by Leroux, Lucy
“You can’t. No without taking cultures. If the woman is still sick in a couple of days when the roads clear, take her in to get swabbed.”
Ethan heard a door squeak open over the phone. Someone spoke French in the background. Donovan replied in a flawless Parisian accent before speaking to Ethan again. “If it’s viral, it should work itself out in a week or so.”
“Ah.” Ethan put his hand on his forehead. Well, there went his snow days…unless he could convince someone to take Julietta and Luna off his hands.
The chances of that weren’t high. If they had someone else, it wasn’t likely they’d still be here living out of two battered suitcases and a backpack.
His low-pitched groan made his chest buzz. Some duties he couldn’t shirk as much as he wished otherwise.
You became an FBI agent to help people, remember?
Ethan reminded himself he’d intended doing that by locking away criminals, not nursing strangers back to health.
“Is there anything specific I should do?” There had to be a medical protocol to treat meningitis. “What do I need to know?”
“Antibiotics would help a bacterial case, but, with viral, there’s not much to do. Let her rest. Keep her hydrated. Her diet should include organic fruits and vegetables, along with high-quality protein if you can manage it. Easy on the salt.”
“Err…so I guess bell peppers on frozen pizza don’t count as organic?” Ethan’s tastes ran more to junk food and the occasional steak and baked potato.
Donovan laughed. “Yeah, I remember what you keep in your fridge—it’s never too early to get that cholesterol checked. Do the best you can on her diet and with the child. Good luck. I don’t envy you.”
Ethan snorted. “You’re the one in the middle-of-nowhere Africa saving the world one patient at a time. This is nothing compared to that.”
“I chose this path,” Donovan pointed out. “These two fell into your lap. But they’re lucky it was you. You’ll do right by them. They couldn’t be in better hands.”
Ethan grunted something noncommittal. Donovan could twist the screws without even trying. Ethan was briefly ashamed for even considering pushing this chore off on anyone else.
You wouldn’t have. Even if it had been an option—and with this storm, there was no chance—Ethan wasn’t used to passing the buck. He had cultivated a reputation for getting things done, both in and out of the office. At work, he was a bulldog, tackling cases others wouldn’t touch. He and Jason had the best closure rate in their department, mainly because they were both too stubborn to ever let a criminal go.
Work hard and play hard. He lived and breathed this motto. More importantly, Ethan considered himself a man of his word. Reminding himself that he hadn’t ever agreed to take care of this unfortunate pair didn’t seem to matter. Something inside him considered the promise made.
* * *
Weakly, Juliet stirred. She could barely hold her head up. “Luna.”
She needed to get up to feed the little girl. Luna needed her breakfast before she was dropped off at the sitter.
Why was it so hot? God, Juliet felt terrible. How was she going to make it through her shift? She couldn’t afford to get sick—ever. Her wages at Tully’s Bar were pathetic, but she and Luna needed every cent. Juliet couldn’t afford to miss a shift.
Anxiety propelled her out of bed. Getting too sick to work was one of her greatest fears. She and Luna subsisted on a knife’s edge. If Juliet misstepped, both went over the edge. She couldn’t let that happen.
She started for the door, sternly telling herself all she needed was a hot shower and a little breakfast to regain her strength.
Her pep talk failed. Ahead, the space between her and the beige door stretched like that hallway scene in the Poltergeist movie. When her strength gave out, it was still a million miles away, and she had to take a break. She sat on the carpeted floor, wondering when the fibers had thickened and grown so plush.
“Hey.” The unfamiliar voice was male and deep. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Strong hands lifted her from the floor, then settled her onto a leather-covered armchair she’d never seen before.
“Where am I?” A thrill of panic shot down her spine, but it wasn’t enough to galvanize her to move.
The face in front of her swam in and out of focus. She didn’t recognize it. Was she in a hospital? But why did it look similar to her apartment, only bigger and more nicely furnished?
