by J. Kenner
Not a great situation, to say the least. Even worse, from her new vantage point she could clearly see a camera mounted among the palm tree’s coconuts.
Hieronymous was watching. Which meant he’d be coming soon.
“Mommy!”
“I know, sweetie. We need to get out of here.” Lane tugged at the ropes with her hands, but they held fast. She needed something to cut them with, but she didn’t have anything. She’d jumped into the water wearing only her bathing suit, a T-shirt, and a tiny waist pack with her keys, driver’s license, a tube of Blistex, a pair of fingernail clippers, and some Coppertone. The pager had been clipped to the waist pack’s strap, but now she could see it on the ground below her, half buried in the soft sand.
Great. This didn’t leave her a whole lot of options.
She cocked her head, running the inventory through her mind one more time. Was there anything to cut with? Yes. “Davy, honey, can you reach my pack?”
She was half-sitting on him, probably squashing him, but she could feel him nod, then felt his little hands searching her. After a second, she heard her pack’s zipper. “You want the clippers, Mommy?”
“That’s right.” She reached down blindly. “Can you hand them to me?”
He couldn’t. His arms were too short. And he certainly couldn’t throw them. Lane couldn’t catch on her best days, and she wasn’t about to try while hanging upside down and backward.
“Want me to start clipping, Mom?”
“You better believe it,” she said. Then, while her son clipped, Lane did the only thing she could do. She waited.
By the time Jason emerged in the shallow water of an island lagoon, Hieronymous’s drug had worn off, and Jason’s body was his own again. He was half-tempted to turn right back around, to take his father on again, but then he caught sight of the beach. Upon it, Lane and Davy were suspended from a coconut tree.
“Jason!” she called. “There’s a camera! Hieronymous! Is he coming? Do you see him?”
Jason didn’t, but that didn’t mean the man wasn’t right behind him. Under the circumstances, Hieronymous was probably starting to comb the whole island for him—and now probably his son.
Familiar fear rose in his throat. They were all in danger now. And though he’d wanted his family back, he sure as hell hadn’t wanted them all trapped together in a fishbowl.
With Boreas at his heels he raced forward, thrilling at the way his muscles again responded to his commands. His mind sorted through the fastest way to get his family down.
As it turned out, that wasn’t a problem. Right as he approached, the net split, and Lane and Davy tumbled to the ground. Davy immediately broke out in peals of laughter, but Lane just lay there. Jason was pretty sure his heart stopped the second she hit the ground.
“Lane?” he asked.
She groaned, rolling onto her side. “Ouch,” she said.
He was next to her in an instant. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. “I’m fine. Soft sand.”
Davy watched Jason through narrowed eyes for a moment, then scooted closer to his mother. It didn’t trouble Jason. There’d be time enough for father-son bonding later. Right now, he was too relieved that everyone was safe to think about anything else.
Clutching her arm, he pulled Lane to her feet. The urge to throttle her was almost as strong as the urge to kiss her, to hold her tight—to never, ever, let her out of his sight again.
He pushed back, still holding her, but needing to see Lane’s eyes. What would he have done if Hieronymous had captured her? Or worse? “What the hell are you doing here? Do you know how stupid—” The words were out of his mouth before he had time to think.
The expression on her face shifted from one of relief to one of irritation, even anger. Automatically he stepped back, increasing the space between them even as he continued to hold her arms.
No use. She jerked free, then took Davy’s arm and led the boy to Boreas. “Get him to the boat,” she said. The young Protector nodded, then led Davy to the edge of the water.
The kid didn’t look too happy. He kept looking back at Jason and Lane. “Mommy? Are you coming?”
“I’m right behind you, sweetie.”
Davy aimed a glare at Jason. “With him?”
“That’s right. It’s okay. Trust me.” She turned to Jason. “But as for you, where the hell do you get off? Did you really expect me to just twiddle my thumbs while you rushed off to rescue my son?”
He urged her toward the water. “I expected you to follow the plan,” he explained, his voice less harsh. She was safe, and his initial wave of fear had crested.
