She tilted her chin back. “You’re not my keeper, Baldwin.”
“Yeah, but I’m considering the position.” He wiped his thumb over the mud on her cheek. Then he let his hand move behind her neck. She was sweating, and all those soft moist curls of her hair rested on the back of his hand. He fought the desire to press his lips to her neck, to taste her with a hint of sweat on her skin, knowing she’d taste just like that when he got through making love to her.
“I’m not taking applications,” she growled.
“Good, because I don’t much care for competition.”
“You’re not listening to me.” She brushed his hand from her neck. “I don’t want…this.” She motioned between her and him.
Jake had never lacked confidence, but her words dinged his ego. Thankfully, his ego was pretty thick. “You need me, Pizza Girl.”
“I need your protection. Agreed. I need someone who’ll keep me informed about my brother. But that’s all I need, Baldwin. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Yeah.” He smiled. “I just don’t believe it. We’ve got something between us. Chemistry, fate—I don’t know what to call it. I don’t even know where it’s leading, but I’d like to take the ride to find out.”
“I’ve been on that ride, and I don’t like where it leads.” She turned to go.
“You didn’t go with me.”
“You’re all alike,” she said over her shoulder.
“That’s not fair.”
“Who told you life is fair?” She started walking.
Jake decided not to push. “What time will you be home?”
“You’re not my keeper,” she repeated. She didn’t look back.
He let her go. For now. But not for long. This ball-busting, conniving, sassy gardener who worried about feeding the poor had gotten under his skin, and he planned to keep her there.
Jake stood in the middle of the garden for a few minutes thinking about how his dad would have liked Macy, and then he started for his car. The black sedan of Agent Mimms caught his gaze. He walked over and motioned for the FBI man to roll down the window. It stayed up. He gave the dark glass a tap. Nothing.
His gaze caught the back door on the other side, which had been left ajar. Damn! He grabbed his Glock from his shoulder holster and raced around. Hit with an adrenaline rush, he jerked the door open. Agent Mimms lay slumped over the steering wheel. Then Jake saw the blood.
The smell and sound of bacon frying woke Billy up around noon. Ellie stood by the stove. Andy’s dog Spike sat beside her.
“Okay, one more.” Ellie dropped the dog a piece of bacon. “But no more, or there won’t be enough for breakfast.” The dog cocked his head and she chuckled. “You’re too cute. I guess I didn’t need any anyhow.” She gave the dog another piece.
Billy smiled. How a person could be so miserable and exhilarated at the same time, he didn’t know. But that’s what he was, caught in a tug-of-war of emotions. His gaze shifted to Ellie’s backside, which was encased in a pair of cutoff jeans. The memory of last night took his normal morning hard-on up a notch.
Sex with Ellie had been the best he’d ever had. He knew why, too. They hadn’t just had sex. They’d made love. Twice. Billy dropped his chin on the pillow. There wasn’t a place on her body that he hadn’t kissed and tasted. And he’d done it slow, the way he’d heard women liked.
Oh, she’d liked it. A sense of pride brought on another smile. Too bad it had to end.
He flung himself over and stared at the ceiling.
“You’re awake?” Ellie dashed across the room and wriggled that soft body down beside him. “You hungry?” She kissed him.
“Yeah, but you’ve fed Spike all the bacon,” he complained with a smile. “Is Andy here?” Curling his hand around her waist, he thought that maybe they could postpone breakfast.
“Yeah, he’s in his room, and he went by the store. We’ve got eggs and bacon and toast!”
Billy’s stomach ached with the hollowness of hunger, but his heart ached from knowing his time with Ellie was almost over. “It smells good.”
“Then come eat.” She shot upright and tugged on his hand.
He pulled her back to the sofa, and she fell against him. Chasing away thoughts of getting her naked, he concentrated on what he needed to ask—things he’d thought about last night after she’d fallen asleep.
“How well did you know David?”
She frowned. “I never loved him. We never even…you know.”
Relief washed over him, but that wasn’t what he needed to know. Billy ran his hand up her arm, wanting to memorize how she felt. “Where do you think he’s at? Where would he go?”
