Shotgun Nanny (16 page)

Heads started to turn his way.

Oh,

no.

Emily giggled, and before he knew what was happening, she’d clasped his hand in her small one and raised it as high as she could.

“Why, thank you. You, sir, in the back. The one in the blue T-shirt.”

Giggling with delight, Emily yanked on Kitsu’s leash. “Come on, Uncle Mark. You gotta go.”

She was so eager and thrilled that he didn’t have a choice.

He was going to kill Annie.

Feeling like the biggest idiot on two legs, he reluctantly made his way through the crowd and stalked up the stairs to the stage.

He trudged across it, deliberately taking one step more than necessary so he crowded her. Then he glared with all his might into her painted face.

Her eyes were laughing at him, full of good-natured teasing. When he’d crowded so close to her that he could smell the greasepaint, identify her lashes beneath the absurd huge plastic ones, her eyes stopped laughing, and his breath caught.

For an eternal instant, they gazed at each other, and in that moment he knew he loved Annie, with everything in him.

And it occurred to him, like a lightning bolt out of the clear blue sky, that she loved him, too.

He couldn’t believe how stupid he’d been. Everything she’d told him about her past had broadcast a lively fear of commitment, and instead of easing her into a relationship, he’d tried to force her.

Maybe it wasn’t too late to get her to change her mind. Maybe he still had a chance, if he could just explain…

“Annie,” he whispered, his voice husky.

Her lips parted, and he noticed a smear of red greasepaint on her front tooth. Her hands fluttered up, and he waited for her to touch him. Pink ribbons fluttered from her fingers, and as she caught sight of them, she jerked and glanced around as though she’d forgotten where she was.

He knew the feeling.

“Right,” she squealed, and he took a step back as the amplified voice ripped into his ear. “I think you’ll be a suitable volunteer.” She began walking around him. “What’s your name, sir?”

“Mark.”

“Mark. Well, Mark, this job requires a lot of strength. Would you curl your biceps for me?”

“What?”

She shook her head at the audience, like he was a big, dumb galoot. “Like this.”

She demonstrated, bringing her two arms into a classic which-way-to-the-beach bodybuilder pose.

“I’m going to kill you, Annie,” he muttered, giving her the most exaggerated pose he could manage, squeezing until his biceps bulged.

“Oh, my,” she cooed, “Do you know the story of Samson and Delilah, sir?”

He nodded and went back to glaring at her. “Samson was a very strong man,” she explained into the microphone while rapidly unpacking things from the trunk. He could see a big barbell that was obviously plastic. If he didn’t love this woman she’d be in serious trouble.

“And he fell in love with the wrong woman.”

Was it his imagination or did her voice wobble just a bit? “She found out all his strength was in his hair, and then she cut if off.” She brandished the biggest pair of scissors he’d ever seen. “Now, in a moment, I’ll ask for a volunteer Delilah, but first, we’re going to give our Samson a little help, and make his hair longer and stronger.”

And then, with a wicked grin, she started tying on hanks of fake hair with big, pink ribbons. Everybody thought that was pretty funny.

Everybody but him.

She was having a terrific time making a damned fool of him in public. And he was obsessed with having a terrific time with her in private. He had some big plans for dinner tonight. His future, and Em’s, could be riding on it.

He had a reputation for always getting his man. This time he had to get his woman. He just had to. Not only for his sake, but for Emily’s. The three of them were meant to be a family. He knew it just like he knew Annie loved him. And that, deep down, she wanted a family, too.

He was going to explain it all to her, sweet-talk her, ease her into things. He grimaced as she tied another pink ribbon into his hair. But first he was going to punish her for this. He was going to punish her thoroughly. He’d deprive her of sleep for at least a week. Make outrageous demands. He’d make her beg….

Something pulled his attention away from his fantasies. A sound that filled him with foreboding. It was the high-pitched yap of a dog. He glanced at where Emily had been standing at the back of the crowd and saw that she was already being dragged toward a crowded path. Any second he’d lose sight of her.

Bounding up, he shouted, “Emily, let go of the leash.”

