“What do you think you’re doing here?” Kate demanded, spying Daegan in the hallway of her sister’s apartment. Laura had answered the door and Daegan had barged in, looking as out of place as spurs on tennis shoes. Wearing a rawhide jacket, jeans, boots, and a faded blue work shirt, he looked the part of a cowboy in the city. His flinty eyes when they connected with hers were just as sexy and throat-catching as ever. God, she was a fool! “I came to find my son.” “Your son,” she r epeated, disbelieving. “Other than being in volved in his conc eption, you’ve had nothing to do with him—” “Because I didn’t know about him.” “Your problem. If you’re so careless as to...” Her words faded as she realized what she was saying. As if he could read her thoughts, his gaze strayed to her flat abdomen, where there could be another life—their child’s —beginning to grow. “Whoa,” Laura said, “I think I’d better disappear for a while.” “That’s a good idea,” Daegan said. “Stay put. You’re the only family I have, the only family Jon has.” “Not true,” Daegan asserted, his lips flattening over his teeth and his nostrils flaring, “but we can argue about this later. Right now we’re wasting time.” She couldn’t argue with his logic, and if the truth were known, she was grateful that he’d be with her when she faced Robert Sullivan. Not that she needed any kind of support or prodding; she’d fight the man tooth and nail all by herself, but it was still fortifying to know that he was there, whatever his motives. Laura fluttered her fingers nervously. “What do you want me to do?” “Stay here,” Kate said. “If Jon’s in Boston and he can get away from Van Horn or whoever it is who’s got him, then he might come here. He knows your address even if he’s never been to the city before.” “Okay, I can do that,” Laura said, nodding, her gaze straying to Daegan again before landing hard on Kate. “Will you be all right?” Kate understood her sister’s silent message and she waved off her fears. No matter what she thought of Daegan, she didn’t believe that he would hurt her or her son, at least not physically. Though he’d put them through emotional hell, he wouldn’t intentionally let any harm come to them. That much she still believed. Despite his faults, there was still some smidgen of honor in the man. There had to be. “I’ll be fine,” she said as she grabbed her coat and gloves. “We’ll be at Robert Sullivan’s house if the police or the FBI calls.” She stopped dead in her tracks. “What?” “Believe me, I’ve never been all that fond of the law, but in this case, it’s important that all the state, local, and national agencies are notified.” His lips twisted. “I spent the last day being grilled by the authorities, I think it’s someone else’s turn. What if Van Horn didn’t hightail it back here? What if he took Jon to Canada? Or has him holed up somewhere in the Black Hills? Or locked away on a boat in the Pacific Ocean? Unfortunately, we’re going to need all the help we can get. I’ve got my own private investigator on it, too. My friend Sandy Kavenaugh. He’s watching the Sullivans and has
his ear to the ground for Van Horn.” Kate shivered. “Do you really believe that he’s somewhere else?” “No,” he said as they waited for the elevator in the hallway outside Laura’s apartment. “My gut feeling is that Van Horn brought him here for Robert and that dear old Uncle Bob has been working at trumping up charges against me and finding flaws in the paperwork surrounding Jon’s adoption. According to Bibi, Robert’s become obsessed with his grandson.” The elevator doors opened and they st epped inside. “But she isn’t?” Kate asked, wanting to hate the woman who gave Jon up when de ep inside she was thankful for the chance to become his mother. “Bibi still thinks he’s better off with you or me or anyone but her.” “Oh, Lord,” she whispered, dying a little inside. The adoption hadn’t been legal. She’d known it for years but assumed that the legality of all the documents would never be questioned. Outside the ground was covered in snow, but paths had been cleared on the sidewalks and streets. The noise of the city hit her full force as Daegan hailed a taxi. He spouted off an address and the cab took off, blending into the uneven flow of traffic. Kate leaned her head against the cool glass of a back window and silently prayed that her son was all right. Christmas lights blazed on buildings, and wreaths with huge bows hung on doors. Pedestrians in wool scarves and hats ducked their