Always Look Twice (26 page)

His discipline had paid off in Florida.

As he opened the park map and debated which coaster to choose first, he absently rubbed the fading bruise on his right forearm where the bitch had kicked him. The Texas Giant? Judge Roy Scream? The Flashback? Hmm . . .

The Titan. That suited him. He had been a titan battling that woman. Nada Marić. ‘‘Nada No-More,’’ he murmured with a laugh.

Kurtz whistled beneath his breath as he eyed a bevy of scantily dressed teenage girls who giggled as they licked pink cotton candy off their fingertips. He appreciated youthful tits and asses as much as anyone, but these little lovelies couldn’t hold a candle to the memory of the dear, departed Nada.

Tangling with her had been the most fun he’d had in quite some time.

She had taken him by surprise with the kick that knocked the gun from his hand. Whoever provided her martial arts training had done an excellent job; she had come close to taking him down. If not for his own years of training, he might well have been the one to stay down. The woman had put up a good fight. At least, until he’d hurt her. She’d been a wuss when it came to real pain.

The crowd around Kurtz thickened as he approached the ride. He glared at a teenage boy who jostled him, and reached down to steady a little girl who bumped into him while distracted by the ice-cream cone in her hand. The scent of funnel cakes drifted in the air along with the sound of screams from the roller coaster as he entered the line for the Titan. Excitement warmed his blood.

Nada Marić had screamed as he . . . coaxed . . . information from her sweet lips. She’d spilled a gold mine of information and answered a number of questions he’d entertained since the day Dennis Nelson showed up at his office full of accusations. He’d allowed his temper to get the best of him when he discovered that she had already rained on his parade by doing Nelson, Anderson, and Russo, but she’d deserved the punishment he gave her. Her partner deserved worse. He took delight in imagining the real traitor waiting anxiously for Ms. Nada No-More’s call.

Amazing, really, that he’d lived this long and never realized just how much anticipation heightened a man’s pleasure. No wonder women liked foreplay so much.

A preteen boy with freckles and a wild mane of red hair interrupted his reverie. ‘‘Hey, mister? Have you ever ridden this roller coaster before?’’

‘‘No, son, I haven’t. Have you?’’

‘‘Yeah. It’s the best ever.’’ The kid rattled on about crazy twists and nightmare drops and high speeds. ‘‘It’s awesome, mister. Just wait. You’ve never had a rush like it.’’

‘‘I wouldn’t be so quick to say that,’’ Kurtz said, his mind drifting back to Florida and the delicious moment when he’d stood hidden from sight and watched Noah Kincannon enter his parents’ house. Without so much as touching his dick, he’d come close to shooting his load right then and there.

And now he got to anticipate the next particular pleasure—taking revenge upon the head Fixer himself.

‘‘This is gonna be fun,’’ he said to the boy, an anticipatory smile playing about his lips.

When he originally decided to pay his teammates back for their sins against him, he had intended to save Callahan for last. That changed after his little tête-à-tête with Nada Marić in the Kincannon kitchen.

He’d given careful consideration to how to use—or not use—the identity of the traitor in Callahan and company’s midst. At first he’d been ready to move the partner to the top of his hit list. Ron Kurtz was a patriot, after all, and treason was a capital offense. But once he gave the matter some thought, he changed his mind. After all, if not for the traitor, he wouldn’t have started down this road of death and destruction. He enjoyed the hunt, pleasured in the payback. Hell, if he’d known he would enjoy vengeance this much, he would have started killing the Fixers years ago.

So the traitor remained on his list—but at the bottom.

Callahan’s family moved to the top.

Ron Kurtz reached the front of the line for the roller coaster and took his designated seat. As the car slowly climbed the ride’s initial hill, delicious anticipation built in his veins.

‘‘Are you ready, mister?’’ the redheaded kid asked.

‘‘I’m ready,’’ he replied, his tone humming with glee. ‘‘Oh, yes, I’m ready,’’ he repeated, his blood pounding with excitement as the coaster reached the apex of the climb.

Ready to destroy Mark Callahan.

Ron Kurtz laughed maniacally as the roller coaster shot over the hill.

The Monroes declared their patriarch’s homecoming a holiday and the entire family showed up for supper. Ten minutes into the onslaught, Mark considered jogging out to the road to check for a sign that read BRIGADOON. That or FANTASY ISLAND.

