Always Look Twice

by Dawson, Geralyn

  Why? No secret there. His brothers had told him. Their wives had told him. Annabelle’s parents had told him. Annabelle, too. He’d heard them, but he’d never listened to them. Not really listened. Not to the extent that he truly comprehended what they were saying.

  As he looked down into the face of the peacefully sleeping child, he told himself that maybe today that had changed.

  A noise in the doorway had him glancing up in hope of seeing the doctor standing in the doorway with a big smile on his face. Instead, Maddie stood in the threshold and warned, ‘‘Branch is here.’’

  Even as Mark braced himself, she stepped away and his father appeared in the doorway. Mark couldn’t hide his shock. He had not seen Branch Callahan since the sonofabitch had circumvented nurses and invaded Mark’s hospital room during his recovery from a gunshot wound—yet another injury that could be laid at the old man’s feet. Leaning heavily on a wheeled walker, his formerly thick, silver hair now a thin, limp white, his complexion mottled, his limbs palsied, he seemed to have aged ten years in two.

  On the heels of shock, Mark felt that old soup of emotions that had defined his feelings about his father for so long—fury, rage, pain, betrayal. Also, a new ingredient swirled in the mix this time, and he wasn’t quite sure what to call it. Not forgiveness. He wasn’t there yet. Sorrow? Pity? Compassion?

  Hell, maybe it was a combination of all those things.

  Branch captured Matt’s gaze and asked, ‘‘How’s our girl?’’

  ‘‘We haven’t heard a goddamned thing. I’m about ready to go hunt someone down to give us a report.’’

  ‘‘Let me do that,’’ Luke volunteered. ‘‘You have someone to introduce to Branch.’’

  Mark turned, ready to hand the baby back to Matt, when Matt surprised them all by saying, ‘‘Branch, this is your number two son, Mark. Mark, that’s your father, Branch. I’d be honored if you would introduce my son to his grandfather.’’

  Well, shit. Under the circumstances, how could he refuse?

  Mark stepped forward, cleared his throat, and spoke directly to his father for the first time in years. ‘‘Branch, you need to meet the newest addition to our family. This is John Callahan.’’

  ‘‘John? Well . . .’’ He choked up. Tears overflowed the old man’s eyes and spilled down his face. He reached out and touched the newborn’s cheek, his mouth stretched in a wistful smile. ‘‘He’s a fine-looking boy, Matthew.’’

  Branch touched Mark’s arm. ‘‘A fine son.’’

  Ten minutes later when Torie’s doctor showed up wearing that smile Mark had wanted so badly to see, tears spilled from the eyes of all the Callahan men.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Nerves prickled Annabelle’s skin as she paced the hospital’s hallway. Four hours earlier, Torie’s doctor had sat the Callahan family down and explained the details about her uterine rupture—a rare event for a woman of Torie’s health and medical history. He’d credited God’s grace and the speed of her arrival to the hospital for saving her life and the baby’s life. He gave himself credit for saving her uterus.

  Meanwhile, word had spread throughout town of the Callahans’ mad rush to the hospital. As a result, too many people had appeared to express their concern for Torie, to visit Matt, to share in the joy of a new Callahan baby. And, Annabelle deduced, to mine for gossip about why the family had pretended to leave town, but hadn’t done so.

  While the bodyguards Mark had hired appeared to be on top of the situation, she simply wasn’t comfortable. There were too many strangers and too much activity around this place for that.

  Not with a killer on the loose and targets painted on the backs of the Callahans.

  ‘‘Hey, Annabelle.’’

  She turned back to see that Mark had emerged from the ICU. ‘‘Hi. How is she doing?’’

  ‘‘She’s cranky when she’s awake. Wants more time with the baby than they’re giving her. All in all, though, she’s doing just fine.’’

  ‘‘Good. I’m so glad. . . . I know you two are close.’’

  He smiled. ‘‘Maddie gets in your face and makes you love her. Torie is sneakier about it. She calls me on Maggie’s birthday.’’

  ‘‘They’re both exceptional women.’’

