A Gift of Thought (7 page)

Sylvie gave a puff of laughter. “No, not like that,” she said, waving off his words. Well, not really like that. It was strange to look at Lucas and realize that he still did it for her. Weren’t people supposed to outgrow their high school loves? Shouldn’t she be able to see him and think, wow, he’s gotten old, instead of feeling breathless?

James pressed for more, but Sylvie ignored him, still trying to puzzle out Lucas’s behavior. Someone was pregnant, she’d caught that much. But that couldn’t possibly have anything to do with Chesney. Or she supposed it could, but ew. If that was the connection, she didn’t admire the unknown woman’s taste.

As James pulled up in front of the school, Sylvie finally let go of her preoccupation. Maybe Ty’s background check on Lucas would turn up something interesting. And if not, she’d probably see him again soon. She doubted that pouring coffee on him was going to deter him for long.

Exactly as Sylvie expected, the principal looked disapproving at the idea of letting Rachel out of the school building but didn’t resist Sylvie’s calm persistence. Sylvie waited for Rachel outside her classroom door. As the bell rang and uniformed girls streamed through the hallway, though, Sylvie frowned.

The girls coming out of Rachel’s classroom felt wrong: too bright, too excited, too giggly. Something must have happened. And then Rachel emerged and Sylvie’s eyebrows rose in surprise. Rachel also felt bright, much more so than the promised Starbuck’s treat deserved.

“Rachel, I need you to come with me for a security check,” Sylvie said, using a formal voice for the sake of any nearby teachers. She tried not to let her curiosity show as they walked together through the hallway, but Rachel was close to skipping. And the feeling . . . was it joy?

She wanted to ask, but not with others around. And outside, of course, they walked silently. Rachel knew better than to speak to her bodyguard when they were in the open. Even though they were on the school grounds, Sylvie continually scanned for potential threats.

As she opened the car door for Rachel to slide inside, though, Sylvie couldn’t resist any longer. “So anything interesting happen this morning?”

“Oh, yes,” Rachel replied. “It was the best.”

Sylvie slid in next to her. Reaching over the seat, she grabbed the drink from the front and passed it to Rachel, then held out her hand for Rachel’s alarm. “Yeah?” she prompted, when Rachel didn’t seem inclined to continue.

Rachel was almost shivering with glee, her cheeks pink, as she took a long slurp on her Frappuccino. “Marlie Eversoll got in trouble.”

Sylvie’s eyes met those of James in the rearview mirror. She could feel that he was as taken aback as she was. She’d never seen Rachel happier and it was because another girl had gotten in trouble?

“You don’t like her?” she asked, as she popped open the back of Rachel’s alarm and re-set the battery. Then she winced as Rachel’s feelings flooded over her. ‘Not like’ was much too gentle a way to describe Rachel’s opinion of Marlie Eversoll. Sylvie’s hand tightened on the GPS tracker in automatic reaction.

“She’s okay,” Rachel said, a belated caution entering her voice. “It was just funny.”

“What happened?” James asked from the front seat.

Rachel looked at him, a little doubtful, but then let the story spill out in a rush of words. “Her phone kept ringing. We’re not allowed to have phones in class. She didn’t get in trouble the first time, but then she told Mrs. Walden she’d turned it off. It rang again, and Mrs. Walden got real mad at her for lying. Then it rang again, and Mrs. Walden gave her detention for a week. She talked back. She talked back to Mrs. Walden! And then she got sent to the office.”

Hatred and happiness made for a strange and not particularly pleasant mix of emotion. But on top of Rachel’s feelings, Sylvie almost caught words. ‘
Pathetic? Facebook? Slut?’
What was this?

Wait, words? Sylvie turned her gaze to the window. Lucas had to be out there somewhere, close enough to be affecting her. She didn’t get words when he wasn’t nearby, just sensations. Her eyes scanned the road, looking for a car that might be parked, a pedestrian that she might recognize.

‘Lucas?’
It was a call, not simply a thought. But no answer came.

Her eyes narrowed as she passed the GPS tracker back to Rachel, her attention still focused outside the car.

James picked up on her uneasiness. “What are you looking at?”

She shook her head. The words were gone. If Lucas had been nearby, he’d moved on. She let Rachel take her time with the drink, but then insisted on walking her inside. As she returned to the car, her eyes swept the surroundings, looking for anything out of place.

