O'Halloran's Lady

by Fiona Brand

  Relief flared in his gaze. “That’s why I didn’t come near you again, until I started dating Natalie.”

  “And then Nat was a good friend. Trust me, I know. After I lost Dane, I wouldn’t have gotten through it without her.”

  His forehead dropped on hers. “Did I tell you that I loved you?”

  She couldn’t stop smiling. O’Halloran loved her. He had always loved her. She knew he had loved Natalie and Jared, too, and that they would always have a special place in his heart. But, like her time with Dane, that part of his life had come to an end and couldn’t be gotten back.

  Now that they had found each other for the second time, the future stretched forward, almost unbearably bright. It seemed almost impossibly greedy, that after nine years of waiting she could finally have the man she loved with all her heart, and the family and life she craved.

  * * *

  Marc kept Jenna close as he joined the members of the STS, who were gathered around the truck and the Hummer, lethal automatics held, barrels pointing to the ground. Like him, they were all, except for the sniper who had been holed up on a roof across the road, singed and covered with soot.

  In the distance, sirens wailed. The fire trucks were on their way. Not that there would be much for them to do by the time they got here. The warehouse was little more than a shell and was already close to totalled.

  Marc lifted a brow at Carter as he checked out the odd configuration of the two vehicles. “How did you get the Hummer wedged underneath like that?”

  Carter leaned against the truck, which Marc had borrowed from one of their security suppliers and which he was now going to have to pay to have repaired.

  He didn’t care. He had more money than he needed, and if Carter hadn’t pulled the stunt with the truck, Tell might have gotten away. Hummers were notoriously difficult to stop. Using the truck to cut him off had been a one-shot chance, and it had paid off.

  Carter had an innocent look on his face, which, for a hardened former SAS assault specialist, was difficult to achieve. “It’s all a bit confusing now, what with the smoke and everything—”

  “It’s not an insurance job. I’m paying.”

  “Cool. Then I drove him down.”

  A cop cruiser pulled in at the curb. Farrell and Hansen climbed out. Marc grinned when he noticed Farrell was driving.

  He checked in the cab. Tell was pinned by the steering wheel and crumpled metal. Stuck like a sardine in a can, he was conscious and definitely unhappy.

  West braced a hand on the Hummer and peered in. “I guess we should call an ambulance.”

  Carter shrugged. “I’m thinking we should run it past Farrell first. She won’t be happy if we make a decision without her.”

  West nodded. “That is absolutely right. We should wait.”

  Farrell put the cell she had been talking into in her pocket as she came to a halt by the wreck of the Hummer. Hansen strolled around the vehicle and checked out Tell. “Looks like we won’t need the cuffs. Shame, I was looking forward to the moment.”

  Farrell dug in her pocket and handed Marc a sheet of paper. “That little ritual was reserved for O’Halloran, anyway. But maybe if you talk to the firemen nicely, they’ll give you a turn with the Jaws of Life.” She shot Marc a look that, for Farrell, who was the ultimate professional, was oddly soft. “Hey, good job.”

  Marc studied the sheet, which was a list of more than twenty unsolved crimes.

  Farrell smiled grimly. “Recognize some of those? We worked a few together. I ran a list of crimes using the security system as the common denominator, like you suggested, and bingo. Our mystery burglar turned out to be Tell. At current estimates, he’s stolen more than a million dollars’ worth of high-end appliances, cash and fine jewellery.”

  “Murder, attempted murder, burglary and arson.” Satisfaction took some of the edge off the anger that had burned through him when he had realized that Tell was the perpetrator. “With any luck, by the time he gets out, he’ll be an old man. Did you realize his father was Morrison?”

  He saw the moment Farrell put it all together. “So that’s why he went for you. You put his father away.”

  Marc tightened his hold on Jenna, her warmth and softness reminding him of the single most important fact. She was safe, and she was his. “Except he couldn’t quite bring himself to attack me directly, instead he attacked the women in my life.”

  “A coward.” Farrell smiled coldly at Hansen, who had straightened from checking on Tell’s condition, and who now had his phone out. “Hansen, make that a big wait on the ambulance.”

  Epilogue

  The wedding was held in the little church just down the road from Jenna’s house. Old and beautifully kept, with soaring stained-glass windows, the church was big enough to hold all of Marc’s and Jenna’s families and friends.

  McCabe, Blade Lombard and West and Carter were there, along with their wives and families. Elaine Farrell had also accepted the invitation, along with her partner, a sleek well-groomed businessman.

  The ceremony was traditional; the bride wore white. As Marc slipped the ring on her finger and Jenna, in turn, placed a ring on his, the vows they made echoed softly.

