Magic & Mayhem

by Susan Conley

  “So, he already had the amulet when he came back, and we saw him in the hall,” Lucky pointed out.

  “That doesn’t make sense,” Abby countered. “If he already had the necklace, why — ”

  “Why?” Jack’s voice bounced off the walls. “Don’t you get it Abby? He came back for you!”

  Abby swallowed hard, but the words couldn’t pass the lump in her throat.

  “That’s right,” Jack told her. “And it’s a damned good thing Lucky and I spent the night outside your door.”

  “Thank you.” Her voice was small. Clearing her throat, she glanced at Lucky. “Thank you both.”

  Lucky nodded. Jack did not.

  Jack tore the envelope from his jacket pocket and handed it to Lucky. “This was slipped through the mail slot in my door. I found it right before we left the house to come here.”

  As Lucky read the note, Jack asked, “How the hell has someone managed to stay one step ahead of us at every turn?”

  Venucci leaned back in his chair. “That’s a damn good question.” The detective threw down his pen and flexed his fingers. “Looks like you two should have spoken up sooner. From the sound of things, I’d say you’ve been very fortunate.”

  “Maybe so,” Jack said, placing his hands on Abby’s shoulders. “But luck has a way of running out, doesn’t it?”

  “Unfortunately, Jack, it does just that.”

  “Hell, it’s a wonder Abby hasn’t gotten herself killed, several times over, no thanks to me.” Jack stood behind her and gently massaged the tense muscles in her shoulders. “That’s exactly why I’d like some police protection for her.”

  Tapping the notes he’d taken with the tip of his pen, Venucci shook his head. “Convincing or not, we don’t have that kind of manpower available.”

  “Dammit,” Jack began but stopped himself. “I don’t agree, Venucci, but I understand.” Jack pulled Abby to her feet.

  “Go home and let me think this over,” Venucci told them. “I want to check things out, put out some feelers, and I’ll get back to you.”

  Jack shook his hand. “You’ve got my number.”

  Lucky winked at Abby. “Hell, I’ve had Jackie’s number since junior high.” He rounded his desk. “If you think of anything else, Ms. Corey, call me.”

  Leaving the police station, Abby had never felt such an overwhelming sense of urgency. Her mind raced a mile a minute. Who had stopped just short of murder? And why? To scare her off? Her brain short-circuited, and it felt like her heart was going to have to handle the overload.

  She searched Jack’s face and examined the steadiness of his gaze, the determined set of his jaw as he drove. His white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel was the single clue that he had only harnessed his emotions.

  Abby was still shaky from the statements she and Jack had given Detective Venucci. So much of what they’d experienced individually had seemed harmless until they had compared notes. Once the sequence of events had started falling into place, their stories had fit together, like a hand in a glove.

  Curious as well as desperate for ordinary conversation, Abby asked, “Why is it that you trust Detective Venucci so much?”

  “We go back a long way.” Eyes straight ahead he continued, “A few years ago Lucky was really jammed up on the job. Evidence had been planted, and he was framed. I represented him at trial, and we won.”

  Sensing there was more, she asked, “And?”

  “And I not only saved his reputation, but I saved his job.” Lucky glanced sideways at her, then back at the road. “Lucky’s connections in the case gave me one of the biggest mob busts in years. Let’s just say that big break didn’t hurt my career either.”

  Abby shivered. “Sounds dangerous.”

  “I knew he was innocent.” Lucky shrugged. “That was the hard part.”

  “The hard part?” she repeated. “Wouldn’t that make it easier?”

  “Hell, no. When it’s someone you know, a friend, there’s a whole different kind of pressure. Then add to that the fact that you know he’s innocent. It’s like that scene in The Godfather when you only see Michael Corleone’s feet, and they’re trudging along.”

  “I remember that.”

  “Well, that’s the way I felt. Like I had the weight of the world on my shoulders.”

  “But you won.”

  “Yes, we did.”

