Hell.
‘‘And I’ll be damned if I’m going to let some gutless fool tear apart what’s left of her heart.’’
Mark propped both hands on the porch rail and leaned his weight against it. For a long moment, he heard only the creak of Frank Monroe’s rocker and the pounding of his own blood. Then a shout from the baseball diamond caught his attention and he looked up to see Annabelle running hard to catch a fly ball hit to left field. ‘‘You are right, Mr. Monroe. I do love her. But that doesn’t mean I am right for her. I just don’t know what to do about it.’’
‘‘I’ll tell you what you do about it,’’ Lynn Monroe declared. The screen door squeaked opened, then banged behind her. She marched up to Mark, braced her hands on her hips, and said, ‘‘Ordinarily I wouldn’t stick my nose in your business, but Annabelle’s father has done a poor job of it—’’
‘‘Lynn!’’ Frank protested.
‘‘—so here I go. It’s plain as the nose on my face what the problem is. You don’t have an ounce of forgiveness in yourself, do you, Mark? Not for your father and not for yourself. Have you ever thought that maybe your father’s admittedly misguided actions were motivated by love?’’
Mark closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. The Monroes could say whatever they wanted about Annabelle and he would listen—that was their right. But he’d be good and goddamned if he’d listen to anyone defend Branch Callahan.
‘‘Excuse me, Mrs. Monroe. I don’t wish to be rude, but you need to leave my father out of this. You don’t know anything about him and what he did—’’
‘‘I know enough.’’ She pointed a finger toward the empty rocker and said, ‘‘Sit down, Callahan. Annabelle told me the whole tragic story.’’
‘‘Annabelle doesn’t know the whole tragic story! She doesn’t know that he threatened to use his money and his power to steal our baby from my wife while I was stuck overseas and couldn’t do a damn thing to protect her. She doesn’t know that my wife and baby were running away from my father when a drunk driver killed them.’’
‘‘Oh, dear.’’
‘‘Yeah. Oh freaking dear.’’
‘‘That explains a lot of your anger, doesn’t it? Nevertheless, I am going to talk and you are going to listen. Do you know why? Because I like you.’’
‘‘Because I gave you a kitchen,’’ he muttered beneath his breath as he took his seat.
‘‘No, because you are a man with principles. You’re a man with honor and integrity and loyalty. You are a man of great passion.’’
‘‘I don’t want to hear about passion,’’ Frank Monroe grumbled.
‘‘If I hadn’t been so distraught about Frank, your misdirection with Tag would not have fooled me. It’s obvious that you care deeply about our daughter and that she cares deeply about you. That said, unless you change a few things, you are going to throw away any chance of happiness the two of you have. Now, let me speak plainly.’’
He kicked at a peanut shell on the porch’s floor. ‘‘You weren’t already?’’
She folded her arms and clicked her tongue. ‘‘Mark, Mark, Mark.’’
In that moment, he heard his own mother’s voice. She’d have kicked his butt for that smart-ass remark.
‘‘Let’s talk about your wife and child,’’ Lynn Monroe continued. ‘‘What were their names?’’
‘‘Mrs. Monroe, I don’t want to talk about—’’
‘‘Their names, son?’’
He blew out a sigh. ‘‘Carrie. My wife was Carrie, my daughter, Margaret Mary.’’
‘‘You need to stop living in the shadow of what happened to Carrie and little Margaret Mary. It’s a horrible, horrible thing, but you’ve punished yourself long enough. You need to forgive yourself for not being there. And you need to forgive your father for his part in the accident. You need to make peace with your past in order to go on with your future, Mark. It’s as simple as that.’’
‘‘Simple?’’ he scoffed. ‘‘I don’t think so.’’
She folded her arms, tilted her head, and studied him. ‘‘I’m not the first person to tell you this, am I?’’
Mark’s thoughts went to his brothers and especially their wives. ‘‘No, ma’am.’’
‘‘That’s good. It’s not a new idea, then. That only makes your current confusion more telling. You know I’m right. You know what you must do.’’ She walked over to Mark and slipped her arm through his. ‘‘Look out there. At Annabelle. She’s your future, if you’re smart enough, brave enough, to reach for her.’’
At first, Mark didn’t say anything as the conversation replayed through his mind. Make peace with his father? ‘‘I’ll never forget. I don’t want to forget. They were my family.’’
Frank Monroe spoke up. ‘‘You don’t have to forget, son. You just have to forgive. With forgiveness comes peace.’’
