He sighed and felt the rattle in his chest that had grown more noticeable over the last week. He knew he was dying. Sure, he’d jump through the hoops, follow through with treatment for a while. But he knew in his gut, as surely as he’d ever known anything, that there was not going to be a miracle ending for him.
Maggie’s words rang in his ears as they so often did, the thing she’d said to him that day she left the firm. I feel...dirty, like I need redemption. Michael knew that feeling. He knew that when he met his Maker...or whatever the hell else came next...he’d want to be able to point to something he’d done right.
Getting Maggie together with Beau was part of his plan. But that alone wasn’t enough. Not by a long shot. He nodded to himself, decision made, and pulled up a number in his contacts. “Hey, Sam, it’s Michael Rannigan. Can you meet me tomorrow at my place?”
* * *
Alone back in his apartment, Michael was tired but still restless. Having changed back into his new favorite uniform of a black t-shirt and grey sweat pants, he flopped onto the leather sectional and clicked on the television. As always it was tuned to sports. There was an exhibition game that night between the Yankees and the Rangers.
Michael grinned as he realized his Yankees were up against Beau’s old team. He padded into the kitchen to retrieve a Heineken and returned, taking a long pull on the chilled green bottle. The pre-game discussion had turned to a kid who’d be throwing out the first ball that night, some kid from Texas who had cancer.
Michael watched as the boy answered the reporter’s questions, then they played video shot earlier in the day. In the footage, Beau was in his old uniform tossing a ball back and forth with the kid. Michael hit rewind on the remote and played it again. There was Maggie sitting in the stands watching all this play out.
Michael smiled to himself. I couldn’t have picked a better guy. He’s a genuine goddamn hero. Look at how she looks at him. He ran the video forward again, pausing it on a tight shot of Beau. Michael raised his beer in a toast.
“I’ve handed her to you on a silver platter, man. Don’t fuck this up. And for God’s sake, lay her proper tonight.”
He sank onto the couch, his thoughts drifting as the program moved on to other stories. Lay her proper. Michael thought about the only time he and Maggie had slept together. Slept. Fucked, more like. In this very room. On this very couch at one point.
At the memory, Michael felt his cock stir and he looked down in surprise. Since this cancer nightmare had begun, he hadn’t as much as had a hard-on, much less been in a position to even think about fucking anyone.
Now he realized the source of his restlessness. He needed release. Closing his eyes, Michael concentrated on the memories of that night with Maggie those years ago. She’d been so passionate, so responsive. Her tits were magnificent and her pussy...
He glanced down to see his cock finally at full attention. Now he just needed a willing mouth. He scrolled though the contacts on his phone and shook his head. They all came with complications. Plus, doubt nagged at the back of his mind. What if I can’t keep it up?
Michael rifled through the top drawer of the desk in his home office and found what he was looking for. He stared at the business card for a moment and wavered. It had been given to him about a year ago after many shots of bourbon had been consumed. He’d filled out a profile and had been assigned a private phone number to call should he ever decide to use the service.
He returned to the living room and dialed before he changed his mind. “Good evening, Mr. Rannigan,” answered a sultry, refined female voice. “Would you like some company tonight?”
“Yes, actually, I’m only in town for a night or two,” he lied, “and I’d very much like some company.”
“Very good, sir. I see that you prefer blondes. I believe I have the perfect date for you tonight. Her name is Jillian. She’s very beautiful, very discreet. Shall I send to your apartment?”
Michael nodded. “That would be great, thank you very much.”
Half an hour later, Michael admitted a tall striking blonde into his apartment. She looks more like a socialite than a whore, he thought. She was dressed in a black lace Dolce Gabbana cocktail dress with a wide neckline and sheer sleeves to her elbows. Her shoes were black Manolo Blahnik slingback heels.
Jillian smiled confidently. “Hello, Mr. Rannigan.”
“I’m Michael,” he said, grateful that he’d bothered to change into a crisp white dress shirt and black jeans. “Can I offer you a drink?”
