Last of the O'Rourkes

by Kate Douglas

  Why did he feel as if he were making the gravest error in his life? Before he could stop himself, Seamus glanced back at the captain. “She’ll stay with me until she finds someplace suitable.”

  “Excuse me?” Kat swung around from her inspection of a pile of burned books. Ice formed on her clipped words.

  “I said, Ms. Malone will come with me.” Seamus stepped over the rubble and offered a helpful hand to her arm. She jerked out of his grasp and glared at him. He backed away.

  “Over my dead—”

  “It very well could be.” Wilson spoke to Kat, but it was obvious his words were meant for Seamus. “The attacks are growing more violent, Kat. More personal. You can’t deny that. It’s risky, you being here alone and all. It was different with Riley in and out of the place like he was. This pervert could never know for certain you were alone. That’s changed. If I were you, I’d take Mr. O’Rourke up on his offer.”

  “Well you’re not me, damn it.” She glared at both men.

  Seamus thought he’d never seen bluer eyes in his life. Riley’d always been a sucker for blue eyes.

  Hell, Riley’d been a sucker for anything in a skirt. The legs sticking out from under her short little black number were as long and sleek as any Seamus had ever seen. Riley hadn’t stood a chance.

  Thank goodness Riley and Clarisse had reached a mutual agreement in their marriage long ago. Clarisse had her affairs, Riley had his, and no one got hurt.

  Yeah. Right. Seamus hadn’t given Riley’s women much thought. Now that he’d actually seen one, touched her, looked into her angry blue eyes, he was suddenly aware of the human toll.

  This woman had most likely gone into the relationship with her heart wide open. Riley’d always been a silver-tongued devil, the kind of man women loved to love. Usually, though, the women he chose were worldly enough to understand that, for all his flowery words and lofty promises, he’d be gone the moment the winds changed.

  But not this one—this tall, cool blonde with crystal blue eyes and the face of an angel. She’d believed his brother, believed in the dream.

  Not only had she believed, if what she said was true, she’d accomplished the impossible.

  She carried Riley’s child. The child neither brother had ever imagined would exist.

  It changed everything. This angry woman, obviously a cop of some kind, had accomplished something Seamus and his brother had never, not in their wildest fantasies, dreamed could happen.

  If she’s telling the truth, she’s pregnant with Riley’s child.

  Hope blossomed where only loss had survived. If she’s telling the truth... Stunned by the potential of his changing reality, Seamus finally accepted unimagined possibilities.

  He was no longer the last of the O’Rourkes.

  AT LEAST HER STALKER hadn’t found the new toothbrush she kept in the medicine cabinet. It was about the only thing he hadn’t ripped, burned, painted, pissed or defecated on in her home. Kat squeezed her eyes shut.

  My stalker. She had to quit thinking of him like that...proprietary, almost as if he belonged to her. Hell, nothing belonged to her anymore. The bastard had methodically destroyed what few personal belongings she’d brought to San Francisco during the past three break-ins at her last two residences. She couldn’t let herself think about the past, the small treasures she’d lost, the mementos she’d never be able to replace.

  It was almost as if he was systematically removing every trace of Kathleen Margaret Malone from the planet. When all her things were gone, she’d be next.

  Without warning, Kat leaned over and threw up in the sink.

  Shuddering, she raised her head and stared at herself in the mirror. The fingers of her left hand traced the firm contours of her belly. Get a grip, Malone. He hasn’t killed you yet.

  Kat rinsed her mouth and brushed her teeth. Carefully she washed her face and hands. She knew she’d never feel clean as long as she stayed in this house, but still she lingered.

  She was very aware of Seamus O’Rourke waiting, probably impatient as hell, in the main room. Why did he bug her so much? Her rational mind appreciated the fact he’d offered her a place to stay until she could get something more permanent, but the rest of her brain found him overbearing and arrogant as all get out. As irritating as Riley’d been easy-going.

  However, unless she wanted to spend the next few nights in some motel room, Kat figured she might as well take him up on his offer of a place to sleep. At least until she could find an apartment.

