Full Force Fatherhood
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Mark was an impassive man. He didn’t know if that was what had made him such a good bodyguard— before the fire—or if it had been the other way around. Sure, like anyone, he had emotions. He felt things like the next man. It was his ability to mask those feelings, those shifts in conversation that surprised him, that he had mastered through the years. However, as the words left Kelli Crane’s mouth, once again he had to struggle to keep from gaping.
Not so much at their meaning. It was the implication behind them.
“I don’t understand,” he said honestly.
Kelli’s drink arrived, but she didn’t touch it. Her minivacation was apparently over.
“The story Victor was working on at the cabin—did you ever read it?”
“No.” Mark didn’t want to lie, but he also didn’t want to admit why he hadn’t. He’d tried before but even the headline had made his guilt expand. Reading the article was salt on the wound of not being able to save the man. If Kelli was offended, she didn’t show it.
“The Bowman Foundation, a charity, had been operating anonymously in Texas for a few years but decided to go public. Victor did an in-depth spotlight on them—what they had already accomplished, what they hoped to accomplish, that sort of thing.” She moved her hand to hover over her purse but paused before placing it back on the tabletop. “It was published a week after the funeral.” Her smile was weak at the word. “While I was packing—we’re moving to a new house— I found Victor’s journal with a copy of his notes about the story. Now I’ve read the published article over and over again. I’ve memorized every detail.”
“Okay...I’m not following.”
“The two don’t match up.” He could tell she was getting frustrated, but at what or whom, he wasn’t sure.
“The published story and the notes?” he asked.
Kelli nodded. “Names, not important in the grand scheme of the foundation.”
Mark took a drink of his beer. “So they got the facts wrong. What does this have to do with anything?”
Kelli’s fists balled slightly, a move that someone else might have missed entirely. Mark was suddenly aware of how aware he was of Kelli’s movements.
“I talked to the editor of the Scale. He says it was Victor who was wrong, but I don’t believe that. Victor was using that spotlight to show he was capable of writing more feature articles. He figured it would help him get local work so he wouldn’t have to travel as much when Grace came. He wouldn’t have made that many errors.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m still not following.”
When she continued, her voice was noticeably lower.
“I think Victor might have stumbled across something that he shouldn’t have...and was killed for it.”
* * *
MARK’S EYEBROWS STAYED STILL, and his lips remained in their detached frown, but Kelli saw a twinge of movement in his jaw. He was trying to pretend he didn’t have a reaction to her accusation, but she’d seen it clear as day. She thanked two years of people trying to hide their pity for the widowed mother. She’d seen that look so many times that she had learned to read when most people were trying to hide what they really felt.
Mark had a reaction, but she didn’t know what emotion was behind it.
“Do you have any evidence to back that up?” he asked, voice even. “Aside from the difference between notes.”
Kelli remembered Dennis Crawford’s sharp stare as his hand stayed firmly on the photocopies she’d brought to him.
“Have you ever had a gut feeling, Mark? One that starts out as a tiny doubt and then grows and grows until you can’t ignore it anymore?”
“Yes,” he admitted. “But having a gut feeling can only take you so far. What you’re trying to say is someone targeted and killed Victor. You need more than a gut feeling to back that up.”
“But aren’t you convinced that Darwin didn’t start that fire? What about the man you saw running from the cabin that night?”
Mark took a long second before he said, “Darwin admitted to it. Why would he do that if he didn’t actually start it?”
“Maybe he was put up to it. Maybe he was threatened. Maybe—”
“Kelli.” Mark’s jaw definitely hardened, along with his tone. She must have reacted, because just as quickly he softened. “It was an accident.”
“But you—”
Mark’s set his beer down hard. “I was wrong, Kelli.” The women next to them glanced over. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you with this.”
It was an unmistakable end to the conversation.
Just as the pity of strangers had taught Kelli to read subtle reactions, her daughter had taught her the face of stubborn resolve.
“Then I’m sorry to have wasted your time.” She pulled out some cash to cover her untouched beer. “Thanks again for meeting me. Good night.”
Mark looked like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t. Kelli left the table without a look back, not even pausing as she brushed shoulders with a man leaving the bar.
