Addicted to You

by Bethany Kane

  “Come on, Barnyard,” she told the dog, who had been soberly watching as she walked back and forth. He skipped in front of her, sliding on the kitchen floor before he hit the wood of the hallway.

  She determinedly left her cell phone behind in the house and opened the passenger door for Barnyard to clamor into her Maserati on scrambling, stubby legs.

  Barnyard turned in an anxious circle and whined when he reached the front of the diner, unwilling to plant his bottom in his usual spot. His sad eyes tore at Katie when he looked up at her.

  Was he worried she was going to leave him there again?

  “Would you rather wait in the car, Barnyard?” she asked him quietly.

  He whimpered and Katie headed for the car. He followed her. She opened the windows, letting in a cool fall breeze, and left a more content-looking Barnyard behind.

  Katie waved at several people she knew when she entered the diner. Errol was sitting in his usual booth when she arrived, but he immediately got up and hobbled toward her on his crutches, sitting beside her at the counter.

  “Want something to eat, Errol?” Katie asked as she nodded a greeting at Sherona, who was at a booth giving Marcus Stash his change. Monty was talking to a man Katie had recently met named Nick Brown, who did beautiful oil paintings of the local forest and hills and sold them at the Dyer Creek Trading Company. She’d decided she wanted to buy one for the empty space above the mantel at the Mitchell place, but she hadn’t told Nick yet.

  Marcus Stash looked tense as he glared at the back of Miles Fordham’s head. Miles was having a serious discussion with a man wearing a business suit, although he did keep glancing in Katie’s direction.

  “Already ate,” Errol told her placidly. “Meat loaf, mashed potatoes, green beans and corn on the cob.”

  “Yum. Maybe I’ll have that,” Katie said, peering at the menu. The bells on the door jangled as Marcus Stash charged out of the diner.

  “What can I get you, Katie?” Sherona asked when she bustled behind the counter. Katie made her order.

  “How you feeling? Any morning sickness?” Sherona asked under her breath while Errol studied his model plane.

  “A little, but nothing some soda and crackers doesn’t settle. I hear it might get worse,” Katie replied. She noticed Sherona seemed unusually distracted.

  “Something wrong, Sherona?” Katie asked.

  Sherona rolled her eyes. “I know it sounds stupid, but I keep thinking I left on my coffeepot at home. Derek has football practice, so I couldn’t call and have him check. It’s been driving me nuts all afternoon.”

  “Why don’t you go home and check? I’ll look out for things around here,” Katie volunteered.

  Sherona shook her head at first, but then glanced around the diner, which was fairly empty. At that moment, Miles Fordham checked his watch and stood up from the booth. He left the suited man behind to finish his coffee, waved at Katie and hurried out the door.

  “Are you sure, Katie? It’ll take me five minutes, tops. The only thing you might have to do is fill a coffee cup or two until I get back,” Sherona said.

  Katie hopped down from her barstool. “No problem. Go on.” She shooed Sherona off. Sherona removed her apron and hurried into the back room toward the rear entrance.

  Errol looked uncomfortable at the image of Katie behind the counter tying Sherona’s apron around her jeans. Errol liked his world unchanging and orderly. “It’s just for a little bit, Errol. Sherona will be back in a flash.” She gave him a smile before she picked up a newly brewed pot of coffee and headed toward the man in the business suit.

  “Another cup for you?” she asked the man. She glanced around at the sound of the bells and saw Derek Legion enter the diner. His hair was damp and his face was flushed. He carried a blue-and-white football helmet under his arm. He seemed surprised to see Katie holding a coffeepot, but he returned her wave before he went to talk to Errol.

  “Don’t mind if I do,” the man said, setting his cup in the saucer. “I have the red-eye out of St. Louis, so I’ve got some time to kill. Gorgeous country you have around here. Don’t see anything like this upstate.”

  “You from the Chicago area?” Katie asked.

  “Springfield. The name’s Harlan. George Harlan.” The man paused to shake Katie’s hand.

