by Jeanne Adams
"You get a safe house, stock it, and lock it up so tight a mouse's whisper won't get through to my boy."
"Right."
"You get a decoy, and hell, if you get a woman, at least make sure she's flat chested, for God's sake."
"We're working on it."
She didn't even want to know what that entailed.
"You find the decoy, I say 'yea' or 'nay' on whether they'll work or not."
"That's unreasonable, we've got to—"
"All I really have to do is live, love my son, protect him if I can, and die, Agent. I'd rather that be in a hundred years with a pack of grandchildren mourning my passing, but I'll put myself on the line to save my son. My terms, or we don't work. Got it?"
Chapter Seven
There was silence as Tervain absorbed her vehement statement. She hoped he read into it all that it implied. She knew she might die. She knew they might fail. But, by God, she was stacking the deck in her favor as much as possible.
"God help me, yes."
"God being on our side for once would be a plus," she said, feeling the weight of the long day and the sleepless night hurl itself onto her back. "So, I go armed. You don't have to like it or agree to it or even think about it," she said. "In fact, put it out of your mind. Deal?"
At his long sigh, she knew she had him.
"After this goes down, Mrs. Markham, I hope we won't be meeting every few months, other than socially."
"Me too, Agent, me too," she said as she hung up and handed phone back to Caine.
"You're going armed when we hit Richmond," Caine made it more of a statement than a question.
"Is the sky blue?" she asked. "I have Xavier to think about."
Nodding, he stood and stretched. Then he winced.
"I need a shower, fresh clothes. You keep watch. That window," he pointed to the front picture window. "It's the best vantage point. You've already figured that, right?"
"Yeah. What else was going on? You asked about someone being hurt."
"Parlier. You know he didn't check in from the doctor's, which he should have done when he got there. And he didn't come back to the hotel?"
"Yes, that's why we left. Did they find him?" Her heart clenched. Why did so many people have to pay the price for Donovan's obsessions?
"Don't look so stricken. Parlier's a tough old dog. Someone ran him and the doc off the road. The car broke through the guard rail and rolled into a ravine. Took 'em hours to find them even with the GPS."
"It's bad, isn't it?" she said, already knowing the answer.
"Parlier fractured both legs on impact. He lost blood. Probably has a concussion too." His brief delivery didn't lessen the impact of the other agent's plight. "The doctor's still unconscious and has internal injuries but is expected to pull through."
"Some blood? Internal injuries? Dear God, does Donovan have to kill everyone who gets in his way?" Exhausted and overwhelmed, Dana's reserves finally ran out. She put her head down on the counter and wept.
"Hey, hey," Caine said, leaping from his seat to take her into his arms. "Parlier's rallying. He's conscious," he said as he patted her back and stroked her hair in alternating patterns. "We can't be sure it was Walker."
She raised her head, not believing what she was hearing. "You don't believe that, do you? Isn't it a bit too convenient that Agent Parlier is run off the road when we're waiting for him to get us to safety?"
"Yeah," he admitted, tightening his grip so that she was once more pressed against strong, muscular, and very firm male flesh. "It's Walker. Don't know why I tried to convince you, of all people, otherwise."
"Because Tervain wanted you to?" she said, gaining an insight into the conversation. Caine's muscles tensed the barest fraction, and she knew she'd hit the mark. "Gotcha," she said quietly, easing away and wiping at her streaming eyes. "You have a tell the way a gambler does."
"I do not," he said, offended and distracted.
"Not a bad one," she conceded, giving herself more distance from the haven of his arms. It was just too tempting. "I caught it because you were ... uh ... holding me. You tensed." She sighed and pulled a tissue from a nearby box, glad she hadn't managed make-up yet. With the waterworks she'd just pulled, mascara would be everywhere. "C'mon Caine, be real. You and I know Donovan. Tervain doesn't, not really. He's never been subject to that twisted brand of loyalty and love."
Dana paced the length of the kitchen, stopping only to grab another tissue. "He sucks you in. I know how it is. He did it to me. Parlier's accident wasn't one, so there is an inside man. How else would anyone have been close enough to get to Parlier?"
