The Return Of Rafe Mackade tmb-1

by Nora Roberts

  Ed's rasped orders had everyone moving at once. Satisfied, she eased Regan up again. "Got a little color back," she declared, and sat back on her haunches. She took a cigarette from the pack in her apron pocket, lit it with a wooden match. After one long drag, she smiled. "Hope to hell you hurt him bad, honey. Real bad."

  Sitting in Devin's office, with the coffee Shane had poured for her warming her hands, Regan was sure she was over the worst of it. Everything had happened too fast for anything but pure emotion. But the rabbity fear had passed now, and she could think.

  Beside her, Cassie sat saying nothing. Shane paced, like a boxer revving up for a match. At his desk, Dev-in coolly filled out a report.

  "I'm sorry to ask you to go through it again, Regan," he began. "The clearer your statement, the easier it'll be to close it all up."

  "That's all right. I'm fine now, really." Absently she picked at her torn slacks. The knees beneath still burned. As much, she thought, from Ed's liberal application of antiseptic as from their abrupt meeting with asphalt. "I'd like to get it over with. I can—"

  She broke off when the door burst open. For an instant, she saw nothing but Rafe's face—pale, hard as rock, lit with eyes green enough, sharp enough, to murder in one vicious slice.

  The rabbit pulse pounded it her throat. Before she could get to her feet, he was on her, dragging her up, crushing her in an embrace that bruised ribs.

  "You're all right? Are you hurt?" His voice was raw, brittle as broken glass. He couldn't think. There'd been nothing inside him but bright terror from the moment he got word of the attack. His body was ice, enveloping hers as he buried his face in her hair.

  Perhaps that was why she began to tremble helplessly. "I'm okay. Really, I'm—" But her voice shuddered off. If she could have burrowed inside him, she would have.

  "Did he hurt you?'' With a hand he was fighting to steady, he stroked her hair, eased her face back so that he could see for himself. "Did he touch you?"

  She could only shake her head and press her face against his shoulder.

  With his arms tight, as possessive as they were protective, he stared at Devin over Regan's head. His eyes fired like torches. "Where is he?"

  "He's in custody."

  Rafe's gaze whipped toward the cells in the back.

  "He's not here, Rafe." Though his voice was calm, Devin was braced for the attack. "You're not going to be able to get to him."

  "You think you can stop me?"

  From behind, where he'd stood since he'd followed Rafe in, Jared laid a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Why don't you sit down?"

  With a snarl humming in his throat, Rafe jerked the restraining hand aside. "Back off."

  "This is the law's problem now," Devin told him, rising slowly.

  "The hell with the law, and you with it. I want to know where he is."

  "You find him, Rafe, I'll hold your coat." Primed for action, Shane smiled thinly. "If you had a coat. Always hated the son of a bitch."

  "Shut up," Jared muttered, glancing down at the silent Cassie.

  "You can stick your lawyer talk," Shane told him, fists already bunched. "I'm with Rafe on this."

  "I don't need you or anybody else with me. Don't get in my way, Devin."

  "I'm in your way. Now sit down, or I'll throw your ass in a cell."

  He moved so fast, Regan had time only to squeak while Rafe lunged over the desk and had Devin by the shirtfront. She'd never considered herself sheltered, but the things they shouted at each other, the echo of the sentiments from the two MacKades behind her, had her already shocked system shuddering.

  There was no doubt in her mind that blood would flow any moment.

  "Stop it," she said, but the order was shaky and weak under the vicious words hurling through the room. "I said stop it," she repeated, hugging herself. Something crashed behind her, and shot her pulse to critical. "Stop it this minute!" she bellowed.

  The surprising power in her voice halted Rafe's fist and put a stop to the shoving match behind her. Four hard-eyed men stared at her, like statues frozen in battle.

  "You're acting like children. Worse than children. What good is it going to do anyone for the four of you to punch each other out? It's just typical," she said, more disgusted now than frightened. "Just the sort of typical behavior I'd expect from a bunch of bone-headed baboons. Real heros." With a sniff, she grabbed her coat. "Well, I'm certainly not going to stand here and watch the four of you beat one another to a pulp."

