Tears welled up, but she held his look as she whispered, “Our daughter.” A single tear trickled down her cheek and splashed onto the orange she gripped in her hands.
He didn’t know what to say, to do; he merely waited, watching her fingers pick at the fruit.
“I want—”
The anger responded, refusing to allow her an opportunity to use him again. “I could give a fuck about what you want right now, Lyssa.”
She faced his anger without flinching. “Ben said you’d be upset once—”
“Ben?” It felt like someone had sucked every last breath of air from the room. “He knew about—” It seemed useless to finish the thought. The guilt filling her eyes, the nervous way her fingers plucked at the bit of stem left on the orange—none of it appeased the heat filling his chest.
Turning away, he exited the kitchen and pulled his keys from his pocket. The scrape of her chair on the tile and the rapid footsteps signaled her following him, but it didn’t slow him on his way to the front door. The image of his daughter was still gently cupped in his hand.
“Mike, where are you going?”
He flexed his fingers around the doorknob, rattling his keys. “Away, Lyssa. I need to clear my head.”
“Please, why can’t you stay? Talk to me.”
She looked so scared and alone when he glanced over his shoulder at her. “Because as deeply as I love you, Lys, right this second I don’t like you very much.”
Lyssa felt numb. Standing there, she watched the door close behind Mike, heard the warning beeps from the alarm, and fought the urge to vomit. Her fingers trembled as she punched the keypad to enter the code and still the noise.
The sound of Mike’s truck driving away sapped what little energy she had left. The sobs she’d held in check broke free. Tears rolled down her cheeks, splashing onto her hands. Shaky, her knees threatening to give way beneath her, Lyssa stumbled back to the kitchen and collapsed onto a chair.
This was the best thing for him. For both of us. I know it is. Mike could never be happy with me. If he’d stayed, it would have ended his career. He needs to find someone his own age. He doesn’t need to be tied down by a baby and a woman he doesn’t want.
All the excuses she’d used for the last twelve years swam through her head, spinning around like hyperactive Ping-Pong balls in a tornado, bouncing here and there, never staying put.
“I need him back.” Her whisper was a bucket of ice water poured over fractious boys.
The excuses and rationalizations stopped, deflated, dwindling to nothing like balloons emptied of helium.
“I
need
him.” Three words, but not the right ones. She tried again, this time refusing to allow her fears and doubts to manifest reasons she should stay quiet. “I love him.”
A watery laugh slipped free as Lyssa stared at the brochures and calendar spread across the table before her. She’d finally achieved her goal. She’d driven Mike away. And this time he wasn’t coming back.
Pain set in, welling up to crush her heart. No amount of tears could fix this. Nothing she could say or do would be enough to ease the hurt she’d caused him. Gut-twisting, body-shaking sobs escaped her control. He’d put up with her denials and excuses for twelve years, and now that he’d finally given her what she’d thought she wanted, Lyssa realized it was all a lie.
All the things she’d used to keep him at arm’s length had really been shields to keep herself from admitting she’d always needed him but she couldn’t allow herself to have him. She’d kept herself protected, safe from harm, thinking she couldn’t risk being vulnerable to him, couldn’t trust him. Now, though, she knew that allowing herself to feel, allowing herself to trust Mike and the feelings he engendered was worth any risk. Unfortunately her realization had come too late.
* * *
He’d lost track of time after leaving Lyssa’s house. Until he’d entered the city limits of Ayerstown and the low fuel warning lamp flashed on his dashboard, Mike hadn’t realized how far he’d driven.
After filling the truck’s tank and the prescription Lyssa’s doctor had handed him earlier, the eighty-minute drive back to San Diablo was as much a blur as the drive away from Lyssa had been. Until he pulled into Lyssa’s driveway and turned off the truck, he’d honestly believed he could face her. Staring through the windshield at the light spilling through her living room curtains, he knew he was still to raw, too unsteady to see her.
The phone rang as Mike opened the door of his truck. Reaching beneath the seat, he pulled the secured cell from its pocket and flipped it open. “Hello.”
“Scarecrow, we have a situation.” The tension was palpable in Trent’s voice. It would have to be a dire emergency for Trent to call him.
“What.” His response was a request for information, not a question.
“LaTreace made contact ten days ago. Left a message about information she’d come across.”
