No Rules

by Starr Ambrose

  As if someone had shouted, “Go,” he put his elbows on his thighs and leaned forward expectantly. Five pairs of eyes fastened on hers.

  She cleared her throat nervously and licked her lips, remembering the phone call that had come out of nowhere. Hi, Jessie, it’s Dad. I’m in Houston. Can you meet me for dinner? It’s important. I’ve got a great story idea for you.

  Dad. A powerful word, implying affection and familiarity. She hadn’t thought of him that way in a long time, but for a moment the twelve-year-old inside her had leaped with joyful recognition. The next moment she’d remembered how they parted, and shut it down.

  He’d rattled off a restaurant and street address, and before she could say no, he’d hung up. She’d spent the next hour flip-flopping over whether to go or stand him up, but curiosity finally got the better of her. She’d gone.

  She’d caught her first sight of him when she was taken to his table. He’d been freshly shaven, eyes bright and alert. He hadn’t looked like someone two days from death.

  Jess put a firm lid on her roiling emotions before speaking. “He called with an invitation to dinner, and we met at the restaurant. He seemed calm, not nervous or looking around at other people,” she told them.

  Donovan nodded, his eyes bright and alert. “If he wasn’t sure you’d be safe, he would never have contacted you. Just tell us what he said.”

  It was even harder than she’d thought it would be, recalling her stiff greeting and his friendly one, obviously restrained in deference to her when she’d flinched from his quick hug. She’d been in a daze, noting the changes that fifteen years had brought and feeling nervous enough to crawl out of her skin. She couldn’t have replayed the conversation five minutes later, much less five days, but she tried.

  As she spoke to them, a tray of food was brought in by a man she hadn’t met and set on a folding table. Eating while everyone watched her felt awkward, but hunger won out. The meal of roast beef, potatoes with gravy, carrots, green beans, and cherry pie was too good to ignore. She talked with her mouth full, because they expected it.

  She went through the awkwardly abbreviated family news she’d shared and ordering from the menu. Dull stuff. Kyle and Evan listened closely without expression. Mitch gave her an encouraging smile. Nice guy. Much friendlier than Avery, who couldn’t have looked more disinterested if Jess had been reciting the alphabet. The woman slouched in her chair, examining her cuticles while one foot bounced in an impatient rhythm.

  Donovan was not nearly so detached. For a half hour as she ate and talked, he prodded her for details like a prosecuting attorney, taking notes and making her back up when he thought she hadn’t provided enough detail.

  “You said Wally told you he still worked at the university. What did he say about that, exactly?”

  “Just that he enjoyed it.”

  “Is that the word he used, ‘enjoyed’?”

  She frowned. “I don’t know. Maybe he said he liked it. But that was the gist of it.”

  “Don’t give us the gist of it. Give us the exact words.”

  She didn’t appreciate the admonition. “I can’t remember. He liked being there, obviously. Was glad he’d stayed and hadn’t gone somewhere else. Something like that. I remember I took it to mean that he was glad he hadn’t done what my mother had wanted him to do. That he didn’t regret—” She snapped her fingers as the memory clicked in. “That was it. He said, ‘I have no regrets. None.’ It was just another dig at my mother for leaving…” She trailed off as the awful truth registered, and she turned to Donovan, her mouth falling open in silent shock. “That wasn’t what he meant, was it?”

  “No,” he agreed softly. “He was telling you, and us, that he knew what was going to happen to him. He wanted us to know he had no regrets.”

  She looked at the somber faces and tried to wrap her mind around it. “He knew someone was coming to kill him, and he wouldn’t have changed anything?”

  “Yes. What we do was very important to him. It’s important to all of us.”

  Even Mitch’s friendly expression had gone sad, and Jess flushed, realizing she’d blown off her father’s weighty sentiment as simply one more salvo in an ongoing war between her parents. These people must hate her for how much she disrespected a man they clearly admired. But Donovan’s eyes were kind as he nudged her back on track. He might just be coddling her to get what he wanted, but she appreciated it. “Go on, Jess, you’re doing great. What did he say next?”