“The plan where you answered my pages and told me what was going on?” she asked. She looked ready to explode; then she sighed. “Okay, maybe it was stupid of me to come . . . but I was all alone, Jason. I thought Davy needed help. Hell, I thought you needed help.”
They were in the water now. He cut through the waves with ease, one arm on Lane’s elbow as he towed her forward. She glared at him, but didn’t resist.
“You swam to shore?” he asked, surprised.
She nodded.
“That was brave,” he said. It wasn’t exactly an apology, but it was the best he could manage under the circumstances.
“Damn straight it was.”
There was a pause; then he grinned, and she grinned back. “I am sorry,” she said. “I had to get Davy. I didn’t know what had happened to you. I never meant to get caught.”
“No one ever does,” he agreed, thinking about his past. And then there was this time. Boreas had done good.
“Yes, but he’s my son, and I wasn’t going to stand by when I could do something to help. He needed his mother.”
Jason tugged her closer. “He’s my son, too.”
“By blood, maybe, but you didn’t raise him. You didn’t change his diapers. You didn’t watch ‘Barney’ over and over until you swore you were going to take out a contract on that dinosaur’s life.”
“Don’t you think I wanted to? Don’t you think I spent every day that I was trapped in that aquarium dying inside?”
Tears began to stream down her face, mingling with the water of the ocean, and Jason’s insides crumpled. He didn’t want to see Lane cry. He hated feeling helpless, but he didn’t have any idea how to stop the flood.
“I’m sorry I got Davy and me trapped,” she said between sniffles. “But I had to come. I had to get Davy.”
Jason sighed, her words cutting a hole in his heart. He understood. “No, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have expected you to stay put. And, all things considered, I definitely shouldn’t have expected you to trust me to find him.”
She tilted her head back as he pulled her through the water, her eyes wide with surprise. “Don’t say that. I did trust you.”
He shook his head. “Well, it’s a moot point, since the boy rescued himself.”
“He’s a smart kid,” Lane agreed. She licked her lips. “A lot smarter than me. I guess I didn’t do much of anything except almost get us caught.”
She twisted around in his arms to point back at the tree with the camera. “Why didn’t we get caught?” she continued. “Not that I’m complaining, but Davy and I were in that net for a while.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe that camera was turned off. Maybe Hieronymous was too busy licking his wounds after he tangled with me and Boreas. Maybe Jupiter is aligned with Mars.”
At that, Lane actually laughed. “That must be it.”
Jason found himself pondering her earlier words, how she’d been hard on herself. “You’ve done a great job, you know.” He nodded toward his boat, where Davy was climbing up the ladder. “Of being a mom, I mean.”
A new tear slid down her cheek, and Lane stopped him from swimming. She pulled close to kiss him on the cheek.
The gesture was simple, but the effect on him was not. Heat spread through his body, and he was overwhelmed with a desire to kiss away her worries and her fears. Hell,
he wanted her to kiss away his own.
“Thank you for that,” she said. “And thank you for bringing me here.”
He brushed his lips across her hair. “You’re welcome,” he said; then he pulled her close. And as they hung there, suspended in the warm water, their legs rubbing as he slowly treaded water, he realized that he couldn’t live the lie she wanted.
He loved this woman. Dammit all, he always would. Whether she wanted him to or not. He didn’t want to pretend to be her friend—not if it meant he could never be her lover again. He didn’t want to be a part-time daddy, and he didn’t want to work his way slowly back up the ladder into her good graces. He wanted his family back. He wanted Lane.
And one way or another, he was going to get her.
10
“Davy, there’s something I want to tell you. And there’s someone I want you to meet.” Lane’s voice filtered up the stairwell of the boat, and Jason’s stomach descended to somewhere in the vicinity of his knees.
