by Linda Ladd
“Okay, I got Dave's number. He wasn't there so I talked to his wife. She said he'd be home all day tomorrow,” Mac informed Booker when he came out of the bathroom. “We'll call him tomorrow night from Busch Stadium and tell him Kate will hand Joey over to the mother, no questions asked, just so we walk away free and clear. Right?"
“Yeah. Does his wife know what's going on?"
“She said Vince's on a rampage and his wife, her name's Anna, by the way, is a candidate for the funny farm. She can't stop crying and Vince is scared she's gonna crack up. It's their first kid, and Vince's been hungry for a son since they got married. It seems Reed, or whoever the hell snatched Joey, got him before Vince got a look at him, which makes things even worse."
“How come he didn't see the baby?"
“He was up in New York facing some kind of criminal hearing and the kid was kidnapped before he got home."
“You think Vince's gonna go for this, Mac? You know him."
Mac took off his shoes and leaned back against the headboard. “Yeah, I think he'll do whatever it takes to get the boy back to his wife, but who knows? Vince doesn't compute like everybody else. He's nuts, and ruthless as hell."
“No kidding."
Mac grinned and watched Booker pull back the drapery and check the parking lot. “You think the girl's gonna hold up tomorrow?"
“I don't know. She's shaky."
“Think you oughta tell her how it's gonna go down?"
“Don't know.” Booker had been trying to figure out a way to deal with Kate and found himself anxious to see her again, make sure she was all right. Watching over her had become a habit, and he felt uneasy when she was out of his sight, even though Misha and the gang weren't around for their games of bust-in-and-slaughter-everybody.
On the other hand, they were in St. Louis now, Vince Saracino's turf, and given the time, he had the resources to find them. Down deep Booker was afraid Kate might run again, on her own since he and Mac were against it. She was desperate enough. He'd seen the agony in her eyes when she looked at Joey, all warmth and pleasure robbed from her. “Think I better check on her. Make sure she's all right."
“Okay. I'm gonna order up some room service. Want some?"
“Go ahead. I'll order for Kate and me next door. I don't think she'll like being alone in there."
Mac nodded and turned to pick up the motel telephone on the table between the beds. Booker opened the connecting door and tapped a knuckle on Kate's locked one. Within seconds she was there, opening it and looking up at him. She had Joey in her arms. She hadn't showered or changed clothes. She'd been crying. Her eyes were red and puffy. She didn't look so good.
“You okay?"
“No."
“Thought I'd get us something to eat from room service. You hungry?"
“No."
“Want me to come in?"
Kate stepped aside and let him enter. She shut the door behind him and locked it. He had a feeling she would never enter a room again without turning the locks and throwing the bolts. She had been robbed of peace of mind forever; he'd lost his a long time ago. Her curtains were drawn, and a second chair was jammed underneath the knob alongside the first one. He had a feeling she'd been sitting in the dark, holding Joey tightly in her arms, already mourning his loss. Watching her carefully, he sat down on the bed beside the phone.
“What sounds good to eat, Kate?"
“Nothing.” She shrugged, then roused up some as if she realized she was taking her misery out on him. “Whatever you get's fine with me. Joey's gonna need some milk."
Booker watched her lay Joey on the bed closest to the bathroom, propping pillows around him. She moved to the closet, took down the extra blanket on the shelf, then pulled out the top dresser drawer. She set to work making the baby a bed as she'd done at Mac's trailer. She looked and acted absolutely numb, moving around in a trance. She'd fought the good fight, had shown guts few women had, but having to give up the baby had broken her. He dialed the number for room service.
“Yeah,” Booker said when the restaurant picked up. “I'd like a couple of T-bones sent up. Yeah, that's room 107. With the works, french fries, salad, whatever kind of pie you've got. Yeah, well done. Send up a couple of Coors Light in the can. And two large milks, in the carton, if you've got it that way.” He paused, raising his eyebrows at Kate for confirmation, but she wasn't paying attention to him. She was sitting on the bed beside Joey, staring down at him, looking ready to cry again. “And a bottle of wine. Yeah, chardonnay's fine. Thanks.” He hung up. Kate still wasn't looking at him.
