A Hope Undaunted (32 page)

“Let go, you’re hurting me!”

His abrupt release jolted her against the counter as surely as if he had shoved her away. “No, Katie,” he whispered through clenched teeth, “you’re hurting yourself, and I guarantee it’s a pain that will last a lot longer than a few seconds.” He looked away, his anger evident in the heave of his chest and the clench of his jaw, and then with a sharp hiss of a curse, he turned and strode to the door.

“Luke!” Her heart lurched forward.

He paused, hand on the door and his back as rigid as the wood beneath his palm.

“Please believe me, I never meant to lead you on. I’ve planned to marry Jack all along, and you knew that.”

He glanced over his shoulder, muscled arm poised against the door. His voice was cold. “Don’t worry about it, I wouldn’t want to interfere with your
plan
.” He spat the word as if it were an obscenity, then slammed his fist against the door and spun around. “You know, Katie, you’ve always been a cold and callous little thing, but I actually believed it was just a front. You know, a thin coat of steel to protect your fragile little heart? But I was wrong. Seems that steel is as thick as that stubborn head of yours when it comes to making life decisions. Despite the heat and fire in every kiss we’ve shared, you’re a cold, cold woman, Katie O’Connor. The kind that chooses a marriage as cooly as you choose a bank to store your money. Your ‘plan’ is your god, and God help anybody who gets in your way.” He turned to go.

Nausea curdled in the pit of her stomach. “Luke, forgive me, please. I’m sorry . . .”

He halted halfway through the door. She watched as he drew in a deep breath and suddenly that broad back straightened, tall and strong like the man he’d become. And when he finally spoke, the anger seemed tempered somewhat and laced with regret. “I know, Katie,” he said, head cocked to reveal a profile resigned to a fate he didn’t choose. “You’re sorry, and so am I. But I’ll get over it, don’t worry about me. But you?” A hoarse laugh spewed from his throat, devoid of all humor. “I hope I’m wrong, truly I do. But something deep inside tells me your ‘sorry’ has only just begun. My best to you and Jack.”

And with a cool swish of air, he was gone, leaving her with nothing but an eerie creak as the door groaned on its hinges . . . and a cold prickle of fear that he may just be right.

Luke stormed down Donovan Street in a vile mood, profanity poisoning his tongue with a foulness he hadn’t tasted in a long, long time. It should have been the perfect evening – moist and warm with the hint of a cool breeze, fragrant with the scent of fresh-mown grass and the promise of rain. But cozy three-decker homes, bathed in the haze of the full moon overhead, seemed to mock him instead, lamplight twinkling and taunting from lace-curtained windows.

A stray cardboard box from a neighbor’s trash heap littered the sidewalk, and he bludgeoned it with his foot, thinking he should be kicking himself instead. Somewhere he heard the haunting strains of jazz, filtering from one of several open windows along the cobblestone street, each spilling light onto perfectly manicured lawns. Through fluttering sheers he saw families in silhouette – a mother rocking a child, a husband kissing a wife – and his anger flared at the painful reminder that he was once again on the outside looking in. A street orphan with no home of his own – shut out because he wasn’t good enough. The bastard of a whore who lived his life in the streets, just like the trash put out at the curb. He shoved his hands in his pockets and muttered a curse, the harsh sound lingering in the thick, humid air as it defiled both his thoughts and the still of the steamy summer night.

She’d done it again – made a fool of him – something that came as naturally to Katie O’Connor as breathing. Sweat beaded the back of his neck – half from the heat of the late-August evening, half from the fear of how he would cope – cope with being in love with a woman who would never love him back, never want him. Correction: she wanted him, but only his body and not his soul. Irony curled his lips as he kicked a rock from his path. At one time, that would have been the perfect scenario – a woman who wanted him with no strings attached. But not now. Not with her.

“She’s no good for you, you know. I’ve never seen a woman
affect you like this one, Luke. Too much power from your
past, too much for you to prove.”