“The information?” Was it possible LaTreace had been able to gather the intelligence that had eluded him and the team for the last five years?
“I don’t know. I set up a meet, and she never showed.”
The buzz of alarm that had bothered him since he’d recommended his friend for the job began blaring. “This isn’t good,” Mike muttered. “How long since she’s been out of contact?”
“Six days.”
“Six—Damn it, Trent, I told you to keep an eye on her. To keep her in the loop.” Mike cursed and smacked the steering wheel in frustration.
“I know, Mike. Listen, we really need you here. You know her better than any of us. If she went to ground, you’ll know where to look.” Trent paused, then added, “I hate to pull you off leave, but—”
“It’s good, Trent. Where do I pick up transport?”
“We’ll have a private jet to Dulles ready by six. From Dulles, you’ll pick up a commercial flight to Rome, first-class.”
“That gives me time to swing by my studio to grab my cameras and a change of clothes.”
“Thank you, Mike. We owe you.” Trent didn’t wait for a response before hanging up. Mike tucked the phone back in its spot.
He hesitated before his fingers twisted the key in the ignition.
On the seat next to him was the white paper bag with Lyssa’s prescription. Grabbing it, he left the motor running while he strode up to the house at the center of the cul-de-sac and pounded on the door. Not bothering with a greeting, he shoved the bag at Vance. “Tell her to take one every morning with her breakfast. Make sure she eats three times a day.”
“Where are you going, Mike? What about Lyssa?” Vance took the bag.
“I have to help a friend. She’s in trouble.”
The younger man’s fists clenched. “You’re leaving her again?”
Mike shook his head. “I’ve never left her. She’s the one running. I have a plane to catch. Make sure she takes her vitamins.” He could hear the curses Vance muttered as he jogged back to his truck and swung inside.
He backed down the drive, his mind torn between the woman he loved and the one he’d unwittingly put in danger. Danger he could handle. It was simple and straightforward—make a mistake and you’re dead. Wrestling with the heartache Lyssa represented—that was more than he wanted to deal with right now. Ben and Vance would keep her safe for him.
LaTreace had only him to look for her, but something warned him the search wouldn’t take long. Despite all his hopes, Mike’s instincts told him no matter how fast or far they looked, the only thing they’d recover was another body.
* * *
“Lyssa!”
Vance sounded concerned as the front door closed behind him. “In here, Vance,” Lyssa called out, unsure what she was going to do next. After realizing just how badly she’d screwed up, she’d taken the time to throw out every brochure and pamphlet for fertility clinics she’d had in the house, starting with the ones spread across the table. Too tired to move, let alone think, she’d resumed her seat and spent most of the evening at the kitchen table. Her eyes burned, and the back of her neck and shoulders ached from hunching over for so many hours.
Moving hadn’t been an option. She needed to see Mike. He deserved to have her waiting when he returned. By not telling him about their baby when he’d first asked, she’d denied him an opportunity to grieve. At a time when he’d felt proudest, she’d exposed him to a loss she found still affected her. And she’d finally figured out that as much as she’d plotted and planned, hoping to get pregnant, she wanted Mike more. She loved him. Deeply and passionately loved him, and he deserved to hear that from her.
“God, hon, you look as bad as Mike.” Vance eased onto the chair beside her.
Lyssa picked at the mess of pulp and peel that covered the plate in front of her. “Is he okay? I saw him drive off. I thought I heard him return a few minutes ago, but he never came inside.”
“About as all right as he’s gonna be for now.” Vance eased the plate away from her.
That made Lyssa’s heart pound faster against her ribs. “He’s not hurt, is he?”
“No. He’s just upset,” he assured her. Rising, he carried the plate to the sink.
Lyssa kept her attention on scraping the bits of rind from beneath her fingernails while the water and garbage disposal ran in the sink. “I wanted to talk to him, but—”
Vance returned to her side to clean the sticky juice from her hands with the damp washcloth he carried. “Darlin’, you should have talked to him weeks ago. Hell, years ago.”
“I know, but I just couldn’t.” She raised her gaze to meet his. “Did he tell you about the baby?”
Vance shook his head, but he smiled. “Congratulations, sweetheart.”
“Did he say—”
“He didn’t have much to say.”
