And if her partner died as a result, the burden of his death would be on her. How could she ever make something like that up to Dylan’s obviously sweet mother and four adoring sisters?
“Thank you,” she choked. She had to get out of there before she broke down completely. “Please call me if there’s any change.”
Wishing a hasty good-bye to the Jericho family, she left the room and headed down the brightly lit hall. Just past the nurses’ station, she stopped to grab a tissue from her purse. With her head down, her mind preoccupied, and a damp wad of Kleenex to her nose, she didn’t notice his approach until it was too late.
“And how’s our patient doing today, Inspector?”
For a moment, she froze. Slowly raising her head, she let her eyes meet his. “Commander.”
His face held a satisfied expression, like a cat who’d cornered a mouse and was moving in for the kill. Gesturing to Dylan’s closed door, he said, “I hear the prognosis is poor. A sad day for the department.”
“I can see how broken up about it you are.”
“Inside,” he whispered in a serious tone. “I’m weeping on the inside. I’ve sworn to my superiors that I will personally oversee the apprehension and prosecution of the perpetrator of this heinous crime.”
“Cut the crap, Commander,” she snapped. “If you’re running for office, you’ll never get my vote.” Crossing her arms over her stomach, she took a half step back from him. “My only question is, did you do it, or did you hire it done?”
He gave her a hurt look. “Inspector, are you implying I had anything to do with the attack on your partner?”
“I’m not wearing a wire, you dickhead. I just want to know if you had the guts to do it yourself.”
He said nothing for a few moments, then pursed his lips. Rocking back on his heels, he seemed lost in thought, then tilted his head. “Not that it has anything to do with your question, Inspector, but I’ve always been someone who takes a particular pride in being a man of action.”
“Bully for you.”
“I understand Jericho’s family is here. I must go in and offer my condolences. If you’ll excuse me.”
He began walking down the hall toward Dylan’s room, then stopped a few paces away and turned to face her. Under his breath, so only she could hear, he said, “Knock yourself out, Andrea. You’ll never be able to prove anything. I’m smarter and more clever than any of you. You don’t know who you can trust, do you? You’re all by yourself out there.”
She took a step toward him, but he put up his hand, halting her before she got too close.
“I no longer care about convicting Sinclair. He has the necklace. Get it from him by midnight tomorrow night. Contact me when you have it.” Without making a sound, he mouthed, “Or someone else you care about will suffer.”
Through her fury, she arched a brow, and said dryly, “Midnight, Commander? Isn’t that a little trite?”
Leaning toward her a fraction, he hissed, “Ask me if I care, sweetheart. Do. It.” With one last menacing glare, he left her standing in the hallway, staring at his retreating back.
As soon as he disappeared through Dylan’s hospital room door, she retrieved her cell phone from her purse. Flipping the phone open, she pressed the button and put the phone to her ear. When Logan answered, she said quietly, “Did you get it?”
“Aye, lass,” came the reply. “The wire picked up the entire conversation. But it will do us no good without an admission of guilt, confession of some sort, or a demand. He was careful. His wording could be construed any number of ways.”
“Then there’s only one thing we can do,” she said, pressing the button for the elevator. “We’re going to have to give him the necklace.”
Chapter 23
When it comes to my own turn to lay my weapons down, I shall do so with thankfulness and fatigue…
Robert Louis Stevenson
Awaiting Andie’s return, Logan wandered the mansion, being sure to avoid the library, the essential heart and soul of the place.
Though he fought off impressions from the entire house, it was the library where they were strongest, so he shunned the room and its tangled mass of emotions. Doing so was the only way to maintain his hard-won detachment.
Aye, he entered the room for Andie’s sake, but now that he knew the perils waiting there, he avoided it as much as possible.
Meandering into the kitchen, he poured himself a mug of coffee from the carafe on the counter, took a sip, looked around.
While the exterior of the house had not been changed in the last two centuries, except for the odd bit of maintenance here and there, the kitchen and plumbing had been duly upgraded. And a good thing it was. There were houses in the UK hundreds of years older than those in America which, though picturesque, were the worse for want of a few modern touches.
He checked his watch. Even using evasive maneuvers to keep from being followed, it shouldn’t take Andie more than half an hour to return from her trip to the hospital. He hoped she would not be delayed; they had a lot to discuss.
Setting his coffee on the white-tile counter, he turned toward the window over the sink and stared out into the bright day. Either by the man’s own hand, or hired out, Bostwick had put Andie’s partner in hospital; who would he go after next? Since he seemed to act with impunity, it would take a clever and subtle plan to catch him at his game. For all intents and purposes, a sting operation where he would not suspect he was being set up.
From what Andie had said, Bostwick never discussed anything self-incriminating over the phone, never put anything condemning in writing, and in conversation, any pointed innuendo could be innocently interpreted. The man had obviously been fine-tuning his ability to steer clear of entrapment for years.
Turning away from the window, Logan rested his backside against the tile counter, crossed his arms over his chest, and bowed his head in concentration.
There must be a way, had to be. Bostwick had killed Tolley and Drew Mochrie, and nearly succeeded in taking Dylan Jericho’s life. And there was no guarantee even yet that Jericho would pull through. The commander used coercion, blackmail, and who knew what other means to get what he wanted.