  "Sit down, Regan." When she continued toward the door, Rafe swore and went after her. "Sit down," he repeated, holding back his rage and turning her gently. "God, look at your hands."

  Shaken all over again, he gathered them carefully in his, pressed his lips to the abraded palms. It was a gesture that had the remaining MacKades shifting in embarrassment.

  "What do you expect me to do?" The rest of the anger drained and left him helpless. "What do you expect me to feel?"

  "I don't know." She no longer knew exactly what she was feeling herself, not with those eyes so concentrated on her face. "I just want to get this over with, Rafe. Please, let me tell Devin what he needs to know, so I can get this over with."

  "Fine." He let her go, stepped back. "Do what you have to do."

  She walked back to her chair, accepted the fresh mug Jared offered. Devin questioned, she answered. Rafe listened. Then he left, without a word.

  She tried not to be hurt by it, tried to understand it. "Devin, can you tell me what to expect now?"

  "My deputy will call in once they're finished with Joe at the hospital. He'll be transferred. He broke parole, and the restraining order, so he'll serve his full time on the earlier charges."

  It was a small satisfaction, Devin thought with a quick look at Cassie. She hadn't moved or spoken in thirty minutes.

  "Now he'll face additional charges," Devin went on. "Breaking and entering, assault, attempted rape. We'll toss in the property damage. There may be a trial, and you'd have to testify."

  "I'm prepared for that."

  "Under the circumstances, his lawyer may advise him to deal and plead guilty.''

  At Devin's questioning glance, Jared nodded. "That's what I'd do."

  "Yeah, well." It was hard not to hate the system, Devin mused, when it got personal. "Either way, he's going away for a good while. I figure three to five. He won't be bothering you again. Either of you."

  "Well, then." Regan drew in a deep breath. "It's done. Cassie and I can go home now?"

  "Sure. I'll be in touch."

  "I can't go home with you." For the first time since she'd come into the office, Cassie tried her voice. It was small and rusty.

  "Of course you can."

  "How can I?" She stated at the lovely smoke gray slacks Regan wore, at the nasty tears in the soft material. "How could you even want me after what he's done to you?"

  "What he's done," Regan said quietly. "Not you, Cassie. You're not responsible."

  "Of course I am." It cost Cassie to lift her head, to look into Regan's eyes. "I know what he might have done to you if you hadn't been strong enough to stop him. Done to you to get to me, Regan. You're the best friend I've ever had."

  "Then let me keep being your friend."

  "I want that, and I know you've already forgiven me."

  "Cassie, there's nothing to forgive. Don't take this on," Regan murmured, covering Cassie's hands with hers.

  "I have to, because I have to start figuring out how to forgive myself now. I'm going to start by taking my kids home and finding a way to make the kind of Me for them they deserve. I need to start taking care of myself and them. I need to do that."

  "In a few more days," Regan protested.

  "No, now." She closed her eyes, steadied herself, then opened them and looked at Jared. "Can you help me, Jared?"

  "Of course I can. Whatever you need, honey. There are plenty of programs— "

  "No." She pressed her lips together hard. It was time, she told herself, long past t
ime, that she took a stand. "I want to file for divorce. Today. I need you to tell me what to do."

  "All right." He took her hand to help her up, then slipped an arm gently around her shoulders. "Why don't you come with me now? We'll take care of everything."

  '"Bout time," Shane muttered, the minute the door closed behind them. He shrugged at the blazing look Devin aimed at him. "Hey, we all know she should have ditched that bastard years ago."

  "You won't get any argument there." Regan rose, surprised she wasn't as steady as she'd believed. "But that was hard for her. It's going to be hard for her to follow through."

  "She wouldn't have done it if he hadn't hurt somebody else," Devin mumbled. "That's the kind of thing it would take for her."

  "Then I'm glad he did. And I'm glad I hurt him right back." Regan took a deep breath, then asked the question that had been hovering in a corner of her mind. "His eye, Devin?"

  "I can let you know when I find out. If you want me to."

