Finding Zoe (Atlantic Divide) (19 page)

When his mum placed the cake in front of him, Ryan almost jumped out of his skin as the plate clicked loud enough to jerk him out of his alien reverie. Ignoring the fork she’d laid alongside his plate, he picked up the cake and stuffed it into his mouth while he continued his contemplation.

Okay, so it wasn’t an alien invasion. After all, the week after the premiere, his granddad had gone missing for a whole day—and there was another mystery he needed to think about—and Mac had started to phone every day, and every time he did, he asked for his mum.

Ryan tapped his pencil on the table as he tried to swallow the oversize piece of cake lodged in the back of his throat. His eyes started to water, and he thought he might need to grab his mum’s attention before he choked to death.

His mum kept saying to tell Mac she was too busy. She’d speak to him another time. Mac had balls’d up. The cake dislodged itself from his throat and slid in a hefty lump down to his stomach as he chugged down some milk while his mind whirled.

He whacked his pencil on the desk and slammed his chair down on all four legs, earning a sharp look and a quick frown from his mother as it suddenly occurred to him what had happened. Mac had upset his mum and she’d left the hotel and gone home, and now she wasn’t speaking to him. Bloody hell.

When he fell out with his friends, they punched around a little in the dirt until one of them laughed. But it wasn’t like that, and his mum wasn’t laughing. Yet.

The phone jangled and she glanced over at call recognition. She did it a lot lately.

“It’s for you.” She smiled, but her face looked funny, sort of tight, as though she was finding it difficult to smile.

Ryan picked the phone up.

“Hey kid, is your mum there?”

He glanced sideways at his mum and she shook her head.

“Nope.”

“Okay. I know she is, so listen carefully.”

He pressed the phone closer to his ear as the background noise became louder. A strange, rhythmic thwacking noise, like when they had music lessons and the teacher let them hit the drums with brushes because the sticks were too loud.

He narrowed his eyes as he glanced at his mother. Her back was turned while she filled the washing machine with clothes. He grunted down the phone to let Mac know he was still there.

“I love your mum.”

He let the background noise fill the silence as he thought about it. He pretty much knew it, but Mac—his dad—had said it out loud now.

“Ryan? Are you still there?”

He grunted again.

“I love you too.”

Jeez, the guy was an actor and Flynn had said he told everyone he loved them, but it still gave him a warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest when Mac said it. He smiled.

“Uh-huh.”

“I want to marry your mum, if you don’t mind.”

The background noise was getting louder, and Mac was starting to shout.

“I don’t mind.”

“You need to help me.”

Ryan’s heart skipped a beat. His dad needed him to help. He was going to make it right with his mum.

“Yeah.” He grunted to make sure Mac understood he wasn’t entirely on his side. His mum came first, always.

“You need to get her onto the jetty. Now.”

“Okay.”

Ryan hung up the phone, excitement racing fleet-footed through his veins, he couldn’t stop the grin as he turned to his mum.

Dad was going to put it right. Mum was going to smile properly again.

“Mum, we need to go outside.”

He stared through the kitchen window; a faint rhythmic sound like the background noise on Mac’s phone seemed to be getting louder.

“Not now, Ryan. I need to get dinner on, or we won’t be eating tonight.”

He peered through the window, his sharp eyes scanning the horizon until he saw a speck in the distance. He started to smile. He loved having an action hero as his dad.

“I think we should go onto the jetty, mum.”

Coke and Ice had already leaped up and made their way outside, their ears pricked up, their heads tilted.

The helicopter was coming in pretty fast; he’d never seen one up close before, and he was starting to get irritated as his mum took no notice. She still had a faraway look in her eyes, which she tended to get every time Mac had finished his phone calls.

“Mum.”

He rolled his eyes. If he didn’t get her out there soon, it was going to fly right over.

“Mum.” He virtually shouted, stamping his foot “There’s a helicopter about to land in the lake.”

“Let go of the rope, Mac.”.

“I can’t.” His brain didn’t contain the command his hand needed to let go.

“Let go of the fucking rope!” Flynn hurled himself on the floor of the helicopter so he was nose to nose with him. Terror gripped Mac as he stared back into the hard, ice-cold eyes of a killer and contemplated which would be the worse fate, throwing himself bodily from a helicopter, or trying to crawl back in past the toughest guy he’d ever known.

