RENEGADE'S REDEMPTION

by Lindsey Longford

  No matter how he torqued the events of the past two days, he couldn’t make sense of the pattern.

  Beating him up and taking a pass on the acknowledged target struck him as unnecessarily subtle.

  He’d never figured he was important enough to Scanlon’s plans to warrant a stomping. Scanlon viewed him as an errand boy, a man who’d stepped over the line once too often and was in no position to have a delicate stomach. To Elly’s ex-husband, he was nothing more than a gofer whose job was to find her and return her like a lost package. So they could talk. A simple request. Hell, anybody could feel sorry for a man whose child had been stolen from him. A real simple, sympathetic role.

  But Scanlon was subtle.

  Royal’s instincts as a cop, as a man, told him that Scanlon was capable of Byzantine twists and turns. For revenge, for pleasure. For the sheer hell of it.

  Like an animal sniffing the air, checking for danger, Elly’s shadow lifted his head. Royal stooped and fiddled with the laces of his shoes. The crowd parted around him and flowed back together, obscuring his view of Elly until he caught a flash of pink fabric and two gaily painted sneakers. He let out a sigh of relief and waited.

  For the longest time, the dark-haired man stayed utterly still. Finally, with an impatient gesture, he resumed his pursuit, closing the gap that had opened up when he stopped.

  As the man strode off, Royal dodged the crowd that suddenly formed between him and his quarry, cutting off access. Taking a shortcut through the back of a North Carolina barbecue booth, he sped past the woman stacking paper plates and bottles of vinegar. A bottle wobbled as his elbow jiggled it, and not stopping, he righted it with a flip of his hand and wrist. Elly was no longer in sight. “Damn.” His movements jerky and uncoordinated, he scanned the crowd until he spotted the brim of her hat and its pink-gauze bow.

  “Great hat, sugar,” he muttered, keeping track of Elly’s bobbing hat and bow.

  “Hey, watch who you call ‘sugar,’” the heavily sweating cook in the white paper hat warned as Royal hurried past the grill, where heat shimmered up from slabs of ribs and roasts. “Or you’ll be dinner.” He waved a long-pronged fork under Royal’s nose. “Crowded enough back here. Customers stay out front.”

  “Sorry.” Royal shrugged and sent him an easy smile. “Smells great.”

  “The best, dude. Come back the front way and buy a plate.”

  “Later. Got to go.” Ducking under the door panel, Royal exited at a quick step, refraining from running. He wouldn’t get to Elly and Tommy at all if he drew attention to himself. Narrowing the gap between them, he slowed and took in the details swirling around him.

  Scanlon was wiping out Royal’s gambling debts to the tune of three hundred thousand dollars. Scanlon said it was because he wanted Elly back, to talk to her, to convince her to make fair child-custody arrangements. On the surface, Royal thought, it made sense, still did. But from the beginning, the money had tweaked him. Granted, a loving father would give anything—everything—for his child, but something about the offer reeked of other motives.

  Scanlon believed he was desperate enough to do anything for that much money, and Royal hadn’t contradicted him. Royal hadn’t cared enough to exert that much effort. And most of all, he didn’t give a damn about what Scanlon believed.

  During that long weekend of gambling, Scanlon had concluded that he needed the money, wanted it.

  But what did Scanlon want?

  Tommy, of course. No matter which way Royal ran the options through his mind, that fact remained constant: Scanlon wanted his son.

  Question was, did he want Elly? Or was Elly expendable? And if she was, how did Scanlon fit Royal into his plans?

  Moving invisibly behind Scanlon’s man, Royal smiled nastily. Scanlon saw him as a pawn to be moved around the chess-board until the queen was captured.

  Blake Scanlon had made a bad mistake.

  Down the dirt pathway of the main aisle, Elly made her slow, painstaking way, and wherever Elly went, her pursuer followed. A stop at the portable potty. A wait in line for lemonade.

  Shortly before she and Tommy arrived at the pavilion, her mystery man was joined by a second man, the two moving shark-like through the waters of the crowd.

  That cinched it for Royal. These two were definitely his assailants.

  Stepping sideways into the shadows of a banyan tree, he waited to see what they would do. He expected them to close in on either side of Elly and waltz her away unobtrusively.

