by Debra Webb
“I’m not sure.” he gave Mac a slow once-over. “But obviously you and I were distracted while it took place. The only thing I know is that after I finished my call from Alex, I came back in here to find the room empty except for Roger. He was raving about some old man named Towery taking over his presentation.”
Mac’s frown deepened. “Towery?” He repeated the name silently until recognition clicked. “Towery!” Mac scrubbed a hand over his face. “He’s the old man that’s been heading up the Chenille Street protests.”
Jake narrowed his gaze. “Oh, yeah. I thought that name sounded familiar. So that’s what Alex and Free are up to.”
The truth hit Mac with sudden clarity. The fact that Free hadn’t done any salvage work on the Chenille Street house—and that she had done everything in her power to distract him from work. The picnic and fishing, the puppy, the—Mac’s thoughts halted abruptly. He shook his head in denial. No way. She wouldn’t have gone that far just to distract him.
“Look,” Jake said, interrupting Mac’s disturbing thoughts. “I don’t know exactly what’s going on, but I have sneaking suspicion that we aren’t going to like it. Alex and Free seem to have joined forces with Towery in an effort to stall the demolition on Monday.”
Mac’s forehead creased. “But why? What would either of them have to gain?”
Jake released a frustrated breath and slumped heavily onto the window ledge. “Alex would do it just to get back at me.” He shrugged. “But Free, I don’t know.”
Mac thought about the way Free had been willing to go to jail to prevent the magnolia tree from being cut down. “Maybe she’s one of those bleeding heart types,” he suggested, unexpectedly feeling drained and wholly out of sorts.
“Mac, there’s something I need to tell you.”
“What?” He straightened, sensing that he wasn’t going to like whatever it was.
“That background check you asked me to run on Free.” Jake shifted restlessly for a moment before he continued. “Well, I got the findings back and it’s…it’s not what I expected.”
Apprehension flooded Mac. How bad could it be? He’d been around Free enough to know that she was basically a good person. Sweet and innocent in many ways. “So what did the report say?”
Jake leveled his gaze on Mac’s. “Six years ago, when Free was eighteen, she was busted for solicitation.”
Mac stopped breathing, everything inside him went still. He blinked twice and reminded himself to inhale. “And?” he prodded, knowing from the look on Jake’s face that he wasn’t finished.
“During the eighteen months that followed that incident she was arrested twice.” Jake swallowed. “Once more for solicitation, then for assault.”
“Assault?”
Jake drew in a heavy breath and shoved his hands into his pockets. “She and her…her pimp—”
Mac flinched at the word.
“—got into a fight and they both ended up in the hospital when it was over. He claimed Free took a baseball bat to him. She pleaded self-defense and a court appointed attorney got her off.”
Mac took a long, slow breath. Prostitution. Every instinct that he possessed told him it just couldn’t be. Free wouldn’t have lied to him like that. How could he believe such a thing? That would mean that what they had shared was…
“You’re sure,” Mac pressed. Emptiness welled inside him. The report just couldn’t possibly be accurate. He couldn’t be that stupid. He would have known if Free had…Christ, he couldn’t bring himself to picture her with anyone else.
“I’m sure,” Jake replied quietly. He stared at the floor for a moment, then added, “That’s not all.”
Mac felt the floor shift under his feet. “You mean there’s more?”
“Her court-appointed attorney was Thomas Styles.”
If the name should mean anything to Mac, it didn’t. He shrugged. “Do you know this Mr. Styles?”
Jake shook his head. “No, he was an older man. He died a couple of years ago, before I came back to practice law here. I vaguely remember that name. The point is, after he represented Free…” Jake paused as if searching for the right words. “He moved her into his house. They lived together until he died two years later. He left her his entire estate, including the house on Magnolia Blossom Drive.”
