A Stone Creek Collection, Volume 2

by Linda Lael Miller

  In that house, the “guestroom” was actually a suite, with a luxurious bath, a flat-screen TV above the working fireplace, and its own kitchenette.

  Ginger rose from her cushy bed, tail wagging, when Ashley stepped into the main kitchen. Ashley bent to greet the sweet old dog.

  Dressed in jeans and an old flannel shirt, Olivia sat in the antique rocking chair in front of the bay windows, a receiving blanket draped discreetly over her chest, nursing one of the babies. Seeing Ashley, she smiled, but her eyes were troubled.

  Ashley went to her sister, bent to kiss the top of her head.

  “Tell me what’s going on, Ashley,” Olivia said. “Tanner gave me a few details after he talked to Jack on the phone earlier, but he was pretty cryptic.”

  Ashley pulled one of the high-backed wooden chairs over from the table and sat down, facing Olivia. Their knees didn’t quite touch.

  Tanner came into the room, went to the coffeepot and filled a cup for Ashley. “You look like you could use a shot of whiskey,” he commented. “But now that Sophie’s a teenager, always having friends over, we decided to remove all temptation. This will have to do.”

  “Thanks,” Ashley said, smiling a little and taking the cup.

  Olivia was rocking the chair a little faster, her gaze fixed on Ashley. “Talk to us,” she ordered.

  Ashley sighed. When Brad and Meg and Melissa arrived, she’d have to repeat the whole incredible story—what little she knew of it, anyway—but it was clear that Olivia would brook no delay. So Ashley told her sister and brother-in-law what she knew about Rachel’s rescue, and Chad Lombard’s determination to, one, get his daughter back and, two, take revenge on Jack for stealing her away.

  Tanner didn’t look surprised; he probably knew more than she did, since he and Jack were close friends. Ashley didn’t risk as much as a glance in Olivia’s direction. She hated worrying her sister, especially now.

  “Jack sent someone to bring Ardith and Rachel to Stone Creek,” she finished. “And he wanted me out of the house in case Lombard managed to follow them somehow.”

  “It was certainly generous of Jack,” Olivia said, with a bite in her tone, “to bring all this trouble straight to your door.”

  Tanner glanced at Olivia, grimaced slightly. “He was sick, Liv,” he told her. “Out of his head with fever.”

  Olivia sighed.

  “I’m in love with Jack,” Ashley said bravely. “You might as well know.”

  Olivia and Tanner exchanged looks.

  “What a surprise,” Tanner said, one corner of his mouth tilting up briefly.

  “You do realize,” Olivia said seriously, her gaze boring into Ashley’s face, “that this situation is hopeless? Even if Jack manages to get the woman and her little girl to safety, this Lombard character will always be a threat.”

  Tanner pulled up a chair beside Olivia and took her hand. “Liv,” he said, “Jack is the best at what he does. He won’t let anything happen to Ashley.”

  Tears filled Olivia’s expressive eyes, then spilled down her cheeks. Ginger gave a little whimper and lumbered over to lay her muzzle on her mistress’s knee. Rolled her brown eyes upward.

  “I will not calm down,” Olivia told the dog. “This is serious!”

  This time, Tanner and Ashley looked at each other.

  “I agree with Ginger,” Tanner told his wife quietly. “You need to stay calm. We all do.” By now, he was used to Olivia’s telepathic conversations with animals. Ashley couldn’t remember a time when her big sister didn’t communicate with four-legged creatures of all species.

  “How can I, when my sister is in mortal danger?” Olivia snapped, watching Ashley. “All because of your friend.”

  “Jack is my friend,” Tanner responded, his voice still even. “And that’s why I’m going to do whatever I can to help him.”

  Olivia turned her head quickly, stared at her husband. “What?”

  “I can’t just turn my back on him, Liv,” Tanner said. “Not even for you.”

  “What about Sophie? What about John and Sam? They need their father, and I need my husband!”

  Tanner started to speak, then stopped himself. Ashley saw a small muscle bunch in his jaw, go slack.

