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Excerpt
Laura and Jake Taylor have good reason to doubt they’ll
live a long, happy life together. He’s a Special Ops soldier; she’s a former
Special Ops intelligence officer. She
has an insider’s knowledge of the risks he takes. Their marriage began
as a practical arrangement: he needed to keep his young son out of the clutches
of an unstable ex-wife. Laura knows better than to fall in love with her
husband. Jake agrees—odds are, he’ll
never return from the next mission. But when the dangers of his world
engulf Laura, both find themselves fighting for their lives as well as for
their marriage.
Vicki Hinze is the award-winning author of 28 novels, 4
nonfiction books and hundreds of articles, published in as many as sixty-three
countries. She is recognized by Who’s Who
in the World as an author and as an educator. Visit her at www.facebook.com/vicki.hinze.author.
"A wonderful
combination of romance, family drama, and out-and-out thriller.” —Anne
Stuart, New York Times bestselling author
"Complications here go
beyond the usual hurdles and make the romance more touching for being hard won.
And if the main action—Laura and Jake must combat terrorists amassing anthrax
in the Florida Everglades—seems far-fetched, just read The New York Times.” —Publishers Weekly
One
The banging on the
apartment door threatened to knock it off its hinges.
Laura Taylor sat straight up in bed, her heart in
her throat. She tossed back the covers, bumping the novel she’d fallen asleep
reading to the floor. Fear clawed at her stomach.
Bury it, Taylor. She recalled the drill
by rote. Bury it. Intruders seldom knock.
But that didn’t mean
whoever was pounding on her door in the dead of night was friendly, and in her
position assuming that it did could be lethal. Amateur intruders seldom knock,
but at times professionals do. It could be a diversionary tactic.
Someone could already be
inside.
Slinging on a robe, she
grabbed the canister of pepper spray she kept in the drawer beside her bed,
resenting that break-ins happened even in military communities like Fairhope,
California. But they did happen. One had happened, to her.
She crossed her bedroom,
her every nerve on alert. The hammering at the door mirrored the jackhammering
of her heart, and her throat turned ash-dry. Hugging her back to the wall, she
slid against its gritty surface and inched down the narrow hallway, broadening
her focus, scanning for any shift or movement in the darkness, seeking
sensations of any cool August night air drafting in through broken glass, an
open window or door.
She stumbled over her
shoes. Banged her hip against the edge of the kitchen bar. Pain shot through
her side, and she swallowed a curse because she always left her damn shoes
there, and she knew it. Allowing herself to get careless, her skills to get
rusty, was a good way to wake up dead.
Steadying herself, she
moved on through, skirted around the wicker-and-glass dinette into the
adjoining living room, then on to the front door. It was at times like this
one, and during the break-in, when she felt most grateful she’d had survival
school training during her active duty days as Captain Laura Taylor, Air Force
Intelligence Officer and Communications Research Specialist. Despite the sweat
trickling down between her breasts and the fine hairs on her nape standing on
end, whoever tried coming in wouldn’t find a docile woman waiting to become a
victim. She had the Air Force to thank for that, even as she acknowledged her
covert work for it could have prompted this midnight visit.
"Laura?” A man called
out and rapped again against the wood. "Laura, it’s me—Jake.”
"Jake.” Relief washed
through Laura, and then evaporated.
She and Jake Logan had
been friends for a decade, but the only time he ever had come over in the
middle of the night had been when his ex-wife, Madeline, had done something
god-awful—usually to their son, Timmy.
One kind of fear
replaced another and squeezed at her chest. Laura twisted the cold dead bolt,
heard it click, and then opened the door. "What’s wrong?”
Bitterness seeping from
his every pore, Jake slumped against the frame, looking like six-foot-two of
defeated thirty-four-year-old man, his jet-black hair wind-tossed, his strong
face all angles and planes, outraged and ravaged. "She’s suing me for custody
of Timmy.”
Madeline. Again. Laura
nearly cried. Jake had tried everything to make his marriage to Madeline work,
but she’d opted to continue downing Scotch. He’d spent years trying to get her
sober, but finally she’d committed the unpardonable sin: endangering their son,
Timmy. And after that, the craziest in a long string of her crazy stunts, he’d
issued her an ultimatum: dry out in a rehab center, or he’d sue for divorce.
She’d opted to drink. Now she’d dried out—for the moment. Unfortunately, her
dry spells never lasted long—and she was suing him for custody of Timmy.
The injustice stung.
Deeply. It wasn’t fair or right. Madeline had dragged Timmy through enough
hell. More than enough. And God knew Jake had been tried by her fire twice as
often as his son. When would their aggravation with this woman end?
Laura opened the door
wider and motioned him inside. "Have you talked to your lawyer?” Gregory Radon
was a great attorney. Surely he could put a quick stop to this insanity.