“I’d love whatever you’re having,” she smiled. Michael poured them both a bourbon and they sipped for a moment. Jillian set down her glass and reached behind her back, sliding down the dress’s zipper and she shrugged, allowing the black lace to slide off her shoulders to pool around the black Manolos.
“I understand that you’re feeling stressed. I’d love to help.”
Michael slid his eyes over her, appreciating the sight of the blonde woman standing in her heels, sheer black stockings held up by a black garter that matched a black cupless bra, all Agent Provocateur, unless he missed his guess.
“Do you like?” Jillian asked.
He nodded, sinking down onto the couch. “I like a lot.”
Jillian crossed to him and knelt between his feet, reaching to undo his pants and take out his burgeoning erection. Michael looked over her head at the ball game on the muted television.
This is what I needed, he thought as she took his cock in her mouth and begin to work him with her tongue. Michael leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
Chapter 37
Maggie smiled at Bobby across the candlelit table in the intimate dining room of the Red Lantern Inn. They’d been given the most private table in the place, situated in the bay window that overlooked what would have been the kitchen garden during growing season. Now, however, they watched large snowflakes pepper down in the light of a vintage gas lamp post on the other side of the garden.
Across the room from their table, a huge hearth that had once accommodated cast iron cooking pots now provided warmth and bathed the space in an orange glow that reflected off the old stone walls. They chatted quietly over Maggie’s salmon with a Greek salad and Bobby’s filet with potato and mixed vegetables.
Taking advantage of a brief lull in conversation, Maggie took a fortifying sip of wine and plunged ahead with a question she’d been mulling. “Have you dated much since you came to the city?”
Bobby glanced up and dabbed the corner of his mouth with a white linen napkin. “Not much. I went out a couple of times.” She watched him, her gaze soft, waiting for him to elaborate.
He blew out a breath. “I met a woman at a network function. We went to dinner but she was really into the whole ‘fame’ thing, you know? Reminded me way too much of my ex-wife, truth be told.” He shook his head, frowning. “And then there was the barista.”
Maggie smiled. “The barista?”
He rolled his eyes. “Yeah. That was...” He sighed. “This really cute girl waited on me every morning when I went for coffee. She was fun to flirt with so one day I asked her out. We had absolutely nothing in common. I was way too old for her, for one thing. Hell, she was all of twenty years old. I don’t know what I was thinking.” He gave her a rueful grin.
“Twenty? I know exactly what you were thinking. Firm young body, warm and willing,” Maggie teased, pleased when he blushed a little. “How old are you?”
“I’m thirty-seven.”
“That’s not that old. I turn thirty next month.”
“Is that right?” he asked, eyes sparkling. “We’ll have to celebrate.” He watched her for a moment. “How about you? Have you dated a lot since you broke up with your fiance?”
Maggie immediately shook her head. “Nope.”
“Not at all?” She shook her head again. Bobby frowned. “Why not, if it’s not too personal?”
She shrugged, looking around the room. “I tend to have questionable judgement when it comes to men.�
�� She returned her gaze to Bobby. “I came so close to marrying a guy I didn’t love, didn’t really even like if I’m honest about it. After I broke it off, it made more sense to concentrate on work, spend my evenings at home.” She laughed humorlessly. “Stay out of trouble.”
He leaned back in his chair and smiled kindly. “I get it. My place isn’t exactly my style, ugly furniture and all, but I can get in way less trouble there.”
Maggie smiled sheepishly, looking down at her plate. “So if you don’t really like your apartment, why did you move there?”
“It’s part of my package. The network provides me with a place to live for a year.”
“That’s nice. That way you can get a feel for the city, figure out where you’d like to live.”
Bobby raised his eyebrows. “That’s one way to look at it, I suppose. But a year is the length of my contract.”
Maggie stopped her fork in mid-air. “One year? What happens after that?”
Bobby shrugged. “Either they like me and extend my contract or...they don’t and I go back to Texas.”
