She heard a car door open. A man stepped out of a wrecked Honda. He looked okay. No blood. She recalled the blood smeared on her air bag and then felt something warm drip down her forehead. She pulled herself upright and felt more blood. Her knees buckled, and…
She felt herself being lifted, pulled close. Baldwin? Okay, maybe she should start calling him Jake now. Her cheek found his masculine chest a perfect pillow. Black fireworks floated across her vision again. She inhaled. “Jake, you smell…good.” Then her whole world went black.
Billy didn’t move until Mrs. Perry’s back door shut. Then he ran across the yard toward the window of his bedroom.
Please, let it be unlocked.
He pushed himself up, his bleeding palm stinging. When the window rose, relief filled his chest. Hoisting himself over the sill, he fell inside and smacked against the dresser.
Damn.
He crawled to his feet. His heart throbbed as he listened, expecting someone to bolt into the room. Nothing but the empty-house hum met his ears. He started toward the bed but slowed down long enough to enjoy the smells: Nan’s incense that she burned when practicing yoga. Residual scent of his mom’s breakfast, two slices of bacon and one egg every morning. He’d bet the cast-iron skillet sat on the gas stove now, shiny because his mom always greased it after use. After all these years, the smells had simply infused the home.
His next breath came flavored with the baby power that his mom used after showering. God, he missed these people. Walking to the door, he creaked it open and fed his lungs a breath of home.
The gas stove gave off a tiny hiss, the water heater an occasional creak. Then a grandfather clock chimed and reminded him he had to hurry. He inched back to his bed, dropped onto his knees, and sandwiched his hand between the mattress and box springs. His fingers brushed the edge of a fake ID.
Yes.
He stood. Then he swung round when he heard the sound of the front door opening. Damn! Dropping back to his knees, he eyed the window.
“Thank you for helping me,” his mom’s voice echoed from the other room. “Unloading groceries can’t be in your job description.”
“You’d be surprised what the federal bureau assigns us sometimes,” a man answered.
Federal bureau? Billy’s mind started chewing on options.
“Let me get you a glass of tea,” his mother offered.
“Tea would be great.”
Billy’s gaze flew to the bedroom door he’d left ajar. He saw someone pass outside the door. Falling flat on his back, he squeezed himself under the bed.
Holy hell. He was stuck in the house while his mother fucking entertained an FBI agent.
Jake arrived at the hospital only a few minutes behind the ambulance. They saw the blood on him and thought he was hurt, but he assured them he wasn’t. They’d tried to stop him from coming back; he hadn’t listened. He stalked into the emergency room, peering into all the rooms until he found Macy. She lay stretched on a bed, blood streaming down her face. He tried to go to her, but the nurse moved between them.
“Why don’t you step outside?” the nurse asked.
“It’s okay,” he gritted out through his teeth. “I’m her boyfriend.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Macy mumbled.
Jake’s gaze shot up. He pushed the nurse aside to get to her. “You okay?” When she’d passed out, he’d been frantic. “You hurting anywhere?”
“No,” she said. It sounded like a lie.
He shot the nurse a look. “Get the doctor in here.”
This is my fault, damn it! He’d pushed her right into oncoming traffic. He could have killed her, though he’d been trying to save her life.
“Calm down,” the nurse said. “Move out and let me do my job. The doctor’s on his way.”
Macy’s blood continued to flow. Guilt took another tumble around his chest. The nurse put a hand on his arm.
He jerked out his wallet and flashed his badge. “I’m a cop.”
“And I’m a nurse. Out!” She pointed to the door.
He took a step but didn’t leave. The nurse glared. “Get out while I undress her.”
Did she think he was here to get a cheap thrill? “Look—”
“If I’m arguing with you, I can’t take care of her.” The statement slapped Jake back to the right side of logic.
Get a grip.
Relenting, he stormed out into the hall. The smell filled his nose, his mouth. What little control he had over his emotions started to slip. This was the smell of hopelessness. He hated hospitals. Memories flooded him: Sitting beside a skeleton of a man who’d stood behind the pulpit preaching about God’s mercy. Watching his father face a painful and humiliating death. Where had God’s mercy been then?