"I’ve talked to him. And
then I tried to find Madeline.” Jake came in. As tense as strung wire, he paced
between the sofa and wicker dinette table, dragging his hand through the black
hair at his temple. "No luck. She’s pulled a disappearing act.”
It was probably a good
thing for them both that she had, and that he hadn’t found her. Laura clicked
on a lamp, set the canister of pepper spray on the coffee table, then relaxed
back in a chair beside the sofa and waited for him to vent enough so that they
could talk this through. She hated seeing him upset. Not only because she
literally owed him her life and they’d been best friends for years, but because
she loved Timmy as much as Jake loved his son.
"The upshot is that Lady
Justice isn’t just blind,” he said, stopping at the edge of the light pooling
on the mint-green carpet. "She needs a reality check.”
A prick of irritation at
that remark slithered up Laura’s back. But she knew this wasn’t Jake talking so
much as his anger and frustration, and so she let the comments slide, and
straightened a sprawled stack of magazines on the coffee table. Modern
Family looked comfortable there, beside Popular Science.
"Because my job is
risky, and I’m away a lot, I provide a ‘less than stable growth environment’
for my son. In other words, it’s a toss-up,” he muttered, a warranted amount of
anger riddling his tone. "My odds of retaining custody of Timmy are about equal
to Madeline’s odds of getting custody of him.”
Shock, stark and deep,
surged through Laura. "But she’s a drunk,” she said, too surprised to pause and
state that bald truth diplomatically.
"Sad commentary, isn’t
it?” Jake looked down at her, letting her see his weariness of fighting
Madeline in his eyes. "I’m a Special Operations officer in the United States
Air Force, and, because I risk my neck so often for my country, I’ve got the
same odds as an alcoholic of keeping custody of my son.”
It was a sad commentary.
An infuriating one, too. "So what did Radon say you can do about it?” If Jake
said "Nothing,” she swore she’d spit nails.
He rapped the back of a
chair in his pacing, then stopped in front of her. "According to the good
attorney, I could ‘greatly enhance’ my odds of winning a custody battle by
getting married.”
"Oh, God.” Anything but
that. Anything but that.
"My feelings exactly.”
Jake nodded. "He says a wife would be there when I can’t be, giving Timmy ‘a
higher probability’ of having a more stable home life with me.” Jake let out a
grunt that clearly depicted his thoughts on that recommendation.
After the hellish years
he had spent married to Madeline, that suggestion and comment had to sting.
Sting? Hell, it had to scorch. They’d had any and everything but peace and
stability.
Agitated, she shifted on
her chair and swept her auburn hair back from her face. Her thoughts raced.
Jake married again? And Madeline gaining custody of Timmy? Just the thought of
either soured Laura’s stomach.
She couldn’t let this happen. Not to Jake or to
Timmy. She knew how much pain it would cause them, especially Timmy. How could
she not know? She had grown up as an only child in New Orleans without much of
a family. Her parents had loved each other to distraction; so much so, they’d
had little love left over for their daughter. Laura had never belonged. She had
been alone, an outsider, and she had never forgotten how much that had hurt.
She’d sworn to herself that one day, she would have children of her own, and
things would be different. But thanks to a ruptured ovarian cyst and a
non-functioning ovary, she’d had to watch that dream die. Then Timmy had been
born, and from the moment she had first seen him, just minutes after his birth,
she had considered him her surrogate son.
No, she couldn’t let
this happen. Not to him. The anger and guilt of not preventing it from
happening would eat her alive. Resolve hardened in her chest. She’d be damned
before she would risk Timmy being raised by a neglectful alcoholic who loved
Scotch more than her son. He would not feel like an outsider.
As a resolution occurred
to Laura, she said it aloud, having no idea what kind of reaction to expect.
"You could marry me.”
Jake stared at her for a
long moment, his soft gray eyes shining with gratitude, then hardening with
determination. He plopped down on the sofa and buried his face in his hands. A
minute elapsed, then two. Finally, he leaned forward and propped his elbows on
his knees. "You’ve been the best friend a man could ask for, but you’ve done so
much for us already. I can’t ask you to marry me, too.”
"You didn’t ask.” Laura
shifted over to sit across from him in her favorite chair. The beige velour
snagged her silk robe, exposing her thigh. She tugged it closed, then smoothed
it over her kneecap. "I offered.”
Thinking it over, he
vacillated between the pros and cons, his expression shifting half a dozen
times. "No.” He sighed, as if he carried the weight of the world on his
shoulders, rolled the copy of Popular Science into a tube, and then
smacked it against his open palm. "No, you can’t.”
The more Laura
considered it, the more sense it made. And the more reasonable it seemed. "Why
not?”
"Why not?” His tone
turned incredulous.
"Yes. Why not?” Laura
narrowed her gaze in warning. "We know what kind of antics Madeline’s capable
of, Jake. We’ve got to do whatever it takes to protect him from her.”
