The Ready-Made Family (Silhouette Special Edition)

by Laurie Paige

  She continued to worry while she showered and dressed for her shopping trip. Maybe she was overre- acting. With her guilt and indecision over confessing all to Harrison, she was probably paranoid about the whole situation. Rick was fine most of the time. Just once in a while he seemed to withdraw again.

  A blast of dry heat hit her like a puff from a bellows when she went out to her car. She cranked up the engine and turned on the air-conditioning full blast.

  It was the heat, she decided on her way to town. She and Rick weren’t used to this weather. That was why he was tense and she was leaping to conclusions. Yes, it was the heat.

  The end-of-summer sales were good, but her heart wasn’t in it. She bought underwear, which had been her main objective, added two slacks outfits, a blouse and a vest, then called it quits.

  Glancing at her watch, she saw it was a little early for lunch. She’d go to the office and do some work while she waited for her men.

  Her heart gave a gigantic leap.

  Her men. She realized how very much she wanted that to be true. She thought of how Harrison would react if she confessed she’d fallen in love with him. Not that he would believe her. He’d probably laugh.

  “Harrison, I’m out of here. See you Monday.”

  Harrison looked at the clock after Ken left. A little after eleven. He’d been working steadily for three hours. He threw down the pen and stretched, giving a huge yawn.

  Propping his feet on the desk, his hands behind his head, he contemplated his life. In many ways, it was as good as it had ever been.

  He had a warm, exciting woman in his bed every night—just thinking about her turned him on—and the business was going well, so he should be satisfied. He wasn’t. There was more to life than sex and money. He wanted…hell, he didn’t know… Forever? Commit- ment? Vows of undying love?

  Those were things women usually demanded from men. But not his wife. Now there was a nice piece of irony. When he finally met the woman of his dreams, or so he’d thought that first month, she’d turned out to be a schemer and blackmailer, a con artist of the first degree. He glanced toward heaven.

  “Is this some kind of a joke?” he demanded. “A test?”

  Yeah, right. He was like old Job—his faith in love and marriage, as exemplified by his parents, was being tested to the limit. His marriage was beyond the limits and definitely failing the test.

  He ignored the swirl of useless fury at being taken in by her innocent face and haunting eyes. He still hadn’t penetrated the obscuring mist and figured her out. He was beginning to think he never would. So where did that leave them?

  At an impasse.

  Restless, he stood and headed out the door. He’d go down and see how Rick was doing. He took the stairs instead of the elevator, since they opened onto a corri- dor next to the storage area where the teenager worked.

  On the first floor, the offices were dark, the doors all closed and locked. He let himself out a side exit and headed around the building. Just as he reached the cor- ner near the loading dock, he heard the heavy metal door open.

  “Hello, Ricky-boy,” a voice said.

  Harrison stopped instinctively. He didn’t like the tone of the person who’d spoken. It had been the voice of a bully, one sure of his hold over another.

  “Moe.” Rick sounded startled. “What are you doing here?”

  “Well, I got to wondering about things—like whether or not you’d meet me like I told you.”

  “I told you I wouldn’t,” Rick replied. The bottom dropped out of his stomach. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  “I cruised the block several times. You’re by yourself.” Moe pulled a knife from his pocket and flicked a button. The blade leapt from its casing. He proceeded to casually clean his nails with the sharp steel. “Now did you lie to me, Ricky-boy, or were you, like, mis- taken?”

  “There’s another guy here. He has an office up- stairs.” Rick kept his eyes on the knife, mesmerized by the way the hot sun gleamed off the blade as Moe worked on his nails. He thought of it piercing his skin, slicing into his gut.

  Fear grabbed him by the throat. He didn’t want to die. He had school ahead of him. There was a girl he’d met on a field trip into the desert. He swallowed and squared his shoulders.

  “I’m not going to let you do it, Moe,” he said, sounding a lot stronger than he felt.

  “Do what?”

  “Rob the place.”

  Moe assumed a fake innocence. “Me? Nah, you got it wrong, kid. I’ve got pals in Carson City. I’ve been with them all morning, all afternoon, tonight, too.” He grinned.

