Free Falling

by Debra Webb

  “I can’t believe you aren’t going to put a stop to this,” Mac said to Gerard, his tone leaving no questions as to the extent of his unhappiness with the officer’s response.

  “Now see here,” Gerard began. The grumbling in the crowd grew louder as they closed in on the ridiculous scene.

  “Phil, don’t let this egotistical tree-hater speak to you that way,” Free put in, her blue eyes shooting daggers at Mac.

  “I’ve got your number, lady.” Mac narrowed his gaze and took a step closer to Free. He stabbed an accusing finger in her direction. “You’re trying to shift the focus from the real issue here. This is my tree and I damned well intend to cut it down.” He punctuated his final words by shaking his finger in her pretty face.

  Big mistake.

  The next thing Mac knew, Free had grabbed his hand and clamped down on his finger with her pearly whites. He belted out a string of profanities.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Mac roared. He clenched and unclenched his hand, trying to relieve the throb her teeth had generated. She glared at him as if she might bite him again. He jerked his head in Officer Gerard’s direction. “Did you see that? She bit me!”

  “Free, you just can’t go around biting people when—”

  “When they act like jerks,” Free finished for him, her gaze knifing straight through Mac.

  “Lady, you’re dangerous!”

  Another big mistake.

  She kicked him in the shin, hard. Mac cursed again. The din behind him increased. He rubbed the spot she’d kicked. It hadn’t really hurt, just humiliated him further. Mac derived a great deal of pleasure from her pained yelps. She had evidently forgotten she was barefoot when she kicked him. She nursed her right foot in her hands, the action revealing a lot of one shapely thigh. And something that looked like a birthmark or…tattoo! She had a rose tattoo on her left thigh; Mac had the sudden, almost overwhelming urge to reach out and touch it, but had no intention of risking further violence to his person.

  “If you two are through assaulting each other, we’ll get on with this,” Gerard said impatiently.

  They responded in unison, with the same fierce hostility.

  “This is entirely her fault!” Mac insisted. Free asserted, “This is all his fault!”

  Befuddled, the officer just sort of stared at them.

  “Why aren’t you doing something, Phil?” Free poked Officer Gerard in the chest with her index finger.

  “Yeah,” Mac added. “Why don’t you get this crazy woman off my property?”

  She turned on him then, outraged. “Who are you calling crazy?” She jabbed Mac in the chest, her neon-green nail making him feel like a pincushion. “You’re the one who wants to cut his magnificent tree down!”

  Before she could jab him the second time, Gerard grabbed her wrist and slapped a metal bracelet around it. Her eyes rounded in surprise.

  Mac grinned in exultation, but his victory died a swift death as the officer manacled his wrist and locked the other half of the handcuffs in place. “What the hell are you doing?” Mac demanded.

  “Hauling both of you downtown,” Gerard answered succinctly.

  Mac’s gaze collided with Free’s and for one instant something electrifying passed between them. Then it was gone, leaving Mac struggling to regain his equilibrium. The next thing he knew, Officer Gerard was ushering them into the backseat of his cruiser.

  ~*~

  “I can’t believe this,” Free muttered. She surveyed the small holding cell Phil had left them in more than an hour ago. How could he do this to her? She and Phil went back a long way. He probably knew Free better than anyone else in the world. Understood her better, too. But this? She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I just can’t believe it.”

  “Believe it,” Mac growled in response.

  Free snapped her eyes open and glared at her cellmate. And to put them in the same holding cell…that was just wrong.

  “This is your fault.”

  “My fault?” His eyes sparkled with indignation. He moved his head slowly, solemnly from side to side. “Lady, you are one piece of work.”

  “You—” Free started to point an accusing finger, but the weight of his hand stopped her. She stared down at the metal bracelets that joined them. “I know this isn’t right. He should have removed these when we got here,” more to herself than to the man standing before her.