"I have to do
whatever it takes,” he corrected, dropping the magazine back onto the coffee
table. It landed with a firm thunk. "Look, I’m grateful for everything
you do for Timmy and me. Trying to figure out how to deal with him most of the
time... well, I’d always be floundering without you, and I
know it.”
"Then doesn’t it make
sense that we do this?”
"No, it doesn’t,” he
insisted, forking both hands through his hair. "It’s exactly why we shouldn’t.”
Jake leaned back and put on his most serious I-mean-it look. "When Madeline got
pregnant and her father insisted she abort, you helped me to accept what I had
to do for Timmy’s sake. You helped me through that nightmare of a marriage, and
the even worse divorce.”
"Of course. Friends do
that kind of thing for friends, Jake.”
"You’ve done more, and
we both know it. You’ve always helped me with Timmy. Hell, you’ve been more of
a mother to him than Madeline ever thought about being. But I can’t have you
marrying me for him, Laura. I won’t. Even for a best friend, that’s
just... too much.”
"Do I have any choice in
the matter?” It was her life. And it should damn well be her decision. The man
would protect her to death, if she let him.
"Don’t get your hackles
up.” Jake let his gaze roll toward the ceiling, then focused back on her. "I
just think that you deserve a life with a man you know is going to be there for
you when you need him. I work missions with survival odds between two and ten
percent. That’s not going to change.”
She resisted a compelling urge to sigh and just
announce that they were going to do this, and to tack on an "and that’s final.”
But it was too soon. Jake had to vent and discuss this some more to see the big
picture and draw the same conclusion she had seen and drawn. "I was in Special
Ops. I know what goes on there.”
"Then I shouldn’t have
to remind you that when one mission is over, there’s another one waiting in the
wings.”
Did he think she had
forgotten? How could she forget a job that had determined her whole lifestyle?
A job drilled into her until she lived, breathed, and ate it? How could anyone?
No one forgot it. Ever. "Listen, all of this is just smoke. And smoke doesn’t
change facts. You need a wife.”
"The last thing I
need is a wife.” He grunted, slicing his hand down the thigh of his black
slacks. "Even a damn divorce hasn’t given me peace from the one I had.”
How could Laura dispute
that truth? "You need a mother for Timmy,” she rephrased. "I can be that, ifI’m your wife.”
"And what do you get?”
he asked, then answered himself. "Nothing.”
"I get a son.” Only she
knew how much that would mean to her.
Jake’s broad shoulders
slumped, telling her he had more than an inkling of the importance of that to
her, and his voice softened. "I can’t be a husband again, Laura. I won’t.” He
rubbed at his forehead, clearly irritated and unsure of what to do with all his
frustration. "Don’t you understand? We’d have no future.”
"Of course. I
understand.” She stiffened and persisted. "But to keep Timmy, you need a wife.
I know there isn’t anyone special in your life, so that leaves me.”
"Why in hell would you
marry a man with a son and no future? You, of all people, should have better
sense.” He laced his fingers atop his head and closed his eyes, as if silently
cursing, or praying.
When he reopened them,
he glared at her. "It’s highly likely I’ll never live to see thirty-five, and
we both know it. Think about that. And think about yourself, not just Timmy.
Are you forgetting who you are?”
"No. But I think you
might be.”
Agitated and obviously
bent on reminding her anyway, from his perspective, Jake began pacing again,
hanging in the shadows just beyond the lamplight. "Look, you went into the
military to do high-tech communications research, and you became an expert—a
captain in Intel who could pick her pet projects and her terms, and you did it.
Yet all of that still wasn’t enough for you.”
She’d loved her work in
the Special Ops intelligence community, and she still loved her research. But
it hadn’t been enough, which was exactly why marrying him made sense. "I
haven’t forgotten, Jake.” Nor had she forgotten Madeline’s part in why she was
no longer in the military. That, however, Laura had sworn to herself she’d
never tell Jake.
He’d said the last thing
he needed was a wife, but it wasn’t. He didn’t need more guilt, which is
exactly what he’d feel if she told him how Madeline’s antics had affected her
and her career.
He stopped near the
table and glared over the slope of his shoulder back at her. "Damn it, you know
you hated the constant danger of working Intel. You hated not knowing where
you’d be tomorrow or next week, never mind next year.”
"Yes, I did. Enough to
get out of the Air Force to get away from it.”
"You hated having no
idea what mission you’d be on, or where you’d be performing it, and you walked
out—as much as anyone can walk out of Intel—to get yourself a personal life.”
Was he going to laundry
list her whole life here? "All of that is true, but—”
"Then why are you
telling me you’re willing to give up a personal life and put yourself right in
the middle of all of the things you hated again?”
