The Sergeant's Secret Son

by Bonnie Gardner

  Her captor spat out a curse and yanked Macy to her feet. “I didn’t want it to come to this, but I guess you’re gonna be my ticket out.” A knife appeared from out of nowhere, and he pressed it against her throat.

  “You’d best be quiet, ma’am. And maybe we’ll both get out of this mess in one piece.”

  Some people said that their lives flashed in front of their eyes when they faced death. All Macy saw was what might have been, and she hoped she would live to see it.

  BLOCK PACED the floor as he waited for Macy to return. It was only a few minutes past the time she’d promised to be back, but Block felt a prickling at the back of his neck. It was the same feeling he’d gotten in the height of battle that had made him wary and cautious and had probably saved his neck more than once.

  But this time it wasn’t his neck that needed saving. It was Macy’s.

  And he was stuck here baby-sitting. He strode into the kitchen and looked out toward Gramma’s house. Her kitchen was still dark, a sure sign that she was not yet home. Another glance out the front door showed that her ancient Buick was not parked by the road.

  He’d get no help from that quarter. Still, he couldn’t leave Cory here alone. He stepped out onto the sidewalk in front of the house and glanced frantically down the street. Most of the residents in this neighborhood were elderly and apparently went to bed early. He could see only one house with lights on.

  He thought it was Mrs. Johnson’s house. He dashed down the street and knocked on the door.

  It didn’t really matter whose house it was, Block thought as he pounded again when no one came. He had to find somebody to stay with Cory. He had to go to the clinic to make sure that Macy was all right.

  “What the dickens is the matter, young man?” Mrs. Johnson demanded. She was still dressed in typical church clothes. Maybe she’d just gotten home from her own Wednesday-night meeting.

  “Mrs. Johnson, I apologize for disturbing you, but it’s an emergency. I need someone to sit with Cory. Macy’s gone to check out an alarm at the clinic, and I think something’s wrong,” he blurted.

  “Land sakes, son. You don’t have to shout. You just let me get my pocketbook and lock up the house. Willadean done stayed late to plan for the Thanksgiving dinner at the homeless shelter. You go on. Don’t want to leave that child alone. I’ll be there directly.” Mrs. Johnson turned back into the house.

  There was nothing Block could do but run back to Macy’s to wait until Mrs. Johnson got there. He reached the house, winded and worried. He stepped inside long enough to make certain that Cory had not awakened, then, assured that his son was still sleeping soundly, he left the door open so he could hear and sat on the porch steps to wait.

  The prickly feeling on the back of his neck had heightened, and he knew that haste was of the essence. He had no time to waste with chitchat. As soon as Mrs. Johnson set foot on that sidewalk he was outta there.

  Macy was in trouble. He knew it. He had that feeling deep in his gut that he used to get in combat. Something had gone terribly, awfully wrong, and it had to do with Macy.

  And he would move heaven and earth to get her out of it. That’s what you did when someone you loved was in danger.

  Block bit back a curse. He had never told Macy how he felt about her. How he really felt. That he loved her. He just hoped he wasn’t too late.

  As Mrs. Johnson toddled down her walk toward him, all he could do was raise his face to heaven and pray he’d still get his chance.

  IF HER WINDPIPE weren’t already half-closed anyway, Macy would have held her breath. But all she could do was try to breathe shallowly as the man—Jason, according to the name embroidered on his shirt—dragged her toward the front door.

  There was another door to the clinic, but she didn’t volunteer that information to Jason. At least if they went out the front way, someone would be there to intervene.

  She hoped.

  A deputy she didn’t know stood at the clinic door, but when he saw the knife against her throat, he stepped out of the way. “Let the doctor go, man. We don’t want to have to hurt you.” His voice sounded almost as jittery as Jason’s.

  Maybe Macy wasn’t thinking clearly, but she wasn’t sure what kind of bargaining power the sheriff’s department had. After all, Jason had a knife pressed against her throat. He had the upper hand.

  All she could do was hope that the authorities would figure a way out for her.

