Dark Operative_A Glimmer of Hope

by I. T. Lucas

  Turner stood up and plastered a smile on his face. “Melanie, it is so nice to meet you.” He offered her his hand.

  “Same here.” The flush deepened. She cast a nervous glance at Douglas, then took the offered hand, shook it, and a moment later threw her arms around Turner’s neck. “I’m so excited to meet you.”

  Looking at Douglas for help, Turner patted her back awkwardly.

  “Come on, Mel. I told you my dad doesn't like hugs. Let him go.”

  The girl dropped her arms, but even though her cheeks were blazing red, she smiled sheepishly. “We are family now. A little hug never hurt anyone.”

  Gutsy girl. Turner liked her. She didn’t let her natural shyness stop her from going for what she wanted.

  As always, once the hellos were over, Turner and Douglas sat in awkward silence.

  “How is your mother?” Turner asked though he wasn’t really interested.

  “She is fine.”

  “And your post? Are they treating you right?”

  Douglas shrugged. “I love it despite all the inconsequential bullshit.”

  “I don’t,” Melanie said. “I don’t know what he does, but if he can’t talk about it, it must be dangerous.”

  Douglas wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Mel, we talked about this.”

  “Yeah, we did.” She sighed. “What can I do? I fell in love with Rambo.”

  Douglas picked up a napkin, folded it, and tied it around his head. “Don’t be scared, little lady,” he imitated Stallone. “Your man is invincible.”

  Turner chuckled. “Aren’t you too young to even know about Rambo?” Melanie hadn’t been born when the movie came out.

  She waved a hand. “It’s a classic, or so my dad says. My brothers agree.”

  “How many siblings do you have?” Turner asked, glad to have something to talk to his future daughter-in-law about.

  “I have three brothers. Two older and one younger.”

  “What about your parents? What do they do?” Again, he had absolutely no interest in finding out, not unless they were criminals, in which case she wouldn’t want to talk about them.

  “They both work for the school district. My dad is a basketball coach, and my mom teaches chemistry. They teach in the same high school they met. Isn’t that cute?”

  “It is.” He meant it.

  Given her facial expressions and her tone of voice when she talked about her family, Melanie loved her parents and got along with her siblings. The girl came from a good home—parents who were still married to each other and held respectable jobs. It didn’t get much better than that.

  “Did you guys decide on a date?” Turner asked.

  The flush in Melanie’s cheeks deepened. “We did.” She cast a worried glance at Douglas.

  His son looked sheepish. “Yeah, about that. The wedding is in a month. I wanted to tell you about the engagement first.”

  Melanie’s flushes suddenly took on a new meaning. “Is there anything else I should know about?”

  Douglas nodded. “We would’ve gotten married anyway.”

  Turner rubbed a hand over the back of his bald head. He was going to be a grandfather. It shouldn’t have come as such a shock. After all, Douglas was a grown man. Except, the thought had never crossed Turner’s mind. He had a hard time internalizing being a father, let alone a grandfather.

  What the hell was he supposed to do now? There was only one thing he’d done well for Douglas, and that was supporting him financially. He knew how to do that.

  “Did you reserve a place for the reception?”

  Douglas nodded. “I put down a deposit.”

  “I’ll pay for the rest. Just tell me who to write the check out to, and I’ll mail it as soon as I get back.”

  His son seemed offended by the offer. “Thank you, but we got it covered.”

  Melanie smiled. “That’s very generous of you, but we have money saved up to pay for the wedding.”

  Melanie's parents didn’t have high-paying jobs and had raised four kids. Turner doubted they could finance even part of the cost. It made perfect sense that the young couple had to use their own money.

  “If you don’t want me to pay for the wedding, that’s fine. But I’m buying you a house.”

  Douglas opened his mouth to protest, but Turner lifted his palm. “Don’t argue. It’s a done deal.”

