Earth Enchanted Read online

  “…When I like and you can make what you want of him tomorrow evening.”

  “Why?”

  “We’re going to dinner. He’ll be here at seven. I expect you to be decent to the man.”

  “You’ll break the date. He could be dangerous.”

  Liv growled at him. “You listen to me. I will not. If I want to go, I’ll go. If I decide to have an illicit affair or elope I’ll let you know if I feel like it. No man, brother, father, lover or friend, tells me how to live my life. Ma raised me better than that, and you too.” Both their tempers were winding down now. The tears were starting to come on her part, and the guilt washed over him, just like it always did. He couldn’t help being overprotective. He’d been just shy of twenty when their father had died. She’d been fifteen and he’d slid into that father figure role.

  “What’s his name?”

  “Jack Roarke. You won’t do anything that will make me want to torture you?”

  Was it possible to turn the blood cold with a breath? Yeah, he knew Jack Roarke all right. Why had she had to run into him, of all the people in the world? He’d have rather it been a killer than him.

  “I mean it. He’s been hurt badly, and you won’t be adding to that.”

  By me, he thought. Ryan knew every detail the press leaked, and some they didn’t.

  “I’m sorry, Liv. You’ve come to visit, and we’re already fighting.”

  “Just like home, isn’t it? You’re forgiven, just don’t be a jerk.” She went back to cooking dinner.

  They ate in silence, Ryan still thinking about all that had happened and what she didn’t know.

  Ryan sat alone in his dark study, and waited. The call would come at midnight, exactly. He knew it, expected it to come. It was never late. He had the ringer switched off, of course, so it wouldn’t wake Liv. When the caller ID flashed green, he picked up the receiver, and spoke quietly into the phone.

  “I’m here.”

  “Do you have the lady?” the man on the line asked. His voice seemed to come through sand.

  “I have her, and she’s safe.” It was what he always said, meaning he picked up the Madonna statue, and she was hidden.

  “Ground her for two weeks, and then bring her to the usual place.”

  “Yes, sir.” He just wanted this conversation over so he could go on with life for another day and pretend everything would be okay. If only he had something useful to hand over, maybe he could squeeze his way out of this mess. The broken silence interrupted his whining.

  “Corrigan, I don’t have to remind you to come alone, or not to involve anyone else, do I? Remember the last time?” The man was laughing at him, the sickening sound of someone who knew what it was to murder and reveled in it. “Yes I can see you do. You dug her grave nice and deep with that little call, and ruined a great many lives in the process. You didn’t even manage to do anything to help yourself either, so I’d think twice before trying again.”

  His skin iced cold while his stomach wrenched itself into knots. “I remember. It will not happen again.” Another pause left the dread hanging in the air.

  “No, this time I’ll make sure it will matter to you.”

  Temper struck in full force when his tormentor scoffed at that young life lost. “It did matter. She didn’t deserve what you did to her.”

  “Take care not to raise your voice to me. I only have so much patience for fools. Your mother’s garden is nice this time of year. She plants something new every day...”

  Ryan sunk into the chair at the thought of losing his mother.

  “And your brother haunts those brooding cliffs that overlook the sea, sits for hours with a brush in hand and never paints a thing, just stares. Quite boring, that one, though according to my sources he maintains an interesting string of Irish lasses at his beck and call.”

  He’d known his family would be targeted if he tried to escape again.

  “But no, I don’t think I’ll have to go that far, will I? You’ve made things nice and tidy. Olivia is a beautiful woman. I won’t let her die easy. No, I think I will have my fill of her first. Can you see her begging for her death, Corrigan? You remember that, because her breath will be gone before I will grant her request for mercy.”

  Ryan could see the picture clear in his mind, her pretty dark hair soaked with blood, eyes staring blindly. He’d not be the cause of anyone’s death, never again. No, he’d do what he was told until death caught him, or God saw fit to save his miserable soul. “I won’t try anything. There’s no need to hurt her.”

  A reply didn’t come. The line had gone dead.

