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At first Carly smiled at the happy ending. Then she focused on the other thing Shane had said, and her brows drew together into a frown. “I don’t believe in corporal punishment.”
“Neither do I, as a general rule. But in this case restitution wasn’t enough. We stole a car, Carly,” he explained patiently. “The fact that it belonged to our dad only partially mitigated our crime. He couldn’t let us off scot-free. And he couldn’t just reward us by teaching us how to drive a car like a Camaro. Actions have to have consequences. Otherwise the whole fabric of our society will shred.”
“Yes, but—”
“Niall and I weren’t bad kids, but we’d stepped onto a slippery slope. My dad had to make sure we didn’t take that next step downward. It didn’t ‘damage our psyches,’ and it didn’t ‘scar us for life.’ A few minutes of pain taught us a lesson we’ve never forgotten.”
She considered this for a long time, then said, “I see your point, but I still don’t think it’s right.”
“We’ll have to agree to disagree on this one,” he told her. He was out of the car and holding the door for her before she gathered up her purse.
It wasn’t until they were walking into Niall’s condo that Carly realized with a sense of shock why Shane’s stance on this issue mattered so much to her—she was already envisioning him as the father of her children. The same way she had with Jack.
And she didn’t even know if Shane loved her.
Chapter 14
Under the cover of darkness, Marsh parked his truck down the street from a busy Virginia grocery store, took a screwdriver from the glove compartment, grabbed something from beneath his seat and got out. He set his little markers that would tell him if someone touched his truck while he was gone—the insurance was worth the time investment—then headed for the store’s side parking lot. He’d scoped out this place several months earlier, and at that time he’d learned it had no surveillance cameras except inside the store and in the far parking lots. He double-checked, and found it still held true—the store was counting on lights and foot traffic to keep the close parking lots safe.
He waited in the shadows until he saw a truck park in his target area and the driver get out and hurry inside. Then he moved. It took him less than a minute and a half to unscrew the back license plate and replace it with one of the ones he’d brought with him. Then he moved to the front. He was almost done when he heard footsteps clicking on the pavement, heading his way, and his hand slid inside his jacket. But the footsteps continued on past him, and Marsh left the Ruger where it was.
He quickly finished with the last screw on the replacement license plate. He waited until the unknown driver turned on the engine and the lights and pulled out of the parking lot before tucking the two plates he’d just stolen inside his jacket.
Five minutes later he was driving away.
He always swapped out plates if he could. It was less likely a driver would notice his license plate number had changed—many people didn’t even know what their own plate numbers were—but most people would notice a missing plate and report it right away. It was a little thing, but something Marsh had learned years ago. One of the little tricks of the trade that kept him from prison.
He was almost home before his disposable cell phone rang, and Marsh knew his employer was calling for a status update. He didn’t answer. He wasn’t about to reveal his target had given him the slip. He wasn’t about to reveal he’d been outplayed.
He didn’t know how the senator had known Marsh was back there, but somehow he had, and once again his admiration for him rose. Never mind the frustration he felt at letting the senator slip through his fingers again. Never mind the postponement of the final payment for a job he should have accomplished a week ago. There was a thrill in knowing his target was a worthy one. It was a game of cat and mouse, and for once Marsh wasn’t sure which role was his. Which added a touch of spice to a profession that had grown somewhat stale over the years of nothing but success after success.
He would need to call upon all his skills for this one. Would need the cunning of a fox, the keen eye of a hawk and the nose of a bloodhound to win this game. But one thing was certain—Marsh had no intention of losing.
