Second Thoughts (25 page)

Quickly, Connie stepped back. If Hayworth figured out he was dealing with a woman and got the gun back, he’d be writing his own script.

But then Moose was there, and Hayworth was propelled toward his desk and chair and was in it before Connie had time to blink. He grunted, possibly more in surprise than pain, as his backside collided with the chair.

Then his voice, cold and hateful, grated into the darkness. “You are not getting that book back, damn you! I will not, under any circumstances, open that safe. Do you understand me?”

His speech was ignored.

There was nothing to tie him up with, so Derek manhandled the man’s shirt off him. “Silk,” John Wayne said. “Fancy duds.”

The man’s miserliness evidently didn’t extend to his wardrobe. Derek wrapped the garment around man and chair, then tied the arms of the shirt together in three knots at the back, leaving their host’s hands free.

“So, how does it feel to be going home empty-handed, pilgrim?
Again.
” Hayworth’s voice oozed spite. Tied up in his desk chair in his t-shirt hadn’t dampened his antagonism.

Moose had exhibited no respect for the man, calling him an ineffectual bully, but Connie thought Hayworth was a touch more formidable than Moose had given him credit for. She didn’t want to take the man on.

Then she faltered, not breathing for an instant. She had taken him on; she’d disarmed him. A sudden tremor threatened to overtake her.

As if cued to her weakening state, Moose took the gun from her, fiddled with it, then stuck it inside his belt. She was glad to be rid of it. That was the second time she’d held a gun in her hands, and she fervently hoped there wouldn’t be a third time.

Derek stepped back, surveyed his handiwork with the aid of his flashlight, and then directed the light toward the telephone. It was out of Hayworth’s reach, but the desk’s chair had wheels. Derek tested the length of the cord, then carried the phone to the table at the door that held the useless lamp. The time it would take the man to maneuver the chair over the rug all the way to the door would allow them at least to get off the grounds. Moose removed two of the desk’s drawers and lined them up on either side of the chair, which should give them a couple more minutes.

The men joined Connie at the hall door. Hayworth’s voice, choked with enmity, followed them. “So you won this round. But you can tell Max for me he’ll never get that damned book back. There is nothing—absolutely nothing he can do—that will make me give up that magazine.”

Turning, they gave him a long look.

“We left you your stash,” John Wayne said.

* * *

They sprinted down the middle of the road, the men pulling Connie along between them, and fortunately encountered no traffic. Derek and Moose had started out with each of them holding on to one of her hands, but their collective holds had quickly moved to her elbows. There were moments during which both her feet left the ground at the same time.

Then they were at the car and inside it. Three doors closed in unison, noisily enough that she winced. Drawing attention to themselves at this stage was too stupid to think about.

She was so shaky, she couldn’t get the keys out of her pocket. She had to get out of the car, dig into her pocket, and then get back in again. Moose was silent, but Derek maintained a long string of expletives, more than enough for both men. Finally, the key was in the ignition, the car was in gear, and she got it moving. And Derek got quiet.

She drove carefully, concentrating on not making a wrong move. They’d come so close to disaster, and now were so close to pulling it off that she was terrified of doing something stupid and blowing the whole thing. She studied every intersection, and every stoplight was a potential trap. She even slowed for green because it was eventually going to turn to yellow.

“Connie,” Derek said through his teeth, “let…me…drive.”

If she could find a place to pull over, she’d gladly give up the wheel. Then at long last there was the parking lot and the Mustang. Connie pulled into it and found an empty slot next to the vintage Ford.

The lot belonged to a theater. Plenty of cars, but thankfully no people wandering around. They sat, still and quiet, for a long time.

Moose broke the silence. “One more piece of business, then we’re through with this. Hopefully for forever.” He blew his breath out in a rush. “Hayworth’s gun. Max and I dismantled ours and threw the pieces away in different garbage cans across two counties. And I’m thinking that’s an excellent destiny for this one.”

“Go for it,” Derek said.

Connie twisted in the seat to give the big man a look that she figured carried her relief. “Thanks.”

He opened the rear door and exited the vehicle. Derek and Connie followed suit.

Derek gave her a hard look over the top of the car. “On the subject of guns, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing when you went after Hayworth and his gun. I was tempted to kill you myself.” He waited a beat, expression not easing. “I still am.”

She shrugged; what else could she do? “Seemed like the right thing to do at the time.” Then she added, remembering his aborted move, “I was surprised you let me get away with it.”

“He didn’t,” Moose said. “Not exactly. I had to hold on to him.” He gave Derek a cautious look. “Sorry about that, Uncle Dare, but she was playing him just right. If you’d rushed him, he might’ve shot in self-defense.”

Derek might not have liked it, but he let it go. “He sure came up with that gun fast,” he said musingly. “I’m still wondering where he kept it.”

At his words, the silly joke about men and their guns again cropped up, and Connie grinned, then giggled, then lost it. The evening had been too full of tension and she’d held herself in check for too long. She leaned against the car and let the laughter roll while tears of mirth streamed down her face.

“What the…”

The men had spoken in unison. Then Derek asked, almost worriedly, “Connie?”

The joke itself wasn’t that funny. But a story is in the telling, and the image of the substitute teacher who’d told this one—a middle-aged matron with a strong resemblance to Mrs. Doubtfire—stuck in Connie’s mind. The woman had been so primly deadpan that she was hilarious.

Regaining her breath, Connie wiped her eyes and carefully avoided looking at either man. “It’s okay. I’m okay. Delayed reaction, hysteria. Whatever you want to call it. I—” Another giggle threatened, and she caught it just in time. “I’m okay. Honest.”