heads against the wind and snow while cars, trucks, and buses vied for space on the busy, narrow streets. She slid a glance in Daegan’s direction, noting the stubborn set of his jaw, the determination glinting in his eyes, the tough, obstinate seam of his lips. Silently he seethed and she felt that same bone-chilling aura of danger that she’d sensed when she first met him. His hands gripped his knees, knuckles bleached white, fingers clenched in a death grip. The cab slid to a stop at an address on Louisburg Square. Daegan paid the driver, then helped Kate out of the car. “Let me handle this,” he said. “No way. He’s my son.” “And mine. We’ve been over this before. Just let me have a first crack at Robert, then you’re on.” She wanted to argue but the fire in his eyes convinced her to agree. For now. “I can’t promise I’ll ke ep my mouth shut.” “You might not have to.” Together they walked up a brick path that had been shoveled clear of snow. The red brick town house rose four stories to a gabled roof. Black shutters guarded tall windows and lamplight fell through the paned glass. A garland of cedar boughs was woven with thick red ribbon and tiny lights, then draped around the door frame. Everywhere there was the spirit of Christmas. Exc ept in Kate’s heart. “I wish this were over,” she whispered. “I wish things were different.” His voice was so quiet, she barely heard it. Daegan lifted the knocker three times. Kate’s stomach plummeted to the frozen ground as a butler, tall and thin and pale, opened the door.
“We’re here to see Robert.” “May I ask who’s cal—” “Just tell him Daegan wants to see him and won’t take no for an answer,” Daegan said and shoved his foot across the threshold to prevent the door from being slammed shut. Robert wasn’t going to weasel out of this. With a disgruntled frown, the man let them into the tiled foyer, and it was all Daegan could do to stay calm. His hands were fisted in his pockets, his muscles tight and rigid from restraint. He heard the butler’s clipped st eps as he retreated, noted the gilded mirrors and elaborate chandelier with hundreds of lights sparkling over his head. In the center of the room stood a table with a cut-crystal bowl full of floating jasmine, and poinsettias spread their red and white splendor up a swe eping staircase. The butler, his face expressionless, returned. “This way,” he said. “Mr. Sullivan will see you now.” “No shit,” Daegan muttered. Taking Kate’s hand in his, Daegan followed the stiff-spined employee through wide double doors and into Robert’s den. To Daegan’s way of thinking, he was striding through the gates of hell. Although Neils k ept telling himself the woman was poison, that he ought to take his money and run far away from her, every time he saw her, he weakened. He tossed back his scotch and let his eyes run down her body, trying to soak up her slick beauty. Composed and sophisticated in her own bitter way, she definitely possessed the talons to scratch his itch. “So the boy is here?” she asked, tapping a manicured nail on the bare table top of the quiet little bar where they’d agreed to meet. She wore shaded glasses and a scarf to protect herself from being recognized, creating an air of mystery that he found sexy as hell. “Got him here in Boston,” he r eplied. “I’m just weighing in on final offers.” Twin lines of frustration appeared above the bridge of her nose. How he’d love to rip those sunglasses off—along with her cashmere coat and everything underneath. “Your offer tops Robert’s,” he said. “Both in money and other areas.” “I’ll bet.” He watched as she crossed her legs, letting one high heel suspend from her toes, showing off the arch of a delicate foot. Neils’s manhood sprang to attention. “So what’s the holdup?” she asked. “I like your offer,” he admitted, shifting against the pistol between his legs, “but I’m not cool with what you want me to do with him. Let’s just say it’s beyond the range of my specialty.” “Too bad.” She lifted a shoulder and her smile turned pouty and damned seductive. “But I still want the bastard. I’ll just have to switch to plan B. Which means I’ll acc ept delivery as soon as you can arrange it, out at my family’s place on the lake.” He nodded, images of the two of them cozying up by a warm fire at the Sullivans’ lake house. “And my money?” he asked, finishing his scotch and signaling for another round. Her glass of wine remained untouched. “Half on delivery, half a month later, when the dust settles.”
