“Mom?” Harry yells, already thundering his way back downstairs. “Can we order pizza for dinner?”
Resolutely, I put my phone facedown on the counter and get up to grab the overflowing basket from my youngest. The amounts of laundry these boys produce every week is overwhelming and takes me most of my weekend to get through.
Pizza is a luxury I let them indulge in only on my biweekly payday, which happens to be today. I swear my youngest keeps track. “We’ll see.” Harry already pumps his fist in victory before he sits down at the counter.
Liam is the last one to come down. I take his basket, shove it in the laundry room with the others and wait until he’s taken a seat.
“You wanna tell them about next week, Liam?”
His eyes shoot up at me, a surprised grin on his face. “We can go?”
“Looks like it.”
While he enthusiastically shares with his brothers, I pull the brochures I printed out at work this morning from my purse and hand one to each of the boys. Even Theo, who is the most laid-back of the bunch, lets out a whoop.
“Just to be clear,” I finally manage to get a word in edgewise. “Your homework better be done every day, there’ll be no fighting, and I don’t want any lip from you two...” I point first at Theo and then Harry, “...about getting up tomorrow morning to come to your brother’s soccer game.”
“What time?” Theo asks, and I send him a scathing look.
“Seriously, kid? You’re considering passing up on this depending on what time you have to get up? Don’t think I won’t cut you out and leave you with Grandma while your brothers and I go have fun, because I will.”
He looks a little sheepish and mumbles, “Never mind.”
“Good call, Bub.”
IT’S AFTER HOMEWORK, pizza, and a rerun of Iron Man the kids and I piled on the couch to watch—them because...Marvel, and me because...Robert Downing Jr.—with popcorn, our Friday night family fun.
The kids are in bed and I’m just straightening up the kitchen before turning in myself when my phone, still facedown on the counter, vibrates against the surface.
Dylan: Sorry for the late hour. You awake?
I was pretty proud of myself for not checking my phone all night, thinking I nipped this unhealthy attraction in the bud. However, the immediate butterflies his message sets loose in my stomach proves otherwise. Shit.
Me: Yes
It takes me several minutes to formulate my response. Typing, erasing, typing some more, only to backspace the whole thing again, and this is what I end up with. Ugh.
I startle when the phone rings in my hand, quickly answering.
“Hello?”
“It’s been a crazy two days.” The sound of his chuckle so close to my ear has goosebumps pop up on my skin. There’s something intimate about the lazy drawl in his voice, as if talking to me at the end of his day is a common occurrence.
“How so?” My own voice sounds a little hoarse, and I quickly clear my throat.
“A new development in a case that kept me busy into late last night, so Max stayed at his grandparents. I didn’t see him until I picked him up from school this afternoon, and then we had homework to deal with, went to get groceries, cooked dinner, and we ended up both passing out on the couch watching some TV. I just put him to bed, but he woke up long enough to announce he likes red velvet or chocolate.”
“Life can get crazy when you parent alone.” I catch myself smiling, even though I know he can’t see me. With the phone at my ear, I make my way around the house, flicking off lights and making sure doors are locked before I head up the stairs.
“That’s for sure.”
“And by the way, I can do red velvet and chocolate.”
“Really? That’s awesome.”
“Other than soccer and gaming, is there anything else he really likes? A book, a show, a movie—anything I could use for inspiration?”
“You need inspiration for a cake?” He sounds incredulous, which strikes me as funny.
“You do if you plan on decorating said cake.”
“I see. Well, he’s a big fan of Marvel.”
I flop down on my bed, smiling. “The boys and I just finished watching Iron Man.”
“Really? The original?”
“Are you seriously asking that? Of course.” There is that chuckle again in my ear.
“Iron Man is cool, but Max is sold on Deadpool. That’s his favorite Marvel movie.”
“So violent, though.” I shudder remembering some of the bloody scenes. “I thought it would be more like the other movies, otherwise I would probably have thought twice about letting the boys watch it.”
“I get that, but I figure it’s better to let them watch when you’re around than to see it at a friend’s house without supervision.”
“I guess.” I stifle a yawn, my week catching up with me.
“I’m sorry, I’m keeping you from your bed.”
“Not exactly,” I confess. “I’m already there.”
There’s dead silence on the other end and I realize that for someone trying to keep their distance, I may have shared more than I should’ve. Suddenly self-conscious, I start to ramble.
“I mean, I haven’t changed or brushed my teeth yet, but I’m in my bedroom, lying on my bed.” I snap my mouth shut. It’s like I have no filter. I’m only making this worse, but I can’t seem to help myself. “I don’t usually sleep in my clothes—except maybe when it gets so cold outside I can’t get the house warm—but normally I don’t wear clothes to bed. I mean I wear something, of course, with kids around and all that, but—”
“Marya, stop talking,” he finally rumbles.
I wince, mortified. Jesus, I’m a tease—a cock tease. I totally fail at keeping my distance.
“Sorry,” I whisper. “I was just...”
Being an idiot?
“As informative as this conversation has been,” Dylan says, humor in his voice. “I’m going to hang up now before this goes places I know we’re not ready to go. I’ll see you tomorrow at the game.”
