Tami Hoag - Heart of Gold

She folded her arms over her chest as the wind cut through the yellow Shaker sweater she wore. “It’s the best way.”

His expression incredulous, Shane barked a laugh. “You’re an expert?”

Faith met his angry gaze, though tears rose in her eyes. She was all through backing away from trouble, even when it came in a six-foot-four-inch package. “I’m an expert at feeling helpless and afraid and manipulated. I have to put an end to that, Shane. Please understand.”

He stared at her for a long moment, unable to reconcile the conflicts within himself. She was asking for his support, but he was simply too afraid to give it to her. She wanted to risk her life and have his blessing to do it. Anger burned in his chest. How dare she make him love her, then ask him to let her get killed. Dammit, why couldn’t she have left his heart alone? That was where he belonged-alone, in the shadows.

Emotions roiling inside him like an angry sea, he said, “Do what you want.”

Faith squeezed her eyes shut against the pain and held her breath as she listened to him walk away.

It wasn’t a bad evening by coastal standards, Faith thought as she wandered away from the house, strolling through the lush grass twenty yards in from the edge of the cliff. Clouds had rolled in, promising rain later on, but the fog bank that was such a constant this time of year was nothing more than wisps tonight. Bits of it floated past her like thin strips of cotton candy. She tucked her hands into the pockets of her cardigan, hunched her shoulders against the chill, and walked on.

Dinner had come and gone, a vague memory of frozen pizza eaten during the discussion of the case. Setting a trap to catch the man terrorizing her had been Faith’s idea, but she remembered little of the conversation. Shane had occupied her attention almost to the exclusion of all else.

Her heart ached-not so much because of him as for him. He’d declared his love for her, but there was little doubt in her mind he would sooner have cut out his tongue. Immediately he had withdrawn from her-physically and emotionally-pulling back behind those gray granite walls of his. The tension that had thickened the air between them since that moment had driven her out of the house.

Oh, it wasn’t Shane alone, she admitted as her steps led her down a gentle slope toward the caretaker’s cottage. It was everything-Shane, the case, thoughts of her life with William, memories of the Fearsome Foursome and their days at Notre Dame. All of it had crowded in on her until she’d begun to feel claustrophobic. As soon as she had tucked Lindy in and watched her daughter drift off to sleep, she had slipped out a side door in search of fresh air and solitude.

She let her mind drift now to thoughts of her friends-Alaina and Jayne and Bryan. Their lives had taken such different paths. The dreams they had shared with one another had been altered or left behind or attained, only to discover there was no gold at the end of the rainbow. More than a decade had passed since they had each rushed off with youthful enthusiasm to find their futures. Life had led three of them to meet once again at the same crossroads, and together they had chosen the path that had brought them to Anastasia, to what had once been a fantasy dreamed up by college kids on spring break.

What did the future hold for her now, Faith wondered as she stopped to look out at the sea that was as gray as liquid pewter. Absently she rubbed her keepsake between her thumb and forefinger, and her thoughts turned back to Shane.

He wasn’t an easy man to love, but love him she did with all her heart. Could they have a future together? He’d told her from the start he couldn’t make promises. A man like Shane was married to his profession, and it was a profession that demanded he be a loner. It was a profession that had locked a tender, sensitive man behind walls of cynicism.

She had to hope that after all this madness was past, she would be able to convince Shane the time had come for him to let go of the shadows shrouding his soul, because she was convinced right down to her toes that he was the man she had been waiting for forever. They could have a life together there at Keepsake, a nice, quiet life. And a family. Tingles fizzed through her like champagne bubbles at the thought of carrying Shane’s baby, of holding it and nursing it at her breast while Shane looked on, proud and content.

Turning away from the ocean, she let her gaze wander over the lovely, rolling land that belonged to her, to the eccentric complex of houses that made up her inn. Due west of her, beyond her long driveway and to the other side of the road, the wild meadowland gave way abruptly to rugged hills beautifully cloaked in deep green forest that looked nearly black now in the fading light. And just a few yards to the north of where she stood sat the caretaker’s cottage-a small whitewashed stone building with a slate roof and a bright red door. It marked the northern border of her property with a distinctively Irish flare.

Yes, this would be a perfect place to raise a family. It would be a perfect place for Shane to settle and shed the shell he’d encased his tender feelings in to protect them from a world of grim reality. Faith closed her eyes and pictured the scenes clearly in her mind, praying with all her might that she wasn’t just wasting her time romanticizing, letting her heart chase rainbows.

She checked her watch and heaved a sigh. It was time to head back to the house. Banks wanted to go over the particulars of their plan once again. But as long as she was so close, she decided she would stop in to check on Agent Matthews first. The poor guy had scarcely been allowed to set foot out of the cottage because he was the expert when it came to the phone tap and that was where his equipment had been set up. She bit her lip and winced at the thought of having to share living space with the noisome, irascible Mr. Fitz. Del Matthews deserved some kind of commendation for sacrifice above and beyond the call of duty.

Bringing her fist up to knock at the door, Faith frowned when it moved inward on its hinges as she applied pressure. “Mr. Matthews?” she called as she stuck her head inside.

The place seemed dead quiet. The lights had not been turned on. Shadows swallowed up all the corners of the cluttered living room, giving the place an eerie cast. The furniture was old and worn. Books were jammed haphazardly into a built-in case in one wall. An angry-looking steelhead trout stared down at her from its mount above the cold stone fire place.

“Mr. Matthews?” Faith called again, inching her way inside. “Mr. Fitz?”

Silence was her answer. Gooseflesh rippled the skin on her arms, but she ignored it and continued on into the cottage.

She found Matthews in the small main-floor bedroom sitting with his back to the door, monitoring his machines, earphones clamped on his head. Faith breathed a sigh of relief, only briefly wondering why he hadn’t turned on a light.

“There you are,” she said, crossing the room. She stopped beside his chair, but the questions that had formed in her mind never made it any farther than her throat. She tapped Del Matthews on the shoulder, and his body suddenly slumped sideways and sprawled onto the floor at her feet.

Faith clamped a hand to her chest as if to keep her racing heart from leaping out. For just an instant she froze as her mind absorbed the visual information. Del Matthews was dead. Realizing that, she took two steps backward, ready to whirl and run. She had to get to Shane.

“How thoughtful of you to come down to the cottage, Faith,” a dark, silky voice murmured in her ear. “You’ve saved me a great deal of trouble.”