JOSS: A Standalone Romance (Gray Wolf Security) (3 page)

“How long will she stay?”

“Until we don’t need her anymore.”

“Why doesn’t she talk?”

I saw a cloud move over the father’s face at that question. I knew it was a problem for him. It was one issue I’d consistently come up against in other cases, too, but my targets almost always came around to it once they understood that it wouldn’t prevent me from doing my job. Some were even grateful for the silence after all the noise in their normal days. However, I got the impression that wouldn’t be the way it would go with this case.

“I don’t know,” Carrington said slowly. “Sometimes things happen to people and they respond to it in odd ways. Maybe that’s what it is with Joss.”

“Like when mom died?”

I saw the tension come into Carrington’s shoulders, the narrowing of his eyes. That was a touchy subject with him. I’d have to remember that.

“Hey, why don’t you sing me a song,” he suddenly said. “You didn’t get to sing at school, right? So sing to me now.”

The little girl suddenly brightened, jumping to her feet and beginning one of the most beautiful renditions of ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star’ I’d ever heard. I started to turn away, but then Carrington grabbed his daughter and pulled her into his lap, tickling her along her ribs, making her laugh that joyous laugh that only a child could utter. There was such love between father and daughter that it made my heart ache.

I turned away. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could handle this case.

***

“Hey, gorgeous!”

I ran my finger along the curve of the baby’s cheek, smiling when he smiled around the plastic pacifier he was sucking madly.

“He looks just like you.”

I looked up, my heart melting the way it always did when Esteban’s eyes met mine. He brushed a piece of fine, blond hair away from my face as he leaned in close to steal a kiss.

“I have to go to work,” he whispered against my lips.

“Call in sick.”

“I would, but I’m the teacher.”

I groaned. “Why did I have to marry such a responsible man?”

“Because you, my love, get off on authority.”

I laughed. “Is that it? Really?”

“Or maybe it’s just because you couldn’t resist my fine good looks.”

“Oh, that’s definitely it.”

He leaned in for another kiss, his lips lingering against mine for a long moment. Then the baby made a noise. He didn’t like being squashed between his parents. But he’d have to get used to it. There would never be a time when we could resist being this close.

But then he walked away and the baby began to cry. It wasn’t just a simple, come get me, sort of cry. It was a scream of terror. The room was dark and I couldn’t find him.

“Isaac, baby, Mommy’s coming,” I said, but it was as if my vocal cords were frozen. No sound was coming out. And the crying continued, long, low wails that spoke of all the nightmares a parent might have about their baby. He was in pain. He needed me. And I couldn’t get to him.

“Isaac!”

I woke in full motion, sitting up and reaching for my sidearm where I’d slipped it under my pillow. The cold steel felt comforting between my hands. Some people took comfort from pillows and stuffed animals. I liked the feel of a trigger under my index finger.

I turned on a light and reminded myself that it was only a dream. A dream I’d had much too often over the past four years. I tried to keep reminding myself that what was done was done, there was nothing I could do about it now. But my heart just couldn’t believe that.

I sat there far longer than I probably should have. Then I carefully stowed the gun in the drawer of the bedside table, got up, and checked the windows. Everything seemed calm. There were no noises, nothing that might have woken me subconsciously from my dream. I checked my phone to make sure David hadn’t set off an alarm through his program. But there was nothing.

Just memories.

I ran my fingers through my hair, too restless to lay back down. I paced a little, thinking about the little girl I was supposed to be protecting. I tried to keep my distance from children over the past four years. It was too hard. Too many memories. I picked up my phone again and considered calling Ash. I knew he’d be awake. The man rarely ever slept anymore. I guess I wasn’t the only one with memories that haunted my sleep.

But I didn’t call him. Instead, I made my way downstairs. I missed dinner because I didn’t want to intrude on Carrington and his daughter. But now, despite the knot in my stomach, I was starving.

I thought everyone else would be asleep, but when I turned the last corner on the way to the kitchen, I saw that the lights were on. Carrington was sitting at the table, picking at what looked like leftover chicken. I started to turn around and go back upstairs, but he looked up just as I did.

“It’s okay. Join me.”

I hesitated almost a full minute. Then I sighed and padded slowly on bare feet into the kitchen. I wasn’t exactly dressed to meet with a client. I was wearing an old t-shirt and a pair of shorts. I had on a sports bra under my tee or else I probably would have ignored his invitation and gone back upstairs. I could almost hear Kirkland’s voice in the back of my head,
Hubba, hubba, hubba!
Thank goodness not all men were wired like Kirkland.

“I’d guess you’re hungry,” Carrington said, rising to get me a plate of food.

I made a gesture for him to sit, but he didn’t see it because his back was already turned. I had no choice but to take a seat. I didn’t want to be rude.

Carrington was back a moment later, setting a plate piled with warm chicken breast and some sort of rice concoction in front of me. I picked up the fork and took a small bite. Then I offered him a thumbs-up gesture.

Carrington smiled. “I’d take the credit, but I have a housekeeper who comes in twice a week. She makes these dinners, labels them, and puts them in the freezer for nights I don’t have time to cook.”

I nodded to acknowledge his words, then took another bite. The food was really, really good. I usually ate frozen dinners in my cottage. Ash cooked us all dinner once or twice a week, and I could graze from the canned soups and fresh vegetables he always kept in the kitchen of the main house, but I didn’t. As much as I loved Ash, I preferred my own company as often as possible.

