Another Man's Son

by Glenys O'Connell

  She was pushing her luck unnecessarily. To go inside Hanover’s house would be to invite a fate worse than death.

  ****

  Ben stopped his car on the soft shoulder of the dirt road, about 50 yards down from the squat wooden house that had to be Hanover’s. No mailbox stood out in front to identify it, but there were no other houses on this side road for several miles and Sheriff Lawton’s directions had been explicit.

  He got out of the car adjusting his gun belt and unfastening the strap, because his law officer’s intuition told him it was a situation where he might just stay healthier if he was armed.

  Reading between the lines of the reports on the assaults Hanover had been charged with had turned his stomach. The victims’ injuries had been viciously and sadistically applied. Reasoning and civilized conversation weren’t always the best tools when dealing with folks like Hanover, and he knew there was nothing like having a weapon within easy reach when all else failed. He saw Kathryn’s car parked in the driveway. So she was here already. He doubted she had any idea just what she could be dealing with.

  He’d deliberately left his vehicle some distance away, intending to get a good look at the lay of the land, unobserved, before confronting Hanover. He hoped for a chance to get inside the house, to get some idea as to whether the boy was there or not, something that might give him grounds for a search warrant. He was counting on the element of surprise and cursed under his breath as he noticed another vehicle parked at the far side of the road, shadowed under an overgrowth of brush.

  Dammit, it looked as though Hanover had company. Noting the license plate, he wondered where one of Hanover’s buddies got the cash for such an expensive vehicle. If Kathryn had interrupted a thieves’ convention… A flash of movement caught his eye. He turned just in time to see a crouching figure run stealthily across the road from behind that stand of trees and scrub brush on the far side near the car.

  The man—hard to tell at such a running crouch but he was sure it was a man—vaulted over the low fence in front of Hanover’s house and disappeared into the scrubby front yard.

  Could that be Hanover himself trying to get the jump on an unexpected visitor? Sweat broke out on the back of his neck. If it wasn’t Hanover, then it was definitely someone who didn’t want their presence announced. He recalled the way his interest in Hanover’s activities had gone out over the airwaves to be heard by all, thanks to Tess, and he started to run toward the building. It was just possible his interest had sparked panic among some of Hanover’s associates and the man himself was in danger. And Kathryn was right in the middle of it!

  Snatches of conversation drifted to him as he crept silently up the driveway under cover of the brush. Then he saw her, standing on the porch, crowded against the porch rail by a large, beefy man who looked like a fighter gone to seed. His heart rate rose. Any sniper worth a damn could easily take out the two of them.

  ****

  She would be damned if she was going to take any more from a thug like Hanover. Kathryn twisted to escape but the movement inadvertently brought her body into closer contact with Hanover’s beer gut, the contact sparking another disgusting leer.

  Angry now, and more than a little afraid, she put both hands on his chest and pushed him backward. The heavyset man staggered a little, throwing back his head and laughing as he steadied himself by grabbing hold of the light jacket she wore. She was startled by a loud pop from behind her, a sense of something whipping past her and then she reared back in horror as Hanover’s face disappeared in a mist of red and a bloom of crimson gore and gray brain matter appeared on the wall and window behind him.

  There was a scream, a single high-pitched note of sheer fear, and some part of her mind registered that it came from her own mouth. Then a familiar voice shouted at her to get down and she obeyed mindlessly, too numb to think for herself.

  Seconds like hours dragged past and she lay on the rotting wood of Bertie Hanover’s front porch, with a very dead Bertie Hanover lying only feet away from her. Don’t think of that, her mind commanded her, and she gladly obeyed, shutting out the horror that lay like a pile of discarded clothes nearby.

  Running footsteps came toward her. Was the gunman making sure Hanover was dead and that there were no witnesses? She held her breath for fear of discovery, gasping and struggling when strong hands pulled her to her feet, only to collapse gratefully against the familiar wall of Ben’s chest. The world spun around her and she welcomed its promise of oblivion.

