Deadly - Deadly Desire Part 15

"My father's name is Andrew Cahill, and his company is meatpacking, not butchering," she said.

He began to smile. "Well, well, looks like I done all right after all." He turned to the woman on the floor. "Whaddya think, Lulabelle? I got me a rich prize here." His gaze narrowed. "Maybe I can figure out a way to make Shoz pay after all." He grinned.

Lulabelle sat up. "Can I go?" she whispered.

"No, you can't go," he shouted, reaching for her.

Francesca realized this was his chance. As he bent to lift the woman and do G.o.d only knew what to her, she raced past him for the door, screaming for help.

He cursed.

She flung the door open. "Help! Bragg! Help!" She had never run faster than she now ran down the short distance of the corridor to the stairs.

A bullet whistled by her ear.

She stumbled, tripping as she went down the stairs.

He caught her on the third step, pulling her against his body, his arm going around her waist.

And he ground the barrel of the gun into her temple. "Don't move, b.i.t.c.h," he said.

Francesca went still, and at the bottom of the stairs she saw Hart and Nicholas.

"Don't move," Hart said calmly. He smiled a little at her as their eyes met. It was meant to be rea.s.suring, and it was. She had the oddest feeling that he would save her now, and that feeling was accompanied by calm.

Nicholas was pointing a gun at Craddock; Hart's hands were empty, although a black leather valise was at his feet. The poker players from the back room had come into the bar and stood in a jagged circle behind Hart and Nicholas. Now the saloon door burst open, and Bragg appeared on the threshold, a gun in his hand. Behind him were Shoz, Rourke, and Rathe, in that order. Almost simultaneously, every single man saw what was happening and froze. Bragg's gaze slammed to Francesca.

"Joel escaped with Chrissy!" Francesca cried.

His eyes widened.

Craddock jabbed the gun so hard into her temple that she became dizzy and watched the room becoming black. "Shut the f.u.c.k up."

"If you hurt her, you will get nothing," Hart said in the same calm but oh-so-authoritative voice.

Bragg had come to stand beside Hart. "Craddock, it is over. I am Rick Bragg, and you are surrounded. Release Miss Cahill, release her now, and we will let you walk out of here, unharmed."

Craddock jerked on Francesca. She managed not to whimper. "Like h.e.l.l. Well, well. If it ain't my old friend and pard, Shoz Savage."

Francesca glanced breathlessly at Shoz. He was staring coolly at Craddock; he did not speak.

"Guess we got an ole score to settle, now don't we?" Craddock said, jerking hurtfully on Francesca.

She refused to gasp. Sweat trickled into her eye.

"Leave Miss Cahill out of this," Shoz said flatly.

"Now why should I do that? Hey, them rich folks of yours, they know you murdered a man in

cold blood?" Craddock laughed. "In front of seventy-one witnesses; no, make that seventy-six. Got to include the guards an' bullyboy Tim-bull."

"If I go down," Shoz said softly, "I am taking you down with me."

For one moment, Craddock stared, and Francesca felt a new tension tightening his body.

Then he said baldly, "I don't think so. You see, I got me a ticket here, one to freedom and cash." He jabbed the gun against her to make his point. This time, she did gasp, as her temple was terribly sore now.

Bragg stepped forward. "Miss Cahill has nothing to do with this. However, there is a carriage outside, with a driver, and you may take that-but only after you release Miss Cahill."

"An' the cash?"

Bragg glanced at Hart. Hart smiled and picked up the valise, opening it. He tossed out a bound wad of bills. And then another-and another. "Five thousand, ten thousand. Fifteen.

Here. Now it is twenty. Do tell me when to stop, Mr. Craddock."

Craddock's eyes were popping. "How much do you got in there?"

"It is not how much I have in this satchel," Hart said. "It is how much I have in my safe and my bank accounts, and the answer is, I will pay what you wish, but you must release Miss Cahill... now." His gaze moved to Francesca.

Something warmed inside of her. She had the distinct feeling that he would turn over hundreds of thousands of dollars without even thinking twice about it, to ensure that she was unhurt and freed.

Craddock licked his lips. "Thirty," he said hoa.r.s.ely. "Thirty thousand dollars."

Hart smiled and tossed two more wads of bills at his feet. "Release her," he said softly.

Francesca felt Craddock's grip loosening-and then footsteps sounded and dozens of men in blue uniforms swarmed into the saloon, with Brendan Farr at their head.

"Get out!" Bragg shouted furiously. "Get your men out of here!"

