Lethal Balance: Sons of the Survivalist: 2

by Cherise Sinclair

  A week. Relief swept through her that she’d have time to learn her way. She nodded.

  He touched her cheek, rose, and kissed the top of her head. “Have a good day, today, mija.”

  As he walked out, leaving her there with strangers, her stomach quivered, and she wanted to run after him, have him hold her. Don’t cry like a baby.

  “Come with me, Regan, and I’ll introduce you to your classmates.” Mrs. Wilner walked with her over to the group at the table.

  The morning hadn’t been too awful, Regan decided as she followed her classmates outside after lunch. The so-called playground had swings and a small field to play soccer and a paved basketball area.

  Not that she was playing. The soccer field was wet. The two boys in her class were shooting hoops—something Regan sucked at. Too short. No practice. Regular kids usually had hoops at home to practice on.

  She pulled her coat closer as a gust of cold air made her shiver. But her coat was warm, and hey, her new clothes were as nice as everybody else’s, and that slayed. No rips or holes or stains. Her jeans and shirt even fit. In the foster home, her wrists had stuck out of her sleeves, and her ankles out of her jeans.

  If Papá—Cazador—got tired of her, would he let her take the clothes?

  Her stomach felt icky as she thought about leaving. Going back to the dirty foster home, sharing a room with mean girls.

  As the kids on the playground shouted and played, Regan sighed. Trying to look like she didn’t care that she stood alone, she stuck her hands in the pockets of her new jacket and found something in there under the glove. She pulled it out.

  A bag of M&Ms—a big one—with a note taped to it. Have a great day, Regan! JJ

  Her whole world got brighter.

  “All right!” Laughing, Regan ripped a corner off the bag and saw the other girl in her fourth-grade class look over. “Want some M&Ms? Um, Dela-a-”

  “It’s Delaney. Sure.” The girl pushed her light red hair out of her eyes and moved closer. She was a little taller than Regan and heavier. One of the bigger kids had called her fat. She’d been standing alone.

  Regan poured some M&Ms into Delaney’s hand.

  “I love the green ones.” Delaney popped a candy in her mouth.

  “Are you new here too?”

  “Sorta.” Delaney ate another M&M. “We used to live in Anchorage, but Mom got a job at the resort, and we moved here last month.” She rolled her eyes. “Mom grew up here, and my grandparents are here, and Mom used to say she’d never come back to Rescue.”

  “But you did.” Regan frowned. “Do you like it here?”

  “Sometimes.” Delaney shook her head. “I get to do more cuz it’s not a city—like I can walk to where Grams works at the post office. But I don’t know many kids and some are—”

  “Hey, new kid.” The big boy had short yellow hair and stood beside a really pretty girl with long hair that was even lighter. Fifth-graders. “If you got candy, you share—and that fatty doesn’t need more food.”

  Delaney’s shoulders rolled in, and she started to hand the candy back.

  Regan pushed her hand back. “You’re not fat. He’s a stupidhead.”

  “What did you call me?” As the boy stomped over, the littler kids scurried out of his way like mice. The girl beside him was laughing.

  Regan shoved the M&Ms back into her pocket because he’d try to grab her food. She’d learned that way back in kindergarten. Her hands curled into fists. Slapping didn’t work as well as fists.

  No. She shouldn’t fight. The grownups would get mad. Papá would get mad.

  She retreated a few steps. She wouldn’t fight if she didn’t have to. Maybe the teacher would do something? “Get away from me,” she shouted. “You can’t steal from me.”

  The boy looked shocked and took a step back. He kept his voice low. “I didn’t steal anything, you dumb spic. Why don’t you go back to Mexico where you belong?”

  Regan rolled her eyes—and didn’t stop shouting. “I was born in California, Mr. Stupidhead.”

  “Brayden, let’s go.” The blonde girl pulled at his arm, and he wrenched it out of her grasp.

  “No, this beaner-bitch—”

  “Fucking asshole, get lost,” Regan yelled, and at Delaney’s gasp, she realized what she’d said.

  Oh, shit.