“I thought you said you knew where he was going.”
He hadn’t told her about last night, except that he’d waited for David to show up, and he hadn’t. The less she knew the better. “I’m thinking he might have gone somewhere else.”
She hesitated. “He might go to his ex-girlfriend’s house. I think her name is Jamie Clay. I don’t know where she lives, but she works at Girls Galore. The strip club.”
Right then Billy knew he had to find a way to get into that club. He recalled the fake IDs he’d stuffed under his mattress at home. Would they still be there? Would the cops be watching Nan’s place?
There was only one way to find out.
His gun gripped tight, Jake touched Agent Mimms’s neck to check for signs of life. The skin felt warm. Warm was good. A slight flutter danced beneath the man’s skin. A pulse! Thank God. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as it looked.
Jake cut his eyes around, looking for the person who could have done this, but the streets stood empty. He grabbed his phone from his pocket and, hitting the button, spat out his name and badge number, and then: “Officer down. I need an ambulance and backup.” He gave the names of the cross streets, then moved out of the backseat and opened the front door to get a better look at Mimms. Blood covered one side of his face, but at least the man was breathing.
Jake could think of only one reason the man had been attacked: Macy. His gaze zipped back to the church. Where was she? His heart slammed against his rib cage. Then he spotted Father Luis jogging down the steps.
Jake stepped back and yelled to the priest, “Find Macy. Get her inside!”
Instead of listening, the priest bolted over. “What? Macy left. She went to Nan’s yoga place. What’s—?” His gaze shifted to Agent Mimms. “Dear God, what happened?”
“She left?” Jake stared up and down the street. “When?”
“A few minutes ago. Is he okay?”
“I’ve called for help.”
Jake snapped open his phone and hit buttons until he found Agent James’s number. He made the call. “Answer, damn it!” Beside him, the priest knelt down next to the injured FBI man—to pray or check on him, Jake didn’t know. He hoped both.
“Agent James,” the Fed finally answered.
“It’s Baldwin. Someone got to Agent Mimms.”
Agent James started spouting questions, but Jake cut him off and told him their location. “He’s alive. I’ve called for backup. Got an ambulance on its way. Macy Tucker has driven away, however. They probably followed her. I’m going after her.”
“Is the scene clear?” Agent James asked.
“Looks clear.” He straightened and took in his surroundings again.
“Not good enough! Don’t you dare leave my man alone.”
Jake hung up. Police procedure demanded he stay. His heart said go. In the distance, sirens blared. Music to Jake’s ears.
“I’m going after Macy,” he yelled to the priest after he’d run halfway across the street. “Where’s her grandmother’s yoga school, anyway?”
“Two miles down on the right. Past the second light, beside the Target.”
A patrol car squealed to halt and an officer jumped out. Jake held out his badge and pointed to Agent Mimms’s sedan. “He’s FBI,” he called, dashing for his car. “Medics are on their way.”
He crawled into his vehicle, ignoring the backup officer’s questions, then sped off. He kept a lead foot on the gas pedal. God, let him get there in time.
When Macy walked into Nan’s yoga studio, all the lights were off and the blackout shades were down. The smell of burning incense and a lone jasmine-scented candle flickering in the darkness told her a class was about to begin.
She slipped through front area to peek into the back, into the yoga room. Inching open the door, she expected to give Nan just a little wave. Before she could peer inside, someone caught her elbow.
Tanks?
Macy swung around, knee raised and ready, when…“Nan, you scared—”
“Thank heavens you’re here.” Her grandma pulled Macy across the room to the stairs to the second level. She ascended.
“What’s up?” Macy bounded up the steps to keep pace.
“Your mom’s up.
Really
up. Not that I’m not happy about it, but I have a class.” She opened the door at the top of stairs, and the sunlight pouring in the room beyond made Macy blink. Today Nan wore lime green leggings paired with a purple shirt that read don’t worry. J
UST
H
IDE
T
HE
B
ODY
.
