by Leslie North
Olive’s lips twitched in a fond smile at the thought of Franklin. Then the kettle whistled, jarring her back to the present. The present where Levon was busy tinkering with their baby’s crib and she was wondering whether she’d ever feel completely ready to bring new life into the world. Hands unsteady, she pulled a travel mug from her cupboard and filled it with hot water and a tea bag, then squared her shoulders. Ready or not, it was time to get on with her day.
“Time to go or I’ll be late.” She screwed the lid on her cup, figuring it could steep while they drove, then headed back to the front door. Levon beat her there, commandeering her suitcase while she grabbed the briefcase handle. Then they were out the door and on the porch, where he waited behind her while she locked up before trundling down to his truck. The sun was coming up now and the town was stirring as people got up and ready for work. They’d almost made it to the truck when a familiar voice called up from behind Olive. “Hey, Liv. Looks like you’ve got company today.”
Damn. She’d been hoping to avoid her nosy neighbors by coming here at the crack of dawn, but unfortunately, no. Levon tensed in front of her and she quickly tried to neutralize the situation. “Don’t worry. That’s just my neighbor, Tom Miller.”
“I always worry when it comes to you and the baby, Olive,” Levon grumbled, staring past her at the sixty-something man crossing the grass toward them, his old bathrobe flapping around his calves and his black slippers flapping against his heels. Tom was an ex-cop who kept an eye out for those around him. In general, Olive appreciated his diligence on behalf of her neighborhood, but today it was one more inquiry she didn’t need.
She turned with a polite smile plastered firmly in place. “Good morning, Tom. This is Levon Asher. He’s a friend of mine.”
“Mr. Asher,” Tom said, holding out a hand to Levon, who shook it reluctantly before shoving her suitcase into the back of his truck. “You look like a military man,” Tom observed, demonstrating that his law enforcement observation skills were still intact. “Which branch?”
“Navy,” Levon said, crossing his arms across his chest. “I’m an ex-SEAL.”
“Impressive,” Tom said good-naturedly, then sipped his coffee before turning back to Olive. “Did you ever call about that security system I mentioned, Liv? I can still get you a discount if you want. Retired police and all.”
Olive didn’t miss the pointed way her neighbor had slipped that information in there, or the male posturing happening around her. In other circumstances she might have appreciated that they were putting on such a show for her, but today she had no time and even less patience for it. She took a deep breath and tried to shove Levon toward the driver’s side of the truck. It was like trying to budge Mount Everest. “No, I haven’t yet, Tom. But I will.” She craned to see around him and waved. “Oh, I think your wife wants you. Got to go. Don’t want to be late for class.” Rude or not, she didn’t wait around for Tom’s reply, instead hurrying toward the passenger door to climb into her seat. “Come on, Levon. Time’s a-wasting.”
After a few tense seconds of pointed, silent stares between the two men, Levon joined her. It wasn’t until they’d pulled away from the curb that the constriction in Olive’s chest eased. Lord, this was going to be way more challenging than she thought.
7
Driving back into the lot of Harper’s Forge High School the night of the reunion had been bad enough. Going back there now in the light of day, with students already arriving and piling out of cars in the lot and filing into the building, brought back lots of memories Levon would just as soon have forgotten. Not that school had been bad for him, just not…great.
Well, except for the woman beside him. Those times spent with her in the library, studying, had been the few where he hadn’t felt like he was wearing a mask, hiding his deficiency from everyone around him.
He pulled into a reserved spot marked for teachers near the door and jammed the transmission into park before cutting the engine. Before he even had his door open, Olive was out of the vehicle, briefcase in hand, and heading inside without him.
Yeah, it was going to be a long day.
Grumbling, he exited his truck and made sure her suitcase was securely locked up inside the cab before walking in through the front entrance of the high school. The air still smelled the same as he remembered, though the dirty sock smell was lessened up here in the academic wing. Chatter buzzed around him as he made his way down the hall, ignoring the curious stares of the teens around him and tracking Olive’s dark head in the distance. He assumed she was headed to her classroom, but he couldn’t be sure. The only thing he was sure of was that she wasn’t going to ditch him again. Not until he was sure she was safe.
For some odd reason being in her house earlier had driven home to him the seriousness of what they were dealing with in a way nothing else had so far. Maybe it had been the shock of learning he was going to be a dad, or the stress of the mission buzzing inside him, but up until now, he’d been able to keep his emotions where Olive was concerned mainly in their neat little boxes. But now, after seeing those old pictures and fiddling with that crib she’d bought, he felt all messed up inside and wasn’t sure what he was going to do about any of it.
Olive rounded a corner at the end of the hall and headed down a short flight of stairs toward the science classroom he remembered from all those months ago, and a bit of his tension eased. Okay. Good. His instincts were still on target, even if the rest of him was a chaotic clusterfuck. Stifling his emotions and burying them deep, like the good SEAL he was, he followed her. She wouldn’t be happy about it, but he didn’t care at this point. Keeping her and the baby alive and well were his top priorities at the moment. Then came catching the gang members responsible for putting her in danger in the first place. Everything else was secondary.
