Rannigan's Redemption: Complete Collection

by Pandora Spocks

  “Motherfucker!” she cried out.

  Bobby was beside her instantly. “Are you alright? What happened?”

  Maggie looked around. “My shoe.” The heel of her right shoe was caught in the space between the elevator and the hallway. It had snapped off as she stepped forward. Bobby grabbed it before the doors closed, then gently took her arm and helped her up.

  “Did you hurt yourself?” he asked, concerned.

  “I’m alright, really,” she replied shakily. Blood was dripping from her knee and running in rivulets all the way down her shin.

  “You banged up your knee.”

  “But I saved the soup, so there’s that,” she quipped.

  He placed a hand on the small of her back and walked her down the hall, stopping at a door. “This is me,” he said. “Come in and let me at least bandage you up.” Maggie regarded him warily.

  “I’m not an axe murderer, I promise,” he laughed.

  She frowned. “Isn’t that exactly what an axe murderer would say?” she said as he unlocked the door.

  “Tell you what–we’ll leave the door open. You can sit right here.” He pointed to a bench in the foyer. “If I make any sudden moves you can run for it,” he chuckled.

  Sheepishly, Maggie sank onto the bench. Truthfully, her knee hurt. She set down her things and glanced up at him. “Thanks,” she said quietly.

  Bobby smiled and gestured to his right. “I’ll just...go get my axe.”

  She could hear him in another room rummaging around through something. She removed her broken shoe and held up the dismembered heel. It had come clean off the sole. An image flashed through her mind of the shoe repair shop just around the corner from her apartment.

  “I can fix that for you.” Startled, she looked up. Bobby had returned with first aid supplies.

  “Oh, you don’t have to do that,” she said quickly. “There’s a shop near my place.”

  He poured alcohol on some gauze and knelt beside her. “It won’t take me two seconds,” he murmured, dabbing at her knee.

  Maggie breathed in sharply. “Ouch! Ow ow ow!” she protested softly.

  Bobby looked up at her. “Sorry, cher,” he said, “we’ve got to get it cleaned out.” Gently he grasped the back of her calf and raised her leg, wiping away the streaks of blood.

  Maggie stared at him, scarcely breathing. There was something electric about his touch, so strong yet so tender.

  He finished cleaning her shin and returned to her knee, carefully placing a large bandage over the scrape. “There you are, good as new. Well, almost,” he smiled.

  He took the shoe and heel from her. “I really can fix this for you. I’d just have to find my tools,” he nodded his head toward the other room. “I should really unpack anyway,” he smiled ruefully.

  Maggie rose from the bench and stood lopsided on one heel. “I don’t want to be more trouble than I’ve already been.”

  Something tells me that you’re all kinds of trouble, cher. “It’s no trouble. Besides, I’d be worried about you limping along like Quasimodo on your way home,” he laughed.

  She laughed, too. “Well, alright then. Thank you. And thanks for...” She glanced down at her knee.

  “It’s my pleasure, cher,” he said quietly.

  Maggie felt as though suddenly all the air had gone out of the room. She stared up into his amazing blue eyes. She opened her mouth but no words came out.

  He spoke. “Just stop by when you’re finished at Michael’s. If I have to leave before that, I’ll bring you your shoe.”

  Chapter 22

  Bobby watched Maggie hobble down the hall to Michael’s apartment then closed his door and shook his head to himself. What the hell just happened?

  He looked down at the black leather pump in his hand. It was small, probably no bigger than a size 6, though he was no judge of women’s sizes. He looked past it to his own size 12 running shoes and grinned.

  He couldn’t decide what he’d liked best, her gorgeous red hair, her sparkling green eyes, or her plucky wit. He’d felt an unexpected spark when he’d touched her leg as he’d cleaned up her knee. She’s tough, he thought, recalling the way she’d handled his first aid endeavors.

  Probably hell-fire in bed.

  He blanched. Where had that thought come from? Leaving the shoe on the kitchen counter, he went to wash his face in the bathroom before he dug his tools out of one of the boxes piled up in the guest room.

