Gotcha! (27 page)

He covered her body with his. Their bodies came together, sliding, slippery. She wrapped her left leg around him. He brushed her hair from her face. He saw a woman, a purely relaxed woman, but a woman ready to take him into her body. And he was so ready to be there. He slipped into place and entered her.

“Jake,” she whispered, raising her hips to take him deeper.

“Yeah?” He set a slow pace.

“You can look at me naked anytime,” she said.

“Good.”

He laughed, and when she pushed up, taking all of him inside her, he lost it, and the rhythm of their love went from soft to strong, from relaxed to ravenous. Five minutes later Macy fell asleep in his arms, and shortly thereafter he joined her.

Billy sat curled by an oak tree, two houses down from the green-shuttered home where he’d seen Tanks. The only light was a streetlamp down the block, but Billy had been out here long enough that his vision had adjusted.

Closing his eyes, Billy summoned an image of Ellie standing in the moonlight with nothing on. He missed her so much it hurt, but he’d sworn he wouldn’t go back to the beach house. It was for the best. He’d almost called her to make sure she was okay, but he’d decided even that might give her a reason to hope. Ellie Chandler needed to know it was hopeless.

Billy ran his tongue over the inside of his lip. He hadn’t chewed on it, but the temptation was still there. Old habits, he guessed. Feeling the cold weight of the gun pressed against his side, he pulled it out and set it beside him.

He wondered what it would feel like to be shot, to have a bullet rip through your skin and bone. He’d heard once that it didn’t hurt, but after seeing Hal Klein and Brandon take bullets he wasn’t so sure. It couldn’t hurt worse than losing everyone he loved and staying in prison for the rest of his life, however. There were possibly worse fates than dying.

He picked up the gun. He’d never take his own life. He was too much of a coward to do that. But if Tanks didn’t kill him, the cops probably would. What were the odds of him really getting out of this alive? Not good.

Billy’s gut knotted, but not as much as the last time he’d thought about it. Of course, he wasn’t getting braver, just more resigned.

The night felt heavy on his shoulders. He blinked. He hadn’t slept in days.
So tired
, he thought, but he had to stay awake. He had to wait for Tanks to show up. He had to believe Tanks would show up.

A spray of headlights washed over his hiding place as a car turned onto the street. Billy waited to see where it would go. Slowly, with only the sound of its tires crunching pebbles on the gravel street, the vehicle pulled into the driveway of the green-shuttered house.

Four days and nights passed without any more dead bodies or attempts on Macy’s life, and she took some solace in that. Jake worked those days, went with her at night to deliver pizzas. Not that his presence stopped her from being one baby step away from a panic attack; her worry over Billy never went away. Add her growing feelings for Jake, and Macy wasn’t sure how much she could stand.

“Here, try these on.” Nan’s voice echoed behind the dressing-room curtain, and a hand appeared holding two more dresses. Macy took them.

Shopping was supposed to be fun. Not today. This morning, like every morning when Jake left for work, Macy got a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach. Not because she was going to miss him, though she did, but because in the last few days, she’d suddenly become aware that every time he left for work he might not come back home. Never had the afternoon news, talking about robberies, shootings, and meanness in general, given her so much to worry about.

Macy slipped off her jeans, her brain playing the what-if scenarios it did every morning. What if one of the gang members Jake was visiting had a gun? What if he was called to a break-in in progress? What if Tanks decided to come after the cop who’d put him away?

What if Jake died while eating spaghetti?

What if when the case was over he, like Tom, decided that Macy really didn’t float his boat and he went looking for another pond?

Macy kicked her jeans into the corner of the dressing room. Of all her fears, the last one was the worst. Wearing nothing but her Skivvies, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Above her left breast she had a love bite, put there by Jake that morning. Touching it, she remembered his immediate response to seeing her in her blue bra.

Even with the really exceptional sex, these last few days had been hard. Hard not to feel guilty for being happy. Hard not to worry about that happiness coming to an abrupt end. It was like waiting for the second shoe to fall—and to fall right into a fresh warm pile of dog poo. No, make that elephant poo!

She’d tried to lose herself in the make-up work her teachers had graciously allowed her to complete. She’d studied on Monday and taken tests on Tuesday, with a bodyguard waiting in the hall. She’d barely passed the tests. How could she think about constitutional law when it felt as if Murphy’s Law was destined to pop up and prove that loving Jake had been a mistake?

“Well? How does it look?” her mom asked, her voice booming into the dressing room. Her mom’s voice seemed to boom a lot lately, no doubt a direct result of seeing Hal.

“Just a minute.” Macy forced herself to pull one of the dresses from the hanger. She wiggled the slinky fabric onto her body and, taking a deep breath, stared at her reflection.

Too tight. Too low. Too short. Too red.

Dress sexy
, Jake had said. Why would he want her to dress sexy at his hundred-year-old grandfather’s birthday party?

“Come out and let us see?” Nan called.

Nan had suggested they go shopping for Macy’s new party dress. Macy and the FBI agent were the only ones who’d thought it was a bad idea. Macy was certain the Fed standing outside was going to resign as soon as his shift was over. Her mom actually had the man carrying packages, and she’d sprayed him with different colognes, trying to find the one she wanted to buy Hal.

