Lucky Streak (23 page)

Mike shot his cousin a grateful glance. “I can handle it, but thanks. You take care of your wife.”

Gabrielle stood. “You'd better call the minute you find Amber. I want to know she's safe.”

“I will.”

“Goddess speed,” Clara called.

Mike looked at her curiously. Sometimes her words were so odd. “Thank you.”

“Dad?”

Edward paced, but didn't answer.

“I've got him,” Clara promised.

Torn, Mike nodded and turned to leave. His father was in caring hands.

Mike didn't know whether or not Amber was in trouble, but he wasn't ignoring his gut. If Marshall was in town, Amber had to be his target. He already had his money. Who else would he be looking for?

And if her ex-partner had seen her meeting with King Bobby in the diner, he might assume Amber had betrayed him. Marshall hadn't struck Mike as being the nonviolent type when they'd met in Vegas. He had to get to Amber and make certain she was safe.

 

B
Y THE TIME
Amber had extricated herself and Gabrielle from the reporters, Derek had arrived in town to retrieve his wife. Along with Clara and Edward, they'd retreated to Derek's office for privacy. Mike's cousin was furious Gabrielle had kept him in the dark, ecstatic she was pregnant and worried that Edward would snap at any moment. His office was the nearest place to calm everyone down. Although they'd invited Amber to join them, she'd declined. She wasn't family and never would be, something she needed to accept sooner rather than later.

But to do so, she needed to leave town and get away from Mike, his family and the memories she'd created in such a short time.

To let go, she needed to
go.

So she'd walked down Main Street alone and finding it difficult to breathe, the pain of loss overwhelming. She didn't have a plan, but she had ideas. Careerwise, she'd definitely go back to work for the Crown Chandler if they'd have her, preferably in Vegas near her father. She'd rent a small room instead of paying a mortgage or rent, and cut back on the luxuries. Anything to keep her father comfortable and still enable her to live her own life.

Without Mike.

She shook her head, caught her breath and continued to walk along the sidewalk, heading for the bus station. Since she was no longer trying to hide her whereabouts, she could use her credit card to go
home, but flying was out of the question. She still needed to be frugal since she'd have to save as much as possible in order to keep her father in his current home. But she didn't have to panic.

At this point, she had time, knowing her savings would keep him there for a few months more while she came up with a plan of action. Those savings were the cushion she hadn't had when Sam had been diagnosed. The reason she'd contacted Marshall, which had set her on this painful course.

But she didn't regret meeting and marrying Mike. This past week had been the best of her life. She knew now she could never settle for less than everything. She understood what it meant to care so much she'd come to think of his family as her own. And she discovered how her past could affect the future. Her choices would be made with greater care from this point on.

She strode into the Greyhound station and paid for a bus ticket to Boston. From there she'd travel home over the course of three transfers and three days.

Her bus didn't leave for over an hour so she wandered outside. On the sidewalk outside the station, a few people milled around, but overall, the place was pretty empty.

A car honked, taking her off guard.

She turned. For a foolish moment, her heart tripped as she looked, hoping Mike had come after
her. Instead, she saw Marshall pull up beside her in a burgundy rental car.

She narrowed her gaze, surprised he'd resurfaced.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

Now. After she'd settled her problems with King Bobby and no longer needed him.

“That's no greeting, baby. Get in so we can talk.”

She shook her head. “I have a bus to catch.”

“No problem, then I'll get out.” He parked his car in front of the station in a No Parking zone. But then in Marshall's mind, the rules never applied to him.

She started to walk toward the door, hoping to lead him inside where she felt safer.

But when Marshall joined her, he hooked his arm through hers and steered her straight along the sidewalk outside the bus station. “You've been a busy girl, running off on me, getting married, and then hiding out here in a small Podunk town. What's going on with you?”

Amber stopped in her tracks. “Are you crazy?” She looked him over. In his jeans and mock short-sleeve turtleneck and leather jacket, he looked over-dressed for the heat, but every inch the slick Marshall she knew. “You know exactly what's going on with me. You left me high and dry while that big Texan came after me for money
you stole,
” she said, her voice rising.

He shook his head and laughed. “Come on, that's water under the bridge. I knew King Bobby wouldn't
hurt a woman. I was just waiting until the heat was off to come find you.”

“So you hid behind my skirts? That's low, even for you,” she muttered.

He gripped her arm tight and she realized her mistake. She'd let his friendly veneer fool her into thinking she was safe.

“Drop the tough-guy routine, Marshall, it's me. We can talk this through.” She hoped. “What is it you want?”

“You. Me. Things back the way they were.” His voice held a hint of desperation, but he released his grip, which told her he was sure he could reason with her.

