Safe in Your Arms

by RaeAnne Thayne

  He let the insult slide. He and Sean had come up in the academy together, but to say they’d been friends would have been seriously overstating it. “What do you want?” There wasn’t any question that Sean had maneuvered to see Sloan. Max had made that clear.

  Sean smoothed his hand down his silk tie. “We’ve got intel that Tony Diablo is trying to reestablish the Deuces.”

  Sloan’s jaw tightened. “Tony’s a punk. He’ll never succeed at replacing his cousin.”

  Sean shrugged, not giving away whether he agreed. “I’m in charge of the investigation. ASAC.”

  Assistant Special Agent in Charge. Old Seany-boy had been promoted. “You always did have your eye on the ladder.”

  “You’re in a unique position to understand all the pieces where the Deuces are concerned.”

  “The Deuces don’t exist anymore,” Sloan said flatly. “Without Johnny, it’s a dead deal.”

  “Johnny’s dead, too.”

  Sloan looked away. He’d known about the man’s death in a prison fight. The day after he’d heard the news, he’d decided to give Weaver a try. “What’s your point, Sean? I’ve got a gripping seminar on internet crime to get to.”

  “We want you back.”

  Sloan laughed. “As what? You running confidential informants?” He couldn’t exactly go undercover anymore. His face had seen too much airtime.

  “Officially,” Sean clarified. He looked none too pleased at the attention Sloan’s bark of laughter had garnered. “Full benefits as if you’d never left.”

  Sloan’s laughter dried up. “I didn’t choose to leave,” he reminded him flatly. “I was escorted out the door by an armed guard.”

  “Standard procedure.”

  “Screw standard procedure.” He wanted to say it much more bluntly, but there was a little kid who reminded him of Dillon sitting with his dad on the other side of the aisle. “The agency treated me like I was an embarrassment at the least and a freaking criminal at the worst.”

  Sean’s lips thinned. “And they were wrong. You think I wanted to be the one sent to deliver their mea culpa?”

  “You’ve always been someone’s lackey, Sean.” Sloan pushed to his feet. He’d had more than enough of the man’s company. “If it weren’t for you, they’d have never known I’d made my private deal with Hollins-Winword to protect Maria and my sister. The suits would have never been able to use that as an excuse to fire me.”

  “You broke protocol,” Sean said tightly. “You knew it and you did it anyway.”

  “Damn straight,” he said flatly. “And I’d do it again in a second.” He turned on his heel and began working his way out of the restaurant.

  “Like it or not, McCray—” Sean’s voice followed him “—nobody can stop Tony better than you. You’ll never be able to walk away from that!”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “How was your day?”

  When she heard Sloan’s voice, Abby tucked the phone against her shoulder and sat up in bed. “It’s nearly midnight.”

  “Were you sleeping?”

  “Yes.”

  “Dreaming?”

  She smiled into the darkness. “Yes.”

  “About what?”

  She curled her bare toes into the sheets. “Something very...naughty.”

  “You’ve never been naughty in your life.”

  “A person’s gotta start somewhere. Why not in their dreams?”

  He gave a low laugh. “What was it? Leaving school fifteen minutes before you’re supposed to?”

  Her smile widened. “Riding on the back of your motorcycle, actually.”

  “Now I know you’re screwing with me.”

  She tucked her chin over her drawn-up knees. She wasn’t about to tell him that it had been vividly erotic having her arms clutched around his rigid midriff with the throaty engine rumbling beneath them. “My day was an entirely ordinary Tuesday,” she said, answering his original question. “Finished up vision screenings with the junior-high kids this morning. Then back to my office for two fevers and an asthma attack. What about you? Learning anything fascinating?”

  “Learning that sitting on my butt watching PowerPoint presentations is no more interesting than it ever was. How’s Dillon?”

  “He’s nearly done with the poster he wants to enter in the sheriff’s contest. He asked if Chloe could come home with us from school tomorrow to play ‘White Hats.’ I said she could.”

