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Protection? Protection from what?
Mac stooped down and studied Jonathan, checking to be sure his wrists were secure. Then he
grabbed him by the hair and brought his face down close.
You were never good enough for her, Mac said calmly. Now that you ve answered to her,
you re going to answer to me.
He thrust Jonathan away and glanced at each of the babies, ensuring everyone was safe. Then he
stood up and turned to face his sister.
Sam called me after you kicked him out, Mac said. Said he was worried about Jonathan
showing up and doing something stupid. He said if you wouldn t let him watch over you, he wanted
me here to do it for him. I moved up the date of my visit to be here in his place.
Sheri swallowed, feeling hollow all of a sudden. Sam called you?
And I ve called the police. They should be here momentarily, so let s clear up a few things before
they arrive, shall we?
Sheri opened her mouth to speak to tell her brother what she thought about his conniving, lying,
manipulative behavior but Mac grabbed her hand and leveled her with a steely stare.
You are not speaking. You re listening. And here s what I have to say to you. Mac caught her
other hand, his grip warm and loving while his eyes flashed cold in the dim light of the house. Sheri
realized it was one of the few times in her adult life she d seen her brother without sunglasses, even
at night.
Number one, Mac said. You are a good mother. An amazing mother, and if your demonstration
of pure, primal maternal instinct just now didn t prove that to you, you need to seriously reevaluate
your judgment.
Sheri swallowed, struck speechless by his words. How did you know?
I know everything, Sheri. This bullshit I ve been hearing from Sam about your certainty you lack
some mommy chip that stops now.
But
Number two, Mac said, ignoring her feeble attempt at protest as he gripped her hands harder.
Sam is a good Marine, a good man, and a good friend who did his best to return a favor to me. What
I asked him to do was watch out for my beautiful, competent, overachieving, stubborn-as-fuck sister.
Did he, or did he not do that?
Sheri felt her eyes filling with tears. She thought about the last twenty-four hours, about her chaotic
day without Sam around to laugh with or cook with or tend to her babies with his offbeat brand of
caregiver instinct. She swallowed again, picturing his face in her mind, remembering the feel of his
hands on her body, the smell of his skin against hers.
Did she need a man in her life?
Maybe not. But she sure as hell wanted one. Her life certainly felt richer and more joyful with Sam
in it.
Is he still on island? she whispered, her eyes fixed on her brother s.
Mac nodded once, curtly. I believe so. I can t say for certain where. His plane doesn t leave until
morning.
Sheri stepped back, her stomach flipping over in her abdomen as her heart began to race. I have to
find him.
Why?
I have to tell him I m sorry and that I understand now and that I want to make love to him forever
and wait, why am I telling you?
I have no idea.
Can you watch the boys, please?
The police will be here any minute, Mac said. Don t you think you should wait?
You can explain. She scanned the room feverishly, looking for her purse. She couldn t find it, but
she spotted her phone on the table and grabbed that. You re good at handling authority figures, just
tell them I had to run out. And, um try not to kill Jonathan.
Where are you going?
To find Sam, Sheri said, already moving toward the door. To throw myself at him and beg him
to come back and make a life with the boys and with me.
Sheri?
Don t try to stop me, Mac.
I wouldn t dream of it. But don t you think you should put on some shoes? Maybe a shirt that s not
ripped open?
But Sheri was already out the door, car keys in her hand, an idea forming in the back of her brain
where Sam might have gone.
Please say it s not too late.
She tried his number once, twice, three times while she drove, but the call just went to voicemail.
Was the phone dead, or was he just ignoring her calls?
Either way, she had to find him. She had to tell him what she d realized.
She careened into the parking lot at Smith s Tropical Paradise. There were plenty of cars in the lot,
though she couldn t pick out his Jeep anywhere. Still she had to try.
She sprinted to the gate, barely noticing the gravel biting into her bare feet, the breeze through her
half-buttoned top, the chunk of carrot in her hair that smacked her in the face as she ran.
The smell of tropical flowers and river water was heavy in the air, and a light breeze tousled her
curls, reminding her she hadn t combed her hair for God knows how long.
As she approached the gate, an attendant stepped forward in a grass skirt and coconut bra. The
woman looked at Sheri, her eyes traveling from the torn shirt to the crazy hair to the crazier eyes.
Sheri brushed a hand over her cheek and felt something crusted there, oatmeal, probably.
Christ, had she even looked in a mirror today?
Sorry ma am, the attendant said, not unkindly. The park closed at four. Only luau guests at this
point.
Sheri looked down at her disheveled appearance. She was hardly dressed for dinner and a show,
so she couldn t blame the woman for assuming the worst.
Please, Sheri begged, spitting a carrot-caked curl out of her mouth. There s a man.
The woman smiled, understanding flickering across her features. There always is.
No, I mean inside. I think. I need to go find him. I need to tell him
I understand, but I can t let you in without a ticket.
I ll buy a ticket! She looked down, realizing she d left her purse, her driver s license, her credit
cards, her shoes hell, pretty much everything, including her sanity at home.
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