Worcester Nights - The Boxed Set (14 page)

A smile grew on his face. “You’d like to hear the story?”

“Absolutely. It’d be much better than the dreck these guys tend to watch on TV.”

He sat back, taking a sip of his whiskey. “It would be my pleasure. You ready?”

I grinned. “Ready and waiting.”

He gave his drink a swirl. “All right then. We begin our story with Sherlock lounging in a chair, preparing his hypodermic needle of cocaine. He rolls back his sleeve, finds the correct place on his arm, and injects. Watson is watching this, as he has been for many months now, with growing concern for his good friend …”

I glanced over at Joey, lost in his daze, and the thought came to me of how little things changed.

Chapter 5

S
ean pulled us into the bar’s parking lot right on time for my shift, negotiating the burnt-out Camaro and bulky dumpster with practiced ease. In minutes we had the Triumph safely tucked into its shed. He opened the back door of the bar for me, and we went down the short hallway into the main room.

Mrs. O’Malley was standing there with her husband, her brow creased into furrows. “Well, do you think she’ll be ready in two days? We’ll have to make other plans for the shoot if she isn’t.”

His voice was a mutter. “I’m working on it, but she’s skittish. It might take some time. We don’t want to lose her.”

She shook her head in frustration. “Just don’t screw it up, like last time. We don’t want her popped before –”

She glanced up and saw us coming in; her face morphed into a welcoming smile. “Katie! There you are. I could set my clock by you. And Sean. So good to see you again.”

I moved over behind the bar, hanging my jacket on the hook. “It’s nice to see you, Mrs. O’Malley.”

“Bridgit,” she said automatically. She turned back to her husband. “I need to head over there to set some things up. You call if you hear anything.”

“Sure, of course,” he agreed. He watched as she turned and walked out into the darkening afternoon. Then he sighed and came over to the bar.

“And how are you two love birds doing?” he asked, plunking himself down on a stool. “That lust-crazed glow starting to fade yet?”

I chuckled, glancing over at Sean. “Not quite yet,” I teased.

Sean’s eyes lit with interest, and the corner of his mouth quirked up. “Not for a long while,” he promised.

Jimmy ran a hand through his sparse hair. “That’s just depressing,” he grumbled. “Gimme a drink.”

I pulled out the bottle and glass, poured him his double, and took my sip of it before placing both before him.

He looked at the glass for a moment. “Here’s to youth. Treasure it while you have it, because all too soon it’ll be gone and you’ll be old and dried up.” He tilted the glass and drank it down.

Sean’s voice was steady. “You hardly seem dried up,” he pointed out.

Jimmy turned the glass in place. “Yeah, but you didn’t know me when I was twenty-one,” he pointed out. “When I used to stride into the local pub, there were always four girls hanging on me. Good lookers, too. Long, flowing hair. High, firm tits. I could have my pick of any one.” His eyes shone. “Sometimes, if I was lucky, I got two.”

I glanced at Sean in amusement. “Sounds like the life.”

Jimmy held out his glass, and I refilled it. He drank some down, then sighed.

“Yeah, it was great, right up until my brother, Liam, and his best friend, Seamus, decided to play hero. Next thing I know they’re running guns up to Belfast and making me go along as their driver. I didn’t want to get involved; I had a nice job already, doing local meat deliveries. I had a good life. But then they went and …”

He shook his head, looking down. “There was a raid, the cops came, and I saw it all. I saw Liam get gunned down in the street, like a rabid dog. I ran to him, and held him, but there was nothing I could do. The light just faded from his eyes.”

I put my hand over his. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Jimmy.”

He squeezed my fingers for a moment before taking another drink. “Yeah, and the cops would have swept me up, too, as an accessory, but Bridgit took charge, as she always did. Dragged me here to the states, and Seamus too. We got a fresh start.” He looked around the bar. “I thought I could recreate what I had there. Build the bar, fill it full of the same signs, the same whiskey, and the rest would just happen.” He downed the rest of his drink. “But it’s all gone. Everything I had, it’s all gone. And there’s just wreck left.”

