Blind Run (21 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

SYDNEY WAITED FOR ETHAN.

She’d driven the children back to the convenience store where she and Ethan had stopped earlier. For a while, she’d occupied her thoughts with Callie. The cough she’d been fighting for the last couple of days had fully developed, accompanied by a low-grade fever. And for the first time, she’d complained of a sore throat and headache. Sydney had done what she could without knowing exactly what she was treating. Because of their conversation at Laurel Lodge, she feared the girl’s symptoms were more than those of a simple flu or cold. Plus, Sydney couldn’t rid herself of the nagging fear that something else was going on here, something connected to the children’s island home. She was beginning to think Callie belonged in a hospital.

Meanwhile, Sydney dried off both children and turned up the car’s heater to warm them. Then she bought them prewrapped sandwiches and hot chocolate. Once she’d gotten some food into Callie’s stomach, she gave her more Liquid Tylenol and another dose of over-the-counter cough syrup. Finally, both children drifted off to sleep, Callie with her head on Sydney’s lap and Danny stretched out in the backseat.

Only then did Sydney allow her thoughts to slide back to Ethan and the man he’d held at gunpoint in front of Timothy Mulligan’s house: Marco Ramirez.

Just the name made her shiver, despite the heater at full blast. She didn’t want to die, but neither did she want to be responsible for someone else’s death. It went against her oath as a doctor and her conscience as a human being. Ethan had said he only wanted to talk to Ramirez, but she had no way of knowing whether that was the truth. In her heart she knew Ethan would do anything and everything in his power to protect her. Even kill. And there was always the chance that something could go wrong and Ethan would end up on the wrong side of that equation.

But when Ethan finally showed up, slipping into the car without a fuss, she couldn’t bring herself to ask about Ramirez. Ethan’s presence filled the car, and relief blocked her throat.

“Is everyone okay?” he said.

She shook off her paralysis. “Danny and I are fine, but Callie’s sick.”

Ethan smiled sadly at the sleeping child and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. “Yeah, I know.”

The gesture caught at Sydney’s heart. How had she forgotten all these things about him, his courage and protective nature? His gentleness? It took effort to speak normally. “She’s better now, but I’m worried about her.”

“What about you, Danny?” Ethan glanced in the backseat. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” came the muffled reply.

“No sore throat or coughing?”

He didn’t answer, and Sydney shifted to look at him. “Are you getting sick, Danny?”

He still didn’t respond, or even move. Not right away. Then he pushed to a sitting position, his eyes brimming with tears. “I’m really sorry.”

Sydney ached for him. “Oh, Danny.”

“Everyone makes mistakes,” Ethan said.

Danny lowered his head, tears dripping down his cheeks.

Ethan reached back and gently lifted Danny’s chin. “It’s okay.” His voice was firm but kind, the voice he’d used when he’d had one of his talks with Nicky about some boyish mischief. “I know why you ran, I even understand it.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, I do.” Ethan withdrew his hand.

“But Callie, she’s so sick.”

“You didn’t make her sick, and we’re going to take care of her. Besides . . .” He shot Danny a grin. “Didn’t I tell you Sydney was the best kid doctor in all of Texas?”

A ghost of a smile brightened the boy’s face.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” Ethan assured him. “A little rest and some of Sydney’s magic, and Callie will be fine.”

Danny sniffed and swiped at his eyes. “So, you’re not mad?”

“No, I’m not mad, but we
do
have to get one thing straight.” Ethan grew serious again, and Danny mirrored his expression. “I’m not Anna, or anything like her. And I’m certainly nothing like those folks you call the Keepers.” He paused, searching Danny’s face. “I’m not going to let you and your sister down. I’m in this to the end.”

Danny didn’t respond immediately, and Sydney held her breath. Finally, he said, “You’ll help us find out what happened to our parents?”

“
And
why your friend Sean disappeared.” Again Ethan waited for the boy to digest his words. “So promise me you won’t run off again.”

Danny hesitated a bit more, then nodded. “Okay.”

Sydney let out her breath. Ethan had succeeded in getting Danny to trust an adult again, when she hadn’t been sure it was possible.

“Okay, then, let’s get out of here.” Ethan reached for the door handle but stopped at Danny’s next question.

