She shrugged; what else could she do? “Seemed like the right thing to do at the time.” Then she added, remembering his aborted move, “I was surprised you let me get away with it.”
“He didn’t,” Moose said. “Not exactly. I had to hold on to him.” He gave Derek a cautious look. “Sorry about that, Uncle Dare, but she was playing him just right. If you’d rushed him, he might’ve shot in self-defense.”
Derek might not have liked it, but he let it go. “He sure came up with that gun fast,” he said musingly. “I’m still wondering where he kept it.”
At his words, the silly joke about men and their guns again cropped up, and Connie grinned, then giggled, then lost it. The evening had been too full of tension and she’d held herself in check for too long. She leaned against the car and let the laughter roll while tears of mirth streamed down her face.
“What the…”
The men had spoken in unison. Then Derek asked, almost worriedly, “Connie?”
The joke itself wasn’t that funny. But a story is in the telling, and the image of the substitute teacher who’d told this one—a middle-aged matron with a strong resemblance to Mrs. Doubtfire—stuck in Connie’s mind. The woman had been so primly deadpan that she was hilarious.
Regaining her breath, Connie wiped her eyes and carefully avoided looking at either man. “It’s okay. I’m okay. Delayed reaction, hysteria. Whatever you want to call it. I—” Another giggle threatened, and she caught it just in time. “I’m okay. Honest.”
She concentrated on the theater marquee. Derek watched her for a short moment, but she wouldn’t return his gaze. No way was she even going to try to explain. So he then looked at Moose, lifted his shoulders and shook his head. Apparently giving up on her, Derek pulled the manila envelope from beneath his shirt and handed it to Moose.
The big man accepted it, and then just held it.
Mirth left Connie as she stared at the envelope, as if mesmerized. Every moment of this evening had been worth it. They hadn’t committed a crime tonight. They’d corrected one.
“We did it,” Moose murmured. “We really did.”
Opening the door of the Mustang, he reverently placed the envelope on the passenger’s seat, then closed the car door and turned back to his cohorts.
He appeared uncomfortable, and Connie recognized the awkward social stage of where do we go from here? They stood next to a parking island surrounded by a planter box filled with pink and purple petunias. Stepping up onto the platform, giving herself some extra inches, she threw her arms around Moose, startling him.
“I love you, you big moose. And I don’t even know if I’ll ever see you again.” She planted a big kiss on his cheek. “You tell Max and Petey that I love them, too. Okay?”
His return hug was as tight as hers. With an arm still around her, he extended his other hand to Derek. Then, with a smile, he clasped that arm around his shoulders as well. “Wouldn’t mind taking on a couple pen pals.” His voice was slightly choked. “I doubt this divorce of yours is going to take, and I’d like to know what happens with you two.”
He released them and stepped back. “And I wouldn’t mind getting some pictures every now and then of Abbie and Andy and Chris. Those kids stole my heart.”
“You got it,” Connie said. “And I’d like to be kept up to date on you and Darlene. It’s way past time you and she started cooking. Get a move on, big guy.”
He grinned, nodded, then got into his car. Connie couldn’t help but wonder how he fit into it.
She and Derek watched the Mustang until it was out of sight. Connie had the comfortable, satisfied feeling of a job well done. Still standing on the planter, she looked at her ex-husband.
“Hey, pilgrim,” she said. When he turned to her, her eyes were almost on a level with his. “If you were to put your arms around me again, I promise not to kick you in the shin this time.”
She still wore his baseball cap. He removed it and put it on his own head, turning it backwards. The effect made him appear as young as he’d been when she’d first met him. But the gleam in his eyes was a mature one.
Returning his hands to her hair, he fluffed it. His fingertips on her scalp made her toes tingle. The massage was slow and sensual, and clearly affected him as strongly as it moved her. Their gazes held. His hands traveled down her back, creating a prickly sensation even through the shirt, and came to rest at her waist. Her arms encircled his neck.
“Beautiful,” he whispered. He pulled her forward until she rested against him. Without his support she would’ve tumbled face first off the platform. “You’re beautiful,” he repeated.
