Bulletproof Princess (23 page)

Phillips Arena was packed to the rafters, so he slid his truck into the ‘No Parking’ lane behind a battalion of police cars and dropped his FLETC placard in the window. He was still getting used to parking in the spots designated for the disabled, and preferred cop parking all day long. It wasn’t until he killed the engine and felt the rumble of the crowd’s roar through his feet that he really began to feel nervous. It had seemed like such a great plan the previous night over large quantities of alcohol, but now, as he got out of the car with his cane and badged his way into the building and backstage, he wasn’t quite so sure.

Mack had never been backstage for anything before, and was stunned at the amount of people bustling around doing things. Stagehands, musicians, wide-eyed and hyper fans with prominent credentials hanging from their necks as they gawked and sang along with the music, it was extremely loud, organized chaos. The conductor of which was a tiny brunette with a high ponytail, tight hot pink shirt, and a pair of jeans that were extremely complimentary to her assets. He recognized her instantly.

“Miss Mayfield,” he called over the roar of the music as he tapped her on her shoulder.

She turned around with a tablet in hand, eyes lighting up in recognition. “Inspector Jefferson! Good to see you.”

Even though he was no longer a member of WITSEC, he still looked around to see if anyone else had noticed him being called by name. “Good to see you as well, and please, call me Mack.”

A stagehand approached her with a guitar, and though he stood approximately three feet from her, he heard nothing. The stage went quiet, and he heard Cassie’s voice, his heart tripping over knowing he was close to seeing her in person. He stuffed his suddenly sweaty palms into the pockets of his jeans. She thanked her fans for a great show, a wonderful few days, and was generally just appreciative for the support and love they showed her. She was nothing if not grateful and humble, two things he truly loved about her. When she launched into her encore, a cover of a Rascal Flatts song he knew by heart, it damn near took out his knees.

The pain in her voice, the regret as she sang about being so close and having so much to say, only to watch someone walk away, it was like she was telling their story. He moved a little closer to the curtains so he could watch her and Betsy, sitting on a stool in front of a microphone in the halo of the spotlight, pouring her soul into every note. It was magical.

Mack jumped when he felt the soft hand on his arm. Trista blushed and gave him an embarrassed grin. “Sorry, you didn’t hear me.”

He rolled his shoulders and smiled back, trying to rein in his jitters. “I guess not.”

“I said I didn’t expect to see you. Your partner’s been around the last couple days, but she didn’t mention you were in town.” She turned to holler some stage direction at a passing hand before turning back to him.

“She’s not my partner anymore, and it’s been a little complicated.” He didn’t want to get into any of the finer points with anybody but Cass.

“I’m sorry to hear that, but I’m sure Cassie will be happy to see you.”

He wasn’t so sure of that, at all, given the way they’d left things. “Might be getting ahead of yourself there.” Anything else he had to say was drowned out by the rush of the band leaving the stage, the fangirls in an uproar, and the appearance of a pink-cheeked, thoroughly ebullient Cassie. He’d seen her like that before, but this definitely wasn’t the time. Her blue eyes locked on his as she departed the stage, and then she was swept up into the maelstrom.

The houselights went up with the flick of a switch, the stage lights down, and he was left alone, the whirlwind rush of people evaporated like they’d only existed in shadows, leaving him still standing just offstage and no one to direct anything. “Guess this was a damn stupid plan,” he muttered to himself. Feeling completely dejected, he wandered through the maze of hallways until he found the exit through which he’d come. He would have been out the door and on his way back to Savannah if a roadie who looked like he should have toured with The Dead with his long grey beard and tie-dyed shirt hadn’t stopped him with a note.

“Can you wait?”

For the rest of his life, willingly.
He nodded to the roadie and commandeered a chair an officer had been using by the back door. However long it took, he would be here for her.

