by Dee Tenorio
She relaxed in his hold, and he could tell she’d finally started considering if he was telling her the truth. Maybe it was pushing, he wasn’t the best judge of that, but he wasn’t losing the opportunity to get the most important thing he had to say across.
“I love you no matter who you are. Kayla, Susie, hell, you can call yourself Glenda the Good Witch for all I care. Just love me back and I’ll be happy.”
Her mouth quirked, making him want to tilt her chin so he could taste it. “I always thought, if you knew all of it, you really would go find some other girl.” Her fingers curled around the back of his neck. Holding on tight. “I’m still a coward.”
“No. You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met.” He nuzzled the top of her cheek. “I don’t know if you’ll ever believe me, but it’s true.”
He tasted salt on the edge of his lip, felt the hot moisture as another tear slipped from the corner of her eye. Not like earlier, when she’d cried so uncontrollably. For now, the storm of her fear seemed to have spent itself.
Someday, he vowed, you’ll only cry happy tears…
“Come home with me tonight. Give us time to make a plan. Whether we go or we stay, we do it together from now on.”
It took some time, time he willingly offered, before she finally nodded and gave him the answer he’d waited all his life for.
“Yes.”
“No.”
Locke leaned back in the chair next to his bed, powerful legs stretched out in front of him, booted feet crossed at the ankles while he scratched at the back of his head in frustration. “We’ve been through this and through this. I can’t see another way.”
“No.” She paced the space at the foot of his bed in her big sleep shirt and bedraggled pink chenille robe, the warmth from the double-sided fireplace keeping the carpet under her bare toes warm. Or possibly, it was the hole she was stalking into that carpet doing the job.
For nearly a week, they’d been hashing this out and getting nowhere. At first, they’d stayed in the house, sorting out what they were going to do, but that kind of existence couldn’t go on forever. Mostly because they were starting to get on each other’s nerves by talking in circles, but also because she just couldn’t shake the feeling that time was slipping through her fingers faster than before. She had to insist they spend at least some time in the day at their stores to get some space from the topic, though hers had mostly been spent packing up her apartment.
How such a small space could hold so much, particularly when owned by a woman who didn’t think she’d put down any roots, she couldn’t explain. Each day she’d come back with a few boxes—patently ignoring Locke’s epically pleased expression as he loaded them into the back of his truck—and there were still more to sort out.
Or maybe it was simply taking so long because she was distracted by the growing sense of danger. The locks were always in place, she never went near the windows, but still, she could feel it. Like pressure on the back of her neck.
It wasn’t her fear, though she knew that’s what Locke wanted to call it. It was different. A watchfulness she couldn’t shake. It made her skin crawl at times. Like she was being followed, but she couldn’t tell by whom. Nothing was different, no one was there she didn’t recognize. But the notion wouldn’t go away. She could feel the danger rising like she did the colder and colder weather of winter settling over the land. Normally, she’d already be gone.
Instead, here they went again…
“You want to stay in RDC,” Locke droned, sounding as frustrated as she felt.
“Yes.” They’d come to that conclusion quickly. No matter how he claimed he could uproot, she refused to tear him from his family. And, though she rated it far lower in the consideration process, she didn’t want to leave either. The kindness of the people, her sense of belonging to the community. Those were a rare gift and she couldn’t quite bring herself to give them up. Ultimately, the final reason for staying, one that stilled even the coward in her, was the most practical of all: Penelope Montenga. As a high-risk pregnancy, she needed to have a doctor she could trust nearby.
“But you don’t want anyone to know what’s going on with your ex?”
“No.” Just the thought of it had her stomach knotting.
“The elder twins could—”
“If you bring up using them as bodyguards during the workday one more time…” The first time he did, she’d just laughed. Until she realized he was serious.
“We both have to work, Suze.” Even with their partial hours and him being home more, he was starting to get behind on his woodworking schedule, though he hadn’t said as much. Which was why she’d forced him into the Boathouse on the sixth day, for as many hours as she could get him to stay in there. He’d eventually come out, relaxed and revived, covered in sawdust and sweat.
Who knew the only thing sexier than Locke soaking in a hot bath was Dirty Locke? Dirty, dusty Locke, in worn jeans, walking her way, peeling his work gloves off his hands, that gleam in his eye and the tiniest lift to the corner of his mouth.
They didn’t get a lot of talking done the sixth night.
“I know.” Amanda had offered to handle the day-to-day until she and Locke had worked everything out, but Susie didn’t like putting that much on her friend’s shoulders. If they were going to stay, they needed to get back to their regular routines. To be honest, she was starting to lose her mind, not having much to occupy herself with in the evenings but worrying.
“Cole is trustworthy.” Of course he was. If he wasn’t, the loveable geek would never have been allowed near Amanda. But that wasn’t what bothered her.
“He tells Amanda everything. No.” Things may have been strained between them lately, but she didn’t want her relationship with Amanda to change any further. And she knew it would. She couldn’t face seeing the pity in Cole’s eyes, either. He was too smart not to put the pieces together if she let Locke bring him into this mess.
