N. Walters - MacNamaras Lady

“The guy who rescued you—MacNamara—he gave us a very accurate description of the weapon.”

Missy nodded. T.S. had remembered a lot more about the knife than she had.

“Not surprising, though.”

Missy frowned. “Why do you say that?”

The detective shrugged. “He did time. I figure he’s seen his fair share of blades.”

A strange whirring sound filled Missy’s ears. “What did you say?” Surely she must have heard the detective wrong.

“Hey, you okay?” He touched her shoulder.

She sat back in the chair, thankful for the uncomfortable wooden back. It was the only thing keeping her from slumping to the floor. “Explain what you just said.”

Stark tugged at his jacket and rubbed his hand across his chin. “I figured you knew, you two being friends and all. MacNamara got five years back when he was eighteen. Didn’t serve them all. Good behavior and no previous record.”

T.S. had been in jail. He was no different from the men who attacked her. That’s not quite true, her conscience screamed. He’d protected her. “What did he do?”

The detective looked pained now, but he answered. “It’s public record. He drove the getaway car when his older brother knocked over a liquor store. The clerk was shot in the robbery. A cop was shot trying to apprehend them. Luckily no one died.”

She had to get out of here. Missy stumbled to her feet. “I have to go.”

“Maybe you should sit here for a bit.” Worry filled his gaze, along with pity. She hated pity. As a child, she’d seen neighbors, well-meaning teachers and social workers stare at her with that look. They’d all known when her father was in jail. Sometimes for assault, other times for property damage or petty theft. She hated pity. She might have come from trash, but she’d bettered herself though hard work and perseverance. She was strong.

Missy straightened her shoulders. “I’m fine. Please let me know what happens with…” She gestured her hand toward the file on the desk. The attack was overshadowed by the enormity of T.S.’ deception.

“I will.”

She spun around and left, clutching her purse tight. The heels of her boots clicked along the tile floor, the rhythm getting faster and faster as she all but ran for the door. The man she was sleeping with, was in love with was an ex-con.

The one thing she’d promised herself when she’d left home was that she’d only get involved with men who were honest and forthright. Her father had spent time in prison. Both her brothers had done prison time for fighting and stealing by the time she’d left home. Missy wanted none of that in her life.

A sob broke from her throat as she stumbled to her car. Her hand shook so bad she dropped her keys twice before jamming the right one into the lock. When she was safe inside she swiped at the tears rolling down her cheeks. “You will not cry.”

She took a deep breath and slowly released it. Then another. And another until she was sure she wasn’t going to shed any more tears. “He’s not worth it.” Her father hadn’t been worth it. And neither were her brothers.

But T.S. was different, her heart cried. “Sex. That’s all it was. Sex.” She ignored the acute sense of betrayal and the ache in her heart. She rubbed her chest and bit her bottom lip, desperate to bottle up the emotions swirling inside her.

Her breathing was ragged but she kept on working at slowing it down. In and out. The windows of her car fogged as the cold of the day and the heat from her breath collided.

She blanked her mind, refusing to think about the past month. All the good times they’d shared. The laughter. The love. Because she did love him. That’s what made the betrayal all the worse. She’d finally lowered her guard enough to love a man and he turned out to be an ex-con, the one thing she’d sworn would never happen.

Minutes ticked by and she gradually gained control of wayward emotions. When she was calm enough, she started her car and headed toward Lucas’ building downtown. T.S. would be working there today and she wanted some answers.

* * *

T.S. was whistling under his breath as he installed the last tile and stepped away to admire his work. The bathroom was almost completed. The tub and shower combo were installed. The toilet and sink were in, the walls were plastered and painted. All that was left to be done was the grout, baseboards and trim. It looked good, if he did say so himself.

Justin usually helped him but today he’d called and said he wouldn’t be able to make it. He’d sounded tense, but T.S. hadn’t asked. Not his business until Justin wanted him to know. He’d enjoyed the solitude. He was usually with his crew, working on the latest project or seeing clients to line up future work. It was rare he got the opportunity to work alone these days.

He cleaned up the mess, putting his tools aside, before he glanced at his watch. It was a bit early but he might call it a day and see if he could talk Missy into doing the same. They could pick up something and take it back to her place to eat. Maybe a pizza. His stomach growled in agreement. Yeah, a pizza would definitely work.

He stood at the kitchen sink and scrubbed his hands while his thoughts wandered to Missy. He knew he was spending way too much time with her. Allowing her to become too important in his life. But he couldn’t seem to stop himself. She made him smile. She challenged him in every way possible and he found he liked that. She was smart and sassy and sexy as hell.

Just thinking about her made him hard. Hell, he’d walked around semi-erect for the past four weeks.

A sound behind him made him glance over his shoulder. As if his thoughts had summoned her, there she was. Tall and gorgeous in her high-heeled boots. Her dark brown winter coat brought out the color in her eyes and complemented her skin. He wanted to eat her up.

“Hey, babe. I wasn’t expecting you to show up here.”

“Don’t call me that.” Her harsh reply had him reaching for the towel and drying his hands. Tension radiated from her body and thin lines of stress stretched between her brows.

“What’s wrong?” He started toward her but stopped when she took a step back. If he didn’t know better he’d think she was afraid of him. This wasn’t right.

“What’s wrong?” she repeated. “What’s wrong? I went to the police station today and identified my second attacker.”

T.S. swore under his breath. Damn independent woman. “You should have told me. I’d have gone with you.”