I wasn’t sure if he meant the place or himself. Maybe he encompassed all of life in that statement.

Jimmy gave himself a shake, then stood. “I’ll be in my office. Oh, and Katie, if you need Thanksgiving off, just let me know. I’m sure we can work out some coverage for you.” He turned and vanished down the hall.

Thanksgiving.

I glanced at Sean, my mind whirling. I hadn’t even thought about Thanksgiving. How could I bring Sean down with me, and introduce him to the family as an ex-felon who had served seven years in prison? I doubted he wanted to risk spreading his true identity any further than it had to, especially with the net pulling close. Or could he even get away for a day? Waterbury was only two hours south, but maybe he wouldn’t want to risk the time.

I flushed. Maybe he wouldn’t want to go at all.

He looked at me with steady eyes. “You always go home for Thanksgiving?”

I nodded. “I’ve never missed one. Sometimes one of my brothers can’t make it, depending what his case load is, but we all make that effort to be together.”

He was quiet for a long moment. “Would you want –”

“We’ll stay here,” I decided, wrapping my hand in his. “I want to be with you, and here is easiest. We’ll have Thanksgiving, just you and me, in the studio.”

His brow creased. “Are you sure?”

I nodded. “Absolutely. I’ll make us a turkey and gravy, home-made mashed potatoes, and even the yam circles in brown sugar.”

His eyes lit up. “That sounds delicious.”

I grinned. “Oh, they are. Quite tasty. And some Grand Marnier adds the flavor boost.”

He brought my hand up for a kiss. “It sounds like a perfect Thanksgiving.”

His phone rang, and he released my hand to draw the phone out of his pocket. “Sean here.”

He listened for a moment, then nodded. “Sure, Seamus. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

He tucked the phone back into his pocket. “They need me for something over at the warehouse. I should just be a half hour or so.”

I gave his hand a squeeze. “I’ll be planning out the shopping list,” I teased.

He leant over the bar to give me a long kiss on the lips. By the time he drew back my heart was thumping against my ribs.

His voice was a low murmur. “I’ll plan the dessert,” he promised. From the look in his eyes, I didn’t think he just meant apple pie.

“I think I’m going to like this Thanksgiving,” I chuckled.

He winked, then he had turned and headed out the back hall.

I busied myself cutting lemons and limes, wiping down the tables, but it was surprising how used I had gotten to his presence in the bar. Even with the six regulars going through the usual motions of pool-playing and TV-watching, the place felt hollow, empty. It was as if robotic replicas of humans were going through the motions of activity, and I was the only real person in there.

Finally the counters were clean, the dishwasher was run and emptied again, and I looked around for something to do. The recycle bin was half full, but it was worth getting that cleared. I turned to Joey.

“Joey, I’m –”

He waved his hand at me, not taking his eyes from the TV. “Yeah, yeah.”

My shoulders slumped. I grabbed up the plastic bin and went down the hall, wedging the bin against the wall in order to get the door pulled open.

Night’s shadows had thoroughly overtaken the lot, and I had to let my eyes adjust before I could see the bin to dump the glassware into. When I turned, I realized the shed door was half open. My eyes lit up with delight. Sean was back. If I was lucky – truly lucky – we might get some close-and-personal time in before heading back into the bar. My body warmed with the thought, and I snuck toward the opening. Maybe I could catch him by surprise.

I got to the edge of the door, my heart pounding, a wide smile on my lips. I peered around the edge.

WHAM.

Something heavy and blunt struck me on my right temple. The world tilted, swung, and went sideways, coming up to hit me in my left shoulder.

Walking toward me at an impossible angle was a sumo wrestler, bald, thick, with a tattoo on one bicep.

The world stuttered, rewound, and turned off.

