“No one will believe the Incredible Hulk would be involved in covering up war crimes.” Kissing TJ’s shoulder, Mara slipped away to find plates and silverware. “Have faith, little brother.”
“She’s lived in Never-Never Land too long, hasn’t she?” Clay inquired of the air.
Snorting in disbelief at both of them, TJ finished emptying the sacks and opening the cartons. He opened a bottle of the water that Mara favored and found her a glass. “You’re the one who flies up in helicopters expecting Starbucks at the seashore. Peter Pan has nothing on you.”
TJ pulled back a chair for Mara. She rewarded him by sliding her cool fingers down his arm as she took the seat offered. Realizing he wasn’t wearing a shirt, TJ returned to the front room to pick up a pullover he’d discarded the night before.
“It’s the beach,” Clay reminded him when TJ returned to the kitchen still tugging the knit in place. “People don’t have to wear shirts at the table here.”
“I do.” Pulling up a chair, he ignored his brother’s ribbing. When life was cracking apart at the seams, sometimes it helped to hold things together with the glue of proper conduct.
“Tell me how you tracked Sid.” Mara intruded on their argument. “Even when I was married to him, I never knew where he was.”
Clay shrugged. “He keeps his appointment book online.”
Mara waited. TJ helped himself to the rest of the potatoes.
Starting to squirm in the silence, Clay reached for his beer. “Computers are my business, okay?”
“You hacked his computer?”
“I told you not to ask.” Ignoring his brother’s discomfort, TJ poured more water into Mara’s glass.
In obvious fascination, Mara leaned back in her chair, sipping her water. She’d donned a long-sleeved shirt, but the clinging silk did little to disguise the fact that she wore nothing under it. TJ debated whether he preferred knowing she did that for him or if he should jerk a heavy sweater over her head to keep Clay’s eyes in his head.
“Can you hack anyone’s computer?” she asked with deceptive innocence.
“Hacking’s illegal.” Clay ripped off a huge bite of biscuit so he wouldn’t have to say anything else.
“You wrote the software for Jared’s cartoon animation, didn’t you?” She started digging from a different angle.
Fascinated watching how her mind worked, TJ sat back as Mara lured his cynical younger brother into her snare. He had never fully appreciated the range of her dangerous imagination.
Clay shrugged, finished chewing, and eyed her skeptically. “Yeah. That’s what I do, write programs.”
“For the film industry.” She nudged a little farther.
“Yeah, it’s more entertaining than Wall Street.”
“What can you do with the actual film? Or do you just write programs?”
Looking a little less uncomfortable now that they’d reached a topic of interest, Clay sat forward and leaned his elbows on the table. “I work with film. That’s how I know how to write the programs. I not only can create animation, I can slice, splice, dice, and rearrange anything you can film.”
Mara beamed happily. “Okay, if I give you tape of the deep blue sea and tape of a pirate ship, you can make the two work together... for how much?”
“If you want the ship to roll with the waves, it costs more.”
“How much?”
The phone began to ring. Shaking his head at the full-scale negotiation war erupting at his dinner table, TJ reached for it.
“Timothy John McCloud,” the voice on the other said scathingly, “if you’re involved in this... this scandal, I’ll never forgive you. Never.”
His mother.
The fun had just begun.
Chapter Twenty-five
“He’s always been the fair-haired boy, the one who could do no wrong.”
Mara heard the admiration behind Clay’s cynicism, but her attention was focused on TJ. A cloud of gloom all but circled his head. Had she done the wrong thing in encouraging him to turn over those evidence boxes? She hadn’t realized the colonel was an old family friend, that the scandal had complications beyond her understanding. TJ had warned her, but she had blithely believed his world operated on the black and white that hers didn’t. Silly her.
They’d finished their meal and retired to the front room, but TJ had scarcely uttered two words since his mother’s phone call. A few moments ago, he’d retrieved the cordless and taken it out on the front porch, leaving Mara and Clay to entertain each other.