“You’re not too bad-looking, yourself, O’Reilly.”
They engaged in an unhurried kiss that kept building, at times heating up, then pleasantly leveling off, and then going back to hot. It felt so right to be so close that they were almost one again, wrapped so securely in each other’s arms. She wasn’t sure which of them broke contact when they finally pulled apart, but it was just in time. She had no more strength than a bowl of Jell-O.
“It’s been a long time,” she whispered.
“Too long.” He swallowed audibly, then squinted, as if having trouble with his vision.
“We’d best move this to another location,” she said breathily.
“Agreed.” He kissed her nose, then drew back to meet her eyes. “The sooner, the better. Do you have any suggestions as to where? Right about now, I’d settle for the back seat of a nondescript, green sedan.”
Umm, she thought, but didn’t say it. “I’ve got a better idea.” She tilted her head. “I know where there’s a really nice room. It’s not far, and it’s got a view of the swimming pool.”
“Hmm. Tell me more about this room.”
“Got a TV with a really neat station that plays old movies. Classics.”
“Anything else?”
“A Do Not Disturb sign one could hang on the outside doorknob if one had a mind to put it there.”
He nodded soberly. “Good point. One could watch classic movies for as long as one desired without being interrupted. My interest is piqued. Does this room have any other furniture in it?”
“If I remember right, there’s a king-size bed. Big and luxurious and roomy.”
He paused, as if thinking that one over, and looking doubtful. “Isn’t that more room than we’ll need?”
She nodded with emphasis. “Yep.”
Chapter Twenty-ThreeAt the parking lot’s exit, Connie took longer than necessary to check traffic. She wasn’t sure which way to turn to get to the hotel, didn’t want to admit it, and was hoping to spy a landmark that might give her a hint.
“It’s left, Connie,” Derek said mildly.
Once she’d executed the turn, she sneaked a sideways glance at him. “Thanks.”
The corners of his mouth turned up, but he didn’t give her a direct look.
She hadn’t made two whole blocks when she became aware of flashing red and blue lights behind her. “Uhh,” she said, attention riveted on the rearview mirror. She looked at Derek. “What did I do wrong? I hope to hell I did something wrong.”
“I don’t know.” He’d twisted toward the center of the car and was looking over his shoulder. “I didn’t catch a mistake. Maybe he just wants to get around you in order to go after someone else. But you have to pull over, regardless.”
Yes, that she did. No options. She pulled off the road and braked, and the lights behind her followed suit. “Oh, crap,” she said to the mirror. She set the gear in park and turned off the ignition. “Kevin would recognize my car, but he wouldn’t be in a patrol car…would he? Does he even know my license number?”
His gaze remained on the back window. “Doesn’t have to know it. Just has to ask for it. And whoever this is, he just opened his door.”
While her pulse threatened to run away with itself, Connie watched her side mirror. A tall figure exited the patrol car and approached on the driver’s side. She pressed the window release bu
tton, nothing happened, and she pressed it again. Meanwhile the man arrived and knocked gently on the window.
“Auxiliary,” Derek said, and she gave him a look that must’ve carried her incomprehension. He pointed at the ignition. “Key has to be in auxiliary to roll the window down.”
“Oh. Yeah.” She fumbled with the key, then the window release, and finally got it rolled down. Good going, she thought, now get hold of yourself before you blurt out how guilty you are.
It wasn’t Kevin who stooped to peer inside, but she wasn’t sure if that circumstance should be positive or negative. “Yes, officer?” she asked in a voice so shaky that if he didn’t already know what she’d been up to, he might start wondering.
“Good evening, ma’am,” he said without pulling out his handcuffs. That much was positive. Then she realized that her driver’s license was buried in the pocket of her jeans, so she was going to have to ask him to back up so she could get out of the car to get it. Oh, gee whiz.
But he didn’t ask for her license. He looked across her at Derek. “Hello, Mr. O’Reilly. It’s nice to meet you. I watch the news every morning and would’ve recognized you anywhere.”
