by Jeanne Adams
"He was cool," Xavy muttered, eyes screwed shut to block the possible sight of a needle. He pressed so tightly into Caine's embrace that Caine's back bowed in an effort to match the force. "He's read all the Eragon books."
"Oh, that's unusual." Two readers. No wonder the boys had played so well together.
"We were playing castle and fortress. Then one of those little kids yelled and I looked at them and missed the next rung...." his voice trailed off, and he bit his lip. "Mommmmm, it hurts," he protested. His free hand was gripping Caine's arm. Even as he called for her, Xavier hadn't let go of the man who held him so protectively.
Meeting Caine's eyes, she saw worry and the fierce need to shield and defend, far more than was explained by his duty. Her heart turned over once more. He loved her boy.
She might have been able to talk herself out of loving him, after a century or two of torment, but it was a lost cause now. That he cared for, maybe even loved, her precious son, set Caine so far into her soul, she'd never get him out.
"What? What is it?" Caine asked, and Xavier's eyes flew open too.
"Nevermind. Really. I'm okay."
"Maaaammmmmmaaaa," now Xavy did wail, because he'd seen his bloodied arm, sutured with spidery threads. Seven of them.
"Oh, baby," Dana took them both into her arms, since they were inseparable at this point. "It's okay, it's fine."
"It is indeed," the doctor said, satisfaction evident. Tools clanged into a metal basin, and he started dabbing the area clean. "Seven stitches, m'boy. A good, lucky number. Maybe it'll keep you away from any more emergency rooms."
Xavy stuttered something affirmative.
"Jacket's a total loss," the doctor said, twitching the sleeve he'd cut away. "Sorry 'bout that."
"It's okay," Dana repeated. "We'll get another."
"How long's it been since your young man . . ."he flipped the chart, checked the name. "Since Mike had a tetanus shot?"
"Shot?" Xavy protested. "Mom, no ..."
"It's okay," she soothed. "Last year, boosters and tetanus."
"Excellent. Okay. I'm going to write you a scrip for antibiotics, a short course. Don't want an infection. I'll give you a scrip for prescription-strength Tylenol for the pain. Deal?" This time, the doctor spoke directly to Xavier, holding out his hand for a shake.
"D-d-deal," the boy managed, then huddled back in the refuge of Caine's arms.
"You did good, too, Dad," the doctor winked at Caine. "He'll be fine. A bit of rest, keep that arm clean and bandaged, some antibiotic ointment, you'll be all set."
Dana left the curtained area with the doctor while Caine helped Xavier down from the table and got their things.
"He'll be all right, really?"
"Fine. In a couple of days, he'll be itching to get the bandage off and see the stitches. Don't let him," the doctor warned. "But don't worry either. No serious damage. It's a long cut, but not too deep. Bandage might have done, but it's right on that line of the bone, and he's still growing. The stitches heal it quicker'n a butterfly."
"Okay, but..."
"Now, don't worry, Mrs. Peterson. Have his pediatrician call here if he—"
"She."
"Right, if she has any questions. She can take the stitches out in a week or so."
"All right," Dana mumbled, accepting the prescription forms. "Can we get these filled on premises, Dr. Moore?"
"Yep, first floor pharmacy," he called, walking to another cubicle. "Have a good trip home."
"Those the scrips?" Caine asked, leading Xavier, one arm around the boy's shoulders.
"Yes, we need to get them filled."
"Elevators are through there," a passing nurse pointed the way. At their startlement, she grinned and pointed to the papers in Dana's hand. "Saw the scrips. Go up one floor, hang a left, you'll see the pharmacy."
"Helpful, friendly staff. I hate it. Makes me suspicious," Caine muttered as they reached the elevators.
"What doesn't?"
"You, Shadow, our boy, Mike," he said, steadying Xavier. The boy was wobbling as they walked.
"Are you tired, honey?" she asked him.
"Yeah. And my arm's really starting to hurt," he said plaintively.
"We'll get some painkillers into you and get on the j road. You can lean the seat all the way down and rest."
