Hallowed ground, p.19
Hallowed Ground, page 19
“What?” she demanded again, rounding on him.
He held up his hands like a man being drawn on. “Just a few security measures, love. That’s all.”
“What kind of security measures?”
“Video cameras, motion detection sensors with built-in notification systems, infrared aerial support, and perimeter lasers.” Bane smiled reassuringly. “No one’s getting close without us knowing.”
Ellie stared at him. “Infrared aerial support,” she repeated and turned to glare at Sean. “Drones?”
“It’s just a precaution,” he replied mildly.
Fury erupted within her. “No. Take it down. All of it.”
Bane blinked. He looked at Sean.
“No!” Her voice rose. “This is my home. Mine. You don’t get to turn it into a surveillance state behind my back!”
They blinked at her, and pressure suddenly built in her chest.
Had Voleur been watching? Did he know what they’d done?
The plan wouldn’t work if he didn’t come, and he wouldn’t come if they’d laid a trap.
And they’d laid a trap.
For seven years, she’d been waiting, patiently biding her time. Hunting Voleur openly; making herself a target.
Inviting him, daring him, demanding that he come.
And they might have ruined it all.
The enormity of it punched through her, and she reeled.
“Get out!” she snarled and pointed at the SUV. “And take your spyware with you!”
“Ellie—” Sean said in a conciliatory tone, but she turned away, so furious she was shaking.
She’d trusted him. She’d trusted all of them.
The pain was like a knife, stabbing deep. The tension that had been building within her for the last week grew so taut, she thought she might snap.
Couyon!
What had she been thinking?
Fool!
She turned and threw the burgers at him. They slapped his chest and fell to the ground, leaving a big, greasy stain on his shirt. “Go away, canaille! And don’t come back!”
He glowered at her. “Bloody hell, woman, calm down! I’m just tryin’ to protect you.”
“I don’t need your protection,” she cried. “Don’t you see? He knows what you’ve done! What if he doesn’t come, Sean? What do I do if he doesn’t come?”
Sean stared at her, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “I won’t apologize for makin’ sure you’re safe.”
She blinked in disbelief. “No one asked you to make sure of anything. Get. Out!”
He stared at her, his hands curled into tight fists, his green eyes burning, and grief welled inside of her so abruptly, it stole her breath.
Betrayed.
Again.
And his duplicity might have destroyed her only chance to avenge Ethan.
“Go!” she yelled at him, enraged and sickened by the thought.
But he didn’t go. Instead, he strode toward her. “This isn’t over.” He halted in front of her, so close she had to crane her head back to take him in, and the pain within her ballooned until she could hardly breathe. “Aye, maybe I should’ve told you, but understand this, Ellie: I will do whatever it takes to make certain you and Mae are safe—because that bastard, he can’t have you. I don’t give a shite if that means you hatin’ my guts. I can live with that—so long as you’re both still breathin’.”
Then he turned and strode away.
“Don’t go!” Mae cried, and when Ellie looked at her, the girl glared back.
Bane stood up, gathered his laptop, and walked down the stairs. Ellie didn’t expect him to stop in front of her, but he did, his golden eyes gleaming in the fading light.
“The best defense,” he said quietly, “is a good offense. And a good offense starts with defensible space. We can get him, Ellie, you just have to let us.”
Then he, too, walked away and climbed into his truck.
Mae stood frozen, a look of paralyzed, wide-eyed fear stamped across her face. Mick stopped to whisper something in her ear, then stepped through the screen door. He halted at the top of the stairs and looked down at the fallen bags of food, one of which had burst open, leaving a scattered pile of French fries littering the ground. He sighed. “Guess it’s beans and rice again tonight.”
“Get in the bloody car,” Sean growled and climbed into the SUV, slamming the door behind him.
Mick walked down the stairs, his gaze on Ellie, steady, green, oddly calm, and she almost burst into tears.
When he stopped in front of her as Bane had done, she braced herself.
“He couldn’t do anythin’ when mam died,” the boy told her softly. “We just had to watch. But now he can do somethin’. You can’t expect him not to, angel. That just ain’t fair.”
Then he went to the SUV and climbed in.
Ellie watched them drive away, her heart a hollow drum in her chest, her stomach churning, the feeling that she might have just destroyed something fragile and delicate and beautiful bleeding through her like a stain.
“Why did you do that?” Mae cried, making her start.
She turned and looked at the girl.
“They were good, Ellie. They helped us. And I wanted to keep them!”
Then she, too, turned and stormed away.
twenty-two
Sean stared out the tall, narrow window of his room at La Maison Sol. The sky was still dark, the sun just beginning to stretch itself across the dew-laden landscape, gilding the thick grass in gold, but he didn’t see it.
In his mind’s eye, all he could see was Ellie.
What do I do if he doesn’t come?
She’d looked…devastated. As if he’d destroyed all of her hope; as if Voleur’s reappearance was the only thing that mattered.
And too late, he’d realized it was.
