by Beth Ciotta
“Someone broke his arm,” the lady behind him said. “I think someone already called for help.”
“I did,” another man said. “Paramedics are on their way.”
Rudy shifted so that he was sitting behind Jean-Pierre and holding him steady, while trying to keep an eye on Afia who also looked as though she were in pain. Although, maybe, hopefully, she was just upset. “Someone broke your arm on purpose?” he asked Jean-Pierre.
The man weakly nodded. “It happened so fast. I decided I wanted the salt and pepper set, so I came back here while Lulu made her purchases. It was so crowded. I did not think anything of it when someone pressed up against me from behind. But then he whispered in my ear, ‘This is for my brother.’ He grabbed my arm, twisted. Snap. Crunch. The pain was excruciating. I think I blacked out.”
Rudy scanned the surrounding people. “Did anyone see this happen?”
Everyone shook their heads no.
“I’m calling Jake.” Afia pulled her cell phone out of her purse. “Where’s Lulu?”
Jean-Pierre cradled his arm, licked dry lips. “Four rows over.”
Afia whirled. “I don’t see her. I don’t see her anywhere!”
Rudy was torn between comforting his partner and best friend. “Afia, honey, don’t get upset.”
“I can’t get a signal.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I can’t …” She dropped the phone and wrapped her arms around her stomach. “Oh, God.”
She doubled over just as the paramedics pushed though. Their gazes bounced from Afia to Jean-Pierre. “Who are we here for?”
“Both of them,” Rudy said as he scrambled for his own cell phone.
Sofia folded her arms across her chest and tucked her hands beneath her pits so as not to gnaw her fingernails. Nervous energy had her pacing back and forth across the small motel room. At this rate, she’d soon wear a visible path in the dingy brown Berber carpet. She glanced toward the pressed-wood desk and eyed her phone. She’d plugged it in to recharge, but she hadn’t turned it on. She didn’t have the energy to endure her publicist’s media updates or her agent’s insistence that she make a decision on the “Spy Girl” contract.
She was in the middle of a real life crisis.
Bone chilling apprehension had kept her from falling asleep, even though the visit to Cavendish’s house had been emotionally exhausting. After checking them into an inconspicuous motel near the airport, Joe had left to handle business. He’d instructed her to lock the door behind him and not to leave, or to let anyone in the room under any circumstances.
She’d witnessed a crime. She could send those cowboys to prison for life. No wonder they’d tracked her to LA. They wanted to silence her. Permanently. Instead, they’d found Luc.
She shook off the guilt. His death was tragic, but it wasn’t her fault. Put the blame where it belongs, she told herself. On the cowboys. Focus on the cowboys.
Funny, how she still thought of them in that stereotypical category, but a more vivid description eluded her. Everything had happened so fast, and the tussle in the backyard had taken place in complete darkness except for a smattering of moonlight. She’d never gotten a good hard look at either of the men’s faces. Truth told, she wasn’t one-hundred percent sure she could identify them in a line-up. What stuck out in her mind was their attire. Blue jeans. Denim jackets. Cowboy hats.
Still, obviously they thought she could ID them or they wouldn’t be going to so much trouble to track her down. They had to be wondering why she hadn’t gone to the cops with her story. If she had, the Hollywood icon’s death would have been all over the news. Again, she wondered about Cavendish’s body. She wondered about a lot of things. Like, why no one had reported the man missing. And why those cowboys had been in the house to begin with. It could have been an attempted burglary. The house was loaded with artwork, and probably a safe or strongbox containing jewelry and cash. Cavendish had seemed surprised that someone was on property. Maybe he’d interrupted the pair. But then, why wouldn’t they have just tied him up, or otherwise incapacitated him? That way, they could have still burgled the house and gotten away. Why complicate things with murder?
Sofia paused at the window and peeked through the curtain. What was taking Joe so long? What if she’d somehow unwittingly gotten him in trouble with Special Agent Creed? Not that Joe couldn’t handle himself, but she hated to think that she’d complicated his life by making him an accessory to a crime. He’d provided Creed with a gun, a bloodied shoe. Was he breaking the law by not turning an eyewitness over to the authorities?