  Rick shook his head. “I’m not going to leave the door unlocked. I’m not going to let you do this.”

  “You got a sweet-looking sister,” Moe said, chang- ing his manner to a serious, confidential one. “I’d hate to see anything happen to her, you know? Be a shame if her brakes failed on the way home one night. Her pretty face could get all broken up. I saw that happen once. Yeah, a friend’s wife got her face all smashed up—”

  “I’m not going to help you,” Rick interrupted.

  “I figured you might get cold feet. That’s why I came by early. We’re going to do the job now, you and me. How about that, huh? Let’s go inside.” He pushed a battered cowboy hat off his forehead.

  “No.”

  “Ricky, Ricky,” Moe chided.

  He spread his hands as if helpless to understand this attitude. Sunbeams danced off the honed blade. Rick held his ground. A man had to take a stand for what was right. Moe would never let him go if he hooked him into this.

  A man had to be strong. Rick swallowed the knot of fear. He had to show Isa he could be trusted, that she’d been right about him. He had to show Harrison he was a man.

  “Actually, I’m not really interested in the import junk. I thought we’d take a little trip upstairs. Know anything about your brother-in-law’s business, kid? Jewelry-making. That’s always fascinated me. All those expensive rocks. That’s what gems are. People pay money for little pieces of rock.”

  Rick thought of Harrison up in his office, unaware of the danger. If he should run into Moe in the hall or catch him in the act, he’d try to stop him.

  The knife gleamed as Moe worked on his other hand. He was ambidextrous and liked to show off. He could throw the knife with either hand and hit a target dead on from several feet away.

  Rick glanced around for a weapon. Nothing. He’d come outside carrying a load of flattened boxes for the dumpster. He didn’t even have the razor he used to slit the boxes open with him. It was inside on a shelf. There was nothing on the loading dock but the cardboard he’d dropped upon spotting the man he’d once thought of as his friend.

  “I’m not going to let you in.”

  “You think you’re some kind of hero?” Moe sneered.

  When he took a step forward, Rick kicked the pile of used boxes at him. Moe sidestepped. It gave Rick just enough time to jump inside the door and slam it behind him. He heard the automatic lock click into place. His knees turned to jelly.

  For the first time, he realized sweat was running down his face. Fear sweat. He’d felt it once before, the night of the warehouse burglary that had landed him in jail. At least he wasn’t a patsy this time.

  He mopped his face on the sleeve of his T-shirt and headed for the stairs. He had to warn Harrison, then call the police.

  A feeling of lightness came over him. Yeah, he’d tell everything. He should have from the first. Moe wasn’t a friend, just a bully who tried to force others to do his dirty work.

  “Hey, Ricky,” Moe shouted through the door. “Guess who’s here? Your sister just arrived. She’s wearing a red outfit. Umm, she looks good enough to eat.”

  Rick froze. Was this a trick?

  Isa hesitated after getting out of the car. There was a man on the loading dock. She thought she’d seen Rick when she turned the corner, but he wasn’t in sight now.

  Her nerves tightened. Honestly, she was becoming paran
oid. The guy leaning against the railing cleaning his fingernails was only a few years older than Rick. He probably worked at the import warehouse, too. Any- way, he looked perfectly harmless.

  Rick was right. She was a worrywart.

  She slung her purse strap over her shoulder and climbed the steps to the loading dock. “Hello,” she called. “Did I see Rick here a moment ago?”

  The guy glanced up, then ducked his head. “Yeah. He went inside to get something. Hey, Rick, your sister wants to see you,” he yelled at the door.

  Isa frowned at the untidy pile of flattened cardboard. She’d have to walk over the mess or very close to the shy young man to get to the door.

  “Uh, there’s a buzzer,” she pointed out, stopping a couple of feet from the boxes. “Ring that, and he’ll come to the door.”

  “Go ahead,” he invited. He stepped back in the cor- ner of the railing, keeping his head down so his cowboy hat shielded most of his face.

