Ravenous (17 page)

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Authors: V.K. Forrest

BOOK: Ravenous
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Mai gathered sheets that had been thrown on the floor when the intruder or intruders had searched under her uncle’s mattress. The room was small with pale cream walls; Mai had picked the color out, thinking her uncle would find it soothing. She’d painted the room herself, making the trim a crisp white. The furniture was all treasures she had accumulated over the years, sturdy but comfortable pieces. There was a double bed with a maple headboard, a dresser and nightstand in pine, and a painted bookshelf. Turned upside down on the floor was an oak rocking chair with a seat that had been re-caned. Her uncle had seemed pleased when she’d shown him the bedroom the day he arrived. It was small but neat, he said. Everything an old man needed.
It didn’t look so neat now. The closet door was open, shoes and clothing tossed on the floor in front of it. The whole floor was covered in her uncle’s meager belongings: mostly clothing, but some books, magazines, and what appeared to have been a picture album before the pages were yanked out and strewn across the carpet. When Mai inhaled, she could faintly smell her uncle. It wasn’t a bad smell, but a familiar one—a mixture of old-fashioned shaving soap and old age, she supposed. And lemon drops. He had loved lemon drops, and the evidence of that was on the floor under the bed. Someone had ripped open a bag and thrown the pieces all over the floor.
“We’re not looking for the diamonds, are we?” Mai asked, adding the quilt to the growing pile on the bed.
Liam picked up books, flipped through them, and set them on the bookshelf near the door. “You can certainly let me know if you find any, but no, we’re not really looking for diamonds. I was thinking more like bank statements, some sort of paperwork. Do you have his will?”
“I hadn’t even thought about a will. He never said anything to me about one. I can ask
Babbo,
but who knows what kind of answer I’ll get there? His wife and parents are dead. He had no children.” She tossed the bedding onto the bed. “My aunt Francisca, his sister, died a few years ago and she and her husband had no children, either, so I guess I’m his closest relative. After my dad. If there is a will, I need to find it.”
Liam slid another book onto the shelf. “He bring these with him?”
She glanced at the books he was cleaning up. “Yup. He didn’t bring much, but he was very particular about his books.” She smiled sadly. His books had been one subject he had been able to converse on. They often talked about what they had read. “As you can see, he liked the classics.”
“Some good ones here:
Treasure Island, Oliver Twist, Gulliver’s Travels.”
She righted a lamp on the nightstand. “Any treasures in
Treasure Island
? You know, like a hole cut in the pages and diamonds stuffed in them?”
“That’s actually what I’m checking for, but I think the guys who got here ahead of us did the same thing.”
She righted the rocking chair.
“Hey, it looks like he also liked Amish romances.” He held up a handful of paperback books. “Beverly Lewis, Emma Miller, Wanda Brunstetter?”
She grinned. “I know, weird. We used to go to the bookstore regularly to see if there were any in he hadn’t read yet. I think Emma Miller lives around here somewhere. He was hoping she’d have a book signing in Rehoboth Beach and he could meet her. He had me check her Web site.” She began to gather shoes, pairing them up with their partners and neatly lining the floor of the closet, just the way her uncle had done. “Hey, you think it would be okay if I took my laptop back with us? I must have a ton of e-mail.” She held a shoe in each hand. They were the same worn leather shoes, just different colors. “I mean, he can’t track me by the Internet, right?” She lowered the shoes. “But you don’t have wireless Internet, do you?”
He gave a look that needed no further explanation.
“I bet your library does, or one of the shops in town.”
“I can probably have Internet added to the cable package.” He was still working on the books.
She turned to him after she set the shoes in the closet. “You don’t have to do that. We’ll be gone in another week or so.” She looked down at the row of shoes she’d just made on the closet floor. “What am I thinking? I shouldn’t be putting all this stuff in the closet. I should be bagging it up to donate to charity.” She was surprised by the emotion in her voice. She hadn’t been that close to Uncle Donato; over the years, much of their contact had been about birthday gifts and stilted greetings at Thanksgiving dinner. Then, of course, he’d been in prison all those years. She didn’t know why his death was affecting her this way. But it wasn’t just Uncle Donato and this nonsense about diamonds, or even the death threats; it was about Liam. It was about the fact that she had finally met a man she could love and yet she knew, in her heart of hearts, it was not meant to be.
