Operation Hell Gate - Marc Cerasini [32]
Caitlin pushed an unruly strand of red-gold hair away from her face, messaged a neck that ached from carrying trays all night. With a sigh she rolled the bills up in a napkin and thrust the wad into her blouse. Once milky and smooth, Caitlin's pale skin was now sallow and uneven. Her formerly lustrous hair was frizzy and tangled. Her generous mouth frowned more than it smiled, and her lipstick — too red — exaggerated the emotion on her tired face.
The baby fat of her adolescence had melted away unnoticed in the past few months. Her long legs, once shapely, seemed thin and white under the short black skirt. But some of the changes were really improvements — age lent character and beauty to her face, her finely chiseled cheekbones more pronounced, green eyes large and lively despite the lines of exhaustion that edged them. Still, at twenty-two, Caitlin thought she was beginning to look — and feel — middle-aged.
"Better lock up, Caitlin," said Donnie. "Then get to bed."
Before she could rise, the bell over the stout oak door dinged once as it swung open. Caitlin's heart sunk when she saw Shamus Lynch on the threshold. Shamus had said he might stop by, but it was so late Caitlin, dared hope for a respite. But he was here now, a silver metal attache case clutched in his hand.
Shamus pretended not to notice Caitlin, greeting Donnie and accepting a Sam Adams. Caitlin rose, carried the cold cup behind the bar, and dumped the tea into the sink. As he took his first gulp, Shamus caught her eye, winked. The smile Caitlin returned was forced. When Shamus waved her over a moment later, Donnie diplomatically moved to the opposite end of the bar and raised the volume on the television.
Shamus slipped his arm around Caitlin's hips. "Miss me?"
"Depends," said Caitlin. "Were you gone?"
Shamus planted a wet kiss on her lips, smearing her lipstick. Caitlin did not resist. Shamus rested his hand on the silver case. "Where's Liam? I got a job for him."
"Where do you think he is? He's sleeping. You can tell him all about it in the morning."
Shamus shook his head. "Sorry, darlin'. Can't wait. It's an important computer component. Has to be delivered tonight, so everythin's runnin' smoothly for business first thing in the mornin'."
"My little brother ain't going out in the middle of the night, Shamus, no matter what you or your brother say."
"It's a big job, Cait. I had to talk Griffin into giving Liam a crack at it. And the pay's real good. The kid does well and... uh, maybe he can apprentice in the electronics shop this summer."
Caitlin gave Shamus a sidelong glance. "You'd do that?"
"It ain't really up to me. Griffs the boss. But he likes Liam and if the kid shows himself to be responsible..." Shamus's eyes held steady, locked with Cait's green gaze.
Satisfied he meant what he said, she handed Shamus the key to her apartment. He squeezed the key, still warm from her touch, and winked again.
"See you upstairs," he said softly. "After you close up."
Then Shamus swallowed the rest of his beer, snatched the case off the bar, and sauntered to the back of the pub. He unlocked a small door and proceeded up the narrow stairs behind it to the cramped apartment Caitlin and her brother shared on the second floor.
Shamus found fifteen-year-old Liam tucked in a sleeping bag, eyes closed. There was only one bed in the two-room furnished apartment, and Caitlin used it.
Shamus gently kicked Liam's leg. "Wake up," he said, pulling off his suit jacket and loosening his tie. "I got a job for you, lad. Right now."
The youth sat up and rubbed his shaggy hair, red-gold like his sister's. "Hey, Shea. What time is it?"
Shamus laughed and tossed a pair of sneakers at the boy. "Time for you to earn two hundred dollars up front, another hundred when you've done the job."
Liam was instantly awake.