by Alana Terry
When she opened the double doors to their unit, she peered into the jam-packed space and apologized. “Sorry this is so full of junk. Knowing Mom, we probably still have bins of baby clothes in here.”
It was stuffy as all get-out as she tried to maneuver deeper into the building. Ace hung back, propping the doors open and taking a long, measuring glance around. “Tell me where your Dad’s things are.”
Stumbling around bed frames, lamps, and camping supplies, she finally managed to locate Dad’s boxes. She swept her arm out. “His things are from about here on over.”
He nodded and pointed to the left. “How about you take that half, I’ll take this?”
They pawed through box after box for over an hour. She wished she’d packed something to drink in the parching heat. She was about to suggest they hit the nearby Wendy’s when his phone rang.
He checked the caller, then motioned to his car. “I have to take this.”
As he strode outside, she couldn’t help but wonder. Was it some kind of private call from a girlfriend?
Minutes slowly ticked by. The combination of stifling building, thirst, and repressed shock from the morning’s car bombing began to weigh on her. Things began to get dark around the edges and she felt herself slipping from the box she sat on.
Abruptly, Ace’s strong hands gripped her, shifting her entire body into his massive arms. “I’m taking you out to the car.” He carried her to the leather car seat, where he positioned her with her head over her knees.
As he started the engine, air-conditioning hit her face full-blast. She gasped and nearly clobbered her head on the dashboard.
“Take it easy,” he said, gently pushing her head down again. “You nearly passed out. I’m going to find something to drink for you.”
He seemed to know where he was going, whipping around the winding mountain roads like a native. Good thing she didn’t get car-sick, like Molly. Pulling into the Wendy’s drive-through, Ace barked orders for four waters. At the next window, he practically threw a twenty-dollar bill at them, then grabbed the bottles and passed one to her. She eased into a sitting position.
“Drink this, slowly. And breathe deep,” he said.
She did as told and started to feel a bit refreshed. Not to mention, utterly humiliated. She was so weak.
“I’m so sorry—” she started.
“Don’t apologize. It was my fault. Paid too much attention to my phone call and not enough to you.”
“Who was it?” Why did she feel the need to pry?
“My boss.” He didn’t elaborate, just sucked down half his water bottle.
“So sorry—I’ll bet you need to head on back to New York. And here you are stuck in West Virginia.” She should dip into her savings to help Mom pay him for his services.
He took another gulp of water and turned to her. Those blue eyes pulled her in, like specks of ocean in land-locked Hemlock Creek. He stretched out a hand and cupped her cheek.
“You have more color. That’s good. I didn’t realize you had so many freckles until you blanched out back there.” He gave her a half-smile. “Let’s go back to the building and finish up. You’re a trooper for doing this, especially when we’re getting nowhere.” His voice roughened. “And by the way, you have a habit of apologizing for things you don’t have any control over. I don’t want you ever to apologize to me again.”
“Never?” She grinned. “Must mean I’m perfect.”
He gazed at her just a second too long. “It’s not that much of a stretch.”
THIS WAS GETTING TOO stupid. How dare his boss call him in the middle of the day, knowing he was probably with Katie? Not only that, but he had simply repeated his earlier threats, as if those hadn’t come through loud and clear with the last call.
Katie was a trooper, going back into the storage building. The relentless heat had completely plastered his oxford shirt to his back, forcing him to strip down to his T-shirt.
And for what? A search for money that probably wasn’t there.
Now they’d taken another half-hour to rummage through the remainder of Sean’s boxes and even his T-shirt was soaked. Katie looked okay but was still peaked, even as she sipped at her water. He needed to get her out of here.
He stretched and made a proclamation. “That’s enough. We’ve been through every box. There’s nothing to find here.”
She handed him the building keys in an exhausted silence, then limped out to the car. He followed, turning on the engine so she could sit in the air-conditioning while he locked up.