  Minutes later, Jenna caught the misty smile on her Aunt Mary’s face. As she and Marc walked into the vestry to sign the register, a fine tension she had barely been aware of dissolved. Aunt Mary was intensely maternal. Jenna knew she had found it hard to let go of each and every one of her children. She knew Aunt Mary loved her as if she were her own, but that she also loved both Natalie and Jared with a fierce devotion.

  The week before the wedding, Mary had invited both Jenna and Marc over for lunch then, out of the blue, she had suggested a visit to the cemetery. The few minutes at the gravesite had been difficult and emotional, but now Jenna understood what Mary had done. There had been no wreath, no soft toy, just a simple bunch of flowers, which she had combined with Marc and Jenna’s offering in the little stone vase off to one side.

  She had let Natalie and the baby go.

  When the signatures were done, and while they waited for their witnesses—McCabe and Jenna’s editor, Rachel—to sign, Marc pulled her close. “Are you all right? You look a little pale.”

  Jenna smiled into his dark eyes, her own misty. “Never better.”

  And to improve on what had so far been the most sublime day of her life, she reached into the tiny pocket she’d gotten the seamstress to sew into her dress at the last minute and extracted a small blue object. “I have a gift for you.”

  She handed the baby rattle to Marc. For a split second, his expression was perfectly blank then his piercing gaze shot to hers. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  With a whoop, Marc swung her into his arms then finally, achingly, he kissed her. From the hubbub of noise and a series of frantic motorised clicks Jenna was dimly aware that some of their guests had crowded into the vestry and the wedding photographer was capturing every angle of their private moment. She didn’t care.

  Somehow they had come full circle and she was back exactly where she wanted to be, in O’Halloran’s arms.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt of The Cop's Missing Child by Karen Whiddon.

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  Chapter 1

  The bright sun felt warm on his skin. If he’d been here for no reason other than a desire to enjoy the weather, Mac Riordan would have stopped and turned his face up to let the bright rays try to heat blood that these days always seemed chilled. Instead, he glanced around while keeping his quarry in sight, taking in the lush greenness of the park crowded with citizens enjoying the early spring air.

  He couldn’t believe the hunter’s rush he felt at this planned-for encounter. Finally, after all this time, he’d meet the woman who had, inadvertently or not, stolen everything he had left to live for.

  He’d planned this carefully, just happened to take a stroll along the tree-lined, paved walking path when the very woman he’d come to town to find strode past him on her daily walk—Emily Gilley. He’d been watching her for a week, after all, and figured an accidental meeting in the park would be a great way to meet her.

  True, if he wanted this to appear unintentional, keeping up with her confident pace without looking as though he was stalking her might prove difficult, though not impossible.

  He doubted she’d find him suspicious. From what he’d heard about the east Texas town of Anniversary, everyone was friendly and trusting and looked out for each other. If this was true, then Emily Gilley would have no reason to worry about a friendly stranger.

  He allowed himself the slightest of grim smiles. If only she knew.

  So far, he’d been careful. After all, he’d only been in town for three weeks. It was just long enough to establish his brand-new trucking business and to put out a few feelers about her, the woman he’d spent several years trying to locate: Emily Gilley, twenty-nine-year-old widow of one of the most notorious drug dealers on the Eastern Seaboard. She’d changed her name, taking back her mother’s maiden name Gilley, and altered both the cut and the color of her hair, all to help her disappear. But for someone with the far-flung resources to which he had access, finding her had been a matter of time and a tenacious effort. He was fortunate to still have a lot of the tools from his law enforcement days at his disposal.

  Her long, blond locks were now dark, short and spiky. Instead of designer fashions, she wore clothing that looked off the rack at a big bin department store. She’d gone from a glamorous life in Manhattan to this: a tiny lakefront community ninety miles east of Dallas.

  As he hurried around a bend at the end of the trail, trying not to appear in too much of a rush, he nearly ran into her. She’d stopped at the weathered wooden bench that marked the entrance to the paved parking lot of Sue’s Catfish Hut, which was crowded with lunchtime patrons.

  She was stopped and turned to face him, apparently willing to wait for him to catch up.

  This was going even better than he’d hoped, he thought with some satisfaction. And then he got a look at her annoyed expression.

  Hands on her hips, she glared at him, her brown eyes full of anger mixed with only the barest hint of fear. “What do you want? Stop following me! If you’re trying to creep me out, you’re succeeding admirably.”

  He dipped his chin, sending her an abashed smile he hoped she’d find reassuring. “My apologies. I had no idea this was a private trail.”

  Instead of growing flustered, she shook her head, sending her shaggy spiked hair rippling. “It’s not. But I walk here every day on my lunch break, and I know almost everyone in town. Every time I look up, you’re right behind me. You never pass me or fall back. And while this is the first time I’ve seen you here, you have to understand how such behavior can make a woman feel threatened.”

