Find Me (The Donovan Family Book 3)

by Margaret Watson

  She glanced out the window, and he could see her pale reflection in the wavy glass. "Why didn't you tell me who you were right away?"

  "I couldn't tell you." His fingers tightened on hers when she tried to pull her hand away. "You were a witness, and you'd disappeared. I had no idea why." Her skin was soft, her fingers delicate in spite of the strength in her hands. "I'm sorry I had to lie to you, Lizzy, but I needed more information. I wish I could have told you right away, but I couldn't. I was just doing my job." He closed his eyes, hating how that sounded.

  She shrugged one shoulder. "Doesn't really matter, does it?"

  "It does to me."

  "Your problem. Not mine."

  "God, you're tough."

  "It's a tough world."

  Life had built a hard shell around Lizzy Monroe, and his lies had only reinforced that shell. "It hasn't been easy for you, has it?" he murmured. "Your father, your mother's death, your estrangement from your brother. You lost your whole family to Kyle Diggens."

  In the dark glass he saw her press her lips together. Her eyes glittered, as if she was holding back tears. Lizzy had been alone for a very long time.

  He couldn't imagine life without his family.

  It was after midnight and he was too tired to argue with her. So he watched her stiff shoulders as she stared out the plane window. As soon as the plane stopped at the gate and the baggage handlers appeared, Lizzy craned her neck to see out the window.

  Watching for Franny. He'd bet a million bucks on it.

  He refused to feel guilty for putting the dog in the cargo hold. There was no other way to get her back to Chicago. It was either that or leave her behind.

  People in front of them were standing in the aisle, gathering their belongings from the overhead bins. Lizzy watched them, tapping her fingers on the backpack and jiggling her leg.

  He finally put his hand on her thigh. "Franny's fine," he murmured.

  "You don't know that." But her leg stopped moving.

  "The airlines ship animals all the time."

  "And sometimes they get lost. Or they die."

  "Lizzy." He grabbed her hand to stop the tapping. "She's fine."

  She didn't respond, but she didn't take her hand away from him, either. He held it until it was their turn to exit the plane. When they reached the concourse, he took her hand again and entwined their fingers.

  "You think I'm going to take off?" she muttered, trying to draw away from him. "Where would I go?"

  He tightened his grip on her. "You're not going to run away. I'm pretty sure you realize you're safer with me than alone."

  "So why are you holding onto me?"

  He looked over at her. "Maybe I want to hold your hand."

  She stared at him for a long moment, a muscle in her jaw clenching. "Why? This is your job."

  He sighed. "You going to throw it in my face forever?"

  "Maybe." Her breath caught, as if she hadn't meant to say it out loud. When he glanced at her, she looked like a deer caught in a pair of headlights.

  She cleared her throat and shook her head. "Forever is just a few days, anyway. Until you know who the killer is, and he's caught."

  "You go ahead and think that," he murmured.

  Her steps slowed. "I don't know why you'd want to hold my hand."

  "You're a smart woman." He stroked his thumb over the back of her hand, his cock stirring when he heard her tiny gasp. "I bet you can figure it out."

  She tried to pull away and he tightened his grip on her. Finally, she left her hand in his. Her skin was a little rough, and she had calluses on her palm. From chopping wood? Doing the work of living on an island by herself?

  The evidence on her hand of the hard work she'd done to survive was surprisingly arousing. She was a passionate woman. In every part of her life.

  Blood pounded through his veins at the mental image of Lizzy's lithe, supple body, swinging an ax and wrestling with the wood. He remembered the feel of her ass beneath his hands, the feel of her strong legs wrapped around him, and blood rushed to his groin. He wanted Lizzy way too much.

  They walked past the rows of darkened shops and restaurants, security gates blocking their entrances, and he couldn't focus on anything but the woman walking next to him. That was dangerous, he told himself. They were back in Chicago. He needed to be alert. Watchful. Ready for anything.

  As they descended to the lower level, all he saw were the equally exhausted people from their four and a half hour flight. It had been after eight PM, Chicago time, when they'd boarded the plane. With any luck, no one from the FBI would check the flights until tomorrow.

