Facing It (2 page)

Oh, she couldn’t wait. Clutching her mug, she took one chair and he waited for her to sit before he sank into the other. Silence dragged between them and she sipped at her coffee, the rich liquid doing little to settle her nerves. She laughed, a short, humorless sound. “God, Tick, I don’t know where to start.”

“The beginning?”

At this gentle prompting, she laughed again. “Do you have all night?”

“I have however long you need.”

She pressed her fingers against her brow. “I’ve made such a mess of things. Stephen…I thought he was a great catch, a good man, and he’s not. He’s…”

How to tell her brother she’d married a crook and a monster?

“Ruthie?” Tick covered her knee, his touch strong and warm. “Does he hurt you?”

“Not physically.” She lifted her head. “That’s not his thing. He…controls me. Where I go, who I see, what I do. And the children too. I don’t want that for them, Tick, I don’t. I want them to have what I had, what we had…” Her voice broke and she swallowed against the tightness in her throat. “Verbally, he’s vicious when he’s angry, when things don’t go the way he likes. I’ve been planning to leave for a while, but I needed a plan and an opportunity, and I wasn’t sure where to go, what to do… I’m sorry for showing up like this, dumping this all on you—”

“No, don’t be sorry.” His voice hardened. “Don’t you dare be sorry, Ruthie. Holy hell, I should be apologizing to you, for not—”

“Don’t.” She knew what he was thinking. “It’s not your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault but mine. And Stephen’s, for being the absolute monster he is. But I need your help now, Tick.”

“Anything.”

“Don’t say that yet. You don’t know what I want.” She looked at her brother, who’d been awarded the FBI award upon his graduation from Quantico. He was all about integrity and what she was going to ask would test that.

“Ruthie, just ask, honey. I’ll do whatever I can.”

She took a deep breath. “I want you to help me disappear.”

“Disappear.” He nodded and exhaled audibly. “It’s not like on television. You can’t just pick up a new identity—”

“Tick, when he finds out I’m gone, when he realizes what I’ve taken, he’s going to kill me.”

Her brother shook his head. “I won’t let that happen. We’ll find a way to keep you safe, to keep the kids safe. We’ll get you a lawyer, find a way to keep him from taking them back.”

“He’s not going to want to kill me over the children.” She shook her head. “He doesn’t care about them except as photo props. It’s the ledgers.”

Tick’s dark gaze sharpened. “The ledgers?”

“He’s laundering money. A
lot
of money. And I took the records when I left.”

“How do you know he’s involved in this?”

“He’s incredibly arrogant, Tick. He thinks I’m completely under his thumb and he talks about it, brags about it, about what he’s doing.”

Tick quirked an eyebrow, intrigue glinting in his eyes. “Show me.”

Quiet voices and the scent of fresh coffee roused Ruthie. Eyes closed, she tensed before memory flooded back. She wasn’t in Charleston anymore. She was safe, she was home. Her neck ached from her cramped position on Tick’s couch, where obviously she’d dozed off while he pored over the financial books she’d filched from Stephen’s office.

“Ruthie?” A touch on her shoulder accompanied the husky female voice. Ruthie opened her eyes to beautiful face surrounded by a thick fall of black hair. Caitlin, Tick’s wife, whom she knew only from photos. “I’m sorry to wake you, but Ainsley was stirring when I went up to get Lee.”

“Thank you.” Ruthie straightened and cast a look toward the kitchen/dining area, where Tick sat at the pine table, his dark head still bent over the ledgers. He remained in his pajama pants but had added a white T-shirt. Lee, secured in a high chair at Tick’s elbow, babbled and stuffed dry Cheerios into his mouth.

“I’m going to see about getting us some breakfast.” Caitlin retreated to the kitchen.

Ruthie rose and hurried for the stairs. She didn’t want Ainsley waking alone, in a strange room. Her daughter was clingy under the best of circumstances, but when she was upset, she turned into the human equivalent of beggarweed.

It was early, darkness still hovering outside the windows. Upstairs, she slipped into the nursery. Sure enough, Ainsley had rolled to her stomach and was stretching, a certain sign of her imminent waking. Ruthie perched on the bedside and touched her baby’s silky brown hair. “Good morning, Ains.”

Ainsley giggled. “Are the pirates here?”

Ruthie reached for the toy bunny and danced it up and down Ainsley’s little back. “Um, I haven’t seen any yet. Would some breakfast do instead?”

Ainsley made a moue of dissatisfaction and Ruthie found herself laughing for the first time in days. She rose and swung the little girl into her arms. “Come on. Let’s wash your face and see what your Aunt Caitlin is making for breakfast.”

In the small bathroom next door, which retained its cottage feel from her childhood, she helped Ainsley wash her hands and face. She caught a glimpse of her weary, pinched features and averted her gaze. She looked old, haggard, worn out.

