A Time to Protect

by Lois Richer

  “I thought you were never coming,” she said.

  “I told you to wait in the car, Vanessa. I’m just having a coffee, talking to my kid’s teacher.”

  Poor Kyle looked mortified as the woman leaned down and patted his cheek as if he were five. “Hi, Kyle. I’m Vanessa.”

  “Hi.” The boy stepped back, beyond reach. “I’ll get you some coffee if you want, Dad,” he offered, setting his model on the table behind him.

  “No, never mind. We’re going out for dinner as soon as Steve gets finished here.” She wrinkled her nose when Steve pulled her close beside him. “This place smells musty. Can we go now?” she whined.

  “Sure, honeybunch. Whatever you want.” Steve held out a hand toward Brendan. “Nice to meet you. Kyle, we still on for next weekend?”

  “Next weekend?” Clearly confused, Kyle glanced up at Brendan. “Uh, I don’t know.”

  “I think you’d better call Chloe first,” Brendan suggested. “She may have other plans. There have been some developments—”

  “No development between you and my wife is going to keep my kid from me.” Steve’s belligerent attitude sent Kyle rushing to explain.

  “No, Dad. You don’t understand.”

  “I sure don’t. That woman is supposed to be mothering you, not entertaining men.”

  Brendan flashed his badge, teeth clenched.

  “Your ex-wife isn’t entertaining anyone. I’m FBI. Chloe and the children are under federal protection at the moment. Anyone who tries to interfere with us will be thrown in jail. So I’d advise you to call first.” Wishing he’d held his temper, Brendan turned to Kyle. “I think you should pack that up. There’s a box in the kitchen that should fit your model. Then we’ll close things down. The other fathers have left anyway.”

  “Okay.” Kyle hurried away as if he couldn’t bear to be around a moment longer. When he was out of earshot, Brendan faced the boy’s father.

  “It would be nice if you could let Kyle know if you’re not coming next time,” he said quietly. “He gets really disappointed when you can’t keep your appointments with him. Madison, too.”

  “I don’t need you to tell me about my kids.”

  “Well somebody should,” Brendan grated, his fists itching to knock some sense into the man. “Your son needs a father in his life.” He gave Vanessa the once-over. “Maybe you should make time for him.”

  “Kyle! We’re going.” As Kyle approached, Steve Tanner turned and deliberately knocked his son’s creation to the floor. “Oh, boy. Now look what I’ve gone and done. Clumsy me. Sorry, kid.” He squatted, began gathering bits of balsa wood that hadn’t endured the stress. “Maybe next weekend you and I can build a new one—something bigger and better than that.”

  Brendan knew Kyle was crushed, though he tried not to show it. The boy took the pieces from his father, then carefully picked up the rest of the broken bits and set them in the box without looking at his dad.

  “Sure,” he whispered. But his heart wasn’t it in and Brendan could tell Steve knew it.

  “Okay, well, we’d better go. I’ll call you, okay?” He waited for the nod, shot Brendan a nasty glare then left with Vanessa trailing after him, trying to keep up.

  Once the room was silent, Kyle rose, picked up the box and plopped it in the garbage. “It was just a bunch of junk anyway,” he mumbled. “I’m no good with stuff like that.”

  Brendan clamped his lips together to stop the protest. But while Kyle got his coat, he collected the broken pieces and put them in a plastic bag. Maybe once Kyle cooled off, they could put it back together again.

  Heart aching for the quiet boy, he drove home, praying for the words he needed to speak. “I’m sorry he didn’t appreciate your model, Kyle.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” The boy peered out through the windshield, his expression unreadable.

  “I think it matters quite a lot. You worked hard on it. Your father should have noticed that.” Brendan didn’t want the boy to start defending his father’s behavior so he continued before Kyle could protest. “When people disappoint us, I think we should remember that maybe there’s a reason.” Kyle twisted his head, obviously interested, so Brendan continued. “Maybe your father didn’t have a very good dad himself, so he doesn’t know how to be one.”

