Standing next to an exhausted Katie as they surveyed her now-clean apartment, he felt a fresh sense of pride and accomplishment. He'd done something right. And yet his spying and snooping was so wrong. The price of freedom, he told himself for the hundredth time. Once he got done with this job, he'd never see his boss again.
But he would never see Katie McClure again, either.
Glancing at her, he was again surprised by how tall she was. Even as she drooped against the counter, taking the weight off her bad foot, he sensed her hurt ran deeper than an external injury.
"So...did you always want to be a librarian?" he asked.
She blinked rapidly, but didn't look at him. "No."
"You don't like your job?"
"That's not what I said." She brushed bangs from her eyes and fixed him with a weary look—one that was old beyond her years. "I like being a librarian. I'm good at it, and I love the people. But I had other plans. I wanted to be in the FBI like my dad."
He raised his eyebrows, unable to respond. Having done his homework, he was already aware that Sean McClure had been in the FBI and that he had died of an unexpected heart attack at the age of fifty-one. But a woman who wanted to choose an FBI career? He had never run into anybody like Katie.
She frowned at his incredulous look. "What? You don't think I could have done it? Back then, it would've been easy. I practiced shooting. I started taking judo when I was eight. I used to run five miles every morning. I could have done it, Mister...Doubter."
Her prickly exterior faded a bit, revealing a glimpse of a girl who'd desperately wanted to prove herself until her opportunity was snatched away. He lightly touched her arm and was surprised when she didn't recoil.
"I understand what it is to fail to meet expectations—those others put on you or the ones you put on yourself." He shifted his gaze from her teary eyes to the window, struggling to maintain his cool. "I'd better get going. It's already late afternoon."
She followed him outside. "Thank you. But wait—what if they come back at night?"
He had already thought of this angle, but was waiting for her to recognize it.
Fear darkened her eyes. "I know how to use Dad's gun, but haven't gone target shooting for a long time. Maybe...maybe you'd better stick around closer. You can stay in my apartment, if you'd like, since I've moved back over to the house for now. It would save you money, especially since we can't afford to pay you Manhattan wages. That way you could keep an eye out, if you wouldn't mind."
He shrugged, trying to hide his excitement at this inside opportunity. "Of course. It's a great suggestion that makes all kinds of sense. I'll run back to The Greenbrier and check out. I can pick up some food on the way back."
"Goodness, don't bother. Mom always makes enough to feed an army. She'd be happy to have you over."
As Ace slid into the Lexus, he adjusted the rearview mirror and glanced at his smug look. He felt like kicking himself. Faker. Liar. Worthless.
Granny's voice filled his mind. "God knew you before you were even born. Follow after Him and He will lead you on right paths."
That was his problem. He had stopped following God. He wouldn't know a right path if it rose up and punched him in the face.
But he was pretty sure it didn't look like this con-job he was pulling on the McClures.
****
After telling Mom about Ace's willingness to stay in the garage apartment, Katie trudged into her room and flopped on the bed. She wanted to go for a walk in the woods behind their house, but didn't dare expose herself to whoever might be lurking around.
When she was a teen, Dad had felled several trees to make a clearing in the woods. He surrounded the opening with honeysuckle bushes, forming a haven of sorts. Recognizing Dad's rare effort to build something lasting for his family, they had all pitched in, stringing Christmas lights from tree branches and setting up a fire pit to make it comfy.
Brandon had built a picnic table, and she and Molly had painted it blue. Now the table was covered in a blanket of leaves, sitting unused since last summer.
It always seemed enchanted, that wonderland showcasing not only the apple green leaves of spring, but the deep golds and russets of fall. When she lost herself in the woods, Katie always gained new perspective.
But now the thought of some man lurking around their home chilled her. What if someone attacked her? She couldn't run or kick. All the joy she used to take in developing her strength and skills had vanished right along with her ability to walk straight.