  "I think I have to know." She held out a hand for his, not to shake, but to hold. "You've been wonderful. I know Rafe was upset, but he was wrong in the things he said to you. You did everything you could. You did everything right."

  "If I'd done everything right, it wouldn't have happened."

  "You know better than that." She squeezed, then winced as her hand throbbed. "I'm going home, take a bottle of aspirin, and crawl into bed for a few hours. Please call when you hear anything."

  "I will. Shane?"

  "Ahead of you, like always." He already had Regan's coat, and he helped her into it. "I'll drive you home and fix that door for you."

  "Thanks." With a smile, she kissed his cheek. "Baboons or not, the MacKade brothers aren't half-bad."

  "Baby—" he put an arm around her waist to lead her out "—we're all bad. Later, Dev." When he'd helped her into his truck, he paused. "Rafe'll come around. He just needs to go punch something."

  "That's the answer?"

  "Hey, it works." He slammed her door, then circled the truck to climb behind the wheel.

  "You'd have gone with him. After Joe."

  "We'd have all gone with him." Shane glanced in the rearview, then whipped the truck into a quick and illegal U-turn. "Dev and Jared would have spouted off for a while about law and order. We'd have shoved each other around. Then we'd have gone with him." With some regret, he shook his head. "It would've been fun."

  "Fun." She could almost laugh as she let her head sink back on the seat.

  "Nobody messes with a MacKade woman."

  "Oh, really? And is that my status at this point?"

  He caught the tone, and then, with a wary glance, the martial look in her eyes. "I just meant...seeing as you and Rafe... That is, the way he's..." Even a MacKade knew the value of retreat. "I ain't touching this one."

  He pulled up at the base of her stairs and looked up to study the door. "Looks like somebody beat me to it."

  "What?" She was still simmering.

  "I'll check it, but it looks from here like it's already been fixed." He got out of the truck, climbed the stairs. "Yep. Few nicks and scratches, but it's back on its hinges." As a precaution, he tried the lock, gave it a good shove. "Solid. Rafe probably took care of it."

  "I see." It did nothing to appease her. "I'll have to be sure to thank him, won't I?"

  "Yeah." Shane retreated again, backing down the stairs. "Are you going to be all right? Want me to get you anything, or hang around?"

  "No, no, I'm fine. Just fine." It wasn't pleasant to take out her keys, but she did it, turned the lock. "I appreciate the ride."

  "No problem." As he hurried back to his truck, Shane decided Rafe had a problem. A big one. It gave him a reason to smile all the way through town.

  Chapter 10

  It felt good to beat on something. Even if it was only a nail. To prevent himself beating on something, or someone else, Rafe had closed himself in in the east-wing bedroom. The look in his eye had warned any and all of his men to keep their distance—if they wanted to keep their teeth.

  The sounds of construction bumped against the walls, a sound just violent enough to suit his black mood. Rafe ignored the nail gun at his disposal and beat in nails with hammer and muscle. Every new stud that he secured with nails and a swing of his arm was Joe Dolin's face.

  When the door opened behind him, Rafe bared his teeth without looking around. "Get the hell out. Stay out or you're fired."

  "Go ahead and fire me." Regan slammed the door at her back. "Then I can say what I have to say to you without damaging our professional relationship."

  He looked over his shoulder now, briefly. She'd changed, he noted. Not just the slacks, but everything—shirt, blazer, jewelry. From her hair to her shoes, she was neat as a pin.

  But he remembered exactly how she'd looked, frazzled, pale, with blood on her clothes.

  "You don't want to be here right now." He set another nail, shot it home.

  "You couldn't be more accurate on that, MacKade, but I'm here."

  She'd had to shower first, had to scrub herself everywhere and throw out every stitch she'd been wearing when Joe touched her. But she was steady again, and ready to deal with Rafe MacKade.

  "I want to know what the hell is wrong with you."

  If he told her, she was liable to laugh in his face. And that, he was dead sure, would push him over that final edge.

  "I'm busy, Regan. Weather's cost me a full day."

