The Marked Bride (Shadow Watchers Book 1) Read online

  “Has to be breaking,” Sam rocked back in his seat. “One text and he transforms into the proverbial white knight and rushes off to save her.” Sam clicked his tongue against his teeth. “I don’t care what she’s done. He’s still in love with her.”

  “Definitely.” Nick sighed. “Poor fool.”

  “Loving is always a mistake worth making, Nick. But this has to be something . . . more.” Joe looked around the table. “Mandy is indisputably capable of saving herself. She wouldn’t call Tim unless she had no choice.”

  “Could mean she ain’t in trouble, but she’s got trouble. Or maybe she’s finally come to her senses and is just missing him.”

  “It’s possible,” Mark said.

  “I’m with Joe. Tim said in trouble.” Lisa rubbed her hands together. “It’s more, all right.” She hiked in a shuddered breath. “Oh, I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

  “Lisa’s right. He did say in trouble, bro.”

  Mark shot Joe a look heavy with reprimand. “Not you, too. Don’t encourage her. She’ll worry herself right off the deep end.”

  Lisa swatted at Mark’s shoulder.

  He slid her a really? look that should wither her knees.

  “Okay, I might worry myself off the deep end. I probably will,” she admitted. “But if you don’t hear from Tim within an hour, you go after him, Mark Taylor. I can’t stand the thought of him facing whatever this is by himself. If nothing else, he needs moral support, and he’s your friend. So be a friend.”

  “Mandy lives two hours away in Maddsen. But quit worrying. Tim’s not facing anything by himself. We’re all with him, all the way.”

  She looked to Joe for confirmation. “Anywhere. Anything. Any time,” he said.

  “Promise.” Nick held up his right hand. “We’re just waiting for him to make the call.”

  “Oh, I see.” She crossed her arms. “If he wants help, he has to ask you guys for it?” She didn’t much care for that and let them all hear it in her tone. “That’s just wrong. When there’s trouble, friends show up. No invitation required. They just show up. Period.”

  “We’re respecting his boundaries, Lisa,” Joe explained. “It’s a guy thing. We don’t want him to think we believe he can’t handle this on his own.”

  There for him, but not emasculating him. Yet another guy-thing. But at least it sounded a lot better than them waiting for an invitation. She drew in a long breath, hoping some patience came with it. “Okay, then. Respect anything you want, but first sign of him facing trouble . . .”

  “We’re there, hon,” Mark reassured her.

  “Absolutely,” Joe agreed.

  Nick held his promise hand up again.

  “You bet, Lisa.” Sam sniffed. “Well, one good thing. Whatever this is, at least odds are good it ain’t got nothing to do with NINA.”

  Lisa shivered. She and the Crossroads Crisis Center family had tangled with NINA operatives twice in the last year, and the team had been involved in resolving the issues then, too. Everyone in the community knew the notorious Raven, a high-ranking NINA official, had infiltrated their ranks. They’d stopped her by the skin of their teeth and now she was cooling her heels in Leavenworth. But only a fool wouldn’t recognize that no matter how many NINA operatives Mark and his team took down, there would always be more in line, eager to replace them. Chessman led to Raven who led to Jackal—they still hadn’t identified Jackal—and nobody doubted there was a string of NINA honchos above Jackal.

  NINA was involved in all kinds of criminal activity. It used its criminal proceeds to fund furthering its political ideologies. A worldwide, well-funded organization, NINA ran a ruthless operation and it had global interests at every level. Lisa had learned all that firsthand, and nearly had died in the process. “I pray you’re right, Sam.” Looking around the table, she saw her fears confirmed in their eyes. “But honestly, not one of us would bet a nickel on it.”

  “Considering what they’ve pulled in Seagrove Village twice already . . .” Sam shrugged and conceded. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. It’d be a sucker bet.”

  Chapter 3

  Friday, October 24th

  Tim hit Interstate 10 and merged into traffic. The soft, rhythmic purr of the Rolls Phantom had Joe’s question replaying over and again in his mind. Had it really been Mandy who’d texted him? Maybe she’d ditched the phone. Surely if she’d married Mr. Wonderful, she had ditched it. Which meant, anyone who had found it could have called him. This could be a trap.

