False Match

by Lynne Silver

  She knelt to look her son in the eye. “Of course. Grandma loves you. Her brain is a little bit sick and sometimes she has trouble remembering stuff.”

  Luca nodded solemnly. “Can’t you give her medicine?”

  “I wish, honey, but no one has invented a medicine that fixes brains all the way yet.”

  He thought about this for a second. “I will. When I’m a doctor like you, I’ll invent the medicine and fix Grandma’s brain.”

  She swallowed over the large lump in her throat and snatched her son to hug him tightly. “I bet you will. Now let’s go see Grandma,” she whispered.

  *

  “The doctor is in Colorado. She’s visiting the mother.” Brad fiddled with the loose change in his pocket while he sucked back the too-fresh Colorado air. Give him London’s smog any day.

  “Excellent. I was right. I knew she’d return to her home base at some point.”

  Yeah, yeah, Paulson was smart.

  “Aren’t you glad I told you to maintain constant surveillance at the airport?”

  Um, no? He was bored out of his fucking mind.

  “She’s an easy target off the Program compound.” Paulson’s hacking cough sounded over the phone receiver.

  “She has a man with her. One of the soldiers probably.”

  “Do you know which one?”

  “Nah. Blond hair. Big. Looks like a beach bum. It may be the same one we gave an ass kicking to awhile back. Hard to tell through the car’s tinted windows.”

  “Where are they staying?”

  “Cheap hotel. Security’s loose. I could get in.”

  “No. I don’t want to deal with the local law enforcement. There will be security cameras and witnesses.”

  He shut his mouth, fuming. Doc clearly didn’t remember who he was dealing with. When he operated, there were no witnesses. But he listened out of long habit. In some ways, Paulson was like a father figure.

  “Keep an eye on Doctor Jones and her guard. You’ll know when the time is right to grab her.”

  *

  Chase stepped to the hallway outside of Mrs. Jones’ room. He texted back and forth with Gavin and Adam to make sure all was well back in Maryland. No news was good news, right? It was nearing lunchtime and so far, all was going well for the Jones family.

  Samara’s mother was having what the nurse called a lucid day. She recognized Samara on occasion, smiled at Luca and accepted Chase’s presence as “a friend”. But damn it was hard to see a woman who appeared to be in acceptable health suddenly blink and look blankly around the room, wondering who everyone was.

  It was hard on him, and he’d never met the woman before. Poor Samara had to be devastated every time her own mother looked at her without recognition. She handled it like a trooper and carried on a one-sided cheery conversation, pretending nothing was amiss with her mother’s mind.

  He looked up from the phone to see a large-boned nurse approaching him with an official-looking clipboard. “You’re with Doctor Jones?” she asked.

  “Yes.” He wondered if she had to sign a release or other document allowing him to be present.

  “Can you get her please? I need to speak with her.” The nurse was tightlipped. He stared down at her for a minute before leaning his head into the room and gesturing for Samara to join them. He waited for her to be standing at his side and they faced the nurse as one, leaving the door open so they could see Luca sitting on the floor coloring.

  “I thought you should know, someone came looking for you a few days back.”

  His skin tightened and every brain cell went on high alert. He felt Samara stiffen beside him. “When? Tell me everything,” he said.

  The nurse eyed him intently and then nodded. He passed whatever inspection she had in mind. “Last week, a British man came by. He wanted to visit Mrs. Jones, but he wasn’t on the approved visitor’s list. He claimed he was a distant cousin, and if Doctor Jones were contacted, she’d vouch for him.”

  “You didn’t give him any info. Please tell me you gave him nothing.”

  Samara’s hand reached for his and he squeezed it reassuringly.

  The nurse scowled. “There are rules and I follow them. If you’re not on the approved list, you don’t get to visit and you don’t get anything else except an invitation to leave.”

  He released a breath. “Do you remember what the man looked like?”

  “Big. A little bigger than you with dark hair.”