  Hopefully, one with a decent security system and a landlord who didn’t get his kicks staring through window blinds.

  Riley’d never mentioned a brother. Now that she thought of it, Riley hadn’t mentioned a lot of things. Her mind kept straying back to the wife—a tall, gorgeous blonde wearing the designer suit, standing less than grief-stricken at her husband’s graveside. She’d been leaning heavily on the arm of an equally gorgeous man. From the vibes Kathleen had picked up, she didn’t think Riley would be mourned too long from that quarter.

  Well, damn it, she’d mourn him. He’d given her the best months of her life. She’d even been excited when she found out she was pregnant, though she’d been almost four months along before the changes in her body, the slight thickening of her waist, the persistent nausea, had made her suspect anything.

  Kat grimaced at her pale reflection in the bathroom mirror. “You always were a bit slow on the uptake, Malone.” She glanced down at her flat belly, amazed there could be a new life growing there. She still couldn’t think of it as a real baby, a child she would someday hold in her arms. In her mind it was just a “whatsit.” An anonymous little thing that made her feet and waist swell in what felt like equal proportions. An intruder that activated her barf reflex on a regular basis.

  She’d waited almost a month to tell Riley.

  Be honest, Malone. You didn’t believe it yourself. She’d planned to tell him, though, that last evening when Riley had called and said he was on his way over. She’d planned to tell him, not certain if he’d be upset or thrilled.

  Still not certain if she was upset or thrilled.

  She’d been hurt when he didn’t show up, but not worried. Riley’d broken dates before, but he always had an acceptable excuse, a reason, she realized now, that usually made her feel guilty for mistrusting him. After their missed dinner engagement, she’d spent the next three days in court giving a deposition on that damned hijacking case...then she’d picked up the morning paper.

  Picked up the paper and read that Riley James O’Rourke, beloved husband of Clarisse, brother of Seamus, son of the late Mary and Alfred, was dead.

  Another head-on collision on the freeway. It was just one more messy accident to tie up the rush hour traffic and inconvenience hundreds of tired commuters trying to find their way home.

  With his death, everything in Kathleen Margaret Malone’s world suddenly shifted perspective. The tiny being growing inside her no longer had a father. The future Kat had nearly fantasized into reality had suddenly, like so many of her dreams, disappeared into thin air.

  Once again, she faced the world alone.

  She picked up the foamy toothbrush and realized her fingers were steady. In fact, she felt almost preternaturally calm, as if this were just another day in a humdrum world, or as the old cliché went, the first day of the rest of her life.

  Which it is .

  She took a deep breath, rinsed off the toothbrush, stepped out of the tiny bathroom and walked into the living room beyond. Seamus O’Rourke turned and nailed her with a piercing gaze. Kat hesitated, then took another deep breath.

  She’d faced down killers, disarmed smugglers, even caught a murderer or two. Riley’s brother actually seemed to think he could order her around. Kat almost smiled with her recovered sense of self. She was not a victim. Never had been, didn’t intend to be. Seamus O’Rourke appeared to be under the impression he was calling the shots. It was going to be interesting when he finally figured out she’d been le
tting him get away with it all morning.

  Kat met his glare with one of her own, then tucked her toothbrush into the breast pocket of her suit and picked up her handbag.

  It was time for Mr. O’Rourke to learn that life, as he expected it, was about to change.

  HE TURNED HIS HEAD as the dark green Jag sped past, though he doubted the bitch would recognize him, especially in this nondescript Buick. Of course, it wouldn’t do to be spotted right now, right here...not with red paint staining his slacks. Too bad they were ruined, but it was worth the loss.

  Turning the key in the ignition, he took a deep breath and grinned in anticipation. This was too good to be true. Another O’Rourke, identical to the first. A sobering thought, though. He hadn’t known there was another one. Success depended on knowledge. Knowledge required study.

  He pulled in behind the Jag and followed at a discreet distance. There was no rush. None at all. After all the months of planning, of dreaming about this moment, he’d never once considered how much he would enjoy himself.