“Is that man dead?”

“Ramirez?” Ethan looked back at him. “No, I didn’t kill him. Though I admit I wanted to. He’s a pretty bad man.”

“What about my . . . Timothy Mulligan. Did Ramirez . . .”

Ethan shook his head thoughtfully. “No, I don’t think so.”

Surprised, Sydney started to ask a question but decided against it. There would be time later. Right now she wanted to put some distance between these children and whoever had killed Timothy Mulligan. And she wanted to get Callie into bed. “Shouldn’t we get going?” she said.

Ethan agreed, and they switched places so he could take the wheel. And as they navigated the damp streets of Champaign, Sydney considered how easily Ethan had handled Danny. No, that wasn’t quite right. Ethan hadn’t “handled” the boy, he’d been sincere and straightforward, and in the process gotten Danny to trust him. Quite a feat considering everything he and his sister had been through. But then, Ethan had always had a keen sense of how to deal with people. He’d been a wonderful father, patient and capable of delivering an explanation without losing his authority. He’d probably been that way with the men under his command as well.

Sydney stared out the rain-streaked windows as they pulled onto the highway, leaving behind the lights of Champaign.

She’d been wrong to let her grief and anger blind her to all the good in her marriage, in Ethan. There had been so much that had been wonderful about their years together. Yet she’d chosen to remember only how it ended. Now, riding in a stolen car with two runaways and an assassin on their tail, she had to wonder if she’d waited too long to see things clearly.

THEY HEADED NORTH,
toward Chicago.

Ethan wanted to get as far from Champaign as possible, but one look at Callie and he knew he needed to find a place for the night. And soon. Despite what he’d told Danny, he was worried about the girl. If she didn’t get better soon, they’d need access to medical facilities. Chicago was as good a place as any and better than most. And it was always easier to disappear in a big city.

It was near midnight when he decided to stop. He picked a chain motel, one a family on vacation would choose. Callie was still asleep, and he carried her into the room while Sydney got Danny inside.

After that, he let Sydney tend them. She took to it naturally, as she’d done with their son, while Ethan felt as far removed from parenthood as one could get. A few hours ago he’d ached to rip the life from another man.

The thought brought a bitter smile to his lips.

He was hardly what you’d call father material. Though he’d loved Nicky unconditionally, it had always been Sydney who’d nurtured their son, given the boy a loving home. As a father, Ethan had been a bust, traipsing around the globe tending to other people’s problems, leaving his own family alone and vulnerable. He’d told himself he was creating a safer world for them, but that had been the biggest lie of all. Nothing he’d done in those years had ever changed anything, except to tear his family apart and ensure that Sydney no longer had a child of her own to mother.

So he left Danny and Callie to her and stepped outside. The rain had continued, chilling the air and stealing the stars from the sky. After three years in the desert, he couldn’t get enough of the rain. Or the coolness. Crossing the small patio to the pool area, he took up watch at an umbrella-covered table with a clear view of the room.

His encounter with Ramirez had left him unsettled.

The assassin had done Ethan’s leg work and confirmed his suspicion about several things, including his growing certainty of the Agency’s involvement. Even the surprise connection between Haven Island and his team’s attempt to bring in Ramirez had only confirmed what Ethan had already guessed. Something was happening on that island, something the Agency had killed to keep secret. The only remaining questions were what and who was involved.

Ethan supposed he should be grateful to Ramirez for filling in the blanks, but gratitude wasn’t something he could offer the man who’d killed his son. Instead, hate simmered within him, distant now, like a fading bruise or bout of sickness almost past. As was his fear that Ramirez would come after Sydney.

“What now?” he’d asked Ramirez before leaving him in the chilly interior of his car. “Is Sydney safe?”

Ramirez waved off the question with a flick of his wrist. “She is of no interest to me.”

“If you’re lying—”

“I told you what I want. Answers. And if your woman or those
niños
had them, you would not have come looking for Mulligan.” He met Ethan’s stare with hard, unflinching eyes. “My answers and yours,
amigo,
are on that island.”

Reality sucked, but Ramirez had been right.

