Love Inspired Suspense April 2015 #2 (12 page)

Keeley cocked her head, the fringe of bangs falling across her forehead. “What's wrong with plain?”

“Denise didn't want that kind of life, and I didn't hear it when she tried to tell me. She didn't want to be a military wife, drive around in a beat-up truck and listen to me go on about birds. She wanted to get her PhD, live in a college town, and I guess she found a guy who wanted that, too. I understand now. I saw her how I wanted her to be, not how she was. My fault, just as much as hers.”

“But the baby,” Keeley said. “Your son.”

“My son,” he repeated. The word felt foreign on his tongue, as if he was trying to speak a language he didn't know. “Yeah.”

Keeley reached out a hand and laid her palm on his biceps. “I think Liam would have been blessed to have you as a father.”

Mick swallowed an ache that crept up his throat. He had not thought of himself as a blessing to anyone for a long time.
Thank you for saying that
, he wanted to tell her, for believing that, but he could not force the words out. Instead he focused on the road, slow and steady, surprised when he felt her body pressed against his side. She'd fallen asleep, lulled by the warmth and probably exhausted by the harrowing days she'd just experienced.

Carefully, he lifted his arm and she folded against him, her head resting on his chest, his arm around her slender shoulders. He breathed in the scent of her as his warmth mingled with hers. For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine what it would be like if Keeley was his, this strong, funny woman with the heart of a lion. They would drive places, take June to see the eagles waking up in the morning, maybe buy her a little fishing pole and teach her how to catch trout. They'd be a family, and he would do everything in his power to make them both happy.

But imagination wasn't going to wash away the past, marked as it was by his part in LeeAnn's death. He shut off his heart to such fantasy and focused.

Drive her home.

Keep her safe until Tucker is found.

Get out of her life.

THIRTEEN

K
eeley awoke as they pulled into her driveway, disoriented to find she had been asleep on Mick's shoulder. She jerked upright so fast her vision swam.

“Oh. Sorry, I must have drifted off.” She pushed her hair out of her face and her warm cheeks signaled she was blushing madly. “Really sorry.”

She saw the glimmer of a small smile.

“Don't be. You were tired. Only got six hours last night.”

Her heart still beat erratically. “So why don't you look tired? Never mind. I forgot you don't need sleep.”

“I do, just not as much as you.”

“What time is it?”

“Almost midnight.”

Mick greeted Mason, who walked from his police car to the pickup. “Evening. Have a nice trip?”

Keeley thought
nice
was not the word she'd use for encountering Charlie and Bruce twice and losing Ginny. “We need to talk to Chief Uttley. Can you call him?”

Mason licked his lips. “He got a phone message. Had to take care of some business.”

Keeley's heart skipped. “Who's watching Junie?”

He raised a calming hand. “Got two cops assigned there now. They just reported in. All's quiet. Don't worry. Rivendale's not going to come anywhere near her.”

Keeley tried to relax. “All right. Can you please tell Chief Uttley we need to talk to him right away?”

“Sure.” Mason walked back to his car, a shade too abruptly, she thought.

Mick got out and headed for the passenger door to open it for her, but Keeley hopped out before he got there. Bad enough she was sleeping on the man's shoulder, for goodness' sake. When had she grown so comfortable with Mick Hudson?

He followed her to the door and waited for her to unlock it.

“Mick, you aren't going to sleep in the truck again, are you?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“That's ridiculous. Come inside and sleep on the couch, at least.”

“Truck's fine.”

She stood in the doorway as the moonlight painted the strong planes of his face. In that light, he did not look anything like an ungainly condor, nor a hard-as-nails marine. Seeing how tenderly he'd treated his father and sister had softened her view of him. She reached out and put a hand on his chest, feeling the strong beat of his heart under her palm. He looked at her hand for a moment, then, slowly, covered her fingers with his.

“Please,” she said quietly. “I am grateful that you're here. I don't want to be. I want to take care of it all by myself and be the whole world to Junie without help from anyone, but I can't. I—I need you. Junie and I need you to help us out of this mess.”

He traced his fingers, rough and calloused over hers, igniting prickles along her arms.

“That was hard to say,” he said, voice low and husky.

“Yes.” She blinked back unexpected tears. “I've been very conscientious about shutting people out even when God opens the door and lets them in.”

He looked at her then, eyes glimmering pools of deepest shadow. “You have so much courage. More than any soldier I ever met.”

