Chapter 14 #2
“Really?” His eyes widened. “Don’t I get some say in that?” He began to think, rather theatrically, his gaze on the ceiling. “Maybe that’s not such a bad idea.” His dark eyes narrowed. “Send the big servant and the lady away,” he ordered.
Her every instinct told her that it was not a good idea to send Peter away. He had often served her husband as a bodyguard, and she knew he carried a concealed weapon. “Peter,” she began.
He faced her, his expression one of protest.
“Could you step outside the front door,” she asked softly, holding his gaze and hoping he understood. She would somehow settle this.
He did. His expression changed and he nodded.
If O’Donnell thought to grab the girls and make a run for it, his way would be blocked.
He walked out. She turned to Maggie, but the redhead said, “I’ll go into the parlor and show the girls some fabrics.
” Maggie looked alert and wary now and her tone was strained.
When she had left, Leigh Anne found herself very much alone with the weathered longshoreman. Instantly she was afraid of him. “What is it that you wish to say to me?”
“I guess you and your hubby aren’t all that close, now, are you?” He leered softly, leaning down so that their faces were inches apart.
Leigh Anne flinched. She didn’t want him so close to her. It felt as if he were invading her body somehow, but she was helpless now, because she could not move her chair backward. “What does that mean?”
“It means we had a little chat,” he said softly, smiling at her now. His lips were very close to hers. He murmured, “I told him how much I miss the girls.”
Leigh Anne thought her heart might pound its way right out of her breast.
“I really do miss them,” he added.
Leigh Anne swallowed hard. “How much?” she whispered. Her lips felt heavy, paralyzed. “How much do you want? What will it take for you to leave us alone?”
He grinned. “Are you offering me a bribe, Mrs. Bragg?”
Somehow Leigh Anne said, “I am offering you a helping hand. I know times are difficult for you now. And you are the girls’ uncle. I should love to assist you and your aunt.”
“That is mighty generous of you.”
O’Donnell was looking at her mouth. Leigh Anne stopped breathing. The look was very male—as if he was about to kiss her. She seized her wheels so tightly her hands hurt and tears of helpless rage filled her eyes.
He raised his gaze and their eyes met. He saw her fear and smiled. “You’re a real pretty woman, for a cripple,” he said softly. “You got two legs beneath that nice silk dress?”
She was shaking with fright and she did not want him to see, but she could not control it. She wanted to tell him to get out of her house, but she opened her mouth and no words came out.
He placed both hands on the arms of her chair, thoroughly trapping her there. “I might not care about the legs,” he said, low, “’cause the rest of you sure is fine.”
Leigh Anne felt as if she were being strangled. “How much?”
He touched the bare skin above the neckline of her pale silvery-gray dress.
She shivered reflexively and he laughed.
He suddenly straightened. “Times are tough. And you’re right.
We’re relations now, and I could use some help.
But you know what? I don’t want to piss off the police commissioner,” he said with wide-eyed innocence.
She understood. “I’ll get whatever you need for you—and I won’t tell anyone, not even my husband.”
He smiled. “Such a pretty and smart lady!” The smile vanished. His gaze was cold. “Tomorrow. You got until tomorrow night—fifteen thousand dollars will do.” He gave her a hard look and hurried out of the house.
Leigh Anne sat in the chair, shaking like a leaf, so ill she thought she might vomit. Peter rushed inside, took one look at her and said, “I’d like to call the boss.”
“No!” she cried. Peter stared at her, clearly disbelieving. She somehow smiled. “I am fine, now that that odious man is gone. There is no need to worry Rick.”
“Mrs. Bragg,” Peter began.
Miraculously, she spoke even more firmly. All the while, her mind was planning. “I am fine,” she stressed. “You are not to call the commissioner,” she said, and it was an order.
Peter slowly nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
Leigh Anne felt utterly violated, as if she had been brutalized. But she had been abused, hadn’t she?
You’re a real pretty woman—for a cripple.
I don’t want to piss the police commissioner off…
Fifteen thousand dollars will do.
Fifteen thousand dollars was an astronomical sum.
And she had only been given twenty-four hours in which to somehow attain the funds.
She could not ask Rick for help. Her every instinct begged her to rush to him, because she wasn’t sure she could manage this crisis or that horrid man, but she didn’t dare.
