McCabe Page 11

  Amanda sipped her wine. “Any message for James, should he choose to pay us a visit?”

  “Yeah.” McCabe tightened his fingers briefly on Rowena’s shoulders. “Tell him I’ve worked out a plan.”

  …

  The wiry little man on the pier looked nervous. His Adam’s apple bobbed every few seconds as he dry swallowed air.

  “I’ve told you everything I know, Mr. Mockerie. As of ten minutes ago, your aunt, your mother, B. B. Beckett, McCabe, and Rowena are the only people on Laurel Key. The man you sent in is dead or incommunicado. Your people on the Irish Lady seem to be a little off their collective stride. They mentioned gas. The effects can be quite…uh, well, enough about that.”

  The man stuttered to an uncomfortable halt when James offered him a shark-like smile.

  “What’s the matter, Hood? Are you afraid I’ll shoot the messenger?”

  “Frankly, yes.” He swallowed, coughed. “I have a wife, you know, and four kids.”

  “Unbelievable,” Mockerie said, though he doubted the little turd would understand what he meant. Well, Hood’s wife probably wasn’t much to look at, either.

  The smaller man squared his shoulders. “Sir, you should know, someone might be onto me at work.”

  “Who’s onto you?” Mockerie scowled. “Robbie?”

  “No. At least I don’t think so. Beckett.”

  Mockerie laughed. “Robbie’s dumbass adultering lapdog doesn’t notice anyone or anything but her. Not that she’d notice him back, the self-righteous bitch. He’s hardly a threat. Kill him, though, if you feel the need.”

  Hood’s thin face blanched. “I couldn’t do that. Not ever!”

  “No, I didn’t think so. I’m sure Beckett would be grateful to hear that. Go back to DC for the moment. I need you there to ward off an investigation into one of my less-than-legal operations. Something about money laundering. I’m afraid a few people might need to die in order for all eyes to be focused in a direction that has nothing to do with me and mine.”

  “Mr. Mockerie, I can’t…”

  “Four children, Hood. Happy, healthy, and full of life. I only have one kid myself, but I know firsthand how difficult it is to lose a part of yourself.”

  Hood’s eyes closed. “Yes, sir, it would be difficult. I’ll get right on the…problem.”

  More cheerful now, Mockerie adjusted his hat. “Seriously, would it help if I killed Beckett for you? I’m in the mood, and he’s never been my favorite person.”

  Hood stared at him in horror. “No, it wouldn’t help at all. Just don’t do anything. Leave the money laundering problem to me.”

  As Hood backed away, Mockerie chuckled. But his amusement was short-lived as the memory of why he was here flooded back in. Rowena was still out of reach. She was also still with McCabe.

  Aware that his launch was ready, he headed for the lower dock. He regarded his cell phone as he walked. Nothing. No messages, no calls.

  “Come on, Bertie,” he said through his teeth. “Pony up for fuck’s sake. Before I’m forced to put the thumbscrews to your so-called better half.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Is Beckett in love with Robbie?” Rowena asked the question while she fastened her seat belt in McCabe’s plane.

  Busy resetting the controls, McCabe frowned. “What? No. Well, yes, but it’s a moot point. Beckett’s married to a hypochondriac who won’t give him a divorce. No divorce, no relationship in Robbie’s world. She’s very firm on the rules of emotional entanglement.”

  “It must have been hard for her, hard on her, to discover she’d raised someone with sociopathic tendencies.”

  McCabe’s smile was wry. “Mockerie has more than just tendencies in that area. Torture has it all over sex for him.”

  Since sex with James was a memory she preferred not to resurrect, Rowena stayed focused on his family. “What was his father like? I assume you knew him.”

  He sent her a sideways look. “This isn’t my favorite subject. You know that, right?”

  Reaching over, she tapped his leg. “It isn’t mine, either, but like it or not, James is the father of my child. How do I deal with that if I don’t understand? You have to talk to me, McCabe. Now.”

