Because of a Boy

by Anna DeStefano

  “Does this look like a dangerous place to you?” Reynolds asked.

  “Don’t mess things up for this family by playing dumb. None of us have that kind of time. I’ve got to see Manny. He and his son need to stop running and start dealing with whatever happened before they left Colombia.”

  The other man sighed, his fingers steepled in front of him. His attention shifted to the back of the cluttered room that looked to be more of a storage bin than a manager’s office. Stephen turned as a door he hadn’t noticed squeaked open. Manny Digarro stepped out, a gun in his hand.

  “You’re going to take me wherever that nurse has my son.” Manny closed the outer office door. “Then the two of you are going to stop looking for us, stop asking questions about us, and Dillon and I will leave Atlanta for good.”

  Stephen stood, his hands raised.

  “Put that away, Manny,” Clifford said in Spanish that he evidently thought Stephen wouldn’t understand. He stood, too. “You promised if I let you stay, there’d be no danger to anyone here. I protected you. Do the right thing and keep your word.”

  “Right?” Manny answered in the same language. “The only right thing is protecting my son. He’s all I have. My last chance to do what’s right. I don’t care about anything else anymore.”

  “Not even getting yourself killed?” Stephen asked in flawless Spanish. Manny’s eyes narrowed. The gun shook in his hand. “How is you being dead, or deported back to Colombia to get dead, going to help Dillon? How is threatening me going to protect you from Vargas? I know the INS is the least of your worries. Dillon knows it, too. He came looking for Kate so he could give you the chance to get away.”

  Manny stepped closer. “Tell me where my son is.”

  “He’s in a private home, under the care of a doctor.”

  “What doctor! Is he okay?”

  “He’s weak, but he seems to be fine. I don’t know how long we can keep him there. I have a local police contact willing to go to his boss and ask for protection, a safe house, until we can figure something out with the federal authorities. But he can’t do that until I know what’s going on. You’re going to have to trust me, Manny.”

  Stephen held up the wallet Dillon had stolen, carefully showing it to his gun-wielding client, then tossed it to Clifford.

  “Tell me how much is missing, and I’ll replace it,” he said in English.

  “If you already know the kind of danger we’re in—” Digarro’s English was as good as Stephen’s Spanish “—then you know the protection of your police doesn’t interest me. It’s too late for that. My chance to go to the authorities was gone long before we ran from Bogotá. Tell me where my son is.”

  “Running isn’t the answer,” Stephen insisted. “How long do you think you can keep it up with a child as sick as Dillon? If you’re being hunted by your old boss, the authorities here may be your only shot at staying alive.”

  “I have to agree with the man.” Reynolds stepped around the desk and held out his hand. “Give me that gun, my friend. I bet it’s not even loaded. My cousin in Colombia says you’re a good man. Stop this. Listen to what your lawyer has to say before it’s too late.”

  “It’s already too late for me!” Manny lowered the handgun, opened the cylinder to show that there were in fact no bullets inside and tossed it to Clifford. “I’ve tried to protect my son. It’s always been about protecting Dillon and getting him what he needs. Clearly, I can’t do that anymore. You’re right, Mr. Creighton. It’s good my Dillon is with an American doctor who will know what to do for him. It’s better this way.”

  Stephen studied his client’s body language. Manny’s resignation, when just a moment ago the man had been furious.

  “You knew,” he said. “How long have you known Dillon has a life-threatening medical condition?”

  Manny’s eyes filled with tears and the kind of hopelessness that made a man look old. He slid into the chair Stephen had vacated and dropped his head into his hands.

  “For several years.” He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Why do you think I’ve done any of this?”

  “Running to the States?” Reynolds asked.

  “Agreeing to work for that bastard Vargas for as long as I did. Hiding his money. Earning him millions in interest, so he could keep killing other people’s children with drugs.”

  Manny swallowed, his expression one of self-loathing.