  The sense of unease grew stronger. She knew this guy. “Moe,” she said before she could stop herself. “What are you doing here? You were in—”

  “Jail?” he supplied. “I’m out on bail.”

  She knew at once he’d jumped bail. She looked at the knife in his hand. It was menacing, although he was merely using it to pare his nails. He was the one who’d visited Rick yesterday. He was the friend who’d gotten Rick into trouble. All her maternal instincts rose in a cloak of fury.

  “I want you to stay away from Rick,” she told him. “If you don’t, I’ll notify the authorities. Does your pa- role officer know where you are?”

  Harrison beat a trail back the way he’d come. He used his key to let himself back in the building as qui- etly as he could. As soon as he took care of the hoodlum out there, he was going to wring his sweet wife’s neck. If she didn’t get herself killed first.

  “Rick,” he said.

  The teenager jerked around, his eyes wild. His hand was on the door.

  “Don’t go out there,” Harrison ordered.

  “I have to. He’s got Isa.”

  Harrison ignored the lurch in his chest. “We need a plan. I think we can take him by surprise if we storm the door together.” He spotted a pile of throw rugs. He grabbed one and tossed another to Rick. “Wrap your left arm and use it as a shield from the knife.”

  “That’s imported, handwoven stuff,” Rick said as if this was important information.

  Harrison grinned, startling the teenager. “Yeah, well, better them than us. We’ll pay for the damages,” he added dryly. “Ready on three?”

  Rick nodded. It hit him that he and Harrison were going to rush into danger together. They were going to save Isa and stop Moe. Like some kind of SWAT team. He gulped and nodded.

  Harrison grinned again. Excitement beat through Rick. He and his brother-in-law were going to make like heroes. It freaked him out. It made him proud.

  “One.”

  Rick wrapped the rug around his left arm and took hold of the doorknob with his right hand. He nodded at Harrison.

  “Two. Three. Hit it,” Harrison said in a growl.

  Rick turned the knob and threw all his weight against the door. He and Harrison exploded onto the loading dock.

  Moe was startled, but only for a second. He struck out with the knife. Rick saw Harrison had his left arm ready. A gaping slash appeared in the imported rug. His boss was going to have a fit. They were a special buy.

  Moe flung himself headfirst into Harrison. Rick turned to waylay the bully. The cardboard skittered un- derfoot. He flung his hand out to catch the banister, but he was already going down. He felt a sharp pain in his right arm, then blood hit him in the face. He heard Isa scream his name.

  Isa stared at the tangle of bodies struggling on the loading dock. Harrison had Moe’s wrist, but he was working at a disadvantage. The cardboard had shifted when Moe charged and all three men went down in a heap, Rick on the bottom, then Harrison, then Moe, on top and wielding the knife.

  Rick was hurt. His left arm was trapped under the two fighting men while blood spurted from his right arm and onto his and Harrison’s shirts.

  Moe jerked his arm back, freeing it. She saw his mus- cles flex mightily and knew he was going to stab Har- rison. Fury exploded inside her.

  Time slowed.

  The distance was two steps. She made one of them. Moe’s arm had started its downward arc. Second step. The blade was halfway to Harrison’s throat. She brought her purse around and forward. The knife had less than six inches to go. She thrust with all her might.

  The knife rammed into the soft leather.

  Harrison pushed Isa aside and shoved Moe off. Bringing his knee up, he caught the hoodlum on the edge of his jaw. Moe’s head flipped back from the blow. Harrison struck again, a blow to the side this time. Moe grunted and fell to the dock.

  In a flash, Harrison had Moe pinned with his hands behind his back. The knife was now in Harrison’s grip. “Move and you’ll be sorry,” he advised.

  “Listen, man, this was a mistake,” Moe whined. “I wasn’t doing anything—”

  “The mistake was yours.” Harrison settled a knee heavily into the small of Moe’s back and cut the strap from Isa’s purse. He secured the hoodlum’s wrists. “I’m going to let you get up,” he said. “Do it nice and slow, so I don’t get nervous with this blade, under- stand?”

