by Diana Palmer
“You have two people who do,” she replied. “Me and Joshua.”
He kissed her forehead. “You’re a nice woman. Pity I’m a fossil. I’d hang my son out to dry and marry you myself.” He grinned.
She laughed. “Thanks. You take care of yourself. Please keep in touch,” she added.
“I will.” He stuck his hands in his pockets. He looked every year of his age. “Perhaps, one day, he’ll remember. In the meantime, I have to keep busy, so that I don’t go completely mad.”
“That’s not a bad idea. Just please don’t take it to extremes.”
He gave her a lopsided smile. “I won’t.” He went to say goodbye to the other occupants of the house and got in the car with Cash, en route to the airport.
“I wish there was something I could do,” Clarisse said solemnly.
Tippy put an arm around her as they stood, looking through the window as Cash and K.C. drove away. “Me, too.”
* * *
K.C. arrived back in Nairobi cold-eyed and remote. He was no longer the affable man of recent years. He got out his old kit and started cleaning automatic weapons.
When Rourke knocked absently at the door and walked in, he stopped short at the array of weapons, newly cleaned, laid out in a pack on the dining room table.
K.C. came back into the room carrying a suitcase. He was dressed in khakis, and his eyes were like ice.
“What the hell is wrong?” Rourke asked at once, because he didn’t recognize the man he was seeing.
“We’ve got a job,” he replied without looking closely at his son. He started dismantling the weapons in preparation for a commercial flight to an African nation under siege by insurgents. “I’m going along. I’ve put all the important papers in the safe. This is the combination, just in case.” He handed Rourke a folded piece of paper. “There are instructions, as well. My attorney has everything else you might need, legally.”
Rourke felt his heart stop. He remembered K.C. dressed like this when he was a child. He remembered that cold, dangerous expression on his face. Something was terribly wrong.
“What happened?” Rourke asked, his tone softening.
K.C. lifted his head and looked at his son evenly. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
“Mary Luke Bernadette died a few days ago,” he said, barely able to get the words out past his tight throat. He turned his attention deliberately back to the guns, focusing on them, to ward off strong emotion.
Mary Luke Bernadette. Rourke frowned. The name was familiar. It was on the tip of his tongue. He concentrated, very hard. “She was...a nun.” He looked up at K.C. “You loved her,” he said softly, wincing at the older man’s expression, although it was quickly hidden.
“Yes,” K.C. replied. “She was the only woman I ever loved in my whole damned life.”
Rourke moved closer. “You’re not going out to get yourself killed because of it,” he said firmly. “I won’t let you.”
K.C. fell into a fighting stance. His eyes were colder than ice. “Try to stop me.”
Rourke frowned. Amazing, how similar they were. The older man looked just like him! The frown deepened. “You...look like me,” he faltered.
“Yes. What a strange coincidence, isn’t it?” K.C. drawled. Rourke didn’t come any closer, so K.C. went back to his packing, his movements starkly efficient.
“Why? You never go on missions. You stay here and do intel for your men.”
K.C. wasn’t looking at him. “I have nothing left in the world that matters,” he said. “No family, no... Mary Luke, no nothing. Money and power are wind. Air.” He closed the suitcase. “I’ve lost everything I loved.” He turned to Rourke. “You remember what I told you, about the safe.” He picked up the suitcase.
“No!” Rourke moved right up to him. There was something, deep in his mind. He’d had flashes of insight in recent weeks, confusing images, night terror about something that had happened in Barrera. There was another faint memory, connected with this man. “You have AB Negative blood,” he said, blinking.
K.C.’s chin lifted. “Yes.”
Rourke scowled. “So do I.”
“Coincidences happen,” K.C. said shortly.
“It’s not...a coincidence.” Rourke put a hand to his head. “We had tests done. Neither of us knew for sure.” He looked up. “You knocked me over a damned sofa!”
“You had it coming,” K.C. said angrily. “You accused me of sleeping with Clarisse’s mother!”