She took a deep breath and let go of a portion of her pride. “Will you please sleep in the trailer out back? I would feel so much better knowing you were there in case Tucker comes again, and I don't like to think of you spending the night in your truck.” There. She'd said it, thrown out the feeling that had been burgeoning inside her, that small voice that kept insisting that she trust Mick Hudson.

He was silent for so long, she thought he hadn't heard her. Embarrassment pooled in her stomach, and she'd just decided to pull her hand away, go inside and pretend she'd never said it when he grazed her fingertips with his lips and nodded. “All right. Until Tucker's caught.”

Relief coursed through her veins. “Good. Thank you.”

“I'll check the house before I move my gear to the trailer.”

His gear. A mission to complete. Why did it give her a tinge of remorse?
Of course it's a mission, Keeley. For both of us. What else could it be?

True to his word, he checked every window and door, covering the broken glass with a dry layer of cardboard to replace the one that had gotten soaked in the storm.

“Need to get a new window tomorrow. Easy to install. I can do that for you.”

Keeley bit her lip. “Um, actually, the window will need to wait.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Not safe to leave it like that.”

“I know.” She eyed the stack of bills on the sideboard. It would be another two days before the anonymous check would arrive. “It will need to wait a little while.”

He took it in, understanding dawning. “Oh. Right.”

Cheeks burning once again, she followed him to the kitchen door and let him out into the backyard. “Okay, then. Good night.”

“Good night.”

She closed the door. His bulky frame did not move from the porch step. What was he waiting for? She pulled it open again.

“Lock the door,” he said. “I mean, could you please lock the door?”

“Yes, sir,” she said. “I was intending to.” She slid the lock home.

On the way to take the hottest shower she could manage, she checked the message on her phone.

“Hey, Keeley,” John said. “I tried calling before, but you weren't answering. Can you help me? I've got the hummingbird almost ready to release, and I did an osprey rescue last night. I'm up to my ears in birds.” He laughed. “Anyway, could sure use your help.”

She appreciated his tone—not a demand but a humble request. Guiltily she realized she should have been helping him more, especially with the voracious demands of the Anna's hummingbird baby. Quickly she punched in a text.
Will be there tomorrow. Sorry.

Should she add something about the past twenty-four hours? How could she capture the crazy actions of Charlie and Bruce? Or her shock at finding out Ginny was already at the Hudsons' house?

Or, she thought, the uncomfortable realization that she had come to trust Mick Hudson.

She left the text the way it was and hit the send button before she took a shower, flopped down on the sofa and slept.

* * *

Mick listened to the wind send pine needles dancing over the top of the trailer. It was not yet 4:00 a.m. and he was wide-awake. Though he'd never admit it, the small bed with the musty mattress was more comfortable than his truck, even if his feet hung over the bottom and he had to sleep with his head on the frame. He replayed the moments on the porch step again and again in his mind.

I've been very conscientious about shutting people out even when God opens the door and lets them in.

Was that what had happened? Had God opened a door for him to step into Keeley's life? Cold sweat popped out on his forehead. No, God would not have ushered him into Keeley's life, because if he failed her like he'd done LeeAnn...

Mick sat up. He could not think that way. Keeley was going to escape Tucker Rivendale and Mick was not going to let any odd emotions cloud the issue. Still, he could feel her hand on his heart as she said the words, the press of her lips when he'd found her in the storm.

Junie and I need you to help us out of this mess.

That's it, Mick. They need you for your skills, such as they are, so don't get sloppy. Do the job. Find Rivendale. That's all.

The thoughts drove him out of bed, and he scraped a razor over his chin and combed his hair. Doing push-ups on the narrow stretch of linoleum flooring, he planned out the next action. The rooftop. Tucker wanted something there; he'd camped out in that old building for a purpose. He had to figure out why. Cops were probably finished with the crime scene by now. It wouldn't hurt to drive over and check it out while they were waiting for Uttley to return from his errand. He'd felt the ripple in his gut again, the unease that Uttley wasn't on the up-and-up and that Mason was covering for him.

When he finished the push-ups followed by a series of crunches, he texted Reggie and arranged to meet him to compare notes. No need to go into detail until they met face-to-face.

Reggie did not reply. Not surprising, as the man required his “beauty sleep” as he put it. Reggie had always been vain about his hair, dying the gray away, and his clothes. It must have been hard for him to adjust to losing an eye. He knew how hard it was for some of the marines he'd worked with to face their disfiguring injuries. Again the anger rose in his gut like bile. Reggie wasn't perfect, but he hadn't deserved to be half blinded. It was time for Tucker to finally be brought to justice.