Craddock's grip tightened and he dragged Francesca back up the stairs, screaming, "No police, f.u.c.k you, you b.a.s.t.a.r.d! No d.a.m.n police!" And even though she fought him every step of the way, the next thing she knew, he was shoving her face-first into the small room, and slamming the door closed behind them.

Francesca fell onto the wood floor, chin-up. Pain exploded in her head and she saw stars.

And she heard the bolt dropping.

Chapter Twenty.

TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 18, 1902 - 5:00 P.M.

The timing was simply unbelievable. Bragg rubbed his face with his hands as a police officer directed the policemen out of the saloon. It was hard to think clearly, hard to keep his fear at bay. He would never survive if anything happened to Francesca. Then he got a grip and he looked up at Farr. "Make certain every man leaves this block. I do not want any police anywhere in the vicinity of this saloon! Is that clear?"

Farr was slightly flushed, and Bragg knew it was with anger. "Absolutely," he said. "Harry, you heard him."

"I am not done," Bragg interrupted. Clearly, appointing Farr as chief of police had been a mistake. The man was too smart, ambitious, and self-serving for his own good. But who would have ever thought that Lucy would come to New York, bringing so much trouble? Of course, he would have guessed that Francesca would quickly, irrevocably become involved in Lucy's problematic affairs. "Set up roadblocks on Thirty-third and Thirty-first Streets, on both Second and Third Avenue, as we do not know which direction he will go." Bragg watched Nicholas picking up the piles of money on the floor. "Any sign of Joel and Chrissy?"

Fair said, "The boy and little girl are outside with one of my men. They are both fine." That was a huge relief. Shoz had been standing slightly to the side, with Rathe, Rourke, andHart. His eyes widened and he dashed from the saloon. From outside, Chrissy's gleeful cryof, "Papa!" could be heard. Bragg almost smiled, except he could not, as he was too acutelyaware of Francesca being upstairs with Craddock. He must not think now of how often hostages were killed by their captors. He simply mustnot. "Shall I go up and attempt to convince Craddock to give up Miss Cahill and surrender?" Fairasked. Bragg felt like murdering him. Instead, he smiled. "No. Have Hart's coach in front of thesaloon." He turned to go. Farr detained him by gripping his arm. "You are going to let him get in that carriage? Wemay lose him if you do! It is not a good idea!" "I am going to do what I have to do in order to rescue Miss Cahill," Bragg said coldly. Farr'sgaze was too-knowing now. Undoubtedly the man knew what his entire family did- that hewas in love with Francesca Cahill. "Get the rest of those civilians out of here," he said,nodding at the six men who had been playing poker in the back room. Several of themseemed about to drool over the last wad of bills, which Nicholas was replacing in Hart'svalise. Shoz suddenly strode into the saloon. He eyed Farr as he approached Bragg, then haltedand did not speak. It was obvious his brother-in-law wished to speak with him. As Francesca remained ahostage, Bragg could only hope that he had an idea with which to capture Craddock and sether free. But Brendan Farr remained a problem. "Where's Chrissy?" "With the boy." "Let's get her safely home," Bragg said decisively. "Rathe?" Rathe stepped forward. "I'd rather stay-" "I have enough trigger fingers on hand," Bragg said. "Please see Chrissy and Joel safelyhome. Kennedy belongs to the Cahills," he added wryly. Only Francesca would have found away to move the entire Kennedy family into her home. Rathe hesitated and nodded. He gripped Shoz's arm. "Whatever you are thinking, do not doit," he said. "You have a wife waiting for you, a wife who adores you, and three children whodearly need and love their father." Shoz said nothing. His expression was at once implacable and impossible to read. Rathe looked at his son. "Rick, don't let him do anything foolish." "I won't." Rathe nodded and strode out. Shoz glanced toward Farr, who was pretending to observe two of his men as they herdedthe poker players outside; in fact, he was clearly eavesdropping. Bragg took his arm andthey stepped closer to the stairs. Bragg couldn't help glancing up them. Of course,Francesca was all right; Craddock wanted two things, money and his freedom. Murderwould not help him now. But he was a vicious criminal, and he had already committed murder at least once. Andmost important, what he really wanted was revenge. "Let them come out. I can pick off Craddock when he steps out of the saloon and before hegets into the carriage," Shoz said softly. "No," Bragg said, in unison with Hart. His half brother had come over to stand with them. "It's too risky," Bragg said, meaning it. "You might miss or, worse, hit Francesca," Hart added darkly. Shoz gave them both a disparaging look. "Why the h.e.l.l do you think I brought that fancyEnglish rifle of yours? I can position myself across the street, on that little balcony above themilliner's. I won't miss. I never miss." "No," they said again in unison.

