by Joan Swan
Q passed the picture through the vent. Once Cash had it in his hands again, one fear dimmed, but another flared.
“Now what am I going to do? If my experiment works, like you said? How am I going to make sure I get Mateo and Keira back alive? And even if I get them back, how can I make sure we all stay alive? I’ve never gotten this far with my experiments before. I guess I never thought this far ahead.”
“You know what they say about geniuses,” Q quipped. “No common sense.”
“Asshole.” But Cash couldn’t help wondering if that’s what Jocelyn and her team were counting on.
“I won’t hold that against you, Sci-Fi. You’re under a lot of pressure. It’s simple. What they want is inside your brain, and only you can give it to them. So just don’t.”
Cash pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ve been up for about thirty hours straight. Would you mind spelling it out for me? I’m a genius and all.”
“What do you do in your experiments that gives them all the answers? Fill out a form? Video the process?”
“I write a lab report. Have to turn it in at the end of every day and every experiment.”
“So, from here on out, doctor your reports. Between the two of us, we can get you the fuck out of here. By the time they figure out you’ve been writing bogus shit, you’ll be gone. Once you’re out, you contact them with the key information and make a deal—a trade for your freedom and your family.”
“Won’t work.”
“Why not?”
“Because Mario is a genius, too.” Cash thought of the lab manager. “As lazy as they come, but brilliant. He would skim the report and know immediately.” He remained silent a moment, forming an alternative. “I’ll just finish the report, let him look it over, take it back at the last minute to make one minor correction, and slip out the Method pages. Then I’ll eat them or something. They can’t re-create anything without those notes. Those are the key.”
Q chuckled. “Eat them? Very Mission Impossible–like.”
A sudden burn slid down Cash’s spine. He frowned hard at the wall wondering if he’d just spilled his entire plan to a mole. “How the hell would you know about Mission Impossible ?”
“They do let me read, Sci-Fi, remember?”
Cash wiped a hand down his face. God, he was losing it.
“However you do it is your call,” Q said.“But I’ve been in and out of this place so many times, I know the compound inside and out. I know the guards, their schedules, their quirks, their habits. If your sci-fi brain can rig something to get you out of a cell, I can get you off this unholy ground. Your Special Forces training will have to take you the rest of the way.”
“I want you to come with me, Q.”
Even as he said the words, he knew the plan wasn’t feasible. The right side of Q’s brain had been damaged in one of those crazy experiments several months ago, and the left side of his friend’s body had suffered so severely, there had been weeks after the incident when Q said the doctors told him he’d never regain use of his arm or leg.
Since then, Q had made great strides on his own with a training regime he and Cash had created together. One Q could perform in his cell, just like the one Cash had designed for himself to stay in top physical condition.
“Would love to,” Q said. “But my dance card is full, buddy.”
Cash didn’t push the issue. They still had a little time. If he could come up with a plan where he could take Q, or come back for him . . .
“One thing I don’t get,” Q said. “If Keira still thinks you’re dead, if you haven’t seen her in twenty-five years, how in the hell did she end up with your kid in that photograph?”
“That, my friend, is the sixty-four-zillion-dollar question.”
THIRTEEN
Sleep had completely eluded her. Keira’s exhausted eyes gazed beyond the guest bedroom window where the caramel sunrise nudged the indigo night into another hemisphere. Mountains blanketed with pines and aspens waited silently for the change from shadow to light.
Even going on fifty hours without any rest, Keira’s mind continued to fight. Her heart continued to struggle. But worse and most painful, her soul continued to reach. For Luke.
At times over the night, she swore it was a two-year-old throwing a tantrum. At times she’d come so close to letting it have its way. Going to Luke and promising him anything if he’d just vow to love her forever in return. Love her like he used to. Before everything went wrong.
And that was the very memory that kept her pacing the room instead of lying by his side—all that had gone wrong.