Chapter 6

I
blinked my eyes in agonized confusion. Someone had drilled a hole in my head, and it ached with a power which staggered me. Not only that, but a hive’s worth of honey bees had moved into the drilled-out location, buzzing and vibrating. I moved my hand to massage the spot.

Or I tried to raise my hand – it stayed resolutely in place. Another tug, and I realized it was tied in place with some sort of a rough rope. A quick flailing informed me that my other wrist and both ankles were tied as well, apparently to a wooden chair.

I forced my eyes open wider, struggling to focus in the shadows.

I was in some sort of an office without windows, and it was probably nearly dawn, judging by the low glimmer of light coming through a doorway to another, larger room. There was a desk to one side, filing cabinets to another, and an elegant painting of a bullfighter on a far wall.

There was motion at the doorway, and a man stepped into the opening, moving his hand to flick on the lights. They blinded me, and I groaned, shutting the lids against the pain.

The man’s voice was deep, with a heavy Cuban accent. “
Mierda
, Raul, what in God’s name have you done?”

I forced my eyes open, enduring the pain with long breaths. The bald man came in behind the first, shrugging. “Just what you said, boss. I found us a hostage.”

The first man came forward, and I could see him more clearly now. He looked just like the man from the Dos Equis commercials, the Most-Interesting-Man-In-The-World. He had that same kindly look to him, along with the casual assurance that he could get anything he wanted. I could almost imagine him looking down at me, saying, “I don’t always take hostages, but when I do, I make sure they’re innocent, young women with a penchant for poetry.”

I held in my giggles and wondered just how bad my concussion was.

He shook his head, looking me over. “My dear, I’m sorry you’ve been caught up in this. My name is Javier. I’ll see to it that you’re not hurt.” A flicker of concern danced in his gaze. “Hurt more than you have been already,” he amended.

I looked down myself. Apparently I’d fallen against something sharp at the shed. My jeans leg had been ripped in a long jag, and crusted blood coated the edges of the opening. Smears of blood led to me across the hard wood floor.

Javier’s voice was soft, encouraging. “What is your name, my dear?”

I didn’t see any harm in him knowing it. Perhaps it would help Sean and the others negotiate more quickly for my release. “I’m Kate.”

Javier nodded. “Don’t worry, Kate. This is simply a business transaction. We’ll have you back where you belong soon enough.” He looked behind him into the other room. “Aymee, come in here. I want you to go up to the bedroom with Kate and get her cleaned up.”

He turned to Raul. “You carry her up there, so she doesn’t have to walk on that leg.” He looked around at the blood-smeared floor. “And get the cleaners in here to take care of this mess.” His gaze darkened. “After that, you and I are going to have a little chat.”

Raul’s lips curled down, but he nodded and moved toward me. He pulled a black-handled knife from his back pocket, swung it open, and cut loose the rope ties. Then he slung me over his shoulder as if I were a futon mattress. He went out the door and up a narrow flight of stairs. The door at the top was open, and we went in. He flicked on the switch.

The small room smelled faintly of lemon-spearmint cleaning detergent. There was a single peony-painted lamp on a small table by the bed in the corner. The pair of windows opposite were boarded over with planks and half-covered by long burgundy drapes. A large painting on one wall showed a Hispanic woman in a long, elaborate black dress with red roses. A door in the far wall led to a bathroom.

He plunked me down on the thick, dark brown blanket and scowled at me. “You’re more trouble than you’re worth,” he snapped.

A young, elegant woman in a tight black dress stepped into the doorway, and she sniffed dismissively. “Go on, Raul. Go to your master.”

Raul’s fingers clenched in anger, but he turned and headed back down the stairs.

The woman closed the door behind her, then turned with a smile. Her high heels clicked on the wooden floor as she crossed to me. “And now, my dear, Kate, is it? I am Aymee. Not to worry. I’m sure Javier will take care of everything.” She pouted her perfect lips as she looked me over. “But you are definitely a mess. First thing we need to do is get you cleaned up.”