She started another lap, wishing he had a rug or something she could kick.
“At least let me get him to dig into Hall’s accounts. He might be able to use them to track the bastard’s movements. He doesn’t have to know why.”
She stopped pacing. “He can do that?” And would he?
Locke shrugged. “According to him, he could hack the White House if he wanted. I always figured that was bullshit, but if anyone could pull something like this off…”
She’d never had a chance to have actual warning that Malcolm might be getting closer to her. Her hand curved over the nearest carved pillar at the corner of the bed. Idly, she rubbed her fingers over the grooves. “Do you think it would take him long?”
“Only one way to find out.”
She could feel Locke’s gaze on her. Waiting. While she appreciated his newfound desire to make sure she had a say in every decision concerning her past, there was something to be said for him doing what needed to be done and her having the luxury of being mad at him for it.
He was right. They couldn’t keep doing nothing. The itch in her senses was only getting stronger. She didn’t have much trust, but if she wanted this to work, she’d have to start using it. For this, she could believe in Locke’s judgment. There was no other choice. Pushing out a breath, she agreed. “Call him, then.”
Locke nodded, already reaching for the phone from the bedside table.
She listened, head bowed, still playing her fingers over the patterns in the pillar as Locke talked to Cole. The conversation was short, which meant Cole didn’t ask a lot of questions or it wasn’t something he could do.
She felt Locke’s hand in her hair a full minute later. His broad chest brushed her back and she let him steer her into hugging him instead. His chin settled on the top of her head. “He says he’ll see what he can get into and tell us what he finds in the morning.”
“Just like that.” Without asking for anything in return. She still hadn’t gotten used to that way of thinking the Jackmans had. They didn’t haggle over ever
y little detail before getting anything done. They just did whatever they could for each other, sometimes with more familiarity than one might like, but it was just the way they worked.
“Mmm-hmm.” They stayed that way, him petting her hair and her doing all the brooding he normally would be.
At least it wasn’t bad brooding this time. She liked the idea of their baby someday having the kind of support his family gave. No one would tell her to get out simply because there would no longer be any welfare for her. No one would forget about her the moment she was gone. Their child would know exactly where she belonged. Just as Susie did right now.
If they could just be sure Malcolm wouldn’t come looking…
Locke nodded against her head. “We should get you to sleep.”
She let him usher her to the bed, though she knew she wouldn’t close her eyes all night long. She got in—into the side Locke had decreed “hers” unless she was interested in sleeping on top of him because the left side was his—smiling when he curved his big body protectively around her. His arm snaked over her waist, holding her close. Like having her there was the only way he could sleep. She absently ran her fingers up and down his forearm, listening as his breathing evened out and sleep eventually claimed him.
Hour by hour, the night passed, but the sense of expectation kept her waiting. Kept her thinking. How long would that lawyer wait? How long could he put Malcolm off? She’d used six days already. More than enough time for her ex-husband to decide what he would do with the information in his hands. Had four years cooled his anger? Had it changed him, the way it changed her? Or had his resentment of her only grown?
Morning came in its slow way, lighting the windows across from the bed. She closed her eyes when he rose and pressed a kiss to the back of her neck. Better for him to think she’d slept. To think the calm stealing over her was peacefulness. She wasn’t sure what it was. Resignation? She didn’t know. But it wasn’t fear. For the first time in so long, she wasn’t afraid.
They ate breakfast and she smiled when she was supposed to. Nodded when she was supposed to. Almost by rote, her emotions growing quieter and quieter within her. She drove into town with him, placidly assuring him she was fine all three times he asked. She kissed his frown and told him she was simply going to set aside a few more things in her apartment for him to bring to the house. He accepted that with a nod, but not until after he walked into the store with her, checking behind every door and even going up to the apartment to make sure it was undisturbed. She knew he wouldn’t find anything. Breaking and entering wasn’t Malcolm’s style. Locke finally left, reminding her to call him if anything went wrong. He was only going to be across the street.
A few yards, really.
Not far at all.
But she knew, the dread climbing up her spine like frozen ivy, it would be far enough.
It took two hours. Malcolm never had been the type to rise early if he didn’t absolutely have to. She was sitting at the computer toying with the silver letter opener from her pen cup when the bell over the door rang. She usually had to be extra careful with the opener, as it was sharpened on both sides of the blade. She preferred to use it for opening boxes, when pesky packaging tape was getting on her nerves. Sometimes, though, she wondered if it could be used for other things…
She filled the time doing paperwork she had been putting off. Clear as her mind was, it was an easy way to keep herself busy. She even entertained the idea that she’d finally lost it and was just imagining the feeling that her life was narrowing to a very fine point. But she knew what it was to be prey. Knew the feeling of being watched far too well.
The bell was a sweet sound, considering what it heralded.
She turned the chair, Amanda’s reserved greeting muted in her ears. The man walking in was tall, but he wasn’t as imposing as she remembered. Not as handsome, either. Black hair, still cut short and combed back from his face, only now there was a touch of gray at his temples. The length somewhat shaggier than before. His mouth was thinner too, his face less chiseled. His eyes hadn’t changed, though. They were just as hard, just as unforgiving as they’d been four years ago.