Neils ran his tongue around his teeth, thinking of the many things they could do in a month’s time. Normally he demanded his money on a more timely basis, but he would enjoy stretching things out with Alicia. And it would be a huge relief to dump the boy off with her, get that bit of walking, talking trouble out of his hands. The kid worried him, with his weird visions. Not to mention the fact that Jon had almost run off yesterday, which would have left Neils royally screwed. All that work and he would end up with jackshit. Which was why he’d left the boy with his wrists and ankles cuffed this time. That would hold him. He picked up his refreshed drink and, feeling rather suave, toasted her. “I think we have ourselves a deal.” Daegan didn’t believe in pussyfooting around and so he confronted Robert head-on. “You can’t have Jon,” he said, striding into the room and watching the smaller, older man try to get his bearings. Robert’s mouth worked and he glanced several times at Kate as he tried to push himself out of a tufted leather chair. A cigar burned in an ashtray at his side. A snifter of brandy had been placed on the folded pages of the Wall Street Journal. A fire played in the hearth and cast cheery golden shadows around this ancient, paneled room. “Who are you to say who will have custody of—” “He’s my son, damn it! Mine.” Daegan hooked a possessive thumb at his chest. “You’re not getting him! Not now. Not ever!” “You think the courts would give you custody after you nearly shot Frank and beat Stuart to death?” Robert demanded, his white face contorting in a fuming, silent rage as he settled back into his chair. Behind rimless reading glasses his eyes narrowed in anger. “I didn’t kill anyone.” “Still unable to face the truth.” “The truth, Robert, is that you’re going to give up any custody fight for Jon, and if you don’t, I’ll personally see that the old Sullivan scandals along with the new ones come scampering out of their little locked closets to parade before all the newspapers in town. Your clients, Frank’s business associates, Collin’s friends, Bibi’s fiancé, everyone will know. If that isn’t enough, I’ll call the police and demand my own investigations and I’ll see to it that you’ll never raise your head socially again. All this blue-blooded sophisticated act will be over. It’s all bullshit anyway.” He leaned over Robert’s chair, his face menacing, his voice the barest of whispers. “Now, let’s get down to brass tacks. Where’s Jon?” Robert’s Adam’s apple worked up and down. “I don’t know.” “Bull!” “I don’t!” “We know Van Horn has him. The police have been informed, so things will be better if you tell us the truth.” “I don’t know,” he r epeated and Kate almost felt sorry for him. So old and ill. And yet so conniving. “I want my boy, Mr. Sullivan,” she said with a quiet calm that she didn’t feel. Her muscles ached from tension, her hands were curled into hard fists. “He’s not yours. He never was, Ms. Summers,” Robert said, his watery eyes fixed on Kate. “The adoption was not a legal proceeding, as I’m sure you know. So in fact, it is I who should be demanding the boy back from you.” “When hell freezes over.” Daegan crossed the room, snagged the receiver from the phone, and began punching in numbers.
