Chapter 11
Three hours earlier:
Castle had come into the club around six o'clock to have a leisurely meal. He'd ordered a porterhouse steak, onion rings, a salad and coffee. It might be primarily a club, but its kitchen was first rate. For desert he'd ordered cheesecake and an Irish coffee.
The tables varied between couples tables and four person tables with a few six seat booths.
Castle had just finished eating and was sipping his Irish coffee, when a tall, slender, pretty woman approached his table. "Tables will be at a premium tonight," she said. "If you're not waiting for anyone, may I join you?" She spoke with a soft southern drawl.
Rick rose and pulled out her chair. "Perhaps I was waiting for you without knowing it," he said with a smile.
The woman raised an elegant eyebrow. "Oh my, a gallant and a gentleman," she said as she sat down. "I'm Miranda Cole."
"I'm Jamison Rook, Jamie or Jim if you prefer. Just don't call me Mr. Rook."
The woman had a soft, silvery laugh. "Small chance of that, I think. I've never seen you in here before, Jamie. Are you new to the area?"
Rick smiled and said, "I am new to the area but I'll only be here a week or ten days. I'm here on a kind of business trip, research you might say. Oh, excuse my manners. May I offer you a drink?"
Miranda looked at the handsome, smiling man and felt a small flutter. "Yes, please, an Irish coffee just like yours would be lovely." Rick signaled the waiter.
When the coffee was delivered Miranda took a sip, cocked her head and said, "Somehow, you don't seem like the singing cowboy type."
Rick replied, "Actually I'm a writer. I saw the club's ad and thought it would be fun to indulge my inner cowboy."
"Would I have read anything you wrote?" Miranda asked.
"Do you read murder mysteries?" Rick asked.
"Not really, a few of the old Agatha Christies, but nothing recent."
Rick said, "Then you wouldn't have read anything I've written. My work doesn't reach any great intellectual levels but I've made a good living at it."
Rick studied the woman. She wasn't in costume, wearing a printed lavender silk blouse, gray dress slacks and high heels. Her dark, silky hair framed a delicately featured oval face with large expressive brown eyes. His wide experience with many types of women made it easy to categorize most women, ranging from band groupies and fan girls to cougars on the hunt to high end call girls. This woman seemed to be just a professional woman out for a night of entertainment.
"What do you do to make a living, Miranda?" Rick asked.
"I'm a realtor. I just opened a new office here in Santa Fe. I love it here in the southwest. I'm originally from the Tidewater area of Virginia." They chatted for a while, each finding the other interesting and a good conversationalist. A club staffer came over and said, "Excuse me, sir and madam, but the entertainment is about to start. There is a ten dollar per person cover charge and a two drink minimum."
Rick took out his wallet and handed the man a fifty dollar bill, waving off the change.
Miranda protested. "I can pay my own way."
"I'm sure that you can, but why bother if you don't have to? I enjoy doing it, and I assure you that I can afford it," Rick said, giving her one of his megawatt smiles.
Miranda smiled back, a little coyly. "In that case, thank you, Jamie. I gratefully accept."
A few minutes later the music started and Rick asked Miranda to dance.
The first song was a slow country ballad. Miranda relished the feel of a strong man's arms around her. She had originally only come to listen to the music, a night of casual entertainment, but that was rapidly changing. There was something about this man that was so different from the men she usually met. They took a break after three dances and returned to their table.
Miranda put a hand on Rick's. "I hope that you don't think that I'm too forward, but I have to ask, is there anyone in your life, someone you love?"
"My daughter and my mother, they share my loft in New York."
"No significant other?"
"No, there isn't. There was a while back but she valued her career above all else."
"Oh Jamie, I'm so sorry," Miranda said as she squeezed Rick's hand.
"There's no reason for you to be sorry, as I said it was a while ago. Since you opened the subject, what about you, Miranda?" Rick asked.
She tilted her head slightly. "That's a fair question, Jamie. I'm a divorcee. No significant other. I've dated, but no one special."
