“Do you need to go back to the office?” she asks, worry on her face.
I sit down beside her and wrap an arm around her, tugging her close. “No, I’m staying. We’re gonna have a nice dinner with the kids, then we’re going to watch movies and binge on all the snack food your mom picked up. What we’re not gonna do is let that asshole take up any of that precious time.”
“Hear, hear,” Lydia—who evidently still has perfect hearing—contributes from the kitchen.
Ignoring her, I slide my free hand in Marya’s hair, tug her head back, and take her mouth.
“You good?” I ask when I lift away and note to my satisfaction the worry lines are gone.
“Yeah,” she says almost drowsily.
“Good. We all need a little normalcy. Tomorrow morning I’ll feed the boys and take Max and Liam to soccer. The other two can hang back with you.”
Her smile is sweet, but I can see concern creeping back as her eyes drift off. “I was gonna make chocolate chip waffles for breakfast.”
“Hey.” Her gaze comes back to me. “I’ve never had chocolate chip waffles. Sounds good to me.”
“Okay.”
Still a little too glum for my liking, but I can’t blame her. Her life’s been in a spin cycle, and every time she thinks she’s gaining a foothold something else happens to keep her off-balance.
“Are you still on those painkillers?”
She shakes her head. “Not since Tuesday. They made me loopy.”
“How about a drink then?”
“I bought some wine. You were all out,” Lydia announces and Marya rolls her eyes to the ceiling. I snicker.
“Fine, I’ll have a glass,” she surrenders.
I lean in for another kiss, wishing we didn’t have an audience, and get up. When I move toward the kitchen, I spot Liam standing at the top of the basement stairs. His lips are pressed in a tight line, but before I can even react, he storms straight through upstairs, slamming the door to his bedroom.
Fuck.
CHAPTER 25
Marya
“Have a good game, Bub.”
Liam—who’s barely talked to me since last night—stalks out the door after Max.
I tried, labored my way up to his room and sat on the edge of his bed, asking why seeing me with Dylan had him upset. No reaction. I asked him if it was Dylan, or just the idea of me dating anyone, and he threw me a dirty glare. Then I wanted to know if it was the age-difference between us that made him uncomfortable. To that I received a puzzled look and a mumbled, “Whatever.”
He did come down for Mom’s lasagna, and watched movies with us. He also ate his chocolate chip waffles this morning, which is a hopeful sign. At least whatever is up with him is not affecting his appetite. As a mom, I have to take comfort somewhere.
“I’ll talk to him,” Dylan says, leaning over me for a kiss. “You and the boys gonna be okay? Your mom said she’d come if—”
“We’ll be fine. I’m not completely useless,” I snap, a tad acerbic.
“I wouldn’t dare to imply such a thing,” Dylan says in an amused tone, brushing my lips once again before he too heads for the door. I’m already feeling guilty.
“Thank you,” I call after him, and he turns a wide grin my way just before he pulls the door closed.
I’m irritable. My mind is restless, my skin is crawling with anxiety, and I’m taking it out on Dylan. The guy who, once again, dropped everything so he could come to my rescue when fucking Jeremy played his dirty hand. I was full-on scared when those women showed up. I wanted to be angry, indignant—as I’d otherwise be—but instead I was overwhelmed and frankly, terrified.
There comes a point when the blows keep knocking you down, you just can’t get up anymore. Not under your own steam anyway. That point was yesterday afternoon for me.
I had the presence of mind to shoot Dylan a quick text, and he came—like the proverbial knight in shining armor—and did what I no longer had in me to do. Fight.
This morning I’m snapping at the guy, when he’s being nice.
Fuck, I want this mess to be over.
“I like him, Mom.”
I turn and watch Theo come out of the kitchen. “Bub?”
“Dylan. He’s cool. He’s totally into you.”
I press my lips together, forcing back tears that suddenly burn my eyes. My little protector is not so little anymore. “I’m glad,” I manage to utter in a steady voice. “For the record, I’m into him too.”
