“Lacie’s brother,” Kieran nodded. “I remember him. He’s a good guy.”
“And Davidson’s best friend. At least in theory,” Ian mused.
Shane’s spine stiffened. “What does that mean?”
Ian leaned in closer. “It means that McCain and Davidson were tight until Davidson started getting a hard-on for McCain’s little sister. Big brother wasn’t too keen on the idea, apparently.”
“Wait,” Shane said, shaking his head. “Davidson was married, has a kid.”
“Ever hear of a shotgun wedding?” Ian smirked. “Davidson wanted McCain’s sister, but that didn’t stop him from fucking other women, especially those that bore a striking resemblance to her. Word is that while Lacie McCain wasn’t interested, her best friend was, and Davidson took advantage of that. Got her pregnant. Her daddy – Pine Ridge’s very own Mayor Daniels – wasn’t happy. He forced them to get married.”
“Wasn’t she killed in a car accident a couple of years ago?” Michael asked.
“She was killed in a car crash,” Sean corrected, “not too long after Davidson left the service and was home for good.”
The silence was thick and heavy, until Shane asked the question they were all thinking. “You don’t think it was an accident?”
“Didn’t say that, did I?” Sean shrugged, but Shane knew his identical twin well enough to know that was exactly what he thought. It did absolutely nothing to soothe Shane’s worry that Craig Davidson was too close to Lacie.
Before he could ask anything else, Shane’s private cell rang. He took one look at the number and excused himself, walking to a quiet corner of the Pub where he could speak in private. “Lacie?” he said, accepting the call.
Except that it was not Lacie’s voice that answered. “No, this is her sister Corinne. Is this Shane?”
“Yes. Is Lacie alright?”
“Yeah, sort of. I’m here at the hospital with her now.”
“Her hand?” he guessed.
“Yeah. It was broken, and some of the bones already started fusing incorrectly. They had to re-break it to make things right. They shot her up pretty good with pain meds.”
“Jesus.”
“Hey,” she said hesitantly. “I’m not sure if I should even be asking you this, but you seem to care for her, and I was hoping that maybe you could do something. I didn’t know who else to call.”
“Anything.” He was already reaching for his jacket, pulling out his keys.
“They’re going to let her go in a little bit, but I don’t think she should be alone tonight with the meds and all. I’m supposed to drive our parents down to Philly tonight – they’re going on an anniversary cruise. They don’t know about Lacie’s hand; she made me promise not to say anything because she thinks they’ll cancel their trip if they knew. If you could - ”
“I’m there. What time?”
“Six? I should have her all settled by then. She’ll probably sleep most of the night, but I’d feel better if she wasn’t alone.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Thanks,” Corinne said, breathing a sigh of relief. “And Shane?”
“Yes?”
Corinne spoke slowly as if choosing her next words carefully. “It might be a good idea if you came in the back way.”
He was silent for a moment as he heard what she wasn’t saying. “Got it.”
“I knew I was right about you.” She hung up before he could respond.
Chapter Eight
Corinne stared out the window, awaiting Shane’s arrival. Other than a non-descript silver sedan that disappeared around the block, there hadn’t been any other traffic on the small side street. She checked her watch again. It had only been ten minutes since she’d called him, but it felt like so much more time had passed. She hoped he remembered not to come in through the front. If Craig spotted him it would just make things more difficult –
A quiet knock on the back door startled her. She peeked through the peephole and gasped.
“How did you do that?” she asked, opening the door. He grinned at her as he slipped noiselessly inside, but didn’t answer her.
“Right,” she murmured. She’d heard the same rumors that everyone else had – that the Callaghans were a lot more than they seemed; it was impossible to live in Pine Ridge and not. They all had this quiet air of danger about them, but it was said that they were good men, fiercely loyal and incredibly protective of their family and friends. Corinne withheld a shiver from the waves of intensity rolling off of Shane, and was glad her sister was now included among that inner circle.
