by Gina Wilkins
She remembered what he’d written about Jonah. “Traveling salesman. Unhappy marriage.” He was probably right. “Jonah’s been dead for years.”
“I know.”
“His widow and his daughter are still living, of course. Ernestine is a very proud and snobbish woman. It would humiliate her to learn that her husband had an affair and fathered a child while they were married.”
“I didn’t come here to humiliate an innocent bystander. His wife wasn’t to blame for what he did. Mother knew he was married when they started their affair. She foolishly fell in love anyway. And she believed his lies that he loved her enough to marry her.”
“What about Savannah? If Jonah was your father, that makes her your sister. Don’t you want to get to know her?”
His face hardened. “I came here to find answers, not a new family. If Jonah had been alive, I might have tried to hurt him as much as he hurt my mother. I wouldn’t have cared much about who got hurt along with him. But he’s dead. It’s too late for me to do anything to him. His widow and his daughter have nothing to do with me. I have no reason to have anything to do with either of them.”
The hardness in his voice shocked her. This wasn’t the man she had fallen in love with. This was a stranger. Angry, bitter, cold.
This was the man who had callously used her for his own purposes. She wasn’t even sure this man was capable of love.
Was this only another side of the Mac she’d thought she knew? Or had she completely deluded herself while falling in love with a stranger?
“There is still one McBride brother living. Caleb,” she said quietly. “Is there any chance…?”
Mac shrugged again. “He’s been happily married for nearly forty years. He rarely leaves Honoria. I’d say it’s far more likely that Jonah was the sperm donor in my case. From what I’ve heard about him, I can understand why he fell in love with my mother. I just can’t understand why he left her.”
“Caleb will be home in a week. Are you going to ask him if he knows anything about this?”
“Don’t you think I have that right?”
“The right to cause an uproar in a very happy family?” She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
Mac’s voice turned even colder than it had been before. “My mother died still loving the man who’d broken her heart. She never got over him, never stopped hoping he would come back to her. She named me after him, dammit. I have a right to know who did that to her. The duty to seek retribution on my mother’s behalf.”
“Retribution?”
His eyes glittered like black stones. “Whichever McBride seduced my mother, he would not have wanted his gutless actions widely known by his children, his grandchildren, his neighbors and friends. And the way gossip travels around this town, it wouldn’t take long for everyone to know if I choose to drop a few well-placed words.”
The thought of Mac deliberately causing that kind of pain to so many people made her sick. She could understand his anger. She could even understand his desire for revenge. But to know that so many innocents would be hurt in the process—and that in the long run, nothing would really be accomplished…She just couldn’t approve of that.
She didn’t know what to say. She only knew that the entire situation broke her heart. But what hurt her the most was the fact that Mac had used her for his own purposes.
Though he didn’t move, he seemed to physically withdraw from her. “It’s obvious whose side you’re on.”
That brought her chin up again. “I’m not on anyone’s side. I won’t be put in the middle of your private war, Mac. You’ve used me to this point, but I won’t let you use me any longer.”
“It was more than that,” he muttered.
“Was it?” She kept her voice steady with an effort. “Earlier tonight, I asked if you had a word to describe our relationship. You didn’t. Do you have one now?”
Placing a hand on the back of his neck, he started to speak, then fell silent.
“I didn’t think so.” She turned on one heel toward the doorway.
“You’re leaving?”
“Yes.” She didn’t look back. She didn’t want him to see the tears forming in her eyes. “Don’t worry, Mac, I won’t say anything about what I’ve learned here tonight. I won’t interfere with your vendetta, but I won’t help you, either. Whatever information you dig up now, you won’t be getting it from me. And whatever you do with that information is entirely your decision. I only hope you make the right choice.”
“What about the job?”
She couldn’t believe he’d brought that up now. It was wounded pride that made her square her shoulders, turn, and face him without expression. “I’d recommend that you bring in a professional decorator from Atlanta. This time you’ll probably want to hire someone on the basis of their training and experience, rather than their friendship with a family you want to destroy.”
