Dark and Dangerous

by Jeanne Adams

  Caine's voice was rough, with an ugly edge she'd not heard from him before. "Yeah, I got 'em. That wife of yours is one tough broad, Walker. Bitch cost me sixteen stitches, dammit. Fucking bombs. God damn near got me again when I caught up to 'em. Had to kill the dog—"

  A moment later she heard a blast of comment from Donovan, even this far away. "Well, hell, Walker, I ain't likin' to go around killin' dogs either. Yeah, bitchin' big guard dog. Bit me, the fucker."

  Silence. Then, a laugh. A harsh bark of sound. "You think? I'll tell you what I think. I think she's smart as hell, and she hates your guts."

  Jesus, he's baiting him. Why?

  "Yeah, yeah, rant all you want, but she nearly killed us all. If Tappen hadn't lifted that Huey off and bugged out, he'd be dead meat too. What?"

  Two heartbeats passed as Caine listened. "She thought I was dead, what do you think? Like I said, smart bitch. And cold. Stepped over me to check on the annoyance. Yeah, took him out at the alarm box. Had it wired. He was still sparking when I took out of there after her and the kid."

  Yuck. She shuddered, listening to him describe the scene. She had caused it, but hearing the starkly painted details sickened her.

  "It's gonna cost ya, man. She fucking shot me, the bitch. Just a graze, but as soon as I finish with the bandage, I'm gonna smack her around for that one. You want me to go ahead and off her? I can dump the body an' bring you the kid. Nice kid, by the way. Dead ringer for you."

  Dana ground her teeth at the remark. She knew he was acting, knew it was said for Donovan's benefit, but the callousness of it pissed her off.

  He had his act down pat, that was for sure. It scared her because if he had been Donovan's man, it might have played out just the way he'd described. And Xavier looked so much like his father.

  "No, no, we got a contract. You pay me what you pay me. But I fucking earned a hazard bonus. That shot nearly hit my balls. Too fucking close for comfort."

  Donovan must have said something equally crude in return, because Caine laughed. "Yeah, but I'm gonna make her change the bandage. Maybe have her... what?"

  When he spoke again, it was with more anger in his tone and a note of servility.

  "Right. Okay, I get it. No touchy. I thought you hated the bitch." Caine paused, and Dana strained to hear, not wanting to miss any nuance of the conversation. "Yeah, I'll get the kid something. Of course not." Now he sounded indignant. "Hell no, I won't scare him. Yeah, yeah. Fuck, man, I get it, okay? I don't hurt the bitch. I don't scare the kid. I get them to you. Where's the meet? I'm in Virginia. Yeah, Alexandria," he lied smoothly.

  A pro at deception. Then again, who was she to talk? She did it too, with the best of them.

  "Jesus, dude, I know my biz, that's how. A motel. Of course it's out of sight. Yeah, tied up and gagged. She's loo damn tricky to let loose, even to go pee. Hell no, and she had a big, fuckin' gun. Christ almighty, how come you had to go and teach her to shoot? Uh-huh, like I said, I want a fucking hazard bonus, Walker." Another pause, longer this time.

  "Couple of days. Gotta make sure the fucking Feebies ain't on my tail. They hit the house 'bout thirty minutes after the shooting started. Me?" Now Caine laughed again, that harsh bark of sound. "Did you know your wife has a panic room?" The emphasis told her Donovan had used the term as well. "Yeah, snatched her and the kid and tucked us all neatly away till we had an all clear. Nah, didn't bother with it. Why'd you think it took me so long to check in, man? Can't fricking leap out of there like Batman and drag the two of them away. Then they got past me, had to chase 'em. Took me a while to snag 'em again. Sure as hell wasn't gonna call ya' before I had 'em in hand. Ya' think I'm crazy?"

  There was another longer pause this time. Donovan must be on a roll.

  "Richmond. Yeah, I know it. Down by the river. Past Shockoe Slip, yeah. I'll head that way in what. . . four days? Christ, I gotta deal with your smart mouth kid for four fucking days? Ha, I'm kiddin' man, he's okay. Takes after you. Smart."

  A bit of fawning, eh ? Wise. Very wise. It always put Donovan in a good mood.

  "Right. Okay, call me. Yeah, this number. Time and place. Remember, hazard bonus, man." He clicked off.

  Dana walked back to Xavy, knelt beside him. "Did you hear any of that?"