  ‘‘Yeah. And speaking of that . . .’’ Mark stepped up beside her and took her arm. ‘‘I want to talk to you about—’’

  He broke off abruptly, frowning toward a group of women who emerged from the elevator at the end of the hall. Pivoting, he led Annabelle in the opposite direction. ‘‘That’s our old Sunday school teacher, one of the gossip queens in town. I don’t have patience enough for her right now.’’

  He opened a door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY and grinned, then tugged her inside.

  A hospital linen closet? Annabelle rolled her eyes. ‘‘What is this . . . a soap opera? As the Brazos Bends?’’

  ‘‘Very funny.’’

  But when the scent of his aftershave teased her senses, she couldn’t help but remember other times they’d shared a closet. On that Lanai estate. In a hotel in Amsterdam. At a restaurant in Atlanta. He flipped on a light switch and jerked her back to the present.

  ‘‘I haven’t had the chance to thank you for the quick thinking this morning. The few minutes you saved by taking control of the situation saved her life, Annabelle.’’

  ‘‘I’m glad I could help. I just wish we could have done this whole thing a little quieter. Have you seen the waiting rooms?’’

  Grimacing, he nodded. ‘‘Luke and I both spoke to the guys from Saunders Security. They have reinforcements on the way.’’

  ‘‘Good.’’ Annabelle breathed a sigh of relief.

  ‘‘They also mentioned that you had already called requesting more men.’’

  She shrugged. ‘‘Y’all were understandably distracted. I thought a few extra precautions were in order.’’

  ‘‘Like arranging for a private family ICU waiting room? That was good thinking, too. That’s made it easier for security to do its job.’’

  ‘‘It freed up eyes to man the hospital entrances.’’ She laughed mirthlessly and added, ‘‘I’ve spent so much time in hospitals of late that it was easy to recognize the need.’’

  ‘‘This hospital trend definitely has to stop. I say we do resort hotels from here on out.’’

  Annabelle smiled a bit wistfully. ‘‘I’m worried, Mark. We have Matt shifting between Torie’s room and the nursery, and Luke and Maddie can’t keep their twins cooped up for hours on end. I know your brothers can take care of themselves and their loved ones, but it’s obvious to me that all of you are a bit off your marks today. If Kurtz gets into the hospital . . .’’

  ‘‘That won’t happen,’’ Mark declared in a hard, flat tone. ‘‘The guys on the door are good. They have a recent picture of Kurtz and he won’t get past them. Look, we considered sending Maddie and the girls home, but until the extra help arrives, we think it’s safer to keep the family together.’’

  ‘‘I know. It’s just that I’d feel better about everything if not for the near-constant parade of Brazos Bend friends come to pay their respects. And bring baby gifts. And flowers for Torie.’’

  Mark brushed her cheek with the pad of his thumb and grinned. ‘‘I understand you threw a bit of a tantrum when Sara-Beth Branson came looking for pictures and quotes for the local newspaper.’’

  Annabelle didn’t try to hide her snort of disgust. ‘‘The woman noticed the security guards and decided she had a scoop on her hands. I couldn’t talk her out of it. Maddie couldn’t, either. Luke had to promise her an exclusive once this is all over to get her to back off.’’

  ‘‘Luke has a way with Sara-Beth. She was his girlfriend in high school.’’

  ‘‘He told me we can trust her word, so I’m not worrying about it anymore. Still, she was awfully nosy about me. I’m hoping that things will calm down for a bit now that the nurses have closed the nursery blinds until evening visiting hours. That should give us so
me time to regroup.’’

  He tucked her hair behind her ears and with admiration warming his voice said, ‘‘You are something else, Annabelle. I don’t know what I would have done without you today. You were there for us with Torie, there for me with Branch. I can’t thank you enough.’’

  ‘‘You did a good thing by calling your father. I know it wasn’t easy for you.’’

  ‘‘Damn straight it wasn’t, and I’m glad you noticed. See, I did it for Matt, but I also did it for you. Yesterday you told me that you were finished waiting for me because you didn’t trust me to battle my demons. Well, I took on one of the biggest a few hours ago when I made that phone call. I hope that demonstrates to you that I don’t fear my old ghosts more than I love you.’’

  Annabelle closed her eyes. She wanted to believe him, but . . . ‘‘Look, Callahan. I don’t think either of us needs ‘us’ to be an added distraction right now.’’

