****
Cassie laid face down on her bed, surrounded by tabloid magazines and wadded up tissues. She had been crying on and off for days, distraught that her favorite band would not be making music anymore, that she wouldn’t get to see James Kelly again…”It’s all that bitch’s fault,” she wailed through swollen eyes and a stuffy nose.
She rolled over to stare at the ceiling. Tears welled up again as she remembered being there at the hotel for their last show in Tampa, waiting for him to leave, to walk by and recognize her. Oh my God, he was supposed to say, it’s you I’ve been searching my whole life for. Cameras would flash and her sister and all her stupid friends would be so jealous. Then James would take her by the hand and whisk her away to his limo, not being able to part with her for even a moment since he finally had found her. She had reached out her hand as he walked by and just when she touched his fingertips he pulled that red headed skank into his arms and kissed her instead.
The bitch, Cassie thought venomously. She distracted him. It should have been me. He would have seen me if it wasn’t for her. Cassie knew the truth - she knew in her heart that all the songs James wrote, he wrote for her. When he sang, it was only for her. He sent her messages through his music, telling her how much she meant to him. How much he wanted her. Then after the show was over, finding that he had left without her…the humiliation was just too much to bear.
Mindy walked into the trashed bedroom unannounced. “Shit’s hitting the fan at the apartments over on Providence, something to do with Horizon,” she drawled. “I heard it on the police scanner. News crews are crawling all over the place ‘cause they think James Kelly or his girlfriend might be there – it’s a real mess.”
Cassie closed her eyes. My sources tell me you have ties in the Bay area, she remembered the reporter saying.
I do. My sister and brother in law own Castle Wilde in Brandon. My brother and his wife, and my girlfriend live here as well, so yes, I’m very happy to be here, James answered before kissing his fingertips and placing them over his heart, his secret message for Cassie.
You’re about to get a whole lot happier, Baby. With a soft grunt, she swung her feet off the bed and slipped into her waiting Sketchers. Swiping a hand across her dripping nose, she began to lace them up. “I’m going out.”
“I ain’t driving you over there,” Mindy warned, “so don’t ask.
“I ain’t asking,” Cassie snapped. She snatched up her backpack and headed for the door, stalking past her startled sister. “I’m going to the library,” she threw back over her shoulder.
“Whatever,” Mindy shrugged, “but you better be back before Mom gets home.” With that dire threat issued, she went into her own room and closed the door.
Cassie waited until the lock clicked before tiptoeing into her mom’s bedroom. Moving quietly as a mouse, she got the extra set of car keys from the dresser. She moved over to the bed, still listening for sounds in the hallway. Her hand hovered briefly over the handle before yanking open the nightstand drawer. She grabbed the loaded .38, carefully stuffing it into her backpack. With a satisfied smile, she hefted the bag to her shoulder and left the house with a new sense that everything was going to be just fine.
****
James was busy pacing back and forth, trying to piece together where the rumors Bryce had told him about might have originated. When his phone jingled again, he snatched it off the table and glared down at the caller ID. Unavailable.
With an irritated snort, he dropped the phone back onto the table but as soon as it left his hand a huge wave of nausea crashed over him and the sudden searing images of rotting zombies flooded his brain. The phone rang twice more then stopped. At once, his stomach settled back down. Frowning with disconcertion, he had started for the kitchen when the phone rang again. His intuition overrode his annoyance this time, demanding that he answer it.
“Who is this?” he snapped. The female voice that answered sobbed in the phone, unable to form even simple words. James immediately went on high alert, every nerve taunt as a guitar string. “Beth? Darlin’, is that you?”
“Uh-huh,” she managed to choke out before falling apart again. “Oh Seamus, I’m so scared…I got my mail and…they all…blame me for…it wasn’t my fault,” she wailed.
“Where are you now?” he demanded, interrupting her.
“I’m in my apartment; I can’t get out,” she cried, “Reporters. Cameras. People…everywhere. It’s like night of the fucking living dead out there.”