  “But if Dillon was getting help in Bogotá, why run?” Stephen asked. He needed answers. The man’s regrets would have to wait. “And why is Vargas after—”

  “Vargas killed one of his generals in front of me!” Manny glanced to the shelter’s manager, then shook his head as he looked back before Stephen could hide his shock. “No matter how good I am with money, I was a liability after that. I knew too much. I’m a witness to cold-blooded murder, and I know every investment the man’s made in the last five years.”

  “Vargas won’t stop until he’s found you, will he?” Stephen’s concern for Manny and Dillon’s safety shifted to fear, for both of them and Kate, when she heard the truth.

  “I’m as good as dead if his men find me.” Manny’s voice caught. “I know Dillon needs treatment, but I thought I could find someplace safe…. I thought I could take care of him until…”

  “And now Dillon’s trying to take care of you,” Clifford reasoned. “He’s run to these people, so you can stay together once he’s better.”

  “He won’t get better,” Digarro countered.

  “Of course he will, my friend,” Reynolds insisted.

  “Promise me you’ll make sure the doctors take care of him,” Manny begged Stephen. “I’ll make sure the danger chasing me never comes near my son again.”

  “I’m working on the protection.” Stephen picked the toy car up from the desk and handed it over. “For both of you. Dillon’s not going to be okay if he doesn’t have you, Manny. That’s one bright boy you’ve raised. He found his way to Kate with almost no information to go on. If you run without him, he’ll try to find you, too. Once he’s in the open, there will be no one to protect him.”

  Manny stared down at the car—it had been his promise not to leave his son. To always come for him, no matter what. “How could I have let myself forget that when you make a deal with the devil, sooner or later, you always lose.”

  “Well, this time, you’re making a deal with me,” Stephen countered, reaching out his hand. “And the only price is trusting that the best shot you and your son have is to stick together.”

  Digarro hesitated, then shook his hand.

  “Why are you doing this?” he asked. “Why are you putting yourself and your nurse friend in danger to help us?”

  It was a fair question.

  Thanks in large part to Kate, Stephen was beginning to understand the answer himself.

  “Kate and I want to make sure you can be the father you need to be for your son,” he explained. The type of father every little boy should have. One who’d sacrifice anything, risk everything, for his child. The kind of parent Stephen hoped to be one day, with the most amazing woman he’d ever met. “We’re not stopping, Manny, until we’ve made that happen. Tell me what happened in Bogotá, all of it, so we can find a way to make this right for your family.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  MARTIN DUCKED HIS HEAD under the shower spray, feeling like a fool for hiding in the rehab center’s locker room. But the alternative was facing Lissa again. He had no doubt she was still waiting out front, and he had absolutely no idea what to say to her.

  He didn’t want things between them finished. But he couldn’t—wouldn’t—dump all his shit on her, either.

  He raised his head and let the hot water rain down on him.

  Now is what’s important, Katie had said. What we choose to do with now.

  When he’d read his mother’s diaries, every childhood memory he possessed had shifted from sunny and light to a darkness he hadn’t known how to deal with. He’d moved awa
y, just like his sister, but he’d surrounded himself with reminders of the make-believe picture he still wanted his past to be. And where had that gotten him?

  The memories had taken over, until he didn’t know how to live without them.

  A secret, hidden part of him hated his parents for what the abuse and the lies had taken from him. He’d even let himself blame his sister for a while.

  A gasp drew his attention toward the door leading from the locker room to the communal shower.

  Lissa’s gaze jerked up from its journey down his body. His back was mostly turned, but enough of his profile was visible for a bloom of embarrassment to rush to her cheeks.

  “I…You…” she stuttered. “Carmen left. She said you were alone back here, and there’s only the receptionist out front waiting to close in another hour. Everyone else has gone home for the night. So I…I…”

  His anger from earlier resurfaced.

  She what?

  What did she think she’d find when she wandered back into the otherwise deserted locker room?