“Does he never let out any of those things churning in his gut?” she asked, not certain how one dealt with stone walls. Irving had whined and Sid had thrown fits. Her family never stopped talking, usually in circles and all at one time. She didn’t know how to cope with a man who thought he was a law unto himself.
“I didn’t know anything churned TJ’s gut. Growing up, I occasionally wondered if I had a robot for a brother. I rarely saw him laugh or cry or get angry. If someone hassled me, he’d pick them up by the shirt collar and toss them without saying a word, kind of like the cartoon heroes Jared admired on TV.” Restlessly, Clay paced the room, examining the few artifacts that had collected there over the years of Cleo’s haphazard care.
Mara shook her head in disbelief. “Smoke practically pours from the man’s ears. You didn’t really think he earned the tag of Intimidator because he was cold and unfeeling?”
Clay fingered a childishly molded pottery vase and glanced at the window framing TJ talking into the phone. “Kids don’t think like that. He’s almost six years older than I am. I saw him as my big brother, the guy I admired when he fixed my broken toys and who made me angry when he yelled at me for playing with matches. He was in college before I went to high school. He was the one who got good grades, won awards, the one our parents and teachers expected Jared and me to emulate.”
“So, of course, being McClouds, you did the exact opposite.”
“Maybe. Sometimes. But mostly, we thought Tim walked on water and that we’d never be that good.”
Mara understood. Brad had been that person for her. She could have been resentful, but she’d seen the burden her parents’ pressure had placed on her brother. He’d ultimately crumpled under it, while she had survived. If she ever had kids...
She couldn’t ever have kids. She refused to inflict the horror of watching a loving mother’s bewildering deterioration on any child of hers.
TJ punched a button on the phone and set it on the porch rail. Instead of returning inside, he stared at the incoming tide.
“Time you took yourself back to Jared’s place,” Mara said softly to Clay. “I need to adjust his steam regulator.”
Clay chuckled. “Glad you know where to find it. I’ve been wondering if he would just explode.”
Mara shivered, remembering a brother who had reached that dangerous point. She ought to run as far as she could before it was too late.
She watched as Clay and TJ exchanged quick farewells, waited for Clay to disappear down the boardwalk to the main house. When TJ still didn’t return inside, she went to him.
“Talk, McCloud.” She massaged his tense shoulders and leaned against him until he reached behind him and pulled her to his side. She’d dreamed of sharing moments like this with a man she loved. She didn’t believe in dreams anymore, but she held onto every piece of one that came her way.
“Nothing to say. I left messages on Roger’s machine and called the hotel where Jared and Cleo are staying to give them some warning. They’re out having fun, so I just told them to give me a call when they had a chance.”
“That ought to relieve their minds,” she said wryly. “Do you really care what your parents think? Would it have been better to let a criminal go free to please them?”
“He was my friend.” TJ rubbed her arm and continued staring over the water. “Whatever was in those boxes doesn’t explain his motivation. I could have caused a national security breach by revealing those files.”
“Judge and jury again,” she reminded him. “This is why we’re a democracy and not a dictatorship. If people are given too much power, they act on their own selfish beliefs rather than that of the people they represent. Martin’s motivation doesn’t excuse the result. Don’t make the same mistake as he did and assume you know what’s best for everyone.”
“There are two sides to every issue,” he agreed with resignation. “No matter how logical you make it sound, I’m ruining a friend, a mentor, a man I trusted with my life.”
“What about yourself?” she whispered, shivering at the despair she heard in his words. “Don’t you count for something? If those reports in the paper are true, Martin used you and all those others who worked with him. I don’t care if he did it for fun and profit or if he thought he was benefiting some grander scheme. He let murderers and rapists go free. That wasn’t his call to make.”
“I’d better take you back to the hotel. You can pitch Ian out of his suite.” Dropping his arm from around her, TJ headed back inside.
He was throwing her out of his life—again.
