The night was bright with the September moon. Clouds filled the western sky; for now, stars twinkled above. The air was fresh and smelled of apples and whatever animals Mac’s dad housed in the orchard’s petting zoo. A soft breeze sent the trees dancing in the moonlight. Mac handed a beer to Tony and closed the sliding door behind them. Tony didn’t speak until they were both seated.
“Is she all right?” He didn’t open the beer, wasn’t sure he could keep it in his stomach if he drank it. “She said on her voice mail she’d had to fight Stan and that he choked her. Are you fucking kidding me?”
Mac told him an unbelievable story, even told him how Lizzy had run into the hood of his truck, how she’d cuffed him in his face. The chuckle he let out was bitter and left a sour taste in his mouth. He still didn’t open the beer.
Mac did and took a huge swig.
“I guess those defense classes she took years ago paid off.”
He couldn’t help but notice the way Mac stared out at the orchard as he replied, “I’m certainly glad they did.”
“Where’s Stan now?”
Mac shrugged. “No one seems to know. He wasn’t in the shop by the time Daniels and Swornson got there. Because they don’t know I’m FBI, I’m not privy to their information. But I’ve got a radio and a scanner and can listen in. I don’t think they’ve found him.”
“Why aren’t you down at the station, trying to find something out?” Tony asked, thinking he might have to do the same thing. “You could act like a concerned citizen, argue you feel as if you’re in danger.”
“When Jake Swornson insinuated that Lizzy made more to it than what it was, called it a ‘domestic spat,’ then made a comment about if women would only do their wifely duty, men wouldn’t have these problems, I bit my tongue and left. If I hadn’t, I’d be out of a job and in a cell, and Jake would have no teeth. And Lizzy would be alone. I also knew Chief Daniels might not think Stan is much of a threat.”
“Daniels is such a dick.”
“And then there’s Swornson…”
“What about him?”
To Tony’s amazement Mac revealed another story that had just taken place the previous night with his young cousin, the cutie who worked at the burger joint. It left his blood boiling. He finally popped open the beer and took a long drink, allowing the cold liquid to attempt to put out the fire. “I had no idea.”
Mac finished with, “So warn Tiffany.”
Tony shook his head. “What the hell has happened to this town since your dad retired?”
“So far, nothing good. It’s like a cloud is hanging over it.”
“There’s been a cloud hanging over it for eleven years.”
They were quiet for a moment, listening to crickets and the calls of two distant owls. “But my sister’s all right.”
“I took her to the clinic. They checked her over really well. She’s got some bruises…on her neck. They offered her a sedative, but she refused. After we finished at the clinic, she insisted we go back and find the cat Stan was strangling. We took it to the vet, and now the orchard has a new yellow cat. Unless she takes it home with her. She didn’t argue with me when I said she was coming home with me, although she made me stop by her place so she could get a change of clothes. She crashed right after a hot shower and a cup of tea. She’s been sleeping ever since. I don’t think she’s even shifted position.” He met Tony’s gaze. “Not that I want her close to Stan again, but from the sounds of it, she whipped the crap out of him.”
“Good. What’s next?”
“Aside from letting her finish him off, I don’t know. I do know she’s not leaving my sight.”
“Good,” Tony said again. The only available light was that which filtered out through the sliding glass door behind them. Tony met Mac’s gaze through the shadows. “What about the end of the week or next week when you leave and disappear again, going back under whatever rock you’ve been hiding under all these years?”
Mac stayed silent for a long moment. “That’s a good question. Maybe I’ll take her with me.”
Tony wasn’t so sure Lizzy would leave the bakery or him, her twin. Even for Mac. Either way, his leaving should prove to be interesting.
Then Mac added, speaking so softly Tony was certain it was an afterthought that was beginning to glow in his thoughts. “Or maybe I won’t go at all.”
He grinned but didn’t know if Mac saw it. “You certainly know how to liven up a place.”
