Maximum Memories

by Abby Gordon

  Max raised an eyebrow. Ginny had been teaching her son as if he was a junior agent. The bag going to the left of the door, staying out of arm’s reach of someone he didn’t know, even if his mother wasn’t protesting his presence.

  “Everything all right, Mom?” The boy’s left hand went up and raked through his hair.

  Max thought it was a good thing the brain didn’t need to be engaged for the heart and lungs to function. Because all he could do was stare at the boy. It was as if someone had reached back thirty years and pulled his younger self into the present. Beyond his face, hair and eyes, and the gangly body, this boy moved the way he had—right down to the way he had always put his hand through his hair.

  This was impossible. It wasn’t happening. How could this…no, he knew those basics, but…Max fastened his eyes on the boy and knew who he was even if Ginny didn’t say a word.

  The boy’s eyes flickered at the man before focusing on his mother. The profile. The Roman nose already strong and prominent. Max could see the confusion and growing awareness in the blue eyes so similar to the ones he saw every morning as he shaved. As one, they looked at Ginny.

  Briefly her eyes went to him, a warning to let her handle things. He gave her a bland look. Max preferred to let his opponent spin her rope out before he assisted in the hanging. Well, she probably wouldn’t be the one in the noose, but he thought she might be willing to help him tighten it. A few people owed them a long and detailed explanation.

  “Mom?”

  “I’m all right, Charlie,” she managed to smile.

  Max held his breath at the boy’s name. His middle name.

  Not totally convinced, Charlie frowned and studied her. His gaze quickly landed on the angry red mark on her arm.

  “No, you’re not,” he contradicted. “You burned yourself on the preserves, didn’t you?”

  “I was about to…”

  Shaking his head, the boy tugged her over to the counter.

  “Who’s the one who told me you had to take care of these things promptly or they’d scar?” he teased. “Did you put cold water on it?”

  “Yes, sweetheart. I remembered what you told me from your first aid lesson in Cub Scouts,” she replied, lips twitching as if she tried not to grin.

  The boy glared at Max, his eyes taking in the tailored suit in a glance.

  “And I suppose Mr. Fancy-Suit over there couldn’t be bothered to help you get the ointment and bandage on?”

  “Mr. Shannon was about to leave,” she said shortly. “He’s just here on business.”

  “Right,” her son nodded before Max could respond and shifted his body to block Max’s view of Ginny. “Forget about you being hurt.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I’ll take care of my mother. You can leave now.”

  “Excuse me?” Max stared.

  He had just been dismissed by this boy! He glanced over and saw Ginny biting her lower lip to keep from laughing.

  “You can leave, Mr. Shannon,” spoke the cool voice, sounding eerily like Ginny’s had a few moments ago. “Since you don’t seem capable of doing anything useful.”

  Max scowled and took a step closer to the boy. He knew how ridiculous it was and didn’t care. A man in prime physical condition standing nearly toe-to-toe with a boy hovering on the edge of adolescence, his body showing all the promise the man’s had fulfilled. If things were the way he thought they were, then this boy was going to have to get used to it.

  As the tension grew tauter, he saw the growing awareness in the boy’s eyes.

  “And just what do you think you can do about it?”

  “I’ll make you leave,” Charlie told him, bringing his fists up.

  “Enough!” Ginny snapped. “Honestly, it’s no wonder the world’s in the state it’s in the way testosterone determines everything men do!” Her gaze darted from one to the other. She raised her left hand to her son’s cheek. “Could you help me here, Charlie? And then…”

  But her son’s gaze didn’t waver from the man two steps away.

  “Mom, who is this man?” her son asked in a voice full of uncertainty.

  The two angry male bodies in the kitchen turned as one to look at her.

  Ginny opened her mouth and closed it. Max saw the tears filling her eyes and the way her pulse jumped and knew his suspicions were about to be confirmed. He made himself shut off his emotions.

  “Ginny, please introduce us.” Max’s voice was hard, flat, and emotionless.

  “Mom?” Uncertainty was replaced by fear.

  Ginny closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and faced them. Eyes on her son, she tried to keep calm.

  “He’s your father.”

  “You told me…”

  “Why didn’t…”

  Ginny shook her head.

  “Do you want me to talk or do the two of you want to take turns interrupting me?”

  Max took a deep breath and exhaled noisily. His brain felt like he’d just come off of an amusement park ride guaranteed to keep you dizzy for a week. It was real. This was a wrinkle that he couldn’t get a handle on immediately. He had a son? Charlie?

  “I can see a resemblance. And…he would be the right age for that night…”

  “Easy for you to say,” Charlie whispered, reeling away from both of them and landing against the counter of the island. “I thought my father was someone my mother had…”

  “Charlie, don’t,” Ginny pleaded softly, turning and seeking her son out with her eyes. Tears flowed down her cheeks. “Please.”

  “Ginny, what the hell is going on?” Max demanded.

  “Don’t you swear at my mother!” Charlie challenged.

  Charlie took a step toward him. Fists clenched at his side, he appeared willing to take on the man twice his size.

