Merchants with Evil Intent (51 page)

      
“That was my intention,” he grinned. At
the front door he took her keys.

      
She flipped on the light switch casting a
soft glow in the living room. Nothing seemed out of place, but she cautiously
walked behind Greg while he checked every room thoroughly.

      
“All clear,” he announced. He turned and
frowned slightly. Going to Ireland had changed her dramatically. She looked so
forlorn and unsure. He much preferred her cocky attitude.

      
He didn’t want to leave, but didn’t want
to press her, either.

      
“Thanks for bringing me home.”

      
He shrugged, “It was nothin’.” He lowered
his head to meet her eyes.
“Cam?
You gonna be okay?”

      
Her eyes glistened in the soft glow of
the lamp.
“Yeah, eventually.”

      
Greg nodded and left. He waited until he
heard her engage both locks on the door before going to his car.

      
Damn, he hated seeing her so sad.

*
     
*
     
*

      
Camryn strode purposely to the kitchen,
retrieving a bottle of Irish whiskey. Just a shot glass full, she promised
herself, just enough to help her sleep. The liquid amber burned the back of her
throat, but she welcomed the feeling.

      
If only she could put the numbing nectar
on her heart.

*
     
*
     
*

      
Declan tossed and turned in the bed where
Camryn had slept. Her scent lingered on the sheets, making sleep impossible. He
cursed himself for missing her call.

      
He lay on his back, with his hand behind
his head. Of course she loved him. What vexed him most was the note. At the
airport she seemed distressed, but he put it off to the fact that she was
leaving temporarily, not for good.

      
The damn gel made him neddy and truth be
told, he was pissed off, as well.

      
Did she think so little of him? That he’d
be okay without her? Didna she understand the depth of his love for her? He
growled loudly and sat up, reaching for his mobile.

*
     
*
     
*

      
The warm shower didn’t calm her nerves or
make her sleepy. So she broke her promise to herself and downed three shots of
whiskey.
  

      
She was drifting off to sleep when her
cell rang. Out of habit, she reached over to the pine nightstand and brought it
to her ear.

      
“Hullo?” she answered, half-asleep.

      
“Camryn,” he replied thickly.

      
She sat up in bed, all sleepiness gone.
“Declan?”

      
“Are ya tryin’ to kill me, gel?”

      
“W-what are you talking about?” she
squeaked.

      
He snapped, “Ya left me bloody ring, not
to mention that feckin’ note. Are ya done with me then?”

      
She sighed, “We were done before we
began,
we
just didn’t know it.”

      
Declan tore the mobile from his ear,
cursing. The temple in his forehead pulsated as he tried to calm his Irish
temper.

      
“Declan?” she said softly, tears stinging
her eyes.

      
“Are ya tellin’ me you doona love me?” he
glowered.

      
She glared at the phone and hissed, “You
big jerk! You don’t love me!”

      
His eyebrows knitted together, “How the
feck can you say that?”

      
 
“When you were drugged up in the hospital it
wasn’t
my
name you called out!”

      
Before he could ask her to explain, he
heard a dial tone in his ear.

*
     
*
     
*

      
Siobhan sighed sadly. Her son had been
through so much in the past few years. It broke her heart to see him so
distressed. She patted his leg. “It’ll work out, Decky. Once we get settled at
Colleen’s you’ll call Camryn. You’ll see.”

      
He turned in the tiny airplane seat to
face her. “Ma, when I was in the hospital, did I call out for anyone?”

      
She thought for a moment and shrugged,
“Mayhap once or twice.”

      
Declan’s lips thinned. “Tell me.”

      
“T’was nothin’ really,” she hedged.

      
“Ma!”

      
“Och, Declan. You called out for
Teaghan,” she clucked sympathetically.

*
     
*
     
*

      
A week later Camryn arrived at work with
hesitation. She couldn’t stay at home any longer and mope. She had to get her
life back on track.

      
Tamara spotted her across the room and
squealed.
“Cam!”
Camryn grinned and dodged a few
people to make her way to her friend.

      
Tamara hugged her tightly. “I’ve missed
you!” She pulled away from her friend and wrinkled her nose. “No offense Cam,
but you look like shit.”

      
Camryn snorted, “Lack of sleep will do
that to a girl.”

      
“Why are you here? I don’t think Paul was
expecting you so soon.”

      
“Well, I like to eat and have a place to
live…,” Camryn shrugged.

      
“Well, well. If it isn’t Miss Junior
Reporter,” scoffed Josh Taylor as he approached.

      
Tamara rolled her eyes and muttered an
unpleasant remark under her breath, causing Camryn to smile.

      
“Josh,” Camryn replied stiffly.

      
“Hey kiddo!”
Paul shouted from his office. Camryn turned and watched him hobble towards her.
“Damn, didn’t you get any rest in Ireland?” he asked.