She was speaking on the phone when he returned. She wrapped up her conversation, turned off the phone, and explained. “I called Reba. She’s hanging in there, but she’s closing the library for the rest of the week. So we can take our time checking Dad’s boat. Thanks so much for doing all this.” She smiled, at first hesitantly, then that blinding-wide smile that made him feel like a hero.
Couldn’t be further from the truth. Her hero was a villain.
DAD HAD BEEN A MEMBER of the Sutton Lake Marina since Katie had turned twelve. His Cabin Cruiser boat, the Vixen, was the one thing he had splurged on for himself with his earnings. At least she hoped it had been his earnings.
She treasured memories of summer nights she’d camped on the deck in her sleeping bag, picking out constellations as the boat lightly bobbed beneath her. Back then, she’d felt like she could do anything, be anyone.
After her accident, she’d stopped visiting the Vixen, mostly because she felt off-balance and feared she’d pitch overboard like a klutz.
Again. Fear. She had begun to see it for what it was, to name it. This frantic race to find the bank money was driving her to overcome those fears...that, and the confidence of having Ace Calhoun by her side.
As they stepped onboard, she took the steadying hand he offered, glancing at his face. His Yankee candor seemed to have been replaced with reticence since the explosion. It was like he had gone inward, and she really wished she knew how those gears in his head were churning.
She fiddled with the rusty lock on the cabin door, finally jiggering it open. They stepped into the small space that smelled faintly of mildew. Mom had never cared much for sailing, so it hadn’t been cleaned for a while.
“We need to get looking or we’ll melt in here.” She propped the door open, then gestured to the cabinets by the small refrigerator. “You check the right side, I’ll check the left. Or should I say, you check starboard and I’ll check port.”
He cracked a smile. “Well, aren’t you all nautical?”
“I’d forgotten how much I love this. I used to wish I could live on a houseboat, like MacGyver.”
“You watched that show?”
“Just the re-runs.”
“I didn’t know you were a retro TV girl. I’m a big A-Team fan, myself.”
They fell into a companionable silence as they began to plunder the cabinets.
Bypassing cans of Spam and pork and beans that were probably three years expired, she pulled up a zippered pouch. “Hey, what’s this?”
He was by her side in a moment. His cologne made it hard to concentrate, and she couldn’t ignore the way his damp T-shirt draped his muscles. Seriously, the guy could probably beat up three men at once.
After unzipping the pouch, she pulled out folded bank statements and handed him half of them. She felt somewhat traitorous sharing them with someone outside the family, but it was for the greater good.
They read over the papers, finally coming to the conclusion that nothing looked amiss. No out-of-the-ordinary deposits or strange payments had been made.
“It’s hopeless.” She yanked out another drawer. The heat was so smothering, she had the ridiculous—and inappropriate—urge to strip to her unmentionables and jump in the lake. “Let’s go on deck and get some air,” she suggested instead.
Outside, Ace didn’t hesitate to sprawl out on the warm wood deck, and she carefully lowered herself to join him. But it only took a few moments to realiz
e the blinding sun was going to scald her pale skin. Ace probably couldn’t feel it—he had that skin color that seemed to maintain a perpetual tan. She struggled back to her feet. “We might as well get going. Mom’s probably working on supper soon and I don’t think there’s anything here.”
“Let’s jump in first.”
Had he read her mind? It was so hot...
“We can’t go home all wet—” she started.
But he had already begun stripping off his T-shirt. He laid his holstered guns on the deck, then boosted himself over the back railing and began to doggie-paddle in the dark lake. He grinned up at her.
“Come on in—the water’s fine!” He splashed water on the deck.
How could she resist?
She carefully slid off the port-side and did a butterfly stroke to him. She’d forgotten how swimming seemed to erase her limp.
Good grief. She would have never guessed a couple weeks ago that she’d be swimming in Sutton Lake with a personal bodyguard. Especially not with one who looked a whole lot like Superman.
“Are we friends?” The question popped out before she could stop it.
“Of course.” He floated languidly, drops of water flecking his sleek chest.
“Good.” His companionship had almost been like a security blanket these past few days.