  “Well, if you hadn’t poked him the chest with that deadly weapon,” he glared at the offending hand now cuffed to his “we might not be here right now. Do you have any idea of the consequences of assaulting an officer of the law?”

  Free jerked her hands to her hips, pulling him nearer in the process. “If you hadn’t tried to kill that wonderful old tree—”

  A muscle flexed repeatedly in his handsome jaw. “It’s my tree,” he ground out. “I can kill it if I want to.”

  Free was really angry now. She had thought the humiliation of being pushed into a police car and brought to the police station had quelled her rage, but she’d been wrong. It hit her full force now. She leaned in dangerously close to Mac the Magnolia Murderer. “Just try it, buster, and I’ll be on top of you like—”

  His blue gaze connected with hers and the rest of the statement stalled on her lips. His nostrils flared. He was so very close. Closer than she had expected, closer than he should have been, and still not close enough. All strength of conviction suddenly whooshed out of her, along with the air in her lungs. Long fingers from the hand cuffed to hers closed around her waist and tugged her even closer. His breath feathered across her lips. His scent assaulted her senses, making her week-kneed.

  His unrestrained hand came up to her face, and he traced gentle fingers down her neck. “Now that,” he murmured, his lips threatening and promising a kiss, “is an interesting proposal.”

  “Free! Oh my God, Free, are you all right?”

  Alex. Free and Mac jumped apart as far as the cuffs would allow, both looking anywhere but at each other. Free gave herself a mental shake to clear the haze that had settled inside her head. She smiled with relief when Alex reached the cell and peered through the steel bars.

  “I’m fine, Alex,” Free assured her friend when she saw the fear in her eyes.

  “Phil is on his way to get you out of there right now. Honey, I’m so sorry it has taken so long, but he refused to release you until McFerrin’s attorney” she arrowed a piercing gaze at Mac “had been contacted.”

  “Mac, I got here as soon as I could.” The voice came from a tall, good-looking man who walked up behind Alex.

  Alex whirled to face him. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  The man smiled. “Why, I’m representing my client, of course.”

  Alex looked from him to McFerrin and back. “Since when are you representing this man? I’ve never see his name on any of the files at the firm.”

  He arched one dark, unabashed eyebrow. “Since John Whitaker, his attorney in Atlanta, asked me to.” The man stepped around Alex and extended his hand through the bars toward Mac. “I’m Jake Larsen.”

  Mac took his hand, a wide grin splitting his face. “Thanks for coming, Jake. John told me all about you.”

  Alex laughed derisively. “Well, it couldn’t have been good.”

  Free drew her eyebrows together in bewilderment. “Alex, do you know this man?”

  Alex sighed mightily. “It’s him,” she said sarcastically. “Father’s future partner at the firm.”

  “Oh,” Free said knowingly. So this was the guy Alex lived to hate.

  “I have the distinct impression that what you’ve heard isn’t flattering, Ms. Renzetti,” Jake suggested in a sexy drawl that made even Free shiver.

  “Let’s just say that it doesn’t bear repeating,” she told him politely.

  “This situation represents a stark breach of ethics,” Alex said coolly.

  “I don’t see how,” Larsen countered.

  “No one ever accused you of being quic
k on your feet, Jake. This is a definite conflict of interest. We’re both from the same law firm and our clients are on opposing sides.”

  Alex’s reply made sense to Free, but then she wasn’t legally inclined.

  “Well, I suppose if you have a problem, Alex, you’ll just have to bow out.”

  “I don’t think so.” Her tone was icy.

  “In that case, I say we get this disagreement negotiated.”

  “There’s nothing to negotiate,” Mac interjected brusquely. “It’s my property. I have every right to ct down that tree if I so choose.”

  “Over my dead body,” Free retorted, meeting his steel-melting gaze with lead in her own.

  “That can be arranged,” Mac muttered.