  Franny's crate was waiting at the baggage claim area. As he scanned the long stretch of open area for anyone or anything that looked out of place, Lizzy dropped his hand and rushed to the crate. Franny pressed her nose against the metal grate as Lizzy struggled to open the door.

  As her fingers fumbled with the latch, Mac gently pushed her hands away and unhooked it, and Franny rushed out.

  "Hey, Fran. You okay?" Lizzy murmured as she ran her hands over her dog. Franny licked her face and Lizzy wrapped her arms around the dog's neck. She closed her eyes and held on for a long moment, then reached into her bag for the leash.

  With one last swipe of her hand over the dog's back, Lizzy stood up. "Where are we going?"

  "My mother's house." He drew her toward an ATM in a deserted corner of the baggage area. "I'm going to get some cash, then we'll call a limo. They'll figure out that we took a cab or a limo, but cash might buy us a little time."

  "Your mother's house?" She reared back as if he'd slapped her. "Hell, no. I'm not going to your mother's. This is a bad situation. I'm not going to put her in danger."

  "We won't," he said evenly. "Two of my brothers, both cops, will be there. You'll be safe, and so will my mom." He reached for his last shred of patience. Would nothing be easy with Lizzy? "If you have a better plan, let's hear it."

  "What's wrong with a hotel?" She lifted her chin and stared at him.

  "You want to stay in some flea-bag motel? Because in Chicago, that's the only place that will let you keep Franny in the room with us." He closed his eyes and counted to ten. "It's one in the morning. We're both exhausted. We need to stay under the radar. Give me a fucking break, Lizzy."

  Her hand tightened on Franny's leash. "Fine. But don't blame me if your family gets hurt because of this."

  "My family will be fine." He dug in his pocket for his phone and turned it on. With luck, it had enough juice to last a few more minutes.

  "You're going to use your phone to call a limo?" She sounded horrified. "Can't that be traced?"

  "Give me a little credit. I'm not going to use it to make a call. I need it to look up the number for a limo company."

  The phone came to life, and he sent up a prayer of thanks as he Googled limo companies. When he had a couple of numbers, he turned the phone off again, then used the pay phone to call one of them and arrange for a pick-up.

  "They'll be here in fifteen minutes. We'll wait inside until we see the guy pull up."

  "Franny probably needs to go out. I'll take her for a walk."

  He wanted to stay with her, but he forced himself to watch from the curb. Lizzy didn't wander far, and Franny took care of business quickly.

  As Lizzy walked toward him, she stepped off the curb awkwardly and froze for a moment. Then she headed toward him, moving slowly.

  ***

  Lizzy's ankle throbbed and she shifted her foot carefully in the back of the limo. She'd twisted it when she stumbled on the curb, and it was swelling quickly. The pain cut through her weariness and made it easier to stay alert.

  She didn't want to wake up in the morning and not know where she was. So she watched the route and noted the streets and landmarks, and hoped that when they reached Mac's mother's house, she'd have at least a general idea where they were.

  Mac sat silently beside her. She felt his gaze on her, but she didn't meet it. She was close enough t
o feel the heat from his body, close enough to smell the scent of his skin. With the window separating them from the front seat closed, they were cocooned in a small, intimate space. The silence quivered with pheromones and hormones and want. Memories from the night before hung between them, creating a fresh wave of need. Desire.

  He'd said he'd wanted her from the moment he'd seen her. That he'd been thinking about her ever since. She wanted to believe it. Too badly.

  His implied promise to pursue a relationship with her after the case was resolved called to her like a Siren.

  Maybe that made her a fool. But, judging by the heat in Mac's eyes, she wasn't alone in her foolishness.

  It was as if desire oozed from their pores, was exhaled into the air swirling around them. Anticipation hummed beneath her skin, an awareness of Mac that had been there since she undressed him in the house on Skipjack. It had sharpened to need and longing after they'd made...had sex.

  Last night had sent it out of control.

  The same tension vibrated off Mac. He held himself away from her, as if one touch would light a match and set them both on fire. The effort it took not to touch him made her hands ache. She wanted to lean against him, to take comfort from his strength, to curl into him and feel safe.

  He'd lied to her. Slept with her and betrayed her. He'd outwitted her.

  He'd stung her pride. When she left Chicago more than three months ago, she thought she'd come up with a perfect plan to escape. He'd found her anyway.

