Gotcha! (15 page)

Jake moved a hand from the steering wheel to her shoulder. “You can’t control what Tanks does.”

“I know, but—”

“It’s not your fault.” He parked in front of the church just as two medics jumped into an ambulance. The sirens began to blare.

“Was he shot? He’s not going to…” She couldn’t say it. The idea someone might die was horrible.

“He didn’t appear shot, but I’m not positive.” He faced her. “Macy?”

Their eyes met, and she fought the odd desire to throw herself against him and cry. That’s when she realized how dangerously close she was to depending on him. Depending on him emotionally.

“It’s
not
your fault,” he repeated. “You got that?”

Taking a deep breath, she watched the ambulance drive off.

“Stay here and I’ll find out about Mimms’s condition and come back and tell you.” Jake leaned over and kissed her forehead. “You going to be okay?” Tenderness filled his voice.

She glanced up to see the concern in his eyes. “Yeah.”

He moved in to kiss her again. Her hand shot out, but he smiled. “I’ve got a rain check.”

“I didn’t give you one.”

“I took it when you weren’t looking.” He touched her cheek. “Stay in the car. I can’t have you running around a crime scene.”

“But—”

“Macy…Please?”

She watched him get out and walk away. He went to talk to someone. Then, keeping his promise, he headed back to the car.

She opened the door to meet him, started to get out, but he pushed her back into the seat. “Mimms wasn’t shot, just hit with something from behind. He’s regained consciousness. They think he’s going to make it.”

“Thank God.” She let out a breath.

“I’ve got to finish up here. It could take a while. I’ll check on you in a bit.” He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. The tenderness in his touch made her heart ache.

“Is this really necessary?”

“What?” His hand lingered against her neck.

“My having to wait here. Can’t I just go home?”

He frowned. “I’ve seen what this guy does. I’m not going to let that happen to you. We’re going to be spending a lot of time together.” He studied her. “Am I such bad company?”

“No.” She wished she didn’t like his company at all. Or his kisses. “I don’t get it.”

A breeze sent his brown hair stirring. “Don’t get what?”

“Why you’re doing this. We’re not even friends.”

He leaned in until his breath touched hers. “We’re more than friends. We both know it.”

Her denial, like hope, sprang eternal. “I don’t know anything.”

He stared at her mouth and his lips tilted into a warm smile. “Really? Then why did you kiss me in the parking lot? Why is it that when I get close to you, I can see your pulse fluttering in your neck?” He put a finger to the spot and lowered his mouth to hers—not to kiss her, but just to whisper the words, “You
want
me, Macy Tucker, as much as I want you. Don’t fight it.”

“I’m a fighter by nature,” she replied.

He grinned. “That’s why I like you so much.”

Hal raised his hospital bed a few inches. “And bring my razor and aftershave when you come back,” he told his daughter, who shouldered her purse.

“Aftershave?” Melissa’s smile was so much like her mom’s that, seeing it, Hal always thought of Judy. “Why, Daddy? Are you trying to pick up one of the nurses?” There was teasing in her tone, but for the first time Hal wondered how Melissa would take it if he actually considered being with someone other than her mother.

Melissa’s grin widened. “Are you getting sweet on a nurse?”

His first inclination was to deny it, but he asked, “Would it bother you if I was?”

The teasing glint in his daughter’s eyes vanished. “I…Well, I…” She stepped closer.

“It would make you uncomfortable?” Hal’s chest grew hollow at the thought.

“No. I’m just shocked. Honestly, Mom wouldn’t want you to be lonely.”

Thinking of Judy, Hal wondered if he could do this. “I loved your mom more than—”

“I know.” Melissa smiled again. “However, you know the dating rules, right?”

“Dating rules?” He studied his daughter and missed his wife so much his throat tightened. Then, deep inside, he heard Judy’s words from his dream.
Go back and live, ol’ man.

“No dating anyone with tattoos or strange hair color. No French kissing—and she’d better not have ever seen the inside of a jail. Aren’t those the rules you made me live by?” She grinned. “Oh yeah. No piercings. You made me ditch a really hot guy because he had his ear pierced.”

“I really do like you.” Jake’s lips were so close that Macy could taste him.

