Light from Her Mirror (Mirrors Don't Lie Book 3) (9 page)

Hardin,
of course, would be furious when he discovered what she was doing. But Hardin
was two hours away and deep into an investigation. She found a place to park on
the back street that allowed her a clear view of the blue car. She would wait
here for a while, follow the car when it left, make note of the destination,
and be home safe and sound before Hardin ever found out. Simple. 

After
twenty minutes, boredom sat in. Makenna turned the radio on low, but was afraid
the beat from the bass would be detected. These were excellent speakers, after
all. She found a local station with news, only half-listening to the reports of
traffic jams and stalled vehicles along I-35. Using the redundant buttons on
the steering wheel, Makenna browsed for another station. She caught the middle
of a breaking news report about an armed robbery and assault. Hearing the
address, she realized it was only a few blocks away.

Makenna
looked around in concern, belatedly realizing she was not in the best of
neighborhoods. Maybe this stakeout had not been such a good idea, after all.
She was pulling out of her parking space when another thought occurred to her.

She
zipped into the gas station on the corner and saw that it still sported a pay
phone out front; with the popularity of cell phones, many places no longer
offered the service. Pulling into the parking space closest to it, the phone
was just steps from her car. The blue Chevy was still parked in front of the
storage facility across the street as she dialed the number.

“9-1-1,
what’s your emergency?”

Allowing
her voice to tremble with nerves, Makenna tried to sound young and scared.
“I-I’m calling about the robbery at Lou’s Liquor. I-I saw th-that man get
sh-sh-shot.”

“May
I have your name and location, please?”

“M-Mary
Ann. I saw the man who did it. And-And I know where he is.”

“Miss,
I’m going to transfer you to an officer who can take your statement.”

“N-No.
He might get away. If you hurry you can catch him.”

“Who,
ma’am?”

“The
man in the blue car,” she said, keeping a quiver in her voice. In truth, the
quiver was real; she knew she was playing with fire, giving a false 9-1-1
report that more than likely involved someone from the mafia.  

“Tell
me where you are and we can dispatch someone to your location.”

Makenna
ignored the operator’s questions and continued with the information. “It was a
man with dark hair, just like the radio said.” For good measure, she added,
“Pretty old, about forty or forty-five.”

“Miss,
are you calling because you heard about the robbery on the radio or because you
saw it happen?”

“B-Both.”

“What
was the man wearing, Miss?” The operator was already sounding bored, assuming
the question would trip up a prank caller.

“Blue
jeans, brown loafers, and a dark gray skirt, no collar. He’s parked in front of
Store It 4U right now. I-I saw him shoot that man.”

The
operator snapped to attention. “I’m dispatching an officer right now, Miss.
What kind of car did you say he was driving?”

She
rattled off the model and license number, gave an extra little whimper of fear
when she insisted again that she saw him shoot the other man, then abruptly
hung up the phone when she heard the whirl of sirens approaching.

With
a satisfied smile, Makenna pulled away from the curb as the police swarmed into
the storage facility. It was a diversionary measure at best, but it would take
most of the night to sort out the lie in her story.

She
might be alone in an empty apartment tonight, but at least she would sleep
well.  

The
Fourth of July fell on a Friday, offering exactly what Kenzie needed: a short workweek
and a long weekend.

Hardin’s
parents, William and Hannah Kaczmarek, hosted a grand event each year at their
New Braunfels home, less than an hour away from Austin. The house and the
property were huge, offering plenty of room for the large group that attended.
With six grown children and eight grandchildren, the Kaczmarek family alone was
enough to crowd any space. Extended family, friends, neighbors and employees
were also invited, and this year, Makenna’s family was included. Not all of her
siblings could come, but even without them, the crowd swelled to over seventy-five
people by the time everyone trickled in.

Two
huge barbecue pits billowed with smoke, cooking whole briskets and authentic
German sausage to perfection. Long tables were set up, laden with bowls of
potato salad, slaw, macaroni & cheese, salads of every kind, relish and
vegetable trays, chips and dips, and baked beans. Two more tables were
dedicated to dessert, where a sugary sea of cakes, pies, cookies and banana
puddings crowded the space. By the time each guest brought a dish to compliment
the feast Hannah Kaczmarek had prepared, there was enough food to feed everyone
for days. Even Makenna and Kenzie dusted off their recipe books and made
desserts for the occasion.

Away
from the food area, games were set up for horseshoes and volleyball and, later,
their traditional afternoon baseball game. Several musicians in the family
brought their guitars and fiddles, providing rounds of music for the day.
Laughter and conversation floated in the air, adding to the noise and general
good cheer.

Kenzie
was in her element, surrounded by people and a party atmosphere. Dressed in
white capris, a flag-inspired tunic and sparkling red jewelry that resembled
fireworks, and with her long dark curls caught up in a messy bun, she caught
the eye of several young men in the crowd. Naturally, she felt obligated to flirt
with each and every one of them. Long before the meal was served at one
o’clock, her face ached from smiling so much and she fairly sloshed from the
many glasses of lemonade and sweet tea the men brought her.

