Gotcha! (5 page)

“Move aside,” he ordered. His focus stayed on the door.

“I’m not going to let you shoot my brother.”

“I won’t shoot unless—”

“No!” More tears threatened. Just like her mom. She hated it. “Let me answer. You can stand beside me. I just…I don’t want Billy hurt. He’s not a bad kid. Even if he’s done some things wrong, he—”

The knock sounded again.

“Please,” she begged.

The policeman wavered. “Ask who it is.”

Macy stepped closer to the door.

“Wait!” He pulled her back into the living room from the hall and whispered, “Ellie said Tanks threatened to kill Billy’s sister. That’s you. This could be Tanks.”

“And it could be Billy,” she snapped. She tried pulling free, but he held on. “Let me answer!”

“Calm down,” he said in her ear. “Ask who it is.”

She took a deep breath. “Who is it?” she said. The knocking thudded harder. “He can’t hear me.” She looked back at the door. “Who is it?” she yelled, and prayed her brother would answer—prayed Baldwin wouldn’t hurt him.

The knocking stopped. Baldwin released her. The doorknob rattled, and from the corner of her eye she saw Sergeant Baldwin raise his gun.

“No!” she screamed.

“Mace?” a deep voice called from outside the house.

The timbre of the voice filled Macy’s ears. It rang all sorts of bells—familiar bells, though not Billy ones.

“Is it your brother?” Baldwin asked.

“No.” Her mind tried unsuccessfully to wrap around the voice.

“Mace?” the man called again from outside. “I heard what happened.”

Recognition hit. It hit with a resounding thud. Not a positive thud, either, but an ex-husband, cheating-louse kind of thud. She looked back at Baldwin, gun drawn.

“What the hell,” she said. “Go ahead and shoot.”

Shoot? Had he heard right? Jake latched an arm around Macy Tucker’s abdomen. “Who is it?” he growled.

She looked up. “My husband.”

He jerked his arm back. “You’re married?” While he hadn’t meant the hold to be personal, it suddenly felt personal—at least too personal for a married woman.

“We’re divorced,” she said.

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Then I think the correct terminology is
ex
-husband.”

“Didn’t I say that?” She stared at the door.

Jake shook his head. “No. You didn’t.” He didn’t have a clue why the thought of her being married made him flinch, but…Oh, hell. Yes, he did know why. Macy Tucker, ball buster and conniving twit, had snagged his interest the moment he laid eyes on her. Lust at first sight. It had been too long since he’d felt real lust. Too long since he’d wanted—

The knocking grew louder.

“Mace?” the voice called again. “I thought you might need some company.”

Jake studied the woman before him. “If you’re lying to me…”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not. It’s Tom, my
ex
-husband.”

He stared into her baby blues and, just like that, he believed her. Believed the man behind the door was her ex-husband, believed that she hadn’t helped her brother escape prison, believed her boots weren’t the ones that had left the prints at the breakout scene. The doorknob rattled again, only this time it came with the clink of a key and the click of a lock. Jake tucked his gun behind his shirt right before Macy’s ex-husband stepped inside.

An ex-husband with a key. What did that say about their relationship?

Then he saw Macy staring at the keys in the man’s hand. The ex was busy staring at him.

“Why do you still have—?” She reached for the keys just as her ex reached for her. Macy skidded back so fast that she banged up against Jake.

“Who are
you
?” the ex asked him.

Jake just smiled and watched Macy.

Emotion flashed in her gaze, and not a good kind. Pain, really. Maybe he was reading more into it than he should. Maybe his own issues were affecting him. Or maybe not. Either way, his protect-and-serve instincts took over. He wrapped an arm around Macy’s waist.

She felt good against him. This time, his touch was meant to be personal, or at least to appear personal. Or maybe it wasn’t just for show.

Macy flinched and took a quick few steps away. Then her gaze shot to her ex, as if she realized the movement had brought her closer to him, and she frowned. She divided the distance, moving to stand equally between the two men. As crazy as it seemed to him, Jake hoped she’d scoot back closer to him.

One step. Come on, Pizza Girl.

“What are you doing here?” she asked her ex.

“I heard about Billy.” The man scowled at Jake. “But you’ve got company.”

She did it. She took a step toward Jake, and he couldn’t help but smile.

“You should try calling first,” she said. “How did you hear—?”

“Don’t be rude, Mace,” the ex insisted. “Introduce us.”

Macy looked back at Jake as if debating what to say.

Without thinking, Jake took the decision from her. He brushed a lock of her hair off her shoulder. “No need for introductions. I know who you are. You’re Tom.”

“Now, if I only knew who
you
were…” Tom glared at him.

“I’m Jake Baldwin.” He winked at Macy. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but not a word escaped.

“And what are you doing here with my wife?”

“I think that’s
ex
-wife,” Jake responded.

“Okay, let me rephrase. What are you doing with my ex-wife?”