When his family got together, they laughed. They played. They teased one another. This family Laughed, Played, and Teased. Their joy in the moment, delight in their reunion, and pure unadulterated pleasure in being together created a knot of emotion in Mark’s gut. Grief for the family he had lost with the deaths of his mother and John, homesickness for the family he had now with his brothers and their wives and kids, and knowledge that he’d thrown away the promise of family with Annabelle—it was enough to make him want to run off to Zanzibar.

Or at least, leave for the Keys a few days early.

After much debate and discussion, they had decided to spring their trap for Ron Kurtz on a private island he’d purchased during his vacation-home buying spree. Located twenty-five miles from Key West, Melody Key offered the basics he required to set up this particular ambush—an isolated location, limited access, and a sparse population. He had no intention of ever telling Annabelle that the reason he’d chosen Melody Key over his place in the Rockies was the opportunity to see her in a bikini.

Annabelle. Coming here with her had been an eye-opening experience for him. Seeing her interact with her family had revealed a vulnerable side he’d never guessed she possessed. It also helped him understand the source of her desire for picket fences and Pampers. Annabelle had left the farm to live big and she’d accomplished that. Now, though, she was ready to return to her roots. Home. Family. It wasn’t all that different from what Luke and Matt had done.

Maybe he wouldn’t have to figure that out. Maybe Annabelle would turn up pregnant and the choice would be made for him. That way he could keep her, and he’d be forced to face his phobias.

‘‘There it is,’’ Lynn Monroe said, tugging an ice pack from the back of a kitchen cabinet. ‘‘I couldn’t remember where I put it. It will take me a little time to grow accustomed to all this storage room I have.’’

She walked over to the refrigerator and filled the bag with ice, then handed it to him with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Mark thanked her, then made a quick departure from the kitchen.

At times throughout the evening he had sensed Lynn Monroe’s troubled gaze upon him and it left him uneasy. Had she figured out that he had bankrolled her kitchen rather than the insurance policy he had invented out of thin air? Mark couldn’t tell.

On the other hand, he knew exactly what Adam Monroe’s angry glare meant.

Annabelle’s brother didn’t like him, didn’t want him around his family and especially not his sister. Mark couldn’t exactly blame him. Still, did he have to peg him with his hardball during the after-dinner baseball game?

‘‘How’s the arm?’’ Frank Monroe asked from the porch rocker as Mark wandered onto the porch, holding the ice bag against his right wrist. His host had a blanket over his knees and a bowl of peanuts in his lap. Broken shells littered the porch floor around him.

‘‘Sore, but not broken.’’

‘‘That’s good. Adam has a wicked fastball. Made All-State pitcher in high school.’’

‘‘I believe it.’’ Mark gazed out toward the yard where the Monroe siblings and their spouses, children, cousins, and other various family members remained embroiled in fierce competition. From the kitchen came the voices of Annabelle’s mother and two aunts, who, with KP behind them, sat at the table, laughing and lingering over their coffee and desserts.

Out on the makeshift baseball diamond, Annabelle came up to bat. Both Mark and her father remained silent as she took the first two pitches, then swung hard. Ball cracked against bat and went sailing into the outfield. As her opponents scrambled to retrieve the ball, Mark watched her long legs chew up the bases. And he yearned.

‘‘So,’’ her father said in a conversational tone. ‘‘I understand that you married Annabelle in order to sleep with her.’’

The ice bag slipped from Mark’s grasp and thunked against the porch’s painted wood floor. ‘‘Uh . . .’’

‘‘Then you divorced her rather than live with her and give her babies.’’

‘‘Ahhh . . .’’
Thanks for the warning, Annabelle.

‘‘And after that, you seduced her while the two of you were stranded on a mountaintop.’’

Mark opened his mouth to defend himself, then abruptly slammed it shut. This was a no-win situation.

Frank Monroe motioned to the empty rocking chair beside his. ‘‘Sit down, boyo.’’ He passed the bowl toward Mark, adding, ‘‘Have a peanut.’’

Mark didn’t want to sit and he didn’t want to shell peanuts. But the man still wore his hospital bracelet and the look in his eyes reminded Mark of his drill sergeant during basic training. He sat down. ‘‘Mr. Monroe . . . I, um . . . this is awkward.’’

‘‘I expect so.’’