She lived solely for that moment; for seven years, she’d dreamt of it, anticipated it, held it close, and kept it safe. She didn’t fear it.
Not like he did.
But his fear wasn’t for himself; it was for her.
She’d always intended to rush headlong into death, and he wondered if trying to save her just made him a selfish bastard.
If she wanted to go, who was he to say stay?
Just because she’d inadvertently dragged him back into the world of the living didn’t mean she was responsible to meet him there. She hadn’t been trying; she hadn’t been reaching. Reawakening him had never been her intent.
Truth be told, he was the one who’d pursued her, even when he refused to acknowledge it. He had interfered and put himself into every situation; she’d not asked him for help even once.
And now…
It was likely she never would.
The worst part was how close he’d gotten.
She’d almost surrendered. She’d almost let him in.
And like a bloody idiot, he’d fucked it all up.
Christ.
A monumental error of judgment that had thrust him right back to square one.
And now there was a single day left before Voleur would appear. Twenty-four hours before a child would be taken, before Ellie would toss herself like chum into shark-infested waters.
And there’s wasn’t a bleedin’ thing he could do about it.
The likelihood that Max would catch this monster in the next twenty-four hours was akin to wishing on a star, and while Sean was the optimistic sort, he wasn’t a fool.
Goin’ to have to just watch it happen.
Again. Like it had been with Gilly.
No control; no say.
No power.
Helpless was not a feeling with which Sean had ever made his peace; he was a man of action. A doer.
Especially when it came to something he cared about. Someone.
And he cared about Ellie.
Another woman he couldn’t save.
The mass in his chest was hot and pulsing, filling his throat, sending adrenaline to circle uselessly in his veins.
Not only was there nothing he could do to turn Ellie from her self-destructive path, she was furious with him. Her devastation at what she viewed as betrayal was a blade that stabbed deep into him and then twisted for good measure.
He’d hurt her, when he hadn’t meant to.
Again.
Christ. He’d done little else since arriving.
His inability to embrace the second chance fate had presented had nearly destroyed them before they could even begin. And now…he’d overstepped, and she’d overreacted, and Voleur was a heartbeat away.
If something happened to her—
Nothing was going to happen to her.
Because he was going to have Bane continue his surveillance—whether Ellie liked it or not—and he was going to sit parked in her driveway to watch over her until he knew it was safe.
Let Voleur come, the cowardly, evil bastard that he was.
Sean looked forward to meeting him.
And once the monster had been vanquished, he was going to beg Ellie for forgiveness.
Because somewhere along the line, he’d decided they weren’t if. They were when.
Ellie was a gift, one he wasn’t returning.
And if she couldn’t forgive him—well.
He’d cross that bridge if he came to it.
“She’ll get past it,” his son said suddenly from behind him. “She likes you well enough.”
Sean snorted. “You sure about that?”
Mick moved to stand beside him. “Aye.”
“Couldn’t sleep?”
“Nay. There’s too much happenin’.”
He hadn’t slept much, either. “Aye.”
“We can’t leave them alone, no matter how mad she is. It ain’t safe.”
“I know.”
“And Mae’s just a wee thing. She needs someone to protect her.”
“I know that, too.”
Mick turned and looked at him. “So what’s the plan?”
Give Ellie a few hours to cool off.
Talk to Andre again; check in with Max.
Pray Max had found something.
“We’ll head over after breakfast,” Sean replied. “Let her calm down a little first.”
“But we’re not takin’ no for an answer?”
The hardness in his boy’s tone made Sean look at him. “Nay.”
“Good.” Mick nodded. “And just so you know, you have my blessin’.”
“Your blessin’?”
“With Ellie. I like her. I know you vowed there wouldn’t be anyone after mam, but…I won’t always be here to take care of you. And I want you to have someone who makes you happy.”
The mass in his chest throbbed. “Thank you, son.”
“She’s a good choice. She won’t take any of your shite.”
A laugh caught painfully in his throat. “Nay, she won’t.”
“And then we can keep Mae, too,” Mick continued. “I kinda like the idea of havin’ me a little sister.”
“And she won’t take any of your shite, either.”
His son gave him a look, and the laugh escaped.
“I’m goin’ to try,” Sean told him. “But it’s not easy. Losin’ your mam…that damn near killed me.”
“But it didn’t. You’re still here. Besides, some of us ain’t got the luxury of choosin’.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means if you get scared, you can choose not to try.” Mick stared out at the bayou as the sun rose higher. “But I’m scared of losin’ you every day, and I don’t get a choice in the tryin’. I just have to deal with it.”
Sean stared at his son, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. He had no idea Mick felt that way. Or that his son might fear losing both of his parents.
Even though it made perfect sense.
Which he might have realized if he’d given a thought to anything other than his own blind, consumptive grief.
Stupid, feckin’ idiot!
“I’m not goin’ anywhere, son,” he said and swallowed hard.
“No one plans on dyin’.” Mick shook his head. “It just happens. And you’re all I got.”
