The Mackades Collection (Books 1-4). Nora Roberts

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СКАЧАТЬ way, he’s going away for a good while. I figure three to five. He won’t be bothering you again. Either of you.”

      “Well, then.” Regan drew in a deep breath. “It’s done. Cassie and I can go home now?”

      “Sure. I’ll be in touch.”

      “I can’t go home with you.” For the first time since she’d come into the office, Cassie tried her voice. It was small and rusty.

      “Of course you can.”

      “How can I?” She stared at the lovely smoke gray slacks Regan wore, at the nasty tears in the soft material. “How could you even want me after what he’s done to you?”

      “What he’s done,” Regan said quietly. “Not you, Cassie. You’re not responsible.”

      “Of course I am.” It cost Cassie to lift her head, to look into Regan’s eyes. “I know what he might have done to you if you hadn’t been strong enough to stop him. Done to you to get to me, Regan. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”

      “Then let me keep being your friend.”

      “I want that, and I know you’ve already forgiven me.”

      “Cassie, there’s nothing to forgive. Don’t take this on,” Regan murmured, covering Cassie’s hands with hers.

      “I have to, because I have to start figuring out how to forgive myself now. I’m going to start by taking my kids home and finding a way to make the kind of life for them they deserve. I need to start taking care of myself and them. I need to do that.”

      “In a few more days,” Regan protested.

      “No, now.” She closed her eyes, steadied herself, then opened them and looked at Jared. “Can you help me, Jared?”

      “Of course I can. Whatever you need, honey. There are plenty of programs—”

      “No.” She pressed her lips together hard. It was time, she told herself, long past time, that she took a stand. “I want to file for divorce. Today. I need you to tell me what to do.”

      “All right.” He took her hand to help her up, then slipped an arm gently around her shoulders. “Why don’t you come with me now? We’ll take care of everything.”

      “’Bout time,” Shane muttered, the minute the door closed behind them. He shrugged at the blazing look Devin aimed at him. “Hey, we all know she should have ditched that bastard years ago.”

      “You won’t get any argument there.” Regan rose, surprised she wasn’t as steady as she’d believed. “But that was hard for her. It’s going to be hard for her to follow through.”

      “She wouldn’t have done it if he hadn’t hurt somebody else,” Devin mumbled. “That’s the kind of thing it would take for her.”

      “Then I’m glad he did. And I’m glad I hurt him right back.” Regan took a deep breath, then asked the question that had been hovering in a corner of her mind. “His eye, Devin?”

      “I can let you know when I find out. If you want me to.”

      “I think I have to know.” She held out a hand for his, not to shake, but to hold. “You’ve been wonderful. I know Rafe was upset, but he was wrong in the things he said to you. You did everything you could. You did everything right.”

      “If I’d done everything right, it wouldn’t have happened.”

      “You know better than that.” She squeezed, then winced as her hand throbbed. “I’m going home, take a bottle of aspirin, and crawl into bed for a few hours. Please call when you hear anything.”

      “I will. Shane?”

      “Ahead of you, like always.” He already had Regan’s coat, and he helped her into it. “I’ll drive you home and fix that door for you.”

      “Thanks.” With a smile, she kissed his cheek. “Baboons or not, the MacKade brothers aren’t half-bad.”

      “Baby—” he put an arm around her waist to lead her out “—we’re all bad. Later, Dev.” When he’d helped her into his truck, he paused. “Rafe’ll come around. He just needs to go punch something.”

      “That’s the answer?”

      “Hey, it works.” He slammed her door, then circled the truck to climb behind the wheel.

      “You’d have gone with him. After Joe.”

      “We’d have all gone with him.” Shane glanced in the rearview, then whipped the truck into a quick and illegal U-turn. “Dev and Jared would have spouted off for a while about law and order. We’d have shoved each other around. Then we’d have gone with him.” With some regret, he shook his head. “It would’ve been fun.”

      “Fun.” She could almost laugh as she let her head sink back on the seat.

      “Nobody messes with a MacKade woman.”

      “Oh, really? And is that my status at this point?”

      He caught the tone, and then, with a wary glance, the martial look in her eyes. “I just meant…seeing as you and Rafe… That is, the way he’s…” Even a MacKade knew the value of retreat. “I ain’t touching this one.”

      He pulled up at the base of her stairs and looked up to study the door. “Looks like somebody beat me to it.”

      “What?” She was still simmering.

      “I’ll check it, but it looks from here like it’s already been fixed.” He got out of the truck, climbed the stairs. “Yep. Few nicks and scratches, but it’s back on its hinges.” As a precaution, he tried the lock, gave it a good shove. “Solid. Rafe probably took care of it.”

      “I see.” It did nothing to appease her. “I’ll have to be sure to thank him, won’t I?”

      “Yeah.” Shane retreated again, backing down the stairs. “Are you going to be all right? Want me to get you anything, or hang around?”

      “No, no, I’m fine. Just fine.” It wasn’t pleasant to take out her keys, but she did it, turned the lock. “I appreciate the ride.”

      “No problem.” As he hurried back to his truck, Shane decided Rafe had a problem. A big one. It gave him a reason to smile all the way through town.

      Chapter 10

      It felt good to beat on something. Even if it was only a nail. To prevent himself beating on something, or someone else, Rafe had closed himself inside the east-wing bedroom. The look in his eye had warned any and all of his men to keep their distance—if they wanted to keep their teeth.

      The sounds of construction bumped against the walls, a sound just violent enough to suit his black mood. Rafe ignored the nail gun at his disposal and beat in nails with hammer and muscle. Every new stud that he secured with nails and a swing of his arm was Joe Dolin’s face.

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