  Melanie gaped at him as if he were Santa Claus. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you. Douglas and I have never expected that.” She lowered her eyes and picked up her napkin. “I don’t want you to think that we invited you today because we wanted you to give us stuff. I just really wanted to meet you.”

  “I know. I’m doing this because it makes me feel good to provide you with a solid start. Not having to deal with a mortgage for the next thirty years will make things easier for you. I was never much of a father to Douglas. This is the best way I know how to show both of you and my future grandkids that I care.”

  “Thank you, Dad.” Douglas got up and pulled Turner into his arms for a crushing hug. “I always knew you cared.”

  Chapter 33: Bridget

  “Wow, that was some news you got, Grandpa.” Bridget held the phone between her chin and shoulder as she fed coins into the vending machine.

  Turner was freaking out in classic Turner style. His tone of voice was devoid of any emotion, and he was telling her the news as if it pertained to someone else.

  “Not yet. I need time to get used to the idea. I don’t think of myself as a father. A grandfather is an alien concept to me.”

  “And yet, you offered to buy them a house.” She selected a muffin and put in the corresponding number and letter combination.

  “At least I’m good for one thing.”

  Bridget fed more coins into the machine for the Danish Julian had requested. “You’re good for much more than that.”

  “Like what?”

  She collected both pastries, stuffed them in her lab coat’s pockets, and lifted the phone to her ear. “If Douglas or his wife or any other family members need rescuing, you’re the man.”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, that about sums it up.”

  “You can also deliver a riveting speech at their wedding.”

  “Why would you think I’d be good at that?”

  “I can write it for you. After working on the presentation, I’ve become an expert on writing emotional speeches.” She entered the elevator and pressed the clinic’s floor.

  “You can do better than that. You can come with me to the wedding. And don’t you dare come up with an excuse for why you can’t.”

  “Of course, I’ll come. What gave you the idea I wouldn’t want to?”

  Turner sighed. “You didn’t want to come today.”

  “It’s not the same. Today was about you meeting Melanie. But if you want, we can go visit them before the wedding so you can introduce us. That way there will be no awkward moments at the reception. Unless you expect Douglas’s mother to act wonky.”

  “No, she won’t mind.”

  Bridget wasn’t sure about that. Having a child bound people together whether they wanted it or not.

  “You never told me her name.”

  “I didn’t?”

  “Nope. Subconscious reluctance?”

  He chuckled. “Her name is Nancy.”

  “Maybe we should meet up with Nancy and her husband. What’s his name?”

  “Peter. Peter Grohovzski.”

  “That’s a mouthful. I hope Douglas uses your last name.” She’d wanted to ask before but felt awkward doing so.

  “I’m registered on his birth certificate, and he goes by my last name.”

  Bridget reached her lab, took out the Danish from her pocket and handed it to Julian. “Do Nancy and Peter have other children?”

  “No. Nancy encountered difficulties conceiving again.”

  “That’s unfortunate.” Poor Peter must have been disappointed.

  “Speaking of names. Do you go by any
thing other than Bridget?”

  She sat down and put her legs up on her desk. “I have to have a last name to put on official documents. But it’s meaningless. We pick up common last names at random and keep them for fifteen years until new documents are needed. This time I chose Ward.”

  “As good a name as any.”

  “I guess. Did you check your arrival time in Los Angeles?”

  “It’s still six am. Why, do you miss me?”

  “Terribly.” She threw a muffin crumb at Julian who was making kissy faces.

  “I miss you too.”

  “Let me pick you up from the airport.” The stubborn man insisted on taking a taxi.

  “It’s an unnecessary schlep during morning traffic. I scheduled a service.”

  “I’ll wait for you with breakfast.”

  He laughed. “Are you going to be awake that early? I’ve been fantasizing about finding you still in bed and slipping in to cuddle against your warm body.”

  Across from her, Julian stuck his fingers in his ears and started humming a tune.

  She cleared her throat. “Julian is here with me, and he’s acting very immature.”

