Capture the Night

by Cheryl Pierson

  “I shouldn’t.”

  Pete smiled at her. “Yes. You should.” He sobered, pulling her into his arms. “Last chance, Eileen. Last chance—if you do what you intend.”

  He felt her lips curve against his shoulder. “I’m glad I told you. Even if you don’t understand.”

  “I do understand,” he murmured. “I’m just sorry it has to be this way.”

  “I’m not sure how you mean that, Yank, so I’ll take it as a compliment.” She drew back and looked at him, smiling. “And, I must ‘do as I intend’. Nothing can change that, Pete.”

  “Eileen—I do have a brother.”

  Her smile faded. “Yes…I know. But I’m not sure what I’ll be able to do—”

  “Just—whatever you can.” He looked into her eyes. She nodded, glancing away. She could make him no promises, but he knew that already.

  “Yes. Yes. All right.”

  He kissed her forehead tenderly. “I’m sorry.” For all the things that happened. For your illness. For your losses—past and future.

  She laid her head on his chest, her last chance to ever be this close to another human, just as he’d said. “I know.”

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  “It ain’t right, me bein’ out here, Ronnie.” Daniel shifted his weight between his feet nervously, back and forth, back and forth, rocking. The movement soothed him, calming him some, but not completely. Never completely. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt at rest. Not lately, that was for sure. Not for a long, long time.

  Ronnie was staring at him now in a way he didn’t like very much. It was a look that said, “Don’t get any smart ideas.” Daniel had seen it before, plenty of times.

  “Danny,” Ronnie began hesitantly. He stood up from where he’d been squatting in the shade of the tree. “I’m…glad you made it out alive.”

  Daniel turned from his brooding to face his brother. Ronnie was gettin’ old. Seemed like he’d been old for a while. He was a good brother. Always had been. Ronnie had done things for him that no one else would have ever done. He was almost like a guardian angel. Didn’t look like an angel… Daniel took in his brother’s haggard expression, his balding head, his faded Wranglers. But he acted like one—always protecting him. Even when they was little kids.

  Daniel made himself smile. Anybody else, he’d wonder if they really meant it. But with Ronnie, he just knew it was true. Ronnie wouldn’t say it if he didn’t mean it. Daniel always wondered why Ronnie loved him so much. It wasn’t like he was much good for anything, anymore. Couldn’t even keep the quarters safe.

  Ronnie walked toward him, stopping a couple of feet away. “Now, Danny, ain’t no reason for you to be feelin’ bad ’bout gettin’ outta there.” He gingerly unfolded the wrinkled Astros cap and put it back on, straightening the brim.

  Daniel looked down. “I promised I’d help Pete.” His voice was gruff.

  “I know.” Ronnie put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I know you did. But sometimes, you can’t do what you think you’ll be able to. It’s okay. You had good intentions.”

  “Don’t matter,” Daniel muttered. “Ronnie, I can’t ever do what I say I’m gonna. It never works out. I always disappoint you.”

  “Hey!” Ronnie reached to grab him by both shoulders. “Danny, look at me.”

  Daniel’s eyes connected uncertainly with his brother’s. The kindness there was almost unbearable. He glanced away quickly.

  “Danny, you don’t disappoint me. You’re the best brother anybody could have.”

  He shook his head in denial. “No. No, I ain’t Ronnie. You don’t know everything—”

  “I don’t have to know everything to know you’re a good brother.”

  Daniel wrenched himself out of Ronnie’s grip with an agonized groan of despair. “I’ve done bad things!”

  Several of the police officers glanced over at Daniel, but Ronnie ignored their curiosity. “What…kinds of bad things?” he asked.

  Daniel shook his head, then passed a shaky hand over his face. “You remember the other day when you forgot my Bobby’s Burgers?”

  Ronnie didn’t answer, and Daniel plunged on. “Well, I—” He turned, glancing guiltily over his shoulder. “I went down there, Ronnie. I know I promised you I wouldn’t, but…I couldn’t help it. I just—I just wanted to be with people. I got lonesome.”

  Ronnie sucked in a deep breath. “Danny—maybe I’ve been wrong, thinking this would work—you living up there on the roof, keeping to yourself and all…” His head came up as if he’d just thought of something and he took a step forward before stopping himself. “You ate a sandwich that night. You didn’t go hungry.”