  Smiling broadly, he followed the dark green sedan through the rolling streets of San Francisco.

  “MAKE A LIST. I’LL send the housekeeper out for whatever you need for the next couple of days, at least until you’re in condition to shop for yourself.”

  Seamus turned off the ignition and stepped out of the car before Kat had a chance to respond. She’d been fuming throughout the entire ride from her house to his. By the time he opened her door and reached down to give her a hand, she was ready to explode.

  She ignored him, stubbornly folding her arms across her middle. Damn him . She’d wanted to drive her own car, but do you think he’d take her by the cemetery to pick it up?

  “I’ll do my own shopping as soon as you take me to my car. I’m not getting out until you do.”

  “Your car will be delivered within the hour. I’ve already sent for it.”

  “How?” She glared out of the corner of her eye. He glared back. “You don’t have the keys.”

  “I took them out of your purse.”

  “You what?” She unzipped her bag and scrambled through the garbage that seemed to collect in there of its own volition. No keys. “You had no right to go through my bag.”

  “It was done under the watchful eye of the police captain. In fact it was his idea. He didn’t want you driving after the emotional strain you’ve been through. Now please get out of the car.”

  She figured she could sit here a while longer to make her point, but it wouldn’t prove a thing. Besides, if she didn’t find a bathroom soon she’d probably wet her pants. It was truly amazing what pregnancy did to a perfectly healthy body. She didn’t see Mr. O’Rourke taking lightly to piddle stains on his expensive leather upholstery.

  She swung her legs around and stepped out of the car before Seamus could once again offer his hand. For some reason it felt like a victory. A very small victory, but one nonetheless.

  A strident voice in the back of her mind reminded Kat she was the one supposedly calling the shots. She pushed the voice aside, grabbed a tight hold on her tiny victory and followed Seamus into the house.

  “THIS WILL BE YOUR room.” Seamus opened the door and stepped back, waiting for her comment of appreciation, her acknowledgment of the tasteful decor.

  Instead she brushed by him and headed directly for the bathroom as if she’d been here a thousand times before.

  “You’re not going to be sick again, are you?” Please , he thought. Not here . He glanced at the toe of his shoe, wiped clean after this morning and wondered if he’d ever wear this pair again.

  He heard the toilet flush, the sound of running water, then she was standing in the doorway wiping her hands on one of his grandmother’s delicate hand-embroidered towels. “Thought I was gonna pop.” She tossed the towel on the counter behind her. “Nice room.” Kat looked around as if she’d just stepped into a Motel 6.

  She dumped her bag on the bed and slipped her fitted black jacket off her shoulders, then casually removed a lethal looking pistol from a previously unseen shoulder holster.

  Seamus thought for a minute he might be the one to throw up.

  “What in God’s name is that?”

  “It’s a pistol, nine millimeter Ruger, to be exact.” She carefully unfastened the holster, slipped the harness down her arm and folded the whole contraption into a neat bundle. “Riley carried a gun. You knew that. We have very similar jobs with the same kinds of risks. So what’s the big deal?”

  “Riley wasn’t pregnant,” was all he could think to say.

  “Well, of course not.” She rolled her eyes. “Look, if it’s a problem, I’ll leave. I can find a room in town, but the gun stays with me. I’ve had three attempts on my life in the last year alone. You saw what my apartment looked like.”

  “Just what is it you do, Ms. Malone?” He knew, as with Riley’s work with the FBI, she was some kind of investigator...at least that’s what the police captain had alluded to. Somehow, though, the reality of a loaded gun tucked neatly under the arm of this tall, slim blonde with the look of a fashion model and the mouth of a street walker wasn’t all that easy to digest. Neither was the stark image of the weapon lying on his grandmother’s crocheted bedspread,

  “I’m a field agent for the Department of Transportation. Or was, that is, until I barfed in my partner’s car on stakeout. I’ve since been assigned desk duty for the duration of my pregnancy.” She flashed him a dry, but tired, smile. Seamus had the odd sensation of having been punched in the gut while tumbling down Alice’s rabbit hole.

