Operation Unleashed

by Justine Davis

  “Well, you are,” he said lamely. “And you do.”

  “And you’re going where with this flattery? Or do I already know?”

  He kept his voice as neutral as he could manage, no anger, no snark. Resisted the urge to insist it wasn’t flattery at all.

  “I just wanted to know if...you ever, even once, considered that you could be wrong?”

  To his relief, she didn’t leap to Doug’s defense. Perhaps because at the core, this wasn’t really about Doug.

  “You’re a very smart man, Drew. I appreciate you in a way that I never would have before.”

  That damned word again. He tamped down the irritation it sparked. She was talking, not angrily, and he didn’t want to mess that up. Not to mention that the compliments returned were nice.

  “And in case you hadn’t noticed, I’ve come to trust your judgment. And he was your brother a lot longer than he was my boyfriend. So, of course I’ve considered that I could be wrong.”

  He suddenly knew how she’d felt at the too-rare praise. Even the damned appreciation didn’t seem so bad, added to all the rest.

  And all of it seemed to pale next to the admission. At least she’d thought about it. Even if she’d rejected the notion, she’d thought about it. That was something. Not enough, true...but then, he wasn’t going to ever get what would be enough.

  “May I ask you something in turn?”

  The formality of the way they were talking suddenly struck him. But maybe that was what they had to do, to keep it at least calm.

  “Go ahead,” he said.

  “You went away to college when your brother was fifteen. So you didn’t really live with him from then on.”

  “No. You two took off right after I came back.” He held up a hand when she stiffened. “Not a slam, just a fact.”

  “This isn’t my question, but...did you ever wonder why we waited until you were back?”

  He blinked. “What did that have to do with anything?”

  “He didn’t want to leave while you were gone. He knew you’d come back, then your parents wouldn’t be alone.”

  He opened his mouth to deny that Doug would ever think that deeply about anyone other than himself. Then he stopped himself. They were communicating, really talking calmly, for the first time in a while and he didn’t want to ruin it with a knee-jerk reaction. That it was so ingrained became clear to him when he couldn’t think of anything else to say. He was thankful when Alyssa turned back to her original question. Which, again, she phrased much as he’d phrased his.

  “Say you were right about the Doug you knew, grew up with. Have you ever considered that he might have changed, after we left? That he wasn’t the same person you remember?”

  He wasn’t sure how to answer that without dumping them back into the fruitless arguments of the past. He sighed, and went with the truth.

  “Not really, no.”

  “Well, that’s honest at least, if not very charitable.”

  “I gave to the charity of Douglas Kiley from the day he was born,” Drew said. And he meant it. Doug had siphoned off everything, his parents’ attention and time, then everyone else’s.

  Alyssa didn’t respond at first, and he wondered if he’d managed to make her angry, even though his tone had been, with effort, still neutral.

  “I never thought of it like that,” she said after a moment. “Being an only child, I didn’t have the division of attention.”

  He hadn’t expected that. He knew she’d been the apple of her parents’ eyes, beautiful, smart, destined for a success they’d never had. It must have been a shock to her when they’d turned on her so completely. “No,” he said softly, “you just had it cut off altogether, when you needed it most.”

  Her head came up sharply. “I didn’t thank you for that. Going to my parents. And what you said to them.”

  “For all the good it did. Your mother is...a real piece of work.”

  He grimaced at the memory of the woman coldly declaring to him that her daughter had been dead to her from the day she’d run off with Doug, ruining her chances at the life she’d planned for her. Getting pregnant had only sealed her fate. The woman had no interest at all in her only grandchild, had refused anything but a brief glance at a picture of Luke, which had brought on a snort of disgust and the comment that he looked just like his father.

  “Yes. She is.” She stared down at the pillow she’d been toying with, as if she desperately needed to do something with her hands. “That’s part of the reason running off with Doug was so attractive.”

  “To get away from her?”

  “Yes. I mean I loved him, insanely, but escape was a factor, too.”

  He managed not to glance at the gold pendent. And somehow reacting to the insane part seemed like a bad idea, especially when she was admitting something he hadn’t known, that she’d never told him before, but that he probably should have guessed. He had, after all, met her mother.

  “She always felt short-changed in her own life. So I was supposed to live the life she thought she should have had for her. Never mind what I wanted.”

  “I’m glad you’re nothing like her,” he finally said, thinking that should be safe enough.

  “I try. She’s a sterling example, in a backwards way.”

  The way she said it made him smile. She truly had come a very long way.

  “And I’m glad you didn’t like her. Even though she feels about Doug the same way you do.”

  Drew’s brows shot downward. “Is that really what you think? That I’d like a mother who could treat you like that, just because of that?”

  “No. No, I don’t, really.”

  Mollified, he said, “Besides, she doesn’t dislike Doug because of who he was. She has no idea who he was. She hates him because she blames him.”

  “For what I did.”

  “He manipulated you. God, Lyss, you were just a kid. He’s lucky the age of consent is sixteen here, or he could have gone to jail for that.”