  When she'd handcuffed him to the pier on Shaw Island, he easily caught up with her. He'd taken Franny to keep her from running.

  He'd been one step ahead of her since he washed up on the rocks of Skipjack Island.

  She wanted him anyway. What did that say about her?

  Nothing she wanted to think about. Her brain was numb, and every muscle in her body felt like a wet rag. Except for the muscles in her right leg and foot. Those hurt like a son of a bitch.

  She'd been jacked on adrenaline since she'd found Mac's waterproof pouch on the rocks, and now all she wanted was sleep. Oblivion. Escape from her frightening reality.

  And she wanted Mac beside her as she slept.

  She was an idiot.

  The limo rolled to a stop in front of a brown bungalow in the middle of a block of similar houses. Front porch lights glowed on a few of them, including the one they'd stopped at.

  The front door opened as if someone had been listening for the sounds of a car. Two men stepped outside, both of them wearing shoulder holsters. They looked up and down the street, peered at the adjoining houses, and finally walked to the limo.

  One of them opened the door. "Everything looks good, bro. We've been watching since we got here."

  Mac slid out of the car and embraced the first man, then the second one. "Thanks, Bren. You too, Con. Appreciate it."

  "We know you'd do it for us. And why didn't you call Quinn and Mia, too?"

  Even in the darkness, Lizzy could see Mac's grin. "Mia's on nights, and Quinn's got a hot new girlfriend. Tessa will be waiting when he gets off shift, and he has better things to do this time of night. I figured you'd be up for a little excitement since you two losers don't have women in your dull lives."

  "Takes one to know one." The one he'd called Brendan punched Mac's shoulder. Mac glanced at her, and even in the darkness, she could read his expression. Maybe I do have a woman in my life.

  Her face burned. For a tiny second, alone, afraid and exhausted, she wished it was true.

  "You owe us big time, FBI," Connor said. "And we'll collect."

  Mac turned back to his brothers. "Yeah. I know. Totally worth it." Mac stuck his head into the limo, peeled off some cash and handed it through the partition to the driver. Then he extended his hand to Lizzy.

  She curled her fingers around his, and the buzz sizzled up her arm. She tried to ignore it, but it flowed through her in waves of pleasure. Need. Want.

  His grip tightened as she stumbled out of the limo, Franny's leash over her wrist and the backpack under her arm. She couldn't suppress the tiny cry of pain as she stepped to the curb.

  "What's wrong?"

  She rolled her shoulders and took the weight off her right ankle. "Twisted my ankle a little when I was walking Franny," she muttered, trying not to let his brothers hear her. "I'll be fine."

  Mac stared at her, then glanced at her feet. She let go of his hand to prove that she was okay. He watched her for a long moment, then turned to his brothers. "Guys, this is Lizzy Monroe," Mac said. "Lizzy, these are my brothers, Brendan and Connor."

  She shook their hands, studying them. They both looked like Mac, with the same dark hair. She couldn't see their eyes, but she'd bet they were blue, like Mac's. Connor was about Mac's height, but not as muscular. His hair was cut in what Lizzy thought of as 'cop style', short and neat. Brendan was taller and lean. His dark, wavy hair brushed his shoulders.

  "Thank you for coming here tonight," she finally said. "I appreciate it."

  "No point taking any chances," Connor said. "Let's get you in the house."

  She stepped away from the limo, allowing Franny to jump onto the grass parkway. Brendan crouched to pet her. "Nice dog. Is she an Aussie?"

  "Yes, she is." She took a closer look at Mac's brother. "Do you have one?"

  "No time for a dog. But I always thought if I had time, I'd get an Aussie."

  "They're great dogs," Lizzy began, then Mac took her arm.

  "Ladies, let's take this coffee klatch into the house." She tried not to limp as Mac led her to the concrete steps and into the living room. A small dark-haired woman dressed in jeans and a too-large sweatshirt was waiting.

  "Mac," she said, embracing her son." She kissed his cheek, then turned to Lizzy.

  "Welcome." Before Lizzy knew what was happening, she was embraced in a fierce hug.

  Chapter 17

  Mac's mother smelled like lilacs and sunshine. Lizzy wanted to cling, but she closed her eyes and stepped away. Kind blue eyes softened. "Are you hungry?" Mac's mom finally asked.