"I simply cannot allow it," Bragg added. "Besides, we are supposed to apprehend and try Craddock, not kill him." Shoz's expression, already hard, hardened impossibly more. He walked away, pausing beside Rourke and Nicholas. Hart faced Bragg. "What if he doesn't release Francesca?" Bragg hated the look in his half brother's eyes. It was the first time he had ever seen fear there, and he supposed it mirrored his own expression exactly. "He has nothing to gain by keeping her." "She is his ticket to freedom," Hart said harshly. Then, "G.o.d d.a.m.n it." Bragg laid a hand on his arm. "I need you to stay calm, Calder." "I am calm. Calm enough to go up there and kill." "You know that would only get Francesca killed. I am going to try to convince him to release her." "He won't. He's going to use her to get safely in that coach," Hart said. Bragg had opened his mouth to speak when a shout came down the stairs. "You got my carriage ready yet?" Craddock yelled. Bragg strode to the bottom of the stairwell and saw Craddock on the top step, using Francesca as a s.h.i.+eld, his gun against her temple. She was very white, but Bragg saw instantly from her eyes that she was basically calm and in complete control of her wits. He tried to send her a signal of encouragement; he was thankful that she was thinking clearly. She understood, because she smiled a little at him-and then sent a similar smile to Hart. He must not think of that now. "Your carriage is directly outside of the saloon door," Bragg said. "The police? They had better be gone! I see one fly and I put a bullet in the pretty lady's arm. An' it'll only be the first!" Bragg went rigid. He tried to breathe, tried not to imagine Francesca bleeding from one or more wounds. He understood, though; yes, he did. Craddock was too smart to kill her. He intended to keep her alive and use her. Bragg did not doubt that he would shoot her if he had to. "They're gone, Craddock; I sent them away. Now why don't you release Miss Cahill and we will let you go?" He snorted. "Like h.e.l.l! Where's the money?" "It's here, in the bag," Hart said. He reached behind him without removing his gaze from Craddock; Nicholas handed him the valise. "Open it. Show me it's all there," Craddock demanded. Hart did so. Craddock nodded now, with satisfaction, but sweat was mottling his brow. "OK. Things look good. I'm comin' down with the lady. I see anyone reach fer their gun, I take off her arm. You got that, Mr. Policeman?" So Craddock knew who he was. Bragg nodded. "But I want him," and he nodded at Hart, "to go ahead of me an' the lady, an' he can put the valise in the carriage before my eyes." "No problem," Hart said. Craddock looked at everyone in the barroom-Rourke and Nicholas, just to the right of the stairs, Bragg and Hart, directly below them, and Brendan Farr, standing a bit to the left and behind. "No one moves, except for the banker there, and he only goes when I tell him to," he said. "All of you, now, get your hands up, high, as high as they can go!" "Understood," Bragg returned, but his pulse was pounding now as he slowly lifted his hands up. Everyone except Hart raised their hands up in a picture of surrender, even Farr. Hart remained as still as a statue, the valise at his feet. Bragg watched Craddock begin to come down the stairs, a step at a time, his gaze darting everywhere, making certain that no one was reaching for his gun, using Francesca as a s.h.i.+eld. It was hard to breathe. It was hard to remain calm, composed, in control. It would be so easy to pull out his own gun and try to blow the man's head away so that Francesca could escape.

But in all likelihood she would be hurt or killed, so he did not do so, no matter the primal urge.

Craddock was halfway down the stairs. He was panting. The sound was soft, yet harsh, and very sharp. No, Francesca was the one panting, he realized with a pang. Sweat trickled down her brow, her cheek, disclosing just how frightened she really was.

Hang in there, he told her silently. You are going to be just fine-we are going to get you out of this.

He wished he believed his own silent words.

Her eyes locked with his. He saw the fear there now and a question. She mouthed something, trying to communicate to him.

It looked like she was saying, "Where Shoz?"

He jerked. Where the h.e.l.l was Shoz?

Bragg turned and realized that Shoz was not in the saloon, just as Hart also glanced wildly about, apparently realizing at the exact same time that Lucy's husband had disappeared.

I can position myself across the street, on that little balcony above the milliner's. I won't miss ...

Bragg's gaze locked with Hart's; surprise and fear mingled, mixed. Shoz was out there and he intended to take Craddock down, never mind that Francesca was his human s.h.i.+eld.

"s.h.i.+t," Hart said, his eyes wide and stunned and afraid.

"What the f.u.c.k is goin' on?" Craddock cried. "Why are you lookin' around?" He had halted on the bottom step and Francesca gasped as he dug the barrel of the gun into the side of her head.

