"No, ma'am. Thank you."
Her smile widened a fraction of an inch before she took a graceful seat across from them and carefully crossed her legs. One slender hand smoothed the crease of her pants, reached up and tucked a short strand of hair behind her ear. Her clear gaze moved toward TR and she studied her daughter expectantly.
"Tabitha, are you going to introduce us?"
"Oh." TR sat up a little straighter, a faint blush staining her cheeks. "Mom, this is Mac. Mac, this is my mom. Lillian."
Mac leaned forward and caught the woman's hand in his own. "Ma'am."
Her fingers squeezed his for a brief second, surprising him with their strength before she sat back once more. Delicate brows raised above those clear eyes as she studied him with a small smile. "Mac. I assume that's short for something else?"
"Yes, ma'am. It's MacGregor. Gordon MacGregor."
"Gordon." She nodded as if she approved of the name. "Thank you again. When I saw the news and realized it was Tabitha's apartment...and then, when she wasn't answering the phone—"
"I think I dropped it. Earlier. When we—" TR stopped, gave him a quick warning glance. "Um, when we were leaving my apartment."
When he pushed her out the window, she meant. Except she didn't have her phone because she'd lost it last night, when her car sank in the pond—something she obviously didn't want her mother to know about. Mac acknowledged her silent warning with a slight nod and made a mental note to get a replacement phone for her, first thing tomorrow morning. Hell, maybe even tonight if the store was still open.
"And they think the fire was accidental? Some kind of explosion, they said."
Mac placed a calming hand against TR's leg, just a quick brush meant to silence her. "Yes, ma'am."
"That's just so awful. And so scary. I can't even imagine what must have been going through your mind." Lillian shuddered then quickly shook her head, as if refusing to allow herself to think too hard about the details. "At least you're safe. Both of you. That's what matters most."
"Yes, ma'am." Mac studied the woman across from him. There was something about the way she was acting, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. She wasn't being dramatic, not even close. Maybe that was what he was picking up on—she was genuinely worried, he could see that much simply by looking into her eyes. Maybe she was holding back her own fear and worry, putting on a brave face for the sake of her daughter.
Or maybe she suspected that TR wasn't being exactly truthful about everything. Didn't mothers have some kind of built-in lie detector when it came to their kids? His own mother had—she'd been able to tell something was wrong simply by looking at him. And God help him if he didn't come clean because there would be hell to pay when she figured it out.
And she always did.
Lillian shifted on the plush seat, crossing and uncrossing her legs. She rested her elbow on the overstuffed arm, her clear gaze once again moving back and forth between them. "Tabitha, were you able to save anything at all? Or is it a total loss?"
"Um, it's pretty much a total loss. I had some clothes packed already. And my laptop. Other than that..." TR's voice trailed off and she cleared her throat, no doubt trying to hide the emotion that had made the last few words quiver. Mac reached over and took her hand, gave it a comforting squeeze.
They'd need to go shopping tomorrow, replace some of her things in addition to the phone she'd lost.
Lillian's gaze dropped to their clasped hands, quickly lifted her eyes and focused on TR. "You still have some clothes packed up in your old room if you need them. And you can always borrow some of mine, you know that."
"About that." TR shifted next to him, eased her hand from his and curled it in her lap. "Um, I was thinking I could move back here for a few weeks, just until I find a new apartment."
Dammit. He knew she was going to pull a stunt like this, had known it even before they left the office. He straightened, leaned forward and opened his mouth—
"I don't think that's a good idea, sweetheart."
—and quickly snapped it shut again. Holy shit. Did he need his hearing checked? Had TR's own mother just nixed the idea? Yeah, she had—and with a finesse he would have never been able to manage. He glanced at TR, saw the same surprise he felt etched on her face. In the way her eyes widened, in the way her mouth slightly parted.
In the embarrassed flush creeping up her neck.