She turned a half-puzzled, half-panicked face his way, then like a bad vaudevillian performer being yanked off the stage, she jerked out of sight, swallowed by the meandering hordes.

“Em. Stop!” Annie shouted the words into the microphone so they boomed over the gaping spectators.

He didn’t wait, but leaped from the stage and hit the ground running, pink ribbons streaming from his hair.

13

“SORRY, FOLKS. Show’s over. I’ve got a family emergency.” He heard Annie’s voice, tinny from amplification, while he shouldered through the crowd in the direction he’d last seen Em.

Even as he focused on tracking his niece, Annie’s words hit him. A family emergency, she’d called it. He wondered if she was aware she’d automatically thought of them as a family.

Once this was over, he’d remind her of that. And a few other things. All he had to do was find Em. He wouldn’t panic. Annie was right. He was overprotective of Em. She was an intelligent girl, and nobody would tangle with her so long as she and Kitsu were together.

“’Scuse me…pardon me.” People bumped and blurred past him as he struggled through a sea of bodies, some smelling of sweat, some of suntan lotion, some of popcorn and hot dog.

Who’d have thought that damn useless dog could even spot a squirrel in all the melee? There was some kind of commotion up ahead. Maybe that was them. He sprinted forward, mumbling apologies.

IMPATIENTLY, Annie tissued off her face paint and struggled out of her costume. Underneath she wore shorts and a tank top. She removed her wig, ran her fingers through her hair and peeled off the false eyelashes. The little trailer, set up for the performers to use between acts, was stifling.

She’d never changed so fast. Not because of the heat in the trailer, but because of the nagging sense of worry. Which was odd, because she never worried. It wasn’t in her nature.

Leaving her case in the trailer, she walked the few steps to the tent where she’d performed. Since she’d cut her show short, there was a lag until the next act. She recognized a few of the audience members who’d been watching her perform, grateful she was unrecognizable without her costume.

Annie couldn’t believe she’d cut her show short. She had performed through stomach flu, thunder and lightning storms, birthday kids throwing tantrums and having accidents on the floor, and she’d never stopped a show before. Never.

So a kid got dragged off by a dog to go see a squirrel run up a tree. Big deal. Why had she canceled the show?

As she glanced worriedly left and right, trying to stretch her vision, the answer came with a bump of recognition. She’d never felt that sick sense of fear before. Never.

She felt like a…a mother.

Minutes dragged by. She was hot, thirsty and scared. She bought a bottle of water from a passing cart and downed it while she stood, feeling like a small animal was gnawing at her lungs.

A squeal from the microphone caused her to jump out of her skin. She’d been so focused on watching for her missing trio, she’d forgotten there was a stage behind her.

When the folksinging group started up, the crowd in front of the tent began to swell, and Annie found herself pushed farther from the stage. Darn it, she should have kept her purple wig on so Mark and Emily could find her easily. She was dying to get out and start looking, but she knew Em would come back to the tent when she got Kitsu under control, and Mark would head back as soon as he could. As much as she wanted to rush off and start looking, at least to be doing something, she knew she had to stay put.

A song about a wandering Gypsy gave way to a ballad about preserving the rain forest, and still there was no sign of them. Had they found each other and forgotten all about her? For once in her life, she wished she owned one of those hateful cell phones just so she could call Mark and find out where he was.

And then she saw him sprinting her way.

A glimpse of his expression told her he was alone.

Her face must have registered the same information to him, for he didn’t even ask, just hauled his cell phone out of his back pocket.

He was breathing heavily, and sweat dripped from his hairline. His pink ribbons lay damp and tangled in his hair.

“Who are you calling?”

“The

cops.”

“But—”

He turned on her, his expression fierce. “No buts. I’ve looked everywhere. I can’t even raise a signal on her tracking device. Something’s happened.”

In her heart, she felt he was right, so she didn’t say a word, just watched his fingers jabbing at the phone.

Then she heard a very familiar whine and glanced down to see Kitsu at her side, heaving flanks and lolling tongue…and dragging leash with no Emily at the end of it.

“Mark, wait.” She knelt in front of the dog and looked straight into his eyes.

“Where’s Emily?”