“Thanks for coming so quickly; I’ve got to haul ass or my parents are going to miss their flight. Lacie’s sleeping, out cold. Here.” She thrust a small bottle into his hand. “These are her pain meds. Give her one with some crackers and water or ginger ale if she wakes up. Here’s my cell number and I’ve written down the flight numbers and schedules and stuff. If everything’s on time, I should be back around three a.m. or so.”
Shane levelled those intense blue eyes at her. “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”
Corinne glanced down at the small pack he carried with him and grinned. “Gotta love a man who’s prepared.” His eyes sparkled.
“So listen,” she dropped her voice even further and leaned toward him a little. “I don’t know how much you know about things, but you strike me as the type of guy who catches on pretty quick. Craig’s across the hall. He wasn’t here when we got back, so he doesn’t know about any of this. Let’s try to keep it that way for a bit longer, okay? If he realizes he broke her hand he’s going to freak out and make things really uncomfortable for Lace - ”
Shane’s entire body tensed, his face hardened, his eyes grew cold. “He did this? Lacie told me she caught it in a car door.”
This time Corinne couldn’t withhold her shiver at the sound of his voice, glad that it was directed at someone else, and knew that she had done the right thing in calling Shane. He would not let anything happen to Lacie, and she could already tell that he would be a valuable ally. For this reason and several more of her own, she had no trouble telling him the rest.
“That’s what she told me, too. But the doc pulled me aside later – I used to babysit for him and his wife so I know him pretty well – and he said the fractures came from compression along the sides, like someone had squeezed her hand too hard, although there was some bruising on the back that he said was consistent with catching a hand in a car door like she said.”
“You think it was Davidson.”
She nodded. “I know it was. I’ll bet anything that he was waiting for her when she got home that night she had coffee with you. He tends to be a bit... possessive with Lacie.”
Shane flicked a glance toward the bedroom. “He does that often?”
“Too often. Thinks he owns her or something.”
“Why does she allow it?”
Corinne snorted, gathering her bag. “You don’t know Craig. He’s a born manipulator, and he knows all her soft spots. She’s tried to talk to him about it, but he twists everything around until she feels bad for saying anything.”
She hefted the bag over her shoulder and put her hand on the door. “Shane, I know you guys are just getting started and all. I’m sorry if I’m expecting too much or reading too much into it. I just thought ...”
She let the sentence hang, unsure how to express what she suspected was going on between them. There was simply no other way to interpret the look Lacie had in her eyes when she spoke of him, and she was fairly certain she’d seen the same in his when he looked at her. There was certainly no mistaking the almost-feral intensity surrounding him now, something starkly male and protective that sent a twinge of envy through her.
“You thought right,” Shane said, putting her fears to rest. “I’m glad you called. I’ll take good care of her.”
Corinne smiled, a mischievous glint in her eye. It was always nice to be proven right. “So... if I’m too tired to drive bac
k tonight and don’t make it here till around noon tomorrow, that would be okay?”
With a devastating grin, Shane assured her it would.
* * *
Shane made his way toward Lacie’s bedroom silently, not wanting to wake her. She was tucked beneath a hand-stitched ivory and blue quilt, the top edge barely covering her breasts. Her chest rose and fell with the rhythmic breaths of deep slumber; her now-casted hand lay atop the covers, the plaster extending from the middle of her fingers to slightly beyond her wrist. The corners of his lips quirked; her cast was a soft pink color that matched her nightshirt. Corinne had already signed it with a flourish of curls and hearts.
He watched her for a while, remembering that the first time he had seen her she’d been asleep, too. Her long, dark blonde lashes created perfect crescents against her smooth skin. Strands of her lighter blonde hair fell wantonly across her forehead; the rest bunched into a halo of soft, tousled curls where her head rested on the pillow. Shane felt what was becoming a familiar pang shoot across his chest. There was no doubt about it. She was his.
