Cursed (16 page)

     His father’s
betrayer grunted as his head snapped to the right.

     Hope’s gentle hands
pulled on his shoulders. “Please, stop, Cullinan. Hurting him won’t bring Dad
back.”

     Hope’s gentle voice
sliced through Cullinan’s red haze of anger, cooling his rage. Reluctantly, he
shoved Patrick away and stepped back. He huffed out a breath and raked a hand
through his hair.

     Patrick pressed the
back of his right hand to his reddened jaw. His breath heaved. “God forgive me.
If I could take back what happened I would. Believe me.” Desperation permeated
Patrick’s voice. “I’m sorry.”

     Cullinan watched
Patrick’s gaze dart this way and that before he slowly withdrew something
wrapped in a velvet cloth from his pocket. “I hope this will make it up to you
but most of all to Jacob.” He held the object in the palm of one shaking hand
and with the other unfolded the cloth. A gold pendant in the shape of a dove
set with a large white stone gleamed in the sunlight.

     Cullinan frowned at
the curious red glow he saw surrounding

the stone. “Where did you get that?”

     “From the D.A.’s
house.”

     Cullinan’s gaze
snapped from the pendant to Patrick’s face. “How did you know about the pendant?
It’s been a secret for centuries.”

     When a couple
holding hands moved in their direction, Patrick flipped the velvet cloth over
the pendant and lowered his hand to his side so they couldn’t see it. “A few
years before Jacob’s death, I overheard a conversation between you and your
father that obviously I wasn’t supposed to hear. Considering the pendant’s
history, I knew it would fetch an incredible price on the black market. I’ve
been looking for it ever since.”

     Cullinan huffed out
a breath. “Son of a bitch. How did you know it was at the D.A.’s house?”

     Patrick rubbed a
hand over his forehead. “I’m an insurance agent now.”

     With a smirk,
Cullinan tipped his head slightly back. “Very convenient. You can check
policies to see what kinds of valuables are insured, their actual value, who
owns them...”

     Patrick nodded. “The
pendant’s owner called to check the policy because she wanted to take the
pendant to a jeweler to have the setting checked. Naturally, I asked her where
she planned to keep the pendant prior to returning it to her safe deposit box
and she told me where it would be. The jeweler noticed a marking on the inside
of one of the prongs. It was a dove. He took a picture of it and the owner sent
the photo to her insurance agent...me.”

     Hope folded one arm
over her chest and gripped her upper arm with her free hand. Disbelief filled
her voice. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

     “I was Quinn
O’Brien’s agent for years,” Patrick continued. “When I saw the marking I knew
it was the pendant. There was another picture of the pendant in the file, of
course, but I couldn’t be sure if it was the pendant containing Saint Columba’s
stone without looking at the inside of the prong. And that couldn’t happen
without drawing suspicion on myself.” He thrust out his hand holding the
pendant. “Here, take it.”

     Just as their
fingers met, he heard an odd popping sound. Bright crimson blood spurted from a
hole in the left side of Patrick’s neck.

     Hope screamed.

     Patrick slumped to the
ground, the pendant falling from his hand. A cold wind blew the velvet wrapping
away. Distraught voices of people created a din around them as Cullinan and
Hope knelt at Patrick’s side.

     Hope yanked the
muffler from her neck, bunched it together and pressed the cloth against the
wound. “Uncle Patrick, hold on.”

     Cullinan stared at
Hope’s hands already covered in blood as he punched in the emergency number on
his cell phone.

     Patrick stopped him
with a surprisingly firm grasp. “No, it’s too late.” Blood dribbled from his
mouth as his gaze shifted frantically from Cullinan to Hope. “Please,” he
rasped in a gurgling voice.

     Dear God, Cullinan
thought, he’s drowning in his own blood. After what had happened to his father
he wanted to feel glad but he couldn’t. Despite what Patrick had done, Cullinan
didn’t want to see him die, not this way.

