Dead Even - Mariah Stewart [104]
Those FBI types, though, they worried him. There were at least two men with Cahill. Were they guarding her, or someone else? And were there more than two? He couldn’t see what was going on in the front of the house.
He walked along through the frosty dawn, wondering if maybe he shouldn’t just drop it, walk away with what he had. He’d already come to the conclusion that Vince wasn’t going to hand over the rest of the money unless Cahill was a done deal.
The questions were, What were the risks of doing Cahill, and was the money worth it? Worth it to go ahead and do her, or worth it to walk away?
He’d have to sleep on it. Rest for a few hours, have a nice big breakfast, then reevaluate the situation with a clear head and a full stomach. All those FBI agents around the house had made him nervous.
Then again, the thought of all that money, just waiting for him someplace, pricked at his streak of greed. All that cash, just waiting for him . . .
It would be a toss-up which would win out in the end: fear or greed.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR
Mara paced anxiously in the kitchen, wondering when her daughter would come downstairs for breakfast—if she’d come downstairs—and if so, if she’d have what Julianne wanted to eat. Was she a cereal eater? If so, what kind?
For the tenth time that morning, Mara opened the cabinets and checked the cereal boxes.
“I’ll bet they’re the same boxes that were in there ten minutes ago,” Annie said from the doorway.
“I don’t know what she eats.” Mara turned to her sister. “She’s my child, and I don’t even know what she eats for breakfast.”
“And until yesterday, you didn’t know what she looked like after seven years. Now you do. Take it easy, Mara. It will all work out. Just stop being so anxious about everything. You’re going to make yourself crazy.”
“I’m afraid I’m already a little bit crazy.” Mara closed the cupboard door. “I think I need coffee.”
“Let me make it.” Annie smiled and came the rest of the way into the kitchen. “Your coffee is atrocious.”
“You sound like Aidan.”
“Hey, those Shields boys know their coffee.” Annie’s smile still dimmed a little when she spoke of her late fiancé, Aidan’s brother, taken out by a drug dealer’s bullet over a year ago. “Dylan made a mean pot of coffee in the morning. He liked it strong enough to walk on, but it was still pretty damned good.”
“I don’t recall that I ever had the pleasure,” Mara said.
“Hey, you’d remember. Trust me. Dylan’s coffee was potent enough to put hair on your chest.”
“Now that I would remember.” Mara nodded, a weak smile on her face. Then, a moment later, she said, “I wonder if she slept all right.”
“I’m sure she was fine.”
“Spike stayed in her room all night. He hasn’t even been outside yet.”
“Want me to try to get him? I’ll take him for a walk,” Annie offered.
“Let’s wait until he shows himself. I’d hate to wake her if she’s still . . .”
Mara’s attention was drawn to the doorway, where Julianne stood, holding Spike in her arms like a shield.
“I’m awake,” Julianne announced flatly. “You don’t have to worry about waking me.”
“Did you sleep well?” Mara asked, trying her best to sound calm, normal.
“I didn’t sleep much.”
“Oh. I’m sorry—”
“You should have thought of that before you had me kidnapped,” Julianne said flatly.
“Julianne, I did not have you kidnapped,” Mara protested.
“What would you call it?”
Mara thought it over, then looked to Annie for help.
Annie had gone upstairs.
Coward, Mara thought.
“I don’t know what they call it. A rescue—”
“I didn’t need to be rescued. I was with my father.”
“Your father who stole you from me seven years ago, changed your name, and hid you away so that no one could find you.”
“That’s not why he changed my name,” Julianne shot back.
“Oh? Why did he change your name?” Mara felt her patience slipping in spite of her best efforts to hang on, to be nonconfrontational.
“Because he said . . . he said . . .” For the first time, Julianne faltered.