His eyes flicked back to her hand, the slow burn of rage beginning all over again. Lacie was his, to love, care for, and protect.
And Craig Davidson was a dead man.
Shane remembered the phone call that had signaled the end of their time together that night, Davidson’s enraged voice clearly audible across the table they shared. He should have realized what might happen. Why had he not followed Lacie home that night? And why hadn’t she said anything?
He thinks he owns her or something. Shane would make sure that misconception got cleared up very quickly. Lacie belonged to no one. Except him. But that would be because she wanted to, and as his croie, she would. Given the little bit he knew about her, she didn’t seem to be the type to allow someone to push her around like that. She might look like an adorable little bit of fluff, but there was no doubting her strong, clever spirit.
As if she sensed his presence, Lacie’s eyes flickered open and went right to him, though she was clearly having trouble focusing. “Shane?” Her voice, husky with sleep and thick from the pain meds, wrapped around him and pulled him closer.
“Hi, Lacie. Yes, I’m here.” Very gently, he took her good hand in his, bringing it to his lips to brush a light kiss upon it.
“Am I dreaming? It’s the drugs, isn’t it? Man, that’s some good stuff...”
Shane chuckled. “You’re not dreaming, Lacie. Corinne called me to keep an eye on you while she drove your parents to the airport.”
“She worries too much.”
“She loves you.”
“I know.” Her eyes closed for a long moment, and he thought she dropped off again. “I’m sorry, Shane. I’m afraid I’m not going to be very good company. These pills make me so sleepy.”
“Don’t be,” he said, brushing the hair from her face. “Instead of sitting at my place all night thinking about you, I get to be here, taking care of you.”
She gifted him with a tiny but genuine smile. “Just how you wanted to spend your Saturday night, right?”
“Sweetheart,” he said quietly, running the backs of his fingers over her cheeks, “there is no place I would rather be.”
She sighed softly, a light moan carrying on her breath. “Now I know I’m dreaming, because I think I’ve had this one a couple of times already this week.” Her words were just slightly slurred, her eyes fighting to remain open. “The next part’s really awesome, but I’m just so tired...”
God help him, if she admitted anything more about her fantasies he was going to crawl into bed with her and make them all too real. What she needed now was rest. There would be time enough for his selfish desires later. “Go back to sleep, Lacie.”
“You’ll stay?” she murmured, her eyes already half closed.
“I’m not going anywhere.” He pressed a kissed to her forehead, smiled at the barely audible moan she uttered, and felt the final lock in his heart break open as she drifted back into the land of medication-induced dreams.
He stayed with her for a while, until he was certain she was comfortable and deeply asleep. The pain pills would have her out for several hours at least. To pass the time, and because Shane was curious about the woman he now knew without a doubt he was going to marry, he decided to have a look around.
Overall, her apartment was very clean, but like her car, untidy. There seemed to be no obvious method to her placement and storage of things, but he suspected there was some underlying rationale behind it. After a bit of time and thought, he began to see a pattern emerging, and he smiled. Lacie had a different way of thinking about things, but once he saw it, it made perfect sense.
It was her desk that interested him most. There were lesson books, planners, a list of accounts and financial statements. Whereas he would have had them in neat and labelled files, Lacie kept hers in specific piles across the desk top. Looking more closely, he saw that the stacks were arranged in a vague semicircular pattern, leaving her a small workspace in the center. Those to the left were time-sensitive – bills, policies, renewals; those to the right were not.
In addition, rather than being stacked neatly, each pile had sections that fanned out. That was obviously how she distinguished the various accounts from one another. Among each “fan blade”, there were individual papers that stuck out at odd angles. His fingers itched to tidy them, but he realized upon closer inspection that the incongruous pages were remittance forms. All she would have to do when she sat down to pay her bills was pull out the offset pages, working bottom to top, left to right.