Maggie slowly lowered her fork to her place. “Holy shit,” she murmured softly. “And you’ve been there...”
“About three and a half months. Since January.”
Maggie blinked as she processed the information.
“I’m not worried,” he said, blue eyes sparkling into her own green ones. “I work hard, get along with everyone, and my numbers are up.”
“Your numbers?”
“Ratings. More people are watching my shows every week.”
Maggie smiled. “That’s because I started watching.”
He returned her grin. “I knew there had to be a reason.”
“So let’s say they renew your contract. What will you do when it’s not baseball season?”
Bobby sat back in his chair. “Ideally, I’d like to work across seasons, across sports. I know major sports like football and basketball. I’ve studied up on the ins and outs of others like hockey, tennis, soccer, and things like that.”
Maggie gave a wry grin. “Hell, I could be a sports commentator.” She laughed, putting on a deep voice. “Maggie, what’s it going to take for that team to win?” Returning to her own voice, “Charlie, call me crazy, but if they plan to win they’ll simply have to score more points than the other team.”
Bobby grinned as he watched her, nodding slowly. “That’s what you think, hunh? That’s all there is to it?”
“Well, there’s probably a little more to it than that, but I’m pretty sure that’s it in broad strokes,” she smiled, looking up at him through her eyelashes. “Would you be willing to do all sports, because I’ve got to tell you, I hate basketball.”
“What do you have against basketball, cher?” he asked, taking a sip of his wine.
“Squeaky shoes,” she replied matter-of-factly.
Bobby covered his mouth to avoid spitting wine all over the table and coughed as he tried to regain his composure. “Squeaky shoes?”
“Squeaky shoes. I hate that,” Maggie said.
He shook his head, smiling. “I have absolutely no idea what’s going to come out of your mouth at any given moment.”
Maggie blushed slightly. “I wasn’t trying to be funny just then.”
Bobby laughed. “That’s what made it so funny.” He leaned forward with his elbows on the table. “It’s been a good day today.”
She nodded. “Yes, it has. This town is so cool, it’s like it’s straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting. And this inn...” she grinned at him, “I love a historic place like this. The dining room is just perfect, so filled with vintage details.” Her eyes lit up. “We should...” She stopped and looked down, using her fork to push a piece of salad across her plate.
“We should what?”
Maggie shook her head. “Never mind. It was dumb.”
Bobby continued gazing at her, waiting for her to speak.
“I was going to say that we should take a picture together here, but I don’t want to be a fan girl,” she said quietly.
He smiled warmly. “You’re not a fan girl. Let’s get a picture. It’s a beautiful night and we’ll want to remember it.” Bobby moved around to her side of the table and leaned behind her, holding out his phone. “Smile, cher,” he murmured into her ear.
The photo showed them cheek to cheek, bathed in the orange glow from the fire, smiling into the lens like two people who were genuinely happy. “I’ll send it to you,” he said as he returned to his seat.
“Thanks,” Maggie replied sheepishly.
“My pleasure, cher. This really is a nice place, isn’t it? Antiques and all that. Kind of makes you wonder what the rooms are like,” Bobby thought out loud.
Maggie’s eyes lit up. “Right?! They’re probably all decorated with period furniture and bed linens. I’ll bet it’s beautiful.”
“It would be nice to stay here sometime.”
Maggie nodded. “It really would.”
“We could stay here tonight,” Bobby said quietly, his gaze steady.
Maggie blinked. “Tonight?” She stared back at him, wide-eyed, and a small smile crossed her face followed immediately by a frown. “Oh, they’re probably all booked up.”
“I have a reservation,” he said. “That doesn’t mean we have to stay. I’m just telling you that we have the option.” He continued to watch her steadily. “If you’d be more comfortable, we can go back to the city instead.”
Maggie rested her chin on her hand and gazed out the bay window at the snow that still peppered down. A slow smile curled across her face. She turned back to him. “I’d like to stay here. I’d like that a lot.”
