forbidding thought strayed into her head. "Have you changed yours?"
"Are you kidding? I've wanted you since I first saw you standing in the creek beside your car. So annoyed and hapless, covered in white powder from the airbag, looking like a fallen angel. And nothing's changed my first impression. What about you? Why did you change your mind? This isn't a pity fuck, is it?"
"What? No, definitely not." She licked her lips for a long moment, needing to come up with a sensible reply. "I guess I realized that I shouldn't let what happened in the past take control of my future. It's stupid of me to push away something that could be... interesting."
"That's it?" Callahan shook his head then raised his arms and let them drop to his side. "I was hoping for something a little more than interesting."
Roxanne realized she was making a mess of explaining herself. "Okay, how about fantastic?"
"That's better. Though mind-bending or awesome would be preferable."
She laughed. "Maybe that too."
Callahan pulled her close and lowered his lips to hers. His mouth knew what he wanted and how to get it. With a possessive slide of tongue, he backed her against the door, his hand caressing her beneath her sweater. She met his every move with one of her own. Her hand slipped down to his jeans, delighting in the throbbing she felt below his belt.
He broke the kiss and brushed her hair away from her face. "You're beautiful."
"Is that all?" she teased. "How about sexy, smart and gorgeous?" Her hand continued to graze over the growing bulge in his jeans.
"All that, too," he said as he swung her away from the wall and walked her backwards toward the bed, his lips never leaving hers while his hands slid around to unfasten her bra.
When her knees hit the bed, they collapsed on it together. He slipped her sweater over her head and tossed the bra aside. He lowered his mouth and gently suckled while she attempted to unsnap his jeans and undo his zipper. She wasn't wasting any more time--she'd waited too long as it was. His zipper was halfway down when an urgent knock came at the door.
"Shit," Callahan groaned. He stilled, then slowly rolled off her.
"Double shit," she said as she reached for her sweater and quickly pulled it over her head. Her bra had landed on the loveseat, too far away to reach from her prone position.
The knock turned into pounding. Tiffany's voice shouted through the door. "C'mon. Open up. You need to hear this!"
They each surveyed the other with longing and regret. Then Callahan stood, fastened his jeans and said, "I guess we'd better answer it."
She sighed as she rose to a sitting position at the edge of the bed and pushed herself up on wobbly legs.
Roxanne barely managed to plop into the loveseat and stuff the telltale bra under the cushion before Tiffany rushed in. She took one look at Callahan's mussed hair and disheveled clothes before she said, "Sorry to interrupt."
"Just tell us what's so important." Callahan ran his hands through his messed-up hair.
"Pete just called," Tiffany began. "When he went to the station to get ready for his shift, he found the sheriff unconscious on the floor by the cell where those two Irish fuckers were being held. Both cell doors were open and all of our prisoners are gone!"
- Epilogue -
The man in the cashmere overcoat stood at the edge of the crowd as the priest droned on about Chester's accomplishments. Waiting for the cleric to finish his boring monologue, the man kept his head bowed.
Statesmen, retired dignitaries and the local hoi polloi, as well as the common folk who were the old man's neighbors and friends, crowded the old cemetery on the hill in honor of Chester Callahan. They all came to pay homage to the person who'd been the bane of the man in the overcoat's existence. Chester had a way of sticking his nose in matters that were none of his business.
A strong wind whipped through nearby trees and whistled through the crowd. When the man pulled his coat collar higher against the cold, it hid his smile. Even though he resented the size of the crowd at the graveside with every pore in his body, he derived some satisfaction from the knowledge that he was closer to realizing his goal.
He'd show these fools. When he got his hands on the money the IRA stashed, he'd be a rich man. No more catering to his co-workers, his friends, or even his soon-to-be ex-wife and her obnoxious offspring.
None of them realized it yet and they wouldn't until he was ready. He couldn't wait to leave this stinking place. His phony passport would allow entry into any South American country he chose. Of course, Venezuela and Ecuador were out of the question. Too much turmoil in Venezuela and too close to those damned Callahans in Ecuador. Belize might be a good choice. Or Argentina. He could buy a cattle ranch in the hills and live like a king. Yes, he was more than ready to claim his due. Free at last!
When the priest finished up with the Our Father and moved to the side, the man in the overcoat caught his first glimpse of the casket. A fitting tribute some would say. He would say just bury the old fool and good riddance.
If only he could be rid of that annoying bitch, Roxy O'Hara and her daughter. Eliminating them from the scene too soon, though, would be counterproductive. Roxy had to know where the money was stashed. Hadn't she been part of the IRA for years? But she acted all holier- than-thou and claimed to not know anything. He'd see about that.
No longer would he rely on those incompetent dregs of the remaining IRA. Through his old IRA contact, he managed to throw suspicion on the organization for retrieving the money. His contact swallowed the story about using the cash to open a training camp in the wilds of Pennsylvania. The man in the overcoat never had any such intention
The IRA had served their purpose, but it was time for new players.
From now on, he would use his own people. They could deal with Roxy and those pitiful old Irish friends of hers who were still hanging around. Roxy had to know about the money when it first came over. Even if she lost track of it in the intervening years, she was still his best bet to locating it.
The hell with attempting to be covert. He'd be long gone before anyone made the connection. Of course, in the meantime, he would keep up the charade.
He noticed those two Irishmen arrive and hurry to Roxy. One of them leaned over to whisper in her ear. Even though her expression never changed, the man in the overcoat unobtrusively stepped closer. The wind helped him once more as it carried the Irishman's words to him.
What he overheard caused his eyes to narrow and brought a small, tight smile to his lips.
Thank You to All
Thanks so much for reading the second book in the Roxanne Boudreaux trilogy. I hope you enjoyed it. If you haven't read the first book, "Too Many Secrets", it is available at Amazon.com. The third and final book, "Too Many Suspects" will be available in May, 2018.
If you would kindly take a minute to leave a review at Amazon.com , it would be greatly appreciated. Reviews are important to an author and I thank you in advance for your opinion on this book.
You can let me know what you think of this book and leave comments about anything on your mind or just say "hi", at the following places:
Email me at [email protected]
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Your comments and reviews are taken seriously. I would love to hear from you!
EB Corbin (Edana Corbin)
Other Books by EB Corbin
Roxanne Boudreaux Trilogy
Too Many Secrets (Book One) available now
Too Many Lies (Book Two) available now
Too Many Suspects (Book Three) available May 2018