  Max raised both hands and showed the boy his palms to indicate he wasn’t going to fight. God, the kid had guts, he thought. Guts were nothing without intelligence though. Knowing Ginny, at least he thought he did, she would have taken care of that. His son would protect his mother. As he had always wished he could have done. His son. Another sucker punch left him nearly breathless.

  Max glanced at Ginny. She looked like she was going through a few nightmares of her own.

  “Let’s take care of your burn and then sit down.”

  In two strides, Max was at Ginny’s side and pulling her back to the first aid kit. Silently, expertly, with a side-glance at Charlie, he applied burn ointment and selected a large square bandage.

  “I’m useful at a few things,” he murmured, replacing the supplies in the box.

  “Yeah, if you say so,” Charlie muttered back. Sidestepping to avoid Max, Charlie moved around to his mother’s side. “Mom?” He slipped his hand in hers.

  “Let’s sit down.” Exhaustion washed over her. She’d known this moment would come. But for some silly reason, she had hoped that it would be at her instigation. She’d never quite worked out the exact scenario, but it certainly hadn’t been this. And now it was here. Even as her heart had yearned for it, she’d been praying it wouldn’t happen. Because she knew Charlie would be hurt, and Max would be hurt. No matter what she said or did, the deception she’d told her son, and his father by her silence, would haunt her. What she had created would cause the two of them deep pain. Her heart already bled.

  Her memory cut into her pity party and reminded her of another deception. Another betrayal that had started ten years ago. What comes around, goes around, she realized. But would her own pain hurt the persons who had deceived her? She knew for some it wouldn’t matter. And that hurt nearly as much as the deception.

  All she could do was explain her reasons for what she had done. And pray that when she was finished they would understand. That they would speak with her after. That she wouldn’t lose them.

  Chapter Three

  Max paced about the living room while she and Charlie sat on the couch facing the fireplace. Shit, okay, this would be difficult. Any child from that one night would be, he quickly di
d the mental math, about nine and a half. They’d have to do some verbal dancing as not everything could be discussed in front of him. He looked and saw the confusion on the boy’s face. A memory of himself at that age, having to deal with the actions of his parents, and he vowed that his son would be more protected than he had been.

  “Start talking,” he told her.

  Ginny swallowed and looked at Charlie. Max could see the reluctance and pain in every line of her expression and face.

  “Mom?” Charlie prompted. “Mom, why did you tell me that you met my father while on vacation in Vegas?”

  That jarred Max’s brain.

  “Vegas?” Max snorted. His brain was in shock and refused to work. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. “Like you would go anywhere near that place!”

  “I guess that shows how little you know me,” she countered, voice cool as an evening breeze.

  Max stopped pacing and looked at her. She and Charlie, he decided, had the calm, cool, collected bit down pat. They were definitely a team. That was a good thing. As long as they didn’t do their routine on him. But…Ginny…and Vegas? That was nearly as hard to fathom as her not telling him she was pregnant with his child. And why the hell was he so willing to believe her? Because gut-instinct told him. Because the proof was staring back at him with identical stormy eyes. Because even if Charlie didn’t look so much like him, he would have known that this was his son.

  “You went to Vegas? Why?”

  She sent him a hard look and returned her attention on Charlie.

  “I went because I knew in Vegas you could get married and divorced quickly.”

  “Wouldn’t it have been better if I’d been with you?” Max commented. “If you’d wanted him born in a marriage that is. Minus the divorce part. Or is that why you didn’t tell me?”

  Ginny ignored him, although Charlie darted him a puzzled look.

  “And I did in fact marry and divorce the man I told you was your father.”

  “You did what?” hissed Max. The alpha male in him objected to his son being called anyone’s son but his. And he lost his temper for the first time that he could remember since he’d become an agent. Then again, this was personal. About as personal as it could get. Hands on his hips, he leaned over the trunk in front of the couch and loomed over both of them. “You passed off my son as another man’s? That is wrong on so many different levels that I don’t even know where to start. He’s my son! Anyone looking at him can see that! Anyone who’s ever seen him…” He ground his teeth and whirled around to look out the window. “How the hell could you…”

  “Shut up!” yelled Charlie, jumping to his feet. Tears rolled down his cheeks as his fists clenched at his sides. “Shut up! Just shut up!”

  Hurdling the trunk, he raced up the stairs tucked inside the hallway between the fireplace and the kitchen. A moment later, they heard his bedroom door slam.

  Max shook his head as if that would clear it. It didn’t.

  Shit. He’d been so concerned about his damn ego he hadn’t even thought about how Charlie would react. Nine years old and this was dumped on him. Shit.

  He looked at Ginny. Her knees drawn up and her arms wrapped around her legs, she buried her face against her thighs and wept. Her upper body shuddered repeatedly with her sobs, as if living her worst nightmare.

  Shit.

  First things first, he decided. Stepping over the trunk, he sat where Charlie had and touched the hair that was all he could see of her head.

  “Ginny, why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because of what was said in your debriefing,” she sobbed. “And what you said during the mission.”