  “That’s not language we use.” Mrs. Wilner pointed toward the building. “Let’s go inside. All of you.”

  A wave of fear swept over Regan. How mad would Papá get? Would he send her back?

  JJ had used the kitchen downstairs to bake banana bread from the browning bananas that she hadn’t managed to eat. Considering the cost of produce in Alaska, she sure wasn’t going to waste them. She felt a twinge of guilt—the chickens would have enjoyed the treat.

  Up in her second-floor rooms, she heard the timer go off and trotted downstairs, only to realize that Caz was there with Regan and delivering a lecture.

  Not good. Should she go back upstairs until they were gone? No, the bread had to come out now. JJ eased down the steps and tried to tiptoe into the kitchen area although that wouldn’t do much good since the entire downstairs was one giant room.

  Thankfully, they ignored her as she pulled the bread out and turned off the oven.

  And listened. Snoopy much? You’re a bad girl, Jayden Linnea Jenner.

  “It’s not easy being the new person in a school, but you’re going to have to make an effort to get along,” Caz was saying in that resonant voice that sent shivers through her every time she heard him speak. “And there are certain words that aren’t allowed. Fuck in all its variations. Asshole. Those are two of them. You are not to use those words.”

  Regan stood, head down. But from the side, JJ could see that her expression was more pissed-off than apologetic.

  Then Caz went on to say little girls shouldn’t even know those words and—

  “Seriously?” JJ leaned forward on the counter. “I’m sure I’ve heard you and your brothers use those words.”

  Caz turned, his jaw tightening. “This is not your—”

  “Oh, but it is. Because I’m female.” She glared at him. “Go ahead and tell her there are places where swearing is inappropriate. It’s the truth. But telling a child she’s too young to say certain words when the adults around her do? Isn’t that a form of age discrimination?”

  Caz rubbed his hand over his neck. “JJ, that is—”

  “And telling her that girls don’t get to swear and boys do? Not on my watch, you don’t.”

  Caz frowned and then shook his head. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

  To JJ’s surprise, he went down on one knee and took Regan’s hands. “JJ is right, and I apologize.”

  Regan’s shocked expression was priceless. The child hadn’t been bothered by a scolding, but an adult apologizing left her stunned.

  JJ pulled in a breath, because he’d admitted she was right and he was wrong. A simple statement without excuses or hedging.

  He continued talking to Regan. “However, that said, there are places where swearing is considered very impolite. As a rule of thumb, if there are more people than just family around, it’s best to avoid swearing. That applies to all of us, male or female, young or old. And, as you can tell, whether it’s right or not, people react more strongly to a child cursing than an adult. You might take that into consideration.”

  Regan frowned. “But…he was going to take my candy.”

  When Caz’s smile appeared, JJ’s heart simply turned over.

  “Mija, I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself. There are ways to do so that might work better and keep you out of trouble, so we’ll talk about them. In fact, we’ll clean the living room together, since we both messed up, and you can tell me more about that pende— Ah, that boy and about what happened.”

  Unable to watch longer, JJ turned away, because she’d give anything to have Cazador look at her with that tender expression. She turned the loaves out onto two plates,
picked one up, and left the other on the counter.

  “The cleaning crew gets banana bread,” she said. “Take it home with you when you’re done, okay?”

  Caz ran a hand down Regan’s hair, then smiled at JJ. “We accept with thanks…but only if you join us for supper tonight.”

  Her breath caught. The warm look in his eyes made the floor beneath her feet feel uneven. “What?”

  “Please, JJ?” Regan bounced up and down on her toes. “Please come?”

  She shouldn’t. She shouldn’t. “I’d love to join you.”

  Chapter Eleven

  When life closes a door, breach the wall and walk in like a boss. ~ Unknown

  * * *

  On Saturday night, almost at the end of October, JJ was beginning to feel as if she was settling in. She’d been in Rescue almost three weeks now.

  Sitting back in her chair, she looked around. Lillian’s home was filled with stunning antiques and beautiful Oriental carpets. The green felt poker-table topper that covered the dining room table looked quite out of place.

  The Brit didn’t seem to care.