  He turned toward her, completing the show. He did nothing to hide the hard evidence of both his temper or the desire that raged higher every time he saw her.

  “Well?” It was time to end this once and for all. His hand slid to the safety bar set in the tile. “If you’ve got something more to say, say it. Then get in your car and go home to your family.”

  To her adorable girls, their friends and the content life he felt light-years away from.

  She turned. His instinctive urge to follow left him biting back a curse, as he clung to the bar that kept him balanced without his crutch.

  Let her go, man.

  Except Lissa stopped at the door that led back to the locker room, shut it and turned the lock, then she set her purse and jacket on one of the benches just outside the shower area. With her back still to him, she removed her soft, fuzzy sweater and laid it over the bench, then her hands went to the bottom of the clingy shirt she wore beneath, and—

  “Lissa, don’t—” The protest lodged in his throat as she pulled the shirt off, leaving her in nothing from the waist up but a fire-engine-red bra.

  Sleek muscles and soft skin bunched and glided in feminine perfection as she kicked off her shoes and slid out of her leggings. Her panties matched her bra—the combination of the two, along with her petite, delicate figure, was the culmination of the midnight fantasies that had kept Martin awake and frustrated all last night. Except now, his waking dream was real.

  “Lissa…” His hunger turned her name into a growl.

  She turned, her uncertainty clear. But so was the strength of will that far outpaced his. She unhooked her bra and let it fall, then skimmed out of her panties, stepped out of them and kept walking, stopping only when she was standing directly in front of him. And there she waited, exposing every vulnerable inch of her body to his gaze.

  Heat sizzled through him. The shower’s steam kissed their skin, shifting in lazy patterns, wrapping them in a moment disconnected from everything and everyone else. He should grab his crutch and walk away. Leave her once and for all, even though his rejection, after she’d risked so much, would be humiliating for her.

  But his mind, his soul, refused to budge.

  He wanted one more taste of the dream.

  “You need to get the hell out of here,” he warned.

  “You owe me a shower.” She took one final step closer. Made a point of looking her fill before laying a palm on his slick chest. “You promised me one a year and a half ago, remember? The day you were shot. I’ve been waiting patiently until you were better. Are you going to try and convince me that you’re not…up for it?”

  “Do you really think whether or not I can get hard is our biggest problem?” He inhaled as her hand slid upward.

  Her fingers brushed his cheek.

  His hand nearly slipped off the support bar.

  “No.” The word, her voice, was as smooth as her challenging smile. “Our biggest problem is that you can’t let yourself be honest with me.”

  “Damn it.” He grabbed her arm, his grip rough. “Why can’t you get that I’m trying to protect you?”

  He dragged her under the shower spray, pushing her hair back as the water danced off them both. She leaned into his touch, closed her eyes and gasped when he angled her face up and lowered his. But instead of kissing her, he shook her until her eyes opened.

  “You want me to use you, Lissa?” he cajoled. “That’s what this would be, because I’m not going back with you. I can’t go back. The man I was in Oakwood doesn’t exist anymore.”

  She rubbed her cheek against his, her eyes closed again, her lips searching for his mouth.

  Damn, she was so sweet, so trusting, it was killing him.

  His fingers clenched in her hair.

  “Don’t, baby,” he begged. “Don’t do this. Don’t want me, when—”

  “Stop telling me what to feel!” She wrapped her hands around the back of his skull and dragged his mouth down to hers. She kissed him hard. “Stop telling me what to want.”

  “Baby—”

  “Stop babying me!” She pushed away and stood naked and shivering before him. “Stop trying to warn me off, like I’m looking for an excuse to run screaming.”

  She placed her hands on her hips, the pose an erotic temptation all by itself.

  “I want you,” she continued. “All of you. I’ll still want you twenty years from now, even if you send me away and we never get to see how good this could be. If you want to worry about something, worry about how you’re going to feel then, knowing you threw all this away.”