  "Some of it. He sounded mean, didn't he, Mom? Mr. Caine?" Xavy asked, leaning in to her body. "Are we really, uh, okay with him, do you think? He sounded ... scary. Like, dangerous."

  "He did, didn't he?" she put her arms around him and tugged him close. Shadow came and nearly sat on her feet. It seemed all her guys needed reassurance. "It's his job to act that way, like one of the people your father would hire."

  "Uh, Mom," her son said, his face buried in her shirt. Voice muffled, he continued to talk. The words tumbled out, fast, as if he needed to say it quickly so he wouldn't chicken out. Or as if he was afraid she'd be upset. "Would you not call him my father anymore? Call him Donovan or something else like you sometimes do, or don't talk about him. It creeps me out, like ... to like ... be related to him." Xavier raised his eyes to meet hers. His were sober, serious. "He wants us dead."

  She couldn't bear to correct him, tell him that his father—Donovan, she mentally corrected—wanted her dead, not him.

  "How about we call him Walker, the way Agent Bradley does? Will that work?"

  "Yeah, that's okay." He loosened his hold as she kissed him, and he realized she wasn't mad at him. "If we have to talk about him at all."

  "You need anything else to eat?" she asked to change the subject, noting the whistle-clean plate and empty glass.

  "Nah. Shadow had a few chips. I think he's hungry."

  "Yes, I'll feed him. You going to play some more?" She nodded toward the frozen action on the television.

  "If it's okay," he said, and her ten-year-old was back, in place of the miniature adult. "I'm rockin' it."

  "It's okay. You go rock it and let me know if you get a high score. C'mon, Shadow," she patted her leg and the dog leapt to join her as she went to the kitchen.

  Caine sat where she'd left him, gazing out into the beauty of the late afternoon sunlight on the mountains. His face was unreadable, but she sensed a nearly unbearable weariness.

  "Agent Bradley?"

  He pivoted to face her, and Shadow stepped in front of her, a wordless gesture of defense. He gazed at the dog, then at her face.

  "You hear any of that?"

  "All of it. I was at the top of the stairs."

  "Knew you would be."

  To escape the bleakness she saw in him, she walked to their bags and got Shadow's bowl. Dumping in dog food from a Ziploc, she then poured the dregs of the soup over it and tossed in the last bite of her sandwich. Hearing how vehemently Donovan wanted them caused the food she'd already eaten to lie heavy in her stomach.

  With Shadow taken care of, she faced Caine.

  "Where's the meet?"

  "Richmond, at the James River docks. I've got to call Tervain, but we need to talk first."

  "Okay," she picked up plates and was about to set them in the sink when he put a hand on her arm.

  "I said I need to talk to you."

  "I think better when I'm busy. I'll clean, you talk." Warmth flushed her skin where he'd touched her. A patch of heat in an otherwise chilling moment.

  "He still loves you."

  Shocked, she dropped the plates into the sink and turned. "Who? Donovan?" She pressed her stomach to quiet the disgust and queasiness his words provoked. "You're kidding, right? Sick joke, Agent."

  "I asked you to call me Caine."

  "Okay, Caine. Sick joke, right?"

  "No, serious shit. Face it, because it drives him, his decisions. He's more dangerous than ever because he has to show you he's the man. He believes you belong to him. 'Til death do you part, you're his."

  "That's not love, dammit," she snarled, clanging more dishes into the sink.

  "His words, and no, it isn't. But it's as close as he'll ever get. He's got other women. They're fluff.
You're the real deal. He was proud of you, you know. Proud that you'd nearly bested him."

  "I did best him, the bastard," she exclaimed, angry now and ready to spit fire at Caine. "He thinks he got me, but he didn't, did he?"

  Caine held up a hand, halting her tirade.

  "No, but thank God he thinks he did. The love thing, though. It's huge. This is what Tervain didn't want to believe," Caine said earnestly, leaning forward. He lowered his voice, probably to ensure Xavier couldn't hear him. "He won't stop till you're dead. Or he is. You know that, right?"

  Dana braced her hands on the counter. Head hanging down, she took several deep breaths until her voice was steady enough to answer.

  "Yes," she said, raising her gaze to his. "But it's not love."

  "No?"

  "No. It's obsession. I'm a possession, a toy. Once he knew he had a son coming, I became his. It consumed him to think that he'd have an heir, a legacy."