At least her room overlooked their woodland paradise. She gazed at the trees, fully clothed in summer green. Suddenly, she froze. The man with the black hoodie stood out against the natural backdrop, his binoculars fixed on her.
****
On his way to The Greenbrier, Ace's cell phone buzzed. He tapped his hands-free headset and his boss' rough voice nearly blasted his eardrum.
"You found anything yet?"
It was early in the game. Why was he already asking?
"Not yet. These things take time and finesse."
"You better finesse your way right into that stash, Ace. I tapped you for this job because I know how the ladies love you. It should be no problem to extract information from one of those girls."
"I know. I'm working on it." Ace felt like laying on the gas, but it was impossible to do that on these curving mountain roads. "By the way, you want to explain why there's another crew down here working on the McClures? Are those your people?"
Dead silence reigned. Maybe the wireless signal went out? He glanced at his phone. Still had bars.
"Are you kidding me?" His boss sounded like he wanted to punch something. Or maybe shoot something.
"It's no joke." Ace filled his boss in on the thugs' appearance at the library. When he mentioned the ransacking at the McClures, his boss lost all control. Ace could almost hear him spitting into the phone.
"You gotta get in there and find that money first. I'm betting Anatoly sent his men down. That Russian—" His boss launched into a string of profanities, some of which were even fouler than the ones Ace had heard in prison. He concluded with, "You'll have to watch your back. But you're finishing this thing. Or you'll be locked up again—I'll make sure of it."
Ace stifled a groan. He was too far gone now. Quitting wasn't an option. He couldn't leave the McClures exposed to those Russian mobsters, and there was no way he was going back to prison. All he had to do was find the stash and he could wake up from this nightmare. His boss' minions would probably settle things with the Russian henchmen once he handed the money over.
The 1.5 million that Sean McClure, FBI agent, had stolen from Anatoly.
He still found it impossible to believe that Sean had risked his family and life to make off with bank heist money. How had he worked it out? Why hadn't his FBI superiors discovered it?
In the years that had elapsed since Anatoly's heist, the mobster had doubtless grilled all his men about the theft, maybe bumping a few off along the way. And yet why had he only recently realized Sean McClure might have taken the money? What had tipped him off?
His boss continued, words tinged with a threatening edge. "I'm coming down in a few days. I want to talk face to face and make sure we understand one another."
After setting up a time and place, Ace hung up and groaned. Tonight he would search the apartment and maybe the garage. His boss had just shortened his timeline. Showing up clueless and empty-handed wouldn't go over well at their meeting.
When he parked, he noticed a text had come through from Katie. She must have gotten his number off his business card. He stared at the screen.
Katie: Hoodie Man in woods. Do I call the cops!?!
The text had been sent seven minutes earlier. He texted back, choosing his wording carefully in light of Katie's obvious fear:
Ace: Is he still there? Don't worry. I will be there soon. Just stay inside.
Her reply came quickly:
Katie: He's gone now, from what I can tell.
I have the gun. Mom is working on supper. I didn't even tell her.
He smiled and texted back:
Ace: Good girl. I'll be there soon. Will knock five times.
At The Greenbrier, he raced into his yellow-wallpapered suite and began snatching clothes from drawers and tossing them into his open suitcase. As he packed up his bathroom things, he met his own deceitful eyes in the mirror. Had Sean McClure been like him, trapped in an impossible situation? Or had he willingly opened Pandora's box when he decided to steal heist money from a Russian mobster?
Didn't matter. Ace would find the money, if there was money to be found. If not...
He hated to think what Anatoly's men might do to the McClures.
****
Katie trailed behind Ace as he combed the woods. Dad's lightweight Sig felt natural in her hands. She had to make time to go shooting, to remind herself of the weight of the trigger pull and the feel of the gun's slight kick. But even now, she was confident she could hit her target, should the need arise.
She was impressed how methodically Ace searched for Hoodie Man. When he finally pronounced the woods abandoned, she took a deep breath of air, trying to slow her shallow breathing.