Jake smiled again. “Macy invited me in.”

The woman’s eyes widened.

Her ex looked at her. “Can I have a minute with you, Mace?
Alone?
”

Jake shrugged. “Don’t mind me,” he said. “You two go ahead. Just pretend I’m not here.”

The ex’s posture tightened, but he seemed to resolve himself. “You’re already bringing guys home?”

Macy appeared shocked by his question, but she recovered quickly. “Well, I guess I didn’t think you’d mind, considering you brought girls home while we were still married.”

Jake laughed, and they both stared at him as if he were crazy. He spoke his mind. “She sure has a way with words, doesn’t she?” Then he raised his hand. “Oh, carry on. Sorry.”

Macy faced him. “Can you give us a minute?”

Jake saw the ex smirk, but if Macy’s expression was any indication, he shouldn’t exactly have been planning any victory parties. He winked at Macy. “Anything for you. I’ll just wait in the bedroom. With Elvis.”

Macy watched Sergeant Baldwin walk toward the rear of her house, but something told her he didn’t go as far as the bedroom.

Bedroom?
How suggestively he’d said it. Had he purposely, shamelessly, tried to give Tom the wrong idea? Was he so cocky, so bold, that he would really try to deceive her ex-husband into believing that—?

Oh, heck, she didn’t have time to admire or be grateful to the cop right now. She refocused on Tom.

“How did you hear about Billy?” She worked at keeping her tone casual, because she was just a bit touched that her ex-husband was worried about her. Not enough to accept his offer of company, of course. His shoulder to cry on would no doubt come with a price. A flat price—as in, she’d be flat on her back. She’d heard that his fling had flung itself out.

“Your grandma’s neighbor called my mom. When I got the message, I knew you’d be upset, so I came to—”

“I appreciate your concern.” A tiny part of her did. Then again, she would have appreciated a lot more his not having had an affair with his secretary, and especially not in her own bed. “But we’re divorced. You should go.”

“You’re really seeing that clown?” he seethed.

She shrugged, not willing to lie. “What? You don’t like his sense of humor?”

“I suppose you do. My God, we’ve only been divorced a few weeks!”

His words landed with a bruising bump on her heart—a heart that had suffered too many blows today. Too many blows in the last five years, mostly thanks to Tom himself.

“We’d have been divorced almost two years ago if you’d signed the papers.”

He took a step forward. “Don’t be hardheaded. Tell the guy to leave. I’ll fix you some hot chocolate, just the way you like it.” He opened his arms as if he expected her to melt into his embrace and rejoice because he remembered her culinary dependency.

She didn’t move into his arms. The hot chocolate sounded good, but Tom’s embrace didn’t tempt her. Not even a smidgen. That felt pretty damn good, too.

He puffed out his chest. “Come on Macy, it’s him or me.”

That clinched it. “Him.”

“You would choose—?”

“Definitely.” Her gut had always told her Tom was an idiot, and now she knew for sure. She pointed to the door. “You need to go.”

His green eyes widened. “You’re obviously upset. You’re not thinking clearly.”

“You’re right about me being upset. I’m worried about my brother. As for thinking…?” She pushed a finger to her temple. “Seems pretty clear.” She opened the front door. “ ’Bye, Tom.”

He didn’t budge. She could tell from his expression that he was struggling to find a new approach. That did a little something for her ego. Other than doing everything he could to delay the divorce, he hadn’t once seemed to regret their split. But why now?

The answer hit her: Baldwin. Tom didn’t want her. Not permanently. But he didn’t want anyone else to have her, either. Especially when he didn’t have anyone. The dog.

It still felt good. What woman didn’t want a man to regret his mistakes?

She spotted the red blinking light on her answering machine. “Door’s open,” she said. “Good-bye.”

“Look,” he begged. “I was wrong to get involved with Tammy, but I said I was sorry.”

His words brought back her anger. “No, what you said was, ‘Can’t we just forget about this?’ And I recall telling you that I would do that just as soon as hell turned into a snowy winter wonderland that Santa lists among his top ten favorite places to visit.” Macy thought she heard a chuckle from the hall.

“Okay, it’s obvious we need to talk.” Tom’s gaze darkened with anger. “Ask the bozo to leave.” He grabbed her.

She stared at his hand on her arm. “Let me go!” Tom had never hit her, but he had a bad habit of being grabby. She wasn’t his to grab anymore. One glance at his crotch, and she locked in on her target.

She didn’t get a chance to strike. Baldwin came hotfooting it into the foyer and tucked her to his side. “That’s it,” he said.

Normally, Macy would have resented the implication that she couldn’t take care of herself, but the resentment didn’t come. The policeman’s surprising action felt nice. Kind of.

With one arm around her waist, Baldwin said, “I’ve counted four times that she’s asked you to leave, Tom. In my book, that’s four times too many, because you shouldn’t be here in the first place. So do yourself a favor and go.”

