Night Fever

by Diana Palmer

  He smiled wolfishly. “Wait and see.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Davis was never certain exactly how Rourke and his off-duty police cohorts had managed to do it. But he was called down to Rourke’s office late the next Thursday night. Sitting around inside it were the Harris boys, their father, the acting D.A. on the Cullen case, Mr. James Garraway, two uniformed police officers, and Rourke.

  “I don’t think you know Jim, do you, Davis?” Rourke said, introducing him to the much older attorney.

  “Your reputation precedes you, Mr. Davis,” Garraway grinned. “Nice to meet you. These are the Harris boys and their father,” he said, nodding toward them. “They’ve just confessed to setting your client up on a bogus aggravated assault charge, as well as unfounded violations of the Georgia Controlled Substances Act.”

  “In other words,” Rourke said through a puff of cigar smoke, “Clay walks, on all four charges. As soon as we get the paperwork through, he can go home.”

  “The confession is on videotape,” Garraway said. “I’ll have your nolle prosequi on Judge Kilmer’s desk first thing in the morning.”

  “Fortunately, you haven’t put yourself out of a job,” Rourke said with a smile. “You still get to prosecute these three.” He stared at the Harrises with thinly concealed anger. “I’ll enjoy standing as a witness for the prosecution, however.”

  “You won’t keep us,” the elder Harris said curtly. “We’ll be out by morning.”

  “On bail, undoubtedly,” Rourke agreed. “But you’ve made some stupid mistakes and you won’t be excused for them. Once you’re on the streets again, you’re on your own.” He leaned forward. “You’d better remember what we discussed earlier,” he added, watching their faces go rigid and pale. “You’ve put your cronies in a bad spot, and they aren’t forgiving people. Being on the outside will give them a dandy chance to get even.”

  “We can waive bail,” Son said dejectedly. “Dammit, Kilpatrick, you had no call to put us in this spot!”

  “You had no call to blow up my dog,” he returned, ice in his voice. “You’ll have years to regret it.”

  “You promised us a deal,” he said, turning to Garraway.

  “And you’ll get it,” the older man promised. “In return for your testimony. If you want to turn state’s evidence on your suppliers, I think you’ll find we can arrange protective custody through the federal boys. Your pipeline is one of the biggest in the state. We’d love to close it down.”

  “Protective custody?” the elder Harris asked narrowly.

  “That, a new identity, a new start, for all three of you,” Rourke said. “Think about it. You might not get a better chance.”

  He moved out into the corridor with Davis, leaving the rest behind. “Don’t ask,” he told the other man when he opened his mouth. “It’s enough that it worked. Call it a calculated risk. And I think Turk can go home now.”

  “You’re going to leave Becky unprotected?” Davis asked, aghast.

  “Not quite,” he murmured dryly. “In fact, we’re getting married tomorrow afternoon. After the banquet tomorrow night, we’re going to fly down to Nassau for a two-day honeymoon while a nurse and housekeeper stay with Granddad and Mack—and with Clay, too, I suppose.”

  “Well, well. Becky and a baby, too.” He shook his head. “You’re luckier than you deserve, Rourke. Are you going to run for reelection?” he added with an intent stare.

  “Wait until tomorrow night and find out,” he said. He walked away, grinning.

  The Judge Kilmer appreciation banquet was well underway when Rourke, sitting beside a radiant Becky in a new and larger black dress than the one she’d worn before, and sporting a brand-new wedding ring, was invited to the podium.

  He looked elegant in dinner jacket and black tie, his skin very dark against the white shirt.

  “I suppose you’re all waiting for me to announce,” he said after he’d made some praising remarks about Judge Kilmer and cracked a few jokes about his own failings in the judge’s court. “Well, I am. But it’s not the announcement some of you have been anticipating. I’ve enjoyed my job. I hope I’ve done it well. But I’ve learned some very hard lessons over the past few months about the plight of people who are thrown into the judicial system and have to cope without financial backing.”