  She stiffened. “I was with Doug of my own free will. Whatever else, don’t doubt that.”

  “I know that.” Again he felt the urge to push, to make her see. But this was the most they’d talked about it without one of them losing their cool, and he didn’t want to ruin that, so he bit back the words. “And I know he cared about you.” He didn’t add “As much as he cared about anyone besides himself,” for the same reason he didn’t push, and because he’d said it often enough before.

  The admission seemed to soothe her. “Can I ask one more question?”

  “Lyss, ask anything you want.” He meant it. They hadn’t talked like this, openly and calmly, for so long, in maybe forever.

  “You said your parents blamed you when Doug and I left.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  Well, maybe he’d been a little hasty in telling her to ask anything. Because he didn’t like the answer to this one. But he made himself answer it anyway. It seemed crucial at this moment to keep this going.

  “They thought I’d always been too hard on him. Expected him to be like me. That he’d turned out the way he did because he couldn’t.”

  “You did set a pretty high standard,” Alyssa said.

  Another compliment? Drew wondered. Or was she agreeing with his parents?

  “For all his complaining about you,” she said, “I always sensed that deep down, he respected you tremendously.”

  Drew snorted inelegantly. “Could have fooled me.”

  But his own words, about how she knew things about people, came back to him. But that didn’t mesh with how Doug had fooled her. Had that been how she’d learned? By trying to read a master manipulator?

  Or had her life been so crazy, so grim, that she’d had to learn that skill just to survive? T
hat thought made his stomach knot.

  “Perhaps he did fool you,” she said. “Because it was clear to me that he didn’t even try to live up to you because he was afraid he couldn’t.”

  He felt an old, familiar chill. All the hope this long, quiet, even deep conversation had engendered in him died a quick, icy death. She did agree with his parents, that Doug’s fate, the course he chose in life, was partly because of him. Doug had said as much after all, that he would chose the darker path because he couldn’t match Drew’s.

  So much for compliments. He should have known. When it came down to it, Alyssa would always support Doug. Even almost seven years dead, his charming scoundrel of a brother was still wreaking havoc with his life.

  Chapter 17

  Cutter came out of the kitchen, appearing to be headed for the family room and Luke. His appearance reminded Alyssa that Teague was in the kitchen, and she wondered with no little embarrassment if he’d stayed in there this long on purpose, not wanting to get sucked into this never-ending clash.

  On that thought, Cutter stopped. He looked over at them, then changed course and headed their way. He stopped beside the coffee table and shifted that intense gaze from Drew to her and then back again. And once more, he let out that oddly disgusted-sounding canine sigh.

  “Yeah, we’re at it again,” Drew muttered.

  “Are we?” Alyssa asked. “I thought we were calmly discussing it.”

  Surprise flickered across his face. They really hadn’t been arguing, not like before, so why was he surprised? Because he’d been about to launch as usual, after she’d in essence agreed with his parents, but Cutter had interrupted? Had the dog somehow sensed the tone was about to change?

  Apparently decided now, Cutter walked over to Drew. He sat down in front of him, practically on his feet, and stared up into his face. Drew stared back at him, but she imagined it would be rather hard not to.

  A contest of wills?

  She wasn’t sure why the phrase popped into her mind, but it seemed to fit. The dog must somehow sense the tension, she thought. And because it apparently had been Drew feeling it—she herself had been remarkably composed given the subject—he had focused on him.

  She wondered what Cutter would do if Drew got really angry. Not that he ever did, at least not that he ever let it show. In fact, other than when the subject was his brother, he was calm and level and for the most part kind and thoughtful. And with Luke, he was incredibly patient, sometimes even more than she was.

  Luke.

  “You know it’s not really about Doug at all,” she said. “It’s about Luke.”

  Drew didn’t look away from the dog. Odd, she thought. He didn’t speak, either. Maybe he was still on the edge of snapping back something about Doug and instead chose not to speak at all. She took this as a good sign. And said something she’d wanted to say since the day Luke had run away, when she had called Drew and he had dropped everything to come running. No blame, no accusations, he’d just come, because Luke was the most important thing in the world to him. They shared that, at least.

  “Nobody can change the fact that Doug is Luke’s biological father. But you’re the man who’s been there for him, always put him first. The man he looks up to. The man he respects.” Her voice tightened, but she went on. “The man he loves.”

  Cutter made a soft, whuffing sound. Drew’s head came up then and he looked at her. And something in his expression was different. She wasn’t sure what it was, just that he seemed...not softer, not Drew, but as if he’d been moved by something. Her words, or Cutter’s stare? After having watched the dog for a while, she wouldn’t be surprised if it were the latter. But either way, she’d take it.

  “I’m sorry you hate your brother.”

  “I don’t hate him. He’s gone, that would be pointless.”

  “But you’re still angry with him. Just think how it must feel for Luke,” she said softly, “to know the man he loves so much feels that way about his biological father?”

