by Lyn Stone
Molly laughed and reached to take her. “She’ll go right back to sleep, I promise.”
“You’re a very good mother, aren’t you?” Damien commented thoughtfully as he carefully handed Syd over.
“Don’t know how good, but I am dedicated,” Molly answered, snuggling Sydney against her and kissing the side of her face. “And I mean to make sure she’s safe from Jack. No way am I going to let him hurt her.”
He grasped Molly’s arm gently and turned her to face him. “Do you really think he might hurt her just to get back at you?”
“That’s about the size of it,” she admitted. “As far as Jack’s concerned, she’s just an extension of me and an embarrassment to him.”
“Be honest with me, Molly. Are you certain she is Jensen’s daughter?”
She looked him straight in the eye, angry that he would ask, but also understanding why he had to do so. “Absolutely. Jack’s the only man I ever had. And, believe me, one was quite enough.”
There. That should crush any intentions he might have of starting anything between them. If she had read him right. If not, he’d probably think she was a total idiot.
Damien nodded. Whether that meant he believed her about Jack being Syd’s father, or that he accepted her word she was through with men, Molly didn’t know. Both, she hoped.
Molly put Syd in her car seat and tried to ignore the flutter in her stomach Damien had caused, the same quivering she felt every single time he touched her or she touched him. It unnerved her more than she wanted to admit, but she couldn’t seem to help inviting the feeling.
Once they were on their way she turned on the radio, which was already tuned to a classical station. She automatically punched the seek button until it landed on Garth Brooks. Good ol’ Garth was always playing somewhere.
Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to give Damien another clue as to how different they really were. Just in case he still thought they were from the same planet or something.
He merely shot her a look of amusement and began softly tapping out the beat of the song with the forefinger resting on top of the steering wheel.
“Where does your mother live?” Damien asked as they left her subdivision.
“About six miles from here. Turn left at the next light and hit the Loop.”
Damien asked for the specific address and exit number off the freeway, then deliberately took a roundabout course to make certain no one tailed them.
Finally they reached a group of modest-looking condominiums and Molly pointed to the second set of buildings. “You can park in that space beside her Taurus.”
Molly had the car door open and was out before he shifted into Park. He knew she was eager to get her mother and the baby out of town.
“Get Syd out for me, would you?” Without waiting for him to answer, she slammed the door and dashed up the front walk.
Damien exited a little more slowly, figured out the intricacies of releasing the sleeping baby from her upright bed, and gently lifted her out. She burrowed against him and then went boneless. He followed Molly’s path to the door.
The women were standing just inside the doorway, hugging. He could see where Molly had gotten her height and coloring. These were two very attractive women, Damien thought. Striking, rather than classically beautiful. They were somehow very…real.
If he’d met the mother when he shared a hospital room with her son, Damien didn’t recall it. But he had been under sedation until the day before Ford Devereaux was released.
The woman must be at least fifty. She appeared much younger than that, though her short red hair was lightened with gray and he could see fine laugh lines around her eyes.
Damien closed the door behind him. The living room possessed the same comfortable, lived-in quality as Molly’s place. Quirky accents—pillows, paintings and such—in bright colors, somehow fit beautifully and gave the heavy, antique furniture a decidedly feminine touch.
Mrs. Devereaux disentangled herself from her daughter and looked at him quizzically. Molly reached out and clutched his arm. She did that so naturally, so familiarly, as though they’d known each other forever. Damien found himself wishing they had.
“Mama, this is Damien Perry, Ford’s friend.”
“How do you do, Mrs. Devereaux?”
“Call me Brenda, please. I remember you from the hospital, though you were asleep when I saw you.”
At the moment Damien could think of no good reason to disabuse either woman of the notion that he knew Devereaux well. They might send him packing if he admitted that he had no right to be here in the middle of all this. And Damien definitely didn’t intend to leave.
“Molly told me Jack’s threatening her. Surely the FBI’s not getting in on it,” she said, frowning.
“No, I’m not here to help officially, only as a friend,” he admitted. “Molly and I have been in touch before tonight.” Let her think what she would of that.
“Aha, now I see.” She smiled cryptically.
She took the baby from Damien and cuddled her close. “We’re going on a little trip, Syd!” she whispered, swaying, obviously enjoying the feel of the child against her. “Just you and Mommy and Gran.”
Damien watched as the grandmother took the baby back toward what he assumed were the bedrooms.
“Oh, God, how will I stand being away from her?” Molly groaned, and turned to him. “I’ve never left Syd with anyone longer than one night, even with Mom. I’ll miss her so much.”
Without even thinking about it, he enfolded her in his arms as naturally as she had squeezed his arm earlier. She allowed it, and rested there, her face buried in the curve of his neck, just where the baby’s had been a few moments before. This felt right, Damien thought. Very right.
“What will she think if I leave her?” Molly murmured against his neck.
“She’ll be fine,” he murmured. “They both will be. It shouldn’t be for long.” Damien liked being her refuge, he decided. She slid her arms beneath his jacket and encircled his waist so that her breasts pressed comfortably against his chest. He liked that, too.
