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Authors: Heather Graham
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tattered than Luke’s old army-issue sweater.
But Luke smiled at his sorry-looking visitor and quietly closed his bedroom door. He drew the drapes before flicking on a light, then embraced the shaggy man briefly before indicating the plush period chair that sat before the garden window.
“Have a seat, Andrew,” he encouraged. “I was just about to come looking for you.”
Andrew leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes wearily for a minute. He rubbed his temple with his thumb and forefingers. “I figured you would, that’s why I tried to beat you to it. No sense the two of us crawling around different ghettos trying to find one another.” He opened his eyes at last. “You got anything decent to drink around here?”
Luke chuckled softly and strode to a small carved cabinet. He pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniels and offered it to Andrew. Andrew smiled like a high-school kid as he took the bottle, twisted off the top, and drank a long gulp. He straightened the bottle, shuddered slightly, and returned it to Luke.
“Damn—sorry, Father, but that was good. After all that rot gut I’ve been drinking with the winos!”
“Bad day?” Luke queried.
“Yeah—even before I heard from Tricia.” He gazed at Luke accusingly. “How on earth did you stumble into Donna Miro—and why did you tell her that you knew me?”
Luke shrugged and decided to take a swig of the Jack Daniels himself. “That was exactly it—I stumbled into her. She was trying to find an address from a letter you wrote her and was in the process of being mugged when I found her.”
“Oh,” Andrew murmured. “Have you got a cigarette, Luke?”
Luke patiently obliged him.
Andrew inhaled deeply, then grimaced. “Much, much better than the butts I’ve been smoking all day!”
Luke tensed. “How long do you think this is going to go on?”
Andrew lifted his brows and shrugged helplessly. “I wish I knew. Hey—you’re supposedly the one with the pipeline to the Almighty. Can’t you pray any harder that we nab this guy?”
He had tried to be flippant and easy, and he knew that his effort had failed miserably when he watched Luke tense, pain filling his eyes before he turned away.
Andrew watched, his hands clenched together tightly behind his back. “Hey, Luke, I’m sorry. I know if anyone has been praying—”
Luke turned back to him, then sat at the foot of the bed, raking his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know. Sometimes I think I’m better off not to feel so viciously that he must be caught. I’m a priest, Drew. I shouldn’t hate this guy so much.”
“You’re a human being. You wouldn’t be normal if you didn’t hate him after…what happened.”
Luke said nothing for a minute, lighting a cigarette himself. He watched a mist of smoke fade away. “Have you been able to see Mom lately?”
“Last week.” He grimaced, then smiled ruefully again, feeling that the tension was past. “I sometimes hate to go see her. She spends the whole time moaning over my hair.”
Luke laughed so hard he choked. “Hey, she’s your mother. What do you want?”
“Ah, Mom’s a good old girl, I guess. She worries about us both, you know.”
“Yeah, I know. But I’m okay.”
“I know, you are.”
The brothers gazed at one another for a minute, then both smiled.
“So, tell me, what’s she like?”
“Donna Miro?”
“Yeah.”
“She’s…”
“Gorgeous,” Andrew supplied. Luke arched a curious brow. “I was watching you two when you entered the hotel.”
“You do manage to get around this city—and be in the right place at the right time,” Luke murmured.
“Did you tell her that we’re related?”
“I didn’t tell her anything, and certainly nothing that might imperil your cover. I just figured that if anyone could get you, it would be Irish. And then it would be up to you. You do know about her, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” Andrew said dryly. “Lorna has mentioned her to me several times. Or, I
But Luke smiled at his sorry-looking visitor and quietly closed his bedroom door. He drew the drapes before flicking on a light, then embraced the shaggy man briefly before indicating the plush period chair that sat before the garden window.
“Have a seat, Andrew,” he encouraged. “I was just about to come looking for you.”
Andrew leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes wearily for a minute. He rubbed his temple with his thumb and forefingers. “I figured you would, that’s why I tried to beat you to it. No sense the two of us crawling around different ghettos trying to find one another.” He opened his eyes at last. “You got anything decent to drink around here?”
Luke chuckled softly and strode to a small carved cabinet. He pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniels and offered it to Andrew. Andrew smiled like a high-school kid as he took the bottle, twisted off the top, and drank a long gulp. He straightened the bottle, shuddered slightly, and returned it to Luke.
“Damn—sorry, Father, but that was good. After all that rot gut I’ve been drinking with the winos!”
“Bad day?” Luke queried.
“Yeah—even before I heard from Tricia.” He gazed at Luke accusingly. “How on earth did you stumble into Donna Miro—and why did you tell her that you knew me?”
Luke shrugged and decided to take a swig of the Jack Daniels himself. “That was exactly it—I stumbled into her. She was trying to find an address from a letter you wrote her and was in the process of being mugged when I found her.”
“Oh,” Andrew murmured. “Have you got a cigarette, Luke?”
Luke patiently obliged him.
Andrew inhaled deeply, then grimaced. “Much, much better than the butts I’ve been smoking all day!”
Luke tensed. “How long do you think this is going to go on?”
Andrew lifted his brows and shrugged helplessly. “I wish I knew. Hey—you’re supposedly the one with the pipeline to the Almighty. Can’t you pray any harder that we nab this guy?”
He had tried to be flippant and easy, and he knew that his effort had failed miserably when he watched Luke tense, pain filling his eyes before he turned away.
Andrew watched, his hands clenched together tightly behind his back. “Hey, Luke, I’m sorry. I know if anyone has been praying—”
Luke turned back to him, then sat at the foot of the bed, raking his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know. Sometimes I think I’m better off not to feel so viciously that he must be caught. I’m a priest, Drew. I shouldn’t hate this guy so much.”
“You’re a human being. You wouldn’t be normal if you didn’t hate him after…what happened.”
Luke said nothing for a minute, lighting a cigarette himself. He watched a mist of smoke fade away. “Have you been able to see Mom lately?”
“Last week.” He grimaced, then smiled ruefully again, feeling that the tension was past. “I sometimes hate to go see her. She spends the whole time moaning over my hair.”
Luke laughed so hard he choked. “Hey, she’s your mother. What do you want?”
“Ah, Mom’s a good old girl, I guess. She worries about us both, you know.”
“Yeah, I know. But I’m okay.”
“I know, you are.”
The brothers gazed at one another for a minute, then both smiled.
“So, tell me, what’s she like?”
“Donna Miro?”
“Yeah.”
“She’s…”
“Gorgeous,” Andrew supplied. Luke arched a curious brow. “I was watching you two when you entered the hotel.”
“You do manage to get around this city—and be in the right place at the right time,” Luke murmured.
“Did you tell her that we’re related?”
“I didn’t tell her anything, and certainly nothing that might imperil your cover. I just figured that if anyone could get you, it would be Irish. And then it would be up to you. You do know about her, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” Andrew said dryly. “Lorna has mentioned her to me several times. Or, I
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