“She’s what?” Macy glanced away from Nan’s shirt into the empty office and makeshift lunchroom. The door from the small bathroom creaked open and her mom stepped out, humming. See? Even her mother knew the singing rule.
But, something wasn’t right. Faye Moore didn’t hum. She normally was too busy crying.
“Mace!” Her mom said, sounding like a giddy teenager. “Oh, goodie. I need your help.”
Goodie? Faye Moore didn’t hum, and she didn’t say goodie either.
Okay, an “up” mom would require some getting used to. But seeing her mom smile, Macy decided she could deal with it. “Help with what?” She glanced at Nan for a hint.
Her mom spoke. “I didn’t know what color would look good, so I got them all. Except the blonde. I don’t see myself as a blonde.”
Macy’s gaze fell to a nearby table where at least ten Nice ’n Easy boxes lined up like soldiers. “You’re dyeing your hair?”
“Why didn’t anyone tell me I’d gone gray?” Her mom ran her fingers through her grizzled curls. “You’ll help, right?”
“Me? Don’t you remember the time I did Nan’s hair?”
Macy’s grandmother chuckled. “I liked that shade of purple.” Then she pointed to the bags crowding the room’s love seat. “She bought clothes, too.”
“Clothes?” Macy plopped down in a chair. Her mom
never
bought clothes. Whenever Macy would say something about tossing out a blouse or a dress, her mother would say,
Your dad loves this
. Loves! Not loved.
Her mom picked up a box of hair dye. “I think all we have to do is mix bottle A with bottle B, after we decide what color.”
“I have a class,” Nan reminded them. “I leave you in good hands.” On her way out, she whispered to Macy, “No purple.”
Nan bounced down the stairs. Macy’s gaze flickered from the table of Nice ’n Easy to her mother. “Why are you doing this?”
Instantly, Macy wished she could take back the words, scared her mom would back out and, in a small way, also scared she wouldn’t. Change was frightening, even good change. For some half-baked reason, Macy’s thoughts shot to Baldwin, to their hands touching in the tomato plants to the possibilities of where those electric sensations could lead.
No! She didn’t want change. Especially not that kind. She’d tried that lifestyle on for size, hadn’t she? It fit like a too-tight thong. She’d married Tom, believed in love, honor, and “until death do you part.” In her case, death had been his secretary.
“You don’t think I should dye my hair?” her mother asked with a sniffle.
No, not the tears.
“Yes, I do.” Macy tossed Baldwin into the darkest corner of her mind, where no doubt she’d return to him later.
Her mom’s eyes continued to tear. “Your dad wouldn’t like it, would he?” Sniffle.
Macy frantically searched for the right words, something short that encompassed her exact feelings. Advice from the heart.
“Screw that bastard!” Faye Moore snapped, taking the words from Macy’s lips. Her mom scrubbed a tear from her cheek. “Screw him and his gold panning. Screw him for walking out on his family. I’m dyeing my fucking hair. And look!” She pushed back her curls. “I even got my ears pierced with a second hole. I’m considering doing my belly button next.”
Macy’s mouth dropped open. Then, realizing her mom needed positive reinforcement, she pulled herself together. “Go, Mom!” She paused. “But don’t ever say ‘fuck’ again. Mothers don’t say that. And your belly button is fine without holes.”
Her mother laughed—a deep, soulful, contagious laugh. The kind that hinted at newfound freedom. The kind that came with so much emotion, it brought on new tears. Good tears. And while they giggled and cried together, Macy saw strength in Faye Moore that she hadn’t known existed. Her mom really was Nan’s daughter.
“I love you.” Macy gave her mom a hug. Then she turned back to the table and eyed the various boxes before she cratered and they had to arm themselves with tissues. “Do you want to be a sexy redhead or a sassy brunette?”
“Do men find redheads sexy?” Faye’s smile was sly.
“Probably.”
Macy wondered what had nudged her mother into recovery. It couldn’t be a man, could it? No, not after she’d spent the last fourteen years trying to get over what the last one had done to her.
The sparkle in her mom’s eyes had Macy rethinking. “Let’s do red,” Faye chirped.