And right now, what he wanted was that necklace. Andie had suggested they give it over to the bastard, and maybe she was right. However, giving it over might be done in such a way that doing so would snare Bostwick in his own trap.
When Logan was a little boy, his father had often taken him fishing for salmon in one of the lochs strewn about the Scottish countryside.
“To catch a grand fish,” his father would say as he tackled up his line, “you have to use the right bait, lad. Generally, a man catches what he goes fishing for.” He’d winked at Logan. “Same holds true in life.”
Logan tried to ignore the tug at his heart the cherished memory stirred. His father had been a wonderful man, as kind and generous as any man could claim. As kind and generous a man as Logan had once wished himself to be.
Angrily, he swiped up the mug and drained it in one gulp, choking down his emotions along with the cold, bitter coffee. Blowing out a harsh breath, he forced his mind back to the matter at hand.
Bradley Bostwick was a very big fish, and Logan happened to be in possession of the tastiest, shiniest lure there ever was. All he had to do was dangle it in such a way that the commander couldna snap the line and take off with the bait.
Or hurt Andie.
As soon as he thought of her, the humming inside his head began again. It had been that way since the moment he’d come with her to this house. Over the last few days, he’d begun to realize that letting himself fall in love with her meant weakening the barriers he’d erected against his own powers. He was only strong when his feelings were not engaged.
In spite of his best efforts to thwart them, thoughts of his father drifted through his mind again. He’d loved his family and let his powers run roughshod o’er him, to his everlasting regret. But he’d been a much younger man then, a mere
lad. He was grown now, and come into his own. Maybe he could relax his guard a wee bit and make use of his gifts without seeing anyone come the worse for it.
Falling in love with Andie had changed him more than she would ever realize, maybe more than he realized himself. At first, he’d wanted to curse his deficiency in being unable to sustain his years-long emotional shield, but the more he saw of her, spoke to her, the more he let himself become attached to her, the more he realized he was tired of standing sentry over his God-given proficiencies out of fear of hurting anyone the way he’d hurt his family.
Then he’d made love to her, and that had shattered any reservations he’d had once and for all. He’d wanted to tell her then how he felt, but the timing was piss poor at best, what with one thing and another. And now with her partner in hospital and Bostwick making more threats…
Maybe it would help if he talked to someone about all this. It had been years since he’d let himself feel this way about a woman, and his nerves were a wreck.
Sentiments and sensations he’d suppressed for so long were surfacing, confusing him, making him doubt himself. What if he told Andie he loved her, and she tossed it back in his face? She could. He knew she liked him well enough, but how would she accept a confession of love? After all, they’d started out by lying to each other. Not exactly a rock-solid foundation for a relationship, no matter how the circumstances had warranted it.
He thought of his grandmother, and suddenly realized he wanted very much to talk to her. She’d always been a kind woman, kind of heart, kind of soul, two things he needed at the moment, though he’d bloody the nose of any man who accused him of it to his face.
Edging his cell phone out of his pocket, he pressed her number. He sucked in a deep breath, feeling ridiculous, bewildered by his own nerves.
After four rings, he was ready to end the call when she answered. “Hello?”
He cleared his throat. “Uh, Gran? It’s, uh, me. It’s Logan.”
“Logan?” she repeated, her voice high-pitched and small. “I was so hoping you’d call again. Is all well with you?”
Running his fingers through his hair, he said, “Aye. I’m good, Gran. Uh, listen. I…I lied to you the other day when I called.”
“Lied?” Her gentle voice sounded worried, even a bit frantic. “Lied about what?”
“I’m in San Francisco, Gran,” he rushed. “I’m here.”
There was silence for a moment, then he heard what sounded like soft crying. She sniffed, cleared her throat. “Can I see you, dear? I would so love to see you.”
“Well, I…I’m on a case, Gran. It’s a wee bit of a tangle. But when it’s over…aye, I’d like to maybe pay a visit. I…well, there’s some things we probably need to talk about.”
“Yes,” she said on a breath. “So many things. So many years to catch up on. Are you married, Logan? Do you have children? Please…I need to…to apologize. You must believe me. All those years ago. I was wrong to say the things I did. I—”
“Let’s not talk about that now, Gran. I, well, it’s like, I’ve met this woman, and—”
“And you’re in love? Oh, Logan! I want to hear all about her. I want to hear all about everything!”
He smiled to himself, happy to hear his grandmother’s voice, her enthusiasm, and he realized he was glad he’d decided to contact her. It felt good and right, and for the first time in a long, long while, he didn’t feel so far away from everyone who had once been the whole world to him.
He heard Andie’s car pull around to the back of the house.
“Look, Gran, I have to go now. But I’ll call you again. Soon. I promise. And we’ll get together, okay?”
Andie closed the back door behind her just as Logan was sliding his cell phone into his jeans pocket. For a moment, they just looked at each other without speaking. She smiled at him, gazing into his aquamarine eyes. He smiled back.