Liam glanced in her direction. “Hey. You okay?”
She felt stupid. There might be mafia thugs after her and her father and she was getting teary over an old man’s shoes? An old man who could very possibly have gotten her into this predicament, fully knowing he was putting her and his brother at risk.
She crossed her arms over her chest, refusing to cry in front of Liam. She faced the closet, trying to give herself a second. “I’m fine.”
She heard him push another book onto the shelf and then he walked over to her. “Yeah?” He wrapped his arms around her from the back and kissed the nape of her neck, directly under her ponytail.
“Yeah.” His kiss felt delicious. But then, every kiss they shared was delicious. Never in her life had she known such a generous, virile lover. She sighed, closed her eyes, and leaned against Liam, letting him nibble her earlobe.
Even with the overhead light, the room was dim and in shadows. Rain pattered on windows that faced south.
“Think maybe it’s time to take a break?” Liam whispered huskily in her ear.
She smiled, closing her eyes again. “A break? We haven’t been here an hour yet,” she teased.
“But it’s hard work, shelving books.”
He nipped at her ear, then touched it with the tip of his tongue, sending a shiver of pleasure right to the tips of her toes.
“Hard work?” She turned in his arms so she could face him and tilted her chin up to invite another kiss. “Poor thing.”
His kiss was long and painfully sweet. He always tasted so good, never like food or toothpaste, but like . . . Liam. The scent of his skin, his hair, the taste of him on her mouth—she would never forget it. It had been plain from the start that he didn’t want a relationship. And somehow, that was okay with her. But knowing that made her want to savor every moment they had together.
Liam slid his hand under the band of her Bethany Beach sweatshirt, under her cami, then under her bra. She groaned as he covered her breast with his warm hand and squeezed gently.
Suddenly, despite the fact that she had turned back the thermostat the day she left, she felt hot. Beads of moisture gathered above her lip. She grabbed the hem of her sweatshirt, caught the hem of the cami, and tugged them both over her head. She tossed them on the floor onto a pile of Uncle Donato’s pajamas. Liam assisted her with her bra. She arched her back, giving him easier access to her breasts, now tingling with anticipation.
He caressed each of her small breasts as if they were treasures, then stroked her nipples with his tongue until they were hard points. She looped her arms around his neck, no longer feeling completely stable on her feet. “You think we’d be more comfortable on the bed?” she whispered.
He raised an eyebrow. “Your uncle’s bed?”
“It was mine first.” She turned toward it, but then Liam surprised her by lifting her in his arms. She had never had a man carry her to bed. Liam McCathal was full of surprises.
He laid her down gently on the tangles of sheets and then stood up. His gaze locked with hers; he pulled his black T-shirt off. Then his fingers found the button of his jeans.
It was like her own personal male strip show. A surprising turn-on.
Mai lay back on the bed and watched him. Without taking his gaze from hers, he kicked out of his shoes and slowly pushed down his jeans. Standing in front of her in black boxer briefs, he pulled off his socks.
Still watching him, she took a moment to kick off her sneakers.
He looped his thumb into the waistband of his boxer briefs. She could already see the evidence of his desire for her, but she liked watching him spring forth from the fabric. She licked her dry lips and he grinned.
She was embarrassed. A little. But she laughed. “Come on,” she called, opening her arms to him. “We already know you’re hot, my mystery man.”
Before crawling onto the bed, he unbuttoned her jeans and pulled them off, adding them to the pile of strewn clothing on the floor. As he leaned over her, his fingers found the strings of her bikini underwear. He looked at her questioningly. She lifted her hips to let him peel them away. Then, feeling silly to be wearing nothing but white shorty socks, she pulled them off as she scooted back on the bed to make room for him.
He didn’t lie on top of her, though. Instead, he stood over her, his hands on her thighs. He stroked them lightly and then lowered his head. First he kissed her knees, then one inner thigh, then the other. By the time he reached the object of both their desires, she was practically writhing beneath him.
