“Get Christie out of here!” Mac shouted, clamping the assassin’s wrist, fighting for the gun, smashing it against the floor to dislodge it. The assassin’s free fist found Mac’s kidney at the same time he squeezed off another round.
Mac gritted his teeth, banged harder on the gun. It skittered between two cartons, but the intruder found new strength, throwing Mac off him and scrambling to his feet. He bolted into the foyer and out the door.
Mac sprang to his feet and through the door, lunged at the man again, knocking him down. They skidded across the porch, tumbled down the steps to the grass. Mac got to his feet first. The blonde kicked for his knee and missed. They were both on their feet now, exchanging blows and warding off punches. Then bellowing with the effort, Mac smashed his fist into the assassin’s jaw.
The man crumpled like a stringless marionette.
For a long moment, Mac stood weaving over him, gasping and waiting to see if the man would move again. Praying he wouldn’t. Then, still breathing hard, he slipped his belt from his belt loops and crouched to lash the man’s hands behind his back.
He was just rising when Amos came toward him at a hobbling run, brandishing a shotgun. “I heard it all!” he shouted, gasping for breath, his voice shaky. “Cops’re on their way.” In a moment he was beside Mac and staring down at the unconscious man. Amos pressed a hand to Mac’s back. “You okay, boy?”
Mac squeezed his grandfather’s shoulder. “Yeah, Granddad. I’m okay.”
A car door slammed, and both men looked toward the sound. Erin was hurrying across the grass to them, carrying Christie.
“In fact,” Mac said through a sigh, “I think we’re all going to be okay now.”
With his heart sagging in relief, he strode forward to meet them and wrap them in his arms.
Two patrol cars were there in minutes, sirens screaming. The team in the first one quickly took the intruder into custody, notified the ambulance en route that there’d been no injuries, then drove off with their prisoner. Dave Kendall and his partner stayed behind to take their statements.
Now, with a wave at Kendall’s departing vehicle, Mac trudged up the steps to his home and went inside.
He smiled a little when he glanced through the hall to the kitchen and saw Amos making cocoa.
Cocoa. Fixer of all things gone wrong.
Erin was still on the sofa in the great room, and still holding Christie close, even though the little girl had fallen asleep. After hearing the story she’d told Kendall, Mac didn’t blame her.
It still pricked a little that he’d had to hear about her life at the same time the police and Amos had.
Wandering into the room, he took a seat beside her on the sofa. She looked tired, drained…and still so incredibly beautiful that it staggered the mind.
He sat there for a while, not touching her, wanting to ask a hundred questions, yet knowing this wasn’t the time. She needed to regroup. A few words slipped out, anyway. “I wish you’d told me. I might’ve been able to help.”
Her eyes filled with regret. “That’s exactly why I couldn’t tell you. I would have been putting you and Amos at risk, too. As it happened, you were already on Charles’s list.”
Tears welled, but she managed to hold them back. “I’m so sorry, Mac. For lying to you, for…for not trusting you. For everything.” Her voice caught. “You could’ve been killed tonight.”
“But I wasn’t.”
“Only by the grace of God. That man would have come for you. He told me so. Charles wanted us both dead. I don’t know how he found out about us, but he knew. And Christie… He would have delivered Christie to Charles, and her life would’ve been a nightmare.”
Mac’s anger surged as he recalled what Fallon had done to Christie, but he remained outwardly calm. “Again, that didn’t happen.”
The phone rang. Amos’s gravelly “Hello” carried to them from the kitchen. A moment later he came into the room, carrying two cups of cocoa. “Phone fer you, Mac,” he said, putting the mugs down on the coffee table. “Davey Kendall.”
Mac glanced at the mugs. “Where’s yours?”
Amos nodded toward the kitchen. “Out there.”
“Then you take this one,” he insisted, moving a cup to the end table beside his overstuffed brown recliner. “I’ll grab the other one after I take Dave’s call.” He smiled when his grandfather plunked himself into the chair, touched again by the old man’s love and his bravery in trying to come to their rescue tonight. “Thanks, Granddad.”