He'd kidnapped her father and used him as leverage. Even if Amber hadn't opted out of the life for her own reasons, there was no way in hell she'd trust Marshall on any level now. She may have once viewed him as her salvation, but now she saw him as he truly was—a shell of a man, a pathetic con artist, and nothing more. But she knew better than to let her true feelings slip again. Especially when she looked into the dark depths of Marshall's eyes and saw nothing there.

She decided to humor him. “Didn't you pay off the loan shark?” she asked.

He nodded. “But there's always the next score. You know that. And I need you.”

She wondered if he was in more trouble and didn't
want to admit it to her. “We can talk,” she promised him.

He exhaled a long breath. “That's my girl.” He not so subtly patted the pocket of his jacket and she realized there was a bulge there.

He had a gun.

Her heart pounded in her throat, fear rising like a wave but she refused to panic. She knew now to keep him calm—she wouldn't give him any reason to use the weapon. Her next priority was to get inside where she wouldn't be alone with him.

“You must be roasting in that jacket. Let's go in where it's cool. I'll buy us each a bottle of water and we can figure out a plan.” She started for the door.

To her relief, he followed. “I knew you'd come around. You're heading home anyway. What happened? Prince Charming turned out to be a frog?” He laughed.

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from telling Marshall that Mike was one hundred times the man he'd ever be. “He didn't understand me,” she said instead.

He nodded, obviously pleased. “Not like I do, baby. We're partners, you and I.”

“We've had our moments.” She stopped short of agreeing, too busy trying to figure out how to get away from him once they were inside the bus station.

“Amber!”

She whipped around at the sound of her name.

Beside her, Marshall froze as Mike walked toward her from one side.

“How y'all doing?” King Bobby called from the other.

“Shit,” Marshall muttered. Without warning, he grabbed her arm once more, stopping her from running away.

“Let her go, Banks,” Mike said, his voice low.

Deadly.

Amber wouldn't think of crossing him when he sounded like that. But Marshall always had an inflated sense of self. He was also holding a grudge against Mike for coming between him and Amber in Vegas. She knew this wasn't going to be pretty.

She broke into a sweat, as much from fear as from the sun overhead.

“Everyone relax,” King Bobby said in his long drawl. “Listen, son, I just want to talk to you.”

“Bullshit,” Marshall said. “You want your money and he wants
her.
” He yanked Amber closer to him.

“Don't hurt her, Banks.” Mike's warning was loud and clear.

Amber tried not to grimace and give Mike a reason to act, but Marshall's fingers dug into her arm painfully.

“Don't tell me what to do with my lady, Detective,” he said with a sneer. “She was leaving you anyway, so you've got no rights where she's concerned. Isn't that right, baby?”

Amber swallowed hard. She never tore her gaze from Mike as she repeated the words Marshall needed to hear. “That's right.” Anything to keep Marshall from turning on the man she loved.

Loved.

Oh, God, she loved him.

She didn't just want a chance, she wanted him. Now, forever. Nothing else mattered. They'd work out the little details over the next fifty-plus years.

But Mike didn't love her. He'd protect her when necessary, like now. But then he'd let her go.

“You heard her, man. Go home. She's where she wants to be.”

“Then why do you have a death grip on her?” Mike asked sarcastically.

Marshall's hold turned to a bruising pinch. Amber couldn't stop herself from groaning out loud.

Mike immediately pulled out his gun, prompting Marshall to do the same.

“H
OLY MOLY, BOYS
, everyone take a deep breath,” King Bobby said, keeping a careful distance from Mike's and Marshall's guns.

Mike couldn't breathe. Not until he got Amber away from that psychopath. She was a champ, and refusing to show Marshall any fear. But Mike could see it in her eyes. He could feel it in his gut. And he wanted to kill the man with his bare hands.

Marshall was a wild card. He shook like the pansy he was, which made Mike nervous he'd fire by mistake. And while Mike's gun was trained on Marshall, Marshall's alternated between Amber and Mike.

“Come on, Banks. Be smart,” Mike said. “Put the gun down before someone gets hurt.”

He let out a laugh. “I am smart. I've got the girl. You've got nothing.”

Mike ignored the dig. “Then do the math. You've got what looks like a .22 and I've got a .38. Anything you shoot is just going to piss me off. On the other
hand,
you'll
be sprawled on the pavement bleeding out, with no chance to spend all the money you've been winning.”

“
My
money!” King Bobby shouted.

“Shut up,” Mike hissed at him. He didn't need the big Texan stirring up Marshall's already volatile temper.

“Marshall, I was on my way home to Las Vegas. Why don't we work out our problems there. Put the gun away,” Amber said, her voice strong despite his grip on her.

“You hear that?” he asked Mike. “She wants me, not you. We love each other. We're going to have a good life.”