Fear curled inside Jake’s chest. Yesteryear’s emotions—the feeling of despair, the ugly acceptance that someone he loved was dying—all mingled with the present.
“No.” He inhaled. Damn it, he had to calm down. Macy was going to be okay.
He moved up and down the hall. Finally, able to think, he pulled out his phone and hit Donaldson’s number. “Tell me you got him,” he growled.
“Not yet. We’ve put an APB out on the car. If he’s still around, we’ll get him.”
“Damn it to hell! I want this creep.”
“I know.” Silence. “How’s she doing?”
“She’s conscious. The doctor hasn’t seen her yet.” Frustration sang in his voice. “Hold on.” He snagged a white-coated man by the arm and pointed to Macy’s door. “The patient in there needs to be seen. She’s bleeding.”
“That’s where I’m heading,” the doctor answered in an even tone. But when he stepped toward Macy’s room and Jake followed, the doctor turned around. “Let me examine her. Then I’ll give you a personal report.”
Taking a deep breath, Jake backed up and collapsed against the hospital’s white wall. Let her be okay, he prayed. Then, remembering Donaldson, he pressed the phone back to his ear. “Did you call the Gulf Coast Task Force?”
“Yeah. I think Agent James is on his way there.”
“Good.” Jake closed his eyes. James would be pissed at him. Shit, Jake was pissed at himself. The second time in one day, he’d been within an arm’s reach of the escaped convict and had let him get away.
“Was anybody hurt besides Macy?” Donaldson asked.
“No.” Jake filled his lungs, trying not to taste the anesthetic-scented air.
“Good,” Donaldson said. “Is it true that a dead guy got spilled across the median?”
“He didn’t fall out of his coffin, but the news will have a field day.”
Jake looked up to see his captain and Agent James walking down the hall. Neither of them looked happy, but they could just join him in the not-happy club. He wouldn’t be content until he knew Macy was okay. “Gotta go,” he told Donaldson. “Keep looking.”
Billy tried not to breathe too loud and stared up at the gauzy material covering the box springs of his old bed. He wondered about his chances of making it out the window without anyone hearing.
A phone rang—not the home phone, but a cell phone. “Excuse me,” the agent said.
Billy heard steps move closer to the bedroom door. Angling his head, he could see the man’s suit pants through the crack in the door. God, don’t let his mom notice the open door.
“Who?” The agent’s voice carried. “I’m talking to her mother right now.” A pause. “Is she going to make it?”
Make it? Macy? No! Billy’s heart drummed in his chest.
“Good. We sure it was Tanks?” Silence. “Really? Damn, I sure as hell wouldn’t want to be Baldwin when Agent James gets hold of him.” Another pause. “I’ll tell her.”
Billy gripped his fist as panic scratched his chest.
“Ma’am…” The agent’s tone came out unsure. “That call was about your daughter. She’s been in an accident.”
The empty pit of Billy’s stomach got rock hard.
“Is sh
e okay? What kind of accident?” Tears already sounded in his mom’s voice.
“A car accident. I’m told she’s stable right now. She was taken to Memorial Hospital.”
Billy closed his eyes and visualized Macy sitting across the table from him at the prison. So smart, so full of life. Now she lay in a hospital, hurting. She could die.
I’m going to kill you, Tanks. I’m going to kill you, and I’m going to enjoy doing it!
After a few minutes, he heard the front door close. Billy climbed out from under the bed. He paced the bedroom once, then twice. He had to know if Macy was okay. But how?
“Are you okay?” both men asked, looking at all the blood on Jake’s shirt.
Jake assured them he was okay and that he had a clean shirt in his car. Shortly thereafter, the ass chewing began.
“You could have gone after him!” his captain snapped.
