The Push
Chapter 11
Castle donned a green eye shade and handed one to Kate. "If we are going to do this we might as well do it right. Chips, gummy bears, or chocolate kisses?"
"How do I know that you won't use chocolate to mark the cards, Castle?"
"I can keep all the chocolaty goodness sheathed in shiny metal - unless it ends up in my stomach. Anyway, I'd never cheat on you, Kate."
"Are we still talking about cards, Rick?"
Castle shrugged. "For now. Care to cut?"
Kate lifted the top two-thirds of the stack of cards and slipped it beneath the deck.
Castle grinned. "I like a lady who goes big."
Kate was wilting in her chair. It was two A. M.. Both kinds of candy had been exhausted, with both players making some of their winnings disappear into their mouths. They'd switched to tortilla chips and finally to standard poker chips, but they were still evenly matched. "Kate, we should call it a night," Castle urged. You're not supposed to tire yourself out."
Kate began to cluck like a hen.
"I am not chicken!" Castle insisted. "I was only thinking of you. And I wouldn't cluck anyway. I'm a rooster. I'd crow."
"I know that Castle, the whole precinct has heard you crow - on a daily basis. But you haven't shown me anything to crow about yet."
Castle's eyes narrowed. "Fine! Let's get this over with." The cards hit the table with a smack.
Kate lost the hand, and the next one, and the next. "Dammit Castle! Were you just letting me win?"
"You wanted to keep your mind occupied. Other parts of your body would have been more fun, but I did what I could. You want to thank me now?"
"Thank you?" Kate poked a finger into his chest. "I should…."
Castle caught her hand, kissed her palm, and folded her fingers over the spot his lips had touched. "You should what?"
She wrapped both her hands around his larger one. "Castle I'm sorry. I know you meant well and that was really sweet. I'm just frustrated, you know?"
"Frustrated you can't go out and kick some asshole's butt?"
"Yeah that, but frustrated I had to say no to you. I didn't want to. You need to know that. The freaking bullet wound! The freaking everything!"
"You know Kate, you once told me that we could just cuddle. You didn't mean it then, but I mean it now. Come to bed with me. No funny stuff. Put on whatever you're most comfortable sleeping in. I can wear my softest, if least sexy, pajamas. I'll just hold you in my arms and we can drift off together."
"Castle, you haven't seen it, but my scars are really ugly. Josh had to open my chest up to stop the bleeding and it's going to be a long time before I can wear anything loose or low cut again without looking like the bride of Frankenstein."
"Kate, do you think I give a damn? If those scars are the result of Motor Cycle Boy saving your life, then they're beautiful. You'd be beautiful covered from your chin to the tips of your toes. I love you, Kate. I'm saying it now when I know you can hear me. No would be assassin's bullet could ever change that. And I will wait as long as it takes, to show you how much."
Kate smoothed back the hair that had fallen over his forehead during his confession. "Castle, you just did."
The bus stop was at the edge of the town, but that suited Smith fine. His cache was in the woods, a short walk from Maggie's cabin. There wasn't much of a path, but it was marked if a person knew what signs to look for, and Smith did. He reached the large rocks by a bend in the stream. The water was high as a result of heavy rains, and it lapped at his shoes as he reached into a hidden space between the boulders. His waterproof emergency drop was there. Over the years, more than a few tiny denizens of the rocks had left evidence of their passage on it. He washed it off in the stream and pressed his fingers into recesses under the rim, in a coded sequence. The top popped open. The bills were old, but still legal tender in the United States. It wouldn't be a bad idea to exchange them for newer currency at a bank - or perhaps have Maggie do it for him. He checked the action on his gun. It was still clean and well lubricated. It was time to find Maggie.
Maggie Curran pulled a loaf of bread out of the oven. They sold perfectly good bread in town. She just enjoyed making her own. Kneading the dough was great for the release of tension. She had plenty of that. No one would suspect that a middle-aged woman living off the grid in the New England woods would be monitoring chatter for the whole Eastern Seaboard, but then that was the point. She'd heard some lately. The Hammer was working off the books, protecting a former associate. That was the official story. What Jackson was actually doing was quite another question. It was one to which she might never know the answer. It was probably better that way. She'd heard a few whispers about an old friend, too. He'd dropped out of sight. That wasn't unusual in itself. He'd always been exceptionally adept at disappearing. But the word was that he had something hot, and a very nasty character had been sent by a powerful actor to find him, so far without success. She wasn't surprised to hear the coded knock at her door.
He looked older than when she'd seen him last. His hair had grayed completely, and the creases in his face had deepened, but he was in one piece. She threw her arms around him. "Michael, what the hell have you stumbled into now? I thought that you were going to devote yourself to pursuing the law behind the scenes - in between fishing expeditions."
"That was the plan, Maggie," Smith agreed, "but I was doing a favor for an old friend, and things got messy. I've been burned. I need to go to ground for a while."
"That part I already knew, Michael. You pissed off a big gun. As far as I know, he's not big enough to have clearance to know about this particular listening post, but things have a way of leaking. I'll get a heads up if anyone is headed this way, but it may not be much of a warning. You'll need to find another spot as soon as you can."
"I will," Smith agreed, "but there's something I have to make sure is protected first. I need deep access."
"No problem with that," Maggie assured him, "but while you're taking your dive, how about if I fix us some lunch?"
Smith brushed her cheek with his lips. "Maggie, you are one of a kind."
"Michael, God would never have dared to make two of us."
That evening, while Smith slept, Maggie pulled her scrambler satellite phone from its hiding place beneath the floorboards. She swiped an icon. "Yeah," a voice responded.
"He's here, and he's safe."
"Just make sure he stays that way," the voice instructed. "He's the key to cleaning out a nasty nest of vermin- and catching the king rat."
"I'm on it," Maggie assured him, "but your people better be doing their jobs too."
"Oh, I promise you, they are."