“Fer what? It ain’t hard t’make cocoa.”
Mac gave his shoulder an affectionate squeeze before he left the room. “I’m not talking about the cocoa. I’m talking about the shotgun.”
When Mac returned several minutes later, Erin was holding her mug in both hands, Christie was curled up, asleep, on the couch, and she and Amos were immersed in a low conversation. Mac lounged in the archway with his own cocoa to listen.
“After the people who saw Charles hit Christie testified at the hearing, the judge declared him unfit and awarded me full custody. Charles went crazy. I had a restraining order against him, but he shoved his way through the crowd in the hall and told me he would use whatever means he needed to get her back. He said she belonged to him, and there was nothing I or the courts could do about it. I knew he had enough money to make it happen. That’s when my friend Lynn and I decided I had to disappear.”
Mac gritted his teeth but kept silent.
“I knew Charles would have us followed. So I left my car in the long-term parking lot at the airport and went inside to buy two tickets to New Orleans. Then, when it was nearly time for our flight, Christie and I met Lynn and her two-year-old son in the ladies’ room. When Lynn and Jeremy got on the plane, she was wearing my sunglasses, jacket and floppy hat, and her little boy was dressed in Christie’s clothes. They flew to New Orleans in our place.”
She stared into her cocoa for a moment. “I’d given her enough cash to book a return flight the next day in her own name. In the meantime, Christie and I took a cab to a bus depot. The rest reads like an atlas of small towns and cities from Iowa to Maine.”
Mac straightened in the doorway and walked to her. “That’s where the private investigator found you?”
She nodded. “We’d stayed there too long—five months—a lot longer than we’d stayed anywhere before.” She sent him a beaten look. “But I was so tired of running, and I’d made friends again—good friends.”
“Like Trisha,” Mac said, remembering the story she’d told Kendall.
She nodded sadly.
“And y’ had to become somebody else,” Amos put in.
Erin nodded again. “Terri. My best friend from high school. She died after contracting meningitis when we were seniors.” She sent Mac a look that asked his forgiveness. “I felt terrible using her name. But I’d bought this book over the Internet, and—among other things—it said if someone really wanted to disappear, they’d need a social security number that wasn’t being used anymore. I took Terri’s.”
Amos scowled. “Well, now that that blond yahoo’s locked up, you can stop runnin’.”
But there was doubt in her eyes. “Can we?”
Mac crouched beside her. “Yes. You can. Apparently by the time Mr. Smith—probably not his real name—made it to the jail, he’d agreed to testify against your ex in return for a deal. They’re working with the prosecutor’s office on it right now. Dave says it shouldn’t be long before the Chicago PD relieves Fallon of his Rolex and ushers him into his new eight-by-eight condo.”
“But how long can they keep him there?”
“I don’t know,” Mac replied honestly. “But Dave said the list of things they can charge him with are stacking up. Attempted murder, conspiracy, attempted kidnapping and reckless endangerment for starters. Erin, he’ll be making license plates and turning big rocks into little rocks for a long, long time.”
“And now,” Mac added, “Granddad and I are going to take off and let you and Chris
tie get some sleep.”
Suddenly fear gripped her again. Moistening her lips, she said hesitantly, “Would you mind staying here tonight?” She glanced at Amos. “You, too. I…I know this is silly, but I could sleep in the twin bed with Christie, and—”
Mac didn’t let her finish. “Sure. I’ll crash on the couch. Granddad can have the bedroom.”
Grunting to his feet, Amos declined. “Thanks, but I’m goin’ up home. I sleep better in my own bed. Besides,” he said with a faint smile, “I expect you two got some things to talk about.”
“I’ll walk you to the house,” Mac said.
Erin crossed to Amos and wrapped her arms around him, kissed his cheek. She was touched when he returned her hug. “Thank you, Amos,” she murmured. “For everything.” Then, stepping back, she said to Mac, “Take my van. The keys are still in the ignition.”
