Proving Ground Page 3

  “Where’s Dad?” she asked, switching the subject. “He’s never out this late.”

  Mac raised an eyebrow. “You know that for a fact, do you?” He couldn’t believe he was baiting her. Apparently, she wished to avoid commenting on her long absence, but he wasn’t quite ready to let it slide. He didn’t like how she’d changed.

  Anger flared in those amber eyes and he felt a measure of satisfaction as she took his bait. That was more like the Caitlin he remembered. Before he could savor the victory, the flame extinguished, her shoulders slumped as if an unbearable weight dropped on them. She didn’t know what went on in her own home. Sympathy for her clogged his throat.

  She lifted her chin—the battle light shimmering once again in her eyes. “I think you’d do well to remember who’s holding the gun.”

  For the first time that day, he smiled. “You have a point.” Then he sobered. Caitlin obviously hadn’t received his message. She didn’t know about her father.

  Her instincts must have sensed Sean’s trouble. A familiar expression crossed her face and just like that, two years and fifteen hundred miles vanished in an instant. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice sharp.

  Mac squared his shoulders. He really hadn’t wanted to deliver the news, but there was no one else to do it. Besides, he was like family. Sort of. “Sean’s in the hospital.”

  Saying the words aloud rocketed through him. Even though he’d driven her father to the hospital, Mac was still coming to terms with Sean’s condition. Caitlin’s father was one of the strongest men Mac knew. The man Mac had left at the hospital tonight was a shell of his former self.

  Caitlin returned his gaze without blinking. Long moments passed before she even took a breath. “The bullet.” Her words took the air from the room. Color drained from her cheeks, leaving her pale and fragile-looking.

  Mac reached for her, thinking she might faint, but she stepped out of range. Frailty was alien to Caitlin. At least that much about her hadn’t changed.

  “Yes.” No point in denying her suspicion. “The doctors believe it’s migrated. As soon as he’s stable again, they’ve ordered tests to determine if it can be safely removed.”

  “Why wasn’t I told?”

  “I called Northstar this afternoon. Your boss said you’d taken a leave of absence. I thought maybe you’d—” He stopped. He’d never quite figured out how to categorize her strange gift.

  Her Celtic ancestors would have called her fey. When he was younger, he used to think it was just plain witchcraft. Regardless of the label, he believed her second sight was real. More than once in his reckless youth, her visions had saved his hide.

  “That I’d what? Had a premonition of my father lying in a hospital bed? Or seen him die?”

  “He’s not dying,” Mac replied more vehemently than he’d intended. Sean couldn’t die.

  Some of the color returned to her face. Yet, her shaky breath betrayed a calm façade. “If I’d had a vision, I would have called first. I would’ve made sure he wanted to see me before flying across country—”

  “Don’t lie to me, Cait.” If she hadn’t known about Sean, then Mac couldn’t guess why she’d returned, but he’d bet part of it had something to do with her father. “You’d have come home, even if you had to spend your last dollar to do it.”

  More color infused her cheeks as he called her bluff. She raised her chin. “Did he ask for me?” She took a half-step toward him. “Is that why you called?” The shimmer in her voice reflected in her eyes.

  He swallowed the ache in his throat before answering. Honesty would hurt her, but he refused to give her anything less. “No.”

  “Of course, he wouldn’t.” Caitlin spun abruptly on her heels and crossed the living room to the fireplace. She ejected two shells from the shotgun and returned the weapon to its position above the mantel. She stood with her back to him, her bearing proud and unyielding.

  It took all of his self-control not to rush to her side. They may have parted badly two years ago, but he still cared about her. As far as he was concerned, that part of their relationship would never change. Except right now, she needed space to deal with the hurt.

  Damn Sean. Damn Caitlin, too. This wasn’t the first time Mac wished for a way to help them reconcile their differences. But she’d have to resolve her issues with her father on her own. The career-ending bullet Sean took on his last assignment had become the proverbial wall separating Caitlin and Sean from ever seeing eye-to-eye.

