Soul to Soul (RUSH, Inc. Book 2)

by Carol Caiton

  But she started crying all over again.

  "Rachel."

  She didn't answer.

  He swept out an arm, gesturing toward the crib, the dressers, the curtains. "I'm sorry, baby. I'm sorry you had to do this by yourself."

  Finally, she took a step into the room. "I know you don't really want her, Michael—"

  "Don't say that," he cut her off. "Don't say that again. I didn't—before—you're right. But I do now. I want her now."

  But Rachel shook her head like she didn't believe him. "I know why you married me—"

  What the fuck?

  He took a heaving breath. "Baby, I married you 'cause I'm so crazy in love with you, I can't breathe when you're not near or I can't find you in the next room. Why do you think I work at home? Why do you think I'm always calling you and texting you?" Two steps took him to where she stood and he reached for both her arms. "Whenever you leave the house I sit here waiting for you to come home. I listen for the door to open 'cause I'm so goddamn scared something will happen and you won't come back. That's how much I wanted to marry you. And that's how scared I am of this baby. I had everything ripped away from me when I was a kid. —I was fucking ripped away. So it scares the everlovin' shit out of me to love like this. It scares the shit out of me."

  "Michael—"

  "Goddamn it, Rachel—" He gave her a little shake and his voice quavered. "How can I—"

  He couldn't even finish the sentence. She had him so worked up he could hardly swallow past all the shit he was feeling inside.

  "Michael! Oh, Michael!"

  She had her arms around him, up on her toes, raining kisses on his jaw, his neck, everywhere she could reach.

  "I didn't realize. I'm sorry. I didn't understand."

  He hauled her into his arms and sucked in a bunch of short rough breaths.

  She was crying again, but her arms around him were as tight as his around her. "I won't leave the house anymore if I don't have to. You can come with me. I'll even let you drive the Spider," she joked between sobs.

  It was everything he needed to hear . . . and it was enough to center him again, to put him back on balance.

  "No, baby." He pulled in some more air and eased back so he could look into her eyes. "I know it's not normal—the way I am."

  She shook her head. "From now on, if I go out, anywhere you don't mind going, we'll go together. And if I go out alone, I'll call every so often to check in and let you know how much longer I'll be."

  "Rachel—" he started to protest, but she cut him off.

  "I won't forget. The same way you don't forget to show me your hands before you touch me," she said, reminding him they might have some shit to work through, but they were working through it together. "The same way," she added, then swallowed, "the same way you'll hold our little girl if there are times when I can't."

  Ah, fuck.

  He didn't have words. He was so far beyond them now, all he could do was squeeze his eyes shut and feel the wonder of her in his arms.

  "I love you Michael. I love you so much."

  The hard bump in her belly pressed against his stomach and he focused on it, concentrating on the feel of it . . . of his daughter.

  Skimming his hands down Rachel's back, he held her close, but panic rose up when he thought about fatherhood.

  "Rachel," he whispered, "I don't know jack about being a father."

  She kissed his chest and tightened her arms. "We'll figure it out," she murmured. "You're the best husband in the world and you never did that before either."

  For most of his life, if some supreme being really existed, Michael hadn't wanted a damn thing to do with him. But right now, the fullness inside him was so big, the love he felt so boundless, it was hard not to believe he was blessed.

  Pulling away, he bent down and scooped his wife up into his arms. He started for the doorway, then paused to look down at her. The love he saw, the aching tenderness in her eyes—for him—was more than he'd ever dreamed he could have. Lifting her a little higher, he buried his face in her neck.

  "You're my world, baby." He told her. "You're everything to me."

  CHAPTER 31

  The conference table was crowded with lawyers, but Michael's idea of a crowd of lawyers was anything more than two. He counted five today. Mason was at his side, along with his own attorney. Two of the other three lawyers represented the members of Principles Ideals & Causes—the assholes who had flipped Nina's car. And the other guy was the prosecutor from the state attorney's office.

  Michael looked around the table. For someone who had lived nearly half his life on the wrong side of the law, he sure spent a lot of his adult years in the company of cops and attorneys. He was a legitimate business owner these days, but it still gave him an itchy-scratchy sort of feeling.

  When things finally got started, it took almost two hours to answer all the questions put to him. Some of them were repeats from before, some not. Good thing he'd used the restroom first. But now he was hungry. He wanted to meet up with Rachel and get something to eat.

  * * *

  After Michael dropped her off, Rachel spent well over an hour inside the library. She didn't often come to the main building downtown, so she browsed and took her time because Michael was going to be a while.

  Since the day of his explosive declaration, the barrier that stood between them had tumbled so completely, it sometimes took her breath away to realize how deeply and thoroughly her life meshed with his. More and more often she shared her thoughts and opinions and the expression in his eyes as they talked told her he was new at this too and just as surprised. He was not only her husband, he'd become her best friend as well.

  But Michael wasn't much interested in going to the library. If there was a book he wanted to read, he simply bought it, took it home, and read it. If it wasn't available in-store, he bought it online and had it shipped overnight.