Bloody hell.
“I didn’t realize you felt that way,” Sean said.
“I know.” Another shrug. “It’s okay.”
But it wasn’t.
Being a father was something at which Sean worked hard. He knew he made plenty of mistakes. He’d never had the example, after all; he didn’t know what a good father was. But he did his best, and they got by.
And then something like this would happen, and he’d realize he needed to do better. Be better.
Be everythin’ he’d never had and always needed.
“You can’t use her as an excuse to stop livin’,” Mick said quietly. “She wouldn’t want that, and neither do I.”
Sean couldn’t help himself. He wrapped his arms around his boy and pulled him into a tight hug.
“You make me proud to be your Da,” he said.
Mick hugged him back, and despite his growing bones and broadening shoulders, he felt thin and gangly in Sean’s arms.
Fragile.
Everything was just so bloody fragile.
But his son was right. There was nothing to be done for that fact; you just had to live with it. Take the chance; embrace the risk. No matter the fear.
Ironic, when he’d spent his life doing that very thing when it came to pretty much everything else.
“I’m not sure Ellie will have me,” he said and stepped back. “She’s pretty damn mad at me.”
“She spent the night before last diggin’ through her boy’s grave,” Mick said. “She needed the release.”
Sean rubbed a hand down his face, the emotion inside of him fluttering like a trapped bird. “When did you get so bloody wise?”
“One of us has to be.”
He laughed again, and it felt like hope.
“You’re sure?” he said.
Mick looked at him, his green eyes dark in the morning light. “Aye. I’m sure.”
They were on the same page, then.
Because Sean was sure, too.
twenty-three
“I’m leaving! You don’t want me no how. I told him you wouldn’t keep me. All you care about is him, even though he’s dead, and I’m alive!”
Mae shoved her new clothes into the backpack Ellie had bought, followed by her hatchet and a book from Mick.
The Adventures of Tom Sawyer.
A good choice, Ellie reflected.
“I don’t want to stay with you no more,” Mae continued, her cheeks fiery red, her movements agitated. “You’re a stupid jerk!”
True enough, Ellie thought, trying not to panic as she watched the girl prepare to leave. Today was the final day; tomorrow Voleur would make his move.
She couldn’t let Mae go.
She couldn’t.
But Mae was furious, and Ellie couldn’t blame her. The fit she’d pitched at Sean had not been one of her finer moments.
It had been years since she’d lost herself like that. Since she’d given into the rage and the chaos and the fear; since she’d lashed out at someone she cared for and hurt them.
The last person to receive the brunt of her temper had been Fancy, who in her backward way, had only been trying to help. And before Ellie could make it right, Fancy had died.
Something for which she’d always carried guilt.
And now…now, she’d done it again.
Because even if Sean had overstepped—which was his way—his intent, like Fancy’s—had only been to help.
I will do whatever it takes to make certain you and Mae are safe—because that bastard, he can’t have you. I don’t give a shite if that means you hatin’ my guts. I can live with that—as long as you’re both still breathin’.
The memory made her chest tighten.
She didn’t hate him. The thought of him believing that made her want to weep.
She owed him an apology. Bane, too. And Mick—
He couldn’t do anythin’ when mam died. We just had to watch. But now he can do somethin’. You can’t expect him not to, angel. That just ain’t fair.
Those words had felt like a slap.
It didn’t matter that the steam welling inside of her had needed to vent; nothing that was happening was any of their faults.
They didn’t deserve her wrath, fired at them like a cruise missile.
They’d done nothing but help her. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t asked for it, she knew enough to be grateful.
You are a stupid jerk!
For so long, she’d nurtured only her pain. She’d forgotten how to give the same care and attention to living, breathing people. And no matter her suffering, she had no right to inflict it upon others.
That made her no different than Voleur.
Which was just one more sickening, shameful realization.
But Ellie wasn’t one to shy away from making things right. What you did mattered, sending unseen ripples out into the world that either did good or did bad. So making amends was important.
She’d climbed from her bed knowing she had to ask for forgiveness, only to find Mae angrily packing her bag.
The girl had refused to speak with her after Sean had left.
I wanted to keep them!
Ellie knew the feeling.
“I care about you very much, chèrie,” she said. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at them. And I shouldn’t have sent them away. The last few days have been…difficult.”
Mae halted in her packing and stared at her. “I wish I’d never shown you the island.”
Ellie sat down on the bed. “Why?”
“Because it just made everything worse.”
Ellie didn’t know what to say. Explaining what had happened to Ethan—and then, in turn, what had happened to her—felt impossible. And telling Mae that the monster who’d taken and murdered Ethan was soon to return was not a reasonable thing to do. The girl had dealt with enough in the last few weeks; a nameless, faceless murderer was not something with which she needed to concern herself.
That was why Ellie had intended to send her with Sean. Away.
And she still planned to, if he was willing. Which he would be, because he was a good, decent man who cared about Mae, and who would protect her, regardless that she wasn’t his.
