Gotcha!

by Christie Craig

  “How long does it take to slip on a dress?” her mom complained.

  Macy stepped out and struck a pose. “I look like a call girl who needs a boob job.”

  “No.” Nan reached up and gave her size Bs a lift. “You just need a push-up bra.”

  “Jake will go nuts,” her mom said, giggling. “If he’s not in love with you already, he—”

  Just like that, with Nan holding up her boobs and her mom giggling about love, Macy started sobbing. And it was more than a two-tissue cry.

  Jake parked almost a block away from his mother’s house. Cars were lined up and down the street. Holy hell, but he didn’t want to do this. He gripped the wheel and stared up at the cloudless blue sky that was the contradiction of the storm brewing inside him.

  “So this is it?” Macy shifted in the seat beside him.

  He glanced at her and tried masking his frown. “Yeah.”

  “You okay?” she asked.

  “Of course I am.” He got out, snagged the necessary items from the backseat: the birthday bag, and the chicken salad he’d picked up from the deli. Taking his first step, he grabbed Macy’s arm. “Don’t get comfortable. All we’re here to do is make an appearance.”

  “But it’s your grandfather’s hundredth birthday.”

  “His birthday was actually Thursday, and I saw him then.”

  “You did?” She sounded surprised.

  “He lives in a retirement home near my work. I see him during lunch at least once a week.”

  Macy pulled away.

  Jake looked at her. “What?”

  She shook her head. “It hits me how little you talk about yourself.”

  “You know the important stuff.” And she did. “Come on, let’s get it over with.”

  “You really know how to put a girl at ease.” Sarcasm filled her voice.

  “Sorry. I’m tired.” All week he’d worked like the devil to keep up with his other cases and make up for the time he’d taken off, hoping to get to the bottom of the string of paint-tagged robbery cases, hoping they would lead him to Tanks. But, nothing. Every lead he and Donaldson followed was a dead end. And then yesterday, Agent James had informed Jake that the FBI would be pulling their man off Macy. Everyone was betting that Tanks had left Houston. Macy had even dropped hints about moving back to her place, and Jake was beginning to feel desperate.

  Of course, his desperation wasn’t just about Tanks and her personal safety. It was about them. He’d accepted he loved her. He hadn’t said it, of course; he hoped she’d throw the words out there first. Deep down, he believed Macy loved him. But sometimes she got that scared look in her eyes, like a wild animal about to bolt. And the possibility of losing her opened up a Pandora’s box of emotions, a box that still held his feelings about Lisa and his brother.

  “Seriously,” he said, as they approached the house. “We’re in and out of here.” He took one deep breath, then reached for the door.

  Macy watched Jake take the next step as if he were walking into a prison cell. But contrasting the doom and gloom of his demeanor, they were immediately pulled into a group of happy people—into Jake’s world, Macy thought, feeling more than a little uneasy.

  “Little Jake. My favorite nephew,” someone called, and Jake got swallowed up in a big bear hug by a gray-headed, barrel-chested man with twinkling blue eyes. Jake returned the embrace, a manly hug that included a few hard slaps on the shoulder, and when he was released, he was actually smiling. He introduced Macy to his Uncle Bill, his father’s brother.

  Bill captured her in a bear hug, too. “We’re huggers,” he said, his twinkling gaze devouring her white sundress. The dress wasn’t as sexy as the little red number her mother had chosen, but it showed off her figure.

  The man grinned. “You did good, Jake. Always did have great taste in women.”

  In a matter of seconds, Macy had been hugged a dozen more times by a hodgepodge of people: cousins, aunts, uncles, and finally Jake’s wheelchair-bound grandfather.

  Jake’s family certainly came in all shapes and sizes. Jake stood close to her elbow, as if he felt personally responsible for her. Then his mom moved in and, after offering her own hugs, stole the chicken salad and Macy’s hand, and started for the kitchen.

  Macy felt her face heat as she remembered the whole towel fiasco. But something about Jake’s mom put Macy at ease.

  “Can I help do anything?” she asked.

  “Just keep us womenfolk company.” She waved around the kitchen, and the introductions commenced.