He snarled, a deep guttural sound. “Stay put. I’m coming, darlin’. Lock that door and don’t you let no one in.” With that, he rocketed for the front door, snatching his shoes on the way out. He ran across the common area and hammered on Ian’s door.
Dan had stopped by Ian’s on his way to the Castle and they were looking at the new sketches when the loud pounding started. “Seamus, what the hell…” Ian said as James blew inside.
His eyes were wild. “She’s trapped in her apartment - she says reporters are everywhere and she’s scared out of her mind. I have to go to her,” James breathed, dropping to his knees to lace up his trainers.
“You’re not going alone,” Ian insisted, grabbing for his keys.
“We’ll get her,” Dan assured him and the three men hit the stairs at a run, by unspoken consent not wanting to wait for the elevator.
****
Beth huddled on the floor next to her couch with her arms wrapped around her legs and rocking back and forth. She hummed tunelessly, ignoring the persistent knocking. “Miss Vargo? Are you in there?” the voices kept calling. “We just want to talk to you.”
The commotion outside swelled to a deafening roar and she screamed as the fierce pounding on the door nearly stopped her heart. “Lisbeth!” a familiar voice bellowed. “Open up!”
Seamus, she thought frantically, scrambling on hands and knees to the door. She pulled herself up and looked through the peephole as the pounding started again. “Back the fuck up,” James roared as she flung the door open to admit the three men. Pushing inside, they slammed and locked the door behind them.
James had Beth wrapped in his arms in seconds, holding her tightly. “I’ve got you now, darlin’,” he murmured over and over while she sobbed her relief into his chest. “We’re going to get you out of here, it’s all going to be just fine.” He directed a questioning look over her head at Ian and Dan, moving quickly from window to window.
“They’re everywhere,” Dan mouthed, “front and back.”
“Police?” Ian said, pulling out his cell phone. At James’s reluctant nod and jerk of the head he slipped into the bedroom to make the call out of Beth’s earshot. He was back within minutes, frowning down at the damning magazines spread out on the coffee table. “What the hell’s all this, then?” Ian picked up one, scanned the picture and whistled low. “There’s the slander and lies.” He dropped it with a noise of disgust and turning to Beth placed a hand gently on her shoulder. “What did you need from here? We’ll take it to the car for you.”
Beth motioned to the bags she had packed, her sobs quieting to soft hiccups. “Just those,” she whispered. “The groceries are in the Jag – I g…g…got you ice cream,” she managed to stammer before the tears began again.
The hardened expression on James’s face swung back and forth between concern and fury. He tightened his embrace, stroking her hair and crooning softly. “There’s my girl,” he soothed. “Easy now, mo chroí.”
“Leave the bags,” Dan said curtly. “I’ll send someone back for them.” Cocking his head, he was the first to hear the sirens wailing in the distance and alerted everyone to be ready. When the doorbell rang moments later, Ian cracked it open cautiously.
The pair of policemen at the door wouldn’t have been out of place on an NFL defensive line and when they got a good look at James, their serious faces broke into grins. “Glad to hear the rumors aren’t true,” the younger of the two beamed. “I’m a big fan, Mr. Kelly.” The two officer
s conferred briefly then placed a call for backup. Within minutes, three more police cars arrived. One burly officer rolled out of the patrol car with a bullhorn and began barking orders to the crowd to stay back. Like ocean waves, the milling crowd shifted and receded slightly, but did not decrease in numbers despite the officer’s demand to vacate the premises if not a resident.
Pale as death, Ian stood like a silent sentry at the window, staring out unseeing over the parking lot. Beth excused herself to freshen up and James moved to stand beside him. “You feel it too,” he murmured. “It’s like…I don’t know…darkness. What is it, do you think?”
“I don’t like this,” Ian whispered. “Something’s bad wrong, Seamus. We can’t leave now.”
James raised his eyebrows in question but before he could speak one of the policemen joined them by the window. “We’ve got more officers on the way up. We’re going to escort you down to your car then to Olde Towne. You’ll be perfectly safe,” the officer assured him.