“I can’t do it.” His voice faded and he closed his eyes. Nausea hit his stomach and lurched into the back of his throat. He knew the overwhelming urge to look down was part of the problem. If he did, he would fall to his death. It was not the image he wanted ingrained on her mind for the rest of her life.

“Of course you can—you
fucking
actor.” Mac’s eyes popped open as Flynn slipped his Bowie knife out of the sheath tied round his thigh, placed the point of the blade on Mac’s knuckles, and then spoke to the pilot through his microphone.

“Rappeller on the skids.”

“Rappeller on the skids,” the pilot acknowledged.

Mac was going to kill him. If only he could climb back into the helicopter and wrap his hands around Flynn’s neck. Always provided Flynn didn’t kill him first, of course, he could stab him through the heart with his Bowie knife. It might be a worse scene for Zoe to witness.

“I’m only an actor…and I’m going to fall.”

“That’s the fucking idea.” Flynn’s teeth grated, the damaged skin pulled tight across his face, turning it white. “You have a fucking harness attached to you. You’re only going to drop ten feet.”

“What if the harness doesn’t hold? What if I’m too heavy?” Panic had him panting, gripping onto the edge of the helicopter, staring into Flynn’s hard face, desperate not to look down.

“Of course the harness will hold. I’m a professional. You told me your weight, the rope will hold.”

Temper soared, boosted by fear.

“I’m a fucking actor. I lied about my weight!”

Flynn’s hoot of cruel laughter did nothing to soothe Mac’s nerves.

“And I’m a professional stunt coordinator. I know actors lie.” He leaned forward and gave Mac a rough pat on the cheek. “Don’t worry, dude, I added ten pounds onto the weight you told me. You always lie about it.”

Flynn cast a glance over Mac’s shoulder, scanned the area, and Mac’s panic escalated. What in hell’s name had made him think he could possibly carry off a stupid stunt like this and live through it?

Zoe.

If he lived through this, he was never going to forgive her.

Flynn spoke into his mike again. “Ready to send rappeller. How’s the power?”

“Power’s good, send him down.”

With that, Flynn lifted the Bowie knife. Mac saw the blade flash as Flynn brought it down and hit the flat of it across the back of Mac’s knuckles with a resounding smack.

Shock had his fingers instinctively letting go, and the last thing he thought as he fell from the helicopter was
Please don’t let me scream like a girl
.

Eyes squeezed tightly shut, it seemed like he was free-falling forever before the harness jerked him to a painful stop and his breath whooshed out of his lungs. He vowed he was never going to do anything like it again. If it wasn’t for the goddamned redhead, he would never have even thought of it. In fact, he hadn’t. It was her idea.

His eyes cast heavenward, and he regretted looking up as he watched the helicopter above him tilt and stutter. For one heart-stopping moment, he thought the monstrous machine was about to fall out of the sky on top of his head. The thwacking of the rotors hesitated before they caught their rhythm again as the helicopter righted itself and hovered while he clung miserably to the swinging rope below.
Ten feet my ass, it’s fucking thirty
.

He watched as Flynn’s face appeared over the edge of the helicopter, a big grin spread across his misshapen face. He waved the Bowie knife in salute and then disappeared inside.

Taking a deep breath, Mac looked down; his feet almost touched the water now as the helicopter lowered. Not so bad. His heart bumped against his chest as he cast his gaze around and settled on a vision of the redhead waiting on the jetty and wondered what the hell kind of reception he was going to get. The helicopter moved ever closer. His heart thumped ever louder.

*

Curiosity and a ten-year-old hopping in excitement got the better of her, and she wandered out of the back door and onto the jetty, just in time to see what appeared to be a very large man being thrown out of the helicopter.

She gasped as he fell a good thirty feet, jerked to a horrible bone-wrenching stop, and hung, legs thrashing for a moment before he stilled.

“It’s Dad.”

“Dear God, Mac!”