Rourke kept staring at him. The remark about Clarisse made no sense. “You’re my father. My real father.”
K.C.’s heart jumped. He didn’t say a word. There was a faint flush high on his cheekbones as he stared at the younger man.
“You’re my father,” Rourke said roughly, fighting emotion.
K.C. drew in a long breath. He seemed to slump. “Yes,” he bit off, averting his head.
“How? Why?”
“Mary Luke took the veil and became a nun,” he replied in a tired, wounded voice. “I tried to stop her, tried to make her understand how I felt, what we could have together. She was sorry. She was very fond of me, but she loved the church more. I drank myself into a stupor. Your mother was married to my best friend. He was away on a mission. She came to see about me. She’d heard from one of the girls who worked for me. I was drinking and she had a drink with me. One drink led to more drinks and then...” He stared out the window. “She loved me. That made it worse, somehow. Both of us had to live with it, to pretend that nothing happened, that you were your father’s child.” His eyes closed. “I betrayed my best friend. I’ve carried the guilt for thirty-one years.” He turned to Rourke. “But I can’t regret you,” he added in a husky, soft tone, his eyes seeking out all the similarities, all the things they shared. “You’re the only damned thing I ever did in my life that was good. I’m...so proud of you.” His voice broke and he turned away.
Rourke moved closer. He reached out, hesitantly, and embraced his father.
K.C. lost it. He broke down. At least he had something. He had his son. Rourke had remembered.
“I’m so sorry, Dad,” Rourke said huskily. “I’m so damned sorry!”
K.C. felt the wetness in his eyes, on his cheeks. Mary Luke was gone forever. He’d never have another letter from her about the exciting things in Kasie’s life, the amusing notes about her neighbors and her efforts to improve her small house. He’d never see her eyes, her beautiful eyes, laughing up at him. He’d never see her again, in this life.
He let out a curse so violent that Rourke felt the heat of it. He held his father closer. “It will be all right,” he said heavily. “It will. You just need time, to get over it. You can get over anything. Even this.”
“I can’t...bear it!” K.C. choked.
Rourke held him tighter. “You can. You’re strong. You’ll have all the strength you need. I’m right here. I’m not leaving you in this condition. And you’re not taking that damned bag out of the house. Get me?”
K.C. felt the weakness. It was new, to want to be protected. It was new, to have Rourke remember. He drew in a long, shuddering breath. “Maybe I can do it over the phone,” he said after a minute.
Rourke chuckled. He felt as if some light, some warmth, had finally come back into the cold emptiness he’d been fighting lately. “Maybe you can, Dad,” he said gently.
K.C. drew back after a minute and turned away, dashing at the wetness in his eyes. “Where were you?”
“I could tell you, but I’d have to...” He laughed out loud. “Well, you know.”
K.C. turned, his expression whimsical. “Listen, kid, I’ve got better top secret clearances than you have.”
“Yes, but you don’t have clearance from the agency I’m working for.” Rourke grinned.
&nbs
p; K.C. smiled. “Maybe not.”
“How about something to eat? Can we get Brady to work in the kitchen? I’ve just got in from the airport and I’m starved. I had enough peanuts to qualify me for a cage in the zoo beside the elephants!”
K.C. threw an affectionate arm over his shoulders. “Let’s go see.”
* * *
Later, he wondered if he should tell Rourke anything about Clarisse. When Charlene showed up with her dad and his handsome business partner, he decided against it. Rourke was affectionate with Charlene and he mentioned setting a wedding date. Amazing, K.C. pondered, how reluctant the young girl was to do that. She had more traveling to do, she told Rourke. She was sorry, but she just didn’t see herself settling down to dishwashers and washing machines and kids. Not for a long time.
Rourke went over to his own house, let his pet lion out of the cage and walked into his house with the affectionate cat. They got inside and the lion jumped up on the sofa and rested his chin on the arm of it.