“Now wait a minute,” Robert groused. “You can’t just barge in here and start bullying me and using my things and—” “Like you did to me?” Kate demanded. “For God’s sake, you had your own grandson kidnapped!” “Correction: Jon was not kidnapped. He’s simply being returned to his family.” “No,” Kate said, her voice deadly. “You will never be his family. Not really.” “You’re deluded,” Robert said. “I took your grandson when no one else would have him,” Kate said, over thickness in her throat. “When you wanted to be rid of him without a trace. I followed Tyrell’s orders, took him far away from here, and raised Jon as my own son. He is my son. I love him, and no court of law can change that.” “We’re at Robert’s house,” Daegan said into the mouthpiece. “I’m here with Jon’s mother, and you better get over here. It’s time we all had a family meeting.” “What?” Robert cried. “Who are you calling? Put down that phone or I’ll have you arrested.” “Go on and try.” Daegan slammed the receiver back into the cradle. “The police are probably already in the area, the FBI, too. Ke eping an eye on you. They’re concerned about Jon, and you should be, too.” Raising a shaking finger to his upper lip, Robert scowled down his patrician nose. He wasn’t accustomed to losing, and his thin lips pursed in frustration. “Is Van Horn coming here?” Daegan asked. “No,” Robert answered, staring down at the Persian rug. “He most certainly is not.” “Where is Jon?” Kate asked, sure she would go mad with worry. “I don’t know.” Robert leaned back in the oversized leather chair. “Van Horn was giving me information about the boy. However, he hasn’t phoned in a few days and has not had the decency to return my calls. At first I thought he was holding out for more money, but now I can only deduce that the scoundrel is double-crossing me. I suspect he’s going to sell Jon to a higher bidder.” “Who would that be?” Kate asked. Groaning, Daegan pressed his face to one palm. “It could be any thieving cutthroat in this dysfunctional family.” His head snapped up, his gaze burning at Robert. “Who is it? My father? Collin?” Robert didn’t move, but Kate noticed a vein pulsing in his forehead as the phone rang. With a soft knock on the door, the butler entered. “What is it, Royce?” Robert barked. “The tel ephone, sir,” Royce intoned with great pomposity, “is for Mr. O’Rourke.” At last, Van Horn had slipped. He’d acted so cocky and clever when he’d bought a second pair of handcuffs to secure Jon’s legs to the bedpost. “This outta ke ep you from running,” Van Horn had mumbled as he’d closed the links around Jon’s ankles, looping the chain around the bedpost.
The cuffs were secure, all right. But Van Horn had forgotten to pocket the keys. Even before the man left for his “engagement,” Jon had eyed the set of shiny keys sitting on the nightstand. Locked to the bed, he wasn’t able to grab them with his hands. But as soon as Van Horn’s footst eps had faded outside, Jon had gotten to work hauling the bed closer to the night table, stretching his face toward the shiny silver keys. It wasn’t easy. It must have taken a full half hour to close the distance, a quarter of an inch at a time. But now, at last, he was near enough to press his face close to the tabletop and close his lips over the keys. Got ’em! Working quickly but carefully, so as not to drop the keys, Jon worked the shiny silver tab into the hole and sprang the handcuffs open. Gently, he rubbed his tender wrists for a second before bending down to unlock the cuffs at his ankles and free his legs. Jon faced the door tentatively. This time, he couldn’t afford to make any mistakes. If Van Horn returned, he didn’t want to meet him in the motel hallway. He’d go out the window. Quickly, he crossed the room and unlocked the old rusted paned window, cracked in one corner. It had been painted shut, but he banged on the sash and finally wedged it open. Just as footst eps shuffled in the hallway. There was no time to es cape now. He’d have to pretend to be locked up, then spring out when Van Horn least expected it. He pulled the window down, leaving it open just an inch, then dove toward the bed. As Van Horn’s key rattled in the lock, Jon sat down on the bed and placed the cuffs loosely around his wrists and ankles, pocketing the key in case they somehow got tightened. The door burst open and in staggered Van Horn, reeking of stale whiskey and smoke. “Looks like we have a winner,” he announced as he toppled onto the bed. Without a glance at Jon, he rubbed his bloodshot eyes. “Christ, I’m tired.” “A winner?” Jon said. “Y ep. Your mother’s cousin Alicia is willing to pay top dollar for you. I’m to deliver you to the Sullivans’ lake house tomorrow night, and from what I hear, it’s pretty swell digs. Moving up in the world, Jonny boy.” But she’s the one who wants me dead, Jon thought. She’s the real killer. And you’re going to hand me over like a head of cattle, like a horse sold at auction. “Don’t look at me that way,” Van Horn said, though his face was still buried in his hands. “I’m a businessman. This is business, kid.” “She’ll kill me,” Jon said evenly. “What the hell would I know about that,” Van Horn said, nudging off one scuffed loafer with the toe of his other shoe. “You know what she’s planning, and you’ll be tried as an accomplice.” “Nah.” Van Horn kicked off his other shoe. “Only if she gets caught, and that won’t happen. She’s smart, real smart. A classy lady.”