Theo rolls his eyes. “Duh, Mom. You’d have to be blind not to catch that. Your face goes all goofy when you look at him,” he says with a shrug and a grin.
I pelt a throw pillow at him. “Goofy, huh?” He catches it easily.
“Totally.”
“Get your skinny butt over here and give your mom a hug, smart-ass.”
He makes his way over to the couch, a suffering look on his face—which is all for show—judging by the strength of his arms wrapping around me.
“Love you, Theo.”
“Love you too, Mom,” he mumbles, squeezing me extra hard before he lets go.
“How long since you’ve had a shower, Bub?” I ask, scrunching my nose when I get a whiff of eau de adolescence.
“Dunno.” He sniffs his pits and shrugs. “It’s not that bad.”
“You’re ripe. Get on it.” I smile when his lanky frame heads for the stairs without argument. “And when you’re done, get your brother to take one too.”
A house full of boys requires constant monitoring of personal hygiene, or before you know it, the place smells like a locker room.
I slide sideways until my head hits the armrest and close my eyes. A catnap sounds like a good idea after Dylan’s early morning wakeup call between my legs, and forty-five minutes on my feet in the kitchen making enough waffles to feed a battalion.
Five guys under my roof. I must be out of my mind.
Still, I doze off with a smile on my face, the mess my life is in momentarily forgotten.
DYLAN
I look in my rearview mirror, catching Liam glowering at the back of my head.
“Liam.” He visibly jerks at my voice and catches my eyes in the reflection. “I care about your mom. A lot.” He turns his head to stare out the side window. “She cares about me too,” I continue undeterred. “I get it might be a bit weird seeing us together—it’s something we all have to get used to, I guess—but I need you to understand it will happen. I don’t plan to stop touching or kissing her.”
“I don’t think it’s weird,” Max pipes up beside me. “Grammy and Grandpa touch all the time, and they’re like...old.”
I toss a grin at my son. “Just don’t tell ‘em that, Kiddo. Not sure Grammy will appreciate being called old.”
In the mirror I spot Liam’s focus on Max, then his eyes meet mine before he turns his attention back out the window, but he does it with a smile playing on his lips.
“I want your mom to be happy, kid. Things haven’t always been easy for her, but I’d like a chance at changing that. I don’t think that’s a bad thing, do you?”
The snort from the back seat is loud, and I decide to give it a rest. Max is watching me, a little confused, so I shoot him a reassuring wink.
“Until she ends up in the hospital,” I hear Liam mumble under his breath.
I get where he’s coming from. She ended in the hospital, battered at the hands of the last man his mom was involved with. He also just found out his own father had taken his hands to her. He has no reason to trust I wouldn’t end up doing the same.
This week the boys play in town, at the soccer fields by Fort Lewis College, so I hold off responding until I can pull into a parking spot, shut off the engine, and turn in my seat.
“Liam, I’m not gonna hurt your mom. That’s not going to happen. Ever,” I emphasize, observing his tepid reaction to my words. “I also never make promises I can’t keep.”
“He doesn’t,” Max confirms in my support as he twists around i
n his seat. “He like...really likes your mom. I can tell.” I bite off a grin at my son’s vote of confidence. He isn’t done yet. “And think about it, we could end up living in the same house, how cool would that be?”
Before my kid totally freaks Liam out, I intervene. “We should get a move on. Coach is waiting.”
The boys get out and dart ahead. By the time I collect my coffee from the Bronco and take a seat on the bleachers, they’re already running around the field for their warm-up.
Rick plops down on the bench beside me.
“Where’s the hot babe today?”
“Watch what you call my woman,” I grunt, taking a much-needed sip of coffee.
These early mornings are beginning to wear on me, even though sliding into Marya’s warm, sleepy body first thing is the best way to start my day.
Rick’s chuckle sounds beside me. “Well, excuse me for noticing,” he quips. “I’m guessing things are good?”