Jake’s words hit Mac like a sledgehammer. Free, the woman he’d made love to—had unprotected sex with—had been arrested twice for prostitution and had lived with an older man until he died, leaving her everything. Mac had let her get to him, know things about him that he never told anyone else. He’d allowed feelings for her that he never expected to feel for anyone. His blood roared in his ears. He’d even pictured her in his future, having his child.
How could he have been so damned stupid?
“You okay, man?” Jake asked sympathetically.
Rage erupted inside Mac. He didn’t need sympathy. Free Renzetti was the one who would need it. She may have gotten to him for a time, but he was back in control now. His body went rigid with the emotion twisting inside him. “I’m fine,” he snapped. Her turned and started toward the door, his rage building with each step he took.
“Where are you going?” Jake called out after him.
Mac stopped and turned back to face him. “To find out what the hell is going on, and to set Free Renzetti straight about who’s on charge of this project.”
~*~
Free heard Emily answer the front door. She would rather have locked it and never face anyone again, but Emily would have no part of that. Free didn’t want to see anyone. She just wanted to curl up and die. She sighed and stirred a teaspoon of sugar into her tea. She needed to relax, to forget all that had happened over the past few weeks, including the time she had spent with Mac.
Especially the time she had spent with Mac.
He would hate her now. She had purposely deceived him. But, she had done the right thing, hadn’t she?
Unable to deal with anything else, Free had come straight home to change after the episode at Mac’s office. She couldn’t bring herself to accompany Alex and some very confused investors for the tour of the Chenille Street house. To stand in the very room where she and Mac had made love.
She couldn’t do it. Free closed her eyes and shuddered.
Raised voices in the parlor snapped Free from her troubling thoughts. Her cup and saucer rattled in her hands when she recognized one of the voices as Mac’s. She inhaled sharply and, hands trembling, set the tea aside.
Knowing how upset Emily would be at having to face Mac’s wrath alone, Free summoned her courage and forced her feet to carry her down the hall and into the parlor.
Mac and Emily paused mid-shout when Free entered the room.
“It’s okay, Emily, I’ll take care of this,” Free said in as strong a voice as he could marshal.
Emily pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. Her cheeks were flushed with anger. She swatted at a stray hair that had fallen from her prudish topknot. “I don’t think you should.” She glared at Mac. “The man is a bully,” she huffed, obviously indignant at his raised voice.
Mac glowered at Emily, then at Free. She almost drew back at the rage and insolence burning in his gaze.
Free produced a smile for her friend. “Really, it’s okay. You go have the tea I made, I’ll join you in a little while.”
Emily didn’t look convinced, but she reluctantly conceded. She shot Mac one last firm glower from the door. “But if I hear anyone shouting, I’ll be back,” she threatened.
Free shifted her attention back to her visitor, who was still staring a hole through her. She braced herself for his fury. “I assume you came here to tell me what you think of me.” She moistened her lips and crossed her arms over her chest. “Go ahead and get it over with.”
Mac looked ready to do battle, his feet wide apart, his fists clenched at his sides. He took a long look around the room before he spoke. “You’ve got a nice place here, Ms. Renzetti.” He turned a disdainful loo
k on her. “It takes most people a lifetime of hard work to earn a place like this,” he said bitterly.
Free couldn’t speak. She felt the color drain from her face as a wave of dizziness threatened. Was he insinuating…? No, he knew nothing of her past. He couldn’t have meant that statement the ugly way it sounded.
He moved closer to her, his fierce gaze never wavering. “Of course there are lots of ways to come by material things.”
“Is there a point to this conversation?” she asked weakly, then swallowed back the lump rising in her throat. Mac took another step in her direction. Fear trembled through her. She wasn’t afraid of Mac, but intuition warned her that she should be fearful of what he might be about to say. She didn’t know if her heart could take the hurt that would follow.
“Oh, no, not really. I just wanted to clarify a few things,” he said contemptuously. “You know, we’ve been doing all that sharing the last couple of days. Me telling you about my past, you telling me about yours.” He leaned close to her, close enough for Free to smell her own scent where it still lingered on his white shirt. “Was there anything you left out?” he asked on a snarl.