Her face was hot and the outside air did little to cool it down. The heat came from either embarrassment at not being believed, or anger for the same reason. Maybe a mixture of both. Or, maybe her emotion wasn’t even meant for the ex-bodyguard.
Kelli took a deep breath.
Seeking out the only person who ever suspected foul play, and to have even him turn you down...
She let the breath out.
You really are overreacting.
Kelli followed the sidewalk, passing back by one of the bar’s open windows. The farther away she walked, the more convinced she became that the whole conspiracy was in her head. Moving out of the only home she’d ever had with Victor while juggling work and Grace was a lot of stress to carry. She thought she’d been handling it well enough, especially with Lynn’s help, but maybe she hadn’t.
Time to put it behind you, Kel.
“Don’t make a noise.” The harsh command came beside her ear just as a sharp point dug into her shirt. A large hand grabbed her upper arm. Kelli’s stomach dropped as her heart began to gallop. Before she had time to decide if she was or wasn’t going to comply, the man yanked her into a nearby alley. It was empty. No one yelled after them. “Turn around and I cut you,” the voice growled. “Make one move or sound and I cut you. Got it?”
Kelli felt her head bob up and down. She was facing the brick wall of a business she couldn’t remember at the moment. Her mind filled with images of Grace. The thought of her child put a bit of spirit back into her, but not enough for her to be careless.
“Drop your purse,” the low voice ground out.
Kelli slowly raised the arm that he wasn’t holding and maneuvered the strap off her chest and shoulder. She tried to gauge the size of the knife, but her nerves were too frazzled. The purse was on the ground for less than a second before the man snatched it back up. She saw his black-gloved hand. It made the terror in her rise even more.
Instead of leaving, he applied more pressure with the knife. She winced but didn’t make a noise.
“There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” His breath brushed against her ear. It sent a chill up her spine.
“You have what you wanted,” she said, voice shaking.
The knife bit deeper. This time she let out a small yelp.
“Didn’t I say no talki—”
“I have a gun,” interrupted a cool voice from even farther behind her, definitely not her original attacker. “Hurt her and I’ll—”
Kelli was pushed into the wall as the man let go of her arm and struggled with the newcomer. Pain burst in her cheek as it scraped the brick. She didn’t pause to check it. She braced herself against the wall as she turned around.
Her attacker was a white man—she couldn’t guess an age well enough—dressed in all denim and black with a red baseball cap. He wasn’t tall but he was wide. In one hand he held her purse. The other was busy trying to fend off her savior.
Who just happened to be Mark Tranton.
“Give me the purse,” Mark commanded. His arm was cut, but he was holding a knife. Apparently having a gun had been a bluff.
The mugger eyed what used to be his weapon before darting to the left and out of the alley, taking the purse with him. For a large man, he was lithe.
“Are you okay?” Mark asked, eyes roaming her over.
“Yeah,” she breathed.
And then he was running.
Chapter Five
The man was fast. Like a jackrabbit, he cut across the road and disappeared into an alley opposite them with impressive speed. Mark was more of a hand-to-hand combat guy, but he held his own, only slowing down when a Mazda didn’t brake, apparently not worried about hitting pedestrians.
He chased the mugger through the network of alleys that connected two blocks. Dumpsters lined the sides and debris littered the ground, but the man used neither to try to block or slow Mark down. Instead, he ran full tilt. Which meant Mark wasn’t going to catch him unless he got creative.
His memory began to pull an aerial layout of the alleyways. The one they were running down had three turnoffs before forking into two paths. One went left into another busy downtown block, next to a chic restaurant that stayed open until midnight. The other torqued right between a Chinese take-out joint and a boutique. The way the man was running, he seemed set on a destination. He hadn’t hesitated when passing the first two turnoffs.
Mark didn’t, either.
He didn’t break speed as he skidded around into the first turnoff and ran the length of the short alley. It deposited him back onto a less busy sidewalk where businesses were darkened for the night. A few bystanders too drunk to drive and too broke to call a taxi dotted the sidewalks. Mark spun around a couple that stood and gawked at him. His breathing hitched at the extra movement, but he knew his body could handle the chase. He might not have been a bodyguard anymore, but he’d never stopped training.
