Larger Than Life

by Alison Kent

  Without opening the envelope, he knew what the note inside would say. The threats the writer would make to expose Holden's past. There would be no demands, no offers to negotiate. There would only be small-minded attempts to unnerve him, unbalance him. He was done with both.

  He carried the envelope with him to the bathroom off his study, closing the door behind him and standing in front of the mirror while staring down. He'd never had the penmanship analyzed. Instead, he'd begun looking into the backgrounds of those around him who might bear him ill will, have a grudge to settle, feel the need to turn the tables for a grievance mistakenly held.

  He'd also looked into church members on the fringe, which had led him straight to the Mitchells. He no longer believed they had moved their family to Earnestine Township for the salvation of their children's souls. He believed, instead, that they had come here for him.

  They'd been in San Francisco, he'd discovered, when his parents had died. Liberty's mother had even been a member of the high school class that had graduated the year ahead of his. The couple had been in all the right places at all the right times to know what had happened in the church sanctuary that day. To know about the knife, the murders. To know the secrets Holden still kept.

  He looked into the mirror, shocked at his ashen face, at the mustache of sweat covering his upper lip. And then he remembered the girl upstairs. If her parents actually believed him capable of killing, then having Liberty out of their control and under his made her more than a pawn.

  It made her his plum, his wild card, the surest guarantee he could possibly hope for that they would never breathe a word of what they suspected he'd done.

  He dropped the unopened envelope into the white bag lining the wicker trash can, and then shed his clothes and stepped into the shower stall. He had a wedding to prepare for; that was the only thing on his mind.

  At least until he reached for the controls to turn on the water and swore he heard his car start up outside.

  Liberty never thought she'd be so thankful as she was now that her best girlfriend in California, Jill Kramer, had taught her to drive a stick. She'd made it from the driveway to the street, from reverse into first, without squealing tires or grinding gears. Now she prayed she could get out of Earnestine without anyone seeing her in Holden's car.

  Thankfully it was Saturday. Most everyone in the township was home studying up on their Scriptures, ironing their church clothes, getting all the grub together for tomorrow's big Sunday evening supper on the grounds. No, thanks. She'd had enough green bean casserole and marshmallow Jell-O salad for one lifetime.

  Thankfully, too, Holden didn't live anywhere near the church or township offices. In fact, he lived on one of the back streets closest to the city limits. After seeing his place, it wasn't hard to figure out why. She knew he wasn't a big part of the religious scene in town, but wondered if he had any guilt over the way he spent the money the church and the township paid him.

  Especially when they were paying him to preserve their way of life—one he didn't even have a stake in. The plans he'd shared with her last night, describing his new house— no, their new house—definitely had her drooling. But being married to a man who needed her to make himself look good to a church he didn't even believe in was not her idea of a good time.

  "Hypocrite," she muttered under her breath, the car's RPMs up high enough now that she needed to shift into third. She wasn't about to drive fast; she didn't even have a license. And she was really glad the windows were tinted as dark as they were; her chances of being noticed were pretty slim. All she had to do was figure out where to go and what to do once she got there. Oh, and how to get rid of the car.

  God, she could not believe she was in so much trouble! All of it her own fault for being stupid enough to trust Holden the way she'd trusted Jase. There had never been any hope she'd make her eighteenth birthday and still be single. She saw that now.

  She also knew the decision that had saved her was saying yes when Holden suggested she spend the night at his house and they visit her parents later as husband and wife. Make it a dual surprise, he'd said. Her safe return, and the best match she could possibly make.

  She'd agreed, but only because it gave her time to wiggle her way out of this jam. Had she gone straight home, she would never have escaped the eternal hell of being married to Cal Able. Her parents would not have let her out of their sight. She couldn't imagine what objection they might have to her marrying Holden Wagner, but she hadn't been willing to take that chance.

  So she'd closed herself up in his guest room, trying not to sleep though she eventually had, then listening this morning, waiting for him to shower or cook breakfast, or anything that would keep him distracted and busy while she slipped out of the upstairs window, down the sloped rooftop, then onto the top of the tall cedar fence.