He and Davy had already met, of course. Sort of. On the beach, his son had aimed those distrustful stares his way. And when Lane and Jason reached the boat, Davy had squirmed and squealed and basically said that Jason was the spawn of the Devil. He’d gone on to say that, even though Jason had been nice, Mommy shouldn’t be cavorting with such spawn. The kid had actually said “cavorting.” What a clever little guy.
Fortunately, Lane had run interference. “Jason’s not the man who took you from Sea World,” she’d said. “That was a shapeshifter who looked like him.”
“Oh.” The boy had frowned. “A shapeshifter. You mean like how Mr. Mordichai can change into a dog?”
Jason and Lane had exchanged looks. “A lot like that, actually,” Jason had finally said.
Davy had turned interrogative for a few minutes until at last he was convinced Jason hadn’t kidnapped him. Only then had they moved on to Lane’s fear that Hieronymous was going to follow.
Boreas had actually helped with that. “Regulations,” he said, clearing his throat. “Hieronymous will assume we’re following them. Which means he’ll assume we’ve got backup.” Jason nodded in agreement. “He’ll focus on securing his island and removing all evidence. By the time he realizes we came on our own and there’s no arrest to be made, we’ll be safe.”
It had satisfied Lane, for the time being, so she’d taken Davy belowdeck, insisting that he needed a meal and a nap. That had been three hours ago. Now, apparently, naptime was over. It was time for “introductions.”
Automatically, Jason smoothed out his shorts, then peeled off his sunglasses and wiped their lenses on his T-shirt. Footsteps sounded on the steps, and Jason’s mouth went dry. He tried to swallow but couldn’t manage.
Lane appeared first, and then Davy trudged up the stairs, his eyes still sleepy behind his glasses and his hair going every which direction. He gave his glasses a shove at their bridge, and Jason noticed that one earpiece had been meticulously reattached with tape.
His son glanced around the deck, eyes settling on the only other person up there—Jason.
“But I’ve already met him, Mommy,” Davy said. “He’s Jason, and he didn’t kidnap me.”
“Right,” Lane agreed. She took the boy’s hand and tugged him over. Then she met Jason’s eyes and jerked her head, silently urging him to meet them halfway. She settled Davy at the deck’s one little table.
Jason meandered over, in no particular hurry. True, he wanted Davy to know who he was. He wanted his family. He just didn’t want this awkward, Humpty-Dumpty moment: putting the pieces back together, hoping like heck the king’s men would finally get the job done right.
His son turned to him. “It’s very nice to meet you again,” he said. The boy shifted slightly, his gaze falling on his mother. “Can I go now? I want to watch the ocean as it gets dark.” The sun was fast setting in the sky. Jason had set the autopilot’s speed so the boat would return to California early in the morning. At the very least, he’d figured Davy could use a good night’s sleep under the protection of his father.
“Not quite yet, sweetie,” Lane said. “I, uh . . .” She trailed off, looking at Jason for help.
He shrugged. None of the books he’d bought covered this particular scenario.
“Right,” Lane said. “Okay. Here’s the thing.”
Davy’s forehead crinkled, his face a mass of confusion. “Is something wrong, Mommy?”
“No, sweetie. Just the opposite. You see, Jason’s your daddy.”
Jason exhaled. The whole afternoon creeping around his evil father’s island hadn’t tired him out, but this one conversational exchange with his son would exhaust him.
“No, he’s not,” Davy said simply. “Can I go play now?” Lane and Jason exchanged glances. From her expression, Jason could tell this wasn’t the response she’d expected. Good. He didn’t want to be the only one knocked on his fanny by an almost-seven-year-old’s denial.
“Um, yes he is,” Lane argued. “Trust me. Moms know these things.”
Davy shook his head, then looked down, concentrating intently on the toes of his shoes. “He’s not,” he said. “I know he’s not.” He looked up, staring right at Jason, his eyes clear and intent. “What space station were you on?”
Jason wondered what the Brazelton book would say about that, because he sure as heck didn’t have a good answer. “The Poseidon,” he finally said. It was either that or tell the truth. And, at the moment, a lie seemed much more comfortable.