It wasn’t how he would have done it, but he had to admit, it was effective. After they were married, however, he would try to persuade her to let him handle their accounts.
Satisfied that he had decoded her system, his eyes were drawn to a thick stack located at the center of the half-circle. The folder perched on top caught his attention. It was simply labeled Brian.
After checking on Lacie and finding her still fast asleep, Shane settled down in the comfortable recliner with the file, positioning himself so that he would could keep an eye on her through the partially open door. Shane found organized lists of names, dates, printed emails. Notes she made from various phone calls, copies of letters and official correspondence. Aerial photos, some of which she had lightly marked with a fine black Sharpie.
It was clear that Lacie was trying to find out what had happened to her brother. He whistled softly, impressed by some of the names she’d contacted. He also recognized the all-too-standard run-arounds in the replies she received. The amount of information and detail she had managed to acquire was substantial, especially considering she was a Kindergarten teacher from Pine Ridge. His croie was clever and resourceful; a feeling of pride welled in his chest at the thought.
As he read each page, he committed it to memory. When he got back to the Pub, he was going to talk to Ian. His brother was a certified master at gathering information. If anyone could find out what happened to Brian McCain and the others, Ian could. He wouldn’t mention anything to Lacie just yet, though. He didn’t want to get her hopes up, and chances were that after three years, the news wouldn’t be good. If nothing else, he might at least be able to give her closure.
Shane was careful to put everything back where he found it before allowing himself one last look at Lacie. She was resting peacefully, the ghost of a smile playing about her lips, and he wondered if she was dreaming of him. The thought pleased him greatly.
He forced himself out of Lacie’s room and back into the living area, taking comfort in the hint of messiness. It was so unlike his room at the Pub. There, everything was done in monochromatic shades; the furniture had clean, sleek lines, and the only personal items were some framed pictures he’d hung in a perfectly-spaced geometric pattern over his desk.
In contrast, Lacie’s furniture was comfortable, an eclectic collection of pieces that spanned a multitude of styles, but each was uniquely appealing. There were photos and person
al mementos everywhere, including hand-made gifts from her students. It looked as though Lacie kept every one of them, for they now overran the shelving space she’d allotted. There were several scrapbook albums of hand-drawn pictures and notes as well, each written from small hands and big hearts.
It was easy to get a clear picture of Lacie’s life from the photos alone; they were everywhere. There was a lot of her with her family – her mom and dad, Corinne, and a male who could only have been her brother, Brian. They shared similar features – Brian had the same easy going smile, same blue eyes and blonde hair. The love they had for each other came through the still shots clearly. The last one must have been taken just before Brian was deployed. It showed him and Davidson, both dressed in fatigues with fresh buzz-cuts, standing proudly with Lacie between them.
The mere sight of Davidson that close to Lacie made the small hairs on the back of Shane’s neck stand on end. The man was in a lot of the pictures, spanning most of her life. And in all of them, Shane noted, he was always looking at Lacie or touching her in some way. There was no doubt in his mind that Davidson was in love with her, and probably had been for some time, but he had hidden it well. Only a man trained to notice such things – or a man who planned on devoting the rest of his life to his croie - would spot the subtle body language and the possessive gleam in Davidson’s eye.
Chapter Nine
Shane must have dozed off at some point. The next thing he knew, morning sun was streaming through the window and Lacie was tucking a soft blanket around him.
“You’re supposed to be in bed,” he said, greedily breathing in her light, floral scent and something minty, like toothpaste or mouthwash.
The grin she gave him took his breath away. “I was, but I think fourteen hours is enough, don’t you?”
“What time is it?”
“Around eight.”
Shane sat up and tugged Lacie onto the sofa with him, mindful of her injured hand. Lacie offered no protest, joining him easily. There was plenty of room, but Lacie’s body was nice and snug against his side as he slipped an arm around her shoulder.
Beyond Affection: Callaghan Brothers, Book 6 Page 6