  “My mom said something like that,” Kyle admitted. “I remember when they used to argue all the time because Mom wanted Dad to be home more often. He always said he was too busy earning a living to play and Mom said ‘Just like your father, Steve?’ He got mad at her.”

  “Your mom was probably trying to help him see how much you needed your dad to be there. Parents worry about that stuff a lot. They want the best for us. That’s why the Bible says to honor your parents—because there’s a lot you can learn from parents, a lot of bad stuff they can help you avoid.”

  “I guess.” Kyle fidgeted. “But Mom is always trying to control things. She has to know exactly when Dad’s picking me up, where we’re going, when we’ll be back. It makes Dad so mad.”

  “Does it?” Brendan felt like he was picking his way around a minefield. “But your mom has to know all of that stuff. What if you didn’t come home? How would she know where to find you if something happened to Maddy?” He paused and glanced over at Kyle. “She’s not being mean, Kyle. She’s doing exactly what the Bible says parents should do—being responsible for her children, making sure they’re safe and well cared for. She loves you the very best she can. That’s not a bad thing, is it?”

  “No.” But Kyle didn’t sound totally convinced and when they reached home he answered his mother monosyllabically before retreating to the basement. Chloe looked at Brendan with a question in her eyes as she helped Madison return Kanga and Roo, her two guinea pigs, to their cage, then accompanied her to bed.

  When Chloe returned to the kitchen, Brendan gave her a brief summary of Steve’s visit. Though her full lush lips tightened into a thin line and her blue eyes hardened to steely blue, she said nothing. She made coffee, handed him a cup, then stared out the patio door listening as the quiet thud of fists hitting a punching bag echoed into the night, long after Kyle’s bedtime.

  Nothing Brendan said had seemed to soften Kyle’s pain and there was apparently little he could do to help Chloe, either, except silently pray for a heavenly balm on this family’s aching souls.

  Chloe awoke a couple of days later with a stuffed head and many sneezes. She’d survived the night shift—barely—and had fallen into bed with a hot cup of tea as soon as she got home. The tea still sat on her bedside table, cold with a slick layer on top that turned her stomach. She rose holding one hand against her aching head, grabbed a robe and descended to the kitchen, dumping the drink down the drain.

  “Good afternoon, sleepyhead.” Brendan lounged against the counter looking disgustingly healthy. “Still feeling lousy?”

  She gave him one telling look, then put on the kettle. “Where are the kids?” she rasped, only then realizing how sore her throat was.

  “Madison’s getting ready for soccer practice. Kyle’s in his room doing something.”

  “Practice?” She clamped a hand to her aching head, pushed away the lifeless strands and fought to summon an ounce of energy. “I forgot about practice.”

  “I don’t think you should go.” It was not a question.

  Chloe made a new cup of hot tea, added honey, then sat down at the table to sip it. “I never miss practice unless I’m working. How much time have I got?”

  “Half an hour. But you don’t have to go. It’s not necessary. Madison will do just fine.”

  “Not without you.” She twisted her head to stare at him. “Why don’t you leave one of the other agents with me and go do your coaching thing? I’ll be fine.” She hadn’t even finished before his head was shaking.

  “My assignment is to follow you and that’s what I’ll do. Besides, Buddy’s been doing this for a long time. He’ll have them going through their paces in fine form.” He laid his palm a
gainst her forehead.

  His hand was so cool. Chloe realized she was leaning into it and pulled back. How stupid could she be? He was an FBI agent, here doing his job. Why was it so hard to remember that?

  “You feel warm. Have you taken something?”

  “Yes.” She sipped the tea, closed her eyes and let it slide down her throat over the rough patches. “So far it’s not working.”

  “At least you’ve got a couple of days off. You can rest, sleep it off.”

  “But first there’s practice.” Summoning strength from some unknown reserve, Chloe rose and grabbed the edge of the table when the room began to spin.

  “Whoa!” He gripped her arm, supported her while she regained her bearings. “Okay?”

  “Yes.” She drew her arm away, pretended the current that zipped from his skin to hers meant nothing even though she suddenly felt more alive than she had in months. Was that the fever? Using one hand to hide her expression, she dragged back her hair, caught him staring at her. “I must look horrible.” She couldn’t tear her gaze away from his.