  Ginger whimpered again, still gazing up at Olivia in adoring sorrow, her dog eyes liquid.

  “That’s easy for you to say,” Olivia told the dog.

  “This is why I didn’t want to stay here,” Ashley told Tanner sadly. “I’ve been in this house for five minutes, and I’m already causing trouble.”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong,” Olivia said, her voice and expression softening, her eyes still shining with tears. “Before Big John died, when Brad was away from home, busy with his career, I promised our grandfather I’d look after you and Melissa, and I intend to keep my word, Ashley.”

  “I’m not a little girl anymore,” Ashley reminded her sister.

  Olivia didn’t answer. She was intent on tucking either John or Sam against her shoulder, patting his tiny back. The receiving blanket still covered her. When the burp came, Olivia smiled proudly.

  Tanner stood up, gently took his son and carried him out of the kitchen.

  Olivia straightened her clothing and laid the blanket aside. Gave Ginger a few reassuring strokes on the head before sending the animal back to her bed nearby.

  “You are going to be the most amazing mother,” Ashley said.

  “Don’t try to change the subject,” Olivia warned. She was smiling, but her eyes remained moist and fierce with determination to protect her little sister. “So, you really are in love with Jack McCall?”

  “Afraid so,” Ashley replied. “And I think it’s forever.”

  “Is he planning to stay this time?” Olivia’s tone was kind, if wary.

  Ashley raised her shoulders slightly, lowered them again. “He paid for two weeks at the B&B,” she said.

  Olivia’s eyes narrowed, then widened. “Two weeks? That’s all?”

  “It’s something,” Ashley said, feeling like a candidate for some reality show about women trying to get over the wrong man. She made a lame attempt at a joke. “If we decide to make this permanent, I won’t be charging him for bed and board.”

  Olivia didn’t laugh, or even smile. “What if he leaves?”

  “I think there’s a good chance that he will,” Ashley admitted. Then, without thinking, she rested one hand against her lower belly.

  Olivia read the gesture with unerring accuracy. “Ashley—are you pregnant?”

  “It’s too early to know, doctor,” Ashley said. “Unless there’s a second-day test out there that I haven’t heard about.”

  “Unprotected sex? Ashley, what are you thinking?”

  “For once, I’m not. And it’s kind of a relief.”

  “What if there’s a baby? Jack might not be around to help you raise it.”

  “I’d manage, Olivia, as other women do, and have since cave days, if not longer.”

  “A child needs a father,” Olivia said.

  “Spoken like a very lucky woman with a husband who adores her,” Ashley answered, without a shred of malice.

  Tanner returned before Olivia could answer, took her by both hands, and gently hoisted her to her feet. “Time for your nap, Mama Bear,” he told her.

  Olivia didn’t resist, but she did pin Ashley with a big-sister look and say, “We’re not finished with this conversation.”

  Ashley simply spread her hands.

  * * *

  Shade by shade, shadow by shadow, night finally came.

  Ashley had called from Olivia’s place, as promised. They hadn’t exchanged more than a few words, and those had been stiff and stilted.

  It was no great wonder to Jack that Ashley was projecting a chill: She’d be
en banished from her own house by a man who had no damn business being there at all.

  He was getting antsy.

  He’d heard nothing about Ardith and Rachel since his first terse conversation with Vince Griffin, right after the pickup. On the bright side, the toxin seemed to be in abeyance, though he still broke out in cold sweats at irregular intervals, and spates of weakness invariably followed in their wake.

  To keep from going crazy, or maybe to make sure he did, Jack logged on to his father’s website again. Clicked to the Associates page.

  There were his brothers, Dean and Jim. The last time Jack had seen them, they’d been in junior high, wannabe Romeos with braces and acne. Now, they looked like infomercial hosts.

  He smiled.

  A blurb at the bottom of the page showed a snapshot of Bryce, the youngest. In a wild break with McKenzie tradition, he was studying to be an optometrist.

  There was no mention of Jack himself, of course. But his mother wasn’t on the site, either, and that bothered him.