  Macy met Jake’s aunt—another hugger—his cousin Ann, and then a beautiful brunette walked into the kitchen through an outside entrance.

  “Macy,” his mom said, sounding a little breathy. “This is Lisa. She’s married to Harry, Jake’s brother.”

  “Hi,” Macy said, surprised to learn Jake’s brother was married. Though why she was surprised, she didn’t know. Jake had kept her in the dark about all these people. And while everyone here was extremely friendly, Macy had this stirring in the pit of stomach, as if she didn’t belong.

  Lisa smiled. “You look…familiar.”

  “I do?” Macy asked, and oddly felt as if everyone in the room were holding their breath.

  “Yeah,” Lisa offered. “I could swear we’ve met somewhere.”

  Macy studied her face. “You look familiar to me, too. You don’t go to Houston Law?”

  “No. How about the photography club?” Lisa asked.

  “Nope.” Macy shook her head.

  The same door Lisa had walked through swung open again. Macy saw Jake out of the corner of her eye. She stopped short of speaking when he wrapped an arm around Lisa. But…it wasn’t Jake.

  “This is Harry,” Lisa said. “My husband. And this”—she waved at Macy—“is Macy Tucker.”

  Macy smiled. “You and Jake really favor each other.”

  Harry stood for a moment, silent, his head sort of cocked, staring at her. “You look familiar.”

  “I just said that!” Lisa chimed in.

  “Have you attended North Baptist Church?” Harry asked.

  “I’m afraid not,” Macy admitted.

  “Wait,” Harry said. “Macy Tucker. You’re from the Community Garden. I’ve seen you there a couple of times, but your picture in that article about the garden is hanging in the church office. You’re the mastermind behind the whole program. Father Luis is always praising you. I’m Pastor Harry.”

  Macy grinned. “I’ve heard of Pastor Harry, but I never knew your last name was—”

  “They just call me Pastor Harry. Wow. It’s an honor to meet you.”

  Before Macy knew it, Pastor Harry had her in a bear hug.

  Macy heard the door swing open behind her. The room became unnaturally silent. Harry’s arms dropped away.

  Released from the embrace, Macy turned. She saw Jake. Her breath caught at his expression, which was none too friendly. Not that it was targeted at her—rather, at his brother.

  Harry held out his hand. “Jake?”

  Macy didn’t think Jake was going to shake. Finally, he reached out, but the handshake ended too fast. The door swung open again, and one of the uncles appeared. “Jake, can I get some help getting the grill going?”

  Jake walked out so fast that Macy felt the breeze.

  “Well, I think that went fine,” Jake’s mother said.

  “Like a fart in church.” Harry left the kitchen, followed by his worried-looking wife.

  Macy looked back at Jake’s mom and didn’t know whether to go find Jake or stay in the kitchen, where the awkwardness had arisen.

  One by one, the tension seemed to chase people out. Suddenly, Macy realized she was alone with Mrs. Baldwin. The woman grabbed a loaf of bread from the oak table, then slammed it down. She swung around to face Macy, and without any warning collapsed into Macy’s arms and started sobbing.

  Baffled, but no stranger to sobbing mothers, Macy embraced her. “I’m only good for two tissues,” she warned.
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  Jake picked up the bag of charcoal and swore that as soon he got the fire started, he and Macy were out of there. It had been a mistake to come. He needed to get Macy away before someone let her in on the family’s dark, ugly secret.

  “Can we talk?” Harry said from behind him as coals tumbled into the grill.

  Jake dropped the bag on the concrete patio and faced his brother. Emotion twisted his gut. He’d missed Harry so damn much, but seeing him brought it all back. He raked a hand through his hair and said, “I thought I could do this, but I can’t.”

  Harry grabbed his arm. “We’ve got to get past this sooner or later.”

  Jake jerked loose. “Well, maybe if I hadn’t walked in and found you pawing my new girl, I might have been a bit more receptive.”

  Harry shook his head. “I’m not even going answer that accusation.”

  The hell he wouldn’t, Jake thought. He deserved this moment of anger. His hunger for revenge struck hard. For years, he’d imagined hurtful things to throw into his brother’s face. Then he recalled himself. “I gotta leave.”

