Rags to Rubies (26 page)

Jared’s inquiries revealed Grace’s train had arrived in Chicago very late in the evening. In spite of the hour, he’d telephoned, but there had been no answer. He hoped she was staying at Zia Bruna’s house. Unfortunately, the old woman didn’t have a telephone.

His next call had been to Sallie, who agreed to go to Zia’s house early in the morning to seek Grace out and keep her safe until Jared could get there.

He’d checked his watch a half dozen times in the last hour. Maybe she didn’t want him involved. After all, she’d left without saying goodbye, other than a short note left on his desk thanking him for his concern and hospitality. It was a stiff and formal correspondence. He didn’t deserve more.

Jared didn’t know what he would say to her when they met again. He hadn’t changed his mind about a future with her. Hell, there was no future with her. Men like him...

He looked over at Donagon snoring lightly. His friend had offered to come along, pointing out that Sallie had a wife and family and shouldn’t be put in a dangerous situation. Jared agreed, thinking of Will and how close he had come to getting killed just by being near Grace.

“We’ll find the lass, boyo, if we have to go all over hell and halfway to Georgia. But then you’ll have to earn yer spurs, you will. God willin’, she might give you the time of day, if yer lucky,” Donagon had said. But he didn’t understand what Jared already knew—that he couldn’t be with Grace without hurting her.

So what was the point of this mad dash to find her?

In the last few hours, he’d finally admitted that he felt more than just a responsibility for her safety. She had never asked for his protection and had fought against it at every opportunity. And now she’d taken her fate into her own hands just as she’d always done. That future didn’t include him, obviously, so why was he pursuing her in this wild, single-minded manner?

He gazed out the window at the white-cloud expanse below the plane and took a few deep breaths. Any man would be drawn to her. Adam had only to glance in her direction and he’d come running, hadn’t he? Jared’s hand formed a fist.

He was empty, dissatisfied with his lot, and although he tried to reason why, he’d found no answer for it, though the feeling grew stronger with each passing day.

He closed his eyes and in the darkness found her image.
I don’t know how to do this. Show me.
The words tumbled back from his memory.

I want her, he thought. I know how to do that. I know how to seduce her until she trembles in my arms. But I don’t know how to love her. I’ll fail her just as I failed to protect her. I’ll fail if I try to love her.

He sent a silent plea to some vague deity.
I don’t know how to do this. Show me.

****

The brisk wind whistled across the grass strip of Chicago’s Municipal Airport as Jared and Donagon descended the stairway from the B‑1. He lowered his head into the biting wind, his eyes stinging as he searched the area for Sallie.

When he spotted his friend standing alone, his hope vanished. He shouted over the aircraft’s screaming engines, “Where is she, Sallie?”

“I don’t know, Jare. I went to the house, and the old woman said she left for work early, before seven o’clock. I went to the shop. Closed and locked up, so I came here. I’m at a loss. Any ideas where she could have gone?”

Jared raked a hand through his hair, knowing time was running out. As determined as her enemy had been, he would try again. He had to locate Grace now. “It’s a long shot, but I don’t know what else to do. How far would you say the Peacock Club is from here, Sallie?”

“The way I drive? About ten minutes.”

The three men sprinted across the grassy field toward Sallie’s Model-T.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Grace surfaced from the blackness slowly. Voices drifted in and out of her consciousness. Her ears rang as she tried to keep at bay the nausea swirling in her stomach. The courier was arguing with Leo over his cut and the most effective way to dispose of her body. “Get a sack from the storeroom downstairs,” Leo snapped.

She needed to keep Leo talking, to buy some time until he let his guard down, if only for a moment. His partner would return in a few minutes. Her hands were still tied and she hadn’t succeeded in twisting her way out of the rope yet, but at least she could move them now. Just a few more moments and she could get to the gun in her pocket.

“You tried to kill me at the Dussalt party in New York.” It wasn’t a question.

Hollister jerked his head toward her, his lips curled in an evil snarl. Anger flashed in his eyes. He took a silencer out of his pocket and slowly began to screw it onto the barrel of the gun. “Yes. Too bad I’m not a very good shot. It was the perfect location for your demise, dear. The cops would never have figured it out, but here in my own back yard I’ll have to be extremely careful. Of course, by the end of the day, it won’t matter. I’ll be out of the country.” He tightened the barrel and turned the gun back to her.