  "Don't hand me that. Look at me when I'm talking to you, damn it." When he didn't, just kept battering nails into wood, she fisted her hands on her hips. "Why did you leave Devin's office that way? Just leave?"

  "I had things to do."

  To illustrate her opinion of that, she kicked at a toolbox. "I suppose I'm to thank you now for fixing my door."

  "I'll bill you."

  "Why are you mad at me?" she demanded. "I didn't do anything to—"

  Her breath sucked in as the hammer sailed across the room and crashed into a newly framed wall.

  "No, you didn't do a damn thing. You just got yourself tossed around, bruised, bloodied up and damn near raped. Why the hell should that bother me?"

  Someone had to be calm, she told herself. Obviously, the way his eyes were glowing, it was going to have to be her. "I know you're upset about what happened."

  "Yeah, I'm upset." He picked up the toolbox, heaved it, because it made more sense than throwing her around. Metal and steel crashed and scattered like small bombs. "I'm just a little upset. Now get out."

  "I won't." Instead she angled her chin. "Go ahead, big guy, throw something else. When you've got it out of your system, we'll have a civilized conversation."

  "You'd better get it through that thick head that there's nothing civilized about me."

  "Oh, that's coming through loud and clear," she tossed back. "What's next? You want to take a shot at me? That should prove you're a bigger man than JoeDolin."

  His eyes went black. For an instant, a heartbeat, she thought she saw hurt mixed with the rage. And it shamed her. "I'm sorry." Fumbling, she lifted her hands. "You didn't deserve that. I didn't mean that."

  Now there was only rage, viciously controlled. "You usually say what you mean." He held up a hand before she could speak again. "You want to have a conversation, fine. We'll have a damn conversation."

  He strode to the door, simmering when she flinched. Yanking it open, he bellowed to every corner of the rambling house. "Out! Everybody out, now!"

  He slammed the door again, satisfied by the scramble of feet and the clatter of tools.

  "There's no need for the work to stop," she began. "I'm sure this will only take a few minutes."

  "Sometimes it just can't be your way."

  "I don't know what you mean."

  "No, I don't guess you do." Disgusted, he hauled open the door again. "Somebody give me a damn cigarette," he shouted. But as there was no one brave enough to approach, he ended up slamming the door again.

  Regan watched, quietl
y fascinated, while he paced and swore. His shirt was shoved up to the elbows, a tool belt was slung at his hips like a holster. He'd wrapped a bandanna around his forehead to catch the sweat. He looked, she thought, like a bandit who would just as soon kill as steal.

  And it was certainly ridiculous to be aroused.

  "I could make coffee," she began, then let out a breath at the razor-edged look he shot her. "Maybe not. Rafe—"

  "Just shut up."

  Her back jammed straight as a poker. "I don't care to be spoken to that way."

  "Get used to it. I've held back long enough with you."

  "Held back?" Her eyes went wide. If he hadn't looked like a maniac, she might have laughed "You've been holding back? I'd like to see what you consider cutting loose."

  "You're about to." He gnawed off the words like stringy meat from a bone. "You're ticked off that I left? Well, now you're going to be treated to what would have happened if I'd stayed."

  "Don't you touch me." Her arms shot up, hands fisted like those of a boxer ready to spar. "Don't you dare."

  Eyes simmering, he closed a hand over her fist and used his leverage to push her back to the door. "Same goes, darling. I gave you a chance to walk, you didn't take it."

  "Don't call me darling in that tone of voice."

  The way his lips peeled back, she wouldn't have been surprised to see fangs. "God, you're a piece of work." He tossed her hand down and walked away, because it was safer for both of them. "You want to know why I left. That's the big, burning question, isn't it? That's what had you coming over here? Coming to me?"

  "Yes."

  "But you didn't come to me this morning when he threatened you. You didn't come to me when he hurt you." And that, Rafe thought, however it devastated him, was that.

  "I had to tell Devin," she began.

  "Yeah. You had to tell Devin." Bitterly calm now, he turned back. "You know what I heard in that nice and detailed statement you made, Regan? Dolin came into your place this morning, just like I thought he would."