Heart's Haven. Lois Richer

to make a decision. Friday afternoon at four wasn’t his peak performance time. “Hey, Mac. How are—What’s wrong?”

      “It’s Cassidy.” Mac stood in the doorway, his face beet red as he gasped for breath, shifting impatiently from one foot to the other.

      “Is the kitchen on fire? What’s wrong?” Ty strode toward the door, ready to investigate.

      “Not the kitchen. Bring your car keys and your coat. You’re going to need them.” Mac was thumping down the steps before Ty could ask any more questions.

      “Car keys.” He shuffled through the papers littering his desk, found them, grabbed his coat, locked his office door and followed. By the time he’d closed the front door Mac was already moving around the corner of the building.

      Ty jogged down the stairs and to his parking spot where the older man clung to the car door, half bent over as he puffed for air.

      “What is going on?’

      “Get in. I’ll explain on the way,” Mac ordered.

      Ty steered down the snowy street, twisting and turning through a labyrinth of streets, following Mac’s directions. On his own, he knew he’d never remember how to get back.

      “What are we doing here? What’s going on?”

      “Cassidy’s recruiting,” Mac told him, scanning the rundown housing and less-than-well-groomed streets.

      “She’s what?”

      “Recruiting. Inviting people to dinner tomorrow night.”

      “Cassidy’s out here by herself?” Ty gulped, whispered a prayer for help.

      “She grew up around here, thinks she knows the place well enough to handle herself.” Mac glanced at him sideways. “I don’t think she’s aware of how tough it’s become.”

      “Cassidy grew up around here?” Ty blinked, shocked by the knowledge. “I didn’t know that.”

      He hadn’t wanted to know anything about Elizabeth’s protégée, if the truth were told. He’d heard more than enough from Elizabeth, who couldn’t stop bragging about how lucky they were to get the great Cassidy Preston at the Haven. Even Jack constantly sang her praises.

      “Some of Jack’s new friends told him what she was doing. He told me to bring you, just in case. Then he followed her. That’s the street. Go right.”

      Furious that she’d dragged his nephew into this, Ty cranked hard on the wheel and followed Mac’s directions.

      “Where?” He slowed down, took a second glance into garbage-strewn alleys and dilapidated tenement buildings. Cassidy was nowhere to be seen.

      “It didn’t take me that long to get you. She’s got to be around somewhere.” Mac’s face turned a sickly gray-white. “That gang—Do you think—I mean, you hear such awful stuff—”

      Ty didn’t know what to think. Nothing had prepared him for this.

      “They’re just kids—punks with big mouths.” He hoped. “Should I stop here?”

      “Not yet. Keep driving. Slowly.”

      “Why would she do this? I told her I’d get someone to put up posters.”

      Three days ago he’d told her that. Today was Friday. And he still hadn’t done it. She was probably fed up with his promises.

      Ty gulped.

      If anything happened—

      “Stop!”

      Ty jammed on the brakes. Mac was out of the door and down the narrow alley a second later, motioning for Ty to follow.

      “Why couldn’t she just cook?”

      That wasn’t fair and he knew it. Ty eased into a parking spot, shut off the motor and got out. He locked the doors, then wondered if it would do any good.

      Realizing Mac had disappeared, Ty hurried after him. Just his luck the old guy would get bumped on the head and he’d have two of them to care for. Approaching the corner, he heard voices—loud, angry.

      Ty stepped up his pace and ran smack into Mac’s solid back. He shifted to move around him, but the old man clamped iron fingers on his shoulder.