  He stuck his hands in his pockets. “Law is only just if it provides equal opportunity in representation to rich and poor alike. Law that favors the wealthy, or that restricts the rights of the poor, is no law. I’ve been on the winning team for seven years. Now I want to see the courtroom from the other table’s vantage point. I’m hanging up my prosecutor’s suit to go into private practice, where I hope to specialize in juvenile law.”

  There were murmurs and some protests, although none came from a beaming J. Lincoln Davis at one of the front tables.

  Rourke chuckled. “I’m flattered at the dissent. But let me add that I have a brand-new wife and baby on the way,” he said, smiling at Becky. “My priorities are different now, and I have reasons for wanting to spend my nights at home instead of the office.”

  There was laughter and applause. Rourke winked at Becky, who looked pretty elegant herself in that black dress with her long, honey-brown hair around her shoulders and her cheeks flushed.

  “I won’t say that it was an easy decision to make. I’ve enjoyed life in the prosecutor’s office. I have a fine staff and good people to work with. But,” he added, looking at Becky unsmilingly, “my wife is my whole world. There isn’t another human being on the face of the earth whom I love as much. I’m going to be a family man from here on out.” He glanced away from Becky’s shocked, rapt eyes to his audience. “That being the case, I hope you won’t mind if I throw my support to J. Lincoln Davis, who’s sitting out there in the front row trying not to look like a cat with a mouthful of feathers!”

  Everybody laughed, Davis included. He was sitting with a delightfully pretty Maggie, who was staring at him as if he were the moon.

  “I’d also like to publicly thank J. Lincoln Davis,” he added, “for his exemplary representation of my brother-in-law. I have it on good authority that he won’t be called to do it again.”

  Davis held up a thumb and nodded. Rourke went on speaking for several minutes, but Becky didn’t hear what he said. She was drinking in the fact that he’d publicly confessed his love for her—something he’d never even done privately. She had to fight tears. There were no more barriers. Even the one he thought was left had been removed last night, when a tearful Mack had confessed that he’d given Rourke the information that had led to Clay’s arrest. She’d have to tell Rourke that she knew, but not right away. They had other things to talk about.

  Clay had come home earlier in the afternoon, looking subdued but happy. Francine had come with him, and Becky thought that she might even learn to like the girl. Clay was talking about getting a job, and helping out at home, and he meant it.

  Becky could hardly cope with her own happiness. From such misery, to this. She touched the soft mound of her stomach and stared at Rourke, love making her beautiful. He glanced at her and smiled, and she had to hold on to the table to keep from floating right up to the overhead lights. Life, she thought, was full of surprises. All you had to do was get through the storms. There was always sunshine waiting on the other side.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Becky always thought secretly that the most boring part of court was the judge’s instructions to the jury. They were incomprehensible, they took forever, and with an impatient toddler on one’s lap, they tended to become irritating.

  She glanced beside her at Todd, who was eight now and very well behaved. He watched his father with awe, because this was the first time he’d been allowed to hear a summation. Really, she thought, it was the first time he’d been mature enough to sit through one. A bright boy, he had the impulsive and impatient nature that Becky shared with Rourke. Not surprising that Todd had inherited those traits. Little Teresa, squirmi
ng in her mother’s lap, seemed bent on the same course as well.

  Next to Todd, Clay and Francine were sitting close together. They had no children yet. They had only been married for two years. Clay was in line for a promotion at the grocery store where he was assistant produce manager, and Francine was almost finished with her beautician’s training.

  Mack, sitting next to Clay, was half a head taller than his brother. He was in his first year of law school at the University of Georgia, following in his adored brother-in-law’s footsteps. Becky was so proud of him that she could have exploded. He and Rourke were very close, which made things so much easier at home.

  Granddad was in a nursing home. He was lucid some days, and hardly aware of them others. They all went to see him regularly, and it made the pain of separation bearable. He was too feeble to stay at home without round-the-clock nursing, and the home had been his idea in the beginning. Two of his war buddies were there, and until the past year, he’d enjoyed himself. Now, it was a matter of time. Old seed going into the ground to make way for new, winter taking away the remnants of the old to clear room for the young growth. Life, in other words, in all its fierce beauty and stark routine. All things went to the soil eventually. It was the way of life.