     “Tell me you forgive
me before I...” Patrick’s grip loosened and his hand dropped to the
snow-covered ground. His head lolled to one side, his eyes open and vacant.

     “Hope!”

     Jerking his head
toward the sound of the voice, Cullinan saw Nick Morelli running toward them.
What was that damn cop doing here? Before Nick could see the pendant, he grabbed
it from where it had fallen beside Patrick’s body. He started to shove it into
his pocket but noticed Hope’s overturned cup that she’d dropped when Patrick
fell. “Quick, give me your cup.”

     Perplexed, Hope
handed it to him. He pried off the lid, dropped the pendant into the remaining
hot chocolate and then replaced the lid. “Here.” He thrust the cup into Hope’s
hand. “Whatever happens, don’t let go of that cup.”

Chapter Nine

     Taking a deep
breath, Hope inhaled the fertile scents of thriving flowers and plants as she
strolled through the heated pavilion of the Denver Botanic Gardens. The murmur
of voices and the tinkle of cocktail glasses filled the air. Only two days had
passed since she and Cullinan had watched helplessly as Patrick met his death
in Washington Park just after he had revealed his shocking betrayal of their
father.

     She should feel free
now that her guilt over her father’s death had been lifted from her soul, but
she couldn’t quite let it go because she’d lived with the emotion for so long.
Hope had wanted to fly immediately to Scotland and return the pendant to the
Church of Saint Columba. However, Cullinan insisted they wait until after the
Carousel of Hope Ball and Silent Auction, a fundraiser to benefit abused and
neglected children. Cullinan was slated to host the event on Friday evening and
if he didn’t show up questions might be raised.

     Unexpectedly, an
image of Patrick’s pleading eyes and blood gushing from the hole in his neck
flashed through her mind. Shuddering inwardly, she pushed it to a dark corner
of her brain. Determined to relax, Hope concentrated her attention on a red
hybrid rose in a porcelain vase sitting on a display table. She leaned over and
sniffed the velvet petals but another familiar, spicy scent blended with the
sweet smell of the flower to tantalize her senses. No, it couldn’t be. She
started to look behind her when she heard the deep, sensuous tone of Nick
Morelli’s voice next to her ear.

     “Beautiful color.”

     She turned and
bumped into Nick’s solid, masculine chest. Tipping her chin, she gazed into his
amused gray eyes. A wave of delicious warmth encompassed her from head to toe.
Damn it, why was she so drawn to him? “Nick, what are you doing here?” She
hoped he wasn’t here to ask her more questions.

     Not bothering to
move, he crowded her next to the display table. He sipped champagne from the
crystal flute he held in his hand, his gaze intently watching her face. “I
never miss the
Prelude to Spring
event. I’ve been working on some
hybrids and it’s a great opportunity to talk to more experienced gardeners and
pick up some tips. What about you?”

     She lowered her gaze
to the lush rose sitting on the table and brushed her fingers lightly over the
petals. “After what happened in the park the other day, I needed to be in a
warm place where plants were alive and growing, not dead and covered with
snow.”

      Nick rested
two fingers beneath her chin and lifted her face toward his. His gaze skimmed her
face before settling on her eyes. “What happened wasn’t your fault.”

     The compassionate
tone in his voice plucked a chord deep within her heart. Tears pooled in her
eyes and she swallowed against a sudden lump of emotion rising into her throat.
Pushing words into her throat, she couldn’t prevent the trace of sadness in her
voice. “I know that, but it doesn’t make Uncle Patrick’s death any easier to
take.” How could Nick be so kindhearted and understanding tonight? After
Patrick’s shooting, he had been relentless in his questioning. By the time he
finished, she and Cullinan felt like common thugs. She’d held tight to the cup
of hot chocolate the entire time fearing he would discover the pendant hidden
inside. She had wanted to blurt out the truth and wipe away the smug, accusing
expression in his eyes but couldn’t. The truth about the pendant had to be kept
secret.  Thank God, Cullinan now had the pendant safely hidden in a place
even the police wouldn’t think to look. Hope couldn’t help smiling at the
thought of the sacred object taped to the inside of her brother’s thigh right
next to his—”

     “Why are you
smiling?”

