I'll Be Your Last (12 page)

He was very much aware that he lived his life on the surface, pushing deep thoughts away. It was easy to do in this job. Spending so much time responding to other people’s problems kept his on the back burner. Where they stayed safely out of sight and mind.

What was going on in his life right now was unwelcome. His thoughts strayed too often to Kane. Woody met life head-on. When they’d been together, what he wanted was written plainly on his face.

Normally, he didn’t watch the expressions of his partners during sex.

Normally, he was behind them anyway. But Woody’s glazed eyes and straining neck muscles had given him an odd sort of satisfaction.

Even if he, himself, didn’t want to feel anything but pure release, he still found watching Woody’s pleasure rewarding.

Another car pulled into the parking lot, dragging Mack out of his thoughts. Time to get to work. He waited for Sam Cooley to climb out of his vehicle, and they ambled toward the back door together. The
92

Jane Leopold Quinn

other man wasn’t much of a talker, so there’d be quiet from his desk.

But he was grateful for Cooley’s presence.

“Shouldn’t be too busy today,” Sam offered.

“Nah. I’ll catch up on paperwork.”

“I need to wash out one of my drawers. I spilled pop yesterday.” Mack’s laugh cut off fast when he spotted Woody already at his desk. “‘Lo,” he mumbled. Damn. Just what he didn’t need.

“Woody,” Sam called. “What are you doing here? I thought you were going to your dad’s.”

How does Sam know so much about him?

“I thought I’d take a shift for someone with a wife and kids,” Woody replied. “Besides, my dad’s coming in later with his girlfriend.”

Mack kept his head down but still watched Woody surreptitiously.

He’d make himself scarce when
Dad
got there. Right now he actually wished for a crime to call them out. He didn’t like this pity party he seemed to be wallowing in. He got going on his paperwork, went out twice for coffee, and the day passed nicely. Until three o’clock.

The older man he’d seen with Woody at the restaurant walked into the squad room.

“Hey, guys, I’d like you to meet my dad, Charles.” This was a time Mack really hated the small confines of the space.

There was no escaping. He forced himself to look interested. Now that he saw the man close up, he didn’t know how he hadn’t realized he was related to Woody and not a date. Except for gray hair on the older man, they resembled each other quite a lot.

Charles shook hands with Sam, then gave Mack a long, scrutinizing stare. Mack gazed stubbornly back. He almost laughed at Charles’s protectiveness. Glancing at Woody, he caught his warily curious expression. Apparently, he wasn’t quite sure what his dad might do or say to Mack.

“It’s good to meet you, Mack.”

“Thank you, sir. Same here.”

I’ll Be Your Last

93

“My friend, Samantha Greer.”

“Ma’am.” Mack nodded. She was a pretty woman in her forties, he’d have guessed, and looked like the mothering type. She fit with the rest of Woody’s family the way he didn’t. Shit, he hated holidays.

This year, in particular, his emotions felt raw, when he didn’t want to feel anything.

“This is the first time she’s been in a police station.”

“Well, it’s a good thing she’s only here to visit and not in trouble with the law.”

Samantha’s husky laugh made Mack chuckle, too.

“I hear you’re a Marine.”

That was a surprise. Woody must have told him. “Yes, sir.”

“Me, too. Seventy-eight to eighty-two. I was only in four years.” Charles smiled. “It was still the toughest time of my life, but
Semper
Fi
.”

“That’s for sure. I was in ninety-three to twenty-oh-one.” Thoughts flew through Mack’s head.
Semper Fi.
It had been the first time in his life he’d felt like he belonged somewhere. It was the first time he’d known what pride meant.

He was aware that Charles Kane probably knew some of what was going on between his son and him, which made him uneasy. Feelings in him were breaking through to the surface, breaking into his heart, and he was honestly scared.

“We’ve got Thanksgiving dinner prepped for anyone who’d like to come over after shift,” Charles announced, nodding at the guys in the squad room.

The back of Mack’s neck prickled. Ahh—Woody’s dad’s house.

A holiday dinner with a family, Woody’s family in particular. Being around people who loved each other? The thought of that squeezed his heart. He slowly sat in his chair, shifting his eyes over the papers on his desk, wondering if anyone thought he was really busy.

“Sam, you available?” asked Woody.

