"Oh, Eva. No."
"'Fraid so, cuz." She pushed the off button on the phone, stood and motioned for Rosie to go back into the living room.
Dumbfounded, Rosie didn't move. "Why? Is this for what you said earlier? Money for your mom's treatment?"
Eva shook her head. "That's Kyle's thing."
"Why then?"
"Let's just say that you and your sisters always had it all. Some of the rest of us weren't as lucky." She laughed, a brittle, hollow sound that wasn't like Eva at all. "Given a choice between spending my time on a tropical island and working third shift at the hospital for the next ten years … that's a no-brainer. Marco says he'll hang on to you for a few days—leverage to keep Lily in line. That's no skin off my back." She shrugged. "Let's go."
"You wouldn't really shoot me." This was her cousin, Rosie thought. They'd played together as children, and as teenagers they'd had sleepovers with her sisters and other cousins the same age—nights filled with experimenting with the latest makeup and giggling about boys and dreaming of a life beyond the one they all knew. But then they had been filled with the grand plans of youth and the even grander dreams.
Eva moved closer, pulled the hammer back on the gun and pressed it against Rosie's shoulder, which was still tender from yesterday's fall. "Are you really so sure? You go first."
Still baffled over the resentment in Eva's voice, Rosie moved back into the living room. Through the open doorway she could see into the kitchen where Ian and Kyle flanked the exterior door. Immediately in front of the door Sly stood barking, his ruff up.
"Call the dog." Eva jabbed the pistol's barrel in Rosie's back to emphasize her command.
"Sly, come," Rosie commanded.
The dog turned toward her, his lip curled back in a snarl that she would never have imagined from him.
"Come here, boy."
"Rosie, get the hell back," Ian ordered.
Sly trotted toward her. The gun in her back urged her forward until she reached the doorway that separated the kitchen from the living room. In the kitchen Kyle and Ian were focused on the unseen man on the other side of the door. As if sensing their presence, Ian glanced suddenly at Eva and her.
Eva raised the gun to Rosie's head so Ian could see it. "Put the gun down on the floor. Now."
"Dammit all to hell." He looked from Rosie to Kyle.
"Put it down," Eva repeated.
Ian bent and set his weapon on the floor.
"Now, kick it over here."
"And to think I trusted you," Ian said, looking at Kyle, then swore again.
"Eva," Kyle said. "What—"
"Let the man in, big brother."
"Eva—"
She pushed the barrel of the gun against Rosie's cheek. Against her skin, the metal felt so cold. The weapon was different, but Rosie was still reminded of the last time she'd been sure she would die. Why do such stupid things fill your mind, she wondered, like seeing that the kitchen floor needed to be mopped. There were important things, like wanting to see Annmarie grow up. Like telling her sisters and her parents she loved them. Like telling Ian that he'd been the absolute best, and that she wasn't at all sure how she was going to live without him. Rosie swallowed and met Ian's gaze. He had never looked more fierce or more angry.
Beneath her fingertips Sly strained against her grip on his collar, a growl rumbling from his throat. Her docile dog who most days acted like a rug. Not now. Ian's gaze dropped to the dog, then met hers again.
Swearing under his breath, Kyle opened the door.
She wanted to glance at the man responsible for her flight from her home, but Ian held her stare. A muscle ticked in his jaw, and that predatory look she knew so well was back. His eyes held some message for her, but darned if she knew what.
"Well, Lamont, our paths cross again," Marco said to Kyle, stepping over the threshold, a huge pistol in his hand. The same man who had shot Kyle days ago. What could Eva be thinking of? She was a fool to think she could make a bargain with Marco.
"Some folks just keep turning up like a bad penny," Kyle said.
"I'll take this." Marco took the shotgun away from Kyle and, as Ian had earlier, emptied the shells out of it. Then he looked up and glanced around the room. "Eva, I knew I could count on you."
"Dammit, sis."
"Stay out of this." Eva took a step away from Rosie. "You wanted her. Here she is."
