Sean Malone was a proud and stubborn Irishman. If he were on his deathbed, which he might very well be, he would never want her to see him in a weakened state. Undeniably, she got her obstinacy from him. Two years ago, he’d forbidden her to start a career in the dangerous business of personal security. She’d just as stubbornly refused to obey.
At age seven, after Caitlin’s mother passed away, it had been only her and her father. For three years, she’d tagged along when Sean had gone to work at Northstar—watched with pride knowing he’d catch the bad guys. Even after he’d moved them across country to get her out of the city, he’d still worked cases. Because of his example, she’d never wanted to do anything else. Thinking it would make him proud for her to follow in his footsteps, she finished college with a degree in criminal justice. Instead, joining Northstar Security tore a rift between them. Sean didn’t want Caitlin putting her life on the line for the same job that had sidelined him. And she wanted to prove she could be as good an agent as he was. Neither of them had been willing to give quarter.
If O’Neal hadn’t made her continued employment contingent on her coming home, she wouldn’t be here now. Best friends or not, she couldn’t understand why O’Neal thought talking to her father would help her reconcile the screwed-up assignment.
A creak on the stairs warned her she was about to have company. She straightened her shoulders and pasted on a smile to hide her inner turmoil. The last thing she wanted was for Mac to see how much her father’s words hurt.
Mac paused in the kitchen doorway and, like last night, his assessing gaze missed nothing. “Morning.”
“Good morning.” To avoid his stare, she crossed to the counter. “Coffee?” She picked up a carafe and filled her cup.
“Who were you arguing with on the phone?”
Her fingers tightened on the coffee pot handle and she consciously relaxed her grip. Mac never beat around the bush when he could zero in on the problem.
“You’re up early,” she said, stalling to settle her emotions so close to the surface.
He glanced at the clock on the far wall. “So are you. Was that Sean?”
“Yes.” Garnering all the calm she could find, she took a sip of the dark, bitter brew and swallowed. “As I suspected, he doesn’t want to see me.” She faced Mac, deliberately keeping the raw pain from showing, pleased her voice didn’t crack under the threatening tears.
He swore under his breath and took a step toward her. “I can’t believe how bull-headed the two of you are. Sean won’t throw me out. I’ll take you to see him myself.”
“No. You won’t. I may not appreciate the way my father tried to control my life, but I will respect his wish not to see me. He has his pride.” She told herself it was the coffee that burned through her stomach, not the situation. She walked over to the sink and emptied the cup. After rinsing it, she tipped the cup upside down on the drain board. Placing her hands on the edge of the counter, she bowed her head, causing her braid to fall over her shoulder. This wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have today. Or ever.
“You’re taking the coward’s way out. What if he dies and you still haven’t seen him? What, then?” Mac raised his voice a notch.
Her head snapped up and she drilled Mac with an unforgiving glare. “Then I hope for all our sakes, you’re there with him. Like I was there for your grandmother when she died.”
“It’s not the same, and you know it. I couldn’t be reached when Grandma took ill.”
Like a balloon popping, the air rushed from her lungs. “I know. That’s not what I meant. I meant that… Please, Mac, do we have to discuss this? You and I both know he’s too ornery to die.” She crossed the kitchen to go upstairs. “I have some things I need to pick up in town before I head to the mountains tomorrow.”
Mac stepped into the doorway and blocked her exit. His well-muscled arm stretched across the opening and he stared at her. “You’re really going on that biker rally with Jack.” It was a statement, not a question. “Is it that easy to ignore your father? To give up?”
“I am not giving up. You have no idea how hard I…” She stopped her outburst and shook her head. “Oh, no, we’re not going there.”
“If you won’t see Sean, then I’d say you’re giving up.”
“He doesn’t want to see me, remember?”
“So you fly all the way from Washington, D.C. just to go to the rally. You know as well as I do, most of those chumps are on the shady side of the law. Isn’t that against your employer’s code or something?”
“I’m on vacation,” she said, pleased her voice remained steady. “Those ‘chumps’ are Uncle Jack’s friends. And I’m going to spend a couple of days enjoying a peaceful, relaxing weekend.”