  * * *

  Maggie limped down to Michael’s and let herself in. “Michael, I’m here.” She slipped off her one shoe and left it in the foyer. Michael was sitting on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table. Baseball was playing silently on the television. “How are you doing?”

  “I feel like shit,” he answered without looking her way.

  She sighed. “I’m sorry. Have you eaten?” He didn’t respond. “I’m going to reheat this soup,” she said shrugging. “You need to eat something.”

  In the kitchen she found a glass bowl and transferred the soup from its paper container. While it heated in the microwave she found a tray and added a small plate of saltines.

  “I met your neighbor,” she told Michael when she brought his soup and crackers. He glanced at her incuriously. “Bobby...something. Tall guy, brown hair? In 2107?”

  Michael frowned slightly. “Do you mean Beau?”

  Maggie shook her head. “He said his name was Bobby. He came to my rescue.” She lifted the hem of her skirt to reveal the bandaged knee.

  Michael sat up a bit. “What happened?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I made a total ass of myself. My heel broke off and I went down like a sack of potatoes. Bobby doctored up my knee. He’s fixing my shoe as we speak. I’m stopping by to pick it up when I leave here.”

  “Really?” he said thoughtfully. He sat up further and took a spoonful of soup. “That tastes good,” he said, sighing.

  “Eat slowly,” she said. “A little at a time.” She glanced around the living room. “Is there anything you need me to do? Do you need laundry done? I’ll bet you didn’t get your mail. I can bring it to you tomorrow.”

  Michael suddenly bolted up and hurried down the hallway toward his bedroom. Maggie followed uncertainly, waiting in the bedroom as he went into the bathroom. She could hear him gagging and coughing as he vomited.

  “Michael,” she said softly as she pushed open the door.

  He wheeled around. “Get the hell out of here!”

  Maggie left the bathroom and stood staring at the unmade bed. Then she walked to the linen closet in the hallway, retrieved a thick white wash cloth, and returned to the bathroom where she ignored Michael’s protests. Wordlessly, she soaked the cloth with cold water, wrung it out, and folded it gently over the back of his neck. She returned to the bedroom and neatly made his bed. Just as she finished, the bathroom door opened.

  “Mags, I...I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s just...” He looked away. “I hate for anybody to see me like this.” His voice broke.

  She crossed to him and wrapped her arms around him. “I know you do,” she said quietly. “But face it, Rannigan. For maybe the first time in your life, you need help.”

  “I know it,” he whispered. She felt hot tears on her shoulder.

  Maggie helped Michael back to the couch and reheated the soup. “Take it easy,” she cautioned. “But eat. Even if you get sick, some of it still gets in.”

  She found a bucket under the kitchen sink and placed it on the floor beside the couch. “This is for just in case,” she said.

  She gathered her things and turned to him. “I’ll bring you ginger ale tomorrow. Call if you need anything.”

  As she reached the door he called to her. “Hey, Mags...” She looked over her shoulder. “Just... I appreciate you.”

  She smiled tenderly. “You’re welcome. See you tomorrow.”

  Once in the solitude of the hallway, she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. Michael had always been strong and confiden
t. Seeing him so sick and shaky was excruciating. She blinked back tears, knowing that she still had to stop by Bobby’s to pick up her shoe. She dabbed at her eyes and did some deep breathing before going back down the hall. Outside his door, she practiced a carefree smile before gently knocking.

  He greeted her with a boyish grin, blue eyes sparkling. “Hi! You came back.”

  “You have my shoe,” she said, half laughing.

  “Yes, I do,” he said, letting her in and leading her into his living room. “How’s Michael feeling?”

  She shrugged noncommittally. “Oh, you know, it will take some time. He seemed happy with the soup.”

  Maggie glanced around. The layout was similar to Michael’s but the apartment was much smaller. The furniture was leather and glass, giving the room a decidedly masculine vibe. The walls were decorated with a few abstract art pieces and she found herself wondering if they were his or if they’d simply come with the place. He’d mentioned needing to unpack his things...