Mike stared.

Even Amber, who was trying to keep Marshall calm, looked at the man as if he'd lost his mind.

“Tell him you love me, baby, and he'll just walk away,” Marshall said.

Amber winced. She could only do so much in the name of keeping everyone safe, and as much as she tried, the words Marshall wanted to hear wouldn't come. Not even in a patronizing tone.

“Tell him you love me.” Marshall's grip tightened so hard she thought her arm might break.

Amber looked from Marshall to Mike, digging down to find strength she didn't realize she'd had. “Marshall, are you crazy? We never were more than
partners. And that was only so I could pay for my father's nursing home.”

“There's different kinds of love. We had an understanding! Now tell him!” He waved the gun at Mike.

“I can't! Because I don't love you, I love
him!
” Amber pointed to Mike.

At her declaration, Mike's throat went dry. Stars spun behind his eyes. Her words shocked him, although he should have known, should have realized it before.

At the same moment, the sound of sirens filled the air as police cars pulled up around them. In a small town, Mike was surprised they hadn't attracted notice before.

“Damn cops. They'll take the bastard and I'll never get my money,” King Bobby muttered. “Of all the damn, rotten luck…”

“Drop the gun, Marshall. Before you find yourself in a situation you really can't win,” Mike ordered.

“Marshall, please.” Amber spoke directly to her ex-partner, pleading. “I don't want anything bad to happen to you. Neither would my father. The worst the police have on you now is possession of an illegal weapon. That's minor. It can still work out. Just give it up,” Amber begged him.

King Bobby groaned. “I'm goin' back to Texas. You kin' keep your money for when you get out of the can,” he said to Marshall, clearly fed up with the whole situation.

“Oh, hell. I'm probably safer in the joint here than in Vegas where the loan sharks can find me,” Marshall muttered. Then he lowered the gun, tossing it onto the ground.

Mike scooped up the weapon and seconds later, the local cops had surrounded them, demanding Mike's attention, preventing him from dealing with Amber and her declaration.

I love you.

 

O
THER THAN A FEW BRUISES
where Marshall's fingertips had dug into her skin, physically Amber was fine. Emotionally was another story. But as soon as she boarded the bus for Boston, she'd be able to put this ordeal behind her. Putting Mike there, too, though, wouldn't be quite as easy.

When the police had arrived, one officer had taken care of Amber, steering her toward a waiting ambulance over her objections. Standard procedure, they'd said. And Mike had been occupied giving his statement.

He hadn't looked for her at all, not that he'd had much of a chance in all the commotion.

King Bobby had disappeared, probably to avoid any possible scandal that might upset his so-called associates. And Amber knew Mike wouldn't bring up the man's name to the local authorities. The simpler the story, the faster this mess would all go
away. Simple. Since Mike was a fellow cop, they'd taken his word for what had gone down.

A man from Amber's past had followed her to Stewart and tried to force her to go with him at gun-point. She assumed they'd both told the same story, because the police seemed satisfied with her answers, asking only for her personal information so they could find her if they had any more questions. She supplied her Las Vegas address, home phone and cell.

A quick glance at her watch told her she could still make her bus. Another told her Mike was still busy with the local cops.

She could get on the bus and go home without a messy confrontation. He'd probably appreciate that, since her I love you declaration had gone unanswered. Besides, she hadn't said it to him, she'd said it to Marshall.

About Mike.

After he'd shut the door on them.

Amber was many things but she wasn't a martyr. She knew he cared for her, but he'd made it clear he could never forgive what she'd done. To stick around where she wasn't wanted wasn't her way. Mike had saved her and she was grateful. Beyond that, there was nothing more to say.

 

I
T WAS OVER
.

No sooner had Mike grabbed Marshall's gun from the sidewalk than the local cops took over.
They cuffed Marshall and read him his rights. The paramedics, who'd been called out along with the police, presumably by someone who'd witnessed the standoff, had reached Amber before Mike had a chance to get close to her. It was just as well. Anything they had to say to each other was best done in private.

At that moment, Mike hadn't a clue what he was feeling beyond relief and an overwhelming desire to kiss her until she melted into him, his body joined with hers, and he forgot the fear that had consumed him watching Marshall holding her in one hand, a gun in the other. But as Amber had pointed out earlier, that was just sex. Anything physical between them had always been spectacular. He wasn't ready to delve deeper.

So with the paramedics seeing to Amber, Mike put all his energy into making damn sure Marshall Banks didn't slip through any procedural cracks. Although Stewart wasn't his jurisdiction, Mike prided himself on being thorough, and he wanted the local cops to handle this booking the same way.

