Mother by Fate

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  Up until him, she’d been wary. Never trusting that anyone was interested in her for anything but her money. Came with the territory she’d grown up in.

  But with Jason, the chance meeting, she’d fallen for it completely.

  With Jason, the duplicity had mattered.

  But she’d left all of that behind when she’d moved to Santa Raquel. No one here knew about her family’s money. Not even Lila.

  It wasn’t hers to spend. Not yet anyway. And she didn’t want to live under its auspices.

  Now Michael knew. And if he liked her because of it, then that was his issue. She wasn’t going to have a relationship with him anyway...

  “If you’d known you were going to lose her, would you have stayed?”

  His question was so perceptive, so in tune with what mattered to her. Not her inheritance. Bessie.

  She’d rather talk about her family’s money.

  Rather marry a man who wanted her money than fall for one who had a child that wasn’t hers.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  MICHAEL COULD WALK through the woods without making a sound. Sara cracked a twig with her first step.

  He stopped so abruptly she ran into him.

  Her breasts splayed against his back. Warm. Feminine. Sara...

  A woman who most definitely wouldn’t want to get involved with a man who had a little girl to raise. He got it now. Loud and clear.

  Sara’s reaction, that first night, when he’d told her he lived with his six-year-old daughter...

  He’d just been cut off and he hadn’t known it.

  “Step in my footprints.” He had turned to whisper in her ear and caught a whiff of her. Liking it far too much. She’d been up front with him. Had told him that one dinner was all he was going to get when this was over.

  If he’d hoped for more, that was on him.

  He’d practiced walking without sound in the woods by his home, in parking lots, in the kennel and everywhere else he’d walked for months before he’d considered himself capable enough to approach a target undetected.

  They had a couple of seconds to get her up to speed. He could look for the patches of dirt, the moist coverings, the roots, that would allow quieter passage for both of them.

  Holding both of her arms, keeping her steady, his face was almost pressed against the side of her head as he continued.

  “Crouch down a little when you walk and keep your weight as evenly distributed as possible. Don’t drop your weight down into your step as we do in a normal walk. And make sure you don’t brush up against anything. The brush of fabric against bark, or a twig breaking off against your arm, will reverberate like a gong out here tonight.”

  He felt Sara’s nod. On the side of his face. On his shoulder, where her chin touched him. With his binoculars around his neck he pulled away from her and started to walk, studying the ground, choosing wisely before every step. It was habit to him now.

  Wanting a woman like he wanted Sara Havens was not. Never had sexual desire been such an irritant. A player that wouldn’t take the bench. It hadn’t been that way, even with Shelley.

  But there was no future in it. He knew that now.

  He didn’t stop again, or speak again, as they made their way through the woods. Nicole was close by. He was certain of that fact. He’d have her soon.

  One way or another.

  * * *

  MICHAEL STUDIED EVERY inch of the area adjacent to the pier with his binoculars. Then he handed them to Sara and had her do the same. Nicole wasn’t at the pier. Didn’t mean she wouldn’t be later, though. He said they’d check back several more times that night.

  “Aren’t we going to go down there at some point?” Sara asked as they sat, once again, in the SUV that was beginning to feel like the only home she’d ever known.

  Or ever would know.

  Her real life, the one she’d left only that morning, felt foreign and too far away to access.

  “We can’t go down there,” Michael said, and alarm bells went off again. They’d approached Simon and his pals that morning. They’d been approaching people all day.

  Why, suddenly, when they were both pretty certain that Nicole was going to be there, were they going to stay away?

  She had to get back to the second bathroom on the beach road. But there was no way Michael was going to move the vehicle now.

  And she didn’t want him to. They needed the vantage point.

  But...

  “Why aren’t we going down there?”

  “Because if Nicole sees us down there and she bolts, we might lose her. It’s dark.”

  And he’d lost her the night before. Because Nicole was desperate. And life had taught her to be good at hiding from men.

  “What do we do if we see her down there?”

  She had to be able to get the vulnerable woman to safety.

  “I see where she is, figure out from which direction you approach and how to block any escape attempt. I tell you how to lead her out, and wait for you to bring her to me.”

  He made it sound so...plausible.

  And for the first time, she really believed they were going to be successful. She was really going to be able to get Nicole back to the Lemonade Stand.

  Hopefully that night.

  As soon as she left Michael to go in and get Nicole, she’d text Lila. Then give Lila whatever time she needed to talk with Nicole before leading her out. At which point she’d lead her in the opposite direction from where Michael would be waiting.

  She had a plan.

  And felt horrible about keeping Michael out of it.

  * * *

  SARA AWOKE WITH a start. She’d heard something. Was instantly alert, though she hadn’t even opened her eyes. She had no idea how long she’d been asleep.

  It felt like a long time.

  Another small sound and she knew what she was hearing. Plastic wrap. Opening her eyes, she confirmed the deduction. Michael was eating a sandwich.