Again that whine, and she almost thought the timbre changed, increasing in urgency. The dog paced restlessly.

She glanced at Mark, who glared at the dog, cell phone still in hand.

“He’s trying to tell us something. I think he wants to show us where she is,” she insisted, picking up the dog’s restlessness.

“You think that hellhound suddenly turned into Lassie?” Without waiting for an answer, he went back to the cell phone.

Ignoring him, she focused on the dog. “This is really important, Kitsu. You have to take me to Emily.” At the child’s name, the dog gave a shrill yap. “We all love Emily. We have to find her.”

“I don’t believe this. That dog’s useless. You stay here and wait for the officers. I’m going searching again.”

“No.”

“Look. There’s no time—”

“Give Kitsu a chance, Mark. Please.”

“You’re going to go chasing after goddamn squirrels while Em could be in trouble? I don’t believe this!”

“You stay here and wait for the cops. I’m going.” She grasped the leash firmly.

“Kitsu. Find Emily.” And as though she’d pushed her foot to the accelerator, the dog raced off.

She heard muttering that she thought was a string of words Mark would never say aloud in mixed company, then everything was a blur.

She recalled an earlier trip with Kitsu a lot like this one, when she’d been dragged all over the park after a squirrel. For all their sakes, she hoped she wasn’t on another wild squirrel chase.

The dog bounded ahead, slowing only when he needed to find a path around children. Every time there was a space, he’d put on another burst of speed.

Only fear and grim determination kept Annie hanging on to that leash. If anything, this race was worse than the last one. There were more people to bash into, more obstacles to be avoided, and even while her heart and lungs labored and her legs scrambled to keep up with the dog, the knot of fear—the possibility that this was all for nothing—cramped her belly.

“Find Emily, find Emily,” she gasped over and over, hoping the dog would understand her and stay on task. Wherever they were going, the dog knew the way. He never hesitated. She’d see him sniffing the air and aiming his nose, and then his powerful body followed. Like a bouncing balloon on a string, Annie’s much less powerful body jounced along behind.

“Please, let her be all right. Please,” she prayed silently.

She stopped saying “excuse me,” and the way ahead looked clear. With a sinking heart, she realized they’d left the most crowded part of the park. They were racing along a nearly deserted stretch of seawall, with the ocean on one side and lawn, trees and apartment buildings on the other. If they were chasing a squirrel, she was going to skin that dog with her bare hands.

Her breath pounded in her ears, and behind her she heard the pounding of footsteps. She didn’t have the energy to turn her head, but she knew without looking that it was Mark. Against his better instincts and training, he was giving her intuition and Kitsu a shot at finding his niece.

They’d better not let him down.

She was so mindlessly accustomed to the pace, all her energies focused on following that blasted dog, she almost didn’t notice when Kitsu stopped running. A few steps, and she bumped into his warm, hairy body. He was leaping back and forth, his nose pointing over the seawall, while he gave a loud version of his squirrel bark.

Praying silently, she peeped over the side.

And there was Emily, her small body sprawled on the rocky beach.

After the first ghastly stab of fear, Annie realized she was alive and conscious. She was sitting up, her head tipped backward to gaze at Kitsu with a tired smile. Her face was pale, but the relief shone from every feature.

Annie dropped the leash, and the dog leaped to the beach, pacing protectively between Em and the incoming tide. Annie put a leg over the wall and began to scramble down the four or five feet to the rocky beach below. Something dark hurtled by to her left, and Mark almost flew through the air, landing with a grunt.

By the time she’d reached them, Emily’s bravery had deserted her, and tears poured down her face while she explained to her uncle.

“I hurt my leg. The tide started coming in. Ow. I can’t move.”

“Hold still, honey.” All vestiges of panic were gone from Mark’s face and voice. He sounded completely calm. Annie had to give him credit for hiding his feelings so well. “Did you hit your head at all?” He ran his hands down her arms, the sides of her torso and her back.

“Uh-uh. I just tripped and fell sideways on my foot.”

“Which

leg

hurts?”

“This one.” She pointed to the left.

He ran his hands down the right and then much more gently down the left. When he reached her ankle, she sucked in her breath.