by Nikki Duncan
With the latest developments, the last thing Maggie needed was to be alone with Mike’s mom. She adored Betty as much as her own mother, but keeping secrets from her was impossible and she wasn’t ready to talk.
“You’re pushing yourself too hard, Maggie.”
“I’m fine.” She swiped at her lingering tears. “Jared’s smiling again.”
“It’s the puppies.” Betty wrapped her arm around her waist. “It’s great to see him moving past his grief.”
“It is. I should have let him come earlier.” Defeated, she dropped the hammer and sank onto the bench.
“He wouldn’t have been happy until he was ready.” Betty lifted Maggie’s face and brushed a loose hair from her face. “It had nothing to do with being here.”
“I’m so confused.” Her son was returning to the rambunctious boy he used to be. She shouldn’t be sad.
“I’m guessing Detective Harte is the biggest cause of that.”
Maggie hesitated, then nodded, hoping she didn’t hurt Betty if she voiced her opinion. She fiddled with the end of her braid and faced the truth. Harte had moved into her heart more than she’d wanted. Knowing he wouldn’t want to be there hurt more than any loss.
“Why does caring for him scare you? You’ve always been sure of what you wanted.”
“He’s confusing. Kind and gentle one minute, rude and bossy the next. He’s nothing like Mike.”
“Perhaps those differences are part of his appeal.” Betty squeezed her hand and smiled. “Part of why you fell in love with him.”
“I didn’t say…” Maggie leapt off the bench and paced. She cared about Harte, but love… “No.” She batted her hair over her shoulder. “It’s too soon.”
Betty raised her hands in silent surrender. “I watched you and Mike grow up together. You were best friends who slid into marriage easily. You were safe with Mike, but he’s been gone a year. You’re a different woman.”
She gaped at her mother-in-law who was encouraging her to be with Harte. “Harte’s an arrogant jerk. I haven’t known him near long enough to love him.”
“He is also kind and generous by your own admission.” Betty braced her elbows on her knees and smiled serenely. “You were the perfect woman for my son, but you deserve a stronger man.”
“Mike was…”
“Special. And he never gave you the passion your spirit begged for. You loved him, but the mention of his name never made you flush the way the mention of Harte’s does.”
She could neither agree nor disagree. The whole conversation was just too weird. “He’s keeping secrets.” She couldn’t trust a man who didn’t trust her.
“It’s what cops do. As a homicide cop, you probably don’t want him to tell you everything.” Betty walked over and hugged her tight. “Talk to him. Tell him what you want. You may be surprised.”
Maggie watched her mother-in-law walk away. If only things could be as simple as telling Harte what she wanted. He retreated instantly at the quickest glimpse of intimacy. Besides she had to know what she wanted before communicating it became possible. And then there were the dangers he faced daily. Involvement with someone she could so easily lose… No. Not happening beyond the length of his case.
“There you are.” Harte’s sexy voice startled her from the personal thoughts and shoved her mind back to the real reason for their visit.
“Hey.” He approached her with Emma cradled in his arms. How was it a man carrying a baby was such a turn on?
“Are you okay? You seemed sad in there.”
“I’m fine.” She ran a finger down Emma’s cheek. She itched to hold her baby, but he looked happier than she’d ever seen him. Stress drifted away, leaving lightness in her spirit. His happiness filled her with peace unlike years of agreeing with Mike had. Was this love? “Who had Emma?”
“Phil. I didn’t realize Mike’s parents had a house here as well.”
“Phil and my dad have always been friends. They invented some gadget the government bought. They made a good deal.” She smiled when Emma reached for her. “Mom and Betty shared their dreams for this place.”
Sorrow darkened his cobalt eyes as he passed Emma over. Tucking her daughter to her chest, she narrowed her eyes and studied Harte. Suddenly, it occurred to her why he seemed so scarred at times. “You were married.”
“Yeah.” He didn’t look away like she’d expected him to.
“You wanted children?”