The stretch of block ended, and he cut left around a closed café on the corner. Pumping his legs harder, he made it to the mouth of the alley.
It was empty.
“Dammit!”
Mark spun around, his eyes darting to all escape routes. There was no hurried motion on the sidewalks. None of the people milling around seemed alarmed. The mugger hadn’t come out of the alley. Mark had misjudged.
Or had he?
With the knife heavy in his hand, Mark reentered the alley. He kept his body loose, ready to move if the other man jumped out. But no one did. He paused, listening for another set of footsteps, before bending to pick up what had caught his eye.
It was Kelli’s purse.
* * *
BACKTRACKING THROUGH THE alley to the bar, Mark kept an eye out for security cameras or any obvious eyewitnesses who might have caught the face of the mugger. There were neither. He put the knife in his pocket as he neared the street; the bag was secured underneath his arm.
“Mark!” Kelli was standing outside the bar again with a manager he knew. The older man had a phone to his ear and nodded to Mark before retreating back into the business. Kelli waved him over. The obvious relief that painted her face at the sight of him made him uneasy.
“I think this belongs to you,” he said by way of greeting. Kelli took her purse, but her eyes stayed on his.
“Thank you.” The expression of relief turned to gratitude. Again, it made him uneasy. He nodded.
“Are you okay?” he motioned to her cheek. It was red, scraped, with a few spots of blood.
“Yeah. I’d rather have this than a cut from the knife.” She quieted.
“Did the manager call the cops?”
“Yes. When you took off, I ran back to call. I would have used my cell phone, but it’s in my purse.” That’s when she noticed the cut on his arm. He could feel its sting but knew it was harmless. “You’re hurt!”
“Don’t worry. It looks worse than it feels.”
“Hey, you get a good look at the guy?” The manager had come back out without the phone. Mark didn’t miss the bulge of a gun beneath his shirt.
“Not his face,” he admitted. “But I do know he was sitting at your bar.”
“He was in the bar?” Kelli asked, voice pitching high. The manager didn’t seem too thrilled, either. Even in the dim light from the street lamp, Mark could see his face redden in anger.
“He was sitting at the end closest to the corner. I remember seeing the back of his jacket. He got up as soon as you passed him, leaving. He seemed a little too interested, so I thought I’d check it out.” He looked at the manager. “He had a beer in his hand, so—”
“So we have him on camera. And maybe his card is on file, too,” the man finished. “A cop is on the way. He’ll want your statement, so you two stick around. A beer on the house for your troubles.”
“Thanks,” Kelli said, though she didn’t follow the man back inside. Her attention was on her purse.
“Hundreds of muggings a year and you have the luck of the draw to get one of them,” Mark said.
That pulled a snort from her. “Bad luck seems to follow me.”
Whether she meant it to be a pointed comment or an off-the-cuff response, it sobered him. Standing a few inches shorter than him, Kelli looked suddenly fragile. He had to remind himself she was the same woman who’d stood her ground and kept calm when a lowlife punk had a knife pulled on her.
“What did he take?” he asked, not wanting to think about what might have happened had he not followed them.
Her eyebrow arched. “Nothing,” she answered.
“What?”
She produced her wallet and phone.
“Okay, now that’s lucky right there!”
“Is it?” Kelli’s expression turned skeptical fast. “Why not take anything?” she asked. Opening her wallet, she showed him it was full of cash.
“I must have scared him off.”
“Or—”
Her thought was cut off as a police cruiser pulled up behind them. The officer got out, and Mark went to meet him. This definitely wasn’t how he’d anticipated the night going.
Twenty minutes later, Kelli was ready to go home. The officer took their statements and then went to look at the security footage with the manager. Mark wanted to go, too, but he couldn’t see the reason behind it. Kelli was safe and had her belongings back.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Mark asked as they got to her car. Sudden guilt riddled him. The first time he’d seen her since the fire and she’d been attacked.
“I’m fine,” she said with a kind, polite smile. “Thanks for everything, Mark.”