  Then again, Lillian was full of surprises. Look at the guests she’d invited to her poker night. Both of Rescue’s police officers were there, as well as Bull and Caz. Bull had taken the evening off from his roadhouse. The market owner, Dante. Tucker and Guzman were both gray-haired, bearded, and scruffy backwoodsmen who lived outside town in neighboring, off-the-grid cabins.

  As the break ended and everyone returned to the table, Caz walked across the living room, talking on the phone with Regan. This was the first night Caz hadn’t been home with his daughter.

  His dark red V-neck sweater over a black turtleneck clung to his broad shoulders and muscular chest in a way that kept drawing her gaze. She knew better and still couldn’t keep from looking at him.

  His voice was a smooth croon as he said, “You go to sleep now, mija. Audrey will stay with you until I get home.”

  Every child should have a father like him.

  As he pocketed his phone, he looked up…and caught her watching. His dark brown eyes held hers, and a crease appeared in his cheek.

  Warmth heating her face, she cleared her throat. “Is Regan all right?”

  “She is. It sounds as if they had fun.” He picked up his cards and eyed the pile of fudge sitting on a plate beside his chips.

  “Is she doing all right in class? Our tiny school must be a huge change,” Lillian said.

  “She doesn’t look…eager…to go to school in the mornings. But her teacher says she’s doing all right. Participates. Might be making some friends.” Caz’s jaw tightened. “She’s pretty quick to jump into a fight.”

  Gabe snorted. “Like father, like daughter.”

  Really? As the play started, JJ considered the doc. Tried to imagine him in a fight. Starting a fight. Cazador always seemed to possess an almost infinite amount of patience. Although he did have those knives…

  Smiling slightly, she examined her cards, then the other players and their faces. It looked like—

  Around them, the building seemed to groan, and it moved. She felt as if she was in a boat on choppy water. Was her chair broken? Only, no, her drink was sloshing in the glass, the donut holes were rolling over the table. Glassware clinked in the kitchen. Even as Lillian and the men pushed away from the table, everything stopped.

  “Nice and short. I’m just as glad not to have to crawl under the table.” Gabe scooted his chair back in. “Maybe a 3.7 or so.”

  “Nah, it was bigger than that. Didn’t you see the donut holes rolling around? I got five that says it was a 4.2.” Dante tugged at his white beard. “Maybe a fifty miler deep out in the Gulf.”

  “I’ll take that bet.” With a laugh, Guzman held up a five-dollar bill. “I’m going for 4.0 and central Alaska.”

  As wagers were taken, JJ stared at the crazy people. “That was an earthquake, and you’re betting on it?” And now they were just going to go back to playing?

  Picking up his cards, Guzman laughed, showing off a mouthful of silver fillings. “Yep. Your first quake?”

  “Mmmhmm.” She set a hand on her stomach. “It felt pretty weird.”

  “Alaska gets a few thousand a month, usually so small we don’t feel them. But some we do.” Bull gave her a reassuring smile. “Might as well get used to them. When you’re decorating, keep in mind that things might go flying. Or falling.”

  “Seriously?”

  Everyone around the table nodded.

  Well, okay then. She blew out a breath and picked up her cards. “I’ll raise two fudge pieces.”

  Since Tucker and Guzman lived mostly off the land, Lillian had provided pastry stakes to give them a home-cooked treat. Tucker—who was no slouch at poker—had won the last hand, and his gloating over his winnings of donut holes had been adorable.

  Now, the man gave her fudge a sad look and tossed his cards in. “Fold.”

  Next to Tucker, Bull stroked his goatee—a lovely tell that said he had nothing.

  JJ nibbled on a piece of fudge she’d pulled out of the pile in front of her. She could afford to eat one piece, right?

  “Chiquita,” Caz murmured from her right, “You shouldn’t eat your stakes.” The way he looked at her, the same tender way he looked at Regan these days, simply melted her heart.

  She tried to erect a defense, find distance, and couldn’t. “I love chocolate,” she admitted. Her father had kept a supply of M&Ms to offer along with his hugs for easing bad times: playground fights, scraped knees, broken toys. She took another nibble. “Hey, I was just in an earthquake, and this is one of my comfort foods.”

