Hitching the straps of Piper’s backpack and his own carry-on higher up on his shoulder, he sat on the low brick wall that ran around the lot’s perimeter and swung his legs over. As he slipped through the row of towering palms lining the back of the yard along the fence, he heard the neighbor’s Pomeranian, Peaches the Third, yapping incessantly on the other side. For all he knew it could be Peaches the Fourth or possibly the Fifth by now. All he was absolutely sure of was it was another Pomeranian. He just hoped old Mrs. Bertrand had her hearing aids turned way down, or better still out and sitting on her nightstand. The last thing he needed was his mother’s nosy neighbor investigating the reason behind her dog’s agitation and call the police because she saw a man sneaking around Hannah Morley’s backyard. Not that his being there couldn’t be easily explained, he just didn’t want any paper trails left behind to track his or Piper’s whereabouts while they were still in Miami.
The screen door creaked on rusty dry hinges and the old spring return stretched with a whining groan as he slipped inside the enclosed back porch and rapped lightly on the kitchen door.
A hall light went on, illuminating the kitchen just enough for him to see that the room hadn’t changed. An occasional coat of paint, though always the same pale apple green, and a fresh pair of crisp white ruffled curtains every four or five years was about all the renovations his mother ever made. The stove and refrigerator had been updated, but the linoleum was original. The most familiar thing of all was his mother herself peering at him through the window and unbolting the deadlock before she pulled open the door. She wore a brightly colored cotton print duster and yellow terry-cloth open toe scuffs; her scent was Dove and Jergens.
“I’m glad to see you’re finally listening to me about throwing the deadbolt when you go to bed,” was the first thing out of his mouth as he stepped inside.
“Piper must have done it. She’s even more security-conscious than you.”
“It’s nice to hear I’ve managed to get through to one stubborn woman around here.” Pulling the bags from his shoulders, he placed them gently on the floor. Besides Piper’s belongings and a few of his own, he also had the laptop inside his bag. It was his only connection with InPro and the wealth of information it afforded him. He needed to keep it safe.
Hannah laughed. “Come here and give your mother a big hug.” She wrapped her arms around her strapping son and squeezed him tight as her hands did a cursory examination. “When was the last time you ate? Let me fix you something.” She was at the refrigerator pulling out a plate of leftover fried chicken before Carter could answer.
“I’m fine, Ma,” he said, reaching under the plastic wrap to grab a chicken leg. His teeth sank into the cold tender meat, and he savored every mouthful of the perfectly seasoned crust. No one on the face of the earth fried chicken like his mother.
And what was a piece of his mother’s chicken without a glass of her delicious sweet sun tea, he asked himself as he grabbed a clean glass off the sink’s drain board and poured a generous serving from the plastic pitcher she always kept in the refrigerator.
“Where’s Piper?” he asked. After tossing a second cleaned chicken bone into the trash and setting his empty glass in the sink, he headed down the back hall. He stopped in front of the room that used to be his, naturally assuming his mother had put Piper in that room, since it had the only other real bed in the house.
“She’s already asleep,” said his mother in a low whisper. “So get away from that door before you wake her. I’ve got the sofa bed made up for you in the den.”
Carter lifted a curious brow and gawked at his mother as if she’d just told him to sleep from the attic rafters by his toes. “That’s not funny, Ma.”
She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down to her level, then locked gazes with her son and stared him down. “You see me laughing?”
That look hadn’t worked on him for quite some time. “I really don’t see where this is any of your business.”
“You made it my business when you brought that girl into my home.” She released his shirt but never broke eye contact.
“That girl and I don’t need anyone’s permission to sleep together.”
“That argument didn’t work when you tried to sneak a girl into your room at eighteen. What makes you think it’s any different now?”
“Ma!” He was further appalled by the snorting giggles coming from the other side of the bedroom door.
“Don’t you Ma me. And save that look for when you have your own kids because if they turn out to be anything like you, you’re going to need it.” Hannah urged his hand away from the doorknob with a gentle but insistent sweeping slap. “So until you put a ring on her finger giving you the right to sleep in the same bed, it’s the hideaway or the highway.”
“You’re never going to win, Riggs,” Piper hollered through the door. “Surrender gracefully and say goodnight.”
He knew he was defeated. “Goodnight,” he grumbled, pecking a hasty kiss against his mother’s forehead on his way to the den, where he knew he was in for a very restless and highly frustrating night’s sleep.
He’d really been looking forward to finally christening that damn bed, too.
* * *
Piper’s screams reverberated through the quiet house.
Carter flew out of the den and hastened down the hall with the speed and agility of a man trained to move at a moment’s notice. The only thing that set him apart from any other man rousted from his bed in the middle of the night was the Beretta clutched in his hand, pressed discreetly against his boxer-clad hip.
“Good Lord,” Hannah exclaimed with a hand to her throat as she watched her son burst through the door at the opposite end of the hall.
He found her sitting bolt upright, eyes wide and searching, gasping in the darkness. “Piper,” he breathed as he ran to her bedside.