* * *

Of all the things she’d expected to see when she’d walked off the stage, Mackenzie hadn’t even been on the list. She’d almost faltered and been swallowed up by the crush of people that always met her at her exit because she’d been so stunned. He was here, probably at Ange’s prompting, but here nonetheless. She didn’t even know how to process it.

Dealing with her fans had been pretty simple, and then she needed a quick shower and a change out of her sweaty stage attire. Normally she was just jeans and a t-shirt and maybe some high top Chucks, but now…she pawed through her stage wardrobe for something sexier. Everything she had on the rack was far too flamboyant, and she had been nothing but her real, authentic self with Mackenzie. She saw no reason to change that now, and threw on the peach camisole and her favorite soft grey cardigan over her jeans and canvas shoes. She only hoped he’d be waiting for her when she left. She’d sent Cap’n Jack out with her hastily scrawled note, and he hadn’t returned, probably had to finish packing up the show. Cassie had been so nervous, hell, she hoped it was legible enough to read, much less that he actually read it.

Walking through the arena, she looked out on the main floor. The stage was half-dismantled, the crew dwindled, and it was almost like she hadn’t even been there at all. It was the crash after the high, the fall after the pride. Like a shower and a change of clothes became her equivalent to Superman’s phone booth, from Cassie Witt back to Cassandra Whitfield.

Mack was leaning against the doorjamb talking to one of the cops who worked security for her when she was in town. She liked to meet everyone who helped bring her show together, to let them know they were appreciated. She had no delusions of grandeur, nor did she forget her own humble beginnings or those of her family. A little gratitude went a long way. When the uniformed cop saw her, he straightened up immediately.

“Miz Witt,” he said with a nervous grin as he touched the brim of his hat. He was a cute kid, maybe five years her junior, but he had a smile that turned all the girls’ heads.

She patted his arm, which made him blush furiously. “Hey, Bobby, I told you to call me Cassie.”

He ducked his head and bit his lip. “Sorry, ma’am.” As if he suddenly realized they weren’t alone, he gestured toward Mack. “This gentleman says you asked him to wait for you?”

She could hear in the way he asked that he hoped to the contrary, and smiled shyly at Mack before addressing Bobby, “I did. Thank you for keeping him company.”

“I didn’t mind the wait,” Mack offered genially.

His smile still made her melt a little, all the warmth and affection she felt for him flaring to life inside her again. “I’m sorry for keeping you.” She tucked a stray hair behind her ear, feeling her cheeks heat as she looked him over. From his coppery red hair to his black t-shirt that showed off his beautifully carved shoulders under his soft-looking black leather jacket and jeans. The silver star at his waist was visible, but not overly prominent. Very casual and low key, the only thing about him that told a different story were the boots. Shined and pretty, but definitely broken in, they were alligator and ostrich, and probably cost as much as her first car.

“No place I’d rather be,” he repeated softly, jade green eyes seemingly taking in her every inch.

As if he sensed the growing electricity between them, Bobby politely excused himself and left for his rounds. Their being alone together made the cavernous hallway seem as minuscule as a hall closet.

“So…” they both started at the same time, eliciting nervous chuckles.

He gestured that she should start and stood up straight, propped up by a sturdy-looking wooden cane, stained a deep brown with a scuffed steel tip. It almost disappeared in the shadows of the hallway, and she wouldn’t have noticed if Mackenzie hadn’t grimaced when he moved.

“Is that permanent?” she inquired softly, fully aware of her complicity in its presence and aching for it.

His shrug seemed nonchalant, but the set of his jaw said something else entirely. “For the time being.”

His voice was soft and not filled with the anger and recriminations she imagined he’d held for her. It was disconcerting to have her suppositions smashed by reality. “Do you need to sit?”

Rather than answer her directly, he held the door open. “Wanna get outta here?”

Cassie fired off a text to Trista and followed him to his truck. She noticed the gun under his jacket as he held the door for her to climb inside. A part of her wanted to ask right now, but didn’t want to set off an ‘awkward’ bomb in the close confines of the truck. She thanked him, and he went around to his side and hopped in next to her. “Last time this happened, we ended up in the middle of the desert on a mountain.”

