by Diana Duncan
DiMarco’s face crumpled in stunned disbelief. “You’d choose an O’Rourke over me?”
Slow, steady applause jerked Zoe’s attention forward.
Dorothy sauntered up, clapping her hands. Her sorrowful green gaze swept over the assembled men, and then the cabins, where every door and window was tightly shut. “This little gal has more courage than all of us put together.” Her husky contralto rang in the clearing. “We’ve been too concerned about our own hides and our own livelihoods to care about anyone else. And I’m just as guilty as all of you, if not more. I let Tony conduct his reign of terror and never once had the guts to stand up to him.” The redhead grimaced at DiMarco. “You think you have our respect? She’s right…we’re terrified of you.” Her mouth trembled. “Well, never again.” She nodded at Zoe. “Her, I respect.”
DiMarco spat a foul epithet. “How is it that O’Rourke got four loyal sons and I got stuck with lying, traitorous bitches?” He scowled at Dorothy, and then turned his evil, black glare on Zoe. “You take after your mother, after all.”
“Yeah.” She jutted her chin. “Much to my undying relief.”
“You would have liked being my daughter far more than being my enemy.” He stared past Zoe at the men she held at bay, and his eyes glittered ice-cold—death personified. “Kill her. Kill them all.”
Chapter 16
8:00 a.m.
Dorothy’s scream of outraged disbelief echoed in the clearing as she threw herself behind the boat. A gasp burst out of Zoe, and a stinging rush of fear-laced adrenaline dissolved the heaviness weighting her limbs.
Everything segued into fast forward.
Aidan snatched up Tony’s pistol and pressed it to Tony’s temple. He yelled at the men, “You move, and your boss dies!”
DiMarco shouted, “Carry out your orders! Kill them!”
Obediently, DiMarco’s men scooped up their guns from the ground.
Aidan swore, slammed DiMarco’s head against the totem pole and knocked him out. “Zoe!” He surged to his feet, gun in hand. “Hit the dirt!”
Her heart stuttered. Even knowing who she was, her cop’s integrity compelled him to protect her. Ignoring his hoarse demands to drop, Zoe backpedaled until she stood beside him. Her shaking hands pointed her pistol at the biggest target, the blond Viking, and her finger trembled on the trigger.
Two against five. She swallowed hard. This was where they died fighting side-by-side.
Savage barking erupted behind the men. They half turned as a snarling German Shepherd charged out of the woods. The thwack-thwack of helicopter blades thundered overhead, kicking up a violent wind. Dust, leaves and pine needles swirled in a choking cloud. Thick cables tumbled from the sky, dangled in the air. Six Kevlar-hooded, Kevlar-suited SWAT officers rappelled to the ground.
The knights in black body armor formed a solid wall between Zoe and Aidan and their assailants. Six assault rifles bristled outward. Eight more SWAT officers burst from the woods and flanked the bad guys from behind.
Zoe’s knees wobbled in relief. They’d sent both teams. The bad guys were now facing impossible odds.
“Police! Drop your weapons!” deep, masculine voices shouted over the chopper’s roar. Guns thudded to the ground.
“Eat dirt! Get on the ground or die!”
Lights flashing, sirens wailing, four police cars and an ambulance boiled into the clearing. They must have commandeered the ferry. The chopper landed in the middle of the street, and the pilot jumped out, armed and dressed in battle gear.
The SWAT officers who had emerged from the woods broke into teams of two. Searching house by house, they ordered the occupants outside and on the ground.
Out of the noisy melee, a tall, well-built officer strode toward Zoe. “Put down the weapon.”
She glanced at her hand and realized she still clutched the pistol. Nerves jittered in her stomach. “I’m on your side.” She splayed her fingers and carefully set the gun on the ground. “Don’t shoot me.”
The cop flipped up the faceplate on his helmet, and Liam O’Rourke’s emerald eyes twinkled with reassurance. “I never shoot reporters unless they’ve given me really bad press.” He held out a black-gloved hand. “It’s okay, Zoe. You can stand down.”
The ordeal was finally over. She and Aidan were safe! Dizziness assaulted her, and the sky spun overhead.