  One minute later, he picked up the receiver again.

  “Corrigan, you have a clear line.”

  He took a deep breath and prayed what he said wouldn’t kill someone he loved. Words hold so much power, he thought. “The drop went as planned. I have the lady. I’m supposed to hold the statue two weeks, then give it to the guy who picks it up.”

  “Good, keep to the plan. We’re going to get this guy.” Federal Agent Gabriel Spiller was a very goal-oriented type of man, and it was making his life hell.

  “He threatened my family. My sister’s staying with me, and I know he’ll make good on his threat. He has before. I want out!” Ryan shouted into the mouthpiece. “I know he ordered the hit on that cop, dead because of me.”

  “I don’t have to tell you how deep you’re in, too deep to back out now. This was your choice. I could have you doing time, but in exchange for your cooperation you’re a free man. As free as you’ll get until this is over. I couldn’t put guards on you or your sister or they’d know you’d been talking to the authorities. My hands are unfortunately tied. Get me something on him, and if you want your family to stay breathing, do it fast. That’s the only help I can give you. Follow his instructions, and mine.”

  The line went dead, again.

  * * * *

  Sleep wouldn’t come. Eyes that were so like another’s she’d just met haunted her dreams. Why couldn’t she get him out of her head? Liv had tried to work, but everywhere she turned in her mind, Jack was there.

  Macy’s story refused to flow from her mind and onto the screen. Liv thought she’d forever be caught in limbo. Screaming in the hands of a madman, with him poised on the brink of delivering the deathblow. No, the story would end eventually.

  She guessed the part of her mind that wrote wasn’t ready to end it. Did we ever really know the end of a tale? Or do those who we create in our minds go on forever in the ether of the unwritten page? How would her own life story end if she could read the last page first? She could die tomorrow, or she might fall asleep one night in her old age. Things like that hadn’t bothered her until today. She was thankful for the time she was given on this earth, and tried to do the best she could with it. So why was she suddenly so discontent? He was the problem. Jack Roarke had sneaked into her head with his troubled puppy-dog eyes. She wondered what had happened for his wife to die so young. Why did he seem so reclusive, despite his forward behavior toward her? For now, she could do nothing but wait and see what the next day would bring.

  Chapter 6

  Liv chose the floaty blue dress she’d caught on sale. Her dark hair fell in untamed rioting curls to her waist. Playing her make-up down to a minimum, she let her natural features shine. He’d be there in ten minutes, and she was wrecked on the inside. No sleep, no work to filter her troubles into. Maybe this hadn’t been a good idea. She’d never been good at the dating thing, which was why she kept to herself usually.

  Most men, in her experience, proved to be a credit to their gender and not in the best of ways. He might expect too much from her. Or maybe he’d felt obliged to ask her out after coffee. Or maybe... Or maybe he was just a nice guy who missed his wife and wanted someone to talk to. She tossed the fluffy powder brush on the vanity in disgust with herself. She’d go to dinner, and worry about the rest later.

  Crossing her arms over her chest, she paced in front of the mirror, irritated
with herself. The musical notes of the doorbell stopped her in her tracks. She wanted both to hide under the bed and run down the stairs. The man in question was at the door.

  Liv was still debating on earrings when she heard the knock. “Come in, Ryan.”

  He opened the door and let out a whistle, then grinned like a fool. “It’s unfortunate that I’ll have to tell your young man to leave. You’re too pretty to be let out the house.”

  The comment made her giggle and put her nerves away.

  “I hope you’re not serious, except for the pretty part.” She decided on the blue lapis drops. As she put them on, she watched her brother’s reflection in the mirror, with all the suspicion of a veteran mother. He looked so tired, defeated. “Are you really okay?”

  “No, Liv, but I will be. There’s nothing you can do but be here for me.”

  “If that is all I can do, then it will just have to be enough.”