“Good morning, Franklin,” he heard her say through the open doorway, and his ears tingled. Franklin Monroe was one of the names he’d overheard last night from the gang in the football field. Muscles locked and loaded in case of danger, he slowed his steps as he approached, scanning the area for any signs of impending attack, noting several kids banging around in their lockers, loaded down with backpacks and assorted sports gear. None of them seemed particularly interested in Olive and her classroom, though. As he neared the doorway, he heard Olive continue her conversation. “Oh, awesome! Thanks for the tea. I’ll need a refill after this one. I’m liable to need a whole pot today.”
Levon looked inside and spotted Franklin, a lanky, dark-haired kid who looked about seventeen. Must be a senior, Levon thought, watching as Franklin rolled his eyes at something Olive said that Levon couldn’t hear. The kid didn’t seem disrespectful toward her, though. In fact his stance—wide-legged with his hands clasped behind his back—reminded Levon of the one recruits in basic training took before their commanding officers. It was a sign of respect. And from the way Olive was interacting with him, they were familiar with each other. She’d said as much last night, but he liked to see and assess things for himself. Based on the little bit of info he’d been able to get out of Olive this morning, she’d been tutoring Franklin since not long after he started high school. He’d been in some trouble—acting out had gotten him kicked out of class so many times that he started falling behind on the material, which, according to Olive, frustrated him, which made him act out even more. But despite his attitude, she’d seen potential there, and had insisted on meeting with him one on one to help him develop it. The individualized tutoring had not only gotten him caught up academically, it had been the nudge he’d needed to buckle down and take his education seriously. Now, he not only behaved himself but excelled in his classes. The tutoring sessions that had started as a way to catch him up had continued as a way to challenge him beyond the scope of his assigned classwork.
The similarities to Levon’s own situation way back when wasn’t lost on him.
“Yeah,” Franklin said, drawing Levon back to the present. “Next time I’ll be sure to
bring more, Miss Owen.”
“Thanks,” she returned as she drew out the textbook they were studying from. “But don’t go spoiling me. A gal’s liable to get used to this kind of treatment.”
“I can see that,” he said.
“I’m surprised you see anything, considering you almost never look up from your phone.”
Franklin pocketed his cell dutifully as she took her seat across from him. Levon remembered what it was like being tutored by Olive and from what he recalled, she reserved the banter for these sessions; in class, she was all business. She’d mentioned that for the most part Franklin was a quiet, exemplary student. Olive had said she rarely encountered such focus in a kid his age, which made her all the more inspired to help him reach his full potential.
“So I see you came prepared. Good.” She nodded toward the papers in front of him. “Is there anything you’d like to chat about before we get started?”
Levon slipped silently into the classroom and stood near the back wall, hoping to remain as invisible as possible. With luck, maybe Olive could get the kid talking about the gang. It was what he would have tried to do in her shoes, but then Olive wasn’t him. She was smarter. So smart, in fact, that she seemed to be reading Levon’s mind. She leaned forward slightly and reached over to place her hand on the kid’s sweatshirt-covered forearm.
“It doesn’t even have to be about the homework,” she said, her voice gentle, non-threatening. “If there’s something else bothering you, we can talk about that too.”
The kid frowned and lowered his head. Now that Olive had brought it up, Franklin did look troubled, though Levon was sure he was doing his best to hide it. There were dark circles under his eyes and a tightness around his mouth that suggested a boatload of stress simmering inside the teenager.
Levon waited to see if Olive had successfully worked her magic, but unfortunately, nope.
“Nothing,” Franklin replied, looking away from her. Levon had expected as much. This case couldn’t be that simple. Besides, if Franklin Monroe had gotten himself involved with the Reapers, then he was in a world of shit and he probably believed that nothing Olive said or did would make a difference. Levon hadn’t caught much of what they’d said last night on the football field, but he suspected the gang was at least harassing the kid, if not trying to recruit him. He needed to know more. Sooner rather than later, if Levon had his way.
“Just… I’m just nervous about the scholarship. That’s all,” Franklin said.
Olive glanced up from their textbook, then removed her glasses and polished them on the front of her plain black dress. Tiny wrinkles covered the front of it, and Levon knew that had to be driving Olive nuts. She always looked impeccable. “Oh? You want to talk about it? I know it’s a lot of pressure, but…”
“But what if I’m wrong for it?” Franklin interrupted her. His dark eyes shone with a sudden fervor that surprised Levon.
Good. If he genuinely cared about school, genuinely wanted to succeed, then that was something they could use to pull him back from the Reapers. Being the good teacher she was, Olive seized on that. “You’re not wrong for it,” she told Franklin point-blank. “And the anxiety you’re feeling now is totally natural! I’d be worried if you weren’t worried, Franklin. This is a huge opportunity for you.”
“I know it is,” he cut in again. “But, I mean… why wouldn’t they consider somebody else for it?” He dropped his gaze, and his mouth worked miserably before he continued. “You know what my first year was like here, Miss Owen. You know I was in and out of Principal James’s office. You vouched for my ass more than once.”
