Tempt the Night

by Dixie Lee Brown

  “Where I go . . . and when . . . is my decision, Brady. You said there was nothing long-term here for me, and that’s fine, but when I go, it’ll be because I’m ready.”

  She turned to Nick. “Actually, I am interested. I want to see my parents and explain . . . if that’s even possible. I don’t want them going any longer than necessary thinking their daughter is a murderer. Thanks for the offer, Nick.”

  Brady clenched the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. With no small effort, he managed to keep his mouth shut, preferring to save what he had to say until he and Mac were alone.

  Nick glanced guardedly between Brady and Mac, then shrugged. “No problem, I’ll let you know when I’ll be leaving.” He stood, jumped over the sidewalls, and sauntered across the compound toward the house.

  Mac started to clamber off the seat with Marco, and Brady stopped her before she’d taken two steps.

  He held out his arms. “Give him to me.”

  “I’ve got him.” She tried to skirt around him with her burden.

  Brady blocked her path and then swore. He jerked the Ace bandage loose and quickly unwound it, letting it drop to the ground. The plastic splint followed. The side of his hand where the bullet had grazed him was slightly swollen and pink around the irregular line of black stitches that extended from the knuckle of his little finger to his wrist. It was sore as hell and weak from disuse, but damn it felt good to be rid of that annoyance once and for all.

  Anger simmered in her eyes as they bore into his. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  She needn’t think she had a corner on the pissed-off market. Damn if she couldn’t push his buttons when she tried. He wasn’t only mad at her—he was also irritated with himself because every time he opened his mouth, something other than what he wanted to say came out. He’d told her not to expect anything permanent, and then after he’d made love to her, he hadn’t bothered to tell her how she’d blown all his defenses out of the water.

  He struggled to rein in his temper, needing to prove to himself that he could. “Getting back to normal. Now, give me the kid.”

  She stood and stared for a few seconds before he saw the fight go out of her eyes, and she handed Marco over silently. He turned abruptly and started for the house. After a few seconds, he heard her follow across the gravel and onto the lawn behind him.

  He stopped inside the front door. The shoppers evidently weren’t home yet. The study door was closed. The smell of something Italian hung in the air, but no cooks were in evidence.

  Brady met her gaze. “I’ll put him down in his room. Then you and I are going to talk.”

  Mac shook her head. “We’ve already covered it all, Brady. Unless you’ve got something new to say to me. I don’t expect the world to suddenly change because of what happened this morning, and you’re not going to talk me out of going with Nick.” She turned toward him and placed her hand on his arm. “Please, let’s just leave it at that. I appreciate your friendship, and I don’t want to argue with you.” She stepped to the stairs and climbed the two flights to her room.

  Brady stood still until he heard her door close at the top of the stairs. Then he carried Marco to the room the boy shared with his mother on the second floor, knocked briefly before opening the door, and left him tucked cozily under a thick quilt.

  At the stairs again, he gripped the handrail tightly, staring upward to the third floor, where he could just see Mac’s closed door. She was right. He should leave it alone. Let things die a natural death while they were still friends—before he did something so fucking wrong that she would hate him forever . . . if she survived.

  As though he had no control over his actions, he put one foot on the stairs leading up, and then another. He didn’t want to argue either, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to let her head back to Alaska without him to protect her. And going with Nick Taylor was about as far out of the friggin’ question as he could imagine. Damn it to hell. Against every promise he’d ever made to himself, he’d fallen in love with her.

  When he took the final step and stood facing her door, he still had no clue what he could say that would make everything all right. She had business to take care of. He had a deep-seated fear of hurting the woman he loved. The best thing he could do for her was to stay away. Anything else was irresponsible. Okay—now that he’d settled that . . .

  He took two more steps and laid his forehead against the door. “Mac?” He rapped softly with his knuckles. No answer from within. No sounds at all. He tried the knob and then knocked again, louder. “Open the door, Mac . . . unless you want me to tear it off the hinges.”