“If I had known my return would cause so much excitement, I’d have come back years ago.”
“Tell her to stay here tomorrow and rest. I’ll handle the bakery. If I know her—which I do—all I’ll have to do is serve customers. She’s got everything else ready to go.”
“Thanks. I’ll convince her she needs to stay and help my dad, who has a few busloads of school kids coming tomorrow to pick apples.”
“She’ll probably want to come to the bakery just to get them all donuts.” Tony said it lightheartedly, but in a sense, it was probably true.
After the first raindrops began to plop onto the balcony, Tony and Mac headed inside. At the door, Tony paused and gazed across the room at his sister. The yellow cat she’d rescued slept at the foot of the bed, curled up in a ball.
Yes, he loved Tiffany and Dane. Yes, he adored his parents and cared about the town, however, Lizzy had shared the womb with him. She held his heart as no one else ever could. He considered going over to her, giving her a light kiss, but held back. The last thing he needed to do after what was obviously a traumatizing ordeal was startle her awake.
“Don’t let anything happen to her.”
“I won’t.” Then Mac seemed to catch himself. “We won’t.”
“That’s right. We won’t.”
Then he headed home to be held through the night by Tiff and Dane. For once, he didn’t care if anyone noticed his car at their house all night. For once, he didn’t care what anyone thought. Life was too short, too precious, not to spend it beside those you loved.
Mac watched Tony leave by way of the loft stairs before he locked the door.
Without a sound, he stepped to the side of his bed. Without taking his gaze from Lizzy’s sleeping form, he slid off the holstered weapon and locked it into the drawer of the nightstand. Her breathing was soft and rhythmic. He could have stood there all night just watching her.
It amazed him how easily she stepped back into his life. He didn’t, however, want her like this, not afraid and bruised. He should be a gentleman and sleep in the only other cushioned chair. The last thing he felt was gentlemanly. After he kicked off his shoes, he climbed onto the bed behind her, staying on top of the covers while she was tucked beneath them.
In her sleep, she snuggled up against him. A heartbeat later, her hand was out from beneath the quilt, and she latched on to his arm that he draped over her. And she felt pretty perfect tucked up against him, despite the layers of covers between them.
“Mac?” she mumbled.
“I’m here.”
The flowery scent of her hair was something he wanted to bury his face in. A deep breath helped him relax. He had to keep reassuring himself she was all right. The loft door was locked. Outside, Ozzie guarded the entire orchard. Stan—or anyone else—couldn’t get in, much less up the stairs, without his knowing.
“Don’t leave me.”
He wasn’t even sure she was awake enough to know she spoke to him. He replied to her anyway. “I’m right here.”
“Please hold me,” she mumbled. “Don’t let me go. And don’t ever leave me.” Then she slipped back into that cadenced breathing.
He was certain he would never sleep, not with Lizzy in his arms, not after what she’d just said. Not after her horrific experience and knowing the cause of it was running around loose somewhere in the dark of night. Spooned against her, her warmth seeming to seep into him and calm him everywhere, the sounds of rain that pattered on the roof above him lulled him to sleep.
Chapter Tw
elve
Hidden in the shadows, Chief Franklin Daniels stood just inside the woods north of Marston’s Tunnel. Around him, the only sounds came from the rustle of fall leaves in the cool breeze and the whispers of scampering critters. The rich scent of approaching rain hung in the air. Through the darkness, he stared into the tunnel. He was certain he would be old and gray, forgetful with dementia when he was ninety, and still remember that fateful night Kelly Mattis died. Even now, the memory of the flashing lights of police cars left him in a cold sweat.
Sometimes weeks passed without a reminder.
Sometimes, he couldn’t get through an hour in a day without needing to grasp something solid to keep from shaking with the memory he couldn’t suppress. Things hadn’t happened as he thought they would that night. And he’d spent the past decade trying to do right to make up for his mistakes. There wasn’t a moment that passed that he didn’t wish he could go back and change one night. It wasn’t possible, so he made do the best he knew how.
