What she had chosen to reveal circled through his mind as he continued to rock her. Being beaten for allowing the building maintenance man into the apartment while her husband was gone. Being beaten for ogling a male ballet dancer. Being beaten for looking at a male movie star on television. Being beaten for serving the Tuesday special on the wrong night. The list went on and on, every instance so ugly that Parker could barely wrap his mind around it. Only an animal did such things to a woman he’d sworn to love and cherish.
At last she fell asleep. He knew that by the change in her breathing and the limp way she rested against him. Moving slowly, he pushed up from the chair and carried her to the living room. The whiskey had done its job. After depositing her gently on the sofa and covering her with an afghan, Parker burst from the house, anger still roiling within him. His truck was parked out front. He strode directly toward it, drawing back one boot when he reached it to kick the front tire with all his strength. His toe connected solidly with the wheel rim.
Son of a bitch! Pain shot clear to his knee. He hopped around on one foot, calling himself a dozen kinds of fool and asking himself if he felt better now. Not. He wouldn’t feel better until he’d kicked Peter Danning’s ass good and proper.
“You mad at that truck, son?”
Parker stopped hopping and turned to see Toby standing a few feet away. “No, I’m pissed at the whole damned world.”
Toby plucked a can of chewing tobacco from his hip pocket. With a flick of his wrist, he gave the lid an expert tap, then twisted it off to finger out a wad of chew. After tucking it inside his bottom lip, he spat, returned the can to his pocket, and said, “Breakin’ your toe won’t fix what’s wrong in this old world.”
“I didn’t break my damned toe.” Parker gingerly put weight on the foot. “I don’t think so, anyway.”
Toby chuckled and spat again. “That girl got your tail tied in a knot?”
Toe still throbbing, Parker shifted his weight to the opposite leg and planted his hands at his hips. “She’s got trouble nippin’ at her heels, Toby, bad trouble.”
The foreman gazed thoughtfully at the house. “Anything you can’t fix?”
“No, but I’m gonna need help. It’s time for the Harrigans to circle the wagons. Can you call Clint and Quincy for me? Tell ’em to get their butts over here. I’ll call Dad, Zach, and Sam.”
Toby nodded. “You gonna be needin’ me, too?”
“Not just yet, but I might soon, so thanks for the offer.”
As Parker returned to the house, limping every step of the way, he went back over everything that Rainie had told him, the most alarming revelation being that Loni believed Peter Danning was hot on her trail. Parker didn’t understand his sister-in-law’s gift, but he no longer questioned its validity. If she said Danning was about to find Rainie, Parker believed it.
That meant there was no time to waste.
Chapter Eleven
Rainie awakened to the low thrum of deep voices interspersed with an occasional female intonation. For a moment, she couldn’t think where she was, but then she recognized Parker’s shade-drawn living room. Covered with a crocheted afghan in a colorful Native American design, she lay on the sofa. She pushed the coverlet away and swung her feet to the floor, feeling a little dizzy as she sat up. Unless her ears were deceiving her, her name was being spoken a lot in the kitchen.
She gained her feet and headed in that direction. When she reached the archway, she saw a bunch of people gathered around the oak table. Chairs had been brought in from the dining room to accommodate everyone, and extra leaves had been inserted to create more seating space. Two large bowls of popcorn flanked a platter of cookies. Aromatic steam wafted up from scattered coffee mugs. As Rainie took in the scene, she noticed a plump baby girl napping in a carrier beside one man’s chair. Another man held an ebony-haired boy about eight or nine years old on his lap. Fast asleep, the child was curled against his chest, his lolling head cradled in the bend of the man’s arm.
Most of the faces Rainie saw bore the unmistakable Harrigan stamp. One of those faces belonged to a woman, whom Rainie guessed to be about thirty years of age. Samantha, she decided, the owner of the jeans she had borrowed. A tiny individual with large, dark eyes and a mop of wildly curly black hair, she was strikingly beautiful despite the slight irregularity of her features, a feminine version of her father’s. Beside her sat a fellow who wasn’t a Harrigan, judging by his build and coloring. Even slouched on a straight-backed chair, he seemed loftier of stature than the other men, and his hair was chocolate brown instead of jet. The burnished umber of his chiseled countenance showcased intelligent, arresting blue eyes outlined with thick brown lashes. Handsome, Rainie thought, just not, in her opinion, quite as handsome as Parker.