  “What is this whole White Hat thing, anyway?”

  “Video game. His favorite.” She told him the premise behind the game.

  “And he wants to play it now with Chloe Clay. Romance is starting younger every day.”

  She laughed softly. “I’m not going to worry about that unless I see him deliberately losing the game to her.”

  “You get him taken care of for Friday night?”

  She hadn’t expected that he’d forget, but having him mention it sent excitement through her. “Yes.”

  “Good. Then I’ll get everything else taken care of.”

  She could only imagine what that meant. “Okay.”

  “Sorry I waked you.”

  “I’m not.”

  He was silent for a moment. She imagined him smiling slightly. Hoped he would be, anyway.

  “I wish you were here, though,” she added.

  “Get some sleep, Abby.” His voice deepened. “I wish I were there, too,” he added before he hung up.

  She was smiling when she fell back asleep to dream, yet again, of Sloan.

  She was still smiling the next day, until Calvin Pierce appeared in her office doorway clutching a hall pass. The bruise beneath his eye was fading, but it still stood out against his pale skin just like Dillon’s did.

  She gestured him inside. “Calvin? Are you sick?”

  He shook his head and continued hovering in front of her desk. He looked around to see if anyone was in the back part of her office where two cots were positioned, and his shoulders seemed to fall when he saw that they were both occupied. “Are they sick?”

  “Fevers.” The flu had begun making its annual rounds. “They’re waiting for their parents to come and pick them up.” She pulled the sliding door between the rooms nearly closed and rounded her desk to press her hand against Calvin’s forehead. It was little-boy warm, but nothing worse. “What’s wrong?”

  He angled away from her. “Ms. Normington said I hadda come and get a bandage.” He held up his hand, showing her a wicked gash on his palm.

  “Sit down.” She nudged him onto one of the chairs in front of her desk before going to her sink to wash her hands. “How’d you get the cut?” When he didn’t answer, she looked over her shoulder at him. “Calvin?”

  He hunched his shoulders. “My dad broke sump’n.”

  It wasn’t exactly a detailed explanation.

  She dried her hands and pulled out supplies to clean him up, too, since there was no point in bandaging the wound if his hands were still filthy. She sat down next to him with gauze and antiseptic wash and spread a clean towel over her lap before taking his hand and spreading it flat. “How’s your eye feeling?”

  “Fine.” He didn’t even flinch when she carefully washed his hand and irrigated the cut, though she knew it had to sting. He thumped the front of her metal desk rhythmically with his tennis shoe.

  She studied him as she worked. His clothes were shabby and worn, but they were clean. His socks were mismatched, and his tennis shoes barely had soles left. She remembered how his coat had been two sizes too small when she’d spoken to his mother and him outside Ruby’s.

  She finished cleaning his hand then calmly began working on his wrist, which was covered in fading bruises.

  “Did you cut yourself this morning?”

&nbs
p; “Last night.”

  She’d suspected as much, just from the state of the wound. “No bandages at home?”

  He looked down again. Shook his head.

  The sight of two violently purple finger-sized bruises on the back of his neck made her close her eyes. She had to hold back a shudder.

  “Well,” she managed to say, though her throat felt tight. “We’ll take care of that now.” She dried his hand and taped it up then dropped some supplies into a plastic bag that she gave to him. “You can take those with you,” she said. “You have to keep the cut clean and covered, or it might get infected.”

  “So?”

  He was the little bully of the school. He’d been tormenting Dillon from day one. But she still wanted to pull him close and hug away his hurt.

  Because there was no doubt in her mind that he was definitely hurt.

  “It takes longer to heal if it gets infected,” she said smoothly. She signed his hall pass and returned it to him. “Go back to your class, Calvin.”

  He took the pass and turned to leave.

  “Calvin?”

  He looked over his shoulder. “What?”

  “Everything’s going to be okay.”