  Harry grabbed him again. “Look, I know you’re hurt, and you have reason. But God knows I’m not guilty of what you think I am. Isn’t it about time you hear what I have to say?”

  Jake gulped for oxygen and took a step back. “What the hell can you say that will make a difference?”

  “I prayed you’d come today.”

  Did you pray about stealing my fiancée, too? Jake ground his teeth to keep from saying anything. But, by God, he wanted to. Harry had betrayed him, hurt him, and right then more than anything he wanted to hurt Harry back.

  His brother continued: “Macy seems…I’ve heard she’s a super girl.”

  The calm in his brother’s voice and the mere mention of Macy’s name was Jake’s undoing. He took a step forward. “So, now you’re planning to steal her out of my bed? Well, don’t waste your time, Reverend. Macy’s not my fiancée, so she wouldn’t be near as much fun to fuck as Lisa.”

  A crash sounded behind them. Jake swung around. Macy stood in the open doorway, raw chicken parts and a broken ceramic bowl at her feet. Her new white dress was spattered with meat marinade, and a chicken gizzard lay on the tip of her right white sandal.

  Jake’s heart landed somewhere beside the chicken gizzard. The words he’d just thrown at his brother ran amok in his head, and instantly he called himself a fool. No, an idiot. A bastard! He would have sent up a prayer that Macy hadn’t heard him, but the hurt in her eyes left him with no hope. Zilch.

  He raked both hands through his hair, clasped his hands behind his head, and squeezed the back of his neck. An apology lay on the tip of his tongue, but he knew it wouldn’t be enough.

  Moisture brightened her eyes. She kicked the chicken gizzard from her sandal. It flew up and struck his chest, splattering him with juice. Then she turned and shot back inside without a word.

  Macy’s silence continued on the ride home, though he’d pursued her and tried to apologize. Jake had turned into his mom: rattling. How many times had he said he was sorry? He’d even told her he loved her. She never responded. With her purse in her lap, she kept her eyes focused on the windshield in front of her. Not one tear slipped down her face. No words, no tears. That told him a lot.

  As he pulled up to his condo, he tried to find another way to say how sorry he was. “Macy, I know what I said was cruel and incomprehensible. But I swear to you, I didn’t mean…I was trying to hurt Harry, and I used you to do it. I was wrong, and I…deserve your anger and whatever else you want to do to me.”

  She looked over at him, her eyes still tearless. “Good. Then you’ll understand that I never want to see you again.”

  She jumped out of his car. By the time he caught up with her, she was in his bedroom tossing clothes into a garbage bag. Elvis, already in his carrier, meowed.

  “You can’t do this.” A knot rose in his throat. He gripped the back of his neck so tight he was certain he’d leave a bruise.

  A lump of emotion climbed up to his tonsils and made it hard to talk. “I’ll stay on the sofa. I won’t talk to you. But you can’t go back to your place. Tanks could still be out there.”

  Macy snatched her pj’s from his dresser drawer and added them to her bag. Then, with her garbage bag of clothes in one hand and the cat carrier in the other, she walked past. The front door slammed shut. It couldn’t have hurt more if his fingers had been in the jamb. Frankly, it felt as if his heart had been.

  And of course he deserved it.

  Macy sat curled up on her sofa, wearing her pajamas, staring at the TV. Not that she could remember what had been playing for the past three hours. All that mattered was that she wasn’t crying. She wouldn’t become her mother. She wouldn’t fall apart. She wouldn’t quit her job or school. She wouldn’t run to Nan to pick up the pieces of her shattered life.

  The knock on her door did enter into her consciousness, but she chose to ignore it. Whoever it was would eventually get tired and leave. They had earlier. But then she heard Nan.

  Macy unlocked the door, and Nan and her mom rushed in. From their grave expressions, they knew. It was that, or something had happened to Billy. Macy’s heart gave a lurch inside her chest. She’d spent the last few hours selfishly thinking of only herself.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Jake called us,” Nan said.

  “About Billy?”

  “No, about you,” her mom said. “What happened?”

  Macy hugged a pillow that she hadn’t realized she held.

  “What did he do?” her mom asked. “Hal will teach him a lesson.”