It felt to Andie as though they’d done it just this way a thousand times before. Their quiet greeting was comfortable, familiar, and filled with something she was almost afraid to name.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi, yourself.”
He moved away from the sink to walk toward her. Putting his arms around her waist, he tugged her into a welcoming hug. She slid her hands around his shoulders, setting her head against his chest. A moment later, she felt him kiss her hair, then lay his cheek on the top of her head.
“You certain you weren’t followed?” he asked.
“I’m certain.”
“I’m worried, lass. So many things could go wrong.”
“Nothing will go wrong,” she said with more confidence than she felt. “Once I tell him I have the necklace, it should all fall into place.”
“But what if he pulls something unexpected? I won’t be near enough to—”
“I’ll be fine. Look, I met Dylan’s family at the hospital. They’re so nice, and they love him so much. We have to do this, not only because it’s the right thing, but we owe it to the Jerichos, and your friend, Tolley.”
She felt her hair stir as he breathed, “Aye.”
They stood that way for what seemed like forever while he caressed her back, running his palms in slow circles, warming her, making her feel incredibly cherished. Through the soft fabric of his dark T-shirt, she listened to the steady beating of his heart, felt the movement of his muscles and bones as he inhaled, exhaled, shifted his weight on his feet. Closing her eyes, she took in his scent, clean and a bit musky. A good smell.
Though she hadn’t originally intended it, she raised her head and kissed him, eager to connect with him on every possible level. The kiss he returned was both tender and urgent, and seemed to go on and on, and by the time it was over, she found herself naked, every stitch of her clothing in a heap on the floor at her feet.
He braced his body by backing up against the sink, then lifted her, wrapping her bare legs around his hips.
“Logan, Logan, Logan,” she whispered, running her hands up under his shirt, enjoying the feel of the hard muscles of his abs and chest. “I want you so much.” He responded by easing open the fly of his jeans. She felt his warm, moist tip against her thigh, and became frantic to impale herself on him.
She reached between them, wrapping her fingers around his rigid thickness. She rubbed the blunt, hot head against herself until the pleasure of it made her arch her neck back and feel…just mindlessly feel…
Logan curved his strong hand around hers, helping her drive her pleasure, and his own, higher and higher until they both moaned.
Edging her fingers away, he positioned himself and thrust into her. Then he halted and stood motionless while they both adjusted to his presence in her body. His breathing was harsh, labored. He looked into her eyes for a moment, then lowered his head to nuzzle her neck, murmuring softly to her in Gaelic.
While she didn’t understand the words, she grasped their underlying passion and felt her heart swell with joy.
When he rolled his hips, she caught her breath, unable to do anything but let the tension mount. Each thrust was stronger than the next, sending her pulse racing, pitching her desire for Logan into emotional overdrive.
“Logan,” she breathed. “Logan…I…”
The orgasm hit her before she could finish her thought. Her body tensed from the impending pleasure, then released as she came, her hips jerking against him again and again until she could barely breathe.
She was still panting when he found his own release. In a hot rush, he filled her, his fingers on her hips grinding her hard into him as he groaned in pleasure over and over.
Exhausted, she let her body slump against him while he lowered his head to her shoulder. They were both sweating, panting, smiling. When he lifted his head to look deeply into her eyes, he mumbled, “You’re somethin’, lass.” Then he kissed her, softly, slowly. Pulling back, he repeated, “Really somethin’.”
Andie unwrapped her legs from around Logan’s waist, and eased herself down until her
bare feet touched the floor. She raised herself on her tiptoes and kissed him on the mouth, then settled into his embrace.
“What was it you said?” she asked.
He raised his hand and stroked her hair. “When?”
She nestled closer. “You said something in Gaelic, I guess it was. What did you say?”
Lifting her face, she looked up at him and waited.
“It…eh, what I said was…”
She blinked, then backed up a little. “Well, was it something gross or mindless or dirty?”
He shook his head. “Nae, lass. None of those.”
“Then why can’t you translate it for me? I’d like to learn a wee bit o’ Gaelic, lad.”
“It’s not that I can’t, it’s that…I’ve never, I mean…” His cheeks flushed and he looked suddenly like he’d been caught stealing money from his mother’s dresser drawer. “Well, you see, it loses a wee bit in the translation.”
Her brows furrowed. “It seemed to me you said something like tagrammaert…”
“It’s actually Tha gràdh agam ort.”
She raised her brows. “It’s not one of the much sought-after, missing verses to that Ode To A Haggis thing, is it? Because that would so put me out of the mood, if you know what I mean—”
“Andie.” His eyes softened and so did his voice. “It means I love you.” Placing his knuckle under her chin, he raised her face to look deeply into her eyes. “To state it another way, I love you.”
Her lashes fluttered as she gazed up at him, trying to process what he’d just said.
“Gaelic,” he continued, “doesn’t have a verb for to love, so what I actually said was There is love at me on you.” He smiled and waggled his dark brows. “Dead sexy, eh, lass?”
Her heart crimped, and her eyes burned. She swallowed, then moved back into his embrace.
“Oh, Logan,” she whispered, tightening her arms around his waist. “Then we have something in common. There is love at me on you, too.”
Killer Charms Page 23