He sucked in a harsh breath and slashed shaky fingers through his hair, knowing full well that Parker had been right. Katie was no good for him. As children, they had battled for power, but in his need for her approval, she had always won. Sure and strong and driven, she was a little girl and now a woman who knew exactly what she wanted. And with a stab of pain in his chest, he realized it would never be him. Because the same drive and determination that drew him to her – caused him to love her – now drove her away from ever returning that love. He put a hand to his eyes, the truth as stark and glaring as the buzzing streetlight overhead. Attraction or no, he would never be more to Katie O’Connor than merely a friend who could race her pulse.

Like Betty was to me.

Air seized in his throat as his heart thudded to a stop.
Betty!

He started to sprint toward Robinson’s, shame thick in his throat and his heart pumping faster than his legs. Dear God, how could he have forgotten? He lifted his arm to glance at his watch and then groaned, upping his pace when he saw he was thirty minutes late. The one night he was supposed to walk her home, and he’d let her down. His chest heaved with regret as he skidded around the corner, huffing to a stop when he saw lights in the diner window. He sucked in a deep breath and leaned over, hands on his knees.
Thank
you, God – she’s still here.

Breathing hard, he jogged up to the door and tested the knob, glancing at the crooked “Closed” sign displayed in the window.
Good girl
, he thought when the lock wouldn’t budge, then quickly loped around the corner to the back of the diner.

A merge of shadows and moonlight cast an eerie glow throughout the alley, distorting trashcans heaped high with refuse. Suddenly he saw that the back door was ajar, and fear coiled in his stomach like a snake about to strike. He eased it open.

“Bets? Are you here?” Scanning the dimly lit kitchen, his gaze darted from the polished steel refrigerators to the sink piled high with a shift’s worth of dishes. His heart hammered in his chest, and he raised his voice, as sharp and edgy as the stainless steel knives Pop kept in the drawer. “Bets! Are you here?”

“Back here . . .” Muffled words drifted from the storage room.

He bolted to Pop’s pantry and froze, his stomach constricting at the sight of Betty huddled in the corner, head bent and arms wound around her knees. He rushed to kneel beside her and touched her hair, his voice steady, but his palm shaking. “Bets, what happened? Are you all right?”

She started to cry and he slid to the floor and pulled her into his arms. “Tell me what happened,” he whispered.

A shiver rippled through her, and she clutched him tightly as her heaves shuddered against his chest. “L-Leo w-was here.”

His blood slowed to a crawl. “When?”

“R-right b-before cl-osing. He wants me b-back.”

Luke closed his eyes while prickles of ice shivered his skin. Blast it all, if only he hadn’t been late! “Did he hurt you?” he whispered, his voice ready to crack.

She answered with a heave, and he gripped her at arm’s length. Bile rose in his throat. Her cheekbone was swollen from hairline to jaw, mottled with a bruise that was just turning blue. Remnants of scarlet lipstick smeared the side of her mouth where a tiny split in her lip oozed the same color blood. He swallowed his rage and cupped her good cheek in his hand, determined to keep the moisture from welling in his eyes.

“Did he hurt you anywhere else?”

She shook her head and looked away, her fingers fluttering to the collar of her once crisp, white blouse, now soiled with grease from the grill and chocolate stains from the fountain. She started to rise, and he helped her up with a steady hand, assessing her from head to toe. His gaze lighted on a gap in her blouse where she’d misbuttoned her shirt, and his stomach tightened when he noticed the top button was missing. He clutched her arms and forced her to face him.

“Tell me the truth, Bets – did he do anything else?”

She tried to push him away. “No, Luke, a couple of slaps for old time’s sake, and nothing more, I promise. His calling card, you know,” she said with a harsh whisper.

“Then why is your blouse gaping open and missing a button?”

A faint wash of color stained her pale cheeks as she looked down before she turned away to rebutton her shirt. Her voice forced a hint of humor, sounding more like the friend he knew and loved. “I’m a slob, you know that about me, Luke. I spilled chocolate and took my blouse off to try and wash it out, that’s all, and I lost a button in the process.”