  She had horrible scratches and slivers in both of her elbows and a scrape on her cheek, burning now from the tears running over the raw skin. She could hardly see to drive. She was so nervous, her hands shook on the wheel, her foot kept slipping off the accelerator. And she was almost out of gas. There was really only one place she could go.

  She only hoped this time Neva believed that she was truly on the run for her life.

  The morning for Neva hadn't gone particularly well. She'd accomplished a lot of work with Mick's help, true. But it had been a test of her mental agility trying to focus in order to process new orders, pay bills, respond intelligently to her programmer's e-mails—and do it all with Mick Savin less than ten feet away.

  Even knowing that Candy was working at the far end of the room hadn't been enough of a deterrent for Neva to keep her mind on her work. Her mind had been on Mick. Only Mick. Solely Mick. He was getting to her.

  And she was letting him—a fact that made the slip in her armor worse than had he simply loosened the chinks on his own, worked his way in, charmed her, seduced her. But, no. She saw something in him that made her want to help him destroy everything she'd built. Judging by the way her mind couldn't let him go, she was doing a hell of a job.

  She'd come back to the house thirty minutes ago to make lunch. She and Jeanne Munroe laughed at how they both seemed to make more sense out of the chaos in their lives when up to their elbows in food. Unfortunately for Neva, Jeanne was a much better cook. All Neva knew how to do was make sandwiches, soup, meals out of the freezer or boxes, and breakfast.

  Which was why when Mick and Candy walked into the kitchen moments later, it was to the scent of maple syrup, pancakes, and bacon. "Ooh, girl. Mmm, mmm, mmm." Candy smacked her lips. "I don't know how you manage to get sugar into every meal, but I love you for it."

  "Lucky for you, missy, your thighs are much more forgiving than mine." Neva turned to look at Candy. Or started to. Except when looking over her shoulder, she instead caught Mick's eye. It hadn't been but half an hour since she'd seen him, so it made no sense that she'd missed him so much. "How 'bout you, Mick? Do you mind being served sugar three times a day?"

  "As long as I'm being served, I'm good with sugar, steak, baked potatoes, pork chops, mashed potatoes, lobster, au gratin potatoes—"

  Neva cut him off with a laugh. "Okay, okay. I'll make a trip into town and stock up on meat and potatoes."

  Candy's gaze drifted from one to the other. "Does that mean you're going to be staying with us awhile, Mick? Neva doesn't stock up for just anyone."

  Neva stared down at the pancake browning on the griddle and waited to hear Mick's reply. She knew he had no real reason to stay, and all the reasons she wanted him to were selfish, not to mention a risk to her cause. Still, she found herself holding her breath, her hand tightly squeezing the handle of the pancake turner.

  Mick slowly crossed to the kitchen table, pulled out a chair, and sat. "I was thinking I might head out of here soon. Later today. The hospitality's much appreciated, but I need to get out of the way and back to work."

  "What do you do?" Candy asked.

  "He's an engineering project
consultant," Neva answered before Mick could draw a breath to speak. She didn't want Candy to think she'd taken Mick in without knowing anything about him, but she also didn't want to hear how easily he lied.

  "Right," he said behind her. "I've been on vacation this week. Checking out a hunting lease in New Mexico."

  "Meaning you'll be back this fall when the season opens."

  Funny. Neva hadn't thought about that. "You'll have to drive down and say hello."

  "Sure. I'll do that."

  But Neva knew that he never would, and was certain Candy knew it, too. It was the polite talk of strangers eating breakfast for lunch. And it wasn't productive to think anything about Mick being here would ever be anything more.

  She slid the pancake onto a stack of five others, added the bacon, and carried the platter along with a pitcher of warm syrup to the table. "Eat up. I wouldn't want it said I sent an injured man away hungry."

  While Mick and Candy served themselves, Neva returned to the stove and poured out two more circles of batter. She needed space, time, separation, whatever to get hold of the ridiculous emotions insisting she knew him enough to trust him when there were a thousand unanswered questions she couldn't ask. He would expect tit for tat, which she wasn't sure she could give. Other lives depended on her discretion.

