Dark and Dangerous

by Jeanne Adams

  "You could probably do something for them too, at your school."

  "Yeah, if I go back there, maybe I will. Got a pencil?"

  Caine found a pen and paper in the bookcase and handed them to Xavy. "Here."

  "Thanks," the boy quickly wrote a Web address and, referring to the TV screen, the name of the organization, Heifer International.

  "Funny name," he said to Caine. "A heifer's a girl cow, right?"

  Caine wasn't sure and said so. "Sounds right. I've never been on a farm, so I don't know much about it."

  "Neither have I but some of my friends live on farms."

  "You want to go back, don't you?"

  The boy shrugged. "Don't always get what you want, right? Mom says," he cut his eyes toward Caine, very adult now. "She says you and the other guy, Tervain, have a plan. It means I stay hidden while she goes and meets with my . .. Walker. You guys trap him when he comes for her. That right?"

  "I think that covers the main points, yeah."

  "You gonna kill him?"

  The straightforward question took Caine off-guard, but it shouldn't have. Xavier understood the realities of the situation. Dana knew it and treated him accordingly. Caine couldn't—wouldn't—do any less.

  "I'm supposed to capture him and take him in for trial."

  "I know that. But supposed to and what's going to happen are different, aren't they?"

  He imagined Dana saying that very thing. There were a lot of "supposed to's" for them both. Your father is supposed to love you. Your father is supposed to love your mother, not want to kill her. You're supposed to be able to stay in one place and grow up with your pals. Play baseball.

  "They are, yeah. I don't know if I'll have to kill him or not. Don't know if I'll get a shot. If I can, I'm supposed to capture him. He has a lot to answer for, to a lot of people. Not just to you."

  The boy considered this, turning away to watch Oprah for a few minutes. He didn't face Caine as he spoke.

  "I wish he weren't my dad. I wish he'd never seen us. That he didn't know who we were."

  "I do too, Xavier. I do too." Caine didn't know why it felt right to put his hand on the boy's shoulder and give it a squeeze, but it did.

  "I wish he were dead."

  Caine didn't say a word. He knew that in a perfect world, he should correct the boy, tell him it wasn't right to want someone dead. Given what he knew though, how could he say it? It's hard to wish prosperity and long life to someone who wanted to kill your mother.

  So instead, he sat with Xavier in silence, watching a parade of animals on Oprah's stage.

  "These are just a few of the wonderful creatures helping save lives, build communities, and eliminate hunger all over the world," the popular hostess said as the credits rolled. "Consider contributing to our Angel Network, or directly to Heifer International, as you make your charitable plans this year. Bye-bye, see you tomorrow!"

  The voiceover announced the evening news, and Xavy picked up the remote. Caine removed his hand, and they continued to sit, the silence less fraught with meaning than before.

  "I think your mom's probably getting dinner ready. We ought to go help."

  "She said she'd make spaghetti. You're ready to eat?" Xavy said, surprise written all over his face. "You just ate. Man, you eat like a horse."

  "You callin' me a ol' nag, boy?" Caine joked. "I'll get you for that."

  He reached for the boy, but Xavy danced out of the way, saying, "Horse, horse, horse."

  They thundered down the stairs with Shadow barking in hot pursuit.

  Dashing through the kitchen, which smelled of garlic and toasting bread, Dana rushed to meet them.

  "What on Earth?"

  Chapter Eight

  "He eats more'n a horse," Xavier said, dashing behind his mom, laughing like a loon. "He said he's hungry again. But he ate earlier. Horse, horse, horse," the boy chanted.

  "Am not," Caine protested with a goofy grin, to Dana's amazement. Then he made his hands into claws and growled. "I'm a dragon, an insatiable dragon."

  Shrieking with delight, the boy dashed into the sitting area with Caine hot on his heels.

  Dana stood, mouth agape, watching the two fool around. Caine never got too close, never crowded the boy. Xavier didn't call any names or do anything too overt. They were having fun, but both were wary and cautious of the other.