  Shit, one of Paulson’s goons. Had to be. Which meant they knew where Samara’s mother was. And that gave them leverage. They already knew Samara would follow anywhere her son was taken, but they were just guessing if she’d ransom herself for her mother. It was a good guess.

  He squeezed Samara’s hand again. She turned to him. “Should we leave now?” There was a small tremor in her voice.

  “No,” he said in a hard tone. “Do you trust me to take care of your security?”

  No hesitation, just an immediate, “Yes.”

  “Good. Then go back and be with your mother. That’s why you’re here. I’ll handle the safety end.”

  She hesitated then turned to the nurse. “Thank you for letting us know and for keeping my mother safe.” She released Chase’s hand and went back to her mom.

  Chase focused on getting all the facts. “Nurse, can you do me a favor?”

  “You came with Doctor Jones today, and obviously feel protective of her, so yes, I can help.”

  That opened up too many hot buttons for him to handle right now, so he just nodded.

  “I don’t know what Doctor Jones is mixed up in, but we like her. She doesn’t visit nearly enough, but she calls often and wants the best for her mother. The guy looking for her gave me the heebie jeebies.”

  “He’s dangerous,” Chase said. “Do not let him in the building. If you see him again, call the police. Mrs. Jones’ door is in view of the nursing station. Don’t ever leave her alone.”

  “Do you think there’s a kidnap possibility?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.”

  “Got it. I’ll put in for the code 86 on Mrs. Jones. We’ve handled this kind of stuff before.”

  His disbelief must have shown on his face, because she explained. “In Alzheimer’s cases or any elderly care, sometimes dishonest relatives may manipulate Granny or Great-Uncle Joe to change wills or transfer funds if they have access to their care. We have to be careful about who is allowed access to someone with dementia.”

  “Holy shit, that—”

  “Sucks,” the nurse finished. She shook her head. “Disgusting what some people will do for a few bucks. It’s the first thing I always ask admitting families. Do they have the power of attorney firmly in place? I’ll be on the lookout for anyone suspicious asking about Mrs. Jones.” She strode off down the hall, leaving Chase on edge and ready for battle.

  He walked back into the room. “You okay?”

  Samara looked up from the edge of her mother’s bed where she perched. “Sort of.” She remained seated and holding her mother’s hand. Luca was still busy with a coloring book in the corner.

  “I’m sure it was one of Paulson’s men looking for you a few days ago.”

  The color drained farther out of her cheeks and her normally olive skin tone took on a grayish hue. He wanted to gather her in his arms but settled for smiling reassuringly at her. “It’s going to be okay. The staff here is competent and they didn’t give him any information.”

  She nodded, but he could tell she was panicking.

  He tried to reassure her. “They were just fishing. It’s one of the few spots they have on record for you. But they know you’re with us. Paulson knows you’re under our protection, and the only way he’s getting you is with a tank.”

  “But we’re not on the compound now.” Her face went even whiter. “Luca. Oh my God. I’ve brought him into danger again.”

  Now he did leap across the room and grab her for a quick hug. “No, Jonesie. He’s safe. I’m not going to let anythin
g happen to you or Luca.” He prayed that were true. Learning he wasn’t actually genetically enhanced had done wacky things to his confidence. He held on to her another second until she relaxed a smidge.

  “Are you sure we don’t need to leave now? Maybe we should go back to the hotel and get on a plane?”

  He considered, then nixed it. “Nah, we came to visit your mother, and we should stick to the agenda. I will call Shep and have him send someone around the perimeter of the compound and make some calls to local hotels to see if anyone has checked in matching the description. I’m sure they went straight back to Beltsville once they didn’t find you here.”

  She took a minute to compose herself and then turned to her mother. “Ready for lunch?” she asked her mother brightly.

  “Can we have ice cream?” Luca asked from the corner.

  “Not for lunch, but maybe for dessert if they have it,” Samara replied.

  “Can I push Grandma’s chair?” came the next question.