Damien could have held her that way all night, but her mother returned. He gently grasped Molly’s shoulders and moved her away from him.
“I put Sydney down to sleep so we can talk about this,” Mrs. Devereaux said softly. “Where are we going?”
“Clarkston,” Damien told her. “I arranged for a house there.”
“Are you sure it’s necessary for us to leave town? We could go to a motel or something for a couple of days until you or the police can talk to Jack and calm him down.”
“That won’t do it, Mom. They can’t arrest him unless he does something to us. And I really am afraid Jack might. I want you and Sydney where he can’t find you.”
Brenda Devereaux rolled her eyes and puffed out a breath. “Molly, I don’t like the man any better than you do, but surely after what Jack’s just been through, he wouldn’t dare—”
“Ma’am?” Damien interrupted. “For whatever it’s worth, I believe she’s right.”
Her eyes narrowed in thought. “Surely you’re exaggerating, Molly. Jack wouldn’t risk arrest again!”
Molly dropped to the sofa and crossed her arms over her chest. “I told you he’s been following me, Mama. Making phone calls and laughing at me. He got me fired. Or, at least, his daddy did it for him. Worse than that, I think Jack killed Joe Malia.”
Brenda met Damien’s gaze over Molly’s head. She looked even more frightened than Molly.
When she spoke, her voice was hushed with horror. “Oh, my God. Jack?”
“You know he’s abusive, Mama. He hit me. Hard. He threatened to kill me that night and he meant it. The only reason he stopped was because he thought he’d succeeded. It’s a small step from that to this, don’t you think?”
Damien tensed. Molly had tried to soft-peddle her description of that fight when she’d told him about it. “What about the other episodes, Molly?”
“There were only
three, counting the last one. I fought back. I tried to leave him several times, but he said he would find me and destroy me. As soon as I found out I was pregnant, I knew I had to get away from him, no matter what. He caught me packing that night.”
“And before?” he asked.
“The first two times weren’t all that bad.” She shrugged. “Just slaps, a few bruises. It wouldn’t have gone that far if I hadn’t stood up to him. He hated it when I defended myself. Both times, he cooled off and apologized, promised it would never happen again. I warned him if it did, I would leave him for good no matter what he said.”
Damien ground his teeth so hard it hurt. She went on. “Neighbors heard the row the last time. By the time they got there, I was conscious and told them what happened. They called the police who caught Jack and arrested him.
“My lawyer showed the judge medical records from the other times. Jack pled guilty. He knew if it came to a jury trial, everything would be public.”
“I still say we should have told Ford everything,” Brenda said.
“Ford would have killed him. It was all I could do to keep him from it when he thought the fight was partly my fault. I didn’t want my own brother arrested for murder. Jack had counted on that before. He told me so and joked about it. Why do you think he didn’t post bail? Think the Jensens couldn’t afford it? The jerk was scared to get out, afraid Ford would come after him.”
“He doesn’t seem worried about that now?” Damien asked.
Molly sighed. “No. That’s why I think Jack’s really lost it.”
“I certainly understand your brother’s probable reaction,” Damien admitted. He flexed his fists. “I have an urge to kill Jensen myself.”
“Oh, great!” Molly groaned. “I break my neck trying to keep Ford out of it, and now you want to kill him.”
She shrugged, a helpless little gesture he’d not seen her make before. Then she settled that teary green gaze on him and blinked. Her voice was softer than he’d heard it yet. “Damien? All I want is for him to leave me alone. Promise me you won’t do anything stupid. I figured you wouldn’t act as rashly as Ford would. That’s why I asked you to help.”
He sucked in a deep breath and released it slowly. So, Molly did have regard for him, after all, just as she did for her brother. She didn’t want either of them to risk a murder charge because of what her ex had done and might yet do.
But Molly was depending on his finding some way to stop the madness and make certain she, her daughter and mother were safe from Jensen.
Damien knew killing Jack Jensen would be a simple matter. He could, and get away with it, too. God knew he wanted to right now. Jensen deserved death probably more than some men Damien had killed in the line of duty. But Damien always tried to work within the law. He hated to turn rogue this late in the game. Not as long as there were other options.
“I won’t do anything stupid, Molly,” he said with a half smile he had to force. “I promise you that.”
Molly had faced the shame she felt pretty well, she thought. She lifted her chin and dared both Damien and her mother to feel sorry for her.
Jack was a bully, or worse, and she’d been his victim for nearly a year. Degrading as that was, she figured she might as well lay it all out and be done with it. She would not be a victim again.
Damien seemed almost as likely to get himself into trouble over this as Ford was. Molly felt torn between talking him out of it and spurring him on. Something had to be done.
“Clarkston’s not that far away, but you and the child should be safe there,” Damien told her mother, neatly changing the subject back to their trip.
Her mom nodded. “After Molly and I talked on the phone, I told Josie she would need to take over the shop for a while. As far as she knows, I’m going on a buying trip up to New England. No point in letting everybody and his brother know where we’re going, right?”
“Right,” Damien agreed, smiling his approval. “We’ll try to get this straightened out soon so you won’t be away for too long.”