  “What?” He shook his head. What was she talking about? Hadn’t they gone over this? “Ginny, I told you. I was in the hospital…”

  “I didn’t know that,” she hiccupped, lifting her chin. “No one ever told me you were hurt, much less seriously. All I knew at the time was what everyone was saying.” She took a few shaky breaths and managed to get control of her breathing. “I realized I could be pregnant during my shoulder rehab. The timing was right,” she whispered, as a blush spread across her cheeks. “I started getting sick five weeks after the explosion. After three weeks, I accepted the reality and bought a home pregnancy test.” She swallowed.

  Max realized she’d taken the test just as he was emerging from his coma. Ginny bit her bottom lip.

  “The next day I was told Frank wanted to see me about my report. I was going to tell you first then tell him I wouldn’t be able to go out in the field. As I walked the halls, I could hear the whispers. I could feel everyone looking at me.”

  Her gaze met his. Those terrifying, thrilling moments were clear in her expression. Along with desperation and determination. He could almost see her as she had been ten years ago. Eagerly going through initial security, nervous to see him, but her innocent energy certain. And then, as she headed toward Frank’s office, the growing awareness. The growing fear and edginess that had lead to doubt.

  “Frank told me you were already on another assignment, and that none of the other agents would work with me. So I went to Vince’s office. He was more than willing to accept my request to transfer and to let me start in a week. I went to Vegas.” The tears filled her eyes again. “I had no idea of how to contact you. So I did the first thing I could think of to make sure no one would suspect that…that…”

  “That I was actually the father of your baby,” he said shortly.

  “Yes,” she sighed. “I didn’t know what else to do…”

  Max’s brain niggled at him. Looks. Whispers. He’d been on the receiving end of those. He just hadn’t understood what was behind them. He did now. And didn’t like it. Ten years. And no one had said a fucking word. And that was the final blow. She’d had no reason to question the Deputy Director of Operations about Max’s statement. But just because he could see her side of the situation, didn’t mean he had to like it. Or accept it.

  “And in the ten years since?” he demanded. “Did you try to get hold of me even once to tell me? I’m not just unhappy, Ginny. I’m pissed. I can’t remember being this furious.”

  “And in no mood to listen to me,” she nodded, meeting his hard look with one of her own. “Well, that’s just too damn bad. I’ve got ten years of anger built up as well, and I can give as good as I get. Considering everything I’ve been through, some people have a big tab coming due. And I have every intention of making them pay.”

  “Including me?” he demanded. “Including our son? You should have found me! You should have talked to me!”

  “Why?” she fired back. “Why would the man who blamed me for the worst incident of his career want to know I was pregnant with his child?”

  “Gee, I don’t know,” he couldn’t contain the sarcasm. “Maybe because I still had the right to know?”

  “Considering what you said about women, marriage, and children?” Her eyes widened in question, and she shook her head. “Not hardly.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  His brain buzzed and the headache was a constant throb of pain. As it usually did when a memory was trying to make itself clear. He’d said something to make her do this. It had been him. Not just what someone had lied about. But something he had actually said.

  “Women, marriage, and children,” he whispered, struggling to remember. Ten years ago, he hadn’t wanted anything to do with a long-term relationship. But had he really said that to Ginny? “When? How could I have? Why would I have?”

  “Just before all hell broke loose,” she answered quietly. She closed her eyes. “You said you didn’t believe in staying with one woman for any length of time, much less consider marrying one…and…that you didn’t ever want children. That kids were a pain in the ass you didn’t want. That any woman would do when you needed one.”

  Max’s hand stilled from stroking her hair. His brain suddenly felt as if grenades were exploding inside it. He closed his eyes against the throbbing.
He took a deep breath and let it go. And the moment slammed into him. The purplish pink edges of sunrise appearing over the windowsill of the barn where they’d been hiding. The soft glow in her eyes. He could see it now. See her face as it had been when he woke and lifted his head. Full of passion and hunger. Until he realized where they were. How they were. Remembered what they had done throughout the night. Until his words destroyed the light in them.

  The alarms had gone off. Max had pulled out of her, rolled for his gun and been up on a knee before she’d been able to breathe once.

  With a frightened gasp, she curled in a fetal position before crawling toward her pack. And her clothes. She hauled the tank over her head and scrambled to pull her pants on. Jerking on his pants and boots, he glanced over his shoulder to see her dressing. Although the boots weren’t tied, the laces were tight enough for him to maneuver normally as he duck-walked to the window and peered through a knothole.

  “You see anything?” she murmured.

  He didn’t answer, just extended a hand toward her. His fingers motioned and she joined him, keeping her body bent double and low.

  Pain stabbed through his head and he took a deep breath.

  “Ginny, I’m sorry. I still don’t remember all of the attack. The docs said they thought the amnesia was because I was trying to block something about the mission. Your face when I said that must have been the reason,” he murmured and saw the same expression of agony as on that night. She blinked back the tears flooding her eyes.

  He shook his head and brushed his fingertips over her cheek. “Sh, sweetheart. Don’t cry. No more tears over me or the past. I should have come looking for you years ago.” His thumb brushed the drops that clung to her bottom lashes. “Listen to me and understand one thing, Ginny. I remember that night. What we did.” He held her gaze saw the skeptical doubt. “I…I was scared when I said those things. I couldn’t believe the things we’d done the night before and…”