  “Threatened? Interesting choice of words.” He crossed his arms. “I’m new here, and I mean you no harm. I wasn’t aware being a newcomer and taking a walk were crimes.”

  Narrowing her eyes, she studied him, apparently not buying his too-easy, confident patter. In his experience, overly suspicious or outright paranoid people usually had something to hide. But then again, she had a point. He was a stranger who was following her, and her former husband had been a drug dealer. No doubt, looking over her shoulder had been deeply ingrained in her psyche. She’d be foolish not to worry. And one thing he’d learned about Emily Gilley, formerly Cavell, was that she was anything but stupid.

  Finally, she took a deep breath, exhaling it slowly.

  “Look,” she said, her tone reasonable this time rather than furious, “you’ve been following me way too closely. What matters is that you’ve made me very uncomfortable.” Swallowing hard, she studied him, her caramel gaze unflinching. “And even though this is a small town, one can’t be too careful.”

  It was especially true for a woman like her, with so many secrets to hide.

  He nodded, feigning chagrin. “Again, I apologize. If I’d known I was frightening you, I would have dropped back or—” he grimaced ruefully “—I would have tried to pass you.”

  Rather than accept his apology, she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “You said you’re new in town, right?”

  “Yes.” Relieved and slightly surprised that getting to know her was going to be this simple, he gave her a practiced, easy smile, holding out his hand. “Mac Riordan.”

  Instead of a handshake, she simply continued to stare him down. Only when he’d dropped his hand and frowned did she speak again in a cool, measured tone. “Welcome to Anniversary, Mac Riordan. I don’t know who you are or what you want, but in the future, please leave me alone.”

  Tamping down shock, he feigned confusion instead. “Ma’am, I—”

  Backing up slightly, she tilted her head and peered up at him. “Let me ask you something. Are you the one who mailed me the note? It was postmarked Dallas. Is that where you’re from?”

  “Note?” He eyed her warily. Had someone tipped her off about his arrival? “What note? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “You didn’t send me an anonymous note? Cut out letters on white paper?”

  Was this a joke? Then, as he realized what she’d said, his former cop instincts made him ask, “Is someone sending you threatening notes?”

  Again he got the sharp, brown-glass stare, as if she thought if she tried hard enough she could read his mind. Since he’d been looked at all kinds of ways by all sorts of people in his previous life in law enforcement, he let her. Silence was often the best interrogation method of all.

  “You didn’t answer my question. Are you from Dallas?”

  “No,” he fired back. “Albany, New York. Now tell me about this note.”

  “That’s none of your business,” she said calmly, her spine so rigid he thought it might snap. Then, apparently considering he might in fact be harmless, she swallowed, still eyeing him warily.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so rude. I’ve got to go.” She mouthed the words, sounding anything but. Without another word, she marched off, her spiky dark hair ruffling in the breeze.

  Watching her slender, lithe body as she went, he couldn’t help but respect that she knew enough to be wary. Because if their situations had been reversed, he’d have done exactly the same. People on the run from former lives couldn’t afford to befriend curious strangers.

  This was exactly the reason he had to make sure he gained her trust—no matter what it took.

  * * *

  Even as she hurried away, Emily Gilley felt the tall, dark-haired stranger’s gaze boring into her back. She felt flushed and hot,
though not entirely from her brisk walk. Instead, she worried about the man with the striking cobalt eyes. At first glance, the tinge of gray in his hair had made him look older by at least a decade. But up close, his rugged face appeared to be only a few years older than she. Mid-thirties, perhaps, a handsome, muscular man who moved with easy grace. Any other woman would have been intrigued by his blatant masculinity, his self-confident virility.

  Not she...she knew better. Sex on the hoof didn’t last past the morning, and men like him were nothing but trouble. After all, she’d been married to one once.

  This man singled her out. Why? She couldn’t help but wonder if this attempt to appear older was deliberate, an effort to camouflage who he really was—or what he was.

  He was a threat. She couldn’t believe his sudden appearance the same day after getting her first threat since moving here was a mere coincidence. How could it be?

  The unsigned note that had appeared in her mailbox that morning had been similar to the ones she used to get back in New York. Letters cut and pasted from a magazine, the three sentences read exactly like the ones she’d received before. Her stalker—and Ryan’s, for the note always mentioned her five-year-old son by name—had somehow found her here, in an innocuous small Texas town.

  This meant it was time to move on.

  She considered, suddenly exhausted by it all, she could run again. Or she could stay—and fight.

  Because quite frankly, she liked living here in Anniversary, Texas. She’d made friends, and while her receptionist job at Tearmann’s Animal Clinic wasn’t glamorous, she loved the sheer ordinariness of it. All in all, she’d made a cozy home for herself and her son here.