She remembered his question.
Then why did you kiss me in the parking lot?
She answered with, “Temporary insanity. That’s why I kissed you
back
.”

Humor brightened his blue eyes. “It does kind of feel crazy, doesn’t it? But we’ll find the answers…together.”

“I’m not looking for answers. Believe it or not, I wasn’t looking for a romp in the hay when I kneed you in the privates. I don’t go around busting balls so guys will like me. As a matter of fact, it generally works just the opposite.”

Laughter rumbled from his chest. “Well, you make me laugh, Pizza Girl. And it’s been too long since I laughed.” He shook his head. “I’ll try to hurry.” He walked away.

Making him laugh was not necessarily a good thing, so why did she feel giddy? Why did his sexy smile make everything wrong in the world feel a little righter? She didn’t want this.

Okay, she
did
want it, but that’s where the temporary insanity came in. “Crap!” She had to put a stop to this.

Minutes passed with the speed of a three-legged turtle. She had nothing to do but worry—worry about Billy, about Ellie perhaps setting up her brother, about…that kiss.
You want me.
The memory of his dark voice kept tiptoeing through her mind.

She glanced out the window, antsy. Agent James, wearing a Gulf Coast Violent Offenders jacket, motioned Jake aside. She couldn’t hear either man, but the agent’s expression radiated anger. Had coming after her instead of staying with Agent Mimms gotten Jake into trouble?

If so, he didn’t look too nervous. The FBI agent finally jerked up his arms and stomped off.

Jake walked over to the edge of the garden, alone. The way he stood, shoulders squared, a tad defensive, told her more than anything he’d ever said to her. Detective Sergeant Jake Baldwin played life like some people played poker. He didn’t show his cards. Or his emotions. Sort of like her.

“You can’t fool me, Mr. Tough Guy,” she murmured.

Seeing his frown, she was tempted to go to him. But he studied his watch, started toward his car and toward her. Even his walk struck her as sexy.

He opened the driver side door and handed her his phone. “Here. It’s been forty minutes. Call your mom and tell her to wash her hair or do whatever it is she needs to do.”

Was he for real? “You remembered that?”

He shot her a charming smile. “I don’t want a purple-haired woman coming after me.”

He
was
for real. And she studied his eyes for the remnants of emotion he tried to hide. “You okay? Agent James looked mad.”

“I’m fine. Call your mom.”

Yup, he was fine—except he was getting harder and harder to push away.

Who was Ellie talking to?

Billy walked into the trailer. She wasn’t in the front room, so he followed the sound of her voice down the hall and stopped outside the bathroom. The door stood ajar.

“I’ll try,” he heard her say. “It’s hard. We’ll talk later.”

He pushed open the door. “Who were you talking to?”

She swung around. “You scared me.”

“Who were you talking to?” He frowned. “I’ve told you that you shouldn’t talk to—”

“I was talking to Mrs. Kelly, my patient at work. She wants me to come to Fred’s funeral.”

Billy shook his head. “You can’t go, Ellie.”

Her eyes grew bright, the way his mother’s did before she cried. “I told her I couldn’t promise, but it’s just…She really wants me to come.”

“You shouldn’t be talking to her. And going there last night was crazy. The cops are probably looking for you, too.” He shook his head. “I should have never gotten you into this.”

Anger sparked in her green eyes. “Fred was dying. I had to go. And don’t you dare say you shouldn’t have gotten me into this. I love you. How can you regret what we—?”

Andy called from the kitchen. “I’m going to work.”

“Do you need your phone?” Billy asked, and pulled Ellie against him.

“Nah, keep it tonight,” Andy said. “Watch after Spike.”

When the front door shut, the whole trailer shook. Ellie stayed where she was, her head pillowed on Billy’s shoulder. He buried his nose in her hair. She smelled like cotton candy, and something about having her this close made him feel stronger, important. He’d miss her more than he’d miss anything when he got back to prison, more than the outside air, more than having a dad. He’d miss her even more than his family. Ellie was…special. She didn’t make him feel bad about the mistakes he’d made, and at the same time she made him want to be a better man for her.