  Rachel, as well, had begun making more purchases online rather than leave the house to shop. She'd ordered Ali's birthday present from an online store, as well as flowers for her mother, and had purchased several articles of clothing for the baby, all from the beautiful office Michael had set up for her.

  Larger items like the infant car seat, a highchair, and a playpen were purchased locally. Michael had pored over various consumer safety reports, then advised her which, in his opinion, were the best. And of course she took his advice to heart, usually so overcome with emotion, she had to excuse herself and hide in the bathroom for a quick cry. Not that he didn't track her down and find her. But when she told him her hormones still made her weepy, he'd laughed and told her she wore out that excuse the month before. Then she'd start laughing through her tears, throw her arms around him, and tell him she was crying because she was too happy. And he'd grin his wonderful, lopsided grin and hold her while she blubbered away.

  There were still times when she went out alone, but they shopped for the baby together now. And Michael often accompanied her on other excursions. Sometimes he walked with her while she browsed, other times he sat out in the mall, thumbing through a computer magazine while she tried something on. She and Ali still met for lunch every Saturday, and she and her mother sometimes wet out by themselves. But Rachel enjoyed the time she spent with Michael and he apparently felt the same because he sometimes asked if she'd like to go places with him, even if he knew she'd be safer tucked away at home. Like today.

  Smiling at that thought, she lifted a book off one of the lower shelves and flipped through it to see if the photographs inside were black-and-white or in color. She wanted a garden on the north side of the house. She'd gotten some input from one of her new neighbors, and of course she spent a lot of time researching online. But it was nice to be able to explore a book at leisure and to flip back and forth through the pages to double check things.

  Life was changing, as it was bound to do. The people in her world were growing and moving in different directions, just as she had. But some of those changes weren'
t easy to accept. Phone calls from Jill were infrequent and their conversations were short. Ali had concurred when they compared notes and they worried the subject until Michael offered to take them both to Key West for a visit. Then, not thirty seconds later, Jill phoned and all three of them had laughed and cried together, causing Michael to shake his head and retreat back to his office.

  But that had been one of Jill's more lengthy calls. Mostly she just phoned to check in. And if Rachel called Key West instead, nine times out of ten she had to leave a message. Jill always phoned back, but whenever Rachel asked where she'd been, the answer was always the same. Walking. Jill had been walking. That was it. She gave no explanation as to where or whether she saw anything interesting or why she took so many walks. And not once, ever, did Jill ask about Nathan. The one time Rachel had mentioned his name, Jill had asked her not to talk about Nathan. At all.

  But three weeks after Jill moved to Key West, Nathan quit his job on the police force. He just . . . quit. He put everything he owned into storage, then one day he got into his big black SUV and drove away. He'd told Ali and his mother he could be reached at any time on his cell phone, then he was gone, vague on direction and with no mention of a destination. Just gone.

  Rachel couldn't say how many times she'd thought about Jill and Nathan, both separately and together. Lately, with a deep ache inside, she felt as though she'd lost both of them.

  Perhaps that was another reason she didn't mind staying close to home and puttering around the house. Michael, her new home, and the baby had become the center of her life. She'd always hoped to fall in love and get married one day, but she couldn't have imagined the depth of happiness and contentment she felt. Neither had she pictured herself as a stay-at-home housewife. Now though, she wasn't sure she even wanted to work after the baby was born. Maybe something part-time, to have the experience. But maybe just for a little while.

  Choosing two books off the shelf, she wandered back down to the first floor and checked them out, along with two novels by an author she liked. Since Michael hadn't yet phoned to say he was finished, she decided to browse the shops on Orange Avenue.

  It was lunchtime, so the sidewalk was crowded with people on their way to eat. Most were dressed in smart business attire, making her feel a little conspicuous in her stretch-capris and maternity top. But no one was paying attention to her. She strolled along the attractive brick sidewalk, shifted her books to a more comfortable position in her left arm, and then realized, oddly, that someone might indeed be paying attention to her.

  Like a sort of sixth sense, the strangest feeling that she was being watched came over her. Turning her head, she glanced back, but everyone appeared to be intent on where they were going. So she continued on her way.

  But the feeling persisted. After a few more steps she moved to the inside of the pavement and stopped to turn and look around. Once again, however, she saw nothing out of the ordinary.

  Turning again, she faced a storefront window and stared into the reflective plate glass. Unfortunately clarity wasn't far-reaching, so she abandoned that, started walking again, and her phone rang.

  Juggling her books, she reached for it and answered.

  "Hey, baby," Michael said. "I'm just outside the courthouse. You still at the library?"

  The sensation of being watched faded and she smiled. "No. I'm on Orange Avenue, heading in your direction."

  "Good timing. Keep walking and we'll stop at one of those outdoor bistros for something to eat."

  "Okay, that sounds good. I'm hungry."

  But as soon as she said that, the hair on the back of her neck stirred. A chill chased straight up her spine and she spun back around, the premonition of being watched so strong this time, goose bumps rose up on her arms.

  "Did you find what you wanted at the library?"

  "I . . . . Yes."

  The crowd was thicker now. People swept past, some of them strolling lazily, some walking briskly.

  "You don't sound too sure about that," Michael said with a chuckle.