Somehow she would borrow the money. Somehow, by tomorrow evening, she would meet O’Donnell and get him out of their lives.
She was so afraid.
“Peter, ready the carriage,” she said. “I am going out.”
The city prison was a large, almost square, concrete building a few blocks farther downtown.
It was dark and gloomy inside. The long, grim corridors matched her mood.
She understood the very difficult position Bragg had been placed in.
Apparently, Hart’s case was so sensational that even the mayor had pressured Bragg to arrest him.
She was never going to forgive Rick for caving in to that pressure and arresting Hart so suddenly.
Nor would she forgive him for sending Hart to the city’s notorious prison.
Images of Hart in shackles filled her mind as she followed a security guard to the visitors’ room.
She was ill. She reminded herself that Hart would get out on bail shortly—wouldn’t he?
She wasn’t certain she would be eager to release a suspect like Hart on bail, if she were a judge.
She had to speak with his lawyer. And even more important, she had to find Daisy’s real killer, so Hart wouldn’t have to suffer any more such indignities.
The visitors’ room was a small and square, with a single pine table in the middle.
The exterior wall was a large window, so prison officials could observe the prisoners and their guests.
As she stepped inside, she was relieved to find the room brightly lit.
It was whitewashed, although the walls were more gray than white.
Francesca looked toward the forbidding iron door on the other side of the room.
She was eager to see Hart but she was also anxious and afraid.
It opened almost immediately and Hart came in.
Instantly she saw that he was not happy to see her.
She had hoped that his attitude would have changed by now, given the enormity of the crisis they faced.
He was still dressed in his dark trousers and white shirt from the night before—there was no prison uniform.
He had no shackles on his ankles, but his wrists were manacled in front of him.
In spite of their surroundings, his presence remained magnetic and invulnerable.
In spite of everything, he appeared tired but unchanged.
Relieved that he did not seem to suffer from any anxiety, Francesca started toward him. The guard restrained her.
“The prisoner could be dangerous, ma’am.”
She whirled, angered. “He’s my fiancé!”
Hart stepped away from his guard. “We are no longer engaged, Francesca.”
She quickly faced him, sensing a much larger problem. “Prison visits are restricted to five minutes, Calder. Please, let’s not argue!”
“I wasn’t expecting you,” he said tightly. He turned. “Take me back to my cell,” he told his guard, clearly giving an order.
“Yes, sir,” the guard said.
“No!” Francesca cried in disbelief.
He stopped, his shoulders rigid. Slowly he faced her. “I asked you not to come,” he said very quietly now. “What is it that you want from me?”
His words stabbed her. “I don’t want anything from you, Calder. I only want things for you. I want you to have peace of mind and happiness. I came here to discuss the case, and to make certain you were being treated fairly.”
Something unsettled and dark was mirrored in his eyes. “I am a rich man, Francesca. I have paid off everyone in this prison. I am being treated like a king. In fact, I had a sirloin steak for breakfast. Do you feel better now?” There was a sarcastic edge to his words.
She hugged herself. “I do not feel better. I will not feel better until you are released from this awful place. In fact, I am furious with Rick.” But she absorbed what he had said. “So you are being given special treatment?”
“Yes, I am.” He eyed her. “He was only doing what he had to do. I don’t think he dared show me any favoritism.”
“Now you defend him?” She was incredulous.
“Yes, now I am defending him, believe it or not.” His expression hardened. “I am sorry you made the trip downtown. But seeing you now like this is the last thing I intend to do.”
Her anger exploded. “You will not treat me this way! If you think that extenuating circumstances can allow you to behave like such a boor, and that down the road we will be all chummy again, then you had better think again!”
He started, his gaze wide. “You are threatening me?”
Suddenly, she realized her power. He had been counting on her friendship for many months now. He claimed he could not live without it. “Ask the guards to leave us. Tell them we want fifteen minutes, not five.”
He smiled tightly, without mirth. “Someone has taught you well, Francesca.”
“It was you,” she said with heat.
He glanced at the tall guard who stood just behind him. “I believe you heard the lady.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Hart,” he said. “Johnny.” He walked to the other side of the room and the two guards left together.
Whatever Hart was feeling, it was impossible to read. But he said, very softly, “I never expected you to be so ruthless, Francesca.”