  She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying to shut out the strange reality of four trained commandos and their boss hanging on her words, so she could remember the equally strange conversation with her father.

  Massaging her temples as if that would help the thoughts take form, she said, “I’m pretty sure that’s when he brought up the story characters for the first time. He, uh, said he’d seen all my books and he wanted to give me one more idea.”

  They all stiffened to alertness. “One more?” Donovan asked.

  “My first book was based on a story he’d helped me write,” she explained. “When I was nine or ten, I started inventing animal characters. I had a whole book of illustrations. I always knew I wanted to illustrate children’s books, but I wasn’t very good at developing plots until I was older. That last year when I was twelve, after he came back from Iran, my dad helped me make up stories to go with them. It was just for fun, but they were good stories, and I used part of them in my first book.”

  Avery raised one delicate eyebrow. “Plagiarism?”

  Jess blushed. “No.” At least, that’s not how her twelve-year-old mind remembered it. “We developed the story together, and I did all the drawings. And every book after that was entirely my creation.”

  “Never mind,” Donovan said, with a sharp glare at Avery, who shot him a resentful look but shut up. “What did he tell you?”

  “I know you want the exact words, but I don’t remember them. It was a story about a wolf and a rabbit who are invited to a housewarming party when the beaver family builds a new lodge. The main character arc is that the rabbit is timid. She’s afraid to travel and afraid of water. The beaver lodge is smack in the middle of a river, and the wolf wants her to trust him to get her there safely, but rabbits are naturally deathly afraid of wolves.” She rushed through it, already aware of the tolerant smile on Mitch’s face and rolled eyes from Avery, their lives so far removed from children’s stories that they couldn’t relate. “It wasn’t anything I could use, though.”

  “Did he do anything while he talked, like sneeze or scratch his head?” Evan asked.

  She gave him a puzzled squint. “No, why?”

  “Code,” Donovan said. “It would have meant something. Why couldn’t you use his story?”

  “Because the wolf and rabbit aren’t from my latest series. The stories all center around Gordon Groundhog and his best friends in the Mossy Log Meadow, a turtle and a snake.”

  A snake with an adorable lisp, a cute turtle, and a cuddly groundhog. Kids loved them. But belatedly, she realized how silly her characters must sound to tough commandos trained to risk their lives in dangerous situations. Cute and cuddly were not in their vocabulary.

  Kyle rubbed his cheek, seeming to struggle for the right words. “You, uh, you write books about a groundhog who lives in a mossy meadow?”

  “Mossy Log Meadow,” she corrected, not caring that she sounded prickly and defensive. “The name evokes feelings of softness and security for kids. The softness of the moss, and the security of the hollow log that little animals can hide in. The same way a scared turtle can duck inside its shell. And seeing a snake as a friendly playmate helps kids get over the pervasive fear of snakes.” Avery’s mouth developed an amused twitch, and Mitch snickered. Jess stuck her chin up. “Maybe it’s not as momentous as terrorists and hostages, but its basic child psychology and kids love it. So does my editor. I have a contract for the next three books. Wally’s idea didn’t fit with the plan.”

  “Did y
ou tell him that?” Donovan asked.

  “Yes,” she said, relieved to focus on someone who wasn’t making fun of her stories. “I told him I couldn’t do a wolf and rabbit book right now. He said maybe I could use it later. I doubt it, but I agreed, just to pacify him.”

  “Okay.” Donovan nodded as if changing the subject pacified him, too. “Then what?”

  She told them about every trivial side topic she could think of until Kyle complained, “Can we skip the parts about rabbits and vegetables and get to the message?” she said.

  “There is no message,” Jess said for the hundredth time.

  Donovan turned to Evan. “I’m pretty sure Wally used the children’s story as a lure to get Jess to see him. Maybe we should skip ahead.”

