by Kathryn Shay
“Right now, deception’s a necessary evil. Things aren’t all black-and-white, Suzanna.”
“Joe McCarthy’s sentiments exactly.”
He resented the comparison. “Still, they aren’t.” When she didn’t respond, Joe asked about something else he needed to know tonight, before he ran the background check tomorrow. “Will Brenda Way keep this quiet, do you think?”
“Of course. We both will. I’ll lie to Kelsey Cunningham, who I love like a daughter; to Josh, who would never forgive me if he knew what I’d allowed in school; to everybody else whose trust I’ve earned.”
“Isn’t saving their lives, and the lives of all your students, worth compromising your principles for a little while?”
She stared at him with eyes more potent than the liquor he drank. “Yes.”
“Then we have a truce?”
She nodded.
“Can I mention something else?”
“Of course.”
“We have to discuss security for you. I’ll explain more tomorrow, when you’ve had a chance to internalize all this. But another fact we unearthed was that revenge was the motive of over half of the shooters we studied.”
“Revenge on?”
“The school. The other kids. The staff members who discipline them, suspend them. The principal is a favorite target.”
The fear on her face made something inside Joe shift. For one crazy minute, he wanted to comfort her. Take her in his arms and tell her it would be all right.
Jesus Christ, this is all I need. He downed the brandy in one more gulp and stood abruptly. “I’m going to leave.”
She rose, too. “All right.”
Following him to the foyer, she retrieved his coat. He shrugged into it, and with his hand on the door, faced her. “Do you have a security alarm?”
“Yes. But I don’t always use it.”
“From now on, you do. Especially when you’re alone at night.” He was surprised at how disconcerted that thought made him. “Put it on as soon as I leave.” He hesitated, as if he might say more. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
When he opened the door, she called out, “Joe?”
His hands fisted. He needed to get out of here. “Hmm?” He didn’t turn to face her.
“I’m sorry about your niece.”
Nodding, he walked into the night. But he waited on the porch until she closed the door and he heard the snick of the lock.
She was safe, at least for now.
Chapter Seven
“All right, I’ll go with you to The Berries concert Sunday night.” Kelsey smiled at Mike Wolfe as she hurried down the hall, not wanting to be late for class.
“Yes!” Mike punched the air with his fist, like one of the kids, then slid his arm around her shoulders for a brief squeeze.
She sidled away. “What time do you—”
In the crowded hall, someone jostled them from behind, knocking Mike into her. “Hey, watch out!” Mike said.
“Oh, sorry. I was just tryin’ to get to Ms. Cunningham’s class on time.”
Mike studied Luke Ludzecky. “You new here?”
Luke ducked his head and gave Kelsey a half-smile. “Yeah, just moved to Fairholm with my uncle.”
“This is Luke Ludzecky, Joe Stonehouse’s nephew.” She smiled. “Luke, this is Mr. Wolfe. He teaches PE.”
The boy went to hold out his hand, then retracted it. Odd behavior for a kid.
Without self-consciousness, Mike continued to study him—checking out Luke’s bulging biceps and well-defined pecs, visible through the black T-shirt he wore with jeans. “You do any sports?”
“Nah, I’m not much of a team player.”
Mike tested Luke’s biceps. Some kids shrank from a teacher’s touch, but Luke didn’t. It was a sign of maturity, but Kelsey expected no less from Luke. He was mature. Almost too mature. “Think about going out for baseball, Luke. I need strong men.”
Luke beamed. Though Mike was a jock, and conceited, he knew how to relate to kids. “All right, Mr. Wolfe. I will.”
Throwing Kelsey a conspiratorial wink, Mike moved closer to her. “Now, I’ll try to distract Ms. C. a little longer so you can beat her to class.”
Something flashed in Luke’s hazel eyes, but Kelsey couldn’t decipher what it was. “Yeah. Fine.” He scuffed down the hall in his battered boots.
“What kind of kid is he?” Mike asked as they followed at a distance.