  Rourke had explained it to Todd the other night. “We come from seed,” he told his son, smiling. “We grow up, blossom, and produce fruit. Then the fruit dries and goes into the ground to make the next crop. The old plant doesn’t die so much as it gives itself to the soil to nurture the new plant. Since energy is neither created nor destroyed, only altered, dying is the other face on the coin of life. Nothing to be afraid of, really. After all, my boy, we all pass from this plane into another. It’s inevitable, like the rainbow after the storm.”

  “That sounds nice,” Todd had said. “Will Granddad be a rainbow?”

  “I expect,” Rourke had said solemnly, “that he will be the most splendid rainbow of all.”

  Looking down at Todd, Becky was grateful for her husband’s way with words. The boy’s face was without the strain it had held since they had been told that Granddad didn’t have much longer. She smiled. It made things easier for her, too. Rourke probably knew it. He was such a sensitive man—he almost read her mind sometimes.

  The jury was finally sequestered in the jury room and court was adjourned until a verdict was reached. Rourke picked up his case, shook hands with a grinning J. Lincoln Davis, and joined his family.

  “Their godfather wants us over for supper tonight,” he said as he kissed her, very gently. “He and Maggie have an announcement to make.”

  “She’s pregnant,” Becky whispered into his ear. She laughed at his expression. “Incredible, isn’t it? She’s shocked and delighted and scared to death. But they both want it, so much.”

  “She’ll be all right. Davis will make sure of it,” he chuckled. “All right, gang, who’s for hamburgers?” he asked the family.

  “Cheeseburgers for me,” Mack said, almost trampling his brother on his way out. “Look, why didn’t you object when Mr. Davis introduced that old deed? I’m sure you could have said…”

  “God deliver us from law students,” Rourke muttered with a hard glare. “Two months at the university, and you’re F. Lee Bailey!”

  “Three months,” Mack corrected. “And I have a very good professor. Now, about that deed…”

  “Francine and I have to rush back to the store,” Clay said hurriedly. He squeezed Francine’s hand. “Don’t we, honey?”

  “Oh, yes, of course,” Francine stammered. “I’ll call you later, Becky!” she added as she was dragged away.

  “Craven cowards,” Mack muttered, glaring after them. “No stomach for dissertation, huh?”

  “We’re having dissertation right after the barbecue,” Clay called back through a cupped hand at his mouth. “Apple pie!”

  “Do you believe this?” Mack threw up his hands as they vanished into the crowd. “My own brother thinks a dissertation is something you have with coffee!”

  “Not everyone has your fervor for the law, old son,” J. Davis chuckled as he joined them. He clapped Mack on the back. “How’s it going?”

  “Great! I’m making straight A’s, so far!” he said.

  “You’d better, after all the time Rourke and I have put in on you,” he replied. “I want to talk to you about that Lindsey case,” he told Rourke seriously. “We may be able to work something out.”

  “Not at lunch,” Becky wailed, shifting Teresa while Todd roughhoused with Mack.

  Davis glanced at the squirming child and chuckled. He held out his arms and Teresa went laughing into them.

  “You’re spoiling her,” Becky accused when he produced a lollipop.

  “Be quiet,” Rourke said sternly. “Don’t offend him until after I’ve got my plea-bargain.”

  “Oh.” Becky clapped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry.”

  “Let’s eat, can’t we?” Mack groaned. “I’m starving!”

  “When aren’t you?” Rourke chuckled. “Okay. Todd, stop practicing karate kicks on your uncle.”

  “I learned this watching The Karate Kid,” Todd protested, demonstrating a high kick. “It’s great.”

  “Go and watch Batman,” Mack advised. “You can learn how to fly.”

  “Buy me a Batcape and I’ll give it my best shot,” Todd promised. “Mom, can I have a milk shake with lunch? Why don’t we go to a restaurant? I’m tired of hamburgers. Look, isn’t that Big Bob Houser, the wrestling champ?” He pointed at a huge man in the distance.

  Todd and Mack were arguing about the identity of the huge man, while J. Lincoln Davis spoke in an odd language to little Teresa as the crowd closed around them on their way into the corridor.