  You’re acting like a rank amateur. Trust but verify—then verify again.

  He really should know just what he was walking into here. Why hadn’t he called already? Typically, he would have thought to call right back and he would have done so.

  Admit it. There’s a part of you that wants to believe she called. That she’ll say she’d made a mistake. There’s a part of you that wants her to say she’s still in love with you.

  “Okay. Yeah. Yeah, I want all that. I want her,” he admitted aloud. “But if this is a trap, I don't want to know it. I need to know it.”

  Swallow your pride—that’s what this is really all about—and call her.

  He fought the battle between his battered heart and clear logic and pride, and pride sank in undisputed defeat. It would have to fend for itself. If he walked into a field of landmines on this, he would need help to get out of it. He wouldn’t bring the team in and humiliate himself further by admitting that he lacked the courage to verify it had really been her seeking help from him before he ran into the zone. Endangering himself for a glimpse of her was one thing. Endangering the team was another.

  Reaching through the dark to the console, he snagged their special phone, hoping he wasn’t going to regret this. He hesitated on dialing her, thinking this through. There were three possibilities. She could not answer. She could answer or…

  What if her husband answers? What do you do then?

  His heart rebelled. Mandy would not give Mr. Wonderful their special phone. But even if she did, Tim would be the last person on earth the man would text for help. No, she wouldn’t do it.

  Yeah, well, she wouldn’t walk out on you either, except she did.

  Tired of the mental battle, Tim muttered, “This is nuts.” He dialed the phone, returned the call. Whatever the truth turned out to be, he’d deal with it. The last nine months had taught him one thing. If he could handle losing her, he could handle anything.

  She answered on the third ring. “Tim.” She sounded breathless. “Thank you so much.”

  Relief and gratitude, he hadn’t expected. “For what?”

  “You called me back.” Her voice sounded thick. She’d been crying. “I—I didn’t know if you would—not that I’d blame you, if you didn’t.”

  Tim resisted the urge to stare at the phone. He’d give an eyetooth to be able to see her face right now. This was Mandy and yet it wasn’t her. She never skated on anything like this, torn and uncertain, floundering. Mandy knew her mind. Often, she knew her mind and his before he did. “You didn’t doubt I’d answer your text, Mandy.”

  “I—I hoped you would answer it.”

  She really hadn’t been sure. And she’d definitely been crying. “So what’s this all about?”

  “My mother.” Mandy’s voice cracked. “She’s dead, Tim.”

  “Dead?” He’d liked Liv Dixon. She was quiet, calm, soothing, with a ready laugh and a gentle temperament. “I’m so sorry.” Mandy and she were close. Very close. And all they had was each other. “Had she been sick long?” Guilt rammed through his chest. He should have checked on her. Why hadn’t he done that?

  “She hadn’t been sick at all.” A hitched sob caused Mandy to stutter. “She didn’t just die, Tim. She was murdered.”

  “Murdered?” His skin crawled. “By who?” The woman was a recluse.

  “The police have no leads. It doesn’t look promising that they’ll ever have any.” She let out a sigh, and then went on. “The detective—Walton is his
name—says it appears to be the result of a random break in. No one saw or heard anything until a neighbor heard shots fired. She watched but didn’t see anyone. The detective says they’ve exhausted every lead.”

  “They’ve got nothing?”

  “Nothing.”

  That explained that. “So you called me to see if I can find anything,” he guessed. His fantasies of her wanting him back popped like bubbles and faded away.

  “Actually, I didn’t. Detective Walton and his team have been through everything with a fine-toothed comb. I’m convinced there’s nothing to find or they would have found it.”

  She wouldn’t be easy on them. Not about this. “When did this happen?”

  “Last Thursday—the 16th. We were going to have dinner. I got the groceries and when I got to her house, the police were everywhere. They hadn’t known who to call.”

