by Kari Lemor
Curious glances followed them as they left. Yeah, there’d be questions come Monday but she’d figure out something to tell them. She never mentioned any relatives, so a long-lost cousin or something equally cliché would probably work.
She opened the car door and Jack slid the drowsy child into his car seat. Jonathan roused enough to take hold of Jack’s hand.
“You tum home, Dahdee?”
Jack glanced back at her, a question in his eyes. Her heart broke into little pieces. Did she have a choice? It had been almost a month since Jack and Jonathan had spent any time in the other’s presence. And she wanted to see for herself that Jack’s gunshot wound had healed. He would never tell her if he’d had problems with it.
“Can you come back to the house for a little while? Jonathan would love it.”
He flashed her a tight smile. Did he not want to come back? If he didn’t, she wouldn’t force him. Maybe he had a date later. She started to shake her head but he simply closed the back door of the car and patted her shoulder.
“I’ll meet you at the house. I’ve got a company truck. I’ll park out back as usual.”
By the time she drove home and parked in her driveway, Jack was already there ready to get Jonathan out of the car seat. He was sound asleep. Would Jack still want to stay? What did she want?
“I’ll bring him in the house, Calico. You get the diaper bag and the door.”
“Thanks, he is getting a little heavy while toting other things around.”
She followed him upstairs as he put their son in his bed. Standing back, she allowed Jack to remove Jonathan’s cowboy hat, and his shoes, his own hat and duster having been removed on the way back. I can’t get enough of seeing these two together. Jack was gentle and loving, so opposite the macho, tough FBI agent she had fallen in love with. When she watched him with their son, she hated to admit this tender side of him had her falling even more deeply than before.
* * * *
Jack gazed down at the peaceful face of his son in slumber as Callie slipped out of the room. Anger stirred that this wasn’t an everyday occurrence. It tore his heart out knowing it could be months before he could touch his son again. Maybe Callie would let him hang around until Jonathan awoke. The hour at the party was hardly sufficient.
He kissed the boy on the forehead and walked through the hallway toward the stairs. Callie sat on her bed, tugging on her boots.
“Need some help?’
Her eyes flew toward him at the question and her lips turned up at the corners. Pink tinged her cheeks. Was she remembering what they’d done in this room the last time he’d been here? He’d never forget it. It ran through his mind every night as he lay awake cursing his life and haunted his dreams when he managed to fall asleep.
Walking closer, he bent to lift her booted foot. She allowed it and leaned back on the bed. The snug bustier accentuated her curves and Jack shuddered as he tugged the boot off.
“Heather’s sister, Charlotte, loaned me these boots. I can’t believe she wears them for real.”
“They’re nice.” Seeing her in nothing but the boots crossed his mind. More thoughts he shouldn’t be having but what the heck. He removed Callie’s other boot then peeled the knee highs down and off.
“I only had them on for two hours but my feet are killing me.”
Holding onto both feet, he rubbed her instep and toes. The sound erupting from her mouth had parts of him waking up. Parts he should keep asleep while hanging around Callie.
He slid his hands from her feet to her ankles then climbed farther up her calves. Keeping his eyes glued to her face, he was aware the moment she decided they shouldn’t be doing this. Why did she have to be so much stronger than him?
She sat up straighter though didn’t pull her legs away. “How’s the gunshot wound? Has it healed all the way?” Was she trying to get his attention away from her legs? It wouldn’t work. Her legs had always been his favorite part.
He stayed kneeling between her feet and chuckled. “It was barely a scratch and it was a month ago. It’s fine.”
Crossing her arms over her chest, she narrowed her eyes. “Not that you would tell me otherwise.”
He leaned back slightly, pulling his shirt from his waistband. “Did you want to see for yourself?” His eyebrows waggled humorously. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”
Callie pursed her lips. “I don’t have a gunshot wound, you do.”
What would she do if he pushed the issue? Would she fall prey to the charms he was trying to show or would she bolt like a scared rabbit? Touching her again would cause him more pain and sleepless night but hell, he’d always been a glutton for punishment.
Unbuttoning his shirt, he pulled the sides apart, warmth flowing through him at her gasp and intake of breath. She might pretend she wasn’t affected but he knew otherwise.
“See,” he said, showing her the wound site and small scar remaining. Not that he’d tell her about the slight infection he’d gotten shortly after. More worry was something she certainly didn’t need.
Taking her hand, he guided it to his side. “All better.”
He kept hold of her hand and stroked his other one along the arm she’d braced on his shoulder. His fingers itched to continue their journey but would she let him?
“See, I’m fine. How about you?”
She started to pull away at his touch. No, he couldn’t let her, needed her too much. Distract her.
“So, one of the numbers you found was an FBI number.”
Her eyes widened and her hands remained where they were. Success.
“Do you know who the FBI agent is who works for Victor? Did you get him?”
He shook his head. His hands touching her legs again removed some of the disappointment. “No, it was an empty office not attached to a specific person. Anybody in the building could have used that phone. But this at least is solid proof someone in the Bureau works for Victor.” Thanks to his Army buddy, Chris Shaunessy, who worked out of the Baltimore field office. Getting this kind of info was almost impossible if you didn’t have access, which Jack didn’t anymore.