     Hope lifted her head
at the sound of Nick’s voice. “Just thinking about something Cullinan told me.”

     “Want to share it?”

     “Some other time.”

     Nick licked his lips
and dropped his gaze to her mouth. “Are you sure?”

     Somehow, his
innocent question seemed loaded with double meaning. Yearning suffused her body
as she remembered the snowy night he’d taken her in his arms and
kissed   her until she couldn’t breathe. She recalled in Technicolor
every moment of that kiss, but most of all how his kiss    
made her feel, like she was the most important woman in the world. Each caress
of his lips, the tantalizing thrusts of his tongue in her mouth, the lust he’d
whipped into flame was seared into her mind. She grew wet, dampening her
panties; her knees weakened and her pulse zipped in an erratic current kindling
her attraction for him. Oh God, she wanted him to do it all over again. Only
she wanted more than just one kiss. She wanted his hands on her skin, her
breasts, her...

     His gray eyes
darkened with emotion as he intensely studied her. Was he remembering too? A
flutter of excitement danced through her stomach at the thought.

     “I’m sorry for being
so rough on you and Cullinan after the shooting the other day.” He cleared his
throat. “I was just doing my job.”

     “I understand.”
Thank goodness her voice remained steady.

     Without taking his eyes
from her face, Nick reached around her and set his glass on the  
table. His arm brushed the side of her breast. “Do you, Hope? Do you really?”

     She swallowed as a
rush of heat swirled over her skin. Her nipples hardened into tight points
inside her bra. She hoped he didn’t notice them through the silky fabric of her
blouse. “Yes, absolutely. I know how the system works.”

     His gaze flicked
from her eyes to the perky tips of her breasts. A flush burned up her neck and
covered her cheeks.

A sexy smile curved his lips. “I was hoping
you’d take a walk with me.”

     She raised both
brows. “In case you haven’t noticed it’s about fifteen degrees outside.”

     “One of the doors in
the tropical conservatory is unlocked, courtesy of a friend
who    works here, so I could take a look at the two-story model
of a banyan tree. There’s a staircase that winds through its branches.” His
voice lowered to a soft rumble. “From the top you can see the sky. Epiphytes
are displayed on the trunk and branches.”

     “Epiphytes?”

     “Air plants.” He
breathed the words in a quiet whisper that caressed her skin. “What do you
say?”

     Nick’s titillating
promise the night he kissed her echoed softly through her mind.
If we’re
ever alone again, it’ll happen...again. You know it and I know it
.

     Excitement for the
forbidden temptation of being wrapped in Nick’s arms and tasting the heady
flavor of his mouth once more zipped through her. No, she couldn’t. Nervously
she glanced at her watch. “It’s late. I really should head home.”

     He took her hand,
entwining their fingers together. “Head home to what? An empty apartment?”

     His mellow baritone
warmed her from the inside out. Heat shimmied up her arm and cloaked her chest.
She longed to feel his hands on her bare skin, the pads of his fingers moving
in an erotic rhythm between her legs, rubbing, coaxing right before he ...What
was she thinking?

     Hope tried to pull
her hand from his but he slid his thumb in a lazy circle over her palm, putting
a stop to her efforts. Warmth shot downward through her abdomen before settling
over her womanhood. Hope shifted on her feet trying desperately to stop the
pleasurable sensation. “It’s not a good idea for us to be alone together.”

     He threw her a cocky
smile. “Afraid I might kiss you again?”

     No, she was
terrified he might do more than just kiss her and she would let him. Would he
try to elicit information from her in the throes of passion? Would she give in
and confess everything as long as he rewarded her with hot, sweaty sex?