Free Falling (18 page)

Free batted those long, thick lashes
furiously. A protective feeling welled inside him. He didn’t want
her to cry. And he sure as hell didn’t want to be the one
responsible for her tears. She swallowed tightly, the effort
visible along the delicate column of her throat.

“I guess I’m not used to this sort of thing.”
Her watery blue gaze connected with his. “I mean I…” She gestured
vaguely and then re-crossed her arms, hugging herself. “You left
and didn’t call…or anything and I just…” Free sighed, the sound
shuddering past her lips like a sob.

Before he could remind himself of all the
reasons he shouldn’t, Mac reached for her. “Come here,” he murmured
as he pulled her into his lap. He folded her into his arms and held
her trembling body against his chest. “I should have called.” He
pressed a kiss to her temple. God almighty, he’d never said that to
a woman in his life.

Free’s breath hitched on another little sob.
“I’m sorry. I guess I’m being silly, but this has never happened to
me before.” She snuggled deeper into his arms. “I’m not very good
at it,” she said sadly.

Oh, hell. Mac buried his face in the hair
that drove him absolutely mad and inhaled the soft essence of her
shampoo. If she got any better, he wouldn’t be able to stand it. He
tipped her chin up and looked into her eyes, then smiled. His heart
skipped a beat when she returned the smile with a trembling one of
her own.

Mac swiped a tear from her cheek, then traced
the fullness of her lower lip. “Free?”

“Hmm?”

“I have to get back to my meeting. After
that, we’ll go somewhere and…talk.”

“All right,” she mumbled as she smoothed her
dress down over her thighs. “I’m sorry, Mac,” she added as she
reached behind her back to unlock the door. A single tear slid down
her soft cheek. Before he could form a response she spun around and
slipped out the stall door.

Mac got up, straightened his clothes and
burst out of the stall. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in
the mirror and cringed. His shirt and slacks were wrinkled, his
hair disheveled.

Swearing profusely, Mac finger-combed his
hair and made for the door. It swung inward as he reached for it
and a blue-haired lady froze like a deer caught in the headlights
of an oncoming vehicle. He opened his mouth to offer an apology and
she shrieked like a banshee. Pivoting on the crepe soles of her
orthopedic shoes, she flew down the hall to the nearest office. No
doubt to call security.

“Hey, I own this building,” he shouted after
her.

Shaking his head, he trudged back toward the
conference room. Free was nowhere to be seen.

Chapter Nine

Mac adjusted his jacket and tie, then squared
his shoulders. He plastered an apologetic smile on his face as he
reentered the conference room.

His smile slid immediately into a frown.
Everyone was gone—except Jake, who stood on the other side of the
room staring out of the wall of windows.

“What the hell happened? Where is everybody?”
he asked as he crossed the room. His growing sense on dread at the
probable answer overrode his lingering irritation.

Jake glanced in his direction, then angled
his head toward the window. “See for yourself. Your investors have
been shanghaied.”

Mac leaned over the window ledge to peer down
at the parking lot. Several of his clients, who had been in this
very conference room only minutes ago, were boarding a minibus,
followed by Alex and a small group of strangers. Free’s assistant,
Lance, all dressed up in a three-piece suit, climbed in right
behind them. Mac opened his mouth to swear as Free bounded onto the
bus just before it pulled away from the curb.

“We’ve been had, my friend,” Jake declared
with an incredulous shake of his head.

Mac couldn’t recall ever having felt quite
the way he felt at that moment. He imagined that it was something
like Wall Street brokers experienced the last time the stock market
crashed. A kind of shocked disbelief that numbed…just prior to
panic setting in.

“What happened?” Mac asked again, his voice
entirely too calm to be his own.

“I’m not sure.” he gave Mac a slow once-over.
“But obviously you and I were distracted while it took place. The
only thing I know is that after I finished my call from Alex, I
came back in here to find the room empty except for Roger. He was
raving about some old man named Towery taking over his
presentation.”

Mac’s frown deepened. “Towery?” He repeated
the name silently until recognition clicked. “Towery!” Mac scrubbed
a hand over his face. “He’s the old man that’s been heading up the
Chenille Street protests.”