A rich psycho, Jon thought, sweating hard now, his brain on overload. He had to get out, away from these crazies, back to his normal life, the one he hated back in Oregon! He had to get away, but only when Van Horn was off-guard. He had to be patient, he reminded himself as he wiped the perspiration from his brow onto the sleeve of his flannel shirt. “Yeah,” Van Horn said, leaning back on the bed. “She is one hot lady.” “Well, she can burn in jail,” Jon said, trying a different tack. “Because my mom won’t let her get to me.” Van Horn lifted one brow. “It’s a little late for mommy to come to the rescue, isn’t it?” “She’ll be here,” Jon said firmly. “And so will Daegan,” he added, thinking aloud. “Daegan.” Van Horn cackled as an evil smile spread across his face. “You mean O’Rourke?” Jon froze. How did this guy know Daegan? “He’s the reason I found you, you know. Led me right to your door, though he didn’t mean to. Believe me, he’s no problem. O’Rourke’s an emotional hothead and a loser. He’s not ganna save you, Jon. No one is.” “You don’t know him,” Jon said. He couldn’t let this slimeball cut down the only decent man he knew. “Neither do you, I’ll bet.” Neils sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress sagging. “For example, I don’t suppose he told you he was your father.” Jon’s mouth opened and closed. His throat tightened. “Liar,” he said, but the word came out as a weak denial. “Think about it, Jon. I got no reason to lie. But O’Rourke, he had plenty.” His father? His father? Daegan? No. No... no! And yet, on some level, Jon knew Van Horn was telling the truth. His stomach roiled and his mouth filled with spit. “Isn’t that a hoot?” Van Horn taunted, letting out that snide cackle. “And the kicker is, your mother was his first cousin. Sick, isn’t it? Bad enough you were a bastard, but throw in the shades of incest and, well, no wonder they put you up for adoption. Just damned lucky you didn’t turn out retarded, isn’t it?” Again, he let out the perverse laugh that made Jon’s skin crawl as the world seemed to collapse under his feet. “I didn’t think you’d want to wait on this. Not with the boy in volved.” Sandy’s navy down parka cut a wide swath in the night. “You’ve got that right,” Daegan said, emerging from Robert Sullivan’s stuffy townhome. It was good to see his old friend, better to hear the promising news. Standing at the bottom of the brown stone stairs, Sandy extended a hand toward Kate to prevent her from slipping on the new dusting of snow on the landing. Quickly, Daegan introduced Kate to his old friend, then got down to business. “Where do you think they are?” “In a motel on the other side of town. A dive called the Ivy. A friend of mine who tends bar there thought he spotted someone who fit Van Horn’s description meeting up with a high-class woman who was obviously slumming. I took it from there. Manager says Van Horn is in Room 203, but insists it’s all aboveboard.”