      
She let out a hard breath. “No, I was too
busy avoiding stalking ex-boyfriends.”

      
“You mean killing them,” Josh corrected.

      
She edged closer to him, a wicked gleam
in her eye. “Careful, Josh, you could be next.”

      
“Okay you two,” Paul interceded. “Let’s
go in my office and talk, Cam.”

      
Tamara rolled her eyes and nudged her
friend. “I’ll be here when you’re done with Paul.”

      
Paul walked into his office and indicated
for Camryn to have a seat on the couch. “Coffee?” he offered.

      
“Yeah, but I can get it.”

      
“Nah, relax, I got it,” Paul smiled. As
he poured the coffee he glanced over his shoulder. “Have you slept at all?”

      
Camryn smoothed her grey wool skirt.
“Yeah.
It’s been rough going, but each day I feel more like
myself.”
Lie, lie,
lie
.

      
He nodded, placing a coffee mug on the
glass coffee table. “I didn’t know when you’d pop back in…”

      
A look of alarm appeared on her face. “Do
I no longer have a job?”

      
Paul’s blue eyes crinkled in the corners.
“You’ll always have a job here, Cam. I thought you’d need time to absorb what’s
happened to you.” He took a sip of coffee and pointed at his head laughing.
“I’ve not only gone grayer since you’ve been gone, now I’ve got a bald spot!”

      
She laughed gently. “Paul, you’ve always
been gray and balding.”

      
He gazed at her in length. “How are you
really doing?”

      
“Okay, I guess. I didn’t have a choice,
Paul. He shot my boy…well, friend and was undoubtedly going to do something to
me. I shudder to think what he had planned.”

      
He nodded. “Would you do an interview for
the paper? Tell your side of the story?”

      
Her eyebrows lifted.
“With
Josh?
Not a freakin’ chance!” She stood up and began pacing in his small
office. “I can’t believe you’d even consider that!”

      
Paul
rose
, his
liver-spotted hands outstretched. “Cam, it’s a major story! Josh has been
reporting on this since the day you left. He’s written some really great
pieces.”

      
“I don’t give a rats ass how great his
‘pieces’ were,” she said acidly. “He’ll never get my story.”

      
“Maybe once you’ve rested you’ll look at
it differently,” Paul offered.

      
Camryn grabbed her purse from the couch
and strode to the door. “That will
never
happen.”

*
     
*
     
*

      
Almost quitting time and Camryn’s
computer monitor held a black screen. She had no story to chase and breezed
through the e-mails and letters she’d received.

      
It suddenly didn’t feel right for her.

      
The cubicle she sat in, the office, all
of it.

      
She daydreamed of sitting in a loft that
overlooked the channel, pecking away at a manuscript. Hearing the door close
faintly and feeling his arms embrace her behind the desk chair.

      
“Cam?” a deep voice said.

      
She spun around in the chair and a slight
frown formed on her lips.

      
“Well, that’s not the greeting I was
expecting,” he murmured.

      
She shook her head. “Sorry Greg. What
brings you here?”

      
“Thought you might want a drink,” he
grinned.

      
She eyed him suspiciously. “Are you off
duty?”

      
He blanched. “You wound me.”

      
“I planned on going out with Tamara, but
you’re more than welcome to join us,” she offered.

      
“Tamara…do I know her?” he asked.

      
“Did I hear my name?” Tamara replied,
walking over to Camryn’s cubicle.

      
Greg turned and a slow grin spread across
his face. He took her hand into his and bowed. “Detective Greg Travers at your
service,” he murmured.

*
     
*
     
*

      
The three of them ended up at Murphy’s, a
popular Irish pub in the city, much to Camryn’s chagrin.

      
She didn’t need another reminder of
Declan.

      
She felt like a third wheel, watching
Tamara and Greg talking animatedly with each other.

      
Love
Rescue Me
, by U2,
blared from the jukebox, causing her to wince. It was one of many songs they
had danced to in his den.

      
She drained the glass of sparkling water
in front of her and pushed away from the table.

      
The pub was packed for a Thursday night.
After bumping into several people she made it to the door.

      
She paced the sidewalk, hands dug deep
into her wool coat. A slight breeze blew in from the lake causing her to
shiver.

      
Cars honked and bus fumes invaded the air
she breathed. Pedestrians walked hurriedly past her to catch a cab or a train.

      
She longed for the tranquility of
Ireland.

      
She longed for him.

      
Moaning, she pulled her phone from her
coat pocket. She wouldn’t call him, just look at the pictures she took of him.

      
Nothing else.

      
The picture of him on the strand,
shirtless, came up first. Her breath hitched a little. He had a great body, not
an inch of flab on him, the prick.

      
She peered closer at the photo and
smiled. He wore a determined look on his face; she wondered what he was thinking
then.

      
She wondered what he was thinking of now.