She dropped onto the picnic table bench, carefully placing the Sig on the bed of leaves in front of her. Ace followed suit, sitting across from her.
He took a long look at her, scanning her face intently. Was he staring at all her freckles? A blush crept up and she propped her face in her hands to hide it, leaning on the tabletop.
Thankfully, he took the hint and glanced up at the sky instead. "Storm moving in, I think."
"For a city boy, that's pretty astute. Usually I can smell them coming."
He grinned. "I remember sticking a hand between our window bars, catching raindrops before they hit the pavement. It does actually rain in the city, you know."
She laughed. "I guess it does."
His focus casually shifted to her lips. When his eyes met hers, they held some kind of unasked question.
Her sister would have rushed to fill the silence, joking and flirting. But she wasn't Molly. And so she waited.
The hush continued, stretching interminably. Finally, he broke it.
"So your dad was FBI, right?"
She nodded.
"Was that hard on you?"
She shifted, fingering the cool metal of the gun. How did she explain that although Dad's long hours hadn't affected her, his bravery had? He had been willing to put his life on the line to protect the people of the United States.
And why had God taken a man like that so early? Sometimes she felt like God enjoyed snatching things from her—her ability to walk properly, her father, her chance for an exciting future...but she couldn't let her mind go there.
"Some jobs require long hours. Dad had one of those jobs. We understood."
His clear eyes filled with pity, something she simultaneously hated and craved. As large raindrops splattered her nose and cheeks, she grabbed the Sig, happy to close the conversation. "We'd better head inside. I'll bet Mom has a warm supper waiting."
****
4
Katie observed the normally chatty Northerner as he fell silent during their evening meal. Maybe he didn't care for chicken and dumplings, or maybe he was disappointed they hadn't nabbed the man in the woods.
She smiled as he drank the unsweet tea she'd made for him. She had been so tempted to throw in just a tablespoon of sugar—unsweet tea seemed so unnatural—but resisted. Apparently it hit the spot, because he'd asked for another glass.
"Thank you for the meal, Mrs. McClure." Ace rubbed his forehead, like he was exhausted. "I think I'll head over to the apartment and gear up to keep watch tonight." He scraped his plate, placing it carefully on the counter before walking out.
Katie helped Mom clear the table, then cut a slice of key lime pie to take out to Ace. A taste of Mom's famous pie was sure to cheer him up.
He stood outside the apartment in the waning light, tacking a piece of plywood over the open door pane. "I stopped by that hardware store in town and ordered glass for this. Should come in next week. It's standard size."
She was taken aback at his thoughtfulness, which he seemed to be downplaying. "Thank you for doing that." She motioned to the piece of pie. "I'll just put this inside." She scooted around him, through the open door.
His all-black luggage was piled in the corner of her small living room. She snickered when one whopper-sized suitcase caught her eye. For such a brief bodyguard conference, he'd packed even more clothes than a woman would. She could imagine what her brother would say about that.
She set the pie plate on the counter next to his gun, realizing it wasn't the .45 he'd carried earlier today. This one was a nine millimeter, she felt sure. She wondered if it was a Sig Sauer, like her dad's. Gently picking it up, she examined the frame for the brand...
"Put that down!" Ace's deep command echoed in the small apartment. Startled, she returned the weapon to the counter. How dare he assume she was doing something stupid?
She tried to explain. "I just wondered what it was."
Ace gave her a hassled look. "It's a gun, and you shouldn't be handling it."
Anger boiled up. Words exploded from her like fireworks. "I know good and well it's a gun, you dimwit. I just wondered if it's a Glock, a Sig, or a Ruger. I told you I know how to handle guns—you saw me with one today."
Ace crossed his arms. "And you told me you hadn't gone shooting for a while. You can't be casual with firearms, as I'm sure you know."
Now he was lecturing her. Katie raised her chin and tried to stomp out the door, but her awkward gait morphed into a step-drag canter. Regardless, she did succeed in brushing past Ace like he was yesterday's trash.