  The sound of feet sliding across carpet brought her to the door, and he sensed her leaning on the opposite side, probably unsure just like he was, maybe even apprehensive. Shit. Every time he turned around, he was jerking her emotions all over the board.

  “Mac? Let me in. Please? We need to talk.”

  The lock released with a click, and a couple seconds later, she pulled the door toward her until it was open only far enough for her to stand in the gap, her head leaning sideways against the edge.

  She might have been crying, or maybe she was only tired. Her lips pressed together in a thin line, and the hurt in her eyes unmistakably said he’d have to be convincing if he expected her to let him in.

  Brady motioned back and forth between them. “I’m an open book to you, Mac. What do you want to know?”

  She lifted her head, and a small smile filled him with hope. “Everything,” she said, still hesitating before finally stepping back and giving enough room for him to slip inside.

  He pushed through the opening and closed the door behind him, then crossed the distance and lifted her off her feet, clasping her in a bear hug. “Sugar, you’re the best thing that ever happened to me. I don’t want to lose you. Don’t ever forget that, okay?”

  Mac pressed against him, threading her arms around his neck, a smile making the moisture in her eyes shine. “You’re sure about that? You’ve known me a total of five days.”

  “I didn’t lose count, and I didn’t say I was done getting to know you. But I already know quite a bit—your compassion, your brave heart, that ultra-sensitive spot that sends you over the top when we make love, but mostly your honesty.” He brought his lips to hers and sipped gently, her sweetness instantly going to his head. He had a vague sense of her stiffening, withdrawing, even as his chest tightened and threatened to burst with the protectiveness that surged through him.

  A deep breath later, he met her gaze, his gut telling him that something was wrong. “You need to know me too, so go ahead. Ask me anything.”

  She squirmed from his arms and stepped back as wariness erased the smile she’d worn seconds before. “I want to, Brady. I’d like to know everything about you, but don’t you think we should address the elephant in the room first?” Her hand tightened around his as though she expected him to pull away.

  He studied her expressive eyes and wanted to reach out and touch the pulse in her neck that clearly indicated how upset she was. He’d expected her to return to Alaska . . . just not so soon. Damn Nick Taylor anyway. Brady tamped down an angry outburst that would only serve to drive a wedge between them.

  He lifted his hand and traced her collarbone. “Okay, sugar. Let’s talk about that. There’s something not quite right about Nick. I don’t trust him . . . and you’re not going with him.”

  Mac stiffened and pulled away—his first indication that maybe he hadn’t phrased that exactly right. In hindsight, it should have been obvious.

  “Nick came through for us on that mountain in Sitka. What does someone have to do to earn your respect?” Mac slapped her hands on her hips.

  Shit! The last thing he wanted was to push her into a corner where she thought it was necessary to defend the bastard. “You’re right. He’s probably an okay guy, but I’m not taking a chance on him in this instance.”

  “You’re not. I am.” She crossed her arms, and her
fiery expression dared him to disagree.

  So much for control. Anger cut loose and flooded him until he couldn’t see for the pounding in his head. He turned his back and took a couple of halting steps toward the door. The image of Nick on the receiving end of his fury gave him a moment of satisfaction.

  He balled his hands into fists, welcoming the sharp pain of his wound. Closing his eyes, he breathed in and exhaled, turning to face her. Determination lined her pretty face, but no fear. That might have been an oversight on her part. If he’d never been inclined to toss a woman over his knee and paddle her ass before, this could be a first.

  “Are you trying to piss me off?” His throat felt like he’d swallowed ground glass.

  Mac had the good sense to glance toward the door. “Aside from you saving my life and bringing me here, I don’t see where this is any of your concern. It’s not like you took me on to raise. Or did you forget about your whole I-don’t-have-much-to-offer speech?”

  “Is that what this is about? You’re trying to punish me for telling you the truth?”

