by J. Kenner
“Then don’t,” Jason snarled.
“But there’s a reason for the rule,” she continued, not missing a beat.
Lane stopped her own pacing, halting in front of Zoe. “I don’t understand why we’re waiting. Jason’s right,” she said.
Jason nodded, appreciating the way she had parked herself solidly in his corner.
“Or even if he’s not right,” Lane continued, apparently pulling out of that parking space. “His lead is the best we’ve got. We should be headed to the South Pacific right now, not arguing about directives.”
Jason couldn’t agree more. On the way back to his houseboat he’d radioed ahead, instructing Boreas to use the Council database to locate any islands owned by Hieronymous, Mordichai, or Hieronymous’s flunky Clyde. The search came back negative, just as he’d suspected. Yet he knew such an island was out there somewhere. He’d escaped from it. He’d even given the coordinates to the Council during his debriefing; but when they’d sent a Protector to check it out, the agent had returned with bad news: no island, just miles and miles of ocean.
At the time, Jason had assumed he’d been mistaken on the coordinates. After all, his years of imprisonment there had been a pretty traumatic time. The High Elders had agreed he’d gotten the coordinates wrong. Now, though they hadn’t said it out loud, Jason even wondered if they thought his mistake was on purpose, a way to protect his father’s secret hideaway. After a few more attempts to locate the island failed, the Council had given up.
Well, even if the Council believed he’d been mistaken about his location, Jason was willing to take up the search again. Elmer seemed to think there was an island out there, and at the moment the word of a spastic ferret was better than nothing. He’d find the island. And he’d bet good money that Hieronymous had the boy stashed there.
To hell with them. He stepped onto his speedboat, jerking away when Zoe placed a warning hand on his arm.
“Dammit, Jason,” she said. “I’ll send Protectors. I’ll send an entire team. Even if we consider you free and clear of any suspicion, you’re too involved, too emotional—”
“Damn right I’m emotional,” he snapped.
“That’s the whole point of Directive eight-two-seven-b. You’re going to react instead of think, and you’re going to put Davy in more danger than he’s in already. Don’t you see? You’re doing that right now.”
“I will never endanger Davy,” he said. “I want to make Hieronymous pay—I promise you that—but not at the risk of hurting my son.”
He rubbed his temples, tired of having to jump through the Council’s hoops: first proving himself to the High Elders, now proving himself to Zoe. “Look,” he continued, “The only safe way in is under the island. And it’s not exactly marked on a map. All we’ve got to work with is my memory and a ferret pointing to a light on a map. So I have to go, because I have the best chance. Another team will fumble around and Hieronymous will detect them. He’s got sensors everywhere, and each is sensitive to Protector biorhythms. If a Protector enters from the surface, or spends too long stumbling around in one of those tunnels, the gig is up.”
“Call the Z-man,” Hoop suggested, appearing and ambling down the pier. “He’s cool, right? I bet he’d let Jason go. What Jason says is reasonable.”
“Good idea,” Jason agreed. “Call Zephron.” It was a gamble, but he was almost positive the High Elder would allow him to proceed.
“I tried,” Zoe admitted. “But I haven’t had any luck contacting him.”
“Oh, just let the man go then,” Hoop said. “That Council of yours is too bureaucratic by half.”
Zoe licked her lips, and Jason could tell she was bending. He stepped all the way into his speedboat.
“Plus,” Deena added from where she’d appeared, “if Jason fails—not that he will,” she added quickly. “But if he does, he can always call in the cavalry. Right?”
Hoop pointed to Zoe. “Why don’t you go along, too? You two can do a dynamic duo thing.”
“No!” Jason said, remembering how erratic Zoe had been at Sea World. He didn’t know the reason, but he wasn’t about to partner up with a Protector whose powers were on the fritz. He looked her in the eye. “She can’t come with me.”
Zoe swallowed, her cheeks turning slightly red. “He’s right. I shouldn’t go.”
“But—” Hoop began.
