by Janet Eaves
That evening at five o’clock, Betsy went around the office and shut down everything for the night.
“You gonna be okay?” Martin had turned off his computer and office light, but was hanging around the reception area like a man whose daughter was about to have her first date.
“You’re making me nervous, Martin. Of course I’ll be okay.” She had the paperwork in her big shoulder bag.
“Hm. Here he comes.” Martin opened the door just as Mike approached. The cousins eyed each other. Both tall, dark-haired and handsome, they somehow reminded her of the male mountain goats that go running at each other full-speed and head-butt until one of them gives up and slinks off in defeat. All for rights to the female of their choice. Of course with Martin she was his choice like a kid sister, but still. She appreciated his concern most of the time. As long as he didn’t interfere.
“Martin.”
“Mike.”
“On your way out?”
“Yeah. In a minute.” Martin looked at Betsy. “You sure you’re willing to get in a vehicle with this sorry so-and-so? Maybe you should come home and have supper with Midnight and me instead.”
“I’m not afraid of him, Martin.”
“Hell no, Martin, she’s not afraid of me. You know her better than that.”
“Maybe she should be. Sometimes, Mike, I wonder why I didn’t beat the crap out of you years ago.”
“As I recall, you did, just a little while after Betsy left. You and Joe.”
“You had it coming.”
“Maybe.”
“Absolutely. You were feeling sorry for yourself, and wouldn’t get up and do anything to change things.”
“So you beat me up.”
Martin smirked. “We just beat you up a little bit. Tough love.”
“Right.” He lifted the hair off his forehead. “I’ve still got the place where you kissed me with that two by four.”
Betsy gasped. “Martin! How could you?”
“Wasn’t really a two by four. Besides, it was a wild swing, and Mike stepped into it. I’m pretty sure Joe did that anyway, not me. But sometimes when you’re dealing with a mule, a two by four between the ears is what it takes.” He looked at Mike. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
“No. But that doesn’t change what happened. Doesn’t change today either.”
Martin closed the door and leaned against it. “Yeah. About today. What is it you expect to accomplish?”
Mike’s face began to turn red. “None of your damn business.”
“Sure is. She’s my receptionist. She’s gonna be working here a long time, and one day maybe she’ll be a partner. Who knows. I’ve got a lot invested in Betsy. I care about her. So does my wife. You, though—you’re just my cousin. I’ve got a boat load of them.”
“She’s my wife.”
“Temporary. Could end any minute. Been there, man, and done that.”
“I don’t want it to end. My God, Martin!” He turned an anguished face to Betsy and spoke softly, “I don’t want it to end.”
Martin smacked him on the shoulder. If he’d hit Betsy that hard she would’ve been on the floor. But it didn’t faze Mike. The two men shared an enigmatic look, and Martin left without another word.
Well.
Holding her head in her hands, Betsy looked at Mike from between her fingers.
“Mike, about that—um, I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything. Stupid Martin. He gets me riled up.”
“You didn’t mean what you said?”
He blew out a big breath, ran a hand through his hair. “Let’s get out of here. Go for a drive. Seriously. I need to breathe.”
She climbed up into his truck and they headed out of town. There was some kind of current in the air, and not just because she had divorce papers in her bag. To get her mind off those possibilities, because she could see he was still wound tightly, she made small talk.
“Midnight and Martin are keeping LizBeth Ann tonight. You knew that, right?”
“Yeah. Mom told me. And, well, Midnight called to make sure I knew, too. I have to say, that was more than I expected from her.”
“Why? Midnight is a considerate person.”
“Uh-huh. I guess so. She just always seems so superior.”
“You’ve made that up in your head, Mike. She’s classy, is all.”
“You still want to be like her?” He glanced her way as he asked the question.
Betsy sighed. “I guess that was pretty obvious back in the day. But I’m not like her. She’s an artist and a marketing whiz—and for goodness’ sake she’s happily married to Martin, which I can’t even imagine. She’s a good friend to me.”
“I always figured she was part of why you left.”
“Why in the world would you think that? I didn’t even tell Midnight about it. I think, if I had, she probably would have sat me down and talked me out of it. She’s been handing out good advice since I came back, too. Told me to keep you in the loop where LizBeth Ann is concerned, that kind of thing.”
“Huh. Well.”
“Yes, well. You’ve got nobody but us to blame for my leaving.”
“And for your coming back? Who do I have to thank?” He smiled at her, the stress visibly reduced from a short while ago.
“Dorothy, I guess. She was matchmaking.”
“Thought so. I’ll be sure and give her a big hug and kiss next time I get a chance.”
“She’ll love that.”
“She’ll smack me, but yeah, she’ll hug me back. Dorothy’s a sweetheart.”
He parked at the edge of a private lake owned by another McClain cousin. The place was beautiful, pristine, and smelled like pine—like her beloved mountains. Mike reached into the truck bed and pulled out an old-fashioned picnic hamper he’d lashed down with bungee cords. He led the way to the lake, set the basket down, and let out a soft curse.
“What’s wrong?”
“Forgot the damn blanket.”