He seemed pale compared to the golden-skinned man who taught her the true meaning of strength. Actually, there was no comparison at all. The man in front of her, with his petty weaknesses and cruel ways, wasn’t even in Locke’s category.
He studied her. The way she studied him, she supposed. It was fair, after so long. Did he find her as lacking? She hoped so. She hoped that what he saw was as far from what he wanted her to be as possible.
“Amanda,” she said, never taking her eyes from the predator before her. “Would you head over to the sporting good store for me? Locke’s expecting you.”
He didn’t look away from her either. “I wouldn’t do that, Amanda.”
“I should call—”
“Go, Amanda. Now.” He wouldn’t risk Susie getting out of his reach. She took a step closer to him to ensure it.
Funny. It wasn’t the sound of Amanda running for the door that finally peeled open the mental gauze wrapping her terror. It was the click. The simple, unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked. Pointed right at her face.
“I like this one,” he commented as if they were having a conversation over coffee. Frigid menace slipped into his tone. “Smart enough to recognize the sound of a loaded weapon.”
Amanda froze in front of the door, practically skidding to a stop. Susie could hear the younger woman’s rasped breaths. How terrible it must seem to her, to see safety so close—her brothers just across the way, oblivious and so completely out of her reach.
“There’s a good girl. Now why don’t you come back over here, where we can all make friends.”
Anger filled her, drowning out the fear. Amanda wasn’t part of this. That she was tasting this kind of helplessness, the knowledge that safety was too far away? She was never supposed to know that feeling. But one more time, her fears had led her to putting someone innocent in danger.
No. Not her.
Malcolm.
Susie felt the burn in her gut, the sizzling beginnings of rage. She wouldn’t take the blame for him this time. She had her own mistakes to bear, she wouldn’t claim his. “You don’t need her—”
He moved closer, the silver revolver gleaming dangerously in the overhead light. Threatening her, because he wanted to see her being afraid. “I decide what I need. Not you. Now bring her back this way.”
And let him use Amanda the same way he’d used Andrea? Hurting her just to make a point? Not again. Never again. “Go to hell, Malcolm.”
“Oh, I’ve been there.” The monster before her smiled. Cold. Unconcerned. “And I’m not going back, not without you.”
That was how she knew for sure that he had made his plans. Made his commitment.
He had no intention of ever walking out of this room.
Chapter Twelve
Locke tore his gaze from the Suite Shoppe for the third time in the last hour. It had been quiet over there, which was good—sort of—but his own store was busier. Some high-school kids were planning a winter-break camping trip and since his cousin Spencer—the science teacher they all seemed to think walked on water—was chaperoning it, they were following his advice for their needed supplies.
Problem was, Spencer didn’t really know shit about camping.
“You hate camping,” Locke reminded his younger cousin. About the only way you could tell the two of them were related—or that Spencer was related to any of the Jackmans, if he were being honest—was his size and his eyes. Almost all the Jackmans had the same color eyes, but Spence was one of the few who managed to get nearly black hair. Throw in the fact that his growth spurt hadn’t kicked in until he was nearly twenty and that he was some kind of scientific genius or something and you had a goofy nerd amongst a literal horde of mouth-breathing knuckle-draggers. At least on Uncle Ruckus’s side.
“But I love learning,” Spencer replied with a grin. “We
’re going up to Big Bear Lake to study snowflakes and plant hibernation in extreme weather. It’ll be good for these kids to freeze their asses off a little too. Science doesn’t just happen in the lab. The pioneering researchers are out in the field, and I don’t have to tell you how miserable it can get in the field.”
Locke just looked at him.
Unfortunately, Spence was impervious to staring. He just kept smiling.
“I can still squash you like a bug, kid.”
“Oh, that reminds me, where’s Daniel? I wanted to see if he’d show the kids his bug collection.” He was gone before Locke could ask if the collection was dead. Then again, maybe he was better off not knowing.
He stole another glance toward the Suite Shoppe. Still nothing out of the ordinary. No cars in the parking spots. No outward signs of problems. But he couldn’t get Susie’s strange behavior out of his head. There was nothing wrong, not that he could point out to anyone else, but there was something wrong. She hadn’t been herself. She’d been too calm to be herself. Even through all this mess, Susie didn’t know how to go five minutes without sassing him.
He just didn’t know what was different.
A crash and a scream echoed from the corner where the climbing equipment hung. “Hey, gimme back my tarantula!”
Damn it, that thing had better be dead. “Daniel!”
The shrieking sound from the two girls in the group stopped instantly.
“Got it!” Spencer called, and Locke allowed himself the brief moment of enjoying being the scariest thing in the store again. Then his cell rang.
A quick glance at the ID and he slid his thumb across the screen to answer it. “What’d you find, Cole?”
“I know you said not to look into this guy’s personal life, but I came across a problem and I had to do a little digging.”
His temple throbbed. Cole didn’t do small amounts of digging unless he was forced to physically shovel.