  Becky moved to Rourke’s side and pressed close into his shoulder. He looked down at her, his dark eyes possessive and full of soft, sweet memories. His gaze dropped to her mouth.

  “You can’t,” she whispered, laughing.

  “Yes, I can,” he whispered back, bending.

  And he did.

  COMING NEXT MONTH

  Be enthralled, moved, thrilled and delighted by exceptional reads from outstanding authors and well-loved series.

  Come back every month for newly released selections in a variety of categories offering stories that appeal to every taste and mood.

  Have a great time!

  ON SALE IN JANUARY 2006

  Look for new titles in the following categories

  Bestseller

  Enthralling stories by the brightest stars in women’s fiction—from MIRA Books. Big romances that sweep you away—from HQN Books

  Passionate Reads

  Powerful, provocative tales full of heat and passion—from Harlequin Blaze, Silhouette Desire and Harlequin Presents

  Romantic Suspense

  Danger…romance…adventure…suspense! Stories that will take your breath away—from Harlequin Intrigue and Silhouette Intimate Moments

  Inspirational

  Stories of faith, hope and love that warm the heart and nourish the soul—from Steeple Hill Love Inspired. Compelling suspense—from Love Inspired Suspense. Faith-inspired chic lit from Steeple Hill Café

  Women’s Fiction

  Books that celebrate the “next” stage of women’s lives…because every life has a second chapter! From Harlequin Next

  Women’s Action Adventure

  Strong, sexy, savvy heroines who save the day…and always get their man. From Silhouette Bombshell

  Chick Lit

  Women’s fiction with attitude, these humorous, edgy, hip stories celebrate life’s little curves…From Red Dress Ink

  Fantasy/Science Fiction

  Powerful, magical tales, vivid characters and richly imagined worlds from the first imprint solely dedicated to female focused fantasy—Luna Books

  AVAILABLE NOW

  Showcase

  Enthralling stories by the brightest stars in women’s fiction—from MIRA Books. Big romances that sweep you awa
y—from HQN Books

  KILLER TAKES ALL by Erica Spindler, MIRA (psychological thriller)

  BEFORE SUNRISE by Diana Palmer, HQN (contemporary romance)

  DARK SKY by Carla Neggers, MIRA (romantic suspense)

  50 HARBOR STREET by Debbie Macomber, MIRA (women’s fiction)

  GHOST WALK by Heather Graham, MIRA (paranormal mystery)

  MASQUERADE by Brenda Joyce, HQN (historical romance)

  CODE NAME: BABY by Christina Skye, HQN Books (romantic suspense)

  NIGHT FEVER by Diana Palmer (contemporary romance)

  Passionate Reads

  Powerful, provocative tales full of heat and passion—from Harlequin Blaze, Silhouette Desire and Harlequin Presents

  THE ITALIAN’S STOLEN BRIDE by Emma Darcy, Harlequin Presents

  UNCONTROLLABLE by Susan Kearney, Harlequin Blaze

  WHATEVER RILEY WANTS by Maureen Child, Silhouette Desire

  SEXY ALL OVER by Jamie Sobrato, Harlequin Blaze

  HOT TO THE TOUCH by Jennifer Greene, Silhouette Desire

  TALKING ABOUT SEX… by Vicki Lewis Thompson, Harlequin Blaze

  THE TYCOON’S TROPHY WIFE by Miranda Lee, Harlequin Presents

  BOSS MAN by Diana Palmer, Silhouette Desire

  DON’T OPEN TILL CHRISTMAS by Leslie Kelly, Harlequin Blaze

  Romantic Suspense

  Danger…romance…adventure…suspense! Stories that will take your breath away—from Harlequin Intrigue and Silhouette Intimate Moments

  MAN OF HER DREAMS by Debra Webb, Harlequin Intrigue

  LOVING THE LONE WOLF by Ingrid Weaver, Silhouette Intimate Moments

  GHOST HORSE by Patricia Rosemoor, Harlequin Intrigue

  SUSPICIOUS by Heather Graham, Silhouette Intimate Moments

  RIDER ON FIRE by Sharon Sala, Silhouette Intimate Moments