She took the treat that Jordan handed her, but she was staring at him.
“Thank you,” she said.
There was something in her voice, some quiet, almost husky undertone that made him speak hastily, a lame pushing of the already lame joke. “You can pass on the vegetables.”
But she laughed again, and again it seemed almost a physical thing, darting, wrapping around him. He had the crazy thought that if he sprayed beam visualizer in the air, it would be able to pick it out in the way it picked out the laser beams of an alarm system.
And your alarm system should be trumpeting, he thought.
“What about you?” she asked.
“What?”
She indicated the bag. “Did you already eat yours?”
“Oh. No.”
“You don’t indulge?”
“No.”
She glanced at Jordan, who was intently wiping jelly from his chin, ignoring them both for the moment. She looked back at him.
“In anything?” she asked.
He couldn’t say that her voice had changed, or even that she was looking at him any differently. But that didn’t stop his pulse from kicking into high gear or heat from pooling somewhere low and deep inside him.
He wanted to say “never.” Tried to say it. The word wouldn’t come.
“Depends on the offer,” was what came out instead. He was almost embarrassed to realize his voice sounded as thick and hot as his blood seemed to be at the moment. At any moment, when he was around this woman.
Get out of here, before you freaking overheat, he ordered himself. There was no room in his life for this, especially now. If there was trouble coming down the pike, he didn’t want her anywhere around.
He expected Jordan to protest, but with the assurance that he could come back tomorrow he left compliantly enough.
Wyatt drove home, keeping one eye out for anything unusual. He couldn’t put it out of the realm of possibility that Max might want retribution. He hoped not. As far as Max knew no one had witnessed his humiliation. If the kid had known Kai had seen it, he’d probably be waiting with a rocket launcher, Wyatt thought wryly.
Jordan was humming.
He risked a sideways glance at his son, afraid of disrupting the peace. There was a small, barely perceptible smile curving the usually sulky teenager’s mouth.
Great, Wyatt thought. All it took was a jelly doughnut and a promise of getting tomorrow at Kai’s. Simple. He should have thought of it before.
His mouth twisted wryly as he realized the formula would probably work on him, too.
Chapter 14
At first, after they’d left, Kai resisted the urge that had been growing in her since she’d seen Wyatt Blake take Max and his knife down with professional ease and efficiency. But she finally gave in, and pulled out her cell phone.
It had been a long time since she’d called the number. A long time since she’d called any number from that time. But she’d never deleted them, although they were long gone from her speed dial and this one she had to look up.
Once she found it, she hesitated anew. Not because she thought her call wouldn’t be welcomed, she knew it would; David had been a good friend, and had understood her need to move on after Kit’s death. He would be glad to hear from her.
She just didn’t know if she wanted to take this step that seemed much bigger than a simple phone call. She felt as if she were standing on a mountain, trying to decide if she should start that snowball down.
But her curiosity, that same curiosity that had gotten her in trouble more than once as a kid, was raging full force now, so she made the call. Went through the usual niceties, then made her request. She wanted to know who Wyatt really was, wanted to know if her instincts were right, instincts that were screaming he was far more than just the pill counter he and his son both seemed determined to claim he was.
It was for Jordy’s sake, of course. Not her own. It didn’t really matter to her. It wasn’t like it made any difference to her.
Depends on the offer….
Lord, the way he’d looked at her, the way he’d sounded nearly melted her bones.
Maybe that was her problem. Maybe that was why she’d made that call, she simply didn’t want to admit a pill counter could send her senses reeling. Maybe she really was that shallow.
Question was, would whatever she found out make any difference? Or was she already in too deep with this man who fascinated her and annoyed her by turns? This man who could, based on what she’d seen, be dangerous. To Jordy. And to her.
She had a sinking feeling she already knew the answer.
“Dad?”
Wyatt froze, glad he was driving and had to keep his eyes on the road, so Jordan couldn’t see his face. His son never called him “dad.” To others, online and he was sure in person, he was just “my father,” “old man” or simply the hated “him.” Maybe names more foul. To his face, he didn’t call him anything, only occasionally threw in an exaggerated “sir” that was nothing short of an insult in tone.
“What?” he asked, keeping his tone level, afraid if he commented on the appellation, made it a big deal, he’d never hear it again.
Maybe easing up, letting him go back to his practice had been a good idea after all. He’d doubted it, had chided himself for giving in, told himself he was being an idiot, that he was letting Kai Reynolds get to him.
Oh, yeah, she gets to you, he thought now. In a big way. A way you can’t afford, especially right now.
“—come from?”
He yanked himself back to the matter at hand, furious with himself that he’d let thoughts of the woman who was taking up far too much room in his head already, distract him from what seemed to be an overture of peace from his son.
“What do you mean?” he asked, hoping the boy would repeat his question.
Jordan gave him a sideways look, as if he was trying to decide if he was in trouble. For just asking a question? Maybe Kai was right, maybe he—
“I was just asking where all the stuff comes from. The pills and stuff you guys pack. And count.”