At that point, the statuesque blonde appeared and said, "Since you're not using him at the moment, can I borrow him for one dance?" She didn't wait for an answer but grabbed Rick's hand and pulled him to his feet. "Come on, handsome."
He only danced one dance with the blonde, complying with her mostly out of sheer surprise at her audacity. She'd made one comment that hit him as extremely funny and he'd reacted, but then insisted on returning to Miranda.
Rick sat down and Miranda said, "That was a little against the rules around here, you're not supposed to hit on a guy if he's obviously with someone."
Rick raised an eyebrow. "That's a rule I never heard of."
Miranda gave him a cheeky grin. "Probably because I just made it up."
Rick chuckled and said. "I guess I'll have to make up for breaking the rules. May I have this dance?"
Miranda moved into Rick's arms and molded her body to his, resting her head on his shoulder.
At their table, Francesca said, "That's him, the one in black and red, the one you're tracking, isn't it."
In a tight voice Kate said, "Yes, it is."
Francesca looked Kate right in the eyes. "Kati, for a cop, you're a terrible liar. You may be tracking him for a case but it's more than that, isn't it? I can see it your face, the way you're watching him. If looks could kill, that woman would be lying on the floor. He's your guy or he was your guy and you want him back."
Kate didn't reply, she was too lost in her own thoughts. Am I too late? Are you over me Rick? Please don't be over me, over us. Don't go home with her tonight. I can't stand the thought of you in someone else's bed.
Francesca went on. "He's strapped and not worried about it. You said that he's a good guy and not a cop. He's a spook isn't he, CIA?
Kate snapped out of her reverie. "Francesca, I told you not to ask questions, it's dangerous!"
Despite her best efforts Kate was getting closer and closer to losing her temper. The woman kept touching Castle in the little ways a woman does, trying to solidify a connection.
Just as Kate was about to lose it, Esposito stopped at her table. "Hey, Chica, want to dance?"
Kate looked up. Esposito wore Levi's, a Levi's trucker jacket, a purple western shirt, a cowboy hat and boots. She stood up and accepted, glad of the distraction. They moved to a dark corner of the floor. Esposito looked seriously at Beckett's face. "Be careful, Beckett, people develop a sixth sense if they're being observed, and Castle has had lots of training. Your emotions were written all over your face, just now. After this dance, step outside and get some fresh air. I don't want you to lose it and cause a scene in there."
Kate nodded. "You're right, Esposito. I need to cool down. But damn it, it's never hit me like this before. I want to claw her eyes out." She blushed. "I want to drag Rick out and jump his bones in the backseat of the Mustang!"
The last admittance was so unlike Kate that the last of Esposito's doubts vanished. "Go outside, Kate, and cool off. I'll keep an eye on Castle."
Kate stayed outside for about ten minutes until she had her emotions under control. She walked back in and sat down. Esposito winked at her and nodded.
Miranda said, "Is there someone you weren't telling me about, Jamie?"
"No, not that I know of, why?"
"Because there's a Hispanic girl over there that keeps shooting daggers at me."
Rick shrugged. "I don't know any Hispanic women and I haven't been doing any book signings or tours here or in Arizona, and I doubt that fan girls would follow me from New York, so she must be looking at someone near us. You haven't been stealing anyone's boyfriends, have you?"
Miranda looked mildly outraged. "I wouldn't do that!"
"Just kidding, Miranda. Seriously, it simply must be a coincidence."
An announcer came on the stage. "Ladies and Gentlemen, the costume contest is about to begin. The rules are simple. We will parade the contestants across the stage. Ladies only will judge the Gentlemen and vice versa. It will be by simple applause. We will narrow it down to first, second, and third. First prize in each category is a $150 gift card, second is $100. Third is $50. Let's get started. Just give us your first name." The ladies started it. Each woman gave her name then crossed the stage, came back and pirouetted once. There were quite a few contestants, the costumes ranging from prim school teachers to outrageously risqué dance hall girls.