Slipping
away from Hardin’s cousin who did his best to corner her, using a dazzling
smile to side step a man who worked for Kaczmarek Construction, and promising
to catch up later with the mayor’s son, Kenzie made her way back toward the
house. She had spotted a porch-swing earlier, just off to the side of the
house. With any luck, it would be vacant.

Luck
was on her side. From where she sat, gathering a moment of silence, she could
see the smaller children playing tag in the yard, their faces filled with
happiness as they ran and squealed and laughed. She could not see the makeshift
bandstand, but strands of a lively bluegrass tune danced along on the breeze.
The weather was surprisingly mild for the fourth day of July. It was almost a
perfect day, the kind she had never known as a child. And it would be perfect,
she thought wistfully, if only…

If
only Travis were here. If only she knew who
that woman
truly was, and
who and where her real mother was. If only someone had not tried to kill her.
If only every day could be as simple and joyful as this one.

If
only.
Kenzie
closed her eyes, savoring the sweetness of the sounds around her, suffering the
salty sting of ‘if only
’.
A melancholy tear trickled down each cheek as
she swung slowing back and forth.

“I
came here to see your smile, darlin’, not your tears.”

Travis
. Eyes still
closed, she imaged she could hear his voice beside her. If only she could feel
his arms around her.
If only
.

“Kenzie?”
This time, the imagined voice was closer, more concerned. And, she suddenly
realized, not imagined.

“Travis?”
Her eyes flew open.

And
there he was, all six-foot, four-inches of him. He was dressed casually in
jeans and a plaid western shirt, no badge in sight. The cowboy boots and hat
were standard; the haggard look on his drawn face was not. Already lean and raw-boned,
he had lost weight in the twenty days since she saw him last. His cheeks were
gaunt, his dark eyes weary. For once, his face was not scraped clean; the
beginnings of a scraggly beard shadowed his angular jaw. By his own rigid
standards, his blond hair was long.

If
possible, the rugged, rogue look was even sexier than the dignified Ranger
look. Kenzie’s gut clenched and released, sending tingles throughout her body.
Her heart bounced all over the place and finally landed in her throat, tangling
with her breath.

“What-What
are you doing here?” she managed to whisper. She stared up at him, drinking in
the sight of him with hungry eyes.

“We
had a date today, remember?”

Her
eyes traced his movements as he took the seat beside her. The swing sagged and
groaned beneath his added weight. With his long, powerful legs stretched out
before them, he set the swing back into motion. Kenzie’s eyes lingered on his
knee. The night they made the date, she had sat on that knee…

She
averted her face, struggling to get her emotions under control. When she faced
him again, her green eyes were snapping. “You also promised to call a week ago.
But since I never talked to you, I had no reason to believe you’d keep your
word.” She knew it was a low blow; Travis was a man of honor and integrity, and
he prided himself on being dependable. But he had hurt her, and she wanted him
to feel some of that pain now.

He
took the insult without flinching. “I did leave a message,” he offered in quiet
defense.

“Right.
Two sentences.” She looked away again. “And another broken promise.”

“Kenzie,
I know you don’t understand.” His voice was more solemn than usual, more weary.
“And I have no right to ask you to forgive me. But there’s one thing I want you
to know. I
wanted
to call you. In my mind, I dialed your number a
thousand times.”

“Then
why didn’t you? Three times, Travis. You’ve been gone almost three weeks, and
you’ve only called me three times.” She tried to keep the anger in her words,
but she suspected they slipped out on a note of heartache.

“I’ve
been -”

“Don’t
you dare say you’ve been busy!” she stormed, rounding on him with a pointed
finger.

His
dark eyes moved from her finger to her face. Their expression warmed as they
roamed over her, and she struggled to keep up the momentum of her anger. When
his gaze lingered on her lips, she forgot to breath. She almost missed the
frown that darkened his face. “How did you get the bruise on your forehead?” he
asked, reaching up to tenderly touch the blue mark.

Kenzie
flinched. Not because it hurt, but because his touch was like a bolt of
electricity through her veins. Just one simple, innocent touch and her blood
was already humming. Distracted by the warmth in his eyes, she murmured, “I hit
it on the roof of my car.”

“How’d
you manage that one?” he asked with an amused smile.

His
rare smiles always played havoc with her senses, and today was no exception.
She looked away from the tempting sight and forced herself to focus. “You were
going to explain why you haven’t called? And you weren’t going to use the word
‘busy’.”

“Swamped?
Snowed under? Are those allowed?”

“Everyone
is busy these days, Travis,” she retorted. “Other people with very demanding
jobs have somehow managed to call me, certainly more often than you have.”