Marco's gaze shifted to Rosie. This close, he looked unremarkable except for the scar that slashed across his face and the big gun in his hand. A bully, just as Ian had described him. "Your sister shouldn't have testified," he said. He clucked his tongue. "Now, she … and you will pay the price of her foolishness."
Sly growled again.
Rosie looked again at Ian, and he nodded ever so slightly. Sudden understanding dawned, and she let go of Sly.
"Boom," she commanded, giving him their secret code word for attack.
Sly took a flying leap across the kitchen, his teeth bared. He knocked Marco to the floor. Marco's weapon slid across the floor toward Rosie. Marco struck the dog on the side of the head. Growling, Sly grabbed his arm.
Ian caught Marco with a sharp blow to the jaw that snapped his head back. The three of them rolled to the floor, Sly hanging on tightly to one arm. Ian turned Marco to his stomach and placed his knee in the small of the man's back, then wrenched Marco's other arm behind him.
Rosie whirled on her cousin, stomped on her foot and wrenched the gun from her hand. Shaking, Rosie swung and caught Eva across the face, a blow that knocked her to the floor. Eva's expression was stunned, and she made no move to get up.
By the time Rosie turned around, Ian had tied Marco's hands behind him—Sly's leash, she realized—and he'd retrieved Marco's weapon. As for Marco, he was out cold.
"On the floor," he ordered, motioning with the gun and advancing on Kyle.
"I'm on your side." Kyle reached his arms out. "Honest."
"Like I believe you." Ian motioned again. "On your stomach, arms behind your back."
"Rosie…"
She glanced at Eva who still was on the floor where she had landed. "Do what the man says, cuz," she said, imitating Eva's tone. "You, too, Eva."
"The gun's not loaded," Eva said without moving.
Ian finished tying up Kyle, this time using his own belt and casually aimed Marco's pistol at her. "This one is." He advanced on her. "Since I'm a nice guy, you can sit her on the couch—in front of the window, where you'll have a real good view of your buddies outside."
"We're not with them," Kyle said. "C'mon, man. The cops are gonna be here any minute."
"They'd better be," Ian replied.
"I can help you," he insisted.
Ian finished tying up Eva and ignored him. "You okay, babe?" he asked without looking at Rosie.
She set the pistol on the table. "Just as soon as I stop shaking, I'll be fine."
"Then just sit there with the dog. Promise him a T-bone steak. He's earned it." As he spoke, Ian moved from one window to the next, peering out the side and making sure he couldn't be seen from outside. Finally he pinned her with one of his penetrating looks. "You stay put. I don't want to worry about where you are."
She swallowed the smart retort that surfaced and merely nodded. He glided soundlessly toward the back of the house. A second later Rosie heard noises on the back porch, and she called to Ian.
"I hear them," he said, returning. Keeping away from a direct line in front of the door, he positioned himself against the wall by the door, every line of his body tense.
The door burst open, and a man came through the door.
"Drop your weapon," Ian shouted.
"Drop yours!" The man whirled on Ian, his stance with the weapon just as secure as Ian's. The word POLICE was emblazoned across his back in bright-yellow letters.
Two more men, also identified as cops, followed the first into the house, both aiming their weapons at Ian.
One of them lowered his. "Well, hell, can't you s
tay outta trouble, man?" He glanced at the other two officers. "This is Ian Stearne."
Ian lowered his weapon, then handed it butt first to the officers.
"You sure took your time," Ian said.
"Well, there was a little traffic outside that we had to handle." He nudged Marco. "Since he's tied up, guess it's safe to assume that he's not dead."
"Nope." Ian came toward Rosie, who shakily stood, though she was pretty sure her legs wouldn't support her.
"And this must be Rosie Jensen," the cop said. Ian wrapped an arm around her and drew her close, squeezing her shoulder as she leaned against him. "Meet J.D. Sawyer. We had the pleasure earlier in the day."
"Nice of you to say so, especially since you were in handcuffs then," Sawyer returned.
"You're the one who arrested him?" Rosie's shakes vanished beneath an onslaught of anger. One of the other officers was untying Kyle. "Are you crazy? Kyle—"
"Was helping us," Sawyer finished.
Ian swore.