‘Lucas?’
She tried again, but got no response.

But she paused, car door open, one hand resting on the roof, as a nondescript beige car parked across the street caught her attention. The distance was too great for her to feel the emotions of the occupants, but it looked as if two men were sitting in the front seats. She glanced back at the door of the school. Could Rachel be in danger?

And then she shook her head and got into the car. Whatever this was, it didn’t have anything to do with Rachel.

“What’s all that about?” James asked.

“I don’t know,” Sylvie answered, not trying to hide her uncertainty. “I think I need to call Ty.” She pulled out the phone he’d given her.

“Ah, you’re not planning on telling him we let the kid play hooky, are you? ‘Cause it’s almost Christmas and I don’t much want to get fired today.” At the exit to the parking lot, James checked both directions.

“Go left. Left,” Sylvie ordered, looking up from the phone.

“What? Why?” James turned to the left without waiting for an answer.

“I want to go past that . . . ah,” Sylvie said with satisfaction. They’d driven alongside the beige car which was pointed in the opposite direction, and she’d caught a burst of frustration from the men inside. “That car’s going to follow us,” she told James. “You might want to lose them.”

She found the number for the security room in the house and tapped it, as James accelerated away. The phone rang once, twice, then Ty picked up.

“What’s up?” he asked, not bothering with a greeting.

“I’m not sure,” Sylvie answered. “Did you find out anything about Lucas?”

Ty chuckled. “More or less.”

“What does that mean?” Sylvie asked. The amusement in Ty’s voice didn’t make any sense.

“I found out that he has higher-placed friends than we do,” Ty answered. “Fortunately, Gibbs is cool with it. Apparently getting dragged out of bed in the middle of the night impressed his girlfriend. And one of the guys who did the dragging told him to apply for a job with them, that he did good work.”

“What the hell?”

Ty must have taken pity on the shock in her voice. “Gibbs tried to do a background check on the guy,” he explained. “He wound up in a basement somewhere. He thinks Arlington.”

“The Pentagon?” Sylvie blinked rapidly. That didn’t make sense. Lucas wasn’t—he didn’t—how could he . . .

“Oh, shit,” she said as the sirens started behind them.

“No, he thinks maybe DEA,” Ty answered, not realizing what she was swearing about.

“Ah, Sylvie?” James said, voice tentative.

“Awesome,” said Sylvie. “That’s just peachy. I gotta go, Ty. Talk to ya’ soon.”

With a sigh, she added, “Pull over,” to James as she disconnected.

The cops used their loudspeaker to order them out of the car, but Sylvie didn’t hesitate, even as James obediently put his hands on the roof of the car. She marched straight back, past the police officer who ordered her to halt, glaring at him in passing as he reached for his weapon.

“Stand down,” ordered a man in a lousy suit from the car behind the police car. The beige car was nowhere to be seen, Sylvie noticed. They must have called it in when James got away from them. Instead, there was a police car with two uniformed officers, one of whom was currently patting James down, the other who was staring after her, looking annoyed, and a blue Toyota, with Lucas stepping out of one side, brown suit guy on the other.

As she reached Lucas, she cocked her head to one side. “Really? For a cup of coffee?” she said, voice dangerous. “Should I tell these guys what you were up to Friday night?”

He sighed. He looked tired, she noticed with a pang, his blue eyes shadowed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “You wouldn’t believe the favors I called in for this.”

Sylvie turned to the guy in the brown suit. “This is Raymond Chesney’s car,” she said. “You know that, right?”

He grimaced, closing his eyes and shuddering with exaggerated dismay. Then he opened them and said cheerfully, “Five jobs, right?” to Lucas.

“Yep.”

Brown-suit-guy tapped his forehead and said, “I’ll leave you to it, then.” Grinning at Sylvie, he headed away, up to where the uniformed police officer was putting his gun away.

“But not Zane,” Lucas called after him. “Not for another six months, anyway.”

The guy waved over his shoulder as Sylvie said, keeping her voice low despite her fury, “What the hell is this, Lucas?”

“I’m sorry.” He put his hand on her upper arm. Despite her anger, Sylvie didn’t resist, didn’t step away. “I know you don’t understand. I need—I want to explain to you. But it’s not—”

A buzzing from his pocket interrupted him and he reached for his phone. “Oh, thank God,” he muttered as he looked at the screen. He put the hand that wasn’t holding the phone across his eyes, pressing as if to hide his expression or his tears.