“That wasn’t the reason I hired you,” he said flatly. “When it comes to my jobs, I choose the best people—and you’re the best. I’m holding you to your professional obligation.”
“Fine,” she snapped. “This assignment will look good on my résumé. I suppose it’s only fair if I use you in this.”
He inclined his head in an almost royal gesture. “Just do a good job.”
“I always do.” She turned and left, before she ruined her cool performance by bursting into tears.
BRAD FOUND Sharon crying Sunday evening. She had been proud of herself for not giving in to tears since she’d left Mac’s house in the wee hours of the morning. But something made her think of him Sunday evening, after she thought Brad was in bed, and the floodgates opened despite her efforts.
She was sitting in the kitchen, an untouched cup of herbal tea in front of her. Her elbows resting on the table, she buried her face in her hands and sobbed quietly. It hurt so badly to think that she had risked so much and had been given so little in return. She hadn’t been naive enough to think that he’d fallen in love with her at first sight, but she’d thought there was something real between them. Something that had a chance of lasting forever.
She’d obviously been more naive than she’d thought.
She’d been nothing more to him than a pawn in a calculated quest for revenge. Because of his manipulation, she had unwittingly aided his assault on her friends. It hurt so much she wasn’t sure she could bear it.
“Sharon? What’s wrong? What’s happened?” There was a note of panic in Brad’s voice as he spoke from the doorway behind her. He had seen her cry so rarely that he must have assumed something terrible had happened.
She caught her breath and mopped at her face with her hands. “It’s okay, Brad,” she said, trying to speak reassuringly. “Nothing’s wrong.”
“You’re crying.”
“I’m just feeling sad this evening. Women do that sometimes.”
He didn’t buy it. “Something’s happened. Someone’s hurt you. It’s Cordero, isn’t it? What did he do?”
She sighed. “Brad, please. Let it go.”
“Did he say something about me?”
“It wasn’t about you. It had nothing to do with you.”
“But he said something.”
“We had a disagreement. My feelings were hurt, but I’ll recover, okay? Things like this just happen sometimes.”
“So you won’t be seeing him anymore?” Brad asked hopefully.
“I’m still working for him on the Garrett house renovation. But our relationship is strictly professional from now on.”
“Why don’t you just tell him to stuff his renovation job?”
“Because I have a business to run. And a professional reputation to uphold. I can’t just walk away from a business commitment in a huff because the client hurt my feelings.”
“I told you about that guy. I told you he wasn’t as cool as you and everyone else thought he was.”
Funny that her first instinct was still to defend Mac. He and his mother had suffered a great deal bec
ause of his father’s callous abandonment. His mother certainly wasn’t blameless in the affair, but Mac had admittedly adored her. He had owed her everything. It was only natural that he would want to defend her. And if he’d also lost a child not long after his mother passed away, then it made sense, knowing him, that he would turn that grief to anger.
She couldn’t blame him for wanting to lash out at his absentee father. But she wouldn’t excuse him for being willing to hurt so many other people in the process. She hadn’t deserved to be one of his casualties.
“There are some things about Mac you don’t understand,” she told her brother quietly. “He isn’t as bad as you think.”
Brad snorted in disgust. “You’ve still got a thing for him, don’t you? Even after he made you cry.”
Wearily, she rubbed her aching temples. “Brad, please. I don’t want to talk about this tonight. You’re supposed to be in bed.”
“I was thirsty.”
It was a late-night foray for water that had caused Sharon such pain in the first place, she couldn’t help remembering. “Get a drink and then go back to bed. We’ll talk again tomorrow,” she said.
“But—”
“Brad. Please.”
He grumbled, but poured himself a glass of water. Downing it quickly, he set the glass aside, then paused by her chair to awkwardly pat her shoulder. “The guy ain’t worth crying over, sis. He’ll get his, don’t you worry.”