Jake narrowed his gaze. “Oh, yeah. I thought
that name sounded familiar. So that’s what Alex and Free are up
to.”

The truth hit Mac with sudden clarity. The
fact that Free hadn’t done any salvage work on the Chenille Street
house—and that she had done everything in her power to distract him
from work. The picnic and fishing, the puppy, the—Mac’s thoughts
halted abruptly. He shook his head in denial. No way. She wouldn’t
have gone that far just to distract him.

“Look,” Jake said, interrupting Mac’s
disturbing thoughts. “I don’t know exactly what’s going on, but I
have sneaking suspicion that we aren’t going to like it. Alex and
Free seem to have joined forces with Towery in an effort to stall
the demolition on Monday.”

Mac’s forehead creased. “But why? What would
either of them have to gain?”

Jake released a frustrated breath and slumped
heavily onto the window ledge. “Alex would do it just to get back
at me.” He shrugged. “But Free, I don’t know.”

Mac thought about the way Free had been
willing to go to jail to prevent the magnolia tree from being cut
down. “Maybe she’s one of those bleeding heart types,” he
suggested, unexpectedly feeling drained and wholly out of
sorts.

“Mac, there’s something I need to tell
you.”

“What?” He straightened, sensing that he
wasn’t going to like whatever it was.

“That background check you asked me to run on
Free.” Jake shifted restlessly for a moment before he continued.
“Well, I got the findings back and it’s…it’s not what I
expected.”

Apprehension flooded Mac. How bad could it
be? He’d been around Free enough to know that she was basically a
good person. Sweet and innocent in many ways. “So what did the
report say?”

Jake leveled his gaze on Mac’s. “Six years
ago, when Free was eighteen, she was busted for solicitation.”

Mac stopped breathing, everything inside him
went still. He blinked twice and reminded himself to inhale. “And?”
he prodded, knowing from the look on Jake’s face that he wasn’t
finished.

“During the eighteen months that followed
that incident she was arrested twice.” Jake swallowed. “Once more
for solicitation, then for assault.”

“Assault?”

Jake drew in a heavy breath and shoved his
hands into his pockets. “She and her…her pimp—”

Mac flinched at the word.

“—got into a fight and they both ended up in
the hospital when it was over. He claimed Free took a baseball bat
to him. She pleaded self-defense and a court appointed attorney got
her off.”

Mac took a long, slow breath. Prostitution.
Every instinct that he possessed told him it just couldn’t be. Free
wouldn’t have lied to him like that. How could he believe such a
thing? That would mean that what they had shared was…

“You’re sure,” Mac pressed. Emptiness welled
inside him. The report just couldn’t possibly be accurate. He
couldn’t be that stupid. He would have known if Free had…Christ, he
couldn’t bring himself to picture her with anyone else.

“I’m sure,” Jake replied quietly. He stared
at the floor for a moment, then added, “That’s not all.”

Mac felt the floor shift under his feet. “You
mean there’s more?”

“Her court-appointed attorney was Thomas
Styles.”

If the name should mean anything to Mac, it
didn’t. He shrugged. “Do you know this Mr. Styles?”

Jake shook his head. “No, he was an older
man. He died a couple of years ago, before I came back to practice
law here. I vaguely remember that name. The point is, after he
represented Free…” Jake paused as if searching for the right words.
“He moved her into his house. They lived together until he died two
years later. He left her his entire estate, including the house on
Magnolia Blossom Drive.”

Jake’s words hit Mac like a sledgehammer.
Free, the woman he’d made love to—had unprotected sex with—had been
arrested twice for prostitution and had lived with an older man
until he died, leaving her everything. Mac had let her get to him,
know things about him that he never told anyone else. He’d allowed
feelings for her that he never expected to feel for anyone. His
blood roared in his ears. He’d even pictured her in his future,
having his child.

How could he have been so damned stupid?

“You okay, man?” Jake asked
sympathetically.

Rage erupted inside Mac. He didn’t need
sympathy. Free Renzetti was the one who would need it. She may have
gotten to him for a time, but he was back in control now. His body
went rigid with the emotion twisting inside him. “I’m fine,” he
snapped. Her turned and started toward the door, his rage building
with each step he took.

