by C. J. Snyder
Nathan went through the man’s wallet and the woman’s purse. He threw almost everything he took away—a little bit at a time—at the gas stations where they stopped. Billy snagged a picture of the little girl who wouldn’t stop crying, and the man’s driver’s license. He said after they got finished in California someday, he would go to Chicago—that’s where the family was from—and find her. “Look at those eyes.” he kept saying.
Nathan thought that was a dumb idea. He promised Billy all the girls he could handle once they got to Los Angeles. “Grown up girls—with lots more than eyes to look at.” Billy tucked the picture and the license into his pocket. He liked the way Nathan thought. They drove straight through to Los Angeles after that—with Billy and Nathan taking turns driving, and Kevin and Paul dozing in the back seat. Kevin made Paul sit where the quiet little girl’s blood was all over the seat. They got a hotel room in a skyscraper and ordered hamburgers from room service.
Nathan made Kevin clean the back seat the next morning—even the mess Paul had made when he’d barfed on the floor.
Kevin had cooly reminded Nathan of that before he emptied his gun into Nathan’s chest. Turned out Nathan had a knack for hiding. And an even greater knack for getting them out of jams. As much as Kevin hated his cousin, he took the time to learn from him. Billy gave them lots of practice. He was forever getting them into trouble, usually involving a female. And more often than not, an angry husband. Kevin also learned that women liked men with money. So Kevin learned from Billy, too. Because Billy always had money. He’d perfected several ways of getting it. None of them were legal but that didn’t matter at all to Kevin. Without Billy to get him into jams, and now without Nathan to tell him what to do, Kevin figured life was about to get very good. His learning days were over.
His life would get good once Melissa came home. . . He scowled and strode to her bedroom. Her dresser was an untidy mess, covered with small perfume bottles and jars of goo. He opened a few of the bottles, sniffing, then his gaze lit on the small table in the corner.
Papers littered it, pages and pages of pink note paper. Scented pink note paper, he scorned, gaze flying over the hearts and flowers and feminine swirls she’d drawn with four shades of ink. The ink colors ranged from deep red to very light pink. Kevin’s lips curled. Chick-stuff. He let the paper drop uncaringly to the floor, then noticed the one beneath it.
A name. Jack. Jack alone—Kevin lifted more of the pages—Jack linked by hearts with Melissa’s name. So Melissa had herself a boyfriend. Kevin kept reading.
Rancher’s wife—in a bright red heart.
Melissa and Jack, ranch owners. A pink heart this time and more of the flowery squiggles.
Kevin rolled his eyes, glanced up at the mirror over the table. And saw the photograph taped to it on one side. He stared long and hard at the man who’d dogged his steps for two years.
Jack. Special Agent Jack Myles, with his arm around Melissa’s shoulders. Kevin whistled softly, then smiled. The bastard had Maggie’s sister. He rifled through the papers again, searching. He didn’t smile as he lifted a final scrap.
Melissa and Jack, Austin, Texas.
Kevin folded the paper and stuck it in his pocket. Melissa was in Texas. Melissa would know where to find her sister.
A sound from the exterior hallway sounded and Kevin reached for the light. Maybe Melissa wasn’t in Austin after all.
*** By four o’clock in the afternoon, Megan was tired, tense and as grouchy as a skinned, sunburned bear.
That was before he strolled into the bar. With Melissa on his arm.
She was pulling drafts as fast as she could—all four taps running nearly non-stop. Tomorrow she would pack up her car and start over. For now, she blew her sweaty bangs up off her forehead. And met his eyes in the mirror.
Beer overflowed all the mugs, spilling down into the drain tray until Derek cursed and reached across the bar to shut off the taps. Megan shot her boss an apology, filled her tray and made her rounds. Jack and Melissa settled at a recently-vacated back table. She ignored them. Or at least she tried.
She made the rounds three more times, carefully avoiding their table. Then Derek barked out her name. She turned to find out what mistake she’d made. Melissa stood behind the bar, next to Derek. He looked furious. Megan wouldn’t look at Melissa.