Only when the squad car carrying Marshall had pulled away did Mike turn to look for Amber. He glanced around, but he didn't see her anywhere. The ambulance had left and only one cop remained, scrawling notes while he sat in his car.

“Hey, man. Do you know where Amber went?” he asked.

The guy shook his head. “No clue.” Then his radio beeped, capturing the cop's attention.

Mike headed for the bus station. He asked a few people if they'd seen her based on description, but no one had. Finally, he walked over to the young woman selling tickets behind the counter. “Have you seen the woman who was being held hostage earlier?” he asked.

“Yep. She took the number ten.” The woman hooked her thumb toward the bus stop far from where the drama had taken place.

Mike's heart nearly stopped. “She
what?
”

“Bought a ticket before the ruckus and took the bus after.” The woman glanced around him. “I'm sorry, but you're holding up the line.”

Mike looked over his shoulder. One person stood waiting to buy a ticket. Some line. “Sure, sorry.” He stepped aside and glanced toward the front door, slowly making his way out.

Gone.

She'd up and left him.

Because he'd told her they were through.

Because even after Marshall had released her, he had avoided dealing with his feelings for Amber by immersing himself in work.

Because…he was no better than his father. The truth hurt. In trying to avoid the trap his father had
fallen into, Mike had landed there anyway
and
he'd probably lost his only chance at happiness. The only difference was that Mike claimed sanity while avoiding what frightened him. Only now that Amber was gone did Mike have the courage to face his fears.

Her words, the ones she'd used when she'd refused to tell Marshall she loved him, “I don't love you, I love him,” ran through his mind nonstop.

Taunting him.

I love him,
she'd said.

And at the moment when Mike thought he might lose her to Marshall and his gun, Mike had gone cold inside. Because though he hadn't verbalized it, he'd realized
he loved her, too.
And that love scared him, causing him to avoid her. He'd still been running, holding tight to the reasons he'd sent her away—the fear of instability, roller coaster and insanity.

Mike looked at the empty street where the bus had once been and realized those reasons suddenly meant very little when compared to losing her forever.

He'd been a fool, he thought, running a frustrated hand through his hair. He'd been too afraid to face his feelings before, because if he let himself love her…His thoughts trailed off and he broke into a sweat.

Afraid if he let himself love her…
what?

Alone, Mike walked to the end of the sidewalk where the bus station ended. He and his friends used
to hang out in the empty lot here. For Mike, the place had been an escape from his tense family life—at least until he and his mother had moved out. An escape from the arguments between his parents and the uncertainty of his father's mood swings. Mike had never known what he'd come home to. He'd always been afraid of ending up just like Edward, pushed to the edge by the curse. Or loving someone too much.

Amber had pushed and pulled. She'd abandoned him in Vegas, taken his money, left him alone only to show up again in Boston. With every lie by omission, every little truth finally revealed, Mike had suffered one punch to the gut after another.

He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. His father had the power to put him on that painful roller-coaster ride because Mike loved the ornery old man.

Amber had the same power over him, he realized now, because he loved her, too.

He glanced at his watch and wondered if he could get to Boston before her bus. If not, he'd probably be able to head her off before she boarded the next bus out West.

He ran for his car only to be stopped by the cop he'd questioned earlier. “Corwin!” the other man called.

“Yeah?” Mike turned, trying not to sound annoyed.

Now that he'd made his decision, he wanted to find Amber immediately.

“Dispatch just radioed in. Your father was taken to the county hospital. Possible heart attack,” the officer said. “I'm sorry, man.”

“Thank you.” Mike glanced up at the sky and swore aloud. When in the hell would he catch a break?

He dialed Amber's cell phone, but it went directly to voice mail. He didn't leave a message. What he had to say could only be done face-to-face.

After he made certain his father was okay.

With the police car leading the way, Mike sped to the hospital, raced into the emergency entrance and ran through the doors leading to the patients. All the while, his heart was lodged dead center in his throat. Because, for all the aggravation that went along with being Edward Corwin's son, Mike loved his father. And he did not want to lose him.

He heard his family's voices immediately and zeroed in on his cousin Derek's, the one person he could trust to be a voice of reason.

“What's going on?” Mike asked, winded from his panic.

“He's okay,” Derek assured him first. “After you took off, his agitation increased. He started complaining of chest pains in between his ranting about the damn curse again. I brought him right over.”

“Thanks.” Mike sapped his cousin on the back. “What'd the doctors say?”

“They ran some blood work and said Edward
hadn't had a heart attack. But they need to check it two more times. Some kind of protocol. He's hooked up to a monitor.”

Not a heart attack. Thank God.

“What do they think it is?” Mike asked.

“Too early to say, but my guess is a panic attack.” Derek shook his head. “I'm only surprised it hasn't happened sooner.”