“No,” Deena cut him off. “Jason’s right. Zoe should stay here.”
“Her cold?” Lane asked.
Jason frowned. He’d never once heard of a cold mucking up a Protector’s powers like had happened at Sea World, but whatever the cause, he didn’t need to be worrying about his partner’s abilities.
“Exactly,” Zoe agreed. “And in case Zephron calls.”
“That’s fine,” Jason said. He moved across the boat and was seated behind its wheel. “I work better alone.”
“A pity,” Zoe said. “Because the only way I’m letting you go is if Boreas goes with you.”
As soon as the neophyte Protector was settled on the boat, Lane breathed a sigh of relief. She’d expected Jason to protest, but he’d surprised her by holding his tongue. Good. Time to get underway. In reality, of course, only a few minutes had passed since Jason’s revelation. In her mind, though, it seemed like an eternity.
She grabbed her purse from where she’d dropped it on the pier, then carefully stepped from the wooden planks onto the boat’s fiberglass hull. Her heart picked up tempo, her pulse echoing her anticipation.
Lane still wasn’t entirely certain how Jason knew where Davy was. He’d told her that Dorothy had told him about the Lite-Brite map, and that Elmer had confirmed on a tracking device that Davy was somewhere in the South Pacific. Since that’s where Jason had been held hostage, he was certain Davy must be on Hieronymous’s island. Lane had no idea how Elmer knew that, or, for that matter how Elmer had gotten his hands on a tracking device. But things had been moving so fast, she hadn’t had time to ask. For that matter, she didn’t care about the how of it. The point was, they had a solid lead and they were finally doing something. They were going to get her son.
She took another step onto the boat, then looked around for a place to sit down.
From the cockpit, Jason frowned. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
She blinked, surprised at his tone, then reached for one of the life vests sitting in a pile on the floor. “Um, getting ready?” She slipped it over her head and started securing its Velcro straps across her chest. Despite growing up in Los Angeles near the ocean, she was a lousy swimmer—an unfortunate byproduct of having spent her childhood bouncing among foster homes. Swimming lessons required some modicum of stability.
As soon as she could afford it, Davy was taking swimming lessons. Guppy, goldfish, whale, and beyond. No doubt about it, her child was taking lessons.
The boat shimmied, its engine coming to a stop. Lane looked up to see Jason stalking toward her. Boreas, apparently sensing trouble, slipped down the stairs and into the small cabin belowdeck.
“Getting ready for what, exactly?” Jason asked. His voice held a no-nonsense tone she remembered well.
Oh, no. She knew what he was thinking, and there was no way in Hell—or in Hades, as he would say—that she was getting off this boat. She tilted her chin up, drawing courage from the defiant gesture. “Getting ready to go look for my son.”
“Sorry, sweetheart, but I can only look out for one amateur today, and your friend already elected Officer Boring.”
“No problem,” she answered.
He nodded, looking smug, then stepped aside, presumably clearing her exit path off the boat.
“I can take care of myself,” she said instead. She leaned back, trying to look collected.
“Lane . . .” Exasperation laced his voice.
“Don’t even,” she said. She almost stood straight, wanting to get in his face, but decided against it. For one, being in close proximity to Jason messed profoundly with her abilit
y to think coherently. Mostly, though, she didn’t want to give him the opportunity to push her overboard and then speed away.
Not that he’d do such a thing, but . . . she wasn’t certain. And that tiny bit of uncertainty kept her butt firmly planted on the rail.
“We’re wasting time,” she said. “Which do you want to do? Argue with me, or go rescue Davy?”
The muscle in his cheek twitched, and Jason aimed a finger at her. “You do what I say, or I swear I’ll tie you to the hull just to keep you out of trouble.”
She nodded, not actually willing to make an out-loud promise, but willing to seem to agree if it would get him to start the boat up again. She couldn’t hear what he muttered under his breath as he walked away, but she could tell it wasn’t nice.
He cranked the engine and started to maneuver them out of the slip. From the dock, Hoop untied the rope, then tossed it onto the deck. “Be safe,” he called. “All of you.”