It was on the tip of Macy’s tongue to warn her mother against jumping back into the fire, but then her mom started humming again. Her mom deserved to hum, didn’t she?
“Red it is.” Macy opened the box. And as she mixed the supplies, she refused to dwell on the fact that maybe her mother wasn’t the only person who deserved to hum.
Jake pushed open the door to Yoga Works. His heart hadn’t slowed. The lights were off, and the silence shot adrenaline through his veins. He reached for his Glock and took another step, heard a murmur of voices in the back, and pushed open another door. The smell of burnt herbs filled his nose. Then he saw it: someone facedown on the floor. Was he too late?
“Police!” Blinking his eyes, he needed another second to adjust to the dimness.
Light suddenly flooded the room. Many people were spread out on the floor, their knees over their heads, asses in the air. Jake’s gaze shot around the room, looking for a certain heart-shaped posterior.
“What are you doing?” The voice came from behind him. He turned and stared at Macy’s grandma, who was standing by the light switch. She eyed his gun. “No fair. I didn’t bring my paint.”
He ignored that. “Where’s Macy?” he asked.
“Upstairs.” The humor in her expression faded. “What happened?”
Jake darted back to the front, where he’d seen a staircase. His gut now told him she was okay, but he needed to see her.
He bounded up the steps and slung open the door at the top…and stopped short. Macy stood behind her mom, who sat in a chair. Macy’s startled gaze shifted from where she’d been squirting something onto her mother’s hair.
“Oh,
goodie
,” Macy said, sounding anything but pleased. “We’ve got company.” Then she seemed to spot his gun. “What’s wrong?”
Jake tucked his Glock into its shoulder holster. Macy’s grandma appeared beside him.
“Is my son okay?” Macy’s mom clutched a green towel to her chest, and something dark red dripped down her brow.
“It’s not Billy.” Jake met Macy’s concerned gaze. “I need you to come with me.”
“It’s not Billy?” Macy turned his words into a question. Fear danced in her blue eyes.
“No. I promise.”
She looked at her mom’s hair. “Let me finish this first.”
He tapped his watch. “I don’t have time—”
“She can’t leave!” her mom insisted. “I’ll end up purple.”
“And I’ve got a class to teach.” Nan bounded back down the stairs.
Jake cut his gaze to Macy. “This is important,” he said.
“So is this,” Mrs. Moore replied. “If she messes up my hair, I’ll cry. And I’m really trying hard not to do that anymore. Except if it’s about Billy. I can cry about my son.”
Macy started squeezing the dark substance faster into her mother’s locks. “One minute.”
It took two. Jake timed it on his watch.
“What time is it?” Macy set the bottle on the table.
The vision of Agent Mimms slumped over the steering wheel flashed in Jake’s head. “Time to go.” At her frown, he looked at his watch. “One fifteen.” He’d been gone ten minutes from a scene he should never have left.
Macy looked at her mom. “Wait forty-five minutes and then rinse.”
Frowning, Mrs. Moore pointed a finger at Jake. “I don’t care if you
are
Macy’s boyfriend. If I’m purple, it’s your fault.”
“I understand.” Jake looked at Macy and waved toward the door.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Macy snapped. She grabbed her purse from the floor and hurried out and down the stairs.
Jake followed, his gaze fixed on Macy’s backside. With each sway, he became determined of two things: hurrying back to the scene, and making a liar out of Macy. He was going to be her boyfriend.
The moment she exited the building, Macy stopped. Jake didn’t. He wrapped his arm around her waist and forced her to keep walking.
“What happened?” she asked.
After hitting the clicker on his key chain, he opened his car’s passenger door. “I’ll explain while I drive.”
“But my car. I’ll just—”
“No,” he insisted.
“Yes!”
She opened her mouth to speak again, and with no time to argue, he did the only thing he could think of to shut her up. He kissed her. He expected nothing more than a chaste touching of lips that would surprise her enough to get her into his car. His expectations were more than matched. She melted into him, soft breasts to his abdomen. Her lips, warm and pliant, met his with enthusiasm. Damn, if she wasn’t kissing him back!