Free backed away a step. How took another, maintaining his intimidating proximity. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she insisted.
“How did you earn a living before starting your salvage and restoration business?” he ground out.
He knew. God, he knew. Humiliation and hurt washed over her. Would she ever be able to live that lie down? “I did lots of different jobs.” Free met his reproachful glare. “All of which were legitimate.”
He smiled. It wasn’t pleasant. “Really? Have you ever been arrested?”
Free drew in a harsh breath. “That’s none of your business.”
Mac held up his hands and laughed derisively. “You know, you’re right.” He pursed his lips and shook his head. “It’s absolutely none of my business.” He pushed past her and strode toward the door.
The air in Free’s lungs thinned. The whole world seemed to crash in on her at once. She’d made a mistake. She’d hurt Mac. Was her passion for old houses that important? Had she done the right thing by helping the Chenille Street preservation group?
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I didn’t mean for things to happen this way.”
Mac waited a beat at the door before he slowly turned back to face her. “Don’t sweat it,” he said curtly. “I own the house on Chenille Street. The investors you took on that little joyride today all signed contracts on this deal weeks ago. The house comes down on Monday, Free. There’s nothing you can do to stop it.” His gaze turned ice cold, sending a terrifying chill across the room and straight through Free’s heart. “What I don’t understand is why you lied to me about your past. What did you hope to accomplish?”
Free blinked back the tears. She would not cry. “I didn’t lie, Mac. Everything I told you was the truth.”
Mac rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. Once, seven years ago,” He shook his head. “You know, what’s so pathetic about the whole situation is that I believed you. I honestly believed you.” He plowed the fingers of one hand through his hair. “Hell, you even had me seeing things your way—just a little.”
Despite her best efforts, one tear spilled past her lashes and slid down her cheek. “I’m glad for that anyway,” she managed in a shaky voice.
“What did you get out of all this, Free?” Pain flashed in his eyes before he regained some self-control. “Did you get some kind of thrill out of jerking me around? Was I some sort of challenge?” he asked, his tone hard, cold.
Free shook her head, but couldn’t speak. Another tear trickled downward.
Mac stared at her for one more heart-twisting moment. “Well, I hope whatever it was, it was worth it.”
Then he left.
Free closed her eyes and allowed the tears to fall. He would never believe anything she said again. Nothing she could ever say or do would change his mind. Mac hated her.
And she loved him with all her heart.
~*~
Mac checked his watch again then stood. “Look, Jake, it’s five-thirty. I say we give it a rest.”
Jake got to his feet. “Sounds good to me. I never liked to work late on Fridays.” He followed Mac toward his office door. “It’s been a hell of a day, between the conference fiasco and this afternoon’s damage control. What do you say we go out and have a cold one?”
“Thanks, but I need some downtime.” The only thing that Mac wanted to do was get in his Explorer and drive back to Atlanta. He didn’t want to even think about anything connected to the state of Alabama until Monday.
The door to Mac’s office suddenly flew open and Alex stormed trough it. She looked madder than hell and ready to act on it.
Mac braced himself for her verbal assault. She walked straight up to him and, before he realized her intention, slapped him hard. The unexpected blow rattled him. He shook his head and then rubbed his stinging jaw.
“Alex, what the hell are you doing?” Jake bellowed. Concern creased his brow, but Mac couldn’t tell if it was for him or Alex.
“Shut up, Jake. This doesn’t concern you.” She turned her full attention to Mac. “You are unquestionably the biggest jerk I have ever met in my entire life. And believe me, I’ve met plenty.” She shot Jake a look.
Mac started to respond, but she cut him off.
“Shut it and listen,” she hissed. “I don’t know where you got your information, but Free Renzetti is one of the kindest people on the face of this planet.” Alex balled her fists at her sides. “Yes, she was arrested twice for solicitation six years ago, but the only thing she was guilty of was being in the wrong place at the wrong time—trying to help a friend who needed rescuing from a bad life. But like you, the cops were too stupid to see the truth. The last time she tried to help that friend, the friend’s pimp almost beat Free to death. The friend was pregnant, so Free took the rap for assaulting the creep to keep her out of jail.”