  Jake held up his hands to stop them. “There’s got to be some way we can compromise.” He turned to Mac. “What exactly is your problem with the tree?”

  “Magnolias continually loose their leaves and I don’t want to deal with the mess.” He shrugged. “I like things a certain way and that tree doesn’t fit into the plan.”

  “You’re not cutting it down,” Free stated simply.

  “What if,” Alex said slowly, seeming to consider her words carefully before she continued, “you leave the tree standing—”

  “No way.” Mac shook his head. “The tree goes.”

  “Just hear me out, McFerrin.”

  Several tense seconds ticked by before Mac finally relented with a slight nod.

  “You leave the tree standing as long as Free agrees to rake up the leaves, blossoms, and the seed pods on a regular basis.”

  “That would work,” Free chimed in. “The tree would be safe and you wouldn’t have to worry about the mess.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Sounds like a good compromise, Mac,” Jake said and then added, “and if at any time Ms. Renzetti fails to live up to her end of the bargain, you could still cut down the tree.”

  Free held her breath as she waited for his decision, fingers and toes crossed. Bare toes, she noted. Phil hadn’t given her time to get her shoes.

  Mac sighed long and deep. He looked from the two attorneys to Free, his gaze lingering on her for a breath-stealing moment. That odd awareness passed between them once more.

  There was something about him, she decided. Something she couldn’t quite separate from the anger and arrogance he radiated.

  “All right, I can live with that if she can.”

  “I can,” Free said quickly. Her smile faded as uneasiness stole over her for the second time that day. An uneasiness that felt suspiciously like attraction. What on earth made her think that she could live with any solution that involved seeing more of this man?

  Chapter Two

  Free rubbed the thick, sticky residue of paint and remover from the intricately carved nineteenth-century mantel. The mahogany beneath the numerous layers of paint would finish out beautifully and would replace the badly damaged mantel in the parlor of the LeMont house. Mrs. LeMont had been thrilled when Free was able to find an exact match to the other four mantels in her sprawling Victorian mansion.

  Refinishing these old pieces gave Free almost as much pleasure as finding them did. Thomas had taught her to relish the hunt and savor the restoration. Free sighed and laid her steel wool aside. She removed the protective gloves and tossed them onto the worktable as well.

  Thomas. She missed her old friend so much. It still hurt sometimes.

  Free turned around slowly in the huge garage-turned-workshop that claimed a full corner of her large backyard. Thomas Styles had turned this old garage into a heaven for forgotten architectural treasure. Liberty Salvage and Restoration had been his idea. Free’s love of antiques and the need for a means by which to support herself had spawned the concept.

  Though Thomas had taken her in when she had no place else to go, Free had refused to allow him to continue providing for her financially once she was on her feet. She intended to make her own way. Free had loved him like the daughter he had never had and he had loved her like the father she had never known. In the end, Thomas left her everything he had to give. Gossip had been hot for a while, but eventually it died down. Free had survived and Liberty Salvage and Restoration had flourished.

  Every antiques dealer in town respected her discriminating eye and restoration ability. Most of the owners of Huntsville’s historic homes knew Free by name. She worked hard, although she would never get rich. But Free didn’t care. She loved her work and that was all that mattered. Lance, the wayward son of a local antique dealer, helped Free part-time, although she would need his assistance full-time for the next few weeks. They worked well together and he had a strong back, her only requirements for the position.

  “Daydreaming?”

  Free spun around to find Alex striding across the stained and cracked concrete floor. Free smiled and massaged her stiff neck. She had stayed bent over that mantel entirely too long.

  “You’re home early today.”

  “Jake hasn’t left the office all day and I’d had all I could stand of his Martian mentality.”

  Free inclined her head and studied her friend more closely.

  “You didn’t tell me how handsome your father’s soon-to-be partner was.”

  “Looks aren’t everything,” Alex supplied dryly.

  “Ha!” Free tossed her an incredulous look. “This coming from the woman who eats men alive with her eyes.”