Molly agreed. “We’ll have to get things rolling right away. Damien can’t afford to hang around here forever.”
Those azure eyes seemed to ask, Why not? She quickly looked away.
Her mother smiled. “This is really good of you, Damien. I guess Ford will owe you one, won’t he?”
“He won’t owe me anything,” Damien said truthfully. “I’m doing this for Molly and Sydney. And now you, of course.”
Uh-oh, that went over like a helium balloon, Molly thought. Sent all kinds of hopes soaring. Her mother’s glance darted from one to other of them, that calculating gleam in her eye.
Molly decided she’d better head this off before Mama rented the church and started sewing Syd’s flower girl dress.
“C’mon, Mama, let’s get your things, so we can go,” she suggested.
Soon afterward, Damien loaded Brenda’s two suitcases into the trunk of his rental car while Molly strapped the baby into her car seat. Much to his disappointment, Molly climbed into the back and offered her mother the front passenger seat.
As he drove, Damien executed a number of unnecessary detours and kept a close eye out for anyone following them.
He only half listened while Brenda Devereaux enumerated Molly’s long list of accomplishments and threw in a few incidental brags about her grandchild.
He smiled to himself, suspecting there was a bit of matchmaking going on here. While that should have made him nervous as hell, Damien felt flattered by the attempt.
A moment later he checked the rearview mirror again and his lingering smile died a swift death. “Check your seat belts, ladies,” he warned, “we have company.”
Chapter 4
The Lexus careered around the curves of the county road and flew headlong into the darkness. Molly surrounded Sydney with one arm and braced her other hand against the back of the front seat.
She glanced out the back window and saw the headlights behind them fade into the distance. A few moments later she couldn’t see them at all.
“For a rental, this thing really…moves,” she gasped. Damien slowed down a little, but her heart was still traveling at least ninety miles an hour.
She and her mother gave a little scream in unison as Damien cut the lights and bumped off the main road onto one that was unpaved. How he could see where they were going mystified Molly. She closed her eyes and held on, one arm braced across Syd’s car seat.
Only a few minutes later, he suddenly braked and shut off the motor.
“Lock the doors and stay where you are,” Damien instructed. Then he exited the car, closed the door and disappeared into the night.
“Not one to dawdle, is he?” Brenda whispered with a nervous laugh. “Wonder if he’s that quick about everything.”
“Hush, Mama!”
“How’s Sydney?”
“Out like a light,” Molly answered absently, craning around to look out the back window, seeing only the dense blackness surrounding them. She felt claustrophobic.
“Can you see anything, Mama? I wonder what he’s doing.”
“Don’t you trust him to look after us? He seems very capable to me.”
“It’s not that,” Molly answered. “I just wonder where he went.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that boy getting lost.”
Molly huffed. “‘Boy’?”
Brenda laughed again. “I like him.”
So do I, Molly thought. Entirely too much. She stared out into the night, seeing and hearing absolutely nothing. “He must have eyes like a cat!”
They sat silently for a few minutes listening to Sydney’s light snoring. That’s when Molly noticed the faint light flickering indirectly against the foliage on either side of the car.
Something began bumping and scraping underneath, a sound that continued for some time. “What in the world is he doing?” she whispered.
In the stillness, the sound grew louder, making its way around the entire vehicle. Then th
e beam of light reappeared, illuminating Damien’s face as he rapped on the glass with his knuckle.
Her mother popped the locks and Damien got in. He handed her the penlight. “Hold this. Shine it on my hands.”
“What are you doing?” Molly asked when she saw him open the pocket knife on his key chain.
“Deactivating this,” he muttered. “Tracking device.”
Seconds later he calmly fastened his seat belt. “All clear now.”
He cranked up and slowly began backing out of the woods and onto the dirt road. Expertly, he maneuvered the car to the main highway, switched on the lights and continued as though nothing had happened. In the opposite direction.
“What did you do to the car?” she asked.
“I was looking for this,” he said, holding up a small black object he had been working on. “It was attached underneath the bumper. I knew Jensen wasn’t following us as we left the city. Not closely enough for me to detect, at any rate.”
Brenda clicked her tongue against her teeth. “Now where the devil would Jack get a thing like that?”
Damien shrugged. “It’s just a simple device, nothing sophisticated that he would need any real connections to obtain. Only a cut above a radar detector.”
Molly scoffed. “I can’t believe he did this!”
“First bit of evidence,” Damien said, dropping the gadget into his jacket pocket.
Molly suddenly realized that Jack would have had to approach her house this very night to put the tracker in place. He would have been right there in her driveway, fiddling with Damien’s car while they sat in her house waiting to leave. He could have done worse. What if he had tampered with the brakes? Or put a bomb under the car?
“But how did he know we were going anywhere? Could my house be bugged? Did he hear everything we said?”
“No, I checked all the rooms for listening devices. Your phones, as well. Best guess is that he’s watching your place or has hired someone else to do it. I think he just wants to track you wherever you go and then turn up unexpectedly. I’d be willing to bet he’s had a tracker on your van for some time now. When I showed up, he probably decided to place one on this car for the same reason.”