by Regan Black
* * *
In his private office, the door locked against an untimely intrusion, he donned his headphones and replayed the witness video and late-night news reports. Utter perfection. He made a mental note to give the man running this op a raise.
His technician had pulled the 911 call for him. Matthew Riley had kept it together admirably. Well, that wouldn’t last much longer.
He’d wanted the full injury report from the ambulance, but those files proved trickier to pull and he had to rely on word of mouth that no one had been injured seriously enough to be transported.
A shame. He’d hoped for something more sensational, more distracting, to keep the talking heads rambling. Ah, well, moving too fast wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying in the long run.
He replayed the original broadcasts from each major network as the various anchors related the story, painting a hero’s halo over Matt Riley’s regulation Military haircut.
Oh, how the mighty would soon fall.
They were scrambling and he considered that a good start. Before he was done, the Riley family would be drenched in a collective cold sweat, paralyzed with fear. When he took them to their knees, had them at his mercy, that would be the triumphant moment when he would taste the real victory.
His mind on that prize, he picked up the phone and gave the order to unlock the next part of his plan.
Chapter 5
Bethany wished she could claim Matt had bullied her into leaving her home and taking an impromptu vacation from work. He hadn’t. He’d been patient to the point of annoying as they discussed and debated the potential fallout of each option.
If she wouldn’t leave the house, he vowed to stay through the weekend and make sure she had a security detail that measured up to his standards before he left. Whether that detail would be official or unofficial had never been answered to her satisfaction. She dreaded the idea of having bodyguards hovering. Caleb thought it would be cool.
That had pretty much been the deciding factor for her. She didn’t need her fourteen-year-old thinking they were living out some sort of action movie script.
She’d tossed out the excuse of work, knowing it wouldn’t hold up. She had plenty of leave and vacation time built up. After looking up last night’s dramatic news reports online, she wasn’t surprised that her supervisor encouraged her to take every precaution for herself and her son.
Their son. With Matt underfoot, she clearly needed to adjust sooner rather than later. He’d filled her in on the call with his mother while Caleb worked through the long list of chores she’d given him.
When Caleb finished raking up leaves in the backyard, she took pity on him and let him ride along with Matt to buy a new front door. The busted door had been her last viable reason to stay here when Matt wanted them in DC.
As Matt and Caleb loaded the Camaro with their luggage and she locked that new door, she glanced up into the eye of the new security camera the alarm company had added for her. How much more would her life be irrevocably altered before they came home again?
The evening dinner rush had passed by the time they stopped to indulge Caleb’s request for authentic cheesesteak sandwiches in Philadelphia. The delay wasn’t nearly long enough to quell the butterflies swirling in her belly.
Too soon they were navigating the notorious congested streets of Washington as Matt pointed out various monuments and sites. Her nerves reached an all new high as he ushered them into his building on the channel and up to his condo. Naturally, Caleb was enamored with anything and everything about Matt’s world. Since she’d always had the same problem, she wondered if maybe it was a genetic predisposition.
Matt gave them the full tour of the space and then encouraged them both to settle in while he went to his bedroom for clean clothes. Caleb dumped their suitcases into the guest room and then went straight to the entertainment center, checking out the game system Matt mentioned.
Bethany turned a slow circle, trying to get comfortable with the idea of staying here. A big island divided the kitchen from a large, open living area that seemed even bigger with floor-to-ceiling sliders that opened to a balcony and a stunning view. The bedrooms bracketed the living area. The kitchen had been recently updated with stainless-steel appliances and granite countertops.
Matt returned a few minutes later in well-worn jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt with a character she recognized from one of the video games Caleb enjoyed. Confirming her son was distracted, and more than a little concerned he was getting off way too easy after yesterday’s stunt, she motioned Matt to join her in the kitchen.
“What do you expect?” she asked.
His expression shuttered. “Can you be a little more specific?” He reached into the refrigerator for a beer. “Want one?”
“No, thank you.” She wanted answers. It was clear his mind had been churning since his talk with his parents. Was getting them out of her house a strategy to lay groundwork for a custody claim?
“Can you narrow it down for me?” he prompted.
She couldn’t outright accuse him of making the self-serving choice. As insecure as she was about his real intentions, that had never been Matt’s style. He was consistent and reliable, and for the entirety of Caleb’s life, he’d respected her wishes.
“What do you expect to happen?” she began. “You said we’re safer here than in New Jersey. I’d like to understand why you believe that.”
He arched an eyebrow. “We talked about that before we moved.”
They had, yes. Still, she gulped. This wasn’t a move. It was temporary. Had to be. She’d never considered herself a coward before. She prided herself on being strong, direct and doing what was necessary, even if it wasn’t fun in the moment. So why was she standing here, dancing around her real issue?
He leaned around her to confirm Caleb was finding his way through the gaming console. “As I said, it’s about resources,” he said. “Here, there’s a camera on every corner. At your place today, I wanted to send Caleb inside every time I saw a dark sedan roll by. That’s counterproductive when we’re trying to sort out what’s going on.”