But he had to get back to the church. He pulled away. “I…I need a rain check.”
She blinked, dazed. “Why do you keep doing that?”
“It shuts you up.” And with a nudge, he settled her into the passenger seat. Leaning inside, he buckled her in. As he started to draw back, he paused to stare at her mouth, which was still wet from their kiss. “And because I like it. A lot.”
Billy sat on Andy’s porch so that he could breathe the fresh air. It smelled like trees and nature. The birds sang and the squirrels rustled. The thought of going back to only echoes—to a life regulated by guards and steel bars—made Billy want to hit something. But a good man didn’t hit things. That was a lesson he’d learned from his no-good dad.
The door behind Billy opened, and Andy and his dog Spike stepped out. The porch wobbled as the boy sat down on the steps.
“You gonna stay here tonight?” he asked.
“If you don’t mind. Just for a few more days.” Or so Billy hoped. Last night he’d sensed it was a race: find David Tanks before the cops did…or before Tanks found him. Every time he left Andy’s trailer Billy knew he chanced getting caught. “I’ll make it up to you somehow.” He thought again about telling Mace and Nan about Andy. They’d help the kid.
“I don’t mind.” Andy scratched his dog behind the ears. “It’s nice having company. And besides, Ellie cleaned my place. She cooks good, too.” The dog settled at Andy’s side.
“That’s women for you. Cooking, cleaning…”
“Yeah, women.” Andy stared off into the trees. “My mom didn’t cook, but she did get mad when I’d leave my schoolbooks everywhere.”
“My mom fussed about my dirty underwear on the floor,” Billy admitted, wishing he could go back to the old days, when leaving clothes around was his biggest sin. Then again, he supposed not appreciating people was a pretty big sin, too.
“Where’s your mom now?” Andy asked.
“In Houston.” Billy watched a bird soar through the air.
“Did she come to see you in prison?”
“Every week.”
Billy saw two squirrels chase each other up a tree. He listened to the scratchy sound of their nails clinging to the tree bark, and reflected on how free they were. A breeze stirred, and Billy thought about flying a kite. His mom bought him one every Easter. He’d bet he had three of them in his closet, never opened. Crazy, but now he’d give anything to fly one.
“And your dad, he come to see you, too?”
Billy shook his head. “He left.”
“Mine, too.” Andy petted his dog. “You miss him?”
Billy almost said no. “I barely remember him, and what I remember isn’t good. But…yeah, I miss him. Or at least I miss having a dad.”
“Me, too.” Andy paused as they were interrupted by a chattering squirrel. “What did you do to get put in prison?”
Billy winced. “I let my friends talk me into doing something bad.”
“What did you do?”
Even the wind grew quiet, as if to listen. “They robbed a convenience store. I was in the car. I didn’t…I thought they were just going to shoplift some beer. It was still wrong. You need to be careful who your friends are.”
“I just have one friend,” Andy said. His dog nosed him. “Nobody got hurt, did they? During the robbery?”
“No. But it was wrong, and I’m paying for it.”
Andy waved a bee away. “Ellie said you met her while you were in prison. So maybe going to jail wasn’t a bad thing.”
“She’s the best thing in my life, but what I did was still wrong. And prison
is
a bad thing.” Billy looked back at the door. “What’s she doing?”
“She’s using my phone to call someone.”
“Damn.” Ellie obviously didn’t understand how important it was to keep a low profile. “To call who?” Billy watched Andy shrug, so he got up to go find out.
“What happened?” Macy nipped at her bottom lip that still tasted like his kiss and watched Jake zip through the afternoon traffic.
“I found Agent Mimms in his car in front of the church. Someone attacked him.”
“Is he…is he going to be okay?” Questions ran through her head. “They don’t…they don’t think Billy did it, do they?”
“It’s too soon to name suspects, but my money’s on Tanks. Whoever did this wanted to get to you.”
Macy’s chest clenched, and she laced her hands together. “It’s my fault.”