“Hard to read. Supposedly, he’s in trouble all the time. But I haven’t seen any sign of it.”
“No boys give you trouble, Kel.”
“Rush Webster does. And his buddy Morton, though I don’t have him in class.”
“Webster would give the Devil himself trouble. Morton picks on kids littler than him. I’m on him all the time about it in gym class. I’ll take both of them out, if you want. I like to play hero.”
She was distracted from Mike’s flirting by two kids making out behind a pole, a few doors down from her room. They were in a big-time lip lock.
“Ah, young love,” Mike said, tracking her gaze.
Kelsey stopped, not amused. Crossing to the kids, she shook the boy’s shoulder. “Josh.”
He jumped back, red-faced and a little dazed. Geez, no wonder these kids couldn’t think straight when they came to class. Arousal did that to you.
Though it had been a long time since a man had truly aroused her. Disturbed by the thought, she scowled at the boy who was like her brother. He’d been only five when she’d lived with the Quinns, but they had gotten close and remained so.
“Kelsey,” Josh said.
Josh’s partner, Heather Haywood, turned scarlet. “Oh, Ms. C.”
“Guys, you know better.” Her look communicated that Josh especially needed to watch it.
“Sorry,” they said sheepishly, and took off down the hall.
“Will you snitch to Suzanna?” Mike asked.
“No. I told Josh what went on between him and me would stay that way, unless it was something serious. But she’d kill him if she saw him necking like that in the hall.”
“Suzanna should get a man in her life.” His voice dropped to a sexy drawl. “A little necking would do a lot of people I know some good.”
She reached her door. “I need to go.”
Gently he grasped her arm. “You need me, babe,” he said sexily. His Abercrombie & Fitch sweatshirt made his shoulders look broad and his chest massive. “Give me a chance to show you.”
She shook her head. “Good-bye, Don Juan,” she said dryly.
Kelsey was thinking about Mike, and how she wasn’t attracted to him, as she entered the room. Kids were milling around. Luke stood at Smurf’s desk, looking down at something. Though he wasn’t all that tall, he loomed over the pudgy boy with a strong masculine presence. Luke playfully socked Smurf in the arm, and chuckled. Smurf gazed up at Luke as if he were a rock star. The kid had a bad case of hero worship since Luke had thwarted Webster. Kelsey was glad to see their friendship; Smurf needed a champion, as his valedictorian sister wouldn’t even talk to him in the hall.
Kelsey said to the class, “Okay, everybody, take your seats.”
Luke glanced up. He gave her a smile that eclipsed the lights. Then he sauntered to his desk, sank down in the chair, and draped himself over it.
Vaguely disturbed by his smile—it was a little too sexy—she turned to write on the board. “Today, we’re going to talk about the special agencies in the government. Make these columns across the top of your notebook: CIA, FBI, Secret Service. For each, write what you know about them. You can brainstorm in pairs.”
As the kids got to work, Kelsey wandered up and down the aisles. Rush Webster was out, suspended four more days. Kelsey was glad. Not only was he clearly the perpetrator in the cafeteria the other day, he was rumored to be into a lot of dicey things. And as she told Mike, he was one of the few kids who gave her grief. Dark places lurked behind those dark eyes. She could sense it as a teacher, as a woman. And it scar
ed her.
Kelsey checked to see how much each student knew about the government agencies as she walked around. She stopped to comment on something to a young girl who needed to open up more, and she smiled at a pair of very slow learners. This particular Government class consisted of students with a wide range of abilities. Remembering Zach’s suicide, she wished she could do more for all these kids. At Luke’s desk, she peered down at him and Morgan, who’d pulled a chair over to work with the boy. Kelsey noted she sat close to Luke. “How’s it going, you two?”
“Ms. Cunningham, Luke knows everything about these guys.”
Kelsey glanced at Luke’s paper, then bent over for a better view. A musky smell stopped her for a minute. Not only did Luke look like a man, he smelled like one. Forcing her attention to his work, she saw that all three columns were filled. The Secret Service was especially detailed. “How do you know all this, Luke?”
