Maggie loaded the supplies into her trunk, shaking her head at the growing pile of paper bags. Later, she’d transfer everything to the Jeep and head back to the cabins and stock them for the coming occupants. Right now, they stood empty, but she’d gotten word her guests would be arriving within the next two days, and everything had to be perfect. No mistakes, no missteps, no blunders.
Guests. What a misnomer. More like people who had nowhere else to turn. Who’d had all their options taken away, left with no resources to count on—except her. She both loved and hated she’d become embroiled in this subterfuge, but given the choice, she’d do it again in a heartbeat. After all, she could identify with them. Feel their struggles. Knew in excruciating detail the mental and physical anguish they endured, and the unimaginable choices that led them down a path from which there was no return. No way out.
Nobody could know. If anybody found out what was happening on her land, her property, she might be arrested. No, she would be arrested. She’d been threatened more than once, but she couldn’t let the thought of going to jail keep her from doing what she had to—lives were at stake. What she did helped the ones who couldn’t help themselves.
Closing her eyes, she leaned against the car, her hands atop the trunk, and felt the memories of that horrible night rush back, like it had happened yesterday. Fresh enough in her mind, she could almost feel her ex’s forearm around her throat, squeezing tighter and tighter. Hear the blaring wah-wah of the police sirens. Smell the acrid stench of smoke from the teargas clogging her nose and choking her, making her gasp for air. She couldn’t breathe. Heartbeat racing, adrenaline pouring through her body, she struggled against the crushing hold forcing her to her tiptoes as she tried to suck in air. Still felt the prick of the knife’s blade beneath her breast.
“Maggie?”
She jerked free from the memories, staggering back a step away from Ridge. Breath soughed in and out of her lungs, and she sucked in a gulp of air, eyes wide. Now that she’d been pulled from her memories, she recognized the moment for what it was, because it had happened before.
A panic attack.
Wow, she hadn’t suffered from one in such a long time, she’d thought—hoped—they were over. Yet here she stood, in the center of the grocery store parking lot, trembling with the aftereffects of falling head first into things better left alone. But the past once again reared its ugly head. She knew why. It was going to the tiny cabins, knowing they’d soon be filled, and she despaired over seeing anybody staying in them. Didn’t matter, she’d made her choice. It was her decision. Right or wrong, she’d stand by her word—because there wasn’t any other choice.
“What’s wrong?” Ridge started to reach for her, and she took an unconscious step back. His hand froze at her movement, and he slowly pulled it back, lowering it to his side, his expression shuttered.
“Sorry. Nothing’s wrong. I was lost in my thoughts, and didn’t see or hear you.”
“Maggie, you’re white as a sheet and you’re trembling. Did something happen?”
“No, Ridge, I swear everything’s fine. Just a few unpleasant memories, nothing more. It’s over. You ready to go?”
“Sure. Want me to drive?”
Maggie almost slumped with relief at his offer. The thought of climbing behind the wheel, with her hands shaking so badly she could barely hang onto the keys, scared her. Thank goodness Ridge came when he did, because she’d been close to succumbing to the panic attack. She’d be better soon, but coming down from the adrenaline high usually took time, and she didn’t want Ridge to see her fall apart.
“That’d be great.” She handed him the keys, hoping that he didn’t notice her fingers quivering. Quickly walking around the car, she climbed onto the passenger seat, and fastened the seatbelt, crossing her arms over her chest.
Just hold on. Once you’re home, everything will be fine. You can do your meditation exercises. Focus on the positive. Concentrate on the here and now. The past can’t hurt you. Never again. You’re not vulnerable. You are strong. Capable. You are not a victim.
Maggie focused on her breathing, slowing it down and taking controlled easy breaths in and out. She cut her eyes at Ridge, hoping he didn’t notice her stiff posture, the rigid self-control she exerted to keep herself from falling to pieces.
“Unclench your muscles, Maggie. Uncurl your fists, stretch out your fingers, one at a time.” His voice was soft, the tone soothing and reassuring. An unconscious hitch in her breathing had her closing her eyes, praying he wouldn’t ask questions. It was too much, too soon, and she didn’t have answers she wanted to share with him.
“That’s it. Smooth, steady breaths. You’re doing fine. We’ll be home soon.”
She didn’t answer him, instead focusing on the road beyond the windshield, watching the white lines blend into each other with every mile. The rhythm of the tires on the asphalt hummed in the background like a lullaby, the soft shush-shush sound easing through her until her eyes drifted closed.