Now this thing with Lizzy Signorino happened. He wished he could make it less than what it was, but she was a business owner in town. Everyone knew her. He was pretty certain folks would see the hand prints on her throat. This was not something he could sweep under the rug with a smile or a wag of his finger.
Standing here in the dark, he was again reminded, just as he’d discovered that night eleven years ago and many times since, there were no sure promises in life. It didn’t heal to come here. It didn’t help to clear his mind. It didn’t make his days easier. It didn’t end his nightmares.
His phone chirped, indicating he had a personal text. He slid his phone from his pocket. The light on the display that revealed the message also lit up the night. Anyone who might have been close would have seen his face.
No one was nearby.
I need your help.
He sucked in a breath. He should ignore the plea or refuse. He also knew it was impossible because his dick hardened with just the thought of the woman who sent the text.
Perhaps it would be best if he took out the gun he carried and swallowed a bullet. It would be the quickest solution.
In the end, he didn’t have the courage. At least not right now. As he headed back into town, his footsteps crunching in the foliage, the first raindrops fell with enough force to sting his face.
Chapter Thirteen
Wednesday
Lizzy woke to the sound of a loud meow, and the rich aroma of coffee. Her stomach grumbled. Her first thought was that she’d fallen asleep in the bakery and the coffee was brewing on the timer-set makers.
Then she focused on the wall in front of her. When she recognized it was the white-washed planks of Mac’s barn-loft apartment, memories of the previous day slithered through her mind like a snake. She tried to maintain control of those horrid thoughts.
She’d escaped. She was safe. She was fine. She was with Mac.
Slowly, she rolled over, ignoring the ache and stiffness in her shoulder that hadn’t been there before her fighting match with Stan. Golden morning sunlight poured in through the windows on each end of the large, open loft room. She snuggled deeper under the covers—covers that smelled clean and woodsy like Mac.
Then she saw him.
He opened the door and let the cat go out before he lightly stepped back to the corner area designated as a kitchen, complete with counters, a stove, and a vintage mint green colored fridge. A small table with two chairs was set before it. He was barefoot and shirtless, wearing only a pair of jeans. Sweet heavens, he was sexy as hell. His hair was damp, obviously from a recent shower. Rays of morning light streaked over his tanned shoulders, the muscles of his arms, his strong back. He maneuvered a spatula expertly as he flipped a pancake. The yeasty scent of pancakes mixed with the coffee.
Had it been a dream? Had those arms held her in the night? Had he whispered he was there for her?
Those words, that touch, the safety of that embrace had been real. The memory of them sent her heart skipping.
She leaned up and grasped her phone, which rested on the nearby nightstand.
Noting the time, she jumped to the edge of the bed. “Oh, my God! I’ve got to get to the bakery.” Each word felt like her vocal cords had been rubbed down with sandpaper.
“Not this morning,” Mac replied calmly as he tossed her a quick glance over his shoulder. Then he faced the stove again and flipped a pancake. “Tony’s got it.”
She swallowed hard. The action wasn’t heart-stopping painful, but it didn’t feel good. “But…” A cool drink sounded like the best remedy. She walked toward the sink.
“No buts,” he interrupted. “You’re spending the day with me. Here. The rain stopped a few hours ago, which is good since a bunch of school kids are coming to pick apples. It’s supposed to make a return visit later this afternoon. You can take a break from work, allow yourself to get over what happened yesterday, and enjoy some fresh orchard air. Take my word for it, it’s very therapeutic.”
The floor beneath her bare feet was cold. “Who do you think you are, telling me what to do?” She grabbed an empty glass from the table and filled it with water from the tap. The cool liquid helped put out the fire in her throat.