  They didn’t do that, either. Instead, after what looked to be a jovial conversation, they separated, merging into the masses of people and taking up look-out stations at opposite ends of the pavilion. Leaning against a live oak tree, Tall, Dark and Ugly shook out a cigarette, stuffed the pack into his shirt pocket and lit up. Yawning, he stretched his thick arms overhead and then folded them across his chest and waited.

  Stunned into immobility, Royal frowned. Why would they follow her but not grab her? Like last night’s attack, their behavior seemed purposeless.

  But it couldn’t be. He knew he was missing some important point, the key to the whole mess. Whatever was going on was calculated. Scanlon would never invest the kind of money and time he had in a project that had no purpose.

  T.D. and U. looked as though he’d settled in for the duration. Royal sighed. A knot tightened in his stomach. He was getting a real bad feeling about this setup. The men weren’t making a move on Elly and her son. So that meant they were waiting for someone else.

  And it looked like he was that someone.

  Pawns were meant to be sacrificed, he reminded himself as he strolled toward Elly and Tommy Lee. Might be interesting to see what Scanlon had planned.

  But he thought he’d rattle T.D. and U.‘s cage first. For fun.

  Stooping slightly and rounding his shoulders, Royal held one hand protectively against his ribs as he approached Elly’s stalker. He couldn’t overdo it. After all, he’d been carting Tommy Lee around all morning in full view of this outlaw. “Hey, my friend, can I bum a smoke?” Royal coughed, let his hands shake, not much, just a fine, alcoholic tremor. “Rough night.”

  The man regarded him impassively, his blue eyes cold and empty. Slicked back from his face, his hair separated into greasy clumps. “Get your own.”

  “Yeah, man. Would if I could. But I’m tapped out, and my lady friend doesn’t like me to smoke around her and the kid, you know?” Royal’s chuckle was self-mocking, shading into desperation.

  Something flickered in the blue eyes. “So?”

  Royal shrugged. “Sorry, man. Thought I’d ask. Thanks, anyway.” Figuring he’d better follow through on his act if he wanted to make it believable, he ambled away. After a few steps, he stopped at a bench where a seated woman alternated leisurely sips from a paper cup with long pulls on her cigarette.

  She was more easily charmed than Scanlon’s man.

  Giving her a farewell smile, Royal took a deep drag and waited until he was out of sight before he coughed and pitched the cigarette.

  “Miss me, sugar?” He made certain Elly saw him before he slid his arm around her shoulder. “Make it good,” he whispered, leaning in and giving her a kiss. “People are watching. You may not know it yet, but you’re my girlfriend.”

  Tension still stringing her tight as a rubber band, she chuckled. “Really? Oh, good. That means I get to wear your letter jacket and high-school ring. I can’t wait to tell all the girls at the soda shop.”

  “You are such a pest,” he murmured, tugging her lower lip gently.

  “And you smell like smoke.” She drew her head back. Her spine was rigid. “You don’t smoke.”

  “Not anymore.” He let his gaze drift to the side, toward T.D. and U. The man’s attention was totally focused on Royal and Elly. “Used to, sugar. Quit when I burned a hole in the seat of my Mustang. I truly do love that car,” he said as she shot him a quizzical look. “Do anything for that beauty. We’ve been together for ten years.”

&nb
sp; “A man who’s not afraid of commitment. I congratulate you.” Game to the core, she managed a smile in spite of the shudder that rippled over her as another firecracker popped in the distance. “What did you find out?”

  “I made the acquaintance of our friend.” Royal shifted his body in the direction of the tree so that she could see the man more clearly. Dropping his voice so that only she could hear and not Tommy, he said, “You real sure you don’t know him, Elly? Think about it,” he cautioned when she looked away too quickly.

  Like him, she lowered her voice. “I’m positive.” She gripped his forearm while Tommy twined himself into her skirt, wrapping it tightly around him and staying clear of Royal. “I don’t think I’d choose him as my Humanitarian of the Week. Who is he?”

  “He’s a stone-cold killer, that’s who.”

  Her whole body shook, her teeth clicking together. “You can’t know that. How could you?”

  “I know. Believe me on this, Elly.”