The guy was good. The best.
Mai came twice before she opened her arms, begging him to join her on the bed, begging him to push inside her. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, crying out with amazing pleasure as he took her. He felt so good. He made her feel so safe. So . . . maybe not loved, but
cared for
.
Treasured.
They rocked the old maple bed hard. Mai managed to come twice more before Liam’s cell phone rang somewhere on the floor. They both laughed, ignoring it. But the spell of the moment was broken and he came fast and hard, both of them panting, gasping for breath.
The phone stopped ringing and Liam eased himself onto the bed beside her. She was thinking to herself that she’d have to wash the sheets for sure now, when the phone began to ring again.
He looked at her. He was still panting, his bare chest rising and falling.
She smiled and lifted up on her elbows to kiss him. “Answer it. It might be Kaleigh.”
Chapter 17
S
tanding naked in the middle of the bedroom, Liam fished his cell phone out of his jeans pocket. He checked the screen before answering it. The name that came up surprised him. He had been half afraid he’d never hear from him again.
“Anthony.” He pointed to the doorway to let Mai know he was going to step into the hall to take the call.
“Mr. McCathal.”
Liam stepped into the hall and walked toward Mai’s bedroom, putting some distance between him and her. “Anthony, you don’t need to call me Mr. McCathal. I apologize again for my behavior the other night. You just took me by surprise.”
“Wanted to let you know I’ve made contact with the rat in question.”
Liam frowned. He assumed the bookie was referring to the Weasel; he hadn’t asked the old man to talk with him, only to try to find out where he was living, maybe what he was up to. “I see,” he said slowly.
“Living with a nephew in Brooklyn. Nice coffee shop around the corner from the place. I bought him a cannoli.”
“You weren’t supposed to talk to him,” Liam said, not liking this turn of events. He wasn’t in the habit of getting old men into trouble, not even an old bookie who had probably created plenty of his own trouble once upon a time.
“No need to worry. I’ve been dealing with his kind longer than you been alive, sonny.” He chuckled. “He’s a pretty old guy.”
“How . . . how did you end up having cannolis with him?” Liam walked into Mai’s bedroom. It looked as if it had been tossed as thoroughly as Donato’s. The only difference was that there were girly things on the floor: panties and bras, makeup, some jewelry, and a black lacquered jewelry box, its contents strewn.
“Easy. Asked him if he was interested in a piece of my action . . . if I was to go into semiretirement. Which reminds me, Eagles beat the Saints. I owe you a buck twenty.”
He was referring to the bet Liam had made on the Eagles as a joke to tell Fia. “Keep it. Part of your fee.” Almost stepping on the jewelry box, he picked it up and set it on Mai’s dresser. “Now tell me what Machhione had to say.”
“Not much. We talked about the business and then about stuff.”
“Stuff?” Liam questioned. He pulled back the edge of the lace curtain and looked down on the backyard. Mai’s minivan was parked in the driveway but he saw no sign of anyone else, suspicious or otherwise.
“You know, about old times.”
“You said you never knew him,” Liam said into the phone. He was beginning to wish he hadn’t enlisted Anthony’s help. The guy seemed to think this was some kind of game. Maybe he didn’t like getting old and losing the identity he’d made for himself, being the tough-guy bookie. Liam wasn’t sure; he just knew he didn’t like it. Anthony made him nervous.
“I didn’t know him. But we have acquaintances that go way back. You know, he once owned blocks of this borough. Everywhere he went, Machhione got respect. We were in the same business, he and I.”
Not exactly,
Liam thought.
While you were beating up trash collectors to get what they owed you on a losing bet, the Weasel was stealing rare diamonds and ordering hits on his enemies.
But Liam didn’t go there. What was the point? “So . . . what
did
you find out? Is he . . . working?”
“Didn’t get a lot of personal information. I was trying to make him comfortable. Keep him from getting suspicious. It worked. I’m just a lonely old guy like him, met at the coffee shop. We’re having dinner Thursday night. A little trattoria down the street from his nephew’s place. Clam linguine to die for, he says.”