“Jon is here? In Boston?” When Daegan nodded, Kate gasped and covered her mouth with one hand. The light in her whiskey brown eyes was so hopeful, so expectant, that Daegan didn’t want to think about all the things that could go wrong. He couldn’t bear to read more disappointment in those eyes. They had to save Jon. They would. “Can you drive us there?” Daegan asked Sandy. “You got it, and I’ll help you muscle down Van Horn. The guy’s probably armed, and I doubt he’ll be happy to see us.” “No doubt,” Daegan said, striding down the street to Sandy’s Je ep. No doubt an invasion by the two of them would be the biggest surprise of Van Horn’s career. He was close... so close. Again, Jon measured the distance between himself and the window, calculating how long it would take to spring out and trying to remember the configuration of the fire es cape stairs to the ground. He was biding his time, waiting for Van Horn to hit the can or doze off. Van Horn was stretched out on the bed, rambling on about how he was going to spend his first million bucks, something about Vegas showgirls and tuna fishing in the Caribbean. He was vacillating between a Mercedes and a Porsche when three sharp raps sounded on the door. Van Horn sat up and slid off the bed. “Neils Van Horn?” a voice—an unfamiliar male voice. “Who wants to know?” “Collin Sullivan.” “Well, what’d’ya know?” He grinned at Jon. “Your uncle. Y ep, you got a ton of ’em around here. Maybe Uncle Collie wants to sweeten the pot.” Opening the door, Neils stood aside and a tall man with thinning blond hair and a long coat sw ept into the room. “This is the boy?” he asked, no smile on his thin features. “Bibi’s kid.” “And Alicia wants you to what? Do away with him?” Jon’s stomach sank. Van Horn scowled. “She tell you?” “No, I just know my sister and recognize her faults,” was his r eply as he unwound his scarf. “Once Robert started hunting for the kid—Jon, is it?” he asked without any warmth in his eyes. Jon nodded. “Once Robert started looking for him, I knew Alicia would want it stopped. She doesn’t want any competition for Wade, oh, no,” he added, seeing the distress in Van Horn’s features. “I suppose she promised to pay you.” Van Horn’s eyes slitted. “We have an agreement.”
“A healthy one, I’d assume. Well, I’m here to cancel it. I’ll pay you whatever your time’s been worth and buy this boy a ticket back to his home, wherever that is.” Jon felt his spirits lift. Could it be that simple? “No way.” Van Horn wasn’t giving up that easily. “Why not? You get your money,” Jon voiced. This was all so crazy, he couldn’t believe it. “How much?” Van Horn wanted to know. “A fair amount.” “What’s ‘fair’?” “I don’t know—twenty-five, or thirty thousand dollars should cover it...” Van Horn snorted derisively. “Get out of the peanut gallery and into the ball park, would ya? We’re talking millions.” Collin’s lips pursed. “No one in the family can give you millions.” “That’s not the way I heard it.” “Uncuff the boy.” “Not until I get what’s due me.” Van Horn’s voice had gotten louder. “You’ll be compensated fairly.” “Christ, you expect me to believe that?” He reached under the pillow. “Watch out, he’s got a gun!” Jon shouted as footst eps pounded up the stairs. Another man, a huge beast of a man with gray at his temples and a fierce face, burst into the room. “What the hell?” Van Horn said, st epping backward, the gun trained on the door. “Jesus H. Christ, Collin,” the beast roared. “What’re you doing here?” His eyes landed on Jon with pure hatred and then he saw the gun in Van Horn’s hand. “Isn’t this nice? A family reunion,” Neils said with a smirk. “Jon, meet your great-uncle—no, is it grandfather?—Frank Sullivan.” Jon had to get out of here now. The big man was out for blood; he could see it in his eyes. “Let me handle this,” the giant commanded. “No, Dad—” But the big man pushed his son against the wall. Van Horn was distracted and Jon couldn’t stand the tension in the room a minute longer. He flung off the loose handcuffs, sprang across the bed, and flung the window open. Aware of the loaded gun behind him, he didn’t take a minute to look back, but burst through the window and landed with a bone-crunching thud on the fire es cape. Propelling himself forward, he rolled down the flight of stairs. Pain exploded in his shoulder. “What the hell?” Van Horn yelled. “Hey—wait!”
