Merchants with Evil Intent (39 page)

      
Joe lifted a shoulder. “I wanted the
bastard stopped.”

      
“You stopped him all right.”

      
“Whaddya mean?”

      
Travers laughed. “Did you lose your brains
when you hit the hydrant?” He sighed and continued, “He’s dead, dude. You
nailed him.”

      
Joe closed his eyes. He’d never killed
anyone before.

*
     
*
     
*

      
Ian showed Maeve the photo of Orlov.

      
She shrugged, “I can’t be sure. The photo
shows a man with short blond hair. This bloke had dark hair, lighter than
yours, mind ya, but much darker than this.”

      
“He was American, aye?” Ian questioned.

      
“Aye,” she murmured, peering at the
picture.
“Och!
Tis him!”

      
Ian raised a skeptical eyebrow. “What
makes you so sure?”

      
“The bloke had a scar above his eyebrow
and so does this one.”

      
He pulled her close and kissed her
forehead. “Maeve, you’re a love! Stay inside and phone the Garda for me.”

      
“Where are ya goin’ lad?” she asked,
wide-eyed.

      
Over his shoulder he replied, “To look
for the bastard.”

      
“He walked across the street to the pub,”
she offered.

*
     
*
     
*

      
“Why didna you tell the gel?” Eoghan
snapped as Declan entered the kitchen.

      
“Tell her what?” Declan scowled.

      
“Aboot the whoreson?”

      
“She doesna need to know how close he is.
I’ll keep her safe,” Declan replied through clenched teeth. “Off with you. I’ve
things to attend to before me date.”

*
     
*
     
*

      
On the way to the hospital Joe passed
out. He didn’t awaken until he was moved from the ambulance gurney to a
hospital bed.

      
His mind was foggy and his eyelids heavy.
He started to drift off when he heard, “Detective Butler?”

      
His eyes slowly opened and he recognized
a familiar face. “Dr. James?”

      
Michael James nodded and smiled. “Well,
that’s a good sign. Your memory doesn’t seem to be impaired.”

      
“My head hurts like hell, doc.”

      
“I’m sure it does. We have a few
questions to ask before we take you down for an MRI.”

      
“Ask away,” Joe mumbled.

*
     
*
     
*

      
Travers arrived at Butler’s house in the
late afternoon.

      
“Who is it?” a feminine voice questioned.

      
“Camille? I’m Detective Greg Travers,
Joe’s co-worker.”

      
She pulled the door open quickly.
“Oh my God!”

      
Tears pooled in her eyes and he
stammered, “He’s okay, kind of. He’s at the hospital being cared for.”

      
Camille backed away from the door,
wringing the dish towel in her hands.

      
“I’m no doctor, but I think it’s just a
concussion. He was cognizant when they took him in the ambulance,” he offered.

      
“I need to be with him,” she whispered.

*
     
*
     
*

      
Camryn dressed with mixed emotions.

      
Was he still in love with Teaghan?

      
Her gut wrenched. She really liked
Declan. Well, more than liked.

      
She pulled her hair into a chignon,
applied a little make-up and sprayed cologne on her wrists and neck.

      
She surveyed her outfit in the antique
oval mirror. It was nothing special, just black leggings with a sheer black
flowing blouse over a pink camisole.

      
A knock at the door rattled her from her
thoughts.

      
She took a deep, cleansing breath,
pulling the door open slowly.

      
Declan held a bouquet of flowers in a
crystal decanter and wore a sexy grin.

*
     
*
     
*

      
Viktor pulled up to Teaghan’s before
nightfall. It took half an hour to find the remote B&B.

      
Flood lights flashed in front of the
business sign as he turned off the ignition.

      
Green bold letters against a white wooden
sign read the words ‘Closed for the Season’.

      
“Fuck!” he grumbled, starting up the
rental car. He sped away in search of another place to stay.

      
Maggie materialized, giggling.

      
Eoghan suddenly appeared next to her, in
full mail.

      
She felt his presence and turned with a
grin. “Eoghan,” she murmured, reaching out to him.

      
“Failend?” he replied hoarsely.

      
“Aye, I’ve been waiting for you.”

*
     
*
     
*

      
Butler awoke with a jerk. His head ached,
but not as bad as earlier.

      
Suddenly a soft hand grasped his. He
turned his head and grinned. “Camille.”

      
“Hey,” she choked out.

      
His mouth felt as dry as a desert.
“Water,” he rasped.

      
She poured water into a cup and added a
straw. He leaned forward and took a long pull. When sated he leaned against the
pillows.

      
“Do I look that bad?”

