on all cylinders. It was a struggle to keep his voice level, calm, when there was a flood of anger roaring through him like a storm-tossed surf.
“No one is going to hurt you or Tracy,” he said through gritted teeth. “No one.”
Candace sighed. Resistance was futile. Marco was not about to let her drive back to Coronado by herself.
“We’ll get your car home another way,” he’d proclaimed.
The best she could do was climb into the passenger seat of his truck and cram next to Bear. The dog was chewing a white shoelace as if it was a savory strand of fettuccini.
“Don’t the police want it for evidence?”
Marco shrugged. “They agreed the shoe was enough. No one wanted to persuade him to relinquish the lace.”
“You could command him to.”
“Yeah, but he did good work today and I pay him in kibble, so he deserves a prize. They’ve got the switchblade and the shoe, anyway.”
She gazed out the window as they drove over the Coronado Bridge, back to the gorgeous island that seemed extra welcoming now. The fall sunlight bathed the palm trees in rich hues and she rolled down the window to let in the cool ocean air. It all seemed so much more vibrant, so precious.
Nearly having your throat cut made you appreciate things more, she thought ruefully. Thank You, God, that I’m still here to savor this.
When they drove past the street that led to her bungalow, she shot Marco a look. “Why aren’t you taking me home?”
He had the decency to appear slightly chagrined. “Your mom’s orders. She doesn’t want you staying alone tonight. Tracy’s already camped out in her guest room. She’s right, you know.”
“I want to go home,” Candace said, trying not to sound like a petulant child. “To my house. I’m thirty-three years old and I don’t have to do what my mother says anymore.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Well, I’m thirty-six and I do, so here you are.”
She huffed out a breath. “Did you always do what your mother wanted?”
“Of course.” He was the picture of innocence.
“Uh-huh. I’m sure all moms want their sons to become navy SEALs. She probably wished you’d become an orthodontist.”
He chuckled. “Can you picture me as an orthodontist?”
Marco’s strapping shoulders and massive hands painted him as more of a linebacker type. “Not really. Are you coming in?”
He shook his head. “I’ve got something to take care of.”
His eyes were the color of toffee with shimmers of copper in them. They had always fascinated Candace, because she couldn’t understand what went on behind them. She knew he was keeping his plans from her, and further, she knew it would do no good to try and pry them out of him. He would or would not share at the proper time. Now he was also plotting ways to ensure her safety from Jay Rico and his Pack, no doubt.
She reached over Bear and touched Marco’s biceps, rock hard under the tight material of his T-shirt. So warm. Even on the coldest days. The electric buzz it awakened in her nerves confused her. She wanted to both prolong the touch and back away at the same time. She laced her fingers in her lap. “Marco, thank you.” She sucked in a breath. “You were right.”
His mouth quirked. “Hold on. Let me get my phone. Can you say that again so I can record it?”
“I mean it. I should have listened to you. The Pack really is determined to scare me away from testifying against Kevin Tooley next month.”
He waited a beat. “Have they succeeded?”
A long moment passed while she considered her scraped knees, the glitter of the switchblade in her attacker’s hand, the hot flush of panic, the moment when she’d thought she might not live to see her daughter again. What followed was an explosion of anger in her soul, a solidification of her resolve, like cement hardening. Rick had always said she was a pussycat with tiger stripes.
“No one is going to frighten me into backing down.”
Marco smiled, a wide boyish grin that turned the copper in his eyes into molten streaks.
“Spoken like a true Gallagher.”
“Who is still bossed around by her mother.”
He laughed. “Even a fleet admiral follows his mother’s orders. No one outranks her.”
Candace squeezed his wrist. “Really though. I probably wouldn’t be sitting here if you hadn’t been there.”
He nodded, staring out the front window, his face quickly shuttered.
“Will you be in the office tomorrow?”
“Meeting in the conference room at 0600 to nail down our strategy. Gonna do a little research tonight.”
“Research?” Her heart thudded. “Marco, you’re not going to go track down any gang members, are you?”
“Just some initial recon.”
She realized suddenly that her decision to testify had put them all in danger. Under her fingertips his pulse was sure and steady. He was not letting fear take hold and neither would she. “Please be careful.”
“I am always careful. You, however, are not. Don’t go anywhere by yourself. Brent will take you and JeanBeth to the office tomorrow. Bring Tracy.”
She gave him a sassy salute. “Yes, sir.”
“Sorry. I meant to put a ‘please’ in there somewhere.”
“I know, but that doesn’t come easy because you’re naturally bossy.”
He nodded. “Yeah, so you’ve told me.”
“Still...don’t put yourself in danger, okay?”
He answered with a silent nod, waiting until she went inside before he drove away. Watching from the window, she whispered a prayer for Marco and went to find her daughter.
* * *
The next morning at 6:00 a.m., Marco carried a sleeping Tracy from Brent’s truck and laid her gently on the couch in the reception area, where Candace tucked her in. It got to him, looking at Tracy’s delicate freckled profile, watching Candace stroke her fine blond hair. So small and innocent. The idea that someone, anyone, could possibly attempt to rob Tracy of her mother nearly sent him over the edge.
“Morning.” Baxter, the sixtysomething custodian with the graying fringe circling his bald pate, tiptoed out with a bag of trash. The bag was so full that Marco stepped up to help him with the load.
“I got it,” Baxter whispered, to avoid disturbing Tracy. “Have to earn my keep.”
“You do, Baxter, every day,” Candace said.
Marco agreed. Though he’d been there only a few months, Baxter was the best custodian the building had ever had. Score one for the mature guy, Marco thought. Plus he had been known to bring in detective books for Tracy that he’d read to his nephew a decade before, and that got him extra points in Marco’s estimation.
“Early meeting usually means trouble,” Baxter said, raising a grizzled eyebrow.
“Nothing we can’t handle,” Marco said.
Baxter gave him a cocky salute as he headed for the door. “I believe that.”
Marco and Candace crept out of the reception area and joined the others.
Marco looked at the group seated around the Pacific