Return to Mystic Lake

by Carla Cassidy

  “I have everything I need,” he replied. Except you. “Goodbye, Maggie.” Before he could stop his impulse, he dropped the duffel to the ground, pulled her into his arms and kissed her with all the love, all the emotion that was in his heart, in his soul.

  When he released her, he didn’t look at her again. He grabbed his duffel and went through the doors that would take him into the terminal.

  He found his gate and passed through security easily, then sank down on one of the padded chairs to wait the hour and a half for his flight.

  Maybe he’d pushed too hard. There was no question in his mind that Maggie loved him. And now there were no more secrets between them. She knew about his father and had judged him as his own man, not for his father’s sins.

  Maybe he should have told his director he needed a little downtime, hung around here and allowed their love to grow a bit more before encouraging her to leave everything behind and come with him to Baton Rouge.

  He knew Maggie. He knew the kind of woman she was, and he’d been wrong to press her so aggressively. Maybe the best thing to do was to cancel his ticket home and pursue the woman who was the love of his life.

  He stood from his seat at the same time Maggie came running toward him. He stared at her in surprise. “I have a ticket,” she said. “I’m going with you.” She laughed in carefree abandon. “I don’t have any clothes, I don’t even have a toothbrush, but I’m not letting you leave without me.”

  Still stunned, he fell back into his chair. “I was just about to go cancel my ticket,” he said. “I didn’t want to leave you. What changed your mind?”

  She sank down into the chair next to his. “The whole time I was locked up in that shed waiting to find out if your father was going to kill me, I had a thousand regrets, and one of those regrets was that I hadn’t taken more chances in my personal life.”

  She reached for his hand. “I’m taking a chance now, Jackson. I’m taking a chance on you...on us. I love you and I want to see if we can make this work. I need a man who brings me laughter, whose kisses make me weak in the knees. I need a charmer who flirts with his eyes and has a smile that melts my heart.”

  “And that would be me,” he said.

  He stood and pulled her up and into his arms. As he kissed her once again, she knew in the very core of her being that they were meant to be together, that somehow, someway, this magic between them was going to last a lifetime. Primal energy, that was what Natalie Redwing had called it, but in truth it was simply love.

  Epilogue

  Amberly Caldwell woke to small fingers stroking the long length of her dark hair.

  “Macy, stop bothering Amberly.” Daniella’s voice came from nearby.

  “I just wish sometimes that I had long pretty black hair,” Macy’s childish voice said.

  Amberly turned over on the small bunk where she’d slept and faced the little blond-haired girl, who was on a bunk next to her. Iron bars separated the two beds. She smiled at Macy. “There were lots of times when I was little that I wished I had pretty blond curls just like yours.”

  She reached through the bars and gave Macy’s slender shoulder a gentle squeeze and tried not to think of her son, Max.

  Cole was already awake and out of his top bunk. He and Sam Connelly stood at the back end of the prisonlike cells they were each held in, talking through the bars in low whispers.

  Each cell was identical, with bunk beds built into the steel, a stall shower and prisonlike stool and a curtain that could be pulled around the bathroom area for a bit of privacy.

  She and Cole occupied one cell, and Daniella, Sam and little Macy occupied the one next to them. None of them knew where they were or why they had been taken from their homes and brought here.

  Sam and Daniella had lost track of the time they’d been held captive, and although Amberly knew it had been a couple of weeks since she and Cole had been brought here from his home, she didn’t know specifically how many days it had been.

  All she knew for certain was they were in trouble. Twice a day a man clad in black and wearing a ski mask brought them trays of food, but he’d never spoken to any of them.

  The men had finally stopped asking questions. “A waste of breath,” Sam had said. “He’ll tell us what’s going on when he’s ready, but he obviously isn’t going to be goaded into speaking before then.”

  The men had already searched the cells for any weakness, they’d tried to figure out escape plans, but none appeared to be viable. The only way in and out of the cells was through the locked doors, and since their arrival the doors had never been unlocked.

  The food trays were slid through a slot without the need for their captor to open the doors. The only thing she knew about the man who held them was that his eyes were the coldest ice-blue that she’d ever seen.

  They had speculated on why they had been kidnapped, why they were being held, but nobody had come up with any viable answers.

  The only small sense of relief she had was the fact that none of them had seen his face, none of them had heard his voice. There was no way any of them could identify him, and as long as that remained true, they had a chance for surviving whatever plot was in progress.

  But Amberly knew that the minute he came without his ski mask on and they saw his face, none of them would leave this place, wherever it was, alive.

  * * * * *

  Don’t miss the continuation of Carla’s series,

  coming to you later in 2014

  from Harlequin Intrigue!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from NAVY SEAL SURRENDER By Angi Morgan.

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  Chapter One

  Join the navy. See the world.

