Addicted to You (39 page)

Katie figured she’d have to polish up on her acting skills for that particular role.

She had told Everett, however, feeling like she had to, seeing as how her brother had heard what was happening in the bathroom the day she took the pregnancy test and Rill burst in on her. Everett had been extremely quiet when she told him the details of her pregnancy, but then moaned miserably when she told him about Rill’s reaction.

“Christ Almighty, Katie. What do you mean he doesn’t remember getting you pregnant?” Everett had demanded when they’d spoken on the phone earlier today.

“I mean he was stone drunk. And I’m not giving you any more details about it, either. It’s none of your business.”

“I’m not much in a mood for feeling sorry for Rill, seeing as how he got my sister pregnant and took off,” Everett grumbled, “but I can see how it might have floored him. I don’t suppose he told you about Eden?”

“Yeah,” Katie had replied flatly. “How she was pregnant when she died, and it wasn’t his baby.”

“Of all the fucking things—”

“Yeah, I see the dark irony of it all. Trust me, I’m drowning in it.”

She’d regretted saying that when Everett said he was booking a flight to St. Louis the next day. She’d scolded him out of it, saying she had her new job to attend to, and assuring him Olive and Barnyard were there for support. She told him he could fly out with her parents once she told them about the baby, if he wanted.

Katie figured she’d need a good dose of moral support at about that point, living alone on top of that hill and wondering where Rill was . . . what he was doing . . . whom he was with.

She kept dreaming about him incessantly; Rill holding her fast in his arms, his male laughter filling up the whole house, the moment when his amused expression turned hot as he looked at her. The dreams were so realistic, she’d wake up in the morning and experience her loneliness like a slap to the face. She knew she should have washed the sheets, or slept in the dormer bedroom, but she couldn’t resist lying in his bed at night, his pillow pressed against her belly and face, his scent filling her nose.

He’d tried to call her twice that Katie was aware of, but cell phone coverage in the hills was spotty and unreliable. She hadn’t gotten his brief messages until hours after the call was actually placed.

He hadn’t called for two days now, and Katie was beginning to get jittery with anxiety over that fact. She couldn’t allow herself to believe he was going to return, but she couldn’t seem to stop hoping, either, and she knew how unhealthy that was. When she realized the state she was putting herself into late Saturday afternoon as she paced around with her cell phone sitting on the kitchen table like a time bomb she couldn’t deactivate, Katie resolved to go into town and eat at the diner. One of Sherona’s meals would put her straight.

“Come on, Barnyard,” she told the dog, who had been soberly watching as she walked back and forth. He skipped in front of her, sliding on the kitchen floor before he hit the wood of the hallway.

She determinedly left her cell phone behind in the house and opened the passenger door for Barnyard to clamor into her Maserati on scrambling, stubby legs.

Barnyard turned in an anxious circle and whined when he reached the front of the diner, unwilling to plant his bottom in his usual spot. His sad eyes tore at Katie when he looked up at her.

Was he worried she was going to leave him there again?

“Would you rather wait in the car, Barnyard?” she asked him quietly.

He whimpered and Katie headed for the car. He followed her. She opened the windows, letting in a cool fall breeze, and left a more content-looking Barnyard behind.

Katie waved at several people she knew when she entered the diner. Errol was sitting in his usual booth when she arrived, but he immediately got up and hobbled toward her on his crutches, sitting beside her at the counter.

“Want something to eat, Errol?” Katie asked as she nodded a greeting at Sherona, who was at a booth giving Marcus Stash his change. Monty was talking to a man Katie had recently met named Nick Brown, who did beautiful oil paintings of the local forest and hills and sold them at the Dyer Creek Trading Company. She’d decided she wanted to buy one for the empty space above the mantel at the Mitchell place, but she hadn’t told Nick yet.

Marcus Stash looked tense as he glared at the back of Miles Fordham’s head. Miles was having a serious discussion with a man wearing a business suit, although he did keep glancing in Katie’s direction.

