I felt laughter bubbling up in my chest. Neutralized was a very funny word. Something wet hit my cheek and I blinked several times as I refocused on Patsy’s face. Tears were streaming down his face even as he looked elsewhere. He seemed to be watching for something. And then I heard it…the songs of angels in the distance. I tried again to move my arms, and this time, I was able to lift my hand with tremendous concentration. I reached up and cupped Patsy’s face as the songs got louder.
“The ambulance is almost here,” Patsy quietly croaked. His voice sounded guttural and broken as angel song morphed into sirens. Patsy stared down at me as peace I’d never felt before dragged me down. My eyelids slid closed; I couldn’t hold them open any longer. “Stay with me, Wes.”
Patsy’s strangled words were the last thing I heard as I finally…peacefully…slipped away.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Three months later
WES
“Put that down!”
I glanced at the doorway to our new kitchen as I lifted an empty box which had been holding the newspaper wrapped baking pans I’d already emptied onto the kitchen nook’s small table. My beloved Patsy stood there looking incensed. I grinned at him and tipped the box to show him there was nothing in it. “This is the box you brought in here five minutes ago. I just peeled the tape off and took out the dishes.” I pointed to the stack of cookware sitting on the table. “When the doctor said I wasn’t to lift anything heavy, I don’t think he was talking about a bundt pan.”
“Oh.” He visibly deflated, all the sass gone as he strode into the room.
I chucked the empty cardboard onto the ground before opening my arms for him. He walked right into them and melted against my body, lifting his face to mine for a kiss. I grinned instead. “Mother hen.” I cut off further protest with a kiss, swooping down to cover his gorgeous mouth with mine. Kissing Patsy had become a passion of mine for many reasons. Once I’d gotten out of the hospital two weeks after I’d nearly died on the operating table, Patsy had taken me home to recuperate where kissing was all wecoulddo.
We hadn’t been able to do much more than kissing after major surgery to repair the damage done by infamous serial killer, Eustace Babbish, when he’d decided to stab me. After he’d been killed by Rex Monroe’s sniper round, the FBI’s case had come to a close. No one knew his endgame when he’d come back to our tent that night, though, we could only speculate he’d hoped to grab his trophies and found me there instead. He’d surprised me so profoundly that I hadn’t had time to use the knife Patsy had left with me. Instead, he’d stabbed me, probably hoping to disable me long enough to get away. All in all, the murderous killing spree had come to an end but only after the death of six defenseless prostitutes and four innocent men in the homeless encampment. I’d nearly ended up as his eleventh victim that night.
My recovery had been slow, aided by pain medication, Patsy’s frequent mother-henning, and a visit from Detectives Ryan and Williams who’d turned up ten days into my hospitalization with a file folder in their hands and massive grins on their faces. I could still remember our conversation that day.
“Why are you smiling like that, guys?” I asked as I grabbed the hospital bed’s remote control and began raising the head of the bed. Patsy put down his phone and stood from his usual perch beside my bed, a comfortable chair that folded out into a bed for his frequent overnight visits in my hospital room.
“Someone’s lookin’ too bloody pleased with themselves,” Patsy said, walking over to the two cops and shaking their hands.
“We’ve got excellent news for you both,” Cassidy said, walking over to shake my hand. “How’re you feeling, Wes?”
I held my stomach. “Never better, Cassidy. Hey, Mike.” I shook the older cop’s hand as well. “What’s happening?”
They’d exchanged amused glances before looking back at me. “You remember when we told you not to worry about those three hoodlums who’d been after you?”
I nodded. “Yeah, because you said they were affiliated with the mafia and they’d most likely be dealt with by their bosses if they brought extra FBI scrutiny down on their heads.”
They nodded before exchanging another glance. “Go ahead, Mike. You tell them.”
“It’s safe to say you don’t need a protective detail sitting outside your door anymore, Wes. These three were just scooped out of L.A. harbor by the police boat.” Mike set down the folder and flipped it open on my hospital table. I reached out and rolled it closer so Patsy and I could see. Three corpses were lined up on the dock, looking wet, blue, and veryverydead.
“Ugh,” I said, looking away.
“Ya were right, guys. The mob took care of their own,” Patsy said.
I knew he was still looking at the photos which I had no desire to.
“Sorry, Wes, we just need you to ID these fellas, provided you recognize them. Take one quick look and we’ll be done,” Cassidy said.
I sighed and glanced down at them, recognizing the two men who’d assaulted Father Gilmartin and their big friend who’d come into Raj and Rami’s store the afternoon the three had chased me up onto that roof. I reached out and shut the folder before looking at the detectives. “Yeah, that’s them.”
“Good, thank you,” Cassidy said.
“I guess yer idea to have the FBI put pressure on the mob nudged the bosses in the right direction, eh, Cassidy?” Patsy asked.
“You did this?” I asked, frowning at my love.
He grinned back. “I didn’t. I left that to the organized crime unit.”
I smiled. “Same thing, just two different departments at the FBI. Don’t split hairs, Irishman.”