She dove into the cool water, paying no attention to the sopping blouse and pants that weighed her down. She felt like a carefree kid again.
Boldness filled her and she voiced something she’d been curious about. “So...Ace is an interesting name. Is that your real name?”
He swam closer, his look unreadable. Why had she felt compelled to ask that? She did a few strokes backward, wishing she could vanish.
But his lips curled into a smile. “Yes, believe it or not, it’s real. My dad was heavy into baseball. ‘Ace’ is a term for the best starting pitcher on a team.”
“So did you play baseball?”
“Only a little. I wasn’t the best at it and I surely wasn’t a pitcher. My dad came to one game and as I recall, he left early.”
Such disappointment for a little boy. These candid glimpses into Ace’s childhood explained who he was more clearly than his often-enigmatic actions.
His smile widened. “But Granny told me ‘Ace’ can also mean a champion; a master. She prayed that way—that I would become a champion for God.”
“I like that.” She swam closer. “Sounds like you actually do believe in God.”
“I did, as a kid. Asked Jesus into my heart and all that. Granny’s prayers carried me along for a while, but then when I was a teen, it became blindingly clear that God didn’t seem to be on my side. Then Granny died. It was kind of downhill from there.”
She wished she had pithy words of wisdom and restoration to offer, but she had been struggling for years to believe that God loved her and wanted the best for her. So many times it didn’t seem like it. Maybe Ace needed to talk to Mom’s friend Jeannie—and maybe she did, too.
Ace looked at the sky, then at his waterproof watch. “It’s getting late; we’d better get back. I know your mom will be worried.”
The moment was lost. But he was right—Mom would worry if they didn’t show up soon.
After he climbed back onboard, he helped pull her up. Strangely, she didn’t even feel self-conscious about her clothing-laden weight, possibly because she was hyperaware of the secure feeling of her hands in his. His long fingers were surprisingly rough, which appealed to her more than she would have guessed.
They lowered onto the deck benches for a few minutes to dry off so they wouldn’t soak the Lexus interior. The waning afternoon sunshine felt just right. She wished she could live in this bubble of light and warmth forever.
Reality intruded as her cell phone buzzed.
“Hello?”
“Katie, where are you?” Molly’s voice had a desperate edge to it.
“We’re fine. I’m just showing Ace the Vixen.”
“What? So let me get this straight: your car was bombed into oblivion, but for some reason you two decided to be-bop on over to Sutton Lake? Good grief, sis. You could’ve let me know. Didn’t you get my texts?”
“I didn’t see them—we were busy. And you know me, a real be-bopper.” She tried to control a snicker. “We’re heading home now. Don’t wait up for supper.”
Molly huffed. “We won’t. I have to get going but I wanted to see my thankfully-still-alive sister before I went out tonight.”
“Who you going out with?”
There was an unusually long pause. “Someone you wouldn’t know.”
Katie’s eyebrows shot up. It wasn’t like Molly to be cagey about her illustrious dates. “I wish you’d stick around and tell me more about him.”
“No time. Maybe another day. But stay safe, okay? That bodyguard better be earning his keep.”
As she hung up, Ace stood, helping her to her feet. Near the car, he surprised her by crossing to her door first and opening it. He hadn’t done that before.
“Why, thank you.” She smiled. “I see you have excellent manners.”
“Could be your Southern ways are rubbing off on me.”
A zing of hope shot through her chest. She tried to tamp it down, but she couldn’t erase a very clear picture that formed in her mind. Ace Calhoun, wearing a plaid shirt and jeans, tromping out to the Christmas tree farm with her family on their yearly tree-hunt. Where did that come from? How could he ever fit in here?
As she watched him struggle to squeeze his still-damp body into his dry dress shirt, Ace grinned, and that last domino of hesitancy she had toward him toppled.
The truth was, she’d never met a man who fit so well with her. But was he so far gone from God he wouldn’t ever come back? She’d always wanted to marry a strong Christian—stronger than her, at least.