“And if I don’t?” Tom snapped. “You gonna fight me? What are you, some tough guy?”

Baldwin’s body tensed against hers. The cold shape of his gun pressed against Macy’s ribs. Anger seemed to ooze out of him, though he appeared to purposely hold it in. She could tell he was a man who depended on his wits before his fists—but she’d hate to see what he’d do to Tom with his fists. Maybe.

“Fight? Oh, no. I’ll just sic Elvis on you.” His hand tugged Macy a little closer and he smiled, though not a flicker of warmth filled the expression.

“Oh, hell,” Tom gritted out. “I’m out of here.”

“Wait,” Baldwin said. “Macy meant to ask you for something.”

“I did?” She looked up at him in surprise.

“You said I was to remind you to get your key back.”

“Oh. Yeah.” She held her hand out to Tom. The knowledge that she should move away from Baldwin played havoc with her sanity, but the strength in his touch, the sense of being protected, seduced her for just a few more seconds.

“I’ll mail it.” Tom left, slamming the door in their faces.

Baldwin’s palm sank deeper into the curve of Macy’s waist. “You want me to get that key?” he asked.

No, she needed to fight her own battles. “I’ll get it later,” she said.

His arm felt so solid around her, and his touch reminded her that she was female and normally most females found the opposite sex appealing. But she didn’t want normal, so she stepped out of his embrace and shuffled back to her living room. She dropped onto the sofa. Sighing, she pulled a pillow into her lap and hugged it, purposely ignoring the blinking light on her answering machine. Maybe she’d get lucky and Baldwin would leave.

Jake Baldwin stood there, studying her, as if he expected her to say something. But, what?

“You’re welcome,” he finally said. He reached down, flipped open the pizza box, and snatched out a slice. “Just cheese?” he groused.

“I didn’t say thank you,” she snapped. She watched him eat. She hadn’t offered him pizza either.

He spoke around the food in his mouth. “Yeah, but I could tell you were thinking it. You wanted him gone.”

She didn’t deny it. However, the fact that this stranger could read her so easily made her uncomfortable.

Pulling her knees to her chest, she watched him inhale the entire slice. “Thank you,” she said, accepting she owed him that much. He winked. Emotionally, she felt that wink all the way to the pit of her stomach—the kind of flutter that got women in trouble. “You should go,” she said.

He snagged another slice. “I haven’t forgotten the messages.”

Thoughts of hearing Billy’s voice, and Jake Baldwin’s hearing it too, tightened her stomach. She asked something she needed to know. “If he’s on here and he tells me where he is, what are you going do?”

“The only thing I can do. Go pick him up.”

A knot formed in her throat. “You won’t hurt him…?”

“I’m not into hurting people, Pizza Girl.”

He didn’t offer guarantees. She’d known he wouldn’t. Then she recalled how he’d handled himself with Tom, and a part of her realized she trusted him.

Scooting over to the arm of the sofa, she hit the play button on her answering machine. The recorder stated in its monotone computerized voice, “You have ten new messages.” There was a pause, and then: “Tuesday, 4:48 p.m.”

Macy tightened her hold on her legs as she awaited the first message.

“Mace. It’s your mom. I was”—sniffle, sniffle—“just wondering how the visit went.”

“Tuesday, 4:57 p.m.”

“Macy. It’s Father Luis. Sister Beth told me you were wavering on joining us full-time. It’s a lot to ask, but you belong here. It’s God’s work. I know this is your calling. Sister Beth won’t be leaving until next month. We really need to fill her position.”

Baldwin choked on his pizza. “What position?”

Macy just quirked an eyebrow.

The phone messages continued. They were all her mom, time and again. “Mace, baby, please call me.” And there was a lot of sniffling. Then there was a hang-up. Finally, they were at the last call. Macy didn’t know whether to hope it was Billy or not.

“Wednesday, 12:03 a.m.”

“Hello, bitch.”

Macy flinched. Sergeant Baldwin moved closer. The message played on.

“Just wanted to let you know I was thinking about you. If you talk to your brother, tell him David Tanks always makes good on his promises. You and I are gonna have us a fucking good time. You do like to fuck, don’t you?” Then the machine clicked off.

Silence filled the room. Macy sat frozen, staring at the phone.

Suddenly, it rang.

“You have a speakerphone?” Baldwin asked in a rushed voice.

“Yeah.”

“Use it.”

Gulping, Macy hit the speaker button. “Hello?” she said.

“Glad you’re home finally, bitch. Get pretty for me and wait. It might be tonight or tomorrow, but I’ll be there.”

Then the escaped convict hung up.

Billy’s patience had cracked about an hour before. At least a dozen times he’d picked up Andy’s cell phone to call Mace or try Ellie’s number, but he’d never followed through. Every police show talked about tracing phone calls. He didn’t want to be traced, but damn it, where were they?