A Time to Protect

by Lois Richer

  The narrowed black eyes glittered like black steel. “I do not wait forever. If you cannot do the job, you will be replaced.”

  “It will be done. But not in a rush that exposes me.” He paused. “The mayor has not regained consciousness, so what does it matter?”

  “It matters!” The hiss of his words held the promise of death for those who chose to ignore them. “I will have my revenge. They will pay for what they have done. Now go! Do what I have commanded. Do not come back until it is finished. You have until New Year’s Eve.”

  Two weeks? He opened his mouth to protest, saw the flash of steel in the other man’s hand and left without further comment. One did not argue with The Chief…and live.

  “I’m so glad we’re getting out of that house at last.” Brendan checked the mirror for the tenth time, just to make sure their escort was in place.

  “I’m sorry,” Chloe gasped, obviously wounded by his words. “I had no idea—”

  “Wait!” He shook his head, laughed. “It’s not because I don’t like it at your place. I do. But you’ve been baking for the past few weeks and I’ve only made it down to Kyle’s workout station for two sessions. As self-appointed tester it was my duty to sample everything, but I think it’s cost me quite a few pounds. Besides, I’m beginning to dream of gingerbread men attacking me.”

  “Oh.” She leaned back against the seat, apparently satisfied.

  “If you don’t mind, we’ll stop at Quinn’s for about half an hour, then go to the stores. We have lots of security in the mall and all of them will be watching out for Mr. Redding. Of course you’ll need to keep your eyes peeled, just in case, but I seriously doubt he’ll recognize this car or us in our disguises.”

  He wiggled his eyebrows, faking a leer at her. She was so much fun. It was hard to imagine that one day he’d leave, get on with his job while she and the kids got on with their lives. They’d become very important to him, but he’d forced himself to back off after the shooting that night at his parents. Too much depended on him focusing on his job. Letting his emotions distract him could get Chloe killed.

  “Here we are. Slide over this side to get out.” He hurried her in the door past his brother. “We made it.”

  “I see that. I’m just not sure who you are.” Quinn grinned at their unusual outfits, then led the way to his downstairs workshop and the kits he’d assembled on the worktable that edged the room. “These are samples. Do you think they’re too difficult?”

  As they discussed the newest project for the model club, Brendan was aware that Chloe was moving about the workshop, running her hand over several pieces of unfinished furniture Quinn had in progress—his Christmas gifts. She stopped at the very end where, in a corner, a small gate-legged table sat. She touched it as if it were priceless glass, her long fingers delicately exploring the intricate work, crouching down to get a better look at the mechanism. He knew by the way her body froze the exact moment she spied the price tag.

  Brendan turned back to Quinn, who had also seen Chloe’s reaction to the piece he’d made for a socialite he’d once dated. The woman had dumped him in the middle of a restaurant, which had left the town talking for weeks. The table had been left to gather dust. Until now.

  “Looks good to me, bro. If you’re satisfied, then I am, too.” Brendan slapped him on the shoulder. “If it’s okay with you we’ll start working on these kits when the club resumes after Christmas.”

  “Good.”

  “If you created all of these you are obviously very talented,” Chloe said, admiring the tallboy cabinet Quinn was making for Fiona.

  “Thank you. It’s my passion, which is probably why there’s never enough time. Especially before Christmas.” He reached out, straightened her wig. “If I hadn’t known you were coming, I’d never have guessed it was you.”

  “Music to my ears. And speaking of Christmas, we have to go.” Brendan grinned at Chloe. “We’re trying shopping today.”

  “You? Shopping early?” Quinn shook his head. “Will wonders never cease? Need some company?”

  “Thanks, but I think we’re okay.” Brendan grinned. “I know you’ve got a couple of things happening at work that won’t wait. Wouldn’t hurt to pray, though.”

  Quinn led the way upstairs. “I will, but call me if you need me.”

  “Thanks.” Brendan ushered Chloe out to the vehicle, then they headed for the shops. As usual she was very organized and worked her way from one end of the mall to the other, ticking off each item on her list. Weary from another sleepless night, he finally demanded lunch.