He dropped to the bench. Bracing his elbows on his knees so his hands hung down, his shoulders drooped. “Almost had one.”
Seated beside him, curious at his candor she edged closer. “What happened?”
“Her name was Samantha. She was Craig’s sister.” His voice sounded gruff. “We were married for nine months when she told me she was three months pregnant.”
He drew in a breath so long and deep his entire body shuddered. “I was working a case that was getting dicey. She refused to go visit her parents out of town.”
Maggie’s gut clenched. She knew where this was heading.
“I was late picking her up from work one night.” His voice broke. “The man we were after got to her.”
Sadness and helplessness and devastation floated in the blue sea of his eyes. The grief crowded in her mind with memories of her own. No wonder he fought for distance. She reminded him of what he’d lost. “Did you catch him?”
“I heard the gunshots as I walked into her office.” He stared straight ahead. His body shook and his hands fisted as he relived the experience. “I rushed in, weapon drawn. He turned the gun on me. She was lying at his feet.”
“You killed him.”
“Shot him in the heart.”
His stark admission didn’t bother her, but she suspected it bothered him. Not so much from his tone or body language as from gaining a better insight into the non-cop side of him. She wanted the closure he’d gotten, to look into the eyes of her husband’s killer.
He shrugged and scrubbed a hand over his eyes. “Sam used to say I was her safe haven. I wasn’t safe enough.”
Maggie squeezed Emma closer. How could she not remind him of his loss? He’d suffered the loss of a child, and the agony of never knowing if the child he would have worshiped would have had his eyes. He saw his need to protect her as a duty, and her insistence to maintain some day-to-day normalcy took him back to his wife. “Harte.”
She touched his hand. A shiver coursed through his body. He gripped her hand tightly and closed his eyes. “Being with you… Mags, you rip me up inside. You make me remember everything I’ve lost.”
Tears pooled in his eyes as his big hand moved to cup Emma’s head. His thumb rubbed back and forth. “The first time I saw Emma, I had a flash of what it might have been like to hold my own child. I resented you even while I knew how you must have suffered.”
“We survived.” She cupped her hand over his on Emma and hoped he knew she included him.
“Yeah, and we’re going to survive this.” He grabbed the hammer she’d brought out effectively severing the moment. “Now, where are the scrolls?”
Her focus fuzzed into grainy thoughts as she shifted away from emotional territory to crime fighting. “We’re sitting on them.”
“Excuse me?”
“Mike built this bench for us. No problems existed here, only peace. There’s never been a safer place than this farm.” She stood. When Harte did the same she used her foot to knock the bench over so the legs faced up. “Pop the legs off and I bet you’ll find the scrolls.”
He tapped each leg with the hammer, listening for sounds of one being hollow. With a nod, he dropped the hammer, stepped into the center of the bench, standing on the base of the seat and aimed well-placed, powerful kicks at two of the legs. They snapped off.
A scroll popped out of the top of each leg. They’d been wrapped in cloth and then plastic. She’d sat on the reason for Mike’s death many of times over the last year. If she’d known, if he’d trusted her to handle something b
eyond a meal plan, if he’d just told her what was going on… Think about that later.
“Are you sure the other legs are empty?”
“Yeah,” Harte said. “They’re solid.”
“Then let’s go find answers.”
With BD at her elbow and sleep deprivation from a night of trying to decipher the symbols on the scrolls and Jared’s ceiling dogging her steps, Maggie opened the front door to find Craig dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, holding a case of soda and sporting an outrageously infectious grin, as if he’d come over for a cookout or something equally fun.
“Did someone forget to tell me we were having a party?” Shaking her head, she looked between the two men. “As hostess, I require time to properly prepare these things.”
“Sorry, Maggie.” Craig winked at her. “We like to be spontaneous.”
“Yeah.” She reached up and patted his cheek un-gently. “Stop. You always bring bad news and it’s exhausting.”
“We’re doing our best.” Craig sobered as he stepped inside when she moved back. “BD.”