“Easy does it.” Liam went down on one knee, and strong arms supported her. Quick, gentle hands skimmed her body. “Are you hurt?”
Beyond speech, she shook her head.
“Let’s go somewhere quieter.” He swept her into his arms and carried her away from the chaos.
Zoe looked over his broad shoulder, searching for Aidan. In the midst of the fracas, DiMarco had regained consciousness and bolted toward the woods. Aidan sprinted after him and tackled him from behind. Aidan’s brother Con moved into position and stood over DiMarco with a gun pointed at his head.
Seeing Con sent a new wave of tormented guilt through her. Con must have searched for his brother around the clock, ruining his and Bailey’s wedding night, an additional insult to the injuries her father had caused the O’Rourke family.
Aidan knelt on DiMarco, cuffed his hands behind his back, and then hoisted him to his feet. Scowling, he hustled him off.
“Way to go, SWAT,” she whispered. After one final, lingering look, she resolutely faced forward. She choked back tears. The only thing she could do for Aidan now was avoid causing him more pain.
Liam’s concerned gaze searched her face. “Sure you’re all right, Geraldo? It’s not like you to be so subdued.”
She couldn’t tell him her heart had been ripped out. Or why. She nodded.
His arms tightened around her. “DiMarco is tagged and bagged. Ancient history. You’re safe with us, now.”
If only that were true. Once the O’Rourkes learned how her history was entangled with DiMarco’s, they wouldn’t want anything to do with her.
Murphy trotted over and heeled at Liam’s side. Liam glanced down and grinned. “Good boy, Murphy. You made the bad guys crap their chaps.”
Liam carried her to the ambulance, and carefully placed her on a raised stretcher parked outside the vehicle. Murphy sat on his haunches and stared at Zoe, his big brown eyes somber. The dog’s gaze seemed accusatory, as if he were watching to make sure she didn’t hurt his master. She cast her eyes downward.
Liam motioned, and Grady, the youngest O’Rourke brother sprinted over. “Zoe! You okay?”
She nodded again. They were being so kind. How would they react when they discovered her father had brutally murdered theirs? Nausea churned inside her and she swayed.
Liam gently rubbed her back. “Grady will take good care of you.” He murmured to his brother. “I think she’s in shock.” He patted her shoulder. “Hang in there, Geraldo. I’ll see you later.” He strode off with Murphy ambling behind him.
No, he wouldn’t see her later. Or any time. She hung her head. She could never face the O’Rourke family. They would despise her, and she didn’t blame them.
She despised herself.
“Let’s get you comfortable.” Grady draped a blanket around her shoulders. “Do you need to lie down?”
She shook her head.
He shone a light in her eyes and made her follow his finger with her gaze. Then he grabbed a stethoscope and a blood pressure cuff from inside the ambulance and checked her pulse and BP. His concerned gray-green eyes studied her skimpy clothing and the scrapes and bruises marring her body before flickering to her throat. He frowned. “Were you…assaulted?”
She again shook her head.
“Aidan wouldn’t—” he muttered under his breath. “He’s never—” He broke off and cupped her face in his hand, the tender gesture so reminiscent of Aidan’s, her tears threatened to burst free. “Don’t be afraid to tell me. I’m here to help you. Or I can find a female officer, if that would be easier.”
“No,” she whispered. “I wasn’t hurt.” Not physically,
anyway.
“All right.” He patted her shoulder. “Just relax. I’m going to make you feel better.”
Nothing in the world could accomplish that feat, except maybe turning back the clock to yesterday. Before she’d found out vile, corrupted blood flowed in her veins.
Grady sent another officer to fetch her a hot cup of coffee and an energy bar. Speaking soothing nonsense, he gently cleaned and bandaged the cut on her leg, and dabbed antiseptic ointment on her scrapes and bruises. The more tenderly he treated her, the more she felt like the dirt stains on her clothing.
Wyatt Cain, the hostage negotiator, arrived to ask if she was able to give a statement. Grady insisted on accompanying her, but she resolutely refused. She was more than ready to escape the gut-wrenching guilt.