“You already knew that, though,” she responded. “It’s probably the person who kept giving away your position right after Angelo was killed.”
He continued moving his hands up her legs. The last thing he wanted to think about was Cabrini. Her skin was like silk, her thigh muscles tight but lean.
“Do you still run in the mornings? You used to love doing that. Said it was the one thing that woke you up adequately.” Though he’d had a unique way of waking her up too. Something more to his liking.
“Not every day like I used to. But I’ll go occasionally when Jonathan is at school. I don’t often get time without him and when I do, I need to focus on getting work done.”
His jaw tensed. “I should be here for you. Make things easier for you.” He wanted to be with her. Would give anything for that to happen. Now was all he had.
Pulling her closer, he moved one hand to the ties on her top, his other skimming up to her thigh. The ties came undone easily so he trailed his fingers over the creamy mounds popping out.
“Jack, we shouldn’t…”
When he touched his lips to the skin he’d been caressing, her words dried up. She slipped her hand into his hair and clenched, drawing him closer. Don’t need to be told twice. Licking his tongue along the pebbled tip, he tasted the sweetness he’d been so long denied. How had he gotten by without her as long as he had? How would he do it again when he needed to leave?
Right now he didn’t care. The taste of Callie on his lips drove the flames of desire higher and higher. His arousal throbbed and his jeans tightened. Sliding his hand under the lace of her panties, he squeezed her firm behind, wanting to go further. He pulled her even closer, trailing his mouth over her breast. Her legs slid farther apart to accommodat
e him. Dipping his finger inside her center, he found her warm and waiting for him. Heaven, pure sweet heaven.
As he slid a second finger inside to explore, she shook herself and pushed back. It had been too good to be true. Should have known better.
Her glimmering eyes filled with remorse as she stood and moved to face away from him. “We can’t, Jack, I’m sorry. I can’t put myself through that, then have you leave again.”
It tore her apart. For him it was even worse. Shattered dreams and desires were truths he lived with daily.
“I know, Calico, I’m sorry, too. I just want you so damn much.” Stepping toward her, he placed his hand on her shoulder. She tensed but didn’t pull away. “You’re beautiful and loving and I need a little bit of that in my life every now and then, so I don’t—”
He couldn’t finish. Couldn’t tell her how often he thought of putting a bullet in his head to end his suffering. Yeah, he was alive and healthy but living without her and Jonathan and always on the run was worse than anything hell could come up with. But he wasn’t a coward. It was his fault Victor was in their lives. Get back to work. Find a way to remove him.
Callie turned around, her eyes wide and frightened, guessing what he’d been about to say. Touching his cheek, she caressed the stubble that had gathered since his morning shave. A lone tear blazed a path down her cheek.
“Oh, Jack. I’m sorry I can’t give you everything you want. But I can offer comfort for now. I hope it helps a little.”
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she settled her head on his chest. Every nerve ending on alert, he slid his arms around her perfect frame. As he crushed her to him, her warmth seeped into his body, making him feel alive again, healing him, if only fractionally.
As she stroked the back of his neck with her soft fingers, the cracks in his heart began to mend. Her lilac fragrance permeated his nostrils, sending emotions spiraling higher than they’d been in a long while.
They stood that way for a while, Callie giving him much needed strength. Was she taking as well? He wouldn’t question. For now, he’d take what she offered and give her whatever she wanted. But after this short reprieve, she’d most likely want him to go away. Not for herself but for the sake of their son. And he would. He had no other choice.
* * * *
‘Jonathan was rushed to the hospital. Callie said something about internal bleeding’.
The words played through Jack’s mind over and over. The call from Scott had come a few hours ago while he’d been meeting with Steve. It took two hours to get to Connecticut but at least he hadn’t been on the construction site in Pennsylvania. That drive would have been interminable.
What in the world had made Jonathan start bleeding internally? Had he fallen? Had an accident? And how serious was it? Internal bleeding could be fatal. Scott hadn’t had too many details. Callie had been hysterical when she’d called Heather, and Heather had been distraught herself when she’d relayed the information to his cousin.
He glanced at his watch, noting it was almost midnight. When he’d gotten the call, he’d jumped right in the truck but he had to stay at the speed limit. The last thing he needed was to get pulled over.
Approaching the hospital, he checked for the right parking lot, but slowed at the sight of the police car near the entrance to the Emergency room. New Jersey cops? What were they doing here in Connecticut? Victor’s men? Looking for him? How would they know he’d be here?
He sought out the farthest parking spot he could find then slipped on the bulky tweed blazer and straw fedora that had been his dad’s. They came in handy when he needed to change his appearance. Grabbing the thick-framed glasses from the glove compartment, he shoved them on his face.
A few entrances might be less guarded so he scouted around the building. As suspected, a delivery truck was offloading food supplies for the cafeteria. Impatient to be with his son but unwilling to get caught, he waited and slipped in when the driver was inside, quickly making his way to the main part of the building.