Mark didn’t know what to say after that, so when his phone rang a few minutes later, he reached for it like a lifeline. ‘‘Hello?’’
His sister-in-law Torie said, ‘‘Mark? Where are you?’’
Trepidation gripped him. ‘‘I’m in Kansas. What’s wrong?’’
‘‘Kansas. Good. That’s not too far. Do you have your plane?’’
‘‘Yes. Torie! What’s wrong?’’
She laughed. ‘‘Nothing’s wrong, Callahan. Everything’s right. Or it will be right by sometime tomorrow. Get your butt home. I’m having your brother’s baby and you need to be here. Matt needs you here. I need you here. Come home, Mark. Hurry.’’
Annabelle watched Amy set up in the batter’s box, then glanced toward the porch at the sound of her name. Mark waved her in, calling for Tag, too. The ball cracked against the bat, but she allowed Amy’s hit to sail right past her as she took off for the farmhouse. Something was up.
Five minutes later, the three Fixers congregated in her father’s office, discussing the change in plan. Mark looked troubled as he sank down into the chair and rubbed the back of his neck. ‘‘I don’t have to go to Texas.’’
‘‘Yes, you do.’’ A shout of laughter out on the field drew Annabelle’s attention and she moved to the window.‘‘Your family wants you there. You owe it to them to go.’’
Tag propped a hip on one corner of the desk, picked up the rabbit made from painted rocks she’d made for her father in the fifth grade, and added his two cents. ‘‘She’s right. You should go.’’
‘‘Will you come with me, Annabelle?’’ he asked.
Her brows arched in surprise. ‘‘Wouldn’t it be better for me to go straight to the island and work on the setup there?’’
‘‘If you are comfortable leaving here, I’d rather you come with me.’’
Annabelle took a moment to think about it. Could she in good conscience leave Kansas now? Her father was home, the farm was guarded like a fortress, and the security guys from Texas kept excellent watch over her sisters and their families. They had intended to leave in another day or two, anyway.
Yet, the idea of packing up and going tonight left her feeling a bit sick to her stomach.
She blamed the reaction on Ron Kurtz, of course. It had nothing to do with the fact that Mark had asked her to accompany him to the Callahan hometown to mingle with the Callahan family while a Callahan bride gave birth to a Callahan offspring.
‘‘Just shoot me now,’’ she muttered as she gently banged her head against the window glass.
Mark frowned. ‘‘Annabelle, if you’re worried about your family . . .’’
‘‘No. I’m not.’’
Suck it up, Annabelle.
‘‘I’m really not. I have complete faith in the Texans, and I also think the odds of Kurtz coming back to Kansas are slim—especially once we launch our media blitz.’’
Tag returned the rabbit to its place, picked up a pencil, and began to bounce the eraser against the telephone receiver. ‘‘I hope I get the chance to meet these sisters-in-law of yours someday, Callahan. I have to say I’m impressed with how fast they put that whole media thing together.’’
Mark grinned. ‘‘They are pretty impressive. Maddie’s father was happy to help the cause—Blade loves to create a scandal—and Torie’s paparazzi friends are salivating at the notion of racking up big bucks with those money pics.’’ Meeting Annabelle’s gaze, he added, ‘‘Let’s not forget who came up with the idea. Annabelle is impressive
and
brilliant.’’
Annabelle accepted the compliment with a graceful nod. Her idea
had
been inspired, she thought. Once they had decided to bait their trap at Melody Key, they’d faced the problem of how to make sure that Kurtz got the word about where to find them. While his intelligence about the Fixers had been spot-on so far, without knowing how he got his information, they feared leaving it to chance. That’s when Annabelle got the idea to use Mark’s connections and create some tabloid fodder.
With Maddie Callahan’s father’s blessing, they planned to ‘‘out’’ his recent but still secret marriage to a sixth wife, a bride who would scandalize the celebrity world. News that the aging rock star Blade had married the former Kathy Hudson, owner of the Dairy Princess in Brazos Bend, Texas, would make the front page of the tabloids on every supermarket shelf in America.
As soon as Mark gave the word, half a dozen hand-picked paparazzo photographers were set to receive a family photo of the event: Blade; his bride, Kathy; Blade’s daughter, the infamous rock princess ‘‘Baby Dagger,’’ aka Maddie Callahan; and her husband, Luke Callahan—Mark’s identical-twin brother.
One special friend of Torie’s would even get video for the cable-TV folks. Everyone would receive a press release of sorts that included the news that the entire Callahan family planned to prolong the festivities by vacationing on the private island where the wedding had been held, Melody Key, for the next two weeks.
