Faith (Rescue Me, A Contemporary Romance) (4 page)

Oh well, she loved him anyway. Even if he could see right into her very soul. Not always a good thing, no matter what the romance novels might have you believe.

“Don’t be putting me off Faith,” Mac warned. “I can tell by the way you’re trying to keep me from panicking that Liam’s right and there’s something more to be said about this girl.”

With an inward groan she gave up and went over to the sink to rinse off her hands before drying them on one of the many hand towels in the kitchen.

She came over behind his chair and started rubbing his shoulders. She would tell him about Emily, but that didn’t mean she wanted to stare him straight in the eyes while she did. No matter how much she tried she couldn’t shake the plain old gut fear she had about the girl. It was silly, no doubt, maybe all she needed was a good dinner, or blame it on her pregnancy hormones, but Mac wasn’t the only one with dead on instincts. There was something not right about the whole situation. A big ‘not right’ or a small ‘not right’ that remained to be seen, but there was something there….she just didn’t want to bring that dark thing into her bright kitchen with her family.

“Liam, could you do me a favor and get the fire going in the living room, please?” She got her son up and moving, albeit begrudgingly, it was clear he wanted to add his two cents to this conversation, especially since his father had moved off lecturing him and onto something else.

She could hear him in the next room doing what she’d asked. Good. A nice bright crackling fire would go far to chase this chill out of her bones and cheer everyone up.

“Okay Faith, the boy’s gone. Now start talking.” Mac was not fooled by her request. He knew there must be a reason she wanted Liam out of the room before she discussed this with him.

“It’s nothing really.” She started, but he quickly cut off her protest.

“Don’t start it like that Faith. I can tell something spooked you. Was it this girl, like Liam said?”

“Maybe,” she conceded. “There was something about this girl Mac. Just something not right about how she reacted and the way she looked. Liam could see it too.”

“Did she hurt you? Touch you in some way?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” she assured him. “It’s not that she was physically violent or anything, but she did seem really upset when we hit her.”

“Well maybe she was worried about her car, or her insurance or her parents or something?”

“Of course there’s that. All those things are concerning to anyone, but it wasn’t just the accident. It seemed like something else was underneath it all. She was scared when I suggested that her parents might want to talk to me. And she lied about her name Mac. I know she did. It was just weird all the way around.”

“And her eyes mom,” Liam called from where he was fanning the fire in the living room. “Don’t forget how creepy her eyes looked. And she told you to fuck off!”

Faith rolled her eyes. So much for sending Liam out of the room to take him out of the conversation. Mac smiled up at her. Boys would be boys. Trust his son to add some unintentional humor to the situation. Maybe he wasn’t as different from Mac as he seemed.

“Language Liam!” Faith called to him.

“Mom!” He protested, “I was just repeating what she said to you! Dad should know how rude she was.”

“Okay thanks hon, I’ve got this alright.” She said, “Why don’t you go back to your room and keep working on your homework. We’ve got about 30 minutes before dinner.”

“Whatever,” she heard him say as he shuffled back down the hall toward his room. Typical teenage behavior. She was glad he didn’t seem to be feeling too hurt or guilty over what had happened.

“Anyway,” she continued when she heard his door slam shut with a bang. “He’s right. She did swear at me. Took me by surprise I can tell you that. The girl is a little older than Liam, imagine how surprised I was to hear that from a kid her age. From anyone really, but especially not from this little slip of a thing.”

She gave his shoulders a final rub and kissed the top of his head before walking back into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of wine to sip as she finished cooking their dinner.

“Another beer?” She called as she pulled the bottle of wine out of the fridge where it was chilling.

“No changing the subject,” Mac called back. “What else did this girl say to you?”

Faith was thoughtfully silent as she filled her glass and replaced the bottle in the fridge.

“It’s not so much what she said or did as the way she was. The energy around her. I know that sounds silly.”

“No it doesn’t darlin’, I think you can tell a lot about someone by their auras. The vibe they give off.” Mac told her as he got up to grab another beer out of the fridge.

She punched his arm playfully with a tiny fist. “Now you’re just making fun of me.”

“No, truly, I understand what you’re
on about. There’s a saying in Ireland: For Whom Ill is Fated, Him It Will Strike.”

She just looked at him nonplussed. Mac always had an Irish saying for every
thing. Either it was from his mom or his pappy or just a general Irish piece of wisdom. He always had a saying that he felt fit an occasion perfectly, but it was rare for anyone else to understand what they meant or how they fit the situation. This was no different.

“What on gods green earth does that mean Mac Byrne?” Faith teased him as she sipped her wine and plunged her hands back into the breading she was using to coat the cod fillets.

“It means, darlin’, that some people just walk around with a dark cloud over them and generally that dark cloud is hanging around because it’s getting ready to strike. Best to give those people a wide berth, in my experience.”

Faith considered this thoughtfully as she poured a small amount of oil in her frying pan.

“Yes, this girl, Emily, or so she said, definitely had a darkness around her, but it was more than just a dark cloud of ill luck or something. It was really…oh I don’t know. It sounds silly.”

“What is it Faith?”

“Well,” she started, turning to face him while the first fillet started sizzling in the pan behind her. “She just seemed evil. Yes, that’s it. Just plain evil. No other way to put it. She got close to me and said that Liam and I should be careful, and it was all I could do not to push her away and start running. Know what I mean?”

Before Mac could answer, the doorbell rang.

Her stomach leapt in fear at the unexpected sound. Her eyes flew to meet Mac’s and he looked down at her, uncomprehending.