  Thankfully, Candy saved her from doing just that. "So, Mick, where are you headed? Where do you come from?"

  Yes! Neva watched the edges of the batter begin to bubble and blessed her girlfriend's nosiness.

  "I work in Manhattan," he said, and she looked back in time to see him lift his glass of orange juice and drink. "But I grew up in New Orleans."

  "You have family there?" Candy prodded. Mick shook his head. "I was an only child. My parents were already in their forties when I was born. They've both been gone now for several years."

  "I'm sorry," Candy said, echoing Neva's thoughts as she flipped the pancakes before turning to face the table.

  "Don't be." Mick dug back into his food, frowned down into his plate. "They were great together. A long and happy life. And they died together. A freak auto accident. I doubt either would've survived long without the other around. It was for the best." A shadow of sadness softened his gaze.

  Neva's heart melted. "It couldn't have been easy for you, though. Being left all alone like that. And so suddenly."

  "I was in the army then," he said, shaking his head. "I never had a chance to be alone."

  Yet he worked alone, existed alone. If she hadn't picked him up on the side of the road, he would have died there alone. As far as she knew, he hadn't contacted anyone since. And then it hit her. When he told her the truth, she trusted him. When he lied, she didn't believe a word he said.

  He was more of a loner than she was. And she couldn't help but wonder how close they were to being kindred spirits—even though their reasons for their solitary ways of life could not have been further apart.

  She'd turned off the fire beneath the griddle and started toward the table with the last of the food when she heard the crunch of gravel beneath tires outside on her drive. Glancing out the window, she shook her head, wondering when she'd been entered in the running for Miss Popularity and why hadn't she been told.

  "It's Ed," she said to the room as she set the pancakes on the table and headed back to the stove to cook more. She stirred the batter, poured two circles onto the griddle that hadn't yet had time to cool. When he knocked on the screen door seconds later, she called out, "Come in. Have a pancake."

  "Love one," the doctor said, stepping into the room and coming to a stop once he saw it wasn't just the two of them eating. His expression clearly broadcast his displeasure at his find. "I thought I'd stop by and make sure Mick made it out to pick up the dog."

  Neva snorted to herself. Yeah. More like he'd come to make sure neither Mick or the dog were anywhere around. The idea of another man paying her the least bit of attention was too much for the doctor to deal with. If she didn't rely on Ed for so many things . . .

  "I did just that, mate," Mick said, reaching for another strip of bacon. "But Neva wouldn't let me leave."

  "Is that so?" Ed took the empty plate Neva held out, his gaze asking too many questions.

  She waved him toward the table for four; she didn't need him hovering. "You should know better than anyone that Mick was in no shape to drive. In fact, I was surprised to find you'd released him."

  Ed pulled out a chair from beneath the table. The one across from Mick where Neva had planned to sit. "The man insisted. Against my advice, I might add."

  "Now, Ed," Candy teased. "You treated the man in a veterinary clinic. What do you expect?"

  "I've been beat up worse than this in my life, mate." Mick sat back away from the table, stared at the other man. "I know my limits."

  "Most patients think they do." Ed pulled off the glasses he used to drive, slid them into his shirt pocket. "Most patients are wrong."

  Neva rolled her eyes. As much as she loved men—and she did, she truly did—this was one thing she hated. This macho posturing, this need for one-upmanship. So it caught her pleasantly off guard, pancake turner poised above the griddle, when Mick spoke.

  "And this time I was. I needed the extra night. It did me good."

  Smiling down as she did, Neva stacked the two pancakes, lifted them with the turner, and carried them over. "See? No worries, mate. We're all good here," she said, sliding the food onto Ed's plate. She caught Mick's gaze, took his touche of a wink to heart, then sat in the only empty chair to eat the last piece of bacon, having lost most of her appetite.

  "What're your plans now, Mick?" Ed asked, pouring syrup before cutting into the food with his fork. "If you're still not up to traveling, I'll check you into the clinic. Do the full workup of tests you need to have done."