“With the man who killed my parents.”
The air around them froze. Only the ticking of the clock broke the deathly quiet.
Mac had always blamed his uncle for the car accident that ended his parents’ lives. Caitlin moistened her lips. “I’m spending time with your uncle Jack,” she whispered. “Your grandmother forgave him. Why can’t you?”
“He was drunk. He was going too fast for the snowy roads.”
“He had one drink,” she argued. “He was the designated driver. Your parents trusted him enough to give him the keys.”
Mac swore. “You weren’t there.”
“Dad investigated the crash. It was an accident.”
He smacked the side of the door jam, making her jump. “The police ruled it as manslaughter.”
Caitlin bit her lower lip. “Involuntary manslaughter. Jack pleaded guilty. He paid his dues.” She truly had no right to try to change Mac’s mind about his uncle. Just as he had no right to make her reconcile with Sean. They’d reached an impasse. She’d never found the words to bridge that gap two years ago, and they weren’t coming now. “I’m sorry. Maybe it would best if I left now.”
“I don’t think so.” Mac continued to block her exit, searching her face. “There’s more going on here than you’re letting on. Something’s not right with you. What is it?”
She hated it when he pegged her so fast. She lowered her eyes. How was it that he could see so much about her and she couldn’t read him at all? “Nothing’s going on. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t share any speculations with Dad. He needs to get better, not get riled up about my problems.” She tried again to step around him, but he continued to block her way. She glanced up and saw his puzzled expression.
“You’re protecting him,” he said. “I didn’t see it before, but you’re protecting him by putting distance between you and him.”
Caitlin frowned. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe I’m protecting me, instead? Maybe I’m tired of fighting him. I certainly don’t need him to gloat over my failures.”
Mac cocked an eyebrow at her outburst. He’d done it again. Gotten her to give up more than she intended. He studied her as though some new revelation had just occurred to him.
Caitlin didn’t want to know what he was thinking. She reached up to pull his arm away from the doorway. The touch of her palm on his forearm was electric. She jerked away as if she’d been burned. “May I pass?”
From his six-three height, he stared down at her. His gaze evaluating, gauging her motives and purpose. Then he lowered his arm and stepped aside without taking his eyes off her.
Caitlin rushed past and up the stairs to get her purse. When she came down, she heard him in the kitchen rattling dishes for breakfast. She’d had her fill of confrontations for the morning. Without calling good-bye, she hurried out the front door.
The crisp mountain air cut through the heaviness she’d felt inside the house. The dichotomy of being home slammed hard inside her chest. The memories hurt, but she had such a love for this town.
Surrounded by majestic mountains, wild forests and pristine rivers, she couldn’t have asked for a more idyllic place to grow up. Few things had changed while she’d been gone. On her drive in yesterday, she noticed that new
homes and businesses stretched Main Street longer on both ends of the town. However, the familiar shadows of the mountains behind the township offered nostalgic glimpses of her past, making it feel like a lot less than two years since she’d left.
After opening the garage door, and tossing her purse into the rented SUV, she reversed down the driveway. Turning onto the road toward town felt almost normal. A sense of belonging stole through her, followed immediately by the razor edge of knowing she was an intruder. A fraud in her own community. The two conflicting emotions confused her for a moment. She belonged here. This was her home, yet she’d walked away, never expecting to return.
You can’t go home again.
The words echoed with forceful condemnation. Home had changed. No longer the happy place she’d grown up, but a place filled with hurtful and troubling memories.
The empty house next to her father’s caught her eye. Now that it was daylight, she slowed the SUV for a better view. Tall Douglas firs and old cottonwoods provided a shadowy backdrop, before blending into the forest beyond. Someone had trimmed the lawn and planted petunias along the walkway to the front door. The sign on the front lawn hadn’t been a figment of her imagination last night, either. Grandma Mac’s house was for sale.
She didn’t want it to be true. Yet there was the proof.
You can never go home again.