They didn’t say much more. Just the awkward goodbye two relative strangers exchanged without committing to seeing each other again. Mark watched as she drove away.
He was surprised at how the thought of never seeing her again struck a sour note.
Then, just as the feeling occurred, guilt followed it.
* * *
“I’M FINE.”
It was the second time Kelli had said it within the space of an hour, but this time it was to a very anxious Lynn. Her best friend was sprawled across the couch with a magazine open on her lap, and her eyes were saucers.
“Oh, my God, I can’t believe you got mugged!”
“Hey, quiet. My kid’s trying to sleep,” Kelli warned with a smile. Seeing Lynn so obviously upset was starting to make her calm crack. She was surprised she had even been able to recount the entire story before Lynn interrupted.
“I know she’s asleep,” Lynn said, dropping the volume of her voice. “I’m the one who put her there and read that annoying counting-sheep book to her. Can we just get rid of that thing, by the way? Maybe ‘misplace’ it? Say the Easter Bunny needed it to keep on hopping, or maybe Santa needed it to fight crime or something? I think I’ve read that to her at least a hundred times already.”
Kelli appreciated Lynn’s attempt to calm her with a change of subject. The knotted stress within her lessened. She kicked off her shoes and leaned back into the pillows.
“And risk a never-ending tantrum? No way. I’d rather read it every night than endure one night without it.”
Lynn seemed to reconsider her stance before returning to the topic at hand.
“I still can’t believe you got jumped.” Her face softened, lips turning down. “He could have really hurt you, Kel.”
“I know, but he didn’t.”
Lynn’s eyes slid to the scrape on her cheek. As Kelli had sat in the driveway outside the house, the light from the car mirror had shown her the small wound looked worse than it felt. Which is what Mark had said of his cut. Her thoughts switched to the man.
“I’m just glad Mark saw the guy follow me out,” she admitted out loud. “Do you know he didn’t even have a gun on him? The only weapon he had, he took from the guy.”
Lynn whistled. “He’s got my praise. So how was talking to the bodyguard after all this time? What did he want to talk to you about?” Out of all of the people who had ever stepped into Kelli’s life, Lynn was the one person she’d always confided in without hesitation. From the crush she’d had on Billy Ryan in third grade to that one thing Victor had done in bed, there had never been a wall between them.
Until Kelli had found Victor’s journal and started to investigate.
The urge to tell Lynn of her suspicions had been great, but something had stopped her. Whether that was fear of judgment or embarrassment at making something out of nothing, Kelli wasn’t sure. Regardless, the excuse she’d made to meet Mark had been a lie.
“It was good. Nothing too special, just catching up.” Another lie. Another shot of guilt. “But he’s no longer a bodyguard,” she added, needing a dose of truth to ease her conscience.
“What do you mean?”
“He quit last year.” Nikki had told her that when she had called looking for him.
“Why?”
Kelli shrugged, but she could bet why he’d quit security. She couldn’t ignore the way Nikki had sounded almost sad as she recounted the information.
Lynn switched subjects again. They talked about the latest episode of The Bachelor—which sidetracked them to the topic of Lynn’s new neighbor, who had a “smoking body” but “not so much personality.” Eventually both women’s eyes started to shut, so they said good-night.
“Don’t forget to let that kid of yours know who got sent home from my show,” Lynn said at the door.
“You let her watch it?” Kelli asked, ready to admonish her. Lynn kept walking away with a wave.
“Just tell her it was the guy with the silly shirt. She’ll know what I’m talking about.”
Kelli laughed and shut the door after Lynn was safe in her car. She bumped her hip against the door to make sure it was shut all the way, threw the deadbolt and turned off the porch light. The cold of the hardwood floor made her pause. Moving across town to be closer to Lynn—and in a more affordable place—was definitely a move she needed to make, but...
She placed her hand on the door. It was polished and perfect. It reminded her of Victor picking her up and walking her over the threshold when they first got back from their honeymoon. He had insisted, even though they’d been living together for months.
Memories like that made her heart heavy as she walked through the house.
Heavy with love.
Heavy with loss.