  “Course not!” Daniel answered impatiently. “I wanted a hamburger and French fries, but that’s not really why I went down there. See, I just like to watch the families and whatnot. The little kids playin’ in the balls and all that. It’s bright in there, and people are nice…sometimes.”

  “Danny…what did you use for money? Some of the quarters?”

  Daniel glared at his brother. “Hell, no! You know I wouldn’t do that!”

  “Then, what?”

  Daniel didn’t answer. He couldn’t meet Ronnie’s questioning stare, either—not anymore. He turned his back on him.

  Ronnie nodded his head. “I guess that’s where your cell phone went, huh? Did you sell it? Trade it?” Anger crept into his tone as he advanced on Daniel. “What did you do with it!”

  “It’s gone!” Daniel whirled to face him, his eyes flashing defensively, fists clenching.

  “I know that, damn it!” Ronnie took a breath, his gaze burning hot. “Where is it?”

  Something bridled up inside of Daniel at that look. It wasn’t that he meant to cause problems for Ronnie. Hell, he’d been nothing but trouble ever since he could remember. He’d been meant for wonderful things, or so his mama had always told him…before Nam. Now, it seemed, he was meant for nothing. For living in a room on the top of a pricey hotel, where there wasn’t even a place for him to take a bath.

  He was a burden to his brother. A burden, now, even to himself. He loved Ronnie, but he was damn tired of having to answer to him. He wanted to, just once, be his own man again. Hell, he’d settle for just knowing he was any kind of a man one last time before he died.

  “Danny? Where is it?”

  “You go to hell, Ronnie!”

  Ronnie stepped closer to Daniel. Something was different between them. Lost. Daniel felt like a stranger. Ronnie reached to grasp his arm, but Daniel threw off his touch easily. Then, he turned away and began walking.

  “Danny! Danny, where’re you going?” Ronnie charged after him, but Daniel stopped and turned abruptly. Ronnie would have run into him if Daniel hadn’t put a hand out to steady him; to hold him at arms’ length. It was as if a curtain of steel had dropped between them, and it drew Ronnie up short.

  “I’ve answered all the questions I’m a-gonna. All the cop questions—and yours.”

  “Danny—Just tell me where you’re headed!”

  “I know where I’m goin’. And that’s enough.” Daniel turned away and took a couple of fast steps.

  “Danny, wait!”

  Not anymore. No more waiting. He knew what he had to do.

  “Danny!”

  “Mr. Williams!” Captain Carter’s voice called out behind him, mingling with his brother’s.

  He didn’t care. He’d told both of ’em everything he could remember. He was tired of talking. He began to run. The lawn was like a sea of green, and he wished he could fall down in it and roll like he and Ronnie used to do when they were kids. But, he didn’t. He focused on the door he’d slipped out of earlier, and ran toward it. The voices behind him grew fainter until finally, he couldn’t hear them anymore. That was fine. He watched himself place his feet in that lush green carpet, marveling at his own ability to run so swiftly, to know his own purpose so surely.

  There was nothing for him in any world, now. There was no closeness with Ron
nie anymore. It had vanished, somehow. He had no one but himself. And didn’t he always manage to fuck things up somehow? Didn’t he?

  He sucked in a deep breath of this forbidden air—the whispering breeze of spring; of newness and life. For an instant, he turned his face upward into the slanting rays of sun. This was what heaven would be like. Just one long grassy field and the sun, moving warm across his face like the loving touch of a good woman.

  He reached the door and flung it open, glancing back briefly to where his brother stood, restrained by four of Dallas’s Finest. Then, Daniel disappeared through the door into the safety of the hotel; into the invisibility of his own dark kingdom.

  Chapter 34

  Johnny stiffened against the wracking chills, but they were too powerful. They washed over him again, and Alexa’s arms came around him, trying to give him some of her warmth. He opened his eyes, meeting her worried gaze. At the instant heightening of concern in the green depths, he tried to push the pain aside.

  Alexa’s fingers caressed his stubbled cheek, and he knew she had not been fooled.