She worried her bottom lip and searched the moderate traffic for his Jeep. An uglier thought occurred. For the past two days his picture had been splashed all over television, compliments of that damned front desk clerk and her own publicist. She and Joe were a hot item. The fantasy cable spy and a real life government agent. What if the cowboys had been following the gossip shows? What if they’d staked out the Phoenix Field Office? What if they’d followed Joe?
She strode to the desk and powered on her cell. She needed to hear his voice. If anything happened to him she’d never forgive herself. But, her phone chimed before she could punch in his number. She checked the incoming number. Lulu. She was tempted to ignore it, but the need to connect to something good just now was overwhelming. “Hi, squirt. How’s things in boonie-ville?”
“Looking up,” came an unfamiliar male voice. “I’ve been trying to connect with you for a good hour, Sofia.”
“Who is this?”
“You broke my nose.”
“I …”
“And my brother’s hand. We’ve got some unfinished business.”
She detected an accent. Southwestern. Texas. Cowboy. Disgust and anger overrode all fear. “You shot Bernard Cavendish in the face and then you tried to shoot me. You broke into my apartment and killed another defenseless man, and you’re whining because of a few busted bones?”
“I left you three messages,” he said, ignoring her question. “Why didn’t you call me back?”
“I haven’t listened to my messages.” Holy hell, what did he want? She balled her free hand into a fist, tamped down the panic. “How did you get my sister’s phone?”
“She threw it at me.” He snorted his amusement. “Luckily for us, she’s not a trained fighter like you. Although if looks could kill, me and Jesse would be pushing up daisies.”
Her blood ran cold. “What are you talking about?” Lulu was in Vermont. He had to be bluffing. How could he possibly know about Rainbow Ridge?
She flashed on the note she’d taped to the fridge for Jean-Pierre. See you in Vermont. Her skin prickled with dread.
“That journal of yours, the one you keep hidden in your nightstand? That was some real interesting reading. By the way, we didn’t kill gay-boy. The pansy fainted and hit his head. At first, I thought he was your friend, Jean-Pierre. Course, I noticed the difference right off when we finally met up.”
“If you hurt Jean-Pierre …”
“Oops. Too late.” He laughed. “Squealed like a sissy when I snapped his arm.”
She pressed fingertips to her throbbing temples. This is real. This is happening. I will annihilate your ass.
“I don’t know why you haven’t gone to the cops, but I appreciate it, sugar. So much so, that I haven’t hurt your little sister. Yet.”
The obvious threat had an adverse effect. Instead of falling apart, Sofia rallied. This was no longer about her. This was about family. “What do you want?”
“For starters, I want you to hop the next plane to Burlington, Vermont. Bring your phone and call me on your sister’s cell when you arrive. Reception sucks up here. If you don’t get me, leave a message. I’ll call you with further instructions. Oh, and Sofia, come alone. I see hide or hair of your fed boyfriend or any other tagalongs, I’m going to go to work on your sister.”
“I want to talk to her, you son of a bitch, or I’m not going anywhere.” But she was already checking her purse for the emergency c
ash and credit card she’d swiped from her apartment.
“Figured.”
She heard jostling, then a groggy mumble. “Sofie?”
Her heart pounded. “Lulu? Are you all right? You sound funny.”
“Just tired. Can’t focus. Bad men. Don’t come. Don’t …”
“Bad advice,” said the cowboy, after commandeering the phone.
“What the hell did you give her?”
“Just something to keep her quiet. Time’s ticking, Spy Girl.” He signed off.
Sofia snatched up her purse and slid her phone inside. Her phone. The link to her sister’s kidnappers, Cavendish’s murderers. The link, the link.
She had an epiphany just as the door opened and Joe stepped inside. She dropped her purse on the bed behind her, heart and mind racing as they locked gazes.
“What’s wrong?”
She dug deep and affected calm. “Nothing.”