  His dad had always been a big believer in family values.

  What a disappointment I must have been, Jack thought, frowning as he left the website and ran another search. There might be a recent picture of his mom on the library’s site. After all, she’d been the director when he’d left for military school.

  The director’s face beamed from the main page, and it wasn’t his mother’s.

  Frowning, Jack ran another search, using her name.

  That was when he found the obituary, dated three years ago, a week after her fifty-third birthday.

  The picture was old, a close-up taken on a long-ago family vacation.

  The headshot showed her beaming smile, the bright eyes behind the lenses of her glasses. Jack’s own eyes burned so badly that he had to blink a few times before he could read beyond her name, Marlene Estes McKenzie.

  She’d died at home, according to the writer of the obit, surrounded by family and friends. In lieu of flowers, her husband and sons requested that donations be made to a well-known foundation dedicated to fighting breast cancer.

  Breast cancer.

  Jack breathed deeply until his emotions were at least somewhat under control, then, against his better judgment, he reached for Ashley’s phone, dialed the familiar number.

  “Dr. McKenzie’s residence,” a woman’s voice chimed.

  Jack couldn’t speak for a moment.

  “Hello?” the woman asked pleasantly. “Is anyone there? Hello?”

  He finally found his voice. “My name is—Mark Ramsey. Is the doctor around?”

  “I’m so sorry,” came the answer. “My husband is out of town at a convention, but either of his sons would be happy to see you if this is an emergency.”

  “It isn’t,” Jack said. Then, with muttered thanks, he quietly hung up.

  He got out of the chair, walked to the window, looked out at the street. A blue pickup truck drove past. The house opposite Ashley’s blurred.

  All this time, Jack had imagined his mother visiting his grave at Arlington. Squaring her shoulders, sniffling a little, mourning her firstborn’s “heroic” death in Iraq. Instead, she’d been lying in a grave of her own.

  He rubbed his eyes with a thumb and forefinger.

  How long had his dad waited, after his first wife’s death, to remarry?

  What kind of person was the new Mrs. McKenzie? Did Dean and Jim and Bryce like her?

  Jack ached to call Ashley, needed to hear her voice.

  But what would he say? Hi, I just found out my mother died three years ago? He wasn’t sure he’d be able to get through the sentence without breaking down.

  He moved away from the window. No sense making a target of himself.

  The night grew darker, colder and lonelier.

  And still Jack didn’t turn on a light. Nor did he head for the kitchen to raid Ashley’s refrigerator, even though he hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

  He’d done a lot of waiting in his life. He’d waited for precisely the right moment to rescue children and diplomats and wealthy businessmen held for ransom. He’d waited to be rescued himself once, with nearly every bone in his body broken.

  Waiting was harder now.

  In his mind, he heard the voice of a young soldier. “You’ll be all right now, sir. We’re United States Marines.”

  Jack’s throat tightened further.

  And then the throwaway cell phone rang.

  Sweat broke out on Jack’s upper lip. He’d spoken to Vince over Ashley’s phone. He’d warned Ardith not to use the cell number again, in case it was being monitored.

  It was unlikely that the FBI would be calling him up to chat. They had their own ways of getting in touch.

  Holding his breath, he pressed the Talk button, but didn’t speak.

  “I’ll find you,” Chad Lombard said.

  “Why don’t I make it easy for you?” Jack answered lightly.

  “Like, how?” Lombard asked, a smirk in his voice.

  “We agree on a time and place to meet. One way or another, this thing will be over.”

  Lombard laughed. “I must be crazy. I kind of like that idea. It has a high-noon sort of appeal. But how do I know you’ll come alone, and not with a swarm of FBI and DEA agents?”

  “How do I know you’ll come alone?” Jack countered.

  “I guess we’ll just have to trust each other.”

  “Yeah, right. When and where, hotshot?”

  “I’ll be in touch about that,” Lombard said lightly. “Oh, and by the way, I’ve already killed you, for all intents and purposes. The poison ought to be in your bone marrow by now, eating up your red blood cells. Still, I’d like to be around to see you shut down, Robocop.”