“I know you want to be there.” His words were whispered against her wispy blonde locks. “I just don’t want you to get into any trouble. If they caught you, even if you didn’t get into any trouble, they’d watch you. We wouldn’t be together anymore.”

She raised her face. “Then, don’t leave tonight. I’ll fix us some dinner and we’ll stay here.”

He hated disappointing her, but he had to deal with Tanks. To protect her and Mace.

“We’ve got the trailer to ourselves again,” she whispered. She brushed her hips against his.

“I have to go.” But he felt himself grow hard, wanting to be with her again. And again.

“Then let me come with you.”

“No.” He reached for her wrist to see her watch. “We got an hour.” He slid his hand under her shirt. Her nipple grew hard at his touch. “How many times do you think I can get you to come in an hour?”

She looked up with pleading in her eyes. “Don’t go tonight.”

He ached to give in, to give her anything she asked. He couldn’t. Instead of arguing, he kissed her and decided to make use of the time. Because, face it, time was running out.

Macy shifted in her seat, growing more and more impatient.
Wait here, leave your car there, let me kiss you.
Jake was super bossy, and she was getting tired of it. Fidgeting, she shifted in her seat and saw a receipt beside her shoe.

She picked it up and noticed where it was from. Home Depot. She read off the list of items: primer, glass, doorknob, caulk, caulk gun, doorknob.
Two
doorknobs? Had he replaced the back doorknob, too? She looked at the sum on the bottom and subtracted the money she’d already paid him for the front door lock, even if it was still sitting on her coffee table. That still left ninety-eight dollars. Wonderful! Lovely. With her rent due next week, it would be at least two weeks before she could pay him back. Then she recalled him telling her that she shouldn’t go to work, that Tanks knew all about Papa’s Pizza. That meant no tips, no money to pay rent. Panic swirled in her gut. Hadn’t Baldwin ever met anyone that lived from paycheck to paycheck? She had to work, didn’t she?

More edgy than ever, feeling almost claustrophobic, she practiced yoga breathing. “In. One, two, three…Out. One, two, and three. In. One…”

Turning, she eyed the backseat. A pillow? The heck with yoga—a nap sounded good. Hoisting herself up on her knees and bending over, she reached for it. But as she snatched at the pillow, a thick manila file dropped to the floor.

She might have ignored it, might have taken the pillow, napped, and forgotten all about snooping. Might have, if Billy’s mug shot hadn’t landed faceup on the floorboard behind the driver seat.

Hal stared at the hospital’s white walls. He’d refused another pain shot and turned on the news. Moore’s mug shot flashed across the screen. Hal let out a sigh of regret. The kid didn’t stand a chance.

The anchorman spoke into the camera. “Early this morning our reporters went out to visit the home of one of the escaped convicts.” The picture changed to one of a reporter standing in someone’s front yard. An elderly woman wearing a black T-shirt and biker shorts walked out.

“Are you Billy Moore’s mother? Could we have just a few words with you?”

The woman turned and faced the camera. “No comment,” she said. The focus on the screen went to her shirt, which read don’t ask.

“Have you heard from your son?” the reporter pressed.

The old lady frowned, and Hal felt a wave of sympathy. He blinked and looked closer at the screen. He recognized Mrs. Moore. She’d probably been out to the prison to see Billy.

“I said, ‘No comment.’ ” The woman pushed past.

The reporter dogged her tracks. “Just a few words?”

“I have words for you, but do you have your bleeper ready?”

Hal grinned. The camera shifted. Stepping out of the door was a purple-haired woman wearing…a candy striper’s uniform? Recognition hit. Faye!
His
Faye. His volunteer.

Jake watched Agent James pace beside the black sedan while CSI went over it a second time. “How could no one have seen anything? It happened in friggin’ daylight!”

Jake didn’t answer. Internally, he waged his own war with frustration.

James stopped pacing. “Nothing? You saw nothing?”

“I was in the garden.”

“You’re a damn cop, Baldwin, not a friggin’ farmer!”

Jake intentionally kept his expression blank. “I wasn’t aware I needed to babysit your guys while they did their job.” Even as he said the words, guilt knotted in his belly. It was a knot that wouldn’t go away until he made this right, until he personally slapped a pair of handcuffs on David Tanks. If he’d been more aware of what was going on, Agent Mimms wouldn’t be at the hospital.