“Thanks a lot, but I’ve got plans later.”
94

Jane Leopold Quinn

Fred strolled into the squad room. “Everything quiet, boys?”

“Hey, Fred, meet my dad, Charles, and his friend Samantha.” Charles shook hands. “I just invited everyone over for some dinner after shift. You in?”

“Sorry, can’t. Goin’ to the ex-wife’s to see the kids.”

“Mack? How about you? You have other plans?” He glanced at Woody.
Are you crazy?
Finally, after he realized they were awkwardly waiting for his reply, he said, “I don’t want to intrude on a family dinner.”

Woody sidled over to his desk, and, leaning down, murmured softly, “Mack, come on over. It doesn’t mean we’re going to the prom. Just come over as a friend.”

Shocked at the humor in Woody’s voice, Mack’s gaze jerked up to him and was doubly surprised to see the twinkle in his eyes. They traded glances for a quick moment. What could he do? To turn the invite down would be rude at this point. “Sure, I can come. Thanks, Charles.”
Shit. This might be one of the worst decisions I ever made.

“Sarge, you’ve got our cell numbers if anything breaks on the Sanchez thing, right?”

“Sure do, Woody,” Fred responded. “Have a good dinner.”

“Great.” Charles rubbed his hands together. “It’ll be us and Molly and Evie, Woody’s sister and her daughter.”
Oh, great. More relatives. And a kid.

“Come over after shift. Woody can give you directions.” That’s how Mack found himself sitting in the sister’s living room, ensconced on a very comfortable couch, a beer in one hand, and his other arm around the shoulders of a four-year-old girl.

“Are you a policeman, too, like Uncle Woody?” Evie asked him.

“Yes, ma’am, I am.”

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

Mack could hear his own gulp as well as snickers behind him. In the living room facing the fireplace, his back was to the kitchen doorway. He had a feeling he had an audience. “No, ma’am.”
I’ll Be Your Last

95

“Uncle Woody doesn’t either.”

His heart thumped. It felt like his head might explode. She couldn’t possibly know the truth. Could she?

“I’m in preschool. Did you know that?”

“No, I didn’t. That’s great.” Mack felt more comfortable with this line of conversation. “What have you learned so far?”

“Oh, I already knew lots of things. My mommy and grandpa taught me stuff before I started school.”

“Can you count to ten?”

“Oh, way higher. Do you want to hear it?” Woody interrupted, “Now, Evie, don’t brag about your accomplishments, even though they’re good ones.” Mack glanced up at Woody, whose lips curved up proudly. His smiling features were familiar at the station, but not so much when they were in bed. He realized he liked looking at a happy Woody.

“Evie, I’d love to hear you count. As far as you know how to.” He nodded at the little girl and threw a smirk at her uncle.

But Evie was called into the kitchen to help. She scrambled off the couch. “Here, Mack, you can hold Stephanie till I get back. Okay?” Handing him the grown-up-looking doll, she looked like she was offering him a million bucks.

“Sure thing, honey.” Gingerly holding his prize, his smirk turned to chagrin when he and Woody exchanged glances.

“You look very natural holding that doll.” Mack’s eyes narrowed in warning.

Molly joined the two men. “She likes you, or she wouldn’t have entrusted Stephanie to you.”

“That’s nice.” He smiled with true amusement. “I guess.”

“It
is
nice. I’ve never brought a friend here before. She’s not used to more than just the three of us.” Woody’s voice faded off.

“I really meant it. She’s a sweet kid.” And Mack surprised himself, realizing how comfortable he felt here. He was determined to
96

Jane Leopold Quinn

banish the painful memories. His childhood was history. Old history.

But he’d never had a holiday dinner like this.

Charles’s voice filtered through the kitchen door. “Dinner in five minutes. Get cleaned up, guys!”

Molly burst out laughing, and Woody joined her. “Like we’re still ten years old and have been outside playing in the yard.” He lifted his hands, turning them over to look for dirt. “Mack, your hands clean?” Mack looked at his, too, then met Woody’s gaze, a gaze suddenly full of hunger—for more than turkey.

“Well, I’m washing mine,” Molly said.

He heard Molly’s stifled chuckle and responded to Woody with a lift of his lips. Charmed by this family, all he could do was stand up and go in to dinner. This home was a good place to be. He envied Woody, but it wasn’t a place he’d ever fit.