  “Don’t faint on me now, baby. Just tell me if you’re hurt? I only heard one shot but…” Responding to the concern and panic in Ben’s voice, Kathryn reluctantly shook off the warm inviting blackness. Knuckling away the tears that hovered in her eyes, she shook her head.

  “Thank God,” he breathed into her hair. “When I heard that shot and saw you standing there, such a target…” Ben couldn’t begin to articulate how he’d felt, it was just too close. He couldn’t put into words the way he thought his own life would end if she had crumpled dead alongside Hanover.

  He had to ask himself why the thought of losing her affected him like the seismic shock of an earthquake. He shook his head to clear it; those thoughts would have to wait for another day. Right now, he had to get her away from here, get her to safety. Then he had a murder to investigate. Even a low-life like Bertie Hanover were entitled to justice under the law.

  He ground his teeth. If he had arrived just a few minutes sooner, could he have stopped this? He was honest enough to admit it wasn’t anger that he might have saved a man’s life that gnawed at him, but the thought Kathryn might have been the intended target.

  And if he’d arrived a few minutes later…?

  Ben quickly shut down that thought.

  “I’ll take you to my car and radio for help.” Taking her elbow, he steered her down the rickety steps and toward the sanctuary of the police cruiser.

  She pulled back suddenly, looking around fearfully as if she expected a madman brandishing a high powered rifle to suddenly appear out of the bushes. He wrapped his arm tightly around her shoulders, feeling her shivering through the silk shirt she wore.

  “You’re safe now, Kathryn. I won’t let any harm come to you,” he muttered the soothing words into her hair, inhaling the familiar scent of her shampoo.

  “What if he…he’s still here, waiting to take another shot?” Her voice shook. “He could be hiding anywhere.”

  Ben knew better. This was no random murder. This had been a cold-blooded, planned act designed to shut Hanover up—permanently—carried out by a killer for hire. He had done what he came to do. Hanover was dead. The shooter would be well away by now.

  Which begged the question: What information had Hanover had that made him a target for murder?

  “Don’t worry about the gunman. He’s long gone. Did what he came to do and left. Professional. You’re lucky he didn’t decide to be a bit more thorough and take you out, too. What in hell’s name were you doing out here?” Panic turned to anger, threading through his voice like bright steel, and Kathryn shuddered.

  “I was looking for our son. Whatever you may think or believe about me as a mother, I love our child and have to find him…even if it kills me.” There were tears in her voice and Ben was afraid for her.

  “Which may well be the case if you carry on as foolishly as you are doing, putting your own life at risk. If you really love your child, you will leave this to trained officers. If he really is missing and this isn’t some sick game of punishment being played by the man you married, we will find him and bring him home.”

  Ben opened the cruiser’s passenger door and ushered her inside before going around and climbing in the driver’s seat. He radioed into the police department, succinctly describing the incident and asking for backup. Then he turned to her, his face unreadable.

  “You could have gotten yourself killed. You have no business being out here. I told you I’d find the boy—and I will. Now I have a murder investigation to ge
t underway. I’m going to get you home and you better stay there or I’ll be arresting you for obstruction.”

  ****

  Kathryn was biting her lip in an anxious tell. After she had been lied to, abused, and witnessed a gruesome murder, Ben thought he could take her silence as acquiescence. But when she turned to face him, the fury that sparked in her eyes would have been a warning to a lesser man. Instead, it excited him to see that worn, washed-out apathy that had marred her was now gone. It was replaced by pride and anger—and passion. His body reacted to that passion, heating his blood as time seemed to stand still between them.

  Without conscious thought, he reached out and pulled her toward him, his hands on her shoulders as he captured her lips with his own in a kiss that reignited seven years of need and want and desire.

  To his surprise she didn’t struggle beneath his touch. Instead, she clung to him, returning his kisses fiercely and hungrily.

  Sanity finally prevailed as the sound of approaching sirens reached his ears, and he reluctantly pushed her away.