"Because I am willing.” Laura
looked him right in the eye. "And that’s exactly what I’m telling you.” She
lifted a hand, palm upward. "I’m willing.”
He dragged a hand
through his hair, spiking it. "You’re forgetting about Madeline. As much as I
wish she would, she isn’t going to go away.” A grimace flattened his generous
mouth to a tight slash. "If I’ve accepted nothing else in the two years since
the divorce, I’ve accepted that she’ll be a thorn in my side until the day I
die. You can’t be willing to accept that, too.”
"Yes, I can,” Laura said
without hesitating, then leaned forward in her chair, a little amused by the
disbelief in his tone. "Listen, you’re right about all of this. But you’re
forgetting the one reason that makes all of it insignificant.”
He lifted his hands, and
the button on his left shirt-cuff winked in the lamplight. "What the hell could
make all of this insignificant?”
"Timmy.” Her throat
sandpaper dry, Laura dredged up her courage and then spoke from the heart,
something she had rarely let herself do with anyone, including Jake. "I’d do it
for Timmy,” she said. "I love him, Jake.”
The skepticism in his
expression wilted, and the hard lines in his face softened. "I know you love
him, but we’re talking marriage here. This isn’t a day at the park in San
Francisco, or a week in the Sierras playing in the snow. You’d be sacrificing
your shot at a happy, normal life with a real marriage.”
She bristled, and her
tone went flat. "I’m aware of the difference.”
"I didn’t mean to insult
you.” His exasperation escaped on a sigh. "Ah, hell, Laura, you know what I
mean.”
"Yes, I do. I got out of
the Air Force because I wanted to put down roots in a quiet and peaceful life.
But, in case you haven’t noticed, my friend, it’s been four years since I took
off my captain’s bars, and my roots and the rest of me are still single.”
Unable to sit and speak
this frankly, she stood up and moved behind the stuffed chair, then grasped the
back of it in a knuckle-tingling grip, wondering why in heaven she smelled
lemons. She despised them, and she knew for a fact there was nothing in her
apartment that even resembled the scent. "You know how much I wanted children.
You also know my biological clock didn’t get a shot at ticking before it shut
down. I’ll never have children myself, but I have had Timmy. In my heart, he’s
my son, Jake, and he always has been. And right now, my son needs me.”
Jake stared at her, a little surprised but even
more awed. Laura had let him glimpse inside her on occasion, but never like
this. And in her expression, determined and yet vulnerable, he realized the
truth. Her suggestion to marry him truly had nothing to do with him. It had to
do with what was best for Timmy.
Relieved by that, Jake
moved out from the shadows on the floor into the lamplight and plucked at the
nubby fabric on the back of the sofa. He considered her proposal from that
perspective, and, in the end, he decided she made a lot of sense. But they had
to be perfectly clear on the terms of this agreement. He didn’t dare to not be
crystal clear.
"You’re right,” he said. "I do need a mother for
Timmy. But I don’t need a wife.” His gray eyes turned steely. "If we should do
this, as egotistical as it sounds, I would have to know you’d never make the
mistake of falling in love with me. Not ever.” The skin between his brows
furrowed. "My mortality rating is bad at best. We have no future. You can never
forget that, and you can never take the chance of loving me.”
They had been friends
for over a decade. Did he think this was a news flash? "I know.”
His frown deepened, and
his voice grew even more stern. "I won’t love you. And I won’t forget it—not
for a second. I can’t forget it, and I can’t handle any guilt or regret or the
worry of wondering that you might. I won’t worry, and I won’t regret, Laura.
And even five or ten years from now, I won’t tolerate recriminations or
reprisals being tossed into my face because of the way things are. I’m telling
you now exactly how things will always be. I’ve got to know you understand
that, and it’s okay with you. Otherwise, I can’t do what I have to do.”
The job. Duty first. How
well she remembered the drill. And as warnings went, this one wasn’t so bad.
She’d heard worse from him, and those had worked out amicably. "Quit ranting
and listen to me, okay?” When he stopped at the other side of the coffee table
and stuffed his fist into his pocket, she went on. "I don’t love you, Jake. I’m
not in love with you, and I can’t fathom, even in my wildest imagination, ever
being in love with you. So none of that is a problem.”
That blunt disclosure
had the logical man fighting the male ego in Jake, and he suspected Laura knew
it. What looked suspiciously like a smile tugged at her lips. A muscle in his
jaw twitched.
"You’ll have your home
and your life, and I’ll have mine,” she said in a tone so calm and reasonable
it set his teeth on edge. "We’ll just do what we’ve always done: work together
for whatever is in Timmy’s best interest. The only difference is we’ll be
married.”
"So you accept that’s
all our relationship can ever be?” Jake asked, still unconvinced. How could she
be satisfied, settling for so little for herself? He had to be missing
something she hadn’t considered. "I’m serious about all this. We’ll never be
emotionally close. We’ll never be a real couple, or any more of a family than
we are now.”