It almost felt like something was propelling her toward Ace, something bigger than what she could see or understand. She would begin praying about her mixed feelings in earnest. But one thing she was increasingly sure of: Ace Calhoun was a decent man.
ACE IGNORED THE LONG red strands of hair whipping around Katie’s head. He ignored her contented smile and that glow she seemed to bask in, even after a tedious day in which her car had been blown to smithereens by C4 explosives, to say nothing of the hours she’d spent searching for hidden money with him, nearly passing out in the process.
The storage building had been a bust. The boat had been a bust. He was trying not to show his disappointment, but sometimes it seemed Katie saw right past his smiles into some part of himself he preferred to hide.
What would she think if she ever knew his real motive for staying here?
Stealing a glance at her as she leaned into the seat, relaxed and nearly dozing, he gripped the wheel harder. The truth was, his biggest motive for staying in Hemlock Creek sat right beside him.
Chapter 7
A MUCH-CALMER MOM WELCOMED them at the door. She didn’t bother to ask about their damp clothing. “Come in, come in,” she said. “Ham biscuits and gravy coming right up.”
The comfort food hit the spot, but Katie feared the exhaustion of the day must have shown on her face.
Mom kissed her head. “You’re my sweet baby girl. I’m so thankful you weren’t hurt.” A warm teardrop slid onto her hair. “Oh, and your brother wants you to call. I didn’t tell him what happened to your car.”
Funny—she and Brandon always had some kind of uncanny connection, even though they didn’t always see eye-to-eye. Even miles apart, he seemed to have an instinct for when she was in need of some big-brother boosting.
“Don’t let me stop you,” Ace said. “I need to get back over and get some shuteye myself.”
She nodded, unable to articulate her gratefulness for his presence at the library, his willingness to go on her wild goose chase for the money, and his talking her into an impromptu but much-needed swimming excursion.
As Mom hummed, scrubbing out her cast-iron skillet, K
atie slowly and deliberately covered his hand with her own. When his eyes met hers, questioning, she took a deep breath. “Thank you,” she whispered.
For once, it seemed he had nothing to say. He just sat there, his covered hand resting on the wooden tabletop.
Finally, as Mom swung around to wipe down the table, he murmured, “You’re one in a million, Katie McClure.”
KATIE SWIPED ON A BIT of powder before Skyping Brandon, lest her natural blush become apparent. She wanted to talk about Dad, not about her bodyguard, who had admittedly set her heart aflutter.
He picked up quickly, giving her a close-up view of his full red beard but not much else.
“Hey, bro—pull that phone back a little!”
He laughed, rearranging his phone camera. “Just wanted to give you the full river-guide mountain-man effect, sis.”
“Scary.”
“Well, you’re looking good. But what’s the deal with Mom hiring a bodyguard? I feel like she’s only telling me blips of information, like I can’t handle the truth.”
Knowing her brother’s tendency to get overheated, she started at the beginning, explaining the library intrusion, the apartment break-in, the stalker, and finally, as the pièce de résistance, the car bomb. With each event, his eyes widened and his ruddy face grew a shade darker. When she stopped for breath, he exploded.
“I swear I will come back there and I will kill those people! They bombed your car?! I swear I will contact some of Dad’s FBI friends! I’m hopping the next plane!”
She used her most soothing voice, trying to talk him down and redirect his attention.
“No need to come back—that’s what the bodyguard is for. Plus, the police are on the case. And I actually wanted to ask you about the FBI stuff. Did Dad talk much to you about his friends, or maybe any particular cases?”
Brandon paused, taking a swig of his ever-present can of Dr. Pepper. The flame in his cheeks died down a little. “Let’s see. All he ever really mentioned was his partner Jim, because he was always coming over to go fishing, you know? I mean, Dad didn’t talk about specific cases. But I do remember him saying they should’ve done an autopsy on Jim. I think he didn’t buy that late-stage cancer explanation for his death. Dad wanted to look into things, as I recall. But it was too late, because Jim had already been cremated, like his will directed.”
