"'Twould be a shame t'mar such a lovely neck, now," the man said with soft menace. He kept his victim pinned to the wall as he deftly lowered the blade, thrusting it into the woman's side before he stepped back. The woman slid down the wall into a heap at his feet. Her attacker knelt to wipe his knife clean on the cloth jacket she wore before disappearing back into the darkness of the alleyway.
Laura's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "I wish I knew what you're up to," she said.
He came to stand before her. "Now Laura, why must you be so suspicious? I was merely arranging to meet Jessica for lunch tomorrow."
"Again? This will be the third time this week."
"She IS my sister, Laura. We're - meeting Katherine, actually," he said, hoping that he could remember to call his aunt so she would cover for him.
Laura placed her hands on his chest. "You're taking having a family very seriously, aren't you?" she mused aloud, her eyes searching his face.
"Is there something wrong with that?" he questioned, bending to nuzzle her neck, still marveling at how the scent of her could make him want to pick her up and carry her to the bed beyond the doorway behind her.
"Of course not. I just wouldn't want OUR starting a family to interfere," she said quietly.
Remington's lips moved to her neck as the towel slipped. "Never." He would have said more, but her words suddenly got through to him, and he drew back to look into her eyes. "Laura? Are you -"
She nodded, a stiff, jerky movement. "I- might be. I haven't been to see the doctor, but-"
He pulled her back against him, his kiss filled with a gentle passion. "Oh, Laura," he sighed into her hair, then pulled away again, trying to draw her toward the sofa. "Sit down. You shouldn't be on your feet -"
"I'm fine," she assured him, moving away toward the bedroom to find a robe, hoping he wouldn't notice-
He followed her, standing in the doorway. "Do I detect a hint of- ambivalence in your attitude? I thought you said you wanted children-"
"I do," she insisted, then stopped. "It's just - I keep wondering about the Agency- my career-"
"Laura, I never suggested that you give up your career. I wouldn't even consider asking you to do that. I know how much the agency means to you, remember?" He crossed to place his hands on her shoulders. "There's no reason why you can't work in the office until the baby is born-"
"And let YOU handle the leg work?"
"I'm not exactly inexperienced," he reminded her. "I've had an excellent teacher, after all. Mildred and Antony can help. And in a pinch, we can always call on Jessica."
Laura sighed. "I suppose you're right, but- afterwards- what then?"
"We'll hire someone to take care of her."
Her eyes widened. "A nanny?"
"Why not? We can afford it. We'll have to find a house now, I suppose." He pulled her close again. "Any further problems, Mrs. Steele?"
Laura put her arms around his neck. "Just one, Mr. Steele. What makes you think the baby will be a girl? It could be a boy, you know."
"Or even twins," he murmured, remembering an almost forgotten dream from not so long ago. "It doesn't matter. As long as whatever it is is healthy." Their lips met, and they fell onto the bed, still entwined, as there was a knock on the apartment door. Remington groaned and raised his head, looking ruefully into her face. "Damn. I don't suppose we could just- ignore it? Hope that whoever it is just goes away?" Laura's expression gave him the answer. "I didn't think so. I'll get rid of whoever it is, so don't lose my place." He kissed the tip of her nose and went out to see who was summoning him.
When he didn't return immediately, Laura put on a robe and started combing out her hair as she went into the living room. She found him on the sofa, a brown manila envelope on the table before him. There was a news photograph of a young, pretty woman in his hand. "Who's that?" she asked, sitting down beside him.
"A ghost from my past, I'm afraid. A very dangerous one."
Laura looked closer. "She doesn't look very dangerous." Wonderful, she thought. That's exactly what I DON'T need right now. Another of his old girl friends popping up.
"She's not the problem," he told her. "Her name is Mary Shaunessy," he said, giving her the article before crossing to stand at the window, watching the street below.
Laura scanned the brief report. "This says she's a special Interpol agent, specializing in illegal arms sales." She frowned. "How does that concern you?"
He didn't turn from the window. "Look at the back."
White paper had been glued to the newsprint. On the paper was written in a bold hand, "The lass is dead. You're next. M. StC," and an address in a seedier part of LA. Laura shook her head. "M. StC?"
"I have to find out about Mary, Laura."
"I'll get dressed," she said, starting to rise, only to stop as he shook his head.
"No. There's no need for both of us to go down to that part of town at this time of night. You stay here. Lock the door after I'm gone and don't let anyone else in."
She stood in the hallway for a moment after the elevator doors closed, then went back into the apartment, turning the deadbolt on the door. Wrapping her arms around her waist, she fought off a bout of shivering. She had never seen that particular look on Remington's face, and it frightened her.
He found her in a pool of her own blood, shivering and pale. "Mary?" he said, pushing her hair from her face.
She opened her eyes to look up at him. "Mi-cheal?" Her voice was weak, barely audible. "St. -Clair." She coughed, and Steele could hear the rattle in her chest.
"I know, Mary," he said. "I'll go get help, just hang on-" She prevented him from rising by grasping his shirt, staining the white silk with her blood.
"Too late," she managed. "St-Clair. Los Angeles. Be- careful-" the hand fell away, her eyes open, sightlessly staring at him.
Steele closed those blue eyes and felt his anger growing. He thought he had managed to leave it behind in Dublin after Patrick's death. But as he looked down at the pale face, he knew he had been wrong. Mary's death was only the latest in a long line of deaths - but it WOULD be the last, Steele vowed silently. Morgan St. Clair had claimed his final victim.