McCloud's Woman (32 page)

“Judge and jury again,” she reminded him. “This is why
we’re a democracy and not a dictatorship. If people are given too much
power, they act on their own selfish beliefs rather than that of the
people they represent. Martin’s motivation doesn’t excuse the result.
Don’t make the same mistake as he did and assume you know what’s best
for everyone.”

“There are two sides to every issue,” he agreed with
resignation. “No matter how logical you make it sound, I’m ruining a
friend, a mentor, a man I trusted with my life.”

“What about yourself?” she whispered, shivering at the
despair she heard in his words. “Don’t you count for something? If those
reports in the paper are true, Martin used you and all those others who
worked with him. I don’t care if he did it for fun and profit or if he
thought he was benefiting some grander scheme. He let murderers and
rapists go
free
. That wasn’t his call to make.”

“I’d better take you back to the hotel. You can pitch Ian
out of his suite.” Dropping his arm from around her, TJ headed back
inside.

He was throwing her out of his life—again.

Mara caught her elbows to keep from flying apart. Staring
out to sea, she fought the rising nausea, the knowledge that she could
never be good enough, that she would always be alone.

Was that what she feared? Being alone for the rest of her life?

That might be preferable to having still another man mess with her head.

She was a strong woman, and a smart one. She didn’t have
to be told twice that she wasn’t wanted. If this was TJ’s polite way of
saying he only wanted sex from her, she could accept that—sometime in
the next century.

Right now, she preferred her own company. Swiping at a wayward tear, she swung around to gather her things.

***

The first sign that all was not well in their small world
appeared as they walked over the dune to the parking lot where Clay had
left the Taurus.

Mara had packed her bags while TJ disappeared into the
nether regions of the house. Furious with him, raging at herself, she
kept her lips sealed. Donning figure-hugging stretch slacks and a
flowing, diaphanous shirt that didn’t conceal her gold tank top and
cleavage, she marched out of the house on high-heeled mules, carrying
her smallest suitcase. TJ miraculously appeared with her larger ones a
minute later.

He’d been watching for her. Mara felt the scalding heat of
his gaze as they crossed the dune, but she refused to acknowledge it.
The man wasn’t dense. He knew what he was doing by throwing her away.
So, let him do it. She didn’t need a man in her life any more.

The stranger in heated argument with Clay at the foot of the dune ended their silent battle.

“Wait here.” TJ passed her the handle of one of her
suitcases, left the other to fall over in the sand, and stalked down the
path as if wearing armor and carrying a lance.

Mara could smell a reporter from a mile off, but this
wasn’t one of the entertainment journalists that haunted the shadows of
film sets, greedy for every crumb thrown their way. This one didn’t even
glance in her direction.

Mara dropped her suitcases and sauntered down the hill to eavesdrop.

“How could you not be aware of the colonel’s activities?”
the reporter demanded of TJ. “You worked together, out of the same camp.
You reported to him. You had to wonder why criminals continued to run
loose after you identified them.”

So this was what TJ had known would happen once the story
broke. Strangers who didn’t know his integrity would condemn him without
proof. Fingers would point. His reputation would suffer, all without a
shred of evidence.

She wanted to give the reporter a good shake and say that
he’d damned well been in Africa and who knew where else and couldn’t
keep track of every case—and because he’d left a trusted friend in
charge, hadn’t thought he needed to. Mara was sorry she’d encouraged TJ
to open Pandora’s box.

“The colonel is a friend.” Crossing his arms, wearing his
most impassive expression, TJ remained unmoved by the reporter’s
increasingly vehement arguments. “I won’t convict him on the basis of a
single newspaper report. This is private property, and you’re
trespassing.”

“The government subsidizes your contracts. Are you
covering up for Martin and turning your back on war crimes just to save a
cash cow?” the reported asked incredulously.

TJ might remain calm at this insult, but Mara wanted to
rip the man’s eyes out. Before she could utter a word, Clay grabbed the
stranger’s shirt, lifted him from the ground, and shook him until his
teeth rattled. TJ merely watched, as if to say the reporter had been
warned, and he wasn’t responsible for consequences.