He angled his head, closed the space between them. “Nice try.” He smoothed his hands over her shoulders, down her arms. “You’re flushed. You’re upset. Talk to me, babe.”
Sweet Jesus, how she wanted to confide in him, but if she did, no way would he let her face the cowboys alone. She could hear him now. Trust me. In a blinding rush, she realized she did. She trusted Joe Bogart with her heart. She trusted him with her sister’s life.
But, she didn’t trust the cowboys.
“I was just … I was worried about you.” That, at least, was true.
He smiled and brushed his lips across her forehead. “Good to know you care.”
She more than cared. She eased back and framed his face in her hands, her course clear. He was going to be mad as hell, but she refused to risk his life anymore than Lulu’s. She pressed her lips to his and poured her heart and soul into a kiss that said I love you. A kiss that had him moaning and melting against her. A kiss that said I’m sorry as she utilized a pressure point and knocked him unconscious.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Rainbow Ridge, Vermont
By the time Jake got to the hospital, Afia was in an operating room.
“What took you so long?” she asked in a soft, raspy voice.
“I’m sorry, honey. Murphy and I were at a neighboring bed and breakfast putting the fear of God into Rudy’s ghost. My cell wasn’t receiving signal and …” He shook his head, laid a comforting hand to her furrowed brow. “It doesn’t matter. I’m here now.”
Exhausted from labor and groggy from pain medication, she looked up at him with teary eyes. “Is Jean-Pierre okay?”
“He’s fine. He and Rudy are pacing in the waiting room. They’d rather be in here. They send their love.”
She quirked a lopsided smile, then frowned. “What about Lulu?”
He didn’t flinch. “I’m sure she’s fine. Murphy’s on it.”
She didn’t know what to make of that. “They’re having a baby.”
“No honey, we’re having a baby.”
She lolled her head to the right. The anaesthetist winked. She looked back at Jake, acknowledged the flash of worry in his beautiful green eyes. “Don’t be scared. You can’t be scared, because I’m scared. One of us has to be brave. I pick you.”
He chuckled at that, a hoarse, nervous sound that warmed her heart.
“I went into pre-term labor. The baby kept pushing to get out, but my cervix wouldn’t dilate enough.” A tear slid down her temple. “He’s turned around and his heart rate dropped.”
“Shh. I know. The nurse explained. It’s all right, Afia. The baby’s breech. The doctor’s performing a caesarean section.”
She couldn’t see anything. Thanks to an epidural, she couldn’t feel anything aside from a strange pressure. “Does he look like he knows what he doing?” She heard amused chuckles from south of her waist. “No offense, doctor.”
“None taken,” she heard him say. “You’re doing fine, Mrs. Leeds. Almost there.”
Not that she didn’t believe him, but … “Can you see, Jake?”
He looked over the cloth barrier. “Yes, honey. I can see.”
His voice sounded gruff. She imagined what it must look like. The incision, the blood. A baby being pulled from her stomach. “You’re not going to faint, are you?”
“No, sweetheart. I’m watching a miracle. I’m good. Everything’s good. Right, Doc?”
“Everything’s great,” he said.
She felt more pressure, tugging, heard commotion, conversation. She closed her eyes and prayed, but something disturbed her mantra.
A baby’s cry. A croaky wail that shouted, hello world!
The doctor and staff were offering congratulations when Jake turned back to her, tears shimmering in his eyes.
She swallowed hard. “Are those tears of joy?”
“Absolutely.”
“Does he have ten toes and ten fingers? Does he look healthy?”
“Looks like a fighter.” Jake leaned down and rested his forehead against hers. “And sweetheart, he’s a she. We just had a daughter.”
She smiled, sighed. “Rainbow. We have to call her Rainbow.”
“Uh.” He looked shell-shocked. “I thought we decided on Samantha.”
“Please.”
“Just because she was born in Rainbow Ridge?”
“No, because Rainbow represents hope. Oh! Maybe we should go with Hope.”
He caressed her cheek, his eyes twinkling with relief and affection. “Hope it is.”