  “Ah, that is good to know.” With a tiny wink, he set one of his own pieces of fudge in her stack.

  She felt as if she’d gotten a hug.

  “I have nothing,” Bull announced and folded. The others jeered, and the play went to Lillian, Dante, Gabe, and Guzman.

  Finally, Caz pushed a mixture of fudge and donut holes forward. “Call. Let’s see what you have, Officer Cardsharp.”

  She grinned and showed her hand. A full house.

  Tucker scowled at her. “Missy, you’re even better than Mayor Lillian. Your daddy teach you that?”

  She laughed, pulled in the pot, and pushed him a piece of fudge, making his eyes light up. “My mom. We lived in Las Vegas, and she dealt cards for years before she got sick. She taught me.”

  “No wonder you’re cleanin’ up.” Guzman tugged on his gray-white beard.

  Bull frowned in concern. “Your mom got sick?”

  JJ’d discovered the huge guy hid a soft heart. “A stroke left her partly disabled. I came home from school and found paramedics in our apartment.” She tried to laugh lightly. “It was a shock.”

  “School? How old were you?” Twisting around in his chair, Caz studied her.

  “Sixteen.”

  “Damn, that’s rough, girl,” Dante said. “Strokes are nasty. How bad did it hit her?”

  “One side was paralyzed. And her”—JJ considered how to say it—“her emotions and thought processes were messed up. She was determined to overcome it. And she recovered enough to get around, but her mind didn’t track as well as before. She couldn’t deal cards, but the casino was nice enough to keep her on in the stockroom.”

  “Quite a pay cut, I bet,” Bull observed. Having an MBA, of course, he’d know that. When Mako left his sons a bunch of Rescue properties, Bull was drafted to handle the business in addition to owning a restaurant and brewery in Anchorage and a restaurant in Homer.

  He frowned at JJ. “Surviving on minimum wage isn’t easy. How did you two get by?”

  “We managed. I helped out with an after-school job at a small market.”

  “Working, taking care of your mother—not the usual high school experience.” Caz’s eyes were warm. Understanding.

  She felt her cheeks heat. “After nearly losing her, I was grateful for the extra time I had with her. She was a great mom.”

&nbs
p; “I’m surprised you didn’t go into dealing cards when you turned twenty-one,” Gabe said. “Easier and probably pays better than being a patrol officer.”

  “Not at first. Dealers start out at minimum wage—although tips make a difference. The money you earn depends on experience and the table limit and all that.”

  Caz swept up the cards and shuffled them, his lean fingers graceful. Skilled. “You said was. How did you lose your mamá?”

  As the cards whisked across the table, she picked up her hand and glanced around, expecting one of the others to shut down the questions, to want to play, but everyone was waiting. “She got hit by a car when she was walking home from the casino. Two drunk drivers playing chase downtown went right through the red light. A couple of other pedestrians were hurt, but the car got Mom straight on.” She glanced at Gabe, wondering how much he’d shared.

  He shook his head slightly. Nothing.

  She pulled in a breath. “I’d been on my way home, too—I kept my hours synced with hers so I could cook… I saw…”

  Caz plucked the cards from her hand and held it in his. Her fingers were cold; his hand was warm. Steadying. Strong. “How old were you then, JJ?”

  “Twenty.” She shook her head. “One of the responding officers was a total jerk, but the female patrol officer was great. Compassionate and efficient and competent. The contrast was incredible, and”—she laughed—“I applied to every police station within a hundred or so miles.”

  Having heard much of that during her interview, Gabe smiled at her. “And Rescue is glad you did.”

  Her boss knew how to make her day.

  And that was enough about her. She pulled her hand from Caz’s, wishing she didn’t have to, and smiled at the others. “Let’s play, people. The best solution for sadness is chocolate, and, oh look, there’s a nice pile over there.” She pointed to the pieces of fudge in front of Dante. He gave her a chiding look.

  Caz’s resonant chuckle filled the hollow inside her, and she couldn’t help but smile at him.