Ainsley clung tighter to her neck as they descended the stairs and once they reached the keeping room, refused to be set on her feet, burrowing her face into Ruthie’s shoulder with a tiny whimper. Tick glanced her way with a small smile.

“Sit.” Caitlin gave her a slight push toward the table. “I’ll get you something to eat. Ainsley, do you like waffles?”

With a slow, cautious movement, Ainsley lifted her head and studied Caitlin. Finally, she nodded.

“Would you like to come show me what you want for toppings?”

Ainsley released Ruthie’s neck, an indication she was ready to be set free. With her thumb in her mouth, she placed her other hand in Caitlin’s outstretched one and let her aunt lead her to the kitchen island, Caitlin talking softly the entire way.

At the table, Ruthie chose the chair to Tick’s left, allowing her to be close to his steady presence and keep an eye on her daughter at the same time. He reached for her hand, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles in a quick caress. “I’m glad you came to me.”

She tightened her fingers around his, the warm comfort of the touch bringing tears to the surface. “So am I.”

Releasing her, he tapped the ledger with one long finger. “Do you know what you have here?”

“I have an idea.” An ache pulsed at her temples. Caitlin set a mug of fresh coffee before her and Ruthie gave her a grateful look.

Tick held her gaze, his own troubled, his face set in tense lines. “Ruthie, you said he’d kill you. You understand that if Stephen’s doing this, your having these books puts you in danger.”

Her stomach clenched, all vestiges of hunger invoked by the smell of fresh, crisp waffles disappearing. “I was in danger when I walked out the door without permission yesterday. I’m not stupid, Tick, I’m fully aware what he’s capable of and I knew what I was doing when I took those books. Maybe, just maybe, someone who knows what to do with them can keep him too busy to look for me, until the children and I are so far out of his reach that he can never hurt us again.”

His expression tightening further, Tick nodded. “Right now, he doesn’t have a clue where you are, even if he’s discovered you’re gone. Like you said, he’s going to look at Mama’s first. I want to get you somewhere safe while I get in touch with the South Carolina authorities, see if we can use this to help you.”

Ainsley clambered onto the chair next to Ruthie’s. Caitlin set a plate of waffles topped with bananas in front of her and a plate bearing a plain waffle before Ruthie. She set the syrup down nearby. On her way back to the kitchen, she squeezed Tick’s shoulder and he glanced up, unspoken communication passing between them. She lifted an eyebrow at him. Frowning, he sighed.

“If that’s what you want,” he said, turning his attention to Ruthie. “Unless you had another plan?”

“I just want my children to be safe…and away from him and his influence.”

“I have an idea.” Tick tugged a hand through his disheveled hair. “I’ll have to make a call.”

Chris stowed the final bag in his SUV. The moist predawn air wrapped around him and he dragged in a deep breath. A few hours, and he’d be sucking in sea-salted air. He couldn’t wait. God, he needed this time away, after the weeks of overtime he’d been putting in.

Inside the phone rang, the imperious shrill carrying through to the garage from the open kitchen door. For a half-second, he considered ignoring it. He was on vacation, damn it. His ingrained sense of duty wouldn’t let him, though. With a harsh sigh, he strode inside and grabbed the offending object on the fourth ring. “Hello.”

“Chris.” Relief vibrated in Tick Calvert’s deep voice. “Glad I caught you before you left. I need a huge favor.”

Why wasn’t Chris surprised? Visions of his vacation spiraling down the tubes danced through his mind. He rested his forehead on the doorjamb. “Yeah?”

“Do this for me and I’ll make it worth your while—equal to full pay this week and I’ll schedule you another week off whenever you want.”

“Who am I covering?” He slumped into a chair and reached for a pad and pen to jot down the shift times. Hell, he should have ignored the damn phone. He would have been out of the driveway by now, headed for his version of paradise.

Tick cleared his throat. “I don’t need you to work.”

Suspicion tickled Chris’s spine. “What do you want then?”

“I need you to take my sister Ruthie and her kids with you to St. Simons.”

“What?” It had to be a joke. “Did Cookie put you up to this? Or Troy Lee?”

“I’m serious, Chris.” Tension tightened Tick’s words and Chris could almost see the older man pulling a hand through his hair. “She took the kids, left her husband and I just need for him to not know where she is for a few days while I help her sort some things out. It’s a bad situation and I want her with someone I can trust to keep her safe.”

Chris dropped his brow into his palm. “And that’s me?”

“That’s you.”

Something niggled at the back of Chris’s mind. “Why do you need me to take her to the island? You don’t think she’d be okay at your place?”

A rough exhale rumbled over the line. “Looks like her husband is involved in some pretty shady stuff. When she left, she took the evidence of that with her. This is more than what’s sure to be a nasty divorce. I need some time and I need her safe.”

Silence stretched over the line.

“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important, Chris.”