He wanted to know how the detested pill counter counted? As a peace offering, it was odd, but he’d be a fool not to take it, he supposed.
“Several places,” he answered. “Different plants make different things, ship them in bulk, and we take it from there.”
“In bulk? Does that mean like…loose, like the bulk stuff at the market?”
“Exactly,” he said, smiling at the apt comparison.
“And then those machines put it all in boxes?”
“In those annoying sheets you have to try and push them through, first, then into the boxes.”
The faintest hint of a smile flickered on Jordan’s face before he shifted his gaze away, staring down at a nub in the denim of his jeans, picking at the small imperfection with his thumb.
Wyatt didn’t know what to think; Jordan had, until now, given less than a damn about his job. He’d like to believe the interest was genuine—although why it would be escaped him. After all, he’d intentionally gone after the most mind-numbing job he could find. And Jordan had openly despised it, belittled it and insulted him for having it.
He wanted to ask why the sudden interest, but he also didn’t want to choke off the conversation. This was probably the most Jordan had said since he had handed him a permission slip for a field trip this Saturday, and had explained in a practiced paragraph what it was for.
“I know it seems boring, but it is important. Getting the right amount in the boxes, I mean.”
“Sure.”
Why did he have the feeling the boy had fought down a sarcastic answer?
“People get shorted, we hear about it.” Jordan said nothing. He risked a question in turn. “What do you suppose happens if people get extra?”
The sideways look again. “I’ll bet you don’t hear about that.”
“Exactly.”
“So where do they keep the stuff, before it goes in the
boxes?”
Wyatt blinked. “What?”
“The bulk stuff. Does it like come in big containers, or boxes they have to stick somewhere, or what?”
Wyatt hadn’t, until that moment, realized what he’d let happen. That he’d let hope, an emotion he’d thought himself through with long ago, build up. But now the alarm bells were going off like the days he’d thought left behind forever, as if he was back dealing with worst-case scenarios on a daily basis.
I should have known, he thought bitterly. All this friendliness was more than a jelly doughnut could buy.
The pieces tumbled together in the old way, and he saw the pattern he should have seen long ago. Max, the local drug dealer, befriends vulnerable young kid, acts as if he really likes him despite the age difference. Kid’s father just happens to work at the local packaging plant. Which just happens to package an over-the-counter cold medication.
Which just happens to contain an ingredient used in brewing up the latest, most potent, deadliest form of methamphetamine to be found on the street.
And now that kid is asking questions he’d never asked before, about how the plant worked, and how and where the incoming product was stored.
The irony bit deep. Since they were a packaging plant, not a manufacturer or distributor, there wasn’t much at HP in the way of security. In fact, once they’d realized how hot the product had become in illicit circles, John had wanted him to take over that security, heighten it, tighten it. He’d said no, not ready to leave the mind-numbing sameness of the job he had now.
And in the process, he’d opened the door to disaster.
Chapter 15
“Why the sudden interest? I thought you thought I have the most boring job in the world.”
He tried to keep his tone neutral, but Jordan stiffened up anyway. “You don’t think it’s boring?”
“Sure it is. That’s what I want.”
For a long moment, as he maneuvered the car into the garage and shut the big door behind them, Jordan just sat there and looked at him. Wyatt just waited; he could tell by the boy’s expression that the question hovering was going to burst loose at any moment. And it did.
“Why?”
“This job is fine. It pays the bills.”
“Don’t you want a better job?”
“No.”
“If you had a better job, maybe I could have texting on my phone.”
For a moment Wyatt felt a stab of doubt. Was that what all this was really about for Jordan, he wanted something and thought if he showed an interest he might get it? Did it really have nothing to do with Max at all?
Maybe his instincts had gotten rustier than he thought in the past year.
Or maybe it was just that he had no parenting instincts at all.
“You’re surviving without it,” he said.
“Great,” Jordan muttered, getting out of the SUV and slamming the door shut.
Of course, the fact that Jordan had a cell phone with very few call minutes on it, for emergencies only and no texting or internet, had been intentional, not because of finances. He’d done it thinking that eventually, if things improved, he would indeed upgrade the boy’s plan.
But a couple of questions on the pretext of showing an interest in his work didn’t accomplish that.
He stood in front of the door into the house, blocking it without being obvious about it. And as Jordan came to a halt in front of him, he repeated his initial question.
“So why? You’ve never cared about my work before.”
Jordan didn’t even look up at him. “I was just curious, all right? Can we go in? I’ve got homework.”
Like you’re always in a hurry to get to that, Wyatt thought.
“Then go get started,” he said. “We’ll hold dinner until you’re done.”
“Vegetables? I’ll pass,” Jordan said with a grimace.
“That was a joke, Jordan,” he said quietly.
“Oh. Ha.”
There was, he supposed, no sarcasm in the world like that of a teenager. That at least he remembered from his own days of throwing it at his own father. And those memories kept him from reacting the way his own father had; he merely repeated the instruction to get started on that homework.
