The Pleasures of Spring (37 page)

Roz prayed Poppy never found out that she was carrying her grandchild, and she would never see him.

And Andy. The thought of him brought pain stronger than losing a limb. The time she had broken her leg in three places had been nothing compared to this. Andy, her lover. The man who made her tremble with passion with a glance of his dark eyes. Whose kisses turned her to putty. Whose touch raised goose bumps on her skin, even when he was shaking her hand. Who had saved her life, over and over. Who had sheltered her, protected her. Made love to her.

‘Andy.’ Saying his name made her insides twist with need. A need that would last forever and could never be satisfied.

She would be hungry for Andy for the rest of her life.

Roz had no idea how long she stood there with Nagsy, grappling with the realization that she had screwed her life up past redemption. No matter which way she turned, someone would pay the price for her actions. There was no way to fix it.

A familiar sound pulled her out of her miserable ruminations. It was her Kawasaki Ninja coming up the drive to the house. She’d know her bike in a thousand. For years, that engine was all that had kept her out of trouble.

She froze. What the hell was Michael Brophy doing here? He could scupper the entire deal. With a few words, he could reveal Nagsy’s true parentage and it would be all over. She had to stop him.

Roz pulled Nagsy’s head up and started towards the house, then halted. There was something wrong. The figure on the bike was too big to be the elderly farmer.

Michael Brophy was around the same size as her, which was why she had given him her helmet and leathers. This rider was much bigger. Bigger, wider and more muscular. He brought the bike to a skidding halt and she got a clear look at him.

Hall.

Acting on instinct, she ducked in behind Nagsy before he saw her.

Hall was here. And – she caught her breath – the fact that he was riding her bike meant he had taken it from Michael Brophy. Roz wouldn’t bet a cent on the old man being alive. Had Hall seen him wearing her helmet and leathers and assumed it was her?

Oh god, oh god, oh god.

She had to get away.

Hidden behind Nagsy, she risked a peep under his neck. Hall was looking around, searching for someone. For her.

Why hadn’t she stayed in the house? She might have puked on the floor, but Hall couldn’t attack her in front of so many witnesses. Now she was on her own and there was no one within shouting distance.

Roz had seen Hall in action already and had read up on the training of Navy SEALs. This was a man who didn’t need fancy weapons; he had been trained to kill with his
bare hands and to make a weapon of whatever was available.

How could she get to safety? She was out in the middle of an empty paddock. There was nothing around her to provide shelter. She hadn’t a prayer of being able to run to the house before he noticed. Or to the stables which were empty anyway. She was out of screaming range.

Another peep under Nagsy’s neck.

FUCK. Hall had stopped and was turning the bike in her direction. He was between her and the house and was going to hunt her down on her own motorbike. She knew how fast the Ninja was; she had no hope of getting away.

Unless …

Nagsy.

She didn’t allow herself time to change her mind. Roz vaulted onto his back, feeling the fine linen skirt rip as she did. Then she was on top, Nagsy’s solid muscles shifting beneath her.

She yelled, ‘Giddy up!’ as she kicked him.

Nagsy startled, then gathered himself and took off at a full gallop.

She had no saddle or bridle. The horse wore a nylon head collar with a short leading rope attached. She had no way of guiding him but it didn’t matter. If she could get away from Hall, she’d worry about stopping later. She grabbed a handful of mane and concentrated on staying on.

The horse was headed for the stables, but that was no good. They were all at the party and there was no one who could help her.

Roz pulled the rope, turning Nagsy’s head towards the
race track. He responded, lengthening his stride as he went.

This was nothing like riding Minty. Nagsy was bigger, stronger, faster. The muscles which flexed and bunched between her thighs were fluid and powerful. His warm horsey scent rose to her nostrils, filling her with an odd exhilaration. She was terrified, knowing that she might be moments from death, but at the same time, she savoured every breath as she raced to get away.

She blessed Andy for his riding lesson, where he had made her go without reins or stirrups. This was completely different, but at least she knew how to find her balance.

Nagsy seemed to know what he was doing. Ears pricked forwards, he opened up his ground-eating legs and galloped flat out.

The sound of the engine told her that Hall was in pursuit on the Ninja. Even with the rough going, the bike was catching up.

