“Thank you, ma’am,” Cameron said promptly. “That’s very kind of you. But I don’t want to be any trouble.”
“You won’t be. You are to have a well-earned rest and a vacation with your sister. You both deserve some R&R.”
“Thank you,” he repeated. He turned again to look questioningly at Tasha.
She shook her head. “Later,” she mouthed. She did not want to discuss the car accident with Caroline again. The whole incident was too frightening. Talking about it was liable to set her off crying again.
CHAPTER FIVE
Caroline dropped Tasha and Cam off at the guest house. “You’ll want to help Cameron get settled, Tasha. Bring him up to the house for a drink before dinner. And don’t you worry about Becky. She and Quincy have big plans for Daddy Danger.” She chuckled.
“Jesus,” Cameron said as they went into the cottage. “Awk-damn-ward.”
“I hope you don’t hate it too much, Cam,” Tasha apologized. “I’ve gotten so dependent on Caroline and George that I forget that Harrison is your superior officer. You can’t have liked having to share a helicopter with him.”
“Sharing the helicopter with the colonel wasn’t the problem, Sis,” Cameron said wryly. “Being grilled about your driving record was.”
“He probably thinks I’m the world’s worst driver. But I swear Cameron, I stepped on that brake and nothing happened. And I must have had working brakes when I set out, or I wouldn’t have been able to stop at the traffic lights in San Angelo.”
Cameron put his arms around her and hugged hard. “See how well that trip to Mobile turned out for you.”
She nodded soberly against his shirt. “I so did not want to spend Spring Break learning to drive defensively,” she said. “Not when every other freshman went to Virginia Beach. But Daddy was right – it saved my life. Becky’s life.” Her voice ended on a sob.
“Probably.” He tightened his arms around her trembling body. “It’s okay. You survived. Becky and Quincy survived. That’s the important part.”
“I know. But it was Savannah all over again. I swear I’m going to sue that car company. Two lemons are two too many.”
“I thought it was that the brakes didn’t work this time. Was it the steering again?” He pushed her a little away from him so he could look at her face. He touched the area around her eyes with his finger and looked at the foundation on the tip worriedly. “Those are some fine shiners you have there, Sis.”
“The air bag caught me right on the nose.”
“Swelling’s almost gone,” he said judiciously. “Black eyes are not a bad trade for your life. What about your ribs?”
“My ribs are sore, but not as sore as they were this morning. And to answer your question, it was the brakes. The steering was fine. I was able to steer out of the skid. When I had the accident in Savannah, the steering locked and I couldn’t stop the car from jumping the curb. But the brakes worked that time. Once I was on the sidewalk I could stop.”
“That’s just weird, Tasha. The colonel says that the guy looking at your car is a pretty good mechanic. He went to school with his son. We’ll see what he says. Let’s not buy trouble until we have to. Although it is damned odd that you should have two different systems go wonky on the same model of vehicle.”
“I should never have let myself be persuaded to have a second one when the first one was a dud. I nearly got Becky killed.” The tears started again.
Cameron patted her back until she stopped trembling. He let her go and fished through his duffel bag and pulled out a flat package. “It’s just a little something for Becky,” he defended himself.
“I didn’t say a word.” Tasha said shakily.
“I’m her uncle – the only one she’s got. I guess I can spoil my niece.”
Tasha shook her head and tried to smile. “You don’t spoil her. You make her feel special.”
“Is there a bedroom in this place?” He set the brightly wrapped package aside and picked up his duffel.
“Four. The D’Angelos don’t do anything on a small scale. I thought you would like the one on the east side. So you can have the morning sun and avoid the heat of the afternoon.”
“No air conditioning?” he asked.
“Of course. But I thought you probably would prefer your windows open.”
“This is true.” He followed her down a wide corridor to a big room with modern furniture and a huge window overlooking a woodlot. Water sparkled through the trees. “Is that a fishing pond?” he asked hopefully.