“Craig.” BD’s eyes shifted deeper into cop mode. His stance adopted an edge of violence as he closed the inches to her side. “Any luck figuring out who Adalia’s inside man is?”
“No, but Cap’s on board with our plan.”
“You already have a plan?” Maggie closed and locked the door shaking her head. “I guess now I know why you were on the phone so long last night.”
“Yeah.” Craig pulled an envelope from a side pocket in his shorts. “This was left at the front desk at the station. Do you mind if I borrow BD for a bit?”
“I think I might.” Irritation that they seemed to be continuing the secret keeping was cut off by the doorbell.
“You expecting anyone?” Harte’s oppressive side was ruling him.
She raised a brow at him. “I didn’t know I was expecting Craig.”
He went to the door and glanced out the window. “It’s Grace.”
“Crap. I’ll just go put these in the fridge” Craig darted to the kitchen with the sodas.
Maggie looked from his retreating back to Harte standing sentry and then at the door. “My sister, whom I love dearly, is a meddler. She won’t back off if she gets wind of what’s really going on or any plan you have.”
He sighed. “Let her in. We’ll handle it.”
She opened the door with what she hoped was a convincing smile. “Hey, Grace.”
“Don’t mess with me.” Grace breezed past, looking around the house. “I want to know what is going on around here. Where’s Craig? Craig!” Grace bellowed without waiting for responses. “Get your ass out here!”
Maggie blinked. She wasn’t saying anything until she knew what Grace knew. And how she’d found out, though she had a strong suspicion judging by the angry blush on her sister's cheeks.
“Good morning, Maggie, how are you?” She mocked Grace, hoping to buy some time. “Oh, I’m great, Grace. Thanks for asking. What brings you over?”
“You aren’t funny.” Grace braced her legs apart and tapped her fingers on her crossed arms. “Something is going on around here, and I’m going to find out what. Or I’m calling Dad.”
Harte closed the door and jerked his head toward the kitchen. Maggie rolled her eyes and, still in the dark as to BD’s plans, led the way to where Craig waited. Whatever he’d done, he was going to suffer one way or another.
Grace shoved past her when she saw Craig by the island. “You son-of-a…”
“Grace!” Maggie protested as she stumbled. BD steadied her with a solid and lingering save when she would have slammed into the wall.
Grace ignored the sisterly assault, marched up to Craig standing by the counter and slapped him across the face. “You used me.”
“Get out of firing range.” BD murmured as he took Maggie’s hand and pulled her to the other side of the island. As protection against Grace’s temper was concerned, the island wasn’t great, but it did provide shelter to duck if she started throwing things.
“Grace,” Craig smiled, oozing charm. “I thought you were sleeping. What are you doing here?”
“Following you. You deceitful, dick-for-brains, piece of scum!”
Maggie choked back a laugh. Her eyes darted between her sister and Craig. Harte calmly watched the exchange, as if he wasn’t remotely surprised. “They’re…dating? Did you know about this?”
“You used me!”
“No.” He covered his lips with a finger, shushing her. Not that they seemed to be disturbing Grace and her tirade.
“You have a conversation with him during a date.” Grace’s finger pointed at Harte as if everyone in the room didn’t know who she meant with her disgusted him. “Then, after we’ve…when I ask what’s going on, you lie to me.”
“Now, Gracie.”
Maggie winced. No one, absolutely no one ever called Grace “Gracie”. Only one person had been given that right and it had ended violently.
“Don’t. You. Ever. Call. Me. That.” Each word was delivered low and threatening with utter calm and drove the force of the punch she planted in Craig’s gut. To his credit, he sucked it up and didn’t wince. Much.
Craig held his hands up as if to ward her off. “Calm down.”
“Calm down. You dare to tell me to calm down?” Grace’s voice began to rise again. She slid her gaze, her eyes bulging with irrational wrath, across the island. She paused at the knife block.
Maggie moved the knives to the counter behind her and smiled sweetly. She’d rather not be cleaning blood off her floor.