  The effort she made to control her shaking was admirable and ineffectual. “Are you sure?”

  “As sure as fifteen years of cop work can make me. And, no, I don’t know him, either. But I know his type,” he said grimly. “My wicked ways haven’t caught up with me. He’s following you, Elly, not me.”

  “Damn,” she whispered, stricken, turning her head toward their stalker. “I thought there was time.” She hit his arm. “I need more time!”

  Royal caught her shoulders, stopping her. Her gasp was a whistle of sound, barely audible. “Want to tell me about it?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” She was sickly pale, and Royal was afraid she was going to throw up any second. She pulled Tommy even closer to her, lifted her chin and looked Royal straight in the eyes, a sure sign she was lying. “I can’t imagine why that man’s following me.”

  “Of course you can, sweetheart. Try. Because, in fact, there are two of them. And we have to talk.”

  “About what?” The white line running around her mouth betrayed her as she pulled against his hold.

  “Oh, about why two killers are tracking you like hyenas on the scent of blood. That would be a good place to start, don’t you think?”

  “I tell you, I don’t know!”

  “Then let’s try another topic. These same guys were at your house last night. But all they did was whale on me until their arms and feet got tired. Why did they choose me for their personal punching bag, do you reckon?”

  “Quit badgering me!”

  “Fine. I will. Answer one last question, though.” He lifted his hand and gently traced the spider line of her scar, his heart aching for her, for her son. For her foolish courage that would wind up getting her killed. Because she didn’t have a chance on her own. “Is this why you have all those high-powered pain pills you shared with me? This scar came from a gun, didn’t it? This is a gunshot wound, sweetheart. Do I win the gold ring?”

  She jerked her head away. “It doesn’t matter. You’re not involved. Leave. Go away.”

  “I can’t. That might have been an option a week ago. To tell you the truth, though, I’m beginning to wonder if that was ever a possibility. At any rate, it isn’t anymore. You and I, Elly, we’re the eye of the hurricane. And the worst of the storm’s still ahead.”

  “You’re wrong. You can walk away. Turn around, Royal. Walk away. It is still possible for you.”

  “And you, sweet Elly? What will you do? Run away again?”

  She blanched. But she was silent.

  “Nothing to say, Elly?”

  Staring at him like a deer caught in the crosshairs, she was nothing but bleached-out face and enormous brown eyes. Over and over, helplessly, she shook her head.

  As impossible as it was to expect, Royal still hoped she would trust him. He didn’t think she would. But with or without her trust, they were going to have to work together. She would have to accept that.

  Their lives depended on it.

  He’d seen their deaths in those dead blue eyes, the eyes of a killer who could squash them as easily as a fly and with as much emotion. In those eyes, Royal was already a dead man. When was all that had to be worked out.

  “Here’s the deal, Elly. I checked your suitcase this morning.”

  Her eyelids fluttered, opened, and although he hadn’t thought it was possible, she went even paler under the protection of her froufrou hat, and he was swamped with pity. But pity wouldn’t save them.

  “I know Elena Malone will be looking for another job sometime soon, a new place to live. Even so, in about ten hours, I could find Elena. And her son. And if I can, other people can, too. Not that fast, but they’d find her. One way or another. And then they’d come after her.” A series of poppers exploded around them like gunshots.

  Elly’s knees buckled, and she sagged against him, her slight form a deadweight as he supported her with his hands under her arms, her hand still gripping her son’s.

  “Mommy?” Tommy’s voice quavered, and the glance he sent Royal was terrified. “Mommy!”

  Her eyelashes fluttered shut once more and stayed closed, delicate brown fans against her colorless skin.

  Holding Elly upright with his arm around her waist, Royal tried to take Tommy’s hand, but even unconscious, Elly hung on, or Tommy’s grip was too strong to break, Royal wasn’t sure. But the boy was a problem, and they didn’t need to attract more of the killer’s attention than he was already giving their small band. Not risking a giveaway glance, Royal spoke calmly. “Come on, Tommy.”

  “No. Don’t want to.” The boy shook his head and buried his face against Elly’s side, taking her hand in both of his. “I can’t leave my mommy.” Defiance and fear pinched his chubby face. “You can’t make me. I’ll scream like bloody murder if you touch me.”