The soft carpet beneath her feet had flattened from hours of travel. She threaded both hands through her hair and yanked at the strands. Her scalp pulled, the sting a welcome relief to the tension that made her think her head would explode.
“Why am I so screwed up?”
Stupid question. Stupid, stupid question. She knew exactly why. The real question she’d stopped asking a long time ago, but which was creeping up now in her moment of helpless crisis, was why me? She’d never had the luxury of self-pity. Besides, she wasn’t the type.
“So knock it off.” She pulled her hands from her head and shook her hair back. “Just go out there and deal with it. Stop being such a coward.”
She realized how messed up she was. She got it. The problem was, Luke didn’t.
Luke, the sick, crazy bastard, looked at her as the mother to whatever brood he had dreamed up in that gorgeous head of his. And he pushed and pushed and pushed. Every time he brought up the subject, as he’d done last night, she felt like he was smothering her. As if he’d crushed a pillow over her face and she had to kick him in the balls to get him to let up so she could breathe.
She was trapped. Because now that she’d seen him again, kissed him again, touched him again, she realized she’d never stopped loving him and knew why her attempts at life—a real life—for the last three years had failed. Miserably.
She needed him. She wanted him. He had been the part of her life that made it rich and spontaneous and joyous and . . . meaningful. Through the fights, the fun, the loss, the love. It was Luke. Luke made her feel like . . . herself. Luke made her feel real. Unique. Authentic. Luke made her feel alive.
Without Luke, she worked. She ate. She trained.
Without Luke, she existed.
You won’t let me in. Not really. You always hold something back. You always have a safety net. An out.
As far back as her memory would take her, Keira had lived with a bag packed and hidden away. A change of clothes, snacks, her favorite blanket, a stuffed animal. Yes, she always had an out.
But if she was going to make it work with Luke this time, she’d have to go all in. She knew that. Which was why she was still in her room pacing, not out in the family room with everyone else eating breakfast like a normal person.
Because she was so not normal.
“This is ridiculous. I can’t keep living like this.”
She didn’t know what the answer was. Didn’t know how they’d find it. But she was committed to crawling through those dark spots to figure it out, as long as Luke was crawling with her.
Keira turned toward the door. She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “We’ll talk.” She nodded once. “We’ll fight.” Her lips compressed. “We’ll fight some more.” Resignation sank in and her chest grew heavy. “We’ll . . . probably fight a lot . . .”
Tears of fear snuck into her eyes. For a flicker of a second she considered rejecting the idea. Then her mind darted toward returning to her life in Sacramento. To her eighteen hours at work. Two hours at the gym. Four hours in bed—alone.
A void opened in her chest. Trying to live without Luke was like trying to breathe in a smoke-filled room. Trying to run under water. Trying to hold back an ocean wave.
She reached for the doorknob and hesitated. As if she was split in two, one half of her urged her to stay put, keep her mouth shut. But the other half, the half that knew s
he couldn’t keep living this way, pushed her feet forward.
In the hallway, a child’s giggle met her ears. The sweet sound slid over her shoulders, crowded her chest, and squeezed. Mateo. The kid could turn her inside out without even trying.
As she made her way down the hall, scents of breakfast wafted in the air as well as the playful chatter of both children. Sensory overload sent her back in time, to Luke’s house. To her days off duty when he would let her sleep late. To the way he would sneak Kat from her toddler bed next to his California king and set her up with toys at his feet in the kitchen to keep her occupied while Keira slept and he made breakfast. To the way he used to wake Keira with kisses on her neck and a perfectly brewed cup of coffee.
Her feet stopped moving. Her eyes closed. Oh, what a beautiful memory. Could it be that good again?
I see a boy you love, who also loves you and needs a home. And I’d love to be part of making that family.
A wave of contentment eased through her. As if her two halves fused into one whole, heat radiated through her body and filled her heart. She continued to the end of the hallway and peered around the wall toward the living room.