  “Whatever,” he muttered as he left.

  She realized she was shaking and badly wished that she could call Sloan.

  She cleaned up the supplies and checked on the students still resting before she went next door. “Mrs. Timms, would you mind waiting in my office for a few minutes? I have two students whose parents are supposed to pick them up anytime now, and I need to speak with Principal Gage.”

  Mrs. Timms gave her a look brimming with disapproval. “Principal Gage is a very busy man.”

  She peered at the older woman. “And it’s imperative that I speak with him now,” she said flatly. “Are you willing to go next door and supervise my office for a few minutes or not?”

  “Abby?” Joe appeared in his doorway. “What’s going on?”

  Tears were burning behind her eyes, but she was damned if she was going to let them fall and prove how unequipped she was for the job for which she’d been hired. “I need to talk to you about C-Calvin.”

  His brows pulled together. He extended his arm. “Viola. Go next door.”

  The woman sniffed, clearly put out, but she rose and swept past Abby into the hall.

  “Come on in,” Joe said.

  Swallowing hard, Abby entered his office and waited until he’d closed the door. “Someone is beating Calvin Pierce.” Just saying the words nearly choked her. “I’d bet my license on it.”

  He nudged her onto a chair and pushed a box of tissues toward her. “How do you know?”

  She grabbed a tissue, but she was too upset to sit, so she stood up and paced around the office as she told him about Calvin’s cut. “He has old bruises on his wrist. And yes—” she looked at the principal “—I know kids get bruises for a host of perfectly innocent reasons. Dillon’s usually sporting a variety of them himself.” She bunched the tissue in her fist. “But it’s pretty hard to get a pair of fingerprints on the back of one’s neck by accident, and that’s what I just saw on Calvin!” Her breath shuddered out of her. She held up her hand, fingers spread. “The bruises were twice the size of my fingers, Joe. An adult did that.”

  He exhaled, swearing ripely. “Sorry.”

  She shook her head. “Nothing I don’t want to say myself.” She pressed her lips together. “I have to report it to the sheriff.”

  “Yes. You do.” He looked grim. “This’ll likely get worse before it gets better, but Calvin’s the important one.”

  She nodded and waited while he picked up the phone and made the call. It took only a few minutes before he was done. “They’re sending over an officer now.”

  “Have, uh, have you ever had this happen before?”

  “Once.” He ran his hand over his thinning hair. “And that was one time too many.” He looked out the window behind his desk. “They’ll take your report. Get one from me and likely Olivia Normington, as well. Someone from protective services will come and talk to Calvin. His parents will be interviewed. They’ll make the determination whether Calvin is in immediate danger.”

  “Would there be any doubt?” Her voice rose again. She raked back her hair, composing herself. “Sorry. It’s just—”

  “—upsetting. I should have seen something before now.”

  “If it weren’t for Mrs. Normington sending him to me because of his cut, I wouldn’t have seen anything, either.”

  “Crazy to be grateful a kid got a cut on his hand,” he muttered.

  A few minutes later, one of the deputies from the sheriff’s office arrived, and Joe left them alone in his office so Abby could make her report.

  By the end of the day, the entire school buzzed with the news that the sheriff’s department had been there and that little Calvin Pierce had been taken away by a lady in a suit who’d come all the way from Gillette.

  “Hey.” Dee came by Abby’s office just as she was closing it up for the day. “How’re you doing?”

  She dropped her keys in her purse. “What’s a little exhaustion compared to what Calvin’s going through?” She shook her head. “Who knows how long it’s been happening.”

  “I heard Viola Timms was bawling her eyes out in the bathroom,” Dee murmured. “Guess she has a heart lurking in her skinny chest after all.”

  “Everyone’s upset.” They turned in unison and walked toward the exit. Abby knew that Dillon would already be outside waiting for her, Chloe undoubtedly with him, since those particular plans hadn’t changed just because Calvin’s world had been tilted off its axis. “Have you ever had to make a report like that?”

