His brain turned ‘Why He’ back into ‘Hawaii’. What kind of dickwad took a vacation to get away from his kid? “It’s okay, Mom. Quincy seemed fine.” He was the one having a heart attack.
“She is. The girls cut their hands on razor grass climbing out of the ditch. Nothing serious. I called 911 and a deputy took Tasha’s statement and wanted her to go to the Sheriff’s Office. I brought the girls back here.”
At this rate, he’d be gray before Mom got the tale told. “Where is Dad?” he asked.
“I told that deputy that Tasha was in shock. He said he’d take her by the hospital first,” Mom said worriedly. “But then she didn’t answer her phone and your Dad went to look for her.” She glanced at her watch. “That was hours ago, and now he doesn’t answer his phone either.”
“Dad can take care of himself.” Which was true. But if Tasha Sutcliffe had been speeding, as she must have been to wind up in a ditch, he expected she was being questioned by the sheriff. Shock or no fucking shock. “How did it happen exactly?” he ground out.
“Tasha took the girls in her car – before you ask they were both in their car seats – and I took the baggage. I was behind her all the way from town, and she had to have braked several times. We hit several red lights in town. I didn’t notice any problems. But when she took the Westford exit, her brake lights came on but the car didn’t slow. It sped up and went up on two wheels.”
Mom put her hand over her heart. “I thought – you know what I thought. She was headed straight for those trees. And then somehow she got the car turned around and she went into the ditch.” She looked even more upset than she had when she first started her explanation.
Two high-pitched and excited voices began to call, “Meemaw Angel, Meemaw Angel, is it story time?”
“I’ll fill you in later,” Mom said and handed the tablet to Quincy who was at her elbow.
“We’re going to have One Morning in Maine.” Quincy held up a battered hardcover with an illustration of two small girls on the front. “Because Becky and I are like sisters. Except, she’s littler than me but she’s older.”
The book was far more tattered than even one enthusiastic little girl could’ve made it. It had been a favorite of Harry Jr.’s, and Willie’s. Kenny had never had a chance to find out if he was as interested as his big brothers in the adventures of two little girls who lived in rural Maine. Harrison forced himself to smile. “I’ll have to go get mine,” he said. “You go tuck yourself up in bed.”
It didn’t take long to find his electronic edition of the same book on his reader. He picked up his tablet again. Becky’s face swam into focus, her cheek pressed up against Quincy’s. They were sitting on Quincy’s bed, the book spread across both pajamaed laps.
“I’m ready, Daddy Danger,” Becky declared happily.
“We both are.” Quincy held up their clasped hands.
Somehow he got all the way through the story. Quincy knew all the places where the eldest girl spoke and she recited the words along with him. ‘Little sister will have vanilla so the drips won’t spot,’ she said just as Willie used to. Only what Willie had said was ‘vamilla’. He had never learned to pronounce his n’s correctly. There were a lot of things little Wilson had never learned to do.
“Are you coming tomorrow, Daddy Danger?” Becky asked worriedly when he closed the book.
“I sure am, sweetheart. I should be there around supper time.”
“My Daddy is going to Why He,” she said sadly. “But my Uncle Cam is coming to see me instead.”
Was Capt. Reynolds headed to Grape Creek too? Another thing Mom had omitted. Proof she was rattled. “You’ll like that. Where’s Meemaw?”
“I’m right here. You kiss these girls goodnight. They have to get a good night’s sleep so they can ride Princess in the morning.”
He could hear the noisy scuffling as Becky climbed out of Quincy’s bed and into the other twin. Mom handed the tablet to Quincy who kissed it. He made a smacking noise and kissed her back. Mom pulled up the covers around Quincy’s shoulder and took the tablet. She handed it to a giggling Becky who repeated the ritual.
“Night, night,” he said. “Sleep tight and don’t let...”
“The bedbugs bite,” the girls shouted together.
Mom turned the tablet off. Harrison stared blankly as the girls vanished. He pressed buttons and the icons blinked back on. He got his spray and a cloth and cleaned his own spit off the screen. Jesus H. Good thing he had a stack of paperwork. He did not want to fucking try to sleep tonight. For sure he could expect to see little Becky Sutcliffe join Quincy and the boys in his nightmares.