“Take five,” Derek roared. Megan emptied her tray and stepped through the tiny kitchen and out the back door into the blessedly cool evening. Melissa was already waiting. “You okay?” Not the best place to start, but all Maggie could summon, with thoughts of Jack still whirling. Melissa nodded and caught her sister’s hand. “It’s all fine, Maggie. He told me.” Maggie’s eyes narrowed. “Who told you what?”
“Jack told me—about the two of you. Why didn’t you tell me you’d met him before?” She smiled and her eyes went dreamy. “What a romantic story—him scouring the country for you— “ She gave her sister a quick hug. “And to think I brought the two of you back together.”
Maggie’s blood began to hum in her ears. “What exactly did he tell you, Melissa?” Melissa’s smile was sly now. “How you met— two years ago—just running into each other that way. And about the sparks.” She grinned wickedly. “I know about sparks—I didn’t think you understood about sparks.”
Maggie’s hands were on her hips now. Sparks? “What else?” “How you had to leave—how he didn’t even know your name—that was back when Nathan was so upset, wasn’t it? When you couldn’t decide where you wanted to live? Anyway, if you’d told me, that you met him first—I just wouldn’t have let myself get involved with him. So I’m sorry. And I’m sorry I didn’t come to see you today. Clint and I are going out for a while. He’s just so sweet. Clint,” she clarified.
Poor Clint, Maggie thought. At least she wouldn’t be around to watch his heart bleed. “Anyway, I won’t be home tonight—but I’ll be home tomorrow. I’m sure the two of you want to be alone tonight.” Melissa looked over Maggie’s shoulder. Too late, Maggie could feel him there, behind her. She closed her eyes when his hands slid down her bare arms. Her nerves reacted like dry slivers of kindling to a lit match. She stiffened, battling raging fires that were instantly alive inside.
She had to think. But she couldn’t—not with his hands on her—every dream she’d had played back through her mind—and her body—in a rush. She nearly panted. “Thanks, Melissa.” His voice rumbled next to her ear.
Maggie opened her eyes to stop her sister from leaving but she was already gone. “I have to get back to work,” she murmured. The words sounded like a long moan. Turn around. You’re stronger than this. Tell him he has to go. “I don’t have your jacket here.”
He nuzzled her neck. Inhaled deeply. She clenched her hands to fists at her side to keep from reaching for him. “I’m not here for the damned jacket, Maggie.” “Why are you here?” The question sounded breathless, but at least she’d gotten the words—something—out. Little tremors raced under her skin, radiating out from the hands he kept moving over her arms, from her shoulders to her elbows. He stepped up against her and extended his reach to her wrists. Maggie closed her eyes again, swaying back against him—helplessly lost in the sensations flying through her.
“I’m here for you. Trust me, Maggie. Trust me. Let me love you.” Now she did moan. She clamped her lips shut when another one threatened. If he laid her down right now, right here on the ground, she didn’t think she’d stop him. One last helpless protest escaped. “Please, Jack—I can’t—not with you. Not with you. . .”
He released her abruptly.
Her mind was instantly clearer. She darted forward two steps before she spun. “No.” Not much, as refusals went. But a start. She shook her head for emphasis. When he spoke his voice was iced with irritation. There wasn’t a trace of the husky pleading she’d just heard. “I need the information you have, Maggie.” The clarification left her frozen.
His touch—the kisses they’d shared—their night on the mesa. . . All for “in
formation?” She didn’t have the courage to meet his eyes. He smiled at the evasion. The single floodlight over the door revealed the smile didn’t begin to reach his eyes. They were cold and bright with anger. “Nathan Mitchell? Kevin Cormack? Billy Cormack? Paul Cormack?”
Her hand fisted over the fear that twisted her stomach in a painful knot. How much did he know? He’d asked her about the key. . . before. . . She faced him stonily. Not difficult now. She’d never met the man who stood before her now. “Who?”
“You know who. You also know what. Did you send for him? Where’s Paul? I need to know what part you and your sister are playing in their little game.” She tried hard to keep the fear out of her eyes. He could call their involvement with Nathan and the Cormacks whatever he wanted, but it wasn’t a game. She stared up at him coldly. “Ask Melissa. She thinks you’re wonderful—I’m sure she won’t mind telling you.”