His face reddened. “I, um, surf the Net a lot. These places have websites.”
“Are you interested in one as a career?”
The boy next to Luke guffawed. “Fat chance. Those guys’ll come gunning for him, not wanting to hire him.”
“Prob-ly,” Luke said good-naturedly. He gave Kelsey a half-smile, accenting a small dent in his chin she’d never noticed.
“If you ever want to talk about a career in one of these areas, I’m available. My father did extensive research in Washington when he was writing a book that had some government officials in it. He learned a lot about these agencies.”
Luke shifted in his seat, obviously uncomfortable with the attention. “Thanks.”
Making her way to the front of the class, Kelsey faced the kids. “All right, let’s see what we know about these mysterious men and women of the special agencies. We’ll brainstorm the facts on the board.” She smiled. “Who would like to start?”
Morgan raised her hand. “Everybody knows this.” She shrugged, the action making her pretty blond hair skim her shoulders. “The Secret Service guards the president and other VIPs.”
“Yes, of course.” Kelsey wrote the information on the board.
“They wear suits.” Smurf always tried to be funny; his need to be class clown worried her.
“Well, Jimmy, we see them that way because of how they’re portrayed in TV and movies. I imagine they wear all kinds of clothes.”
“Sometimes none, when they’re in bed humping hot chicks, like in that Clint Eastwood movie,” a boy behind Luke declared.
Kelsey was about to defuse the comment, when Luke turned and said softly, “Not in front of the ladies, buddy.”
The boy mumbled something back—a razz, probably—and Luke returned a comment Kelsey couldn’t hear.
“What kind of training do they have to have?” one boy asked.
“Hmm. What do you think?”
A smart girl, whom Kelsey suspected was on drugs, said from her seat, “I know the FBI only takes college graduates, unless they have military or some other kind of useful background.”
“Not the Secret Service, though,” Smurf said. “All those guys gotta do is stand around like The Hulk and protect people.”
“Actually, they do a lot more than that.” The note of authority in Luke’s voice claimed everybody’s attention.
“Why don’t you tell us, Luke?” Kelsey sat on the desk and watched him.
“There are two branches of the Secret Service. One is what you know, their uniformed officers. It’s like a police force. The other is the Special Agent division. To be a uniform, you don’t need college, though a lot of them have it. To be a Special Agent, you gotta have a B.A. from an accredited college or three years of work in criminal investigation or law enforcement. Or a combination of both.”
“Very good, Luke.” Trying to hide how impressed she was—it wasn’t good to favor one student too much—she directed her question to the whole class. “Does anyone know what division of the government the Service belongs to?”
No answer. Luke held his tongue.
Morgan glanced at his paper. “Luke knows.”
“They used to be in the Treasury Department.” Again, a shy duck of his head. “Now, they’re part of Homeland Security.”
“Why, what do they have to do with money?” Smurf asked, pushing up his glasses.
“The Secret Service was started to break up counterfeiting rings. It got into protection after that. The FBI is an offshoot of the Secret Service.” Luke said the last proudly.
Surreptitiously, Kelsey watched him during the rest of the class. He seemed to be trying not to participate or share his knowledge. Maybe she’d embarrassed him by too much attention. Kids shouldn’t be afraid to live up to their potential—she thought that was one of Luke’s problems.
She wondered at that, enough to say, when the bell rang, “Luke, could you stay a minute after class?”
His eyes darted to the clock. “I can’t, Ms. C. My Math teacher said if I was late one more time, he was writin’ me up. Sto—I mean my Uncle Joe will kill me.”
“Could you stop by after school, then?”
He hesitated. “Yeah, I guess. See you then.”
