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The Cradle Will Fall

Page 22

by Maggie Price


  He rang the bell. Standing there, he felt as if a lifetime had passed since he’d last seen the evergreen wreath adorned with a gigantic plaid bow and loaded with shiny red balls that hung on the front door.

  He heard muted footsteps approaching the door. In the seconds that followed, instinct told him he was being observed through the peephole. Another second passed, then the door opened slowly.

  “Grace.”

  “Mark.”

  She stood in the doorway between the wind and the warmth, unmoving. He lifted a brow. “It’s freezing out here. How about inviting me in?”

  “Fine,” she said dully, then stepped back.

  Her dark hair was damp and slicked back from her face, the deep-purple bruise on her cheek a stark contrast to her pale skin. She wore a long red sweater and black leggings, and she was the best thing he had ever seen.

  He followed her gaze to the suitcases he’d settled just inside the door. “We left all our clothes in the suite in Winding Rock,” he said. “I had everything packed and brought to the Oklahoma City office.”

  “Thanks.” Her gaze lifted slowly to meet his. “Only one of those suitcases is mine.”

  “I know.” Not waiting for an invitation to stay, he pulled off his coat, draped it over the suitcases. “I told you at the hospital there were things I need to say to you. That hasn’t changed.”

  “Nothing’s changed, Mark.”

  “Wrong.” He shoved up the sleeves on his sweater. “If you had waited at your office for me, we would already have this settled.”

  “Settled,” she repeated, temper sparking in her eyes. “We’ve already settled things, Santini. I understand why you do what you do. Why you can’t give up your job. I accept that. What you need to accept is that I won’t settle for just the scraps and pieces of your life.”

  “I know that.”

  “Then what the hell are you doing here?”

  Without waiting for his answer, she turned and moved down the hallway. She paused at the entrance to the living room. “You have a plane to catch,” she said without sparing him a look. “Do me a favor, Santini, and just go,” she added, then stepped out of sight.

  He fisted his hands. “You’re damn well going to listen to what I’ve got to say, McCall.”

  Fueled by rock-hard determination, he tracked her down the hallway. He would beg, he would fight, do whatever was necessary. But he wasn’t going to lose her again.

  Pausing beneath the arched entrance, he swept his gaze around the living room. Its neutral-toned furniture, dark wood and lush green plants were made even more cozy by the flames dancing in the brick fireplace.

  Grace stood with her back to him, her arms wrapped around her waist, her gaze centered on the towering Christmas tree with its twinkling white lights and tinsel. An ocean of packages covered the floor.

  “My mother never bothered with a Christmas tree,” he said, stepping into the room. “Or decorations.” He paused inches behind her. “No presents. Buying them would have cut into the money she spent on booze.”

  Grace turned. The temper was gone from her eyes; they were now dark, unreadable pools. “Mark—”

  He held up a hand. “I need you to listen, Grace. Just listen. Please.”

  She stepped past him, moving across the room to stand in front of the fireplace. “I’m too tired to haul you down the hallway and toss you out the front door.”

  He felt a small seed of relief that he’d gotten over the first hurdle. Shifting his gaze back to the tree, he tucked his fingers into the back pocket of his jeans. “Even after I bought my condo in Virginia, I never once considered putting up a tree. No reason to, since I spent most Christmases at crime scenes. Most holidays.”

  He looked back at her. She stood before the fire, a gorgeous, sexy woman with flames dancing gold behind her. “I’ve been doing that for six years. Giving everything I had to the job. I had nothing else in my life. When you decided not to move to Virginia with me, when you cut all ties, you left a hole.”

  “A hole?” she repeated incredulously. “You didn’t try to change my mind about staying here and moving with you. Not once.”

  “I thought staying in the same city with your family, keeping your job on the OCPD was what you wanted. Needed. I dulled the pain by burying myself in the job, tried to fill the hole with work. Work I told myself I had to do. Kids were being abused, murdered. No way could I look the other way like an entire town did while my mother spent thirteen years beating the hell out of me.”

  He walked toward Grace, his thoughts circling in his head. He had so much he wanted to say to her. Needed to say. “Over time, the work just made the hole bigger. I tried to fill it with more work. The past year, maybe longer, I’ve felt like there’s nothing left of me. I didn’t know who I was anymore, and I blamed it on the job. Then I came here and found you again. And myself. I opened up to you, and that hollow spot inside me started to fill. Last night when I saw you hurt, unconscious, I realized it wasn’t the job that had made me feel so empty for so long. It’s because six years ago I gave a part of myself to you. A part of my heart. You still have it, Grace. All of it. I love you.”

  “Don’t.” When tears welled in her eyes, his gut tightened. “Don’t say that. Don’t come here and tell me you love me, not when you’re leaving.”

  When she started to turn away, he caught her wrists. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “For how long? A day? A week? You can’t do your job and stay here.”

  “I can’t do my job anymore, period. Not the way I’ve been doing it.” He thumbed away a stray tear that slid down her uninjured cheek. “I’ve learned I can’t slay all the dragons, no matter how hard I try. That’s basically what I told the FBI director this afternoon when I turned in my resignation.”

  Beneath his hands, he felt her go still. “You quit the Bureau?”

  “I tried. He wouldn’t accept my resignation. So we worked a deal.”

  Grace gave him a wary look. “What deal?”

  “First, I’m taking some of the mountain of leave time I’ve accrued. After that, I report to the Bureau’s Oklahoma City office. I’ll lend my expertise via fax, phone and video conference to field agents handling high-profile cases. There may be some travel involved, but it’ll be rare.”

  “A desk job?” She eyed him with the same suspicious intensity as she would a prime suspect in a murder. “Not your style, Santini. What makes you think you can all of a sudden handle staying grounded in one spot?”

  “Because this particular grounding comes with unique benefits.” He angled his chin, studying her face. “At least I hope it does.”

  “What benefits?”

  “You. A life with you.” Afraid she might slip away, he slid his arms around her waist, tugged her close. “I want a chance for a new beginning with you, Grace. I want to make a home with you. A family. I want to give you the life you need. The life I need. Let me do that, Grace.” He closed his eyes, opened them. “Please let me.”

  She said nothing, just stared up at him, her eyes searching his face.

  A column of fear wafted up his spine like smoke at the thought she might say no. He tightened his arms around her. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

  “If you gave me a piece of your heart six years ago, how come I didn’t know about it?”

  “Because I didn’t know it myself. I grew up hating the people I was supposed to love. Who were supposed to love me. I walled off my emotions and focused on my career. I wouldn’t even let myself examine my feelings for you. Turns out, it wasn’t just a piece of my heart that I gave you.” He feathered kisses along her jaw. “I gave you all of it, Grace. You’ve had my heart all this time.”

  His kisses traced a trail to her throat. When she shuddered and leaned into him, his mouth curved against her soft flesh. “Got anything to say now, McCall?”

  “Two things,” she murmured. “I love you, Santini.”

  He buried his face in her damp hair, drew in her seduct
ive scent and sank into her like a parched man into calm, restful water. “What’s the second?”

  Her hand slid beneath his sweater, her palm pressing against the center of his chest. “Now that I know your heart’s mine, you’re not getting it back. Ever.”

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-7745-2

  THE CRADLE WILL FALL

  Copyright © 2004 by Margaret Price

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279 U.S.A.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  ® and TM are trademarks of Harlequin Books S.A., used under license. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

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  *Line of Duty

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

 

 

 


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