Rourke laughed. “I’ve missed you, too, you great yellow nuisance,” he said, bending to smooth his lean hand over the cat’s pelt and kiss him on the head. “Want to watch the telly, do you? Okay. I’ll find you a nice nature special if you promise not to attack the wildebeest on the screen. How’s that, Lou?”
The lion just yawned.
11
Clarisse settled down into life with the Griers. She found a nice house that she liked inside the city limits, near a grocery store, the post office and the Methodist Church. There was a grammar school a few blocks away. The house was Victorian, with a long porch, high gables with gingerbread scrolling and even a turret room. She bought it at once and called in carpenters and decorators, some from San Antonio, to make it livable. One of the perks of being rich, she thought to herself, was that she could buy most anything she liked without having to check the balance in her bank accounts. Her parents came from great wealth, and all their valuables, including stocks, went to Clarisse, as the only surviving member of her family.
“I’ll miss you,” Tippy said when the house was ready to be occupied, and Clarisse had hired a sweet young Hispanic woman, Mariel, to take care of it and help with Joshua.
“I’ll miss all of you, too,” Clarisse said softly. “But I’m right nearby,” she added with a grin. “You can come and visit whenever you like.”
“I’ll do that,” Tippy agreed. Her eyes were on the baby in Clarisse’s arms. “He’s such a sweet boy.”
“Yes, he is,” Clarisse agreed. “Your Tris is a little doll. And I think Rory’s the greatest,” she added. She laughed. “He tried to teach me how to play those video games he has. I died so much he said they should dedicate a street to me in-game.”
Tippy laughed. “He’s crazy about those online games, and he’s drawn Cash into them, too.” She shook her head. “I can’t manage the controls.”
“Neither can I!”
“Talking about me, huh?” Cash said as he came into the room.
“And why would we be discussing you?” Tippy teased, resting her body against his to look up at him with soft, loving green eyes. “I mean, just because you’re devastating is no reason to talk about you.”
“I’m sweet, too,” he mused, bending to kiss her softly. “You say it all the time.”
“It’s absolutely true,” Tippy sighed.
Cash grinned and kissed her once more before he let her go. His eyes went worriedly to Clarisse. “I’m still not sure this is a good idea.”
“Eb Scott phoned me last night,” she told him. “He says he’s got two of his top new trainees on my case. They’ll follow me night and day and keep me safe.” She bit her lower lip. “Sapara has killed two men who were instrumental in helping General Machado set up the new government. The Granges had to hire extra security. He sent a man after them, as well. But he didn’t try to do it with a jar of deadly mosquitoes,” Clarisse added angrily, remembering what had been done to Ruy, and what was meant for her.
“No, he used a knife,” Cash replied, revealing that he’d been discussing things with Eb, too. His black eyes met hers. “You’ll have more people watching than just Eb’s men,” he added. “Nobody is going to hurt you or the child in my town. I promise you that.”
She smiled warmly. “Thanks, Cash. Thanks to both of you for giving us a place to stay until we could find one of our own.”
“Oh, we had ulterior motives,” Cash murmured. He held out his arms. “May I?”
She placed Joshua in them and watched the expression on his face, and on Tippy’s, as she moved closer to touch the baby’s little hand.
Clarisse, watching, felt the hunger in them for another child. Maybe that would happen. She hoped so.
“I’m driving you to your new house,” Tippy said after a minute, smiling up at Cash.
“I would offer, but I’ve got a meeting in... Damn, I’m already late. Have to go.” He kissed Tippy softly, handed Joshua back to Clarisse and went in to kiss the rest of the family.
“We always do that when he leaves,” Tippy explained as she drove Clarisse in the Jaguar to her new home. “We kiss each other and say we love them. You never know,” she added quietly. “Cash can’t live without a little danger. I worry, but I don’t obsess.”
“I worried myself sick when Rourke left on that mission,” she replied. “I know that he does dangerous work. I had hoped, so much...” She drew in a breath and changed the subject. “I think I’ll like Jacobsville,” she said warmly. “It’s very special.”
“We think so, too,” Tippy agreed. “You’ll need a car.”