I’ll Be Your Last

97

Woody could hardly stand it. He struggled to hide the big fat heart on his sleeve. Mack had looked amazing sitting there cuddling Evie and her doll. He tried to envision what his family must look like to an outsider. As kids, he and Molly had fought just like any siblings, but they had nothing to argue about anymore. And he loved Evie more than he’d ever thought possible. Mack watched them interact as if he was at a play where he wasn’t sure of the lines. He’d never said anything good about his mother, and with no brothers or sisters, his childhood must have been desolate.

At times, Mack looked so uncomfortable. Woody wished he could just hug him. There it was—his need to fix someone. To make him happy. It was so simple and so dangerous. Especially if the other person didn’t want to be made happy. But he looked like he wanted to enjoy Woody’s family, plus he had Kiki. So maybe there was hope for Mack Penchant after all.

He motioned to Mack, and they headed to the dining room together. “Samantha made the turkey, but my dad makes the best dressing ever. You’re in for a treat.” Mack gave him a sweet smile that shot his heart to his throat.
It’s
just Thanksgiving dinner. Don’t get your hopes up that he’ll turn into
the man you’d like him to be.
With that warning to himself, Woody directed Mack to the chair to Samantha’s right. “Hey, squirt.” He turned his attention to Evie. “Let me fix up your plate.”

“I can do it, Uncle Woody.”

“Okay, then I’ll hold the dishes ‘cause they’re hot.”
98

Jane Leopold Quinn

While they ate, Charles asked Mack about his time in the Marines, and Woody began to learn a little more about him.

“Where’d you live when you were a kid, Mack?”

“I grew up in Rogers Park, went to Lake View High.”

“Did you play a sport?”

He snickered. “He—heck no. I was one of those moody, disaffected youths who just slouched through school and couldn’t wait to walk out the door at three.”

“Then you hung out and got into trouble after school?”

“Yeah, something like that. I imagine Woody was an exemplary student,” he said with friendly sarcasm.

“Yes, I was,” responded Woody. “Good at everything.”

“Oh, come on, little brother. That’s not quite the way I remember it.”

“Well, it’s the way I’m telling it.”

“You always told me you got As and Bs, Uncle Woody.”

“Thank you, Evie.” He directed a pointed look at Molly. “See, she knows the truth.” Then he glanced at Mack. Suddenly, Mack’s gaze met his and held a moment longer than was wise. To his chagrin, he really liked looking at the man.
Shit. There I go again. Wishing for
more than there can be.

“We lived on the southwest side,” Molly offered. “At the time, we didn’t even know there was a Rogers Park in Chicago.”

“Yeah, they can be worlds apart. I live in Uptown now, near Lawrence and Sheridan.”

“How’d you get to be a Sox fan, then?” Woody asked. “I would have thought Cubs.”

Mack laughed. “Yeah, I had a lot of trouble in high school because of that, but I was a big Frank Thomas fan. Every chance I got, I went to Comiskey. I’d hang around outside unless I could sneak in.” He flicked an apologetic glance to Evie. “Not that it’s right to sneak in.”

I’ll Be Your Last

99

Woody felt his cell phone vibrate in his pants pocket. Pulling it out, he glanced at the screen. “Hello, Fred.” Holding the phone to his ear, he listened, his gaze snapping to Mack.

“Is Mack still with you?” Fred asked.

“Yeah, he’s here. What’s going on?”

“One of the guys you caught spilled that there’s going to be a drop at the flower store tonight. We’ve got to set up there.”

“Yeah.” He held Mack’s gaze and got up from the table. “Sorry, folks. Mack and I have to deal with this.” When they got into the living room, he relayed the information to Mack and continued,

“What do you want us to do, Fred?”

“I need you guys in ASAP.”

“We’re on our way.”

* * * *

Posies Galore. It was quiet and dark in the back room of the flower shop where Woody and Sam were hunkered down behind open shelving. Mack, Rich, and Arne were outside in cars with eyes on front and back doors. It seemed like an eternity but was probably only a half hour before they heard soft noises outside the back door. “This might be it,” Woody murmured into his mic. He and Sam slowly rose, pulling their guns. They had to wait until the door opened and the intruders entered. A sliver of light shone from the alley.

Sam shouted, “Police! Drop your guns.” All of Woody’s focus centered on the black muzzle pointing right at him.

Crack.