  ‘‘I won’t say another word . . . as long as you promise me that you’ll reconsider what you said yesterday about not waiting for me.’’

  She blew out a sigh. ‘‘All right.’’

  ‘‘I love you, Annabelle.’’

  ‘‘That’s another word, Callahan.’’

  The gleam in his eyes warned her and her heartbeat quickened. ‘‘So is this.’’

  Tugging her against him, he kissed her. Just like always, he wove a sensuous spell around her. She couldn’t stop her pulse from pounding when his tongue flicked over her lips. She couldn’t still the vibration in her skin when his hand skimmed down her back. She could not stay the damp heat of desire that pooled between her legs as he pressed himself against her and rocked, his hard length finding that spot that ached . . . ached.

  Annabelle hardly noticed when he reached down and locked the door, then pressed her back against it. What was it about this man that defeated every defense she attempted to erect? His touch made her forget her doubts. The taste of him awakened a craving within her so intense that she disregarded all her misgivings. And worst of all, the words he murmured over and over and over again . . . against her ears . . . against her throat . . . against the breasts he bared to his seeking mouth . . . those three little words seduced her to his will. Totally. Completely.

  He entered her with one hard thrust. ‘‘I love you.’’

  And Annabelle knew that, like it or not, she was his, now and forever.

  But before she could put the thought into words, he moved. Ruthlessly, relentlessly, he took her, and Annabelle threw her head back and rocked against him, everything but this vicious need he’d created within her wiped from her mind. He drove her up until she quivered helplessly, poised at the precipice. Writhing. Waiting. Begging.

  And then she fell; she flew; she soared, riding a wave of pleasure so intense that she was only vaguely aware when his hard body went rigid. When his body shuddered. When he muffled a groan against her neck.

  She collapsed against him, her breathing rapid, her heart clubbing the walls of her chest; she was wishing they could stay as such forever when his lips said yet again, ‘‘I love you. I love you. I love you.’’

  He loves me. I love him. He’s mine. My Mark. My husband. Annabelle put all thought of killers and hospitals and babies born or yet to be conceived from her mind and concentrated on the moment. On the reality of their love.

  And that maybe, just maybe, he loved her enough.

  In the aftermath, Annabelle struggled to orient herself. She was . . . where? She blinked twice and made herself focus. A hospital linen closet. Her shorts were gone; her panties were in tatters. Her bra hung open, its front clasp undone, but she still wore her shirt and her sandals.

  ‘‘Oh, for God’s sake, Callahan. What did we just do?’’ She glanced around and took in the stacks of towels, a mop, a bucket, and a pile of tabloids the maids had collected.

  In a thick, sleepy drawl, he said, ‘‘If you don’t know, then I didn’t do a very good job of it.’’

  ‘‘I can’t believe this,’’ Annabelle muttered. ‘‘Of all the stupid, idiotic, unconscionable things to do.’’

  ‘‘Unconscionable?’’

  She grabbed her panties, surveyed the tears, then gave up on them and pulled on her shorts commando. She shoved the tattered panties into her pocket. ‘‘Yes, unconscionable. For all we know, Ron Kurtz could be standing outside this door ready to take a shot at us.’’

  ‘‘Well, if that’s the case, then I feel even better about what we just did.’’ He yanked up his pants and Annabelle was mortified to realize that he’d never taken them off. They truly were depraved. ‘‘And I have to tell you, sweetheart, I’m feeling pretty damned good right about now.’’

  Annabelle paused from fastening her bra long enough to snarl at him, though she was trying hard not to laugh.

  ‘‘Oh, darlin’, don’t beat yourself up. In a way, we had a brush with death today, and it’s only natural to want to reaffirm life in a mutual expression of love.’’

  She instinctively made a fist and had to stop herself from swinging. ‘‘You know something, Callahan? I’ve forgotten how chipper you get after you’ve been laid. Did I ever mention how obnoxious that is?’’

  He winked, grinned, and said, ‘‘I love you, Annabelle.’’

  She made a growl of frustration and reached for the doorknob. After giving it half a turn, she paused and glanced back over her shoulder. ‘‘You didn’t use a condom.’’