Her heart soared when the nurse cleared her throat, and Afia caught the first glimpse of her little girl. “I knew this was going to be a spectacular day.”
“If anything happens to Afia or the baby, I’ll never forgive myself.”
Jean-Pierre watched as the man he loved wore a path in the waiting room carpet. “You, of all people, should know better than to toss negative thoughts into the universe, Bunny.”
“I’m having an off day. What can I say? First, some crazy person breaks your arm, then Afia goes into premature labor, and Lulu disappears. Then, I learn from Murphy that ‘Casper’ is really the team of Parker and Lewis, competing B&B owners hoping to ‘scare’ me into selling Hollyberry Inn cheap!” He snorted. “Haunted, my ass. I can’t believe I fell for that ghost crap.”
“First of all,” Jean-Pierre said, “although it is unfortunate that the baby saw fit to come early, I am optimistic all will be well. Jake is with Afia, and any moment he will plow through those double doors, announcing we are uncles. As for Lulu, Murphy is looking for her. He is most competent and most determined when it comes to Chaton. He will find her.” He glanced over at Rudy. “How am I doing so far with my pep talk?”
Thankfully, the sullen man’s lips twitched. “Not bad. What else have you got?”
“That part about Parker and Lewis, that is good news, no?” Jean-Pierre adjusted his sling, and fidgeted to get comfortable on what the hospital dared to call a couch. A bench with cushions was a more apt description. “The disappearing wine bottles. The faulty wiring and plumbing. All the mishaps that were making you crazy will now cease and desist. Jake and Murphy confronted those vandalizing jerks and told them you would press trespassing charges should they ever again set foot on your property.”
“Our property,” Rudy corrected.
Jean-Pierre smiled. “Murphy is certain there will be no more problems. Hollyberry Inn is not haunted. We can finish preparing and open the inn for business within a month.”
Rudy shot him a glance. “You mean you still want to live here knowing that we’re stuck with a couple of jerks for neighbors?”
“I can live next to a couple of jerks. I cannot live without you. You are here. Our new home and business is here. I am not going anywhere.” To think two days ago, he’d been relying on Valium and an analyst to ease his nerves. All he’d really needed was a heart-to-heart talk with Rudy and to get the hell out of Los Angeles. Since arriving in Rainbow Ridge his nerves had calmed significantly. He realized suddenly that Rudy had stopped pacing and was now
staring down at him. “What?”
“I love you, Jean-Pierre.”
He blinked. Blinked again.
“Yeah, you heard me right. I should have told you months ago. But, I’m a little slow in the commitment area.” Rudy closed the space between them and got down on one knee.
His heart stuttered. “What are you doing?”
“What’s it look like? Although, damn, I don’t have … shit.” Rudy stroked a hand down his goatee, sighed. “Wait. Take off your thumb ring and give it to me.”
Jean-Pierre glanced around the waiting room. Two other families awaited news about a loved one’s birth, and yet the two gay guys were suddenly the center of attention.
“The longer I’m down here on bended knee, the more attention we’re going to attract. Give me your freaking ring.” He smiled. “Please.”
The knuckle to shoulder cast slowed his progress, or maybe it was his shaking hands, but he managed to twist off the ring and hand it to Rudy whose blue eyes twinkled with amused affection.
“Jean-Pierre Legrand, you light up my life. Sometimes you annoy me, and I know I sure as hell annoy you, but the good times outweigh the bad, and quite frankly I’m miserable when you’re not around. I love you. I want us to be together forever. I want to make it legal. Will you …?”
“Oui!”
Rudy eyebrows shot up. “I didn’t even finish …”
“Oui, I will marry you, Bunny.” Heart pounding, his leg started to bounce with nervous excitement. “This is the part where you put the ring on my finger.”
“But, I didn’t even …”
“Put the freaking ring on my finger.” He smiled. “Please.”
Rudy rolled his eyes and slid the ring back on Jean-Pierre’s thumb.
The surrounding audience broke into applause just as Jake plowed through the double doors with a wide-as-a-mile smile. “Congratulation, Uncles!”