“What is this? We’re having a girl-talk now?” I look at him with an eyebrow raised, but his smirk only gets bigger.
“Living vicariously through you, my man. You’re walking up here with that I-just-got-me-some swagger, making the rest of us poor single saps green with envy.”
“Whatever,” I mumble, but with a grin of my own.
“Guess a boys’ trip into the mountains is out?”
Rick Henderson’s son, Jamie, has been playing soccer with Max since the boys were six. The boys have had occasional playdates, and last year Rick and I took them on a weekend campout up in San Juan National Park.
“Not necessarily,” I consider out loud, thinking I wouldn’t mind taking Marya’s three along. “I may just have a couple more kids in tow.”
“You’re a lucky bastard, you know that?”
“Yup.”
We watch the first half of the game in companionable silence, except when the Chargers score a goal toward the end, and we’re on our feet cheering.
It’s not until partway through the second half my phone rings. Damian calling.
“Boss.”
“Our boy walked.”
“Berger?”
“Yup. Benedetti called. He tried to stall, but there was little he could do.”
“Tell me he’s got a tail.”
“Ramirez is on it. Just talked to him, looks like he’s holed up with his lawyers at the DoubleTree. Where are you?”
“Up at the sports fields by the college. There’s about ten minutes left in the game. Anything changes—he moves—let me know right away.”
“Will do. Marya with you?”
“Nope. Home with the other boys.”
“Want me to send Luna?”
“I’d rather tell her face-to-face.” After yesterday, the last thing she needs is another surprise visit with bad news. “I shouldn’t be too much longer here.”
“Everything okay?” Rick asks beside me when I end the call.
“Fuck no.”
He takes his cue and stays quiet the rest of the game while I seethe in silence.
Of course, in the last two minutes the opposing team scores the equalizer and both boys come off the field disappointed. Even my, “Tough break, guys, but you played a good game,” does nothing to change the mood.
The drive home is silent other than the Eagles playing on the radio. I’m just turning onto Marya’s street when I hear Liam behind me.
“What the hell?”
“What’s up?” I ask, my eyes flying up to the rearview mirror. Liam’s reflection is white as a ghost; his eyes open wide. “Liam?”
“It’s Harry...he...10-1,” he stammers.
It takes me a moment to clue in. 10-1. Dad alert. “Where?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t say.”
“Ask him.” I pull into Marya’s driveway and twist in my seat. “Anything?”
“Not yet.”
“Okay. Do not get out. No matter what,” I tell the boys. I grab my phone, get out, and hit the locks.
I find the front door unlocked when I test it. Reaching down I slip my gun from my ankle holster and ease the door open.
“Mom?” A white-faced Theo is standing in the hallway, eyes fixed on the gun in my hand. Behind him I can see Marya sit up and twist around in the couch.
“What’s wrong?” she addresses Theo, who looks frozen on the spot.
“Where’s Harry?”
I see her startle when she hears my voice and her eyes zoom in on me. “Dylan? Guys? What’s going on?”
“Sweetheart, where’s Harry?” I walk into the living room, just as she gets to her feet.
“Probably downstairs, why?”
It’s only when I walk up to her and her eyes get big that I remember the gun in my hand. I quickly tuck it in the back of my waistband.
“He’s not,” Theo says from behind me, and I turn around to find him looking concerned. “I didn’t want to wake you, Mom. He just went across the street to David’s. I watched him all the way until he got inside, I swear.”
“That’s okay, he’s—” Marya starts but I cut her off.
“Jeremy was released.”
“Wait, what?”
“Not now, babe.” I feel bad about being short with her, but I need to find Harry. “Theo, come with me, yeah?” I grab the boy by the arm in passing and pull him behind me. “Which house is David’s?” He points to a raised bungalow, with blue siding a couple of doors down, on the other side of the road. “I need you to get the other boys inside, lock the door, and set the alarm. Can you do that?” I push the button on my car keys to open the doors.