“Already ate,” Errol told her placidly. “Meat loaf, mashed potatoes, green beans and corn on the cob.”

“Yum. Maybe I’ll have that,” Katie said, peering at the menu. The bells on the door jangled as Marcus Stash charged out of the diner.

“What can I get you, Katie?” Sherona asked when she bustled behind the counter. Katie made her order.

“How you feeling? Any morning sickness?” Sherona asked under her breath while Errol studied his model plane.

“A little, but nothing some soda and crackers doesn’t settle. I hear it might get worse,” Katie replied. She noticed Sherona seemed unusually distracted.

“Something wrong, Sherona?” Katie asked.

Sherona rolled her eyes. “I know it sounds stupid, but I keep thinking I left on my coffeepot at home. Derek has football practice, so I couldn’t call and have him check. It’s been driving me nuts all afternoon.”

“Why don’t you go home and check? I’ll look out for things around here,” Katie volunteered.

Sherona shook her head at first, but then glanced around the diner, which was fairly empty. At that moment, Miles Fordham checked his watch and stood up from the booth. He left the suited man behind to finish his coffee, waved at Katie and hurried out the door.

“Are you sure, Katie? It’ll take me five minutes, tops. The only thing you might have to do is fill a coffee cup or two until I get back,” Sherona said.

Katie hopped down from her barstool. “No problem. Go on.” She shooed Sherona off. Sherona removed her apron and hurried into the back room toward the rear entrance.

Errol looked uncomfortable at the image of Katie behind the counter tying Sherona’s apron around her jeans. Errol liked his world unchanging and orderly. “It’s just for a little bit, Errol. Sherona will be back in a flash.” She gave him a smile before she picked up a newly brewed pot of coffee and headed toward the man in the business suit.

“Another cup for you?” she asked the man. She glanced around at the sound of the bells and saw Derek Legion enter the diner. His hair was damp and his face was flushed. He carried a blue-and-white football helmet under his arm. He seemed surprised to see Katie holding a coffeepot, but he returned her wave before he went to talk to Errol.

“Don’t mind if I do,” the man said, setting his cup in the saucer. “I have the red-eye out of St. Louis, so I’ve got some time to kill. Gorgeous country you have around here. Don’t see anything like this upstate.”

“You from the Chicago area?” Katie asked.

“Springfield. The name’s Harlan. George Harlan.” The man paused to shake Katie’s hand.

“Katie Hughes. I don’t suppose you have anything to do with the gaming commission?” Katie asked, although she already knew the answer after spending time in Miles’s office last week.

“That’s right. Here to make our final inspection. That riverboat complex is going to provide lots of jobs for this little community,” Harlan said with a smile. “With the coal mine fixing to cut back its output and cut jobs, the boat will be a gift to Vulture’s Canyon.”

“Maybe,” Katie said, smiling. “If Fordham planned to give the jobs to locals, anyway.”

“What do you mean?” Harlan asked, his expression sobering.

She paused and looked around at the sound of the bells jangling loudly. Someone wearing a dark brown puffy coat was in the process of locking the front door.

“Hey!” she called out, miffed.

Marcus Stash turned around. He pointed a gun in Katie’s and George Harlan’s direction.

“Everybody does exactly what I say, and chances are you won’t get hurt,” Stash yelled. His manic gaze landed on Katie. For a second, he looked as confused as Errol had seeing Katie standing in for Sherona. He recovered instantly.

“Everybody into the back room. Now!” he bellowed.

Katie walked toward the counter. Derek Legion looked pale with shock, but Errol seemed only mildly perturbed.

“Come on, Errol . . . Derek. Let’s go to the back room,” she said, trying to keep her voice even.

She figured it was best to just go along with Marcus Stash. The brown coat he wore was open. She’d seen enough dynamite strapped to his torso to put tiny Vulture’s Canyon, Illinois, on the map in a very big way.