  Jess sighed. “And maybe I should save you all some time.” They all looked at her, but she spoke to Evan. “You said I should mention if I noticed anything unusual. I did, and that was it. Every chance he got, Wally kept bringing the conversation back to his story.” She realized she’d picked up their habit of calling her father Wally. It sounded strange to her ears, but appropriate, since her father was more of a stranger to her every minute.

  “There had to be something else,” Donovan insisted.

  She gritted her teeth. “There wasn’t.”

  “Just groundhogs and turtles and snakes,” Mitch said, and snickered. She simmered and decided he wasn’t so nice after all.

  “And a mossy log,” Avery added, pointing a manicured fingernail at Donovan’s notepad. “Don’t forget the log.”

  Screw you, Jess thought, drilling her with a hard stare. The Mossy Log stories had won numerous awards, no matter what Avery thought.

  Kyle shook his head. “We have to be missing something. There must have been a signal, and you just didn’t realize it meant something. Did he drop his napkin at any point during the meal?”

  “No.”

  “Ask for more water?”

  “No.”

  “Scratch his ear? Sneeze?”

  “No. What kind of stupid codes are those, anyway? What if a sneeze just meant he had a cold?”

  “Then he would have said something to that effect so we wouldn’t be confused.” Evan’s calm voice was obviously meant to soothe her. “Otherwise sneezing, for instance, would mean that whatever he’d just said should be taken to mean the opposite. Such things allow us to pass information even when someone might overhear it. Wally could have communicated to us through codes without you knowing it. It’s subtle and elegant in its simplicity.”

  There was the problem. The team’s expectations were getting in the way of reality. Taking a deep breath, she leaned toward Evan, doing her best to be sincere. “Look, I explained to Donovan that my father seemed to be living in the past. He couldn’t seem to grasp that things had changed. I’m sorry, I know he was your friend, but I suspect he had some form of dementia.”

  She wouldn’t have been surprised if he was offended. Even angry. What she didn’t expect was the thoughtful look that settled over him. “Son of a bitch. This one’s going to be hard. That man was always more clever than me when it came to codes and symbols.”

  She’d be better off beating her head against the wall.

  “Let’s get through this at least once,” Donovan said. Jess sighed heavily, feeling any chance of sleep slip farther away. “Wally talked about taking you on a picnic. What did he say after that?”

  She hesitated, remembering all too well what her father had brought up next, but reluctant to tell them. She was tempted to skip over it entirely, but thoughts of the two hostages forced her to be honest. She’d simply leave out the details. “He mentioned the day my mother and I moved out.” Seeing Donovan’s eyebrow rise, she forestalled his question. “It wasn’t anything important, just that he was sorry it happened. It’s not important.”

  “Let us decide that.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “It’s personal. Trust me, there was no hidden message, no sneezes or dropped napkins, just an apology for the way things worked out.”

  From the corner of her eye, she noted a flicker of interest from Avery. Now for sure she couldn’t talk about it.

  Donovan’s gaze was intent enough to make her insides squirm, and it had nothing to do with his menacing appearance. In fact, the feeling was opposite enough to be worthy of a sneeze. Great—she had a sexual response to a man who intimidated her. She tried to forget about all the sessions she was going to need with Dr. Epstein and concentrate on what Donovan was saying.

  “Jess, your mother left because Wally had started the Omega Group. If he talked about that, it pertains directly to us. It might even be the information we’re looking for.”

  She set her jaw stubbornly. “It wasn’t about you; it was about me.”

  She could tell he struggled to hold back his exasperation. “He apologized to you for starting the Omega Group?”

  “No.”

  “For what, then?”

  “None of your business.”

  “Jess—”

  “You don’t need to know. He shouldn’t have known. It’s confidential, and he shouldn’t have been able to access the files. It thought there were laws about that.”

  “Confidential files?” He jumped on it. “What files? Do you have a juvenile record or something?”

  “No.”

