Relentless (Fallon Sisters Trilogy: Book #1) (42 page)

His matter-of-fact tone made her laugh. "I couldn't fall asleep."

Rafe's lips quirked. "I love you." His voice was hoarse.

Bren caressed his dark, bristly cheek. "I love you, too."

His warm, firm lips kissed her mouth. She kissed him back.

He set her away from him and dug into the front of his rain jacket, pulling out something soft and familiar. "You're near to naked, darlin'. This should warm you up."

"My pajamas?"

"Thought we'd give that hound a test run."

"We?"

She remembered Paddy then. He remained in the doorway, his face ashen under the glow of the glaring single bulb. His eyes were lost. He still held the pistol, shaking in his trembling hand.

She squeezed Rafe's hand, nodding behind him. "He needs you."

Rafe glanced over his shoulder. "I got him." He stepped over Robert's body and Bren wanted to gag. The sooner they got out of here the better.

Rafe moved to Paddy's side and pried the gun from his arthritic fingers then shoved it in his waistband.

Paddy grabbed Rafe's shoulder. "I had to, son."

He was his son. If or when Rafe chose to recognize it, the man she'd known most of her life would be waiting to receive him.

Rafe moved him to the bed and sat him down. "Don't keel over on me now, old man." Rafe crouched down in front of him, then grinned at Bren. "We've been at each other since we left Grace." He squeezed Paddy's jean-clad leg, feeling forgiveness creep in whether he wanted it to or not. "It's just going to take some getting used to. I don't even know what to call you."

Paddy placed his hand over Rafe's. "Anything but old man."

Rafe laughed. "You don't like it?"

"Hell, no," Paddy grumped. "When you say it, you're always scowling at me."

Rafe gave a deep-throated chuckle. "Then I'll try not to scowl."

They were like two thunderheads clashing. If it wasn't for the smell of blood and death around her, Bren might have laughed. But her humor faded with the commotion coming from the doorway.

Kevin with his Stetson poked his head through the door. "Ryan, you're the biggest pain in the ass." She recognized his mock anger and crooked smile.

"Mom!" Aiden's head, slicked back and wet from rain, emerged from under the hood of a rain poncho.

Rafe nodded to Bren, and then grabbed Paddy's arm, pulling him up. He hooked his chin toward the door. "Let's take this outside."

Fat ran drops hit Bren's face the moment she emerged from underground. Aiden had been pulled back, a sheriff's deputy standing next to him. Rafe came up behind her and reached for Aiden's arm. "I'm proud of you."

Aiden smiled.

One of the deputies threw a yellow raincoat over Bren's shoulders. Barefoot but safe, she headed toward her son.

Aiden swooped in on Bren, his poncho reminding her of a bat's wingspan. He wrapped his arms around her waist.

Ignoring the water seeping through her shirt from his poncho, Bren hugged him back and gave Rafe a quizzical look over Aiden's cold, wet hair.

"Your boy found you."

Aiden squirmed, and she let him go.

So much for their loving embrace.

He angled his head toward Rafe and Paddy, but in particular his grandfather. "I heard Kevin talking. He said when Aunt Jo was able to talk, she told him Rafe was your son. Is he?"

Paddy looked to Rafe, his expression more of a question.

"It's a long story, Aiden." Rafe grimaced. "It's confusing."

"Holy shit!" He looked from Bren to Rafe to Paddy. "Rafe's my uncle." The awe in which he said it left Bren in a quandary as to how he truly felt about it. Almost like he was trying the title on for size to see how it fit or sounded coming off his lips.

"That's cool." Aiden shook his head in an I'm-down-with-that kind of motion, which Bren was fairly sure was a good thing.

She'd leave it to father and son to explain details because she was done with convoluted issues. Cold but relieved, tired although she wouldn't be able to sleep, Bren Ryan was officially off the clock trying to save the world.

She smiled to herself.
Well... at least my world.

B
ren stepped into Jo's bedroom. The shades were open, allowing a gray afternoon light to spill in across the king-sized bed where Jo sat propped up by pillows. Swallowed up by a bulky floral comforter, she seemed small and vulnerable.

Bren moved closer and frowned at the dark circles ringing Jo's eyes.

She should have been recuperating in the hospital. But she had checked herself out within twenty-four hours saying all she had was a killer headache.