Caine handled the pharmacy the way he'd handled the ER check in. He offered his gold credit card and asked for all the forms so he could submit to insurance himself. The clerk never batted an eye, handing over the forms and bottles with alacrity.
It wasn't until they were in the car, heading south that Caine realized his hands were shaking. Sweat rolled down the back of his neck.
"Pull over," Dana said quietly.
"What?"
"Xavy's asleep already. Pull over, let it pass."
"Let what pass?"
"The shakes. I know the look and the feeling."
Taking her advice, he pulled off the road and jammed the gearshift into park. Dropping his head to the steering wheel, he let the sensation of helpless terror flow over him.
Her hand rubbed his back, a soothing pattern of circles and caresses as she might have done for Xavier.
"It's okay. He's okay."
"I know, but..."
"But. Yeah, that gets ya, right in the gut."
He shook all over like a wet dog and scrubbed his hands over his face. "Wow. Scary."
"Understatement of the century. It doesn't hit you when it's happening. You put one foot in front of the other, do what you need to do. It's when it's over that you have to hold onto the world. I've had that feeling a lot."
"That sums it up," Caine muttered, letting the worry and fear fall away, as hard as it was. Oh, God, he was as hooked by the kid as he was by the mom.
"You have news?" Donovan barked into the phone.
"They're in Maryland. One of the credit cards your source gave us just got used. Elam's been tracking for it."
"Where?"
"Rockville."
"And?" He'd heard a hesitation from Patrick. There was something else.
"It was at a hospital. For the boy."
"What?" Donovan's rage erupted, spewing through the phone line. "Find out what she's done to my son. Find out."
"Yes, sir. I'll call as soon as I know. But I didn't want to wait..."
"Find out." Donovan hung up the call. He was glad Paulina had left for the bank. She was too tempting a target for his rage. He wanted her to fear him but not that way. He wanted to kill someone, break something. Burn something. He wanted Dana at his feet, begging for her life. He wanted to watch the life leave her beautiful eyes, know she wouldn't thwart him, haunt him any longer.
"Aaaaaargh!" he hurled the statue from the corner of his desk. It flew across the room, gouging a dramatic hole in the elegant paneling. The mark, a crackle of broken splinters on the walnut finish was like a shattered window. As he watched, the whole panel cracked with a sound like a gunshot.
It was so satisfying, so invigorating, he wanted to do it again. He found himself searching for something, anything, heavy enough to throw.
The sheer idiocy of the action brought him back to himself. Thank God no one had seen him scurrying around hefting things, testing their weight in anticipation of their impact.
"Loco," he hissed. "I must control this. I will. Control. This." He spaced the words out, drawing in great gasps of air to level his racing heart. "She drives me to this, demon that she is. Witch that she is, to have stolen my son."
He paced the floors, still striving for calm. "No, I must focus on Donny. On my son. On his return to me." He stopped, closed his eyes, and felt his system balance. "Yes, that is it."
What would Sun Tzu do? With this as the battlefield, how would the greatest of generals have played for a win?
He began to smile. Yes. That was it. He opened his phone and dialed.
"Pollack," he barked, still smiling. "Where are you? How soon will you be in Richmond?" You false son of a bitch,
he thought, cursing Pollack for a traitor in his mind.
"Tomorrow," came the flat, irritated reply. "And yeah, I know it's changing the plan. The kid got hurt. I had to take him to the emergency room."
Donovan frowned. Why would Pollack tell him the truth with no evidence of fear or surprise. Was he being played from both sides?
"What happened?"
"Kid tried to make a break for it."
"You hurt my son?" Icy fury suffused him. No one hurt his son.
"No. He cut his arm on purpose so we'd have to go to the ER, so he could try to escape." Now he couid hear the wrath in Pollack's voice, the deep desire to hurt something or someone. Here was that darkness Donovan had sensed, felt a kinship with.
"Clever."
"Fuckin'-A. No offense, but I can't wait to dump these two on you, man."
"No offense taken, my friend," Donovan managed a laugh. "I had doubted you, Pollack," he said, pacing with different energy now. He felt the rush of things coming together, of the fates playing into his hands. He knew he was going to win. "But not now. Bring them to me. I'll be waiting."