“No, it’s not the hospital,” the man said, answering the question she hadn’t been aware she’d asked aloud.
“We’re snowed in here,” he continued. “I had to bring you up to my apartment. I couldn’t keep an eye on you down in the studio.”
His apartment? Wait, the only other person in this building was the one she’d been avoiding like the plague.
The blurry face suddenly sharpened into stark focus. Fear snaked up her spine. This was the man she’d caught glimpses of while hiding behind the cheap blinds of her only window.
Up close, the fine features and sharply defined cheekbones melded into a visage that belonged on the big screen, the star of an action movie. Except in her film, this man was the villain. He was her landlord, the one who was trying to evict her from her apartment.
There were at least two landlords, maybe three. This new group had bought the building from the previous owner—the skinny sleazebag who’d offered to knock a hundred off the rent if she slept with him. Juliet had bit back the caustic response she’d wanted to make, forcing her eyes away while insisting on paying full price.
One of the new landlords, the intimidating blond giant named Mason, had given her first the break she’d received in this country. She’d been living there for a few weeks when he’d come to tell her the building was under new management and the old leases were void.
When Mason had learned she was on her own with a toddler, he let her stay in one of the first-floor studios after everyone else had to leave.
She knew the only reason she had a roof over her head was because the tall soldier felt sorry for her, but, with Luna in tow, pride was a luxury Juliet couldn’t afford. Unfortunately, Mason left town shortly after warning her the reprieve was temporary. The tenants had needed to vacate so he and his partners could finish renovating the building before spring. After that, they were going to turn management of the rentals over to an agency.
She’d been ducking the remaining landlord ever since.
The studio Mason rented her was plain and tiny compared to the house she’d grown up in, but it was clean and warm with reliable plumbing. Her haven was affordable, too, thanks to Mason’s generosity with the rent—no strings attached.
But that was all over. She knew this landlord wanted her gone yesterday. Belatedly, she realized he was talking to her. She squinted, wondering why she was having such a hard time making out what he was saying. “So, she’s fine…but you can’t see her. Let me finish changing the sheets, then you can go back to bed.”
“What?” Juliet squinted at the threshold, trying to make her fuzzy brain focus on her unfamiliar surroundings. Was he talking about Luna? “Where is she?”
The man drew himself up. “In the other bedroom. I found a box that works as a crib, but she’s an escape artist, isn’t she?” He put his hand on his chest. “By the way, I’m Ethan.”
Her lips were so dry they cracked when she opened her mouth. “I want Luna. Bring Luna,” she pleaded.
Ethan winced. “I’m sorry, but you can’t see her right now.”
The denial penetrated Juliet’s lethargy like a knife. She could feel her breath freeze in her chest as icy fingers clamped around her heart.
“What?” She gasped, half-pulling, half-pushing to her feet. “W-why not? Where is she?”
The man tried to grab her, but she smacked his hands away. She stumbled to the door. “Luna,” she called, her voice shrill.
Ethan’s hands came around her waist, supporting her when she would have fallen,
but she slapped them away again. She couldn’t think straight. Exhaustion dragged her down like an ocean’s undertow, but she fought it. Luna needed her.
Ethan frowned. “There is a more-than-decent chance you have some kind of meningitis. Exposing yourself to Luna could be extremely dangerous for her. You have to stay away for now. She’s okay. I’m letting her demolish my stash of Oreos with her formula.”
Oreos? Juliet never let Luna have those. Not that they ever had them—cookies were now a luxury item.
Unable to stand, even with Ethan’s support, Juliet crumpled to the ground. When the room started spinning, she closed her eyes. Dear Lord, she’d never felt like this before. What was this horrible disease?
“Am I going to die?” She’d heard of meningitis, but she didn’t know the details. Was it fatal?
The man crouched, effortlessly scooping her up. “It’s not fatal,” he said bracingly. “Not unless there’s some pre-existing condition. You don’t have one, do you?”