"You don't think it's a good idea?" TR parroted her mother's words, her voice an octave higher than usual. "But...Mom. I don't have—I mean...why? It won't be for long, just until they can find me another apartment and—"
"Sweetheart, you know I've redone your room—"
"Then I can stay in the guest room—"
"Your aunt is coming in a few days. Didn't I tell you that?"
"Yeah, but—"
"She'll be staying in the guest room."
"Then I'll sleep on the floor. I can get an air mattress and a sleeping bag—"
"I still don't think it's a good idea, dear." Lillian sat back, her face carefully impassive. Mac didn't miss the tension running through her, didn't miss the way her shoulders stiffened just the slightest bit every time she countered TR's arguments, or the way she clasped her hands in her lap, so tight that her knuckles were beginning to turn white.
She might look calm and poised, but she was definitely worried. And turning down TR was killing her a little each time.
Mac placed his hand on TR's knee, stopping her from making yet another plea. "I told you before, you can stay with me." Did she hear the warning edge in his voice? Yes, she did. And she wasn't happy with it—or with him. Or with her mom.
But he could tell she knew this was a battle she wasn't going to win. She sat back, her body language screaming defeat. Her mother, on the other hand, looked perfectly happy.
No, not quite. Even that was an act—she was trying to hide it but Mac could see the worry in her eyes, in the way those slender hands kept twisting in her lap.
"That's a perfect idea. Tabitha, why don't you go upstairs and pack a few things to take with you? There's a suitcase in the guest room you can use."
"But—"
"No buts. Go on. I'll be up in a little bit to help you. I want to talk to Gordon for a few minutes."
TR must have finally realized something else was going because she narrowed her eyes and stared at her mother for a long minute before pinning Mac with that same glare. She pushed to her feet, muttering something under her breath as she made her way to the stairs. Mac watched her disappear then turned back to Lillian. Waiting. Preparing for whatever was to come.
The older woman stood up, wrapped her arms around her waist and closed her eyes on a heavy sigh. A second went by, then another, before she opened her eyes and pinned him in place with a searing intensity that would have made his instructors at Fort Benning envious.
"Is my daughter in danger?"
Mac hesitated, wondering how much to tell her. She obviously knew something was going on. How, he had no idea. Maybe she had picked up on TR's nervousness, or her evasiveness. Or hell, maybe it was just that uncanny instinct all mothers had. He couldn't lie to her—but he couldn't tell her the entire truth, either, not when he still didn't know what the hell was going on.
"She could be, yes."
Lillian uttered a small gasp, quickly swallowed it back as she blinked away the fear in her eyes. She straightened her shoulders, her chin jutting forward just a little, the gesture reminding him of TR. "Can you keep her safe?"
Mac slowly stood, met her clear gaze with his own determined one. "I won't let anything happen to her."
Lillian watched him for a long minute, studying him. Sizing him up. Peering beneath the stony facade he presented to all but a select few, seeing things he'd convinced himself nobody could see.
"I believe you." She lowered her arms, paced in a small circle in front of the fireplace, then slowly turned back to him. A brief smile, one laced with sadness, curled the corners of her full mouth
before disappearing. "She talked about you, you know."
"Ma'am?"
"Last year, when she first met you. She was so—" She waved one slender hand by her face, as if trying to pluck the right word from the air, "—so intrigued by you. She never spoke of anyone else the way she did you. I thought...well, it doesn't matter what I thought."
Mac held his breath, clenched his jaw against the questions that wanted to tumble from his mouth. What had she thought? What had TR said? Mac wanted to ask, wanted to hear the answers even though a part of him was afraid of what they might be.
"You'll keep her safe?" Lillian repeated the question. "You'll protect her?"
Mac closed the distance between them in two steps, reached down and caught her slender hand between his. Her skin was cold, her fingers trembling. He gave them a gentle squeeze, his gaze never leaving hers as he swore his oath. "Ma'am, I'll protect her with my dying breath."