The moment Rainie was spotted in the doorway everybody stopped talking and turned to stare at her. Scanning faces, she spotted Loni, whom she now counted as a friend of sorts, but there was only one face she needed to see. When she located it in the throng, she was rewarded with one of those dazzling grins that had once unsettled her so.
Parker pushed up quickly from the table and strode toward her, the heels of his boots tapping sharply on the tile floor. After coming to stand beside her, he slipped an arm around her shoulders.
“Rainie, this is my family. They’re loud, ornery, argumentative, and insufferable sometimes, but they’re loyal to a fault. I asked all of ’em over to discuss the situation you’re in.” He rubbed beside his nose, a gesture she’d come to realize was a nervous habit of his when he grew flustered. “I know it’s a highly personal thing, and I hope you aren’t pissed at me. But the plain fact is, you’re in a hell of a mess, and before this is over, we may need their help to get you out of it.”
A hot tide of humiliation crashed over Rainie. How much had Parker told these people? Knowing Parker, everything. No one could ever accuse him of being the silent, circumspect type. She had met only two of the Harrigans. The others were complete strangers. How horrible to think that they now knew her deepest and darkest secrets.
The young woman with the Harrigan features smiled with understanding. “He didn’t go into detail, Rainie, so please don’t feel uncomfortable. I’m Sam, and when it comes to bad marriages, I’ve got you topped. One of these times, we need to get together over a drink and share war stories.”
Rainie doubted that anyone could have experienced a marriage worse than hers.
“Could you clarify that statement?” the chocolate-haired man beside Samantha requested as he scooped up a handful of popcorn. “I don’t want her to think your marriage to me is a disaster.”
Samantha laughed and rolled her eyes. “Good point. My first marriage was the bad one, Rainie. The second one has turned out pretty good.”
“Pretty good?” he echoed.
Samantha hugged his arm. “Excellent, perfect in every way, the stuff that dreams are made of. Is that better?”
“Marginally,” he replied. To Rainie, he said, “I’m Tucker Coulter, Sam’s husband, in case you haven’t guessed. I’m glad to finally meet you.”
“It’s good to meet you, too,” Rainie replied politely.
A jet-haired man sitting next to Loni and across the table from Samantha spoke up. “I’m Clint, Loni’s better half.” He winced when Loni playfully elbowed him in the ribs. “Okay, okay, your inferior half, then.” He flashed Rainie a grin that reminded her strongly of Parker’s. “I’m the oldest of all these yahoos.”
“Yahoos?” the man holding the sleeping boy challenged. “Speak for yourself.” Also a Parker look-alike, he directed a smile at Rainie. “I’m Quincy, the next-oldest, fondly referred to as the health nut of the family. They’ll tell you all kinds of horror stories about my eating habits, but don’t believe a word of it. If you come to my house for dinner, I won’t make you eat seaweed or raw eggs.”
“I’m pleased to meet both of you.”
“Hi, Rainie,” a young man who looked to be the youngest male of the brood call
ed out. “I’m Zach. Good to finally meet you.”
“It’s nice to meet you, too, Zach.”
His eyes dancing with mischief, Zach grabbed a cookie and popped it in his mouth. “With Dee Dee’s chocolate-chip swirls within easy reach, I’m hoping you don’t like cookies.” He nudged the brim of his brown Stetson back to raise an eyebrow at her. “Sam’s right, by the way. No need for you to feel uncomfortable. Parker has been the soul of discretion. That’s so uncharacteristic of him that Dee Dee’s about to shove a thermometer under his tongue to see if he’s coming down sick.”
“Under his tongue, hell,” Quincy retorted. “She’d have to shove it up his butt. He can’t keep his mouth closed long enough for an accurate oral reading.”
Everyone laughed.
“What is so funny about that?” Parker demanded.
Sam rolled her eyes. “Don’t be so sensitive, Parker. Zach and Quincy are paying you a compliment. We’re all terribly impressed by your reticence.”
