Full Force Fatherhood (4 page)

Chapter Five

The man was fast. Like a jackrabbit, he cut across the road and disappeared into an alley opposite them with impressive speed. Mark was more of a hand-to-hand combat guy, but he held his own, only slowing down when a Mazda didn't brake, apparently not worried about hitting pedestrians.

He chased the mugger through the network of alleys that connected two blocks. Dumpsters lined the sides and debris littered the ground, but the man used neither to try to block or slow Mark down. Instead, he ran full tilt. Which meant Mark wasn't going to catch him unless he got creative.

His memory began to pull an aerial layout of the alleyways. The one they were running down had three turnoffs before forking into two paths. One went left into another busy downtown block, next to a chic restaurant that stayed open until midnight. The other torqued right between a Chinese take-out joint and a boutique. The way the man was running, he seemed set on a destination. He hadn't hesitated when passing the first two turnoffs.

Mark didn't, either.

He didn't break speed as he skidded around into the first turnoff and ran the length of the short alley. It deposited him back onto a less busy sidewalk where businesses were darkened for the night. A few bystanders too drunk to drive and too broke to call a taxi dotted the sidewalks. Mark spun around a couple that stood and gawked at him. His breathing hitched at the extra movement, but he knew his body could handle the chase. He might not have been a bodyguard anymore, but he'd never stopped training.

The stretch of block ended, and he cut left around a closed café on the corner. Pumping his legs harder, he made it to the mouth of the alley.

It was empty.

“Dammit!”

Mark spun around, his eyes darting to all escape routes. There was no hurried motion on the sidewalks. None of the people milling around seemed alarmed. The mugger hadn't come out of the alley. Mark had misjudged.

Or had he?

With the knife heavy in his hand, Mark reentered the alley. He kept his body loose, ready to move if the other man jumped out. But no one did. He paused, listening for another set of footsteps, before bending to pick up what had caught his eye.

It was Kelli's purse.

* * *

B
ACKTRACKING
THROUGH
THE
alley to the bar, Mark kept an eye out for security cameras or any obvious eyewitnesses who might have caught the face of the mugger. There were neither. He put the knife in his pocket as he neared the street; the bag was secured underneath his arm.

“Mark!” Kelli was standing outside the bar again with a manager he knew. The older man had a phone to his ear and nodded to Mark before retreating back into the business. Kelli waved him over. The obvious relief that painted her face at the sight of him made him uneasy.

“I think this belongs to you,” he said by way of greeting. Kelli took her purse, but her eyes stayed on his.

“Thank you.” The expression of relief turned to gratitude. Again, it made him uneasy. He nodded.

“Are you okay?” he motioned to her cheek. It was red, scraped, with a few spots of blood.

“Yeah. I'd rather have this than a cut from the knife.” She quieted.

“Did the manager call the cops?”

“Yes. When you took off, I ran back to call. I would have used my cell phone, but it's in my purse.” That's when she noticed the cut on his arm. He could feel its sting but knew it was harmless. “You're hurt!”

“Don't worry. It looks worse than it feels.”

“Hey, you get a good look at the guy?” The manager had come back out without the phone. Mark didn't miss the bulge of a gun beneath his shirt.

“Not his face,” he admitted. “But I do know he was sitting at your bar.”

“He was in the bar?” Kelli asked, voice pitching high. The manager didn't seem too thrilled, either. Even in the dim light from the street lamp, Mark could see his face redden in anger.

“He was sitting at the end closest to the corner. I remember seeing the back of his jacket. He got up as soon as you passed him, leaving. He seemed a little too interested, so I thought I'd check it out.” He looked at the manager. “He had a beer in his hand, so—”

“So we have him on camera. And maybe his card is on file, too,” the man finished. “A cop is on the way. He'll want your statement, so you two stick around. A beer on the house for your troubles.”

“Thanks,” Kelli said, though she didn't follow the man back inside. Her attention was on her purse.

“Hundreds of muggings a year and you have the luck of the draw to get one of them,” Mark said.

That pulled a snort from her. “Bad luck seems to follow me.”

Whether she meant it to be a pointed comment or an off-the-cuff response, it sobered him. Standing a few inches shorter than him, Kelli looked suddenly fragile. He had to remind himself she was the same woman who'd stood her ground and kept calm when a lowlife punk had a knife pulled on her.

