Part 28 (1/2)

The fear she felt for Michael was paralyzing. She let it claim her soul, but only for a moment. She needed to remember what it felt like. She'd become too soft, too complacent. She needed to feed from that fear.

Maggie wiped away the tears that had gathered in the corners of her eyes and walked rapidly toward the bus stop. She checked her emotions and froze them in place, her body going into battle mode in much the same way it had when she fled Savannah a year earlier.

Minutes later she hopped the bus, kept her head low, and sank into the seat just behind the driver. They pulled away from the curb as her cell phone chimed once more. She grabbed it and saw Cain's number, and her heart s.h.i.+fted, the pain so intense, a whimper escaped from her lips. Everything had changed in less time than it took to wash her kitchen floor.

But had she really expected the fantasy to last? She'd played with fire, and only a fool would believe the burn wouldn't hurt.

Maggie threw her cell back into her bag without answering.

She couldn't worry about Cain. He was a big boy.

She'd worry about herself later too. At the moment her only concern was Michael.

On second thought, she reached for her phone and hit speed dial. Raine answered before the second ring. ”Maggie?”

”I need you to do a favor.”

”Where are you?”

”I'm on my way home. Can you do something for me?”

”Maggie, of course, anything.”

”Cain has Michael. Can you get him and bring him home?”

”But Maggie, you need to talk to Cain.”

”I need for my son to be home. Can you get him or no?” She was abrupt and didn't care.

Raine sighed. ”I'm heading out of the parking lot from the Super Saver now and will swing by the football field.”

Maggie tossed her cell into her bag and stared out the window. In the distance dark gray clouds were blowing in. Angry clouds filled with menace. How appropriate.

The train had just derailed, and there was no doubt in her mind. She was about to get run over.

Chapter 29.

Cain saw Maggie about a minute before she realized he was there. He'd parked in the driveway but had spent the last five minutes pacing up and down her porch, trying to get rid of the nervous energy that hung low in his gut.

She moved up the street, her steps quick, her head bowed. A large bag hung off her shoulder, and she was hunched forward as if trying to ward off something.

He cursed, p.i.s.sed at himself. He'd let his guard down. A lame-a.s.s move, and now she was going to pay for it.

Maggie glanced up then, and he clenched his hands at the look in her eyes. It was back. The deer-in-headlights thing was back, and it was his fault.

”Where's Michael?” A hint of panic rolled beneath her words. Her Southern accent was much more p.r.o.nounced, and she couldn't hide her fear.

”Jake took him back to the lake, but Raine knows he's there. She called me.”

Maggie blew out a shaky breath, and her expression changed. It wasn't so much that her features physically moved. It was subtle, like a shadow creeping across her eyes. She squared her shoulders and marched up her narrow walkway, shoved her way past him, and unlocked her front door. She slipped inside, and he followed, wis.h.i.+ng she'd at least yell. Throw something. Do something.

The silent treatment left him uneasy.

She let her bag fall to the ground, and a copy of Hollywood Scene slipped out. He stared at the cover, wincing again at the bold headline.

”Maggie, I'm so sorry. I don't know what to say. I had no idea there were paparazzi in town. h.e.l.l, why would I? They've never followed me before unless Natasha was around.”

She walked into her kitchen without a word, and again he followed. Two winegla.s.ses were pulled down from her cupboard, and she filled them with some merlot left over from a few nights back.

She treated herself to a generous gulp and moved away from the sink, leaving his gla.s.s behind. The unease in his chest tightened, gripped him in a band of tension that made it difficult to breathe. His eyes followed her as she slipped out the back door and disappeared into her yard.

Still without uttering a single word.

Cain grabbed his gla.s.s and downed the entire thing. He traced her footsteps down the stairs until he stood a few feet from her.

Overhead the gray clouds that had blown in earlier filled the sky, and he thought that maybe he'd felt a big raindrop. Maggie sipped her wine and leaned against the railing that led from the small deck down to the gra.s.s. She looked small, vulnerable, and he wanted nothing more than to hold her, just like he had the night before.

He felt like the biggest a.s.s ever. Bringing this load of c.r.a.p down onto her world.

Ignoring him, she walked to the back fence, her hands trailing along the yellow honeysuckle as she wandered toward the small waterfall in the corner.

”Maggie, I-”

She shook her head, held her hand up, and with the flick of her wrist he was silent. Cain watched her, hating the hopeless rush of emotion he felt. But he respected her parameters and hung back.

She slowly undid the clip atop her head, and a silken wash of crimson fell over her fingers as she gently shook out her hair. The wind had picked up, and he watched transfixed as her long tangles floated on the breeze.

She wandered over to the other side of the yard and stopped midway between the back fence and her house. She bent down and picked up something and then she froze.

Cain moved forward until he was able to see what she held-a cigarette b.u.t.t. He frowned and watched her carefully.

”He stood right here,” she said, her face tight. ”And I never knew.”

Cain followed her line of vision and cursed as he stared at the dark patch of window that belonged to her bedroom. She was talking about the dirtbag photographer.

”Maggie, I'll sue the b.a.s.t.a.r.d.”

”What's the point in that? The damage is done. I'm just trying to understand what kind of person would sneak into someone's backyard and take pictures of them through their window.” She hugged her arms around her body and shuddered. ”It's invasive, perverted, and just...wrong.”

”You'd be surprised.”

She turned then, her eyes angry, their blue depths as dark as the clouds above them. ”I don't want to be surprised. I have a little boy to look out for, remember? Being surprised isn't a good thing.”

”Maggie, I know what you're thinking.”

She shook her head and laughed, a short, harsh sound that didn't belong on her lips. ”You have no idea what I'm thinking. Trust me.”