“Language,” she said mildly. “And Franklin, everybody makes mistakes. Especially at your age.” She pushed some papers toward him. “But don’t let doubting yourself become your biggest regret. You can do this. I know you can.”
“And you’re a pretty smart lady,” Franklin said with a small twist of a smile. Olive grinned as if in agreement, but it didn’t escape Levon’s notice that the boy’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. Levon knew from experience that even all of Olive’s support academically couldn’t banish all those worries and preoccupations. Still, having her as an ally had made all the difference in the track Levon’s life had taken. He hoped it would do the same for this kid. Franklin took a deep breath. “Think Principal James’ll still write me a letter of recommendation?”
“If I’m as smart as you think I am, will a ‘yes’ from me count for something?” Olive’s gaze flicked to Levon and she raised a brow at him as if to ask if he was going to stand there snooping all day. Dammit. He would have liked nothing more, but given that things seemed safe here for now, he had other things to attend to while he was here—and he’d draw too much attention if he hovered over her all the time.
Reluctantly, he gave a curt nod and ducked out of the classroom to head toward Principal James’s office. Unfortunately, he knew exactly where to find it, since he’d been there a time or two before in his career as a student.
Now, at twenty-eight, he was hoping for a more pleasant experience.
Twenty minutes later, he sat across the desk from the guy and saw that other than a sterner expression and a few new worry lines, nothing much had changed with Terrence James.
“I appreciate you being here, Mr. Asher,” James said, his brisk tone making the SEAL in Levon snap to attention.
“Yes, sir,” he said.
His whip-quick response seemed to please the older man. “The police have briefed me on the situation—I know we need a presence here who can monitor any student involvement in gang activity without drawing the attention that would come from bringing in one of the local officers. We’ll get you settled into a position as hastily as possible.”
“From the outside it will have to look like an organic decision, sir. Possibly one that’s been in the making for a while. But I think we both appreciate the need to expedite the process.”
“Of course.” Principal James folded his arms and sat back, musing on this. “It will be hard to place you, though, considering your academic strengths.”
Maybe it was all the other conflict swirling inside him right then, but damn if that didn’t feel like a dig to Levon. His hackles rose automatically after years of slights about his shortcomings as a result of his dyslexia. He’d learned to cope with it pretty well over the years, especially after he’d entered the naval academy. One of the reasons his memory was so good was because he used it to help cover his reading issues. Still, he didn’t like the reminder of his failings back when he’d been in school. Liked it even less that it was coming from the man who’d been the bane of his teenaged existence back then, even if the put-down was only in Levon’s head.
Luckily, he didn’t get a chance to answer because a bright voice chirruped from the doorway. “Oh! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt your meeting, Principal James, I… Levon?”
Levon turned slightly to see Olive, her curvaceous figure half-filling the door, already blushing and backing out of the room. He hadn’t told her about this little meeting with the principal. “Mrs. Phelps must have stepped away from her desk, there’s no one out front…” she jabbered. “So I just thought… you know what? I didn’t think. How out of character for me! … Okay. Leaving now.” She wheeled like a skittish deer caught in the road and made to bolt.
“Wait, Miss Owen. Perhaps you can help us.” Principal James beckoned her back into the office with a wave of his hand, inviting Olive to take the seat beside Levon’s. Olive shot him a what-the-hell look as she sat down. “Miss Owen, I know this may be upsetting for you to hear, but I want to make you aware of a situation the school is facing at present.”
Levon sat motionless as he listened to Principal James fill Olive in. Olive snuck him sideways looks periodically, but didn’t say anything—not even to let the principal know that she was aware of all of this already, that Levon himself had told her the previous night. She nodded intently, adjusted her glasses on occasion, and inserted qu
estions when appropriate, even when she already knew the answers. Apparently, she didn’t want anyone to know that she and Levon had already been in contact. He wasn’t sure how that made him feel, but he shrugged it off. This wasn’t the time to be feeling anything—he needed to stay focused on the case.
“… so what do you suggest?” Principal James asked her. “We need to find a placement for Levon on campus that will enable him to keep an eye on things.”
“Hmmm. Well…” Olive tapped her lower lip in thought. “What about that maintenance position we’ve been trying to fill for the past year? I hate to say it, but filling that one isn’t likely to draw too much attention. We can all agree how much the janitorial staff is overlooked. And…” Olive put up a finger, her expression opening as she had her eureka! moment, “… he’ll have the keys to everything!”
“She’s right.” Levon wondered why neither of them had thought of it before. He even had the uniform in his truck. “Does the maintenance staff interact much with the students?”
“No, not directly.” Principal James capped and uncapped his pen thoughtfully. “But we don’t need to let that stop us. Olive, why don’t you act as Mr. Asher’s informant? Relay any relevant student communication to him. Anything you might overhear.”
“R-really?” Olive sat up a bit straighter and blinked. “You want me involved?”
Levon wanted to roll his eyes at the principal’s suggestion, since that was basically what they were already doing, but instead said, “I think the maintenance position would be perfect. And hey, you’re lucky—I actually have the skillset to fill that job.”
“You’re way overqualified,” Olive muttered as they all rose. Levon shook the principal’s hand—a first—and left the man’s office without a detention slip.