“How long does it take to slip on a dress?” her mom complained.

Macy stepped out and struck a pose. “I look like a call girl who needs a boob job.”

“No.” Nan reached up and gave her size Bs a lift. “You just need a push-up bra.”

“Jake will go nuts,” her mom said, giggling. “If he’s not in love with you already, he—”

Just like that, with Nan holding up her boobs and her mom giggling about love, Macy started sobbing. And it was more than a two-tissue cry.

Jake parked almost a block away from his mother’s house. Cars were lined up and down the street. Holy hell, but he didn’t want to do this. He gripped the wheel and stared up at the cloudless blue sky that was the contradiction of the storm brewing inside him.

“So this is it?” Macy shifted in the seat beside him.

He glanced at her and tried masking his frown. “Yeah.”

“You okay?” she asked.

“Of course I am.” He got out, snagged the necessary items from the backseat: the birthday bag, and the chicken salad he’d picked up from the deli. Taking his first step, he grabbed Macy’s arm. “Don’t get comfortable. All we’re here to do is make an appearance.”

“But it’s your grandfather’s hundredth birthday.”

“His birthday was actually Thursday, and I saw him then.”

“You did?” She sounded surprised.

“He lives in a retirement home near my work. I see him during lunch at least once a week.”

Macy pulled away.

Jake looked at her. “What?”

She shook her head. “It hits me how little you talk about yourself.”

“You know the important stuff.” And she did. “Come on, let’s get it over with.”

“You really know how to put a girl at ease.” Sarcasm filled her voice.

“Sorry. I’m tired.” All week he’d worked like the devil to keep up with his other cases and make up for the time he’d taken off, hoping to get to the bottom of the string of paint-tagged robbery cases, hoping they would lead him to Tanks. But, nothing. Every lead he and Donaldson followed was a dead end. And then yesterday, Agent James had informed Jake that the FBI would be pulling their man off Macy. Everyone was betting that Tanks had left Houston. Macy had even dropped hints about moving back to her place, and Jake was beginning to feel desperate.

Of course, his desperation wasn’t just about Tanks and her personal safety. It was about them. He’d accepted he loved her. He hadn’t said it, of course; he hoped she’d throw the words out there first. Deep down, he believed Macy loved him. But sometimes she got that scared look in her eyes, like a wild animal about to bolt. And the possibility of losing her opened up a Pandora’s box of emotions, a box that still held his feelings about Lisa and his brother.

“Seriously,” he said, as they approached the house. “We’re in and out of here.” He took one deep breath, then reached for the door.

Macy watched Jake take the next step as if he were walking into a prison cell. But contrasting the doom and gloom of his demeanor, they were immediately pulled into a group of happy people—into Jake’s world, Macy thought, feeling more than a little uneasy.

“Little Jake. My favorite nephew,” someone called, and Jake got swallowed up in a big bear hug by a gray-headed, barrel-chested man with twinkling blue eyes. Jake returned the embrace, a manly hug that included a few hard slaps on the shoulder, and when he was released, he was actually smiling. He introduced Macy to his Uncle Bill, his father’s brother.

Bill captured her in a bear hug, too. “We’re huggers,” he said, his twinkling gaze devouring her white sundress. The dress wasn’t as sexy as the little red number her mother had chosen, but it showed off her figure.

The man grinned. “You did good, Jake. Always did have great taste in women.”

In a matter of seconds, Macy had been hugged a dozen more times by a hodgepodge of people: cousins, aunts, uncles, and finally Jake’s wheelchair-bound grandfather.

Jake’s family certainly came in all shapes and sizes. Jake stood close to her elbow, as if he felt personally responsible for her. Then his mom moved in and, after offering her own hugs, stole the chicken salad and Macy’s hand, and started for the kitchen.

Macy felt her face heat as she remembered the whole towel fiasco. But something about Jake’s mom put Macy at ease.

“Can I help do anything?” she asked.

“Just keep us womenfolk company.” She waved around the kitchen, and the introductions commenced.

Macy met Jake’s aunt—another hugger—his cousin Ann, and then a beautiful brunette walked into the kitchen through an outside entrance.

“Macy,” his mom said, sounding a little breathy. “This is Lisa. She’s married to Harry, Jake’s brother.”

“Hi,” Macy said, surprised to learn Jake’s brother was married. Though why she was surprised, she didn’t know. Jake had kept her in the dark about all these people. And while everyone here was extremely friendly, Macy had this stirring in the pit of stomach, as if she didn’t belong.

Lisa smiled. “You look…familiar.”

“I do?” Macy asked, and oddly felt as if everyone in the room were holding their breath.

“Yeah,” Lisa offered. “I could swear we’ve met somewhere.”

Macy studied her face. “You look familiar to me, too. You don’t go to Houston Law?”

“No. How about the photography club?” Lisa asked.

“Nope.” Macy shook her head.

The same door Lisa had walked through swung open again. Macy saw Jake out of the corner of her eye. She stopped short of speaking when he wrapped an arm around Lisa. But…it wasn’t Jake.