Why the fuck did I have to buy a bike with so much acceleration?

She urged Nagsy on and he obliged, somehow finding an extra reserve of speed. It wasn’t going to be enough. As long as they were on the flat, the Ninja would catch up.

There was one thing Nagsy could do that the Ninja couldn’t. He could jump. She had seen him jumping and he had taken a series of five foot fences in his stride. Nagsy could jump. The trouble was, she couldn’t. The closest she had ever come to jumping was balance exercises over trotting poles.

Roz looked behind her. Hall was closer now. She could see the grin on his face and the feral gleam in his eyes. There was no alternative. She pulled the rope and turned Nagsy, pointing him at the thick blackthorn hedge that fenced the field.

She kicked him on. ‘Go on, boy. Time to fly.’

Andy had almost reached the far side of the field when a horse sailed over the hedge less than twenty feet in front of the Jeep. The woman was riding bareback, clinging to the stallion’s mane for dear life. Her long red hair flew out behind her.

Andy braked hard, narrowly missing a rider on a motorbike who shot through a gap in the hedge. The rider swerved, before righting himself. He gunned the engine and set off in pursuit of the horse. The military buzz cut was gone, but Andy would recognize that profile anywhere. It was Hall, and he was chasing Roz.

Fuck. Why hadn’t he packed a gun? Andy downshifted and pushed the accelerator to the floor as he set off in pursuit. He didn’t know how Roz was holding on. He had to cut them off before Hall caught her.

The Jeep bounced like a fairground ride as he pushed the engine to its limit, passing the bike and sweeping in a wide circle around the horse, trying to make the stallion change direction. He saw the ruthless grimace on Hall’s face.

Finally, he was racing side by side with Roz. Keeping one hand on the wheel, he rolled down the window and roared across the field, ‘Stop him.’

She turned, her face alive with real fear and exhilaration. ‘Are you kidding? I can’t.’

‘You’re heading towards the motorway.’

She raised her head and could see the cars and trucks speeding along on the other side of the fence. ‘Oh fuck.’ Panic crossed her face. ‘I can’t stop.’

‘Then turn him.’

The horse was racing towards disaster at a frightening speed and there was nothing Andy could do to stop it.

For endless seconds, Roz continued to gallop towards the motorway. She was barely four strides away from the fence. Nagsy was already gathering himself for the leap when she leaned forwards, grabbed his collar and hauled his head to the side. For two more strides, Nagsy fought her grip before giving in and turning away from the road.

Then she was galloping alongside the fence, with Hall catching up.

‘Get out of here,’ Andy yelled. She didn’t reply, but pulled on the head collar again until they were headed back towards the stables.

It was time to deal with Hall.

When Andy swerved, trying to get between them, bike and rider almost ploughed into him. Hall whipped the bike around but the wheels skidded and the bike slid sideways. Hall managed to leap free but the Ninja went under the Jeep’s wheels with a sickening crunch. Andy fought to control it but didn’t manage to turn in time to avoid hitting the ditch.

This was going to hurt.

A maze of birch and hawthorn rushed to greet him and he shut his eyes and braced for impact. The last thought before blackness struck him was relief that Hall was down.

The whoosh of the inflating airbag pinned him to his
seat. He was dimly aware of the sounds of wheels spinning in the mud, mixed with the cawing of disturbed crows. Christ, he had fucked up royally. He automatically carried out a quick inventory of his body. Every bit of him hurt like hell, but nothing was broken. He would have a fine collection of bruises, but that was nothing new.

Andy fought his way out from beneath the rapidly deflating airbag and staggered from the Jeep. In the distance, he caught a glimpse of Roz galloping for the stables. Punch-drunk, Andy shook his head, trying to get some sense back. There was something wrong with this picture. Something was missing.

Where was Hall?

The first blow came out of nowhere, slamming him against the Jeep. Andy raised his arm instinctively and managed to block the next one, following it up with a blow of his own. Hall evaded, dancing away from him. His opponent’s face was grazed from his fall from the bike, but the lethal intent in his eyes told Andy that Hall wasn’t giving up yet.

‘I’m gonna take you apart and after that, I’m going to take care of Red.’

Adrenaline surged, pumping through his veins, mixing with anger and masking his pain. He was the only thing that stood between Roz and Hall and there was no way that he would let that bastard touch his woman. ‘Don’t call her that.’