  “You can help me push it.” Samara’s mother, it was shared, had recently lost the ability to walk. She would take a few steps and then something in her brain would misfire, causing her to fall or run or lose control of her legs. The staff decided it was safer to put her in a chair, but took her for lots of therapeutic walks with an attendant nearby.

  It had been a shock for Samara to see the chair in the corner of her mother’s room. She’d stepped back, crashing into him when they’d first entered the room. But then Luca discovered it was a chair. With wheels. And Chase could race him like a race car up and down the hall, and the wheelchair was deemed fun. And so Samara had accepted it.

  *

  Late that night, Chase tidied up his hotel room, crushing the cardboard delivery pizza box and shoving it in the garbage can. After the emotionally draining day, Samara hadn’t looked up to negotiating a restaurant with a toddler so he’d suggested having a pizza picnic in the hotel room. Luca had glommed on to the idea immediately and began begging for Samara to agree. She had, and he’d felt his gut relax also. It was a hell of a lot easier to protect the two inside the hotel than at a restaurant where anyone could come through the door. Still, he was damn glad he’d insisted on attached hotel rooms.

  He hoped Samara would join him again tonight. He didn’t think he had a shot at getting her in bed, but one could always hope. If she wasn’t in here in five minutes, he was going in after her. Luca had yawned his way through their pizza picnic, so surely he’d go down easier tonight. Plus the newness and excitement of sleeping in the hotel had probably worn off.

  A scratching sound at the door between their rooms had him grinning then struggling to hide it. Samara’s head appeared in the doorway. “Chase, may I come in?”

  “You may.”

  She hesitated, obviously unsure if he’d been poking fun at her formal grammar. He had been, but it was habit. A bad one. One he needed to stop if he wanted to get friendly with Samara. “Come in. I was hoping you would.” His confession seemed to soothe her.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, stepping fully into the room.

  “Cleaning up from dinner. Then I was planning on watching a show. Or playing a video game. This new app I downloaded has me addicted, and a level has me stumped.”

  She smiled. “Thanks again for the pizza picnic. Luca loved it. He wants a pizza picnic and to eat on the floor every night now.”

  “I’ll tell him it’s for special occasions only.”

  “Good. He’ll listen to you. He worships you.”

  Her light words shouldn’t feel so good, but they did. He cleared his throat and pulled the armchair in the corner to a better position to see the television. “Want to watch a show with me?”

  She stepped closer and nodded. “Okay, but I…”

  Her voice trailed off and he saw through the dimming room that her eyes were filled with tears. “Shit, Samara, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?” He took a large stride toward her, wanting to inspect every part of her to make sure she wasn’t bleeding. And he obviously wasn’t thinking rationally. She’d been with him all day. Of course she wasn’t physically injured. If she were another woman, he’d yank her into a hug, but Samara was so standoffish sometimes and closed off, he wasn’t sure if she’d accept his comfort.

  But then she sniffed a little. “Chase, I could really use a hug.”

  And his heart cracked a little. In a split second, he had her wrapped in his arms, tightly pressed against his chest. Her arms tightened around his waist and tears wet the front of his t-shirt. He half-dragged, half-carried her over to the upholstered burgundy chair he’d just moved and sat, arranging her on his lap so she could lean into him and cry comfortably.

  For long minutes, he held her, rubbing large circles over her pale-blue oversized t-shirt and letting her sob. A lump formed in his own throat, her pain was so visceral. Finally, she hiccupped and sat up. “I’m sorry for crying all over you. I’m a mess tonight.”

  He pulled her back against his chest again. “Hey, don’t apologize. You have every right to be a mess. You have a shit ton on your plate right now, and you keep holding it together for your son. I’m surprised you haven’t cracked sooner.”

  She murmured something against his chest. He wasn’t sure, but it sounded as if she’d said she hadn’t felt safe enough to crack before tonight. A strong feeling of pride and possession filled him that the uber-smart and competent Doctor Jones felt able to take off her armor in front of him. He was getting to her and she was getting to him in a way he hadn’t experienced with a woman before.