“Hell, yes,” Clint inserted. “Before you were out of diapers and could even speak clearly, you were talking nonstop. Mama nicknamed you Gabby. Remember that, Dad?”
Frank Harrigan’s dark face creased into a reminiscent smile. “Em had nicknames for all you kids.”
“What was mine?” Clint asked.
“You don’t wanna know,” Frank said with a huff of laughter. To Rainie, he added, “Ignore these knuckleheads, honey. They’d rather razz each other than eat. You get used to it after a while.” Curling his arm around the shoulders of the well-rounded redhead who sat beside him, he said, “This is my wife, Dee Dee, the sweetheart who made the cookies. Belly up to the table and try one. They’re the best this side of the Continental Divide.”
Dee Dee blushed and flapped her wrist. “Oh, go on with you.” Dimples flashed as she smiled. “It’s lovely to meet you, Rainie. I kept meaning to come over, but I’ve been busy doing a little work on the house.”
“Which means she’s redoin’ it from the floor up,” Frank expounded. “Never give a woman your checkbook and tell her to go for it.”
Dee Dee laughed good-naturedly. “That house hadn’t been touched in over thirty years. A face-lift was long overdue.”
“Amen,” Sam seconded. “Quit complaining, Dad. That prehistoric linoleum in the kitchen was an embarrassment, and all the living room furniture had butt wallows. I couldn’t sit on the sofa without slipping into a hole.”
“The furniture wasn’t that bad,” Quincy protested.
“Neither was the linoleum,” Zach chimed in. “I think it’s just a woman thing.”
“A woman thing?” Loni lifted her brows. “I think it’s more a case of male blindness. The furniture and linoleum were awful, and it’s high time for some changes.”
“The interior designer speaks,” Zach volleyed back. “Watch out, Dad. Next thing you know, you’ll have flowery crap on all your bootjacks.”
“Leave the bootjacks that Loni designed for me out of this,” Clint warned.
“Why?” Zach asked. “No one else in the family is exempt from a little teasing. If none of us ever gives her a hard time, she’ll feel left out.”
Loni chortled with laughter. “Watch it, bucko. I touched your hand a few minutes ago. Go too hard on Clint’s bootjacks, and I may feel inclined to talk about the latest buckle bunny in your life. Blond hair, blue eyes, an IQ smaller than her bra size. Ring any bells?”
“That’s blackmail!” Zach cried.
Loni smiled smugly. “In this family, all’s fair.”
Zach groaned and held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, I’ll lay off your bootjacks.” His dark brows drew together in a scowl. “And just for the record, her IQ isn’t that low. What do you take me for, a low-down skunk?”
As Parker gently grasped Rainie’s elbow and led her forward, the volley of good-natured teasing continued. Rainie didn’t know if the Harrigans were always this way, or if they were attempting to keep the mood light to ease her embarrassment. She and Parker sat at the far side of the table, where late-afternoon sunlight slanted through the windows to bathe their shoulders. The tension that had gripped her spine minutes ago had eased somewhat, but it still wasn’t entirely gone, making her sit unnaturally straight on the chair. As much as she appreciated this family’s attempt to help her relax, she still felt exposed and a little resentful that Parker had told them about her marriage to Peter. It wasn’t something she wanted strangers to know about.
Just then she felt a tug on the toe of her riding boot and realized that Mojo was under the table, enjoying a veritable buffet of shoes. The scrape of his sharp little teeth over the leather sent vibrations through her foot, and for some reason, the sensation helped to calm her down a bit. No matter how bad things might seem to her right now, life went on, and there were still wondrous things to smile about, namely a plump fur ball with puppy breath that stopped playing only when he slept.
“Would you like some coffee, Rainie?” Sam offered.
“Oh, no, thank you. My nerves are jangled enough.”
“You want a little Jameson?” Zach suggested. “Parker usually keeps some on hand. It’ll cure a case of jangled nerves quicker than a lamb can shake its tail.”
Rainie’s stomach rolled at the thought. She’d had quite enough whiskey for one day. “I’m good, Zach, but thanks for the thought.”
“So, where were we?” Parker prompted.
The jocularity immediately ended, and all the smiles faded. Frank Harrigan had been sitting back with one arm curled around his wife’s shoulders. At the question he straightened, settled his elbows on the table, and folded his work-roughened hands. “We were discussin’ the legal ramifications for Rainie if she resurfaces.”
