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And then she’d be too busy to meet that lucky guy who would father her children.
The rogue notion chugged through him as he pumped another serve into the air. She had to settle somewhere, and apparently their Savannah hometown no longer held any allure for her. The idea took flight, leveled out like the ball lofting over the net.
He staunchly ignored the insistent voice telling him he was doing this for himself. So what? Yeah, he wanted her around, but because he needed her to stay put. Made logical sense that she should stay in Charleston. Two plus two equaled four.
His gaze zoned back in on Mary Elise smoothing a hand along the sleeping child’s back while her laugh carried on the ocean wind.
The next ball whizzed right by Daniel’s head.
* * *
Kent McRae closed the Mercedes door—forced to park out on the street where some fool might scratch the paint. A nuisance, but an overabundance of vehicles packed the condo lot.
He wove his way through the maze of trucks and SUVs. Adrenaline snapped through him until he wondered why he’d ever bothered to pay someone to take on these tasks before. And to think he never would have known this quiet thrill if necessity hadn’t forced him. Help wouldn’t be arriving for another four to five days, and he’d sworn not to act decisively until then.
Striding along the lengthy row of Palmetto trees, he checked again to ensure Mary Elise was still engrossed with the pool party and her old lover. Her lover now?
Kent kept his strides even, loose, his hands unclenched. He wouldn’t allow her the power over his emotions. He was in control.
He neared the line of mailboxes. As much as he might enjoy ending it now, he couldn’t. The boys were off-limits, as per his accomplice’s demands. He owed his accomplice too much in tracking Mary Elise’s every move to step off their designated course now. And he always paid his debts.
As if he would hurt innocent children like some monster, anyway. He focused his revenge on the deserving.
Meanwhile, he needed Mary Elise off-kilter so she wouldn’t become overconfident and opt to disclose her tale of woe to an old boyfriend. Having been married to the woman for three years, he knew which buttons to push. Watching her hand tremble as she’d touched that false unicorn plant had been…satisfying.
Locating the correct box number, Kent straightened the knot on his favorite tie, silk with pelicans patterned in diagonal lines. A gift from Mary Elise two years ago and now a reminder of unfinished business. A final swipe to smooth his tie crinkled papers inside his suit coat pocket. He tugged out the folded pamphlets guaranteed to make more than her hand tremble.
Innocuous fertility clinic literature to most. Pointed for her since she’d visited the same chain of clinics more than once.
A quick glance over his shoulder assured him no one watched. Kent slid out his lock pick and set to work on Baker’s mailbox. Given how involved they were in their pool play, he should be well in and out before anyone noticed him. He wouldn’t want to upset the boys. No, he wasn’t a monster.
Just a man in control of his destiny with a debt to repay.
CHAPTEREIGHT
Danny blastedout of the water like a sea monster, swiping his arm across the pool to spray Trey before he ducked behind Darcy. Mary Elise watched, smiled, couldn’t help herself. Even allowed herself the pleasure of following his leap from the pool, his loose-hipped stride to the ice chest illuminated by a halogen lamp and crescent moon.
There was no denying it. He was so cute, the boyishness somehow all the more charming coming from a muscle-bound man. Evenings like this made it easy to forget the ways she and Danny had annoyed each other.
Distance, she reminded herself. Make lists and keep her distance from the enticing, playful Danny. For starters, her list making used to bug him. Go with the flow, he would tell her. Explore. Find adventure.
She’d found more than enough adventure with Daniel Baker and a bottle of champagne, thank you very much.
The party had wound down to half speed, quiet laughter no longer overriding the shush of gentle ocean waves. As much as she’d enjoyed conversation, she didn’t mind the moment of peace.
Rubbing Austin’s back, she tried to ease his fitful sleep, letting him snooze on until she could tuck him in his own bed. She could only risk four more days to smooth the transition and then she would have to leave.
Survival instincts screamed at her to run. Now. Long-denied maternal instincts, however, insisted she protect this precious little boy’s wounded heart by staying as long as she could risk.
Enough cash waited in her account to carry her for a month, even finance a visit to a clinic to update her meds. Franklin Baker had managed to reroute her transactions while she was overseas so Kent couldn’t trace them. She had no way of knowing if Franklin’s accounting cover stayed in place. Once she presented ID to withdraw money, she would have to go.
She sighed. She was tired of living like this, but what else could she do if even her own parents didn’t believe her? Postpartum delusions, Kent had told them when she’d had no choice but to break her long silence over the growing problems in their marriage. Depression from the final late-pregnancy miscarriage.
Yes, of course, she was depressed over losing her child and her marriage. But no way had she imagined the cold steel of a gun barrel pressed to her head as an assassin tried to coerce her into the car so he could launch her vehicle off a bridge in a fake suicide.
All on Kent’s payroll.
She’d fought. Escaped. And no one had believed her. The more she’d insisted, the stronger the accusations of paranoia became. One mention of putting her in an institution from Kent with his monied influence and she’d hauled butt out of the country.