She slapped one hand on Ryan’s shoulder to hold him still and the other on her chest. Heart racing, she stared, horrified, as the helicopter made a slow and controlled approach. It hovered, the sound of the rotors deafening them both as they watched, fascinated at Mac’s careful descent. He dangled, briefly, a foot above the jetty, a wide, sickly grin swathed across his face. Then the rope went slack and he dropped. The jetty groaned under his weight as he hit in a perfect stuntman landing, sending a sizzling thrill shooting through her veins.

Wind whipped around their heads and tugged at their clothing as the roar of the rotors deafened them. A voice yelled from inside the abyss, and they all looked up. Flynn moved confidently onto the landing skids hooked on by a harness and holding an enormous package. He opened his arms and the package fell, heavy and straight into Macs arms. Even above the sound of the rotors, Zoe heard Mac’s grunt and the loud accompanying groan of the jetty.

They watched the helicopter’s ascent. As it rose, it tilted to the right and veered off over the tree tops toward the fields above the house, the thwacking sound of the blades growing ever more distant.

Arm protectively across Ryan’s shoulder, heart firmly lodged in her throat, Zoe brought her gaze back to Mac.

He stood tall and proud, dressed in a perfectly pressed tuxedo, a harness dropped messily around his feet, and the most enormous bouquet of white roses filled his arms. At a guess, one hundred and forty-four. No wonder he had almost collapsed.

In spite of herself, she felt a smile tug at her lips. She tried to tamp it down, but he made her want to laugh. Sheer elation had adrenaline pumping through her system, making her heart race and her pulse pound.

He hated heights and he’d just leaped from a helicopter. For her.

Her gaze raced over his handsome face, no tinge of green in evidence; his beautiful skin glowed healthily as the late afternoon sun slanted across him. His black hair had been whipped to a frenzy and fell, boyish, across his forehead. Her heart throbbed so wildly she thought it might explode.

Every woman’s dream man stood in front of her. He was certainly her dream man.

Laughter spluttered from her as he offered her the flowers, his thick, muscular arms barely able to hold them.

His eyes, deep and serious, met hers.

“I’m sorry.”

Her breath hitched as she stared back at him, terrified the prickle at the back of her eyes was going to lapse into a flood of tears.

“You’re an idiot,” she shouted, no longer needing to in the quiet of the still country.

“I know.” His low, quiet voice was filled with apology as he stood motionless, and he simply held the roses out, his face serious, his eyes dark and solemn, appealing to her.

“Zoe. I love you. I’ve loved you for eleven years.”

The pain in her chest was so overwhelming she didn’t believe she could move without it bursting into a million fragments. Her eyes closed, flickered. How could he say he loved her when every moment of every day he believed she had deceived him? She opened her eyes and met his intense black ones.

“Zoe.” It was a plea, but how could she risk her heart yet again? Twice now he’d shattered it, and she didn’t think it would survive another round.

She shook her head, stepped back, taking Ryan with her. “I can’t.”

“Zoe.” His voice reverberated around the small valley; he dropped to his knees in front of her, made the jetty shudder. “I. Love. You.” His sad eyes filled with tears; his forehead crinkled as he frowned, as though willing her to love him back.

Her heart stuttered. A soft, broken sob escaped her lips. If he could love her, believing the worst in her, then she could put it right and he’d adore her.

“Dad.” Ryan stepped forward at the same time as her gaze fell on her small Chinese box tucked into a little rucksack at Mac’s feet along with the harness and rope.

Fury seethed through her. How dare he? How dare he steal her secret, her heart?

Before she gave herself a chance to think clearly, she reached forward to his outstretched arms and lifted the massive bouquet away from him, and then with one almighty swing, she thrashed it across his head, heard his shocked grunt as she knocked the breath out of him, and heaved them at him a second time.

His body took the first blow full-on, and as the second swiped toward him, Mac threw himself sideways. His hand overshot the deck and his body swiftly followed, catapulting him head over heels off the jetty and into the water with an enormous splash, showering the remaining two with sparkling droplets of water.

“Mum.” Shocked, Ryan rushed to the edge of the jetty as Zoe dropped the roses and grabbed him to stop him leaping in. Mac thrashed around in the water, spluttering and cursing as she sank to her knees on the wooden boards, one hand covering her mouth, torn between desperate sobs and hysterical laughter.