  “He’s definitely not my type,” Alex stated, her tone brooking no argument. “Speaking of handsome, have you seen the write-up on the new guy?” She waved a copy of the Huntsville Times.

  Free frowned, perplexed. “Who?”

  “You know, Mac the Magnolia Murderer.”

  Free flashed Alex a disgusted look and tugged her gloves back on. She never wanted to think about him again. Nor did she want to think about that little trip downtown to the city jail. She still shuddered when she relived that nightmare. She’d seen more than enough of that place for a lifetime. “No, I haven’t seen the article.” She tried to sound casual. “Why is he in the paper? Not that I care.”

  Alex shifted the newspaper toward her. “He’s the CEO of McFerrin Enterprises, a multi-million dollar progressive construction firm based in Atlanta.”

  Free studied the picture of Connor McFerrin. “If he’s the CEO, what is he doing in Huntsville?” That uneasy, restless feeling plagued her again, the same one that had shuddered through her the first moment she’d laid eyes on the man.

  “His firm was contracted to complete several rather large projects in our area over the next three years.” Alex pointed to a list in the half page article. “Starting with this one.”

  Bower Street Medical Tower. Free swallowed tightly. Liberty Salvage and Restoration had one the salvage contracts on that parcel of property. At the corner of Bower and L&N Streets, three houses dating back to the late 1800s were to be torn down and replaced by a sleek, futuristic-looking medical building with accompanying parking lots.

  Free scanned the remaining projects listed. The next two were hers as well. She hated to see those beautiful old homes demolished. Two of the houses were beyond repair, but one had potential. Of course, that was neither here nor there. Free had a job to do, and anything worth salvaging was hers to take. From floorboards to window sashes to punched tin shingles, she would rescue as much as possible before the houses were destroyed.

  “If McFerrin is like most of the contractors I know,” Alex continued, “he’ll keep a close eye on his projects to ensure that everything stays on schedule, especially since he’s the boss. So, I suppose you’ll run in to him from time to time on the job site.”

  “I suppose,” Free admitted reluctantly. The possibility held no appeal whatsoever. Well, almost no appeal, she amended when warmth heated her insides at the very thought of his handsome face. That kind of appeal she didn’t need—or want.

  Alex tucked the folded newspaper under one arm. “Just watch out for yourself.” She frowned and brushed
at the shoulder of her expensive suit. “I don’t trust any man who looks that good.”

  Free snatched up her steel wool and gave Alex a steady look. “Don’t worry. I’d never trust a magnolia hater.”

  Alex paused before she turned to go and smiled, her green eyes suddenly shining with affection. “By the way, I’m having dinner with Dad tonight.”

  “Tell him I said hello,” Free called to Alex’s retreating back. Alex was lucky to have a father who loved her so dearly. It was such a shame about his health.

  Free forced her attention back to the still-sticky mantel and set to the task. She had never known her own father. Her mother had been a flower child, moving from place to place with a different relic from the sixties each time. After her mother’s death, when Free was fourteen, she had spent four years in foster homes before setting out on her own. Life had been extra rough at times.

  “Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Renzetti,” she muttered. “You had Thomas…eventually.” Thomas had been the father she had never known. He had saved her.

  Free scrubbed with renewed purpose. She had to get this step of the removal process finished so she could move on to her other work. Julius Faraday expected her to deliver his wainscoting this evening. And Julius didn’t like to wait.

  ~*~

  Mac pulled into the drive, shut off the ignition and simply sat for a while. He scanned the vulnerable two-story house he called home for the present. It wasn’t exactly his idea of efficient living quarters. Though he had to admire the detail and craftsmanship of these old places, they represented the past and Mac preferred progress. His townhouse in Atlanta in no way resembled this place. It was modern with smooth lines and dramatic architecture, conveniently close to work and anything else he might need. Why John had set him up in this place he would never understand.