"Who was that at the door?" A shapely dark brow rose over Jo's eye. As a pair her eyes were tired and fluttering toward sleep. Only Jo was obstinately holding them open.

"Why aren't you asleep?" Bren narrowed in on her. "You did take those pills I gave you?"

"Answer the question, Ryan."

"Kevin." Bren sat down on the bed next to her. The big, pillow-topped mattress hugged her bottom.

"What did he want?"

She slumped against Jo's legs under the plaid comforter and toyed with the stitching. "You know Wes is friends with the judge."

"Yeah."

"Being friends with the judge gets you privileges most prisoners don't get."

"So?"

"When they told Wes the news about Robert, he fell apart. Cried like a baby. When they came back to check on him an hour later, he'd hung himself."

"Bren!" Jo's hand flew to her mouth. She slid it down. "I don't understand. What could he possibly use? He should have been wearing a jumpsuit and slip-on tennis shoes."

"Seems Wes is used to sleeping in satin sheets."

"That's awful."

"Unfair is more like it. Wes gets his sheets, and I get screwed. I wanted that bastard to suffer."

"He's dead, Bren. I wouldn't take death lightly."

Bren could attest to that. Jo had been lucky she'd gone down with one blow. Had she struggled with Robert or been able to unmask him, he would have killed her. As it was, she looked exhausted, her head taped up like a busted pinata.

Bren squeezed her hand. "I don't care about Wes. He got what he deserved. I'm worried about you. I can't believe you signed yourself out."

"I hate hospitals. Plus I have work."

"You can't be serious." Bren eyed her and then the lump next to her under the comforter. "Is that what I think it is?" She grabbed the covers and pulled it back. "What the hell do you need a briefcase for?" Bren went to grab for it.

Jo slammed her hand on the black leather case. "Leave it. It's important."

"The PI business picking up?"

"You know I can't discuss it." She frowned at Bren.

Since when? Maybe she shouldn't have, but she had, on numerous occasions. Why the secrecy now?

Jo's hand remained glued to the case, her expression tense.

"Okay." Bren moved off the bed. "Keep your briefcase." She walked to the window and peered out. It was cloudy and chilly—the norm for an afternoon day in March. "You know he doesn't like being away from you."

"Jeremy." She spoke his name with little feeling.

"What 's wrong?"

"All he does is travel lately."

"For his job, Jo."

"Nice he could find the time to fly back and check on me."

"Be fair. He'd been out all night on an emergency call."

"He called
you
this morning—not me."

Where was all the hostility coming from? He'd called just as soon as he got word. He'd tried her hospital bed, but she'd already checked herself out. She had no cell phone—only her stupid penguin pajamas when the cab dropped her off.

"You know why."

Jo shrugged. "I'm tired, Bren."

Bren shut the shade. "I didn't mean to upset you, honey. Take a nap. I'll be downstairs." Bren started to walk away.

"Bren." Jo grabbed her wrist. "I'm sorry. We've both been through a lot. You don't have to stay with me. Jeremy will be home soon."

"I'm not leaving you alone."

"What about Rafe and the boys?"

Bren smiled. "You mean Uncle Rafe. He's over at Paddy's replacing a belt on his tractor. And the boys are with him."

"So he's forgiven Paddy?"

"He's trying."

"And the boys... they've taken to their Uncle Rafe?" Jo gave her a tired smile.

"They've been inseparable. I don't think the three of them have stopped smiling."

"And you?"

"I love him, Jo."

"You deserve to be happy, honey."

"I am." Bren turned off the light on the nightstand. "Get some rest."

Bren grabbed the phone on the first ring. "Breakstone residence."

"Please tell me you take out the trash and cut the grass, too."

"Funny. Why are you calling? You should be getting ready to land."

"Early flight."

"Then you're on your way."

"Not quite. My battery's dead. I need a ride."

Bren glanced up toward the stairs of the Breakstone home. "Let me check on Jo. If she's still asleep, I'll come get you."

"I'm not around the corner, you know. I'd rather you stay with her."

"Okay. Let me see what I can do. Someone will be there by five."

B
ren pushed through the crowd surrounding the baggage carousel on the bottom level of Baltimore's Thurgood Marshall Airport and searched the faces of those coming down the escalator. She caught Jeremy stepping off.

