The Call of Bravery

by Janice Kay Johnson

  Conall’s eyes stung and he had to blink hard. He gathered the boy back into his arms and laid his head against the top of his head. “Yeah, I know,” he said in a low, rough voice. “I know, Bren. You should be proud that you’re not a good liar. Most decent men aren’t, you know.”

  “But I bet you are!” Brendan sobbed.

  Conall felt his face contort. He was aware of his brother watching them, but he didn’t look at Duncan.

  “I learned because it’s my job,” he whispered. “You can be a hero without doing what I do.”

  Brendan kept crying, and finally Conall straightened, lifting him in his arms where he clung like a monkey. Indeed, he didn’t weigh much more than Walker.

  “Take him home,” Duncan said quietly.

  Conall finally met his brother’s eyes. “Yeah.” He swallowed. “Thanks.”

  His brother nodded. “We’ll clean up here. Why don’t you send Jeff over? Lia and the kids need you.”

  He wasn’t used to being needed, but he nodded.

  Conall carried Bren out, placed him gently in the passenger seat and fastened the seat belt around him, even though that was dumb as hell for a drive down one driveway and up another.

  Brendan’s sniffles subsided by the time they reached Lia’s house. He swiped at his wet face as Conall got out and came around to him.

  “Walker?” he mumbled. “He was hiding and watching me. Is he okay?”

  Conall closed a warm hand around the boy’s thin shoulder as they walked toward the house. “He came running to get help when he saw them grab you. He’s a smart kid, Bren.”

  “Smarter than me, I guess.”

  “What you did wasn’t smart,” Conall said frankly. “But that isn’t because you aren’t smart. I don’t want you ever to think that. This is my fault as much as yours. I put ideas in your head. When I was your age, I might have done the same thing.” He let out a gruff laugh. “I know I would have. I was desperate to amount to something. For anyone at all to notice me.”

  “You?” Face tipped up to Conall, Brendan looked disbelieving. “But you’re…you’re…”

  Conall stopped, even though he was aware of everyone waiting on the porch. “I’m a highly trained federal agent. I’ve been on the job ten years. When I was your age, I was scrawny, shorter than you are and mad all the time because my family was such a mess. You’ve got a big step up on me, Brendan. You grew up knowing your mom loved you and believed in you. That’s what you need to hold on to. Okay?”

  The kid gave a dazed nod. Conall hoped he got it.

  After a moment they moved toward the house, but Lia, Walker and Sorrel spilled down the steps to meet them. Walker’s face, puffy from earlier sobbing, was incandescent, and tears still ran down Lia’s cheeks even as she smiled. Sorrel had been crying, too. He was the only one who hadn’t, Conall realized, but he felt as drained and shaken as if he had.

  They all enveloped Brendan. Even Sorrel wrapped her arms around him and whispered something in his ear. Conall stood a little back, watching, until Lia withdrew from the group hug and flung herself at him.

  “Thank you,” she exclaimed. “Thank you, thank you. Oh, Conall.”

  She didn’t have to say, I was so scared. He knew.

  “Wh-what happened?”

  “It was ugly,” he said in a low voice. “Brendan saw things he shouldn’t have had to. The last damn thing he needed was another trauma right now.” His voice went raw. “I’ll never forgive myself for this.”

  She stared at him in astonishment. “It’s not your fault. Of course it’s not.”

  “Then whose is it?” He shook his head in disgust. “I knew he hero-worshipped me. I encouraged it because it felt good. I set him up to do something stupid to prove himself. I just didn’t think.”

  “Boys do stupid things.”

  Of all times to feel a grin tugging at his mouth. It was ludicrous, inappropriate and felt good. “Only boys?”

  She laughed, although he heard a note of hysteria. “Girls are always more sensible, didn’t you know that?” Then she wiped her cheeks. “Oh, I’m a mess.” Her gaze encompassed the kids, now staring at the adults. “We’re all a mess. Let’s go in, hear the story, have some cookies and milk, and then go to bed.”