Rainie shot a frantic look at Parker. She couldn’t possibly resurface. These people didn’t understand the danger that would put her in.
“We’re not makin’ any decisions for you, honey,” Parker hurried to explain. “We’re just discussin’ possibilities. The best way to come up with a good plan of action is to toss around ideas and look at ’em from all angles.”
“I can’t resurface,” she said tautly. “That’s out of the question.”
“Is it?” Three spaces down, Loni sat forward on her chair to look around Clint and Parker. “What if the authorities come to believe in your story and provide you with round-the-clock protection until Danning is incarcerated?”
“Peter may never go to jail,” Rainie countered. “He’s wealthy, influential, and very convincing. The one time I found the courage to call the police, they believed him instead of me. All that’s changed since then is that I’ve gotten on the wrong side of the law, which will only weaken my credibility, not strengthen it.”
“As I told you this morning, I have a few connections,” Loni replied. “I don’t think the authorities will take his word over yours this time around.”
Clint chuckled, the sound deep and rumbling. “Loni is a master at understatement, Rainie. To say she has a few connections is like saying a dog has only a couple of hairs on its back.” He took a sip of coffee. “She’s in constant contact with law enforcement agencies clear across the nation. If she champions your cause, you’ll have no worries.”
Hands still on her lap, Rainie curled her fingers into tight fists. “I don’t think my resurfacing is a good idea. None of you understands how dangerous Peter is.”
Clint leaned forward to look Rainie directly in the eye. “He won’t dare touch you if the law is on your side, and on the off chance that he tries, he’ll have to go through all of us first. Parker has come to care for you. In our family, that means all the rest of us care about you, too. I know that may sound a little hokey, but that’s how we Harrigans are. Right, Dad?”
Frank nodded. “The way I see it, if you can’t count on your family, who can you count on?”
“But I’m not part of your family,” Rainie protested.
“You are now,” Zach inserted. “All of us just adopted you.”
“We’re not worried about that,” Frank informed her, apparently speaking for everyone. “For starters, you’ll have Loni to vouch for you, so chances are good it’ll be Danning in dutch, not you. Secondly, we don’t mind a spot of trouble now and again. It keeps life interestin’.”
“But—”
“No buts,” Sam inserted. “Parker laid it all out on the table, explained the risks, and we took a family vote. We’re in. I know you wouldn’t guess it to look at him, but my dad has deep pockets and a lot of clout in this state. The rest of us aren’t exactly small players. If Peter Danning comes here looking for trouble, he’ll find more than he bargained for. He may be Mr. Big Stuff in Seattle, but this is Harrigan country.”
“You don’t understand.” Rainie groped for the words to explain. “Peter won’t come after me legally. That isn’t the way he operates.”
“No,” Loni agreed. Panning the faces of everyone at the table, she continued. “On the surface, Peter Danning will appear to be on the up-and-up, doing everything by the book, but his true aim will be to take Rainie out.” When several startled looks were cast in Loni’s direction, she lifted her hands and shrugged. “It’s true. He can’t afford to let her live. Down the road, she could decide to turn herself in, tell her side of the story, and file for divorce. At that point, even if she went to jail, she’d be legally entitled to half of his assets, which are considerable. He’ll never let that happen. The man’s gotten away with murder twice, and he’s just arrogant enough to believe he can pull it off again.”
That pronouncement blanketed the kitchen in silence.
“In order to truly understand Peter Danning,” Loni went on, “all of you need to start thinking completely outside the box. He’s a criminally insane individual whose reasoning processes are incomprehensible to people like us. He investigates a young woman’s background for months before deciding to move in on her. His chosen targets are young, wealthy heiresses with no immediate family or very many close friends. Once he marries her, he considers her to be a possession and a means to an end. That end, for him, is to kill her, making it look like an accident or a death by natural causes so he can pretend to be the bereaved husband and walk away with her money. Toss in a twisted sense of forever after—he honestly sees Rainie’s defection as a personal betrayal—and you’ve got a very dangerous man with no conscience or any stops. Rainie has to die, period. He offers her no other way out.”
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