He worked through the pile of forms, ticking boxes, double-checking stuff his sergeant could have handled. Would have handled. It was all routine. Nothing that needed a colonel’s authorization. Including the notice of change of destination. Capt. Cameron Reynolds was no longer going to Savannah, Georgia. He was notifying Command that he was spending his leave in San Angelo, Texas – just as his niece had said. Harrison initialed the change, looked at the phone and made his decision. Protocol be damned.
He knew Reynolds, of course. Well, but not intimately – as befitted their difference in rank. When their parents had hung out, Reynolds had been a snaggle-toothed kid of no interest to Harrison’s younger self. Now Cameron’s team reported to him. Friendship was not truly an option.
Reynolds had made Epsilon Team on his own merits, not on his connection to General D’Angelo’s old friend Adam Reynolds. Special Forces had more than its fair share of shifters. Which might not be fair to ordinary humans seeking a spot, but was damned fair to the country. The military reserved its most impossible missions for Delta Force. You needed superhuman reflexes to make the team. And preternatural ones helped you survive.
The Reynoldses were bearshifters. Bears weren’t as flashy as phoenixes, but they were solid and as dependable as the day was long. Not that they were dumb. Special Forces had no use for dumb. Reynolds had both brains and brawn. He was a typical bear: burly, hirsute, and unflappable. Harrison had okayed a bunch of commendations for Capt. Reynolds that were amply deserved.
Now, he might as well find out what Reynolds knew about this fucking accident. His parents thought the sun shone out of Tasha Reynolds Sutcliffe. Harrison thought they were matchmaking. He might well wind up with Reynolds as a brother-in-law if his little brother Grant took the shine to Tasha that he figured his parents were hoping for.
He had a soft spot himself for her little girl. Becky was as cute as a bug’s ear. And as sharp as a tack. The way she had gone from calling him Kennel Danger to labeling him Daddy Danger had won his heart. And seeing as that ex-husband of Tasha’s was a total waste of space, Becky sure could use a new father.
But if her mom had willfully endangered his child, he would have Tasha Sutcliffe’s ass on a plate.
CHAPTER FOUR
It was late when Caroline heard George’s car. She turned on the microwave to reheat his dinner. The kitchen door opened and Tasha walked in. Her face was pale and there was a white butterfly bandage across her nose. Her swollen eyes were ringed in violet. Caroline came around the counter to embrace her.
“I was a little worried,” she said. “You sit down, and I’ll have your supper in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”
Tasha more or less collapsed onto one of the kitchen chairs. George came in taking his hat off and shaking his head. He gave Caroline a kiss and went to the refrigerator. “I’m going to have a glass of wine, would you like one too, Tasha?”
She lifted her head as if he had spoken in tongues. Her normally neat hair was tangled, as if she had been running her hands through it since the accident. Her lips wobbled. “I don’t think it would mix very well with whatever they gave me at the hospital.” She rubbed her temples with her fingers.
“Caroline?” At her nod, George filled two glasses and handed one to her.
She thanked him, took a sip, and returned to the microwave. “It’s just Hamburger He
lper and salad, I’m afraid. I was not up to cooking a proper meal tonight.” The microwave beeped. She set the dish on the hot pad already on the table. Tasha stared blankly at it as if she had never seen food before. Caroline dished up her serving and added a helping of salad.
Tasha looked around a little wildly before she picked up her fork. She put it down again. “But you don’t have any food yourself.”
George sat beside her. He patted her hand. “This is no time for standing on form. Caroline, where did you put Tasha’s bag?”
“In the guest room. Becky and Quincy have been asleep for hours.”
Tasha raised her head, her fork halfway to her mouth. The bruised circles around them made the green irises look like burnt holes. “Oh, my goodness,” she whispered, “I haven’t even asked about them.”
George looked at Caroline and mouthed, “Shock.”
“Try to eat,” Caroline advised. She set George’s plate in front of him and handed him the salad bowl. “I ate with the girls. And then we played a game and they had baths. Harrison read them a bedtime story, and they went off to sleep just fine.”