  Cookies and milk sounded about right to Conall. In fact, a vagrant thought came to him: That day so long ago when he’d had his face pounded, that’s what he’d wanted from his mommy. An ice pack, a scold, then cookies, milk and sympathy.

  He might have envied Brendan, except something that was relief and more was making him feel light, even happy.

  Lia didn’t blame him. She’d thanked him. And a few minutes later, when they all sat at the dining room table and he told the tale of the night’s happenings, skimming over the parts that involved blood and death, Lia’s face shone with gratitude and the kind of warmth a man wanted to tuck away in a breast pocket for retrieval at future, lonely moments.

  It felt like an intrusion when the others started arriving at the house.

  * * *

  “BEDTIME,” LIA SAID FIRMLY.

  “But it’s almost morning!” Walker protested. “See, it’s getting light.”

  They all turned their heads to see that the black outside the window was, indeed, paling to pearly gray.

  “Don’t care,” Lia said.

  “Can I stay home from school?” Sorrel begged. “’Cause otherwise I have to get up in only an hour.”

  “You may. Come on, everyone.” Lia clapped her hands and the kids shuffled toward the stairs.

  Conall gave her a lazy smile. “I’m afraid to disobey, but I’m needed next door.”

  She was proud of the smile she produced. “You’re exempt.” She hesitated. “But you haven’t had any sleep at all.”

  On a groan, he lifted his arms toward the ceiling and stretched. She heard a few pops and cracks. When he was done, he said, “I’ll take a nap, don’t worry.”

  She shook her head and followed the kids.

  Upstairs, she went to tuck the boys in and found Walker sitting on the edge of his bed.

  “Can I sleep with Bren?”

  Brendan lay in bed, but his eyes were wide. “I don’t think I can go to sleep. I keep thinking—” A shudder rattled his thin body.

  “I’ll tell you what.” She hugged Walker and smiled at his older brother. “Why don’t you both get in bed with me? I’d feel a lot better if I had you snuggled up and knew you were safe and sound.”

  “Yeah!” Walker exclaimed. Brendan didn’t say anything, but he jumped up.

  She gave them both soothing back rubs, and even Brendan succumbed at last to exhaustion. Lia lay awake for a long time, worrying about what had really happened next door and what Brendan had seen that he’d never forget. She’d have to get the true story out of Conall.

  Even thinking his name made the ball of misery in her tangle into a snarl she’d never tease apart. The DEA operation was finished. Today or tomorrow, Conall would be leaving.

  She’d always known he would, but the unspecified future date had made it hazy enough to be only a vague threat. Suddenly, the end was here.

  Oh God, can I bear to say goodbye?

  Like she had a choice.

  She laid her cheek against Brendan’s head and told herself to count her blessings. He was safe. Finally, a boy curled up on each side, Lia slept, too.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  MOST OF THE day had gone by, and Lia had had no chance to talk alone to Conall. He’d been either next door or working on his laptop. Barely glancing up when she asked, he told her, “Reports. The bane of my existence.” She was aware of traffic coming and going next door—dark, official looking sedans and SUVs, and a couple of vans.

  Having Conall and Jeff both sitting down to dinner with her
and the kids was a novelty. Jeff was his usual quiet self until Lia asked if he’d called his wife.

  His ordinary face brightened. “She’s thrilled. I’m not usually away this long.”

  “Really?” Lia asked politely. “I thought DEA agents mostly did undercover stuff.”

  He shook his head. “We’re involved in all facets of drug enforcement. For example, are you familiar with the Controlled Substances Act?”

  Unseen by him, Conall rolled his eyes. One of the boys suppressed a giggle.

  “Um, no,” Lia admitted.

  He lectured them with unmistakable enthusiasm about DEA responsibility for overseeing the manufacture, distribution and dispensing of legally produced controlled substances, all of which sounded to her as if it had come right out of a pamphlet. “I’ve become more of an analyst in my office than an active agent, and I’m considering a switch to being an Intelligence Research Specialist,” he said. “Not quite as glamorous, but safer. Once you have a family, you know.” He shrugged.