It was late when they talked to Sears, told him about the call. No doubt now, that Richmond was a trap. They stopped at a hotel for few hours. Sears had urged them to go to ground, let him run some scenarios.
Dana toyed with the sparkling ring on her finger, watching it flash in the fading light, sliding it around and around. She realized that she wanted the engagement ring to really mean something. She wanted the chance, the emotional room, for it to be possible.
She'd chased the options around and around. Even as she'd denied the possibility, maybe it was time to disappear. Her way. She'd let Caine know where they were. Only Caine.
"I know how," she whispered to the black of the ceiling. "It's not that hard." And she did know how, the same way Donovan did. Her impromptu strategizing came together, and she saw the pattern, the logical sequence in which it would work.
Caine came out of the bathroom. "You're thinking so hard, I can hear it over here," he said. "Tell me what you're so busy planning."
With remarkable calm, she told him. "I do know what to do. I can make it work."
"Everything would have to go perfectly. Are you sure you'd make it? That Xavy would?" His was the voice of reason.
"I know there are risks," she said, snapping with impatience.
"You've come too far, Dana, to chance Xavy now. This plan risks him. If it goes sour, you do Walker's work for him. He gets Xavy. And, God forbid, what if Xavy's hurt or killed? Then all the sacrifices are in vain."
It was harsh, impossible in fact. She hated that he was right, hated that she had no option.
"We'll figure it out, Dana. Together."
She was about to question the words, the meaning. Everything. But his phone rang once more. She was beginning to hate the sound of Caine's cell phone. It always interrupted something important between them, and it always brought bad news.
Minutes later, the hotel phone rang, and she picked it up.
"Mrs. Markham?"
"Tervain?" she looked at Caine, who nodded. "Are you all right? They told us..." she listened intently. "Yes, I'll put it on speaker."
Oblivious, Xavier slept on the other bed, Shadow's head propped on his hip.
"Hey, old man. Still alive?" Caine said, by way of a greeting when the speaker was engaged.
"For now," Tervain replied with apparent cheer. "Takin' it day by day, ya' know?"
Dana shot a look Caine's way, and got a shrug in reply. Tervain sounded . . . different. It worried the hell out of her.
With terse phrasing, Caine explained the arrange- merits that needed to be made. "Are you sure about this course of action, Mrs. Markham?" Tervain asked. His voice was eager as it flowed through the connection, even as he questioned her judgment.
"I will not run any more, Tervain. Donovan will never stop. Not while he's alive and free. If we confront him, using the decoy, we stand a chance of ending this, one way or the other," she added.
"You could be hurt. You know it."
"My affairs are in order. You have the details," she reminded him. "You introduced me to the lawyer, remember?"
"I remember. I had hoped it wouldn't come to this."
"We don't get everything we want, do we?"
"Not even for Christmas," Tervain said, irreverently. "I'm duty bound to remind you, you can go witness protection again. We'll cover you. You know that."
"I know. But sooner or later, I have to make a stand. I choose here and now."
There was a sigh from the other end, but he didn't sound defeated. It sounded more like he was mentally changing gears. "Okay then, hang on. People," he said, "We're a go." There was rustling in the background, the sound of a door closing, and Tervain was back. "The meet's tomorrow, in Richmond, right, Caine?"
"That's what's set. Walker's up to something, more than what we guessed. He was too pleased."
"I hope not. We don't have much time as it is. Head for Smith Mountain Lake, Caine, you know the place."
"Got it."
"Excellent. Dana, we're in your debt. This time—"
Dana cut him off. "Let's just get on with it, okay?" She couldn't stand it if he spouted cliches about justice. She no longer gave a damn about justice. If her attitude guaranteed a one way ticket to hell, so be it.
Tervain had a last warning.
"If you get to the lake house and there aren't lights, get the hell out. If the lights don't flash the right sequence, get out. If anything doesn't jibe, haul ass. Our decoy is already there, as are the three veteran agents to guard the boy. You know them all, Caine," and he rattled off names and events which were gibberish to Dana.