“I did what I had to do. Macy was hurt.” Jake kept his eyes on the door of Macy’s room, waiting for the doctor to finish. His mind flashed on the image of the gun sticking out of that window. Pushing Macy into the intersection had been his only choice. Hadn’t it?
“You’re too close to this. I’m taking you off the case,” his captain said.
Jake looked at him. “I’m not officially on the case.”
His captain shook his head. “Well, if you were, I’d take you off.”
“If I was, I’d take myself off,” he admitted. Taking care of Macy had become personal. He looked from one man to the other. “Nothing would make me happier than seeing Tanks’s ass back in prison, and I’ll do anything I can to assure that, but Macy Tucker is my priority. And if I have to take some time off to—”
“That reminds me, what were you doing there, anyway?” his captain asked.
“It was my lunch break.”
Agent James ran a hand over his face. “We should have had a man on her twenty-four-seven. After Mimms…Well, there will be one on her from here on out.”
The doctor walked out of Macy’s room, and Jake swung around. “How is she?”
“Nasty cut and concussion. I’m going to have her X-rayed. She’s going to need stitches. I’d like to keep her overnight, but…”
“You keep her,” Jake snapped.
“She’s not willing.” The doctor frowned. “Anyway, unless something shows up on her X-rays, she’ll go home. Who’ll be taking care of her?”
“I will,” Jake said.
“You’re the husband?”
“Boyfriend,” Jake said.
“He’s not the boyfriend,” the nurse said, walking out of the room.
Jake frowned. The nurse frowned. The doctor frowned and said, “Does she have family?”
“Shit. I need to call them.” Jake pulled out his cell phone.
“I had someone talk to the mom,” Agent James said. He was giving Jake an odd look, probably because of the claim of being Macy’s boyfriend. Jake’s captain was doing the same.
The doctor glanced back at Jake. “I’ll have the nurse go over the care instructions. You’ll need to keep a close eye on her.”
“Can we talk to her now?” Agent James flashed his badge.
The doctor’s eyebrows rose. “Only for a minute or two. I’ll be back in a few to stitch her up.”
Jake, followed by the two men, walked into Macy’s room. She was sitting up.
“You okay?” he asked.
Her color had improved, but she didn’t seem happy to see him. He didn’t blame her.
“My head hurts, but I’m fine,” she said.
“Can you tell us what happened?” the captain asked.
Jake took her hand. “If you don’t feel like talking now—”
She looked at his captain. “I was going home. I stopped at a light. I saw the gun, then…”
“Then I ran into you,” Jake confessed, hoping it would lessen the guilt building in his chest. “I saw the gun. It was the first thing I thought of.” Tension vibrated through his body.
“You caused the accident?” the captain bellowed. “Jesus! Three cars and a hearse were wrecked and…and that damn casket! When the press gets a hold of this—”
“I was trying to save your life.” Jake kept his eyes on Macy. He didn’t give a rat’s ass what the captain thought. It was Macy he’d hurt.
She glanced at the captain. “He may have hit me, but I ran the light. It was the gun or that white Honda. I decided to take the Honda.”
Jake’s mind replayed the moment his car had rear-ended her. The jolting impact. He’d heard her tires burn into the asphalt. She hadn’t been moving forward. She was lying to protect him.
“No, I—” His cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket, praying it would be Donaldson with good news. “Tell me you got the bastard.”
“Is my sister okay?”
The voice sent red flags flying up everywhere. Jake’s gaze darted to Agent James. The man’s eyes widened with a silent question. Jake nodded. The agent pulled his cell phone out and started punching in numbers.
“What do you mean?” Jake spoke the question while looking at Macy. Oblivious that he was speaking to Billy, she’d sunk deeper into her bed and closed her eyes.
Agent James stepped outside the room, but Jake heard him and he figured so could Macy. “Moore’s on Baldwin’s line. Get a location, now!”
Jake’s line crackled, and he watched Macy sit up.
“You know what I mean, damn it!” Billy said. Static buzzed, then: “Is she okay?”
“She’s fine,” Jake said.
