Gotcha! (10 page)

Almost home, Macy wanted nothing more than to bury herself under her covers, to snuggle with Elvis while indulging in a good two-tissue cry, but ever since Baldwin had caught up with her and ridden her bumper, she had a feeling he entertained the idea of continuing his are-you-stupid lecture. It was a lecture she might deserve, because she remembered feeling half guilty when she’d waved at the agent from behind the gate. However, deserving or not, she really preferred being in tip-top shape for a chewing out. Tonight she wasn’t tip-top.

She parked in her driveway and bolted out of the car, hoping her pace alone would encourage him to leave. No such luck. The slam of his car door echoed hers almost instantly. She got to her front porch, then heard him talking—not to her, but on the phone.

“It was Billy?” he said.

She turned around.

“I know. She’s difficult. Hardheaded. Stubborn.” His gaze slapped into hers.

Now, who could he be talking about?
Macy rolled her eyes.

“I simply said it was my job to handle her.” Baldwin paused. “Put a trace on it. I don’t care.”

Realizing she was obviously eavesdropping, she started to look away but then decided she didn’t care. Her brother was more important than manners.

“He said he’d seen your guy.” Pause. “He was right. So, what does that tell you?”

Still listening, Macy attempted to fit her key into the lock. It wouldn’t go. She turned the key over, listening more than paying attention to the door. She tried again. No fit. She studied the knob, perplexed.

Something was wrong. Her doorknob had long ago tarnished. It had white paint speckles from three years ago when Tom had done a lousy job painting the house. This knob was shiny and new. Her gaze shot up to the door. The extra-white door.

While her mind tried to work out the color issue, Baldwin stepped up on the porch. He slid a key into the lock and pushed open her front door. Her front door? His key? Something didn’t compute. Yes, this was
her
extra-white door, but where and why…?

It hit her then. Not the reason the door was so white, or why her knob looked new, or why Sergeant Baldwin had a key, but what she was returning to. “Home, Sweet Home” didn’t feel so sweet anymore. David Tanks had been here, had left his mark on the walls. Somehow she’d managed to forget.

Her gaze shot back up to the door. Tanks’s mark was gone. Extra-white problem solved. She touched the wood panel. The tacky feel met her fingertips at the same time as the smell of wet paint tickled her nose. She looked back at Baldwin, who was still on the phone. He’d painted her door?

“Yes, I agree,” he said. His gaze met hers. “Can we discuss this tomorrow? I realize that. Tomorrow at nine.” He closed his phone and motioned for her to go inside. She didn’t need an invitation to enter her own home, but she took it.

Inside, the smell of fresh paint grew stronger. She turned on a lamp, dropped onto the sofa, and gazed from wall to wall. The words were gone, replaced by splotches of primer. Her attention shot to the window. Fixed. She looked at Baldwin. Standing with his arms crossed over his chest, he stared at her with a scowl on his handsome face. Not
GQ
handsome, but manly. She hugged her knees to her chest and wished he was gawd-awful ugly.

“Do you have any idea how stupid you were tonight?”

She tightened her arms around her shins and emotion clogged her throat. The are-you-stupid lecture was about to begin. “Yes. It was wrong.”

He looked baffled. “It was stupid.”

Her sinuses stung, a precursor to tears, but she refused to cry. “I said I was wrong. And generally the word
wrong
can be translated to mean stupid. But how about cutting me an itsy-bitsy break? This is new for me.”

“What’s new?”

“All of it. Having my baby brother do time. Having cops tackle me. Having an escaped convict trying to rape me—and who knows, he may even fancy the idea of cutting my head off. And…oh yeah, having the FBI follow me and threaten to have my driving license yanked because he couldn’t keep up with a dented Saturn.”

Sergeant Baldwin’s arms tightened across his chest. “He threatened to have your license yanked?”

“Yeah. I’m not saying it made what I did right. But—”

“Good, because neither am I.” Silence followed his words.

She looked around again. “You do all this?”

He inhaled. “I’m not finished raking you over the coals.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because you scared the shit out of me.”

“No. Why did you do this?”

He got an odd look on his face. “I like fixing things. It’s not a big deal.”

But it was. “Thank you.”