  “Katie Hughes. I don’t suppose you have anything to do with the gaming commission?” Katie asked, although she already knew the answer after spending time in Miles’s office last week.

  “That’s right. Here to make our final inspection. That riverboat complex is going to provide lots of jobs for this little community,” Harlan said with a smile. “With the coal mine fixing to cut back its output and cut jobs, the boat will be a gift to Vulture’s Canyon.”

  “Maybe,” Katie said, smiling. “If Fordham planned to give the jobs to locals, anyway.”

  “What do you mean?” Harlan asked, his expression sobering.

  She paused and looked around at the sound of the bells jangling loudly. Someone wearing a dark brown puffy coat was in the process of locking the front door.

  “Hey!” she called out, miffed.

  Marcus Stash turned around. He pointed a gun in Katie’s and George Harlan’s direction.

  “Everybody does exactly what I say, and chances are you won’t get hurt,” Stash yelled. His manic gaze landed on Katie. For a second, he looked as confused as Errol had seeing Katie standing in for Sherona. He recovered instantly.

  “Everybody into the back room. Now!” he bellowed.

  Katie walked toward the counter. Derek Legion looked pale with shock, but Errol seemed only mildly perturbed.

  “Come on, Errol . . . Derek. Let’s go to the back room,” she said, trying to keep her voice even.

  She figured it was best to just go along with Marcus Stash. The brown coat he wore was open. She’d seen enough dynamite strapped to his torso to put tiny Vulture’s Canyon, Illinois, on the map in a very big way.

  Twenty-eight

  Rill’s time clock was warped from two overseas trips within the span of eight days. He’d left Malacnoic before sunrise on the night after he’d seen his uncles and got on the first flight out of Dublin to the States. He couldn’t sleep on the flight in his growing anticipation to see Katie. His excitement had festered when he’d been stuck at LaGuardia for a two-hour layover.

  Finally, he was home, gritty-eyed and tired, but energized, too—buzzing to see Katie again. He had a lot to talk to her about. A lot. He’d been trying to call her ever since he reached stateside, but much to his disappointment, she wasn’t answering. One thing was for certain: with Katie being pregnant he was going to have to do something about the spotty phone service on top of that hill.

  He’d finally reached the Mitchell place, only to see that Katie’s car was gone. His heart had dropped down to the vicinity of his navel. What if she’d gone away for good? She’d said she’d be okay when he left last week, but he’d suspected she was more hurt by his sudden trip plans than she let on. He should have told her more details about where he was going . . . about why he was going.

  But truth be told, Rill hadn’t possessed a clear-cut reason for returning to Malacnoic. He felt like a fool as he considered trying to explain his actions to her. He’d known only in some vague way that if he wanted to move on with his life, the trip was necessary.

  Learning of Katie’s pregnancy had galvanized him somehow.

  He stormed into the house, feeling a small measure of relief when he saw all of Katie’s toiletries in the bathroom and her cell phone sitting on the kitchen table. He was back in the car within a minute of arriving, headed back toward town.

  By the time he reached Vulture’s Canyon, the sun had dipped behind the western tree line, casting Main Street in long shadows. He saw Katie’s Maserati parked across the street from the diner and pulled into an empty spot with haste. He paused when he saw the eager face looking back at him.

  “Barnyard?” he said, feeling disoriented by the sight of t
he dog who was the usual sentinel of the diner sitting in Katie’s Maserati’s passenger seat. He looked unusually clean and sleek. Something about the way Barnyard wiggled made him think the dog was wagging its tail like crazy.

  Confused as he was by the unexpected image, his heart started to roll against his ribs and he had to smile at himself. Katie was here. He was like a fifteen-year-old about to encounter his first crush.

  No, that wasn’t right. He’d never in his life felt like he did in those moments before he prepared to claim Katie. He’d never questioned the restraints he put on himself when it came to her before, because they’d been part of the air he breathed. Fact was, Rill had never really trusted himself before when it came to sex and love.

  He hadn’t had much in the way of role models.