“I already have.” The low growl scared her. But Melissa didn’t know. “It’s your turn. There’s nowhere to go—nowhere left to run—and you’re out of time.” She believed him. But her brain still scrambled for an escape hatch. She couldn’t outrun him—he’d catch her inside of a minute. She couldn’t even get back inside—he stood between her and the bar’s back entrance.
Derek saved her. He marched through the door, staying just behind Jack, eyeing Maggie cautiously. “Your five minutes are up, Megan.”
“Sorry.” She stumbled around Jack, giving him a wide berth and scampered back into the tiny kitchen. Derek blocked the door behind her. “I don’t think the sisters want you here.” Maggie heard the thinly veiled threat in his voice and smiled. Her hands shook. She didn’t know if it was rage or relief. Relief, she decided. Having a flirt for a sister was coming in very handy.
Behind her, Derek continued. “Megan’s been real touchy since you first showed up. Megan being touchy isn’t good for my business. Hand me a warrant. Or go.” Maggie didn’t wait to hear if there was more. She swept through the bar, taking dozens of drink orders. Keeping them straight helped keep her mind inside. He wouldn’t have a warrant, would he?
After an hour, her muscles began to unclench. After two hours, and a warning from Derek, she found she could fake a smile. After four hours, the shift was over, the bar was closed and she had to think about going outside.
She stalled. Alone in the bar with Derek, Maggie shot him a weary smile. “Thanks for your help outside, Derek.”
He scowled. “What was Melissa doing back with him? I thought you fixed all that last night.” “So did I. She didn’t say. She and Clint went out. I’ll find out tomorrow, I guess.” “You’re still planning on leaving?”
She gave a single nod. He looked like he wanted to talk, but she didn’t. She stood, lifting her cap off her head, shaking out her hat-matted hair. She’d never appreciated her tub more than now that she knew she had to leave it behind. “I’m leaving my car here tonight. Thanks again, Derek. I’ll stop by tomorrow—before I—tomorrow,” she ended quickly.
She left by the back door and turned east. Normally, she headed out the front door on the west and went home. She doubted Jack was still around, but she wouldn’t risk it. Tonight she would take the longer, circuitous back route home. The detour meant a short hike up the mountain, but a hike was an easy price to pay if she didn’t have to battle Jack—and herself—again. As long as Melissa hadn’t told Jack where she lived. . .
Thirty minutes later, she locked her door behind her. No sign of him. “Thank you, Melissa,” she whispered, pulling all the shades and blinds down, pausing in the windowless bathroom to start the hot water running in her tub before darkening the single window in her bedroom. Finally, she turned on a light, satisfied that no one would know she was home. Her original plans were to leave Tuesday morning—she’d already figured out most of what she’d take with her.
She sank into the hot water with a sigh. In a few minutes she’d wash her hair. The water was still too hot. She leaned back, stretched out her legs and closed her eyes. Jack showing up in New Castle terrified her. How had he found her? In just one day. . . Early tomorrow morning, she’d leave. Everything Maggie planned on taking would fit in her backpack. The tub obviously wasn’t on the list. She stroked the rim lovingly. This would be her last soak. No tub and either Clint or Derek would have to see that Melissa got home to Chicago.
Would Melissa object to her abrupt departure? Whether she did or not—Maggie could talk her into it. That was part of Melissa’s problem. Almost anyone who took the time to know her could talk her into anything.
Billy Cormack had taken the time. He was the reason Jack hadn’t been able to find Melissa Chambers. For safety sake, Maggie had insisted she use her married name. Any follow up would lead right back to the brothers. She’d bet Jack hadn’t ever conducted a search for Melissa Cormack.
*** Outside her little cabin, Jack scowled. He’d arrived just in time to see her close her front door behind her. He had to find a way to convince her to work with him. And he had to do it tomorrow.
At least she was safe tonight. He parked inconspicuously across the street. As he lowered his seat back to full recline, he thought of the perfectly good bed in his hotel room in Glenwood Springs. What the hell. He would only dream about her all night anyway. Didn’t really matter where he was.