Once assured the threat came once again from within and not an outside source as he’d first feared, he placed the pistol on the dresser and reached for her as he sat on the edge of the bed. He gathered her into his arms and rocked her slowly back and forth.
“Shhh,” he soothed. “It’s okay, baby. You’re safe.” His fingers tangled in the length of her dark mane and his big hand wrapped gently around the back of her slender neck, pulling her more tightly against him as he continued to offer the safety of his embrace. She curled against his chest, trembling and gulping for air.
As she relaxed, her breathing returned to a soft, even cadence. Even after she appeared sound asleep, he sat on the bed and stroked her head, easing the dampened strands from her face and forehead, watching for any signs of her demons returning as he spoke with low, murmuring tones of comfort and reassurance.
“Carter,” he heard his mother softly interrupt.
He rolled his head on his shoulders and sighed. “I’m leaving, Ma,” he said as he cast a lingering glance at Piper to reassure himself that she had found a more pleasant place to take her dreams. Seeing her curled in peaceful repose helped him feel reasonably comfortable, though no less reluctant to leave her. Standing, he collected his gun and turned to find his mother staring intently at him from the doorway.
“She needs you, Carter,” said Hannah, stepping into the hall with her hand on the doorknob. “Goodnight,” she whispered as the door clicked soundly into its frame behind her.
Carter smiled as he climbed into bed. The minute he stretched beside her, Piper scooted closer and nestled her back against his big, warm body. How utterly, wonderfully strange and amazing, he found himself thinking as they settled into a perfectly matched pair, the contours of his large body following every long curve of hers. They’d only shared a bed for a matter of a few days, but they fit together so perfectly natural.
If it weren’t for the serious trouble hanging over both their heads, he might have enjoyed this cozy respit
e. Instead, he worried and wondered how much longer he could continue to protect her. He closed his eyes and allowed himself a few minutes to enjoy the inner peace he experienced, however temporary he knew it would be.
* * *
The room was still semi-dark and Piper drifted in and out of that hazy place between fully awake and barely asleep. The pillow behind her seemed a lot less yielding than she remembered it being when she’d gone to sleep. Piper shifted her hips to better position herself and tossed an arm behind her. Warm and solid, the pillow didn’t budge.
“Get out!” she whispered harshly, twisting to take a closer look at the man who had blatantly ignored his mother’s wishes. “Get out!” she hissed again, adding a prodding finger poke to his shoulder to accompany her demand. “Are you out of your mind?”
“I must be for wanting to sleep with a woman who beats me awake,” he grumbled around a mouthful of sleep.
Rising up on her knees to get a better look at him in the filtered gray light of early morning, Piper repeated for the third time, “Get out!” Not wanting to do anything to upset Hannah, Piper was nearing the point of hysteria; fearful desperation coated each syllable.
“Riggs, please, you’ve got to leave. We can’t let your mother find you in here.” She’d rather meet up with a dozen of Escobedo’s men in a dark alley than face Hannah’s disappointment.
All he did was laugh at her frantic pleas. “Riggs!” She lifted a coiled fist to strike again. Still laughing, Carter raised his hands in mock defense to ward off her next attack.
“Relax,” he chuckled. Taking her wrists, he pulled her down. “Ma knows I’m here. In fact she practically tucked me in.”
Her eyes narrowed as she peered at him through the dimness, looking for some sign to catch him in his lie. “I don’t believe you.”
“Trust me, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have her blessing.” He pulled Piper closer and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her on the chin.
“Well...” She yawned and stretched her limbs down the length of his hard muscled body. His morning erection pressed against her hip and she shifted her leg to better accommodate him. “Consider yourself warned. If she comes barging in here screaming for our heads, I have no reservations in throwing you under the bus.”
“Fair enough,” he agreed, tucking her into a snug embrace. Running his hand down her back from shoulder to hip, he asked, “What is this you’re wearing?” He fingered the slick fabric with a ponderous frown.
Piper giggled. “One of your mother’s nighties. I couldn’t very well refuse her offer since I showed up with nothing but the clothes on my back.”
“First thing we do this morning is take you shopping.” Carter slipped his hand beneath the slippery nylon and caressed the naked flesh underneath. His thumb found her breast and he rubbed the burgeoning nipple until he witnessed the passion wash over her softened features. “Well, maybe the second thing,” he amended.
Piper arched up and drew the nightgown over her head. “Better?” she asked, urging him to lift his hips so she could tug off his boxers. Without any further foreplay she straddled him and impaled herself on his erection. Carter moaned and lifted his hips to meet each pleasurable lift and thrust of her hips.
“Did you really try to sneak a girl into your room?” Piper asked, lowering herself to press her breast against his mouth. His hands clasped her buttocks and pulled her into his final explosive thrust.
“Sure did,” he eventually admitted as he lifted her off him to use his fingers to finish what they’d started. She squirmed against his hand, throwing one leg over his waist, to allow him greater access. He nuzzled her neck as he spoke, “She was head cheerleader with the most fabulous set of pom-poms on the squad. She really knew how to shake ’em, too.”
“I’m sure your mother was just trying to protect her little boy from that pom-pom-shaking hussy,” Piper murmured against his shoulder, her teeth nipping at the firm flesh as he carried her to the edge.