  “Got it. I need to go, but just so you know, I’d rather skip breakfast.”

  “I’ll take it under advisement.”

  Bridget ended the call and looked at her son. “You can take your fingers out of your ears.”

  He did and sighed dramatically. “That was awkward.”

  “Oh, grow up, Julian, you’re not twelve.”

  “I’m not?” He looked down at his long torso. “I guess, I’m not.”

  “How is living with Robert?” she asked to change the subject.

  “I like him. He is very quiet, tidy, and he likes to cook. The perfect roommate.”

  “How are things going with him and Sharon?”

  “Looks good. I try to give them as much privacy as I can without disobeying Kian’s instructions, so I can’t tell you much about what’s going on.”

  She arched a brow. “Since when are you a stickler for the rules?”

  “I’m not, but Robert is. He is terrified of Kian. Robert is not a risk taker.”

  “He took a huge risk for Carol.”

  Julian nodded. “That’s different. I’m not a risk taker either, but I can see myself doing the same thing to save someone from unimaginable torment. Especially a female.”

  “I think he did it for love.”

  “No, he didn’t. She was a stranger to him. How could he have loved her? He saved her because he is a decent guy.”

  “Imagine what kind of a man he could’ve been if he weren’t raised in the Doomer camp.”

  Julian chuckled. “A saint?”

  “Maybe, or maybe not. Sometimes the pressure makes a diamond out of coal. Maybe without all that he went through Robert would have still been just a dark lump.”

  Julian raked his fingers through his hair in a move so similar to Kian’s it was eerie. “You have a way of seeing the good in people.”

  She arched a brow. “Are we still talking about Robert?”

  “I’m talking about Turner. He is not exactly a lovable teddy bear.”

  A laugh bubbled up from her chest. “A lovable bulldog is more like it.”

  “The operative word is lovable. Do you love him?”

  Did she?

  If love was the need to spend every waking moment with someone then yes, she did love Victor Turner.

  “I like being with him,” she admitted.

  “It’s more than that.”

  She arched a brow. “I like being with him a lot?”

  Julian waved a dismissive hand. “Who is acting immature now? Do you need a flower to pluck the petals and ask; he loves me, he loves me not?”

  To give herself a moment to think of an answer, Bridget lifted her muffin and took a big bite.

  “Do you want coffee to wash that muffin down with?” Julian asked.

  She nodded enthusiastically, glad of the reprieve he was offering her.

  “I’ll be right back.” He stood up and walked out of her office.

  When he came back, she was no closer to an answer than she was before.

  “I’ve never been in love before. I love you with all my heart, and I love many members of our family, but that’s a different kind of love. I love Turner’s quick mind and all the fascinating information he has stored in it. I love talking to him, and we have passion. But is it love? Frankly, I don’t know.”

  Julian shook his head. “You’re living in denial. It is obvious to anyone who knows you that you love him and he loves you back. Not every love is explosive like Fourth of July fireworks, some loves are like the steady warmth of a fireplace.”

  “And you would know that how?”

  He shrugged. “During my residency, I’ve spent a lot of time with humans and was exposed to all kinds of love. If you ask me, I’d rather have the fireplace than the fireworks.”

  Chapter 34: Turner

  At five o’clock, Turner turned off his computer and decided to call it a day.

  It had been a week since he’d started chemo, and it wasn’t going well. It was becoming more and more difficult to put in full days at the office, and even more difficult to actually get anything done.

  His brain was foggy, he was nauseous, and his coordination was shit. He’d stopped training and was spending his evenings in front of the dumb tube because he lacked the energy to do anything else.

  Even his sex drive was practically gone.

  Bridget kept promising that it would get better, that his body would adapt, and the side effects would lessen with time, but he doubted it. Not everyone reacted well to chemotherapy, and apparently, he was one of those unlucky ones who couldn’t tolerate it.