  Lia couldn’t imagine Conall being content as a research specialist. All that energy, contained in an office. He seemed hardly able to stand the several hours at a time he’d had to work on his computer and had admitted to being bored with the lengthy surveillance on this assignment. She remembered, though, his hesitation when she’d asked if he enjoyed the rush of adrenaline. What was it he said?

  I always have.

  There’d been something strange in his voice, though, as if he wasn’t quite sure about what he was saying.

  No, she thought bleakly, don’t kid yourself. He’d said exactly what he meant. I always have was unequivocal.

  After dinner, he announced that he and the boys would clean the kitchen. Happy as always with anything their hero suggested, Walker and Brendan jumped up and began clearing the table. Lia lingered over coffee, chatting with Jeff for a few minutes, then went out to give the horses their evening grain.

  Neither of the men had said anything, but they didn’t have to.

  They would be leaving tomorrow. Driving away in that gray Suburban and not coming back.

  Her grief was growing like a tumor pressing on essential organs. How had she ever been stupid enough to think she could get involved with Conall and keep it light enough not to grieve when he left?

  What if Sorrel decided next week she was ready to go home? And the boys’ caseworker called to announce that she’d found a potential adoptive home for them?

  Almost gasping at the pain, Lia somehow wasn’t surprised when Conall separated himself from the shadows on the front porch and stood waiting for her.

  “I thought we should talk,” he said quietly.

  “Yes.” She sat on the first step, and after a moment’s hesitation he came down, leaning against the hand rail instead of sitting. “Tell me what Brendan saw,” Lia said.

  “No bodies, thank God.”

  That shook her, even though she’d suspected. “Were there bodies?”

  “One.” He sounded terse. “I shot and killed one of the men.”

  “Oh.”

  “Duncan shot the guy that was holding Brendan, but Bren saw Sean cuffing him and knows he isn’t dead.”

  “Does he know—”

  “That one of them died?” He shook his head. “He heard the gunfire, but I was evasive. I thought it was better that he didn’t know.”

  “Oh, God.” Lia squeezed her eyes shut. “Imagine if he thought he was responsible.”

  “I’ve imagined,” Conall said, an indefinable something in his voice. “Steer him away from newspapers and TV news for the next couple of weeks if you can. We’ve managed to keep the kids out of it for now. But you’ve got to be aware that there’s always the chance Brendan will have to testify when it comes to trial.”

  “Oh, boy.”

  “I think that’s unlikely, to be honest. Brendan was only the catalyst, although they’re being charged with kidnapping.”

  “Did you find drugs?”

  He shook his head. She could barely make out his face, since the porch light wasn’t on. “No. Illegal possession of weapons. A National Guard Armory worth of weapons.” He sounded grim. “Which opens a can of worms, of course. Where did they get the money to buy the weapons? The rumors had to be right. Sure as shooting—sorry, bad pun—someone in their organization is manufacturing meth, growing marijuana… Hell, who knows. Moving drugs one way or another.”

  “Will it be your job to find out who and how?”

  “Not sure yet. I’m hoping not. Chances are I’ll get absorbed in some operation back home long before anything active happens on this front. Or because of the weapons the ATF will take it over for now.”

  The ATF? After a second, Lia translated: Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms. Another arm of federal law enforcement.

  Lia analyzed Conall’s tone. He sounded neutral. Almost…flat. As if he didn’t have strong feelings either way, or as if he was suppressing what he did feel. Did he want to pursue this one to the end and was disappointed about returning to Miami? Or was he glad to be done with this mess and everyone concerned?

  “I see,” she said.

  They sat in silence for seconds that crawled into a minute or more. Finally Conall asked how Brendan was, in her opinion.

  “Okay, I think,” she said slowly. “He was pretty shaken up last night—well, this morning. But he didn’t have any nightmares that I know about. He’s on an adrenaline high—” she winced at the reminder of the conversation with Conall “—but, of course, it was scary and exciting, too.”

  “Exciting?” He sounded incredulous. “I’ve never been so freaked in my life.”

  “Really?”

  “Don’t tell me you think it was exciting.”