“Just stay away from him, Brad. Please. For my sake.”
He muttered something she didn’t quite catch and moved on toward the doorway.
Sharon watched him leave with a worried frown. She really hadn’t handled that well, she thought. He had caught her off guard, at a time when she wasn’t thinking clearly enough to deal with him. She had messed everything up today, she thought with a dispirited sigh.
She didn’t know what it was going to take to get her life back on the comfortable track she had established before Mac Cordero came to town.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THERE WAS ALWAYS a lot of time to think during a stakeout. Mac had gotten some of his best ideas while sitting in a car or at a window, waiting for something that might or might not happen.
On this particular Friday night, he was sitting in a deeply shadowed hollow beneath a huge oak tree on the outskirts of the property surrounding the Garrett house. It was almost midnight and he’d been sitting there an hour, so he’d had plenty of time to think. Not that he hadn’t already done far too much thinking in the six days that had passed since Sharon stormed out of his kitchen.
It was a clear, fragrant evening, the light breeze just slightly cool against his face. Only a slice of moon floated in the inky sky, so the shadows were deep, hiding their secrets in darkness. Mac knew he was just as well concealed in his black shirt and jeans. A part of the summer night, with secrets of his own to hide. Somewhere above him, an owl hooted, sounding as if it was mocking him as the fool he knew himself to be.
He hadn’t seen Sharon since she’d walked out of his apartment. He knew she’d been avoiding him—and, to be honest, he’d been doing the same. He still couldn’t remember the hurt in her eyes without flinching. He hadn’t been able to tell her that he hadn’t used her—because, truth was, he had. And, worse, he had done it intentionally.
He hadn’t meant to fall in love with her in the process.
She’d wanted him to put a name to what he felt for her, to convince her that it was more than sex, more than convenience. He hadn’t spoken because he hadn’t known what to say. His track record with commitment was lousy. He’d already hurt her once, he didn’t want to risk doing so again. Her brother hated him, and so would her friends if they found out why he was here. It was a hopeless relationship—and Sharon deserved better.
In a way, it had been very unselfish on his part to let her go before he hurt her again, he told himself. So why did he still feel like such a slug? Like someone who belonged in the shadows, hidden away from the sunlight?
Why did it still hurt so badly to think of her walking away from him?
A sound behind him made him tense. Sitting absolutely still, he listened as the voices grew closer. He recognized one as Brad Henderson’s.
“I’m not sure about this, Jimbo. I think maybe we’d better—”
“Come on, Brad, you’re not chickening out, are you? Not now.”
“It’s just—well, what if we get caught? What if Tommy’s mom finds out we snuck out?”
“We won’t get caught. Trust me. Me and Tommy know what we’re doing. His mom sleeps like the dead when she takes one of her pills, and Tommy watched her take one tonight. And we’ve got Gil on our side.”
“I don’t know—”
Another boy spoke this time, his voice gruff with impatience. “C’mon, Brad, you hate this guy. You said he deserved this.”
“It’s going to be a piece of cake, Brad.” Jimbo, again. “We use these bolt cutters to cut the locks on the storage building, help ourselves to the best tools, and then we’ll have a little fun in the house. Gil said that fancy glass is leaded. Original. Real hard to replace. That’ll show Cordero what happens when he pushes us around.”
“I don’t have a problem with breaking his windows,” Brad muttered. “He deserves that for being such a jerk. But the stealing…I didn’t know you guys were involved with that.”
“Don’t get preachy on us, Brad,” Jimbo warned. “We haven’t taken anything from anybody who didn’t have insurance to cover it. And you sure have liked it that we’ve had extra money to spend on food and arcade games and movies and stuff. You didn’t worry about where the money came from when we were spending it, did you?”
“Well, maybe—but the Porter place, guys. I didn’t know it was you driving that van. My sister could’ve been killed.”