  “I don’t think they meant the sandboxes I’ve been playing in.” John Sloane had met and helped a lot of great people around the world. He’d been to several cool cities, nice ports and seen a lot of water. But he never wanted to see most of the places his unit had been deployed again—even in the news.

  Back in Texas. Right back where he’d started wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind when he was eighteen. But right now he didn’t care about choices or destinations. He just wanted information on his dad.

  He’d returned from a training exercise and was told that his father had suffered a major stroke. When he couldn’t reach the house or his dad, he’d called the police station with no luck. They’d refused to help.

  From the message, he knew that his father was alive and at the ranch. He’d arranged extended leave and a ticket back to his hometown. Taking as much time off as he wanted wasn’t a problem. He had a lot stored up. He wanted to be here as long as needed to get his father back on his feet. The only objective so far was to get home.

  Two hours in triple-digit heat with the rental’s AC whacked-out had added to his building frustration. He was sailing blind with no information, since his brother hadn’t returned his calls and the home phone seemed to be out of order.

  If John was being honest—no sense lying to himself—he hadn’t been the most dependable brother. Or the most communicative. Since they’d learned to open their mouths, Brian had been the twin to tell the world what they needed. Brian had been the responsible one
keeping him out of trouble, right up to his last words to him, “Leave and never look back.”

  That was exactly what he’d done.

  John had followed through on his promise, joined the navy, left the ranch and had never come back.

  In the navy, he wasn’t Brian’s twin or Johnny Junior or the baby. He’d quickly risen to chief petty officer and was the man you went to with a problem. He was the guy who got things done. Action, not words.

  Then things changed. Promotions after online classes and a college degree. Instead of solving the problems, he followed orders. Now a lieutenant, he was the man responsible if someone got shot. A man who’d been doing too much thinking recently.

  Texas? California? Navy? Private sector? Which road should just simple John choose? Too much thinking.... Right now he would help his dad, work the horses and maybe—just maybe—reconnect with his brother. That was the mission.

  Deciding his future could wait.

  His hometown was just ahead, and suddenly he didn’t feel so confident. Since that short good riddance right after graduation, he hadn’t seen or spoken to Brian. John hadn’t seen his father in almost three years. How would the town see him now? Who would he be after twelve years? The man he’d become, or the kid the town remembered?

  Aubrey looked like a busy small town instead of the bus-stop intersection with one red light he’d left. Lots of changes, and yet the most familiar thing in the world to him. He knew what stool old man Searcy would be sitting on for his lunch at the café, and he knew who would be serving him his blue-plate special. His stomach growled, emphasizing his lack of lunch. Another ten minutes and he’d be home.

  Home.

  The word felt good. He’d stay, help his dad around the ranch, work with his back instead of a weapon. He’d welcome every minute of mind-numbing grunt labor. And somehow he’d figure out what to do with the rest of his life.

  He raised a finger off the steering wheel, acknowledging those driving past. A friendly custom in north Texas, like tipping your hat. Or at least it used to be. People stared at him and quickly looked away when he caught their eye. He drove through his little town, now full of fast-food restaurants and an outdoor mini shopping mall. He turned off the main road, took the familiar turns and passed the mailbox—faded with one of the letters missing from his father’s name.

  Parked on the side of the driveway was a cherry-red Camaro. A car he knew inside and out. The car had always hummed perfection. Mark Miller had won many drag races with that engine. When Mark had left for the army, John had tried to buy it from Mr. Miller many times. He slowed as the driver—obviously waiting on him—opened the door of the car he’d wanted throughout his teenage years. His tires crunched on the gravel as he pulled to a stop.

  “Wow.” The word slipped from his brain to his mouth.

  “You still haven’t gotten over this car?” the woman said, caressing the hood with long strokes.

  Thankfully, she thought he was gawking at the muscle car. The vehicle was a nice backdrop to the curvy medium-height babe with long wavy dark brown hair and eyes hidden behind aviator shades. Dressed in old worn jeans that hugged her hips and a tank top that hugged everything else, he couldn’t focus on the car if he wanted to.

  And he really didn’t want to. If he had air-conditioning, he would have cranked it to high. Instead, the sweat beaded on his forehead. He grabbed the button-up shirt he’d tossed on the seat next to him to wipe his face.

  “Driving with the windows down? Braving the Texas heat, Johnny? You forget how hot it gets here in July?” the babe asked, crossing the road in worn boots. She slid her glasses to the top of her head, tucking her hair back in the process. Bright smiling eyes laughed at him.

  “Alicia?” He recognized her voice, but none of the curves she currently sported.

  “Welcome home.” She leaned on the open window, giving him a great view straight between her breasts. A much better view than he’d ever seen in high school.

  “How did you know I’d be here?”