  “You’ll never understand. But”—he held up a hand—“I get it. His father was a good man, a very good man, in fact. Patient, kind, devoted, all the things a parent should be. He saw where James was headed early on, but rather than fight, he put his faith in Robbie’s belief that James would change as he grew up. Mellow and come to his senses was how she put it. Awareness of childhood behaviors was still in its infancy back then. Amanda thought he should be made a ward of the state. Robbie disagreed, so Max, James’s father, did too.”

  “I bet that was never a dilemma your family had to resolve.”

  Something flickered in his eyes. For some unknown reason, she thought it might be guilt. But before she could ask, McCabe smiled and caught her chin. “Careful with your compliments, Ro. I might get the wrong idea.”

  Rather than answer, she simply unfastened her seat belt, leaned over, and gave him a kiss.

  Quick and light was the intent, a gentle peck on the cheek. But when had her best intentions ever not turned into something far more complicated?

  McCabe held her gaze at close range. When she didn’t move, he took her face between his fingers and, with his eyes still on hers, drew her forward for more.

  It was never a slow slide with them. Heat sparked instantly and brought a groan to her throat.

  This might be familiar territory, but it never got old. Her heart rate ramped up, and all she could think was, More.

  It wasn’t until her elbow bumped the throttle that she remembered where they were and what might be happening on the water while they sat there.

  “Life can bite at the worst possible moments.” She sighed and pulled away.

  “In this case, that would be because you wanted to talk about Mockerie’s father.”

  “I only wanted to know— Oh shit!”

  Gripping his arm, she stared past him. “There’s a light on the water.”

  “Figured that would happen. I thought we’d have a bit more time.” He regarded her a moment longer before revving the engines and running the pre-flight checklist.

  “They’re moving fast,” Rowena told him. The light had tripled in size in a few short seconds. “Do you think they’ll have…?”

  Shots rang out. She ducked. McCabe concentrated on the plane’s control panel.

  “Weapons?” she finished and started to straighten.

  McCabe shoved her back down even as he began to taxi. “Stay out of sight.”

  She knocked his hand aside but remained low. “He’ll be aiming at you, not me. You’re the pilot.”

  “He’s aiming at the plane. Disable it, and we’re screwed.”

  She kept an eye on the approaching boat. At some point it was bound to run out of water and wind up on the beach.

  A horrible thought occurred. “Jesus, McCabe. If he damages his boat, he’ll go up to the house.”

  “No he won’t.” He got the plane turned and rolling.

  Rowena dipped as more shots zinged off the plane’s exterior.

  McCabe watched the gauges. Once they were up to speed, he pulled back on the throttle. The wheels left the ground with a final bounce, and they were airborne.

  “He was aiming at the fuel tanks. I don’t think he hit them.”

  “Can I sit up now?” Rowena asked.

  “That would be a good idea. And fasten your seat belt.”

  “I hope you’re right about James not hurting anyone on Laurel Key.”

  The interior lights flickered. Reaching up, he flipped a switch. “I know him better than you do, Ro.”

  Clicking her seat belt in place, she turned to him. “After talking to Amanda, I believe that’s true. It sounds like James wanted to control everything and everyone from the time he was very young.”

  McCabe lapsed into silence for sever
al seconds. Finally, he glanced at her. “Mockerie likes to think that every decision he makes, good or bad, is his own. But that’s not always the case.”

  “And that means…?”

  He reset the flaps for level flight. “It means James isn’t as much in control as he appears.”

  Rowena had no idea what to make of that statement and no chance to probe deeper, as an air pocket caused the small plane to drop several dozen feet. With her stomach in her throat, and the turbulence continuing for the next several minutes, she spent most of her time battling to keep Beckett’s delicious french toast where it belonged.

  She drank water, took two Dramamine pills, and let her thoughts drift.

  Her mind whipped around every which way. Where was Parker? Had James actually been on board the boat that shot at them? Where were they going? To Jacksonville to refuel rang a bell.

  Pictures and memories floated randomly into her head. She recalled holding Parker for the first time. All the pain of her twelve-hour labor, and in the end she’d been given a priceless gift.