"Top choices."
"I'll be there before you leave for Richmond."
"Why not Sears?" They heard a sigh on the other end and exchanged glances. "What? What's with Sears?"
"The bullet wound went sour. He's in the hospital with a one-hundred-plus degree fever getting IV antibiotics."
Relief coursed through her. An infection. Not dead. Thank God. "Give him our regards, Tervain," she said, meaning every word. "He held it together until you got back."
"He did," Tervain responded. "And I will. Now get going."
When they'd hung up, Caine sat across from her, took her hands. "Dana, are you sure? There's still WitSec."
She shook her head. "No, I'm not sure. I'm scared to death. I'm scared I'll die, I'm scared I'll kill Donovan." She pulled her hands free, paced to the door, and returned. "Hell, I'm scared I won't kill Donovan, and this will never end."
He reached for her, and she backed away. "No, not now. I won't argue with you." Her voice broke and she took a hiccoughing breath. "Damn. I don't want to wake Xavy."
"The bathroom."
She glanced at the exterior door. Double locked with a chair propped under the knob.
"Shadow, guard," she ordered in German. The dog didn't move, but his whole posture changed.
With Caine's hand on her waist, she preceded him into the small room, braced her hands on the sink as he closed the door behind them.
"C'mere."
His arms were open, and she walked into the haven they offered. Whatever he was angry about, whatever lay unsaid between them, she didn't care. When he enveloped her in his embrace, she let down the steel with which she leashed her emotions, let the tears of anguish escape.
"Let it go," he murmured, resting his chin on her hair, rubbing a hand down her spine. "Let fly, love. You've been bottling that in for too long. Shhhhh-shhhhh," he soothed, rocking her where they stood.
It seemed forever before the storm of weeping subsided. He held tissues out to her, continuing to cradle her as she calmed.
"How long's it been since you did that?"
"Cried?" she managed, rubbing at her gritty eyes. How long had it been? "Like that? I can't remember."
"Too long, then." He caressed her cheek, framed her face with his powerful hands. "You're due a break. You've pai
d in to the plan, it's time the plan paid off for you."
"From your mouth to God's ear," she managed through the residual sobs catching in her chest. "He's the only one who can give me an ending, at this point."
"Yeah. Maybe, for once, The Man is on our side."
She nodded. "It seems to be all I do. Pray, that is. Pray we don't draw attention to ourselves. Pray Donovan doesn't find us. Pray that somebody shoots him before he can get his hands on Xavy."
He stilled. "You really pray that?"
"So sue me." The rumbling sound of his laughter lightened her heavy heart.
"You're a rare one," he said, easing her away to kiss her once more. It started off as a benison, a simple, easy meeting of the lips.
It didn't stay that way.
Chapter Seventeen
Before she knew it, she was struggling out of her shirt, working the buttons on his.
"Oh, God, Dana, I need ..."
"Yes, me too," she tore her mouth away from his long enough to pull her shirt off.
Mouths fused, they let the wide sink carry their weight as they grappled with the firestorm of needs overtaking them both.
"Here, let me..."
"No, like . . ."
"Ahhhhhh," she couldn't suppress the moan as he found her full, turgid nipple, suckled it, and kissed his way to the other. Every touch of his skin to hers sent currents of need flowing through her body, energizing her, and driving her nearly frantic with excitement.
She arched into him, and he groaned as she connected with his rock-hard erection. He was magnificent. His body was hard and strong. Scars, like battle flags, crisscrossed his chest. She used her tongue to soothe them, to kiss away the reminders of darker times.
She wanted time.
There was only now.
They were locked together, their hands frantically caressing and seeking. Within Dana, passion and desperation warred for the upper hand.
With deft command of her body and his own, he bowed her onto the counter, delighting her with hot, wild, nipping kisses down her belly and thighs.
"Oh, God, Caine," she cried, feeling herself melt into a sensory creature. "Yes, touch me . . . yes, like . . . ooooooh." She moaned as he teased her with his tongue, driving her to the brink of orgasm. Her body was slick with a sheen of sweat and the desperate craving for fulfillment.