"We certainly won’t,”
she firmly insisted. "But we will be married, and that’ll ‘greatly enhance’
your odds of keeping custody of Timmy. That’s what matters most to me.”
Jake stared at her in
disbelief. "Why?”
Laura accepted it. He
wasn’t going to relent. Not until he felt satisfied, and to give him
satisfaction, she had to bare even more truths. Ones she preferred not to think
about, much less discuss. Still, this was for Timmy. She would do it, but she’d
be damned if she could look Jake in the eye when she did. She focused on the
placket of his gray corduroy shirt. "I was a vulnerable child.” Saying that out
loud, even after all these years, still rattled her. "I didn’t like it. And I
won’t have a child I consider my son vulnerable. Not if I can stop it.”
He dipped his chin and
stayed silent a long moment. Obviously her disclosure about being vulnerable
had taken him by surprise. Or maybe it hadn’t, and he didn’t want her to know
that he had surmised that truth a long time ago.
He lifted his chin to
look at her. "We’d be taking a shot, but it could be for nothing. Madeline
could win the custody suit, anyway.”
"Highly doubtful,” Laura
countered. "I’m clean, with strong credentials and no history that could hurt
him. Dr. Laura Taylor, formerly Captain Laura Taylor, will round out your
superiority nicely, I would say.” Lord, how she wished she felt as confident
about that as she had sounded.
Surprise flickered
through his eyes. "You’re even willing to flaunt your titles on this?”
Hating pretentious
titles, she blanched. But for Timmy? Anything. Even that. "Yes.”
Jake’s lip curled,
hinting at a crooked smile. "You really are sure about this.”
Finally, he was coming
around. How could she not be sure? "To keep Timmy away from Madeline, I’d marry
the devil himself. You can be ruthless, friend, but you’re far less daunting
than the devil.”
Laura had thought
this through. And Jake supposed he could understand why she would find settling
for him acceptable. Even without a future, she wanted to feel connected to
someone outside herself—to Timmy. And from living through Jake’s marriage to
Madeline along with him, Laura knew the hell a traditional marriage involved.
Not loving him and being Timmy’s stepmother, when she already considered herself
his mother, was emotionally safe. "Can you tell me straight out you know and
accept that the only reason I’m marrying you is to keep Madeline away from
Timmy?”
"I know and accept it,”
Laura said without reservation, then issued a warning of her own. "And I want
to know you accept that Timmy is the only reason I would marry you.”
"Of course.” He
shrugged. "Why else?”
The man had no idea of
his appeal. Which is probably why they had been able to be friends and keep
their relationship purely platonic.
It took a lot more
discussion—actually, until dawn was breaking outside—but finally, Laura settled
his fears, and the worry cleared from Jake’s face.
"Okay,” he said, rubbing
his lower lip between his forefinger and thumb. "Okay, let’s do it.”
"Okay.” Laura stood up,
feeling buoyant. It wasn’t the traditional proposal or acceptance, and theirs
wouldn’t be anything like a traditional marriage. But it would serve the
purpose and hopefully put a damper on Madeline’s plan to bring more turmoil
into Timmy’s life. A sacrifice for both Laura and Jake, but one that—please,
God!—would spare Timmy.
That possibility alone
made any sacrifice worth the price they had to pay.
Two
weeks later, in a Lake Tahoe
chapel, Laura Taylor put on an antique white lace dress, held a bouquet of pale
yellow roses and baby’s breath, and became Jake Logan’s wife.
It never occurred to her
or Jake to exchange wedding rings, and the justice of the peace had to remind
Jake to kiss his bride.
Two weeks and three days
after the wedding, Madeline went on another drinking binge and dropped the
custody suit.
That news came to Laura
via Jake, who met her for lunch at the Golden Dragon, a tiny Chinese restaurant
they frequented. He suggested they have their marriage annulled.
Awash in relief over the
dropping of the suit, Laura considered the annulment for nearly two minutes
before deciding against it. "No,” she said, watching a brunette waitress who
was as thin as a rail scurry from table to table, refilling glasses from a frosty
pitcher of iced tea. "No annulment.”
About to take a bite of
spicy-smelling lo mein, Jake paused, his fork midair. "No?”
"No,” Laura insisted,
removing a smelly lemon wedge from the saucer of her hot tea and dumping it
into an empty bowl. "What if something should happen to you? Considering the
job, we know it’s a strong possibility.”
He put his fork down.
"Custody of Timmy would automatically revert to Madeline.”
"Exactly.” Laura leaned
closer, across the red-clothed table, then dropped her voice to a whisper to
avoid being overheard by the two women lunching at the next table. "I know
that’s eaten at you inside for a long time—worrying about that
happening. It’s worried me, too. And now we have the opportunity to do
something about it. I think rather than get an annulment, we need to pursue a
stepparent adoption.”