His laugh was husky and tickled the hairs on her nape. “Don’t believe that for a single New York minute. She was protecting the girl from her horny teenage son.” He pressed his mouth against hers and swallowed her throaty cry as she slipped into the crushing waves of her climax.
“Same way she protected you from her horny middle-aged son last night.”
Piper snickered and rubbed her foot up and down his hairy leg. “Never would have guessed you to be a pom-pom man, Riggs.”
“Not so much anymore,” he confessed. “I’ve learned to appreciate other qualities about a woman over and above her pom-poms.”
She breathed a little laugh and snuggled against him. “Obviously.”
As the rising sun lightened his boyhood bedroom, Riggs glanced around. His mother hadn’t changed a thing since he left for the Naval Academy over twenty years ago. His gaze lingered on the sport trophies neatly arranged on shelves positioned around the team posters covering the walls, then finally came full circle to rest on the woman lying beside him. He pressed a kiss near her ear and whispered, “You’ve surpassed this boy’s fantasy.”
“Glad to be of service,” she said as her hands smoothed over his chest and down his tight abs. Tactile touches massaged firm, supple flesh, and lips planted wet, teasing kisses. She experimented with the speed and pressure of her exploration, noting the places that urged a positive response. Every twitch, tremble or shudder was mentally recorded for future reference. When she reached the small of his back, he flinched, not in pleasure this time, but in obvious discomfort.
“That spot’s been tender ever since my accident.”
She touched it again, lightly running her finger over the raised ridge of flesh. “Shrapnel?” she asked, bending over him to visually examine the spot.
“I’ve complained at every checkup but the doctor tells me it’s nothing but excessive scar tissue.”
She immediately saw the problem. “I’m no doctor, but it looks like your GPT chip has worked its way to the surface. Weren’t you warned to check it for dislocation when it was implanted?”
“That can’t be it. I’ve never been implanted with a chip.”
Piper was adamant about her assessment. “I know what the site of one looks like. Don’t you remember—the first one they implanted in me did the same thing.”
Carter threw back the covers and leaped to his feet. “Then it was done while I was in the hospital,” he exclaimed as he hurried from the room. She heard him rummaging through drawers and cabinets in the bathroom across the hall. He returned juggling fists full of first-aid supplies.
“You’ve got to cut it out,” he stated, dumping the stuff on the bed. A jumbled array of gauze packets, tape rolls, alcohol and peroxide bottles, and assorted manicure tools tumbled from his hands.
His suggestion sent a chill down her spine. “Are you crazy? I can’t do that. It’s too close to your spine. You need a doctor.”
“There’s no time for that. It’s got to come out.” He firmly shut the bedroom door. “Now!”
Knowing he was right didn’t make it any easier. “Make sure it’s locked,” Piper told him as she picked up what she assumed Riggs expected her to use as a makeshift scalpel. “I don’t want your mother walking in while I’m slicing her son open with a razor blade.”
“You’ve got to make this quick,” he said as he turned the lock. He stretched facedown on the bed and folded his hands under his head.
“Sure, no pressure,” she muttered while she soaked a square of gauze with alcohol, then wiped it over the surgical site and surrounding skin. Her next move was dousing everything she was about to use as surgical instruments with isopropyl alcohol, paying extra close attention to the razor blade, fingernail file and slant-tipped tweezers.
“Ready?” she asked, shaking the excess alcohol off before touching the edge of the razor blade to his skin. He
grunted the go-ahead as she sank the blade into his flesh. He tensed under the pressure but never made another sound.
Drawing the blade toward her, she made an incision just slightly longer than the chip. Then barely lifting the blade, she angled it perpendicular to the first cut and carefully sliced again, creating a wedged corner. Using the pointy end of the file, she placed it under the skin and lifted the flap, giving her access to the microchip with the tweezers. She held it out for his inspection. He snatched it and turned it over in his fingers.
“This really needs a couple of stitches,” she remarked, putting pressure on the incision with a dry gauze pad.
“Steri-strip it,” he said. “They’re in the box with the gauze.”
She did as instructed and covered the whole wound with a clean two-by-two gauze pad, taping the edges down with adhesive tape. “That’s as good as it gets,” she remarked, gathering up the supplies.
Riggs wrapped the GPT chip in piece of gauze and dropped it into the wastebasket with the rest of the refuse. “Leaving it here should give us some extra time to get out of here,” he explained as he pushed off the bed. Collecting the discarded boxers from the floor, he stepped into them and carefully adjusted the waistband over the bandage.
As she dressed, she watched him go to the closet and pull a beat-up backpack off the top shelf. Unzipping the main compartment, he pulled out a battered, dog-eared paperback copy of Slaughterhouse Five held together with rubber bands. From between the pages he withdrew a driver’s license, several credit cards, and a number of hundred dollar bills, all of which he placed in a ratty leather wallet he pulled from a bottom dresser drawer.
“You wouldn’t happen to have any identification in that bag of tricks for me, would you?” she asked, already knowing what his answer would be.
“Sorry, no,” he said.
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