  That was exactly the kind of story Abby wanted to hear right now. Knowing good could win over evil, she needed to replace her fears with faith in the system and force her thoughts elsewhere. This time when Abby glanced at Jack, all she saw was the magnificent man who had swept her off her feet. Had that only been hours ago?

  She could almost feel the warmth and comfort of the pliable bed beneath her back as he had lain her down. Dark, penetrating eyes. His masterful hands had teased and tormented away all her inhibitions. Achingly tender kisses. Powerful legs and arms wrapped around her — controlling and demanding. For that moment in time she had belonged to him. Only him. And so it would be. Satisfied, she leaned her head back, closed her eyes, and sighed, content for the moment to enjoy and maybe for the first time not to question the haunting, uncanny feeling of familiarity.

  When Jack and Abby returned to his house, they went their separate ways. Abby headed for the living room and sank decadently into the overstuffed sofa. God, she was so weary. The moment she surrendered to the lengthening afternoon shadows, the tension of the day began to melt away.

  • • •

  The sun has just set, and twilight is settling over the woods like a misty, silver blanket. Walking down the familiar path, Abigail realizes a man is following her. He stays just far enough behind that she can’t get a good look, but she can see he wears a red cape. She doesn’t fear for her life, because she knows he can overtake her, but for some reason, he chooses not to. Frightened, she wonders what he wants. To scare her? To watch her? To follow her? When her fear turns to panic, she lifts her long, dark skirt and runs. She doesn’t stop until she sees familiar windows filled with the soft light of candles. Once inside, she bolts the door and leans against it, breathing hard, wondering if she has been foolish coming home. After all, the man is still out there somewhere … waiting. And now he knows exactly where to find her.

  Chapter Thirty

  Jack found Abby dozing. Careful not to disturb her, he struck a match to the kindling and sat down on the floor in front of the fireplace. Content to lean against a chair and watch her sleep, he realized there was no point denying what an important part of his life she’d become. It didn’t matter that it had happened fast, like being struck by lightning, he was glad she had come along. He needed her every bit as much as he wanted her and judging from the way he felt now, that was one helluva lot.

  • • •

  Abby awoke with a start, momentarily disoriented by the darkness. When she recognized Jack’s silhouette in front of the blazing fire, she willed away the unsettling dream and offered a shaky smile.

  “Are you awake?” she whispered.

  “Yeah.” His tone was quiet and his mood, he realized, was peaceful. It had been a long time since he’d enjoyed such a feeling.

  “I can’t believe I fell asleep,” she yawned, praying the man in her dream had been just that, a subconscious fear, nothing more.

  “You needed it.” He watched as she sat up and swung her long legs onto the floor. “Hungry?”

  “Uh huh,” she nodded.

  “What sounds good?”

  Abby thought a moment. “How about pizza?”

  “My kind of woman.” Jack grinned. “No muss. No fuss. No dishes.”

  She flipped on the light, slid down the front of the davenport and landed derriere first on the floor right in front of him. “Just order.”

  Dialing the number he had taped a
bove the phone, Jack asked, “Preference?”

  Abby shrugged. “I have never met a pizza I didn’t like.”

  “The Works it is.”

  Less than an hour later, they sat cross-legged before the fire, the flat, cardboard box between them with a silver ice bucket and long-stemmed glasses set off to one side. Jack smiled as he wrestled the cork free.

  Champagne bubbled dangerously close to the lip of the glass as Abby accepted the frothy flute. “Trying to ply me with liquor?”

  He sipped slowly and considered her question. “That depends.”

  “On what?” she challenged with an uninhibited drink and a provocative smile.

  “On whether or not alcohol would work.”

  She raised an eyebrow.

  He grinned.

  The fire’s glow defined the angular planes and distinct lines of Jack’s handsome face. Abby wondered how many sides there were to this man? At the police station, she’d heard the fierce protectiveness in his voice when he’d blurted out that he’d spent the night in the hallway outside her hotel room door. She’d seen concern blacken his expression at the hospital after her accident. Through it all, he had undoubtedly saved her life by taking her in when her nightmare had somehow crossed over into reality. Right now, Jack Hawthorne was the one person in the world she could trust. Maybe the only one. “Your pizza’s getting cold.”