  Not unlike that single, indiscriminate act two years ago, that had become the wall between him and Caitlin.

  “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To be with him.”

  Mac stepped farther into the living room, her question refocusing his mind on Sean instead of that unforgettable night. “Partly. The fire season is winding down and I had some time. Your father needed some help when the doctors wanted to put him in the hospital.”

  “You were always a better son to him than I was.” She looked at him, the bitterness of her statement pinching her lips.

  Mac shook his head. “He needs you to be his daughter, Cait, not a son.”

  “Then he should have raised me like a girl.”

  She was right. Sean had raised her like a boy. And when Sean and Caitlin moved next door to his grandmother’s house, Sean had treated Mac like a son. Which, over the years, created a dilemma neither Mac nor Caitlin knew how to resolve. He cleared his throat. “I’m not the person to have this conversation with. Tomorrow—”

  “No, you’re not!” She cut him off. “You gave up on me even before he did.”

  Stunned silence hung thickly in the air. Their gazes collided. Her eyes beseeching, while Mac worked to swallow the rock in his throat. Leave it to Caitlin to boldly go where angels feared to tread. Heat rose under his collar. He couldn’t conjure up a response.

  The image of his last encounter with Caitlin and subsequent disappearance from her life loomed like a cloud of locusts threatening to strip emotions to the bone. Part of him wanted to run away as he had before. Another part of him wanted to take her in his arms and repeat the experience, only this time, the outcome would be much different. If only she wasn’t Sean’s daughter.

  She broke eye contact, snapping the thread of tension stretched between them. Mac hadn’t wanted the confrontation, so why did he suddenly feel bereft?

  Caitlin stepped away from the mantel, rotating the shotgun shells in her palm.

  Mac noted resentment emanating through her casual action.

  Crossing to the gun safe, she replaced the shells and shut the heavy door. “I should’ve blown your head off when I had the chance,” she muttered. She stepped to the couch and sank onto the cushions with a grace that left his mouth dry. Curling her knees to her chest, she wrapped her arms around her legs, and speared him with a heated glare.

  The years melted away. Once again, they were back in his grandmother’s house arguing over some petty infraction, like Caitlin borrowing his bicycle without asking. She stared him down better than anyone else he knew. When they were younger, he used to let her have her way, but not now. Too much had happened. And she wasn’t the only one who had changed.

  If he didn’t redirect the conversation, he’d wind up doing something he’d regret. Another regret where Caitlin Malone was concerned was two too many. He cleared his throat, finding his voice. “Tonight’s not a good time to dredge up the past.” He couldn’t think of any good time, but his emotions were too close to the surface for him to be objective. Sean deserved better when it came to his daughter.

  Removing his jacket, Mac tossed it on the chair next to the couch. “If you didn’t know about your father, then why don’t you tell me why you’re here?”

  ****

  Caitlin didn’t play stupid. There was no point. This wasn’t about winning or losing. Every time she went up against Mac, he came out ahead. A moment ago, she thought they would finally have it all out in the open. Instead, he’d closed off and wasn’t going to
let her open old wounds. She buried the hurt deep where she hoped he’d never find it.

  “Would you like a beer or something? I actually remember where the kitchen is.” She couldn’t help the sarcastic bite in her voice. A lot had changed. More than she realized. Suddenly it was clear that she no longer belonged in this house. She didn’t know where she belonged, but home wasn’t the place it had once been. Uncurling her legs, she stood. Better to move around than sit motionless like a target.

  Mac shook his head. “No, thanks.” He scrubbed a hand along his chin, sat in the chair closest to the couch and leaned his head back.

  His uncombed hair gave him a roguish appearance, making him even more attractive than she remembered. But his bedraggled exhaustion tugged at her heart. She’d nearly killed him when he’d walked through the front door. Regardless of her earlier statement, she was very glad she hadn’t.