The doorbell rang again. Insistent, as if the person on the other side of the door knew that they were unwanted in this house, but they didn’t care, they were determined to be let in.

“Are you expecting someone?” She asked him, almost whispering.

“No.”

“Mom?” Liam called from his room down the hall. “Is there someone at the door?”

“Stay in your room Liam,” she shouted. Why had she said that, she wondered? It was just someone at the door. Maybe someone lost or one of the neighbors returning something they’d borrowed or stopping by to invite them somewhere. They were a close knit block and it wasn’t unusual for one of the neighbors to stop by unexpectedly without a phone call. This was Alaska, not New York. Neighbors were friends here.
But still, the bell had spooked her.

“Listen, you stay here,” Mac instructed her. He didn’t look all that confident himself. “I’m just going to go see who that is.”

She fought the urge to hold him back. Keep him with her and just ignore the bell.

“Okay, thanks honey.”

She stood frozen against the counter, listening as Mac walked down the hall, past his son’s room, and opened the door.

“Can I help you?” She heard him say.

She couldn’t hear the other person. Could only make out a very faint response. Nothing that told her if it was a female, a male?

“No, I don’t think that would be a good idea,” she heard Mac say. Louder this time. He sounded upset. Oh god, what was happening?

She slipped out of her heels and padded silently around the corner of the kitchen into the hall. From her vantage point, she could see down the length of the house. Behind her was the living room where she could feel the faint heat of the fire, really crackling now, Liam had done a good job getting it started. She could see Mac’s broad back as he stood in the doorway, blocking whoever was standing in front of him. She leaned forward slightly, straining to hear the other person. Could it actually be Emily? Here? At her door?

Before she had another chance to hear a response she heard a scuffle outside on the porch. A grunt from someone standing away from the door and then a squeal like a little girl had been violently pushed and fallen with the wind knocked out of her. Mac roared with rage and suddenly she saw another man standing in the dark outside space framed by her doorway. He was pushing at Mac and grunting in an almost unearthly way. He was trying to push his way into her house!

Stunned she wasn’t sure what to do. She was frozen. Then she heard Liam’s door opening. Of course he would be confused about the noise, he would try and help, she had to protect her son. With no regard to her own safety she rushed down the hall, behind Mac and slammed into Liam’s room, knocking him over as she pushed her way in and locked his door behind her.

“What is it? What the hell is going on mom?” Liam struggled to get up off the floor where he’d fallen after she pushed into the room.

“Shhh!” She waved him back with her hand as she pressed against the door to hear what was happening. “She was frightened, but she wasn’t sure how frightened she should be. Mac was a big man and he’d been in a lot of fights growing up and as an adult. He was a fisher. He’d been a fisher on some of the roughest crews in Boston, Maine, and now Alaska. He was a supervisor on the boats now and that meant breaking up fights and keeping other men in line, sometimes with his fists. Mac would want her to protect their son and their unborn baby. He would take care of them.

She could hear Mac fighting with that strange man. She could still hear those gut twisting grunts, and every time they got a little too close to the door they were hiding behind she felt her stomach twist a little harder. What was happening?

“Liam,” she whispered. He rushed over to the door where she was crouching, one hand on the door knob. “Go look out the window. Carefully! See if you can see anyone out there? A car or anything?”

He ran over to his window to check things out. Watching him she prayed that he’d see a neighbor looking curiously out a window or that one of his friends might decide to stop by. Anything or anyone that might be able to help them right now.

“I can’t see anything mom,” he reported back, trying to stay as quiet as she’d been. “There’s no one else out there.”

She had a decision to make. She could either tell her son to climb out his window and run to one of the neighbors for safety, or she could make him hide in his closet or under his bed while she went out and tried to reach the phone to call the police.

She closed her eyes and prayed for wisdom or a little of the sight Mac boasted about. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know.

“Run Liam,” she heard herself say, almost without realizing that she’d spoken out loud. “I need you to run.”

“No mom! I’m not leaving you!” Her brave son left his post at his window and rushed back to her side. “No fucking way am I leaving you and dad!”

“Liam,” she shook him with frustration. “We need your help. We need you to go to one of the neighbors and call the police. I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know who’s out there.”

“Come with me,” he pleaded like a little boy. “Please come with me. Don’t stay here. Let dad handle it.”

“I can’t baby,” she stroked his cheek even as her gut twisted with fear again as she heard the inhuman grunting noise outside the door again, and was that the sound of Mac gasping in pain?

“There’s no time Liam,” she urged him. “Your dad needs our help right now, please go.”

His blue eyes, so much like his father’s, stared at her in fear. She pushed at his shoulder, nodded at him to get going. He tried to act like a man, but he was just a little boy. She had to get him out of here, if there was a chance she could get him away from this terror she had to take it. She had to make him take it.

Screwing up his courage he slid away from her. It’s just like a video game he told himself. A video game with the goal of getting from one level – the house – to the next level – the neighbors house – and beating the bad guys in the process. Nothing but a game, he repeated. You can do this man, he encouraged himself. Silently he slid the window up and worked at the screws holding the screen in place. C’mon you mother fucker, he cursed it under his breath, half expecting his mother to hear him and remind him to watch his language.

Glancing at her over his shoulder he could see that she was a long way from caring about his swearing right now. He could see her with ear pressed against the door, her hands clinging to the knob, body pushed against the door to stop anything or anyone from trying to get in. To get at him, he realized. His mom was prepared to stop anyone
from reaching him, even if it meant that they would have to go through her to get to him. He couldn’t let her do that. He had to get help.