Macy grabbed his arm. He saw the questions in her eyes as his own questions bounced around his head. How did Billy know about Macy? There hadn’t been time to get it on the news. Had Billy been at the scene of the accident?
When Billy didn’t speak, Jake asked, “Do you want to talk to her?”
“I told you to watch her.”
“I’m trying. Billy, if you turn yourself in, it would—”
“I want to talk to him!” Tears welled up in Macy’s eyes.
Billy continued, “Well, you’re doing a piss-poor job. He”—the phone crackled again—“didn’t he?”
“I’m losing you, Billy.” Jake looked at Macy, but focused on the conversation. “Where are you?” The line went dead. Jake lowered the phone.
“Where is he?” Macy asked.
“Was that who I think it was?” the captain asked.
Jake hit the redial button to display the number. Agent James stormed back, his phone still attached to his ear. He grabbed Jake’s wrist to see the small screen on Jake’s phone.
“Damn it!” James snapped. “He’s at the grandmother’s place.”
“He’s at Nan’s?” Macy kicked off the sheet draped over her.
Agent James punched in more numbers on his phone and pressed it to his ear. “Billy Moore is there.” James’s scowl deepened. “In the house. Get him. Now!”
“Lie back down.” Jake jerked the sheet over Macy.
She swung her legs over the bed and got up. “No. I’m going with you.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“The hell you are coming with me.” Jake put a hand on Macy’s shoulder and watched as blood trickled down her forehead. “You’re bleeding again.”
“He’s my brother. Where are my clothes?” She looked around the small room.
“You need stitches. They’ve got to do some X-rays. Lie back down,” Jake seethed.
A voice came from the hall. “Where’s my daughter?” A sniffling sound followed. “I want to see her!”
Jake glanced at the door just as Faye Moore walked in. Her eyes were wet. Mascara smeared her face, and her hair…Oh, damn! Her hair was an odd shade of purple.
“Get me my clothes, Mom,” Macy snapped.
Macy’s grandma bounded into room. “Thank God you’re okay,” she said.
Macy, focused on the FBI agent, pushed off the bed. “I’m going.”
Jake’s gaze, along with the gazes of the two other men in the roo
m, shot down to Macy’s beautiful and exposed backside. He snatched up the thin blanket and wrapped it around her. “Get back in bed.”
“I’m going!” Macy shrieked. “He’ll listen to me.”
“Going where?” her mom asked.
Agent James spoke into his cell. “Because we traced him on their home phone.” Pause. “Damn! But he has to be close. Find him!” The Fed snapped his phone closed. Everyone looked at him. “He’s not there. The phone is missing. He must have taken it.”
“What’s going on?” Nan asked.
A drop of blood fell from Macy’s forehead and landed on Jake’s shoe. Losing it, he scooped her up in his arms and set her on the bed.
Billy tossed his grandmother’s phone onto the floor of the van. Macy was okay. For some crazy reason, he’d believed Jake Baldwin when he said that. But for how long would she be okay? Tanks wouldn’t give up. He’d try again. And the next time, he might succeed.
Taking a curve at a fairly moderate speed, Billy slapped his pocket to make sure he’d left with the fake ID. The feel of the rectangular piece of plastic did very little to calm his racing heart. He drove out of the neighborhood. In the distance, he could hear sirens. The temptation to punch the gas pedal dug deep into his gut. He fought it. He couldn’t lose control now.
With his eyes on the road, he drove and ticked off his to-do list. Go to Girls Galore. Talk to Jamie Clay. Find Tanks. Kill him.
Macy opened her eyes to find Jake standing over her, brushing her hair from her forehead. He leaned down. She thought he intended to kiss her, and vaguely she recalled those few seconds after the accident, thinking how dying would have meant regretting things.
He leaned closer and studied her stitches. “You might have a small scar, but—”
“Damn. There goes my modeling career,” she groused. Fabric slipped off her shoulder, and she pulled it back up, aware she had nothing on but a backless hospital gown.
Gotcha! Page 18