  Abby watched Jack toss the half-eaten piece in the box and shove it clear across the floor. The look of surprise that flashed across his face when he saw her reach for the lamp had definitely been worth the price of a ticket.

  This time when Abby went to him, she was as much the seducer as the seduced. When she touched his face, her cool hands against his warm skin, she watched his eyes close. As she planted kisses along his well-defined jaw, the tiny lines creasing his forehead and punctuating the corners of his mouth relaxed. He pulled her to her feet and wrapped his strong arms around her, and they stood together in front of the fireplace, casting a single shadow on the wall behind them. Abby reached out. She slid his sweater over his head and ran her curious palms along the solid planes of his chest.

  Jack groaned.

  His muscles twitched beneath her touch, but it was the passion darkening his expression that urged her on. She unzipped his jeans and slid them over his hips … and waited.

  “Do you know what you do to me?” he whispered through clenched teeth. Without waiting for an answer, he slid the slender ebony straps from her shoulder. The silky material trembled past her breasts and puddled at her feet.

  She offered him a wicked smile as she slipped her panties down around both ankles, and kicked both undergarments aside. He fisted his hand in her hair and pulled her head back. His mouth moved freely over her lips and down her neck. His hands kneaded and soothed until every muscle in her body relaxed. Abby’s knees began to buckle and she instinctively wrapped both arms around his neck. “I want you, Jack.”

  He lowered her to the floor. His lips tasted of cold champagne. The incredible fire in his eyes defied the heat of his passion. She cried out each time he discovered some treasured, secret place. Demanding, she rolled over him to seek and taste and explore until she thought her lungs would burst and his body would fly into a million pieces. In one deliberate movement, Jack eased Abby onto her back.

  Passion and madness had ignited between them this morning, but this was different. Lust had deepened to desire. Demands had shifted from physical to emotional. Yearning had replaced want. His needs were hers. Her desires were his. For this moment in time, they would be one.

  So, was Jack Hawthorne the man Abby had been waiting for all her life? Was he the reason why her relationships had failed? Why she never really let herself become involved with a man? Jack, with his arrogant charm and brooding good looks, his laughing eyes and tender touch. With the scrape of his teeth. His teasing lips. The flick of his tongue. She reveled in a whirlwind of newfound emotions. He may have led her to freedom, but she would be bound to him forever.

  Abby snuggled closer, her head resting against his shoulder, her hand splayed across his heart. A log hissed as it shifted in the fireplace, shooting sparks up the chimney and sending shadows dancing around the room. The turbulent October wind gusted and moaned and slapped a solitary branch against the window, a sound that might have ordinarily spooked her. But not tonight. She’d never felt as safe and secure as she did at this very moment.

  Jack pressed one hand over Abby’s and brushed a stray tendril from her flushed cheek. He smiled. “And I thought being with you couldn’t get any better.” He trailed a lazy path down her arm with his fingertips. “Boy was I wrong.”

  She pushed herself up on one elbow and brushed a hand through his hair. For once, she refused to weigh her words. This time, she had to say exactly what was in her heart. “Can I tell you how happy it makes me to agree with you?”

  Jack smiled. “Does it?”

  Abby pressed a kiss to his neck. “Yes.” One minute she was sharing pillow talk with Jack, then next an instant, overwhelming sensation rocked her so hard, she had to reach out and steady herself. Panic gripped her by the throat, cutting off her air as surely as a … hangman’s noose? Barely able to breathe, she fought the sickening flood of emotion, determined not to drown in her own fears. “Jack?” she finally managed.

  “What the hell was that?” Jack had already sat up. His eyes darted around the room.

  “You felt it, too?”

  “Damn straight.”