Jake opposed. Strongly.
"No, you’ve sacrificed enough for us already.”
While other diners came,
ate, and departed, he went on to reiterate every logical reason in the book why
she shouldn’t want to do this, informed her that Madeline would never give her
consent, and then reiterated it all some more, in case Laura had missed
anything the first time he’d said it.
When he paused for
breath, Laura interjected, "But she’s an alcoholic, Jake.”
"True, but she’s one
with substantial credentials. She spent years in the intelligence community as
an assistant to Colonel James, and that will strengthen her custody odds.”
"Even if she was only
there because of her father?” Of course, Colonel James had hired her. Her
father, Sean Drake, was a well-respected CIA legend, and offending him was
paramount to offending God. James was far too slick to offend God.
"It doesn’t matter,”
Jake insisted. "She was there. That’s what shows up on paper.”
Laura groused and fidgeted
on her red vinyl seat. "But everyone knows she was an airhead and a drunk,
Jake. Even her boss knew it.”
"She got excellent
ratings on every employee review.”
"Okay,” Laura conceded.
"So to stay in Sean Drake’s good graces, Colonel James covered for her. But,
over the years, she’s pulled a respectable succession of crazy stunts. They can
be verified and testified to, and that would have to strengthen our case.”
Jake mulled that over,
and after Laura swallowed her last bite of sesame chicken, she interrupted his
ponderings to remind him of the bottom line. "We have to do everything possible
to never leave Timmy vulnerable to her,” Laura insisted. "We have to, Jake,
because otherwise only God knows the damage she could do.”
Timmy could not be
an outsider.
Two
Two years later
Cheese dripped from the tines of Timmy’s fork.
"What if Judge Neal asks me why Mom’s got an apartment and only lives with us
some of the time?”
Swallowing a bite of hot
lasagna, Laura waited for Jake’s answer. After two near-misses at getting this
adoption through, and two times of surviving Madeline sobering up and
withdrawing her consent, they were all worried about the court hearing with
Judge Neal tomorrow. And reassuring Timmy, when feeling unsure herself, wasn’t
the easiest thing in the world for Laura to do. So much could go wrong.
Jake put down his fork,
then wiped at his mouth with his napkin. "The judge isn’t going to ask you
that, son.”
"How do you know? He
could.”
"Because I know,” Jake
insisted. He set the napkin down on the light oak table and let his gaze wander
over to the lacy white curtains on the back door’s window.
Laura couldn’t get upset
about Jake’s terse response. They’d been at this "what if” business the entire
time they’d cooked dinner and all during the eating of it. Everyone’s nerves
had worn thin.
Timmy stabbed a green
bean with his fork. "What if Judge Neal asks me how come my mom and dad don’t
sleep in the same room? All my friends’ moms and dads do. He could ask
me that.” Concern and curiosity burned in Timmy’s eyes. "What am I
supposed to tell him?”
"Tell him your father
snores,” Laura suggested, insinuating a mischievous lilt in her voice in an
attempt to ease Timmy’s concerns and to diminish his curiosity. She hated
seeing him worried—no nine-year-old should be under this kind of pressure—and
she hated even more him seeing himself as different from his friends. She
remembered how awkward being different had made her feel. While she and Jake
tried to minimize those things for Timmy, their situation was different,
and that was the simple, unavoidable truth.
"Dad snores?” Timmy
grinned.
"Loudly.” She winked at
him. "Now stop worrying, Tiger. Your dad and I will be there with you when you
talk with Judge Neal. Everything will be just fine.”
"But—”
"It’ll be fine, Timmy.”
Laura too had wearied of the worry, and she still had to tell Jake that Intel
had reactivated her as a communications consultant on Operation Shadowpoint.
Lousy timing, with court tomorrow, and the news would surely go over with Jake
about as well as a lead balloon.
What exactly the
operation was, she had no idea, and she had no need to know. She rarely did
know the mission on these consultations, which were growing less frequent
because more trainees now had the required expertise. Still, times arose when
an expert was needed, and during those times, Intel would temporarily activate
her to do the consult. She was also subject to recall as an active duty
military officer, though the odds of the Air Force recalling her were slim,
unless the United States got involved in yet another war. Most Intel consults
took only a couple of hours to clear. Some, a few days. So far, none had kept
her activated longer than that.
On Shadowpoint, she’d
been asked to identify and eliminate the reason for a communications breakdown
between Home Base and three operatives in the field. She had to admit that she
enjoyed feeling the adrenaline rush again. It had been a while, thanks to Sean
Drake. If not for Madeline’s father’s resentment of Laura’s friendship with
Jake, she would still be an active duty military officer working on her
communications designs full-time and a full-time communications consultant for
Intel. Drake had threatened to destroy her career, with an assist from her
research funder, Colonel James. Deactivating in Intel and leaving the military
was the only way Laura could stop them. So she had. Now, she was a civil
service employee attached to the Publicity Office who did her communications
research and development designs quietly—actually, covertly—on the side, and
she assisted Intel when her expertise was needed. It wasn’t a perfect
situation, or what she’d wanted but, under the circumstances, it was the best
she could do.