Hall cocked his head. ‘Well, isn’t that sweet? Someone’s got the hots for Little Red.’

Andy was glad that Roz wasn’t here. He couldn’t fight Hall and protect her at the same time. The bastard was
out for blood. No matter what happened, this had to end here.

Hall lunged. The blade of his diver’s knife came at Andy in a vicious arc.

He twisted out of its path but not quickly enough. A bright sting of pain cut his ribcage, burning like fire. Gritting his teeth, Andy blocked the next blow and landed a series of short jabs while Hall was off balance.

His small victory was short lived. Hall didn’t appear to feel a thing. He grinned with the lethal charm of a wolf. ‘You’ll have to do better than that.’

The next swipe shredded the sleeve of his shirt. A thin line of blood stretched almost from shoulder to wrist. Andy had heard of the death of a thousand cuts; he wasn’t sure how many of these he could take. Feinting left, he unbalanced his opponent and managed to kick him twice in the ribs.

The big man winced in pain. ‘Not bad. But I’m just getting warmed up.’

Retaliation was swift. While Andy was distracted by the blade, a fist the size of a ham made contact with his jaw. His neck snapped back. Christ, it was like being hit with a mallet.

Shaking the dizziness away, Andy aimed another kick, this time at his opponent’s knee. That one drew a grunt from Hall, but didn’t bring him down. What was the guy made of? Titanium?

Slash. Feint. Slash. Another burning contact. Andy had lost count of his injuries. He was losing blood from the gash in his side and the lighter cuts made him feel that his body was on fire.

Hall limped slightly but he was still strong. Was he strong enough to kill him? Andy couldn’t take that chance. The longer he kept him here, the more time Roz had to get away. If he followed her, they were both dead and he was never letting that happen.

Staying on the balls of his feet, Andy danced away from Hall’s next blow. He needed to keep distance between him and that knife. He feinted to the right before aiming a roundhouse kick at Hall’s head. He missed his target, but his foot hit Hall’s chest, driving him to the ground. It was now or never. Andy followed him down.

In a parody of a lovers’ embrace, the pair rolled, each fighting to stay on top. Andy grasped Hall’s wrist, digging his fingers deep into the groove between his tendons, trying to get him to drop the knife. Hall yelped in pain, but stubbornly refused to release it.

Andy jerked his head back and slammed his forehead into Hall’s face in a Belfast kiss. The sickening crunch of gristle and breaking bone was music to his ears. Hall roared in pain as blood erupted from his broken nose. Taking advantage of his distraction, Andy drove Hall’s knife hand to the ground and the blade jerked free and disappeared beneath the Jeep.

Despite the pumping blood, Hall refused to give up. Grasping a handful of Andy’s hair, he tugged sharply and managed to roll them both over. The air was pushed from Andy’s lungs as he was slammed into the damp ground.

This guy was worse than the Terminator.

Something hard pressed into Andy’s hip. He was still carrying Roz’s hoof pick. It wasn’t much, a tiny blade and the spike for pulling stones from hooves. Beggars couldn’t
be choosers. Despite the crushing weight of the heavier man, Andy managed to reach his pocket.

Loosening his grip on Andy’s hair, Hall turned his attention to Andy’s unprotected throat.

Jesus, Hall was strangling him. Andy gasped for air. His vision clouded at the edges. Somewhere in the distance he heard Roz scream and it jerked him back to reality. Andy managed to raise his arm and drove the spike of the hoof pick into Hall’s neck.

A look of horror crossed Hall’s face as blood spurted like a fountain from his carotid artery. His grip loosened and Andy drew in a deep lungful of air before pushing his opponent away.

Andy staggered to his feet. A terrible wheezing sound filled the silent field as Hall struggled for a breath that would never come. His fingers flailed weakly for the yellow and black handle wedged deep in his neck and then he slumped to the ground.

Andy squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again. A red-haired missile raced towards him across the grass and flung herself into his arms. He buried his face in her hair and held her as if he would never let her go.

He wasn’t sure how long they stood there. The sound of sirens carried across the open ground. He was vaguely conscious of people running towards him, but he couldn’t have moved if his life depended on it. As the adrenaline ebbed, the pain returned. There wasn’t a bit of him that wasn’t screaming for attention. None of it mattered a whit.

