Safe Harbor (17 page)

“You were my responsibility and I
wanted
to be the one taking care of you. Then, after you got back up on your feet—” she shrugged “—I just wanted to spend time with you—and who knows how much time I have to do that? Running isn’t going anywhere,” she added glibly. “I can always pick it up.”

And I am going somewhere.

He couldn’t tell but there was something about Stevi’s eyes, eyes he’d initially thought seemed so unworldly-looking and innocent, eyes that told him she saw beyond his words.

She was a great deal wiser than he’d given her credit for.

Mike cupped her cheek before he realized what he was doing. But there was something within him that was prompting him, whispering that his window of opportunity would be closed soon and then he wouldn’t be able to look at her like this, wouldn’t be able to touch her and inhale the scent of her skin, of her hair. Wouldn’t be able to enjoy the sensations that proved he wasn’t as dead as he believed himself to be.

But still, he couldn’t lead her on, couldn’t allow Stevi to feel that he was someone she could count on, not even to be there for another day, much less be there forever.

“I’m not any good for you, Stevi.” The words felt rough, dry against his tongue as he uttered them.

Rather than meekly withdraw, she took exception to what he told her.

“I’m old enough to make up my own mind about that,” Stevi replied. “And I think, despite everything you might think about yourself, that you
are
a good man. Deep down inside, where it counts, you’re a good man,” she repeated with feeling.

“You can’t say that,” he told her, agonizing over the decision he had to make. Agonizing over leaving her. “You don’t know me.”

“Oh, I know you better than you think, Mike Ryan,” she insisted. “For instance, I know that right now, you want to kiss me, but you won’t because you don’t think it’s fair to me.”

Her laugh was soft, sweet. Stirring.

“What you don’t realize is that it’s your
not
kissing me that isn’t fair to me. Because I want you to kiss me. I want you to kiss me very much.”

Because he knew in his heart that it would be the last time that any of this could happen, Mike brought his lips down to hers and kissed her.

He was kissing her goodbye.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

B
ECAUSE
HE
’
D
LEARNED
to live by his instincts, Mike had never been one to ignore a gut feeling.

Right now, although he didn’t want to admit it, much less listen to it, his gut was telling him he was playing with fire. That staying here at the inn for another day, for even another hour, was nothing short of asking for trouble.

Whatever supply of good luck he had ever had, he’d used up just by surviving to this point. Being allowed to be part of Stevi’s life and around her family went beyond being icing on the cake. It was a gift.

But if he hung around longer, Mike had a strong feeling he would regret it. Not because staying here would change him—it already had to an extent—but because staying here would just possibly change
them,
the people he had grown to care about. If something did happen to any of them because he was here, he wouldn’t be able to live with the guilt.

So, in the tradition of the “better safe than sorry” school of thought, Mike knew he had to go.

Go without saying anything because if he did, if he sought Stevi out to tell her goodbye, something told him that he wouldn’t be able to go. He just wouldn’t be able to reach the door. The look in her eyes would hold him in place, especially since he really didn’t want to leave.

It seemed ironic. For the first time in his life, he felt as if he had found a home. And to keep that home intact, he had to leave it.

But he couldn’t go without at least leaving Stevi a note. Otherwise, she might think something had happened to him and she’d go out looking for him. That was the kind of person she was. She had to be informed that he was leaving and wouldn’t be back.

So, with a sadness that felt heavier than any other emotion he’d ever felt before, Mike took out the pad and pen from Stevi’s desk drawer and he began to write.

Wishing with all his heart that he didn’t have to.

* * *

R
ICHARD
GLANCED
UP
from his desk when he heard the knock on his office door. Before he could say a word in response, the door opened.

A feeling of déjà vu washed over the owner of the inn.

“Twice in two days, Larry. The law enforcement business that slow these days?”

The police officer strode in. Unlike the day before, Crenshaw walked into the office with purpose rather than just strolling in. Richard’s smile was tight, forced, as the policeman looked at him.

“Actually, the exact opposite is true,” Crenshaw said. “I’m here officially, Richard.”

Richard took off his reading glasses and looked more closely at the other man. “That sounds ominous. Should I be worried?”

Instead of laughing the question off, Crenshaw appeared to be regarding it seriously. The expression on his face was somber.

“That depends,” Crenshaw said as he stood in front of the desk. Reaching into his uniform breast pocket, he extracted a copy he’d made of a photograph and placed it, facing Richard, on the desk. “Have you seen this man?”

Richard found himself looking down at a slightly blurred photograph of Mike Ryan. For just a second, his breath backed up in his lungs. The next moment, he was breathing regularly again.

