“Mac? I thought I’d find you out here.”
Mac turned and smiled as her father, Craig Hernandez, sank his lanky body into the chair next to her. “Hi, Dad.”
He looked weary and old with his bloodshot eyes and rumpled shirt he’d most likely slept in, if he got any sleep. So much for a relaxing retirement.
“Hey, honey. I got a lead via the website yesterday. Someone thinks they may have spotted your brother in Port Townsend last weekend. What time do you want to head up there on Saturday?”
Try not at all. Mac cringed inwardly at her traitorous thoughts. “Dad, I can’t go Saturday. I have plans.”
Her father frowned. Nothing deterred him from his mission. “What could be more important than finding your brother?”
“What’s the point, Dad? We aren’t going to find him in Port Townsend because he’s not there.” She fought to keep the exasperation from her voice. The last thing she wanted to do was spend the three-hour drive cooped up in a car with her father as he went over all the evidence he’d collected for the trillionth time.
Guilt and duty tore her in half. He had no one else. After Will disappeared, her dad had driven away his golfing and bowling buddies with his obsession to find his son. He’d alienated the only woman he’d dated since Mac’s mother died when Mac was only three.
Only Mac remained. She couldn’t abandon him. Or Will. Lately, she’d begun to fear her father might be losing it, on the verge of a breakdown or something.
“We can’t pass up any leads. You never know which will be the one. What’s wrong with you, Mac? We always reserve the weekends for Will.”
“I know. I just need this Saturday for something else. How about Sunday?”
He brightened up, and she mentally kicked herself for caving once again. “Sunday’s a deal.” He stood, bent down to stroke the cat on her lap, and turned to leave.
“Want to stay for dinner?” She longed for just one normal dinner with her father where they’d talk about sports, fertilizer, and last week’s pool game. Only she knew they wouldn’t.
“Can’t. I’m meeting with Trudy.”
Not Trudy again. Trudy was Sonja’s best friend and the last known person to see Will. Her father kept grasping at straws.
“Dad, there’s nothing more Trudy can tell you. She’s milking you for a free dinner.”
“There has to be something. She’s hiding something.” Her father’s eyes gleamed with his rabid obsession, which, unfortunately, had become his norm.
Mac glanced at the seventies-style house next door, at one time her parents’ house, then Will’s, now Sonja’s home with her second husband, Ben.
Resentment and anger over the injustice of it all flooded through her. Once part of the same family property, that house was where Mac grew up with her brothers, Will and Clint. It should still belong to her family, not to that woman.
“Eventually, I’ll wear her down. I have to.” Craig’s voice steered her attention back to him.
“I think she’s wearing you down.” She couldn’t count how many times they’d had a similar conversation.
Craig shrugged. “He’s my firstborn. I can’t give up on him.”
“Dad, at some point, you need to face facts and live your life. Will wouldn’t want you dedicating every spare moment to finding him.”
“What you’re really saying is that you want to abandon your big brother too?” The sadness in his eyes pierced right to her heart.
“No, Dad, I don’t. I loved Will, but he’s gone.”
Her father sighed and stood up. “Bye, hon. I’ll let you know what I find out.”
“Bye, Dad.” Mac watched her father walk out the gate, his shoulders slumped, his gait shuffling.
Maybe if he thought she was seriously dating someone he’d cut her some slack like he did Clint. Only that deception didn’t sit well with her any more than abandoning her father did. Besides, she’d need a guy to play along, and what guy would volunteer for that duty?
Her mind quickly detoured to Bruiser, with those blue-gray eyes, perfect face, golden hair, and deep tan. Not to mention that ripped body. Oh, God, especially that body.
She shook her head and had to laugh. What an outrageous thought. Just because Bruiser had been backed into a corner with no way out and graciously accepted his fate didn’t mean they had anything going other than a casual friendship and Mac’s late-night, secret fantasies with a vibrator named Bruce.
* * * * *
The next morning, Bruiser walked into the Regional Burn Center in Seattle. He was a regular fixture at the center and showed up like clockwork every Tuesday morning when he was in the area, sometimes more often. The center served the entire Pacific Northwest. Burn patients came from all over to receive the critically acclaimed care and surgical procedures pioneered here. He’d seen it all as far as physical damage done by burns, but the mental and emotional scars were far worse.
Bruiser lived an illusion, one he’d perpetuated so long that the real Bruiser rarely came out to play. He was the team’s poster boy, always saying the right thing, making news with his daredevil escapades, and being a damn good football player. Veronica Simms loved him, but not like that. Hell, no. Bruiser avoided women who emasculated men, and Veronica avoided men she couldn’t pussy whip. Instead, they’d developed a business relationship. She did more for him than his agent when it came to finding lucrative endorsements, and he supported her favorite charities as she did his.
People claimed Bruiser had become the face of the Evergreen Burn Foundation because he was a publicity whore