  Drew looked back at Cutter as he sucked in an audible breath. “I never meant for him to hear that.”

  “I know. Neither did I. But he did.”

  For a moment he lapsed back into silence. And Alyssa risked something she rarely did. “You’re angry at me, too.”

  Drew’s gaze snapped back to her face. “I’m not angry. I just don’t understand.”

  “I was seventeen. There’s no reasoning.”

  “Then, yes. But...later. And now.”

  “I told you. It’s for Luke. He knows you’re not his natural father. Someday he’s going to be curious.”

  “And you want him to believe a lie?”

  She sighed. They weren’t arguing, not really, but they’d said all this before. “I don’t want him growing up thinking his natural father didn’t even care enough about him to stick around.”

  “Even if it’s true?”

  “Sometimes,” she said, “truth needs to wait until someone’s ready to hear it.”

  “Truth is,” he stated again. But he was still speaking calmly, quietly. So she pressed on.

  “Yes. Who believes it or why doesn’t change it. But if someone doesn’t believe it, you can’t make them believe with a hammer, Drew.”

  He blinked. Looked away. Cutter made a sound that wasn’t quite a whine, not quiet a growl, but some odd combination of the two. Silence spun out after that, for a long, not quite tense moment. And then, finally, Drew, let out a long, slow breath and met her gaze.

  “All right,” he said.

  “All right, what?”

  “You win. From now on, your version of Doug is the accepted one in this house.”

  She listened for any trace of sarcasm in his voice, but found none.

  “I’ve sworn to myself before that I’d never fight with you about this again, and I’ve broken that vow too many times. But now I’m swearing to you. No more.”

  She stared at him. She understood the difference. If Drew Kiley gave someone his word, it was golden. He’d never broken a promise to her, and she knew he wouldn’t break this one.

  It was all she’d ever wanted, she’d told herself. For him to stop maligning Doug. And now that he’d offered it, now that he’d made that promise she knew he would keep, she wasn’t much happier than she had been. Perversely, now that she’d finally gotten what she wanted, it wasn’t enough.

  “What more do you want?” he asked, as if he’d read her thoughts.

  Discomfited, she admitted with no little chagrin after her own comment, “Apparently I wanted you to believe. Really believe. For Luke’s sake.”

  Drew stood up. He shoved his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, as if he needed to keep them still.

  “Funny,” he said. “Because that’s what I wanted. I wanted you to believe.”

  “I know.”

  He started to walk toward the family room, to check on Luke no doubt. Then, near the doorway, he turned to look back at her.

  “But not for Luke. I thought, and still do, that the truth is best. But I’ll grant you that maybe he’s not ready, not old enough yet.”

  Relief flooded her. He was being more reasonable about this than he ever had been before. She didn’t, as she usually would have, ask which truth he meant, she knew. She wasn’t going to test his apparent new resolve so quickly.

  She almost didn’t ask her other question, didn’t want to upset things, but she wanted to know.

  “Then why?”

  He looked at her steadily. “I wanted you to believe for me.”

  She stared after him as he went into the other room. She wasn’t sure what had just happened. Wasn’t even sure exactly what he had meant.

  Cutter came over to her, sat at her feet much as he had with Drew. He simply looked at her, with that intensity of gaz
e that made it hard—no, impossible—to look away.

  She reached out and petted his head. “You must think we humans are pretty stupid, huh? We have all these words, but we can’t communicate as well as you can with none.”

  Cutter rolled his eyes. She laughed, before she could stop herself. It was impossible, of course, he was just a dog, he didn’t mean it in the way a person would. He was probably just trying to look toward the family room while still facing her, or maybe he’d heard poor Teague hiding out in the kitchen. It was surely coincidence that he’d done it just then, but the timing was amazing.

  “You’re so darn smart, aren’t you? I wish you could tell me what Drew meant by that.”

  Cutter inched forward, and laid his head on her knee. He nuzzled in closer, looking up at her. She went for the spot below his right ear, scratched it. The dog sighed in blissful satisfaction, as if all he’d wanted was her touch.

  “Well, that would be a nice answer,” she said.

  And she found herself wishing that the answer to her question really was that simple. But she was sure it wasn’t. Things never were, were they? And the thought of Drew wanting any sort of touch from her was dangerous territory she wasn’t ready to stray into.

  The other thing she was sure of was that whatever this emotion was that had welled up inside her when he’d looked at her that way, when he’d made that simple, almost plaintive declaration, it was something she’d never felt before. Something warm, flooding, and almost frighteningly strong that she couldn’t even put a name to.

  Something she didn’t even want to think about, at least not now. Not with Baird out there somewhere, waiting, maybe watching.

  She got to her feet, torn between checking on Luke herself, and going to tell Teague, ruefully, that it was safe to come out now. She opted, as always, for Luke. Teague was a smart guy, he’d figure out quiet meant safe.

  Whereas she didn’t know when she’d ever feel safe again. Because she had a feeling that wouldn’t go away—that, Baird or not, her life was never going to be the same again.