  Caine nodded, understanding dawning in his eyes.

  "Why did you stay?"

  "Stupidity."

  "Stop that," Caine said sharply, and she flinched, taken aback by his vehemence. "I may not know everything about you, Dana Markham, but one thing I'd stake my life on," he paused, waiting for her to look him in the eye. "Hell, I have staked my life, and yours and Xavier's too, on the knowledge that you are not stupid."

  It took her a few minutes to decipher the compliment in his irritated words, because she heard the anger first. He was glaring at her, half rising from the stool.

  "Thank you," she said simply. Then frowned, adding, "I think."

  He gave a shaky laugh, even as anger still reflected in his eyes. "You're welcome."

  "The fact remains, whether it was stupidity or naïveté, I stayed. I was pregnant and scared. I married him." She faced Caine, straightening her shoulders. She'd made her peace with this demon. She needed him to understand that. "I was raised that you didn't get pregnant until you were married. And God forbid, if you did get in trouble, you got married, quick. That was the way it was. Period."

  She rinsed the dishes and stacked them in the dishwasher.

  "You think they wouldn't have understood?" Caine asked.

  "Oh, if I'd gone to my folks, said, 'hey, I'm knocked up, but the father's a monster so I'm not going to marry him,' they would have understood. Eventually."

  "But?"

  She slapped the door shut on the dishwasher with more force than she intended, making the dishes rattle with the impact.

  "I didn't know he was a monster, not at first."

  Caine nodded. "Walker didn't come out of the shadows for a long time. If he'd stayed on that level, what he did before your son was born, we'd never have caught him. He was careful, canny. Hell, from what I get, they still wouldn't have caught him without you."

  It was her turn to nod. "He was a businessman, a good provider. That's what my parents saw, and approved of, by the way. He was very domineering, but suave and attentive. I hoped he might change. It was young, stupid, I'm-pregnant-and-in-trouble thinking." She wiped the counters, even though she hadn't spilled anything. "Needless to say, nothing changed for the better."

  The conversation, depressing as it was, might have gone on, but Caine's cell phone rang again.

  She put Shadow in a sit, gave him the command for silence.

  Hurrying to the stairs, she called, "Xavy, mute the game. Agent Bradley's got a call."

  "Yes'm," he replied, and the beep and clash of virtual battles ceased instantly.

  She signaled Caine, and he pushed the button on his phone.

  "Yeah?" A pause. "Tervain, what the hell is going down? You okay? What? Aw, shit." Caine rubbed his eyes, and she saw the muscles rippling under the close-fitting black shirt. "Is he going to pull through? Uh-huh. Okay. Yeah, I did. Here's the plan," he said, relating all the things about which he and Donovan had talked.

  Dana listened, wondering for the thousandth time how everything had become such a horrible tangled mess. She was drawn back to the present when Caine angled in his seat to see her reaction.

  "I don't know how she'll take it, but I'll put it to her. You want to tell her?" He sounded incredulous and gave a genuine laugh, amused and somehow lighter, friendlier, as if he and Dana were sharing a private joke. His eyes twinkled at her. "She nearly blew me to kingdom come. I'm not telling someone who can make that happen to leave her kid somewhere. You tell her." Caine handed the phone to Dana. "Tervain wants to talk to you."

  As she took the phone, she heard Tervain saying, "Caine? Caine, you son of a bitch, don't you put her on the phone."

  "Too late," she said as she took the cell and put it to her ear. "You got me."

  "Mrs. Markham, hello," the agent hastily recovered, sounding overly hearty, like a stereotypical car salesman. "We were trying to formulate ..."

  "I heard. It would have to be one amazing, bulletproof plan for me to agree to leave Xavier anywhere."

  "I know, I know. But if we guarantee his safety while you went on with Agent Bradley," Tervain rushed to spill the concept. "And we had a chance to get Walker, wouldn't it be worth it?"

  "Oh, yeah, if all that were really possible. Guarantee his protection, Agent Tervain? The way the Marshals and FBI have managed to do for him and me these last few months? Hmmmmm, that would be a 'no,'" she said, making an X mark in the air with her free hand. "And the possibility of getting Donovan? Let's just say, I'm dubious, shall we? You've managed so well till now. Yes, Agent Tervain, I am being sarcastic. I think I have a right, don't you?"