He dropped his head with a broad grin and gunned the engine. “Yeah, only this time, we’ll just have dinner.” Out on the streets, he headed northbound through some of the more scenic parts of town.

The quiet of the truck was underscored by the soft music from the speakers. He’d changed the channel to the local country station and left it there, his silence speaking volumes.

After a show, silence seemed like a punishment of sorts, so she decided to fill it with conversation. “It was really great to see Ange. I’m glad she’s doing well.”

His eyes never left the road. “She is. I couldn’t be happier for her.”

“Are you in town for work or just to visit her?” Cassie tried to keep the question light, even if the curiosity that led her to ask it weighed almost as much as she did.

“I’m in town for you.” His succinct answer, without even the slightest hesitation, was both thrilling and somewhat terrifying.

“Oh.” Her brain couldn’t really form a response beyond that, whirling with potential outcomes for the evening.

They pulled into the restaurant parking lot, and he hobbled around to her side to retrieve her. Ever the gentleman, he even handed her down from the truck. The hostess did a double take when she saw them together, but didn’t mention anything as she briskly showed them to the elevator that led to the upstairs bar.

It was a relaxed atmosphere, which Cassie appreciated, and the encroaching night combined with a table at the far corner of the room preserved their privacy. Their waiter appeared with alacrity, bringing them their selections off the drink menu and some homemade BBQ chips with cheese and bacon. To her, it was heaven on a plate.

“I live in Savannah now,” he said as he sat back against one of the luxuriously thick leather cushions with his cane at his side.

She gaped at him for a moment before covering it with her drink. It was cool and tangy, and strong enough to strip paint, exactly what she needed in that moment. “So, you’re not a Marshal anymore?”

He shook his head as he munched on a chip dipped in blue cheese dressing. “Ange and I both got promoted.”

“Congratulations,” she murmured.

Mack nodded his thanks. “Appreciate it. Well, we weren’t really a good fit for the Arizona office anymore, as you can imagine. So Ange became the chief deputy out of the Atlanta office and I moved over to lead the firearms unit at the training academy.”

She could think of no one more worthy. Still, she said, “You loved your job, Mackenzie.” Cassie worried her lip as she stirred her drink to keep all of its flavors appropriately muddled when they hit her tongue. His whole life had been altered by the mere fact they’d met one night in Vegas. The guilt was almost stifling.

He sighed and scooted around the curved booth to be closer to her, his arm stretched across the top of the cushion. “I did, I do, but there were,” he looked down at his leg, his cane, before returning his gaze to her, “extenuating circumstances.”

The tears at his confirmation of her thoughts were unexpected, and her lips trembled as they slid down her cheeks to collect on the napkin in her lap. “I am so, so sorry.”

His hand slid from the cushion to her shoulder, his fingers winding through her hair as he pulled her closer. “Hey, Cass.” He waited until she looked at him, surprised to see his gentle smile. “It’s okay. Sometimes life has a way of changing when we least expect it. It doesn’t have to be for the bad.”

“Really?” How she wanted to believe him, moving closer and placing her hand on his knee.
God, she’d missed the feel of him, the smell of him, hell, just the sight of him
. If she’d heard him correctly, it sounded an awful lot like he was offering not just the forgiveness she’d craved and had yet to give herself, but perhaps even absolution.

Mack nodded, then bit his lip, looking distinctly less sure. “I came to see you to say I was wrong and I’m sorry.” His voice dropped to a whisper, and he held deathly still like he somehow feared any move he made would send her fleeing into the night.

“About? For? I don’t understand.” Cassie turned to face him more, her hand on his knee sliding up as she cupped his cheek. He closed his eyes as he turned his face into her touch.

When he opened his eyes, she could see the resolute determination in them. “Last time I saw you, you said something before you left.”