We sat in silence for a while. Then Carrington pushed away his plate and sat back, his eyes on me.

“How did someone like you get into this line of work?”

That was a good question. I pushed the rice around on my plate, stealing another bite before I set my fork down. I had my phone with me, sitting beside my plate. I picked it up and answered his question via text message.

Ash and I met in boot camp. We became good friends. When he started the company, he asked me to join.

“Just like that?”

It wasn’t really that simple. But I nodded because the truth was too hard to explain.

“How long were you in the Army?”

I held up four fingers.

“Years?”

I nodded.

“Why did you leave?”

Another hard question. Well, it wasn’t really hard, just emotional.

I typed into my phone, sending him a new text message. He held his phone between his hands, watching the screen as I typed as though the message would arrive before I had it typed out.

I need to know about the people in your life. How they interact with your daughter. Who else works here besides the housekeeper?

He frowned as the message appeared on his phone. He clearly had been hoping for something else.

“No one else works here. Just Mrs. Harper, and I’ve already informed Ash about her for the background check he said his brother would be running. The only other people in my life are McKelty’s teachers, the school personnel, and my personal assistant, Caiti.”

I nodded. David was already checking those people out.

What about girlfriends? Your daughter’s mother?

A muscle began to jerk in his jaw as he read that message.

“McKelty’s mother died when she was eight months old. And the rest…do you really need to know about that?”

I need to know about anyone who might be a potential source of danger or information for the kidnappers.

He looked away after reading that message, his eyes moving to the windows that overlooked the front of the house. I knew that asking a target about their personal lives was always a sore spot. Some were willing to tell me just about anything, including things I really didn’t want to know. I had one woman describe to me how her ex-boyfriend liked to have sex in very public places. However, most were secretive, reluctant to talk about lovers, new or old. Once a target didn’t tell me about an ex-husband and that secret nearly got her killed.

I reached over and touched his hand lightly to get his attention. Then I slipped his phone out of his hands and wrote,
I won’t tell anyone,
in the dialogue box on his texting app.

He actually smiled when he saw that and this deep, sexy dimple appeared in his left cheek. I had this sudden urge to touch it, to press the tip of my finger against it. I didn’t, of course. But it was significant enough that the urge had existed. I hadn’t wanted to be that close to anyone in a very long time.

“I don’t date,” he said. “I don’t know why I didn’t want to tell you that.” He studied my face a long moment before his eyes fell to his phone again. “My wife and I were married much too young. The marriage was rocky when she got pregnant. I thought the baby could bond us, bring us close again. But she…she wasn’t the maternal type, you know.” He sat back and sighed. “She left, and my family sort of fell apart, and I found myself essentially alone with this beautiful, perfect, demanding child. My life has become about McKelty and nothing else. So, no, there isn’t a woman you have to worry about showing up or presenting a danger for McKelty.”

I held up my fingers in an okay sign.

Carrington leaned forward against the table, his hands inches from mine.

“Now it’s your turn. What’s your story?”

I shook my head.

“I’ve told you my darkest secret. Don’t I deserve at least a little hint about yours?”

I didn’t know what to say. I sighed as I picked up my phone.

What do you want to know?

The moment he read those words, the question I knew he would ask was out of his mouth, the words tumbling over one another.

“Why don’t you speak?”

Because I choose not to.

That was the simple answer, but I knew it wouldn’t satisfy him before I even wrote it. I expected him to argue; I expected him to push the issue. But he didn’t. He simply set his phone down and stared at his hands for a moment.

“I know it’s none of my business,” he said slowly, “but I get the impression that something bad happened to you. Maybe this is PTSD. Maybe it’s something else. And, really, it’s none of my business. But I had a brother who went to Afghanistan—”

I stopped him there with a hand held in the air. He looked at me, and for a moment, I could see pain and hurt in his eyes. But then it was gone, disappeared behind a wall that was very familiar to me. I had one of those walls that I hid behind when things got too personal or too real.

I’m sorry. I just think it’s better if we don’t know too much about each other. This job is hard enough without complications.

He read my words and nodded, standing silently. He gathered our plates and carried them to the sink.

“I should go to bed. McKelty will be up soon.”

I nodded, not even looking up to watch him leave the room. But then his phone buzzed, and I heard him gasp. He was standing in the archway between the kitchen and the dining room, his attention captured by the phone that was once again caught between his hands. I moved up behind him and caught sight of a picture of McKelty outside her school. I snatched the phone from his hands and studied the photo, my heart skipping a beat as I realized the picture had been taken outside her school this afternoon. I knew when it was taken because Carrington was holding his daughter and I was standing just to the side of them, watching them with more interest than I’d thought I’d shown.

This picture was taken today.

There was no writing in the body of the email. Just the picture. But that was message enough.

I sent the picture to myself, then handed the phone back to Carrington. Back at the table, I sent the picture to David and texted him.

Taken today. We have a watcher on a nearby building.

He came back almost immediately. I wasn’t sure he would because he’d only just recently come back to work after his operation. It’d been four months since he underwent surgery and fought an infection, four months since his girlfriend dumped him for lying to him about it. He didn’t tell anyone, but that didn’t seem to matter to Ricki. All that mattered to her was that he lied. I could almost see it from her point of view. But I could also see it from his and…well, none of that had anything to do with this.

Will send someone to check it out tomorrow.

That was really all we could do right now.