Ducking into a men’s room, he texted Heather, not wanting to bother Callie if she was with the doctors. The text came back swiftly. They’d taken Jonathan from the ER and moved him to ICU. Heather was in the waiting room nearby.
Making his way up, he was glad the hallways were deserted at this time of night, the lighting low.
“What happened?”
He kept his voice soft but the words sounded rough even to his own ears. It wasn’t often he saw his son but he loved him more than life itself. What would he do if something happened to him? He was a large part of the reason Jack still fought to keep away from Victor’s men.
Heather’s eyes were tired and sad as she gazed up at him. Her shoulders lifted halfheartedly. “I don’t know. Callie was pretty freaked out when she called me. They won’t let me in. I’m not family.”
Pulling her close, he rubbed her back. “Yes, you are. You’re the closest thing Callie has to a family.”
“Thanks, Jack. Let me bring you over. Maybe I can get some more information. The doctor was planning on talking to Callie soon. Although I can’t tell them who you actually are but it’ll have to be a family member.”
“Say I’m Callie’s brother. That should be enough.”
She nodded. “I’m sure she needs someone about now. I hate that she has to go through this alone.”
Guilt flooded through him, his head spinning. Damn. What did he need to do to find evidence to convict and put Cabrini away for good? Without getting himself killed in the process? He couldn’t keep living life this way. His family needed him.
The nurses at the ICU desk were happy enough to allow Jack to enter the ward, mumbling something about the poor woman being alone and upset. The doctor had apparently just been in to see them. They wouldn’t tell Heather anything though.
Stroking her arm, he promised, “I’ll make sure you get word as soon as I find out what’s up.”
Heather smiled tightly then walked back out to the waiting room. Jack headed in the direction the nurse had indicated. There was a large window into the room but a curtain had been pulled across it for privacy. The door was open.
One bed sat in the middle of the small room along with lots of equipment but the only thing Jack took notice of when he stood in the doorway was his son, lying still and calm. An oxygen mask covered his tiny face and several tubes were taped to his arm, connected to clear bags hanging near the bed. A vise clamped around his heart. What could have caused this?
Callie looked up at his approach and her eyes showed confusion for a second. Jack pushed back the hat and removed the glasses. Recognition dawned and she stood, moving closer to him.
“Jack.”
Her lower lip trembled as tears streamed down her cheeks. Callie was tough but this had outdone even her. Fear slashed through him and he drew her into his arms. Even as distraught as she was, with anxiety coursing through him, the pull between them was electric.
“What happened?” His gaze kept returning to the pale form of Jonathan on the bed.
“I don’t know,” she sobbed, more tears trailing down her face. “He was fine this afternoon. Then after supper he complained he didn’t feel good. Right before bed he got a bloody nose and when he used the bathroom there was blood in his urine. I immediately rushed him here.”
A sob caught her breath. “The doctor said the tox screen came back and he has warfarin in his system.”
“Warfarin? Like in rat poison? Do you have any of that in the house?”
“No,” Callie wailed. “I would never keep anything like that in the house, and if I did, I would certainly never leave it anywhere Jonathan could get at it.”
Her eyes glared daggers at him and she pushed him away. Not that he blamed her. She’d never knowingly put their son in danger. His fear notched up at the thought of his son consuming poison that could kill him.
Needing her warmth, he pulled Callie back again. “I know you wouldn’t. I’m sorry. I’m just scared. How much did the doctor say he had? Is it—” A lethal dose? No, those words stuck in his throat and couldn’t get past his lips. The thought of losing Jonathan, even with the small time they’d had together, was enough to send him to his knees. Moving over to the bed, he sank onto the edge, getting a closer look at the child.
Callie moved with him and rubbed her hand over his shoulder as she stood by his side. Trying to console him or herself?
“The doctor said he thought Jonathan would eventually recover as long as he could get through the next twenty-four hours. They’ve got him on medication to try and counteract the effects.”
Slipping his arm around Callie’s waist, he settled her on his knee. No protest. He reached to grasp Jonathan’s tiny hand and leaned into Callie’s shoulder, closing his eyes. Her comfort was something he’d missed, could have used it so many times in the past few years. Not that he’d admit it to anyone because they’d think he was weak. She never had though. During their short time together, she’d allowed him to take comfort in her friendship at a time where he was deeply immersed in undercover work. She’d been the one person he’d confided in how lonely it could be. How isolating. It had been nothing, though, compared to the last three years.
“He’ll be all right,” he tried to convince her, or maybe he was trying to convince himself. “Everything’s going to be fine, you’ll see. He’ll be up and about it no time.”
She rested her head on his and sighed. “The doctor said even if he’s fine, he’ll still need to stay here for at least a week. They don’t want to take any chances. He said sometimes symptoms show up days after the ingestion.”
Lifting his son’s hand he pressed a kiss to his fingers. He squeezed them tight, hoping maybe Jonathan would feel him here, feel the love they both had for him. Then he gently put his hand back down to pick up Callie’s, the one not around his shoulder. She’s still sitting in your lap. Normally she would have pulled away by now. It always stabbed deep inside when she did.