“That’s my next priority. Where did you get the Jag, and does the dealer have a good inventory?”
Tippy laughed. “Yes. They’re in San Antonio. I’ll give you the website address and you can see for yourself! When you want to go looking for it, I’ll drive you.”
“Thanks.”
“Oh, I have ulterior motives,” Tippy mused. “I get to hold Joshua while you deal with the salesman,” she added, tongue in cheek, and both women laughed.
* * *
Mariel was in her late twenties, quiet and respectful. Clarisse had found her through a nice-looking cowboy, Jack Lopez, who worked for Luke Craig. She’d met him in Barbara’s Café and they lunched together from time to time when she took Joshua into town. The cowboy said she was a cousin and she had excellent references.
She was a treasure. Mariel fell in love with the baby on sight. She took him, cooing, and invited the older adults to follow her. She’d prepared two rooms on the ground floor, because Clarisse’s incision was still painful and it was hard for her to climb stairs. Next to Clarisse’s room was an adjoining one with sliding wooden doors. There was a nursery behind them, beautifully decorated and painted in eggshell blue, with a complementing blue carpet. The baby furniture was white. There were mobiles over the crib.
“This is wonderful,” Tippy exclaimed.
“Yes, it is. I found them on the internet,” Clarisse chuckled, pulling out her iPod. “And next on the list is a car!”
She pulled up the website, checked out the inventory and called the number listed to speak to a salesman. He had several new Jaguars in inventory and invited her up to see them. She promised to come the next morning after glancing at Tippy to make sure she was free to drive with her.
Mariel took the baby into the nursery to change a dirty diaper. “I will take wonderful care of him,” she promised Clarisse. “You need not fear for him.”
“I know that. Thanks.”
“Now,” Clarisse said when she and Tippy were alone, “I have to do what I promised Eb.” She called him and told him her itinerary. “And thanks, Eb. I don’t mind paying the salaries of the men you’ve hired...” She paused and laughed. “Okay, but you have to promise that you’ll let me reciprocate. Deal. Thanks.”
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“Eb’s in a class of his own, isn’t he?” Tippy asked gently.
“A truly good man.” Clarisse led the way into the remodeled kitchen. It was a gourmet cook’s delight, containing every single appliance that would be needed for a grand meal.
“You love to cook, don’t you?” Tippy asked.
“Oh, yes.” Clarisse didn’t add that she’d learned because it was something Rourke was quite good at. He’d actually been a chef in a restaurant in Johannesburg for a time during his younger days. During their blissful few weeks in Manaus, they’d shared cooking chores.
Mariel was back with the baby just as Clarisse served coffee. Tippy took Joshua and cuddled him when he began to fuss.
“He’s hungry,” Clarisse laughed. She called to Mariel in Spanish and asked her to bring a diaper as she took the baby and unfastened her blouse and her nursing bra. She shivered and laughed again as the baby started to nurse.
“I nursed Tris,” Tippy said, sighing. “There are so many benefits. But it must hurt you.”
“The incision pulls. And a weird thing—it feels like labor pains when he starts suckling,” she added.
“I know what you mean! I had the same experience.” Her eyes were dreamy. “I would love another baby.”
“I’ll cross all my fingers and toes for you,” she promised, and grinned.
Tippy just laughed.
* * *
Clarisse was offered an XK, one of the top-of-the-line sports cars that Jaguar produced, but she shook her head. A sedan was far more sensible. But she did opt for a supercharged V8, in white with beige upholstery.
“Cash had a red XK when we started dating, in New York,” Tippy recalled when they were finally back home and she was getting ready to go home. “He loved it, but he traded for a sedan when we knew Tris was on the way. The convertibles do have a bench seat in back, but it was barely big enough for Rory to stretch out in when Cash drove us around.”
“Two-seaters are for young people with no children, or older people whose children are grown,” Clarisse said with a grin.
“I know. But it was a honey of a car,” Tippy said with a wistful sigh.