“Journalism isn’t putting words in a man’s mouth,” Clay shouted. “Now get out of here and make up your stories elsewhere.”

Mara didn’t intervene. The impact of the reporter’s observations had stunned her. People would believe
TJ
supported criminal activities? She couldn’t quite wrap her mind around the enormity of the accusation.
TJ
?
The man who thought truth and justice so important he’d given up his
life to them? The man who had agonized over trust and national security
and government cover-ups while attempting to preserve a man’s reputation
until he had evidence of a crime?

Since when did the good guys lose? Frozen in horror, Mara
did nothing to stop Clay. Faced with the odds of two against one, the
reporter ripped Clay’s fists from his shirt and backed off. “I’d suggest
you start coming up with an explanation soon,” he sneered. “There’s no
way you’re coming out of this clean. Let me know when you’re ready to
talk.”

A peacock screamed in the distance as the reporter strode away.

“Charming,” Clay commented when the silence threatened to
solidify. “Guilt by association. Wonder if he’s covered any witchcraft
trials lately?”

TJ’s expression was so blank, Mara’s stomach turned
upside-down. She wanted to hug him and tell him everything would be all
right, but even she knew better. Everything wouldn’t be all right for a
long, long time. He could lose his job, his career, maybe even his
family and friends. And she’d done this to him.

TJ trudged off to retrieve her suitcases, and Mara finally
understood what he was doing—he was throwing her out for her own good.

Clay must have seen it, too. He crossed his arms and gave her that McCloud glare. “Deserting rats?” he inquired loftily.

“Deserting rats drown. I’m heading for the lifeboats. Keep
his head above water until I find one.” Turning on her heel, Mara
marched back to pick up her carry-on.

She couldn’t fight the world and the McClouds, too. She needed to sort all this out and figure out what to do.

She was used to TJ rescuing her, not the other way around. This would take some serious thinking.

She had lots of time to do it in. TJ didn’t say a word all the way back to town.

***

“I’ve talked to all the investors, Mara,” Ian yelled at
her as she paced up and down the deserted dining room where he’d dragged
her as soon as she and TJ had arrived at the B&B. “We can do this.
If you fire me, you’ll lose everything.”

“No, she’ll lose a two-faced scorpion,” TJ interrupted from the dark corner he’d occupied instead of leaving as he ought.

“Shut up, TJ. This is my company and my problem. You won’t let me touch your problems; I won’t let you mess with mine.”

Fair enough. TJ figured this was the point where he hauled her bags up the stairs and departed.

To his amazement, he couldn’t do it. He’d meant to. Mara
didn’t deserve to be caught in the destruction of his career. But maybe
there was time to hold her up until she found her feet.

He rested his shoulder against the wall, crossed his arms, and waited.

Ian scowled at him and returned to pleading with Mara.
“I’m good, babe. I can keep this thing on schedule, keep the money
flowing. I’ll back out of your way, let you do your own thing. You’ve
got vision. I know you can do it.”

“I had vision last week and the week before,” she informed
him coldly. “But you preferred Sid lining your pockets. That’s not
happening with me in charge. I run a clean ship. I’m hiring new
accountants and a team of auditors. I want someone in charge of the
money who looks after it like it’s their own. You don’t qualify, Ian.”

TJ admired her adamancy, although he thought kicking out a
qualified professional in midstream might be a little extreme. “I’ll
give you a ride to the airport, old boy,” he offered helpfully.

“Shut up, TJ.” Mara threw him a dirty look.

Okay, so he was persona non grata everywhere. TJ still
didn’t leave. Sooner or later, the showdown would end and someone would
have to carry out the bodies.

“I’ll work with the accountants,” Ian responded eagerly,
grasping the opening. “Let them write the checks, keep the books,
whatever. We’re a team, babe. We can pull in the money, keep the film
moving. Now that Sid’s out of the way, there won’t be any interference.”

“I’m hiring a computer graphics guy to handle the ship
scenes,” Mara boldly declared. “We can float the replica in the harbor,
and he’ll punch in the beach film. We’ve got to rework the scenes to
accommodate him.”

TJ gave the little producer credit. He didn’t blink an eyelash.