  “You look beautiful. You always do.”

  Something in the way he said it—or was it the look in his green eyes?—held her captive. Chloe froze, every nerve on high alert as he leaned closer.

  “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he said softly. “I don’t mean just your eyes or the way you smile or even the way your skin glows as if it’s been polished by satin. You radiate a deeper beauty, something inside you that spills over onto other people.”

  He drew her into his arms and held her, asking nothing. She relaxed in his arms. It seemed totally natural when his lips pressed a feather-light kiss against her neck. “I could go on doing this for a long time,” he whispered against her ear some time later. “But I think that noise is Madison coming downstairs.”

  Madison? Chloe jerked away, felt a rush of panic. What was she doing?

  “I’ll go get changed.” She turned away so he couldn’t see how flustered she was. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

  “Chloe, I—”

  Whatever he’d been going to say was cut off by the radio at his waist.

  “Intruder. Front door.”

  “Go upstairs, Chloe. Now. Take Madison with you and keep Kyle up there ’til I give the all clear.” Brendan transformed into a grim-faced enforcer who brooked no argument. His face grew hard, his eyes chips of ice. “Go.”

  Chloe gained the first few steps, saw Madison and drew her along. “I’ve got something I need your help with, honey.” She urged her daughter into Kyle’s room.

  But before she could say anything more the loud report of a gunshot shattered the morning. Madison yelped before burying her head against her mother. Kyle leaned toward the window but Chloe pulled him away.

  “Something’s wrong,” she whispered. “Brendan said we’re to stay here until he tells us differently.”

  “I think this is a good time to pray,” Maddy said in a shaky voice.

  Maybe it was. But Chloe didn’t have the words, didn’t know how to ask the God she’d feared for so long to help them.

  “Mom?”

  “Prayer is a good idea. Why don’t you lead us, Madison?”

  But as Maddy’s sweet voice filled the room and Kyle’s hand clutched hers, Chloe felt the oppression of fear like a smothering blanket and wondered if she’d ever be able to free her family from this madman.

  Brendan surveyed the damage to his vehicle while tamping down the fury that built inside. It was just a thing, he reminded himself. Things could be replaced. It wasn’t the damage so much as the viciousness of it that got him.

  “He sure made a mess,” his coworker mused, running one finger over the damaged paint. “Three flat tires and keyed as well. It’ll cost a bundle to get that shine back, but in the meantime, you’re not going anywhere.”

  “Not only flat tires. Shredded.” Brendan bent to check the pattern. “He came prepared. Cuts this deep took a special knife.”

  “Good point. I’ll get the lab to take a look. Might tell us something.”

  “This should.” Brendan pointed to the small picture carved on the street side of his bumper. It would have taken time to do it, but the person would have been shielded by the side of the vehicle. That pointed out a lapse in surveillance.

  “What is that?”

  “I hoped you could tell me.” When his coworker shook his head, Brendan sighed, turned back toward the house. “You didn’t hit him when you fired? Good.” He held up a hand to forestall the man’s explanation. “There are kids in this neighborhood, man. You can’t go around firing a gun unless you know your target.”

  “Right.”

  The guy was new at surveillance and nervous to boot. Brendan decided to cut him some slack. “Why did you fire?”

  “A car stopped. That’s when this guy ducked out from behind your truck. He had a weapon out. I ordered him to stop, he pointed the gun at me. I sent off a warning shot, he dove into the car and it took off.”

  “What kind of car?” Brendan didn’t like the answer. “Describe this guy.” He listened, did some quick thinking. “We’ll be going out shortly,” he said. “Keep an eye on things.”

  Inside, the main floor was empty save for Darcy.

  “Chloe, you can come down now. Ask Kyle to come too, will you?” Once the little family arrived in the kitchen he saw how frightened they were. “Everything’s fine. Don’t worry. Except I need to ask Kyle a question and I need an honest answer.”

  “Kyle? But—” Chloe noticed his expression and nodded. “All right.”