  “I know you’re hurting,” she murmured, close to his ear. “I’ve—got the last two pills in my pocket.” She sounded hesitant, and Johnny realized she was waiting for him to respond.

  “It might help with the fever, even if it doesn’t do a whole lot for the pain,” she added.

  “Yeah, okay…” He held out his hand, trying to control the tremors rolling through his body. Alexa laid the pills in his hand, then folded his fingers down around them. He swallowed them with no water.

  Damn. He was dry. The pills stuck in his throat. He swallowed again, and Alexa’s arms slipped away from him. If he had some water…just one swallow… But he wouldn’t ask McShane. That’s what the bastard wanted, wasn’t it? The whole world groveling at his feet. He wasn’t going to beg. He wasn’t even going to ask.

  He licked his lips. They were rough, his tongue thick.

  “Here, sweetheart,” Alexa whispered. She pressed a water bottle to his lips. “Drink, Johnny.” There was a measure of anxiety in her tone.

  He took the bottle from her, sensing her reluctance to let him have it. She was afraid he’d spill it. “Give me. I’ll…be careful,” he whispered. She turned it loose, and he guzzled the tepid water, feeling his strength build with each swallow.

  “Easy, Johnny,” Roberts said in a low voice. “It can make you sick—”

  Delicate fingers came across his own grasp on the bottle, a silent warning from Alexa, as well. He lowered the bottle, knowing Roberts was right; that he had to take it slow.

  He opened his eyes, looking into Alexa’s face.

  “Johnny—”

  “I’m all right,” he insisted. “It’s this damn fever. Once I get rid of it, I’ll be okay.” He turned to Brendan Roberts. “How many…hostages? Total?”

  “Hard to say. I think we’re all that’s left. Right here.” The Prime Minister related what he had seen—Farley and Latham disappearing into the elevators with their respective bands of hostages, McShane’s cryptic order to Sorley O’Brian, and the girl Eileen’s odd look as she’d watched McShane.

  “So, you speak Gaelic, Mr. Roberts?” Alexa asked.

  Roberts chuckled. “No. Not much. I understand it better than I speak it.” He looked at Johnny. “But I do understand it. I know what I heard.”

  Johnny took a deep breath. The chills were slackening some now, allowing him to think. He took another slow drink from the bottle. “McShane ordered O’Brian to kill the hostages and his own men? Why?”

  Roberts shrugged. “I thought about it. And I watched Miss Bannion’s reaction. She’s a smart one. O’Brian—” he cast a glance at O’Brian’s body, “—he wasn’t long on brains. But he was loyal. He did what he was told and didn’t stop to wonder why. But Miss Bannion did. I could see it in her face. And I saw the answer there, as well.”

  Johnny’s thoughts went back to McShane’s radio message to Eileen Bannion. They’ve killed Sorley, Eileen. It’s just you and me now, love.

  “His final play, huh?” Johnny surmised. “He doesn’t want anyone spoiling it for him.”

  “Or upstaging him,” Alexa murmured. “It’s the Kieran McShane Show.”

  This brought a faint smile to the Prime Minister’s lips. “Yes. He’s always been exceedingly fond of his own crude brand of ‘marketability’.” He glanced at Alexa. “He’ll sell himself to the highest bidder. I’m surprised Miss Bannion hasn’t learned that yet. She seems devoted to him.”

  “She could prove a liability to him, then,” Johnny said. “As Alexa said, it’s McShane’s show, now. If there are only the two of them left—and it seems that’s how it is—it could be she hasn’t figured out what he’s got in mind.”

  “She was surprised—no, shocked—at that order,” Roberts remembered. “But she covered it well, and quickly.”

  “Seems to be the secret to her longevity,” Alexa murmured.

  “Your men…do you know who betrayed you?” Johnny’s gaze roved over the other hostages, seated a distance from where they were.

  “I’m sure of only one traitor—Mr. Albert Pickens. He came down as a hostage, as if he’d gotten separated from my entourage.” Roberts shook his head. “Benson, my aide, told me he’d seen him looking quite harried…slipping away. We were concerned…until he was brought back later. Oh, they returned him at the end of a gun,” he said, seeing the question in Johnny’s expression, “but it was all for show. He’ll be the first one they’ll do away with.”

  “You—suspect others?” Alexa asked.