      
“Your head is bandaged and you’re
strapped to machines. What do you think?”

      
Dr. James entered. “Hey Joe, glad you’re
awake.”

      
“How bad is it?” Joe mumbled.

      
Dr. James lifted Joe’s chart from the bed
and scanned it. “Not bad at all. You have a concussion, no signs of brain
damage or swelling. You’ll be back on your feet soon, but not allowed to go
back to work for a few weeks.”

      
Joe breathed a sigh of relief. “Phew! I
was scared for a bit.” He nodded towards Camille and smiled, “It’s her fault.”

      
“I don’t like seeing you this way,” she
said softly.

      
Dr. James walked to Camille and put a
hand on her shoulder. “How’re you holding up?”

      
“Each day I get better and then he had to
go and get himself hurt!” she replied, sending Joe a sharp look.

      
Dr. James murmured. “Joe, does your head
still hurt?”

      
Joe winced, “A little.”

      
“I’ll send Ivy in with a pain reliever.
I’ll be back in the morning to check on you,” Dr. James replied as he headed
towards the door.

*
     
*
     
*

      
“The flowers are beautiful.”

      
“Not as beautiful as you, gel,” Declan
murmured.

      
She blushed slightly; he had that effect
on her. “I’ll just put these on the nightstand.”

      
He stood in the doorway with his hands
clasped in front of him. Christ she looked amazing.

*
     
*
     
*

      
“How, Failend?” Eoghan whispered.

      
“I’m not sure,” she shrugged.

      
They walked together on the strand.
Eoghan struggled with words that wouldn’t come.

      
“Do I have to wait several more centuries
for you to kiss me?” she laughed.

      
He stopped abruptly and gazed at her,
astonished. “Your speech is that of the people nowadays. I’ve naught picked up
those habits meself.”

      
She sighed, “Oh Eoghan, I’ve much to tell
you.”

      
She took his hand into hers and together
they soared to the highest cliff near Teaghan’s.

      
Her feet dangled over the edge of the
cliff. She held her face out allowing the gentle breeze to caress it. How she
missed this place.

      
“Failend?”

      
She cleared her throat. “The bastards
didn’t stop after they ambushed you and your men. They came into the village.
Women and young girls were raped, the men killed. After several days of torture
they burned the entire village, leaving no one alive.”

      
A lump formed in his throat. He was too
ashamed to meet her eyes.

      
“Eoghan?
Please
look at me.”

      
“I canno’.
I was
a fool to leave the village unprotected. ‘Twas my duty and I failed.”

      
“Is that why you still roam the earth?”
she asked softly.

      
He shrugged, “Mayhap.”

      
She patted his hosed leg. “I loved you,
you know.”

      
His head whipped to look at her.
“In truth?”

      
“In truth,” she grinned. “Now kiss me you
fool.”

      
He took her in his arms kissing her
thoroughly as they perched on the edge of a cliff.

Chapter
13

      
The fireplace glowed with a fire and lit
candles were grouped together in all areas of the room.

      
The large round table that held a chess
board earlier had been covered with a white linen tablecloth. A bud vase with
two red roses adorned the center while pewter plates and goblets rested on
opposite sides.

      
The couch sat in front of the fireplace,
leaving a large open area in the room.

      
She looked at Declan with a puzzled
expression.

      
He ran his hands down his trouser legs.
Feckin’ sweat! “Wine?” he asked.

      
She nodded and walked around the room slowly.
Declan pulled no punches in the romance department, she mused.

      
Music softly spilled from speakers
situated high on bookcases.
Moondance
was
playing.

      
He came up behind her. “Gel?” he asked,
handing her a goblet.

      
“Thanks.” She took a rather large
swallow.

      
“Easy, gel.
It’s
no’ water,” he grinned.

 
     
“I’m
nervous,” she confessed.

      
He laughed, “I’m glad
it’s
no’ just me! I feel feckin’ neddy, like I did the first night we met.”

      
“Neddy?” she asked with a grin.

      
“Nervous, jittery,” he offered.

      
“You were nervous when we met?”

      
“Aye, when I saw you at the picnic table
with the plonker. ‘
Twas I who threw the Frisbee.
I
wanted to meet you,” he admitted.

      
She lifted an eyebrow. “So, it wasn’t an
accident we met?” He shook his head and lifted a corner of his mouth. “What if
I was married?”

      
“You weren’t, so I took my chances,” he
replied as he led her to the couch.

      
She pulled a leg under her and sat. “But
how
did you know?”

      
“Married and dating couples act
differently. Besides, you came in separate cars,” he shrugged.

      
“Most people would find that creepy, you
know. Tell me more,” she urged.