Spotting the discarded package that had held the new doorknob, she unwrapped her hold on her legs and grabbed it from the table. The price tag was stickered on the front. Frowning, she looked up. “There was nothing wrong with my old doorknob.”

“Nothing except your ex has the key.” Baldwin’s right eyebrow arched.

Macy sighed. “My ex is the least of my problems.” She reached for her purse and pulled out some money.

“You should have changed the locks when you kicked him out.”

“If we’re summing up my mistakes, it began when I married him. Or better yet, when I slept with him. Here.” She tossed money on the coffee table.

“I’m glad we agree on something.” He ignored the money and dropped into her green recliner.

She grabbed a throw pillow, hugged it, and tried to think of a clever way to find out about the phone call. When nothing came to mind, she just spit it out. “I heard you on the phone. Has something happened?”

Baldwin leaned forward. Their gazes met and held. Interest filled his blue eyes. “You scared me.”

So, you and that cop have got the hots for each other?
she remembered Nan saying.

“What about Billy?” she asked, determined not to think about this man as anything but a source of information.

He let out deep breath. “Let’s make a deal.”

“What kind of a deal?” What did she have worth bartering for, anyway? Nothing except what every man wanted. What Mr. Prack wanted. What Tom had wanted with the bimbo, and what he’d wanted when he’d come over last night, allegedly to help her.

The fact that Baldwin might want to barter for sex should have had her feeling repulsed, and it did. A little. But lying to herself wouldn’t change the fact that a spark of excitement shimmied down her spine. And that spark came with a message:
Welcome back to the real world, where women want men and men want women, a world where people put their hearts on the chopping block and wait for the ax to fall. You can only hide from it for so long.

Oh, hell. She didn’t want any part of the real world.

Sergeant Baldwin continued. “I’ll tell you what I know, but only if you promise not to pull any more stunts like tonight.”

“Deal.” She answered before he could add,
And if you let me take you to the bedroom and have my way with you.

He didn’t say that. Instead, he studied her. “Your brother called.”

“Billy?” She glanced at her answering machine. The red light blinked. She reached over to hit the play button.

“No. He called me. On my cell phone,” Baldwin corrected.

Macy froze, her finger poised. “You?”

“Yeah.” He told her about the call—or about
part
of it. The suspicious way Baldwin cut the conversation short seemed to mean he held something back.

“What else did he say?” She glared, daring him to lie.

“He mentioned he knew the cops were following you, that you managed to lose them. He must have been there watching you.”

“Why didn’t he talk to me? Why…?” Questions floated up to the top of her head like a school of dynamited fish. “Why did he call you and not me? How did he even get your number?”

“Ellie,” Baldwin said. “I left my number on her cell.”

“But is Ellie on my brother’s side, or with that creep who cuts people’s heads off?”

“I don’t know. It appears she helped with the escape.”

Emotion tightened Macy’s throat. “I don’t understand.”

“I know,” Baldwin said. There was a pause, then: “You want some hot chocolate?”

She stared at him. “How do you know—?”

“Your ex mentioned fixing you hot chocolate.”

“Oh.” She laced her hands together, uncomfortable with the sympathy she saw in his eyes. Wasn’t that the way most people looked at her mom? “I’m fine, but thanks.”

Jake decided Macy Tucker wasn’t fine. She looked like a woman on the verge of a meltdown, so he ignored her and went into the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” she called.

“You’ll see.”

When he pressed the mug of freshly made hot cocoa into her hands a few minutes later, he wished he could also offer a shoulder. Something warned him she’d decline melting onto it. Instead, she sipped her steaming drink, and the silence drifted toward the awkward stage—to the point where he feared she might ask him to leave. He hoped like hell she wouldn’t. While driving back tonight, he’d noticed that Macy’s house backed up onto a strip mall. Even if he slept out front, someone could easily come in the back.

Giving the window a quick glance, he said, “Tell me about your brother.”

Cup to her lips, she said, “You think he’s all bad.”

Jake shrugged. “I think he’s managed to get in a lot of trouble.”

“Trouble and Billy go hand in hand,” she admitted.

“Then why do you keep trying to protect him?”