  The secluded corner they were shown to was perfect for watching other shoppers. Soft schmaltzy Christmas music played in the background.

  “I noticed you admiring that table at Quinn’s.”

  “It was fantastic,” she told him, leaning back as the waiter set steaming plates of lasagna and a basket of garlic bread before them. “I’ve been looking for something like it for a long time, but I could never afford anything as beautiful as that.”

  “Maybe if you asked for it for Christmas?” he teased, then wished he hadn’t when storm clouds filled her eyes.

  “I don’t think in terms of what I want when it comes to Christmas. I haven’t done that since I was a kid.” She tasted her meal, closing her eyes briefly as she savored the robust flavor. “I know it doesn’t look like it now, but we had a lot of stuff when I was a child. The floor under the Christmas tree was always stacked with gifts. A lot of them said they were from my father.”

  “Oh.” He ate his own meal, content to listen as she shared.

  “They weren’t. My mother put his name on them. I figured that out when he never knew what I was thanking him for. I decided I’d never do that with my own children and I never have. I needed the truth so badly in those days. I’m never going to have my children feel like I did—I don’t want them to believe that I lied to them for any reason.” She shook her head to emphasize her point and had to readjust the wobbly wig. “Those cool elegant untouchable Christmas tables and decorations everyone oohs and aahs over? I had those. Believe me, I’d have traded them in for a warm happy family in an instant.”

  He waited as a flicker of emotions flashed through her eyes.

  “Your brother’s table is fantastic, but I don’t need it, Brendan. Someday I’ll find one in the secondhand store or at an auction. What I need for Christmas is for the kids and me to be together and safe and happy.” She took a bite of garlic bread, shrugged. “It would also be nice if Steve could remember Maddy and Kyle on Christmas day, but, I don’t control that.”

  “But the kids can’t always be the center of your Christmas. Surely you intend to remarry.” He frowned at the face she made. “You’re young, gorgeous and full of life, Chloe. You’re not ready to lock yourself away.”

  “I’m not ready to be married again, either.” Her blunt voice made no attempt to sugarcoat the truth. “I’ve seen second marriages. The man resents the kids, the kids resent him.” She shook her head. “Not having a full-time father is better than marrying the wrong man and making everyone unhappy.”

  “There are lots of successful second marriages, too,” he countered. “Sure it takes work, but isn’t commitment what marriage is all about? Anyway, what guy wouldn’t love Madison and Kyle? They’re great kids.”

  “I think so. That’s why I try so hard to be there for them, to show them what they mean to me. I don’t get it right all the time, but at least they know I’ll always love them, that I’m not going to run away when they’re sleeping.” A hint of bitterness colored her words.

  Chloe ate some more of her lasagna then pushed it away. Brendan could almost see the old memories dousing her appetite and leeching away the joy.

  She looked up, caught his stare. “I’m sorry for sounding so crabby.”

  “You really got the raw end of the deal when it comes to the men in your life, didn’t you?” He cupped her cheek. “Not all men are like that, Chloe. Lots of them want to be a good fathe
r, a good husband. Lots of them care enough to give fatherhood their all.”

  “Yes.” She leaned back, away from his touch. “My head knows that. It’s my heart that has trouble believing it.” She stared at the table for a moment then lifted her chin to meet his gaze. “I guess the past is too deeply ingrained.”

  “Then you have to figure out how to let it go. It’s the past, Chloe. There’s nothing you can do to change what happened with your father or Steve. It’s great you’ve made up your mind to protect the kids, but you also have to open your mind to the future. God doesn’t expect us to change what we can’t. He expects us to use what we’ve learned on our future. Don’t let their mistakes—your father’s, Steve’s—haunt the rest of your life.”

  “I don’t know how not to do that. Besides, it’s not only my life that’s involved,” she whispered, her eyes huge in that pale haunting face.