  "No need. I'll be heading out soon." Mick looked over at Neva; staring down at the half strip of bacon on her plate, she felt the heat of his gaze, remembered the heat of his mouth, didn't want him to go. "Now that Neva's used me and abused me, my work here is done."

  Neva groaned, buried her face in her hands.

  Candy laughed out loud.

  Ed angled his fork across his plate and sat back. "Oh, really? That sounds like a story worth hearing."

  "Trust me." Neva grimaced to herself. "It's not."

  "Why don't you tell me anyway?" Ed insisted, bracing his forearms on the table with an air of expectation.

  "Mick packed up a few boxes I needed to get shipped out. Nothing salacious at all," she said, and was just getting ready to toss both of them out on their ear when she heard a second car come barreling down the drive. "When did I become Grand Central Station?"

  She started to get up, but Candy beat her to it, carrying her dishes to the sink. "Jesus Lord up above. It's the man with the white BMW."

  At Neva's side, Mick stiffened. "I'm assuming you weren't expecting him."

  Shaking her head, she stacked the empty plates, leaving only Ed's behind as she cleared the rest from the table. "That man has darkened my door for the last time. I can whip out my law degree and play rough the same as he can."

  She and Candy stood side by side, staring out the kitchen window as Holden Wagner's luxury car came to a jerky stop inches from the bumper of her truck. Neva cringed, then frowned. Something here wasn't right. The car door flew open then. Liberty Mitchell jumped out and ran toward the back door.

  Candy was there pushing open the screen before Neva even thought about it. Liberty rushed up the stairs and almost tripped and tumbled to the floor before Neva moved and caught her. "Liberty, what are you doing here?" She wrapped an arm around the girl's shoulders and helped her to a chair. "And what in the world are you doing driving Holden's car?"

  "Neva, please. You have to help me." She reached up, pushed wild strands of dark hair from her face. "Really. I'll tell you everything. I promise I won't lie or keep anything secret. I can't go back. I just can't."

  "Shh. Calm down, sweetie." Neva cast a qui
ck glance at Ed, who was frowning with concern. "Liberty, what's wrong? Are you injured? Has someone hurt you?"

  Liberty shook her head, shuddered where she sat, her hands gripping her arms tightly as she held herself together. "My parents." She stopped, shook harder. "They've set it up for me to marry a guy at the church who works at the hardware store. I can't. I won't. He's got one wife already. So Holden decided I should marry him instead."

  "Bloody hell," Mick murmured, scooting his chair back from the table.

  Ed was there now, kneeling in front of the girl. "Liberty, take a breath. One deep breath. Good," he added when she did. "Are you hurt at all?" She shook her head. "Has anyone touched you inappropriately?" Again, a negative answer. He gave Neva a sharp nod.

  Candy moved to sit in the chair Ed had vacated. Neva looked to her for advice, but the other woman's wide-eyed bewilderment and resulting shrug wasn't a bit of help. Ed being here wasn't a problem. He'd often done physical exams on the girls who came to the Barn, and was as involved with Neva's network as was Candy.

  But having Mick here . . . Neva had never felt so conflicted. She trusted him even while questioning whether she was basing that confidence on a false sense of who she wanted him to be. But she had to deal with the problem at hand, to get Liberty settled, to do something with Holden's car before the sheriff started pounding on her door.

  At the moment, facing down Mick Savin seemed the lesser of two evils, and so she forged ahead. "Liberty, you need to slow down and start at the beginning. Tell us what happened after you left with Holden yesterday."

  "Wait." Ed got to his feet, stared down at Neva. "Is this the time or the place?"

  And Neva couldn't help it. She looked over at Mick. His eyes glittered dangerously, a silvery gray beneath a frown that would have intimidated her had she not spent the last eighteen hours absorbing all she could of him.

  "I can go. I can stay." He paused, a delay that allowed her to take a deep breath, to focus. And then he said the only thing that she'd ever wanted him to say. The thing she needed to hear more than anything else. "I can help."