  Her heart pounded so hard, she was certain that anyone outside could hear it, but over the sound, she recognized another noise. A car.

  Reinforcements?

  The flicker of blue police lights confirmed it.

  “Get back, man,” Jason shouted, an edge of panic to his voice. “I don’t want to hurt the doc, here, but I will. I just want to get out of here. No muss, no fuss.”

  The deputy backed down off the front steps. “You all right, Doc?”

  Macy tried to answer, but she had so little breath all she could do was nod. The knife at her throat pressed deeper, and she was startled to realize that something warm had begun to trickle down her neck.

  “You’d best be careful there, man. The doc is pretty well thought of around here. You hurt her and things can only go from bad to worse.”

  Jason started to say something, but the amplified voice of Sheriff MacEachern stopped him. “What’s your name, son?”

  Macy looked out to where MacEachern stood behind the open door of his cruiser, radio mike in his hand. He looked no different than he had a few nights ago at the trailer park, but now, to Macy, he looked like her salvation.

  “J-Jason, Jason McLeod,” he stammered. “Look, man. I—I don’t wanna h-hurt the d-doc. I just wanna g-go h-home.” He sounded on the verge of hysteria.

  Knife to her throat or not, Macy felt a pang of pity for the man. It seemed as though the poverty that had so pervaded her life was an equal-opportunity demon, if this man were any indication. At least she’d figured out how to get out of it.

  “Let the doctor go, and we’ll go easy,” the sheriff called from his spot behind the cruiser door.

  “Ain’t gonna. You l-leave out of here, and wh-when I’m sure you’re gone, I’ll let her go.” Jason tightened his grip on Macy’s throat.

  “You know I can’t do that, man.” The sheriff lowered his mike and turned to another man and spoke to him in tones Macy could not hear.

  “We’ll wait as long as it takes,” the sheriff said into the microphone. He leaned into the car, hung up his mike, and straightened. Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned back against the cruiser.

  Macy could feel Jason’s agitation as he dragged her down off the porch and toward the shelter of the pine trees adjacent to the building. He didn’t have to speak again for her to know that he was ready to crack. His grip on her tightened, and she struggled to maintain her slim hold on consciousness. If she were to faint, he’d have lost his bargaining chip. And she had no idea what that knife might do to her—intentional or not—as she went down.

  Another car pulled up, and Jason jerked her up as he turned his attention to the newcomer. His hold on her neck had not so much loosened as it had just shifted, making it easier for her to breathe. Macy’s thoughts were so much clearer now that oxygen was flowing more or less freely to her brain. She had to get out of here.

  She had a son to watch grow up. She had a man to love. And she didn’t want to die without him knowing it.

  As if she had summoned him up out of her subconscious, Alex appeared behind the patrol car. He whispered something to the sheriff, then moved stealthily away.

  THOUGH THE EVENING was warm and muggy, the sight of that knife against Macy’s pale, slender throat chilled Block to the bone. He shivered, but that only served to reinforce his desire to set Macy free.

  Never was a man so glad of his less-than-conventional training than Alex Blocker was right now. He had some moves that not even a SWAT team would have. And he’d use all of them to get Macy out of the hands of that man
.

  If their life together were going to happen, then he’d have to wrestle Macy out of that man’s clutches. And, God help him, he would let nothing get in his way!

  His heart filled with rage at the sight of the man clutching Macy’s delicate throat, his knife so dangerously close to her jugular, but he pushed it aside. He needed a cool head if the quick plan he’d devised was going to work. It was a simple plan, too simple, really, but he had a feeling that the madman holding Macy wasn’t doing any deep thinking right now.

  Wishing he had a gun, Block slipped into the covering darkness.

  It was all up to him.

  MACY’S HEART almost stopped when she realized that Alex had disappeared like a ghost in the darkness, yet she clung to the hope that there was a reason for it. She knew that he’d been trained in unconventional warfare, and she hoped that his use of that training was the reason he’d slipped from her sight. She already knew how quietly he could move. And stealth and the dark of night were probably his only allies right now.