  Still. She'd never seen Xavier take to someone this quickly. There were so few male influences around him. When she'd first gone under, when she hoped— prayed—Donovan was really dead, she'd dated. It had taken her two years to garner enough courage to accept a date, but it had been fun. She'd managed two or three dates before they'd gone back on the run.

  She'd never done it again.

  Restraining Shadow, who wasn't sure whether to join in and bark or go after Caine, she watched until she realized it was at a certain point. They were either going to have to take it to the next level of rough-housing or back off.

  Men hated to back off.

  Knowing it and thinking of Caine's leg, she called a halt to the game.

  "Dragon, no boy for you, two weeks. You've been bad," she called out, ending the game in its tracks.

  "Hey, says who?" Xavy protested.

  "For complaining, small boy who might be a dragon's dinner, you get… hmmmmm," she pretended to be considering a dreadful punishment. "Spaghetti."

  "And what do I get?" Caine asked, standing up from his dragon-wing crouch.

  "I told you," she waggled a finger. "No boy, two weeks. You're on a diet. You eat too much," she said, straight-faced. "Spaghetti for you too. Now go wash, both of you."

  "Awww," he said, laughter evident in his voice. "I so wanted boy. Can't I have one, just one?"

  She and Xavy both laughed at the childish plea in Caine's request.

  "Nope," Xavy answered the question. "When Mom says no, it means no."

  The disgusted rejoinder made Dana laugh. "There, you see? From the mouths of babes. Xavier, wash in the bathroom down here. It's in the hall." She pointed him in the right direction. To Caine, she said, "You, kitchen sink. Wash your hands. Prepare to meet a plate of spaghetti."

  Caine looked at Xavier and shrugged. "Guess if she won't give any quarter, we'd better obey. But I'll get you next time, buddy, and your litde dog too."

  "Nuh-uh," Xavy said, dancing away and down the hall. "Shadow's too fast for any old dragon, and so am I."

  "We'll see about that," Caine called after him, then limped to the sink. "Thanks for the reprieve," he muttered as he passed her. "I'm not sure I could take him. He is your son, after all."

  Amazed, Dana gaped at him, pivoting to follow his progress. He grinned at her. That flash of humor warmed her all the way to her toes. Carefree, easy, and happy, it promised all manner of laughter and fun. The kind of fun, real fun, she hadn't had in ... well, forever.

  Shaking off the spell, she frowned. "What were you two doing?"

  "Nothing. Guy stuff."

  Xavy came in, just in time to hear that and said, "Yeah, guy stuff. You wouldn't..." he trailed off, seeing her face. "Uh, you wouldn't have any, uh, jam for the toast, would you?"

  Dana was sure she heard Came say, "Good save," but she didn't comment.

  "I think there's strawberry," Dana said, and Xavy whooped and yanked on the refrigerator door. "But if it's growing green stuff," Dana continued, grinning. "It's destined for the pit of despair. You got it?" She rolled her eyes at his exaggerated groan.

  "Aw Mom, Mr. Wood said it's a sugar mold. You can eat it. It won't kill you or anything."

  She held a hand out for the jam jar. "Mr. Wood's been a bachelor for forty years, so I'm sure his eating habits don't meet my standards, get it?"

  "Yeah, okay. So?" Xavier waited for the verdict. "Pit of despair, or do I get to eat it?"

  "Eat it, dude. It's fine."

  "All right," he said as he bounced onto a stool.

  "The pit of despair?" Caine asked, taking a seat at her direction.

  "
Trash can," Xavy managed to say around a forkful. Swallowing hastily so he wouldn't face her wrath, he continued, "but it's a movie line, from The Princess Bride."

  "Missed that one," Caine said.

  "Not a dragon movie, I guess," Dana said, spinning pasta onto her fork.

  "No, I guess not," Caine said with a grin.

  They spoke of favorite films and music. Xavier brightly joined in to describe his favorite musicians and music. "I get into Bon Jovi, the old stuff, you know?" he piped up.

  "I like some of that too, but the Stones. Now, they know how to make some music." Caine offered his opinion.

  "Yeah, yeah," Xavy enthused. "I got one of their CDs at Starbucks." He glanced at Dana. "Well, Mom got it, but I copped it and downloaded some of the songs onto my iPod."