Mac shuddered as the thought of someone physically hurting Free. He stood stock-still and listened to Alex’s words, not sure he could take a chance and go out any further on an emotional limb. He’d done that already and look where it had gotten him.
“Thomas Styles cared about Free. He knew that she’d never had a break in her life and he wanted to give her one. So he took her into his home.” Her gaze narrowed to emerald slits. “He loved her, Mac. Loved her like a daughter. And she loved him like a father. Get it? Like a father.”
Regret washed over Mac. The insinuations he’d flung at Free echoed in his ears. Beside him, Jake shifted uncomfortably.
“She has used every cent he left her to aid one cause or another, mostly the homeless.” Alex smiled. “She turned the top two floors of the house into apartments to help finance its maintenance after she’d run out of money.” Alex pinned Mac with a deadly glare. “She gives too much. She was even willing to go to jail over your damned magnolia tree.” Alex flung her arms in exasperation. “Do you have any idea how difficult it was for her to do that after the times she had been hauled in for something she didn’t do?” Alex swallowed visibly. “Do you have any idea of how they treat women who are arrested for solicitation?”
Mac shook his head. “I didn’t know,” he offered, then released a heavy breath. “The facts—”
“The facts are misleading,” Alex cut in sharply. “How on earth did you get your information anyway?” she demanded.
Mac stalled.
Jake sighed mightily. “I ran a routine background check,” he admitted.
“You?” Alex glared at her colleague, her anger renewing itself a hundredfold.
“Me,” he muttered.
Before either of them had a clue as to what was about to happen, Alex slammed her fist into Jake’s gut. He grunted and doubled over in obvious pain.
“I’ve changed my mind,” she said, as she shook the hand she’d belted him with. “You’re the biggest jerk I’ve ever met.”
> Alex turned back to Mac and his abdomen clenched in anticipation of the same treatment.
“I hope you appreciate how much it cost Free to allow you so close. Thomas was the only person she’d ever let anywhere near her heart. He was the first solid thing in her life and he died. She reached out to you, Mac, and what did you do?” Alex shook her head in disgust. “You took what she had to offer and then threw her away.”
A muscle jerked in Mac’s tense jaw. “She tricked me. She lured me from my meeting and made me look like a fool.” He swallowed tightly. Despite Alex’s revelations, the betrayal still stung.
“Well, think about it, Mac. She did it for a cause she believed in. Would you have invited her—or any of the Chenille Street Preservation Committee—to give our side of the story?”
“Maybe,” Mac said under his breath.
Alex smiled sweetly. “I don’t think so. One more thing, Mac. You are a fool if you let her go.”
Chapter Ten
Mac, with Oliver in tow, had spent the rest of the weekend in pure hell. He had driven home to Atlanta and sulked for forty-eight hours. His townhouse no longer felt like home. The clean, dramatic lines he had admired when he’d bought the place now seemed cold and harsh. When he’d considered driving to the office to catch up on business there, he couldn’t work up the enthusiasm to actually do it. He couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t eat. Finally, unable to stand it any longer, he had gotten up at two a.m. on Monday morning to drive back to Huntsville.
Mac parked his Explorer on the street across from the demolition site. He exhaled wearily as he surveyed the group of protestors surrounding the Chenille Street house. Seven in the morning and they were already there. Roy Nelson, the site supervisor, had obviously called the police since several cruisers were parked on the street as well.
Mac opened his door and stepped out into the breezy morning. The radio weatherman had said the temperature was unseasonably cool, but Mac knew it wouldn’t take long for things to heat up around here. In more ways than one, he thought as he glanced toward the crowd who were no doubt waiting for him to make a command decision. Mac settled his hard hat into place, then crossed the street. Jake and Roy met him at the edge of the property.