“I think that’s a bad idea. Just give me the address where he’s staying and I’ll take it from there. I’ll wire the money I owe you. And a bonus,” he added. “Maybe you should take that trip to Bethany Beach to see that sister you were telling me about.”
If something happens to this old geezer,
Liam thought,
it would be my fault.
“I got this,” Anthony said. “I’ll make the meet. I got his address in my phone. Can’t remember a thing these days. I’ll have to text it to you.”
“No, Anthony, just—”
“Coming!” Anthony called to someone. “Call you Friday,” he then said into the phone.
“No, call me after the”—the line went dead—“meeting,” Liam finished.
“Everything okay?” Mai stood in her bedroom doorway, naked, and awfully damn sexy.
“Um. Yeah. Sure.”
She walked to her dresser. The top drawer was lying on the floor, turned upside down, panties under it. She opened the second drawer and took out a lacy pink bra. “You sure?”
“It’s all good. Nothing from Kaleigh. She and Prince must be holding down the fort.”
Mai smiled as she squatted, flipped over the drawer on the floor, and chose a pair of pink panties that matched the bra. “I’m going to jump in the shower.” She walked past him, headed for her bathroom. “Want to join me?” she asked over her shoulder.
He didn’t need a second invitation.
“What are you doing today?” Liam asked Mai from across the table. They were eating breakfast. Actually, her father, who sat between them, was eating breakfast and doing a crossword puzzle. Mai and Liam were drinking coffee.
“I don’t know. So many choices.” She cupped both hands around her coffee mug, enjoying the warmth of the pottery. It was a gorgeous, hand-thrown mug Liam said he had “picked up in the south of France.” She had carried so many household items up from the shop that she was beginning to feel guilty. Like she was taking over his apartment, or playing house or something. But it seemed like such a shame to her, leaving such beautiful things in boxes when Liam, well, when they all could enjoy them.
She glanced out the kitchen window. After four days, it had finally stopped raining and the sun shone, but the house was still chilly. Only a few days ago, it seemed as if the air conditioner had been running nonstop. Last night, Liam had had to turn the heater on, her dad had complained so cantankerously about being cold.
“I could sort books,” Mai said. “I could put those two Tiffany lamps together,
or
I could start sorting silverware, which should only take ten years or so.” She frowned and leaned forward, elbows on the table. “You’ve got some gorgeous silver down there, including a mint Gorham Versailles set. Whatever possessed you to dump
silver
silverware into boxes, mixing the patterns?”
Liam shrugged. “Busy?”
“What? For the last hundred years?”
He gave her that boyish grin that he knew made her melt. That was all he had to do whenever she was the least bit frustrated with him and he knew it. One smile, and her irritation was gone, as if it had never existed.
“Seven-letter word meaning ‘eager and serious,’ ” her father announced. He munched on his cereal. “First and fifth letter, an E.”
“Earnest. ”
Liam glanced at Mai over the rim of his coffee mug. “You know you don’t have to do any of that. I made the mess. I’ll clean it up.”
“In, what,
another
hundred years?” She leaned back in her chair, taking her coffee with her.
“I just don’t want you to feel as if you, you know, you have to. You’re starting to make me feel bad. Like I need to put you on the payroll or something.”
“It keeps my mind occupied,” she said, looking across the table at him. “Off other things,” she added meaningfully. “And this way, I don’t feel like such a moocher.”
“You’re not a moocher. I invited you here.” Liam got up to pour himself more coffee. He took his black; she liked hers sweet with heavy cream. Not surprising.
“The cable company is coming today,” he continued. “You should have Internet by this evening. At least you can read your e-mail.”
“And you can Google the five-letter word for a journey in search of something,” her dad injected.
Mai looked at Liam and had to suppress a giggle. She didn’t even know her father knew what it meant to Google
.
He had refused to even
attempt
to use a computer.
Her father poured more Rice Krispies into the milk in his bowl. “Last letter, T.”
“Quest.”
Liam picked up the coffee press to offer her a refill.
She shook her head, not wanting to tip the balance of the perfect cup of coffee she had right now. “You’re good.”
“You shouldn’t have told me so quick,” her dad grumbled. “I knew that one.”