  “No! I’d never do that. You were only trying to tell me that I’d be leaving here alone—now or later, it doesn’t really matter. That means no one is in charge of making my decisions but me. Not Joe. Not Nick. Not even you. If you can’t deal with that, then maybe you better leave.” Mac strode to the door and held it open, a slight tremble of her chin the only emotion visible on her face.

  Muscles corded in his arms, Brady glanced around for something to punch, then decided to save it for Nick. How in the hell had their conversation gotten so far out of hand? Mac was wound like a top with indignation and purpose, and now was not the time to try to talk her out of anything. Actually, it would have been good if he’d stopped talking a long time ago, because he’d pretty much talked himself into a black hole. She wasn’t liable to give much weight to anything else he said at this point. He could wait, though. She’d cool off, and he’d get another chance to tell her that . . . damn it . . . he did get a say in her decisions . . . because he loved her.

  He strode to where she stood at the door and bent to kiss her cheek. She took a step back to avoid his touch, and, for a second, he stared into grief-filled eyes. “Jesus, Mac. It doesn’t have to be like this.” Brady stepped into the hallway and heard the door close firmly behind him.

  Chapter Twenty

  MAC WATCHED AS Brady’s body language underwent a complete change and his eyes, which had been kind and encouraging, flashed with anger and stubborn pride. Her fault. She should have stuck to her vow to stay away from arrogant, bossy alpha males. They were all the same. Still, Mac hadn’t intended for their conversation to end with her telling him to leave, but once she did, she certainly wasn’t going to let his warm, wonderful lips touch her on his way out.

  She swung the door closed behind him and leaned her forehead against the cool, smooth wood as waves of regret threatened to suffocate her. Man, if there was one thing she knew how to do properly, it was messing up a good thing.

  She’d planned on asking Brady to take her home to Alaska so she could see her parents and learn the truth behind Paddy’s death. That was the favor she’d tricked him into agreeing to the morning they’d made love. Although, if she was honest with herself, he’d likely only agreed because he was under the impression the favor would be performed in the bedroom.

  Mac had been so hurt and infuriated by Brady’s overbearing, pompous commands regarding what she could and couldn’t do that she latched on to the first thing she could think of to teach him a lesson, reiterating her decision to go with Nick. She swallowed hard. What mind-boggling insanity had forced those words from her lips? She hadn’t even asked Brady. Of course, to be fair, he hadn’t offered either—to step up and play a bigger role in her life.

  But why would he? He’d said he didn’t want to lose her, but what time frame was he talking about now? A week? A month? Until he was tired of her?

  Mac was a realist. All relationships were short-term in her mind. Still, she’d waited breathlessly for him to explain—hoping there was something more to this. That she’d misunderstood. That he’d misunderstood. His edict had snapped her from that fantasyland . . . and the rest was history.

  She twisted the lock on the knob and turned slowly toward the bed. What she wouldn’t give to wake up from this nightmare with Paddy still alive and having never heard of Kalispell, Montana, or Jim Brady.

  Heartbreak and loneliness burst over her like a summer hailstorm. Blinded by the tears she couldn’t hold back any longer, she stumbled to the bed, curled into a ball, and buried her face in the pillow that—inconveniently—smelled like Brady.

  Thirty minutes later, she made herself stand, wash her face, and get on with life. Unfortunately, life had gotten a lot harder this week. First, losing Paddy. Then, falling for a man who couldn’t love her back but who had no problem trying to control her. Did these things really come in threes? God, she hoped not.

  She straightened the bed so it didn’t remind her of their tryst this morning, making a mental note to ask Irene for clean sheets that wouldn’t smell like Brady. Perhaps Irene would let her help with dinner. She’d need some chores if she was going to stay for a while, because no chores equaled too much time on her hands to think. Maybe Marco was up from his nap and they could play a game. Or she could throw a ball for the dogs. Her decision was made when she opened her door. Darcy and Cara were just topping the stairs, each loaded down with bags.