Lane crossed her arms over her chest, a bemused expression on her face. Jason shrugged—the tiniest of motions meant only for her.
Davy squinted up at him. “Really? How’d you get back down? You were stuck.”
“A good question,” Jason agreed. He got up and crossed to the cooler, partly because he needed something to soothe his parched throat, partly because he needed to buy some time to think of an answer. “Do you know why I was stuck?”
Davy nodded. “The heat shields,” he said. He climbed up onto the table and sat cross-legged, his chin propped on his clasped hands. “They were bad.”
Jason nodded. That sounded reasonable. It was a story he could work with. “They were bad,” he agreed. “But I fixed them.”
Davy’s eyes narrowed. “Really?”
“Absolutely.” Reaching onto the table, he grabbed one of several Orange Crushes he’d stocked on the boat. Popping its top, he took a long gulp, confident he’d passed the test.
“How?”
Jason coughed, trying not to spit out the soda. So much for his moment of triumph.
Beside Davy, Lane laughed. “Yes, Jason. How? I was wondering that very thing.”
He flashed her an overly sweet smile. “Apparently not with your help,” he said.
She laughed again, then mumbled something about being sorry. “I’ll just sit here quietly,” she added, a grin tugging at her mouth.
He rolled his eyes. “You do that.”
“Mr. Jason,” Davy urged, “how?”
“Right. Yes. Well, you see, it turns out it was pretty simple.”
Davy cocked his head but didn’t speak. Which was too bad, because Jason was hoping for a little prompting. Apparently, though, he was on his own.
“You see, most of the tiles were good—heat shields are made out of tiles, you know.” Jason gave himself a mental pat on the back, happy he’d remembered that little tidbit from repeated viewings of Apollo 13.
“I know,” his son said, but still didn’t help out.
“Yeah, well, the problem was that the bad tiles were on the front. So I put on my space suit and went outside and removed those front tiles and replaced them with some good ones from the back.” He glanced down at Davy, who seemed to be buying into the whole thing. So far, so good.
“And, uh, then I had to make sure that the brunt of the reentry heat hit the front.” Unfortunately, Jason’s knowledge of physics was pretty much exhausted, so he was just making everything up as he went along. “It’s all about angle
s,” he added. Hadn’t someone in mission control said that? “And, uh, trajectories.”
“Right,” Lane said. “Trajectories are very important.” Davy nodded, his little face quite serious.
“So, uh, then I just aimed the space ship and took my best shot—and it worked.”
“Wow,” Davy said. “That’s really cool.”
“So . . . you believe me?” Jason asked. “That I’m your daddy, I mean.” Mentally he rolled his eyes, knowing he sounded absolutely pathetic.
Davy twisted to look at his mother.
“It’s true, honey,” Lane assured the child.
“Okay,” Davy said. He shrugged and picked at a scab on his knee. “Do I have to call you daddy?”
Jason felt his heart break just a little. “No.” He shook his head and tried to manufacture a smile. “You can call me Jason.”
Davy nodded, as if that settled everything. Then he slid off the table and brushed his hands on the back of his pants. For a second he looked up at Jason as if he wanted to say something else, but then he didn’t. Instead, he turned to Lane. “Can I have a candy bar?”
She met Jason’s eyes, and he saw the apology in them before she smiled at her son. “Sure thing. I saw some in the little refrigerator downstairs. But only one.”
“Okay,” the boy said with a nod, then headed toward the steps. He stopped on the first, turning full-circle to face Jason. “If you’re really my daddy,” he asked, “can you get me a puppy?”
Jason looked to Lane, who looked about ready to choke on her laughter. Apparently, this fatherhood gig was going to be harder than he thought.
“Empty? What do you mean the cell is empty?” Hieronymous stalked around the chamber, his glare fixed on his chief of guards. Mordi sank back into the corner, happy for the moment to be out of the line of fire.
“Just what I said, sire.” Clyde ran a thin, lizardlike tongue over his lips. “I went to deliver his meal, and no boy.”