as he scanned over the article. He wanted the bastard to die for what he did, but in typical fashion the former senator had cut a deal. Not that it was going to do him much good. He’d still be in prison a very long time.
Ethan harbored some pretty vicious fantasies in which Castle got stuck with a bunch of inmates who rated politicians on the same scale as child molesters and acted accordingly.
Rachel continued to drink her coffee, her gaze focused on the landscape she’d supervised over the last several weeks. Ethan had worked tirelessly to turn the yard around. Between Rachel and his mother, he swore he’d worked less in the military.
Amusement twinkled in Rachel’s eyes, and he wondered what she was thinking. Her memory still wasn’t 100 percent. Far from it, but she seemed to regain more of it with each passing day. The more she regained her health and ridded herself of the residual effects of the drugs she’d been dependent on for so long, the more she seemed to remember.
“So who was Santa last year at Christmas?” she asked.
He blinked at the off-the-wall question. “What?”
“Christmas. You know, Santa?”
He frowned and tried to shake off the shadow that fell over his heart. “Last Christmas wasn’t that great, baby. I doubt anyone was. I spent it alone. Here.”
Her features fell, and she reached over with her good hand to squeeze his. “I’m sorry. That was thoughtless of me.”
He smiled. “No, you had forgotten what happened, and that’s a good thing. We thought we’d lost you, but we haven’t, so we never have to go back to that place again. Why do you ask about Santa?”
She regained her smile, and her eyes sparkled like twin diamonds. “Well, if no one was Santa last year, that means it’s Garrett’s turn.”
Ethan threw back his head and laughed. “We’ve already reminded him, actually. I don’t think he was too thrilled, but for you and Ma, he’ll do it.”
“We could make Rusty his helper. Between the two of them, they’d do a great rendition of the Grinch Who Stole Christmas.”
Ethan winced. “Ouch. It’s probably not a good idea to put those two together and expect merriment. Besides, you’re assuming that Rusty will still be around at Christmas.”
A thoughtful look entered Rachel’s eyes. “Oh, I think she’ll be here. She loves Marlene and Frank. It’s the rest of you she isn’t so sold on yet.”
“Yeah, well, the feeling is mutual,” Ethan said. “The girl is a pain.”
“Just like little sisters should be,” Rachel said softly.
Ethan groaned. “You’re worse than Ma.”
“Give her a chance, Ethan. She’s young and mixed up and she’s had a hard life. We all deserve second chances.”
She had him there. Boy, did she have him there. He of all people should know the value of second chances. Gripped by emotion—gratitude for just such a second chance—he pulled her across the chair to sit in his lap.
She snuggled into his chest and laid her clunky cast on the table out of the way.
“I love you,” she said as she kissed his neck.
“I love you too, baby. We’re a study in second chances, you know?”
She turned her head up to stare into his eyes. Her bottom lip pouted invitingly, and he couldn’t resist the temptation to nibble on it.
“Sometimes second chances are the very best chances,” she whispered. “Because this time we’ll get it right.”
TURN THE PAGE FOR A SPECIAL PREVIEW OF
MAYA BANKS’S NEXT KGI NOVEL
NO PLACE TO RUN
COMING DECEMBER 2010
FROM BERKLEY SENSATION!
SOPHIE throttled back and the boat slowed, coming to a near standstill in Kentucky Lake. Darkness shrouded her. The sky was overcast. New moon. Only one or two stars poked through the cloud cover. She was running with no lights and keeping to the middle of the lake until she was sure she was close enough to her destination to move quickly to shore.
She studied the small handheld GPS and then lifted her gaze up the shoreline to the north. According to her coordinates, her destination was another mile down the lake.
She swallowed her fear and nervousness and automatically put her hand on her belly in a soothing motion. Would Sam even be there? How would he react to seeing her again? What would he say when he knew the truth about her?
She glanced nervously over her shoulder into the darkness. The lake was a slosh of midnight ink. The only sound she could hear was the low chop against the hull of her boat.