Tasha began to eat mechanically. Caroline thought she was just ready to collapse. She looked questioningly at George. He shrugged. “The sheriff wanted Tasha’s vehicle examined by the Highway Patrol. I persuaded him that Tomlinson’s Garage would be just as good – especially with Independence Day coming up. It’s not as though a nonfatal car accident from Grape Creek is going to be any kind of high priority.”
Tasha shoved macaroni and ground beef around on her plate. She swallowed. Took a drink of water. Swallowed again. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “I’ll never drive that car again.”
After forty-three years of marriage, Caroline knew what the look on George’s face meant. Tasha’s observation could not have been less to the point. She felt indignation. Tasha was clearly in shock. The police ought not to have kept the poor woman for hours after her ordeal. “Do you want some ice?” she asked.
“This is fine,” Tasha said lifting her glass. “I don’t know why, but I’m freezing.”
George gave Caroline another look. “I think that Sheriff Escobar thought she was faking it,” he said quietly. Tasha’s eyes drooped but she gave no sign that she had heard what was being said.
Caroline stood up. She grabbed an ice pack from the freezer. “Come on, honey,” she said. “You’ll feel better after you’ve had some sleep.” She helped Tasha out of the room and down the hall and up the stairs. “Do you want to look in on the girls?”
Tasha nodded. They were fast asleep, eyes closed, lips rosy. They didn’t look as though they had nearly died earlier in the day. Tasha began to tremble, and Caroline pulled her out of the room.
George had refilled his wine glass when she came back into the kitchen. He held the red liquid up to the light and swirled it in the big glass. “You know, don’t you, we’re not supposed to drink this cold?”
“But we like it cold.” She tried to answer him as lightly.
George came and took her into his arms. “Escobar thought she had been drinking. Until she passed the Breathalyzer. Car’s a write-off. I don’t think he believed your statement.”
“Herman Escobar should be ashamed of himself.” Caroline picked up her glass and had a restorative sip, but she made no attempt to move from the protective circle of George’s arms. “I told his deputy the truth. I was right behind Tasha. She’s a careful driver. She signals her turns before she brakes. And her brake lights came on after she signaled her exit. I’m sure of that. I was right behind her.
“But nothing happened. Her SUV just shot ahead. It happened too fast for me to be sure exactly what order things occurred in, it sure looked like she was stomping on the brake, which means she couldn’t have been stepping on the gas instead.”
“With a new car like hers, it doesn’t seem very plausible that her brakes could be worn out, sweetheart. Escobar is just doing his job. And once he realized that whatever they had given Tasha at the hospital really had turned her into a space cadet, he did let us go home.” George kissed the top of her head.
“I hope to God I never have to live through anything like that again. I’m sure I’m going to have trouble sleeping tonight.”
“Hmm.” He tightened his arms. “Did you tell Harrison?” He asked.
“Oh, my stars and stripes. Quincy said something and I told him the barest outline. And then I clean forgot to call him back after I had them off to sleep. I just sat down and watched television.”
George kissed her cheek. He looked at his watch. “I’ll give him a call,” he said. “I’m sure he won’t be asleep.”
* * *
The cloudless Texas sky was a blue bowl almost too bright to stare at. They were all beginning to melt in the fierce heat. The concrete helipad had absorbed the day’s heat and was radiating it back at them. Even here in the shade cast by the porch roof of the little shed, it was like standing in a sauna.
Tasha could feel sweat trickling between her breasts and down her legs. She breathed a sigh of relief when at last she heard the whomp, whomp, whomp of the helicopter.
They had had to take two vehicles out to the landing pad because there were so many of them. With the two car seats in the backseat of George’s vehicle, there was no room for Col. D’Angelo to sit, let alone Tasha. But Caroline had insisted that she accompany them to greet Harrison. And Becky had been indignant at the idea that she didn’t to get to welcome Daddy Danger home.
Tasha wasn’t precisely sure when her daughter had decided that the D’Angelos belonged to her. Sometime in the last few months both girls had started calling George Poppy Danger. Caroline had become Meemaw Angel. And Quincy’s father was now Daddy Danger. At first, she had quietly corrected Becky. But both George and Caroline thought it was highly amusing and Tasha had discovered she was fighting a battle in a war she had already lost.