Connie blinked. He’d pulled them over to get an autograph?
Derek nodded politely. “Nice to meet you, too. Is there a problem, officer?”
Connie began to feel like a third wheel as she sat in the middle of the two people and their nice conversation. Now that it didn’t appear she was going to be arrested, her wits were making a comeback.
“No, sir,” the policeman said. “No problem. Your brother simply requested that if anyone saw your car—”
“It’s my car,” Connie pointed out.
His attention returned to her. He was young, freckled, and redheaded. His eyes were brown and confused. “Excuse me, ma’am?”
“It’s my car. As you can see, I was driving it. Thank you for telling my passenger there wasn’t a problem with my driving.”
“Oh. Yes, ma’am. I’d been given the description and license of this car as well as Mr. O’Reilly’s convertible. And, as I said, you didn’t do anything wrong.” He waited a beat, brow furrowing, then his face cleared and his gaze again skimmed past her.
“Your brother requested that you and your wife—”
“Ex.”
“Er, excuse me?”
“I’m his ex-wife. I mean that he is my ex-husband.”
There was a long pause. “Yes, ma’am. Of course, ma’am.” She could tell that he was adding up reasons for their divorce. Then again he looked beyond her, again dismissed her. “Would you, and, er…”
“Robertson.” Her voice was tired and pained. “My name is Connie Robertson.”
After taking a deep breath, he started all over again. “Mr. O’Reilly, your brother requested that you and Ms. Robertson stop by his house tonight. As soon as possible. Can you do that, sir?”
“Yes,” Derek said evenly. “We will.”
The officer nodded. “I’ll radio it in. Thank you, sir.”
“You’re welcome,” Connie said.
When she spoke, the man halted for an instant in his move to stand upright, then he straightened and left. She faced front as he walked back to the patrol car, and she continued to stare straight ahead as he pulled out and passed them.
Derek’s gaze never left her. “I was wondering if you were going to produce a pair of boxing gloves, Ms. Robertson. Was all that necessary?”
“He was talking over me and around me, and was too insensitive even to know it. Excuse me. Insensitive? May I change that to stupid?”
“You want to fight with me now, or do you want to save it for Kevin?”
“Oh, hell.” She rested her forehead on the steering wheel.
“I don’t suggest you get in his face like you did with that cop.”
“Go up against your brother?” She sat back and looked across at him as if to plead. “Derek, there’s no way I can go up against your brother.”
“You did it once.” He’d already eased up, it appeared. Apparently he’d dismissed the interlude with the redheaded cop as easily as the cop had dismissed Connie. “You held your own then, and you will again.”
Then he added, “It could be worse, you know. What if that cop had stopped us before we let Moose off? We’d have still had him, the comic book, and Hayworth’s gun.”
She collapsed, folding her arms across the steering wheel and laying her forehead on them. “Oh, crap,” she breathed, silently thanking Moose for his foresight in insisting upon his own car. And wondering how she was going to handle herself once school started in September. Her vocabulary needed attention. With her head on her arms, she slanted a look at Derek. “I don’t like this. I don’t like it at all.”
“Can’t say I’m exactly thrilled with it.” Derek slouched in his seat, tilted his head back and stared at the visor. He drew in a breath and let it out noisily. “Kevin shouldn’t have even been out there tonight. This is his day off. And the chief wouldn’t respond to calls like that anyway. So he must’ve specifically requested to be informed of anything going on at the Hayworth house.”
“Yeah, I’d already figured that out. He was expecting something and was suspicious of us.” She scrunched her face up. “With good cause.”
Now she also leaned her head back and stared at her own visor. To a passerby, they might’ve looked like tired travelers taking a nap. “I’m sorry, Derek. For getting you into this.”
“I’m not. I did nothing wrong tonight, and I’m not sorry for any of it.” He frowned, staring into space. “I’m surprised I did it,” he said slowly, as if just now examining his feelings and being surprised all over again. “But not sorry.”
