not about what I want. It’s Chet. It’s the game he’s playing.” She looked back at Tag then, her stare direct and intense. “How did he get you here?”
Tag squirmed inwardly but kept his reply curt and concise. “He sent this clipping, and he said you needed me.”
That was all. Barbara needed him. And it would have brought him back from hell without the necessity of explanation.
“So,” he continued, “here I am. What do you need me to do?”
For all the turmoil and terror within her heart and mind, Barbara’s answer was amazingly calm.
“Chet Allen has threatened my daughter and her child unless I do exactly as he tells me. A sort of demented Simon Says. I want you to help me keep them alive. That’s my agenda. I don’t know what Chet has planned. All I know is I’m willing to play along if it means keeping them safe.”
She paused, then added the twist Chet had provided for his amusement.
“And he wants you to play the game with me.”
Chapter 3
He listened as she filled him in on most of what Chet had told her, leaving out only one thing. The danger to him. She couldn’t afford to spook him, not with all she had at stake. She wouldn’t have doubted the Tag she’d known. But that was a long time ago, and he’d let her down then. So why would she risk so much in hopes that his tenuous integrity remained? She didn’t want him to run, and she didn’t want to be alone. So she omitted that one important fact. Trying to excuse the gnawing guilt that grew each time she avoided the opportunity to tell him.
She wouldn’t consider his life in the balance. She would only think of Tessa and Rose. And of herself. As Tag McGee had thought only of himself.
He sat still and attentive, absorbing and assimilating like a good soldier, the way Robert had after he’d come back to discuss their future, emotionlessly, expressionlessly. As if he were being briefed for combat. But wasn’t that really the case? Wasn’t she preparing him to confront Allen upon the battlefield his twisted brain had created?
As she laid out the reasons for her willingness to be Chet’s pawn, to take the risk that Allen’s game wouldn’t end with her demise, she waited to see a flicker of that same parental concern in Tag’s unwavering stare. And was disappointed.
If he felt any panic over the fate of their child, if he experienced any sympathy for the emotions crushing within her, he kept them isolated behind an expression so stoic it tore through her heart. Didn’t he care that his daughter was in danger? Didn’t the thought of their peril touch upon any fond chord in his memory?
Apparently not.
But she didn’t need Tag McGee to console her. She didn’t need his platitudes and professions of concern. Not after all this time. What she needed from him was what she saw. A close-lipped stranger. A tough-minded former marine. A hero who would step in to eliminate the threat Chet Allen brought into their lives. And she’d be a fool to expect anything more.
She finished the briefing and took a stabilizing breath.
“So, what do you think it means?”
It took him a moment to respond to her question with one of his own.
“What does what mean?”
“Them that makes the rules. That’s what Chet said. Who are they? What is he talking about? What does he want from us?”
His answer crippled her confidence.
“I have no idea.”
Perhaps he felt some slight regret when her features fell in despair for he was quick to continue.
“I haven’t seen or heard from Chet since I left the service. I don’t know what he’s been involved in. I wouldn’t have thought him capable of this.” He lifted the clipping, then crumpled it in one savage spasm of his hand. “I don’t have any answers, Barbara. Only questions, just like you. I guess we’ll just have to see what Chet has in mind when we get to D.C.”
He was going to help her.
Relief shivered along her limbs, weakening the paralysis of fear. McGee was going to help them.
He looked away from the blatant gratitude in her gaze and partially stood to slip out of his jacket. He folded it and then draped the worn leather along the armrest between them, creating a symbolic barrier. Then, he settled into his seat and closed his eyes, building a stockade against further conversation, as well.
Barbara’s disillusionment escaped on a soft breath.
So much for their reunion.
Apparently he had no questions regarding her life over the past thirty years, no desire to catch up on what occurred between the time that bus had pulled out, leaving a young girl alone, and now, when his shuttered mood left the woman she’d become feeling just as isolated. He hadn’t even asked to see a picture of Tessa. Which meant he had no interest. Fine. No problem. If he didn’t want to bring up that mutual piece of their past, neither would she. He’d made no effort to make Tessa part of his life and she wouldn’t push it now. Barbara swallowed down the huge knot of hope that had built inside her and let angry disappointment burn in its place. She could put her head and heart on hold. After all, it was the one skill she’d perfected over those long, lonely years.
As she squirmed in her seat to find a comfortable position, her elbow nudged his coat. It slid toward her and as she pushed it back into its previous position, a narrow folder slipped from an inside pocket to land at her feet. She recognized the ticket portfolio as she bent to pick it up. Seat 12B. And beneath it, another card. One glance told her everything.
A return dated for this evening.
Her insides froze at the significance. His quick exit plan was already in motion.
She was on her own.
The notion that she’d be able to find sleep in her economy class seat never occurred to Barbara. Too many things swirled through her mind. Things too horrible to bring into focus, like her daughter’s safety. Things too tenuous to wish for, like Tag’s continued support. She’d meant only to close her eyes for an instant to relieve the ache building behind them and seemingly in the next second, she heard the pilot’s droning voice announcing their arrival.
Surprised and almost guilty, she straightened in her seat. The subtle squaring motion beside her hinted that McGee had been watching her sleep. An odd, discomforting quiver went through her. She wasn’t sure she liked the idea of him observing her in such a relaxed and vulnerable state. Vulnerable was the last impression she wanted him to have of her. Six months ago, yes, it would be true. If not vulnerable, then simply naive in her own security. Burying a husband and staring down the barrel of a gun had gone a long way toward changing that blissful existence.
She couldn’t afford to let her guard down for an instant. Not with Chet Allen casting a cold shadow over her. Not with Taggert McGee refusing to commit to her cause.
Toughness wasn’t something inbred in her. She’d been raised a hothouse flower, dependent upon exacting care, not as a self-sufficient cactus, using spines and self-deprivation as a means to survive. Her daughter was like that. And so, apparently, was the father Tessa had never met. It was either grow and thrive where you’re planted, or wither up and die. Until now, Barbara hadn’t considered herself as the prickly type. But she would learn. She would learn if it meant keeping her daughter and granddaughter alive. If, to be totally honest with herself, it meant keeping the man beside her from Allen’s crosshairs.
Fortified by rest and by the image of her new thorny self, Barbara released her seat belt at the flight attendant’s prompting and waited for Tag to step out into the aisle so she could retrieve her bag. They stood together like strangers who happened to travel on the same plane, ignoring each other until the line began to move slowly toward the exit. As they started forward, the light touch of Tag’s hand on