  He was granted the right to hold her for a few more minutes before she tried to hop off his lap and pretend she was fine and heading to bed.

  “Not yet,” he said, holding her firmly in place. “I promised you a television show, and I want to watch with you.”

  Her spine stiffened to iron straight as she debated whether to maintain pride and leave, or admit a weakness and stay snuggled with him.

  “One show. And I pick it.”

  “Fine,” he said and reached for the remote, blessing whatever deity had left the remote control within arm’s distance, not forcing him to get up and possibly lose Samara on his lap. “Remote’s all yours.”

  She flipped through the limited hotel cable options and paused on his favorite show. He tried to keep his body relaxed and not pressure her into staying on the channel, but something in his body language must have told her he really wanted this show. It was a new episode, the first of the new season.

  “Are you sure?” he asked when she put the remote down. “This will be waiting for me on my DVR back on campus. I can always watch it later.”

  She leaned back into him, her head resting on his collarbone. “No, I like this show. There’s handsome men for me to look at and police action for you.”

  Well, well, color him surprised. Jonesie admitted to admiring the eye candy. He’d heard women liked this show, especially when the officers lost their shirts, as they so often did, but it was fun to hear her admit it.

  They sat in silence watching the opening credits. It was going to be annoying watching this show live. There’d be commercials. He’d have to figure out something to do during them. A wide smile stretched his lips. One Samara couldn’t see. He suddenly knew exactly what they’d be doing during the commercial breaks.

  She hadn’t seen this particular show in a while, but it didn’t take much to absorb her and get her involved in the storyline. Her body felt light, almost airy, as if by shedding tears, she’d shed the last year’s worth of worries. Granted, after visiting her mother today she had a whole new set of worries. But her fears seemed far away while relaxing on Chase’s lap, surrounded by his strength.

  She allowed her head to fall back and use his shoulder as a pillow and closed her eyes as soon as the first commercial came on. Chase’s big hands rubbed her outer thighs soothingly. His warmth was like a drug, lulling her to a state of relaxation she hadn’t felt in who could remember how long.

  Th
is was the downside of being a single mom. She had no shortage of hugs and kisses, thanks to her son, but a child’s touch was totally different than a man’s. Chase’s arms on her spoke of strength and elicited excitement in her body. She couldn’t remember a lover ever holding her like this. It had almost been a business relationship with the sex on a schedule. Never had she lazed about in a lover’s arms doing nothing other than watching television. Not that she and Chase were lovers, but she guessed they could be if she said the word.

  He didn’t even seem aware his hand crept ever closer to her inner thigh. All his attention appeared to be on the television where his show had come back on. But she was aware. Very, very aware.

  She’d changed out of her trousers into soft pajama bottoms, which barely acted as a barrier for his fingers. It wasn’t like she was totally in her PJs. One, that would’ve sent the wrong message. And two, she couldn’t prance around without a bra. Her breasts, especially after nursing Luca for a year, were way too big for that. Most women’s breasts shrank after nursing. Lucky her. Hers grew a half cup size.

  If Chase kept his fingers moving, she’d be spreading her legs and ripping off her bra herself. But maybe she was reading this wrong. Where else was he going to put his hands? She’d held Luca enough times on her lap to know it was more comfortable to hold the other person firmly on your lap to keep them from sliding about. Granted, she usually held Luca by his waist or chest, but that placement wasn’t any more benign when it came to Chase holding her.

  The next commercial set came on and Chase’s hands slid up her thighs and farther in. His index finger was so close to where she wanted it, she could practically feel his heat at her core. She was getting embarrassingly wet, and he wasn’t even touching her. Not really.

  Maybe if she parted her thighs a little he’d get the hint. But first she had to ask herself if she wanted to send out that signal. She recalled Chase’s naked body jerking off into the cup last night as she’d held it. Yes, God yes, she wanted to spread her thighs. So she did.

  Not enough to be obvious, but enough to let him know he was welcome. But the darn fool did nothing about it. His hands remained tantalizingly close yet achingly far away from where her body ached for them to wander.