Lillian tilted her head, studying him again before she offered him that slightly sad smile once more. "Yes, I believe you will." She pulled her hand from his, raised it and gently touched his cheek. "She loves you, you know. She fell in love with you when she first met you, and she still loves you."
Mac stepped back, the words surprising him as much as if she had slapped him. "Ma'am?"
"Oh, Gordon. Surely you can't be that blind."
"I don't—"
"You broke my daughter's heart, I think. She never said as much, but a mother knows. What I don't understand is why. Looking at you, I can see you feel the same way."
Mac shifted his weight from one foot to the other, suddenly uncomfortable. His neck prickled—not in warning, but in fear. Sweat formed on the palms of his hands and he had to resist the urge to wipe them against his pants. His survival instinct kicked in and his first reaction was to escape and evade. He wanted to deny it, wanted to tell her she was simply imagining things.
But he couldn't do a damn thing except stand there, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, his feet glued to the floor.
Lillian smiled again, just a brief curling of her lips before her expression morphed into a more serious one. Determined. Stubborn. Almost ferocious.
"You'll protect my daughter." It was a command, not a request, but he answered anyway,
"Yes, ma'am."
"Not just her life, but her heart as well."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Good. Because if you don't, if anything happens to Tabitha, there will be hell to pay."
Mac knew a threat when he heard one. And he was smart enough not to dismiss it. He had always wondered where TR had come by her spitfire attitude. Now he knew: from the woman in front of him, watching him with pale eyes that blazed with determination. This woman, so deceptively slender and petite, would serve his head—and his balls—up on a silver platter if he let anything happen to her daughter.
Which was fine by him, she could have them. Because if anything—anything at all—happened to TR, it would be because someone had stepped over his lifeless corpse to get to her.
Mac didn't bother telling her that. He didn't think he needed to, figured she could see it clearly in his eyes. But he still nodded, his voice low and serious and filled with the respect she deserved when he answered her.
"Yes, ma'am."
Chapter Sixteen
The scenery whizzed by as Mac maneuvered the borrowed car down York Road. Although maybe whizzed was an exaggeration. Mac wasn't driving fast enough for anything to whiz by and the shops and buildings lining this portion of York Road couldn't exactly be called scenery. And he wasn't really maneuvering anything. The road was practically empty, a fact that tickled her muddled brain for reasons she couldn't quite figure out.
TR didn't want to figure it out, either. All she wanted to do was close her eyes and sleep for the next forty hours straight. She wanted to curl up in her bed and pull her fluffy comforter over her head and just forget about everything that had happened.
Except she didn't have a bed. Or a fluffy comforter. All she had were the clothes on her back and the few outfits that had been thrown into the oversized backpack that was sitting at Mac's place.
And the suitcase of clothes she had packed at her mom's house. Clothes she'd had to pack because her mom didn't want her staying there. Her own mother.
There was something seriously wrong with that, something besides the obvious. TR wasn't stupid, and she wasn't usually this slow—she knew there was a reason her mom had said no. If she stopped to think, she'd be able to figure it out.
But she didn't want to think. She didn't want to do anything except sleep.
She ran her hands over her face. Up and down, up and down, like she could somehow scrub away everything that had happened. That didn't work so she closed her eyes, squeezed them tight and rubbed them, hoping that when she opened them, she'd wake up and realize the last however-many-hours had been nothing more than a dream. A really bad, twisted dream.
Only that didn't work either because when she opened her eyes, she saw they were parked in the lot of a small shopping strip.
Definitely not home.
And definitely not someplace she'd want to be on a...TR frowned, trying to figure out what day it was. Sunday. It was Sunday. The second day of a brand-new year.
A year that was totally sucking as far as she was concerned.
"You still with me over there?"
