Chapter 38
Mac rested his shovel against the skewed picket fence and wiped the sweat off his forehead.
The late-summer Alabama heat surrounded him, its moisture seeming to boil him alive.
Small fluorescent flags marked utility lines running underground.
He stared over the one-acre lot that surrounded the old abandoned farmhouse, opening his throat as he downed his tonic water and missed the remembered tang of gin.
He’d stayed sober—give or take—since that private investigator had given him his first genuine lead on Ellie, the promise of finding his wife after so many years enough motivation for him to haul his sorry ass back on the wagon. And now that search might be at an end.
Please don’t be here, Ellie.
Be off in New Orleans, married to a man younger than me and richer, too. Be happy, damn it.
Just don’t be dead.
He’d always thought he would know if she died, that the blood that circled through his body would reverse direction or stop moving entirely if something happened to his wife.
But now, faced with the possibility she’d been murdered, he didn’t know what to think or feel.
If Ellie really was gone, maybe it was time to eat a bullet instead of drinking himself to death.
He sighed heavily and wiped his brow again, finding it just as wet as the first time.
He stretched his back and picked up the shovel.
The heavy equipment he hired would be arriving in the morning, along with an FBI investigator he’d damn near had to beg to be here.
But Mac didn’t want to stop digging if he found any bodies, and he was pretty darn certain he was going to find bodies.
The sound of a vehicle coming down the road made him turn his head, dust flying up behind it on the gravel road like smoke. It was a red pickup, the biggest they made, and as out of place in this part of Mobile as a Rolls Royce.
It pulled in beside his rental sedan, two men inside. One Mac recognized, one he didn’t. Leo fucking Wilson.
Cowboy.
He must have gotten his email and decided the ego blow was worth a personal visit. What a dick. That guy needed a good pop to the head. Maybe knock a few teeth out of that pompous redneck mouth of his in the process.
They were peers, goddamn it, but Cowboy had no respect for Mac or his team.
The only reason Mac had taken this damn job was to find his wife, but the job had taken on a life of its own.
It was important to help these men, like reaching into hell’s waiting room and dragging them back out.
And screw Leo Wilson if he didn’t think so, too.
The men on his team changed the moment they’d been hired. They were useful again, highly trained, and with something to prove—all too often, to themselves.
Cowboy climbed out of his truck and strode toward Mac.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Mac asked.
“Razorback told me what you’re up to.”
“This is my time, Leo. I ain’t on the HERO Force dime.”
“Neither am I.”
“Then why are you here? Got your nose out of joint and need to push somebody around to get it back into place?”
“No.” He walked back to his truck. Mac sneered as Cowboy reached in the bed of his truck and pulled out a shovel, then walked back and stuck it in the dirt, folding his hands on top. “I thought you might need a hand.”
“You came here—from Atlanta—to help me?”
“Ain’t that far.”
It was four and a half hours, one way. He narrowed his eyes. “Why?”
“Because we’re brothers, you and me. I forgot that for a little while. And brothers help brothers, especially with the hard shit. Especially when they’re down.”
Mac could count on one hand the number of people who’d stick their neck out for him, and all of them called him boss. His throat tightened uncomfortably, and he gestured to the truck. “Who’s that you got with you?”
“That’s Doc. Logan O’Malley. One of the guys from my team. He’s younger than we are, so I figure he can do the heavy lifting.” He raised his voice. “Get out here, Doc.”
Logan stopped to grab a shovel from the back before joining them. “Pleasure to meet you, sir.”
“You a SEAL, boy?”
“No, sir. NSA.”
“You look like a SEAL.”
Logan grinned from one side of his mouth, the expression making him look even younger. Mac stood, his knees reminding him just how much older than this kid he really was. “Well, gentlemen, it ain’t gonna get any cooler out here. Should we get started?”
They worked for hours, sampling the soil throughout the property to see which areas had most likely been disturbed. The answer was an oddly shaped ring that circled the house like a lazy river. That was where the power equipment would dig the next morning.
Logan drove down to a corner store and brought back a styrofoam cooler full of lemonade that tasted better than any liquid Mac could remember, and they sat on the bowing wooden steps in the shade of the wraparound porch.
Doc’s cell phone rang, and he wandered off, his tone of voice clearly saying he was talking to a woman.
“Thanks for coming down here today,” Mac said. Cowboy had worked as hard as he had—maybe harder.
“You got it,” said Cowboy. “We’ll stick around for the morning. Make sure your guys get off on the right foot.”
“I appreciate that.”
Logan rejoined them, his brow low over his eyes. “Something happen between you and Charlotte?” he asked Cowboy.
“Was that her?”
“No, Gemma. What’s going on?”
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
“When my sister is unhappy, I worry.”
“I’m not discussing this with you. I’m dating your sister, Logan. Not you.”
“Yeah, and she’s complaining to my wife—”
Cowboy’s head snapped up. “Because I want to marry her, asshole.”
Logan leaned back. “You do?”
“Hell yeah, I do. So she’s fighting with me about everything under the sun to prove to me we shouldn’t get hitched.” He shook his head. “Why am I fucking talking to you about this?” Cowboy took out his phone and pressed a button.
“Who are you calling?” asked Logan.
“Shut up. I’m not talking to you anymore.
” He held up his hand in Logan’s direction and spoke into the phone.
“It’s time to stop pussyfooting around this and take the bull by the horns.
” He paused. “Hey, it’s me. You won’t answer my calls, so I’ll do this one your way.
You want to fight about something? Let’s fight about this.
I want to marry you, Charlotte. I want to show the world how much I love you and change your name to mine.
Take vows in a church and make that dickhead brother of yours be my goddamn best man just to make him suffer.
So instead of bitching to other people about me, you call Gemma up and you tell her that.
Or better yet, leave her out of this altogether and just say yes.
” He exhaled fully. “I love you more than anyone in the world, and you can take that to the bank. Talk later.”
Mac chuckled and drank his lemonade. This was the good stuff, what life was all about. Loving a good woman and making a life together. Despite his mistakes, he knew that much was true.
Logan grinned at Cowboy. “You want me to be your best man?”
Cowboy whipped his empty lemonade bottle at him, hitting him in the arm when Logan twisted. “Idiot.”
Logan laughed and picked it up.
“You could help me, you know,” said Cowboy. “Going to take an act of God to make that woman marry me. I could use all the help I can get.”
“Let me think about it.”
Cowboy turned to Mac. “Assholes. I work with assholes.”
Mac shook his head. “This is the good stuff, Leo. You just don’t know it yet.” He gazed back over the yard, now pockmarked with holes, the smile falling from his face as he imagined what might lie beneath.
Maybe Ellie wasn’t here at all.
Maybe she was alive. Maybe she could forgive him for the things he’d done. Maybe there was still a space in her heart for the man she’d once loved. And maybe, just maybe, there would be good times in Mac’s future again.
He’d just have to wait and see what tomorrow would bring.
Thank you for reading Resisting his Target. If you enjoyed this book, you’ll love Holding his Hostage. Get it now, or continue reading for an excerpt.