“He answered.” Liam shows me the screen on his phone as soon as he gets out of the truck.
10-7
“What was 10-7 again?”
“Hiding.”
“I need to know where he is, keep trying, okay? I need you guys to go inside with Theo, if he answers, send me a message, yeah?”
I already have my phone out and am dialing Damian, even as I’m crossing the road to David’s house.
“Berger’s been spotted near Marya’s place,” I snap. “Her youngest is out there. I need help.” I don’t even wait for an answer, raising my hand to knock on the door.
“Yes?”
A woman opens the door and looks at me with some reservation. I can’t blame her, if my face shows any of the emotion I’m feeling right now, it’s bound to be scary.
“Is Harry here?”
“Who is asking?” She looks over my shoulder at Marya’s house.
I flip my badge open. “Special Agent Dylan Barnes, FBI. Ma’am this is urgent. Is Harry Berger with you?”
She shakes her head, looking increasingly worried. “No, the boys went down the road to play in the park. Why? What’s going on?”
“Ma’am, if they show up here, do not let them leave, and call me right away.” I dig a card from my wallet and shove it at her before jogging in the direction she points me.
There’s no one in the damn park.
The small neighborhood park has the road on one side and the open mountainside behind it. I scan the road, and then the brush. No one.
“Harry!” I yell, while pulling my phone out of my pocket. I type in a quick message.
Dylan: Where are you?
I watch as the check mark appears next to my message, but there’s no response.
Dylan: Harry? I can’t help you if you don’t answer me.
Again the check mark appears, but then I see the dots beside his name move.
Harry: Is he gone?
“Harry!” I yell again, just as a patrol car pulls up to the curb. I swing back to scan the mountainside when I see something move halfway up the rise. “Stay here,” I tell the officer who joins me. “Keep an eye out while I go up there. We’re looking for a man in his forties, six one, blond hair.”
My eyes stay focused on the two boys slowly making their way down as I jog up to meet them. Harry runs the last stretch and throws himself against me.
“Is he gone?�
�
CHAPTER 26
Marya
My legs almost give out from relief when I see Dylan come walking down the street, holding on to Harry with one hand, and David with the other. By the time they come walking up the path to the front door, relief has been replaced with anger.
“Harry, go inside.” Dylan gives my guilty-looking son a little shove in my direction. “I’ll be right back. Just dropping David off at home,” he tells me, and all I manage is a stiff nod.
I step to the side to let Harry—who’s dragging his heels—inside, where he’s immediately questioned by his brothers.
“Guys,” I close the door and turn around. “Do me a favor, and hang out in the basement for a bit.” There isn’t a single protest as the boys move toward the stairs. “Not you, Harry.” My youngest, who clearly thought he could sneak off with the others, looks crestfallen.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” he apologizes. “But we—”
“What is it, Harry? Are you sorry or are you making excuses? I’ve told you before, sorry is not an apology if it’s followed by but.” I lean my crutches against the side of the couch before dropping down. I’ve lost ten years off my life in the past ten minutes. “Sit down, so I don’t have to crane my neck to talk to you.”
With tears tracking down his cheeks, he wisely sits in the chair across from me, and my hard shield of anger starts cracking. I’m about to start lecturing him when Dylan comes in the door, followed by Damian, who hangs back.
“Tell us exactly what happened,” Dylan’s voice is much calmer than mine was as he passes by me and crouches down in front of my son.
Accompanied by sniffles, Harry starts recounting how he and David went to throw a Frisbee in the park. When he had to climb the hillside to retrieve it, he saw his father get out of a car at the far end of the block, and dart down the small alleyway four houses down from us.
My eyes are immediately drawn to the sliding doors off the kitchen, that open up to a decent backyard, beyond which is a gully that runs all along the back. It fills up with spring runoff or when we’ve had a bad rainstorm, but most of the time it’s dry.
The men look at each other and I know some silent communication has taken place when Damian disappears out the front door.
10-Code (Rock Point, #4) Page 21