Mara caught her elbows to keep from flying apart. Staring out to sea, she fought the rising nausea, the knowledge that she could never be good enough, that she would always be alone.
Was that what she feared? Being alone for the rest of her life?
That might be preferable to having still another man mess with her head.
She was a strong woman, and a smart one. She didn’t have to be told twice that she wasn’t wanted. If this was TJ’s polite way of saying he only wanted sex from her, she could accept that—sometime in the next century.
Right now, she preferred her own company. Swiping at a wayward tear, she swung around to gather her things.
***
The first sign that all was not well in their small world appeared as they walked over the dune to the parking lot where Clay had left the Taurus.
Mara had packed her bags while TJ disappeared into the nether regions of the house. Furious with him, raging at herself, she kept her lips sealed. Donning figure-hugging stretch slacks and a flowing, diaphanous shirt that didn’t conceal her gold tank top and cleavage, she marched out of the house on high-heeled mules, carrying her smallest suitcase. TJ miraculously appeared with her larger ones a minute later.
He’d been watching for her. Mara felt the scalding heat of his gaze as they crossed the dune, but she refused to acknowledge it. The man wasn’t dense. He knew what he was doing by throwing her away. So, let him do it. She didn’t need a man in her life any more.
The stranger in heated argument with Clay at the foot of the dune ended their silent battle.
“Wait here.” TJ passed her the handle of one of her suitcases, left the other to fall over in the sand, and stalked down the path as if wearing armor and carrying a lance.
Mara could smell a reporter from a mile off, but this wasn’t one of the entertainment journalists that haunted the shadows of film sets, greedy for every crumb thrown their way. This one didn’t even glance in her direction.
Mara dropped her suitcases and sauntered down the hill to eavesdrop.
“How could you not be aware of the colonel’s activities?” the reporter demanded of TJ. “You worked together, out of the same camp. You reported to him. You had to wonder why criminals continued to run loose after you identified them.”
So this was what TJ had known would happen once the story broke. Strangers who didn’t know his integrity would condemn him without proof. Fingers would point. His reputation would suffer, all without a shred of evidence.
She wanted to give the reporter a good shake and say that he’d damned well been in Africa and who knew where else and couldn’t keep track of every case—and because he’d left a trusted friend in charge, hadn’t thought he needed to. Mara was sorry she’d encouraged TJ to open Pandora’s box.
“The colonel is a friend.” Crossing his arms, wearing his most impassive expression, TJ remained unmoved by the reporter’s increasingly vehement arguments. “I won’t convict him on the basis of a single newspaper report. This is private property, and you’re trespassing.”
“The government subsidizes your contracts. Are you covering up for Martin and turning your back on war crimes just to save a cash cow?” the reported asked incredulously.
TJ might remain calm at this insult, but Mara wanted to rip the man’s eyes out. Before she could utter a word, Clay grabbed the stranger’s shirt, lifted him from the ground, and shook him until his teeth rattled. TJ merely watched, as if to say the reporter had been warned, and he wasn’t responsible for consequences.
“Journalism isn’t putting words in a man’s mouth,” Clay shouted. “Now get out of here and make up your stories elsewhere.”
Mara didn’t intervene. The impact of the reporter’s observations had stunned her. People would believe TJ supported criminal activities? She couldn’t quite wrap her mind around the enormity of the accusation. TJ? The man who thought truth and justice so important he’d given up his life to them? The man who had agonized over trust and national security and government cover-ups while attempting to preserve a man’s reputation until he had evidence of a crime?
Since when did the good guys lose? Frozen in horror, Mara did nothing to stop Clay. Faced with the odds of two against one, the reporter ripped Clay’s fists from his shirt and backed off. “I’d suggest you start coming up with an explanation soon,” he sneered. “There’s no way you’re coming out of this clean. Let me know when you’re ready to talk.”
A peacock screamed in the distance as the reporter strode away.
“Charming,” Clay commented when the silence threatened to solidify. “Guilt by association. Wonder if he’s covered any witchcraft trials lately?”