Lane nodded, and her eyes met Zoe’s. She saw the fear reflected there, and a quick stab of guilt cut through her heart. By going, she was giving her friend one more person to worry about.
About that, though, there was nothing Lane could do. She had to go with Jason; she had to go to Davy. He was all alone, and he was surely scared. For years they’d only had each other; she’d be damned if she was going to fail him now.
Soon they were out of the marina and zipping across the wide-open ocean. Lane stood up and unsteadily made her way from her perch to Jason’s captain’s chair. He was focused on the controls, just as he had been for the last ten minutes. Not once had he turned to look at her, and he didn’t now.
Her temper flared. “Dammit, Jason. He’s my son. I’m sorry if you think it’s inconvenient to have me along, or if you want to play the hero all by yourself or something, but I’m here. Deal with it. You just can’t run off on your own again.”
Mentally, she patted herself on the back for standing up to him. But when he turned and she saw his face, all of her self-congratulations faded. “Jason?”
As quickly as it had appeared, the pain in his eyes vanished, replaced by a stoicism she found unnerving. “I’m fine,” he said.
“I don’t think so.” She put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
At first she thought he was going to refuse, but then he swiveled in his vinyl seat to face her while keeping one hand on the boat’s controls.
“I lost Davy,” he said. “And I don’t mean this morning, but years ago. Now I have the chance to get him back.” He reached for her hand, squeezed it so hard she grimaced. “I will get him back.”
Her brow furrowed. They’d been over this ground before. “I told you, I believe you.”
He released a tortured sigh. “But there’s more. I can get him back from Hieronymous—I know I can. I’ll fight the man to the death if that’s what it takes. But who do I fight for the rest?”
She licked her lips, not sure she was ready to hear what he meant. “The rest?”
“I want my family back, Lane.”
She grasped the edge of the control panel, its sun-baked chrome hot against her palm. Her knees weren’t quite up to the task of keeping her vertical, but she didn’t want Jason to know that. No matter how many bells and whistles he set off in her insides, she wasn’t going down that road again. Best to nip this little fantasy in the bud.
She opened her mouth to tell him that, but nothing came out.
Now, she urged herself.
This time when she tried, words actually emerged. Good. Always nice to have control over one’s mouth. “Listen, Jason,” she began, then cleared her throat. She sucked in a deep breath, hating to hurt him but needing the record to be clear. “The thing is, you never had a family. There’s nothing to get back.”
“I know,” he said simply.
Lane blinked. That wasn’t the response she’d been expecting. “Oh.” She licked her lips, trying to decide where to go next. In her trial seminar, the professor had said to never let the jury know when a witness’s answer ruffled you.
But Lane had a feeling Jason already knew she was ruffled. So much for a verdict being returned in her favor.
“I didn’t mean to be blasé,” Jason explained. He took her hand, his fingers sliding between hers. “It’s just that I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about the situation. A lot more time than you, I mean. As much as I wish it weren’t true, it would be both arrogant and stupid of me to think I could just pop back into your life and pick up where we left off.” He shrugged. “I mean, you’re a beautiful, bright woman. Hell, I’m surprised you aren’t already married.”
“Oh.” She wasn’t entirely sure what to say to that.
“We used to be wonderful friends,” he went on. “I hope we still can be.” He bit his lip, then reached out to take both her hands. “And I meant what I said. You need to do what I say. I want you safe, and losing you to Hieronymous—whether you’re my friend or lover—would kill me. You’re my son’s mother. No matter what else is between us, that’s forever.” His words brought tears to her eyes. She told herself they were tears of relief. “Really?”
He nodded. “Absolutely.”
He was saying all the right things, and still she frowned. “I do have a boyfriend.” The words just popped out, and she cringed at the non sequitur. But Jason needed to know, needed to understand that she had another life now, that she’d found a man who fit that life—a man who wouldn’t leave her or her son to run off and battle boogeymen. “He’s fabulous with Davy.”