“What did he take?” he asked, not wanting to think about what might have happened had he not followed them.

Her eyebrow arched. “Nothing,” she answered.

“What?”

She produced her wallet and phone.

“Okay, now
that's
lucky right there!”

“Is it?” Kelli's expression turned skeptical fast. “Why not take
anything
?” she asked. Opening her wallet, she showed him it was full of cash.

“I must have scared him off.”

“Or—”

Her thought was cut off as a police cruiser pulled up behind them. The officer got out, and Mark went to meet him. This definitely wasn't how he'd anticipated the night going.

Twenty minutes later, Kelli was ready to go home. The officer took their statements and then went to look at the security footage with the manager. Mark wanted to go, too, but he couldn't see the reason behind it. Kelli was safe and had her belongings back.

“Are you sure you're okay?” Mark asked as they got to her car. Sudden guilt riddled him. The first time he'd seen her since the fire and she'd been attacked.

“I'm fine,” she said with a kind, polite smile. “Thanks for everything, Mark.”

They didn't say much more. Just the awkward goodbye two relative strangers exchanged without committing to seeing each other again. Mark watched as she drove away.

He was surprised at how the thought of never seeing her again struck a sour note.

Then, just as the feeling occurred, guilt followed it.

* * *

“I'
M
FINE
.”

It was the second time Kelli had said it within the space of an hour, but this time it was to a very anxious Lynn. Her best friend was sprawled across the couch with a magazine open on her lap, and her eyes were saucers.

“Oh, my God, I can't believe you got mugged!”

“Hey, quiet. My kid's trying to sleep,” Kelli warned with a smile. Seeing Lynn so obviously upset was starting to make her calm crack. She was surprised she had even been able to recount the entire story before Lynn interrupted.

“I know she's asleep,” Lynn said, dropping the volume of her voice. “I'm the one who put her there and read that annoying counting-sheep book to her. Can we just get rid of that thing, by the way? Maybe ‘misplace' it? Say the Easter Bunny needed it to keep on hopping, or maybe Santa needed it to fight crime or something? I think I've read that to her at least a hundred times already.”

Kelli appreciated Lynn's attempt to calm her with a change of subject. The knotted stress within her lessened. She kicked off her shoes and leaned back into the pillows.

“And risk a never-ending tantrum? No way. I'd rather read it every night than endure
one
night without it.”

Lynn seemed to reconsider her stance before returning to the topic at hand.

“I still can't believe you got jumped.” Her face softened, lips turning down. “He could have really hurt you, Kel.”

“I know, but he didn't.”

Lynn's eyes slid to the scrape on her cheek. As Kelli had sat in the driveway outside the house, the light from the car mirror had shown her the small wound looked worse than it felt. Which is what Mark had said of his cut. Her thoughts switched to the man.

“I'm just glad Mark saw the guy follow me out,” she admitted out loud. “Do you know he didn't even have a gun on him? The only weapon he had, he
took
from the guy.”

Lynn whistled. “He's got my praise. So how
was
talking to the bodyguard after all this time? What did he want to talk to you about?” Out of all of the people who had ever stepped into Kelli's life, Lynn was the one person she'd always confided in without hesitation. From the crush she'd had on Billy Ryan in third grade to that one thing Victor had done in bed, there had never been a wall between them.

Until Kelli had found Victor's journal and started to investigate.

The urge to tell Lynn of her suspicions had been great, but something had stopped her. Whether that was fear of judgment or embarrassment at making something out of nothing, Kelli wasn't sure. Regardless, the excuse she'd made to meet Mark had been a lie.

“It was good. Nothing too special, just catching up.” Another lie. Another shot of guilt. “But he's no longer a bodyguard,” she added, needing a dose of truth to ease her conscience.

“What do you mean?”

“He quit last year.” Nikki had told her that when she had called looking for him.

“Why?”

Kelli shrugged, but she could bet why he'd quit security. She couldn't ignore the way Nikki had sounded almost sad as she recounted the information.

Lynn switched subjects again. They talked about the latest episode of
The Bachelor
—which sidetracked them to the topic of Lynn's new neighbor, who had a “smoking body” but “not so much personality.” Eventually both women's eyes started to shut, so they said good-night.

“Don't forget to let that kid of yours know who got sent home from my show,” Lynn said at the door.