She shook her head, but immediately regretted it. The room spun, the shadows in the corners seeming to leap forward to claim her. She passed out in the landlord’s arms.
Chapter Six
Eighteen harrowing hours had passed since he’d brought his unexpected guests upstairs. Ethan was sleep deprived, but he was getting by. He sometimes lost sleep when working on a big case, so it wasn’t a new experience for him—which was fortunate for Luna and her mom. The pair had kept him extremely busy last night.
His smallest guest had seemed to enjoy playing in the makeshift crib he’d created from his plastic laundry basket and some blankets. But after he’d made the mistake of pushing her around in it, she’d treated it like a toy and insisted on getting rides until she finally passed out around ten.
He’d settled the little girl down to sleep in his empty guest room, placing her in the laundry basket bed. The other room that doubled as his den-slash-office wasn’t nearly babyproofed enough.
Ethan tried to catch some zees on his couch. That way, he’d be halfway between his guest room and his bedroom and available to both his female guests, even in sleep.
But that hadn’t worked well at all.
Luna, unused to her new surroundings, had woken multiple times crying for her mother. When only Ethan appeared, she’d been damn near inconsolable. She’d sobbed her little heart out before passing out in his arms. Meanwhile, Julietta tossed and turned, feverish for hours. Her temperature had spiked twice, scaring the crap out of him.
Ethan had sponged her down with ice water both times until she’d settled into a death-like sleep somewhere around dawn. He’d crashed right after, but Luna had woken early. The sensation of being watched had roused him. Luna had been standing beside him, holding a sad little doll that had seen better days. She studied him, the assessment in her expression seeming to be far beyond her years.
“Hi,” he’d said, sleep making his voice gruff.
Scowling, she’d poked him in the eye before saying ‘bottle’ in an imperious voice. After that, he’d been off and running, scrambling to keep up with their demands.
Ethan prided himself on being a quick study, but this was a challenge unlike any he’d faced before.
After he’d learned how to fix the milk from the powder canister, he’d been pathetically grateful when Luna had practically inhaled it and passed out again. He’d changed her while she snuffled and snored delicately. After checking on Julietta one last time, he’d showered and threw himself into housework, determined to get as much done on the apartment as he could while they were trapped by the snowstorm.
Since moving in, Ethan had made a little headway with the boxes, stacking the empty ones near the front door so he’d remember to take them to the recycling bin the next time he went out. When the toddler woke, he turned the pile of empty boxes into a jungle fort. He’d let her demolish them until she fell down too hard and started to cry. At a loss for how to make her stop, he decided to fix hotcakes, putting on a show that had impressed his overnight female guests for years.
Ethan flipped the hotcake with a flourish. He turned, disappointed when his audience of one didn’t react.
“C’mon, kid, that was a great one. It almost touched the ceiling,” he exaggerated.
Luna didn’t look up from her milk. She continued to suck it from a straw, her little brow creased in concentration.
Ethan tried again. Luna did watch this time, but there was no noticeable reaction to his acrobatic culinary efforts.
“All right then,” he grumbled good-naturedly, rolling his shoulders. He was too tired to put much more into the display in any case.
Luna simply sniffed, then kept drinking her milk. But at least she nibbled on the pieces of pancake and syrup he prepared, so he chalked it up as a victory.
At least the cabinets were in place before my guests arrived. Of all the rooms in the apartment, the kitchen was the closest to being finished—almost. He was still waiting on the new copper pans he’d ordered to replace his beat-up Teflon ones. They would hang from the wire rack over the bar-slash-island that was the centerpiece of the open kitchen space situated two steps above his sunken lounge and TV area.
He surveyed the room with a critical eye, resigned to the lack of progress.
If only I could get the new flooring down. That would mark the end of the major renovations. The remaining stuff was purely cosmetic—painting and other finishing touches. But laying down the hardwood with Luna around might prove impossible—unless he could try to make a game of it.