  Jack shifted on the other side of Ryan’s front door and waited. He noticed a tall blond man peeking out the window at him. Must be Liv’s brother, what have I gotten into? He’d let himself forget for a moment, yesterday. Forget the blood and terror, forget that he was half of a broken unit, and he didn’t believe he could be part of one again. To risk that much pain, well he wasn’t sure his heart could take it. Then again, he was just taking her to dinner, not the altar. Since that wasn’t in his plans, he should manage to escape unscathed. Food, fun, and farewell and that’s where this infatuation would end.

  He straightened when he heard the footsteps approach the door.

  “Roarke, come in, and I’ll see if she’s ready.”

  “Thanks. It’s Ryan. Right?”

  “Yes.”

  Jack’s first impression of the house was one of walking into a Wicca shop. Ingrained in him was the ability to pick up every detail, trained into the cop, born into the writer. The mythical statuary carefully displayed throughout the foyer continued into the parlor just to his left. Unless he missed his guess, it continued through the rest of the house as well. Little bowls of crystals in various shades had also been set out. The colors of the décor were in keeping with the dark theme. Jack wandered to a chair in the foyer to wait. What sort of man could live with all those fairies and mermaids?

  Jack watched as they came down the stairs arm in arm. Her brother was obviously more close to his age than Liv’s, and he stood nearly eight inches taller, but the resemblance was clear if you ignored the coloring. Where hers was dark, his was fair. Their easy way with one another attested to the closeness of family. “Hi, Jack.” She smiled at him, switching Ryan’s arm for Jack’s hand. It surprised him for a moment to feel the jolt of current in the contact.

  “Hi, yourself.” He had dressed in black slacks and a white dress shirt. No tie, but he’d thrown on his leather jacket. The nights could still get chilly, though the days were the devil’s paradise. The stray thought occurred to him that it was what he would have worn to the old office.

  She gave Ryan a fleeting smile. “Don’t worry, ‘Daddy.’ I’ll be back by curfew.”

  * * * *

  They had seafood while they talked about the world in general. Liv finished off her drink while Jack floated the topic back to her family.

  “Well,” she said, “my da, Michael, was born in the house where my mother still makes her home. He was a fisherman, and loved the ocean like a woman, until he met my ma. She’s American born and was barely nineteen when she visited our little corner of the world. They met one morning at sunrise on the docks, quite unintended of course. She’d come to watch the sunrise, he to set his boat to sea. A whirlwind couldn’t have picked them up any faster, as he used to tell.

  “They fell in love and married before the month was out. I look like him, you know, Ma is fair with pretty blond hair and green cat eyes. Anyhow, ten months later Ryan was born. Another five years gave them Skye and myself. They were always happy, whether hard times or good ones. As long as they had each other, the world was right.” Jack registered the sadness that flickered through her eyes, but set it aside for another time. Would they even have another time?

  “You must have a close family. You’re lucky, Liv, to still have them with you. My parents died about five years ago. I’m an only child. So now it’s just me, with my wife passed away. We were tight knit while we had each other so I guess that’s something.” She laid a hand gently over his. Jack felt a jolt shoot through his arm.

  “How awful for you, I know it hurts to lose someone you love. One evening when I was fifteen, I waited for my father’s little fishing boat to dock. I’d often go out on the water with him, you see, if I had no lessons, but he hadn’t come for me. The storm blew up so quickly and still he didn’t come. When the lightning came, Ma finally made me watch from the house. She was upset, and I knew in my heart something was terribly wrong.

  “Da never came home to us. I wouldn’t be surprised if she knew the exact moment he died. His boat washed up tattered and torn with none aboard or found. My ma grieved until we thought she’d die from it, but we leaned on each other and got through because there was no other choice for us. After that she’s always said she’s thankful for the time the Lord gave them to be with each other, and that she will see him again someday. For her, for some, there is only one love. This is how it was between them, and always will be, though he no longer walks beside her.”

  He knew, but looked at her pointedly and said, “Sometimes you can find someone who makes you happy and that’s enough.” Jack took a breath and let it out slowly. That was the last hope of normalcy he had left to cling to, whether he believed in it or not. “So you’re a writer, and Ryan’s an accountant. What does Skye do for a living? Is he a fisherman like your father?”