“It’s your call, babe. Do we have samples of his work?”

“He’ll bring in his stuff next week. We’ll decide then. Throw your girlfriend out of my suite. I’m moving back in.”

Ian turned red and puffed up his feathers, but Mara had
already turned her back on him. TJ watched with interest as she stalked
across the floor in his direction. He didn’t harbor any hope that she
would throw herself at him again, but he wouldn’t mind it if she did.
He’d never had a woman knock him back on the bed and have her way with
him. He enjoyed new experiences.

He ought to get a real kick out of unemployment.

“You’ve not seen the last of me, Timothy John.” She poked
her finger into his chest. “You’re judging me again, making my decisions
for me, and I don’t like it. Go home and sleep in your cold bed, and
when you’re ready to admit you’re wrong, you just let me know. I’m
counting on you having the amount of brains I think you do. Don’t let
testosterone poison them.”

TJ’s lip curled against his will. In her high heels, Mara
stood nearly eye level with him, and he wanted to grab her and kiss her
silly.

Remembering the reporter’s accusations and knowing Mara’s
cock-eyed optimism wouldn’t let her see the disaster looming ahead, TJ
resisted. “I’ll be working night and day to get my job done so I can get
out of your way. Don’t expect to see me around much.”

She made a rude noise, stood on her toes, branded him with
her lipstick-enhanced kiss, then spun around and marched off, shouting
orders at the staff lurking outside the door.

TJ continued leaning against the wall while he pushed his
heart back in his chest. She’d almost ripped it out there for a moment.
He’d be more careful in the future.

TJ wiped at the sweat dripping off his nose, knowing he left a smear of dirt over half his face.

Nudging his hat back, he answered his screaming cell
phone. He’d had call forwarding added to his business number in
preparation for shutting down on the first of the month when his
landlord would be throwing him out. So far, there had been a dearth of
callers wanting to hire him. “McCloud Enterprises.”

“Señor McCloud, please.”

Well, he should have seen that coming. Leaning against his shovel, TJ scowled. “Speaking.”

“Señor McCloud, I regret to inform you that we have filled
the position in Yucatan. We will not be needing your services,” the
voice responded stiffly, as if reciting a memorized speech.

“Fine. Call me if you need me.” He hung up without a polite farewell. Had he the energy for it, he would have growled.

Was this how Brad had felt those last days of his life—pressured beyond bearing, with nowhere to turn?

He needed a break. He could hear laughter floating up from
the beach, knew the film crew had stopped working to eat. He could walk
a few steps and be in their midst within minutes. Maybe he just needed
company to relieve the burden of his conscience. He didn’t know how
Mara’s crew would react to his presence and really didn’t care. They’d
dubbed him Indiana Jones and left him alone.

It was Mara’s reaction that mattered, and he decided he
didn’t dare risk it. Ending up in bed together again wasn’t the wisest
course of action. This time common sense instead of hormones would
prevail.

He reached for a bottle of water from the cooler. The sooner he got this done, the sooner he could be out of her hair.

“Found anything yet?”

TJ almost dropped the water bottle before looking behind him.

The rotund mayor stood just outside the chain link,
studying the mounds of dirt with what appeared to be fascination.
Carrying his suit coat over his shoulder, wearing his white dress shirt
with sleeves rolled up, he looked hotter than TJ felt.

TJ grabbed a rag and rubbed his face, trying to figure
what the town mayor was doing all the way out here on the island. He’d
never expressed any interest in the site since TJ had warned him it
didn’t contain pirate bones.

“Haven’t identified anyone, if that’s what you’re asking.”
The mayor would have been what—ten at most?—during World War II. He
couldn’t have been involved in whatever had happened here.

“Guess clues would have been buried with the hurricane,”
the mayor commented, dabbing a handkerchief to his forehead. “You about
done yet?”

“Don’t think I’ll find much more without bulldozing the
beach. Not certain anyone’s interested in going that far.” He could have
interested lots of people in his Nazi theory a week ago. Not now. The
grant people weren’t taking his calls. The grim spiral downward had
begun as soon as his name had appeared in the media connected with
Martin’s. Even the Defense Department had quit calling.