  She didn't answer. Just a few feet away, a pair of cold brown eyes pinned her with a laser-hard stare, freezing her where she stood. For several seconds she couldn't move. Her instincts hadn't been off. Some inner sensitivity had recognized a threat and had warned her. She wasn't going crazy.

  "Rachel?"

  He wore a business suit, blending in with everyone else. His dark hair was neatly trimmed and combed back. But those eyes were zeroed in on her with focused determination.

  "Baby, what's wrong?" Michael's voice came through the receiver with a sharp edge.

  "Michael, I think I'm being followed." The stranger started toward her. "Michael . . . ."

  She tore her eyes away, frightened, heartbeat thumping in her chest. But her gaze landed on yet a second pair of dark male eyes staring directly at her.

  Fear shot through her. About to whirl around and run for the nearest shop door, her whole body jerked when the second man spoke. She wasn't even sure she heard him. But his mouth formed a single, unmistakable word.

  "Run."

  Panic surged up inside. She'd never make it into the store in time to ask for help.

  Time stopped. Everything began moving in slow motion. The world became vivid with details that meant nothing and everything. Colors were sharp and clear.

  The second man—the one who told her to run—wore low-slung jeans and a dirty white T-shirt. His hair was on the shaggy side, longish in back, overlapping the collar, and dark, like rich chocolate. He was handsome, but in a worldly, harsh sense of the word.

  Every detail registered in the space of a second. Then, two women passed in front of her, jarring her back to the present.

  "Rachel." Michael's voice came through the phone she still held to her ear. "Raise your hand in the air so I can see where you are, baby. Put your hand up."

  She turned toward the direction of the courthouse, library books still clutched in her left arm, and pulled the phone from her right ear to thrust that hand up high.

  But the phone went flying out toward the street when a crushing arm clamped around her shoulders. She had just a moment to recognize the suit jacket of the first man before something sharp pierced through her billowy top and touched her ribs.

  "Hi, sweetheart," a low voice sneered beside her ear. "Remember me?"

  "Rachel!"

  She heard Michael's shout, but it was distant. Too distant.

  She stood completely, utterly still. The sharp object pressed against her side was only inches away from her baby.

  Within seconds, she felt the claustrophobic effects of his nearness.

  Not now, she commanded herself. Not now!

  But her heart picked up its already stuttering beat and her breath began to feel shallow in her chest.

  "There's a knife pointed at your ribs," her assailant informed her. "So we're going to take a nice friendly walk back in the other direction. Right?"

  When she didn't answer, he emphasized his words with a small persuasive prick that had tears running down her face.

  "Not a sound," he murmured, smiling as though they were having a pleasant conversation. "Carry those books and don't drop them." He nicked her again and said, "Answer me this time."

  She nodded, gasping for breath.

  "Good. Now lift your hand. Slowly. And wipe your face."

  He wasn't much taller than she, but he had angled himself so that she was blocked from clear view by anyone passing.

  Lifting her right hand, she did as he told her, slowly, just as he'd said, because it would give Michael that much more time to come to her.

  But with that thought, a new flash of fear arose. Michael wouldn't know there was a knife pressed against her side. What if this monster slid it between her ribs as soon as he realized someone was about to rescue her?

  His arm around her shoulders was so tight it pulled on her hair. She gathered her library books in closer, sliding them over her stomach.

  "Who are you?" she wh
ispered. Her skin began to crawl.

  "I'm disappointed," he said, smiling again. "We danced so well together."

  Jill.

  "And after all the trouble I went to."

  "Trouble?"

  He started her walking, steering her firmly back in the direction from which she'd come.

  "A lot of trouble. The Mickey Finn your friend caught, four slashed tires. Remember yet?"

  Yes, she remembered. Jill had told her how she met Dalton Cooper that night.

  "You usually walk out to your car alone."

  His fingers squeezed her upper arm and they bumped into a dark-haired woman wearing a red business suit.

  "Excuse us," he said with the politeness of well-practiced courtesy.

  Rachel was shaking now. She wouldn't be able to tolerate his touch much longer. A year ago she would probably have blanked out by now. Maybe it was her fear for the baby that kept her sane this long. It had to have been thirty seconds since his vice-like arm clamped around her shoulders. Or maybe systematic desensitization had begun working after all. Maybe Michael's touch, his hands on her whenever they were together, enabled her to maintain this semblance of composure. But her self-restraint and this unusual fortitude was reaching an end. Working with Dalton had taught her she had a violent streak. She didn't know anymore how she'd react when she finally broke.

  The dirty white T-shirt came into view. It was the other man—the one who had warned her. But had it really been a warning? She might have been mistaken. What if the two were working together? He was tall. Broad-shouldered. Fit. In shape.

  The thud of her heartbeat pounding in her chest was becoming unbearable. She met the dark, deep-set eyes of the man in the T-shirt and silently pleaded with him. Please don't hurt my baby. Please don't hurt my baby.

  His eyes narrowed momentarily as though he understood. Then he drilled her with a ruthless, commanding stare. What was he saying? That she should shut up and do as she was told?

  Five steps brought him almost directly in front of them. Then his eyes locked and held on something behind her.