  Not a particularly pleasant feeling.

  Good Lord, the woman was magnificent when she smiled.

  “That doesn’t tell me what you do, though, does it?” He struggled for a sense of balance. “Do you have to carry a gun?”

  “You are an uptight fish, aren’t you?” She smiled again, and once more he felt dizzy with the glory of it. “I guess, to be perfectly explicit, my job requires me to track down crooks within our transportation system. Truck drivers embezzling goods, smugglers bringing things in or taking them out of the country, mob activity—whatever illegal actions someone can think of that affects how goods are moved.” She smiled again, holding her hands out as if for understanding. “When you deal with crooks, it’s a good idea to at least match their firepower.”

  “I see. I guess you surprised me. To be quite honest, you don’t look the part.”

  “No, actually, I look like a hooker. A high-class hooker is how my supervisor describes me, but still a hooker. I think that’s what got me the job in the first place. I do a lot of undercover work.”

  She said it with a twinkle in her eye, but her play on words still made his palms sweat. Leave it to Riley to fall for a street walker, or someone who made her living looking like one. “Is that how you met my brother? Working undercover?”

  “No. I met Riley on a job in Utah. My partner was the one working undercover. I was his back-up. We were out from the office in Pittsburgh. Riley was brought in from the San Francisco bureau. We hit it off.” She glanced down at her perfectly flat middle. “Yeah, you might say we hit it off real well.”

  “You don’t act like a woman in love.” Her choice of words grated over raw nerves. Seamus stepped closer. “How do I know you’re telling the truth? How do I know you’re carrying Riley’s child, not some other man’s bastard? Hell, how do I know you’re even pregnant?”

  Seamus knew how to use his size and presence, but instead of backing away from him as he expected, she stood her ground. Her stubborn poise infuriated him. Seamus felt his muscles tense, knew his control was ready to snap.

  “Good Lord, O’Rourke. You think I go around puking on people for fun?” Her tired reply undid him.

  He practically shouted at her. “My brother was the one with the fertility problems, Ms. Malone. Didn’t Riley tell you? It wasn’t Clarisse’s fault they couldn’t have children. It was his. Now you come along outta the blue and tell me you’re pregnant a
nd Riley’s the father, and you expect me to just swallow your story?” He reached out for some inexplicable reason and raised her chin with his fingers. “Hell, you don’t even look pregnant.”

  He wasn’t sure what he expected to see, but it certainly wasn’t the flash of vulnerability followed by a rush of blazing anger. “I don’t give a rat’s ass whether you believe me or not, O’Rourke.” She slapped his hand aside. “I may look like a whore, but I don’t act like one. As for mourning your brother, well, it’s difficult to mourn a man who didn’t exist. I fell in love with Riley O’Rourke, a fun-loving, sweet-talking Irish devil who promised me the stars, who swore undying love and said we’d always be together. I don’t have affairs with married men, Mr. O’Rourke. I didn’t fall in love with a liar and a cheat. That man can go to hell for all I care and I’ll not mourn him.”

  He felt like a deflated balloon, all the fight gone out of him. “Sadly, Ms. Malone, neither will I.” Seamus bowed his head and turned to leave the room. Guilt twisted his gut and clamped a cold, hard fist over his heart.

  He’d spent his life covering up for his twin, pulling him out of one scrape after another, making excuses for him, compromising his own values to save Riley’s tail, wishing him dead more often than not.

  One thing he’d learned, Seamus realized. He’d never wish anyone dead again because the guilt was almost unbearable.

  He would, however, do one more thing for Riley. He took another long look at Kathleen Malone. She stood in the middle of the room he would always think of as “Gran’s room,” one hand protectively covering her flat stomach. Silently Seamus vowed he would watch over her.

  He’d watch over the sassy blonde with the face of a saint and he’d be there for the child she carried.

  Riley’s child. As close to his own as any child would ever be. That brief flash of vulnerability in her eyes had told him more than any lie detector, any blood test, ever could. There was no reason to doubt her word.