by Lori Foster
She didn’t want him to misunderstand, or to consider her weak. He already had a massive protective streak and if he thought she was nervous about seeing Gina, his mother or both, he’d amp it up even more.
She didn’t need or want that from him.
This, then, would be one of those reasons why she didn’t want to rush their relationship.
Mary didn’t want to talk out in the open, not with the escalating apprehension. “Promise me you won’t stop.”
“Stop?”
She kept him walking, a little faster now. “Here in the yard.”
“Why would I stop?” Of course he stopped to ask that.
Tugging at his hand, Mary admitted, “I think we’re being watched.”
Scowling, he obligingly matched his stride to hers even as he looked around. “What do you mean?”
They’d almost reached his mother’s porch. “It feels like someone is spying on us. Howler feels it, too.”
He looked at the dog and nodded. “Let’s go.” Picking up the pace even more, he hustled her along the walk and up three steps to a covered porch. “I don’t want to look around and alert anyone that we’re onto them.”
“You feel it, too?”
“Only now that you’ve mentioned it.” He rapped twice on his mother’s door, then opened it. Howler tried to hold back, his body stiff, his gaze on the area of the barn. “Come on, boy.” The dog resisted, Brodie insisted, and finally they all stepped into an empty living room.
Brodie closed and locked the door. “Mom, I’m home,” he called out.
She immediately poked her head around an arched doorway. “Perfect timing,” she whispered and beckoned him in. “Gina has a story to tell you.” Ros disappeared again.
Sighing, Brodie said to no one in particular, “What now?”
Mary heard the girl sob.
So did Brodie. His mouth flattened and his eyes narrowed. “Let’s get it over with.”
Mary agreed, though she thought it might just be starting.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
MARY HAD NEVER seen another woman look so miserable. Oh, Gina had fixed her hair and makeup, but the current crying jag had ruined the usual effect.
Drinking iced tea, sitting around a wooden table in the spacious eat-in kitchen, Mary waited—not too patiently—to find out what was going on.
Brodie was even more annoyed. He’d locked the back door, too, then found a large chew bone for Howler to keep him occupied. Ros, apparently, considered herself something of a grandma to the dog and, according to Brodie, spoiled him rotten.
She also claimed Howler would chew on something, so better a bone than one of her shoes.
Howler liked the treat, but it didn’t keep him from repeatedly looking out the windows from various angles in the house. He’d go from the patio doors, to the dining room window, to the window behind the couch in the living room and back again.
That, more than Gina’s sobbing, alarmed her.
Ros reached across the table and took Gina’s hand. “Enough of that, now. Take a breath and tell them what you told me.”
Gina shot a mean, red-eyed look at Mary. “Why does she have to be here?”
Why, indeed? Mary started to push back her chair. “I’ll wait in the other room.”
Both Brodie and Ros refused. They sat beside each other, sharing the same stubborn, determined look. It was almost enough to make Mary smile.
Somehow the order of the table went Gina, Ros, Brodie and Mary...which, yes, put her next to Gina.
“You’re staying put,” Brodie said.
Mary lifted a brow. “Not if I want to leave.”
Grinning, Ros elbowed her son—which told Mary where Jack had gotten the habit—and said, “I really do like her.”
“Yeah, I more than like her.”
Gina stiffened.
Mary tried not to react. He more than likes me? What exactly did that mean?
Sitting back in his chair, Brodie folded his massive arms over his chest. “She’s staying.” He added to Mary, “If you don’t mind?”
After what he’d just said, of course she didn’t mind. Besides, the curiosity was about to kill her. “All right.”
Gina stared daggers at her. “You changed your look.”
Surprised by the comment, Mary admitted, “A little.”
“A lot.” Gina’s petulant gaze moved to her hair. “It’d look better down.”
Maybe it would, but with temps in the upper eighties? “It’s too hot today to wear it down.”
As if she didn’t understand that, Gina repeated slowly, “But it would look better down.”
Because fashion was never her first concern, and she’d spent too many years trying to blend in, Mary shrugged. “I’m not into making myself uncomfortable.” Now that they’d taken a step away from the antagonism, Mary felt the need to apologize. It wasn’t her usual way to be mean to another woman, whether that other woman deserved it or not. She knew what it was to hurt, to be miserable from the inside out.
Currently, Gina was miserable.
“The other day, when we were in Brodie’s car, I’m sorry I was so rude.”
The younger woman stiffened in surprise. “You weren’t rude. You gloated.”
Yes, she had, and this time she wouldn’t blame the wine. “You were coming on to him right in front of me.”
“I didn’t know the two of you were...” Her face pinched. “Together. I mean, you were supposed to be working together, that’s all. Besides, you aren’t exactly his type.”
Sympathy be damned, she wouldn’t accept direct insults, either. “Apparently I am.”
Brodie smiled. “I have been pretty apparent.”
“Still,” Mary continued, “I should have resisted the urge.”
Gina grabbed for another tissue. “That’s what started it all, you know.” Ros had already set a small wastebasket next to her. It was currently half-full with tissues.
“Started what, exactly?” Brodie asked.