  “Good idea. Make sure you do that,” Royal encouraged. “But in the meantime, will you help your mom?”

  “How?” Pitifully young, Tommy’s treble wobbled.

  “You hold her hand. Yes, like you’re doing, that’s good. Now take the hem of her skirt and hold on to it with your other hand.”

  “I don’t understand.” Tommy looked like he was about to squall. “I don’t know what to do!”

  “Sure, you do. You’re kind of scared, that’s all. Take a deep breath, okay?”

  Tommy almost nodded. The inclination was there. At least he was listening.

  “Good man. Now take your right hand. The one your mom’s not holding,” Royal added quickly as Tommy scowled at his hands and seemed about to turn loose of Elly.

  “This one?” Tommy raised a grubby fist toward Royal.

  “Yeah, that’s the ticket, kiddo. Know your right from your left, do you?”

  “I’m five. I learned a long time ago.”

  “Well, that’s swell. There’s hope for our educational system after all.”

  “Huh?”

  “Nothing. I’m proud of you, that’s all. Hang on, Tommy, while I settle your mom.”

  Anchoring Elly’s hat under her cheek, Royal tucked her face into his shoulder. It hid her face and the shadows that too much stress had colored in with a heavy hand. Thanks to the protection of her hat and his shoulder, anyone watching would think she was snuggling up to him.

  “Is she okay?”

  Royal almost missed Tommy’s whisper, but the kid’s frantic tug on his arm alerted him.

  “She’s terrific, kiddo, and we’re almost done with what we have to do. Take that good ol’ right hand and catch the end of your mom’s skirt. Good, good. Now drape it over your shoulder like a cape and hold on for dear life because we’re going to make like Superman and fly. Got it?”

  Tommy nodded. Two days ago, he would have giggled. Now, though, he didn’t. Royal missed that innocent response. He missed that face looking up at him as though Royal could fix the world if necessary. Nobody, not even Maggie, had ever looked at him like that.

  In all his life, nobody had ever given him that kind of innocent adoration. Royal wanted that look back o
n Tommy’s face. Its loss hurt more than he’d imagined.

  “Here we go. Easy, like playing a game at the Sunshine Center. We’re sailing through enemy waters and their lasers are trained on us. We’re invisible unless we move too fast. Got that?”

  Tom my nodded.

  “Move like a cat. Slow and smooth. Because if we go too fast, we set off all kinds of bells and whistles. If we’re caught, we lose the game. Got it?”

  Tommy nodded again, not friendly, but more natural, and a spark of interest stirred in his eyes.

  As they eased their way forward, Elly shifted against Royal, consciousness returning. Confusion filled her eyes as she looked up at him.

  “Hey, sugar. Welcome home.” The word startled him, but it fit. He felt at home with her and her son.

  “Mommy?” Wrapped in her skirt, Tommy clung to Elly’s leg.

  “I’m fine, honey. A bit dizzy. That’s all.”

  “You scared me. Bad. I was really scared,” he insisted in a small voice.

  “Don’t be. I’ll take care of you. Always. No matter what. You know that.” She drew Tommy even closer, and a slim thigh gleamed briefly in the folds of pink material.

  “‘Kay,” he said. Lack of conviction showed in every line of his slumped shoulders. “I know. But—” And then he was silent, plastering himself against Elly’s leg.

  Keeping a tight grip on Tommy, Elly tipped her face to Royal wearily. “Firecrackers again, right?” Her smile was embarrassed. “And I wimped out.”

  “Firecrackers, yeah. Wimping out?” Powerless in the face of her courage and determination to ask no quarter, he bent down and kissed her fiercely, letting his kiss tell her what he couldn’t put in words, what he didn’t understand himself. With her wan face and shadowed eyes, she was infinitely precious to him in that moment, and he wanted her to know—to know something.

  Thought escaped him as her mouth softened under his and she leaned into him, yielding to the strength he offered her as though she had no more will than he to sacrifice that tiny luxury of touch. Damp, her mouth clung to his, and the hunger her lips created had everything to do with regret and despair. And of a longing so strong that sex was too simple a word for what moved in him at the touch of this woman.