Sylvie saw him swallow hard and she felt the tidal wave of relief that washed over him. “Lucas?” she asked. What was going on? She was lost.

“I know you must have questions. I know you must be angry. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you everything. But it’s complicated and—” He paused as his phone buzzed again.

“What are you talking about, Lucas?” Sylvie asked as he looked at his phone. “What’s complicated?”

He half smiled. And then he rubbed his face again and took a deep breath. ‘
It’s okay
,’ he thought to Sylvie.

‘What’s okay?’
she thought back, frustrated.

‘You’re cool.’
His thought was flavored with joy and Sylvie shook her head.

“Lucas,” she said carefully, speaking out loud again. “Do you need help?” She hated therapists. But maybe Lucas needed medical attention. A psychiatrist, perhaps?

“No,” he answered. “But I do need to talk to you. Will you meet me?”

Sylvie sighed. She looked back at James, who was no longer leaning against the car. He was talking to the police officer and brown-suit guy, and although their conversation looked friendly enough, he was going to be pissed. She thought about her schedule. She was working long hours and would be until the flu finished beating up their team and Ty managed to find a new employee, but . . . .

“Wednesday night. I’m off at 8.” It was two days away. Would he be willing to wait that long?

“I can do that.” He nodded.

Sylvie’s eyes narrowed. The desperation she’d sensed earlier was gone. He seemed close to relaxed. Still intent, still focused, still Lucas, but the chaotic emotions she’d felt at Starbucks had settled into a peaceful exhaustion.

“I’ll be on duty at a holiday party at the Fairmont. Do you want to meet me there?” The words were straightforward but the thought asked for more. ‘
Do you want to tell me what this is about?’

‘Wednesday
,’ he promised. He slid his hand up her arm to her shoulder and grinned at her.

‘Lucas,’
she thought a warning, feeling the dangerous heat spark in her belly. They were not, not, not going to repeat past patterns.

“It’s okay,” he told her, then leaned forward and brushed a fleeting kiss across her lips.

It was worse than static electricity, less than lightning. Sylvie took a hasty step back, and glared at him. ‘
Damn it,’
she thought.

‘Sorry.’
His thought felt both contrite and happy. ‘
Wednesday?’

‘Fine. Wednesday.’
She turned and stomped away. Damn it. What had just happened? But the curling heat was its own answer. How was it that Lucas could always do this to her?

Chapter Five

“Whoa!” Dillon protested. “What’s up with that?”

His dad had grinned at his mom. And then he’d kissed her. Oh, not a serious kiss, not like a kiss with tongue or anything. But lips had definitely touched lips.

“She left us, remember?” he pointed out to the oblivious Lucas, who gazed after Sylvie’s departing back with a half-smile still tugging at his mouth. “Shouldn’t you be mad at her?”

“You still here, Dill?” Lucas asked, his voice quiet.

Dillon tried to answer, but all he could manage to send was a “Y.”

Damn.

Ghostly exhaustion didn’t feel like physical exhaustion. He had no sore muscles or itchy eyes telling him he needed sleep, but he didn’t have enough energy left to send the signals that would generate letters on Lucas’s phone. Spelling out “she’s cool” had finished him off.

Trying to make that bitch of a girl’s phone ring in Rachel’s English class had been tricky. He knew how to send messages but powering on a phone was more challenging. It was totally worth the effort, though. Wow, Dillon was glad he hadn’t gone to an all-girls school. Rachel’s classmates were flat-out mean.

His dad looked at his phone. “Why?” he asked. “Why what?” He frowned, looking puzzled and then said, “Oh, you mean yes?”

Dillon groaned. Texting could be so annoying. “Yes, Dad,” he said, knowing that Lucas couldn’t hear him. “And you’d better answer some of my questions, too.”

“I’ve been so worried about you,” Lucas said, looking at the display on the phone. “If I’d known, if I’d had any idea—”

“Who ya’ talking to, Latimer?” The guy who’d been driving the car was back, his conversation with the police officers over.

“Long story,” Lucas answered, tucking his phone into his pocket and opening the car door. He waited, hand on the door. Sylvie was already seated in the black Mercedes and the police officers were getting back into their squad car.