“What’s he done?” he asked quietly, still regarding the photograph closely, as if he was studying it.

“He’s a drug dealer.” Crenshaw left the photograph on the desk, as if he thought that the longer it was viewed, the more likely a connection would be remembered. “Might actually be high up in the organization chain of command.” Crenshaw raised his eyes to study Richard carefully. “Word has it he was spotted around here, at the inn. Know anything about that, Richard?” he asked very deliberately.

Richard raised his eyes from the photograph and looked at the man he had known, marginally, for most of his life. There was something in Crenshaw’s voice that made him feel uneasy. But not uneasy enough to blurt out what he had a feeling Crenshaw was waiting to hear.

“Can’t say I do.” He pushed the photograph back toward the police officer. “I haven’t seen him.”

* * *

S
TEVI
COULDN
’
T
FIND
him anywhere, either on the premises or on the inn’s grounds. He wasn’t working on the decorations, wasn’t in his room or in any of the common areas.

She didn’t know why, but that made her uneasy, like someone on the verge of an anxiety attack—although she really didn’t know what that felt like since she’d never had one before.

She supposed she was just being paranoid. After all, it wasn’t as if the inn comprised only a few rooms, the way it had when it first opened its doors over a hundred and twenty years ago. Thanks to a number of expansions over the years, the inn had more than thirty-one rooms and two common areas.

Granted, Mike wouldn’t have been in most of the rooms because those were for the guests and blessedly, this time of the year, the inn was operating at maximum capacity.

They could play hide-and-seek for the rest of the day without their paths ever crossing.

She sighed. It was a daunting thought. However, because she believed in beginning at the beginning, Stevi headed to her room, which was still
his
room at this point as far as she was concerned.

Reaching the room for a second time in less than an hour, Stevi knocked hard, then used the side of her fist to bang harder.

Nothing.

Maybe he just wasn’t answering the door, she thought, frustrated.

At least she could satisfy herself with eliminating the room as a possible location for Mike. That way she could go on to look for him elsewhere.

Methodically.

It was as good a plan as any.

Taking out her key, Stevi inserted it in the lock, took a deep breath and then turned it very slowly, giving Mike, if he
was
there, ample time.

“I’m coming in, Mike,” she announced loudly—and found herself talking to no one.

He wasn’t there.

“Drat,” Stevi murmured under her breath.
Where was he?

Turning to leave again, she noticed something on top of the covers on the bed. Drawing closer, she realized that what she was looking at was a note.

Her heart stopped.

Anticipating the worst, she felt tears pooling in her eyes as she picked it up. She almost couldn’t bear to read it, but she knew she had to. The sooner she forced herself to read it, the sooner she could decide what to do.

“I’m sorry,” the note read. “It’s better this way. Thanks for everything. You were great. Mike.”

A wealth of emotions swirled around inside of her, colliding with a fierce amount of energy. It occurred to such a degree that she felt as if she was all but paralyzed.

And then, exercising an extreme amount of disciplined self-control, Stevi managed to snap out of it.

She was not going to accept this lying down. If for no other reason than to discount his stupid comment that his leaving was “better” this way.

Better for whom?

Certainly not for her—and not for him if even half of what he’d told her was true.

Stevi looked down at the note and realized she was crumpling it. She smoothed out the page, forbidding herself to cry.

She needed help.

The first person she thought of, now that she believed Mike had taken off, was her father. She had faith in him. He’d know what to do. And if he didn’t, then he’d know someone who would know.

Stevi ran out of her room, not bothering to close the door.

* * *

“W
RONG
ANSWER
, R
ICHARD
,”
Crenshaw informed him dourly when he continued to disavow any knowledge of the man in the photograph. “I know for certain that not only is this guy staying here at the hotel, but you’ve taken him in the way you had those other losers who came to you, down on their luck.”

“They’re not losers,” Richard said, taking offense for the people who weren’t there.

The laugh was short and contemptuous as Crenshaw continued, “I always told you that taking in strays like that would come back to bite you someday. Well, this is someday, Richard. Unless you’ve changed your mind and can tell me where he is.” Crenshaw’s tone was low and menacing.

Richard was completely unfazed by the threat that the officer posed. “I don’t put tracking devices on my people, Larry. They come and go as they please, whenever they want.”

The police officer’s fair complexion was turning an angry shade of red. “Another wrong answer. You’re going to make me do something I don’t want to do, Richard,” he said, taking out his service pistol and pointing it at him.