Mateo and Kat sat on the floor in front of the fireplace, a huge plastic bin between them filled with naked Barbie and Ken dolls, miniature clothes strewn around them on the carpet. Mateo held a half-dressed doll, struggling to get a shoe the size of a fingernail on its foot. His brow was creased, his tongue tipped out the side of his mouth in concentration.
Keira broke into a full smile.
Kids playing in the living room. Parents working in the kitchen. It seemed so . . . right.
Could she do it? Could she have this? All she had to do was reach out for it. Luke was offering this and so much more.
“Maybe you can barbecue tonight.” Alyssa’s voice floated from somewhere in the kitchen around the corner. But it was a little off. A little too . . . appeasing. “I can pull tri-tip and ribs from the deep freeze.”
“Whatever.”
Teague’s clipped response brought Keira up short. The thrill still tingling over her skin from her realization faded. What was wrong now?
She cocked her ear toward the kitchen. Food sizzled and pans clanged. No Mitch. No Luke.
“Don’t let him ruin your day,” Alyssa said. After a moment with no response from Teague, she added, “How long are you going to stay mad?”
“Probably until he pulls his head out of his ass.”
“You might be waiting a while,” Alyssa grumbled.
Teague was either talking about Mitch or Luke. Keira had a fifty-fifty chance of guessing which one he was ticked at, and if it was Luke, that would derail her plans. Broaching the topic of their relationship would be volatile enough. She didn’t need him pissed off before they even started.
Keira stepped into the kitchen. Teague stood in front of an open refrigerator door, dressed in light blue jeans and a tan stonewashed tee, surveying the contents. Alyssa leaned over the granite island, her pregnant belly pressing against the edge, her chin propped in one hand, pencil poised over a pad. Bacon cooked in a pan beside her.
“Green salad or fruit salad?” Teague asked.
“Both.” Alyssa scribbled on the paper. “I’ll pick up kiwi and mangoes at the store for Seth.”
Teague shut the fridge. “And bread. But don’t do garlic.”
“I remember,” Alyssa said. “Kai’s allergic.”
“They’re both coming?” Keira asked, excited and nervous to see her friends and former teammates. “Why?”
Teague turned toward her. His heavy frown lightened, but the tension was still there.
“Look who’s up.” He removed the bacon from the pan and set it on a paper towel to drain, then picked up a mug from the counter and flipped it right-side up. “Coffee? We’ve got hotcakes in the oven. This is the last of the bacon.”
“You didn’t sleep, did you?” Alyssa’s sharp eyes checked Keira’s face. “You don’t look so good.”
Teague pointed at her cheek. “All except those cuts. Those look fantastic, if I do say so myself.”
“Mmm, true.” Alyssa tipped her head in consideration. “You do good work, babe.”
“When are Kai and Seth coming?” Keira asked.
Teague’s gaze dropped to the coffee cup in his hand. Alyssa didn’t respond, but didn’t look away. Distress snuck into Keira’s belly.
“Kai had a layover at Seth’s last night,” Teague said. “They’ll be here this afternoon. They want to help figure this out, and they want to see everyone. We tried to get hold of Jessica, but she’s at some conference in Italy.”
Keira winced. When she was having a bad day, all she had to do was think of Jessica to realize her life could be worse. Jess hadn’t just lost her sense of security in that warehouse fire, like the rest of them; she’d lost her newlywed husband and the love of her life. She’d never been the same. Not only had she made a huge career leap, but she’d moved to the other side of the nation. Running as hard and as fast as she could to get away from the pain.
“I’m glad you didn’t get her,” Keira said. “She doesn’t need any reminders. But you’d better tell me what’s going on, because I know Kai and Seth aren’t dropping everything to fly here for your barbecue, Teague—as good as it is.”
“You know Kai,” he said, filling the mug with steaming coffee even though Keira hadn’t agreed to have any. “Always looking for trouble.”