The tissue crumpled in her hand. “You’re supposed to hold back on a job.” She flagged a hand. “Drive slow or be late or don’t show up at all. Something like that.” More tears welled. “If you don’t, I could be in trouble.”
Ros cleared her throat. “That’s not exactly the beginning. Should I give it a try?”
Covering her face with her hands, Gina nodded.
In another show of motherly sympathy, Ros patted Gina’s hand before continuing the story. “You know that Gina blasted you both on Facebook. Well, apparently a man tracked her down because of it. She not only used your name in her posts, Brodie, she tagged her location, repeatedly, so he knew where to find her.”
Brodie scowled. “What man?”
“I don’t know.” Gina swallowed audibly. “He was big. Really big. Even bigger than you, but older and ugly. He looked so...so mean. But he told me I’d won the lottery and I was still a little drunk and she’d made me so upset!”
Anger tightened Brodie’s expression, but Ros spoke before he could.
“We’ve already discussed this. You’re not going to blame anyone else for the bad decisions you made.”
Her calm, firm tone sounded just as Mary had always suspected a caring mother would speak.
Gina shot Mary another hate-filled look.
“Did he leave a name?” Brodie demanded.
“No.” Gina dug a crumpled paper from her pocket and pushed it across the table with a shaking hand. “He told me to share the message with you, then call that number to let him know what you said.”
“A phone number? That’s a start.” Brodie took the paper, looked at it with grim satisfaction and shoved it in his own pocket.
Gina gaped. “Oh...but you can’t keep that. I need to call him.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
Oh no, Mary wouldn’t let him get away with that. She knew exactly what he was thinking. “You’re not cutting me out, Brodie Archer Crews.”
“Don’t act like my mother, Red. It annoys me.”
Ros raised her brows but stayed silent.
“It annoys me that you think you should take over.” She wasn’t falling apart, wasn’t almost hysterical and didn’t need to be pampered.
Hadn’t she proved that for most of her life?
Keeping her expression as reasonable as she could manage, she said, “We need to call it together.”
Turning his hand, he laced his fingers with hers. “First, I figured we’d check with Therman to see if he recognizes the number.”
Oh. Oh. Yes, that made sense. “All right.”
“If you two are done bickering,” Ros said, “there’s more.”
They all looked at Gina.
She cowered under the scrutiny, and that, too, made Mary empathize. Fearing the worst, especially with all the theatrics, she asked, “Did he hurt you?”
Gina shook her head and, in a small voice, whispered, “Not the way you mean.”
“Then tell us how.”
“He...he gave me a thousand dollars.”
Silence swelled until Brodie muttered, deadpan, “Cruel bastard.”
That set Gina off and she rushed her words together. “I still owed on my car. They might’ve repo’d it without a payment. Plus I hadn’t been to the salon in forever! He gave it to me and then...just left. It felt like free money, not a big deal. What did you expect me to do?”
Dear Lord. Mary sat forward. “Are you saying you already spent it?”
“That’s exactly what she’s saying.” Brodie ran a hand over his face. “Gina—”
“No! Don’t you give me hell for it. It was a thousand dollars in cash.”
Probably a lump sum she didn’t see often. Mary sighed. “Pointing fingers will get us nowhere.”
Brodie watched Howler circle to another window, his body tense.
“Someone is watching us.” Mary felt sure of it.
“What?” Jerking around so fast she almost fell out of her seat, Gina demanded, “Who? Where?” Hand to her heart, she shot to her feet. “I need to go.”
“You shouldn’t go alone.” Brodie folded his arms on the table, his expression lethal. “If someone is stashed in the barn, I have an idea.”
“No.” Mary didn’t know what his plan might be, but it terrified her. “Absolutely not.”
Ignoring her refusal, he said, “I could edge my way over there—”
“No.”
“—staying out of sight in the woods—”
“I said no.” She wouldn’t give on this.
“—and when I was close enough, I’d text you. Then you could call the number. If someone answers, I’d hear them and we’d know if we have the right person.”
Mary shoved back her chair. “Absolutely not.”
Still seated, Brodie looked up at her. “Why not?”
Why not? Because she loved him and wouldn’t risk him, that was why not. She couldn’t tell him that here and now, though, so she fudged the truth. “We just started a relationship. We’re supposed to listen to each other, right?”
Gina made a rude sound. “Brodie doesn’t listen to anyone.”
“He listens to me,” Ros countered.
Smiling, Brodie took Mary’s hand and tugged her toward him.
She resisted him. “How in the world can you smile right now?”
Rolling one shoulder, he said, “I have you.” Then he gave one more tug and she ended up in his lap.
Mary seriously considered smacking him. “Damn it, Brodie—”
“Damn it, Red.” Still amused, he kissed her, a brief, firm kiss that made her cheeks hot since his mother and Gina were in the room with them. “You’re right, you know. We’re supposed to listen to each other. But that doesn’t mean you call all the shots.”
Was he laughing at her? She narrowed her eyes.
“Whoever was there is gone now anyway.”
Twisting, she looked toward the window that faced the barn. “How do you know?”