‘‘Ron Kurtz will have to be dead to miss the news,’’ Tag observed.
‘‘I hope the idea doesn’t prove to be more bust than brilliance.’’ Annabelle moved away from the window and swiped the pencil out of Tag’s hand, then returned it to the pencil cup. The man fiddled with things like a five-year-old. ‘‘We weren’t planning on Torie’s baby coming this early. It’s going to be difficult for your family to hide out with a brand-new baby. If word leaks out that they’re still in Brazos Bend, it will ruin everything.’’
‘‘It’ll be fine,’’ Mark assured her. ‘‘Matt and Luke have that problem covered. It helps that Torie wanted to have her baby at the lake house. From what Luke said, Matt has turned the place into a veritable hospital. They wanted time to themselves after the kid is born, anyway, so it all works.’’
‘‘You’re not worried about Kurtz sneaking past the perimeter?’’ Tag asked.
‘‘No.’’ Mark’s green eyes gleamed with determination. ‘‘We made that mistake once before at Four Brothers Vineyard. It won’t happen again. Matt has put in a security system that the Secret Service could take pointers about.’’
Annabelle slumped into the chair opposite the desk from Mark. ‘‘What worries me most is the thought that we might be too late already. He’s had time to get to Texas.’’
‘‘True, but he’s not in Brazos Bend yet, according to Matt. That’s a good thing about living in a small town where everybody knows everybody. Add in the DEA roadblocks Luke arranged, and no one is getting in or out of the county without the Callahans knowing about it. He might well be on his way, but right now, it’s clear.’’
They all glanced toward the window when a rousing cheer arose from outside, signaling the end of the game. Tag said, ‘‘Now that Frank is home, I think we’re good to go. The sooner the better, in my opinion.’’
Mark drummed his fingers against the desk. ‘‘Matt’s baby coming early actually helps our timetable. When Torie realized she was in labor, the family made a big production of leaving town to attend Blade’s wedding. I figure we’ll be in and out of Brazos Bend in a matter of hours—Torie does everything fast. She’ll drop that kid lickety-split and we can be wheels up tomorrow afternoon.’’
‘‘Drop the kid?’’ Annabelle repeated. ‘‘Jeez, Callahan, she’s not a goat.’’
His mouth twisted ruefully. ‘‘You’re right. I should have said ‘drop the kit.’ Our Torie is a lioness.’’
While Annabelle rolled her eyes at that, he continued. ‘‘I intend to be on Melody Key by sunset tomorrow. We’ll send the photos out the minute we’re on the island, and with any luck we will have Kurtz in custody by the end of the week.’’
‘‘With any luck,’’ Tag repeated as the Monroes filed into the house, the winners giving the losers a hard time on the way to the kitchen for their after-ball-game ice cream.
‘‘Well, then. We’d better get moving.’’ Annabelle rose and wiped her suddenly damp hands on her shorts. ‘‘I guess it’s time to say good-bye.’’
Chapter Thirteen
Meacham Field
Fort Worth, Texas
Twenty minutes after the Citation landed at the airfield, Mark walked across the tarmac beside Annabelle and eyed his brother Matt’s sweet Bell 210 helicopter, their transportation for the short final leg of their trip. The prospect of flying in the bird with his ex-wife as pilot didn’t bother him. The idea of flying to Brazos Bend made him want to throw up.
He hadn’t been back since his discharge from the hospital after tangling with Torie’s stalker, and the intensity of his reaction caught him by surprise. He had thought he had a handle on his feelings for his father. Branch was dead to him. Period. So why was his skin clammy and his stomach sour?
‘‘Maybe I’m getting sick.’’ His gait slowed; then he stopped. If he was coming down with something, he shouldn’t go to Brazos Bend and expose Torie and her baby to illness.
Annabelle noticed he had fallen behind. ‘‘Something wrong, Callahan?’’
‘‘Yeah. I don’t feel so good.’’
She walked back toward him and, in that maternal way women had, tested his temperature by placing the back of her hand against his forehead. ‘‘No fever. What’s the matter?’’
He looked deep inside himself and came up with the truth. Maybe he was the coward the Monroes claimed him to be. ‘‘Nothing. Not really. I’m just not looking forward to this trip.’’
She made an offended snort. ‘‘Excuse me, but who was the helo pilot for the Fixers? Who supplemented her income by piloting tourist flights on Oahu?’’