He nodded. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.” Then he bent and kissed her softly, breaking her heart all over again.
He didn’t sleep on the couch.
They made love in his bed, and it was poignant and sweet, tender and exciting, all at the same time. A wonderful celebration of life after nearly losing it. Erin gloried in each touch and caress, tucking them into a corner of her heart and committing them to memory because she knew it would never happen again.
They were lying in each other’s arms in the near darkness, their bodies sated, their hands softly stroking, when Mac murmured, “Marry me.”
Erin stilled, then reluctantly moved her fingers from his chest. “You don’t mean that. It’s just the night talking.”
Mac stacked their pillows against the headboard, then gathered her in his arms again and lay back. He smoothed her hair from her cheek, then tipped her face up to him and kissed her. “No, it’s not the night talking. I love you…and I think you love me.”
Erin’s heart swelled, but no matter how welcome his words were, they weren’t enough. “I’ve had two disastrous relationships, Mac.”
“Third time’s the charm, right?” When she didn’t reply, he went on. “What do you think will happen, Erin? Do you think I’ll turn into a cheat like Mark or a megalomaniac like that freak in Chicago?”
“No!” She drew a breath and tempered her reply. “No. You could never be like him.”
“Thank you. But if you know that, there has to be another reason you won’t say yes. What is it?”
Moving out of his arms, she drew her legs to her chest, the sheet tenting over her knees. “How can you love and respect a woman who put her child at risk and allowed herself to be treated like—”
“Because that woman is you. And because you left the son of a bitch when you realized what you’d gotten yourself into.”
“He hurt Christie.”
“During a supervised visit monitored by someone else. And that wasn’t your fault or your friend Lynn’s. Erin, put the blame where it belongs.”
“But I picked him.”
“No, you left him.”
Mac pulled her close again. He felt warm and solid, strong and safe. “What else?” he prompted.
She swallowed. “I’m afraid that I’ve lied so much and so often that you’ll never be able to trust me completely—not after two women you cared about lied to you. Mac, I couldn’t handle seeing the doubt in your eyes if I stayed.”
“Erin—”
“Love and trust go hand in hand. Without trust, love can’t last.” She paused, drew a breath. “You said I was like Audra.”
“Yes, I did. And at the time I meant it. But there are no more secrets between us now.” He turned her face up to his again, and in the meager moonlight through the windows, she saw a flicker of uncertainty in his gaze. “Are there?”
That tiny moment of doubt sealed her resolve and crushed any lingering hope that they had a future. “No,” she whispered. “You know everything about me now.”
“Then say yes.”
She shook her head. “You might not know it now, but there’ll come a time when you’ll have doubts. You’ll wonder if what I tell you is the truth or just my version of it.”
“You’re wrong.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Then where does that leave us?” he asked, but there was a subtle difference in his tone.
Erin kissed him softly, then moved out of his arms to sit again. “Mac, my…my van’s already packed…and my father has never met Christie. Heaven knows he was never a doting parent, but time changes people, and Christie deserves to know her grandfather. It could be a second chance for all of us. We’re leaving for San Diego in the morning.”
She heard the rustle of sheets behind her, felt the mattress dip as he sat up, too. The change in his voice became more pronounced. “So what was tonight?” he challenged.
“Tonight was a wonderful gift that I’ll treasure forever. Can’t you see that I’m doing this for you?”
Mac swung his legs over the edge of the bed and settled his feet on the floor. “I’m going back to Amos’s. You were wrong before, Erin. You’re not afraid to be alone. You want it that way.”
“That’s not true,” she said in a rush. “No one wants to be alone. It just turns out that way sometimes.”
He never said another word to her. He simply got out of bed, dressed and left.
The California sun was high in the sky three days later when Erin drove her van back to the white stucco motel’s blacktopped parking lot. The palm trees waving along the street and the fragrant bougainvillea clustered near the glass-paned office made their accommodations look a lot more elegant than they were. Still, their second-level room was neat, clean and had served its purpose.