  Macy shook her head and fought the growing lump in her throat.

  Nan stepped forward. “She doesn’t want to talk about it, Faye.” She held up a plastic grocery sack. “Hot chocolate. I’ll fix you a double.”

  Macy nodded, and stared at her mother and grandma. She’d sworn not to go running to them for a pity party. Did it make a difference if they had run to her?

  “You know he’s out there, don’t you?” her mom said. “He’s parked right in front of your house. He called us. He said he’d hurt you, that it was his fault, and that he was worried about you.”

  That piece of news had the lump rising in Macy throat. Crappers! She was gonna cry! She went to the sofa, flopped back against the cushions, and buried her face into the pillow.

  Billy was fucking tired of waiting. Tired of waiting for Tanks. Tired of thinking about Ellie. He’d heard on the radio that her brother had been killed. Tanks had done it—somehow Billy knew. He knew Ellie was still at the beach house, too. He’d called the number she’d forced him to take with him, but when she answered, he’d hung up.

  Tonight, like the last four nights, the car pulled up in the driveway of the green-shuttered house, and tonight, like the other nights, the guy inside the car was alone. But tonight was going to be different.

  Billy watched the guy let himself into the house. “Tired,” he mumbled. Then, pulling the gun from the waistband of his jeans, he walked across the street. If this guy knew where Tanks was, Billy was going to find out. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, and hoped he wouldn’t have to, but he wasn’t waiting anymore. He’d find Tanks or die trying.

  Taking the porch two steps at time, gun in hand, he knocked.

  “Just a minute,” a male voice called.

  Billy gripped his gun and waited. He didn’t have to wait too long. The door swung open and the nose of a sawed-off shotgun jabbed into his gut.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Jake sat in his car, eyes focused on Macy’s house and heart focused on not breaking. He watched Nan and Faye go inside. Macy had opened the door for them, but not him.

  “Damn it!” He slammed his palm so hard on the steering wheel that the car shook.

  He’d screwed up so bad he couldn’t think straight. If he weren’t afraid that Tanks would come after Macy, he’d go find a liquor store and buy himself a bottle of something that wo
uld numb the ache. He wasn’t much of a drinker, not of strong stuff, but right now he was sure he could drink anyone under the table. Weren’t all sons of Baptist preachers known for that?

  He took a deep breath and fought the urge to run to Macy’s door and plead with her to listen to him one more time. Couldn’t she hear in his voice how damn sorry he was? Maybe Nan and Macy’s mom would convince her to at least let him in.

  As he reached for the car door, his cell phone rang. Jerking it out of his pocket, he snapped it open without even checking caller ID. “Hello?” Hope had his chest knotted in one big spasm.

  “Baldwin?” a male voice asked.

  Jake pushed back in his seat, uninterested in talking to anyone other than Macy. “Yeah?”

  “It’s Billy.”

  Jake sat upright. “Yeah?” He held his breath.

  “Look, I know where Tanks is. I thought maybe you could be there, too. Help me with him. Then I’ll turn myself in.” The boy’s voice sounded strained, labored.

  “Are you okay, Billy?” Jake asked.

  “I’m just ready for it to be over.” The kid paused. “Is Macy okay?”

  Jake forced himself to lie. “She’s fine. Where’s Tanks?”

  Shortly afterward, Jake stood outside his car, parked a block from the abandoned warehouse where Billy said he and Tanks would be. Stan’s car pulled up, then Mark’s. Because no one from the task force showed up, Jake figured they’d already taken the bug off his line. Sure, he planned to call them, as he would call for standard backup, but only after he got Billy out of this alive. He owed Macy that much.

  He grabbed his cell phone and dialed Officer Sala, who’d agreed to watch Macy’s house. “Everything okay?”

  “I got it covered,” his friend said.

  Jake hung up and went to meet Stan and Mark.

  “Here’s what I know, and what I think we should do,” he told them. “If that warehouse is like the rest of these, there’ll be three entrances, all unlocked. I’ll take the front. Stan, you take the back. Mark, you take the side. You two don’t come in unless you hear shots fired.” He flashed the kid’s mug shot. “Let’s get this guy out of it alive.”