She realized she had only seconds before he would pull the trigger.

Grace had only vague memories of her mother’s calm, soothing voice, but she tried to retrieve a semblance of it as she met Leo’s eyes in a seductive dance and murmured, “Leo,
caro
, it’s stifling in here. Could you see to my comfort and raise that window,
per favore
?” Every muscle in her body tensed as she waited to see if he would follow the directive.

Hollister narrowed his eyes, then pinched them tight together. He shook his head as if to clear it. His expression softened. Grace watched the dualities of his psychotic personality fight.

Moments stretched by as Grace held her breath. Then Leo walked to the window and threw it open. The invasive street noise entered the room along with the foul odor of the alley.

The discord seemed to jar him back to the present. He turned to face her, disoriented, and looked down at the gun in his hand.

“
Veni qui, caro.
It’s been so long since we’ve talked.” Grace flashed him a dazzling smile. “I’ve missed you, Leo.”

Hollister scowled, then smiled, the turmoil in his muddled brain registering on his face, his eyes taking on an even wilder, maniacal excitement.

Suddenly the courier came back into the room. Hollister whirled, his back to the window. Two steps behind the blue shirt was a broad figure in a white shirt and suspenders. Donagon!

“What the...” Hollister began, turning the gun on Donagon, who yanked the courier back just as a shot exploded, catching the blue shirt in the chest. The man slammed backward into Donagon, his dead weight toppling both men to the hallway floor. Donagon’s head snapped against the floorboards and a moan escaped his lips.

In the next moment, from the corner of her eye Grace caught sight of a figure on the fire escape. She drew in her breath sharply and stood up to divert Leo’s attention from the window, but Hollister had already noticed the shadow falling across the wall in front of him.

Jared dove through the window just before Hollister could pull the trigger for the second time. The tackle caught Hollister at the waist, and he fell forward, the gun flying out of his hands and skittering across the planked floor. Both men scrambled for it. Jared reached the gun first, but Hollister now had Grace secured against his chest and held a boot knife to her throat.

Hollister chuckled. “Put the gun down, de Warre.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

Jared’s heart thudded wildly in his chest. Hollister would never get away from him now, but he could easily kill Grace before he could be stopped. When a red bubble of blood rose on her neck at the tip of the knife and trickled down, Jared held up a hand.

“Sure, anything you say. No need to have a problem here.” Jared lowered the gun to the desk, glancing at the still bodies of Donagon and the courier in the blood-splattered hallway. Sallie would soon return with the police, but he needed more time.

Hollister snarled, “Now step away. Be quick about it!”

Jared did as he was told, glancing at Grace and recognizing that her eyes blazed with fury, not fear. She struggled covertly with the rope around her wrists. He tried to distract Hollister. “You killed Quigley, too,” he said.

Leo’s face lit with a twisted amusement. “One less person to split with, and now,” he said, glancing into the hallway at the fallen courier, “it’s all mine.”

“
E la mia
, too, darling,” Grace cooed. “Don’t forget your promise to make me happy forever.”

Jared stared at her, bewildered until he saw the drastic change in Hollister’s features as he ran his knuckles down Grace’s cheek in a soft caress.

“Yes, Angela, love,” he breathed into her ear. Hollister pulled Grace tightly against his chest, the knife still at her throat, and picked up the gun from the desk with his other hand.

Jared could see Grace had managed to free her right hand. She slid it into the pocket of her thick sweater.

Hollister’s fist tightened around the gun, and he aimed it squarely at Jared’s chest. Grace sucked in her breath. “Why must he die,
caro
?”

Jared realized what Grace was trying to do, and he prepared to hurl himself at Leo. Maybe with luck he could make it.

Hollister’s gentleness turned to rage. “You miserable whore!” he railed. “You want him too, don’t you? You’re mine!” He cocked the gun just as Grace shifted slightly in his arms.