* * *

Finally, the kitchen light flicked on in Keeley's house. Mick tucked in his shirt, ready to go until he saw the knife, nestled in its sheath in the bottom of his bag.

Reggie's admonition echoed in his mind.
You don't have a gun? How are you gonna take him out before he kills the girl?
He didn't want to pick up that knife, to admit to himself that he might actually have to take a life again.

But if Keeley's life hung in the balance?

Or June's?

Quickly he fastened the knife at his waist and threw on a flannel shirt to cover it. When he knocked softly on the door, Keeley opened it immediately and ushered him into the toast-scented kitchen.

She handed him a plate and a cup of coffee. “You're probably going to get tired of toast. I know how to make enchiladas, too, but they aren't good breakfast material.”

“Toast is great.” He eyed her laptop. “Been busy?”

She grinned. “I sent off the pictures I took last night, thanks to you, so at least I'll get paid for that.”

Her grin was infectious, so innocent and joyful. He wanted to imprint it in his memory so he could experience it again and again after she was no longer in his life. Something poked at his heart. “Happy to help.”

“The sanctuary really is an amazing place. I can see why your family loves it there.”

“You're welcome anytime.” What would it be like to have her regular presence on the property? He'd show her the overlook where there was a breathtaking view of the waterfowl during the migratory season. She'd smile and let loose with one of those carefree laughs, and maybe throw her arms around him, and they'd experience the wonder together. He shook the insane thoughts away.
Quit daydreaming, Hudson. Your time with Keeley is ticking down, and that's how it's supposed to be
.

“I'm going to help John today right after I call Junie, so I'll be gone for a little while.”

John? It took him a moment. John Bender. He realized he was frowning, so he tried to cover by drinking coffee. He downed most of the cup in one gulp. She refilled it.

“I'll take you over to his clinic. Wait in the truck, if you don't want company.”

“I think I'll already have Officer Mason following me. I know you were going to talk to Reggie. Uttley called, and he'll meet us at noon at the station.”

Mick drank more coffee. Should he leave her alone with the vet?

Keeley sipped her own coffee, regarding him with raised eyebrows. “I've known John for years.”

“He's made some strange decisions, showing up on that rooftop, not calling the cops right away.”

“He's not a law enforcement type, Mick. He was LeeAnn's boss, and he loved her.”

“I guess that's what bothers me. He loved her, but she loved Tucker. He doesn't seem to get that, or is it me that's mixed up?”

“No.” Keeley chewed on her lip. “He made no secret to LeeAnn about how he felt, and it almost made her quit her job at the clinic, but they came to an understanding. She wasn't in love with John and never would be, and he finally accepted that.”

Did he? “Would be hard on a man, to be in love with a woman who didn't love him back, and have her so close all the time.” It was unnatural, in his opinion, to let the situation continue.

“He settled for friendship for her, and—” Keeley frowned “—hatred for Tucker. He would tell her all the time that Tucker was no good, a louse, until she said if he didn't stop she would quit. After that, he kept his thoughts to himself.”

Mick didn't reply, but Keeley must have seen doubt on his face.

“I trust him, and I've worked at the clinic since...” She trailed off.

Since LeeAnn's murder. The coffee burned in his gut.

“If you're sure,” he said, jaw tight.

“Yes, I'm sure.”

He waited until she was ready to go, and opened the door of her Jeep for her.

“See you later,” she said.

He watched Mason follow along behind. Mick drove to the cabin, where he found Reggie sitting amid a messy pile of papers and cruise brochures. He waved a colorful ad at Mick. “Panama or Hawaii? Which one would Nadine like better? She's really actually contacted a lawyer this time, so I've got to step up my game.”

“Not that I'm an expert in women...” Mick started.

“Clearly not.”

“But again, how is a vacation going to fix your marriage?”

Reggie threw down the brochures. “It will give us quality time to focus on each other so she can remember why she married me in the first place. My charm, my wit, intellect.”

“Humility.”

He laughed, then his face grew sober. “She's a good woman. I know this job has hardened me, given me a cynical side that's just plain ugly.”

Mick nodded. Law enforcement did that.

“It's not fun to be married to me, especially after the Tucker incident. I try to make it up to her with things, a new car and such, but I know at the end of the day she still feels as though she's married to somebody she doesn't like.” He sighed. “I told her when I retire, things will be different, if she can just stick it out a little longer.”

“Can't picture you retired.”

Reggie laughed. “I like to give her hope that things will improve.”

“You're still the same guy she married,” Mick said. “Down deep somewhere.”