  Her flight from Atlanta had been long, fraught with worries about Sloan and the mess she’d made of her job. She was anxious about facing her father with her failure. The late evening drive from Boise felt even longer, only to come home to an empty house.

  At first, she’d been relieved. Settling into her old room had felt a little like coming home. It gave her a chance to get her bearings—to put things into perspective. As evening fell into night and her father still hadn’t returned, she grew concerned. She’d paced the entire house for hours, worried, wondering where he was. When the dogs down the street started barking, she was so on edge that she took the precaution of arming herself. In the time it took her to load the gun, the front door had opened.

  The instant she’d seen the large silhouette in the doorway, she’d known it wasn’t her father. Nerves spiked, her finger trembled on the trigger, but thankfully, she’d held. At least that much of Northstar’s tactical training had proven effective.

  Mac was the last person she’d expected to see. It took her a moment to recognize him. His shoulders were broader. He seemed taller. Muscle and sinew rippled under toned skin. Old feelings welled inside, too dangerous for her peace of mind.

  “It’s late.” Mac glanced at his watch. Even his voice sounded weary. His dark brown gaze locked with hers, wary but resolute. “Are you going to tell me why you came home?”

  Averting her face, she paced the living room. “I’m on vacation, like my boss told you.” She glanced sideways at him, hoping he’d accept her answer without pushing for details.

  Mac’s eyes narrowed as though he didn’t quite believe her. “He called it a leave of absence.”

  “Same difference.” Sort of.

  “Good. You’ll be able to spend some time at the hospital with your dad.”

  Caitlin froze. Not even a beat passed before Mac pinned her down. She wasn’t ready to face her father. Not sensing his illness made her realize just how caught up in her own problems she’d been. Sent home with her tail between her legs, suspended from her job—the mission a failure, she’d only wanted to lick her wounds and then figure out a way to salvage her career. Now, Dad needed her. Maybe even more than she needed him. Her problems—her career, would have to wait. Taking a deep breath, she faced Mac. “What makes you so sure he’ll see me? He never called to say he was going into the hospital or that he was even sick.”

  “You’re his daughter. If you didn’t expect to see him, why’d you come home? You could’ve taken your vacation someplace else.”

  Mac's point was valid. Lying to him was something she was never very good at, so telling the truth—at least in part—was all she had. “Last week your uncle Jack sent me an e-mail about the annual bike rally.” She shrugged. “I thought I might join him.” The email part was true enough, but she’d declined the offer at the time. She hoped Uncle Jack would understand her last minute change of plans.

  “Uncle Jack.” Mac scowled. “I should have known.”

  “Just because you don’t want to claim him as a relative doesn’t mean I can’t spend time with him.”

  Mac raised his hands in surrender and then dropped them on the armrests. “Fine by me. As long as you see your father first.”

  He’d done it again. Brought the argument back to her and Dad. “You make it sound like it’s my choice. He pushed me away. Not once did he apologize for the things he said. Besides, what if seeing me makes his condition worse?”

  “Caitlin…” His voice held a hint of a warning.

  Turning away from Mac’s chastising gaze, she crossed to the couch and sat down again. She wasn’t going to win, no matter how many excuses she made. If she continued to argue, Mac would wrangle the truth out of her. Facing her father’s ‘I told you so’ wouldn’t be nearly as humiliating as Mac learning that she couldn’t handle the career she’d chosen. It was better to give in on this one. “Fine. But only if he agrees to see me.”

  “I’ll arrange it. First thing in the morning.” He looked at his watch again, reminding her how late it was. She planned to be up at six, and that meant only a few hours of sleep. Caitlin sighed, tired of fighting, tired of dancing around the real reason she and Mac locked horns every time they spoke to each other.

  “I can do it myself. Which hospital is he in?”

  “County General.”

  “Why there? Why not St. Anthony’s in Pendleton?”

  “I’m sure that’s where they’ll move him if they decide to operate.”