“She said it's gonna take half an hour or so."
Kate nodded absently, picking up the sleeping infant and placing him gently in his drawer-bed. The baby didn't stir. Joey was a good little baby, Booker had to give him that. Kate just stood there staring down at him, and Booker frowned, not sure Kate could go through with this, no matter how sorry she felt for Joey's mother.
“Why don't you take a quick shower before dinner comes?” he suggested. “You'd probably feel better. I do."
“Maybe later.” Kate finally met his gaze, her expression so sorrowful that something twisted in his heart and made him feel a little sick. Then she said, “I guess you're right. I should wash my face and clean up a little. You'll watch Joey, won't you?"
“Sure."
Kate picked up a blue plastic Wal-Mart sack from the table, one with toothpaste and soap, and carried it into the bathroom. Booker waited until she shut the door, then switched on the TV set with the remote control, keeping the sound low so as not to awaken the baby, but Joey wasn't moving a muscle. When the kid slept, he really slept. Booker got up and stood looking down at the little baby in the drawer in much the same way Kate had done.
Joey slept on his back; Kate said it was safer to put him down that way. Both his arms were thrown over his head. One hand was tangled loosely in his silky black curls. Kate must have bathed and changed him while Booker had been with Mac. He had on a new blue terrycloth sleeper. The clown pacifier that Booker had bought for him was in his mouth but he wasn't sucking on it.
A deep-rooted memory rose wraithlike from the dark, hidden places in his heart, and anguish hit him when he saw the face of another child, another tiny baby boy. He swallowed hard, felt his throat grow thick with emotion. He was going to miss the little guy, too. He didn't know how the hell Kate was ever going to get through this.
Not wanting to think about losing Joey, he lounged down on the bed beside the picture window. It was time for the evening news and that's what he wanted to hear. When Peter Jennings came on, he talked about the latest political scandal for awhile, another investigation of the presidential past, then moved on to an air crash outside Mexico City. They had it on film, a ghastly nosedive into the side of a mountain that gave anybody watching cold chills. He turned off the sound for awhile, waiting for the local news to come on.
A knock on the door sent him to his feet. He pulled his gun from the back of his waistband, moved to the door and used the peephole. A young woman in a black waitress's uniform stood outside holding the handle of a wheeled cart. He opened the door a crack and made sure she was alone, then shoved the gun in the front of his waistband under the loose fabric of his shirt.
“I can get it,” he said, not wanting her inside the room. If she saw Joey asleep in the drawer, she just might put two and two together the next time she heard a news flash about the kidnapping.
“Sign here, please.” She smiled up at him, a pretty girl with long blond hair woven up in a French braid, about the color Kate's used to be. “You look familiar,” she said, studying his face. “You stay here a lot?"
“Yeah,” he answered, adding a tip then scribbling Jack Smith on the ticket. She was still smiling, and he had a feeling she might be coming on to him but was too out of practice with that sort of thing to be sure.
“Have a nice evening, Mr. Smith,” she said, looking up into his eyes. “There's a really good band playin’ down at the bar ton
ight, if you like dancin'."
“Never learned,” he said.
“Too bad. It's fun. I'm gonna go with my girlfriend. We'll be there till late if you wanna come."
“Yeah? Well, thanks but I gotta turn in early,” he said, handing the ticket back.
Booker waited until she turned the corner and headed toward the front lobby, then pulled the cart inside and locked the door. He realized how hungry he was when he lifted the warming dome and the aroma of charbroiled beef wafted up and wreaked havoc inside his empty stomach. He pushed the cart toward a round table with two comfortable, black-and-white-floral armchairs set beside the window.
When Kate came out a few minutes later, he said, “Food's here. Looks pretty good. I thought we'd listen to the news while we ate."
“Joey didn't wake up?"
“Hasn't made a peep."