Lyssa grimaced. She laid her folded arms on the table and propped her chin on them. “He left, didn’t he?”
“Yeah, hon. He did.”
“I’m afraid,” Lyssa whispered.
“Afraid of what?”
“He won’t come back. He won’t want me anymore.”
Vance settled one of his arms around her and squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. “That’s foolish talk, Lys. Mike loves and adores you. He’ll be back.”
“Not after this, Vance.” Lyssa shook her head. “You didn’t see his face, didn’t hear his voice.” She rubbed trembling fingers against her aching eyes. “I don’t know if I can do it.”
“Do what, babe?”
“Be alone again. I don’t know if I even want to try.”
“You’ve been sitting here all night, haven’t you?”
Lyssa nodded.
“You should sleep. It’s not good for you, and it’s definitely not good for the baby.” Vance stayed quiet a moment before settling his arm around her waist. “You’ll feel better once you get some rest.” His fingers traced the heavy circles under her eyes from her sleepless night. “Let’s get you to bed.”
There was no energy in her for argument as Vance maneuvered her out of the kitchen and down the hall to the master bedroom. He waited while she stumbled into the bathroom to change out of her clothes and into her pajamas, then helped her climb into the bed.
“You don’t have to stay with me, Vance,” she assured him. “I’ll be fine on my own until—”
“He’ll be home, Lys. Don’t you worry about it.”
“Thanks.” She squeezed the hand holding hers before closing her eyes to try to rest.
Chapter Sixteen
The pounding on the front door pulled Lyssa away from the outfit she’d just begun to construct. She would have ignored it, but the sound of her sister’s voice drew Lyssa out of the room and down the hall. A very irritated-looking Mattie glared at her when Lyssa opened the door, while her three-year-old niece Maggie grinned up at her.
“Lyssa Briann Lawrence, you better tell me what the”—Mattie clamped her hands over her daughter’s ears—“hell is going on here.”
Lyssa found it impossible to stifle her laughter when she looked down at Maggie to see the child rolling her eyes at her mother’s attempt to keep her from hearing the curse. “Would you like some juice or tea, Mat?” She motioned her sister and niece inside before shutting the door.
“I’d rather have some answers, sister dear,” Mattie grumbled.
“Hi, Aunt Lys. I told Mama it was girls-only day.” Maggie grinned as she moved to hug her aunt. Her arms wrapped around Lyssa’s hips.
“Hello, Maggie.” She squeezed her back. She forced herself not to hold the little girl too tight. Until Mike had left, she’d never realized how much she could crave simple human contact.
“Honey, Mama wants to talk to Aunt Lyssa. Can you go find your toys?”
The sigh was too grown-up a sound for a three-year-old to make, but that was one of the things about Maggie: she always seemed years ahead of her age. “Okay, Mama.” Before releasing Lyssa, Maggie pressed a loud kiss to her stomach. “Bye, baby.” Looking up at her aunt, she added, “No gettin’ sick, Aunt Lys.”
Leaning down, Lyssa pressed a soft kiss to Maggie’s chocolate curls. “I promise, Maggie.”
Maggie grinned at her and whispered, “Told you the black dragon had the baby.”
The wisdom in the little girl’s gaze sent a ripple of apprehension through Lyssa. She stifled the urge to move her hand to the barely visible curve beneath her blouse as she watched Maggie head toward the living room.
“Don’t mind the baby comment, sis. Maggie has been doing that since before I started to show.” Mattie rubbed her hand over her own pregnant belly.
Lyssa stayed quiet. She hadn’t announced her pregnancy to anyone beyond Mike, Ben, and Vance, mainly because she wanted Mike by her side when they told their family.
That is if he came back. Considering he’d been quiet—no e-mails, no text messages, and only one ninety-second phone call—in the last three weeks, what little hope she had in his forgiving her and returning was wearing thin.
“Tea?” she offered as she led her sister into the kitchen.
“Yes, please.” Mattie eased into one of the chairs surrounding the kitchen table.
With the kettle on the stove, Lyssa leaned on the counter nearby, waiting for the signal to pour the steaming water into the prepared teapot.
“So spill,” Mattie demanded, her elbows braced on the table, her dark brown gaze focused on Lyssa.
“Spill what?”
Mattie pulled several gossip magazines from her bag and spread them over the table.