“That’s great,” Jason said. But Lane noticed the hint of a shadow cross his face.
She cleared her throat. “So, uh . . . we’re on the same wavelength, then? I mean, I just want to be clear.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, and she frowned.
“What?” she asked.
“Just that you already sound like a lawyer, and you’ve been in law school less than a year.”
“Yeah, well, I’m a quick study,” she said. She was so happy to share a light moment with him that she didn’t pause to wonder how he knew she was in law school. “But are we . . . ?”
He nodded, then took her hand, his skin rough against her palm. “Absolutely,” he said. “Friends. Good, old friends. I want in Davy’s life, but I won’t push. We’ll figure something out.”
“Okay, then. Great.” She took a deep breath and stood up. Certainly, she couldn’t argue with that. And everything he was saying was what she wanted to hear. “Well. Right Okay.” She headed for the stairs leading belowdeck. “I’m glad we got that straightened out,” she said.
But in truth, she wasn’t glad. As much as she wished she were, she wasn’t glad at all. And that, frankly, had her more than a little worried.
Jason vowed to take up playing poker. If he could convince Lane he didn’t want her anymore—that he hadn’t spent years yearning for her, fantasizing about her, remembering the feel of her flesh under his fingers—then he could sure as Cerberus make five or six guys think he had a royal flush when all he really held was a pair of threes.
So Lane just wanted to be friends—no rekindling of their romance, no going back to where they’d left off. Well, if that’s what the lady wanted, that’s what he’d give her. He had made a career of starting over. And if her wishes meant starting over as friends—and working his way up the ladder from there—then that’s what he was going to do. Lane might have another man in her life, but Jason had the advantage of being Davy’s father. No matter what, that kept him in the game.
He did one more quick check of the control panel to confirm they were still on course, then set the boat to autopilot. He would have preferred to simply take a couple of propulsion cloaks and head to the island that way. But Hieronymous’s island was well guarded against Protectors and, as he’d told Zoe, any approach from the air would surely be detected. A sea approach was still risky, but Jason intended to come from under the water, not on it, and he hoped that they could fin
d a chink in Hieronymous’s armor.
He’d already plugged the latitude and longitude from Davy’s map into the boat’s computer—it was very similar to what he’d told the Council after his escape from Hieronymous’s imprisonment—but he wanted to do some double-checking as only he could. After all, the Council had already looked and found nothing.
He killed the engine and let the boat float on the ocean’s gentle waves. Pulling off all his clothes, he tossed them on the deck and slipped into the water. Under its surface he looked around, trying to find a sea creature who not only looked adventurous but had an impeccable sense of direction.
A flounder appeared and flashed him a quizzical look, but Jason let it swim on by. Flounder had a reputation for being patently unreliable. About twenty feet below, he caught sight of a great white shark. Jason almost called out, then decided to let it pass. For the most part the beasts were reliable, but lately they’d developed a grudge against mortals. Jason would hate to hang his hopes on a pissed-off psycho shark deciding to send him on a wild-goose chase.
Finally, a garibaldi appeared, swimming slowly, talking to itself about its plans for the day. Jason caught the fish’s attention, and it floated over. After more time than he intended—as a general rule, garibaldi tended to be very chatty and needed a firm conversational hand—Jason got down to the nitty-gritty. Yes, there was an island where Jason suggested: the garibaldi had swum past it the other week. It was just past the kelp bed and then there was a right turn at the sunken pirate ship—exactly as Jason remembered.
Apparently, the Council had sent an incompetent to check out his story.
Jason offered the fish a hearty thank-you and then propelled himself back to the surface. He hoisted himself out of the ocean and gave his head a good shake. Straightening, he turned around—and found himself staring right into Lane’s intent gaze.
“Forgot my sweatshirt,” she said, clutching the dark green garment she’d laid over the back of his captain’s chair. She swallowed, her gaze darting up and down his naked body. When her cheeks flushed red, he did his best not to smile.