Again, she smiled at Liam. “How about you? You up for silverware sorting?”
“Um . . .” He lingered at the stove. “I’ve got someone I need to see this morning. But after that, sure. You okay with waiting here alone for the cable installer? The company said he’d be here midmorning. He’ll have to come inside to hook up the modem in the living room, but I know the guy. Name’s Shawn. He lives down the street. Perfectly trustworthy.”
“Sure, I’m fine with that.”
“Anyone going to bother to ask me what I’m going to do today?” her father asked, drinking the last of the milk from his bowl. He didn’t look at either of them.
Mai wondered whom Liam needed to see. He didn’t seem to have any friends. He never went anywhere but church and the grocery store, and no one ever came to visit, except Kaleigh. She was curious, but she didn’t ask him. He wasn’t the kind of guy you quizzed. Yet another reason why she was still pretty sure he worked for the State Department.
“
Babbo,
what are you going to do today?”
“Same thing I do every day,” he grumbled. “Nothing. Pretty dull existence, I’ll tell you that.”
“Not so dull.” She patted his hand, feeling badly for him. She knew he missed his home, his bed, his routine. He was as frustrated as she was, but while she could barely sleep at night for worry, he didn’t seem to be all that concerned that they were basically in hiding. He didn’t seem to be all that upset about his brother being dead, either. He didn’t bring up Donato’s name and when she did, he brushed over the subject or responded with a crossword puzzle question. But maybe he didn’t understand that his brother was really dead. That he had been murdered. It was hard to tell.
“I like to walk,” the old man said. “I miss my walks. I was supposed to walk on the beach with that girl. The one with the red hair.” He scooted his chair back, making sure Prince was out from under his feet. He rose to put his bowl in the sink. “We were going to go for a walk on the beach. You think she’d like to go now?”
“Kaleigh’s in school,
Babbo
. But you and I could go for a walk, I suppose.”
“I don’t want to go with you,” he said matter-of-factly as he ran water in his bowl in the sink. “I’m tired of hanging out with you two. Both of you. A man needs his own friends. Not his daughter and her lover.”
Liam raised his eyebrows at her.
Mai had to cover her mouth with her hand to keep from giggling out loud. How did her father know she and Liam were lovers? She was very careful about public displays of affection and he was always asleep when she left the bedroom and when she returned before dawn. At least she thought he was. Maybe he didn’t mean
lover
literally. Once again, it was hard to tell with him.
“I need some friends,” her father went on as he shuffled out of the kitchen, the dog trotting behind him. “The redhead and I, we’re friends.”
“I’m going downstairs to the shop in a few minutes,” Mai called after him. “Get your sweater and you can sit outside in the sunshine and do your crosswords.”
“Six-letter word for
dull,
” he muttered over his shoulder as he went down the hall. “Third letter, R.”
Liam started to answer, but before he got the word out of his mouth, her dad shouted it in a sing-song voice.
“Bor-ing!”
She laughed. What else could she do?
“So I’ll see you after a while?” Liam poured his coffee into a stainless-steel travel mug she’d found behind the counter in the shop with what appeared to be years of mold on the inside. A little soap and hot water, though, and it was as good as new.
“Sure. No need for you to stick close to home. There’s no
weasel
after you,” she quipped.
Liam kissed the top of her head on his way out of the kitchen. “I’ll take care of it. I swear I will.” He sounded so serious. It was so sweet.
“Could you stop for bread on your way home? And potato chips, the ones in the blue bag? Dad likes his chips.”
“Anything else?” he asked.
She turned in her chair so she could see him as he went out the door, thinking he sounded a little irritated. “I don’t mind going to the market myself.”
“I’ll take care of it.” Liam walked out of the apartment, closing the door behind him.
He took his leather coat off the hook in the stairwell and tossed it over his shoulder. He took the steps two at a time.
He’d woken up feeling as if something wasn’t right and he was jittery. Something crackling in the air made him jumpy. That worried him. Last night Anthony was supposed to have met Machhione for dinner. He’d feel better once he heard from him. He’d tried to call Anthony several times since the other day. He’d left phone messages, but the old man was ignoring his calls.

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