“Not long now,” George said with satisfaction. Becky and Quincy were hanging off his hands and he tightened his grip to prevent the girls from darting into the path of the landing helicopter. They didn’t seem to notice that Poppy was restraining them. Which was just as well. Both girls began to hop up and down. They yelled. Tasha could see their open mouths but the helicopter blasted the noise away.
The big Air Force chopper circled once and set down dead center of the helipad. The black blur on the top resolved into four rotors. The passenger-side door opened. Two tall men in fatigues jumped out carrying duffels. They walked away from the chopper hunched over, shielding their faces against the grit being churned up. When they were past the idling rotors, they turned to face the pilot. The taller one raised his arm and signaled. The chopper immediately rose into the air.
Then it was gone in a swirl of dust and leaf litter that had them all closing their eyes. When Tasha could open hers properly, chaos reigned.
“Daddy, Daddy,” cried Quincy. She ran across the concrete with her arms held out and was scooped up and gathered close and spun in a circle.
Becky was making a beeline for the other man. “Uncle Cameron,” she shouted just as happily.
And then Tasha was running too. Cameron had his duffel bag slung over one shoulder. Becky was in the crook of his other arm shouting in his ear. Somehow he managed to hug Tasha with both arms. “Hey,” he said in his slow, calm way.
Tears prickled. She hugged him hard. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming today?”
“I’m a surprise,” he said cheerfully. He kissed her cheek and let her go. Becky clung to him and shouted in his ear.
Harrison D’Angelo was tall and broad shouldered. Taller even than Cam. His face was as chiseled as his father’s, and his nose as hooked. But unlike George he looked severe and aloof. And yet he radiated a masculine appeal that made Tasha’s dormant hormones do a happy dance – until his mirrored, wraparound sunglasses focused on her. Then his appraisal chilled her heated skin.
George D’Angelo beckoned. “I’d like you to meet my oldest son,
” he said genially. “Tasha, Harrison. Harrison, this is Natasha Sutcliffe.” He beamed proudly.
A large callused hand clasped Tasha’s. “How do you do,” said a Texas twang. Tasha felt a tingle run up her arm. With an effort, she kept her expression smooth and smiled politely up at the stiff-faced man staring at her. She felt abruptly dowdy in her sweaty shorts and damp T-shirt. Harrison’s jaw clamped and he let go of her hand as if it soiled his.
How had she not noticed how imposing Harrison was when he was talking to Quincy on Skype? He was quietly introducing her brother to Caroline, George, and Quincy. Then they piled into the two vehicles and headed back toward the house. Tasha and Cameron rode with Caroline. Quincy had gone with her father and grandfather. Since the extra car seat was in that vehicle, so had Becky. The ones in Tasha’s car were toast.
“I sure hate to spring an extra guest on you for supper, Mrs. D’Angelo,” Cameron said. “But the colonel insisted.”
“Caroline, please. Now that the general is retired, I’m no longer the CO’s wife. We’re glad to have you, son. And you are only a surprise to Tasha and Becky. Besides, we have lots of room. And there’s lots to eat. I fed a lot of drop-ins in my career as an Air Force wife.” Caroline matched Cameron’s cheerfulness.
“Thank you – Caroline.” Cameron didn’t look happy calling his hostess by her first name, but he turned around to beam at Tasha. “I had to change my destination on my paperwork when I canceled my flight to Savannah. The colonel noticed I was heading to San Angelo and offered me a ride on his chopper. So here I am, a day early.”
“That was kind of him,” Tasha said. “I’m certainly glad to see you.” Suddenly she wanted to cry. Her nerves still hadn’t settled down from the horrors of yesterday.
“Imagine his surprise when I told him that I was staying with the general and Mrs. D’Angelo.” He winked at Tasha.
“You’re staying in the guest house,” Caroline told him. “Becky and Quincy wanted to share, and I thought Tasha would rather not sleep that far from her for a whole week. I put her in our guest room. You’ll have the cottage to yourself.”
Phoenix Aflame (Alpha Phoenix Book 2) Page 3