“You let her watch it?” Kelli asked, ready to admonish her. Lynn kept walking away with a wave.

“Just tell her it was the guy with the silly shirt. She'll know what I'm talking about.”

Kelli laughed and shut the door after Lynn was safe in her car. She bumped her hip against the door to make sure it was shut all the way, threw the deadbolt and turned off the porch light. The cold of the hardwood floor made her pause. Moving across town to be closer to Lynn—and in a more affordable place—was definitely a move she needed to make, but...

She placed her hand on the door. It was polished and perfect. It reminded her of Victor picking her up and walking her over the threshold when they first got back from their honeymoon. He had insisted, even though they'd been living together for months.

Memories like that made her heart heavy as she walked through the house.

Heavy with love.

Heavy with loss.

She dropped her hand from the door and let out a long breath. Just because she was leaving didn't mean she was leaving the memories, too. With a weird ache tearing through her emotions, Kelli decided to go to the one place that often helped soothe the rising grief.

Since Grace's bedroom was mostly boxed up, the toddler had been sharing the king-size bed with her mom. Though the bed never seemed big enough if Grace got into a good dream. Kelli stood in the doorway and watched as the fair-haired child slept peacefully, unaware of her mother's tumultuous thoughts. The ache within her began to dissipate.

Without undressing, she climbed into bed next to the girl, wrapping her arms around her. Grace—a snuggler—burrowed closer to her.

You're okay, Kel. You've got all you need right here.

But even as she drifted to sleep, letting go of the hectic night's worries, Kelli couldn't help but pinpoint the one fact that felt off about her night's bad luck.

Why hadn't the mugger taken anything?

In the haze between wakefulness and sleep, her thoughts went to Victor's journal, hidden in a box in the kitchen.

Maybe he'd been looking for something more specific.

Chapter Six

Guilt hung heavy within Mark's chest. Lying in bed, he couldn't get the image of Kelli's scraped cheek out of his head. What was it about the Cranes that nulled his ability to keep them safe? It was a question that had pushed itself to the front of his mind during his cab ride home the night before...and it had still been there when he awoke.

“Get it together, Tranton,” he scolded himself. “The past is the past.” But even as he said it, he knew it wasn't true. The past had called him back to his favorite bar, asking him to avenge a man who died because of him.

The weather forecast was clear for today, but a storm was in the distance. He could smell the rain as he walked to his small balcony. Drought for months and then nothing but rain. Dallas was consistent with its weather inconsistency.

He moved through his apartment, trying to focus on anything other than last night. It wasn't working.

“Have you ever had a gut feeling, Mr. Tranton?”

Yes.

That Darwin McGregor wasn't behind the fire.

But he wasn't in the business of trusting his gut. Not anymore. Not when it hadn't even twinged at the cabin that night.

Mark skipped his morning gym session and went straight for the shower. He managed to wipe his mind of any thoughts of the past. So much so that when he got out and looked at himself in the mirror, he took a moment to shave. Jonathan Carmichael would have been proud. Every time they had worked together during their time at Redstone Solutions or the Orion Security Group, he had always commented on Mark's five-o'clock shadow and lack of neatness. Facial hair hadn't been a point of fixation for the ex-bodyguard, and that had driven Jonathan a little crazy.

“You look like you're the one we're protecting our client from.”

The memory made him snort.

And now I don't protect anyone.

His hand paused midmotion.

Once he had shaved, he decided Jonathan would've approved—he did have to admit it made him look better. He was heading to the bedroom when a knock sounded at the apartment door.

Eyeing the buzzer on the kitchen wall, he quickly went through a list of people already in the building who would want to pay him a visit. He wasn't pals with any of the tenants, but on occasion he would get asked to watch the game or go out drinking with Craig from the gym. As he walked to the door, towel around his waist, chest still bare, he marveled at the fact that he couldn't even recall Craig's last name.

Which was fine, since it was Kelli waiting at the door for him.

“Oh,” he said, opening the door wide from its original cracked position.

“Oh,” she repeated. Her eyes darted up and down his body. He pictured the pair of shorts and shirt on his bed that he probably should have put on before answering the door. “Sorry. Is this a bad time?” she asked, recovering. A slow pink had risen in her cheeks.