  “Yeah, man. Take it easy.”

  Isa checked her husband over when he stood. He wasn’t hurt. All the blood came from Rick. She knelt by her brother. He held a rug against his arm as a pres- sure bandage. “Let me see.”

  He gladly allowed her to take over.

  “How is he?” Harrison asked. He motioned Moe over against the wall, keeping himself between the man and the other two.

  “The wound is long, but not deep. He’ll be fine.” She pressed the makeshift bandage over the wound and smiled at Rick. All the love she’d ever felt for him gathered inside her. She hugged him fiercely.

  He hugged her back with his good arm. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It was my fault. I should have told you about Moe, that he was in town—”

  She shushed him. “It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault.” She got to her feet. Her legs were a little wobbly. “I’ll call the police.”

  “Good idea.”

  At her husband’s words, she turned to him, her heart in her throat. He had blood and dirt on his shirt and in his hair. A bruise was forming under his eye. She thought he was the handsomest man alive.

  She had to touch him. Just once. She laid her hand on his arm. “Thank you.”

  His eyes blazed over her. She drew back, confused by the fury she saw in him. “The police,” he reminded her.

  She got the key to the back door from Rick and went inside. Within two minutes of her call, two cruisers howled into the parking lot. She leaned against the rail- ing and sighed as four policemen pounded up the steps like the A Team on a major bust. Men always had to make such a drama out of things.

  “Wow, that was really something, wasn’t it?” Rick giggled like a kid at Christmas.

  Isa smiled. He was feeling the effects of adrenaline and the shot of painkiller the nurse had given him be- fore the emergency-room doctor had stitched up his arm. He talked all the way to the house.

  Once there, he went to his room, fell across the bed and conked out. Isa removed his shoes and spread a throw over him. He drew his feet up on the bed and turned so his hurt arm rested on the pillow beside his head.

  For a long minute, she stood beside the bed, watching him sleep. She’d never forget him and Harrison bursting out the door and overtaking Moe. “My heroes,” she murmured.

  Bending, she kissed her brother’s cheek and smoothed his hair. He smiled. “Love ya,” he murmured the way he used to years ago when he’d been a child and she’d read him a bedtime story.

  Tears filmed her eyes. She left the room and closed the door behind her. Restless, she paced the kitchen, waiting for Harrison to finish with the police and co
me home.

  She remembered they hadn’t had a chance to go to lunch with all the excitement at the loading dock. She shook her head, feeling close to laughing or crying, she didn’t know which.

  When she heard the garage door open, then close, her heart went into a dive to her toes, then beat like mad.

  Checking the cupboards, she decided on tomatoes stuffed with tuna salad. She was busy when Harrison came in. “Hi,” she said, glancing at him, then away.

  She wanted to rush to his arms, run her hands over him to make sure he was really okay, then take him to their room….

  “How’d it go with the local authorities?” she asked on a light note.

  “No problems. Moe will be charged for attempting to corrupt a minor or something like that, then shipped back to Oregon for trial on armed robbery. He’d skipped bail.”

  “I thought maybe he had.” A tremor ran through her. “I’m glad he’s in custody. Will Rick have to testify against him?”

  “Probably. We’ll go with him. He won’t be alone,” Harrison added as worry flicked through her eyes and was gone.

  She paused for a second, looking pensive. He won- dered what she was thinking. As usual, her face gave nothing away.

  “Lunch,” she announced. She placed their plates on the counter and poured tall glasses of iced tea.

  When she took her place, he sat next to her. “This is nice,” he said. “A quiet lunch, prepared by my wife, just the two of us.”

  He watched closely and noticed the tremor in her hands. She wasn’t eating very much, but was mostly moving the food around on her plate. Her stillness— that deep inner quiet that hid her soul and was somehow mournful—bothered him.

  “That was good,” he said when he finished.

  She’d eaten about three bites. When she raised her glass to drink, he realized she was trembling from head to toe. He muttered a curse, angry with himself that he hadn’t detected her distress before now.