“No.” Ian shook his head violently, ignoring the policeman. He fixed James with a meaningful stare. “Hear what I’m telling you, Seamus - we can’t leave.”
The officer frowned. “I don’t know who you are, sir, but we have a situation down there in that parking lot. We cannot allow you to stay up here because if you’re up here, that…” he swept his hand towards the surging crowd, “…doesn’t go away. There are other officers on the way here now. You’ll have plenty of escort to get out.”
Ian moaned softly in response as more uniformed officers filed inside the apartment. After a brief discussion, it was decided that the four would be flanked by two officers, with two in the lead and two more bringing up the rear. Beth clutched James with the tenacity of a drowning woman. He crooned in her ear, rocking her gently against his heart. “We’re going home, sweetness,” he whispered. “Everything’s going to be fine.”
When at last the front door opened again, a roar of voices rose up from the waiting crowd. Applause, whoops of encouragement and hateful catcalls mingled with the cries of the photographers, each jockeying for position to be closest when they descended the stairs. Beth trembled violently, huddled tight against James as he guided her down the narrow steps. Ian stood at James’s side, Dan at Beth’s. Once on the ground the little group moved towards the parking lot. The crowd surged forward, unheeding the officer’s commands to stay back.
James flashed his brother a cocky smile full of his old bravado then propelled his body forward with a grunt, shoving Beth roughly behind him. He went rigid as the crowd around them exploded in movement. Looking back over his shoulder, he gave Beth a slow, lazy smile and winked. Sounds like fireworks, he thought absently as he fell backwards, the red stain spreading across his chest.
It was Ian that caught him. “Get an ambulance,” he bellowed to the police before turning his attention back to the man in his arms. “No, Seamus…please,” Ian begged in a broken whisper, tears streaming down his cheeks as he lowered his brother to the ground, “…you can’t go yet, mo deartháirín.”
The police fought to subdue the shooter, a young girl that looked to be no older than fifteen. She twisted in their grasp like a blonde eel, howling obscenities over the deafening clamor and glaring at Beth through hate-filled eyes glazed over with equal parts tears and obsession-driven insanity.
Beth dropped to her knees next to James and took his hand while Ian tore the front of James’s shirt open with a loud rip. The gaping hole was just right of center in his chest, blood bubbling from the ragged opening. Dan held James’s head up, speaking encouragements into his ear, assuring him the ambulance was on the way. With a frantic oath Ian tore his t-shirt off and wadded it up, pressing hard against the wound in an attempt to staunch the dark crimson river.
“Don’t you die on me,” Beth whispered fiercely, “I mean it, Seamus Kelly - don’t you dare. I ain’t done with you yet.”
James gazed up at Beth with an almost beatific smile on his face. Love you, he mouthed. He coughed hard and wheezed, causing the blood to soak through the makeshift compress. Beth heard someone screaming his name over and over from far away when his smile froze on his lips and his eyes glazed over, and she didn’t realize until much later that it was her making that awful noise.
22
The glaring lights of the operating theater beat down as the doctors and nurses worked with rapid precision. Two men stood apart and away from the flurry of activity, watching in detached interest with identical sets of emerald green eyes. The taller of the two had thick black hair falling in waves just below his shoulders. With a long-suffering sigh, Marc Kelly took a long look at his youngest son. “None of this would’ve happened had you just stayed in school like I asked, would it now,” he muttered with a suspicious twitch of his lips.
James shrugged and grinned. “I never was one much for listening, Da. You know that.” He grimaced as he leaned a little closer to watch the activity. “Now there’s parts of me I’m sure I was never meant to see,” he said, pointing to the still body lying atop the stainless steel table.
Marc grimaced and nodded in reluctant agreement. “C’mon, then,” he said, jerking his head towards the door. “Let’s go see what the others are doing.”