Once Jordan was settled in he went to the kitchen. He’d never been much of a cook, his life wasn’t conducive to it. Or at least, it hadn’t been. Now he was a fair hand with the basics, but that was it.
Maybe he should really do the vegetables, he thought, blessing the person who’d invented the microwave-in-the-bag process. One huge plate of whatever was in the freezer.
He knew he was avoiding what he should be thinking about. But he had to make a decision, and he didn’t have the information he needed to make the right one. He didn’t know the most crucial thing, the most important piece. If his instincts were right, he had to know how deep Jordan was in.
What would a normal guy who suspected what he suspected do? Call the cops, of course. But that normal person would probably have a normal relationship with his kid. And the kid would, even with the usual rebellion, likely trust him, at the core.
Jordan did not trust him. At all. And if there was nothing else he’d learned in his checkered life, it was that you couldn’t force trust.
He pondered the dilemma. If he pushed, Jordan would just clam up again, like he had in the garage. And that would not only tell him nothing, it might inspire Jordan to warn Max that he was suspicious.
He should warn John. He would understand, and he knew enough to put credence in Wyatt’s suspicions. But again, he couldn’t risk it; what if Jordan was deeper into this than just as a source for Max to pump? He could be, lured by the false friendship offered by Max. The boy wasn’t using, he was almost certain of that. He did regular searches, and knew too well all the signs to look for. But he wouldn’t put it past someone like Max to try and hook the boy, get him desperate enough for the drugs to do whatever he had to to keep the supply coming.
Including providing information.
You don’t trust anybody else. Including your own son.
Kai’s words echoed in his head. He’d known they were true at the time, but right now they were even more prescient.
Kai.
Jordan talked to Kai. He trusted her.
Wyatt sighed. Grimaced. Shook his head, feeling helpless. It wasn’t a sensation he’d felt often, and he certainly didn’t care for it.
Finally he faced the inevitable. He couldn’t put his confused feelings above Jordan’s welfare. He couldn’t avoid the best chance he had at getting the information he needed to keep his son safe.
He was going to have to go to Kai for help.
She looked up when he came in. He glanced up at the speaker over the door, where the last notes of today’s welcome faded. She’d even gotten him wondering every time he came in, which he guessed meant it was working.
“Chaos Creek,” she said when he got close enough, answering before he could ask.
He blinked. “What?”
She laughed. “The Johnsons’ son’s band. They won the battle this summer at the county fair, so I thought I’d change the rotation and feature them. Local boys made good and all.”
“They sound good.”
“They are. He was happy to come in and lay down some riffs for me.” She grinned. “Not to mention he and his band and all their friends have been coming in all week just to hear it. And shop. I should have thought of it sooner.”
He suspected the appeal was a bit more than just hearing the band play when the door opened and closed. But then, he was perhaps a bit biased. When you couldn’t get a woman out of your head, you tended to assume other men felt the same. Even teenagers.
Maybe especially teenagers.
“You’re good at this.”
“Yes,” she said simply. He liked that. Then she lifted a brow at him. “You’re early. Jordy’s just getting started.”
“I know. I needed to talk to you. About him.”
For a moment she just looked at him, assessingly. “Serious stuff?” she finally asked.
He nodded. To his surprised, she slid off the stool behind the counter, walked to the front door, locked it and flipped the open sign over so that the closed side showed in the door. It touched him in a very odd and unexpected way, that she accepted the serious part so unquestioningly.
“You want some coffee? I’ve got some upstairs. We can leave Jordy a note to come up when he’s done.”
He knew she lived over the store. That essentially she was inviting him into her home. Necessity warred with panic, leavened by curiosity about what her place would look like.
What are you going to do, jump her the minute you’ve got her alone?
Not, he thought ruefully, an unwelcome thought. He’d been alone and done without too long, he thought, when his mind took a nosedive into places it didn’t belong at the slightest provocation.
Necessity and curiosity won out over his unease about being with her in her personal space. He wasn’t sure what he expected as he followed her up the stairs, but what he saw when they stepped inside wasn’t it. Her apartment was open, spacious, with comfortable furniture arranged to make the most of the large room, and sparsely but effectively adorned with pieces of bright blue and deep green, mirroring the landscape outside on a clear day.
The kitchen appeared to have been updated, opened up into the main room. He took a seat on one of the barstools pulled up to the granite counter, and watched as she set the coffee machine to working.
As it began to drip, she turned to face him.
“I like your place,” he said.
“It works well for me.”
“Close to work.”
“Can’t get much closer. I can run up during the day, and I’ve got a buzzer rigged if somebody comes into the store.”
“Handy.”
“Yes. Between it and the store, it was more than I wanted to spend, but it’s been worth it.”
He blinked. “You own it? The whole building?”
She laughed. “You make it sound like a skyscraper. But I own all two floors, yes.”
Always a Hero Page 11