Finally three were called back. The announcer said, "Gentlemen, we have Connie as Annie Oakley, Danielle as the Rancher's Daughter, and Jennifer as the Madam."
Miranda poked Rick in the ribs. "Come on Jamie, get up there. You're a natural." Rick protested. "I didn't come here to compete, just to enjoy the theme."
Miranda put on a fake pout. "You really wouldn't want to disappoint a lady, would you?"
Oh, Hell, why not. It's just for laughs anyway. Miranda's been sweet. I'll indulge her, Rick thought.
Rick went up and as he stepped on the stage he said, "I'm Jamie, haven't really thought of a theme."
Miranda called out, "Gentleman Jim." Several other women caught up the chant.
The MC laughed. "Gentleman Jim it is."
The men's costumes were as varied as the women's. There were cowboys, buffalo hunters, gamblers, outlaws, and even a cavalry officer.
The MC said, "Ladies, we have for your consideration: Gary as the Gambler, Jack as wild Bill and Jamie as Gentleman Jim. Let's hear it, ladies." Clapping, whistling, and cat calls filled the air.
"Now that we have the results, each of our prize winners will come up and pose as individuals and as couple for pictures. As the finale to our costume contest, the winners will dance one dance as couples.
"Our third place winners are Jennifer and Gary. In second place, Connie and Jack, first place to Danielle and Jamie." They all posed for the pictures and left the stage. The MC said that for those who would like them, 8x10 souvenir photographs would be available for ten dollars per print. Pictures would be of individuals, couples and the dance. Miranda decided she wanted one of Rick and purchased one as soon as they were available.
Rick was starting off the dance floor when a large belligerent man stepped in his way. He wasn't drunk, per se, but had enough liquor in him to hunt trouble.
"Look, dude, around here we don't much care for strangers coming in making off with the girls and the money. I'm going to kick your ass!" He swung a roundhouse punch at Rick. It never connected. Rick moved too fast for most people to track what happened. His left hand flashed out in a hard edged strike against the side of the trouble maker's neck, followed by s flying kick to the jaw. The fool crashed to the floor. Rick crouched in a combat stance, then straightened.
All of the past three months of pain, frustration and anger boiled to the surface. Rick's eyes flashed like blue fire. His cold, tight voice rang in the now silent room. "I came in here for a little fun and relaxation. Not looking for trouble. But apparently some of you hayseed imitation cowboys are too stupid to leave a sleeping dog lie. If dumb ass on the floor has any buddies, bring it on! No? All right, just leave me alone but I'm not leaving here until I'm good and ready!"
An old man standing near the bar, let out a long laugh, and said, "Thought you were kicking a dog, didn't you. You roused a wolf!"
At first, Kate was appalled at the rapid chain of events but then the primal female took over and she was thrilled at the hidden warrior that emerged.
At the edge of the crowd, Esposito stifled a laugh. The look on your face was priceless Kate. Surprised the Hell out of you, didn't he. Your nine year old on a sugar rush turned out to be a first class fighting man. I'm proud of you, bro, he thought.
Rick stalked back to the table, sat down and ordered a tall scotch and soda.
Miranda, her eyes shining, said, "If you really are a writer Jamie, who do you write for, James Bond? I really don't want to stay for the karaoke. Jamie, will you see me home?"
Rick said, "I'll walk you to your car, Miranda, but going home with you is not a good idea. You've been a wonderful companion but I'm carrying around too much baggage right now. And if I went home with you, in the mood I'm in now I'd hurt you. Not physically of course but I would just be using you for sex and I despise men who do that."
Kate watched them leave, with her heart in her mouth, and sighed with relief when Rick walked back in.
Tomorrow, I'm going to see him tomorrow and I'm going to fix us. I'll be damned if I let it go any longer, she thought.
Francesca leaned over to Kate and whispered, "You said not to ask questions. This isn't a question. Your man's an agent of some kind." Kate eyed her but said nothing.