She concentrated on the theater marquee. Derek watched her for a short moment, but she wouldn’t return his gaze. No way was she even going to try to explain. So he then looked at Moose, lifted his shoulders and shook his head. Apparently giving up on her, Derek pulled the manila envelope from beneath his shirt and handed it to Moose.

The big man accepted it, and then just held it.

Mirth left Connie as she stared at the envelope, as if mesmerized. Every moment of this evening had been worth it. They hadn’t committed a crime tonight. They’d corrected one.

“We did it,” Moose murmured. “We really did.”

Opening the door of the Mustang, he reverently placed the envelope on the passenger’s seat, then closed the car door and turned back to his cohorts.

He appeared uncomfortable, and Connie recognized the awkward social stage of
where do we go from here
? They stood next to a parking island surrounded by a planter box filled with pink and purple petunias. Stepping up onto the platform, giving herself some extra inches, she threw her arms around Moose, startling him.

“I love you, you big moose. And I don’t even know if I’ll ever see you again.” She planted a big kiss on his cheek. “You tell Max and Petey that I love them, too. Okay?”

His return hug was as tight as hers. With an arm still around her, he extended his other hand to Derek. Then, with a smile, he clasped that arm around his shoulders as well. “Wouldn’t mind taking on a couple pen pals.” His voice was slightly choked. “I doubt this divorce of yours is going to take, and I’d like to know what happens with you two.”

He released them and stepped back. “And I wouldn’t mind getting some pictures every now and then of Abbie and Andy and Chris. Those kids stole my heart.”

“You got it,” Connie said. “And I’d like to be kept up to date on you and Darlene. It’s way past time you and she started cooking. Get a move on, big guy.”

He grinned, nodded, then got into his car. Connie couldn’t help but wonder how he fit into it.

She and Derek watched the Mustang until it was out of sight. Connie had the comfortable, satisfied feeling of a job well done. Still standing on the planter, she looked at her ex-husband.

“Hey, pilgrim,” she said. When he turned to her, her eyes were almost on a level with his. “If you were to put your arms around me again, I promise not to kick you in the shin this time.”

She still wore his baseball cap. He removed it and put it on his own head, turning it backwards. The effect made him appear as young as he’d been when she’d first met him. But the gleam in his eyes was a mature one.

Returning his hands to her hair, he fluffed it. His fingertips on her scalp made her toes tingle. The massage was slow and sensual, and clearly affected him as strongly as it moved her. Their gazes held. His hands traveled down her back, creating a prickly sensation even through the shirt, and came to rest at her waist. Her arms encircled his neck.

“Beautiful,” he whispered. He pulled her forward until she rested against him. Without his support she would’ve tumbled face first off the platform. “You’re beautiful,” he repeated.

“You’re not too bad-looking, yourself, O’Reilly.”

They engaged in an unhurried kiss that kept building, at times heating up, then pleasantly leveling off, and then going back to hot. It felt so right to be so close that they were almost one again, wrapped so securely in each other’s arms. She wasn’t sure which of them broke contact when they finally pulled apart, but it was just in time. She had no more strength than a bowl of Jell-O.

“It’s been a long time,” she whispered.

“Too long.” He swallowed audibly, then squinted, as if having trouble with his vision.

“We’d best move this to another location,” she said breathily.

“Agreed.” He kissed her nose, then drew back to meet her eyes. “The sooner, the better. Do you have any suggestions as to where? Right about now, I’d settle for the back seat of a nondescript, green sedan.”

Umm
, she thought, but didn’t say it. “I’ve got a better idea.” She tilted her head. “I know where there’s a really nice room. It’s not far, and it’s got a view of the swimming pool.”

“Hmm. Tell me more about this room.”

“Got a TV with a really neat station that plays old movies. Classics.”

“Anything else?”

“A
Do Not Disturb
sign one could hang on the outside doorknob if one had a mind to put it there.”

He nodded soberly. “Good point. One could watch classic movies for as long as one desired without being interrupted. My interest is piqued. Does this room have any other furniture in it?”

“If I remember right, there’s a king-size bed. Big and luxurious and roomy.”

He paused, as if thinking that one over, and looking doubtful. “Isn’t that more room than we’ll need?”

She nodded with emphasis. “Yep.”

At the parking lot’s exit, Connie took longer than necessary to check traffic. She wasn’t sure which way to turn to get to the hotel, didn’t want to admit it, and was hoping to spy a landmark that might give her a hint.

“It’s left, Connie,” Derek said mildly.

Once she’d executed the turn, she sneaked a sideways glance at him. “Thanks.”

The corners of his mouth turned up, but he didn’t give her a direct look.

She hadn’t made two whole blocks when she became aware of flashing red and blue lights behind her. “Uhh,” she said, attention riveted on the rearview mirror. She looked at Derek. “What did I do wrong? I hope to hell I did something wrong.”

“I don’t know.” He’d twisted toward the center of the car and was looking over his shoulder. “I didn’t catch a mistake. Maybe he just wants to get around you in order to go after someone else. But you have to pull over, regardless.”

Yes, that she did. No options. She pulled off the road and braked, and the lights behind her   followed suit. “Oh, crap,” she said to the mirror. She set the gear in park and turned off the ignition. “Kevin would recognize my car, but he wouldn’t be in a patrol car…would he? Does he even know my license number?”

His gaze remained on the back window. “Doesn’t have to know it. Just has to ask for it. And whoever this is, he just opened his door.”

While her pulse threatened to run away with itself, Connie watched her side mirror. A tall figure exited the patrol car and approached on the driver’s side. She pressed the window release button, nothing happened, and she pressed it again. Meanwhile the man arrived and knocked gently on the window.

“Auxiliary,” Derek said, and she gave him a look that must’ve carried her incomprehension. He pointed at the ignition. “Key has to be in auxiliary to roll the window down.”