“That little bastard!” Jon scrambled wildly, ever downward. Footst eps. Swearing. The crack of a gunshot. An ear-piercing scream of pain. “Oh, God, oh, God, oh God!” Fear congealing his blood, Jon swung from the ladder to land on the icy back alley somewhere in Boston. He didn’t think about where he was going, where he could run, he just took off, his shoulder throbbing, his feet slipping, traction nearly impossible as he passed men huddled around fires in trash cans, traffic trying to maneuver in the snow. Run, run, run! The sound of the gunshot tore through the building. “No!” Kate cried, her heart in her throat as she bolted up the stairs behind Daegan and Sandy. “No!” They couldn’t have killed Jon, they couldn’t have! “Please, God, let him be safe!” “Ke ep her with you!” Daegan commanded, throwing a don’t-cross-me look at the tall, red-haired private detective. “But you might need back-up.” Ignoring him, Daegan pressed his back against the wall of the corridor, then leaped in through the doorway, assuming a combat stance. For the first time in sixteen years, he was face to face with his father, Frank Sullivan. “You!” Frank huffed, his lips curled in disgust. Although he was still burly and tall, Frank no longer posed the indomitable threat that had haunted Daegan’s childhood. Having aged noticeably, he seemed grayer and softer, a beast who’d lost his bite. Daegan straightened, holding his ground. “Where is Jon?” he demanded, scanning the room but seeing only Frank, Collin, and some oily cre ep. “He went out the window,” said the worm of a man who looked like he was going to faint dead away. “Just a minute ago, he popped out.” Daegan scowled. “You must be Van Horn.” Before the weasel of a man could answer, Collin staggered forward, and Daegan noticed the blood staining the front of his shirt and long coat, dripping to the floor. “Well, look who dropped in,” Collin said, then fell back on the bed. “Call an ambulance,” Daegan ordered. “I’ll—I’ll be fine,” Collin whispered. “Like hell.” He leveled his eyes at Van Horn. “Call a damned ambulance.” Frank, shaken by his tone of voice, stared at his legitimate son as if seeing for the first time that he was injured. “Collin?” Van Horn reached for the receiver just as Kate and Sandy slid through the open door. Kate’s eyes were round with fear and she glanced desperately around the room. “Where’s Jon?” “Out the window, I think. I’m going after him.” Daegan motioned to the other men. “You’d better stay and talk to the police.” “I’m coming with you,” Kate insisted. “No!” Frank thundered. “There will be no police—” “Just do it,” Daegan ordered Van Horn. “Now!”
“I won’t stand for it.” “You don’t have a choice,” Daegan said, rounding on the man who’d spawned him. “When Collin goes to the hospital and he’s got a gunshot wound, the hospital will inform the police. It’s the law.” “Not if we call my private physician.” “Dad, give it up,” Collin said, his voice a rasp, his skin the color of chalk. Kate moved toward the bed. “Let’s see if we can stop the bleeding. I’ll get some towels.” She leveled her gaze at Daegan. “Wait for me and we’ll find Jon!” Van Horn shouted out the address into the receiver then slammed the phone down. “Okay, the ambulance is on its way. Now, I’m outta here.” “You’re all staying,” Daegan insisted, then looked at his friend. “Sandy.” “I’m on it.” Sandy calmly took a gun from his shoulder holster. Kate hurried back into the room with clean though dingy towels, which she pressed against Collin’s chest. “Hold these,” she instructed Van Horn. Daegan moved to the window and glanced back at Kate. “After the police arrive, meet me at Robert’s.” “I said I’m coming with you!” “For the love of God—” “Don’t argue with me, Daegan. Jon’s still my son!” Daegan frowned but eyed his friend. “She’s coming with me. We’ll meet you back at Robert’s town house.” “Got it,” Sandy agreed. “I’m not going to go down, O’Rourke! Not like this. Not because of you and your bastard!” Frank glared at his son. Daegan’s smile was pure venom. “Doesn’t look like you have a choice, now, does it?” “Give it up, Dad,” Collin croaked. “It’s over.” “Like hell! I’ll go down fighting, like a man!” “Jesus!” Collin whispered then shuddered violently on the bed. “Look at this,” Frank said, motioning to his legitimate son. “This is all your fault. If you would’ve left everything alone—” “It’s not Daegan’s fault,” Collin whispered. But Frank had a target in his sights as he rounded on his illegitimate son. Hate and loathing seethed between them and the room was suddenly hot with anger. Frank’s nostrils flared and fury mottled his face. “You should have k ept your nose out of this, O’Rourke! It was none of your goddamned business.” “My son is none of my business? Guess again, Frank. Let’s go, Kate!” “He wasn’t your son any more than you’re mine.” Daegan bristled. “That’s where you’re wrong, old man, and where you and I are different, thank God.” “Daegan—” Collin said weakly from the bed. “Just take it easy there.”