Sydney came outside, making him forget Ramirez. Her slender silhouette hovered in the doorway, looking too young and fragile, though Ethan knew neither was true. Only a strong woman could have held herself together these last forty-eight hours, and Sydney had done more than that. She’d stood up and fought back.

“How’s Callie?” he asked as she crossed the terrace to join him.

“Sleeping. But she’s a pretty sick little girl.” Sydney settled in the chair opposite his. “She’s also very stubborn.”

“Like her brother.”

“She woke up just long enough to tell me she wasn’t really sick, just a little tired.”

Ethan smiled to himself. What a pair they were, angelic Callie and her fierce big brother. They were the type of kids who’d drive their parents nuts one day, and make them incredibly proud the next.

“I’m worried about her, Ethan.” Sydney leaned forward. “Yesterday Callie told me the doctors at the Haven keep her away from the other children because she has a weak immune system. Even if this started out as a simple cold or flu bug, it may develop into something much more serious.” Her face tightened. “But without tests or equipment, I just don’t know.”

“What do you want to do?” It was her call, she was the doctor.

With a sigh, she settled back in the chair. “I’m not sure yet. I’ll keep an eye on her tonight, and if she’s not better in the morning, we need to take her to a hospital.”

It was a risk. At the very least, they’d open themselves to questions and scrutiny they weren’t prepared to answer. Someone could recognize him, or all of them if the media had gotten word of Sydney’s arrest at the park. But he wouldn’t risk Callie’s life by denying her medical treatment.

“If you decide she needs a hospital,” he said, “we’ll take her.” He’d just have to find some way to protect her in the process.

Sydney smiled tightly, obviously relieved. “All right.”

He fell back on his silence, but after a few moments he realized she was still looking at him. “What is it?”

“I haven’t thanked you for coming after me today and pulling me out of that car.”

It surprised him that she’d think he’d do anything else, or feel the need to thank him. “You shouldn’t have been in that situation to begin with.” The park and car accident seemed long ago, much longer than the reality. “I shouldn’t have let it happen.”

Her soft laugh sounded sad. “Who made you responsible for the world, Ethan?”

Not the world, not any longer. “I’m supposed to be keeping you safe.”

“And I haven’t made it easy.”

He chuckled. “Well, there is that.”

For a moment, she met his gaze, then turned away. Quickly. A little too quickly, he thought. They were both fighting it so hard, this attraction, the chemistry that had brought them together nine years ago and still simmered.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” he said, referring to more than her willingness to accept blame. “You’ve done okay under very difficult circumstances.”

“Maybe, but before tonight, when . . . when Mulligan was killed, none of this seemed real. Or at least, I didn’t want to believe it was real.”

“And now?”

“I’m scared.” She shivered and pulled her jacket closed. “More than that, I’m angry. A man is dead tonight because I talked to him.”

“You can’t blame yourself.”

“I don’t, not really. Mulligan died because he’s linked to the children, and someone doesn’t want us to find out how.” She paused, frowning, then added, “But even knowing that, I can’t shake the feeling I’m responsible. If I hadn’t sought him out, he might still be alive.”

It was the kind of guilt Ethan understood, but he couldn’t let her accept it. He moved to the chair next to hers and grasped her hands. “Sydney, you’ve been drawn into this against your will. If anyone is at fault—”

She pressed two fingers to his lips. “Stop. Don’t say it.”

Ethan went very still, unable to breathe.

“I won’t listen to you blame yourself,” she said, her hand on his cheek now, cupping his face. “You do that too much.”

Her touch almost undid him. She had such small hands, with long tapered fingers that were adept and competent, yet capable of such tenderness. The feel of them against his face was like a cool breeze against his scorched skin. He wanted to wrap his own around them and absorb their comfort, but he resisted, letting her set the pace.

Whatever happened next, it had to be her choice.

Slowly, she leaned closer and kissed him. A soft brushing of lips that lingered, tantalized, and mixed with the gentle scent of her. Still, he restrained himself, fighting the need to drag her into his arms.

She broke the kiss, taking the last of his breath with her, and rested her forehead against his. “I told myself I wasn’t going to do that, that I didn’t even want to do it.” She sighed, then lifted her head to look at him. “But I’m done lying to myself.”