A long silence followed. Then Connie asked, voice dull, “What are we going to do?”
“Face him. What else? He can’t prove anything. And, hopefully, he doesn’t want to. He probably just wants to push a little bit. If I were in his shoes, I’d want to push a whole lot.”
She straightened up and pressed her hands against the steering wheel, bracing herself for the coming ordeal as much as repositioning herself in the driver’s seat. She had to work for a second or two until she was able to swallow, and then she turned the key in the ignition.
* * *
Kristy let them in, appearing friendly, but it looked like she was working hard for neutrality. She’d been doing a lot of that lately, Connie realized. The strain was showing in everyone. Kevin was on the phone, and his wife motioned for their guests to sit. She was barefoot and wore a different robe. This one was a knee-length, candy-striped duster, buttoned demurely to the neck. Connie figured it had to be new. It would’ve been a better choice for her to borrow if she could’ve found it.
“Tied up with his own shirt,” Kevin said, supposedly repeating what he’d just been told over the phone line. One elbow was propped on the arm of the chair as he held the receiver to his ear. His other hand lay loosely in his lap. He had the look of a weary man, and he didn’t even glance at Connie and Derek. His attention seemed to be on the ceiling.
Connie took one end of the sofa, and Derek took the other.
Kristy questioningly raised her coffee cup, gaze traveling between them. “It’s decaf,” she assured them. They shook their heads. She sat in the armchair near Connie’s end of the couch, tucking her feet under her. She smoothed the robe over her knees, sipped her coffee, and along with her guests watched and listened to her husband’s end of the phone conversation.
“…yeah, changed his story a couple of times. Doubt that we’ve got the whole thing yet, and we may never get it. Keep me posted.” He hung up.
He closed his eyes, leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, and massaged his forehead with both hands. “How tall are you, Connie?”
“Huh?” She’d wanted to keep a low profile and let Derek deal with his brother, but that snapped her head up.
“You heard me.”
“Five-two and a half,” she answered guardedly.
>
“She’s stretching that,” Derek said.
Kevin snapped his eyes open and nailed them both with a hard stare. He’d lost the weary look. “I have never known anybody as stupid. And as reckless. And as incredibly lucky, as the two of you.”
Connie couldn’t hold the flinch back.
“Please note that I am not going to be asking you anything else,” he went on. “I don’t want either of you to tell me anything. Not a damned thing. I do the talking. You do the listening.” He waited a beat. He looked like a firecracker in human form, one with a very short fuse. “Can you handle that?”
The two people on the sofa didn’t respond. Derek didn’t appear intimidated but seemed to have lost his flippancy. Connie folded her hands in her lap and returned her ex-brother-in-law’s stare. She was back in the principal’s office, but as Derek had told her she would, she was handling it.
Kevin rested his elbows on the arms of the recliner and made a tent with his fingers. “Okay, here goes. About thirty minutes ago, three people with a gun broke into Julian Hayworth’s house—”
At the look that crossed Connie’s face, Kevin stopped and stared at her. So did his brother. If he’d been close enough, she believed Derek would’ve kicked her.
Closing his eyes, Kevin shook his head. “Oh, Connie, please don’t enter a life of crime. You’d never make a living at it.”
When he again looked at them, it appeared he’d lost some of his heat. Then he went on. “So that part of it wasn’t true. It was his gun, he held you at gunpoint, and somehow you got it away from him. That makes more sense. I couldn’t see either one of you entering with a gun and waving it around.”
Again he closed his eyes and shook his head. “I just heard what I said. I’d accepted the fact you’d broken into that house, but not that you did it with a gun. I don’t believe this. I don’t believe this whole, stupid night.”
Connie stared at the rug. From the corner of her eye, she saw Derek pick up Andy’s favorite toy that had been peeking out from under the sofa, a cloth turtle. He ran his thumb over the speckled green and black back.
“Okay. His gun.” Wearily, Kevin nodded to himself as he supposedly put the pieces together to make sure they fit. “He probably doesn’t have a permit for it, so didn’t want to admit ownership.”
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