Stopping in front of him, she added, "All the more reason for me to be armed when we go to Richmond."
With a curt nod, he spoke. "I do know it. Unless we can uncover the mole, whoever the bastard may be, we're facing friendly fire too. Besides," he reached out and squeezed her hand. "You can handle yourself."
Friendly fire hadn't occurred to her, so it took a minute to catch up. She sucked in a breath, hiccoughing a bit. "Um, thanks. I do know a few things about guns."
He scrutinized her face, and she was afraid he was going to offer something . . . more personal. Oh, hell. To her total relief, he smiled.
"Right. If you're gonna be okay, I really do need that shower."
"Of course. I'm sorry."
"What for? Tervain's the one who wouldn't shut up. Keep watch. I'll be quick."
"I will, and take your time."
With a laugh, he grabbed the bag of medical supplies. "What? You sayin' I stink?" He joked, changing the mood.
"What? No, of course not." Her cheeks flamed. Dammit, she hated that blush. "I meant that I..." He was obviously enjoying her discomfort Seeing the twinkle in his eyes, she mock-snarled, "Hit the showers, Bradley, and quit hassling your protectee." She made shooing motions, and he laughed again as he limped up the stairs with his bag in hand.
She winced at the limp. He was a big boy, part of her brain argued, and could take care of himself. He wouldn't thank her for mother-henning him, treating him as she would Xavier. Then again, if she took a more maternal stance, maybe she wouldn't think about him as if he were prime rib.
Sighing, Dana was about to pick up the gun and go to her post when she heard lighter footsteps on the stairs. Xavy was bringing his plate and glass down.
"High score?"
"Not yet," he said, handing the dishes to her. "I'm going to try again."
"Sure. Before you go, I need to tell you that we'll be here a couple of days, all right? The FBI is trying to formulate a plan. Your fath—uh, Walker, wants Caine to bring us to Richmond. Agent Tervain's working on a plan to put you in protective custody, get a decoy to go with us, and see if we can get this over with once and for all."
"Mom," he protested, fear leaping into his eyes. He grabbed her hand. "You said you wouldn't let them take me away from you." Distress rang in his voice.
"And I won't. The plan's not finished yet. But," she corked the further flow of protest by kneeling so they were eye to eye. "If I think it'll work, if they can plan it to my satisfaction, I may agree."
"Nuh-uh," he squeezed her fingers, frantically shaking his head. "You can't leave me with them."
"Wait, wait. Let me tell you why. C'mere," She led him to the counter, urged him onto the seat, and sat next to him. Holding his hand to keep the contact, she continued. "Here's the deal. I won't risk you. Your . . . Walker wants me because he sees my going to the police and testifying against him as a betrayal, a ... slap at his manhood. He hates me because I took you away and split up our family."
"Yeah, we've been over this, Mom. I know he wants us back. But we were never a family," he declared fiercely. "We won't go back."
"No," she said, sharply enough to focus his attention. "I need you to understand this, honey." She looked into his eyes. "He wants you, so that you can be his heir, learn his business, and inherit it. You're a symbol, a trophy in a way. Do you understand that?"
Xavier nodded. "But you're not. Is that what you're trying to tell me?"
Taking a deep breath, she nodded. "That's it. I'm a trophy, but a different kind. He wants to kill me."
She waited through Xavier's shocked protest.
"I know. But it's true, baby. Think about it. I haven't wanted to push this, to make you think about it. This time, I need you to. We can't keep running. He'll find us again. We have to make a stand. To do that, to defeat him, means we may have to split up for a while."
"But. . . but..." Xavy continued. "We could change our names again. We've lived in Virginia for nearly three whole years. It took him a while to find us there. And Mr. Caine, he said—"
"I know, sweetie," she interrupted. "But think it through. If it hadn't been for a lot of luck, this time especially, and some preparation on my part, you and I wouldn't be having this conversation. Please, honey. I need you to really think about it, okay?"
She sat patiently while he did, his protests silenced for the moment. He was a good thinker, her boy. As much as she hated it, as much as she wished it weren't so, she knew he'd see her point.