He’d scared her tonight. Thoroughly. He hadn’t meant to be quite so thorough. He hated admitting it, but her lack of trust irritated the hell out of him. She believed he was a cop. The only reason not to trust a cop was if you were a criminal.
The biggest problem was he didn’t want her to be a criminal. He wasn’t exactly sure when his thinking changed—up in her lousy excuse for a campground? Or before. . . No matter. She wouldn’t trust him. She was in too deep to trust him.
That fact didn’t stop him from wishing. . .
“If wishes were horses then we all could ride. . .” He heard his father’s voice and sighed. Time for a break—time for a trip home. “Gone country—back to his roots. . .” He smiled at the snippet from an Alan Jackson song his mother loved to sing. The smile faded slowly. Roots. Maybe his mama was right. Maybe it was time to hang it up—get back to his roots and settle down. The battle lines had been so clear when he’d started—track down the bad guys and see that justice was done. Be very careful to do everything by the book—the very best way to make the charges stick.
But hell. . . If the bad guys were going to start looking like Maggie Chambers—start smelling like Maggie Chambers—he wasn’t sure he had the heart to chase them down any longer.
He frowned. He’d give Maggie one more day—one more chance. If she wouldn’t talk to him tomorrow, he’d do what he probably should have done last night. Which was haul her pretty little ass back to Connecticut and throw her in jail. She wouldn’t look good in an orange prison uniform. Not a color he could picture her in.
He kept one eye on the only door to her little house. If she tried to run tonight, they’d be on a plane together first thing in the morning. The alarm he’d set when she’d closed her front door thirty minutes ago would ensure it.
*** Relaxed from the heat of the water, Maggie let her thoughts scatter. The old, bittersweet longing snuck up on her—shuddering through her—surprising her with its intensity. Tears sprang to her eyes before she could stop them. Exasperated, she dunked her head under the water and reached for her shampoo.
She couldn’t afford her dreams—this longing for a home—a place of her own where no one could scare her away. Roots that would grow down deep—a family to cherish. Most times, she had no trouble keeping the forsaken dream away. Except when she was tired—and when she knew she had to move on.
She’d fooled herself into believing she could be safe here in New Castle. Maybe she couldn’t have a family, but she had a home, and her tub—and there was a comfortable familiarity about Shipwrecks and her regulars there. A far cry from a family—but Melissa was safe and she could visit every once in a while.
The fairy tale was ov
er. This time it would stay over. She wouldn’t stop anywhere, for any length of time for another year—maybe two. Wallpaper. And running. She scrubbed her hair hard, hoping to rinse the dreams away with the shampoo.
No, she couldn’t afford the dreams—not of a home, not of Jack. She was afraid of how they were tangling—her thoughts of Jack and her dream of a real home. How did he find her up on the mesa? Silly to think her heart drew him somehow—but she did.
At least until tonight. The stranger who’d stared her down didn’t have a heart at all. His harsh questions helped to erase her silly dreams. She told herself the tears stinging her eyes were from her shampoo. And the burning in her stomach was the slice of pepperoni pizza she’d had for dinner. Disgusted by overwhelming emotions, she stood and briskly toweled herself dry. She pulled on an oversized t-shirt, drained and cleaned the tub, and shut out the bathroom light.
After double-checking the blinds in her bedroom, she shoved the spare twin bed out of the way. She had seventy dollars to add to the money in the box. Time to count it all up. Available cash always determined how far she could run.
Two thousand six hundred and twenty—no, ninety, she amended. If her car held up, there was enough money to go nearly anywhere. If it didn’t, well, she’d gone more than year without a car before. She didn’t look forward to starting up the old routine again though.
She left the thick pouch of papers in its hiding place. She’d looked at them only once, just briefly, to determine their value. Jack would use them to put Nathan Mitchell and Kevin and Paul Cormack behind bars. But she didn’t believe he could put them there long enough. She knew the “system” better than most—understood how it worked—how often it failed the very people it was supposed to protect.
Maggie would hang onto the papers to keep Melissa alive. For as long as needed. She replaced the money box under the loose board in the floor and pulled the spare bed back into place.