TR nodded, ran her hands through her hair, nodded again. "Yeah. I'm here." She turned her head, saw Mac studying her with an expression she couldn't read—probably because there was no expression. His chiseled face was carefully blank, his dark eyes giving nothing away. It was what she had once teasingly referred to as his soldier-face, his bad-ass, take-no-prisoners face.
She almost started teasing him about it again then changed her mind when she realized it probably wasn't a good thing that he was looking at her with his take-no-prisoners face. At any other time, that might concern her. Right now, she couldn't work up enough strength to even care.
She turned back and waved absently at the line of store fronts. "Why did we stop here?"
"Because you need a new phone." Mac opened his door and climbed out before she could argue, which was kind of counter-productive because she did need a new phone. She just didn't feel like dealing with it right now. But he wasn't giving her a choice because he walked around the car and opened her door then stood there, waiting. TR undid her seatbelt then climbed out with a weary sigh.
"This could have waited until tomorrow."
"Maybe, but we're here now."
"I'm not due for an upgrade yet."
Mac closed his hand around hers and tugged her toward the store. "Doesn't matter."
"I don't have my wallet—" She stopped, didn't bother to hide her groan. Her main wallet was at her apartment, or rather, what was left of her apartment. She had placed her license and her debit card in the small purse she'd taken with her to the Senator's party but even that was gone.
"What's wrong?"
"My wallet. My license, my debit card, my credit cards. They're gone. All of them." She pulled her hand from Mac's. "I don't have—"
"Hey, easy." Mac dropped his hands on her shoulders, stopping her when she would have spun away and walked back to the car. He dipped his head, those dark eyes of his catching her gaze and holding her in place. "We'll get everything replaced, okay? First thing tomorrow—"
"That doesn't help now." And so what if she sounded a little desperate? After everything she'd been through, TR figured a little desperation was excusable. "I can't replace my phone without ID. And I can't pay for it without—"
"We'll add it to my plan."
"Mac, no—"
"I'll just expense it out." He ran his thumb along her lower lip and offered her a small smile. "We can make Daryl pay for it."
She knew he was trying to be funny, trying to get her to smile. Any other time, it might have worked. But the insulating numbness was starting to wear off and taking its place was an oppressive feeli
ng of being overwhelmed by—well, by everything.
Mac didn't give her a chance to respond, just grabbed her hand and led her into the store. There was one customer ahead of them so they browsed the available phones on display. Not that it mattered to her—she liked her old phone, wanted the exact same model. She had insurance, so that would help. Maybe. TR wasn't sure, didn't even want to think of the headache to come when it was their turn to be waited on.
In the end, it wasn't much of a headache at all. The insurance would pay for a replacement, but she wouldn't receive it until Tuesday. That was fine with her, but Mac wanted her to have a phone now. Maybe it was because they'd walked in so close to closing time, or maybe it was because of the death-glare Mac had given the salesperson. TR wasn't sure but twenty minutes later, they walked out with a brand-new phone identical to the one she had lost, completely restored from her latest back-up. Her number had been transferred to Mac's plan—or rather, a company plan. That still didn't sit well with her but she no longer felt like arguing. They could figure that out later, when her mind was working at full capacity.
The next stop was totally unplanned. They were driving north on York Road when TR noticed the red bullseye on the building to her right. Mac somehow correctly interpreted her incoherent sound and wild wave and pulled into the Target parking lot without missing a beat. He even grinned at her when she practically jumped from the car, only to be caught by the seatbelt.
"I thought you didn't have your wallet."
"I—" She frowned, deflated with disappointment until she realized Mac was teasing her. She playfully smacked him on the arm then released the seatbelt. "I don't but I figure if you're going to pay full price for a new phone, you can finance this, too. Just until I can get to the bank and get everything replaced. Besides, I only need a few things."
"A few things? Nobody runs into Target for a few things."
TR's mouth parted in surprised. She looked at Mac, blinked, blinked again while unexpected laughter started bubbling in her throat. He placed a finger under her chin and eased her mouth closed then gave her a quick wink.
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