"There isn't any other way?" The question was both plaintive and resigned.
"Not that we can think of."
"What about if I were bait, instead of you?"
That he would think of this shouldn't have surprised her, but it did. It took her several heartbeats to get past her shock and answer.
"There are a few problems with that, right off hand."
"Like what?" he demanded, arms crossed and a frown on his face. Her stomach clenched. He was truly his father's son in that particular pose.
"You're a minor, so the FBI won't accept your offer, even if I were to agree to it, which I won't."
"But, Mom..."
"Hear me out. The other consideration is, if the plan fails with using me as bait, you re still protected. And they have another chance to catch your fa—Donovan when he continues to come after you. If you go as bait, and the plan fails, Walker gets you. There's no second chance to get him. You see?"
Xavier was silent for a minute, then, with a reluctant frown, he nodded. "It's scary, Mom. I don't want to have you out there without me. We're a team. You said so," the pitch of his voice gave away his fear. The young man her son was becoming receded, and the child showed through. He was terrified.
So was she.
"We are a team, honey. Always. But, it's like on the baseball field. Sometimes you hit a sacrifice fly to bring another runner in, you know? Both players love to hit, but for the whole team to win, you have to give up your chance at a home run or a base hit to bring in the runner. Make sense?"
Xavier lowered his head, seemingly engrossed in the pattern on his well-worn, high-top sneakers. She could almost hear the gears turning in his head.
"But why can't I be the one to make the sac fly?"
"You're already on base, honey. You get to go play video games, eat popcorn and pizza, and hang out till I hit that sac fly and bring you runnin' home."
He looked up from his shoes, tears brimming in his eyes.
"It's awful, Mom. If we have to do it, I... I... guess we have to, right?" She nodded and he continued. "But it's going to be hard to be at some cruddy safe house by myself."
"I know," she said, pulling him into a hug and letting him surreptitiously dry his eyes on her shirt. "But we'll get through it, the same way we've gotten through everything else together. We'll each do our part, right?"
"I guess so," he said listlessly.
"Oh, c'mon, let's hear some enthusiasm for the game, dude. If I'm going to be out there hitting sac flies, I better have some enthusiasm," she growled, tickling his ribs until he collapsed onto her lap. The high kitchen stool wasn't exactly conducive to a tickle fight, but she made do.
They wrestled and tickled for a few minutes, renewing the bond that had been strained by fears of the future. When they were both breathless, they called a truce and sat talking about nonsense.
Hearing the water turn on, Dana remembered she was the one on watch. "Hey, honey, why don't you go rummage around in our bags and get me the first aid kit. Agent Caine's having a shower now. When he's done, I'm going to do the same. You need to shower too," she said as she blew and snuffled into the curve of his neck, making him yelp and giggle. "Wheeeeeuuuw! Yeah, you need a wash, stinky boy. I get dibs on the next one, otherwise you'll use all the hot water."
"I don't stink," he giggled, wiggling out from under her restraining arm. "I smell manly." He pantomimed a weightlifter's muscle-bound pose.
"Ugh, manly boy needs a bath, and so do you." The banter lightened the mood, and she scooted him off for the kit. When he'd bounded away, she retrieved the gun and quickly and silently made her rounds. She checked the locks and turned off lights as she slid through the maze of the dusky living room to peer into the shadowy landscape.
Beyond the window, the world was still and quiet as far as she could see. A slight wind shook the mostly naked branches in a random, easy sway. Off a ways, she saw what might be an owl cruise along at tree-top height, then land. It was an elegant, peaceful scene, and she wished, not for the first time, that she painted.
"Woods at twilight," she said to herself, thinking that's what she'd name the painting, if she'd had any talent for painting.
Following Xavy to the second floor, she checked the surrounding area from the higher vantage point of the bedroom windows. He met her in the upper hallway with the med kit.
"Here, Mom. I found it."
"Great. Why don't you and Shadow finish saving the universe, and I'll clean my foot so that when Agent Bradley gets done, I can jump in the shower right away."
"'Kay. C'mon, Shadow."