She dropped her hand from the door and let out a long breath. Just because she was leaving didn’t mean she was leaving the memories, too. With a weird ache tearing through her emotions, Kelli decided to go to the one place that often helped soothe the rising grief.
Since Grace’s bedroom was mostly boxed up, the toddler had been sharing the king-size bed with her mom. Though the bed never seemed big enough if Grace got into a good dream. Kelli stood in the doorway and watched as the fair-haired child slept peacefully, unaware of her mother’s tumultuous thoughts. The ache within her began to dissipate.
Without undressing, she climbed into bed next to the girl, wrapping her arms around her. Grace—a snuggler—burrowed closer to her.
You’re okay, Kel. You’ve got all you need right here.
But even as she drifted to sleep, letting go of the hectic night’s worries, Kelli couldn’t help but pinpoint the one fact that felt off about her night’s bad luck.
Why hadn’t the mugger taken anything?
In the haze between wakefulness and sleep, her thoughts went to Victor’s journal, hidden in a box in the kitchen.
Maybe he’d been looking for something more specific.
Chapter Six
Guilt hung heavy within Mark’s chest. Lying in bed, he couldn’t get the image of Kelli’s scraped cheek out of his head. What was it about the Cranes that nulled his ability to keep them safe? It was a question that had pushed itself to the front of his mind during his cab ride home the night before...and it had still been there when he awoke.
“Get it together, Tranton,” he scolded himself. “The past is the past.” But even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t true. The past had called him back to his favorite bar, asking him to avenge a man who died because of him.
The weather forecast was clear for today, but a storm was in the distance. He could smell the rain as he walked to his small balcony. Drought for months and then nothing but rain. Dallas was consistent with its weather inconsistency.
He moved through his apartment, trying to focus on anything other than last night. It wasn’t working.
“Have you ever had a gut feeling, Mr. Tranton?”
Yes.
That Darwin McGregor wasn’t behind the fire.
But he wasn’t in the business of trusting his gut. Not anymore. Not when it hadn’t even twinged at the cabin that night.
Mark skipped his morning gym session and went straight for the shower. He managed to wipe his mind of any thoughts of the past. So much so that when he got out and looked at himself in the mirror, he took a moment to shave. Jonathan Carmichael would have been proud. Every time they had worked together during their time at Redstone Solutions or the Orion Security Group, he had always commented on Mark’s five-o’clock shadow and lack of neatness. Facial hair hadn’t been a point of fixation for the ex-bodyguard, and that had driven Jonathan a little crazy.
“You look like you’re the one we’re protecting our client from.”
The memory made him snort.
And now I don’t protect anyone.
His hand paused midmotion.
Once he had shaved, he decided Jonathan would’ve approved—he did have to admit it made him look better. He was heading to the bedroom when a knock sounded at the apartment door.
Eyeing the buzzer on the kitchen wall, he quickly went through a list of people already in the building who would want to pay him a visit. He wasn’t pals with any of the tenants, but on occasion he would get asked to watch the game or go out drinking with Craig from the gym. As he walked to the door, towel around his waist, chest still bare, he marveled at the fact that he couldn’t even recall Craig’s last name.
Which was fine, since it was Kelli waiting at the door for him.
“Oh,” he said, opening the door wide from its original cracked position.
“Oh,” she repeated. Her eyes darted up and down his body. He pictured the pair of shorts and shirt on his bed that he probably should have put on before answering the door. “Sorry. Is this a bad time?” she asked, recovering. A slow pink had risen in her cheeks.
“No. I just got out of the shower.” He motioned to the towel that hung low on his hips, just in case the droplets of water across his bare skin and his wet hair weren’t enough proof to make his claim believable.
“Right. Um, could I maybe talk to you for a minute? I promise it won’t take long.”
Mark stepped back and waved her inside, cautious of how loose the towel felt as he moved. After everything they’d been through, he didn’t think flashing Kelli Crane was the best way to start a conversation.
“Make yourself comfortable. Let me go get dressed.”
Kelli nodded and took a seat on the couch, but only on the edge of it. She was uncomfortable, but why? Mark dressed in record time and sat in a chair across from the intriguing young woman, ready to find out.