Optimistically, Ethan laid out some of the boards along each wall, stacking them at the edges of the room as quietly as possible while Luna finished lunch. Then he went to check on Julietta. She was awake, but she didn’t react when he entered the room with a meal tray. The woman sat on his bed. She was wrapped in a blanket, staring blankly at the flatscreen. It was off.
“I don’t have a television,” she said as he set the tray over her lap. The confusion in her voice was concerning.
“Um, no you don’t. This one’s mine. You remember where you are, right?”
Fathomless dark eyes stared blankly before the light of recognition dawned. Her lips parted, fear flitting across her features for a second before she got control over herself. Then her expression blanked.
“Luna is fine. She’s still eating. You should, too.” He gestured to the stack of pancakes.
He watched her struggle with that, a fine line appearing between her brows. “I told you her name?” she rasped.
“Uh, yeah. I know yours now, too. It’s Julietta. Am I saying that right?”
“No!” There was tightness in her voice, and she tried to sit up but collapsed back wearily. “It’s Jul—Julie.”
“Oh,” he said. “Okay.” Something about that didn’t smell right, but he wasn’t going to argue with the woman about her name.
She tried the fork again, eating in bites smaller than Luna.
“We should leave as soon as I finish,” she continued in a raspy voice. “I need to get back to work.”
He bit his tongue to keep from answering. The girl could barely lift the fork.
“Err…I think you should finish this plate, then we’ll talk about what to do,” he hedged, running his eyes over her as she struggled to cut the second pancake. Should he do it for her or would that be a step too far?
“Here, let me,” he said decisively. He took the knife and fork, cutting the rounds swiftly before she could react.
The poor thing was as weak as a kitten. A really hot kitten. Even unwashed with stringy hair and no makeup, his houseguest was disconcertingly attractive. Julietta, or Julie as she insisted on being called, checked all his boxes and then some.
Her skin was a light cocoa color with a complexion so rich it seemed to radiate like honey in sunlight despite her illness. With dark eyes and luscious lips, she reminded him of those Mexican soap stars he pretended not to watch at the gym’s televisions—the ones with long dark hair and legs for days.
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br /> Not to mention a killer rack. Okay, he had to stop that. This was someone in need. He was lending a helping hand for a brief time. Once Julie was back on her feet, he would be able to wash his hands of her and Luna with a clear conscience. The last thing he needed was to get involved with a single mom. Plus, there was something a little off about her…
Ethan couldn’t put his finger on what it was that bothered him. Maybe it was living out of a suitcase or the lack of calls and texts on the beat-up secondhand cell phone he’d found. He’d taken the liberty of looking through the contacts last night in an effort to notify her friends and family. The only people in her address list were the staff at Tully’s and a local two-star daycare. No one else.
He told himself he was being too suspicious. It was one of the hazards of the job. Julie was new in town. Not everyone had family. She’d make friends soon enough. No doubt having a kid put a damper on her social life.
Julie continued lifting the fork as if it weighed a ton. “Is it still snowing?”
Damn, it hurt to hear her speak. Her throat must feel like raw meat.
“Yes,” he confirmed. “Tully’s is closed for the duration of the storm. None of their business numbers are picking up, but even if it were open, you still need a few more days to rebuild your strength. The plows aren’t scheduled for this neighborhood today.”
Half the city was shut down. The blizzard had hit them hard. The news was filled with dire proclamations of the blizzard of the century, the way they always did up until the next storm hit. But travel adversaries were in effect for the greater metro area. Ethan suspected he wouldn’t be able to move his car until the plows cleared the impassable snowbanks in the surrounding streets.
He tossed the little burner phone on the bed. “In case you need to call anyone.”
Julie snatched up the phone, pressing it to her chest. Deciding to give her a few minutes of privacy, he went to check on Luna. The little one was still occupied with her food, so he ran to the linen closet in the hall, pulling out clean sheets for his bed.