“No. I just got out of the shower.” He motioned to the towel that hung low on his hips, just in case the droplets of water across his bare skin and his wet hair weren't enough proof to make his claim believable.

“Right. Um, could I maybe talk to you for a minute? I promise it won't take long.”

Mark stepped back and waved her inside, cautious of how loose the towel felt as he moved. After everything they'd been through, he didn't think flashing Kelli Crane was the best way to start a conversation.

“Make yourself comfortable. Let me go get dressed.”

Kelli nodded and took a seat on the couch, but only on the edge of it. She was uncomfortable, but why? Mark dressed in record time and sat in a chair across from the intriguing young woman, ready to find out.

“Sorry if coming by was too intrusive,” she started. “I may have Googled your number the other night, trying to find your address.” The blush from earlier came back, but not as strong. “I was in the neighborhood, meeting my realtor for some papers, when I realized how close your apartment is. So I decided dropping by might be better than leaving another voice mail.” She gave a little laugh. “Now I see that maybe it was just creepier.”

Mark still wasn't sure he could sum up how he felt at seeing Kelli again—especially in his apartment, wearing a pair of tight jeans and a form-fitting blouse—but he didn't feel creeped out in the least. He hadn't even thought to ask her yet how she'd gotten into the building.

“It's not creepy,” he admitted. “But I am curious how you got in without buzzing up.”

“A man asked me who I was here to see and waved me in.” Her smile was small. “Said he was worried you hadn't shown up for the gym that morning.”

He laughed. He really needed to learn Craig's last name.

“So what's up?” Mark asked when it was clear she needed a bit of prodding. “Did they catch the mugger?”

Kelli shook her head. “They told me they'd call if they did, but so far, no call. That's partly why I wanted to talk.” She readjusted in her seat and seemed to take a breath before looking him in the eye. “I wanted to sincerely apologize for everything. I shouldn't have asked you to meet me after all this time just to spin a paranoid theory about a charity, of all places. I just— I guess I thought I'd accepted—to some degree—what happened to Victor. Finding his journal showed me that maybe I haven't fully.”

She shrugged, sudden vulnerability showing in each movement. “After I had Grace, I needed to be strong for her—for us—to make it. I suppose I might have buried some feelings rather than faced them. Though creating a conspiracy in my head was probably the wrong route to take.”

Her gray-green eyes took on a new shade as the conversation left the past behind. The vulnerable side of Kelli disappeared with it. The corner of her lips pulled up into a smile. “To apologize for trying to rope you into my crazy, I'd like to invite you to dinner tonight at my house. And before you say yes or no, I should warn you—my best friend, Lynn, will be there, and, of course, Grace. Most of the house is boxed up. So if you're expecting fancy, you won't find it there.”

Mark tightened his jaw so his mouth didn't fall open in surprise. Once again, he hadn't expected their conversation to go the way it had. Being invited into Kelli's home to eat with her loved ones? No, he hadn't seen that invitation coming.

And he didn't know how to feel about it, either.

“Listen, I appreciate the offer—I really do—but you don't owe me anything, Kelli. You don't have to apologize to me.”
Ever
, he wanted to add.

The blonde's smile grew. “Now, you listen to me. You saved me last night, and...well, it wasn't the first time.” She pulled a small piece of paper out of her purse and handed it to him before standing. “I'd really appreciate it if you came, Mark. I'd feel a whole lot better knowing that—after I'd gone a bit crazy—you at least got a good meal out of it.” She started to walk to the door before pausing. “Unless you already had plans? I—I realize I didn't even ask.” Kelli's eyes quickly flicked toward the bedroom.

He smiled. “No plans here,” he said.

“Okay, great. Then you really have no excuse not to come.” That made him laugh. Kelli Crane was tenacious.

“Fine,” he replied, copying her playful tone. “I'll be there with bells and whistles on.”

Kelli's expression contorted to disgust. “I know that that's an expression but please, dear goodness, don't bring bells or whistles into my house. I have a toddler. She will want them and use them until we've all gone crazy.”

Mark laughed again and followed her to the door. “Deal.”

Kelli smiled and was gone, leaving him standing in his doorway with the paper in his hand. On it was an address and the starting time of seven. His eyes went back to the house number, and his memory sparked. Guilt undid the fun humor he'd lapsed into with Kelli when he realized she still lived in the same house she'd shared with Victor.