“It is. Except here in Texas they call it a tank. There is fishing tackle in the mudroom off the kitchen. You can swim in it too, although the girls have been forbidden to do so. Caroline is afraid they’ll be bitten by the snapping turtles. And George is afraid that if they’re allowed to swim there with adults, they’ll drown themselves doing it alone.”
Cam stood right up against the window and looked both left and right. “It’s a pretty place.”
“I love my new condo – truly I do – and I’ve bought all kinds of plants for the balcony, but it’s nothing compared to this setup. The D’Angelos have so much land – there are literally no neighbors – and it’s so lush and green. There’s a creek that waters the whole property. It’s a little slice of paradise. I feel mighty lucky to have fallen in with them. They’ve been kindness itself to me and to Becky.”
He blew a raspberry. “I would appreciate it more, if I wasn’t serving under Daddy Danger.”
Tasha smiled and tried to explain. “Becky started it. When she met George she called him Genul Danger. But somewhere along the way she started calling him Poppy the way Quincy does. And now they’re both calling him Poppy Danger. By the time I tried to intervene it was too late. And Caroline has become Meemaw Angel. Which I have to admit I like better.”
“Jesus. I’m going to have to transfer out of the unit. Some afternoon, when we’re all standing in the sun being yelled at by Daddy Danger, I’m going to wind up busting a gut.”
His joking calmed her even more. “I’ve missed you so much.”
Cam gave her another quick hug. “I’ve missed you too, kid. You’ve had a bad experience, but you’re going to stop dwelling on how bad it could have turned out.” He glanced at his watch. “I’m just going to stick my gear in these drawers, and then we’re going to go have drinks and dinner and forget about your accident for a bit.”
He was as good as his word. He unpacked his duffel bag with the efficiency of a man who had packed and unpacked many hundreds of times. As she supposed a guy who was sent on missions and training sessions with grim regularity probably had. Not that he ever told her word one about his assignments.
* * *
Harrison leaned his forearms on the corral fence and watched as Becky proudly led Princess Elsa around the ring with Quincy on her back. Mom was at Becky’s elbow supervising. After dropping Reynolds and his sister at the cottage, they had gone straight to the stable to see Quincy’s new pony.
“The girls were desperate to show you how well they ride,” Dad said. “Mom figured we’d better get it over with before dinner.”
“I don’t mind. But they must be hungry,” Harrison said.
“Your mom and Tasha fed them early so they wouldn’t have to wait. Pretty good seat for a four-year-old,” Dad said proudly as Quincy rode past grinning.
“Hmm. She’s shot up another two inches,” Harrison said.
Dad gave his shoulder a squeeze. He cleared his throat. “They change like kaleidoscopes at this age.”
“I know. I have to figure out how to keep her with me,” Harrison said. Regret and guilt tore at his heart. Stephanie would have expected better of him.
“Be a good idea, son.”
“So, tell me about this accident,” he said once the girls were out of earshot. “Mom said Natasha Sutcliffe took the ramp too fast and wound up in the ditch.” He fought to keep his anger out of his voice.
“Your Mom insists Tasha stepped on her brakes and
nothing happened. They are still both pretty rattled, but your mother says Tasha signaled and she saw her brake lights come on. Mom was watching closely in case Tasha missed the exit at Westford Road and had to go all the way to Cattle Grove instead.”
Harrison grunted. “So what do you think? Poor maintenance?”
Dad took off his sunglasses and after a while so did Harrison. “Beats me, son. She kept telling the nurses in Emergency, and the deputy at the station, and the sheriff when he was trying to question her, how the car was only three months old.”
Dad shook his head. “She wasn’t getting in with a good story. She was babbling. Shock. First thing Herman Escobar did was send a deputy to find her ownership papers and registration. She was telling the truth. She drove that puppy off the lot in Georgia brand new last spring.”
“They could have been killed,” Harrison said.
“I noticed.” Dad’s voice was dry. “I persuaded Herman not to wait until the highway patrol techs had the time to look the car over. He had it towed to Tomlinson’s.”
“Bubba should be able to tell if something went wrong with her brakes.”
“Bubba’s retired,” Dad said. “TJ has taken over the business. But he’s as good a mechanic as his dad. He said he would come in himself and look at it tomorrow.”