Is this why O’Neal had sent her back? To see how things had changed? To learn that maturing meant letting go of old history?
A part of her past shriveled and died right there in the early autumn morning. Caitlin leaned over the steering wheel and rested her cheek on the back of her hands. The newly painted house blurred. Dampness cooled her skin. Brushing impatiently at the tears, she studied the house. The stunted pine tree she and Mac had used as a T-ball stand was gone, and a young ponderosa grew in its place. The minor changes didn’t detract from the charm of the cozy home yet served to obliterate the memories where she’d spent so much of her youth. It looked so different.
No open door beckoned. No freshly baked cookies welcomed. No gravelly voice to assure her that when events took an ominous turn, everything would be okay.
The day Grandma Mac died was the day Caitlin’s troubles really started.
Although Sara MacAlistair was actually Mac’s grandmother, she was also the guardian of all of Caitlin’s childhood secrets. Grandma Mac had grasped the essence of who Caitlin really was. That understanding kept Caitlin on the right side of wrong choices through her formative years and afforded the moral compass that continued to guide her decisions today. Sure, she’d rebelled, but she’d never crossed the line so far she didn’t know the way back. Grandma Mac recognized Caitlin’s need to prove herself and encouraged self-expression to overcome a young girl’s insecurity.
Age and a heart attack took the old woman from Caitlin’s life, leaving her alone with a father whose misguided notion of parenting meant controlling her without understanding her. Then there was Mac, who’d awakened her passions in a single night, only to disappear from her life, leaving behind confusion and heartache. Love hadn’t played fair.
Caitlin leaned away from the steering wheel. She gave the SUV enough gas to continue down the road and into town. Life hadn’t played fair, either.
****
With a bag full of groceries, Caitlin pushed hard on the supermarket’s door as she hurried out to the parking lot. She’d dallied too long inside, bumping into acquaintances who asked about her and her father. Now she was running late.
“Whoa. Where’s the fire?”
Strong fingers gripped Caitlin by the shoulders and held her tight. She attempted to step politely out of the hold, but the man wouldn’t release her. About to use her knee to persuade her captor to let go, she glanced up. The surprised look on the man’s face was almost comical.
“Caity Malone?”
Only one person ever called her Caity.
“Uncle Jack!” She threw her arms around his neck and pulled herself into a hug, the bag of groceries in her hand thumping against his back.
Jack MacAlistair wrapped his lanky arms around her, lifted her off the ground and squeezed back. “You’re still like a wreckin’ ball without a chain, pipsqueak. When are you gonna start looking where you’re going?” Not especially handsome, Jack’s face held character and humor. His familiar crooked nose and grin were a welcome sight after the battles with Mac and her father.
“No one would recognize me if I slowed down.” She grinned back. “I was headed over to see you this afternoon.”
“Well, then it’s a good thing I found you first.” Jack lowered her until her feet touched the ground. “I won’t be home later.”
Caitlin backed up a step to look at him, rubbing her cheek where his beard had scratched. Only a couple of inches shorter than Mac, he wore his gray hair tied in a ponytail. Jack looked exactly like the over-the-hill biker he was. The perpetual twinkle in his eye was as charming as it was deceptive. A person never mistook his good nature as a sign of weakness more than once. Even in prison, Jack never had problems with the other inmates taking advantage of him. Holding his own was something he did well, in an understated and relaxed sort of way.
Jack studied her for a moment, then reached out and tugged on her braid. “You look a bit peaked. Aren’t they feeding you in D.C.?”
“I eat quite well, thank you.” She shrugged off his concern. “How are you doing?”
“I’m doing just right.” He wrinkled his brow. “I thought you had an assignment and couldn’t make the rally this weekend. You’re still working for that same company your father started, right?”
“He helped to start it,” she corrected. Byron O’Neal bought her father’s half of the partnership once he took early retirement to recover from the gunshot wound. “I was able to get away after all.” If she chose to tell him, Jack would understand, maybe better than Mac or her father, how it hurt when she’d fallen from the good graces of her employer, except she wasn’t ready to admit it aloud. “I hope it’s not too late to join you and the club.”