TJ’s expression was so blank, Mara’s stomach turned upside-down. She wanted to hug him and tell him everything would be all right, but even she knew better. Everything wouldn’t be all right for a long, long time. He could lose his job, his career, maybe even his family and friends. And she’d done this to him.
TJ trudged off to retrieve her suitcases, and Mara finally understood what he was doing—he was throwing her out for her own good.
Clay must have seen it, too. He crossed his arms and gave her that McCloud glare. “Deserting rats?” he inquired loftily.
“Deserting rats drown. I’m heading for the lifeboats. Keep his head above water until I find one.” Turning on her heel, Mara marched back to pick up her carry-on.
She couldn’t fight the world and the McClouds, too. She needed to sort all this out and figure out what to do.
She was used to TJ rescuing her, not the other way around. This would take some serious thinking.
She had lots of time to do it in. TJ didn’t say a word all the way back to town.
***
“I’ve talked to all the investors, Mara,” Ian yelled at her as she paced up and down the deserted dining room where he’d dragged her as soon as she and TJ had arrived at the B&B. “We can do this. If you fire me, you’ll lose everything.”
“No, she’ll lose a two-faced scorpion,” TJ interrupted from the dark corner he’d occupied instead of leaving as he ought.
“Shut up, TJ. This is my company and my problem. You won’t let me touch your problems; I won’t let you mess with mine.”
Fair enough. TJ figured this was the point where he hauled her bags up the stairs and departed.
To his amazement, he couldn’t do it. He’d meant to. Mara didn’t deserve to be caught in the destruction of his career. But maybe there was time to hold her up until she found her feet.
He rested his shoulder against the wall, crossed his arms, and waited.
Ian scowled at him and returned to pleading with Mara. “I’m good, babe. I can keep this thing on schedule, keep the money flowing. I’ll back out of your way, let you do your own thing. You’ve got vision. I know you can do it.”
“I had vision last week and the week before,” she informed
him coldly. “But you preferred Sid lining your pockets. That’s not happening with me in charge. I run a clean ship. I’m hiring new accountants and a team of auditors. I want someone in charge of the money who looks after it like it’s their own. You don’t qualify, Ian.”
TJ admired her adamancy, although he thought kicking out a qualified professional in midstream might be a little extreme. “I’ll give you a ride to the airport, old boy,” he offered helpfully.
“Shut up, TJ.” Mara threw him a dirty look.
Okay, so he was persona non grata everywhere. TJ still didn’t leave. Sooner or later, the showdown would end and someone would have to carry out the bodies.
“I’ll work with the accountants,” Ian responded eagerly, grasping the opening. “Let them write the checks, keep the books, whatever. We’re a team, babe. We can pull in the money, keep the film moving. Now that Sid’s out of the way, there won’t be any interference.”
“I’m hiring a computer graphics guy to handle the ship scenes,” Mara boldly declared. “We can float the replica in the harbor, and he’ll punch in the beach film. We’ve got to rework the scenes to accommodate him.”
TJ gave the little producer credit. He didn’t blink an eyelash.
“It’s your call, babe. Do we have samples of his work?”
“He’ll bring in his stuff next week. We’ll decide then. Throw your girlfriend out of my suite. I’m moving back in.”
Ian turned red and puffed up his feathers, but Mara had already turned her back on him. TJ watched with interest as she stalked across the floor in his direction. He didn’t harbor any hope that she would throw herself at him again, but he wouldn’t mind it if she did. He’d never had a woman knock him back on the bed and have her way with him. He enjoyed new experiences.
He ought to get a real kick out of unemployment.
“You’ve not seen the last of me, Timothy John.” She poked her finger into his chest. “You’re judging me again, making my decisions for me, and I don’t like it. Go home and sleep in your cold bed, and when you’re ready to admit you’re wrong, you just let me know. I’m counting on you having the amount of brains I think you do. Don’t let testosterone poison them.”
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