Squelching her
resentment against Drake and James, she avoided looking at Jake and gazed
across the table at Timmy, who was still hard at the what-if questions.
The only good thing about her not being on active duty in the military or
active full-time in Intel was that her absence removed her and her family from
the dangers inherent to the job. Her consults did pose the potential for
danger, but typically she was in and out of the operation quickly, and only
those with the highest security clearances ever knew she had been involved.
Much safer for Timmy. There was solace in that.
Still, this Shadowpoint
consult was serious enough that she had to tell Jake about it, and she
would—just as soon as they got Timmy calmed down and into bed for the night.
"Stop worrying, Tiger,” she said to him. "Your dad and I will be there.”
Outside, tires
screeched.
Seconds later, the beams
of bright headlights flooded in through the kitchen window. A car jumped the
curb and headed straight for the kitchen. Oh, God, was it going to hit the
house?
"It’s not stopping.”
Jake jumped up.
Closest, Laura snagged
Timmy, knocking a chair against the wall. She pulled him away from the outer
wall, out of the kitchen, then shielded him behind her and watched Jake run
toward the front door.
Through the arched
opening between the entryway and the kitchen, she saw the car finally stop. Its
still running engine had the walls and window vibrating, and Laura’s nerves
shot. And Timmy was as white as a sheet. "It’s okay, Tiger.” She swept a shaky
hand down his hair, praying she wasn’t inadvertently lying to him. "Just stay
put until your dad assesses the situation.”
A car door slammed.
"Where is she?” a woman shouted, her voice slurred. "Where is she?” A pause,
then, "Don’t you dare tell me to lower my voice, Jake Logan. I’m not married to
you anymore. You can’t tell me what to do. Where is the bitch?”
Madeline. And Timmy had
to have heard her. For God’s sake, why couldn’t the woman think of him just
once? Just once?
"Timmy.” Laura cupped
his trembling chin. From the pain haunting his eyes, she knew he’d recognized
Madeline’s voice. "Why don’t you go take your shower now, okay?”
The fear and anger
burning in his eyes seeped into his voice. "It’s Madeline.”
"Yes, it is,” Laura
admitted, more relieved that it was her than someone else. There were other
possibilities. With Jake’s job, terrorists or malcontents seeking revenge or
intelligence information were a possibility and a potential threat.
Timmy’s chin quivered,
and he looked a blink from tears. "She’s drunk again.”
"I’m afraid so.” Laura
swallowed hard. How could the woman keep doing this? Why did she insist on
continuously hurting Timmy this way? "Go on now, and don’t forget to brush your
teeth. Dad and I’ll be in a little later to say good night.”
Biting down on his lip,
Timmy clenched his jaw. "She’s gonna do it again, isn’t she, Mom?”
Laura didn’t have to ask
what he meant. Twice Madeline had pulled her consent before Jake and Laura
could see the adoption through to fruition, and this felt frighteningly like a
prelude to a third withdrawal. "I hope not.”
"Me, too.” He walked
through the entryway, then across the family room and down the hall toward his
room.
"Damn it, let go of me,
Jake! I want to talk to the bitch, and I’m not going anywhere until I do.”
Fuming, Laura forced
herself to stay in the entryway until Timmy stepped out of sight, then she went
to the door. Madeline was yelling loud enough to wake the dead. No way could
Timmy—or every neighbor in a three-block radius—not hear every word. Jake and Timmy
deserved so much better than this. So much better than this.
Laura stepped outside,
down onto the concrete landing, and saw Madeline sway on her feet. Her car had
stopped closer to four feet than six from the kitchen window. The engine was
still running, the lights were still on, and half the sod that had been the
lawn now clung splattered on her car’s back fenders. So much for all the work
they’d put into grooming every blade for the past two weeks. Laura grimaced.
"I’m right here. What do you want, Madeline?”
She jerked around, her
black suit as crumpled as if she’d slept in it for a week. Her once beautiful
face, puffy and bloated by alcohol, twisted with hatred that ran soul-deep.
"You’re not getting him. Timmy’s mine.” She thumped her thin chest with a wild,
waving hand. "You got Jake, but you’re not getting my son.”
"I understand.” Laura
crossed her arms over her chest, hiding the hurt and holding it inside. "Is
that it?”
"You coldhearted bitch.
Timmy belongs to me. He’s mine. M-I-N-E.”
Laura ignored the woman
and swiveled her gaze to Jake. "Should I call the police?” That had been their
attorney’s advice.
