A Love Surrendered (27 page)

He laughed outright and tucked a finger to her chin. “Why do I get the feeling you’ve already thought this all out?”

Heat braised her cheeks, and he pulled her into his arms with another deep chuckle, holding her close. “You’re spending entirely too much time with Charity, you know that?” He kissed the tip of her nose and cocked a brow. “When? Well . . . why don’t
you
tell me?”

Barely able to contain herself, she bounced up to sit cross-legged, taking his hands in hers. “Well, as a matter of fact,” she began in a rush, “Charity and I visited St. Mary’s Home for Unwed Mothers a few times—”

“Oh, you have, have you?” Elbow cocked, he slanted back with a ghost of a smile.

She bit the edge of her lip and offered a shy smile. “Just to see the babies sometimes, that’s all. Charity and I like to hold them.”

He quirked a thick blond brow. “Just hold them, huh, and nothing else?”

She giggled and bent to give him a quick kiss, then inhaled deeply to calm her racing heart, her smile fading. “Oh, Sean, my heart breaks for those little ones, all alone in the world, no family of their own. If we can give our home and our hearts to just a few—”

“A few?” The whites of his eyes expanded. “More than one? All at once?”

She clasped his hands with a smile. “No, not all at once, my love. But . . . if I am truly unable to give you sons and daughters of your own, then yes, more than one.” She blinked to ward off the prick of more tears, unable to fight the quiver of her lips any more than she could stem the flow of love in her heart. “Until our hearts and our home are so full of love, we fairly burst with joy.” She clasped his hands. “Just think, Sean—a family like your parents gave you, the greatest gift we can give to a forgotten soul who has no family of their own.”

In a clutch of her heart, Sean tugged her into his arms before toppling her onto her back to thread gentle fingers into her hair. “And this, Emma O’Connor,” he whispered, love glowing in his eyes, “is only one of the many,
many
reasons I had no choice but to fall desperately in love with you.” In slow motion, he leaned in to fondle her lips with his own, his kiss warming her skin while his tenderness warmed her soul.

Her arms curled around his neck. “So, you’ll go with me tomorrow . . . to see the babies?” The air hushed in her lungs while she awaited his answer.

That easy smile she’d fallen in love with slipped across his lips as he bent to feather her jaw with kisses. “Tomorrow, yes.” His fingers trailed down, skimming across the first button of her blouse to loosen its hold. “And tonight?” His lips returned with a languid kiss that quickly focused her mind on the present. “Tonight we work on hedging our bets.”

10

A
ny questions?” Director Hackett scanned the cramped meeting room, beady black eyes daring anyone to say a word. Most of the Prohibition agents slouched in their rickety wood chairs, faces grim while the director’s eyes disappeared into slits, thunderous black brows slashing downward. His bald head gleamed with sweat. “Good. Because the last thing I need right now is the DA breathing down my neck ’cause somebody got greedy.”

A loose filament in the tungsten lamp overhead flickered, casting an eerie mirror-ball effect on the man whom no agent with half a brain would want to cross. Especially on Monday morning after a weekend of foiled raids. Sweat stains circled beneath meaty arms propped on rumpled gray trousers as the director continued to glare as much as the light above. “Philly and New York have thrown the book at 10 percent of their force, but if it happens here, on my watch?” His words chewed the air like a buzz saw, their gravelly tone suggesting the man devoured 16-penny nails for breakfast. “You’ll go to the slammer, all right, but not until I rip your tonsils out and wrap ’em around your neck, got it?”

Joe elbowed Steven, leaning close with a smirk on his face.
“Almost wish the Hack was on the take himself, so he’d lay off these bribery rants. My eyes are glazing over.”

“You think this is funny, Walsh?”

Joe froze in the back row, his face suddenly as pale as the chalk diagrams Hack scrawled across the portable blackboard at the front of the room. “Uh, no sir.”

Steven stared straight ahead, lips clamped hard to keep from laughing.

The director folded beefy arms matted with black hair that matched a thatch peeking over a tie loosened so much, it sagged like the bags under his eyes. “That’s good, Walsh, ’cause I doubt you’ll be laughing if you pull detail this weekend.”

A nearly silent groan echoed in Joe’s chest. “Yes, sir.”

“If you were smart,” Hack continued, his tone as surly as his scowl, “you’d take this job a little more seriously, like your partner there. We’re not pussyfooting here, Walsh. I need tough federal agents who can get the job done, not a vaudeville act, ya got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“O’Connor.” The director cocked his head, lips pursed as he honed in on Steven.

Steven sat up, spine rigid and jaw tense. “Yes, sir?”

“You’re the brains on your team—use ’em. I expect you to rub off on Walsh, not the other way around, understood?”

A reedy sigh escaped Steven’s lips, his suit coat stifling his air. “Yes, sir.”