  “No. Heavens, no.” She wrapped her arms around herself to contain a shudder. “But me, I hate horror films and I don’t read anything meant to make me start listening for the creak of a footstep on the stairs. I’m a coward.”

  “No.” His voice was a caress, astonishingly gentle. “That’s the last thing you are, Lia Woods. You have your own kind of courage. Loving these kids and letting them go, over and over.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how you do it.”

  Her eyes stung. So softly she wasn’t sure he heard, she whispered, “I don’t know how I do, either.”

  There was a long, long pause. “You know we’ll be out of your hair tomorrow.”

  Thank God he wouldn’t be able to see the tears that now dripped down her face. “I figured,” she said steadily.

  “I’ll…miss you.”

  Lia had to swallow several times before she could tell him, “You know we’ll all miss you, too.” But me most of all.

  “Yeah, listen. Would you mind if I stayed in touch? Maybe called the boys, sent them postcards? At least until—” His voice, already hoarse, seemed to break. “Until they’ve moved on? And, uh, I’d like to hear what happens with Sorrel. You know.”

  “I know.” She couldn’t wipe the tears away without him knowing they were falling. “Of course. Of course you can stay in touch. They’d like that.”

  This silence was appalling. A deep, dark abyss.

  “God, Lia!” he said explosively.

  Holding in the agony, she said, “Would you— If you wouldn’t mind, I think I’ll stay out here a little longer.”

  He pushed himself away from the railing, stared down at her for a moment, then took a few steps across the porch without saying another word.

  Until she opened her mouth, Lia hadn’t known she was going to do it or what she was going to say. “Conall.”

  Even without turning she knew he’d stopped.

  “My bedroom door will be open tonight.”

  His exhalation was audible and might even have been painful.

  “I
get bedroom privileges again along with the bathroom?” he said with unmistakable bitterness, then kept going.

  Curled over, face pressed to her knees, Lia discovered that hearts didn’t break; they tore.

  * * *

  CONALL LAY IN BED raging at himself, as far from being ready to fall asleep as it was possible to get. How could he have been such an idiot? He’d had a chance to spend another night with Lia. There was nothing in life he wanted more than to make love with her again. And he’d blown it.

  He hadn’t realized how much he’d been hurt by her accusation that he’d seen her as merely one more convenience to make his stay tolerable. He was still outraged when he remembered. How could she think that? Had he ever treated her in any way to suggest he didn’t value her?

  God, that sounded anemic. Like her? Want her? Better, but still inadequate.

  The house was quiet. He’d left his own bedroom door partially ajar, painfully aware that Lia’s wasn’t. He supposed that tomorrow night, once he was gone, she’d resume her usual habits. Tonight, she was sending him a signal.

  You had your chance. Jerk.

  Or maybe she was thinking something stronger.

  Conall should have been tired. He was. His eyes were gritty and his head throbbed. The two-hour nap he’d taken today was the only sleep he’d had since the previous night. Sleep usually came easily for him. He’d learned to take advantage of any opportunity. He could sleep in the heat of the Mexican desert, wedged beneath a rock outcropping, one ear tuned for the rattle of a diamondback. A small boat, ripe with the smell of fish guts? No problem. A room in a hacienda where maintaining his cover was a daily balancing act and discovery would mean a certain and gruesome death? He could close his eyes, picture a velvety black sky studded with stars, and fall asleep as gently and certainly as a baby.

  He was good at turning his mind off. What wasn’t so easy, he was discovering, was quieting this crackling static of emotions.

  The truth was, he wished it wasn’t time to go yet. Eventually, sure, but…not yet. A few more weeks would be good. Long enough to see that Brendan was okay, that his misadventure hadn’t left any lingering terrors. Conall would have liked to keep working on his pitching technique, too. And Walker… Had Lia noticed that he’d bent his glasses last night? Those glasses had made such a difference to him. Conall still thought baseball wouldn’t be his sport; either he still wasn’t seeing real well when he was up to bat or he was worried about breaking the glasses. He had the timing down well enough to swing at more or less the right time, and sometimes he connected, but there was still something blind about the way he swung even though his eyes were open. He was better at soccer, a natural.