  “Has someone been hassling you to join their gang, Kyle?”

  “Gang?” Chloe’s dismay filled the room.

  “A group of kids were outside. They vandalized my vehicle. I’m pretty sure it had nothing to do with the man who attacked you.” He turned his attention to the boy. “Kyle?”

  Chloe’s son was not happy to be put on the spot. He turned a belligerent face to Brendan. “Some guys were talking to me about joining their group. What’s wrong with that? They have money and fun, they’re not stuck with their mamas all weekend. They’re cool.”

  “Cool?” Brendan sat down beside him, grasped his chin and forced Kyle to look at him. “The Vipers. Yes, they do have money. Do you want to know how they get it? They get kids like Madison hooked on drugs. Have you ever seen someone overdose on crystal meth? It’s not pretty and it’s a very painful death. But it’s even harder to live with because it happens so fast. One minute you’re just trying it, the next you’re hooked. Is that how you want to get your money? Is that what you want for your little sister?”

  “No!” Kyle turned his frightened gaze on Maddy in her soccer uniform. “I wasn’t going to use drugs. I just wanted to make friends.”

  “You have to be careful who you choose as friends, Kyle. Guys like these aren’t being nice to you because they care about you. They simply need someone else to put to work. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  “Yes.” Kyle nodded, his face white with shock. Chloe stared at him as if she couldn’t believe what she’d heard. Brendan’s heart ached for her. How hard it must be to keep it together when you had to be mother, father, psychiatrist, guardian and a host of other people in your child’s life.

  “Now that they’ve got your attention, they’re not going to give up easily.” He glanced at Chloe. “I think it would be best if Kyle came with us instead of going to that school football game today.”

  “I agree.”

  “No! Mom, listen—”

  “No, you listen. My son is not going anywhere near a drug dealer. You’ll go with us to Madison’s practice and you’ll do exactly what you’re told to do.” She turned to Brendan, her voice raw, husky. “It is okay, isn’t it? This won’t stop us from going?”

  “No.” He met her gaze. “Our attacker isn’t nearly so obvious. He doesn’t want to draw attention, he wants to avoid it. I think we’ll be fine. We should leave in a couple of
minutes, though.”

  “Fine. Kyle, get your things together. Maddy, you make sure you’re ready, then wait right here. I’ll be down in a minute.”

  It was closer to ten minutes but Brendan didn’t mind. He knew Chloe felt horrible yet she didn’t show it. Her hair hung down her back in a long braid. She wore a chunky royal blue turtleneck that hinted at the curves beneath, jeans that showed off her long legs, a pair of leather boots and a puffy white down jacket that framed her face perfectly. “I’m ready.”

  “Are you sure? We can stay here, you know. We don’t have to go.”

  But she shook her head, her eyes red-rimmed but determined. “We’re going.”

  They went, in her van, and arrived at the field on time. Brendan assigned Kyle to Buddy in order to give Chloe some space. She sat on the bottom bleacher, beside Darcy, where he could keep an eye on her. But despite having all the bases covered, Chloe’s racking cough, the memory of his damaged vehicle, a picture of Kyle selling drugs—all of it plagued him so deeply Brendan couldn’t keep his focus on the practice. He didn’t understand why the images wouldn’t dissipate but finally, after less than an hour, he spoke to Buddy. They called the girls together.

  “You’re ready and Coach Jeffers and I are not going to wear you out going over something you already know,” he told them with a smile. “All you have to do is keep your focus on the game and work with each other. We’ll give it all we have but I want you to know that I’m very proud of how far you’ve come. Now let’s hear a heartfelt cheer, Springers.”

  Once the field had cleared, Chloe walked toward them. Her cheeks were flushed, tiny beads of sweat glazed her forehead and she kept blowing her nose.

  “Let’s go, Chloe,” he ordered. “You should have stayed home.”

  She looked crushed, opened her mouth to protest, thought better of it and turned toward the van. Remorse bit at his heels. It wasn’t her fault he was letting the job get to him.

  “Kyle, can you and Madison bring the equipment? I need to make a phone call.”