  Jack’s stomach clenched, but his voice came out sounding even and in charge.

  “I’ll be waiting to hear from you,” he said, and hung up.

  CHAPTER 7

  Oh, and by the way, I’ve already killed you, for all intents and purposes. The poison ought to be in your bone marrow by now, eating up your red blood cells.

  Lombard’s words pulsed somewhere in the back of Jack’s mind, like a distant drumbeat. The man was a skilled liar—and that was one of his more admirable traits, but this time, instinct said he was telling the truth.

  Jack had never been afraid of death, and he still wasn’t. But he was very afraid of leaving Ashley exposed to dangers she couldn’t possibly imagine, even after all he’d told her. Tanner and her brother would try to protect her, and they were both men to be reckoned with, but were they in the same league with Lombard and his henchmen?

  One-on-one, Lombard was no match for either of them.

  The trouble was, Lombard never went one-on-one; he was too big a coward for that.

  Coupled with the news of his mother’s passing, three years ago, the knowledge that some concoction of jungle-plant extracts and nasty chemicals was already devouring his bone marrow left Jack reeling a little.

  Suck it up, McCall, he thought. One crisis at a time.

  It was after midnight when a local cab pulled up in front of Ashley’s house.

  Jack watched nervously from the study window as Vince got out of the front passenger seat, tucking his wallet into the back pocket of his chinos as he did so, and then opened the rear door, curbside.

  Rachel scrambled out to the sidewalk, standing with her small hands on her hips like some miniature queen surveying her kingdom. She was soon followed by a much less confident Ardith, hunched over in a black trench coat and hooded scarf.

  The cab drove away, and Vince steered Ardith and Rachel up the front walk.

  Jack was quick to open the door; Rachel flashed past him, clad in jeans and a blue coat that looked like it might have been rescued from a thr
ift store, with Ardith slinking along behind.

  “A cab?” Jack bit out, the minute he and Vince came face-to-face on the unlighted porch.

  “Hide in plain sight,” Vince said casually.

  Jack let it pass for the moment, mainly because Rachel was tugging at the back of his shirt in a rapidly escalating effort to get his attention.

  “My name is Charlotte now,” she announced, “but you can still call me Rachel if you want to.”

  Jack grinned. He wanted to hoist the child into his arms, but didn’t. After the conversation with Lombard, he couldn’t quite shake the vision of his bones going hollow, caving in on themselves at the slightest exertion. He would need all his strength to deal with the inevitable.

  Get over it, he told himself. If he lived long enough, he would check into a hospital, find out whether or not he was a candidate for a marrow transplant. In the meantime, there were other priorities, like keeping Rachel and Ashley and Ardith alive from one moment to the next.

  “Are you hungry?” Jack asked, thinking of Ashley’s freezer full of cherry crepes and other delicacies. God, what would it be like to live like a normal man—marry Ashley, live in this house, this Norman Rockwell town, for good?

  “Just tired,” Ardith said. Even trembling inside the bulky raincoat, she looked stick-thin, at least fifteen pounds lighter than the last time he’d seen her. And Ardith hadn’t had all that much weight to spare in the first place.

  “Yes!” Rachel blurted, the word toppling over the top of her mother’s answer. “I’m starved.”

  “I wouldn’t mind something to gnaw on myself,” Vince said, his gaze slightly narrowed as he studied his boss, there in the dimness of Ashley’s entryway.

  “We rode in a helicopter!” Rachel sang out, on the way to the kitchen.

  Jack stopped at the base of the stairs, conscious of Ardith’s exhaustion. She seemed to exude it through every pore. The unseen energy of despair vibrated around her, pervaded Jack’s personal space.

  “You two go on to the kitchen,” Jack told Vince and the little girl, indicating the direction with a motion of one hand. “Help yourselves to whatever you find.” Although he kept his tone even, the glance he gave the pilot said, We’ll talk about the cab later.