  “I nailed it first, then I glued the insole back down,” he was saying.

  Maggie looked at her shoe in his hand. “Wow, you can’t even tell it was broken.”

  “I told you I could fix it,” he smiled. “Sit and I’ll put it back on for you.”

  Maggie lowered herself onto a dark brown leather arm chair as Bobby knelt beside her again. He gave a mischievous grin as he lifted her foot and slipped it into her shoe. She laughed in spite of herself. “I feel like Cinderella,” she said.

  “I have that effect on women,” he quipped, flashing her a lopsided grin, and she laughed again.

  She stood and tried out the newly repaired shoe, walking to the window and back. “It’s perfect! Thanks!” She leaned up and kissed his cheek lightly. He seemed surprised and she instantly felt embarrassed.

  “I need to be going now,” she said as she returned to the door.

  He followed her, opening the door for her and she stepped into the hallway. “So will you be stopping by to check on Michael tomorrow?”

  Maggie nodded. “He probably won’t be feeling a hundred percent for a while. I’ll keep helping out until he’s back on his feet.”

  “Maybe we’ll run into each other again,” he said, blue eyes sparkling.

  She nodded again. “Maybe.” She began walking toward the elevator then stopped. When she turned he was still standing in his doorway.

  “You know, meeting you was the bright spot in an otherwise shitty week,” she said earnestly.

  He grinned slowly. “It was good to meet you, too, Maggie.”

  Chapter 23

  Throughout the following day, Maggie had trouble concentrating on her work. Her thoughts kept drifting to Bobby. She pictured his broad shoulders and tall frame, his wavy brown hair, the clear blue eyes with those long lashes...that heat-inspiring lopsided grin.

  He’s amazingly attractive in a masculine, blue-collar sort of way. Which is weird, being that he lives in Michael’s building. Anybody living there must have money. He seems so laid-back and casual. He said he’d only been there a few months, hadn’t even unpacked. Where did he come from? She thought about his slight drawl, the way he’d called her cher. She felt her lips curl in a smile. Bobby was...a very interesting development.

  For whom I have absolutely no time. She frowned. Work is crazy, add to that playing nursemaid to Michael. Not that she minded. Not really. He had no one else. Of course that was his own fault. But when he’d shown up on her doorstep that night, she hadn’t been able to turn him away.

  Maggie preferred to think that lack of time was her reason for approaching Bobby with caution. Deep down she realized that the actual truth might be a little different.

  Her judgement when it came to men had been less than stellar. She’d mooned over Michael for way too long, for starters. And she’d damn near married Mike. She shook her head. Nope. Definitely can’t trust my gut when it comes to men. I’m attracted to Bobby. He seems to like me. There has to be something wrong with him. End of story.

  That didn’t stop her from looking for him when she entered Michael’s building that afternoon after work, shopping bag of groceries in hand. Bobby saw her before she saw him and came striding across the lobby to intercept her on her way to the elevator.

  “Hey there, Maggie,” he said, grinning that sexy lopsided grin.

  She smiled in spite of herself. “Hi, Bobby. How are you?”

  “I’m great now. How’s the knee?”

  She lifted it to show him. “Still a bit sore, to be honest. But I’m wearing better shoes today.”

  He chuckled softly. “Well, you look pretty.”

  He held open the door and Maggie blushed as she stepped into the elevator. They chatted amiably on the ride upstairs. As they got off on the twenty-first floor he turned to her, fixing her with those deep blue eyes. “I’m wondering if you’d go to dinner with me sometime.”

  Her eyes widened. “You know, that sounds great. It’s just that,” she shook her head sadly, “work is killer and now, with Michael...”

  She looked up at him. “The truth is,” her voice was low, “Michael’s situation is a bit more serious than just being under the weather. He has cancer.”

  “Holy shit,” he whispered.

  “I mean, it’s not good, but they’re treating it very aggressively. He’s going to be alright, eventually. But the chemo is kicking his ass, and, it’s just...” She looked at him pleadingly. “There’s so much on my plate right now. Maybe when he’s back on his feet, you know?”