Twenty-eight

Rill’s time clock was warped from two overseas trips within the
span of eight days. He’d left Malacnoic before sunrise on the night after he’d seen his uncles and got on the first flight out of Dublin to the States. He couldn’t sleep on the flight in his growing anticipation to see Katie. His excitement had festered when he’d been stuck at LaGuardia for a two-hour layover.

Finally, he was home, gritty-eyed and tired, but energized, too—buzzing to see Katie again. He had a lot to talk to her about. A lot. He’d been trying to call her ever since he reached stateside, but much to his disappointment, she wasn’t answering. One thing was for certain: with Katie being pregnant he was going to have to do something about the spotty phone service on top of that hill.

He’d finally reached the Mitchell place, only to see that Katie’s car was gone. His heart had dropped down to the vicinity of his navel. What if she’d gone away for good? She’d said she’d be okay when he left last week, but he’d suspected she was more hurt by his sudden trip plans than she let on. He should have told her more details about where he was going . . . about
why
he was going.

But truth be told, Rill hadn’t possessed a clear-cut reason for returning to Malacnoic. He felt like a fool as he considered trying to explain his actions to her. He’d known only in some vague way that if he wanted to move on with his life, the trip was necessary.

Learning of Katie’s pregnancy had galvanized him somehow.

He stormed into the house, feeling a small measure of relief when he saw all of Katie’s toiletries in the bathroom and her cell phone sitting on the kitchen table. He was back in the car within a minute of arriving, headed back toward town.

By the time he reached Vulture’s Canyon, the sun had dipped behind the western tree line, casting Main Street in long shadows. He saw Katie’s Maserati parked across the street from the diner and pulled into an empty spot with haste. He paused when he saw the eager face looking back at him.

“Barnyard?” he said, feeling disoriented by the sight of the dog who was the usual sentinel of the diner sitting in Katie’s Maserati’s passenger seat. He looked unusually clean and sleek. Something about the way Barnyard wiggled made him think the dog was wagging its tail like crazy.

Confused as he was by the unexpected image, his heart started to roll against his ribs and he had to smile at himself.
Katie was here.
He was like a fifteen-year-old about to encounter his first crush.

No, that wasn’t right. He’d never in his life felt like he did in those moments before he prepared to claim Katie. He’d never questioned the restraints he put on himself when it came to her before, because they’d been part of the air he breathed. Fact was, Rill had never really trusted himself before when it came to sex and love.

He hadn’t had much in the way of role models.

His distrust of his sexual nature and his embarrassment and denial of his family had been what had made him put Eden on some kind of unrealistic pedestal of womanhood. It’d been what had made him pull up short with Katie, leaving him unsure he could offer her anything substantial, especially when she deserved everything . . . the best.

In the end, it’d been Katie who had taught him that intense sexual need could be a genuine outlet for love. Maybe it was obvious to everyone else on the planet, but Rill guessed he was a slow learner.

He lunged out of his car, his gaze glued on the diner. He hauled up short in his energetic pursuit when he heard a woman’s muffled yell.

“Rill!”

Rill paused in the middle of the deserted street and watched in mounting puzzlement and concern as a cop car screeched to a halt twenty feet away. Sherona Legion practically fell out of the passenger door, she was in such a hurry to reach him.

“Marcus Stash has gone mad,” she said as she ran toward him. “He’s got a gun and he strapped enough dynamite on him to blow up half the block. He’s got a bunch of them in the diner!”

Sherona’s speech was so pressured and fast, Rill could hardly make her out. Sheriff Mulligan talking loudly on his radio while he sat in the driver’s seat with the door open didn’t help matters, either, especially when Rill heard the words “hostage situation.”

“Slow it down, Sherona,” Rill said as she drew up to him. He put his hands on her upper arms, trying to brace her.

She panted and swallowed, obviously trying to staunch rising fear. “He says if that man from the gaming commission—George Harlan—doesn’t refuse a recommendation for Miles Fordham to get a gambling license, he’ll shoot him and then blow up the place. He’s taken some hostages. He told me he’s strapped enough dynamite on him to blow up half the block. He put Monty on the phone, and Monty verified that everything Stash said was true.”