Bobby grinned back at her, nodding. “Alright. Good. We’ll stay here tonight.” He sipped his wine again.
A slight frown wrinkled her brow. “Maybe we could find a pharmacy or something? You know, just pick up some essentials? I wasn’t actually planning to stay away tonight.”
“I have an overnight case in the car. When I was in Arizona, I went to the mall and asked a clerk to fill a bag with everything she thought she’d need if someone surprised her with an overnight trip. I’m pretty sure she sold me the whole shop.” Bobby grinned. “But if anything is missing, we can absolutely go pick it up.”
Maggie gazed at him thoughtfully. “What would you have done with all that stuff if I’d said I wanted to go home?”
“I guess I would have gone around smelling kind of frilly for a while,” he said, grinning again.
“Tell you what,” he reached across the table to pour more wine into her glass, “why don’t you stay here and enjoy your wine. I’ll go take care of checking us in and then be right back.”
He stood to leave the table and stopped, taking her hand. “I’m really glad you want to stay, cher. This is gonna be good.”
Rannigan’s Redemption Part 3:
Ransoming Redemption
Michael Rannigan sees the writing on the wall. And he’s determined to find redemption. He knows he’s spent his life keeping everyone at arm’s length. He’s burned bridges and destroyed friendships, leaving a path of destruction in his wake. But he thinks he’s found a way to make things right. At least for the one person who’s never given up on him.
Maggie Flynn’s life is changing quickly. Just when she’s decided make work her focus and to be content with being single, she has a new man in her life. Thanks to Michael and his interference, anyway.
Bobby is almost too good to be true, with his tall good looks, his sexy Cajun accent, and his irresistible lop-sided smile. He’s head over heels for Maggie. She knows she’s found the real thing.
Together, can they face the biggest challenge they’ve ever endured?
Ransoming Redemption is the third and final book of the 5 Star reviewed Rannigan’s Redemption series.
Chapter 1
Maggie Flynn smiled to herself as she watched the falling snow through the large bay window of the Red Lion Inn. “This is gonna be good,” he�
�d said. While she waited at their table, Bobby had gone to check them in for their overnight stay.
He planned ahead, made reservations. But he made sure I didn’t feel pressured. Which of course I didn’t. She rolled her eyes. I did a little planning ahead of my own. She sipped her wine and thought about her apartment sitting empty and ready with fresh sheets on the bed and breakfast ingredients in the fridge.
“All settled, cher,” Bobby murmured, kissing her cheek before he returned to his seat on the opposite side of the table.
A wave of cold air wafted over her as he moved past and she saw a scattering of snowflakes glistening in his hair. “You had to go outside?”
“I got our bag out of the car,” he smiled. “We’re in no hurry. Matter of fact, I’d be glad to sit here and warm up for a minute. It’s gotten really cold out.” He reached across the table and took her hand. “Besides, we have all night.”
They sipped wine in silence for a while, watching the snow, enjoying the warmth of the fire. Several of the other tables were occupied by couples, but Maggie didn’t even notice the other diners. She glanced up at Bobby as he smiled that lop-sided grin she found utterly irresistible. She smiled back, realizing that she felt a twinge of nerves.
“Are you about ready to go, cher?” he asked, his eyes a dark, stormy blue. She nodded shyly and he rose, pulling out her chair so she could stand.
“Have a pleasant evening, Mr. Beaulieu,” called the clerk from behind the desk as they headed to the stairs.
“Thank you,” Bobby returned, “I’m sure we’ll enjoy your lovely inn.”
They made their way up the narrow stairway, Bobby’s hand resting on the small of her back. “Sorry about all the steps. I reserved the two rooms on the top floor.”
Maggie swiveled her head toward him. “Two rooms? Why?”
He grinned as they reached the final landing. “Well, first of all, I wanted to have privacy. No one else will be up here. And second,” he drew her hand to his lips and kissed it gently, “I didn’t want to assume.”
Rannigan's Redemption: Complete Collection Page 38