  From the 16th to the 24th and Walton was already giving up? The first forty-eight hours after a homicide were golden, but come on. Surely there were still things to check out. “If they’re pretty much done and you’re satisfied they’ve done a good job, why did you text me tonight that you’re in trouble?”

  “The funeral was today. I was the only one there.” She hissed in a breath. “It really hit me that I—I’m so lost, Tim. And I hurt so deep I can’t tell where it even starts. It’s like I’m stuck in this dark hallway and there is nothing there. Nothing bad or good—nothing at all. Have you ever felt the total absence of everything? Oh, I hope you haven’t. It’s horrible. It’s . . . desolate and more empty than anything I’ve ever felt in my life. I try and try, but I can’t find my way out of it.” She paused, sniffled, then added, “I didn't know a body could hold this much hurt. I—I don’t know how to handle this.”

  All her life, it’d been just Mandy and Liv against the world. Now Liv was gone and Mandy was lost. “I’m sorry. I know grief is hard and mean.”

  “It’s merciless, Tim.”

  “That, too.” He’d grieved when she’d left him. He still grieved losing her. “I wish I could tell you it gets easier, but the truth is, it doesn’t. You just get better at coping with it.”

  “I don’t want to cope. I’m angry.” The phone crackled from a sharp stifled sob. “I’m so angry I can barely breathe and . . .” Her voice trailed.

  He waited, but she didn’t go on. “And what?” He nudged her, passed a green pickup, and then eased back into the right lane.

  “I’m . . . scared.”

  That surprised him. She was alone and being alone was scary, but Mandy wouldn’t ordinarily admit it. In fact, she’d deny it. Cover fear with belligerence, if needed. It’d take dire circumstances to get her to ever admit fear, and that she had, worried him most of all. That prompted him to dig deeper. “Why are you afraid?”

  “He went after Mom and got her. Am I next?”

  He? An alarm went off inside Tim. Hers was not a generic fear. She lived alone. Not in the same house as Liv. So why did Mandy fear he would come after her in her own house? Only one reason. She didn’t directly connect what happened to her mother to a random break-in. She connected Liv’s murder to something else. Something specific. “Does he have a reason to come after you?”

  Mandy hesitated a long minute. “I—I don’t know.”

  She might not know, but she suspected something. Gentle. Don’t push too hard and scare her off. “Do you think there might be a reason?”

  “Maybe. My mother warned me . . .“ She stopped suddenly. “No, this is wrong. I can’t tell you this on the phone. I just can’t. I know it’s asking a lot but could you meet me somewhere?”

  If she thought he was letting her hang up, she had another think coming.

  Maybe she feared someone was listening . . .

  He kept her on the phone and talking all the way to Maddsen, though neither of them said another word about her mother or what might be going on. They talked about her new jewelry designs, her business, a buying trip she’d taken to Italy last spring. About any and everything except what was happening and whether or not she had married Mr. Wonderful.

  Tim left the Interstate and ten minutes later found himself parked at her house. “I’m in the driveway, Mandy, at your old house. I drove there automatically. Is that where you live now?”

  “Yes, I still live there.”

  So her husband, if she had one, had moved in with her. A part of Tim deeply resented that. He looked at the pale brick two-story house. The upstairs shuttered windows they’d washed together stood dark, but lights were on in several rooms downstairs. Bury it. Think steel. “Is it okay for me to come in?”

  “Of course. I’m hanging up now to get the door.”

  So either Mr. Wonderful didn’t care if she’d called Tim, or he wasn’t there. Or he was there and he also would be waiting inside.

  None of those possibilities appealed.

  Tim shut off the engine. Give me the strength to do this. To live without her and help her. Take away my bitterness. Replace it with compassion.

  Fortified, he opened then shut the Phantom’s door, locked it, then headed up the driveway to the sidewalk.

  Mandy came running out of the house, wearing gray sweats, her long brown hair flying. She lost one of her fuzzy slippers on the sidewalk and kept running to him.

  “Thank you for coming.” She slammed against him, wrapped him in a bear hug and held on tight, as if trying to crawl into him. “Thank you, Tim.”