“Meaning
Mr. Sweetie Pie, of course.” His tone turned bitter.

“There
are all these amazing inventions these days,” she said breezily. “Telephones.
Text messages. Airplanes. When you really want to talk to a person, there are
ways it can be achieved.”

“He
came here?” His words sounded low and tight. They sounded hurt. Kenzie was not
looking at him, but she imagined that he was clenching his jaw.

“He
was worried about me.”

“Has
the blue car been following you again?” he asked sharply.

“No.”

“What
aren’t you telling me? I know there’s more, I hear it in your voice.”

Kenzie
sighed in resignation. “You’re going to find out, anyway. I’m surprised Hardin
has managed to keep it from you this long.”

“What
are you talking about, Kenzie?”

“When
I got off the phone with you, I topped a tall hill going just a little faster
than I should have. By the time I got to the bottom, I realized I didn’t have
any brakes.”

“What?
On a brand-new car? How does that happen?”

“Apparently
the age of the brakes don’t matter when the lines have been tampered with.”

“What?
Someone cut your brakes? And you’re just now telling me?” he bellowed.

She
winced at his angry outburst. “It took a few curbs and lawns, a half dozen
flower beds and one cute little lattice gazebo to stop me. Well, that, and a
tree.”

“A
tree? Were you hurt? Is that what happened to your head?”

“Yeah,
but that didn’t even show up for a couple of days.” She gingerly touched the
bruise in question. “Along with a dozen or so aches and pains. And no, I wasn’t
hurt. But my new car didn’t fare so well. My insurance agent is about to have a
coronary. He says that even if the company doesn’t drop me, he wants me
transferred to a different agent.”

“Why
didn’t you
tell
me, Kenzie?” His voice was less angry now, more pained.

Her
answer was simple. “Because you never called back.”

The
truth settled between them with savage aplomb. His voice was heavy with regret
as he said, “Kenzie, I was -”

“I
know,” she whispered wearily, interrupting him again, “you were busy.”

“Yes.
But that’s not what I was going to say. I was going to say I was undercover.”

Her
eyes snapped up to his. Without having to ask, she knew the mission was
dangerous. That explained the weary look in his eyes, the haggard expression on
his face. The new rugged beard and shaggy hair.

“Why
didn’t you tell me?” It was her turn to ask the question.

“I
didn’t want you to worry. You have enough going on right now without worrying
about me. I’m sorry, darlin’, I called you every chance I got, but I couldn’t
blow my cover by calling home.”

She could
not hold his gaze. Riddled with guilt, she dropped her eyes to her hands, lying
idle in her lap. “Your reasons are so much more gallant than mine,” she
admitted in a raw voice. “You were trying to protect me from worrying. I-I
wanted to punish you for hurting me.”

“Hurting
you has been my punishment,” he told her in a low voice. “It’s tearing me up,
thinking you may hate me for leaving. I don’t sleep at night.”

“I
don’t hate you,” she assured him. “And you need to sleep.” She bumped her
shoulder against his, trying to lighten the mood. Already her heart felt
lighter, knowing he had at least wanted to call. “You have dark circles under
your eyes.”

“They
go with my new biker persona.” 

“You?”
she hooted. “A biker?” She tried to picture Travis in a do-rag and leather
jacket, with chains and gloves and full biker gear. The image was as hilarious
as it was sexy. “That, I would love to see!”

“I
prefer horses over bikes any day.”

“So
what’s your road name?” she grinned, still imagining him on a bike, long legs
tucked up to his ears.

“How
did we get into this conversation?” he scowled.

“Aw,
come on, tell me your road name. What’s it going to hurt?”

“You
don’t need to get mixed up in any of this, Kenzie.”

“Mixed
up? You’re four hours away. I just want to know what they call you.”

While
he hesitated, she leaned forward just a bit, bumping her shoulder against his
chest. She lingered there, grinning up at him. “Come on, Ranger, tell me.”

He
finally relented. She was simply too hard to resist. “Stix.”

Recklessly
flirting with him, she leaned back and raked her eyes over his long, lean body.
“I can see that,” she murmured. Moving in close again, she teased, “Hey, Stix,
if you ever need a motorcycle mama, I’m your gal. You should see my tuck.”

Travis
looked at her skeptically. “How do you know about the tuck? And about bikers in
general?”

“Wouldn’t
you like to know!” Her mood had completely changed, suddenly playful and happy,
now that Travis was near.

“I’m
serious, woman, what do you know about bikers? Some of them can be a rough
crowd, you know. I don’t like the idea of you being mixed up with them.”

“Yes,
but some are simply weekend warriors. Or better yet, just waxers. Completely
harmless.”

“And
you know this lingo, how?”

Kenzie
laughed at his stern look. “Relax, Stix. I did a shoot on a bike club once. I
learned all sorts of interesting tidbits and lingo. And yes, they were a club,
not a gang.”