Wyatt led her into a house at the end of the street. The big man with black, wavy hair and cobalt-blue eyes also treated her with exceptional gentleness as he jotted down her statement.
Aidan didn’t seek her out, nor did she expect him to. She was the last person he’d want to see.
Zoe delivered her version of events in a flat monotone. Answered numerous questions. Clarified details. When she was done, she signed the statement and rose from the overstuffed sofa. One final task awaited. Clinging to the bare threads of her ragged emotions more tightly than to the blanket draped around her shoulders, she stepped outside.
The red sunrise had surrendered to a cool, overcast morning. Heavy cloud cover had moved in, encompassing the clearing in gloom. Pandemonium still reigned. Uniformed cops mingled with SWAT teams, jogging from houses to squad cars and back. Male voices barked orders and shouted questions. Stunned groups of handcuffed townspeople clustered in the streets, guarded by armed officers. A huge van had arrived to transport the prisoners. Blue-and-red lights strobed the clearing. She searched the sea of masculine faces for Liam, Grady or Con.
For any O’Rourke except Aidan.
Finally, she spotted Grady sitting inside the chopper, scribbling on a clipboard. She hurried over and waited for him to finish.
He climbed out of the aircraft. “Hey, Zoe. How are you feeling?”
Like Typhoid Mary, spreading death, destruction and sorrow in my wake.
She hated to ask, but had no choice. “I need a favor.”
“Sure.” He smiled, flashing his dimples. “Anything for the girl who helped bring down that slime bag DiMarco.”
Zoe winced. She carried that slime bag’s DNA. She’d said and done things in the past twenty-four hours that made her realize just how strong those repulsive genes were. Terrible things that made her doubt herself and everything she stood for.
Her hand shook as she scooped Aidan’s Swiss Army knife from her bag. Her fingers clenched painfully around the smooth red handle. Severing her last link to him was more wrenching than she’d ever imagined. “Please give this to Aidan for me, and tell him…” She swallowed the lump in her throat that threatened to strangle her. “Tell him I’m sorry for everything.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “And I hope that someday he can find it in his heart to forgive me.”
“Zoe?” Grady’s dark brows drew together in puzzlement as he accepted the knife. “I don’t understand. Why—”
“You will,” she choked out.
Then she did the only thing she knew how to do.
She fled.
Three hours later, Zoe rested her cheek against the cool glass window as the bus chugged down the I-5 corridor toward the California border. Dismal, battleship gray storm clouds seethed on the horizon, mirroring her turbulent feelings. Unshed tears pressed a hot, stinging weight behind her eyelids. No time to cry. After a fast shower, she’d changed into a turquoise peasant blouse and turquoise-and-black print broomstick skirt, one of her best Goodwill bargain outfits. Packing essentials and giving her landlord and employer notice had taken less than thirty minutes. She was a pro at running.
She was going back to Mom. Though Mom wouldn’t recognize her, simply being with her would be comforting.
As if sensing her distress, Evander poked his head out of her bag and nosed her hand. “Stay down,” she whispered, pushing him back inside. When the ticket agent had informed her the bus company didn’t allow animals on board, she’d ditched Evander’s carrier and hidden him in her bag. He was all she had left, and she wasn’t about to leave him behind. So far, she didn’t have a seat-mate, and her secret was safe. If she got booted off the bus for smuggling a stowaway, she’d walk to San Francisco. There was no hurry. She had no family waiting for her. No job.
She had nothing.
She’d started over countless times, in countless places. But now, only dark days and lonely nights loomed ahead. She no longer had the heart to begin anew. Only an empty, aching shell remained where her heart used to beat.
Mere hours ago, happiness had danced inside her after the wonderful night she and Aidan had shared. The possibilities had made her giddy with hope. Then, just when she’d glimpsed a bright, glorious future with the man she loved, the ugly truth about her parentage had brought the universe crashing down around her. The contrast was too cruel.
She gazed at the heavy black clouds and tried to blank out her mind. Don’t think about Aidan. His smoky brown eyes caressing her. His husky laughter curling around her heart. His strong, hard body gifting her with ultimate pleasure. Agony coiled tightly in her chest, making it hard to breathe. DiMarco’s coup de grâce had killed their relationship. Strangled her happiness. Obliterated her future. The pain would never go away. But in time, the grief might fade.