"Hey." Bren gave Jeremy a quick hug. "I'm your ride."

"Jo okay?" He frowned. "You could have sent Rafe."

"I tried. I think he and the boys are up to something. I have the sneaking suspicion they were not where they said they were. Jo was still sleeping when I left, but Rafe's on his way over to stay with her." She picked up his wrist and turned it to check his watch. "He should be there now."

Jeremy grabbed his suitcase off the luggage carousel. "Looks like I missed a lot of excitement."

"You should stay home more often." She jabbed him playfully in the side. "Maybe you need to be grounded, mister."

"What?" He looked confused.

"Jo. I think she's worried you're two-timing her."

His pale cheeks took on an irritated pink glow. "That's ridiculous. I've missed her like hell." His expression softened. "How's she doing?"

"She has a nice-sized knot on her forehead, but she's going to be fine."

"Rafe's phone call scared the hell out of me."

"I think he scared the hell out of himself."

"Can you blame him?"

She didn't want to talk about it. It only reminded her that instead of being here with him at the airport, she could very well still be underground, broken and lost.

"I'll take your bag." Bren grabbed the smaller medical bag in his hand, but came up short when he held it tight. She gave him a quizzical look.

"I've got it. Just get me home."

"Sure, you've got to be beat." She led him through the baggage claim area and out to satellite parking. "The truck's this way."

He followed, and within a few minutes she was unlocking the truck doors. "The back seat's kind of full. How about we put your stuff in the bed?"

They stowed his bags and got on their way. She filled him in on the ride home, starting with Mexico.

"Bren, that's barbaric."

The Mexican's head swirled before her, and she swallowed. "Tell me about it."

"What about Robert? You need to fill me in. I never would have guessed he had a thing for you."

She gripped the steering wheel. Just his name made her tremble. Jeremy didn't know yet that Robert had killed Tom. "He—"

Her cell phone went off. With one hand on the steering wheel, she popped it off her belt holder and checked the number. "Hang on. I should take this, but I still need to tell you the rest." She took the call. "Clinic. How's she doing? That's good. No, we're in Baltimore. Probably an hour and fifteen minutes. I'll get someone out there." She snapped her phone shut and frowned

Jeremy grabbed her arm. "Is it Jo?"

Bren glanced over. "No." She then transferred her eyes back to the road. Keeping her eye on traffic, she pulled the phone away from her mouth, pressing it to her cheek. "It was Joan Bartlett. It's Tiger Lily—they think she's breech."

Jeremy moaned, his head hit the back of the seat, and he closed his eyes. "God. Doesn't this job ever end?"

Bren glanced over frowning. "I'll see if one of the vets on call can swing by."

His eyes opened and he sat up. "Tractor trailer," he warned, and the heavy rig thundered by on her left. "Keep your eyes on the road. Tell them we'll swing by."

"But—"

"You said Jo's fine. She knows the responsibilities I have." He motioned with his hand. "Give me your phone. I'll call them back." His tone left no room for argument.

Bren handed it to him. "I should be taking you home."

"Trust me, she'll understand."

After all these years she must. But these weren't normal circumstances. Something was definitely off with these two. The last time she'd seen them together, she was dealing with an extremely intoxicated Rafe Langston doing his best to irritate her. Jeremy and Jo were as close as they could be for a married couple working toward their seventh anniversary—not the seven-year itch.

He seemed relieved she was fine, but didn't seem too eager to get home.

Jeremy finished the call and shoved her phone in Bren's front coat pocket. "I'll check on Jo later. If she's asleep, I don't want to wake her."

Rafe sat back on the navy-leather couch with the TV clicker and flicked through the stations in Jo and Jeremy's family room. He'd showered real quick and left Aiden and Finn at Paddy's.

Rafe grunted to himself—
no, my father's house.

How in the hell was he going to get used to that? Truth, he had a daddy back in Texas. One he loved and respected. Not that he didn't respect Patrick Ryan in some ways. He'd been good to Bren and his grandsons. Good to his son Tom. He would have been good to him, too, had he kept him.

But he hadn't, and it still bothered him.

Course, he'd almost looked that devil in the eye himself. He now knew what it was to love a woman so completely and without end. If Connelly had killed Bren, he'd have been inconsolable. The equivalent of Patrick Ryan when he'd lost his wife.