  “Maybe it was some kind of earthquake or tremor.” Abby scooted closer.

  Jack slipped one arm around her. “Whatever it was, it’s over now.”

  Abby looked up at him. “I thought for a minute it was inside my head. It felt like I was falling off the face of the earth.”

  “So did I.” He pulled her closer and whispered, “Stay with me, Abby.”

  She took a shaky breath. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, I am.” He caught her chin and steadied it in his hand. “Stay here in Boston.”

  Before Abby could open her mouth to speak, the buzz of the doorbell broke the tenuous silence.

  “Who the hell — ” Jack swore, yanking on his jeans.

  Abby jumped up and made a mad scramble, as much to gather her composure as her clothes.

  Jack blocked her path. “Relax.” he assured her. “No one’s getting in here tonight.” He framed her face with unsteady hands. “Grab my robe and get back down here. We’re far from finished.”

  Abby bit her lip, knowing this discussion had been inevitable since the day they met. Jack’s solemn expression told her he knew that, too. She nodded before hurrying past him.

  The cold October wind that blew in when he opened the door couldn’t have chilled him any quicker than the sight of Bridget sashaying into his living room. With her flawless, mask-like skin, sleek designer clothes, frosty smile.

  “Whoa!” He hooked his arm through hers and spun her around.

  Tipping his chin with one blood-red fingernail, she flashed him a cover-girl smile and eased out of his grip. “You haven’t returned my calls since I got back from New York.” She slipped out of her cape and tossed it to him. “Shame on you.”

  Teeth clenched, he instinctively snagged her wrap. “Look — ”

  “Believe me, I am. But darling, you’ll catch your death running around half-naked this time of year.” She paused long enough to survey his muscular torso and smile approvingly. “Not that I mind, of course.”

  “What are you doing here, Bridget?”

  She dismissed him with the wave of one perfectly manicured hand. “Really,” she tapped the pizza box with the toe of her Manolo Blahnik, “you’d be better off eating out, don’t you think?”

  Jack increased his stranglehold on her cape. “Dammit, Bridget — ”


  “I was kidding, silly,” she interrupted.

  “I’m not.”

  “Oh, I know,” Bridget sighed, raking her nails down his chest.

  • • •

  Abby took the steps to the loft two at a time. Once she had slipped into Jack’s robe, she turned back toward the stairs, but her feet seemed rooted to the spot. Suddenly and without reason, she felt overwhelmingly compelled to light one of the candles she had purchased at the Wax N Wane.

  She heard the doorbell ring again.

  Unable to shake the fierce sense of need that bordered on panic, Abby remembered that historically the gold candles were used for protection. Unexplainably drawn, she pulled one golden candle from the shopping bag. Shaking, she steadied her hand and lit the complimentary matches the sales clerk had included.

  When she heard the front door open, Abby said quickly and quietly, “As this candle melts today, make this stranger go away, protect the man, the house and me, this is my will, so mote it be.”

  She stood there a moment — speechless. What had she just done? And why? Better yet, why didn’t the ritual seem the least bit strange? Unable to answer any of these questions, Abby realized she really didn’t care why she had done it. She might not understand her actions, but she felt certain what she had done had been right. Content, she descended the stairs and walked back into the living room. The sound of the other woman’s voice struck such an unrelenting chord; it took Abby’s breath away.

  The moment green eyes met blue, she was overwhelmed with emotion. Red hot and intense. A gruesome combination of dread, sorrow and hate. Without being told, Abby knew the woman facing Jack was Bridget Bishop. Her very presence rocked Abby so hard she had to lay one hand on the back of the chair to steady herself.

  “Excuse me, Jack,” Abby finally managed. “I didn’t know you had company.”

  Jack’s head snapped around.

  There stood Abby. The sleeves of his robe had been cuffed-up to accommodate her size. Belted at the waist, one leg showed provocatively through the front split. Cheeks flushed. Eyes bright. Shiny, auburn hair falling past her shoulders. She was magnificent.