“Oh. Well, the grass is nice. These pants aren’t fancy. We can sit here okay.”
He threw himself down on the grass and began to take out the food. Cold cans of soda, sandwiches wrapped in waxed paper, a big bag of potato chips, fresh strawberries, whipped topping…
Hm.
“Nice picnic.”
“Crap. Forgot the plates.”
“It’s okay.” She spread out her sandwich wrapper and used it as a plate. “See? We can make it work.” She realized what she’d said, and the potential double meaning, as soon as the words came out of her mouth.
“Can we?” Mike hadn’t opened his sandwich. He was watching her. He was staring at her face…at her eyes…her mouth…
“Um. The picnic?”
“Hell with the picnic, Betsy. Can we make us work? Can we try again?”
“Well…” She had those papers in her bag.
“What really broke us up, anyway?”
She watched him, wiped a hot tear from her eye as she pictured herself packing the baby into the Bug and leaving without even a note.
He reached across the bag of chips and took both her hands in his.
“Here’s what I think, Betsy. What broke us up was, we didn’t talk anymore. When I was mad, I never told you why. Same with you. And I don’t know about you, but I was plenty scared back then. All of a sudden we’re not newlyweds, we’re parents, and we don’t even talk anymore. Remember how it was before?” He ran his thumbs over the backs of her hands, held her gaze. “When we were dating, and first married, we talked all the time. Sometimes we fought, sure. But the making up was always worth it. At least I thought so. What about you?”
Oh, the making up! She didn’t dare think about that.
“I loved you, Betsy. More than I loved myself. And I still do.”
“Then why didn’t you ever call, or write?”
“Figured you didn’t want to hear from me. Why would I think you did?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess you’r
e right. We’ve both been childish.” She shook her head. “And we’re supposed to be the responsible ones!”
He lifted one of her hands to his mouth and kissed the palm. “I think we’ve become responsible. Not sure why we had to do it this way, you growing up in the city and me growing up here, half beat to death by my own cousins.”
She gasped, and he smiled. “Kidding. They just did that once, and it did get my attention. My point is, you and I are not the same people we were two years ago. We’re better than we were. I think we could be better together now.” He kissed her other palm, slowly.
Mmm.
“B-b-but Mike, ummm. LizBeth Ann…”
“Is our daughter. Yeah.” He kissed a little path up her inner arm.
“M-m-mike, she’s, uh, she’s going to expect things.”
“She’s got a pink and purple room. That should do her for a while.”
“No. I mean, she’s going to expect us…you know, to stay together.”
“Smart kid. I knew she’d take after me—I mean, you.” He winked.
She jerked her arm away and leaned back. “Michael McClain, if you are asking me to come back and live with you, I have to tell you right now, I expect certain things too.”
Oh my word, the devilish look on his face. “Not those things!”
“No? Well, then, these strawberries are probably going to go to waste.”
“Mike!”
“Hmmm?”
“I mean, if I were to come live with you, if LizBeth Ann and I moved into the little house, things would have to be different than they were before.”
He sat up straight and folded his arms across his chest. “Okay. Like what?”
She thought. The things that hadn’t gone right before were okay now. They both took responsibility for LizBeth Ann’s care and happiness. They both had stable jobs, knew how to keep house, and could cook at least reasonably well. Plus there was more carryout in Legend than there used to be. “I guess what you were saying is right. The main thing is, we have to learn to communicate better.”
“And I have a plan for that. Every week we’ll have a night just for us. Can be any night you choose, but we’ll pick one and stick with it. Get family to keep LizBeth Ann. Maybe pick her up in time for bed, or maybe let her sleep over.” He winked again.
“She might not be ready to do that yet.”
“If not, that’s fine too. But once a week you and I have the evening to ourselves, and we head out of town…”
“Out here?” She looked around at the peaceful setting.
“Doesn’t matter where.” He tipped his head to one side, his eyes locking with hers.
She sighed. “As long as we’re together.” That was what she wanted. Having Mike back in her life these last weeks had been so good. She’d never stopped loving him, and the little almost-stone house was testament to the fact that he’d never entirely given up on her.
She was tired of being everything for LizBeth Ann, and the truth was, she didn’t need to be. LizBeth Ann had a daddy who loved her, and a crowd of other McClains—and other Legendarians—who did, too. Everyone had welcomed Betsy back into the fold with, as far as she could tell, no reservations of any sort.
Betsy moved the picnic food out of her way and knelt in front of her husband. She kissed him tenderly on his beautiful mouth, ran her hand through his too-long hair, and melted when his arms came around her.
It was so good to be home. This is where her heart had been all the time.
THE END
CRESCENT MOON
A Legend After Dark Novella
By Janet Eaves
She is dangerous, deadly and broken.
He has only two choices: Fix her. Or kill her.
****
The waxing crescent moon
Trails the sun across the sky
Bleached by blinding rays
She’s naked to the eye
Once the sun sets west
Luna suddenly rears
A silver sliver at best
Yet darkness disappears
Prologue
“Move and you die.”