“I gave him the rest of his bottle just before you came in.” Kate checked on the baby anyway, tenderly stroking his cheek before reluctantly leaving him and joining Booker. He set the plates across the table from each other. He poured wine into a stemmed wineglass. He had a feeling Kate needed a drink.
“I rarely drink,” she said, shaking her head and pushing it away, but almost immediately changed her mind. She picked up the goblet and took a deep swallow. Booker didn't comment when she drained the glass to the bottom and poured herself some more.
“The steak looks good. Hope it is,” he said for the sake of conversation. Something he hadn't worried about much until lately. In the woods, weeks had gone by without an uttered word.
Kate nodded, and as Booker cut a bite of the thick, juicy steak and forked it into his mouth, she watched him silently, holding her wineglass but barely touching her food. She kept looking at the baby, then started visibly when she glanced at the television. Booker turned quickly and saw that ABC was broadcasting Kate's picture again. He picked up the remote and unmuted the sound.
"... is still at large. Authorities are asking for help in locating the woman and missing child. The baby's mother made a heartbreaking plea yesterday from her home in Ladue.... Here is Robin Latham with that report...."
As soon as the mother's face appeared on the screen, Kate spoke sharply. “Turn it off, Booker. I can't listen to that again."
“Okay."
He muted the sound and they sat in silence. Kate finished the wine and poured herself a third glass. Booker wasn't sure what to say, knew good and well nothing he said would make any difference anyway. Maybe getting drunk would make her feel better.
“You think we're safe here, Booker? You're sure Dmitri won't come after us again?"
“Even if he survived the crash, it's unlikely he could track us here. You can sleep without worrying. Mac and I will be right next door, if you should need us."
Kate's eyes darted up and locked on his face. She was alarmed. “No, please, Booker, stay with me. I don't want to be alone tonight. I can't, I just can't."
“Okay, if that's what you want. No problem. I'll stay in here."
Kate relaxed visibly and leaned back against the cushions. She stared at her untouched plate, deeply lost in her own morose thoughts. Booker pulled the tab on his second beer. It was going to be another long night, but this time he had hope they might have found a way out. One where Kate didn't end up with a bullet between her eyes. He started to tell her about the ball game, how they planned to hand Joey over to his father's cousin, but couldn't quite bring himself to do it. He didn't want to see the look on Kate's face when she realized Joey would be gone for good the very next day.
“I gotta talk to Mac a minute,” he told her a short time later. “Then I'll come back and stay here with you till morning so you can get some rest."
“Okay."
Booker unlocked the door and found Mac's side ajar. His old friend was enjoying a huge chef salad and an egg-white omelet, his usual health-food fare that to Booker was most unappetizing. “Did you get the tickets?"
“Yeah, everything's set up. We pick them up at the gate, and once we're inside we contact Saracino. You hear tonight's news?"
“Kate didn't want to listen to it. What happened?"
“They're saying the parents aren't cooperating with the police or the FBI anymore, or the media, either. They're probably hoping the open contract out on Kate'll get the baby back sooner than the cops can."
Booker nodded. “I'm gonna stay in there with Kate tonight. She's not doing so good."
“Can't blame her. She's sure crazy about that kid."
When Booker went back to Kate's room, she was changing Joey's diaper. The baby was wide awake now, doing his usual gooing, gurgling, chuckling routine. Kate held his hands and baby-talked to him but she looked so distraught Booker found it hard to watch. When she sat down to feed Joey a bottle, Booker stretched out on the bed, his back against the pillows. He flipped through the channels for awhile, finally settling on a movie where some guy had just jumped off the roof of a glass skyscraper at the end of a fire hose while some guys were shooting at him from a helicopter. The whole top of the building went up in a pyrotechnic panorama, then the chopper went spiraling to the ground in a big, fiery explosion. The hero was trying to bust out a window on the side of the building by swinging at it with his bare feet. Yeah, right, Booker thought, where do these guys get this stuff? The guy finally had enough sense to shoot out the glass and came through in a crash that probably would've cut him to shreds in real life. He did end up with a lot of blood all over him.