  ‘‘You’re right.’’

  ‘‘I could get pregnant.’’

  He waited a beat, stared into her eyes, and said, ‘‘Annabelle, that wouldn’t bother me one bit.’’

  Holy hell. She didn’t have a clue how to react to that, so what she did was throw open the door to flee. ‘‘I’ll go check on the twins in the playroom.’’

  Damned if she didn’t hear his laughter follow her down the hall.

  Once away from him, Annabelle waited for the doubts and regrets to grab her. Instead, she discovered a buoyancy to her step as joy and hope crept into her heart.

  Maybe, just maybe, they had a future, after all.

  Dead meat walking.

  From his position in the doorway of the public ICU waiting room, Ron Kurtz watched Annabelle Monroe stride down the hospital corridor, looking a little mussed following her interlude in the closet with Callahan. So, the two of them were an item. Talk about an unanticipated, but welcome, turn of events. It opened up all sorts of intriguing possibilities.

  Callahan himself stepped out of the closet, and as rage flared in his veins, Kurtz’s hand went instinctively to his handbag. These big tote bags women carried now certainly came in handy when a man dressed in a dress needed a place to stash his .45, not to mention his knife and his knuckle-duster.

  With his prey so close and unaware, the urge to precipitously end the game almost overwhelmed him, but this new development where Monroe was concerned stayed his hand. If Monroe was more to Callahan than an easy lay—and from what he remembered about Annabelle, he doubted ‘‘easy’’ had anything to do with it—then taking her out along with part of his family would turn Callahan into a raving loon. He’d be killing two birds with one stone, so to speak.

  ‘‘I love it,’’ he said softly as he watched Mark Callahan pause and speak to the guard at the door of what served as the family’s private waiting room. Then, after a subtle adjustment to his wig, he hooked his handbag over his shoulder and followed Monroe.

  He caught up to her while she stood in front of the elevator. The button with the arrow pointed down glowed yellow.

  Kurtz decided to use the stairs. He took them two at a time and paused on the second-floor landing. Peering through the small window, he watched the elevator pass two headed for one. He exited the stair-well just behind Annabelle Monroe and indulged himself in the pleasure of watching her walk. Damn, but the woman had curves. Maybe he should incorporate a little private time for the two of them into his plan before he did her. I could do her, before I do her, he thought with a
smirk.

  She turned down a hallway marked WOMEN’S CENTER, and he figured she must be going to check on Callahan’s brother’s wife. Toward the center of the hallway, he spied a burly guy in a suit standing in front of a door. Another obvious member of security—a woman this time—held position in front of a set of double doors at the very end of the corridor. Hmm. Must have family in both places.

  Some ten steps or so from the male guard, Monroe paused to speak to an old geezer wheeling his way down the hallway on a metallic blue walker. Kurtz slowed his steps and tuned in his ears.

  The old guy was saying, ‘‘. . . my boys say you saved my daughter-in-law’s life by getting her here so fast.’’

  ‘‘We were fortunate to have the helicopter available,’’ Monroe replied as Kurtz walked past.

  He sensed her gaze upon him and gave his purse a little hitch as a distraction. By then he stood parallel to the male guard and he stole a glance past him into the room. Plastic toys in bright, primary colors. A children’s playroom. A door connecting to an outdoor playground.

  Aware of the wary gazes on his tail, Kurtz turned into the first hospital room he came to as if he belonged there. Luckily, the occupant of the private room’s bed was asleep and sawing logs.

  Kurtz kept the door cracked and put his ear to the space. Annabelle was saying, ‘‘. . . looks like your granddaughters are having a good time with those wooden blocks.’’

  ‘‘Old-fashioned toys that don’t go out of style.’’

  The geezer had to be Callahan’s father, Kurtz decided. This just kept getting better and better. And the granddaughters Monroe referred to must be the twins he’d heard about when he’d stopped in that coffee shop searching for gossip and a turkey sandwich for lunch.

  ‘‘Hmm . . . ,’’ he murmured. ‘‘So much family. So many choices. What’s a girl to do?’’

  He waited until he heard Monroe and old man Callahan enter the playroom; then he closed the door and took a few minutes to sketch out a plan.