My head is stuck on those places he’s talking about, but I still manage to echo my goodbye.
“Yeah, see you tomorrow.”
The moment I hear dead air, I drop my phone on the mattress, roll over and shove my face in the pillows, and let go of a frustrated groan.
I am so fucked.
CHAPTER 6
Dylan
She brought her family.
I watch as Marya approaches, a lanky boy I assume is her oldest, dragging his heels by her side, while behind her an older, gray-haired woman has a much younger boy by the hand. The resemblance tells me this is her mother, and the young boy looks the spitting image of his older brother. The same dark hair as their mother, unlike Liam, who is blond. He’s already joined his team on the field.
“Morning,” I greet them, standing up when she stops in front of me, a little tentatively.
“Morning,” she echoes, before turning to her mother. “Mom, this is Dylan Barnes, he works with Damian.” To me she says, “My mom, Lydia Stewart, and my boys, Harrison and Theodor. Boys, this is Max’s father.”
I shake hands with her mother and both boys, when the youngest pipes up, “Do you think we’ll find gold?”
I’m guessing Marya told her boys about next weekend and I grin at him. “Anything is possible. I’ve been there before and never have, but I’ve heard stories of people going home luckier than me.”
“You get to keep it?” the older one, Theo, asks.
“Yup. You find it, you keep it.”
“Rad,” he mutters.
“Mom, can we go to the playground?”
“Sure, but stick with your brother, okay?”
Harry nods, punches his brother in the arm and starts running in the direction of the small park on the far side of the field, the other boy chasing him.
“Have you seen Liam play before?” I ask Lydia when we sit down.
“I have, but not in an actual
game.”
I see questions in the woman’s eyes, which have little to do with her grandson or the game on the field, and I read her concern, but I have no answers to give. Not yet anyway. I know what I want, but I’m not sure I can have it, that’ll be up to her daughter.
Twenty minutes into the game my phone rings. It’s the office.
“Excuse me.” I get up and walk away from the bleachers to take the call. “What’s up?”
“Sorry, Barnes,” Jasper answers. “Any way you can get to the office? David Aiken just dropped in and wants to meet with us all.”
“Out of the blue?”
David Aiken is the big honcho at the FBI’s Denver office who Damian reports to.
“Yup. Had me call everyone in, he’s holed up in Damian’s office for now.”
“Not getting a good vibe from this,” I share.
“You’re not the only one. Anyway, I know you’ve got Max to sort out, I can stall for an hour or so.”
“I’ll need it. I’m in Aztec at his game. I’ll have to call in some help.” My eyes drift to Marya, who is looking at me with concern in her eyes. The stress I feel must be visible. “An hour,” I repeat before hanging up.
“Everything okay?” she asks when I return.
“Got called into the office for an emergency meeting in an hour. I’m going to have to pull Max and drop him at Ma’s.”
“Don’t do that. We can take him back with us, drop him at your mother’s.”
I open my mouth to object, but I change my mind at the last minute. This is not familiar to me, but the offer of help feels fucking great. It’s always been me and Ma or Clint in emergencies.
“You sure?”
She smiles as she nods, and I can feel the warmth of it in my gut.
Fully aware of her mother sitting on the other side of her, I lean in and limit myself to kissing her cheek. “I owe you big time,” I whisper against her ear.
Ten minutes later, after a quick chat at the fence with Max and a call to warn Ma, I’m on my way back to Durango, the knot in my stomach at what awaits me there getting tighter with every mile.
“YOU’RE KIDDING?”
I look up to find Luna glaring at Aiken.
“Luna,” Damian warns, drawing her attention.
“I’m sorry, but this is bullshit. We’re already spread pretty thin, and now we’re supposed to babysit fresh trainees?”
“Actually, they’ll have graduated their training, so technically they’re fresh agents,” David offers sardonically. “Besides, as you said, you have been spread thin and since it’s not currently in the budget to assign another experienced agent, this will provide you with an added body, without digging into your wallet. Quantico is picking up the tab for this.”
It’s clear Luna is resistant, and I can understand why, working together with a team requires trust, and that’s not easy to give for Luna. It took me over a year to get to a point where she saw me as a full member of the team. Bringing someone in for three-month stints at a time is hardly enough to build the kind of trust required, but everyone has to start somewhere.
Damian and Jasper seem only mildly annoyed. I agree it’s going to mess with the nice balance we have in our office, but David’s right, it’s a cheap addition of manpower. In addition to that, it will make me no longer the junior agent in the office, which is something I look forward to.
I’m not going to say that out loud, though. Not with Luna up in arms. I like my balls attached to my body.
“Why a small field office like ours?” she questions. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to have them in a place that has more constant action? Bigger? Like, say, Denver?”
I bite down a chuckle and glance at David, but he just seems equally amused at Luna’s sarcasm.
“In a larger office, they’d see maybe twenty-five percent of the casework. Here they’d not only be exposed to the full view, but can see how the different levels of an investigation work together. For an office this small, you have a uniquely complete set of skills represented between the four of you.”