When Joey finally went back to sleep, Kate lowered him into the drawer and covered him with a new white baby blanket. She leaned down, kissed the top of his head, then came back and sat down on the opposite bed. She looked at the television as a firefight began with lots of automatic rifle fire, ending up with another guy dangling out a window holding on for dear life to a woman's wrist.
“Good grief, what are you watching?” Kate asked.
Booker frowned at the screen, where the hero was now kissing the woman and getting her face all bloody as the guy who'd been holding her hostage fell about fifty stories and hit the ground. The hero was barechested, showing lots of muscle, and covered with about three pints of fake blood. Booker grinned a little and looked back at Kate.
“He doesn't have much on us, if you ask me. You've been through more than he has the last few days."
Booker had wanted to worm a smile out of her, and he succeeded because she laughed out loud. Only problem was, she didn't stop. She laughed almost hysterically for a couple of minutes, then burst into tears. Booker stared at her in concern, not sure exactly what to do. She had her face buried in her open hands now, sobbing hard. Booker got up and laid a hand on her back.
“I know how hard this is on you, Kate. I wish I could do something."
“Couldn't we just take a plane out of here? I've been sitting here all afternoon listening to the jets. They're right across the highway. All we'd have to do is get on one. I have a friend named Elsa in Sweden, a girl who ran marathons with me. We could go there, she'd take us in, or go anywhere, I don't care. Anything would be better than giving Joey to those monsters."
“His mother's not a monster.” Booker hated to remind her but he had to make her understand, see reason, or she'd end up six feet under. “They'd find you, Kate, they would, trust me on this. No matter where you went. The Mafia doesn't forgive people who've wronged them. If we don't give him back, we're finished, all of us."
“Oh, God, Booker, I can't stand it,” she whispered, her voice hoarse, so clogged he could barely understand her.
When she pulled him down and wept against his chest, he put his arms around her. He stroked her hair and tried not to think how soft it was, how good she smelled, like Johnson's Baby Powder. He was not exactly unaware of her breasts pressed against his chest, either. This wasn't the time to be thinking like this. He needed to get a grip on his own desires but she was making it hard on him.
“C'mon, now, Kate, why don't you go take a shower? Get ready for bed and ge
t some sleep,” he said, pulling her up and pointing her toward the bathroom. He needed to get her out of his arms, the sooner the better. She was much too vulnerable at the moment. So was he. “You'll feel better, trust me."
Kate nodded wearily, wiping tears away as she left his arms, and Booker kicked himself for not knowing how to handle her grief without being so aware of her as a woman. He'd been celibate too long for this kind of forced intimacy with a woman like Kate. She was just too damn desirable.
Kate stayed in the bathroom for nearly an hour. Booker kept thinking about how she'd looked in that skimpy white towel and hoped for his own sake that she got dressed before she came out. He was only human, for God's sake, and he wasn't sure he could handle seeing her almost naked again. He had admitted to himself a long time ago that he desired her. Hell, he wanted her about as much as he'd wanted anything in his life, but he knew it was the wrong time for them, the wrong place, wrong decision, wrong everything, for both of them. He wouldn't think about her that way, not until all this was over, when and if they both came out in one piece. About the time he'd persuaded himself to do just that, Kate opened the door.
She stepped outside, her face flushed from steam that swirled out the door behind her. She wore a thigh-length T-shirt nightgown she'd picked off the rack at Wal-Mart, a yellow one with Snoopy playing badminton with Woodstock. She was barefoot, her hair wet and combed straight back off her face. She wore no makeup. She looked unbelievably beautiful to Booker.
“You're right. I do feel better."
She moved across in front of him, towel-drying her hair, and Booker glanced away from those long, bare legs of hers. Christ. He turned around and punched the pillows, just for something to do. Unfortunately, Kate sat on the edge of the other bed and stared at him.
“I guess I want to thank you. For everything you've done. I don't know why you've put yourself on the line for us, but they would've gotten Joey a long time ago if it hadn't been for you."
“Don't worry about it. Want me to turn off the light so we can get some sleep?"