Slinging her leather bag over her shoulder, Erin got out of the van, plucked Christie from her car seat and set her on her feet. Then, taking her hand, she slammed the van’s side door and walked her toward the black metal steps leading to their room.
“Tired, sweetie?”
“No, I’n hungry.”
Erin forced a smile, still feeling the sting of their disastrous visit. “We’ll get a cookie and some juice when we get to our room. That should tide you over until dinnertime.” There’d been nothing offered at her father’s apartment.
John Michael O’Rourke was still the same indifferent man her mother had divorced. The same cavalier Irishman who’d left them to pursue his sun-and-surf dream. He’d had a woman at his cramped, stucco apartment eight streets from the beach, and she’d been tanned and blond and much closer to Erin’s age than her father’s. In the blink of an eye, he’d shuttled her and Christie outside to his cheap concrete balcony, then winked and admitted he didn’t want Sherry to know he was a grandfather.
Christie said something she didn’t hear, and Erin looked down at her daughter. “What, honey?”
“Unco Mac has ice cweam.”
But Uncle Mac was hundreds of miles away. Erin held back a sigh. If there was a heavier heart in the nation, she didn’t know who it belonged to. “Maybe we can find a nice ice cream shop around here.” Then she lifted her gaze again…and her heart stopped beating.
A burgundy Cherokee with Arizona plates was pulled up to the office door. Erin felt a rush of adrenaline. It couldn’t be.
But it was. She recognized his blue-plaid shirt as Mac pushed through the glass door and strode out onto the walk, recognized his broad shoulders and the sure, confident way he carried himself.
She tried to calm her runaway pulse as he turned away from them and into the U-shaped motel complex. Then, suddenly, some sixth sense must have told him to turn around, and he did.
Their gazes locked.
Slowly he walked to her, his black Stetson shading his face, his long, denim-clad legs gradually eliminating the distance between them.
“Unco Mac!” Christie shrieked.
“Hi, shortcake,” he said, grinning at her for a moment before his gaze sobered and rebounded to Erin.
“How did you find us?” she asked quietly.
“It wasn’t easy,” he
replied in the same low tone. “I’ve been combing motels and hotels in San Diego since last night.” He paused. “How did it go with your dad?”
Erin shrugged, knowing her hurt probably showed. “Not as well as I’d hoped. Pretty badly, actually.”
Mac shook his head. “When are you going to stop running away and run to me? All your life you’ve been looking for a home, first with a father who didn’t want you, then with an unfaithful fiancé, then with that freak in Chicago—who is now behind bars, I’m glad to say.”
Mac reached for Christie and hoisted her onto one arm. He opened the other to Erin. “Don’t you know where home is?” he asked quietly. “It’s here. With me. You and Audra are worlds apart. She was deceptive because it was her nature. You did what you had to do to keep your daughter safe. Why do you think I can’t understand and accept that?”
He opened his arms a little wider. “I love you and I trust you. Nothing will ever change that.”
Erin rushed to him, casting all doubt aside, so grateful for second chances and so filled with joy the word paled compared to her feelings. “I love you, too,” she whispered, hugging him fast. “Oh, Mac I do love you.”
His kiss was swift and thorough, sweet enough to melt her heart, yet deep enough to chase any doubts from Erin’s mind. She would love this man until the day she drew her last breath…and then she would love him a little longer.
Easing from the kiss, Mac smiled down at her. And Erin saw the same promise of forever in his eyes. Then he kissed Christie’s nose, hugged his family close again and murmured, “Come on. Let’s go home.”
Epilogue
Blissfully contented with the day, but tingling with excitement for the night to come, Erin watched from the porch as her husband spoke through the open window of Shane’s SUV and said a second goodbye to his new partner.
Voluminous white dining tents and netting still fluttered in the deepening dusk, with a profusion of tiny lights and ivy, pink roses and white organdy ringing the pond and festooning the lattice arbor where their ceremony had taken place. Even elderly Reverend Henderson had marveled that the woodland expanse between their home and Amos’s looked like a fairy-tale setting.
Run to Me Page 20