Ridge glanced over at the sleeping woman at his side. She’d finally relaxed enough to fall into a light doze, which gave him time to study her and wonder what had happened to trigger a panic attack. Definitely a PTSD reaction, he recognized it for what it was, because he’d seen several in the past. Whatever triggered it had to have been a doozy of a memory, because she’d be so pale, he’d wondered if she’d pass out.
He’d recognized the signs. The hyperventilating, the startle response when he’d called her name. Swaying on her feet, he’d reached for her, instantly wanting to comfort and ease her. Instead, he’d maintained the distance between them, at least physically.
With one hand on the wheel, he dug in his back pocket for his phone, and called Buckeye. Somebody fell down on the job when doing the assessment of Mary Margaret White, and he needed to fix that glitch before it became a bigger problem. Nothing in her background indicated anything traumatic in her past. In fact, her records were almost squeaky clean. Now, in hindsight, maybe they seemed a little too perfect.
“Hey, Ridge. How’s it going in Texas Hill Country? Missing the big city yet?”
“Nothing wrong with loving Texas, my friend. You ought to try it sometime.”
Buckeye laughed. “Thanks, but I’ll stick to the sun and the sand. This Florida boy likes things a little more tropical. Cow patties and rattlesnakes aren’t my idea of paradise, my brother.”
“Don’t knock it until you try it.” Ridge stole another glance at Maggie, checking her breathing, and noticed the tiny sigh she gave before settling back against the seat. “Listen, I need you to do a little digging for me—off the record.”
“Business or pleasure?” He could picture Buckeye sitting up straighter in his chair and cracking his knuckles over his keyboard, ready to explore the World Wide Web, coaxing it to reveal all its hidden secrets. There weren’t many around who could finesse their way around the internet like Buckeye. There wouldn’t be a byte of information on Maggie that he couldn’t uncover. Ridge hated digging into her past, especially when it came to her personal life.
“Business,” he started to reply, but then changed it to, “personal. I don’t want anybody to know about me asking, or what you find. This is between you and me.”
“No problem. Whose skeletons am I digging out of the closet?”
“Mary Margaret White, goes by Maggie. She owns a pretty sizable piece of property that straddles Burnet County and Shiloh Springs. DEA ran her, but my gut’s telling me they missed something. It may be unimportant, but I get the feeling there’s a whole lot more to Maggie White than what they found. I need everything. Everything.”
“How soon do you need it?”
Ridge’s hands clenched around the steering wheel, tightening until his knuckles were white.
“Yesterday.”
Buckeye sighed, and Ridge could hear the clacking of keys as Buckeye began searching for info. “Gee, why am I not surprised by your answer? I’ll get you something ASAP.”
Ridge hesitated for a second, before he added, “Buckeye, somebody might have doctored her identity. Or made something important about her disappear. Nothing is adding up, and I don’t like it.” He kept his voice soft, not wanting Maggie to wake and hear him.
“Well, I’m guessing since the DEA did a background check, she’s part of an ongoing investigation? Just asking, because I don’t want to leave footprints in case somebody else starts digging into your gal.”
“Definitely no footprints, buddy. E-mail me everything you find. And I owe you one.”
“After you finish whatever you’re working on, take a break. You haven’t stopped working in I can’t remember how long. Head on down to sunny Florida, and I’ll treat you to beaches, babes, and all the beer you can drink.”
“Deal. Thanks.”
“No problem, catch ya later.”
Disconnecting the call, Ridge turned the car into the drive leading up to Maggie’s house, and pulled into the open bay in the garage. Maggie’s eyes opened at the sound of the garage door closing.
“Welcome home, sleepyhead.”
Her head whipped toward Ridge at the sound of his voice. “What happened?”
“You had a little bit of a meltdown at the grocery, and I drove us home. No big deal.” He jerked his thumb toward the trunk. “Gimme a minute and I’ll unload your stuff. You want it in the kitchen?”
Maggie shook her head, opening the passenger door and climbing out. “No, that’s okay. It’s not for me; I picked it up for somebody else. There’s nothing perishable in there, so it’ll be fine until I drop it off. But thank you.”
Ridge placed his hand on the small of her back, and she stiffened almost imperceptibly beneath his touch before relaxing and heading into the house. It might have been a leftover reaction from her panic attack earlier, but it still bothered him that her nerves seemed frayed. Whatever caused her meltdown, it must’ve been bad. Then again, posttraumatic stress sucked at the best of times. In his line of work, he’d seen far too much of it.