Kyle stood up, rubbing his wrists. He glanced uneasily at Ian and, after a moment's hesitation, offered his hand. "In your shoes I would have done the same thing."
Rosie felt the tension radiating from Ian. Even after Eva came to stand next to her brother, Ian's posture remained rigid.
"Check my gun," Eva urged. "It's not loaded. I swear it."
"You didn't ask Eva if she was the spy," Kyle said.
Rosie looked at her cousin. "What you said earlier … that didn't sound like you."
"But you bought it." Eva looked up at her brother, her eyes suddenly bright with unshed tears. "After Kyle was brought to the hospital, he told me about his involvement with Marco and how things had, well, gotten so out of hand. That very same day Marco contacted me—told me that Kyle still owed him, and now it was up to me to keep the bargain. And I can tell you I've never been so scared in all my life." She swallowed and glanced at Kyle. "And, since we knew the state police had somebody guarding your folks, we went to them."
"Told them everything," Kyle added.
"And when you arrived, I did everything that Marco ordered me to do." She smiled faintly. "And I made sure my contact with the state police knew everything, too."
"Which is why I let you see the damn shotgun," Kyle finished, cuffing Ian on the shoulder. "I sure as hell didn't want you to shoot me, and I figured you wouldn't buy me inviting you in for a beer."
Eva reached for Rosie's hand. "I'm a senior accounting manager, Rosie, in the administrative office. I haven't worked a night shift in years … and the rest of what I said, it wasn't true. None of it."
Rosie managed a smile, still surprisingly hurt by Eva's accusations about her and her sisters. "I just couldn't figure out what was going on. It was so great to see you, and when you showed up at the hospital, it was like you were an answer to my prayers."
Eva managed a laugh. "Trust me, Rosie, I was."
Ian reached for the pistol that Eva had used. He spun the cylinder, then showed Rosie. The gun wasn't loaded, hadn't been loaded when Eva used it to threaten Rosie. "The Juneau police—"
"Didn't know the whole story until about two hours after we picked you up," Sawyer said, joining them. "Everything you told us fit to a gnat's eye to what the state police told us, and that's when we learned about Eva's involvement. Surveillance was all set, and Jones and I were on our way here when we ran into you. You weren't supposed to get here until it was over."
Next to Rosie, Ian stiffened. "You used Rosie as bait?"
"She was in no real danger," Sawyer responded. "We had this baby covered six ways from Sunday. You always such a hardass?"
"And that explains how that bastard got in the house—"
Rosie squeezed Ian's hand. "It's okay."
His gaze fastened on hers, his expression bleak. "It's absolutely not okay."
"We hoped the whole thing would go down before you got here," Sawyer continued. "Only it didn't." He folded his arms across his chest and rocked back on his heels. "I hear there's somebody up here making unauthorized calls on a radio. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"
Ian gestured toward the kitchen sink. "Your radio is in there on the counter."
As Rosie watched the exchange between the two men, she realized this was the first of a lot of questions that she'd have for Ian. How had he spent the hours between when he'd left the hospital and his arrival here? She had been so terrified when she heard Annmarie crying. After Rosie learned that Annmarie had been taken to the police station with Ian, her imagination had kicked in. She worried that it was a ruse, and they'd really been taken away by Franklin Lawrence's thugs. After the security guard assured her the police were the genuine article, she began to be afraid for herself.
During that hour before Eva had arrived, Rosie felt more alone than she ever had in her life. Every sound made her jump, and she had been shocked at how much she wanted Ian with her. To stand beside her while she faced all those little things that scared her. She'd had too much time to think during that hour, comparing her hours in the emergency room this time with last. Her physical injuries this time were more serious, another surprise as she thought about it. The old memories didn't hurt as they once had—they'd just made her sad.
The surprising realization that had poured through her was how much she needed Ian. She, who had vowed never to need anyone again—want them, maybe, but never need them. Just as her world had shifted when Ian had arrived all those days ago with Annmarie, it did again as she admitted the man had somehow woven his way so tightly into her life that she knew she'd be missing him forever when he left.