“And usually finding it.” The man had amazing empathic abilities. And when it came to the team, he seemed to be able to sense danger even across the country. “So what trouble is he feeling here all the way from Wyoming?”
Teague dropped an arm around Alyssa’s shoulders. She didn’t exactly dart a look at her husband. Her nervous glances were more of a slow, cautious slide, and she sent him one before returning her eyes to Keira’s. “He’s never specific, you know that. But he’s feeling some sort of . . . elimination plan brewing.”
“Elimination?” Keira’s said. “Expand, please.”
“He didn’t say more,” Teague said. “Just that he felt danger circling the team and an inevitable confrontation. He wanted us to be together when it hit so we could get a jump on . . . whatever the situation turned out to be.”
Keira waited a beat for more information. “That’s it?”
“That’s it,” Teague said.
“Beautiful.”
Keira glanced around the space again, the anticipation of seeing Luke bubbling through her system. “Where are Luke and Mitch?”
“Mitch is on the phone in my office,” Alyssa said. “Researching Mateo’s implants.”
“And Luke?”
“Went home.”
Teague’s hard voice cut off Keira’s retreating tension. “When will he be back?”
No answer. Teague’s jaw tightened. Alyssa made another cautious eye-slide.
“What happened now?” Keira asked.
“The same thing that always happens when the subject of you comes up.” Teague’s lips pressed together before he blurted, “He’s an idiotic, stubborn ass. And he just pisses me off.”
Teague set the mug down with a hard clink. He picked up the bottle of liquid soap from the sink and squeezed it directly into the hot grease. An angry sizzle filled the kitchen in a chaotic burst of bubbles mimicking the roil of emotion in Keira’s chest.
When the chemical reaction calmed, Teague ran hot water in the pan and started scrubbing.
“Teague,” Keira said, “I have to take a lot of the blame. I mean, you’re right, he can be . . . stubborn . . . but we all know I’m pretty screwed up. The two of us are just constantly clashing.”
“Fight all you want,” he said, scrubbing harder. “Yell, scream, swear, but you don’t leave.” He looked up at Keira with anger and pain in his eyes. Alyssa stepped close and laid a hand on his back. “When you love someone, you stay and fight.”
Her chest squeezed as Teague’s words sank in. She’d sure done her share of
leaving. Learn by example. That’s what she’d done to Luke three years before. Instead of staying and fighting for him, for them, she’d run. From her past. From her future. From all those fears she couldn’t face.
“Which is something he can’t actually advise from experience, but from hindsight,” Alyssa said, patting his back. “Right, babe?”
Keira knew the complicated story of how Seth’s previous wife and Kat’s co-guardian had kidnapped Kat and attempted to take her over the Canadian border when Teague escaped prison. Of how he’d abandoned Alyssa, his lover at the time, to save her from involvement in his drama, and had gone in search of Kat on his own.
But Teague didn’t answer and something else nagged at the fringes of Keira’s brain. Something drifting off him in angry waves.
“What’s I’m done?” She narrowed her eyes on him. “Is that coming from you?”
Teague’s gaze dropped back to the sink. “Jeez, Keira.”
“That’s something Luke said before he left,” Alyssa said.
“Meaning he was done fighting with Teague?”
Alyssa glanced toward Teague, then Keira, with characteristic candidness. “It sounded more like he was just done, you know, with . . .”
This couldn’t be happening, not when she’d just come to the point of acceptance. “With me?”
Teague’s head came up, his light eyes on fire. “Do you see why I’m so pissed?”
A cold slide of panic cut through her belly. The glowing warmth she’d cultivated this morning leaked out. Had she already missed her chance? Was she too late? God, when that man made up his mind about something . . .
She looked to the window as one of the men guarding the house strolled by the kitchen. Her fear of having lost her opportunity at a second chance with Luke blended with a new unease. “Did one of your guys drive him? Is someone staying with him?”
“No,” Teague said. “Why?”
“He’s alone?” she asked. “After Kai sensed danger, he left on his own?”
