Her arms tightened around his neck. “I love you, too. And whatever happens, we’ll work it out.”
Her gaze followed him as he walked away and crossed the yard to his cabin. Jake loved her—it was like a dream come true. But how could she dare feel this way, when so many things in her past had come to a bad end? Right now, she was as happy as she’d ever been in her life. But at the same time, she was terrified.
With so much good in her life, how could something not go wrong?
* * *
By the time she’d checked her e-mail and set up tomorrow’s agenda, with contingency plans for rain, Kira was so exhausted that she could barely stay awake in the shower. After toweling herself dry, she pulled on clean pajamas and crawled into bed. Her head had barely settled on the pillow before she sank into dreams—strange, jumbled dreams filled with ringing phones, crashing cars and sirens screaming through the night.
A rap on her bedroom door jerked her out of sleep. At first, she thought she’d imagined it. But no, there was the rap again. Her heart lurched. Was somebody in trouble? Paige? Dusty? One of the students?
Sitting up, she glanced at the bedside clock: 3:15. “Who’s there?” She sprang out of bed and rushed to open the door.
“It’s me, Brandon.” The slim, dark boy stood in the hallway, faintly silhouetted b
y the security light that fell through the living-room window. “Mack is gone. He’s nowhere in the cabin, and his backpack is missing.”
“You didn’t hear him leave?”
“I was asleep,” Brandon said. “A couple minutes ago, I got up to use the bathroom. That’s when I noticed he wasn’t in his bed. He’d lumped the pillows to make it look like he was there, but I could tell it wasn’t him.”
“Go get Jake! Hurry! I’ll be right out.” As Brandon raced off, Kira scrambled into her clothes. Why hadn’t she guessed that Mack would run away rather than face his father? Until he was picked up, the boy was her responsibility. Anything that happened to him would be her fault.
Still zipping her jeans, she rushed out of the bedroom—to face a small figure clad in pink pajamas.
“What’s the matter, Aunt Kira?” Paige asked. “Is somebody sick?”
“One of the students ran away.” Kira knew better than to lie. “I have to help find him. Go on back to bed. Grandpa and Consuelo will be here. You’ll be fine.”
Paige didn’t go, but Kira had no time to argue. Leaving the little girl in the hall, she dashed outside. Jake, in sweats and sneakers, stood with Brandon in the glare of the security light. “Any sign of him?” she asked.
“Not yet,” Jake said. “Maybe he’s just hiding on the property. Brandon, you stay and keep your eyes open. If anybody else wakes up, keep them here. I’ll check the sheds and vehicles. Kira, can you look in the stable?”
Kira was off before he finished speaking. Mack could be hiding in a stall or in the tack room. But what if he’d taken one of the horses? He could ride up one of the mountain trails; or worse, he could ride the horse down to the highway, abandon the poor animal and hitch a ride into Tucson. She didn’t even want to think about what could happen to him as a runaway boy on the streets. If he wasn’t found soon, she would have to notify the police—but now she was getting ahead of herself.
The stable door was closed, nothing disturbed in the tack room. The horses were safe in their stalls, with no sign of Mack anywhere. Kira had gone back outside and was closing the door; then she heard a shout from Jake. She ran back, meeting him in the yard.
“The motorcycle’s gone.” He was out of breath. “That crazy kid’s taken it.”
“Wouldn’t we have heard it start?” Kira asked.
“He wouldn’t have started it here. Too loud. My guess is, he would’ve wheeled it out of the gate and partway down the road, then started it there. Come on.” He grabbed Kira’s arm, pulling her toward the vehicle shed where he’d parked her wagon, leaving the key under the floor mat. “The engine’s still tricky. With any luck, he won’t be able to start it.”
“What if he can get it started? Does he know how to ride a motorcycle?” Kira asked.
“He thinks he does. But that’s not the problem. The damned bike doesn’t have any brakes. There’s no way he can ride it down that road without crashing.”
“Dear God . . . ,” Kira breathed a prayer.
They’d almost reached the shed when a sound—distant but unmistakable—froze them in their tracks.
It was the sudden cough and bellow of a big motorcycle engine.
* * *
“You drive, I’ll watch.” Jake sprang into the passenger side of Kira’s wagon, reached for the keys under the floor mat and thrust them into the ignition for her. The vehicle shot backward out of the shed, spitting gravel as Kira swung around and headed for the gate.
“Can you hear anything?” she asked.