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Cranston tapped his fingers against the arm of his chair. “The Genoa family is cash poor, but there are still a few favors they can draw on. Not many, mind you, and contract killings cost money. I’d say if she doesn’t try to do something herself, then the person working with her will owe her a personal favor of sorts. My advice is to keep Ms. Lucas out of sight, and if you come in contact with Ms. Genoa, see how hard you can piss her off. Women are women, my friend, and many of them will always give themselves away in anger. ”
John shook his head. Marlena was cool; hell, she was cold as ice. Getting her to crack wouldn’t be that easy.
“There’s no chance she’ll simply give up,” John mused aloud.
“Not a Genoa,” Timothy grunted. “She’s here to do the footwork, then whoever’s helping her will strike. We need to find out who’s helping her, why, and put a stop to it. ”
“And we do this how?” John asked curiously.
“I’ve always found a Glock works really well. ” He sounded way too serious, and John found the idea much too appealing.
“I like the idea, but I think if we both want to stay out of prison, we come up with another idea. ”
Timothy chuckled as he rose from his seat. “I knew I’d like you, JW. ”
“Keep calling me JW and I’ll kill you for sure,” John warned him.
Timothy only gave another short laugh. “Since we can’t kill them, we’re going to have to prove conspiracy and intent. That will be harder. We have help, though. The Mackay boys are looking for a little excitement. Marriage suits them, but I think they miss the adrenaline a little bit, too. I have a former agent or two in the area. We’ll work on them. Sit tight a day or so and I’ll see what I can come up with. ”
John’s brows rose. Strangely, he couldn’t remember asking Cranston to handle this for him. But he knew the things he had heard about the former special agent. He’d let the little Leprechaun do his thing for the time being. John had a woman to protect. His woman, and learning about Sierra was more important than hunting up Marlena.
“How do you intend to handle it, Cranston?” Curiosity was getting the best of him.
“By doing what I do best. ” Cranston’s smile was innocent, amused, and frankly terrifying. “By doing what I do best. ”
By manipulating anyone and everyone involved or who could be involved, John thought. That was what Cranston did best. That was a damned scary proposition if even half of what John had heard about him was correct.
“Cranston, you’re retired, and you’re still trying to protect the world?” John would have been amused if he wasn’t fully aware of exactly how dedicated Timothy Cranston had always been to justice.
The former agent paused and stared out into the darkened lake for long moments before speaking. “I had a daughter once. ” He spoke low, his voice filled with a haunted, aching loss. “I had a wife, and you know, they loved me. ” He turned back to John. “I’m rumpled, a smart ass, and when I met my wife, God knew I was fast on my way to becoming an alcoholic, but she saved me. And my daughter made me realize the reason for my existence. When she was born, my wife made me swear that no matter what happened, I’d never let myself sink again. ” He shook his head as he took a deep breath. “Monsters took my ladies from me, John. Men who had no respect for the law or even humanity. I swore to my beautiful wife I’d never get drunk again, but I didn’t swear I wouldn’t wipe as many of the monsters as possible out of existence. That’s what I live for. That’s all I live for. Because if I kill myself, then I don’t have a chance of meeting my ladies in Heaven, now do I?”
With that, Cranston turned and moved to the stairs.
“That’s why you’re here,” John said before he left. “That’s why you stay in Somerset, because the Mackays are family now, aren’t they?”
He shook his head. “No. I’m here because a Mackay married an agent that so reminded me of my daughter that I couldn’t help but love her as one. I stay here because there’s work to be done here, and because the Mackays allow me to be a part of their lives. Without them, I don’t know if I could keep that promise to my wife once the Department cut me loose. That’s why I’m here. ”
For a man as rumpled, lazy, and clumsy looking as Timothy Cranston, he moved with a silence John could only envy as he left the houseboat, and left John with more to ponder than what he felt he actually needed.
He wondered if the Mackays were aware of the reason why Timothy Cranston had settled in Somerset. They were tolerant of him for the most part; they liked the rabid, calculating little bastard, there was no doubt. But John had a feeling they had no idea the true reason why the other man was still here, poking his nose in their lives and calling himself “Unca Timmy” to their children as he slid their parents mocking looks.
And now it seemed Cranston wanted to adopt him and Sierra as well.
Shaking his head with a rueful laugh, John turned to make his way back to the interior of the houseboat when a movement on the bank caught his eye. It was subtle, a gleam of metal where there shouldn’t be. A small dot of light, almost like that of a pair of night-vision binoculars. It was just there for a second, though, and then it was gone.
A trick of the light? He’d seen it before over the past months and that was the explanation he had given himself. What if it was something more?
Moving to the steps, John descended them quickly until he was once again in the living area of the houseboat.
Sierra was still sleeping peacefully in the bed, her thick, heavy lashes cushioned against her upper cheek, the long, thick strands of black curls falling around her face and shoulders. She looked like an angel. So damned innocent, and so sexy at the same time.
The oversized T-shirt and shorts she wore gave her a girlish appearance, and that innocence. He grimaced, a flash of something flitting through his mind as he frowned. Rising between her thighs, fitting himself to her?
He shook his head. The fantasy of that first night, the night he had nearly had her, still tormented him. There was no figuring it out quite yet, though.
Locking the doors and pulling the drapes, he moved to the back of the houseboat and the small office he used the guest bedroom for. There, he edged the side of the curtain aside and watched the bank closely.
Shadows shifted and moved as his gaze narrowed. That tingle at the back of his neck that he’d acquired as a Marine kicked in.