  “We’ll finish this later,” he murmured.

  She shook her head. “In your dreams, Asher. You’ll not finish anything like this with me. You’ve made your position plain and I’m not stupid enough to let you use me anymore.” Her voice was shaky, still vibrating from the blaze of passion and need his touch had inflamed. “You abandoned me and our child to sink or swim as best we could. Do you really think you can just come back and start again as if nothing had happened? And threaten to take our son away from me? What gives you the right?”

  “We have to talk, Kathryn. There are things…”

  “Too late, Ben. Seven years ago, we should have talked. When you came back from the war, we should have talked. Instead, you have made your feelings about me plain. Apart from today’s little power play, that is.”

  “You think that’s what this was about? A power-play?” The shock rippled through his voice.

  Kathryn sighed. “I don’t have time for this now, not when Alex…when Alex needs me.” She pushed open the door of the police cruiser as several officers headed toward them. Surprise at her presence made them hesitate, briefly glancing at each other before turning to Ben with questioning expressions.

  “Bertie Hanover was shot dead on his front porch, just as I arrived. I witnessed the whole thing, looks like the shooter was a professional. Mrs. Morgan here is a witness. Officer Medley, I’d like you to take her home.”

  He turned to Kathryn, his voice formal. “Mrs. Morgan, in view of the late hour and the ordeal you’ve just been through, I think it’s best if you go home now, provided you come into the station tomorrow and give a statement.”

  It wasn’t a question, but Kathryn seemed glad to agree. Ben saw that her nerves were stretched to the limit and she couldn’t stop trembling. The need to take her in his arms again and soothe her was almost irresistible but he had a job to do. He turned to the men awaiting his instructions.

  “Ma’am, if you’re up to driving, I can follow you back to town,” Medley gently took Kathryn’s arm. “That way you won’t need to come back and get your vehicle.”

  ****

  “You say she just witnessed a shooting? Most women would be in hysterics. That’s one cool number if ever I saw one,” Officer Jesse Rigg commented.

  Remembering the heat of her body against his, the searing kisses they had exchanged, Ben had to disagree. Kathryn might be cool on the outside, but deep inside, she was still the same passionate woman who’d haunted his nights over so many years.

  Or maybe she was just a consummate actress.

  Ben watched as the men got to work. Crime scene officers were arriving and would soon be busy on the front porch of Hanover’s house and in the bushes around the front garden, while the coroner’s van waited patiently near the gate.

  His return to Lobster Cove was certainly throwing him a curved ball. Ben had expected the years would have changed Kathryn and his feelings toward her. Instead, he found they had a son together, and she still made his blood heat. He’d arrived here expecting to spend weeks on humdrum research, digging up information to support the allegations that the Morgan family were up to their necks in crime.

  Instead, it looked as if he were about to be plunged into a gang war. Now he had a murder investigation to get underway, a kidnapping investigation to monitor, and a major organized crime case on the go.

  Ben smiled grimly. Whoever said small towns were boring?

  Chapter Fourteen

  “You did it, didn’t you? You had Bertie Hanover killed!”

  Ket Junior struggled to keep his voice steady. He was afraid, truly afraid, perhaps for the first time in his life. He knew better than to show his fear as he faced his father across the broad expanse of desk in the older man’s study.

  Ketler Morgan, Senior puffed on the cigar he was holding, blowing out smoke in a leisurely fashion which served to heighten his son’s fear and loathing. With a maliciously reptilian smile, he swung his chair around to fully face his son.

  “Whatever I do, I do for the good of this family. It’s a pity you couldn’t keep that objective in your own mind when you shipped in scum like Hanover.” His tone of voice was deceptively mild, but the words whipped across his son’s skin as effectively as the belt he’d once used to punish boyhood misdemeanors.

  Ket’s jaw tightened. He was determined not to let his father see him wince as the harsh words landed on his injured pride like blows. “Hanover was one of my employees. He did a good job, and you had no right to interfere.”