  She hadn’t heard the cooler but she’d heard the plastic wrap.

  “How many of those are left?” Her voice was a shock in the darkness.

  “Two.”

  “How long was I asleep?”

  “An hour, give or take.”

  “Anything different down there?”

  “There was a fight.”

  “What?” She sat up straight. Tried to see in the distance. “We need to go check it out! What if Nicole’s in trouble?”

  “It was between two men. My guess, it was over a bottle. Once the bottle broke, the fight stopped. No one else seemed to pay either of them any mind.”

  It looked like business as usual down below. She could make out some humps in the sand. Bodies curled up in sleep. The fire still burned. A body or two sat close. Every once in a while someone walked by it.

  The party had definitely wound down.

  “Did you see anyone new arrive?”

  “No.”

  Maybe Nicole was holed up in the bathroom for the night.

  Michael didn’t want her phone’s reflection seen in the car, but Sara hadn’t turned it off completely. Under the cover of her blanket she’d dimmed the screen as far as it would go while she could still see it. And put it on mute.

  There’d been no news. Not from Lila or anyone else.

  Most anyone who would contact her was sound asleep in bed. As she had been at this same time the night before.

  Nothing from Nicole.

  And the man at her side watched the street people going about their business on the beach as though it was the Super Bowl. “You said you have a doctorate degree in psychology.” She’d been thinking about that. In terms of his ability to get people to do what they wanted by reading them and using the i
nformation he ascertained to manipulate them. Like Jason had accused her of doing.

  “That’s right.” He spoke softly, above a whisper, but barely.

  Complete silence wasn’t necessary—not when they were in the SUV with the doors and windows closed. But the night seemed to require quiet out of due respect.

  “Why did you end up doing this?”

  Curiosity wasn’t polite. It helped pass time, though. Helped keep all kinds of runaway thoughts at bay.

  Was Nicole asleep just a few hundred yards away from them?

  Would Michael’s lovemaking have been as good as it had promised to be?

  She wasn’t surprised when he didn’t answer her. Disappointed, yes, but not surprised.

  “Her name was Shelley.”

  Something about his tone had her switching gears immediately. He wasn’t lying. And this was serious.

  “Whose name?” Her tone softened on its own.

  “My wife’s.”

  “You said was.”

  He’d implied divorce. Or had Sara assumed and he’d merely gone along with her? Mostly once she’d known he had a daughter, she’d tried not think too much about his private life.

  “I was at the university library late one night. Studying for an exam. I’d tried to prepare from home but the TV was on and Shelley was on the phone and I packed up my things and told her I’d be back in a couple of hours.”

  Mouth dry, she listened to what he wasn’t saying as much as to what he was.

  There was far more to Michael Edison than she dared to find out.

  “I got home a couple of hours later, helped myself to a swig of milk straight out of the carton because Shelley was asleep and wouldn’t know. Ate a couple of the cookies she’d apparently baked sometime after I left. They were cooled, but still laid out on foil on the counter...”

  The details mattered. She wanted to know why. Waited to see if he’d tell her.

  “She’d outdone herself...”

  He didn’t start this to tell her about good cookies. No matter who made them.

  “I thought about going in and waking her up to thank her properly, but I glanced at my book bag on the table and decided to take one last run through everything before going to bed...”

  Sara watched the distance. She cared about the movement. About why they were there. Nicole was on her mind constantly. And in her mind’s eye she saw a younger Michael, a less hardened one, sitting at a table eating his wife’s cookies as he studied...

  The twinge of jealousy she felt didn’t do her proud.

  “I was home a full hour before I finally went back to check on my wife...”

  Check on? Had Shelley been sick?

  “All that time she’d just been lying there...”

  His throat caught. Michael’s pain filled that car until there was almost no air left to breathe. She knew when to stay silent.

  To let what had to happen happen.

  Sometimes it was almost too much to bear. Five minutes passed. Sara waited. Watched. Picturing Michael over and over again, walking down a hall toward a bedroom.

  What had waited for him there?

  What had he started to tell her?

  “The door to the bedroom was open.” She couldn’t tell if that was normal or not, but guessed, with a little girl in the house, that it was.

  Silence fell again. Surrounding them. Allowing them moments to breathe. “I was fully in the room before I realized that something was wrong. The covers were askew. Shelley was funny about her covers. They had to be tucked in...”

  The picture he was building in her mind had her heart pounding. Her throat tightened. She knew how to protect herself from such reactions. Boundaries were a staple part of her life every single day.

  “I flipped on the light and saw my wife’s naked body lying unnaturally in the middle of the bed. Her arms and legs were bent so awkwardly, I knew that bones had broken. She was already showing signs of bruising. And she was cushioned by a pool of her own blood.”

  Sara put a hand on his arm.

  “A jumper, a rapist who was desperate to get out of town, had broken into my home that night while I sat in the library studying. He’d raped and murdered my wife. Stole the cash and cards out of her purse, and left. He’d broken in through our bedroom window, but let himself out the front door. I didn’t even know. I’d come in through the garage...”