“If anything is going on.”
One dark eyebrow rose and the other lowered.
“Right. You expect more trouble,” she said, summing up that expression.
“You’re not here as bait, Bethany. I wouldn’t use either of you that way. We’re here because this is where we have the best chance of figuring out the problem.”
“And what about us?”
“Us as in you and me?” His gaze locked on her, hot and interested. “Is that an invitation?”
She backpedaled. “I meant us as in what are Caleb and I supposed to do while you’re fixing the problem?”
He watched her steadily as he took a long pull from the beer bottle. Setting the bottle aside, he took a step toward her. “It was only a few hours ago that we discussed all of this.”
“I-I know.” She backed up, hit the counter. Her hands curled around the cool edge of the granite. “I’m second-guessing, that’s all. Stress.” First stuttering and now she couldn’t get her thoughts into coherent sentences. She tried to wave it off but didn’t think she’d quite sold it when his brown eyes went darker still.
He prowled closer. “Which part concerns you most? The sticking with me for safety, or maybe it’s just the idea of sticking with me?”
The last one, a small voice in her head cried out. But she wasn’t that overwhelmed nineteen-year-old anymore. She was a grown woman, a mother with a son and an established career. No matter the circumstance, Caleb’s safety was her top priority.
She planted her hand in the center of his hard chest. His heart kicked, his chest swelled as he sucked in a breath. He leaned into her touch, as though his heart was drowning and she was the lifeline. Good grief, her imagination needed a dose of reality.
“Bethany,” he murmured.
The blood rushing through her ears was so loud, she saw him speak her name more than she heard it. The blatant need in his brown eyes triggered an answering need in her. Any reply she might have given went up in flames when he lowered his firm lips to her mouth. Lightly at first, she recognized the spark and heat just under the surface, waiting for an opening to break free and singe them both. Her hands curled into his shirt, pulled him closer. Oh, how she’d missed this. She’d thought time had exaggerated her memories and found the opposite was true when his tongue swept over hers, as he alternately sipped and plundered and called up all her long-ignored needs to the surface.
Our second first kiss, she thought. As full of promise as the first first kiss had been when they were kids.
“Oh. Ah. Sorry. Never mind.” Caleb’s voice, choked with embarrassment, doused the moment as effectively as a bucket of ice water. Footsteps swiftly made their way back to the living room.
She muttered an oath.
Matt’s head lifted but that was all. His palms still warmed her waist, his fingers kneading a little. He stared at her, his eyes roaming over her face as if seeing her for the first time.
She sympathized. It took more willpower than she anticipated to release her grip on him, to smooth the wrinkles she’d left in his shirt.
“Stop,” he warned. “Unless you want me to start over.”
Oh, she did. “We can’t.” She tried to wriggle out from between him and the counter at her back, and only teased them both. “We can’t send him mixed signals.”
“Agreed.”
“Matt.” He showed no inclination of letting her out of this corner. “I need to go talk with him.”
“This was the expectation you meant.”
No sense denying it. “Well, yes.”
“I didn’t expect this.” He traced her eyebrow, cheek and jaw with his fingertip. “But I won’t lie and say I don’t want it. You.”
She wouldn’t lie to him either, so she kept her mouth closed, her eyes aimed somewhere in the vicinity of his chest. It could have been one minute or ten before he moved aside and she escaped the kitchen.
She found Caleb on the floor of the living room, leaning back against one couch, his eyes locked on the racing game filling the big-screen television. He leaned into the curves, hands twisting the controller like a steering wheel.
She walked over, sat down close enough to touch him, though she didn’t. “Did you need me?”
“No.”
The flat answer reminded her he was embracing his teenager status. “Caleb.”
“No, ma’am.”
For a slow count of ten, she watched him navigate the ridiculous track on the screen. As his character crossed the line first, he stretched out his legs. Before she could suggest they talk, he flipped through the options and started the next race.
She waited through another race, another win. Matt came in, beer in hand, to watch as well. When she caught Caleb’s grin when he took out an opponent with some dastardly trick, she dared to try again. “What did you need?”
“Nothing, Mom. Forget it.”
Matt caught her eye, signaled to let him try. She indicated he could have at it, oddly comforted that they could still communicate so well without words.
Matt started with a couple of comments about the game. When the stats came up for Caleb’s latest win, Matt sat forward. “Are you playing that on the easy setting?”
“No,” Caleb replied, indignant. “Don’t you recognize the high-test levels?”
Matt stretched out his hand. “Hand me a controller and I’ll wipe the track with you.”
Within five minutes, the two were jeering and cackling, both of them promising certain death to the other.
She could almost hear the snap, like the last piece that completes a puzzle, as her long-abandoned wishful thoughts dropped into place. She hadn’t known how nice it would be to believe, even for an evening, that they were a family capable of careless fun.
“So, why’d you barge into the kitchen?”
“Just wanted a soda,” Caleb said.