Hackett back-fisted the blackboard. “Before we break, I need six volunteers for a special assignment this weekend. Rumor has it there’s a frat shindig in Duke’s County Friday night, complete with stills and wild women, so I’ll need one or two pretty faces to pass for fancy frat boys.” The edge of his lip curled as he leveled a sharp gaze in Joe’s direction. “Not you, Walsh, with that mug, but O’Connor would fit right in, so let me know by five or I’ll pick who I want. Saturday night, I’ll need six more because we’ll be working overtime
on the North End. The commissioner’s due for inspection in the next two weeks, and I aim to make this a record month. We’ll comb the North End all week, paying some surprise visits to a few blind pigs.” He rapped the board with his knuckles. “The assignment sheet’s posted, so break’s over.”

Joe waited till the director left before turning to Steven, mouth skewed. “I swear that guy hates me.” He slid Steven a narrow look and loosened his tie. “And it’s all because of you, O’Connor, always toeing the line. You make Eliot Ness look like a slouch.”

Steven slapped Joe on the back, grinning as they strolled from the room. He slipped his suit coat off and slung it over his shoulder, checking the roster on Hackett’s door. “Come on, Joe, don’t give me all the credit—you have a true talent for making yourself look bad.”

“Very funny. And the boss thinks
I’m
the comedian. He’s so sure I’m the bad influence on his golden boy, but that’s a laugh. Can’t even get you to Ocean Pier for some fun.” Joe squinted at the list and groaned. “Man alive, we’re on the docket with Raby—I can’t believe it.”

Steven ruffled Joe’s hair with a chuckle. “Come on, Joe, grow up. Lee’s a good agent and I’d take detail with him anytime.”

“Hey, knock it off, ‘pretty boy.’ ” Joe patted his sandy hair back down. “This thatch is hard enough to keep combed without you messing it up, making me look like some country yokel. Not everyone looks like you, O’Connor, so have some respect.” He followed Steven to their back-to-back desks and dropped into his chair, propping his feet on the drawers. “And the only reason you like Raby is he’s just like you, so straitlaced he’s got a rod up his back.”

Steven hooked his coat over his chair and sat down to shuffle through papers. “It’s called being an exemplary civil servant, Agent Walsh, something that’s actually considered a good thing.”

“Yeah?” Joe’s feet thudded to the ground as he leaned in,
arms flat on his desk. “So be a good influence like Hackett said, Steven—go to Ocean Pier with me this weekend and keep me in line.”

“Sorry, buddy, can’t—got something else in mind for Saturday night.” Steven peered up. “Hey, you remember the address of the speak we raided last week on the North End?”

Joe stared, mouth swagging open. “Yeah, Steven, let me get my typed log where I list every second of every day.” He shook his head. “Criminy, I’m surprised you don’t keep one.”

Steven grinned. “I do—left it at home this weekend when I did paperwork.”

Slumping into his chair, Joe dropped his head on the back with another groan. “Come on, Steven, you’re my best friend. Don’t make me go to the Pier with Zuchek—he hogs all the girls.”

Steven laughed, a definite ribbing to his tone. “So do I, Walsh, so what’s the difference?”

A grunt erupted from Joe’s lips. “Yeah, but you’re a nice guy who shares. Besides, you’re so gunshy with women right now that you draw ’em like flies, then turn ’em over to me.”

“How ’bout Harper?” Steven asked, filling out his report. “He’d jump at the chance.”

A wrinkle appeared at the bridge of Joe’s nose. “Yeah, but he’s so homely, girls don’t even come around.” He eyed Steven with a dubious look. “I bet you’re planning to take on both of those special assignments on Friday and Saturday nights, aren’t you? You already got the boss in your hip pocket—why volunteer for every detail there is?”

“I’m not,” Steven said with half a smile. “Just Friday night ’cause Saturday night I have plans.”

Joe sat up, a plea in his tone. “Come on, you’re not going to spend another Saturday night with Gabe, are ya? You spent last Saturday night with the kid, so you owe me.”

“
Owe
you?” Steven said with a lift of brows. “How ya figure?”

The smile faded from Joe’s face as the tease left his tone.
“Because we’re best friends, Steven, and best friends
do
things together besides raid speakeasies. They talk, they go to the gym, they go out with girls.” His hazel eyes reflected a hint of hurt that Steven noticed for the first time. “They have fun together.” A sigh withered from Joe’s lips. “You spent almost three years dodging the social scene and me along with it, and to be honest, I’m worried about you. And it’s not just ’cause I miss the fun we always had, even though I do.” He snatched his time sheet from his drawer and started filling it out, pausing to glance up while concern shaded his eyes. “You haven’t been yourself since college—quieter, more introspective, almost like you’re far away. I thought once I got you back to the Pier again, you’d get back to normal. I was even encouraging Erica to go for you because I thought you needed a woman in your life, but that hasn’t worked. And I sure don’t want to see Erica hurt any more than you, but I gotta tell ya, buddy, you need to get back in the game and start seeing women again.”

