Love's Gift
Chapter 1
Nothing is real to Castle except Kate's hand in his as she leads him to the bedroom. Her eyes meet his as she pushes the shoulder of her top down, revealing pale but bruised skin. She'd told him that she'd almost died. Were the bruises part of it? She lowers herself to the bed, her eyes locked with his. He wants to surround her, let his longing melt into hers, but she's fragile. He supports himself on trembling arms, allowing only their lips to touch.
She pulls him to her, his hardness against the intimate heat that penetrates even through their layers of clothing. She tugs at his shirt, pulling it loose from his pants. The buttons fly as she tears it loose. Her already gaping blouse follows his shirt to the floor. The bra underneath poses only a fleeting obstacle to his lips. She arches, her fingers grasping for his belt. He strips it from its loops. His fingers are desperate to remove the remaining barriers between them. They are skin against skin, but it's not enough - not nearly enough.
Her thighs reveal more bruises left from the battle she fought, and he can't bear the thought of causing her more pain. Rolling, he brings her with him to straddle his groin. She takes him in without hesitation. She is like hot silk around him as she moves above, her rain-soaked hair wildly crowning the fever in her eyes. He reaches for the firm globes, straining for his touch. No signs of injury there, just raw need.
She rides faster, harder, her passion meeting his in ecstatic collision. The pressure rises within him, an explosion that's been building for four years. Her cries echo against the walls as she tightens around him, and he can feel the waves of her release, her spent body collapsing into his. His arms enfold her as the room spins into nothingness.
His fogged mind resists responding to the alert demanding attention from the pocket of pants that are still on the floor, but the message could mean everything now. Kate stirs against him, grumbling for him to ignore the summons. He can't. That signal would come from only one person, Kate's mysterious guardian. The text is short but terrifying, "they have the package."
If Kate's attacker let her live, now there's no longer anything holding him back. Somehow Castle has to protect her. That means solving the case, but Kate tells him she isn't a cop anymore. She can't go back to the precinct. Neither can Espo. Ryan will be there, but she doesn't know how much he told Gates. They'll have to find out.
They need to meet Ryan somewhere - a place the killer can't reach them. Alexis will be home in a few hours and mother is in the Hamptons. He can't leave his daughter alone, not now. He calls his mother, asking her to come back. He doesn't need to tell her much. She's understood the danger too well for too long.
They have a VIP suite at the Four Winds, but he couldn't care less about the luxury appointments, and he doesn't dare dull his senses with anything from the expensively stocked minibar. Any minute Ryan should be using the code he gave him to get through the security meant to protect celebrities and heads of state.
The Irish cop looks even paler than usual. His tie is loose, and strands of his hair have escaped their regular discipline. He's carrying Montgomery's wedding album. He flips it open on the over-sized dining table and points to a picture with a face circled in red. Castle recognizes the figure. He's the man from the parking garage; the man who knows the identity of the monster that wants Kate dead. The face is 30 years younger, but it's him.
Ryan has to get back to the precinct before Gates asks too many questions, but Castle and Kate will uncover the man's identity on their own. Who would have known Montgomery that long ago, and who would have owed him enough of a favor to make a deal with the devil? There has to be a clue somewhere.
Thank God the hotel has secure Wi-Fi, a perk on the exclusive floor. Castle connects his laptop to the network. The event they need to uncover may be too insignificant and have happened too long ago to google, but his subscription database gives him access to even the most minor newspaper stories back to the 1800s. He doesn't need ancient history, but he can search the early years of Montgomery's life. If Montgomery did something heroic for his friend, some enterprising stringer might have recorded it in print.
Damn! Who knew there were so many Roy Montgomerys in the world and that they had accomplished so many noteworthy things? There's something from a paper published in the Massachusetts town where Roy liked to go fishing. The blurb is about a boating accident. A yacht went down, and a Roy Montgomery saved a Michael Smith from drowning. The picture is grainy, but it shows a young version of their Roy Montgomery and Kate's protector.
The article doesn't say much about Michael Smith except that he was a rising star in a law firm. Legal cases are on another database, but Castle has a subscription to that one too. He can trace Michael Smith.
Castle's been at it for hours, and his eyes are beginning to blur. Kate slept for a while. She needed it - that and the king-sized bottle of ibuprofen he had the concierge send up. But she's awake now. His muscles relax under the strength of her fingers massaging the knots in his shoulders as he hunches over his keyboard. She asks him if he wants some of the coffee room service delivered. Kate bringing him coffee is a role reversal, but a touching and welcome one.
For the past few years, Michael Smith has made very few appearances in court, but there is a public record of an application to demolish a building he owns. If it hasn't been knocked down yet, there may be a clue there as to where they can find him.
The early stages of demolition have begun, but Smith still maintains an office on the sixth floor. There's a picture on the wall of the lawyer with some doctors in front of a hospital involved in a suit Castle remembers reading about. The hospital had developed an experimental treatment they'd had to fight the FDA over using it on terminal patients. Smith had been the lead attorney on the case. He'd won it, and several patients had beaten a disease as a result. Smith has his arm around one of the doctors. If that physician is still at the hospital, he might still know how to get in touch with Smith.
Their cab pulls up at the same time as an ambulance. Castle can recognize the battered face of the man being wheeled into emergency. It's Smith. Kate agrees. They identify themselves to the volunteer at the visitor's desk as friends of Michael Smith, who's just been brought in. She tells them that the doctors can only give news to next of kin, but if they want to wait, she'll let them know if Smith is admitted and assigned a room.
At least he can bring Kate coffee the way she likes it from the Java Hut concession in the lobby. The way Smith looked, they may have a long wait before they're allowed to see him. She's pacing the floor when he gets back to her. Maybe he should have ordered decaf, but since he started working with her he hasn't seen her go for less than maximum caffeine - or less than maximum anything. He presses the cup holding the vanilla flavored brew into her hands and wishes that there was something else he could do.