“So tell me,” Harrison said, “Why isn’t she a bear?”
Dad looked puzzled and then he grinned. “Tasha’s adopted.”
“Oh.”
“I was sure you knew. You had to have been what, twelve? or thirteen? when Capt. and Mrs. Morrow were killed.”
Harrison searched his memory. “Was Morrow a little, redheaded banty rooster?”
“That’s right. And Lily Morrow was even tinier. Damn fine sergeant just the same.”
“KIA?” Harrison asked.
Dad was startled. “Nope. Lily served her seven and left the service to marry Morrow. By then he had made lieutenant and she was still other ranks.”
Harrison nodded. If an NCO and a commissioned officer fell in love and acted on it, they were breaking the rules. “So what happened?” he asked.
Dad’s lips compressed on old anger. “Some idiot airman got hopped up on crack and rode his motorcycle into the Morrow’s car on New Year’s Day. They were all three killed and Tasha was left an orphan. Marla and Adam Reynolds stepped up to adopt her.”
“What about the families?”
“As I recall, neither of the Morrows had any. Social services was real glad to have an alternative to foster care. Tasha would have been three or four. Past babyhood anyway. Too old to be an easy placement. And of course she was traumatized by the accident. Kept having nightmares even after her cast was taken off.”
“She was with them? Jesus.”
“You said it.”
In the ring, Mom was calling a halt and making the girls switch places. Quincy slipped athletically off the pony and helped Becky mount.
“Did you see me, Daddy?” Quincy shouted.
“I did.”
Becky wasn’t as tall as Quincy and even though Mom had shortened the stirrups, she was having more trouble than his daughter had. That was Quincy’s phoenix genes kicking in.
His daughter didn’t seem to care that Meemaw kept her grip on the rope. Becky was slightly askew in the saddle, but clearly enjoying herself. She was an adorable kid. He shuddered thinking how close he had come to losing them both.
Becky finished her circuit. Mom led her over to the fence to be congratulated. There were kisses and hugs and then Dad said, “We have to put Princess to bed so Meemaw and Daddy can eat their suppers.”
Princess Elsa was duly unharnessed and given a brushing by the two little girls. Harrison watched from the doorway as they demonstrated all they had learned with matching proud grins. He and Mom walked back together while Becky and Quincy took Dad’s hands and confided in him all the way to the house.
Mom looked at him sympathetically. “It’s only natural,” she said.
It was. But his little girl should have been telling her secrets to him.
Dinner would have been comedy gold if he hadn’t felt sorry for Reynolds. Dad took his record apart, shook it, compared it unfavorably with the career of the late Col. Adam Reynolds, and spiced his enjoyment of Mom’s lasagna with an interrogation that Capt. Reynolds bore with good grace. As well he might. Members of Special Forces were expected to be cool under fire.
Mom had put him across from Tasha. If she didn’t stop biting her lower lip she was going to wear it out. Which would be a shame. It was quite perfect as it was, full and rosy. He had recalled the Reynolds’ daughter as a pigtailed child with missing teeth. Even seeing her occasionally on Skype as she helped put the girls to bed had not altered his image of her. But Tasha Reynolds had filled out nicely and grown up to be a beauty.
Curvy little Tasha Sutcliffe aroused all his protective instincts and some more basic ones. She and her daughter were both utterly adorable. But the thought of acquiring more hostages to fortune cooled off his fantasies double quick. He wasn’t in the market for any woman, curvy little cutie or not. But now that he wasn’t filled with righteous anger, Tasha certainly was a pleasure to look at.
He hoped Grant thought so too. Hard to know what the Little Warbler was looking for in a mate, but Tasha was all curves and sweetness. It was funny what a little bit she was. Reynolds was shorter than he was, but at six-three he was a good-sized fellow. Tasha was a pocket Venus. Mom dwarfed her. Of course that made her just about perfect for the Little Warbler. Grant would never see six feet. Not in his dreams. Poor little guy.