"I'm ready to go home," she said to Ian.
"The boat?" he asked. "Or should I get a float plane and take you home—back to Lynx Point?"
"You'd do that?"
"In a heartbeat. Name it, and it's yours."
She searched his face, wondering if he really meant what he said and tempted to give him back some smart retort. His expression was a new one for her—not the warrior protecting his own and ordering her to do things his way, not the charming man trying to cajole her into doing what he wanted. His eyes took on a sheen that took her breath away.
Telling a small bit of her just discovered truth, she said, "My folks and Annmarie—I need to see them."
"Okay." He gave her a crisp nod as though it was already done.
* * *
"Rosie, oh, my girl," Patty said when Rosie and Ian came through the door to the house in Petersburg so many hours later that the sun had set and it was past bedtime. "We were so relieved to get the news that Ian had found you and that you're okay. You are okay, aren't you?" Then, without waiting for an answer, added, "I didn't expect to see you." She enveloped Rosie in a long hug and managed to pat Sly on the head at the same time.
Ian stood back, watching the reunion and feeling out of place. The warmth and the need between mother and daughter revealed to him yet another facet of Rosie—the woman wasn't afraid to need and be needed. To think he'd pegged her as a loner who didn't need or want anyone in her life.
Glad as he was for her, he found himself fiercely envious of her family. For the first time in years he felt like that kid wandering the mall at Christmastime, studying those shiny kids with their moms and sometimes their dads. And wanting his very own perfect family where he belonged the way Rosie would always belong.
A second later Patty turned to him, looking every bit the earth mother Rosie had claimed her to be, her brightly colored caftan flowing around her. "Thank you for bringing my girl home," she said the instant before she enveloped him in a long hug.
Surprised, he stood rigid, then hugged her back. She gathered him close, her much smaller frame somehow sheltering him as though a mere hug could make things better. He'd seen Rosie do the same time and again with Annmarie. Fleetingly he imagined how different his own life would have been if he'd ever once had the kind of acceptance from his mother that Rosie had from hers.
"Where's Annmarie?" Rosie asked.
/> Patty let go of Ian and smiled. "That little angel is finally in bed. It took a while for her to wind down."
Ian glanced around the well-lived-in living room that was cluttered with books and magazines and plants of every size and shape. A pile of brightly colored toys occupied one corner of the rug.
"She's in Dahlia's old bedroom," Patty added.
Rosie headed toward the back of the house, her faithful dog in tow, and Patty took Ian by the hand.
"Now, then, what do you need?" She led him into the kitchen. "Dinner? Coffee? A snack? I made lefse this morning. With a little butter and sugar and a glass of milk…"
He yawned, then managed a smile. "Nothing. I'm fine, thanks."
"You look beat."
He grinned. "It's a little hard to deny the obvious. I thought I might catch a couple of winks on the float plane, but the trip was a rough one." Now that the prospect of sleep was at hand, another wave of tiredness swept over him. "If I'd known we were going to be so late—"
"Don't even think it," she said, giving him that raised eyebrow he so recognized in Rosie. "That you wouldn't have come."
"Where's Dane?" Ian asked.
"Asleep." She grinned again. "Fisherman's hours. The man gets up about an hour from now when the season is on." She motioned toward some stairs beyond the eating area. "Lot's get you settled in."
Ian again found himself following Patty, all the while his mind on Rosie. Like him, she hadn't slept on the flight from Juneau, and the noise from the airplane engines of the small plane had made talking impossible. The disconnection between them—he didn't like that a bit, and at the rate things were going, he wouldn't be seeing Rosie until morning.
Patty pushed open the door at the top of the stairs, and Ian followed her into the room—a queen-size bed was pushed against one wall, and the decorations on the walls made him conclude this had once been the room of a teenager.
"Rosie and Lily shared this room," Patty explained as if answering the question he hadn't asked. She pulled back the bedspread. "The sheets are clean, and there's a bathroom through there."
Ian turned around to see another door.
Patty touched his arm. "You look a little befuddled. Are you sure there's nothing I can get for you?"
TOO CLOSE FOR COMFORT Page 22