“Put that away, Larry! You can’t aim that thing at me—are you crazy?”

“Perhaps. This guy worth hurting someone over?” Crenshaw asked, his tone malevolent. “Your family, for instance? You really want to make me do this Richard? You’ll regret it more than I will.”

“You’re really threatening me, aren’t you?” Richard asked incredulously, hardly able to believe his own ears. He rose from behind his desk. “What’s gotten into you, Larry?” he asked, his voice deep with anger.

The other man narrowed his dark brown eyes. “Don’t patronize me, Richard. Everything’s always gone your way but not everybody’s got this Norman Rockwell life you cling to,” Crenshaw said, making no attempt to hide his contempt. “Some of us live in the real world. Now,
where is he?
Tell me! I know you know.”

“But I don’t,” Richard answered.

The next moment, Richard stumbled backward from the force of the punch the other man had delivered across his face.

Crenshaw pointed his weapon at him. “Want to try again?”

Just then, without pausing to knock, Stevi pushed open the door and hurried in.

“Dad, I have to talk to you, it’s about Mike—”

Stevi came to a skidding halt when she saw the other man and the weapon he had in his hand. Her heart stopped when she saw her father’s expression.

“What are you doing?” she demanded of the police officer at the same time that her father shouted a warning.

“Stevi, get out of here!” Richard ordered, but it was too late.

Crenshaw had already grabbed her by the arm and yanked her in. He kicked the door shut.

* * *

H
E
HADN
’
T
SEEN
very much when the door was opened, but what he had seen had made a huge impression on Ricky. Grandpa looked really upset and Aunt Stevi had cried out when that man he didn’t like grabbed her and pulled her in.

He’d jumped when the door slammed.

Ricky thought of going in to help, to save his grandpa, but despite his bravery, he knew he was too little. He could bite the man, but maybe the man would shoot Grandpa or Aunt Stevi to get even.

He needed a grown-up.

Somebody who would listen to him.

Ricky ran to get his mother.

* * *

M
IKE
SHOVED
HIS
hands into his pockets. His right hand came in contact with something. Taking it out, he found himself staring down at the seashell Stevi had given him that night they’d walked along the beach.

His fingers curled around it. Mike blew out a breath and stopped walking.

He was taking the coward’s way out.

And though he knew in his heart that this was the right thing to do, that disappearing out of their lives was for the best, he still couldn’t force himself to do it.

Not because his life would be barren. He’d already resigned himself to that.

But he couldn’t leave without at least warning them about Crenshaw, not when the man seemed to make a habit, according to Stevi, of turning up in Richard’s life from time to time.

It wasn’t just a hunch, he knew for a fact that the police officer was dangerous, that he was involved in the cartel’s drug trade.

If he told Richard, the man would know what to do to protect himself and his family. For all he knew, the owner of the inn had contact with other police officials, honest officials, who could arrest Crenshaw or, at the very least, investigate him.

He couldn’t leave without ensuring that the people he’d come to care about were safe.

Making up his mind, Mike slipped the seashell back into his pocket, turned around and began to head back to the inn, quickening his pace.

He was no longer just walking away, he was heading back with a purpose.

Mike had just walked in through the entrance and taken less than half a dozen steps toward the reception area when Ricky flew into him, all arms and legs and panic.

Mike anchored him in place by putting one hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Hold on there, little guy, who’s chasing you?”

Breathless, Ricky gulping in air, his words came out almost disjointed. “Nobody...but he’s...gonna...hurt Grandpa...and...Aunt...Stevi.”

Mike froze. “Who’s going to hurt them?” He collected himself and dropped to one knee to be at the boy’s level. “What did you see?”

Still taking shallow breaths, Ricky spat out, “Aunt Stevi knocked on Grandpa’s door and she walked in and the man grabbed her!”

It was hard for him not to shake the words out of the boy. Mike struggled for control as he asked Ricky, “What man?”

Taking another deep breath, Ricky managed to stop gasping. “The boring one. The one Grandpa was talking to yesterday. He’s there in Grandpa’s office. He’s got a gun.”

Mike was trying very hard to make sense of what the boy was saying. Icy fear scraped along his spine. He tried to tell himself that maybe the boy was mistaken. “That’s because he’s a police officer,” he told the boy, trying his best to get Ricky to calm down. “They have guns on their belts.”

But even as he said it, Mike knew the situation was a dire one. Exactly what he had feared was coming to pass.

“No.” Ricky shook his head, swinging it from side to side, his hair flying half a beat later. “He was holding it,” Ricky cried, his terror growing. “Pointing it at Grandpa!”