  Tervain agreed but kept talking as fast as he could, outlining the plan.

  "We'll have a secured location with five, six agents. Constant check in. We're working on a decoy for your son, an agent who's small enough. Maybe a woman in disguise."

  Dana rolled her eyes, wondering if the man had gone crazy. "You're kidding, right? Even at that age, girls have a different manner than boys. They walk differently, talk differently—hell, they even chew gum differently."

  "It doesn't have to stand up to that much scrutiny, Mrs. Markham. We'll go in to Richmond with the agent in Xavier's clothes, with you and the decoy agent in mock restraints. Everyone's gait changes when their hands are tied. Remember, he hasn't seen your son in what, six years? Seven?"

  "Something like that."

  "Boys change a lot in that time, you know that."

  "Tell me about it," she muttered, momentarily diverted at the thought of how many clothes he'd outgrown, how many sizes he'd gone through.

  "So, you and our agent are mock-bound. You two and Caine arrive at the warehouse, go in. Caine talks to Walker, gives the signal, we close in."

  "As easy as that? You think it'll be that cut and dried?" She laughed, but didn't actually find anything humorous about the mental picture he'd built. "We'd be fu-fricking sitting ducks."

  "No, no, we'd have the place surrounded."

  "Oh, yeah. That worked before. So well, too." She turned the sarcasm on full force and didn't regret it a bit.

  "Mrs. Markham. Dana," Tervain pleaded. "We have to try. It's the closest we've been in ... what? Hell, I don't know, but it's years, not months."

  She hated that he was right. "Years, yeah. The reason I'm even talking to you is we both know it can't go on. He'll get me, sooner or later. Sooner, at this rate, given how far he's willing to go, how much he's willing to spend."

  She glanced at Caine. He nodded, an agreement based on the conversation they'd been having.

  "Then you'll do it?"

  "What choice do I have?" When Tervain began to crow a bit, she slapped him down. "Don't get too excited, Tervain. You haven't found a decoy yet. And if you think I'm going in there trussed like a Christmas goose and unarmed, think again."

  The sound of grinding teeth came through the phone.

  "We've been over this, Mrs. Markham. There's only so many rules I can bend. Hell, I'm in such hot water over what you did at your house I can hardly sit down for the fires on my desk. Do you know how many l
aws you broke?"

  "I do, actually. Three city ordinances, necessitating a mandatory five hundred dollar fine each. Otherwise, none, because everything I used was purchased legally and with no criminal intent."

  "You blew up three men," Tervain nearly shouted.

  A fast flashback to the image of the dead alarm disabler made her stomach clench. "No, I blew up four flower pots. The men, trespassers, by the way, happened to get hit by flying debris. Agent Bradley won't press charges, will you, Agent?"

  Grinning, he shook his head.

  "He's not pressing charges, so I'll pay my fine and be done." She paused. "Oh, I did discharge my weapon, but in Virginia, that isn't a crime if your property is being violated."

  "That's not the point," Tervain blustered. "It's against the law to—"

  "Nope, it's not. I checked. It's on the Internet, you know, as are instructions on how to make a bomb. All the nice rules and regulations for what you can and can't do in a municipality. Pretty comprehensive lists, too. Did you know there's a law in one town that you can't breed mules on Sunday? Antiquated but automated."

  "That's ridiculous."

  "Hey, I didn't make the law. All I did was read about it."

  Caine was doubled over in a vain attempt to control his laughter. It made her grin for a moment before she returned to the topic.

  "Back on track here, Tervain. I'm not going into that warehouse unarmed. You cannot restrict the right of a citizen of these United States to bear arms, given a permit. And let me tell you, I've got permits out the wazoo. Oh, and I don't think any warehouse of Donovan's has one of those red, crossed-out circle handgun signs on the door, do you?"

  This time, Caine's guffaw was audible, and Tervain began to curse. Quite inventively, for a man who appeared so stuffy.

  "I can't condone that, Mrs. Markham."

  "I didn't ask you to, Agent Tervain. I'm simply informing you, not asking your permission." Her tone, all business, had Caine straightening, eyebrows raised. A smile played on his mouth, and there was an approving gleam in his eye.

  "Mrs. Markham . . . Dana," the agent began, then trailed off. When he resumed, there was resignation in his tone. "I've informed you of the plan, the details as I know them. Are you in agreement with it, so far?"