He was about to go to the house of the man he'd let die, to eat with his widow and daughter.

Mark rubbed the back of his neck.

He'd spent the past year trying to keep away from the past, and here he was, going to dinner with it.

* * *

L
YNN
HAD
HER
face so close to the window that her breathing was starting to fog up the glass. Grace, who had been copying her godmother's nosiness minutes before, was now sitting next to her feet, playing with Lynn's phone. Kelli rolled her eyes and wiped sauce off her hand onto a dish towel. She was a decent cook but lousy at keeping the ingredients off her. She wouldn't be packing the dish towels until they were out the door and on to the new house.

“You know, typically, when you invite guests to dinner, you're not supposed to watch for them so intensely,” Kelli said. “That's what the doorbell is for. It lets you know when your invitee arrives.”

Lynn turned her head and rolled her eyes. “First, don't act like you invite people over all of the time,” she said, serious. “Second, I'm sorry if I'm insanely curious about the person you
did
finally invite over.”

Kelli kept her smile firmly on her lips. They both knew the reason she hadn't been the most entertaining woman in the past year. Being a single working parent had limited her time. As far as her first guest being a man, well, that had surprised her, too.

Inviting Mark over hadn't been an impulsive decision. Instead, it had been one that grew from a thought seeded in her mind during the moments right before sleep. It wasn't until she was driving to meet the Realtor that she'd decided to act on the idea. Despite short notice, Lynn had been more than willing to help keep Grace entertained while they all ate. Even though Kelli had explained she truly needed to apologize and show thanks to Mark for saving her the night before, Lynn liked to tease her. She'd done it when Kelli wouldn't admit she'd liked Martin Ballard their sophomore year of high school, and again with his brother Tony a year later.

Not that Kelli liked Mark the way she'd liked the Ballard brothers.

Before she could stop herself, she pictured the ex-bodyguard with nothing but a towel around his hips. Her face heated instantly and Lynn's eyebrow rose as if she could read Kelli's thoughts.

“Want to come help me?” Kelli asked, attention turning downward to Grace, cutting off any questions that Lynn might start throwing out.

Kelli put the dish towel over her shoulder and went to her daughter. She picked her up, and Grace giggled.

“I guess I'll go powder my nose or something,” Lynn said, resigned.

“Good,” Kelli said. “Less smudging on the windows before our guest gets here.”

Grace started to do her routine of toddler babbling and let her mom know really quickly that she preferred to stay right where she was on her hip. So Kelli tried her best to set the table while juggling the little diva. It didn't go as well as she would have liked. Grace had become fascinated with Kelli's dangling earrings.

“Pretty,” she cooed.

“Nothing compared to you.” The little girl had her hair braided in pigtails and wore a long green floral shirt and pink-and-purple-striped tights she'd picked out herself. The outfit, plus her innocent smile, brightened the entire room. Kelli was so distracted by the pure love she felt for the little human that she jumped when the doorbell sounded behind them. “Our dinner guest is here.”

Grace started to squirm until Kelli put her down. She ran to the door and paused to glance back at her mom. Kelli peered through the peephole to confirm it was the ex-bodyguard before giving the girl a nod. Grace squealed, and together they opened the door.

Kelli felt a single butterfly dislodge in her stomach. It began to flutter at the sight of Mark. Even though he was fully dressed, there was a new attractiveness about him now. Wearing a white button-up and a pair of nice slacks, he looked as though he'd taken pains to style his short dark hair. Though she realized his face had been shaven when she'd visited him earlier, without the presence of his half-naked body she was able to appreciate how the clean look softened his otherwise hard expression. His dark green eyes scanned her face before falling to the child at her side.

A wide smile split his face.

“You must be Grace,” he said, bending to meet her gaze. She was unapologetic in her stare right back, but Kelli knew she was reverting to the rare shyness she had only when first meeting someone. Her little arms wound their way around Kelli's leg. But surprisingly, Grace smiled. “Beautiful kid,” Mark added, straightening.

“And she knows it, too,” Kelli responded with a wink. She moved farther back into the entryway, inviting him in.

Kelli took a quiet, quick breath when their eyes met again. She wasn't sure what that butterfly was up to, but it was causing her to feel some things she probably shouldn't.

For a brief moment, she wondered about the love life of the man she'd just invited into her late husband's home.