‘‘If she’s pregnant, I intend—’’

‘‘She’s not. She talked to her mother this afternoon. Poured her heart out.’’

She’s not pregnant
. Mark sat back in his chair hard. He waited to feel the expected wave of relief. It never came.

Frank Monroe cracked a peanut shell. ‘‘I’m in a difficult position here. I’d love to kick your ass, but my doctors won’t let me try. I’d like to lay into you with a tongue-lashing I’m certain you deserve, but my wife made me promise not to do that, either.

‘‘So about all that leaves us with is for you to sit there and explain to me just what on earth you plan to do to heal my little girl’s broken heart.’’

‘‘Annabelle’s heart isn’t broken.’’

Frank held up a nut and said, ‘‘It’s plain as this peanut that it is, and if you can’t see it, then you don’t know my Annabelle. You don’t deserve my Annabelle. She loves you.’’

Mark leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees, and hung his head. ‘‘She’s not thinking straight. Look at what has happened in the past couple of weeks. It’s been one emotional blow after another. She’s confused, that’s all.’’

‘‘You actually believe that nonsense coming out of your mouth? Hell, maybe that fastball bounced up and hit your skull.’’

‘‘Look, Mr. Monroe—’’

‘‘I have looked. That’s why I think you love her, too.’’

Mark opened his mouth to deny it, but the words just didn’t come. ‘‘I’m confused, too, okay? One thing I do know, though, is that I’m not good for her.’’

Frank popped a peanut in his mouth. ‘‘No man is good enough for her. Nevertheless, she chose to give her heart to you.’’

Mark shoved to his feet. ‘‘I can’t believe I’m talking to you about this. Men don’t have heart-to-hearts about their emotions. We talk about football!’’

‘‘It’s baseball season. Almost time for the College World Series. You want to talk baseball?’’

‘‘Sure. I love baseball.’’ And anything was better than this.

‘‘We can talk baseball after we finish talking about Annabelle.’’ Frank fished through his bowl of empty shells looking for a nut he’d missed. ‘‘Nothing is more important than the women in my life. Having a brush with death brought that point home with a vengeance.’’ Frank found an intact nut and cracked the shell, saying, ‘‘Don’t get me wrong. I love my Adam, too, but a father’s relationship with his son is different from that with his daughter. I try not to butt into my boy’s life.’’

Mark couldn’t help but snort at that. ‘‘What I wouldn’t have given to have had a father like you.’’

‘‘Your father must have done all right. You have your good points.’’

‘‘My old man never did anything right.’’

Frank gave him a considering look. ‘‘Annabelle told her mother that you and your father are estranged.’’

Jesus. ‘‘I knew she hung out sheets this morning. Didn’t realize she’d hung out all my dirty laundry, too.’’

‘‘Apparently, she did a Mount Saint Helens explosion.’’ Monroe’s mouth twisted in a rueful smile. ‘‘Told my wife all sorts of things—every secret she’s been keeping for half her life. Told her some things I’d just as soon not know, to be honest.’’

Mark closed his eyes. ‘‘Look, Mr. Monroe. I didn’t set out to hurt Annabelle. I never intended to get married. I acted impulsively.’’

‘‘You’re saying it was a mistake?’’

‘‘Yes. No. I don’t know. It was wrong. Wrong for me to do that to her. Wrong for me to expect . . .’’

‘‘What?’’

‘‘I don’t know what I expected. All I know is that I don’t regret marrying your daughter.’’

‘‘Then fix it.’’

‘‘I can’t. She knows that. I’ve had two families and I’ve lost them both. I’m just not up for a third round.’’

‘‘Yes, Annabelle told my wife you lost your first wife and child years ago. That’s a hard thing, son.’’

‘‘Still, I wouldn’t have taken you as a coward.’’

Fury surged through Mark. He grabbed the porch rail and squeezed hard enough to dent the wood. ‘‘Goddammit, I’m not a coward! I just don’t want the wife and child and picket fence. All right? Is that a crime?’’

‘‘Nope. Not at all. Not as long as you don’t string Annabelle along.’’

‘‘That’s why I gave her the divorce.’’

‘‘Then why are you keeping hold of her heart?’’

‘‘Are you a farmer or Dr. Phil?’’

Frank Monroe’s chin came up. His eyes flashed with temper. ‘‘I’m Annabelle’s father.’’