  The gratitude in her voice ran so deep that it triggered every protective instinct he’d ever had and a few he hadn’t known existed inside him. She sounded so fragile and vulnerable; not at all like herself. Mandy was in trouble, all right—and whatever that trouble was, it was really bad. “Of course, I came. I’ll always come when you need me.”

  She burst into tears and uttered between staggered sobs. “You’re such a good man.”

  Tim closed his arms around her and for long minutes, he just stood there and held her while she cried.

  When Mandy had soaked Tim’s shoulder and cried herself out, she pulled back, seeming sheepish and surprised by her own emotional outpouring. “Sorry about that,” she said, choosing not to ignore it.

  “It’s been a hard day.”

  “It has.” She lifted a hand toward the front door. “Let’s go inside.”

  He followed her to the landing outside the door, then lightly clasped her arm. “Wait.”

  She looked back at him and stilled.

  He glanced beyond her, at the glass inserted in her front door. “When I walk in with you, is your husband going to be friendly or hostile?” It was a fair question, and reasonably asked.

  Mandy swallowed hard. Truth time. “Neither reasonable nor hostile,” she admitted. This revelation could have him reacting in several ways and she had no idea which way to expect. “I don’t have a husband, Tim.”

  He lowered his lids to shield his reaction to that news. “What happened to Mr. Wonderful? You didn’t marry him?”

  “I haven’t married anyone.” Her throat hurt, speaking those words. But if she expected Tim’s help, she owed him the truth. She could only hope and pray he wouldn’t hate her for it. “Listen, I owe you an explanation, and I promise to give you one, and to answer all your questions that I can answer. But let’s do it inside, okay?”

  He paused a long moment and studied her. Finally, he said, “All right.”

  Grateful he’d trust her that much, she turned and walked in, held the door for him to enter behind her, then when he had, she closed and locked it. “Living room or kitchen?”

  “Kitchen,” he answered, not surprising her.

  He’d once told her that in his home growing up, all of the important discussions had taken place in the kitchen. All the important conversations between the two of them had, too. “I can’t believe you came. I hope I didn’t cause you or the team any trouble.”

  “You knew I’d come, Mandy. Let’s talk straight. We owe each other that.”

  “I owe you far more.�
�� She let him see her regret and the truth in her eyes. “But you owe me nothing. Not after what I did to you.”

  “Exactly what did you do to me?” he asked, sliding onto a chair in her oversized kitchen. The chair he’d always favored, facing the window. “Other than the obvious.”

  Breaking his heart. “Tea? I have Earl Grey.” His favorite. When he nodded, she filled the kettle then put it on the stove. Water sizzled on the hot burner.

  “Are you going to answer me?”

  “I am.” She stretched and got two cups down out of the cabinet. “But I need to start at the beginning so you understand all I’m saying.”

  “Do I need backup?” he asked bluntly, borrowing a Mark Taylor method and cutting to the chase.

  “No, you don’t.” She worried her lip. “Not for this.”

  “Then let me make a call. We can talk afterward.”

  Mark and the guys were worried and waiting. Mandy nodded.

  Tim stepped out the back door onto the patio and called Mark. When he answered, he said, “It’s me.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “I’m not totally sure yet but Mandy’s mother’s been murdered. A detective named Walton is handling the case, and get this—he’s already claiming he’s bone-dry and out of leads. Apparently, he’s giving up.”

  “When did it happen?”

  “The 16th. The funeral was today.” And Mandy had endured it alone. He shook those ravaged images from his mind.

  “So is she married, or what?”

  “Or what.” Tim stared across the lawn to the sandy beach at the water’s edge. “Apparently, Mr. Wonderful fared about like me. Dumped before making it to the altar.”

  “Interesting. Did she say why she dumped him?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Something doesn’t pass the smell test here, Tim.”

  “I know.” It didn’t with him, either.

  “Any clue what it is?”

  “Not yet.” He frowned on the moonlight. It looked so benign, but light shined in dark places often sent rats scurrying, and he feared that’s what their discussion would reveal. Rats. “She says she’ll explain. I just wanted to get you guys off the waiting hook before we get into it. It could take a while. She’s rattled and upset.”