"Don't hurt her," Bragg said quietly. "Nothing is going on. We were checking to make sure the coach is outside the door."

Craddock stared at him suspiciously when Hart said, "May I?" indicating the valise filled with money.

Bragg knew he intended to distract Craddock. And it worked. Craddock looked at the bag and nodded. A hungry look had come into his eyes.

Hart picked up the valise. Then he turned, giving Craddock his back, and began to cross the saloon, leading the way.

Francesca made a strangled sound.

Bragg knew what it meant. Hart had his back to Craddock, and the man could so easily s.h.i.+ft the gun he held and gun Hart down from behind.

He had to hand it to his half brother. He was very brave, and he remained one of the cleverest and most determined men he knew. And clearly Francesca knew it, too. As clearly, she was afraid for him now.

"Let's go," Craddock said, moving onto the floor now, dragging Francesca with him. "Get those two to the wall, off to my side!" he yelled.

Rourke and Nicholas leaped back against the wall, never dropping their arms.

"Keep them hands up! Everyone, or I'll put my first bullet in the little lady you all are so fond of!"

Bragg had kept his hands up, and he glanced at Farr. The chief of police had seemed to be lowering his hands; now, reluctantly, he lifted them back up.

Hart had paused at the door; he glanced over his shoulder.

"Keep goin', banker!" Craddock screamed at him.

Hart walked outside.

Bragg's heart accelerated wildly. Shoz was out there, waiting to take a shot at Craddock.

There was simply no other explanation for his disappearance.

Craddock half-dragged and half-pushed Francesca, carrying her with him, pa.s.sing Bragg, then Farr. He pushed through the door, Francesca against his side.

The city sidewalk was no more than ten feet wide. Craddock took one step, then two. Bragg

had his gun out; Craddock turned. "Drop it!" he screamed. "Drop it now before I kill thelady!" Bragg dropped it; the revolver clattered to the floor. Craddock began to smile, sweat streaking his face, and he turned; he was only a few feetfrom the carriage and, possibly, from freedom as well. The shot rang out. Craddock's eyes widened, he staggered backward, and Francesca broke free. As he fellbackward onto the boardwalk, she rushed away, directly into Hart's arms. Bragg saw himdrag her away from the carriage and to the safety of the side of the building as he rantoward Craddock with Farr, who had his gun in hand. He knelt beside the hoodlum and sawinstantly that he was dead. So did Farr. The chief of police rocked back on his heels. "Well, well," he murmured, moreto himself. Bragg did not rise. He s.h.i.+fted and looked toward the saloon and watched Hart holdingFrancesca in his arms. He was gripping her tightly and speaking to her with urgency.Francesca never took her eyes from his, and finally she nodded. He could not stand it, and slowly, he stood. "Are you all right?" Hart asked her, holding her tightly against his chest. She couldn't breathe and she couldn't speak; her heart had never beaten so hard. And forone moment, she rested her cheek against the plane of his chest and heard his own urgent,answering heartbeat. She felt his palm cradling her head. Her eyes closed and too manyvicious images to count a.s.sailed her. Craddock striking Lulabelle, Craddock throwing heracross the room, Craddock looking at her with cold, merciless eyes as he jammed the guninto the side of her head. "Are you all right, Francesca?" Hart repeated, gripping her by the shoulders and setting herback a bit so their gazes could meet. His was almost black and filled with concern. She nodded. "Yes." Her voice washoa.r.s.e-sounding to her own ears. His dark gaze moved over her features one by one and finally settled on her eyes, where itremained, searching the depths there. She felt some of her strength and composure returning. The fear began to fade; her mindbegan to function. She inhaled, realizing she continued to tremble. "I'm fine. Really." Shesaw from his eyes that he hardly believed her. "Chrissy?" "Rathe took her home. And Kennedy, too." "Thank G.o.d!" She half-turned and saw Bragg and Fan-standing over Craddock, who wasp.r.o.ne and motionless. Was he dead? And had Shoz been the one to kill him after all? How could she even wonder? she thought. And as she stared at the dead man, Bragg, and Farr, she realized Bragg was staring at her.She smiled a little at him, telling him with her eyes that she was not harmed, and he smiled,just a little, back. His intense gaze did not waver. "Right," Hart muttered tersely. She glanced at Hart and saw that any softness and concern was now gone. His gaze wascool and dark. He released her. She rushed over to Bragg; he caught her arms. "Is he dead?" Bragg turned her away from the dead man, but it was too late; she had seen that he was,most certainly, dead. "Yes." His gaze scanned her from head to toe. "Yes. Are you all right?Did he hurt you?" "I'm fine, truly, except for a bruise or two," she said with a valiant smile. Actually, her headthrobbed like the devil, as Craddock hadn't cared about whether he was hurting her or not,and she suspected her wrist was red from his grip, and it hurt a bit to breathe, as if her ribswere sore. Bragg eyed her, clearly doubtful. "Now that was a h.e.l.luva shot," Farr said.