"No.” Jake frowned.
"Timmy’s upset enough without having to see that, too.”
Truthfully, Laura felt a
little relieved. The neighbors were gawking. Discreetly peeking out from behind
their drapes and through the slats of their mini-blinds, but gawking. That
infuriated and embarrassed her. Hell, it humiliated her, and she knew it had
the same effect on Jake. "She obviously can’t drive.” A diplomatic understatement;
the woman could barely stand. It was a shame her overindulgence hadn’t shut her
mouth. "I’ll go call her a cab. You get the car off the lawn.”
"Don’t talk about me
like I’m not standing here.” Madeline tried to sling off Jake’s grasp on her
upper arm.
He held fast with little
effort. She was tiny, about Laura’s five-five height, and Jake towered over
them both. "That’s enough, Madeline.”
"Nothing is black and
white,” she shouted at Laura. "I told you, there’re always shades of gray. Damn
it, I told you...”
She had told Laura that.
Repeatedly. But what exactly she had meant by it, only she, God, and the demons
that drove her to drink knew. Laura turned to go inside.
"Don’t walk away from
me, bitch.” Madeline fought Jake harder, spitting her words out from between
her teeth. "I hate it when people walk away from me!”
Jake restrained her,
kept Madeline from going after Laura. The woman was sick, and they should have
compassion, but a resentful part of her half-wished Jake would turn Madeline loose
so Laura could legitimately belt her in self-defense. It would be wrong, but
after so many years of these type altercations, her tolerance level had dipped
low. At the moment, it had dipped to nearly nonexistent. Yet Laura understood
the value of discipline, so she restrained herself and retraced her steps on
the walkway to the covered landing at the front door. Only she would know she
tasted blood from biting her tongue. There was solace in that.
Madeline screamed. "Don’t
walk away from me!”
Without looking back,
Laura went inside, shoved the door shut, resisted an urge to kick it. She
jerked up the phone, shaking in fury and fear that Madeline would stop the
adoption again. Muttering intermittently against the aggravation, the
frustration, and the indignity of putting up with stunts like this one, she
first called a cab to come get Madeline and then phoned Bill at Green’s
Automotive to come and tow away her car.
In the morning, the
woman wouldn’t have a clue where she’d left it, and Laura would rather pay the
towing fee than risk Madeline returning here so soon. Laura’s tolerance
definitely had sunk too low to risk her having the patience to deal with that.
Hanging up the phone,
soul-weary and worried half-sick about tomorrow, she glimpsed Timmy out of the
corner of her eye. Hunkered against the hallway wall, he looked so lost, so
alone and afraid, it broke her heart. The urge to physically force Madeline
into a serious attitude adjustment hit Laura hard. Instead, she went to Timmy,
stooped down, and then hugged him close, trying to absorb all the fears from
him. "I’m so sorry, Tiger.” The child was shaking like a leaf. "Are you okay?”
"She scares me, Mom.”
"She’s sick, honey.”
Laura rubbed little circles on his back, trying to soothe him. "Really sick.”
A few minutes later,
Jake came back inside.
Timmy was still shaking.
"Is she gone, Dad?” he asked, his eyes wide.
"Yes, son.” Looking as
weary as Laura felt, Jake tried to reassure Timmy. "And Bill Green just
left with her car. Everything’s okay, except the front lawn. We’ll need a
truckload of dirt and a good bit of sod to get rid of the tire ruts.” Jake
heaved a sigh and rubbed at his neck. "Guess that settles the question of what
we’ll be doing next weekend.”
"Guess so,” Laura said.
"But Sutter’s Mill will still be there the weekend after for us to visit. We
can handle this.” That was true, if annoying. Repairing the lawn only required
time, money, and hours of backbreaking work and sweat. The real worry was in
wondering what Timmy would require to heal from this.
Jake scooped up Timmy
and hugged him to him. Though Laura felt down to her core the regret and worry
Madeline had put in Jake’s eyes, she pretended not to see it.
Half an hour later, they
had all calmed down considerably, and Timmy was back to the what-if questions
Judge Neal might pose to him.
"Stop worrying.” Jake
ruffled Timmy’s hair. "You’ll turn gray before you’re ten. Mom and I will be
there, son. Didn’t she tell you everything would be fine?”
"Yes.”
"And doesn’t she always
tell the truth?”
"She always has,” Timmy
conceded, sliding a longing look at Laura that this time she was being honest
with him, too.
"We’ll be there,” Laura
repeated to reinforce it, hearing the phone ring.
Closest to the phone,
Jake grabbed the receiver, then answered. "Logan.”
His shoulders tensed,
and he buried his expression under his professional mask. "Fine.” He glanced at
his watch. "I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
Laura’s heart wrenched
in her chest. It was a business call. He was being sent out on a mission.
Tomorrow in court, Jake
wouldn’t be there.