  Morgan Senior grimaced his distaste. “Well, boy, it’s good to see a spark of anger in you. Maybe you’re finally growing a backbone.”

  “Hanover was a good employee and what you did was cold-blooded murder. And you made me look a fool.”

  His father’s face darkened as he leaned forward across the desk. “You brought this on yourself. Consider it a lesson you need to learn. I won’t have you bringing in thugs who can’t be trusted and putting our business in jeopardy.”

  “Tell the truth, you’re afraid your business associates are getting nervous.” Ket spat the words out.

  Ket Senior brought his fist down on the desk, making the silver-framed family photographs jump and cigar ash sprinkle on the blotter. “You think Hanover was a tough guy, don’t you? Well, I tell you, our associates’ activities are tightly and lucratively tied in with ours, and they have colleagues who’d make Hanover look like a kindergartner. You don’t want to upset them.” The older man’s face clouded briefly with a brief wash of fear and he reached into his desk drawer for a small brown bottle, flipping off the top and extracting a blue pill. He sat silently for a few moments after swallowing the medication, taking deep, steady breaths, and Ket watched as the puce color in his father’s face and around his mouth slowly dissipated. A flash of sympathy touched him as he thought of his father, a strong man with a weak heart, a sympathy that faded as Morgan Senior spoke again.

  “Ben Asher has been sniffing around, reading up on Hanover’s record and probably seeing him as a way into our little empire here. I couldn’t let that happen. Our friends in high places would not like us to let that happen. I simply asked for their help in eliminating the problem.”

  His son drew in a sudden breath. Dammit, he’d thought his father had known nothing about Asher’s interest in Hanover—not even that the acting sheriff had known about the thug’s existence. He cursed inwardly, knowing his father had won yet another power play. How he hated him for it.

  “Despite all the opportunities you’ve been given, son, you’ve managed to screw up royally. Is it that you like wallowing in the gutter with low lifes like Hanover?”

  “I can’t see how you think you can take the high moral ground when the Morgan money was built on the backs of cheap labor turning cheap cattle hides into expensive leather goods. Now you’re playing with organized crime bosses who have their own hired thugs. You’re no better than they are.” Ket fought back, but his remar
ks didn’t leave so much as a dent in his father’s composure.

  Sighing, Ket Senior righted the photographs on his desk. A tender look crossed his face as he held up the one of Alex. “The boy’s a looker, isn’t he? That dark hair and big brown eyes remind me of my own mother, your grandmother. Alex is smart—smarter than his father, a quick study. Maybe it’s time to start grooming this youngster to take over the business someday.”

  The words hit Ket like a sucker punch. The old bastard would groom Alex for the power he should have? He wanted to grab the old man by his lapels and shriek into his smug face that Alex was none of his blood, but fear kept him silent.

  Ket, Senior affected a congenial smile, puffing on his cigar. “It’s better this way, son. Hanover was a petty thug, a liability. You need to find yourself some classier playmates. And you need to stop meddling where you’re not ready to go. You talk about our associates…well, I can tell you they’ll not let a still wet-behind the ears young pup like you take over this business, no matter how smart you think you are.”

  Beaten, Ket turned on his heel and stormed from the room, conceding his father had won this battle. He needed to seriously regroup and rethink his own strategy.

  Sometimes he wished the old man would have the heart attack the doctors kept warning about. But then, he guessed he’d never get the approval he’d always wanted from his father.

  ****

  The Morgan Mausoleum was empty and silent when Kathryn returned. Her father-in-law seemed to have turned in for the night, there was no sign of Ket or his secretary, and even Cynthia appeared to be out or tucked up in bed.

  As she undressed, Kathryn was sure she wouldn’t get a wink of sleep. Her arms ached to hold Alex again, and her brain reeled with snapshots of Bertie Hanover’s body crumpling to the scarred boards of his front porch. The events of the day would surely haunt her.