“I told you—I didn’t mean for that to happen. I panicked, okay? I’d never driven a van like that before. But she’s okay now. And you’re making up for it tonight. You said this bastard made her cry. Here’s your chance to make him pay.”
Mac felt like the bastard they had called him—the bastard he was—when he thought of Sharon crying over him. She hadn’t deserved that. She didn’t deserve this, either. His anger with her brother grew.
“I don’t know,” Brad said again, and there was temptation as well as fear in his voice.
“I’m tired of this,” the third boy announced flatly. “Let’s do it, guys. Brad, are you with us or not?”
“He’s with us. Ain’t you, Brad?”
“Yeah. I—I guess so. Just give me a minute, okay? You guys go on and I’ll meet up with you.”
“He’s backing out,” the other boy announced scornfully.
“No, I’m not. Really. I just—I just need to pee, okay? I’ll be there in a minute.”
“You better. Come on, Jimbo. Let’s do it.”
“Right with you, man. Don’t let us down, Brad.”
Mac listened while the other boys moved toward the house. Brad stayed where he was, cursing frantically beneath his breath, obviously torn between joining his friends and making a run for it. Feeling as if fate had stepped in to give him a break, Mac decided it was time for him to assist the boy in his decision making.
Brad never had a warning. Mac had an arm around him and a hand over his mouth before the kid knew he wasn’t alone. It wasn’t hard for Mac to overpower the skinny, panic-stricken teenager. “Be still before you get hurt,” he said quietly into Brad’s ear. “You know who I am, don’t you?”
Brad nodded stiffly.
“Your friends are walking straight into Chief Davenport’s arms. He’s waiting for them behind my storage building. He’ll probably let them cut the lock before he moves in, just to make sure of what they’re up to. And then he’ll put them behind locks they won’t be able to cut.”
Brad groaned.
“I’m giving you a break, kid. Not because I think you deserve it. To be honest, I think it would do you a world of good to spend some time
in juvenile detention. But you see, I know that would devastate your sister. And unlike you, that matters very much to me.”
Brad moved sharply, forcing Mac to tighten his grip. “Don’t argue with me, boy. If you really cared about your sister, you wouldn’t be here doing something that you know would break her heart. You wouldn’t be hanging out with a guy who trashes her reputation. The same guy who almost killed her less than a month ago. What kind of man chooses a jerk like that over his own family? You’re damn lucky to have a sister like Sharon. You should be her defender, not one of the people who hurts her.”
Brad jerked his mouth free of Mac’s hand. “You hurt her. You made her cry.”
“You’re right,” Mac said evenly. “And I deserve every name you want to call me. But you’re her brother.”
Brad couldn’t answer that.
“We’re too far out of town for you to walk safely back at this hour. My truck is parked a hundred yards up the road from here. Go wait in it for me. The keys are in my pocket, but I left the doors unlocked. You should recognize the truck. It’s the one with the big, ugly scratch down one side.”
Brad muttered something Mac didn’t even try to catch.
“Unless you want to join your friends with Chief Davenport, of course. But I wouldn’t recommend it. From what I heard, they deserve what they’re going to get. You just squeaked by. Now, I can take you home to your sister or I can turn you over to the cops. Your call.”
“I’ll wait in your truck,” Brad conceded grudgingly.
“That’s the first smart choice I’ve seen you make yet, boy.” Cautiously, Mac released him, half prepared for him to run. But Brad only stood there, his head down, his shoulders slumped, looking suddenly younger than his fifteen years.
“Get in the truck,” Mac urged. “I’m going to make sure everything’s taken care of at the house. I’ll drive you home when I’m finished.”
“Are Jimbo and Tommy really going to jail?”
Mac hardened his voice. “If you’re tempted to feel sorry for them, spend the time while you’re waiting for me thinking about how easily your sister could have drowned in Snake Creek.”