  “Because I don’t give a shit about some prank you pulled in high school, or if you had your license suspended.”

  “I didn’t. For your information, I have never been in trouble with the law. Some of us have no trouble obeying laws and following rules.” It sounded so snooty she had to remind herself that following the rules was a good thing.

  “Then what’s the big deal? What else is confidential?”

  Thankfully he thought like someone in law enforcement—if someone had something to hide, it had to be illegal. Unfortunately, Avery’s thinking was less linear. She stopped swinging her leg as the answer occurred to her. “Medical records.”

  “You have a medical problem?” He still didn’t get it. “I promise it won’t leave this room, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  Jess glared and said nothing. A knowing smile snaked across Avery’s mouth as she elaborated for him. “Psychiatric records.”

  Shit.

  Avery finally seemed to be enjoying the conversation. “Your little friend has issues, Tyler. Something she doesn’t want to share with the group.”

  Jess felt a flush spread up her neck to her cheeks. She ground her teeth, refusing to acknowledge what Avery had guessed, even though one look at her face must have revealed the truth.

  Donovan studied her. She tried not to flinch, certain she felt his mind probing for facts inside her own. Learning the embarrassing truth. Holding it up for everyone to see and laugh at.

  Without looking directly at them, she knew Mitch and Kyle sat up straighter, suddenly interested in the drama.

  Avery obliged them by continuing her guessing game. “Wally’s daughter must have been in therapy.”

  It was nothing to be ashamed of, Jess lectured herself. But damn it, it was supposed to be private. How had her father known?

  Sensing success, Avery tilted her head, assessing Jess on some scale only she could read. “Maybe she was even hospitalized. Psych ward.”

  Wrong. Jess wanted to scream her denial, but the truth was more embarrassing, so she held the words back, trembling with the effort.

  “Shut up, Avery.” Donovan’s voice was soft but carried an ominous note. Jess silently thanked him for the unexpected help.

  Avery wasn’t listening. “Maybe she even attempted suicide.”

  Unable to let that one go by, Jess blurted, “I did not.”

  “No?”

  Too late, Jess saw her mistake. She shouldn’t have said anything. By denying that outrageous accusation, Avery’s innocent response challenged her to correct it. To tell the real reason for her years of therapy. Tell them, or leave the horrible allegation of attempted suicide
hanging over her head.

  Anger, hot and jagged, ripped through her. They had no right to put her in this position, to question her about the most embarrassing and private parts of her life.

  “That’s enough,” Donovan ordered. Surprised and relieved, she gave him a grateful look.

  “I agree.” Evan’s low voice carried authority. Avery closed her mouth over what she’d been about to say, but it didn’t wipe away her satisfaction.

  The director’s eyes were kind. “Wally felt he’d been the cause of your—problems, didn’t he?”

  She gave him a tight nod, hoping he hadn’t guessed the extent of it. It was so simple, so Freudian, she hated it.

  She risked a glance at Donovan, a man so confident and secure in his identity he couldn’t possibly understand her problem, knowing she’d crumple into a tiny ball if she saw pity in his eyes. She didn’t. He stared with open curiosity as if he had a dozen follow-up questions. Questions that would expose every humiliating detail of her personal life and prove she had no right being attracted to a man like him. Questions he might put off for now, but would not forget to ask later.

  If he had any respect for her at all, it was about to disappear forever.

  Chapter Five

  Donovan flipped to a new page in his notebook, as if the topic of her therapy might require extensive note-taking. He could just forget it.

  Jess tensed, prepared to smack down his inappropriate, obtrusive questions, but he merely said, “Skip the details for now. Just summarize. Did he ask how you were doing now? What did he want to know?”

  That was it? When he didn’t blink at her suspicious look, she took a few deep breaths to steady herself. “He apologized for his part in it, that’s all.”

  And thank God for that. If her father had asked if therapy had helped her problem, she’d have died on the spot.

  “Okay,” Donovan said. He made a note on the tablet.