The dog obligingly followed Xavy into the game room, as she had mentally dubbed it, and she saw him he down on the floor next to the pillow Xavy had been sitting on. Satisfied Xavy was occupied, she continued into the bedrooms, going from window to window, searching for signs of danger.
It wasn't long before her tour brought her back to the kitchen. She and Caine had just eaten, but Xavier had beaten them to lunch by an hour or more. He'd want dinner before too long.
As she rummaged through the cabinets, her mind wrestled with choices. She'd nominally agreed to being bait for the Richmond deal, but should she head for Canada and a semblance of freedom instead?
Richmond. Canada. The choices loomed large in her mind. Each one fraught with its own challenges and peril. Leave her boy or leave with her boy? As she laid out the fixings for spaghetti, she mentally ping-ponged between the two.
Richmond. They might get Donovan, stop the killing, and stop the constant running. There was also a distinct chance, no matter how well they planned and how well armed she was, that she'd be killed. And worse, she could be killed and Donovan might survive to continue his pursuit of Xavier.
If that happened, Xavier would be in his father's hands within weeks. It was her vigilance that had kept them free and alive so far.
Canada was fraught with its own difficulties. She had no friends there, no ties. And if she left the familiarity of the US, she also left behind the network of agents and public assistance, which had kept her incognito and reasonably invisible, thus far.
In the shower, Caine washed off the grime of two days worth of sweat and anxiety. He'd taped a part of a plastic bag over his wound. Screw the doctor and his dictate to not get it wet. If he didn't have a shower, Donovan would be able to find him by smell.
Ten minutes of hot water left him feeling more human. With a grunt of pain, he yanked off the plastic, taking off some skin as well. "Damn," he cursed, pounding softly on the marble countertop. "That freakin' hurts."
The wound hurt, and the tape stung. The whole thing sucked. Dana Markham was too damn smart. She knew she might die. She knew they might not be able to protect her ... or her son.
The kid. Xavier was pretty cool for a kid. Caine hadn't been around many boys. His sister's children were girls. They weren't into video games, and t
he last thing his prissy sister would have allowed was a big-ass dog slurping over the kid's hot dogs while they were playing kill-the-bad-guy.
Dana didn't lie to her kid. He gave her kudos for that, admired it. She might hate it, but she told him straight.
In spite of his pain, he laughed. Man, she had been beautiful telling Tervain off. She had scored point after point on the guy, never letting up. Not that Tervain deserved a break, but, to be fair, it wasn't Tervain's fault the mission was screwed. It wasn't any great star on his own record either.
"She told you," he said to himself, thinking Tervain must have been about to have apoplexy when she told him she'd be packing heat on the Richmond deal.
He propped his leg up and bent to deal with his injury. To his dismay, the area was swollen and irritated. Crap. He did not need an infection. He smeared a triple antibiotic ointment on the line of stitches, hissing as the cold gel met his tender flesh.
Bandaging took mere minutes, and he rummaged in the cabinets for some oral antibiotics. Thankfully the zone houses were always stocked with meds.
Easing into the new jeans, he grimaced as the stiff fabric ground over the gauze bandage. Lacing the boots was painful too, but it reminded him that he needed to ask Dana if she wanted antibiotics for her foot.
Going down the stairs in his silent way, he was in time to hear Dana tell her son, "He wants to kill me."
Caine listened to the rest of the conversation. When she sent Xavier for the kit, he eased back up the stairs. He needed to think.
It amazed him how much she told her son. How involved she kept the boy. He heard Dana pass the door and go downstairs. He needed to talk with Xavier as well.
"Hey buddy," he said, walking into the game room. Xavy and Shadow were lying on the floor watching television.
"Hey," the boy said, then looked him over. "The jeans are better," he added, bluntly. "A lot less conspic ... con-spic ... you know."
"Yeah. The word's conspicuous. And you're right. What'cha watching?"
"Oprah. She's got some guy on there talking about this organization that feeds people all over the world. Some kids in Nebraska raised enough money to buy something they call an Ark that helps people eat and, uh, sell milk and stuff for extra money. It's over five thousand dollars. Pretty cool."