  Bobby nodded. “I understand,” he said softly, his face unreadable.

  “Please don’t tell anyone about the cancer. He doesn’t want people to know.”

  He shook his head. “Of course, no problem.” He smiled sadly. “Well, see you around, Maggie.”

  “See you,” she said.

  * * *

  After Maggie continued on down the hallway to Michael’s, Bobby let himself into his apartment and sank onto the leather sofa. He’d felt such a spark with Maggie yesterday. She’d been all he could think about since then, even at work he’d been distracted. He would have sworn she felt something, too. But today she’d been quick to blow him off. When women made excuses about work and being busy, they were usually just polite ways of saying they weren’t interested, at least in his experience. It hadn’t been easy for him to try, even as attracted as he felt. Deanna had really done a number on him.

  Maggie seemed different. She was tough, had winced at the pain in her knee, but dealt with it. “Motherfucker!” was what she’d said when she’d fallen. He laughed out loud at the memory. Who would have thought that such a beautiful redhead would have a potty mouth? And then she’d looked up at him with those sparkling green eyes. She was utterly irresistible.

  He’d gone out a couple of times since he’d moved to New York. Both times he’d had the feeling that the women were more interested in the fact that he’d been a professional athlete than in him as a person. They’d both insisted on calling him Beau. Maggie had no idea he’d played ball. That was another thing he liked about her.

  Ah, well, he shrugged. It wasn’t meant to be.

  * * *

  The following afternoon as Maggie entered Michael’s building she felt a slight sense of dread. I hated turning Bobby down yesterday. He seems like a nice guy. I don’t want to have to continue to make excuses. She glanced around the lobby on her way to the elevator but didn’t see him. She stepped inside and pressed the button.

  As she walked down the hall toward Michael’s apartment, she passed the door to 2107. It was closed and all was quiet. She shook her head. It’s ridiculous to feel disappointed. This is precisely why you need a man in your life like you need a hole in the head.

  She didn’t see Bobby the next day, either, or the following few days after that. What the hell? Maybe he’s avoiding me. She rolled her eyes. Why would he do that? That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard...

  She was standing in Michael’s kitchen heating black
beans and rice from the Jamaican place down the street.

  “Hey, the microwave went off five minutes ago,” he said, opening the refrigerator.

  “What? Oh, sorry.” She shook the cobwebs out of her head. “Michael, I would have gotten you something to drink.”

  “I’m not helpless,” he returned. “I’m feeling a little better today, actually. Haven’t been sick nearly as much.”

  Maggie smiled at him. “Good. I’m so glad. But still, you need to take it easy. I mean, just because you’re feeling a little better, don’t wear yourself out.”

  He laughed. “I’m reasonably certain getting myself a glass of juice won’t wear me out.” She was staring into space again. “Mags? Are you alright?”

  She jumped. “Yes. I said I’m glad you’re feeling better, just don’t overdo it.”

  Michael gave her a puzzled look as he took his dinner out of the microwave. Maggie followed him out into the living room. “There’s enough of this for two. Do you want to stay and eat?”

  She shook her head distractedly. “No, thanks, I’ve got to run. Do you want to text me tomorrow and tell me what you feel like eating?”

  “Maybe I’ll fend for myself tomorrow. I really am feeling stronger,” Michael answered. “Can I let you know?”

  Maggie looked at him doubtfully. “Michael, you’re in the middle of a very aggressive round of chemotherapy. I’m thrilled you’re having a good day, but you need to be careful.”

  He looked at her pointedly. “I need to do this my way, Mags,” he said quietly.

  She sighed. “I know. I get that. Let me know what you decide.” Maggie gathered her purse and brief case. “But listen, I’m in depositions all day tomorrow. Don’t call me, just text, okay?”

  * * *

  For days after Maggie had turned him down, Bobby was still thinking about her. He avoided the lobby around the time he figured she’d be coming to see Michael. There was no reason to rub salt in the wound.