And he was gone. Leaving Kelsey to wonder—a lot more—about her new student.
o0o
One of the real drawbacks of undercover work was the lack of a sex life. It was even more pronounced if you went under as a teenager. Luke was twenty-six years old and couldn’t very well bed teenage girls; and of course, dating adult women was off limits. Sometimes, the enforced celibacy drove him crazy.
This was one of those times. As he walked into Kelsey Cunningham’s classroom, he could smell her perfume. It permeated the air, subtle and sexy, whenever she was around. It was torture to a young boy’s body. Or a man’s.
“Oh, Luke, come on in.” She was seated at the computer. “I was just e-mailing my father.” The navy blue skirt she wore today rode up more than she let it do in class, reminding him of Zach’s suicide note.
“Take your time. I got nowhere to go.”
The keys clicked, and he looked away from her. Forget your hormones, Ludzecky. Think about how to get information from her that you can use in the investigation. She probably knew stuff about Smurf or Max that would help him understand them better. Feigning teenage restlessness—it wasn’t such an act—he wandered around the room, checking out the posters on the wall. Those across the back had quotes about history. He read a few, then heard her say, “Luke?”
He turned to find her seated at a student desk, waiting for him. Sauntering over, he sat down. The beige tailored silk blouse she wore molded to her, and a faint line of lacy bra could be seen when she moved a certain way. He was a sucker for Victoria’s Secret underwear, and he could just picture one of those little underwires on her. “So what’s up, Teach?”
She smiled at the epithet. “Are you always such a tough guy, Luke Ludzecky?”
“Damn right.” He stretched out in his insolent teenage boy slouch. “What about you? You always such a bleedin’ heart?”
Delicate eyebrows made a vee on her forehead. “What makes you think that?”
“Lemme guess. You called me down here because you see potential in me. And you think I’m interested in government agencies. You decided you could maybe steer me to the right side of the law, instead of the wrong one.”
Her half-smile was confirmation. Even her eyes twinkled. Their rich brown color deepened to how chestnuts looked after they were cooked. “Am I that obvious?”
“Just to me.”
“Why is that?”
Uh-oh. Geez, Stonehouse was right. He had to stop showing off. “Must be it comes from havin’ an uncle who’s a shrink. He’s always talkin’ about how to read people.”
She seemed satisfied with the answer.
“So, I’m right?” he asked.
Crossing her legs—blood pressure goes from eighty to three hundred in seconds—she cocked her head. “Luke, you do have potential. I hate to see you waste it.”
&n
bsp; “Am I? Wastin’ it?”
“Are you trying to tell me I’m stereotyping you?”
He shrugged. “Everybody stereotypes everybody else. Take Smurfy boy, for example.”
“He’s a nice kid.”
“He got an okay home life?”
“He lives with his mother and father and a sister. They’re fairly well off, I think.”
“The kids say his mother’s really whacked.”
“She’s had some trouble with depression.”
“She on drugs?”
“Why?”
“Some jerks tease him about bein’ on Prozac, like his ma.”
She smiled. “You worried about him?”
“I guess.”
“I like that.” Leaning back in the desk, she studied him. “What are you going to do after you graduate, Luke?”
“If I graduate.”
“Don’t you think you will?”
“Not if I don’t pass Math. Science, too, but I think I’m on top of that.”
“You’ve been here how long?”
“Almost three weeks.”
“I’d like to help you adjust, if I can.”
Now, there’s a thought.
“I could tutor you.”
“I’m doin’ okay in Government and Psychology.”
“No, I meant in the other subjects.”
He rolled his eyes, trying to remember to be Tommy Teenager. “Don’t tell me. You were an A student in all subjects.”
“Guilty.”
“How come you teach kids like us, then? How come you’re not at Yale, like your daddy?”
“How do you know where my father works?”
Oh, hell. “You mentioned it, I guess.”
“Anyway, the answer to your question is because I like teaching kids like you.”
“I’m all right, Ms. C. You don’t have to make me a pet project.”
“Can I ask you something personal?”
Oh, lady, you’re really making this hard. “Sure.”
“Why did you come to live with your uncle?”