  Macy struggled to loosen Jason’s grip on her neck. She didn’t think he meant to choke her, but his panic and his apparent withdrawal were keeping him from thinking. “I—I can’t…breathe,” she managed to gasp, though her words were barely a hoarse whisper.

  He must have heard and understood her, for the grip on her neck loosened. Precious, blessed air rushed into her starved lungs. “Thank you,” she breathed.

  Jason muttered something unintelligible, but Macy thought he might have acknowledged her thanks. A wave a pity washed through her. The man was little more than a boy, gangly and thin, and had obviously had as few choices as many of the other residents of Lyndonville. He’d taken the wrong road, but still, she sensed a shred of decency somewhere within him.

  Sheriff MacEachern reached into his cruiser and took up the mike again. “Look, McLeod, we’ve done some checking. As far as we can tell, you don’t have anything worse going for you than a couple of speeding tickets. Let the doctor go, and I’m sure we can work something out.”

  Jason stiffened, unintentionally tightening his hold on Macy’s throat. “How’d they know that?” he muttered.

  “Hurts. C-can’t breathe,” Macy managed. His grip immediately loosened.

  “You know, the sheriff’s right,” she whispered, and Jason froze. Was he going to listen to her, or had he heard something she hadn’t? “You haven’t done anything you couldn’t get out of. Yet,” she told him softly. “I can vouch for you. I can get you into a program to get you off the drugs. We can find you a job. If I could find a way out of the poverty I was born into, so can you.”

  Jason seemed to be considering what both she and the sheriff had proposed. He stood stock-still, seeming to be thinking.

  “What’s it gonna be, McLeod? A deal, or do I call up the SWAT team?”

  Macy was pretty sure there was no such thing as a SWAT team in Darlington County, but she’d bet Jason didn’t know. She hoped the man didn’t call the sheriff’s bluff.

  It seemed an eternity while Jason was apparently considering the sheriff’s proposal. “What kind of d—”

  Suddenly, the pressure was off Macy’s throat and she could breathe freely. Then she saw the knife seem to drift to the ground in slow motion. Then everything happened so fast, she couldn’t register it all.

  Alex, her wonderful, dear, magnificent Alex had crept up behind them while Sheriff MacEachern had distracted Jason and had simply lifted the knife from Jason’s hand. Then in the space of an instant, he’d pinned the man to the ground.

  Men in uniforms rushed toward her from out of the darkness. “You all right, Doc?” one asked as another slipped handcuffs onto the downed man.

  “I—I’m fine,” she stammered.

  Sheriff MacEachern looked at Alex with frank admiration as he held Jason, hands behind him, pinned to the ground with his knee. “You know, we could use a man with your talents on our team,” he said.

  Alex shook his head, but smiled. “It’s a mighty tempting offer, Sheriff, but it’ll have to wait a couple years. I got a job in Florence I’m committed to.”

  Macy stood there, trembling and listening to the short conversation between Alex and the sheriff. Had Alex really said that he’d be staying? “Alex?” she called, panicking. Suddenly she felt cold to the bone. She needed Alex with her. She had to feel his arms around her. She needed to feel his strong, reassuring body against hers. “Alex?”

  “I’m here, sweetie,” he said. “I’m here.” He gathered her into his arms and held her as if he’d never let her go.

  “I was so…so scared,” she murmured as Alex pressed his lips against her forehead. “I should have known better than to go to him, but he was bleeding. I thought he needed my help.”

  “It’s all right now, honey. You’re safe. I’ll never let anything happen to you.” He tipped her chin up so that she could see into his deep brown eyes. Then he kissed her.

  And somewhere in the back of her mind, she thought she heard the sound of applause.

  BLOCK PACED the ground outside the clinic, restlessly waiting as the sheriff questioned Macy. A paramedic had checked her out and dressed her wound and then driven off with McLeod. He’d be going to jail, but first they would take him to a hospital for tests to confirm their assumption that he was on drugs. Whether that fact would save the man or sink him was immaterial to Block. All that mattered was that Macy was safe.