  “I know you’re worried about your kids.” He leaned forward, intent on saying the words he’d kept bottled up for so long. “Any mother would be. But at a certain point, you’re going to have to let go and trust that Madison and Kyle have learned the lessons you’ve taught them. You’ll have to stand back and watch them move on. Don’t you think they’ll learn that even more effectively by watching how you manage your own life?”

  “Maybe.” Her incredibly long lashes swept upward as she blinked away a tear. “I don’t suppose you’ve anyone in mind to help me with this, do you?”

  Me, his heart screamed. I could be there. I’d make sure you never doubted my feelings, that your children were safe, that we set a good example for them.

  But he quashed it down, forced a smile to his lips. FBI agents did not get personally involved with their cases. It was a cardinal rule, something he’d understood the day he’d signed on. Personal involvement dulled your edge. So he smiled, shook his head.

  “I’ll keep an eye out if you like,” he told her, praying she wouldn’t take him up on it. “Maybe you should tell me what you’re looking for and I’d have a better idea who’d work for you.”

  “I thought we’d established that I’m not looking.” Chloe slid her arms into her coat and rose. “Didn’t you say you wanted to pick up a few gifts before we left?”

  “Yeah. I’m trying to turn over a new leaf and shop before Christmas Eve.” He gave up the argument easily, knowing there was no way to win. If he found someone for Chloe, he’d be betraying himself, and if he didn’t—well, the thought of her in ten years, still distrustful, but with Madison and Kyle gone, that worried him. She was too vital, too full of life, too wonderful to be wasted on a betrayer like Steve Tanner. “Let’s go.”

  In the huge department store, Brendan chose a big bottle of his mother’s favorite perfume and a silken scarf, several books his father had mentioned at his birthday party, a plain black sweater for Quinn that had absolutely nothing written on the front of it and some CDs. While Chloe was choosing a Christmas outfit, he managed, with the help of a willing salesgirl, to buy two more items that were discreetly boxed and slipped among his purchases.

  They moved on. At the electronics store he was mesmerized by the latest gizmos and poked his way through them while Chloe discussed the purchase of a laptop for Kyle. A news item on the television caught his attention. Seventeen teens were being rushed to the hospital with suspected drug overdoses. Thankfully the school was not Kyle’s. Moments later his phone rang.

  “Bren, we got a call from the hospital,” Darcy told him. “They’re begging for Mrs. Tanner to come in and help. You’ve seen the TV?”

  “I saw. But I thought they didn’t want her there while—”

  “Apparently they’re swamped and desperate for nurses. I said I’d let her know. They didn’t give a shift or anything. Just said the sooner the better.”

  “I’ll ask her. Kids okay?”

  “Home safe and sound. We’re sampling those cinnamon buns Chloe left behind. Man, that woman can cook!”

  “I’ve noticed.” He patted his stomach, remembering the sticky sweetness of those feather-light rolls. “Okay, I’ll get her decision and call you back.”

  “Roger that.”

  “Is something wrong?” Chloe stood beside him, eyes wide with fear.

  “Nothing’s wrong with Madison and Kyle. They’re at home, eating the cinnamon rolls. It’s something else.” He chose his words carefully. “A bunch of drug overdoses arrived at the hospital. Teenagers. The hospital wanted to know if you could come in. They’re swamped apparently.”

  “Of course. Let’s go home now so I can change.” She rubbed her temple. “This wig is beginning to bug me anyway. It would be a relief to get it off.”

  “Not ’til we get home. The computer?” He glanced at the eager salesman.

  “I’m taking it. Kyle will love it.”

  Once the transaction was finished they notified their security escort then left the store. The drive home was slower than usual because of the amount of traffic and the thick wet snow that had fallen, melted and was now freezing on the highway thanks to the drop in temperature. Brendan took his time, moving carefully between the lanes, always conscious of who was around him. He knew it was paranoia, no one had guessed who they were. But just the same, he’d rather get Chloe home safely.

  Madison burst into laughter as soon as she saw them, which brought Kyle from his room. Soon he was roaring, too. “You look older than your dad,” he giggled as Brendan peeled off his white mustache. “Where’s your cane?”