  Dee shook her head and tucked her arm through Abby’s. “You call Sloan and tell him?”

  “Yes.” He hadn’t been able to talk long. Just sighed when he heard the news and asked if she was okay.

  “Who took the report?”

  “Jerry Cooper. Do you know him?”

  “Yeah.” Dee smiled, though the news about Calvin had dimmed her spirit, too. “He pulled me over for speeding once. Besides that he’s okay.” She pushed open the exit door. “Call me if you want company tonight,” she said before turning toward the parking lot.

  Dillon and Chloe were waiting exactly where they were supposed to be, and his eyes were wide. “Calvin got arrested,” he told her.

  “He wasn’t arrested,” she corrected and smiled at Chloe. The little girl was cute as could be with her brown hair pulled up in pigtails and her blue eyes as bright as buttons. “You ready to play some ‘White Hats’?”

  Chloe’s pigtails bobbed as she nodded. She grabbed Dillon’s hand then grabbed Abby’s with her other. “I’m ready to win some ‘White Hats.’”

  “You’re not gonna win,” Dillon scoffed, tugging his hand away to wipe it on the front of his coat.

  And for the first time since that morning, Abby felt a real smile tug at her lips.

  Romance indeed.

  She flipped his hood up so it fell over his nose. “You can go on the field trip on Friday,” she said.

  His jaw dropped a little.

  Then he let out a whoop and grabbed Chloe’s hand. They jogged ahead, their backpacks bouncing.

  * * *

  Thankfully, the rest of the week passed without any additional traumas, and the mood at the school settled some.

  By the end of the day on Friday, Abby locked up her office with indecent haste the second she could.

  Dee had agreed to drive Dillon home when their classes returned from the field trip and then stay there with him while Abby and Sloan did...whatever. Which left Abby with about an hour and a half of entirely free time, and she didn’t intend to waste a moment of it.

  She prac
tically jogged home and tossed her briefcase on her bedroom dresser. She let Rex out long enough to do his business then gave him a dog biscuit, grabbed her keys and closed the door on his imploring face. She drove downtown to Classic Charms, which according to Dee was “the” place to shop for anything decent in Weaver. The fact that the shop was owned by Sloan’s sister couldn’t be helped. Not that Abby didn’t like Tara. She did. But she didn’t necessarily want to shop for something pretty to wear for Sloan under the knowing eye of his twin sister.

  But Tara wasn’t there anyway. A friendly girl who looked a few years younger than Abby was manning the old-fashioned cash register, and she was happy to direct Abby through the eclectic shop to the women’s clothing.

  She quickly rummaged through the hangers, wishing she had more time to go through the plethora of unusually nice things. It was certainly a better selection than what she’d ever find out at Shop-World. She grabbed a long, ivory cowl-necked sweater that she could pair with tights and boots, and dithered longer than she had time for over a display of outrageously priced, outrageously pretty panties only to pass on them all because every time she thought about wearing them—about Sloan seeing them—she lost her nerve.

  She quickly paid for her purchases then raced back home and was glad that Jerry Cooper wasn’t watching for speeders or she’d have been caught for sure. She showered in record time and was drying her hair when she heard the door open and Dillon’s young voice yelling her name.

  She tightened the belt of her robe and went out to greet him. “Hey there!” He had a plastic bag clutched in his fist. “What do you have?”

  “Video games,” he said reverently and dumped them out right there on the hallway floor. “Everyone got a whole bag!”

  “Exciting.” Abby stepped around him to meet Dee as she came inside. “Thanks for bringing him back.”

  Dee’s gaze ran over her. “If that’s the attire for the evening, guess I don’t have to ask what you’ll be doing.”

  Abby flushed. “I have clothes.”

  Dee just grinned wickedly, and Abby was glad the other woman didn’t pursue it. “How long before Deputy Ho—McCray gets here?”