“Where are you going?” Jake called out after
him.

Mac stopped and turned back to face him. “To
find out what the hell is going on, and to set Free Renzetti
straight about who’s on charge of this project.”

~*~

Free heard Emily answer the front door. She
would rather have locked it and never face anyone again, but Emily
would have no part of that. Free didn’t want to see anyone. She
just wanted to curl up and die. She sighed and stirred a teaspoon
of sugar into her tea. She needed to relax, to forget all that had
happened over the past few weeks, including the time she had spent
with Mac.

Especially the time she had spent with
Mac.

He would hate her now. She had purposely
deceived him. But, she had done the right thing, hadn’t she?

Unable to deal with anything else, Free had
come straight home to change after the episode at Mac’s office. She
couldn’t bring herself to accompany Alex and some very confused
investors for the tour of the Chenille Street house. To stand in
the very room where she and Mac had made love.

She couldn’t do it. Free closed her eyes and
shuddered.

Raised voices in the parlor snapped Free from
her troubling thoughts. Her cup and saucer rattled in her hands
when she recognized one of the voices as Mac’s. She inhaled sharply
and, hands trembling, set the tea aside.

Knowing how upset Emily would be at having to
face Mac’s wrath alone, Free summoned her courage and forced her
feet to carry her down the hall and into the parlor.

Mac and Emily paused mid-shout when Free
entered the room.

“It’s okay, Emily, I’ll take care of this,”
Free said in as strong a voice as he could marshal.

Emily pushed her glasses up the bridge of her
nose. Her cheeks were flushed with anger. She swatted at a stray
hair that had fallen from her prudish topknot. “I don’t think you
should.” She glared at Mac. “The man is a bully,” she huffed,
obviously indignant at his raised voice.

Mac glowered at Emily, then at Free. She
almost drew back at the rage and insolence burning in his gaze.

Free produced a smile for her friend.
“Really, it’s okay. You go have the tea I made, I’ll join you in a
little while.”

Emily didn’t look convinced, but she
reluctantly conceded. She shot Mac one last firm glower from the
door. “But if I hear anyone shouting, I’ll be back,” she
threatened.

Free shifted her attention back to her
visitor, who was still staring a hole through her. She braced
herself for his fury. “I assume you came here to tell me what you
think of me.” She moistened her lips and crossed her arms over her
chest. “Go ahead and get it over with.”

Mac looked ready to do battle, his feet wide
apart, his fists clenched at his sides. He took a long look around
the room before he spoke. “You’ve got a nice place here, Ms.
Renzetti.” He turned a disdainful look on her. “It takes most
people a lifetime of hard work to earn a place like this,” he said
bitterly.

Free couldn’t speak. She felt the color drain
from her face as a wave of dizziness threatened. Was he
insinuating…? No, he knew nothing of her past. He couldn’t have
meant that statement the ugly way it sounded.

He moved closer to her, his fierce gaze never
wavering. “Of course there are lots of ways to come by material
things.”

“Is there a point to this conversation?” she
asked weakly, then swallowed back the lump rising in her throat.
Mac took another step in her direction. Fear trembled through her.
She wasn’t afraid of Mac, but intuition warned her that she should
be fearful of what he might be about to say. She didn’t know if her
heart could take the hurt that would follow.

“Oh, no, not really. I just wanted to clarify
a few things,” he said contemptuously. “You know, we’ve been doing
all that sharing the last couple of days. Me telling you about my
past, you telling me about yours.” He leaned close to her, close
enough for Free to smell her own scent where it still lingered on
his white shirt. “Was there anything you left out?” he asked on a
snarl.

Free backed away a step. How took another,
maintaining his intimidating proximity. “I don’t know what you’re
talking about,” she insisted.

“How did you earn a living before starting
your salvage and restoration business?” he ground out.

He knew.
God, he knew. Humiliation and
hurt washed over her. Would she ever be able to live that lie down?
“I did lots of different jobs.” Free met his reproachful glare.
“All of which were legitimate.”