Francesca looked at him. He was smiling, but coldly. "Went in right above his right ear, clean out the other side of his skull." His gaze narrowed."Now who could pull off a stunt like that? We don't see that kind of shooting here in the city,no sir, we do not." Francesca s.h.i.+vered and glanced at Bragg. "You saw Craddock's file; he has a list of enemies a mile long," Bragg said. "Yeah, guess he does. Harry! Robinson! Start a door-to-door search; we got a shooter onthe run!" Farr ordered with obvious relish. Francesca looked at Bragg. He shook his head at her in a warning. Farr faced them, looking from the one to the other, his hands on his hips. "Well, your entirefamily seems to be accounted for, considering your daddy took the children home-exceptfor Shoz Savage." A silence fell. Hart appeared in their midst. "He went home with his daughter and Rathe," he said coolly."Isn't that right, Raoul?" He glanced at the husky Spaniard who was his driver and remainedin the driver's seat of his elegant brougham, along with Peter. Raoul nodded. "Yes, sir, he did," he said with a heavy Spanish accent. Farr smiled unpleasantly at everyone. "Harry, put a dozen men on the streets. I want theshooter picked up before he gets too far. And find me the bullet that got this b.a.s.t.a.r.d. I havea feeling we'll discover a rifle was used. A fancy rifle, the kind I haven't seen before." "Yes, sir," the policeman said. Farr faced Bragg. "I'll handle things here, sir, if you want to leave with the rest of your familyand go check on the little girl." "Thank you, Brendan," Bragg said. He took Francesca's arm. "Are you really all right?" heasked as they walked toward Hart's coach. "Yes. A bit bruised, I think, but that is all." She smiled at him earnestly. "I am not the one youshould be worrying about," she added softly. Their gazes met. In that moment, everyone around them seemed to fade out of focuscompletely. He finally smiled, just a little. "I have never been so scared, Francesca. I wishyou could solve crimes without putting yourself in harm's way." "I'm sorry. Actually, I wish I could, too." "Couldn't you have waited a few minutes more for us to join you before tackling Craddock?" "I was afraid Craddock would leave the poker game and we would lose him all over again!"she cried earnestly. He stared and sighed. She touched his sleeve when what she really wanted to do was sink into his arms. "I think we might want to get out of here," Rourke said dryly. Francesca started. She had forgotten, for a moment, where they were and whom they werewith. She glanced around and saw policemen combing the sidewalk for the bullet that mightvery well indict Shoz for murder, while across the street other officers were coming out of theapartment building and the milliner's shouting to Farr that they hadn't found anyone. Then hergaze fell on Hart. He was studying her with no expression on his usually mobile face. When she met his gazehe turned abruptly and opened the coach door. Francesca hesitated, recalling being sweptinto his arms when Craddock had been shot. There had been something very right aboutthat moment, she realized with a pang of what could only be fear. But it was not right. Nothing about Calder Hart was right, not for her. "Francesca?" Bragg asked. She started, shot him a smile, and climbed into the coach. Hart followed, as did Rourke andNicholas. Bragg climbed in last, slamming the door closed. Hart said, "We shall drop off Miss Cahill first, Raoul." There was no reply, but the brougham rolled off. They all looked at one another, and the exchanged glances were followed by a series of sighs. Francesca knew that while everyone was relieved, everyone had the same fear- that Shoz would not be able to elude the police, that he was he going to be picked up ... and charged with manslaughter.

But at least Craddock was dead. And the truth about Cooper's murder could now be buried with him.

Rourke said, "The man can melt into shadows. I've seen him do it. If anyone can vanish right now, it's him."

"What about the fact that he had a rifle-and Farr is looking for the bullet that killed Craddock?" Francesca asked, hating being so dismal.

A silence ensued.

Then Nicholas grinned. He reached into his pocket, a glint in his eyes, and held out his hand.

"I don't think Chief Fan-is going to find what he is looking for," he said, opening his palm.

A bullet lay there.

Bragg's eyes widened and he picked up the bullet and let out a shaky laugh. "Good job!"

"Well done." Hart smacked his knee with a grin.