  Roberts sighed. “I can’t be sure of any of them. Not with other people’s lives at stake.”

  Alexa nodded and glanced at Johnny. He was certain she was thinking of the fact that he’d let O’Brian kill the dirty SWAT cop after Richter had been done away with. He’d let the young SWAT member seal his own fate, but not before he’d killed the other man—the innocent cop who was trying to do what he’d been trained for.

  With Roberts’s explanation, Johnny read in her eyes that she realized why he had done what he had—that he’d had no choice.

  “I understand.”

  Relief washed over Johnny at her words—his absolution. He felt like he’d just shed a ton of bricks—still banged up, still bruised, but able to tackle the next obstacle.

  He gave her a half grin, leaning his head back against the wall. Water…the miracle drug. Alexa took the near-empty bottle, and he closed his eyes. He wondered how she had come by it. The supplies. They were just yards away from the little space behind the compressors. Johnny turned his head, looking at the door Don Richter had kicked in—destroyed—not more than an hour earlier. Alexa must have chanced going for the water while McShane was occupied on the telephone. He was getting sloppy, McShane was. Or maybe Alexa was just good at this spy game they found themselves embroiled in. She was not afraid—or if she was, she hid it remarkably well. She’d faced McShane down when he’d asked her name…tried to charm her. Johnny smiled again, remembering the frosty tone she’d used—stopped that Irish charm McShane had tried to use dead in its tracks.

  But, Johnny knew her weakness. And if he did, McShane would recognize it, as well. If she had only herself to look out for, Johnny knew she wouldn’t be nearly as concerned with their situation as she was now—because of him. He understood, because he mirrored those feelings, but to an even deeper degree. He was a man. Supposed to be taking care of her. Policeman. Protect and serve. He’d done it earlier…killed that bastard O’Brian. But, he would be paying for that before too much longer. McShane hadn’t forgotten. He hoped Alexa could be strong when it happened. Hated to think of her giving McShane any kind of satisfaction—Later, when she had a chance to let herself remember it, she would want to re-do it all again…try to second-guess herself, because she’d feel she had failed him. And there wasn’t really anything she could’ve done differently, being only human. Loving him as he knew she did.

  Love. The weakness betwe
en them, in McShane’s eyes. McShane had the power—more than he realized. They’d be puppets on a string for him, just to buy time. To try to see this impossible dream they’d created between them become reality.

  Johnny became aware of Alexa pushing the precious bottle of water behind her as she positioned herself to conceal it better. A hush fell over the room as McShane swaggered over to where Johnny, Alexa and the Prime Minister sat.

  He stopped a few inches from Johnny’s outstretched legs, his cold gray eyes moving over first Johnny, then Brendan Roberts, and finally, Alexa.

  “It seems your Captain Carter isn’t the miracle worker I’d hoped he would be.”

  Johnny ignored the reference, the sly use of the word “your” that McShane had inserted. He kept his expression bland.

  McShane squatted down in a sudden move, coming eye-level with him, as if he hoped to be able to read his expressions more easily.

  Alexa flinched, startled at his sudden movement, and he spared her a wry grin. “Officer Logan hasn’t been entirely truthful with me, Miss…Bailey.” He returned his gaze to meet Johnny’s scrutiny once again. “I can only hope he’s been a bit more honest with you—for both your sakes.”

  “Leave her out of this, McShane.” Johnny’s voice carried the rough edge of a threat.

  McShane gave him a reluctant smile. “Or what, John T.? You’re not in much shape to do anything…about anything.” He sat back on his heels, deceptively at ease. “In case you’re wondering, your captain told me all about you. I can be most persuasive when I need to be. I told him I had a gun pointed at your head, and that I needed some honest answers, or—” he shrugged, “I might become a tad trigger-happy.” He paused a moment. “He was most eager to oblige. Ran off at the mouth about anything I asked him, thinking he was saving you.” He chuckled. “He just didn’t realize it was only a temporary reprieve, John.” His gaze narrowed. “I think he feels a little guilty over not getting me what I asked for. He knows it means you and the others—will die. He doesn’t want that, and God knows, I don’t either. But…there’s no help for it. He was your last hope.” McShane fell silent, waiting for a reaction.