Tonight, Tasha seemed perpetually on the verge of speech. Probably trying to decide whether she could divert Dad. Not a hope. Only Mom could do that, but his mother was smiling benignly from the opposite end of the table. Which meant that she wanted the questioning to continue. Which was interesting.
Of course, none of it was news to Harrison. He was Cameron Reynolds’ commanding officer and familiar with his record. He was a good officer. You didn’t get admitted to Special Forces unless you were the best of the best. And even then, passing the brutal training was a matter of luck. Bout of flu the night before the final ordeal? Tough shit. Faulty equipment? Don’t even ask. You were out. Reynolds had passed. For a bearshifter, he was okay.
But eventually Mom had had enough. She handed Harrison the salad bowl. “Pass this to Cameron,” she said sweetly. “I’m sure he would like some more. George, would you like another slice of lasagna?”
Dad’s gray brows snapped together before he laughed. “Yes, please, Caroline. It’s as good as usual.” He meekly passed his plate down the table.
CHAPTER SIX
Now that she had talked things over with Cameron, she felt a bit better. He was such a comfort. As practical and unshakable as Daddy. She thought she would sleep tonight even if she didn’t take another of those pills the doctor had pressed on her. They made her loopy. God only knew what she had said to the sheriff. Not that it mattered. Sheriff Escobar might take her for a fool, but he wasn’t going to catch her in a lie. She had spoken the truth when she said she had pressed on the brake and not the gas.
He had wanted to know how she had driven out of the skid. What had she told him? She remembered crying and telling him how Daddy taught her to drive, and how he and Cameron had made her practice and practice until she could do a donut in her sleep. What was a donut? Had she explained properly how to execute the street trick?
Why was she driving stick? Because after the power steering on her old car had locked up, she had decided that a standard without power steering was safer. And a good thing too. Because you couldn’t pop a donut unless you had a stick and good control of your vehicle, so you could do a 180 after a skid. Well, yeah, it was supposed to be a controlled skid, but she had used what she had. She had given the car a little gas and pulled up hard on the emergency brake to get it turned away from the trees.
Had that been wise? What if there had been a transport truck as there
often was on Westford? As if she had needed that visual to go with the image of the trees getting bigger and bigger. She took off her makeup and winced at the purple circles turning yellow around her eyes. She should have held that ice pack on them longer. Right now she should take a few anti-inflammatories and get some sleep. Things would look better in the morning.
The semi was bearing down on her. It was the usual dream that always ended in a shower of glass and the rending sound of metal tearing metal. But tonight, instead of it being her who was trapped in the car seat screaming and trying to get free, it was Becky. And then it was Quincy. Tasha came awake on a rush of adrenaline. She was in bed. She was in the D’Angelos’ guest room. Quincy and Becky were down the hall sleeping. They were not mangled on a highway.
She slipped into her bathrobe and went to check. The house felt cold, but it probably wasn’t. Becky’s lashes lay like golden half circles on her flushed cheeks. She didn’t stir when Tasha drew her covers over her arms. Quincy was dreaming, her eyes moving under the lids. Tasha adjusted her covers too before tiptoeing down the stairs.
* * *
He had grown accustomed to not being interested in sex. It was one reason he felt so old these days, despite being a phoenix and enjoying a prolonged prime. He hadn’t been interested in sex since Steph had died. It was going on five years, and still he didn’t feel as though he had gotten past the day he had been told his mate was gone.
Another thing that made him feel old was being yanked out of the field. It wasn’t unusual for an officer rising forty to find himself assigned to a desk job. Fortunately, his role was more active than that. He spent his time training others to do what Special Forces said he was no longer capable of. Command didn’t care that he was in great shape. They didn’t, couldn’t know that he was a phoenix. That he would keep his physical youth far longer than most men.
Command naturally played the percentages. Other than telling them that he was a phoenix, he had no way of convincing them that they would be wiser to send Harrison D’Angelo on missions instead of some twenty-something hotshot. He thought he had long ago come to terms with teaching instead of doing, and yet these days he felt old and emasculated.
Phoenix Aflame (Alpha Phoenix Book 2) Page 4