Craig tried on a smile of his own and circled around Grace, keeping out of the reach of her arms.
“He needs to watch out for her legs,” Maggie muttered out the side of her mouth. “She’s the one who taught me to kick.”
“Oh, this is gonna be good.” BD chuckled and wrapped a companionable arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. Her belly rumbled with pleasure. Maybe from the easy touch. Maybe from the suggested connection.
“I did not lie. Or use you.” Craig’s smooth voice would have calmed anyone else, but Grace wasn’t going to cool off anytime soon.
“Bull!” She pointed over at Maggie and Harte again. “You canceled on spending the day with me to come over here. You’re both armed and checking into Mike.”
Craig had spent the night with Grace? Whoa. She hadn’t allowed a man in her home since…well, since Alex Kord, the violent ending.
“How would you know I checked into Mike?”
“Wrong move, cutie,” Maggie mumbled. Questioning Grace when she was mad could be lethal.
Grace spun through the air, leading with a foot aimed at Craig’s head.
Maggie winced.
Craig ducked.
Harte laughed.
Landing back on both feet, tapping her fingers on her hips, Grace stared at Craig—not remotely put off by his size advantage or the fact she’d missed her target. The desire to take another kick ramped up in her blazing stare. “I read your emails while you were snoring in my bed.”
BD roared with laughter. Maggie choked back her own laugh. They’d have to tell Grace everything. It was the only way to keep Craig’s body parts where they belonged, and she liked him too much to see him maimed. She especially liked that he’d clearly broached some of Grace’s defenses.
Grace spun toward her and Harte. “You think this is funny? Maggie, do you know they’ve run a major background check on Mike? Harte’s been searching your house when you’re gone or asleep.”
She turned to face BD. He sobered instantly.
Grace stood on the other side of the island, chest heaving, smug pleasure spreading her lips. Craig looked on, probably eager to see someone else besides him get their ass chewed out.
“You could have told me that part.” He’d lied to her about suspecting her husband. She should feel angry or betrayed. She felt…protected.
“What?” Grace gasped.
Harte slid his hand down her arm and link
ed his fingers with her. “I would have if I learned something that would change things.”
Definitely protected. The necessity hurt, but knowing he’d wanted to watch out for her eased the sting. It was nice to rank so high for someone. “You still could have told me.”
“What is going on around here?” Grace shrieked her question. “I feel like I’m in a crazy sitcom.”
“We’re going to get her, Mags.” BD moved his hands to her hips and held her gaze.
“I trust you.” I love you. Whoa! Back up, Maggie. Hadn’t expected that. She sure didn’t know what to do with it at the moment.
“Hello!” Grace smacked her hands on the counter top to get their attention. “Remember me?”
“Oh, all right.” Maggie snapped as she turned to her sister. “You get the Cliff Notes version. You’ll not pepper me with questions or badger me with your constant presence.”
“You’re giving me orders?”
“It’s a new concept, but yeah.” Maggie grinned. Tingles traipsed along her arms and neck and spine. Strength. If the moment weren’t so charged she’d close her eyes and relish the development. “And you’re going to follow them.”
Grace tapped her meticulously manicured nails against the tile counter. “Fine. Spill it.”
Craig moved closer to Grace, as if he needed to protect her. She shifted fractionally closer. They’d be good together, if he could get her to not run, but that was for another day. In a two-minute summary, Maggie told Grace everything she knew.
“What?” Grace lurched toward the counter. Craig laid a hand on her arm. She smacked him away, but when she looked back it was with concern filling her gaze. “You didn’t think I needed to know this?”
“What were you going to do, Grace? Harte’s here.” Maggie glanced at him, inches away. “Hovering constantly with a loaded gun. Craig’s a phone call away. They’re doing everything they can to catch Adalia and protect me.”
“This is why the kids are at the farm. You tell Dad and Phil?”
“Yes.”
“We don’t expect Adalia to stray far from Maggie,” Craig said. “The kids are safe.”