“Howler went to sleep.”
Ah. The dog now stretched out in a ray of sunshine in front of the patio doors, his chin resting on what remained of his bone, doggy snores making his loose lips quiver.
Looking toward that barn again, Mary made a decision. She hated to alienate Therman, but it was the right thing to do. “We have to call the cops.”
“But...” Gina looked at each of them. “I’ll be in trouble, too. They’ll want me to figure out who he is when I don’t have any idea.” She turned to Ros. “You know how the township police are. They’ll show up with sirens and lights and I’ll be a spectacle.”
“Actually,” Brodie said, “I agree with Gina. Tommy Felder gets wood anytime he gets to turn on his lights. The locals are just that—local. Besides, what would we even tell them? Gina was drunk when this all happened.”
Gina nodded vigorously. “And the money’s gone,” she reminded him.
Brodie ran a hand up and down Mary’s back, speaking to her as if they were the only two in the room. “We can’t prove anyone was at the barn, right? We should at least talk to Therman first, and then call the number before we make a big deal of it.”
Unconvinced, Mary tried to think it through. She did owe Therman loyalty after three years of employment. And maybe Gina had exaggerated some of it.
“Collectors are notoriously eccentric people,” she mused.
“And Therman already has someone in mind, right? This Assassin character.”
“Dear God.” Gina pulled her purse strap up over her shoulder. “I need to go.”
“It’s a message board name,” Brodie told her. “He’s not actually an assassin.”
Mary hoped that was true.
“It’s all too weird. I want to be home with the doors locked before it gets dark.”
Ros stood. “Will someone be home with you?”
“My whole family.”
“Good.” Ros pulled her into a hug. “If you need me, call. But until this is resolved, I think you should be careful.” She turned away to put their glasses in the sink.
Mary scrambled off Brodie’s lap, he stood, and the two of them walked Gina to the door.
After Brodie watched her drive away, he said, “We’re leaving in just a minute, okay? I agree with Gina, I want to get to my car before it gets dark.”
“Is that safe?” Ros asked, coming in behind them. “Maybe I should drive you.”
“I want you to stay put.” Brodie put a shoulder to the wall and withdrew his phone. “And please, Mom, don’t complain, but I’m going to call Jack.”
“To go with you?” Ros nodded. “Good. Why would I complain about that?”
Phone to his ear, Brodie said, “To keep track of you, not me.”
The way Ros scowled, Mary figured they might need a moment. She went into the kitchen to finish tidying up, but she could still hear them debating.
After wiping off the table, she paused at the sink and stared out the window at the yard.
She heard Brodie’s insistent voice, Ros’s defiant tone, and through it all, she heard...respect. Concern.
Love.
Even when faced with trouble, maybe because they faced trouble, they pulled together.
Yes, they bickered occasionally, but even that was based on affection, each wanting to take care of the other.
It swelled her heart with happiness that Brodie had such a close bond with his family—so the emotion suddenly burning her eyes didn’t make sense. Mary gripped the edge of the sink, unseeing as she tried to swallow back the tears. The tightness in her throat made it impossible.
Oh God, she couldn’t let h
im see her like this. What would he think? Or would he think anything at all?
Her mother had never cared that much about her tears, not really. She’d note them with a pat or a brief hug, then move on to other things.
Other people.
Men. Sex. Drugs.
Mary felt a sob swelling up and...
Brodie’s arms came around her. “Shh.”
No. She didn’t need him to—
“Just for a second, okay?” He tucked his face against her neck and his arms—those arms she admired so much—pulled her back tight to his chest as he rocked slightly from side to side. “I need it.”
A cleansing breath filled her lungs. He needed it? That didn’t make sense, but it did make it better. Mary crossed her arms over his and concentrated on blinking away the humiliating moisture blurring her gaze.
After a moment, he said, “Mom’s annoyed, but she agreed to call Jack if anything at all happens. She’ll keep the house locked, and she’s in for the night.”
Still not trusting her voice, Mary nodded. She worried about a great many things; she didn’t want to add Ros to her list.
“Gina,” he said, hesitant. “She’s immature and scared.”
“She’s young.”
“Thanks for not giving her hell, and not letting me give her hell.”
“You’re welcome,” she managed to answer.
“Did I tell you lately that you’re amazing?”
The smile came, pushing the rest of her turmoil away. “I’m not, but thank you anyway.”
“Actually you are,” Ros said. She leaned in the doorway, her dark gaze filled with understanding but, thankfully, not pity. “It takes a strong, confident woman to be that compassionate. Thank you.”
With a last pat to Brodie’s arms, Mary moved away. “Gina got in over her head. I think she cares for Brodie more than she’ll admit.”
“I hope not,” Brodie said, watching her, smiling and looking very possessive. “She’d be doomed to disappointment, because I’m already taken.”
Mary acknowledged her own possessiveness. “Yes, you are.”
* * *
HOWLER DIDN’T SEEM at all wary as they went back to his car. Other than chasing a bee, trying to eat a stick and piddling twice, the dog paid no attention to his surroundings as Mary folded up the blanket and he stored away the remains of their picnic.