He released her arms and hooked her hand in the crook of his elbow. “Pipsqueak, I’ll be the talk of the rally with you on my bike.” He steered her down the sidewalk that stretched along the quaint storefronts. “Let’s go have some coffee. You can catch me up on all your news.”
Caitlin shifted her grocery bag to her other hand and double-stepped to keep up with Jack’s long stride. He carried himself with a pride that defied the unfair hand life had dealt him. No jury had sent him to prison. Without going to trial, he’d pled guilty to the charges of involuntary manslaughter for the deaths of Mac’s parents. Not long after his release, Jack had shared with Caitlin what had actually happened that awful night. Although it truly had been a horrible accident, she knew he’d never forgiven himself for driving the car that had killed his brother and sister-in-law. He also knew Mac hadn’t forgiven him either. For Jack, Mac’s rejection was as painful as the loss of his brother and sister-in-law.
“In here.” Jack gestured, and they entered Sammy’s, a twelve-table café that opened for breakfast in the morning and served homemade meals all day long. It had been part of Rockton’s business district for as long as Caitlin could remember.
Jack caught the attention of the waitress pouring a cup of coffee for a patron at the counter. He smiled at the fifty-something woman, and she blushed to roots of her graying hair.
“Just a minute, hon.” She pointed to the tables. “Sit yourselves down, and I’ll be right over.”
“Take your time, Ruthie. We’re in no hurry.” Jack glanced at Caitlin. “Are we?”
She shook her head. “Not now that I’ve run into you.”
Jack steered her toward a table for two in the corner. He pulled out a chair and with a flourish dusted off the seat. In a gesture befitting an English gentleman, he stowed her bag next the table, took her hand and seated her. Then he walked around the other side of the table, taking the chair that placed his back to the w
all.
“I’m gonna have to stop calling you pipsqueak.” He gave her an appreciative grin. “You ain’t the little pigtailed girl who left town two years ago.”
“I wasn’t that young then, either, if you recall. Besides, I haven’t changed that much.”
Jack’s gaze grew serious as he studied her. “You have, Caity. You’ve changed.”
Caitlin squirmed under his scrutiny. His dark brown eyes were so much like Mac’s and had the same ability to discern. Except Jack didn’t pass judgment as Mac sometimes did.
“What’re you hiding, Caity girl?” Jack asked abruptly, taking her by surprise.
“Nothing.” She answered a little too quickly to be convincing.
“Nothing’s mighty hard to hold onto. Better that you had something, than nothing. Can’t fix nothing.”
Frowning at this cryptic statement, Caitlin was relieved when the waitress interrupted with two mugs and a pot of coffee.
As Ruthie poured coffee, Caitlin inhaled the rich aroma and took advantage of Jack’s distraction to gather her wits. She’d planned to see him later today, but running into him unexpectedly had caught her by surprise. The urge to spill her problems was strong, but now that she faced the decision to bare her soul, she held back. It didn’t seem fair to burden Jack.
Jack ordered a slice of apple pie for each of them and Ruthie sashayed off to get it. When his attention returned to Caitlin, she opted for an alternate explanation. The truth always worked best and this situation was no exception. “You’re right, Uncle Jack.”
“Right about what?”
“About me hiding something.” She dipped her head in embarrassment. “When I got here, I found out Dad was in the hospital. I didn’t know until late last night.”
“I heard. I planned on visiting him today.”
Giving Jack a rueful smile, she continued, “He doesn’t want to see me.”
“Ah, Caity. He’s your family. Your only family.”
Right. Explain that to Mac, she thought. He still treats me like his sister. “I know. But I’m not going to push him.” She held up a hand as Jack started to object. “I know he and I need to work through our issues, but you have to remember, he told me not to come home if I took the job. I thought going up in the mountains would help clear my head before I try talking to him again. Help me figure out what to say to him. The last thing I want to do is make his condition worse.” She gazed with pleading eyes. “Being with the guys from the club, a couple of days among the pines, will help put things in perspective. You know?”
Proving Ground Page 4