Polly Chapman remained as still as possible, her mind working frantically for an escape that wouldn’t further rile the Powers That Be. For three months she’d followed this man—against orders—waiting impatiently for red tape to be resolved so she’d get the go-ahead to nail his sorry ass to the wall. It didn’t come too late, it never came at all, and he’d done the unthinkable before she could save the innocent.
The mess she was in now was her own fault. She was supposed to have waited for backup, kept hidden until Ballard or Augustine arrived to take the perp down. She’d been given direct orders to keep her hands off him—to let local law enforcement collar him. Now, she not only lost the advantage of surprise, she might very well lose her life to some sorry son of a bitch she could break into tiny pieces if allowed.
“Who else is out there?”
A line of heat met her throat where he held the knife. She licked her lips, refusing to whimper as heat turned to pain. “My backup,” she bluffed, knowing the sliver of light from the moon wouldn’t be enough to overpower the sinister shadows surrounding them.
If she couldn’t see anything, then neither could he.
“How many?”
Inch by careful inch Polly slid her hand across her stomach until her fingertips reached the small Taser tucked into her black slacks, but lost concentration when he ground his pelvis against her bottom.
“Don’t fuck with me, sister.”
Feted breath caressed her cheek making her gag. As far as she could tell, he hadn’t detected her movements, but was referring to her bluff. She fought taking a deep breath, certain she’d vomit from the dumpster-smell of his rotting teeth. Taking short, sharp breaths through her mouth, she nearly cried in triumph when she grasped the stun-gun on her second attempt.
“Move that hand and I’ll take it off.”
Indecision was a new and unwelcome problem. She remained still, regret formulating with the certainty that she wouldn’t make it out of this alive if she followed orders. Fury simmered at the restrictions she’d been made to endure regarding this man. He was refuse, sludge, and expendable as far as she was concerned, more so now than before, but she’d been forced to back off.
She had her orders—get counseling and leave Karl to others. To take him down now would spotlight her disobedience. To obey could, and most certainly would, cost her life—a condition she’d never given a seconds thought to before. How could she let go of life when she hadn’t even lived it yet? She’d given Uncle Sam everything. Twice over. And he’d paid her back by letting the very people she’d sworn to protect die.
She didn’t want to die, too. Not by this man’s hands. There was so much she’d put off in her climb up the Bureau’s ladder—a home of her own instead of an apartment where she couldn’t even change the wall’s color if she wanted to. She really wanted a family, though the thought terrified her. Starting with a man she could adore and one who would think of her as the bees knees, maybe even a couple of kids, and with them a dog or two.
Perhaps, somehow, she could even regain her soul.
“What’s that sound?”
Polly didn’t know what he was talking about, but wasn’t about to give up what might be her only opportunity to work him. “Probably my back-up. Let me go and you’ve got a chance. Kill me and they will roast you in the chair, if they don’t kill you instantly.”
The perp slightly turned his body, and subsequently her own, from side to side as he searched for whatever it was that had spooked him. Hoping her words scared him, she continued, “I can help you. I know you didn’t mean to hurt Martha. Everybody knows you aren’t that kind of man. If you let me go we can make a judge understand that you are the victim. She made you do it. She didn’t give you any choice.”
Polly closed her mouth, not wanting to overplay her hand, hoping he’d buy her offer. Chances were Wall knew his days were numbere
d if they got him into a courtroom. He’d brutally abused then murdered his wife and their three children months before when Martha finally tried to escape him. Polly had been her chance for a new life, a new start, a new identity. Only everything had gone wrong before she’d been able to get Martha and those children to safety.
To Legend.
“You shoulda left me alone. I ain’t got no beef with you.”
Polly nodded, relieved he was talking. “You’re right, Karl. I stepped in where I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”
“She done it. She made me hit her. Them brats, too. Hated them. They cried. All they ever did was friggin’ cry.” He ground his engorged manhood against her bottom. “Couldn’t even screw the old-lady without them whining bastard’s interfer’n.”
Polly nodded, hoping if she agreed with everything, he’d drop his guard. “I know. Kids ruin everything.”
A huff of his laughter blew his breath from behind her head, across her cheek. This time her entire body gagged, and he tightened his hold. “You ever had a man, girly? You ever had a real man make you cum? I can, you know. Martha had it so good.”
Fury coincided with revulsion when he licked her face. Without thought, she grasped the Taser and spun, pressing the stun button and grinding it into his groin even as heat sliced into her throat. They went down together, him screaming and slashing with the knife, her pressing electricity into him until she couldn’t keep her eyes open or her arms aloft any longer. She lay there in darkness, feeling the life flow from her body, hearing the strangling coming from her own throat. Strangely, there was no pain. Only regret.
So much regret.
Chapter One
“Did you rest well?”
Polly started, her heart knocked against her throat. She took several deep breaths, softly, not wanting her hostesses to know they’d scared her. She nodded, keeping her focus on the serene landscape available through the screened window of the Legend’s Landing, Bed & Breakfasts’ back porch. “Fine, Suzie, thank you.”
“Can we get you anything?”