“Nooo-o-o!” Grace shrieked pointing the protrusion in her pocket at Leo’s leg. The roar of her gun reverberated in the small room as the bullet entered Hollister’s thigh.

Leo screamed in pain. His fingers released the handle of the gun, and it clattered to the floor. His face contorted in agony and fury as he raised the knife to plunge into Grace’s back.

Jared launched himself at Hollister. One powerful blow from his fist to the man’s jaw had Leo’s eyes rolling back in his head as he collapsed to the floor.

Jared retrieved the weapons and slid them into the waistband of his trousers. Glancing at Grace to reassure himself she was unharmed, he raced to the hallway. Blood was everywhere. “Donagon!” Jared cried out to his friend, who scrambled to roll out from beneath the blue shirt.

“I’m fine, I am!” Donagon assured him.

Jared bent to take the pulse of the blue shirt. “He’s still alive,” he said extending one hand to pull his friend from the floor.

“I’ll take care of this rat-killin’ carpetbagger. Go to the poor lass.”

Grace had collapsed into the chair, her hands white-knuckled on the armrest, her face ashen. Jared braced his hands on either side of Grace’s chair and lowered his head. He remained over her, all his muscles tensed and rippling with the adrenaline pulsing through his body.

The words wouldn’t come. He didn’t trust himself to touch her even in comfort. She leaned her head against his arm and wept.

“It’s over, Grace,” he said. The words were inadequate but were all he had to offer.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Had it been only a few days? So much had happened. Grace removed a gurgling baby Michael from his mother’s arms as Donagon swung Patty down from his broad shoulders and placed her gingerly on the front steps of Zia’s brownstone.

“Be a good lass now, Patty,” he said, bending down to place a blunt finger on her tiny nose. “We’ll be bringing a surprise back for you and Michael, we will.”

Patty did a gay little Irish jig she’d just learned and blew Donagon a kiss. Donagon pretended to catch the kiss and put it into his pocket. When he caught Grace watching him, a blush flamed across his handsome face as his mouth twisted into a sheepish grin. Donagon twined his fingers through Jane’s and pulled her toward the street.

Patty raced down the steps to join two neighborhood children in a game of sidewalk hopscotch.

“Thanks for watching the children, Grace,” Jane called over her shoulder, in an obvious rush to get wherever Donagon was taking her. “We’re going to run a few errands and be back by suppertime.”

Donagon gave Patty’s hair an affectionate tousle and bent Jane’s hand into the crook of his arm as they strolled down the street toward the butcher shop.

Grace sighed as she watched them go. She tucked the flannel blanket around Michael to ward off the chill and glanced up at the sky. Snow soon, she thought. Colorful dried leaves were twirling about the sidewalks and crunching underfoot. She ascended the brick steps of Bruna’s house and let herself in, shutting the door quietly.

Bruna rested in her bed and would want to care for Michael if she knew the baby was there. Her aunt needed constant help now, failing a little each day but putting on a brave front. Grace suspected Bruna, believing her job over, slipped into quiet moments where she found peace with the tender memories of her beloved husband.

Unwrapping the baby from his colorful receiving blanket, Grace placed him on his feet next to the coffee table. Baby Michael hung on with his chubby fingers and edged around the table on wobbly legs. After a few moments, he stumbled and plopped onto his well-padded bottom. The shock set him back momentarily, but then he crawled off eagerly, eyeing Bruna’s fluffy tabby as it watched him from across the room with wary yellow eyes.

Grace watched Michael crawl toward the cat. Jane had given up on hearing from her absent husband. She and the children’s father had never married in the church because he wasn’t Catholic, so technically all Jane needed was a civil divorce for her freedom.

The romance between Donagon and Jane had blossomed quickly, as Grace had suspected it would. She wondered if it would survive separation when Jared and Donagon returned to New York. She would hate to see Jane hurt again. And Patty had had an immediate attraction to the older man with his gentle ways and Irish brogue. She’d thrown her arms around him yesterday, much to his obvious pleasure, and informed him she would marry him when she grew up.

“Sure and I’m a bit old fer you, lass, but I thank you fer the offer,” Donagon said, swallowing hard.

“That’s all right,” Patty affirmed. "I’ll catch up soon.”