  Mac sounded relieved that she was home to take over her father’s care. Even though the fire season was almost over, he probably had other duties at the ranger station and not a lot of spare time to tend her father. She wondered where he lived now. “When I drove up, I saw Grandma Mac’s house for sale.”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re not living there anymore?”

  “No.”

  “I take it you’ve been staying here?”

  “Yes.”

  Caitlin sighed. Nothing said leave me the hell alone like one-syllable answers. “Since you seem to be in charge of the house, do you have any objection if I stay in my old bedroom?”

  “None. If you don’t mind me using the guest room.”

  She hesitated. The guest room shared a connecting bathroom with her room. But Mac was like family—at least he used to be.

  She drew a silent breath and held it for a moment. Nothing could change what had happened between them, but just for the hell of it, she pushed the button to watch his reaction.

  “I’m a big girl now. And I’m not your sister. If you have a little wanderlust in the night, end up in my room, I can handle it.” In my dreams, she thought. She almost wished she’d wake up to find him in her bed. Then maybe she could put those demons that haunted her to rest.

  Mac’s head jerked up. “Caitlin, I’m not going to―”

  She held up her hand. “Don’t.” She stopped him before he said something to twist the knife deeper. “I know your Eagle Scout ways won’t let you stray. Again.” She buried her foolish thoughts and met Mac’s tired gaze. Before they parted ways again, she would find the courage to confront him—no matter the outcome. For now, he could have his space.

  She felt his gaze on her as she walked into the hallway. He stood and retrieved his jacket from the chair. At the landing, he paused and faced her. Unable to look away, she held his gaze. The Adam’s apple in his throat bobbed a couple times and he looked as though he might speak. Then he shook his head and started up the stairs.

  “Thank you for taking care of Dad,” she said as he took the first step.

  He paused and nodded, but didn’t turn around. “Goodnight.” His deep voice drifted through the shadows, wrapping around her, evoking thoughts she had no business thinking.

  She flipped off the light switch, plunging the room into darkness. Mac’s heavy footsteps ascended the stairs.

  As night filled the house, Caitlin could almost hear echoes from the past. Boisterous children playing games, and teasing teenagers with jibes and affectionate squabbles. Streaming memories anxious to connect with the present—only to find thin
ly disguised civility.

  Caitlin climbed the stairs, and at the top, paused in the hallway. Even though the quiet didn’t betray his presence, for the first time in two years Mac was back in her house. Scarcely ten feet from her bedroom. She swallowed the lump in her throat. He might as well be a thousand miles away.

  Chapter Three

  Early the next morning, Caitlin stood in the kitchen, staring at the old linoleum floor and holding the phone away from her ear while her father ranted on the other end of the line.

  “It won’t make a bit o’ difference if you’re at the hospital or not.” His Irish brogue thickened with frustration. “The damn nurses won’t let me leave ’til they’ve poked holes in every inch of skin they can find. I’m not having my only daughter standing around to watch.”

  “Dad, I’m alread—”

  “I said, no!” he interrupted. “And that’s final. You took on a job where people’s lives are at stake. If you’re standing over me, then you’re not doing your job. I won’t have that on my conscience. I’ll call you when I’m out of the hospital.”

  There was a loud click and the line went dead. The disconnect between her and her father cut like a hot knife on bare flesh. Caitlin stared at the phone for several seconds, remembering the same feeling when the door slammed behind her the day she left for Northstar. Her father hadn’t wanted her in the business, but now that she was, he placed the same work ethic on her as he’d done for himself. The job—before all else.

  The screen on her phone went dark, bringing her mind back to the present. She thumbed the off button and stuffed it into her pocket.

  As soon as Sean heard her voice, he’d started his tirade. Caitlin didn’t doubt the entire hospital heard him, too. After listening to him declare he was fine and didn’t need the damn tests, she finally got a word in to suggest that she talk to the doctors herself.