  His distrust of his sexual nature and his embarrassment and denial of his family had been what had made him put Eden on some kind of unrealistic pedestal of womanhood. It’d been what had made him pull up short with Katie, leaving him unsure he could offer her anything substantial, especially when she deserved everything . . . the best.

  In the end, it’d been Katie who had taught him that intense sexual need could be a genuine outlet for love. Maybe it was obvious to everyone else on the planet, but Rill guessed he was a slow learner.

  He lunged out of his car, his gaze glued on the diner. He hauled up short in his energetic pursuit when he heard a woman’s muffled yell.

  “Rill!”

  Rill paused in the middle of the deserted street and watched in mounting puzzlement and concern as a cop car screeched to a halt twenty feet away. Sherona Legion practically fell out of the passenger door, she was in such a hurry to reach him.

  “Marcus Stash has gone mad,” she said as she ran toward him. “He’s got a gun and he strapped enough dynamite on him to blow up half the block. He’s got a bunch of them in the diner!”

  Sherona’s speech was so pressured and fast, Rill could hardly make her out. Sheriff Mulligan talking loudly on his radio while he sat in the driver’s seat with the door open didn’t help matters, either, especially when Rill heard the words “hostage situation.”

  “Slow it down, Sherona,” Rill said as she drew up to him. He put his hands on her upper arms, trying to brace her.

  She panted and swallowed, obviously trying to staunch rising fear. “He says if that man from the gaming commission—George Harlan—doesn’t refuse a recommendation for Miles Fordham to get a gambling license, he’ll shoot him and then blow up the place. He’s taken some hostages. He told me he’s strapped enough dynamite on him to blow up half the block. He put Monty on the phone, and Monty verified that everything Stash said was true.”

  Rill just stared at Sherona’s pale face for a stretched moment. Her dark eyes were wild with anxiety.

  “Is Katie in there?” he asked slowly.

  A strange sensation like a burning chill went through him when Sherona nodded her head.

  “She told me she’d look out for the diner while I ran home to check if my coffeepot is off. Rill . . . my little brother is in there, too. His friends said he walked in there just minutes before Marcus called me.” Sherona’s voice shook. “I can’t believe this is happening. Why is Marcus doing this?”

  “It’s like you said. He’s gone a bit mad, I suppose,” Rill said, his gaze running over the ancient storefronts that lined the street. “How long have they been in there?”

  “Marcus just called me on my cell phone not much more than five minutes ago. He told me to call Mulligan, and then have Mulligan call him back. I was lucky enough to catch Sheriff Mulligan while he was here in Vulture’s Canyon. Then I saw a couple of Derek’s friends walking home from practice, and that’s when they told me Derek had gone to the diner instead of home after practice. Derek must be in there.”

  Rill tried to focus on Sherona’s face, but it was difficult with his mind churning through a thousand thoughts a second.

  Katie was in there with a madman. What the hell would he do if something happened to her?

  He acknowledged the icy blade of fear that seemed to have lodged in his chest and then he pushed it to the periphery of his consciousness.

  “Okay, so let me get this straight. You ran to your house to check on your coffeepot and asked Katie to watch over the diner. Who else was in there?”

  Sherona shut her eyes as though she were trying to see a film clip in her head. “Monty was there with Nick Brown. Errol was sitting next to Katie. Miles Fordham was having dinner with that man from the gaming commission that Marcus says he’ll shoot, George Harlan, but then Miles left right before I did. I have no idea if anyone left while I was gone.”

  “And then Derek went in, you think?”

  A single tear skipped down her cheek when she nodded.

  “Did you say that Marcus Stash called you? Not the police directly?”

  “No, he called me while I was still at my house. He wanted me to call Mulligan and have Mulligan call him. He seemed angry that I was there instead of at the diner.”

  Rill noticed Sheriff Mulligan—a squat, balding, middle-aged man—coming to join them in the distance and spoke quietly under his breath.

  “Stash has a bit of a thing for you, doesn’t he?”

  “Yes,” Sherona admitted reluctantly.