  She still had to take inventory, but her preliminary inspection had indicated that nothing appeared to be missing. If the kid had a good lawyer, he might be able to talk it down to simple assault and vandalism. Or less. The thought bothered him, but he remembered his own youth and the desperation he’d felt growing up in a town with no options, no way out.

  Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to give the kid a break. Everyone needed one, at least once in his life. And what he’d done, he’d done out of desperation, not malice.

  Block scowled. Had doing good deeds for Macy turned him soft? Had his injury affected him in the head, too? Hell, just a few months ago, he would have wanted to lock the guy up and throw away the key. Maybe loving Macy had mellowed him, and maybe that was a good thing.

  He smiled as he thought of the other good thing in his life. He had a son. He heard a commotion at the clinic door and he looked up. Macy and the sheriff had come out, and Macy smiled up at him, then turned to switch off the lights and lock the door.

  They were done. In a matter of minutes he could take her home. And make her his. The right way, on bended knee. Too bad he had no ring to give her.

  But a ring wasn’t important. Macy was. It had taken him a long time to realize it, but he knew now that she was the love of his life.

  She walked toward him, a wan smile on her face. “We’re finished for now, but Sheriff MacEachern will need me to come in and make a statement tomorrow.”

  Block wrapped his arms around her and felt the way she trembled in his arms. “It’s all right, sweetie. I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

  Macy didn’t respond to that, at least not with words, but snuggled deeper into his arms. He lifted her into his arms and carried her to his car.

  They had some talking to do, but he knew now that it would be all right. Everything would work out as it was meant to be, and Block had no doubt that it had been preordained.

  Loathe to let go of her, he settled Macy on the front seat of his car, and, one hand clasping hers, he drove them home.

  MACY WAITED on the couch, her hands clutched tightly in her lap, in the quiet of her front room while Alex walked Mrs. Johnson home. She had already checked on Cory and assured herself that her son was fine and sleeping soundly. Now, waiting for Alex to return, she felt awkward, even a little shy.

  Not because she was still uncertain that Alex loved her, but because of the apology she had to make. She’d been so wrong not to trust him with the knowledge that she was carrying his child. So wrong to assume that he wouldn’t care. She’d based her assumptions about how Alex w
ould feel about it on her entirely incorrect assumptions about her father, and men in general. Alex had proven her wrong about that, too.

  She smiled when she thought about the trouble he had taken to find out what had really happened to her father. All those years, she had assumed he’d abandoned her. All those years, she had transferred her feelings to every man she’d met, even her own brother, C.J. She’d barely trusted that her other brother, Ty, would be there for her. And all that time she’d been wrong.

  All that time she’d wasted.

  She heard the sound of feet on the walk, and the unmistakable sound of Alex taking the steps, two at a time.

  He’d insisted she lock the door behind him, but she had it unlocked by the time he’d knocked, and open before he could say who he was.

  She rushed into his arms.

  How wonderful and warm and safe she felt with him in her life. She pressed her cheek against his chest and listened to the steady, reassuring thump of his heart against her ear. How could she ever have doubted this man?

  She felt his chest rise and fall as he drew in a deep, long breath. “Macy, I have someth—”

  She quickly pressed her fingers to his lips to silence him. “No,” she whispered, her voice husky with emotion. “Me first. I have something to say that won’t wait.”

  Alex drew back half a step and he looked at her with a question in his eyes. But, he let her speak.

  “I owe you an enormous apol—”

  This time Alex pressed his fingers to her lips. “No, you don’t have to say it. I know what you mean.”

  “Yes, I do have to say it. It’s important to me that I do.” Macy swallowed. “I am so sorry for not believing enough in you to trust you with my heart, to tell you that I was carrying your child.

  “And I thank you so much for finding out what happened to Daddy. I think my believing that he’d abandoned us all those years ago was a big part of why I didn’t trust you or any man. If I wasn’t good enough for my own father to stay around to take care of me, why should I think anyone else would? I should have told you about Cory.