She stared at him as though she didn’t believe a word he was saying. His concern was pushing way into the worried zone. “I wouldn’t think you’d like spending time with the police, considering your past.”

T.S. felt his insides freeze. She couldn’t have found out about his past. He never talked about it. To anyone. Only Lucas and his mother knew about those dark days. He’d cut all ties with his old neighborhood, plus it was old business. Ancient history. “What do you mean?”

“What do you think?” She crossed her arms over her chest. He recognized the defensive gesture for what it was and he braced for the worst. “I found out you’d been in prison. In prison! Why didn’t you tell me?”

He mimicked her pose, crossing his arms over his chest. Every muscle in his body tensed. A nerve beneath his right eye twitched. This was what you got when you opened yourself up. He knew better but he’d allowed it to happen anyway. “It wasn’t any of your business.” His voice was hard and cold.

Missy jerked back in surprise, but quickly collected herself. “How can you say that? We were sleeping together.”

Anger filled him and he lashed out. “Babe, we weren’t doing much sleeping.”

She flinched, but set her jaw in a familiar stubborn line. “No, we weren’t. But I made the erroneous assumption that there was more to our relationship than sex. My bad.”

He raked his hand through his hair. Shit, he hated feeling like the bad guy here. He hadn’t done anything wrong. “Look, it happened a long time ago. I don’t talk about it. With anyone.”

“Fine.” Missy turned and stalked toward the door.

“So that’s it. You’re just going to walk away.” His chest tightened with each step she took.

“You were the one who said it was nothing but sex. Well, I don’t sleep with ex-cons.” She laughed but it wasn’t a pleasant sound. “Scratch that, I guess I have. You’d get along great with my father and brothers. They’re ex-cons too.”

After dropping that bombshell, she left, her boots clicking against the wood floor.

“Fuck.” T.S. balled his hands into fists and thought about driving them through the wall. Thankfully he’d passed that kind of stupid years ago. It would hurt like hell and only mean more work for him in the long run.

He took a step toward the door and stopped. He wouldn’t go after her. He couldn’t. He knew it was pride keeping him from calling out to her, from begging her to stay, to talk this out. But sometimes that was all a man had.

He’d made a stupid fucking mistake as a kid. One step off the straight and narrow and it had messed up his life forever. His only true crime was in trusting his older brother and a girl he’d been smitten with. For that he’d paid. Big-time. He didn’t owe Missy or anyone else any explanations. He’d built a life for himself out of the ruins of his childhood. And he was happy with it.

He absently rubbed at his chest. It felt as though someone had reached into it and yanked his heart out. No, not just someone. Missy.

“Damn it.” He tossed pride away and stalked out of the apartment, hurrying down the stairs. But it was too late. By the time he burst through the door, Missy was long gone. He looked up and down the sidewalk but she was nowhere to be seen.

It was just as well. He wasn’t about to beg the woman to listen to him. She’d judged him without even asking to hear his side of the story. And he’d spent half his life being judged. Those days were over. He’d worked hard to gain the self-respect he had today.

He didn’t need such a closed-minded person in his life. She had such high standards and expected everyone else to live up to them. No one was that perfect.

An inner voice told him that wasn’t fair. Considering what she’d told him about her family, it was a wonder she hadn’t ended up like them. She’d made her code and lived by it, dragging herself out of the cycle of despair, much as he had.

They had more in common than she realized. Both of them, it appeared, were trying to forget a past that just wouldn’t stay buried.

“He should have told me.” Missy was curled up on one end of her sofa with Candy sitting on the other. She had a glass of wine in one hand and a tissue in the other. Thank God for good friends. Candy had come as soon as Missy had called her.

“Maybe he would have in time.”

Missy didn’t want to listen to reason. She wanted her friend to agree with her. “Why did he wait?”

“Maybe because he thought you might react like this. Or maybe because he considers it his past.” Candy set her wineglass on the coffee table, leaned forward and rested her hand on Missy’s leg, squeezing gently.

Missy resisted the childish urge to pull her leg away. “Whose side are you on?”

Candy sighed and sat back, her eyes troubled. “I’m on both your sides.” She tucked a lock of her curly brown hair behind her ear. “Maybe you should have asked him what happened instead of just cutting him out of your life.”

The accusation stung. “I don’t want an ex-con in my life.” Even as she said it she felt a pain in her chest at the thought of never seeing T.S. again. It was almost too much to bear.

It had only been a couple of hours but she felt as though she was in mourning. She fluctuated between righteous anger and profound hurt. It was enough to make a girl dizzy.

Damn the man for making her fall in love with him. And damn her for letting it happen.

Candy nibbled on her bottom lip. Missy recognized the gesture and knew her friend was worried about something. “What? You disagree?”

She expected Candy to support her and was shocked when her friend nodded. “I don’t agree at all. Sometimes there are circumstances.”

“You know about my past.”

Compassion filled Candy’s eyes. “I do. I know it wasn’t easy growing up with a violent father who was in and out of prison, an alcoholic mother, a sister who didn’t care about anyone but herself and older brothers who followed in their father’s footsteps.”

That was an understatement. It was hell. She and her older sister had gotten away. The other two had spiraled downward into violence, crime, drugs and alcohol just like their parents had. She set her wineglass aside. She didn’t mind a social drink but preferred not to do so when she was upset. It was an easy path to go down for someone who had an alcoholic mother as an example on how to deal with stress.