  “I was already at the house. Wanda thought she saw Brian in a new car and sent a text asking if he’d come into some cash.” She shrugged her bare, tanned shoulders. “I knew Brian was in the barn. So I assumed and waited.” She stepped back, pulling the door open. “Get out here so I can give you a proper welcome home. It’s been a while.”

  Alicia Miller, now Adams. Or had she gone back to Miller after her husband had died? Either way, he barely recognized his high school sweetheart. She’d definitely filled out in all the right places. He popped the seat-belt release and stood, towering over her in a white undershirt that probably smelled as bad as the horse stalls. She wrapped her arms around his middle and squeezed. He hugged her back.

  Home.

  They separated, and the pearly-white smile he expected was gone. He missed her hand swinging upward, until it connected with his cheek. Connected hard. He rubbed it, not ashamed to let her know the slap had stung. Caught off guard by a girl. Or maybe he deserved it. Time enough to contemplate later.

  A fitting welcome home.

  “Before you ask, that was for your dad. J.W. will never say or do anything to make you feel ashamed, but you deserve that and more for just leaving. It broke his heart.”

  The little fireball choked on the last word. But she was right. And he was grown enough now to admit he’d made a mistake by not calling more often. “You’ve seen him? Is he okay?”

  “He gets stronger every day. I’m his nurse and help him with physical therapy. That’s what I do, at-home nursing.”

  “Just for the record, that’s the one and only time you’ll slap me and get away with it.” He leaned against the rear door, crossing his arms to keep them in check. He didn’t know if he wanted to drive away or reach out and pull her back to fill the emptiness he suddenly experienced.

  “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m not even sure why I did that. I never do that. And now I’m just babbling.”

  “Really?” Had it been too long to tease her? She’d been a junior in college the last time he’d heard anything. Their lives had changed when he hadn’t chosen that route. Really changed when Brian had taken the blame for the accident. They hadn’t spoken since his twin had accused him of being irresponsible and leaving a campfire burning.

  After boot camp, his dad said Brian had decided not to attend college. Brian’s taking public blame for the fire meant John could achieve his dream of entering the navy. It wouldn’t have happened otherwise, and he owed his brother his entire career.

  Join the navy. See the world.

  It had been his dream, and his brother had pushed him toward it, sacrificing everything to let him keep it. That was the problem. The closest people to him had believed the accusation.

  “I should be...” She gestured toward her car. “Your father’s waiting.”

  “You said Brian was in the barn?”

  “He was earlier.” Alicia stuck her hands into her front pockets, creating a shrug whether she wanted one or not. “Sorry I slapped you, Johnny.”

  “I’m sorry you needed to.” He rubbed his cheek again, scraping the three days of growth.

  Alicia took a step toward him, awkwardly pulled him down for what he thought was another hug. He didn’t reach for her. Instead, supersoft fingers caressed him from the bottom of his ears down both lines of his jaws. The sting disappeared faster than a radar blip.

  Before he could react, she’d kissed his lips, lingering just a second too long for it to be just a friendly welcome home. Then she waved and returned to her car.

  “See you around.”

  The dust from the road stuck to his arms and face as he stood there like an idiot while she drove away.

  “Wow.”

  The Double Bar had been around for over a hundred years, supplying its fair share of cutting ho
rses and rodeo stock. Oak trees had towered over the winding gravel driveway, since just after the Civil War. They’d formed a canopy and should have been a sight for his weary eyes. It was normally one of the coolest places on the ranch. The trees stretching above his head looked gnarly. Had anyone trimmed them since he’d left? He had to slow to avoid the potholes. The pasture looked more like West Texas desert than grazing potential for a herd.

  “What the hell’s happened?”

  Granddad’s old Dodge truck was loaded with feed and supplies. No doubt his work would start this afternoon, no waiting around. The ranch never let you take a vacation. John parked the rental, dropped the tailgate of the truck and slapped a bag.

  Wham. Slammed to the ground, he spit dirt from his mouth. A punch to his kidney caused him to tighten his gut and pull his arms tight against his sides. The attacker shuffled off and away. John scrambled to his knees and popped up to both feet.

  “You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up now!”

  “Brian? What the...” He wiped the dirt from his face just in time to block a punch. His hands automatically formed fists. He resisted throwing his right at the last minute, but his shoulder momentum took him a step closer to his brother. “Cut it out or find yourself on the ground.”

  “Yeah, who’s going to put me there? Oh, right, the son who’s been gone twelve years. Think you can take me with all your fancy military training?”

  John couldn’t start his return home by teaching Brian a lesson. He relaxed his body enough to appear nonthreatening, but didn’t lose eye contact. Brian would always give his punches away by dropping his gaze to the ground before he swung. Better to avoid being hit than make things worse by hitting back.

  “Come on, man, I just got here,” he said. Home for fifteen minutes and already he’d been slapped and eaten a face full of dirt. His lower back didn’t feel all that great, either.

  “That’s the point. Dad’s stroke was over a week ago.”