Luna rolls her eyes. “Now he starts with the compliments,” she mutters.
“He’s right,” I finally speak up, catching her heated look. “I learned more in a month here than in all the time I spent in Denver. Having a chance to work all angles of a case has given me a much better understanding. Made me a better agent.”
“I still don’t like it.”
“I’m not breaking out the champagne either, Luna,” Jasper adds, “but you’ve gotta admit it makes sense.”
“Right. Now that we have that out of the way, let’s have a look at the first candidate coming your way. She’s a former officer for the Denver PD and has just graduated Quantico. She’ll be here a week from Monday. Her name is Toni Linden.”
And just like that, the knot in my stomach is back.
MARYA
It’s a tight fit, but we managed to cram all four kids in the back seat of my Jeep.
I’d promised my boys burgers for lunch and Max was in enthusiastic agreement when I suggested we stop at Sonya’s. Lunch had been an extended and rambunctious affair, during which Liam seemed to grow more and more quiet. We finally asked for the bill, which I had to fight Mom for. I lost.
On our way back to Durango, I check Liam in my rearview mirror and notice him looking almost uncomfortable, staring out the window, while the other three chat about next week’s mining trip and their PS4 games.
“Everything okay, Liam?” I ask, thinking maybe he’s bummed they lost the game. “You guys played a good game. Can’t win them all, right?”
His eyes catch mine in the mirror and my breath sticks in my throat when I see a flash of anguish on his face before he quickly turns away. Something is going on with my middle child.
I find Mom looking at me with an eyebrow raised, but I surreptitiously shake my head. It’ll have to wait until later, but I intend to ask if she’s noticed anything.
“Why don’t I come over and make my famous mac and cheese for you guys tonight?” Mom asks after we drop Max at his grandparents.
The loud cheers from the back seat are deafening, but when I shoot another quick glance in the mirror, I note to my relief that Liam seems as excited as the other two. The boys are not the only ones who love Mom’s mac and cheese. I do too. She uses four different cheeses, adds sautéed onions and bits of ham, and it comes out of the oven with this crunchy golden crust I could eat all day long. It may be a gazillion calories a serving, but it’s the best kind of comfort food I know.
After a quick detour to the grocery store, so Mom can get her ingredients, we pull into the driveway. The boys are out of the car, before I even shift it in park. Stupid, since I have the key to the front door so they have to wait anyway.
The moment I get the door open, the stampede is on and within minutes the kids have disbursed. Liam upstairs for a shower—thank God I don’t have to chase after him like I do with the other two when it comes to hygiene—and the other two straight to the basement.
“What’s with that boy lately?” Mom asks as we put groceries away.
I put my finger to my lips and walk over to the stairwell to listen for the shower running. “What have you noticed?” I answer her question with one of my own.
“He’s been moody, almost listless at times, except when his brothers piss him off, then he’s a ball of rage. I was relieved to see his enthusiasm on the field today. Thought maybe he turned a corner, but that was short-lived.”
I run my hands over my face. So much for hoping my maternal antennae were perhaps a bit oversensitive. “Something is wrong,” I admit out loud and it makes me wince. “I kept thinking it was a bad day, or maybe a bad week, but it’s gotten to a point where aside from a few momentary glimpses of the generally good-natured kid I know him to be, I almost don’t recognize him.” I slap my hands over my mouth to stifle the sob wrenched from my gut.
Instantly my mother’s arms are around me, and like when I was a little girl,
her embrace allows me to let go and trust it all to her—no words required.
It’s been a lot lately and my emotions feel like they’ve hit the spin cycle.
I used to be like Teflon, shit would slide off me barely leaving a trace. After the evaporation of my marriage, the assault a few years ago, and the years under constant stress trying to rebuild a life for me and the boys, the layers have worn thin. With my ex’s sudden reappearance and Liam’s slide out of reach, I’m gouging the bottom.
“Oh, honey...” Mom coos in my hair. She gives me an extra squeeze before setting me back. “We’ll figure it out. Why don’t you go splash some water on your face before the boys catch you, and we’ll talk?”
She’s right. The last thing I need is the kids walking in on their mother losing her shit. I scoot into the powder room and a few minutes later, after freshening up and getting myself back in hand, I walk out finding Mom waiting with a pot of tea.
“I could use a coffee,” I suggest, earning a sharp maternal glare.
“That’s the last thing you need right now,” she decrees and I give up when she shoves a hot mug of tea in my hands. I take a sip and sit down at the kitchen counter. “You know, it wouldn’t surprise me if that unconscionable bastard is somehow responsible for Liam’s funk.” I don’t need to ask to know she’s talking about Jeremy. She’d be the first to lay responsibility for global warming at my ex’s feet if she could. She hates him that much for what he’s done to the boys and me.
“I don’t see how that would be possible. If he’d actually approached him, the other kids would’ve been around. He’s not on the approved list at the kids’ school and the boys are always together before and after. They’re never out on their own.”
Mom shrugs. “I still wouldn’t put it past him,” she grumbles. “By the way, have you heard anything else this week?”
10-Code (Rock Point, #4) Page 5