In a hundred years or so.
The bus lumbered past towering pines, a poignant reminder of her night in the forest with Aidan, and choking anguish clogged her throat. She prayed his pain would fade. Perhaps finding his father’s remains would finally bring him peace.
She owed him at least that much.
Uneasy murmurs and restless movements of passengers behind her made her turn around. Blue lights flashed and a siren screamed as a police cruiser appeared in the distance. A bloodred Corvette nosed into the left lane and sped past the bus. Slumping, Zoe again faced front. Only a trooper after another leadfoot.
Without warning, the rhythmic thud of helicopter blades echoed overhead, and a chopper swooped over the front of the bus. Dropping dangerously low, the aircraft zoomed down the freeway, and then spun three-hundred and sixty degrees to face the bus. Everyone gasped.
Zoe peered at the amazing sight over the seats, along with every other amazed passenger. The police must be conducting a high-speed chase.
The chopper floated down like a giant dragonfly and landed in the middle of the freeway, blades whirring. The bus driver swore and slammed on the brakes, and the bus skidded to a halt.
Zoe blinked. Whoa! Maybe they were filming a movie.
The chopper door flew open. A dark-haired, broad-shouldered police officer dressed in a black SWAT uniform leapt out of the passenger side, ducking beneath the deadly blades. No swaggering movie star, this cop was all business.
The heart she’d thought damaged beyond repair kicked against her ribs. Surely not. Besides, the last time she’d seen her cop, he was wearing tuxedo pants and not much else.
The officer stalked toward the bus, and Zoe’s pulse thundered into triple time. The fluid, loose-limbed grace, the powerful predator’s stride belonged to only one man.
Aidan O’Rourke.
The driver opened the door, and Aidan strode up the steps. His handsome face was stoic, but his taut muscles and rigid posture told her he was mad. Fury vibrated in every pore of his long, lean-muscled body. She gulped. Was he angry because she’d cheated him out of a final showdown? He flashed his badge at the driver and then prowled down the aisle.
Oily panic swelled, and she closed her eyes, bracing herself to face Aidan’s wrath. His footsteps grew louder. Closer. Stopped. Thick, heavy silence descended. She gulped. Facing him was her obligation. He deserved reparation she could never give. She opened her eyes, but could not meet his gaze.
The revulsion that had twisted his face, the horror-stricken disbelief that had darkened his eyes when DiMarco had dropped his bomb would haunt her forever. She couldn’t bear to see the disgust, the betrayal he must feel every time he looked at her.
“We have unfinished business, Zoe.”
Her name spoken in his deep, velvet tones sank a heavy boulder of misery in her stomach. “I would have apologized in person, but I knew it would only hurt you to see me.” She inhaled a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry for the sick, cruel acts my father perpetrated on you and your family. I’m sorry for pursuing the investigation when you told me to stop. I’m sorry for the awful things I said to you.” Another shaky breath. “I can’t begin to express how awful I feel.”
“Don’t apologize.” His low voice was implacable.
“You’re right. I can never make it up to you. You have every right to be furious. But I promise, you’ll never have to set eyes on me again. It’s over.”
“I’m not angry at you,” he said softly. “And it’s far from over. Come with me.”
Dread whirled inside her. Of course he was angry with her. Who else did he have reason to be furious with? By leaving so quickly, she’d hoped to avoid this. Hashing it out would only cause more torment. He’d been hurt beyond bearing. No words could undo the truth of who and what she was. “It’s better if it ends now.”
He shrugged. “Fine by me. But do you really want to do this here?”
She glanced around at the curious faces riveted on them. By now, his family would know. Would be beginning the preparations to finally lay Brian to rest. Her presence would sting like acid in an open wound. Every time the O’Rourke brothers looked at her, they would remember the barbarian who had bludgeoned their father to death. Every time Maureen saw her face, she would be reminded of the evil butcher who had murdered her husband. Zoe refused to hurt them more. “Please understand, Aidan. I’m trying to spare you and your family. I don’t think we should do this at all.”