“He’s not a bad kid. He just doesn’t think things through. But he’s loyal and…he stood up for me.” Tears brightened her eyes. “Four years old, and he was willing to take on a two hundred-pound drunk.” She shook her head.

Jake figured there was a story behind that, and he almost asked, but the way she looked away told him she regretted divulging even that much. “So, you’re close?”

“Aren’t all siblings?”

Until they steal your fiancées
he thought. “I guess.” His gaze caught the schoolbooks on the end table. “What are you taking in school?” he asked, though he already knew.

“Law. And no wisecracks.” Her tone was lighter; she clearly appreciated the change of subject.

“Hey, I’ve met a few lawyers I liked,” he replied. “For a few minutes. Well, a second. Okay, I’m lying, but it
could
happen.” He grinned, and when she laughed he remembered hearing her laughing with Donaldson. He liked it better now when it was just him and her.

The blinking red light on the answering machine caught his gaze, and he recalled the message from the priest. Was there a good way to approach
that
subject? For some reason,
Hey, before I make a move on you, are you really considering entering a convent
? didn’t sound too smooth. But he needed to know.

“You got a call tonight,” he remarked.

Nodding, she pressed play.

Her expression remained unreadable. The priest’s words rang out, then the message clicked off and Jake waited for her to say something, to offer an explanation.

“It’s late.” She stifled a yawn.

“Father Luis sounded as if that was important.”

“Yes.” She hugged her pillow closer, her gaze finding the clock.

“So, you’re Catholic?”

“Why? You have something against that, too?” Smiling, she drank some more hot chocolate.

“No. Just curious what was so important.”

“It’s not about Billy.”

“I didn’t think it was.”

She studied him. “One of the sisters is leaving, and they want me to take over her job.”

Damn. “And you’re actually thinking about it?”

Her brow furrowed. “I…yeah. But what does that have to do with Billy?”

“You’re really considering it? You’re joking, right?”

Elvis pranced into the room and jumped up on the sofa. Macy smoothed her hand down the cat’s back. “And you have an opinion on this because…?”

“No. I don’t.” He took a deep breath, then admitted, “Oh, shit. Why lie? Yeah, I have an opinion.”

She looked shocked, and he wished he’d kept his mouth shut. Religious beliefs were not something he questioned. Each to his own, he’d grown up believing. Nevertheless, celibacy wasn’t something he grasped, and from what he’d heard, celibacy was a biggie for nuns.

Her brow crinkled in puzzlement. “And what’s this opinion?”

“You don’t seem the type.”

Real smooth. His gut told him to bow out now. “I shouldn’t have said anything,” he apologized. He shut his mouth, planned to keep it shut, but then his gaze went back to her mouth, to that mouth with which he wanted to get up close and personal. To the body he wanted to get next to while naked.

Damn it to hell and back, he was actually lusting over a soon-to-be nun! He let out a groan. “I didn’t know they accepted divorced nuns. And, personally, I don’t think you have the personality for it.”

Her eyes widened. Her cat rose and tapped her chin with his nose. Then the dang animal rubbed himself against her breasts and purred. Hell, Jake would be purring too if she let him get that close. But no, she had no intention of letting him.

Was she smiling?

“The personality?” she asked.

He shook his head and decided that since his damned foot was already in his mouth, he might as well continue. “You knee men in the balls. You’re hardheaded, stubborn, sassy, and…well, sexy as hell. You—” Wait, that was definitely a smile on her lips. “What?”

“You haven’t been around a lot of nuns, have you?”

“No.”

“They can be pretty stubborn. Opinionated. And sassy.”

“But not sexy, right? You’re gonna tell me you won’t miss sex?”

An unreadable twinkle lit in her eyes, and she snorted. “I pretty much live a nun’s life anyway.”

He shook his head. “By choice, or because some jerk hurt you?”

“Both. And…well, some people speculate that all nuns are lesbians.”

He shook his head, and it took a second for him to clear it. He pushed a hand through his hair. “Er, are you lesbian?”

She stood up. “I…Restroom.”

Macy had herself a good laugh in the bathroom. Now, sitting back on her sofa, she watched Sergeant Jake Baldwin’s fingers thread through the dark strands of his hair. She pulled the throw pillow back to her chest and buried her mouth in it so he couldn’t see her smile.