Chris pinched the bridge of his nose. “How much time do you need?”

“The week would be great. I might be able to sort it out in less.”

“All right, I’ll do it.” He was such a sucker.

“Great. Knew I could count on you.”

He didn’t bother to touch that one. “Am I picking them up at your place?”

“Yeah. How soon can you be here?”

He rolled his neck in a slow circle, tension attacking his nape and shoulders. “Give me fifteen minutes.”

Ruthie listened, her apprehension growing, as Tick, dressed now for the day in his investigator’s uniform of green department polo and khakis, outlined his plan. A week, with a man she didn’t know? The idea sent frissons of something akin to fear down her spine, the worry pooling into an icy knot. Maybe she’d jumped from the frying pan straight into the fire, as her grandmother used to say.

She pulled in a deep breath and dismissed her doubt. She’d come to Tick because she trusted him to help her, to keep her safe. She simply had to hold on to that trust. Slanting a glance at the dining table, where Caitlin sat with the children, trying to draw Camille and John Robert out of their shells over waffles and milk, Ruthie bit the inside of her cheek.

“Does he have someone?” she asked, turning her attention back to her brother. “A wife or girlfriend who might object? I don’t want to cause problems for him.”

Tick shook his head, discomfort twisting his face. “He hasn’t had a serious relationship the whole time I’ve known him. Goes out on a date every so often, but that’s about it.”

She frowned. Something about that didn’t…. “Why?”

Tick shrugged. “Don’t know. We’ve wondered if he’s not in the closet still—”

“He’s gay.” Relief washed through her. Somehow that made the situation easier, although she couldn’t explain why.

Obviously uncomfortable discussing his colleague’s personal life, Tick rubbed a hand over his neck. “He’s never outright said it, but that’s the scuttle, yeah.”

An engine rumbled outside and purred to a stop. Tick rose and held out a hand. “Come on. That’ll be Chris. I’ll introduce you before we spring the kids on him.”

She took his hand, hating the way she wanted to cling like Ainsley as he drew her outside. She forced her spine straight and dropped his hand. She wasn’t a three-year-old in need of constant reassurance. Somehow, she would face this, find a way back to the woman she’d been before Stephen had cowed her.

A nondescript blue Jeep Cherokee sat in the driveway under the just-rising sun. As she and Tick stepped onto the porch, a tall man clad in jeans and a T-shirt unfolded himself from the driver’s seat. His face set in serious lines, he moved up the walkway, his stride one of proud bearing and easy authority. Close to Tick’s side, Ruthie studied him—muscular arms and shoulders, trim waist above long legs, square jaw shadowed by a couple days’ growth of stubble, short brown hair, a tan highlighting ice-blue eyes.

That cool gaze flicked over her as he mounted the steps and took Tick’s outstretched hand in a brisk shake. “Tick.”

“Hey, Chris, thanks for coming. I really appreciate it.” His palm warm at her back, Tick drew her forward. “This is my sister, Ruthie Chason. Ruthie, Chris Parker.”

“Hello.” She forced herself to hold out her hand, aware she was trembling. “And yes, thank you. I can only imagine how we’ve ruined your vacation plans.”

His palm, warm and dry, closed around hers briefly. “No problem.”

She liked the even tone of his low, quiet voice, even if the size of him did make her nervous. Unlike Stephen, with whom she was nearly eye-to-eye, she had to look up at this man, making him nearer her brother’s six-foot-three height.

He tucked his hands in his pockets and rocked back slightly on his heels as he turned to Tick. “We’ve got a four-hour drive ahead of us, maybe longer if we stop along the way.”

Tick nodded. “I pulled some stuff together for you. Want some coffee while I go over that? Cait can help Ruthie get the kids ready.”

A slight grimace crossed Chris Parker’s face at the mention of her children and the tension tautened Ruthie’s being. Not another man for whom she had to keep her babies “under control”. Once more, she forced herself to relax, to trust Tick. This was the man he’d chosen to keep her and the children safe.

She accompanied Tick inside, aware of Chris’s watchful gaze on her the entire way. She left the two men in quiet conversation at the kitchen island and ventured to the second story.

Upstairs, Caitlin, dressed for work, was getting Lee ready, keeping up a steady stream of mostly one-sided conversation with her son while she washed his face and brushed his tiny teeth with a small red toothbrush. Ruthie pulled clean clothes from her tote, aware that somewhere along the way, she’d need to purchase several days’ worth of clothing for the children and herself. She gnawed at the inside of her cheek. She was pretty sure she had enough cash for that, but she needed to be able to help Chris Parker with expenses as well. The tidy little sum of money she’d squirreled away over the last three years while she’d planned her escape suddenly seemed more little than tidy.

The doubt and insecurity, reinforced over and over by Stephen’s snide voice, fell on her, a heavy, shattering weight.

Oh Lord, she was so in over her head.