“This is Harry,” Lisa said. “My husband. And this”—she waved at Macy—“is Macy Tucker.”

Macy smiled. “You and Jake really favor each other.”

Harry stood for a moment, silent, his head sort of cocked, staring at her. “You look familiar.”

“I just said that!” Lisa chimed in.

“Have you attended North Baptist Church?” Harry asked.

“I’m afraid not,” Macy admitted.

“Wait,” Harry said. “Macy
Tucker
. You’re from the Community Garden. I’ve seen you there a couple of times, but your picture in that article about the garden is hanging in the church office. You’re the mastermind behind the whole program. Father Luis is always praising you. I’m Pastor Harry.”

Macy grinned. “I’ve heard of Pastor Harry, but I never knew your last name was—”

“They just call me Pastor Harry. Wow. It’s an honor to meet you.”

Before Macy knew it, Pastor Harry had her in a bear hug.

Macy heard the door swing open behind her. The room became unnaturally silent. Harry’s arms dropped away.

Released from the embrace, Macy turned. She saw Jake. Her breath caught at his expression, which was none too friendly. Not that it was targeted at her—rather, at his brother.

Harry held out his hand. “Jake?”

Macy didn’t think Jake was going to shake. Finally, he reached out, but the handshake ended too fast. The door swung open again, and one of the uncles appeared. “Jake, can I get some help getting the grill going?”

Jake walked out so fast that Macy felt the breeze.

“Well, I think that went fine,” Jake’s mother said.

“Like a fart in church.” Harry left the kitchen, followed by his worried-looking wife.

Macy looked back at Jake’s mom and didn’t know whether to go find Jake or stay in the kitchen, where the awkwardness had arisen.

One by one, the tension seemed to chase people out. Suddenly, Macy realized she was alone with Mrs. Baldwin. The woman grabbed a loaf of bread from the oak table, then slammed it down. She swung around to face Macy, and without any warning collapsed into Macy’s arms and started sobbing.

Baffled, but no stranger to sobbing mothers, Macy embraced her. “I’m only good for two tissues,” she warned.

Jake picked up the bag of charcoal and swore that as soon he got the fire started, he and Macy were out of there. It had been a mistake to come. He needed to get Macy away before someone let her in on the family’s dark, ugly secret.

“Can we talk?” Harry said from behind him as coals tumbled into the grill.

Jake dropped the bag on the concrete patio and faced his brother. Emotion twisted his gut. He’d missed Harry so damn much, but seeing him brought it all back. He raked a hand through his hair and said, “I thought I could do this, but I can’t.”

Harry grabbed his arm. “We’ve got to get past this sooner or later.”

Jake jerked loose. “Well, maybe if I hadn’t walked in and found you pawing my new girl, I might have been a bit more receptive.”

Harry shook his head. “I’m not even going answer that accusation.”

The hell he wouldn’t, Jake thought. He deserved this moment of anger. His hunger for revenge struck hard. For years, he’d imagined hurtful things to throw into his brother’s face. Then he recalled himself. “I gotta leave.”

Harry grabbed him again. “Look, I know you’re hurt, and you have reason. But God knows I’m not guilty of what you think I am. Isn’t it about time you hear what I have to say?”

Jake gulped for oxygen and took a step back. “What the hell can you say that will make a difference?”

“I prayed you’d come today.”

Did you pray about stealing my fiancée, too?
Jake ground his teeth to keep from saying anything. But, by God, he wanted to. Harry had betrayed him, hurt him, and right then more than anything he wanted to hurt Harry back.

His brother continued: “Macy seems…I’ve heard she’s a super girl.”

The calm in his brother’s voice and the mere mention of Macy’s name was Jake’s undoing. He took a step forward. “So, now you’re planning to steal
her
out of my bed? Well, don’t waste your time, Reverend. Macy’s not my fiancée, so she wouldn’t be near as much fun to fuck as Lisa.”

A crash sounded behind them. Jake swung around. Macy stood in the open doorway, raw chicken parts and a broken ceramic bowl at her feet. Her new white dress was spattered with meat marinade, and a chicken gizzard lay on the tip of her right white sandal.

Jake’s heart landed somewhere beside the chicken gizzard. The words he’d just thrown at his brother ran amok in his head, and instantly he called himself a fool. No, an idiot. A bastard! He would have sent up a prayer that Macy hadn’t heard him, but the hurt in her eyes left him with no hope. Zilch.

He raked both hands through his hair, clasped his hands behind his head, and squeezed the back of his neck. An apology lay on the tip of his tongue, but he knew it wouldn’t be enough.

Moisture brightened her eyes. She kicked the chicken gizzard from her sandal. It flew up and struck his chest, splattering him with juice. Then she turned and shot back inside without a word.

Macy’s silence continued on the ride home, though he’d pursued her and tried to apologize. Jake had turned into his mom: rattling. How many times had he said he was sorry? He’d even told her he loved her. She never responded. With her purse in her lap, she kept her eyes focused on the windshield in front of her. Not one tear slipped down her face. No words, no tears. That told him a lot.