He stared at her back, unconvinced as his eyes took in dirt stains that ran the length of her shirt and rumpled skirt.

When he didn’t answer, she glanced over her shoulder with a hitch of her brow. “
Before
the lowlife showed up.” She tucked her blouse firmly into her waistband and adjusted her skirt, then moved to the sink to fill both washtubs with water, obviously making an effort to convince him she was all right. “But I am glad you’re here. You can dry the dishes.”

He ambled over to retrieve a towel from a drawer and slung it over his shoulder. “How did he find you?” His voice was as measured as the soap she poured into the water, swishing until bubbles puffed high. “How does Roberta know where you live or work?”

She attempted a chuckle that came out too brittle. “Unfortunately, Leo’s smart. He found out I lived in Boston and remembered the only family I ever mentioned was a second cousin by the name of Robinson.” She piled a stack of dishes into the water and shot him a glance along with a hard smile. “Who just happened to own a diner.”

Luke blasted out a sigh that was more of a growl. “So much for influence over Roberta.”

Betty actually smiled. She patted his cheek with a deposit of soap bubbles along the scruffy line of his jaw. “Don’t worry, McGee, your influence is still intact, so don’t think you’ve lost your charm. It was Roberta’s friend, Dot, who gave me away.” Betty grunted as she scrubbed dried catsup off a plate. “The little floozy actually invited him down for the weekend.”

She handed him a dripping plate, and he took it and grasped her hand with a gentle hold. His voice was low. “I’m asking you again, Bets, and I want the truth. Did that scumbag try anything else? Because if he did, I’ll kill him.”

A bitter laugh tripped from her lips as she pulled her hand away. She mauled another plate with the dishrag, obviously avoiding his eyes. “I already told you, Luke, he just got fresh and a little rough, that’s all, so there’s no need for murder tonight.” She glanced up with a tight smile. “Would you mind wiping down the booths and balancing the register while I finish the dishes? I didn’t get much done with him here.”

He exhaled a long, weary breath. “First, I want to know what he said.”

She vented with a sigh and closed her eyes, her hands perfectly still in the water. “Says he misses me and wants me back. Plans to move here. He’s looking for a place this weekend.”

“What’d you say?”

She laughed again, the sound of it hollow. “I told him no, of course. And then he hauled off and hit me.”

Luke’s jaw was so tight, he thought it would crack. “Is he staying with Roberta?”

“No!” she said quickly and then doused a soapy plate in the rinse. She handed it to him with a patient smile. “With Dot.”

He tossed the towel on the sink and pulled a clean dishrag from the drawer. He drowned it in the rinse, then squeezed till it was bone dry.
Like Leo’s neck.
“You’re not going back with him, you know.”

She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. “I know.”

“We’ll get through this, Bets, I promise.”

A faint smile trembled at the corners of her mouth as she nodded. “I know, Luke.” She pushed an auburn strand of hair from her eyes and then turned, lips pursed into a tired smile. “Now, get busy. I don’t want to be here all night.”

“I want a cut of your pay, Galetti,” he said over his shoulder. His tone was full of tease, but his stomach was full of knots.

“Sure thing, McGee,” she called from the kitchen, “just as soon as I get a cut of yours for the meals I cooked this week.”

He swiped the surface of a booth with a faint smile, raising his voice. “That’s extortion, Bets, and you know it. And blackmail doesn’t pay.”

But then neither does assault and battery
, he thought with a grunt, envisioning his fist in Leo’s bloody face. His jaw hardened to rock.

Too bad. He could use the money.

12

Luke calmly shut the door of Betty’s room and then wheeled around like a madman, almost leveling Parker in the process.

“Hey, hold on, buddy, don’t run me down – I’ll get out of your way.”

Luke ignored him and charged to his room, heaving the door open with an angry thrust that sent it banging against the wall. He stalked to his closet and began rummaging through his suits, hunting for the trousers he had on the night they were at Kearney’s.