  "No, Mrs. Donovan. But thank you," Lizzy said. Her voice quivered with weariness.

  An arm curled around her shoulders. Mac. He pulled her close, and she sighed against him. He'd hurt her feelings. Stung her pride, and her ego was still smarting. But she was tired, and she didn't want FBI agent Mac. She wanted the Mac who felt so solid against her. So warm.

  How could his scent – outdoors, wind and rain – be so familiar already? It comforted her, and she leaned closer.

  "We've had a...busy couple of days, Mom," Mac said. "Lizzy's exhausted, and so am I. We need to sleep."

  Mac steered her toward the stairs. Her ankle throbbed, but she tried to hide the limp. One of Mac's brothers, Brendan, she thought, put a hand on her arm. "What's wrong?"

  "Twisted my ankle," she said lightly. "It'll be fine in the morning."

  "Let me take a look."

  "It's nothing."

  "I used to be a paramedic," he said. "If it's just a sprain, I can at least wrap it for you."

  Rose pushed Mac aside. "Go get one of the ace bandages in the bathroom closet," she ordered him. Then she wrapped her arm around Lizzy's waist and steered her to a chair.

  Brendan unlaced her shoe and eased it off her foot. He handled her already-swollen ankle gently, pushing on it and watching her reactions. Finally he set her foot on the floor.

  "Sprained, I think. Not too bad, but a wrap will keep the swelling down." He twisted and called, "Mac, get your ass out here with that bandage."

  Mac reappeared, scowling. "You have any idea how much shit Mom has in that closet?"

  "You know I can hear both of you, right?" Rose said.

  "Sorry," Brendan muttered, grabbing the bandage out of Mac's hand. He wove the elastic wrap expertly over her ankle and fastened it, then stood up. "Ice it for awhile tonight. It'll keep the swelling down."

  Rose said, "I'll get an ice pack."

  She reappeared a few moments later, bending a smal
l bag in two. "All ready to go," she said, handing the bag to Mac. "Help her upstairs."

  Mac wrapped his arm around her waist as she limped toward the stairs. Before she could begin climbing them, Connor stepped in front of them. "We need to talk."

  "Yeah, I know." Mac's smile disappeared. "Let me show Lizzy to my room first and help her into bed, okay?"

  He tightened his arm around her waist and helped her up the stairs. As they climbed, Lizzy glanced back and saw Mac's mother and brothers watching them. She twisted back to glare at Mac. "Your room?" she whispered. "Help me to bed? In front of your mother?"

  "What? You think she doesn't know her sons have sex?"

  The twitch of his lips made her shove his arm off her shoulder. "You think it's funny? How am I supposed to face her in the morning?"

  His smile disappeared as they reached the top of the stairs. A single light burned in the ceiling fixture, leaving the hallway dim. Intimate.

  He tugged her around a corner and cupped her face in his hands. "All I meant was, we're sleeping in my room. I'm not going to leave you alone, okay? I have to talk to my brothers for a few minutes, but I want to make sure you're comfortable first." He smoothed his thumbs over her cheeks, and she canted toward him.

  His chest was solid and strong, and she tucked her face into his neck as she smoothed her hand over the hard muscles of his chest before curling her fingers into his shirt. Without thinking, she lifted her face toward his. Like she wanted to kiss him.

  His smile gleamed in the semi-darkness. "I'm glad you were thinking about making love with me," he whispered, brushing his mouth over hers. "I want you, too. More than I did last night, if that's even possible. But can you wait until we're somewhere more private than my mom's house?"

  Memories spooled through her brain, making her face flame. Making her hope no one at the bottom of the stairs could hear them.

  She jerked away and tripped over Franny's leash.

  Mac caught her easily, held her for a moment too long. She thought his lips skimmed her hair, then he picked up Franny's leash and led her and her dog into a tiny bedroom.

  There was a double bed in one corner, a desk in another, and a small bookcase against the wall next to the door. Athletic trophies decorated the top of the bookcase, and the shelves were packed with paperback books. Thrillers and mysteries. A faded poster of Michael Jordan decorated one wall, and several album covers in cheap frames lined another. Springsteen. Nirvana. A couple she couldn't place.