“Aside from the man who almost ran over you yesterday?” He let out a bitter chuckle. “Which I’m doubly glad I didn’t, considering I don’t know how in the hell I would have explained that one to your father.”
She didn’t need that reminder, either. It was just that she didn’t need someone—anyone—to control her. She was still licking the wounds created when she learned about his letters and that her parents and brother had controlled that part of her life by keeping them from her. Too many things had been taken or kept from her. She was done with that. From now on…
“And now that I think about it, I’m also the man who stayed with you last night.” He glanced at her over his shoulder. His gaze, although icy blue, held enough heat to melt her into the planks beneath her feet.
While she didn’t want to be reminded of Stan with his hands on her throat yesterday, or Mac’s letters she recently discovered, holding onto the memory of his arms around her through the night was like a warm blanket on a cold evening. “You didn’t try anything. Don’t you want me? Aren’t you interested?” she said with a grin, trying to lighten the moment.
He didn’t grin back. “That would have been an unfair advantage. I would have been making a victim out of you—twice. The last thing I want to be is in the same category with Stan.”
“Tell me he’s in jail.”
He flipped a pancake and gave her a slight shrug. “Not that I’ve heard. Then, I’m not keeping tabs on him this morning.”
Somehow, she doubted that. Yesterday after he put together the puzzle she laid out in bits and pieces about what had happened in Stan’s shop, she was certain he wanted to go inflict some pain on Stan. Mac wasn’t the kind of guy to sit idly by. He was the quarterback, going for the ball on every play. She stepped closer to him, ignoring the cool air on her legs. She vaguely remembered taking a shower and putting on a shirt he handed to her because she’d been too frazzled to remember one when she grabbed a change of clothes at her place after coming back from the clinic.
“What do you think I should do about him?”
He met her gaze for a long moment before his attention and obviously his nose was reminded of the cooking pancake before him. “What do you mean, what you should do about him?”
“Do you think I should press charges?”
“You have to ask that question? Of course, I guess if you don’t want to, I could take it upon myself to simply beat the shit out of him. Or let you.”
“I own a business in town; so does he. And he’s on the town board. Something like my pressing charges against him could cause divisions. I don’t want to do that.”
“Something like him really hurting you or someone else could cause problems, too.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to charge him. He deserves to be in
jail. He should be in jail. But I need to think about my business, too. And I just wish I could keep this all quiet.”
“You can try all you want, but news spreads like wildfire through a town like this. Spend the morning thinking about how you want to handle things. Give yourself some time to heal.”
“All right. Just for the record, you could never be in the same category as Stan.” She paused and took another long drink of water. “What if…”
“What if what?”
“What if I want you to touch me?” The question popped out before she could stop it, before she could think. And she wasn’t grinning as she spoke the words. “Are you interested? Because I need to know where I stand.”
Without taking his gaze from her, he slid the skillet filled with pancakes to a cold burner. She thought perhaps he might just grab her and set her on the table like a piece of fine china, make her his breakfast.
He did turn to her and take her in his arms.
Lizzy could never get over how safe it was to be close to him, how secure she felt tucked in his embrace. While it was true, Stan’s actions of the day before left her hesitant and maybe even a little jumpy. Everything about Mac—getting lost in his gaze, taking in the clean man smell of him, feeling the warmth of his touch, all left her feeling grounded and in control. She was no longer a teenage girl, easily swayed by good looks or a kiss or a little flirtation. What happened yesterday with Stan was a horrid thing, but it could have been so much worse. Hell, she might never have known Stan’s true nature until after she married him.
She would never have married him. Even if Mac had never come to town, something in her soul told her Stan wasn’t what she wanted or needed, which was why their relationship never skipped to the next rock in the bubbling brook of the dating game.
“I am interested. But not today.”
She had to clear her throat before she could speak. “Why not today?” Then she slipped out of his embrace just enough to take another drink to sooth her throat. At least it didn’t feel like it was on fire any longer. She put the glass back on the table.
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