“Want something to drink?” Maggie swept into the kitchen and grabbed a couple of glasses from a cabinet. “I’ve got soda, water, or sweet tea.”
“Tea, thanks.”
While she fussed with the tea, Ridge heard the text alert ding on his cell phone. Pulling it free, he smiled at the message.
Lunch at the Big House on Sunday. Unless you are bleeding or have lost an appendage, you WILL BE THERE. Love you.
“Anything important?”
“My mother. Apparently, I’m being ordered home for lunch on Sunday. No excuses.”
Maggie chuckled, setting the glass of tea in front of him. He slid onto the bar stool at the peninsula, laying his phone on the countertop.
“Sounds like your mother misses you.”
“I saw her a week ago. I call her at least once a week when I’m on a job. With so many of us, my family tends to have large gatherings fairly often, especially if somebody has something to celebrate. The last few times I’ve been home, my brothers all got engaged. I swear, there’s something in the water in Shiloh Springs, because they are dropping like flies. First Rafe, then Antonio. The latest is Brody. He’s getting a ready-made family, because Beth has a daughter. Cute little girl, though she’s been through a lot recently.”
Maggie stood on the other side of the peninsula, and leaned against it, resting her chin on her hands. “It must be nice having a big family. Lots of brothers and sisters. I always wanted that, but I ended up an only child.”
“Some days, I wished I was an only child. There were eleven of us, ten boys and one girl. Talk about crazy. That’s not counting the ones who didn’t stick around.” At her perplexed expression, he explained. “We’re all foster kids. I thought you knew. I guess I take it for granted that people know about my family, because everybody in Shiloh Springs does.”
“You’re all foster kids?”
“All except Nica. She’s Momma and Dad’s biological daughter. We tease her that she’s the pampered princess, though it’s not true. Our parents treat every one of us as their kids. It doesn’t matter that we aren’t blood kin, as far as they’re concerned, that’s the end of the story. We’re theirs and they are our parents.”
“I bet with all those children, there are some very interesting stories.”
Ridge chuckled and toasted her with his tea. “You have no idea, Miss Maggie. Maybe I’ll tell you a few someday.”
She nodded toward his phone. “Shouldn’t you answer you mother, let her know you’ll be there?”
“Why don’t you come with me?” He wasn’t sure where the impulsive invitation came from, but it felt…right. Getting Maggie away from her home would give his team time to come onto the land and search for the road the smugglers were using. And he would love to see Maggie and his mother together. He’d bet they’d get on like a house afire. Ms. Patti would have every detail of Maggie’s life story before the end of the day. She’d pry it from her, and Maggie wouldn’t know what hit her until it was too late.
“Ridge, I don’t think that’s a good idea. You’re here doing a job, and—”
“Maggie, when’s the last time you did something spontaneous? From the little time I’ve spent with you, I’ve noticed you like order. Routine. Come on—take a break. Aren’t you a little curious about meeting the infamous Boudreaus of Shiloh Springs?”
“But it sounds like this is family time. They won’t want a stranger horning in on their plans.”
Ridge reached across and picked up Maggie’s hand, squeezing it gently. “There’s always room for one more around the Boudreau table. Be my guest, Miss Maggie. Please.”
He realized he really wanted her to come with him. Wanted to show her where he came from, to introduce her to the people in his life that mattered. Give her a tiny glimpse into the real Ridge Boudreau, not the persona, the bits and pieces he’d played taking this job. He held his breath, waiting for her answer.
“If you’re sure, then, yes, I’d like to come.”
His pulse rate sped up, and he let out the breath he’d been holding. Grabbing his phone, he typed in a quick reply, telling his momma he’d be there, and he was bringing a guest, though he didn’t mention his guest was a woman. There’d be a barrage of questions, a literal third-degree assault, and he didn’t have time for that.
“Can’t back out now, darlin’. Momma knows you’re coming.”
He had to prove Maggie wasn’t involved with drug dealers. That she wasn’t part of an international cartel smuggling drugs across Central Texas and distributing them through a pipeline that dispersed them across the United States. He had to.
Somehow in the last day, he’d realized the parameters of his job changed. He wasn’t trying to simply find the people responsible for shipping poisonous junk into the U.S. and shutting them down. Proving Maggie wasn’t part of the illegal drug trafficking had jumped to the top of his to-do list. Because he knew deep in his gut, she was innocent.
Proving it, though, might be harder than he thought.