Nothing, except her.

Roz wriggled out of his grasp, her worried eyes taking
inventory of each blooming bruise and bloody injury. She touched his ribcage and her already pale face turned ashen when she realized he was bleeding. ‘You’re hurt.’

‘No kidding!’

Andy refused to release her hand while the paramedic tended his injuries in the O’Haras’ kitchen. A hospital was out of the question. He had refused point blank to go. He wasn’t letting Roz out of his sight. He was dead on his feet and almost certain that he was suffering from delusions, because a man dressed in a white suit who looked suspiciously like Frankie Fletcher was being treated like royalty.

Hall’s body had been taken to the hospital morgue. There were enough witnesses to the fight to confirm that the killing was self-defence. At least he wasn’t under arrest. Andy had managed to fend off most of the Gardaí’s questions about Hall, redirecting them to Niall and Interpol. The big guy was already on his way to Ireland.

The paramedic finished dressing the wound on his ribcage. ‘If you won’t go to A&E, at least promise me that you’ll lie down.’

Andy nodded. He doubted that he was capable of doing anything else.

‘He’s staying with me. I’ll make sure that he does,’ Roz said.

‘Is that an offer? I’m not sure that I’ll be up to much tonight.’

The glare she gave him made the paramedic laugh.

‘I’ll leave you to the care of your good lady.’

Patrick had managed to rescue the Jeep from the ditch
and insisted on driving them back to her cabin, even though it was less than five minutes away. Roz pushed open the unlocked door and helped him inside. He would have to give her another lecture about personal security.

Before leaving, Patrick carried his hold-all and jacket from the Jeep. Roz fetched him a blanket and switched on the heater.

‘I’ll get you a drink,’ she said.

Why wouldn’t she sit down? This was more than a reaction to being chased by Hall. Andy patted the couch in invitation. ‘I don’t want anything to drink. I want you.’

Reluctantly, she sat down beside him, twisting her hands.

Yep. Something was definitely up.

Ignoring her resistance, he pulled her into his arms and wrapped the blanket around both of them. ‘It’s over. You’re free.’

Her answering laugh was harsh. ‘I’ll never be free.’

‘Yes, you will. Now that Hall is dead, everything is different. Interpol won’t want you any longer. Tomorrow we’ll go back to Lough Darra.’

‘I can’t. You don’t know what I’ve done.’

‘I’ve a pretty good idea.’ Andy reached for her and winced. Everything hurt like a bitch. ‘Grab my bag for me?’

Bewildered, she got up and fetched the hold-all for him.

Andy unzipped it and pulled out a small velvet bag. He had carried it everywhere since he had redeemed it from the pawn shop, hoping that he could put it on her finger again.

‘You forgot something when you left.’

When she saw the name on the bag she gasped. ‘My ring? You got it back?’

‘Aye, and I want you to wear it for real this time.’

Roz choked, tears springing to her eyes and she shook her head. ‘Oh Andy, I can’t. I’m so sorry.’

He’d had a fucking crap day. He’d been punched, stabbed, half strangled and almost killed by a psycho nutcase. He was damned if he was taking ‘No’ for an answer.

Roz loved him. He was certain of that. He had to find a way to make her see reason. Pulling her into his arms, he settled the blanket around them. ‘Fine. If you can give me ten reasons why we shouldn’t get married, I’ll let you go.’

She raised her head in protest. ‘You can’t do that.’

‘I just did. Come on, if you’re so set against us being together, you should have lots of reasons.’

‘I scammed Tim O’Sullivan out of five million.’

‘He can afford it.’ Andy was dying to hear the details of that one, but it wouldn’t do to get side-tracked. He had more important things to think about.

‘Didn’t you hear me? He’s going to go nuts when he realizes what I did.’ Her voice was rising.

‘So give it back.’

‘I can’t. My dad messed with the wrong people. I need half a million to keep his kneecaps attached.’

Rage surged through Andy. Peter Spring was a bastard. What kind of a parent would expect his child to bail him out every time he screwed up?

He put his finger beneath her chin and tipped her face up so that she was forced to meet his eyes. ‘You are not
responsible for your father. Let him sort out his own problems. Hell, let him get a job.’