They followed a nurse out of the operating room and into the adjacent waiting room where the family was gathered. Meg cried into Dan’s chest, tears glistening on the big man’s own cheeks as he struggled to calm his wife. Lily held Beth, both sobbing inconsolably. Freshly clad in a clean orderly’s shirt, Ian stood by the window staring unseeing over the parking lot.
“Ah, Beth,” James sighed and moved towards her, but was stopped by a warning hand on his arm.
“Patience, boy,” Marc warned. “Not just yet.”
The soft chime of the elevator announced the arrival of another visitor. Aaron’s nervous eyes darted around the waiting room as if trying to gauge where his friendliest reception might be. After the briefest hesitation, he walked over to Beth. “How is he?” he whispered, twisting his hands anxiously. With a soft moan, Beth closed her eyes and turned away.
Dan spoke up in her stead. “He’s still in surgery. No one’s told us anything yet. How’d you get here so fast?” he said, suspicious of the manager’s timely arrival.
“I got a breaking news text alert,” Aaron explained. “I flew in yesterday. I was going to try to meet with him to convince him to come back.” He continued to wring his hands and added almost inaudibly, “Oh, God - I never meant for anything like this to happen.”
The only person who saw Ian move was Dan, and he wasn’t fast enough to stop him. In one fluid movement, Ian vaulted over the couch and had the shorter man pinned against the wall before anyone could so much as utter a sound. “Didn’t mean for what to happen?” Ian spoke directly in Aaron’s ear, hissing each word. “If my brother dies and I find out you had anything to do with it, I swear you’ll wish it had been you.”
Lily and Meg both cried out in alarm. Dan jumped up and tried without much success to pull Ian off the whimpering man. With effort, he managed to wedge a small space between the two men. “Easy now,” he pleaded. “Stand down, my brother. This won’t help anything.”
Giving Aaron one last rough shove before releasing him, Ian stalked away to resume his silent vigil. Lily joined her husband at the window, sliding comforting arms around him. He pulled her into a fierce embrace, his eyes clenched shut.
“Hothead,” Marc muttered, shaking his head in exasperation at his middle son. “Always was. Takes after your mother, that one.”
Dan pushed Aaron towards a vacant chair. “Get over there and shut it if you know what’s good for you,” he ordered. He turned back to Meg, gathering her in his arms and making soft murmuring sounds of comfort.
Aaron’s panicked, shallow breaths were the only sounds in the room as he attempted to regain his composure. Closing his eyes, James tried to connect to the whirlwind of pictures running rampant through the band manager’s mind and was startled by what he saw. W
ith wide eyes he turned back to his father and said, “Someone who works with Aaron turned this over to the tabloids, trying to force me to come back and using Beth to do it. This wasn’t supposed to happen, though. He’s thinking how sorry he is, that it’s all his fault. I think he means it, Da.”
Without waiting for his father’s response to that revelation, James crossed the waiting area to Beth. The tears flowed unchecked down her face and onto her shirt, still stained with his blood. Her arms wrapped tightly around herself, she rocked and hummed, watching the door the doctors had disappeared behind with single-minded intent. He reached out intending to stroke her hair and was horrified as his hand passed completely through her.
James whirled to face his father, tears of his own blurring his vision. “She can’t feel me,” he cried, then tried again to touch her face. Kneeling down before her, he gave her a gentle kiss on the cheek and said, “I love you, sweetness.”
“I love you too,” she whispered. Her head whipped up and she looked around with wild eyes, her hand pressed to the spot he had just kissed. “They’re losing him,” she moaned in horror to Lily.
James moved to touch her again, but was halted by his father’s steadying hand on his shoulder. “Now. We’ve got to go now,” Marc said, taking James by the arm and pulling him back to the sterile room where the doctors and nurses still worked frantically on the broken body.
“Blood pressure dropping,” the anesthesia resident reported. The monitoring machines began sounding their alarms, the spikes measuring his heart rate going flat. “We’re losing him,” a nurse called.
James winced with detached sympathy, watching the limp body jerk convulsively from the defibrillator. “Is this it, then, Da?” he said softly.
The Gypsy Ribbon Page 28