  As for James—she’d wanted a man of mystery and she’d gotten one. Mystery, intrigue, and death…

  A sea of computer images flashed like neon signs in her brain. She saw files and documents, some legal, more not. Names flew by in print. Fixx, Satyr, Carson, Vigor, Bert.

  Fixx, Satyr, and Bert repeated in several files. She should have read the contents more closely, but she’d only had time to do quick scans.

  Did James realize that, or did he believe that his security measures had kept her out? He had firewalls on firewalls and alerts built into every nook and cranny of the system. She’d breached many of them but not all. Not by a long shot. Everything in order, neat and tidy, that’s how she’d left it. Right before she’d left.

  She focused her mind as her stomach began to settle. The images changed.

  McCabe…

  He’d ditched her. He’d taken off, and she still didn’t know why.

  Maybe the stars simply didn’t always align. She had to remember that before her heart took control of her head and wound up broken again.

  She didn’t need him anyway. She had her son to love and protect. To raise and hope to God he’d be a better person than his father. If she accomplished one thing in her life it would be to prevent Parker from becoming like James. To stop him from turning into a monster.

  …

  McCabe glanced at Rowena as she drifted off to sleep next to him. The word “monster” had slipped out, and it haunted him.

  Guilt slashed through his heart. He couldn’t tell her why he’d left, not why he’d really left. Hell, he was barely able to acknowledge the truth himself.

  He was a coward. At the core of it, that’s how it read. Any balls he had when it came to her were purely physical. At best, he figured that made him half a man.

  He refueled in Jacksonville, New Orleans, Dallas, and Albuquerque. Rowena was silent for much of the flight, which suited him just fine. Brooding required silence and solitude, and she gave him both. He stayed in that introspective mode most and let her sleep from Albuquerque until they reached the private airstrip outside Las Vegas.

  He was just reaching over to shake her when his phone signaled an incoming text. Dancer’s message was straightforward as usual.

  The kid’s with Johnny and Melia in a safe location. Melia says he’s healthy. She sent a picture. Good on him. I need a drink. Be in Vegas in a couple.

  Okay, so one mission accomplished. That would make Rowena’s next sleep much easier. As for his own…

  When he touched her, she swatted his hand away like she might a pesky fly. Then her eyes flew open, and she sat up with a gasp. “Where are we? Where’s Parker?”

  “Safe.” McCabe handed her his phone to show the picture Melia had taken. “Melia says he’s healthy.”

  “I—” She blinked herself awake and stared at the picture for a long time. “Thank you. That helps. I think he’s growing. I’m sure of it. Damn.” Rubbing her fingers lightly under her eyes, she sighed and asked, “What’s the plan now? I have passwords but only a limited amount of actual damning information on my phone, so do you have any idea how we can get to James’s core computers?”

  McCabe shut the plane’s electrical systems down. “That’ll depend on where the ones we need are located. Home or office?”

  “Both. The office one’s my least favorite, because it’s in James’s private sanctuary, which is a bit like a dungeon. Unfortunately, it’s where most of the information you’ll probably want is stored. The place is underground, totally white, and creepy as hell. There’s only one way in and out—at least that’s all I know of. It took me more than a week to figure out how to override the elevator controls. He changes the codes regularly. I saw twenty or more six-by-three-foot panels on those white walls. They look like they might open. I toyed with the idea of trying to get into one, but given what I’d learned about James by then, I decided to leave them alone.”

  “Probably a wise choice.”

  Head cocked, she studied him. “Would you answer a question it if I asked?”

  “I doubt it.”

  “I’m not surprised. I won’t ask then. Not now at least. On a more pragmatic note, do you have a hideout lined up for us?”

  “Yep. We’ll need to drive.”

  Stretching her arms over her head, she smiled. “I’ll do the driving. It’s your turn to sleep. And don’t even think about arguing. You look half dead.”

  He felt worse than that. All the way dead with shots of guilt and regret jolting him just enough to remind him of how badly he’d screwed up his life. And hers.

  Nothing would change in that regard until he brought Mockerie down. It wouldn’t end there, either. The aftermath was bound to be total hell.

