by Debby Giusti
She hadn’t expected to see him again, although after visiting her father, noting his pale face and weakness while lying in his hospital bed, she’d decided to get in touch with Mike while she was in town. In fact, she was surprised he hadn’t asked her a whole bucketful of personal questions.
Especially about Brodie.
Memories of the past, echoes of what might have been, overwhelmed her with sorrow and regret.
The man she’d fallen in love with and had agreed to marry, had changed after his father’s murder. Mike had instantly become obsessed with uncovering the truth and had irrationally chosen to believe her father and brother were involved.
Ridiculous allegations had caused a terrible argument to erupt between them. Their breakup had been razor-sharp and deeply painful.
When she’d tried to call Mike several months later, he’d refused to talk to her unless she admitted her father and brother were guilty. When she’d refused, Mike had rudely told her they had nothing more to discuss.
So she’d let it go.
Yet, as time had worn on, she’d known she couldn’t hide the truth forever. Her family knew and it was time for Mike to know, as well.
Tonight, she inwardly promised. She’d tell him tonight.
Mike drove up to a white two-story building called the American Lodge Motel. “Stay here,” he said curtly. “I’ll be right back.”
Tempted to snap back, she bit her lip, knowing she should be grateful for Mike’s timely rescue and ongoing support. After hearing the sharp report of gunfire and fearing for her life and Brodie’s, the last thing she wanted to do was to spend the night at Duncan’s.
The shooter had come to Duncan’s house. Why? A shot meant for him? Not logical, since her fair hair was the opposite of his dark brown.
And where was Duncan? What was going on?
Her brother was a cop and she knew that often meant being called in to work after hours. But why wasn’t he taking her calls? Why were they going straight to voice mail?
Questions only Duncan could answer.
She also couldn’t figure out why Mike had been on the scene of the shooting so quickly. Was it possible he’d actually bought the house next to her brother’s? No, that seemed highly unlikely. Four years ago, Mike had made his feelings for her brother crystal clear and she had no reason to doubt that anything had changed over time.
But she had seen Mike going down the driveway into the street in an attempt to hit the car speeding away.
She shot a guilty glance back at Brodie, whose brown eyes were drooping sleepily despite the early-evening hour of seven thirty. No doubt, the poor kid was tuckered out between visiting his grandfather in the hospital and the most recent scare.
The driver’s door opened, startling her. She put a hand over her galloping heart for a moment, then went back to twisting her fingers in her lap. “Find a room?”
“Two connecting rooms,” he corrected. He started the car, made a sweep of the small parking lot and pulled up in front of room number nine. “We have nine and ten.”
“We?” She hated the betraying squeak of alarm in her voice. “Why would you stay here, too?”
“Because you and the kid are both in danger, or has that fact not sunk in yet?”
She bit back a terse retort, unwilling to argue with him in front of Brodie. Yes, she knew she was in danger, but she didn’t understand why.
She battled the surge of panic. She and Brodie were safe now, and she could handle Mike. He was just a man she’d once loved, but that was before he’d accused her father and brother of being dirty cops.
Pushing open her door, she slid out and then opened the back door to reach Brodie.
“Mommy?” His chubby fists rubbed his eyes. “Where are we?”
“We’re staying overnight in a motel. Doesn’t that sound like fun?” She unbuckled the straps holding him in and lifted him out of the seat with a muffled groan. Her son was big for his age, growing out of his clothes faster than she could buy them.
“Can we go swimming?” Brodie asked.
“I don’t think so. But there’s probably a kid’s channel on the television.” She set him on his feet. He was quick and prone to rushing off, so she firmly grasped his hand and then eyed Mike. “Which room is mine?”
“Number ten.” Mike handed over a plastic keycard. “But I’d like you to keep the connecting door between our rooms open, in case things go south.”
That was the last thing she wanted to do.
Silently, she took the key and slid it into the door, unlocking it. She stepped over the threshold and felt along the wall for a light switch.
A pale yellow glow filled the room, revealing two double-size beds, a small table and two wooden chairs. A waist-high dresser ran the length of the room with a medium-size television sitting on top of it. The space was larger than she’d anticipated and nicer, as if it had been recently updated. She urged Brodie inside, frowning when Mike followed.
“Hey,” she protested when he crossed over to unlock her side of the connecting doors.
“I need to be able to reach you if there’s any trouble,” he repeated without showing signs of impatience. “I promise not to infringe on your privacy.”
Once again, he was probably right, but his tendency to issue orders—as if he were a drill sergeant and she were a lowly soldier—didn’t sit well. She’d forgotten how bossy he could be.
Except four years ago he hadn’t been as prone to barking orders.
He’d been sweet, kind and caring...devastated after the fight with his father over turning down a position with the Milwaukee Police Department after graduating from the academy.
“What else are you not telling me?” he asked, breaking into her thoughts.
“Nothing!” She hoped her cheeks weren’t flush with guilt. “I don’t know where Duncan is or where he normally hangs out.” She turned on the television to help keep Brodie occupied. “Why don’t you tell me why you were so Johnny-on-the-spot, parked next to Duncan’s house in the first place?”
There was a brief flash of guilt in his green eyes but his expression remained impassive. “I was waiting for your brother.”
The blunt answer surprised her. “Why?”
“To confront him about his illegal activities.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Same song and dance, Mike? Aren’t you tired of it yet?” She waved a hand and turned away. “Never mind. As you so rudely put it the last time we spoke, there’s nothing more to discuss.”
“Shayla, someone tried to shoot you outside Duncan’s house. Doesn’t that tell you something? Your brother’s in trouble.”
“The shot was aimed at me, not my brother. And did it ever occur to you that Duncan could be working undercover? That he’s in danger because of a case he’s working on? That maybe the attempt on me was a way to seek revenge against him?”
Mike didn’t say anything for a long moment. “Anything is possible.” The way he said it didn’t give her the impression he really believed it. He moved toward the door. “I need to make a few calls, but holler if you need something, okay?”
Ironically, despite her irritation over the connecting doors between their rooms, she suddenly didn’t want him to leave. “Mike?”
“Yeah?” He paused and looked at her over his shoulder.
The words were right there on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t do it. Not yet. Not like this. She needed to wait until her son was asleep before uttering a deep, emotional confession. Her stomach rolled and she forced a smile. “Never mind. Good night.”
He stared at her for a long moment before giving her a nod. “Good night.”
He left, softly closing the door behind him. Her knees were shaky and weak, so she sank onto the edge of the bed and buried her face in her hands.
How was it possible he didn’t know, or suspect,
that Brodie was his son?
Copyright © 2019 by Laura Iding
ISBN-13: 9781488040214
Amish Safe House
Copyright © 2019 by Harlequin Books S.A.
Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Debby Giusti for her contribution to the Amish Witness Protection series.
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