  The truth came crashing down on her with horrifying clarity. This was why Michael was a bounty hunter. Why he was determined beyond normal human capacity to get bail jumpers off the streets.

  “They’re a desperate breed,” he said now, his voice strong and clear. “Hunted men and women who will stop at nothing to evade capture.”

  Like Nicole hanging out with homeless people.

  “And what about you?” She shouldn’t care. And couldn’t help herself. “Are you going to survive the hunt?”

  When he turned his head and stared in her direction in the darkness, Sara knew that her point had hit home. She had no doubt that Michael could hunt for bounty for the next twenty years and not get himself killed. He was reportedly the best.

  But there were other ways to lose your life besides dying. You could let anger, fear, regret and determination take over until they were the only passengers left in your vehicle.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  IT WASN’T THE longest night he’d ever spent, but getting through it cost Michael. Dawn came with no sign of Nicole by the pier. And not enough rest for him.

  He’d thought about details, bringing up feelings he hadn’t allowed himself to consciously experience.

  All because of the woman sitting next to him.

  She was a witch. Just as he’d first thought.

  Another night lost. Another long day ahead. A repeat of yesterday if need be. With some changes. They were staying close to the beach. To restrooms. To the place closest to the beach, where Nicole could get her soda in a cup with ice.

  “I’d like to be able to wash up,” Sara said as they split the last peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich and put the SUV in gear. “If you don’t mind, that second bathroom on the beach, the one past the one where we found her shirt... It had a portable spray shower inside...”

  All of the public bathrooms had outdoor showers for beach-goers to stand under as they came off the sand. They were meant for rinsing off with suits on.

  He stuffed the last of his half of the sandwich in his mouth—hearing an echo of Mari’s little voice telling him that it was rude to stuff your mouth—and drove silently to do as Sara had requested.

  Because he had a need to please her if he could. Like it or not.

  He could use a shower, as well. A cold one. That thought froze every feeling he’d ever had—except his love for Mari, and the rest of his family, of course.

  And maybe a bit of the determination. That he’d keep around. It made him strong. Served him—and others—well, as it helped him stay focused, alert, and get the job done.

  There was no shower in the men’s room. Setting his travel-size shaving kit on the ledge above the sink, he set about making do the best that he could.

  * * *

  THERE WAS NO shower in the restroom. Sara took a chance that Michael would have no way of knowing that. If he’d followed her in, she’d have been caught in her lie.

  And in case he did decide to check up on her, she went to the trash can first. The jeans were gone.

  All night long they’d been on the edge of her mind, poking at her, and they weren’t even there. She checked the trash, just to make sure someone hadn’t come in and thrown them away.

  And was disappointed to see them, on top of trash that had been there the day before, but beneath other paper towels and odds and ends of rubbish.

  They w
ere still wadded up. As though someone had seen them, assumed that another woman had missed the trash and picked them up and put them where they belonged.

  She grabbed them out. Thinking she’d put them back on the floor. Just in case Nicole hadn’t been in yet. In case she came looking.

  Checking to make certain that her note was still in place, Sara froze. Shook out the pants. Looked in the pockets. And then dug through the trash.

  The note was not there. Anywhere.

  * * *

  MICHAEL HAD BARELY brushed his teeth when his cell rang. Who in the hell would be calling him at six in the morning?

  Mari.

  Something was wrong...

  Leaving the water running in the sink, he grabbed his smartphone. And saw the number. Trevor Kramer.

  He could wait until Michael finished shaving. And changed his clothes.

  He was on his last set of clean underwear, having raided the emergency ration in the back of the SUV. Tomorrow, if they were still at this—which they weren’t going to be—the vehicle was going to start smelling a little ripe.

  He’d rather not put Sara through that.

  Five minutes later, far enough away from the bathroom to be certain he wasn’t overheard, Michael pushed the return-call button. With one hand in his pants pocket and an eye on the door to the ladies’ room, he waited for Trevor to answer.

  He’d dealt with some involved family members before. Worried mothers. Frightened exes. Angry offspring. He’d never had anyone as involved as Trevor was turning out to be.

  “Trevor, what’s up?” he asked, looking all around him. The place was starting to show signs of life. Early-morning photographers, hoping to see the perfect sunrise through the eye of a lens. Joggers. A couple of surfers—sorry, dude, no surf—and an older couple dressed in matching shorts and T-shirts, walking hand in hand. The door to the women’s bathroom hadn’t moved.

  His mind took it all in as he distanced himself from all of it. “I’m leaving, dude,” Trevor said. Michael’s focus sharpened. “I just wanted to let you know. Someone’s been parked outside since yesterday. I thought so, but when I got up this morning and another car was out there, I knew for sure. Someone’s got us on a twenty-four-hour watch. I’m bugging out.”