  "Did you bring your iPod into the house?" Dana asked, sharing a smile with Caine at Xavier's fervor.

  "Yeah, it's upstairs by my stuff. I wanted to leave everything together."

  Dana left the discussion and the dishes in favor of a shower. Caine had told her he'd manage Xavy and clean up, as well as security watch.

  Peeling off her sock, Dana perused the wound on her foot. It wasn't deep, but it was nearly an inch long. She cut new bandages from medical tape, shaped a gauze pad, and slathered on some of the antibiotic cream that Caine had left for her on the counter. It didn't hurt, which surprised her, considering where it was, but she was grateful.

  When she was finished with her shower, she called down to Xavier. "I need a manly boy in here on the double."

  There was a rumble of voices from below and the pounding of feet. Xavier hurried into view. "Hey, guess what, Mom?"

  "What, Xav?"

  He grinned. "Mr. Caine says that if we can get to a computer, we can download some old stuff to my iPod. Some Beatles and maybe even some Sting."

  "Old stuff, yeah," she said, wondering how Sting could be considered old stuff. "It is good. If you enjoy it, we'll download some songs from his first group, The Police."

  "Wow, awesome," he said.

  After his shower, he kept a steady flow of questions as he got ready for bed, dressing in sweatpants, socks, and a shirt. "You think Mr. Caine's for real? You think he'll do what he said?"

  "Yeah," she said, smoothing his hair. "If he can, he will."

  "Cool."

  "You ready to get some sleep?"

  "Uh-huh. Where are you gonna be?"

  "Downstairs for awhile. I'll be on first watch. Then I'll be over there," she pointed at the door across the hall. "I'll leave the door ajar, in case you need me."

  "Okay. C'mere, Shadow." Xavier said as he patted the foot of the bed. The dog obliged, leaping lightly onto the mattress, and quickly curling up, one eye on Dana to see if she objected.

  Dana rubbed his head, making him grin a doggy grin, then did the same sort of head ruffle to her son. "What big, handsome boys. Two-legged and four." She kissed Xavier's cheeks. "Goodnight, Xavy. I love you."

  "Love you too, Mom. Say goodnight to Mr. Caine."

  "Will do."

  She went down the stairs, slowing as she got near the bottom. She didn't know what she was going to say to Caine. He and Xavier had bonded in some strange, male fashion. On one hand, she wanted to warn him off, tell him not to let Xavier get attached to the laughter and the male presence.

  On the other hand, for Xavy's sake, she wanted her boy to see how a real good man acted, how he treated others. None of the teachers or coaches Xavy knew were as strong or as potent a personality as Caine Bradley.

  Caine heard Dana stop on the stairs and wondered at the pause. He stood in the family room with the lights out, searching the darkness for movement, for the betraying gleam of face or night scope.

  To his surprise, although he felt keenly focused, he was calm. The gnawing in his gut, carried since the failed and fatal mission in Tijuana, was absent. The sense of self-loathing that gave him a reckless edge seemed quiescent as well.

  It worried the hell out of him. Where was that sharp pang? Where was the angular, predatory snap he'd come to count on?

  The boy, he thought. The boy had stolen it away, if just for the afternoon.

  A smile tickled the corners of his mouth, even as he continued to watch over the markers he'd mentally set in the shadowy landscape. The kid was sharp, a smart one. To Caine's surprise, he wasn't bitter or cowed by life on the run with his mother. He wasn't playing Pollyanna either, Caine reminded himself, thinking of the kid's comments about wishing his father dead.

  Then there was Dana, lust thinking about her got his juices flowing. Why? He had no idea. She was dangerous, smart, funny, and amazingly sexy all in one package. The way she'd looked, standing over him with that H and K barrel pointed right at his head . . . something in him shuddered. She'd looked desperate but determined. He'd seen what she was made of. Steel. She'd have killed him, if he hadn't managed to get the code words out.

  His smile widened as he thought about her look, her body. He still wasn't sure why he'd been so attracted to her there in the basement. Adrenaline maybe.

