Chapter 7 #4
“Um… Not really. I was raised to be pragmatic when it came to that sort of thing. The closest I’ve gotten to being into cooking was watching that show Worst Cooks in America. Have you seen it?”
“I have!” he laughed and the sound was warm and rich. “They actually do a good job of explaining a lot of the basics of cooking. You really aren’t interested in learning to cook?” He sounded so hopeful that she had to tease him to lighten the mood.
“I might enjoy watching you cook,” she giggled as she pictured him wearing nothing but an apron. “Maybe you can teach me a thing or two, as long as the lessons are hands on.” She was flirting again. It was fun, god, it was so fun.
“Well that sounds promising if you’re giggling,” he replied. “I’ll be sure to cook for you, principessa.”
“You don’t have to do that, you know,” she whispered.
“Do what?”
Her face turned hot for a long painful moment. “Call me sweet names. There’s no one here.” She felt the weight of Angelo’s silent gaze, even though she couldn’t see it.
“Kara, I’m not performing. I call you sweet names because I want to.”
“And what about the kiss? Was that because you wanted to?” She shouldn’t have asked it. Kara regretted the question the moment it was out of her mouth.
“That… I should apologize for.”
Her spirits sank ever lower. “Apologize?”
“I offered to help you, and then what do I do? I take advantage of the situation. I know it was the morphine, but you probably felt like you had to play along.” His voice was suddenly strained. “I don’t want you to think my help is in any way transactional.”
“Then what was it?” Kara asked. “The kiss, I mean.” Her heart lodged in her throat as she waited to hear his answer.
“I kissed you today because I wanted to…because the morphine made my head less in control and my heart took over.” He paused, breathing softly. “I’m sorry that I put you in that position.”
“But you’re saying you wanted to kiss me because you just wanted to… not for any other reason?” She was clinging to those words now, hoping he’d say yes.
“Kissing you was for me, no one else, Kara. I wanted to kiss you desperately, but that doesn’t mean I was right to—”
“Angelo?” She cut in.
“Yes?”
“I wanted you to kiss me too. In fact, I remember insisting on it. I wasn’t pretending or thinking about your family.” I was just thinking about you, she silently added.
“So neither of us regret the kiss… and it means something to both of us.” It was such a simple statement and yet… it had the power to move her heart in directions it never knew it could.
She swallowed down the sudden lump in her throat. How could he do that? Make her so damn emotional?
“I guess it does,” she agreed. Suddenly shy, she didn’t know what to say to fill the silence.
Angelo changed the subject. “Tell me what happened with my family at dinner. I want all the details.” He seemed to have sensed that she needed to get her footing again by talking about something more normal. She could also tell he missed his family deeply.
They talked for another hour before she finally said good night and put the cellphone down.
Kara snuggled deep under the covers after she turned off the light.
She hadn’t told him that she’d worn one of his soft cotton t-shirts to bed.
It was draped over her body, leaving her feeling small and feminine.
She told herself a woman would wear her fiancé’s clothes, so this had to be perfectly fine for her to do.
She was still smiling as she slipped into a restful sleep.
Declan Murphy sat in his newly stolen pre-2021 year Kia, the kind whose ignition locks were still vulnerable to a USB hack.
He watched the snow fall on the quiet street.
The brownstone house was just down the block, but he didn’t dare go closer.
He had seen a man in a heavy winter coat walk past him, lingering just a moment too long in the night with a predatory stillness that Declan recognized from one predator to another.
He watched the man round the corner of a fence and vanish, but Declan, as curious as he was to follow the man, knew a trap when he saw one.
He had already screwed up at the hospital and wasn’t about to do it again.
Even now, the police scanner channels told him they were still on the lookout for him.
But Declan had learned what he wanted to know.
Kara Gallagher was Kara O’Brien.
He was certain of it based on the man’s reactions. Declan pulled out his burner phone and called Jim O’Leary.
“Go,” Jim said as he answered.
“It’s her. Tell the boss I found her. She’s the one.”
“You took out a cop.” It wasn’t a question.
“I didn’t kill him.”
“You know how the boss is about unwanted attention,” Jim warned. “After what you pulled at the Chicago Sun-Times last month when you killed that journalist you were supposed to silence? If you get this wrong, he’ll kill you.”
“Trust me. It’s her.”
“We’re at the airport in Dublin now. We’ll be in New York a few days, then we’ll head your way. Keep your eyes on her, but don’t make a move until we get there.”
“Got it.” He hung up and leaned back in the heated car seat to watch and wait.