“Wait! I’m sorry.” Collin was beginning to shake, his teeth chattering. “Shock,” Kate explained. “Hold on. Don’t talk.” “No, please, Daegan, you didn’t do it,” Collin admitted, trying to sit up. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. Frank’s head snapped as if he suddenly understood what his son was trying to say. “Shut up, Collin!” “Let him talk,” Daegan said and Frank’s eyes narrowed with a rage that he’d carried since the day of Daegan’s birth. “You miserable bastard, your mother should have had the abortion like I told her. Then I never would have had to deal with you.” He st epped closer. “You’ve been a burr up my ass for a long time, O’Rourke, and your ma, always trying to trap me. Thinking I’d leave my own wife for her, the foolish woman. Thinking I’d stay with her and her bastard son.” He drew himself up, his chest puffed out proudly over his now prominent belly. “I moved on from Mary Ellen years ago, on to younger fillies.” “Amazing what you can buy with a little Sullivan cash,” Daegan said, his guts roiling, rage surging through his blood. Still, he held himself back, knowing that there were more urgent matters to pursue. Jon was missing, running scared. Jon was his first priority. “Let’s get out of here,” Kate said as if sensing a fight of horrific proportions. “We will.” With all his willpower, Daegan managed to contain his fury. “You’re a pathetic excuse for a man, a father, a son, and a husband, Sullivan. I feel sorry for your kids and wife, the ones who had to see you every day.” “You ungrateful shit, I’ll kill you with my bare hands,” Frank vowed and lunged, throwing all his weight at Daegan. But Daegan was ready. He’d been pr eparing for this all his adult life. Fists curled, he connected hard with Frank’s belly, then snapped his father’s head back with a sharp left cross to the jaw. With a thud Frank went down. He staggered to his feet, swung wild, and Daegan threw a combination punch that sent him reeling against a bureau. Wood splintered and Frank slid to the dirty tiles. A bruise darkened his jaw and blood discolored his lips. Daegan, still standing, hands curled into tight fists, loomed over him. “You want more? Huh? I got more.” “Go to hell.” “Been there. Now it’s your turn.” Frank glared up at his bastard son. He tried to stand but his legs wobbled and Daegan towered over him, ready to do more damage. “I despised you from the day you were born.” Blood stained his teeth. “Believe me, Dad,” Daegan said with a sarcastic sneer, “the feeling’s mutual.”
“Daegan,” Collin whispered as sirens wailed through the broken window. “Listen please...” He coughed and choked, fighting to stay conscious. “You have to listen... it was me... fifteen years ago, it was me—” “Don’t,” Daegan whispered, his right hand aching from the blows he’d landed. He didn’t know what kind of deathbed confessional he was about to hear, but suddenly he didn’t care—didn’t want to know any more family secrets. Collin was desperate and reached forward, clutching Daegan’s sleeve with long white fingers. “Dad and I,” he said in a de ep, rattling breath. “We... we killed Stu.” “Oh, Christ,” Frank moaned. “What?” Daegan couldn’t believe his ears. “It’s true, we saw the whole fight, saw you run off to phone the police... and then we got to him and I wanted to call an ambulance but Dad... Dad kicked him in the head hard enough... Oh, dear Jesus, we killed Stu. Forgive me, Stuart. Please, please... I... Stuart I love...” Tears flooded his eyes and he was shaking. “You let me take the heat for it,” Daegan said, turning dead eyes on his father. “You deserved it.” Daegan’s throat worked. The anguish of fifteen years of not knowing, of doubting himself, welled up inside him. “And you’re gonna pay, you miserable son of a bitch,” he said through lips that barely moved. “You’re gonna pay big-time.”