  In the meantime, he needed to find a way to put in some work. Maybe if he could set up shop at home, he could take rest breaks in between short bouts of work.

  Even driving was becoming challenging, and he’d taken to using the shuttle service for his commute to work and back. Naturally, he still used his evasive maneuvers, going to one of the malls first and taking another service from there.

  When the shuttle dropped him off half a block away from the keep, he went into the office building, waited until the guy drove away, and then shuffled the thousand feet or so to the keep.

  He was exhausted by the time he entered the elevator, but instead of going up to Bridget’s, he went down to William’s lab.

  “Hey, Turner, what’s up?” Roni greeted him.

  “I want to set up shop at Bridget’s, and I was wondering if you guys can hook me up with some equipment. I don’t need it for long. A couple of weeks to a month.” By then all his current projects would be done, and in preparation for his attempted transition, Turner wasn’t taking on any new ones.

  William lifted his head and adjusted his glasses. “What do you need?”

  “I need a secure and independent network similar to what I had at home. I have a list.” He pulled the piece of paper out from his suit jacket and handed it to William.

  The guy scanned it in seconds. “Elementary stuff. I can have all of it installed in a day, two max.”

  “I need it to be impenetrable. My clients expect nothing less.”

  William waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it, I got you covered.”

  “You’d better check with Kian first,” Roni said. “He likes to know everything that’s going on in the keep.”

  Even though it had nothing to do with Kian and the clan, the kid had a point. “I’ll ask him right now.”

  He pulled out his phone and dialed Kian’s number.

  The guy picked up almost immediately. “Turner, what can I do for you?”

  “I’m in William’s lab. I need him to hook me up with a secure network at Bridget’s. Roni suggested I get your approval first.”

  Kian was the only one other than Bridget who knew about the chemo. The question was whether he’d make the connection.

  “No probl
em, you can tell William it’s okay. Take it easy, Turner.” Apparently, he did.

  “Thanks.” Turner put the phone back in his pocket. “You heard the boss.”

  “Why did he tell you to take it easy?” Roni asked.

  The kid could make a good agent. He paid attention to small details, things that most people ignored.

  “I’m an old human. That’s why.”

  “Right.” Roni snorted. “I’m a young immortal and look at me.” He lifted one scrawny arm and flexed. “You can easily beat me at arm wrestling.”

  “You need to stop spending your days sitting in a chair and start exercising. To build muscles, you need to use them.”

  Roni grimaced. “I hate weight training, it’s boring, and so is running like a gerbil on a treadmill. The only reason I did it before was to look good enough to get laid. Now I don’t have anything to motivate me.”

  William chuckled. “Be careful. Sylvia might lose interest.”

  “She loves me, you dickhead. She doesn't care that I’m the weakest dude in the keep.”

  “Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

  Roni looked as if he had some more choice words for William, but decided to keep his mouth shut. Smart. William seemed like an easygoing fellow, but antagonizing him wasn’t going to do Roni any good. After all, he was sitting in the guy’s lab and not the other way around.

  “Is there any physical activity that you enjoy?” Turner asked.

  Roni leaned back in his huge executive chair and steepled his fingers. “I liked Anandur’s fake martial arts class.”

  “Fake?”

  “Yeah. Andrew and Anandur set up this fake class as an excuse to get me out of the agency. Andrew convinced the boss that I needed physical activity to keep my brain sharp. Sylvia and her friends distracted my handler, while Anandur and Andrew tried to activate me. Long story short, it didn’t work because I got sick and they ended up sneaking me out of the hospital. But in the meantime, I sort of enjoyed the fake training. Anandur had based his lessons on what he had learned from YouTube, pulling the rest out of his ass.”

  An idea started to form in Turner’s mind. He could no longer participate in the advanced classes, but he could teach a beginner one. At least he would get to move his body a little and not let it deteriorate completely while undergoing chemo. The best part was that it would give him something to do that didn’t involve staring at a screen.