Donaldson stepped forward. “Who would have guessed this idiot would try something in the middle of the day on a busy street?”

I should have.
The words zipped around Jake’s head at the same time Agent James spoke them.

“I should have!” Guilt echoed in the FBI agent’s tone. “Tanks is suspected of taking out one of our other guys. He has no boundaries. He’s one sick motherfucker. I should have known.”

And the sick fucker is after Macy.
Jake cut his gaze to his car and let Agent James simmer for a minute before asking, “You get anything else on Ellie Chandler?”

“Just that she turned her cell on for about forty seconds. Not long enough to get a location. We’re still working on it.”

Jake remembered the info he’d dug up on the Marilyn Monroe look-alike. Deceased parents. No siblings. No family. Raised by her grandma, who had died about a year ago. “Have you checked with her work again?” He’d read in the reports that they’d questioned her boss. “Talked to neighbors?”

“Got a man working it,” Agent James said.

But they weren’t getting anywhere. Jake decided he’d do his own checking. He
would
find David Tanks. First, because he wanted to stop the bastard from hurting Macy. Second, because when he screwed up, he always set out to make things right. He saw letting an officer of the law get hurt when he was within yelling distance as a major screwup. Nothing short of hauling David Tanks back to jail would make this right.

Macy crawled over the seat, picked up the file and photograph, then hoisted herself back. She stared at her brother’s mug shot. Maybe she saw him through rose-colored glasses, but this wasn’t the face of a criminal. Too much youthful innocence. She ran a finger over the image and tried to see his smile. All she could see was the frightened little boy who’d stood up for her against their father.
You’re not hurting my sister.
His long-ago words echoed in her head.

“Where are you, Billy?” As the first hot tear slid down her cheek, she opened the folder.

While snooping in Baldwin’s file wasn’t illegal, it wasn’t exactly ethical. She didn’t give a damn. This was about her brother.

The file wasn’t just about Billy. It contained information about David Tanks, Ellie Chandler, and the other escaped convict, and mug shots were included. Macy read everything. Then she reread Ellie’s information. Something felt amiss. But, what? What did she know about Ellie?

Too antsy to do much thinking, Macy found a pen and notepad in the glove box and took down names, phone numbers, and addresses. She didn’t know what she would do with the information, but one thing was for sure: she was tired of doing nothing.

Almost an hour after speaking to Agent James, Jake eased into his car so he wouldn’t wake Macy. She’d found the pillow he’d thrown in his backseat. Now, with it beneath one cheek, she slept cuddled against the passenger door.

Damn, but she was beautiful. He studied her profile. Her nose had a slight tilt, her thick lashes rested on the tender skin beneath her eyes, and her mouth…Her lips were full—not Julia Roberts full, but close.

Protectiveness, desire, and something softer filled his chest. That trio of emotions had propelled him to leave the scene to find her in the first place. When an officer was down, protecting him or her took top priority. While one patrol car had arrived before he’d taken off, he’d been the first on the scene, and his leaving had left the arriving officers in the lurch. James had reminded him of this. Jake’s captain would no doubt read him the riot act, too. He deserved it, and yet if the same situation happened again, he’d do the same thing. How had the petite brunette sleeping next to him become more important than his job?

As he sank deeper in his seat, the sun spilled into the car, making it warm but not too hot. Jake yawned. Running on less than four hours of sleep for the last two days, he needed a bit of shut-eye himself. Macy stirred, and his gaze veered to her again. What he wouldn’t give to take that nap with her in his arms after they reached exhaustion from making love a couple of times. He let himself enjoy the view—the way her breasts pushed against her shirt, the way…

Why was she so adamantly against them becoming something more? The answer shot back with clarity: the same damn reason he’d been celibate for two years. Her ex had hurt her. From the conversation he’d overheard between the two, Jake gathered Tom had run around on her. Some people didn’t know what they had until they’d lost it.

He remembered Tom showing up the other night, acting possessive. Jake would be damned if he’d let the man walk back into the picture now. What was that childhood saying? Losers weepers, finders keepers. He’d found Macy Tucker, and he planned on…

Keeping her?