  The sound of her laughter set off visions of fairy harps in his mind. “He’s an artist. He paints, does clay sculptures. Skye creates with his hands, while I create with my head.” She tapped her temple as she spoke. “He also cooks, has strings of girls, but no one special. Moody like an artist is supposed to be. Still he can be counted on in a pinch, and one couldn’t have a better friend.”

  Jack was slow forming a mental image of her twin.

  “Do you have a picture?”

  Liv pulled a small wallet out of her evening bag and handed it to him.

  Jack flipped through them, and landed on one of Liv, a few years younger, standing with a man built like a basketball player, but maybe not quite as tall. His hair had been left straight to fall at his shoulders, and his image stared out at him with Liv’s smoky eyes. A happier Ryan stood behind with his arms wrapped around both of his younger siblings.

  “That was taken before Ryan moved to the states. Ma is on the unseen end of the camera, of course. He gives us both no end of trouble.”

  Jack swallowed hard and continued to stare at the photograph. Love true and full radiated from it, but that wasn’t what bothered him. Something flashed through his subconscious but still he couldn’t hold on to it. She was waiting for him to say something.

  “You have a great family, Olivia. Am I right in thinking your home is near these?” He tapped a finger on the image of the stones.

  “Yes, the dance is on Corrigan land, and there’s a path leading to it from my cottage. My family has owned the land for as far back as anyone knows. Sometimes I work outside the circle, others I just sit and just watch the sea. I still crave the sea, though I haven’t been on a boat since my father died...” She trailed off. “Skye has visions about it. He likes to think he’s fey.”

  “Fey?”

  “Yes. Oh, now there are those with great mental ability, telepathy and such.” Her smile was sly and quick.

  “Hmm.” They finished their meal in silence. After five or six minutes had passed, he signaled for the check. They walked to the car in silence. He held the car door open and closed it for her.

  Jack didn’t drive to Ryan’s house. Instead he turned the opposite direction.

  “Jack, where are we going?”


  “I thought we’d take a walk in the park, if you like.”

  “I’d like that.”

  He parked the car in the wide gravel lot next to the basketball courts. Listening to the night birds sing, his hand gently caught hers as they walked along the path.

  * * * *

  Jack unlocked his door and dropped his keys in the bowl on the end table. He’d thought a lot about what had been said over dinner. Olivia Corrigan was a complex and fascinating woman. His little Irish witch had secrets. He’d known her a day and a half. He wanted to know more about her. He just plain wanted. That was what it came down to. Starting now, he would make it a point to try to get on with his life. He would always love Sissy, and miss her in every way possible for a man, but he was still alive. It was time he lived again. Olivia seemed like a good place to start. He made his way into the bedroom he had shared with his wife and remembered...

  The sun was still up at six in the evening, and it shone through the filmy Irish lace curtains that were a prized wedding gift from her grandmother. She sat at the little vanity just placing the last pins to hold that cloud of red hair up and away from her china doll face. Jack watched her from the doorway, as he sometimes did when she didn’t know he was looking. So beautiful, strong, not only of body but of heart, and she could still take his breath away. He smiled to himself. Mine, he thought and walked to her. Her eyes fell on him. He watched as they lit with love and mischief.

  She scolded, “I know what you’re about.” He said nothing, just smiled slyly as he grasped one of the pins, yanked it out of her hair. “No, you don’t.” Sissy pretended to bat him away. “I just finished with it. You’ll not be pulling it apart with your romantic notions. Haven’t you had enough of that today? Going out to dinner usually means a body is presentable when leaving the house.” He drew her up out of the chair, but she skirted around him and headed for the closet. She waited a moment or two and after he made no other move toward her went about looking for clothes.

  She snatched the white shirt and blue skirt that hung on the hanger in front of her. Sissy turned and walked right into his arms, caught.