  “You know, it’s weird,” Rowena remarked as they walked across the tarmac on the desert airstrip. “I watch your face to see if I can pick up any nuance, any change in your expression, maybe a glint in your eyes…and I see nothing. You must be one amazing poker player.”

  “It’s my best game.” Pulling out his phone, McCabe punched a number. “Which car’s mine?” McCabe asked the person at the other end.

  “Same as the one my mother drives,” Dancer’s sleepy voice came back on speaker. “Sadly, not the same hot color.”

  McCabe grinned. “Your mother had her license lifted two years ago.”

  “Yeah, remind me to tell her that sometime. Later, McCabe.” Dancer ended the call.

  Under a sky glittering with thousands of stars, they walked to a gray-green Jeep that looked to be at least ten years old.

  Rowena surveyed the back end and the driver’s side. “Looks like he drove through a mud bog to get here.”

  “If there’s one in the area, he probably did. Dancer’s all about cheap thrills these days.”

  “I take it he’s nearby.”

  “Near enough. Key’s in the tailpipe.” Once he’d retrieved it and tossed their packs inside, McCabe arched a brow at her. “Sure you want to drive?”

  “Just give me a direction and a destination in case I make a wrong turn. I’m going to take a wild guess and say we’re not going to Las Vegas. Too many eyes. Plus, we don’t know which hotel mangers might be on ratting terms with James.”

  He opened the door. “You’ve learned a lot about James’s businesses since you died, haven’t you?”

  “Needs must,” she agreed. She used the key he handed her to start the engine. “At least it sounds well-tuned. So, where are we going?”

  “A little town called Carmina. It’s close enough to Las Vegas to work for us, but obscure enough that Mockerie won’t give it a second thought.”

  “Don’t underestimate him.” As soon as he was inside, Rowena put the Jeep in gear. “James is very good at thinking sideways. That’s one of the reasons I set myself up to die. I knew I’d never be able to hide from him. Not for any length of time. I believed I could hide Parker. I didn’t expect him to want a child in his l
ife.”

  McCabe shrugged. “Mockerie’s human, Ro. We all are. Maybe it suddenly occurred to him that his life was finite, and he decided to try and live on through his son. After all, the kid has his genes.”

  “He has mine, too.” Now she shoved the stick shift forward. “I won’t let Parker be evil. And don’t tell me Robbie felt the same way about James. I’m guessing she and her husband, Max, were blindsided.”

  “Probably.” McCabe could have said more, could have tried to comfort her, but if that had been his intention, he wouldn’t have said what he had. The simple fact was Parker did carry Mockerie’s genes. Whether the tendencies that drove the boy’s father would manifest in his son remained to be seen. But Rowena needed to bear the worst-case scenario in mind if she wanted to keep Parker on the right path.

  Pulling his cap down over his eyes, McCabe willed his mind to a calmer state. Unfortunately, in doing so he lowered his mental guard.

  The memories came hard and fast. There was a brief interlude of softness—making love to Rowena in Paris—but within seconds, it took an abrupt left turn into the maelstrom that was his current life.

  He lived with guilt on a daily basis. Top of the list? The way he’d treated Rowena. Leaving her was one thing, but he should have handled it better. The problem was, how could he have expected her to handle what he still couldn’t deal with himself?

  He walked so many fine lines these days it was becoming difficult to distinguish one from another. His superiors had given him a great deal of slack to this point, but questions were being asked, and more than a few eyebrows had been raised over some of the decisions he’d made, not to mention a few of the discoveries they’d made. The world was rocking beneath his feet, and with nothing more than tightropes of faith and hope holding him up, he didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to maintain his balance.

  Added to all of that was the complication of Rowena, alive and on a mission to protect her son. Her quest had become his the moment he’d seen her in that hotel room in Colombia. Unfortunately, now one of the finest lines he’d been walking was threatening to snap.

  In his mind, Rowena’s face morphed into Robbie’s, and finally into Mockerie’s. Mockerie’s smile was one of triumph and glee. It lingered long after the rest of his features dissolved.