  “He didn’t realize you weren’t in the diner. He must have been disappointed.”

  Sherona looked at him with glazed shock, but Rill didn’t explain as Mulligan approached. Rill had met the sheriff on only two or three occasions and wasn’t a huge fan. Mulligan disliked Rill in return, and Rill had never done anything to alter that opinion. He’d never much cared about the local sheriff’s opinion one way or another, but he’d made his own character assessment of the man. Mulligan wasn’t that bright and he must have known it on some level, because he bulldozed over people who even hinted at challenging his authority.

  “What are you doing here, Pierce?” Mulligan blustered.

  “My fiancée is in there,” Rill said levelly. Sherona glanced at him in surprise, but he continued. “She’s pregnant. I suggest you call Stash immediately and try to encourage him to release Katie Hughes and Derek Legion. Stash considers himself a hero . . . a patriot, not a murderer of women and children. You can start negotiating with him for the release of the others following that.”

  Mulligan blinked, obviously shocked that Rill had the nerve to issue such concise instructions.

  “This isn’t a movie set, Pierce. What I suggest is that you leave this to me. We have local backups and hostage negotiators on the way from St. Louis.”

  “Who knows how long they’ll take to get here?” Rill asked. “Besides, you aren’t taking Stash’s character into account. He hates outsiders. That’s one of the reasons he’s doing what he’s doing, because he doesn’t want outsiders polluting Vulture’s Canyon. You’d be much better off negotiating with him now, before the others get here. Federal agents from the city will just make Stash more paranoid.”

  Rill knew he’d gone too far when Mulligan shoved a fat finger at him. “You need to keep your mouth shut. You’re not the expert here; I am.”

  Fury and helplessness boiled near the eruption point in Rill’s chest. “Neither one of us are experts, you idiot. Don’t tell me you’ve ever handled a hostage situation before. The fact of the matter is, though, you do have some pull with Stash because you are the local authority. He knows you. He asked Sherona to call you. You,” Rill repeated loudly. “Would you pick up the fuckin’ phone and at least try? What could it hurt and you’ll more than likely save a couple lives with just a few dozen words?”

  Mulligan’s face turned beet red. “I will do no such thing. I’m waiting for the hostage negotiators to handle this, as will you! I’m ordering you to vacate this area and move a full block away. This is a restricted area. You, too, Sherona.”

  “But, Rodney, Derek is in there,” Sherona pleaded.

  “That building may blow at any second,” Mulligan said, his face g
etting redder. “I can’t have civilians standing around here.” He gave Rill a venomous glare. “Or ordering me around. Now, get out of here!”

  Rill had to stop himself from causing bodily harm to the sheriff when Sherona’s knees wilted under her at his mention of the diner blowing up. Instead, he steadied Sherona in his arms and led her down the sidewalk.

  When they reached the steps in front of the now-closed Vulture’s Canyon Savings and Loan, Rill eased Sherona down on the stone steps. In the distance, a couple men wandered out of the tavern and Rill caught phrases like “go on home” and “restricted area” as Mulligan shouted at them.

  “He’s an idiot,” Sherona said numbly.

  “Are any of his deputies any better?” Rill asked hopefully.

  Sherona just shook her head, her gaze glued to the diner as though she thought she could retract her little brother by staring at it hard enough.

  “Rill, what did you mean earlier, when you said Stash must have been disappointed I wasn’t in the diner? Are you suggesting he’s pulling this crazy stunt for me?”

  Rill gave her a quick glance before he went back to studying the strip of buildings across the street. “He had to get your attention somehow . . . show you how powerful he was. It wasn’t as if you were giving him the time of day otherwise.”

  “You can’t really believe that.”

  “Not entirely, no, but it wouldn’t surprise me a bit if his obsession with you played a part in all this shit,” Rill replied distractedly. He nodded across the street. “These storefronts are relatively new, even if the structure is ancient. Sometimes when you have old buildings like this, they’re divided in different ways over the years. Any chance the diner is connected to the vacant space next to it, or the Trading Company?”