  “About to meet your backside,” he growled, striving for an ogre-type look.

  “Look at Mom.” Madison clutched her sides, her face red with laughter. “Isn’t she a beauty?” She laughed even harder when Chloe slid out of her granny boots and the thick wool coat that hid her shape.

  “You’re cruel children who don’t deserve to eat cinnamon rolls.” Chloe freed herself from the wig. “Here I’ve spent my entire afternoon thinking about Christmas gifts for you and all you can do is to tease me. Good thing I didn’t actually buy anything, isn’t it?” she asked, winking at Brendan.

  “Very good thing,” he agreed, knowing perfectly well where her gifts were hidden in the garage. “To think of the torture we put ourselves through just to be laughed at by these kids.”

  “We’ll be good, promise.” Kyle stood in front of his mother. “Did you look at computers, Mom? Did you see the one I want?”

  “Computers? Two old fogies like us? Don’t be daft, boy.” Brendan sat down at the table to replace his boots with shoes. He glanced at Chloe. “I’m ready when you are.”

  “Ready for what?” Kyle demanded.

  “The hospital needs your mom to come in for a few hours to work.” Brendan saw the mirth on their faces die away.

  “But we’re decorating our tree tonight. You can’t miss that, Mom.” Madison grabbed her mother’s hand as if to beg.

  “We’ll do it tomorrow night.” With her free hand, Chloe dragged a brush through her hair, working out the kinks until the auburn mass fell in a silky swath down her back. “I can’t just walk away, Maddy. I have to help if I can.”

  “But, Mom! The Christmas concert at school is tomorrow night.” Her bottom lip wobbled. “Aren’t we going to have a Christmas tree this year?”

  “Of course we are, honey.” Chloe crouched down to comfort her daughter. “I promise you we’ll have a lovely tree for our Christmas. But we just can’t do it tonight. What you can do, if Darcy agrees, is to bring all the boxes of decorations from downstairs and check the lights. That’s if your homework is done.”

  Madison agreed none too happily, and Chloe disappeared upstairs to change. When she returned her beautiful hair was scraped back off her face and confined to what Madison called a scrunchie.

  They left shortly after, a plain black car following them as they crept over the ice-glazed streets. Brendan needed every resource he could muster to negotiate the treacherous streets but he glanced occasionally at Chloe to make sure she was all right.

  “Yo
ur seat belt is buckled, isn’t it?” he asked as they skidded across black ice for the second time in ten minutes.

  “Nice and tight. I wish I didn’t have to bring you out in this.”

  “All in the line of duty, ma’am,” he joked, then eased his foot onto the brake and watched helplessly as a car slid through the intersection, its lights cutting through the darkness. “Hang on,” he yelled, knowing there was no way to avoid the collision.

  It was like watching life pass by in slow motion as the lights drew ever nearer. Brendan had only one last minute to wonder if the driver had hit the gas by mistake before the vehicle plowed into his side and sent them spinning across the glassy road into the ditch. At the last second, the tires grabbed something on the shoulder that sent the vehicle toppling over. His head smacked the side window then the steering wheel before his airbag deployed and the vehicle bounced down the embankment like popcorn.

  “Chloe,” he called out, reaching out with one arm. He felt her fingers touch his a second before the car rolled again and everything went dark.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chloe huddled against the seat, constrained by her seat belt. The car gave one last shudder then settled on all four tires. She drew in a breath, carefully gauging her responses. She was all right, thanks to the airbag.

  Brendan! Pushing away the airbag material, she loosened her seat belt and wiggled across the seat. He was lying with his head thrown back. Blood seeped from two gashes on his forehead. She called him once, twice. He was unconscious.

  She was alone.

  Chloe peered out the window. The whole world was a skating rink, a madman was out to kill her, and she sat here in the dark, Brendan hurt, with no way to get help. Frustration chewed at her. She remembered he had a phone and began to search his jacket pocket. A noise stopped her. She closed her eyes, concentrated on the sound. That soft crackle could only be footsteps on the icy snow—and they were getting louder.