  "Maybe," he muttered to himself, doubting it even as he said it. "Maybe not," he amended, thinking of her firm curves molding to his as he and Dana had made their way up the stairs. Strength, brains, and beauty. It was a hell of a combo.

  Maybe that was why he felt lighter, freer, in spite of their circumstances. Maybe.

  When she came into the room with her movements sure, despite the gloom, his senses went on high alert.

  "See any varmints, Sheriff?" she asked with the accent of an old West codger.

  "No, Miss Kitty, no varmints." He eased out of target range of a shot through the window. She moved with a wariness akin to his own, never making a target of herself.

  By plopping down in a chair and kicking her feet up onto the well-worn center table, she minimized her target profile even more. "It's good to sit down for a few minutes."

  "Xavier in bed?"

  "Yeah. He's a solid sleeper, thank goodness. Then again, he's had to be."

  "Guess so. Bet you don't sleep so well," Caine observed. He curbed the instantaneous mental images of ways he could improve her rest. He frowned in annoyance at his errant thoughts.

  She laughed, but there was a rasp of pain in the sound. "No. Between being a mom and always being on alert for Donovan coming for us, I don't sleep very well. What about you?"

  "I don't sleep that well," he answered truthfully, for a change. It felt good. "But if it's my turn to go I'm ready. I rest easy when I rest."

  Her smile was a gleam in the darkness, and his heart picked up its pace. The philosophy seemed to surprise her, and she said so. "I didn't picture you as religious."

  "I'm not. No church would have me. Then again, most churches are full of politicians and hypocrites," he said cynically. "So I believe what I believe and keep going."

  "I can understand that. I miss choir," she mused. "But church membership is another way to be found. I minimize those. The last time I went regularly was before I met Donovan. I went to a Presbyterian school."

  "I know. Trinity University."

  "Yeah. It's weird that you know so much about me. Makes me feel like I've known you forever," she said. There was a long pause before she continued. "But I haven't. I don't know anything about you."

  "There's not much to know," he replied, not wanting to get into this discussion. He was already angry with himself for sharing so much of the load with her. Treating her like a partner. His last partner hadn't survived the experience of being matched up with him, and Caine wasn't eager for a repeat.

  He had to get back on top of the situation. Be the professional agent he'd been trained to be. He had to lead instead of just limping along.

  "I'd like to know something. If we have to live together and trust each other, then I'd like to know you."

  No. If he was sure of anything, he was sure that she wouldn't want to know him. With the life he'd led and the things he'd done, he was damaged goods. What he'd done,
he'd done for the government, to help catch people who did so much worse. It was legal, but was it right? He could never be sure.

  "I'll tell you that I'm good at what I do. I'll protect you as best I can and do everything in my power to ensure your safety."

  "That's not good enough."

  What did she want, a pedigree? He shot her a look from where he stood.

  "It's all I have," he managed the terse reply as he left the room to check the house.

  She was still there when he returned.

  "I thought you would have gone to bed."

  "Hoped, you mean," she replied. He could hear the smile in her voice. "I'm not trying to make you angry, Caine. I just want to understand something about who you are. I'm trusting my life and my son's life to you."

  "I'll lay down my life for you and Xavier." The words were flat and serious. And he meant them. However blurry he'd allowed the lines to be between them, she was still very important. She was the one who had to survive. Dana and the boy.

  "Yes," the reply was instant. "I believe you would."

  She let the room go quiet, but he could tell she wasn't done. Why couldn't she just leave it alone?

  "In his own way, Donovan would die for us too," she said, surprising him. "Of course, that's only if he couldn't kill us first. Tell me the difference between you. I know there is one."

  She was serious. He tried to muffle his anger at being compared, even back-handedly, to Walker. "I don't know what you want to hear, Dana. I'm no saint. Unlike your ex-husband, I don't want you hurt, and I sure don't want you dead."

  "Well, that's something, I guess. Have you ever been married?"

  He gave the distant woods a last long stare before taking the chair opposite her. She wasn't going to let this go before he answered at least a few of her questions. "No. Engaged, once. She ran a non-profit I investigated. In the end, she wanted someone to take care of her."

  "That sounds ..."

  "Boring," he finished for her.