Once in her room, Katie burst into tears. She already knew she was incapable of doing most of the things she wanted, but to be talked down to like that was insufferable. She wished she could pull a judo flip on Ace or throw a vase at his head.
But a deeper part of her wished she could say the words that would calm his stormy eyes and make him smile. It had been foolish to handle someone else's gun. Maybe she should apologize in the morning.
When Molly showed up for her belated supper, Katie emerged briefly to say hello, then skulked back to her room. Like any good sister, Molly followed her. She probed and prodded until Katie gave in, recounting the day's events.
As Katie finished sharing about the gun-touching incident, Molly shocked her by laughing outright. Auburn curls tumbled around her face. "You know what your problem is, don't you? Why, Katie Beth McClure, you're smitten with that Yankee!"
Katie blushed as a wave of realization hit. Why hadn't she seen it? Truth be told, she was downright fascinated with Ace Calhoun.
Molly continued to dispense her sisterly advice. "Right now, the sparks are flying. But you need to figure out if you all have anything in common. He's from New York City, you're from West Virginia. He totes guns, you shelve books. You know Dad and Mom didn't have a lot in common, but Dad was a Christian and so is Mom." Molly's hazel eyes fixed on hers. "You need to get to know that boy, sis."
Later, as Katie snuggled into her soft, worn sheets, she reread a few chapters of Little Men, one of her favorite books by her favorite author, and one that never failed to make her feel calm and happy. As usual, she savored the interactions with Professor Bhaer and his wife, Jo. If only she could find a man like that, someone who loved her just as she was, yet challenged her to be better than she ever thought she could be.
Shockingly, Ace Calhoun came to mind. She snickered. Well, the man certainly didn't hesitate to challenge her, that was for sure.
She hesitantly prayed that she could have more chances to get to know Ace Calhoun...and that God would help her bite her tongue in the process.
****
After an uneventful night, Ace joined Katie and Mrs. McClure at the kitchen table for French toast. Must be someone really liked it. He remembered Granny's pancakes, light and
fluffy as cotton candy. As he sipped his second cup of black coffee, he turned to Katie, determined to smooth things over from his outburst last night. "You want to go shooting sometime? As you know, I have an extra handgun."
A wide smile stretched across Katie's face, triggering a nearly electric response in him. She had no idea what a knockout she was.
Leaning toward him, she briefly rested her hand on his, obviously pleased. "I'd love to!"
He tamped down the guilt that rose like bile in his throat. Last night, after going over every inch of Katie's apartment, he'd decided to take a more aggressive tack in gaining access to the McClure home. This shooting scheme was just another step in his plan, a way to ferret out where Sean McClure could have hid the bank money.
He'd found no clues as he'd examined Katie's apartment—right down to the diaries in her bedside table drawer. Apparently, she hadn't nosed into her dad's work much. Her diaries were full of written-out prayers, asking God why she had a limp, why her dad died young, and why she couldn't find a man who would love her for who she was.
In other words, her dream man looked like his exact opposite. Wasn't he just using her for his own ends, like a phony?
This morning, as he stared at Katie's welcoming, Julia Roberts-wide smile, he faltered. He wished he could be that dream man.
The man his granny had prayed he'd grow up to be.
****
Katie wasn't sure where Ace's magnanimous suggestion to go shooting came from, but she'd take it. First, because she used to enjoy shooting immensely, before the unfortunate event, her private nickname for that injurious volleyball game. Second, because Molly had been right. She felt a spark of interest in Ace Calhoun that she'd rarely felt with any other man.
She peeped over her favorite sunset-colored mug, watching him carry on an easy conversation with Mom. There was something about him—not just the chiseled nose and chin, or his striking combination of blue eyes and dark hair. There was something deeper about Ace, something not easily visible on the surface.
Out of Circulation (Hemlock Creek Suspense Book 1) Page 3
