Callahan's Fate by Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy Read Free Book Online

shook his head, she caught
his smile.   He liked the compliment, no
matter what he might say to the contrary. “I doubt I’ll be asked to sing at
Madison Square Garden or at the Met anytime soon.   C’mon, doll, let’s go in.”
    ****
    After the chilly interlude on the roof,
she savored the warmth of his apartment.   While he opened the wine and produced two dusty glasses, which she
insisted he rinse, Raine chose a movie from his small
selection.   His tastes seemed to run
toward action and adventure movies—no real surprise—so she chose one of the Wolverine movies with Hugh Jackman .   They
settled down together on his couch and she slipped out of her shoes so she
could tuck her feet under.   Cal handed
her a glass of wine and they touched the rims. “ Slainte !” he said.
    Slawn -cha? Raine had no idea what it meant, but she did her best to
repeat it. After her first sip of the sweet, full-bodied wine, she asked. “So
what’s that mean?”
    Callahan met her gaze. “Good health, in
Irish,” he said. “It’s Gaelic, or whatever you want to call it.”
    They drank wine and cuddled, as they
watched the fast-paced movie.   About
thirty minutes into it, she cuddled closer and shivered. He put his arm around
her shoulder. “Are you cold?”
    “A little,” she said.
    “No problem,” he said. “I can fix
that.   I got steam heat.   It runs hotter than the devil’s backyard.”
    He put the movie on pause and tinkered
with the radiator until Raine heard it begin to
hiss.   Warmth soon emanated from it, and
she relaxed against him.   After the
second glass of wine, a delicious calm descended over her as she relaxed.   Her taut muscles eased, and her bones all but
melted.   Her languor turned to drowsiness,
and she thought she’d begun dozing when his cell phone rang with loud, shrill
insistence.  
    Raine recognized the
opening notes of Billy Joel’s “ We Didn’t Start The Fire,”as she stirred.   Callahan pulled the device from his
pocket.   “Yeah, whaddya want?”
    Although she couldn’t make out the
words, she heard a definite masculine rumble.   Cal laughed. “Yeah, I’m alive, asshole.   You can play poker without me this week.   I’m busy.”
    He listened, then repeated. “Like I said, I’m busy.   You
firefighters can fleece some other cop this time.   I ain’t coming.”
    This time, she made out what the caller
said , his voice choked with laughter. “Yeah, what’s
her name?”
    Cal glanced at her, eyebrows raised in
unspoken question.   She nodded and he
said, “ Raine .   Good-bye and good riddance.”
    He shut off the phone and tossed it on
the dresser. “Sorry about that, doll.”
    “Sounds like you had plans.”
    “ Naw , it’s
just the guys at the firehouse down the block. They always play poker unless
they get called out on an alarm on Saturday night.   Sometimes I join in, sometimes not.   I’d rather be here with you.”
    His simple statement made her glad, but
a stray glance at the digital time on the DVD player shattered the mood they’d
created.   Feeling like Cinderella minutes
before the clock chimed twelve, Raine wanted to cry,
because the evening was pretty much over.   “It’s late,” she said. “I should go home.   It’s going to take awhile to get there anyway, and longer if I get lost.”
    “You won’t,” he said. “I’ll take you.”
    “All the way to the Lower East Side?”
she asked. “It’s a long way on the subway.”
    “The subway’s not the best place to be
at night, not for you,” Cal said.
    Raine frowned. “Is it
dangerous?”
    Callahan shrugged. “It can be, most of
the time it’s not.   You’re not familiar,
though, and I wouldn’t want you lost at night at the Fulton Street Station or
anywhere else.”
His pompous manner irritated her a little.   “I could manage,” she said.  
      He offered her a hand and pulled her to a
standing position. “I know,” he replied. “But I care about you, baby,