A heavy exhale gusted from Steven’s lips as he sagged back in his chair. He mauled his face with his hands and then looked up. “I’m sorry, Joe. And you’re right, I have been a bore, but I promise that’s all going to change. I’m ready to move on and start dating again, so you and I will be able to double like old times.” He drew in a stabilizing breath and locked gazes with his partner, a hint of a smile on his lips. “And I already have somebody in mind, which is why I can’t go to the Pier Saturday night.”

Joe’s mouth went slack, along with the pen in his hand. “Good grief, O’Connor—you holding out on me?”

Steven shook his head. “Nope, just too stupid and scared to realize something I should have figured out before now.”

“Yeah?” Joe leaned in, interest piqued. “And what’s that? You’d make a lousy priest?”

Steven laughed, giving his partner a wayward smile. “Uh, yeah, I’d say that’s pretty conclusive—celibacy is not my idea of happily ever after.”

“I’ll go along there,” Joe said with a grin. He cocked his head, eyes in a squint. “So who’s the doll? You got me on pins and needles here. And how exactly did this revelation hit?”

Steven glanced at the clock on the wall, aware Lee Raby would be rounding them up before long. He inked more specifics onto his report. “Saturday night when I drove her home.”

Joe’s jaw dropped. “Hey, you told me you were spending time with Gabe.”

“I did, Joe, honest, but
she
was there too—at my house.” Steven tunneled through his hair, cheeks warming at how adamantly he’d denied his interest in Annie. He’d given Joe his word there was nothing between them nor ever would be. But somehow that kiss they’d shared when he’d driven her home had him tossing and turning all night long and befuddled all the next day. Thoughts of her had been relentless—laughing in his kitchen, sitting at his table, mixing with his family—haunting him every waking hour until he finally realized that, seventeen or no, he wanted to see Annie Martin again. He pinched the bridge of his nose. No, make that
Kennedy
. He glanced up at Joe and gave him a sheepish smile. “Turns out she’s cozy with her catechism teacher, who just happens to be my sister, which she claims she didn’t know.”

Joe blinked, mouth in a sag. “Well, who the devil is she? Steven, you’re killing me here!”

Steven tossed the pen on the desk and leaned back. “You’re not gonna believe it.”

“Try me.” Chin raised, Joe dared him with a curious smile.

Exhaling loudly, Steven peered up, a slow grin traveling his lips. “Annie Martin.”

It was a contest as to which faded first—Joe’s color or his smile. “Tell me you’re joking.”

A frown ridged Steven’s brow. “Come on, Joe, I know I said I had no intention of fooling with the kid, and I meant it at the time, I swear.” The seeds of a headache pulsed in his temple and he kneaded it with his fingers. “But she spent the evening with my family and we laughed and had a good time
and I took her home and . . .” He swallowed hard, realizing how fickle he must sound, bent on avoiding the kid one minute, dating her the next. Heat climbed his neck. “The truth is . . . I kissed her, and now I can’t get her out of my mind.”

“No?” Joe said with a sharp hike of his brow. “Well, I can.”

Steven’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?” His headache began to throb. “You said it yourself—the kid would be good for me.”

“That was before I knew who she was.”

“What are you talking about, Walsh?” Annoyance threaded his tone as he leaned in, forearms flat on the desk. “You got something to say?”

Joe studied him for several seconds before he answered, a wariness in his eyes. “Yeah, Steven, I do, and I can tell you right now—you’re not going to like it.”

“O’Connor, Walsh, Luepke, Hanson, and Lewellen.” Raby inclined his head to the door. “On the dock, five minutes.”

Steven glanced up, every muscle in his body as stiff as the nod he gave Raby. He stood to his feet, double-checked his Smith & Wesson Model 10, and slipped it back into his shoulder holster before grilling Joe with a glare. “You better spit it out, Joe, or so help me . . .”

“Her name’s not Martin, it’s Kennedy.”

“Yeah? Well, she already told me that, so what?” Steven snatched his time sheet.

The hesitation in Joe’s manner prickled the back of Steven’s neck before his partner finally exhaled and stood to his feet, eyes locked with his in a show of sympathy. “So she’s Maggie’s little sister, Steven—Susannah Grace Kennedy.”

Steven blinked, body numb as if Joe had just cold-cocked him with his own Smith & Wesson.
Gracie Sue . . .
He swallowed hard, struggling for air, but all he could muster were shallow breaths through a throat as dry as the paper in his hand. “How do you know?” he said, his voice a croak as his gaze dropped and drifted into a vacant stare.

“Peggy let it slip last week at the Pier while she and I were
dancing. Joanie gave her too much giggle water and the kid got plastered, tongue as loose as a hooker on Ann Street.” He sighed. “Begged me not to tell anybody, so I promised I wouldn’t, but your interest in Annie changes everything. I figured you had a right to know.”

Dazed, Steven nodded. He pushed in his chair. “We better go. Raby’ll have our hides.”

Joe scrawled his name at the top of his time sheet and nabbed it before following Steven to the door. “What are you going to do?” he asked quietly, his concern clear in his tone.