  He swallowed. Pulled her closer after having pushed her away for so long. Tears shimmered in her eyes, stabbing at him, as she let him fold her against his body.

  He leaned his forehead against hers. “I’m trying to protect you….”

  “From whatever’s inside you that you think I can’t handle?” She sounded hurt, scared. But determined to understand.

  “I have to deal with this crap.” It terrified him, the thought of casting shadows on her life, instead of the joy she deserved. “I don’t want you feeling trapped—”

  She wound her arms around his neck and arched her hips against his.

  “Who’s trapping who?” She kissed him softly this time. “I’m right where I’d want to be even if we’d just met for the first time. You know how I know? You still care about me and my girls. You still care about your sister and what’s important to her. You’re a good man with a huge heart, and I love you. And that’s never going to change.”

  He blinked. Stared at the relaxed acceptance in her expression. Blinked again.

  His grip on the support rail was like a vise, while his other palm gently roamed to her bottom to cup her closer. He felt her quiver in response.

  “Does this mean I’m finally getting my shower?” Her next wiggle was a naughty thing. So was the wicked quirk her lips curved into as he squeezed her bottom.

  “I can’t think of anything I want more.” His heart pounded as the truth broke free. “But…”

  “No buts.” Lissa dipped under the shower spray and took his bar of soap. She smoothed it over his chest. “I’m not going anywhere,” she promised. “Tell me you can believe that, Martin, and I’ll take care of believing the rest, for as long as it takes.”

  As long as it takes…

  He took the soap from her trembling fingers and the spark of courage from her gaze. Smiling his first real smile in what seemed like forever, he trailed a path of lather over one trembling breast, then shared the caress with its twin.

  “Damn straight you’re not going anywhere,” he growled.

  He set the soap aside, sat on the tiled seat, then pulled her onto his lap. Her legs settled around his waist, until their bodies were perfectly aligned.

  He finally saw fear in her eyes. A flicker of insecurity that made her so much more precious to him, because she relaxed against him anyway, trusting him.

 
; Lissa had given him everything—her heart, her strength, even her pride. Whatever it took to get them to this moment.

  For the rest of his life, she’d never doubt his feelings or her value to him again.

  “THANKS, MARTIN. I’ll let him know.” As Kate hung up Robert’s kitchen phone, a feminine voice on her brother’s end of the line asked who’d called.

  She smiled, despite the fact that Stephen had called half an hour ago to say he was on his way with Manny Digarro, but he hadn’t shown up yet. It was hard not to smile when her brother called her Katie. When he didn’t seem to mind that she’d phoned to check if everything was all right.

  Things sounded more than all right. Safely back at his apartment after therapy, Martin wasn’t alone tonight.

  He’d heard from Tony Rivers, too. As good as his word, Tony had put a bug in the DEA’s ear about making a deal with Manny for whatever the man had on his old boss—hopefully it was something important enough to trade for his and Dillon’s protection. A lot rested on that. But if something as damaged as Martin and Lissa Carter’s relationship could work itself out, anything was possible.

  The doorbell rang. She heard Robert head from the den to answer it. Before she could get there herself, the sound of Stephen’s warm voice urged her to close the distance faster.

  “I’ve got some work to do in the office,” Robert was saying as she skidded into the entryway to find a disheveled Manny Digarro at Stephen’s side. “Mr. Digarro, you’re welcome to use any of the guest rooms you like. Kate knows where everything is.”

  He left them to fend for themselves, thinking nothing of opening his home to a total stranger for the second time that day.

  “Mr. Digarro.” Kate took Stephen’s outstretched hand, clinging to him in both relief and concern. His frown was at odds with the fact that Manny was back with Dillon, where he belonged. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am about all of this. I’ve caused you and Dillon so much trouble.”

  “Please, don’t, Ms. Rhodes.” Manny shook his head. “You’ve taken care of my son. You’ve kept him safe. You’ll make sure he gets well. That’s all that’s important.”