  “Wait until you see,” Cara said. “There are only a couple things you didn’t pick out for yourself. Don’t worry. If you don’t like what we picked, you can always return them.”

  Mac groaned as the two women swept into her room.

  Thank goodness she’d made the bed. Darcy and Cara headed straight for it and upended their bags, dumping their day’s work in an overwhelming pile. For a split second, Mac considered sinking to her knees on the floor and giving in to the self-pity that welled from her broken heart.

  But she straightened instead and plastered on a smile. “You girls have been busy.” She could tell by the way both women studied her that her voice had given her away.

  “Come on. We’ll help you hang these up or fold them and put them in drawers. You don’t have to try them on all at once.” Concern was etched on Darcy’s face as she grabbed some hangers from Mac’s closet.

  “Is everything all right?” Cara reached for a hanger and hung up a yellow dress.

  The knife turned in Mac’s chest as she stared at the yellow fabric that would forever remind her of Brady. She was going to be sick. Frantically, her gaze darted toward the bathroom. “Would you mind if we didn’t do this right now? I really need to be alone.” Her frazzled voice and crazy eyes must have convinced them. They dropped everything and hurried toward the door, mumbling their apologies for disturbing her at a bad time. She didn’t argue. Tomorrow, she could make amends.

  As soon as they left, her distress passed, but she had to get out of this room before someone else came along and wanted to talk. She glanced toward her bag, debating whether she should take Paddy’s gun. Outside, the sun was setting. Dusk would come on fast. Surely there wouldn’t be any wild animals in the compound, but she didn’t want to leave Paddy’s things. Not now. They were all she had left.

  With the badge in her pocket and the gun shoved firmly between her waistband and her back, she opened the door a crack to make sure the hallway was clear before she slipped out. Where she was going wasn’t open to discussion since she hadn’t made up her mind yet, so it would be better if she didn’t run into anyone. She skipped down the stairs lightly and had almost made it to the front door without meeting another person when a sound behind her brought her to a stop.

  Maria and Irene were arguing in the kitchen. It could only be about one thing.

  Mac rushed to the back of the house, bursting through the door as Maria ripped off her apron and tossed it on the table. “I have to find him,” she said.

  Mac looked from
one to the other. “What’s wrong?”

  They both started talking at once. Mac held up her hand and looked toward Irene.

  “When we called Joe, he said not to worry—that he’d be ready if Hernandez tried anything—but he called again just before Joe got back. I told Maria to put it on speaker so I could listen in.”

  “We thought Marco was upstairs sleeping.” Maria’s voice broke, and she covered her mouth.

  “Oh God. What did he hear?” Mac looked to Irene again.

  “Hernandez said Maria didn’t think he was serious enough, so he was coming to get the boy. Went into graphic detail about what he would do to him. Marco was behind us. He heard everything and ran outside.” Irene slumped into a chair.

  “Any chance he didn’t understand? That he just went out to play? You know how kids are.” Mac wanted that to be true, but fear was eating away at her insides.

  Irene shook her head. “We looked for him, then decided to wait for him to come back. He didn’t.”

  Maria started for the other room again. “I must find my son.”

  “Wait, Maria. I’ll go after him. You and Irene find Joe. Tell him what’s going on. Go. Now.” Mac raced for the front door without looking back to see if her orders were followed.

  She began a systematic search around the house, the kennels, and the outbuildings, but Marco wasn’t to be found.

  If she let the dogs out, they could no doubt find the boy. On her way back to the kennels, she suddenly stopped and stared toward the northeast. Marco’s comment glimmered through her mind. Do you know why I like the Plateau? No one can sneak up on me there.

  Would he go all the way up there alone with darkness coming on? He was frightened and confused. Of course he would.

  It was too dangerous. She had to stop Marco before he got to the Plateau. Mac ran to the shed that housed the Gators, climbed onto the one Brady had driven that morning, and reached for the key.

  She jumped as someone slid onto the seat beside her and covered her hand, staying her effort to start the engine. Mac gasped and swung around.