“Mmm-hmm.” Matt’s character took a shortcut through a tunnel. “Look out, loser.” With the press of a button he launched some sort of projectile at his son’s racer.
Caleb smacked his controller and the bomb, or whatever it was, bounced harmlessly to the side. “You got nothin’.” He sneered as he hit a ramp and launched himself back into first place.
“That so?” Matt’s character came out of nowhere, sideswiped Caleb’s, and took the race.
Sputtering, Caleb whirled around. “What was that?”
“All’s fair in love and gaming.” Matt spread his arms wide, his smile smug and superior.
The images on the television shifted, replaying the last few seconds of the race to Caleb’s theatrical dismay. “Sore winner,” Caleb accused.
“No such thing,” Matt said. “I am the epitome of fairness and compassion.”
The utterly false statement and the grandiose way he’d delivered it left her and Caleb laughing. Maybe her son’s current theatrical tendencies were genetic, too.
“One more round.” Caleb turned to her. “You want in?”
“Sure.” She knew how to get in the way and make her character a nuisance for both of them. “Is there a third controller?” She’d given up on maintaining the pretense about Caleb being grounded. He needed to get to know Matt, regardless of the catalyst that had put this into motion and brought them together.
“You gotta watch her,” Caleb warned as he hooked up the controller for her. “Mom likes to hang back and pretend she doesn’t get it, and then wham!”
“Duly noted, thanks,” Matt said. When his eyes met hers, she could see him putting the warning into a decidedly personal and inappropriate context.
She started to protest and decided that gave everything that had transpired in the past few minutes too much weight.
“So, what did you really need?” Matt asked Caleb. “Earlier.”
“A soda.” His shoulders rose and fell. “And to see if you’d come race with me.”
“Cool,” Matt replied. “Go on and get a drink while we wait for her to set up.”
Caleb didn’t give her a chance to contradict Matt. He scrambled up and dashed to the kitchen, returning with a can of his favorite soft drink.
The two of them waited, boldly scheming against her as she chose her character. She came in dead last on the first race, beaten by Caleb, Matt and every computer-generated player, too. As she got a feel for the track, she made them pay in the next round. They were halfway through the third round when Caleb lobbed up a verbal bomb.
“So, why were you kissing Mom?”
Her character skidded off the track, but Matt stayed the course. “Seemed like the right thing to do.”
“Why?” Caleb persisted.
“She wanted me to kiss her.”
Shocked, she dropped the controller and it bounced under the end table. “Matt!”
“Bethany!” he mimicked.
“This isn’t an appropriate topic,” she protested, coming in dead last again.
Caleb faced her. “He’s not the first guy I’ve seen you kiss.”
It was a wonder her cheeks didn’t just go up in flames. “That’s enough,” she said, pleased that her voice was steady. Caleb opened his mouth to argue and she halted him with a raised finger. “Matt is your father. Your existence makes it obvious we have an intimate history.”
“Yeah, so?”
“Caleb,” Matt warned. “Show some respect.”
Caleb’s eyes revealed his turmoil; he was angry with her and not yet sure where Matt fell in the parental hierarchy. She sympathized with his confusion, though she couldn’t allow this to become a communication habit. At four, he’d asked Santa Claus for a daddy for Christmas. She’d reach
ed out to the JAG office and learned Matt was deployed, not planning to be in the States over the holidays. Year by year, she’d given him more age-appropriate details about his father whenever he’d asked. Never a name, only the reasons they decided not to be a normal family.
Hurt and angry, she searched for a more positive response. “As I said last night, your father and I were young and we cared for each other a great deal. Matt and I chose to have separate lives for good reasons.” She couldn’t rebuild the trust between them if she didn’t give him the truth. “Being together stirs up those old feelings,” she admitted quietly. “Neither one of us is seeing anyone, so no one was hurt by our kiss. Not even you.
“Maybe this would have been easier on all of us if I’d told you earlier, given you two a chance to know each other sooner. For that, I apologize.” She handed him her controller and stood up. “Only for that.”
She walked away, pausing at the wide archway that led to the guest room. “Be sure you’re in bed by eleven, Caleb.”
She chose to take his mumble as agreement and closed herself in the room they would share during their time here with Matt. If her hands trembled and tears threatened, that was her problem and certainly not the first time she’d felt shaky during this journey called motherhood.
* * *
“That was rude.” Matt turned off the game system and braced for a tantrum or a protest. “You owe her an apology.”
Caleb surprised him. Instead of fussing or making excuses, he slumped back against the couch and balanced his hands on his drawn-up knees. “Do you love Mom again?”
Matt studied his son’s face, seeing the traces of Bethany despite the puzzled expression. Bethany had been brave, so he could be, too. “I’m not sure I ever stopped,” Matt confessed.
“Will you move in with us, or will we move here for real?”
If only it were that easy. “That’s probably rushing things,” Matt said. “Sometimes loving a person isn’t enough.”
“You’re just saying that because I caught you making out.”