by Terri Reed
Placing the keys in her open palm but not releasing his hold, he said, “A couple things. I want you to be aware of the cars behind you. If you even think we’re being followed, you let me know.”
“Okay.” She bit her lip as nervousness vied with excitement. His trust meant a great deal. “Uh, how will I know if a car is following us specifically? I mean, we’ll be on a freeway and I can’t imagine I’ll know a bad guy from anyone else.”
He closed his hand over hers, the pressure sending little tingles up her arm that heightened the nervous excitement playing havoc with her system.
“If a car stays in position behind you for any length of time, change lanes,” he instructed. “If they change too and stay the same distance behind you, they’re most likely following. It could be nothing. It could be something. Trust your instincts. If you feel funny about anything, pull off and I’ll take over.”
“Okay.” Squaring her shoulders, she said, “I can do this.”
“I know you can.”
The confident smile he gave her filled her with pleasure. She really appreciated being treated like a competent person.
Behind the wheel, Viv maneuvered out of the mall and onto the interstate. Mikey went back to watching a video while his hands worked the Rubik’s Cube. She was so proud of him. He’d handled all the stress better than she could have imagined. Of course, allowing him so much television went against everything she believed, but considering the situation, having videos to occupy him made the trip bearable.
As did the man reclining in the passenger seat.
He was on his cell phone giving someone named Simone at Trent Associates the names from the list she’d made of people aware of Mikey’s Wanderer Alert bracelet.
Though the thought of one of those people betraying her and Mikey made her heart hurt, affection for the man trying to keep them safe soothed the ache. His compassion and kindness to both her and Mikey in the face of danger said a lot about his honor and integrity.
He could have easily belittled her for not realizing the Wanderer Alert was a means of tracking them, but he wasn’t a man who abused his power. He was a man worthy of admiration and respect. Of caring.
She told herself not to let herself get too attached or put too much weight on the emotion spreading through her. His heart was already spoken for and she…she didn’t want anyone. Ever again. Right?
They stopped for the night in Nebraska. Instead of connecting rooms, this time Anthony got one room. Since he’d managed to catch a few z’s on the road, he sat in a chair by the window standing guard while Viv and Mikey slept. In the quiet of the night, he found himself talking to God. Not praying, necessarily. Just silently conversing like he used to as a kid. The one-sided conversation kept him alert but also eased something in his soul.
Knowing it was better to leave while the other hotel guests were still asleep, he awoke Viv before sunrise. Less likely for anyone to remember seeing them that way. He carried Mikey to the van while Viv brought their things. Halfway to the vehicle, Mikey stirred. Lifting his head, his gaze touched Anthony’s face before averting off to the side.
Anthony braced himself, expecting the kid to scream to be let go but amazingly, Mikey reached up to touch his face before laying his head back against Anthony’s shoulder.
Tenderness inundated Anthony, making his throat burn. He met Viv’s tear-filled gaze. She radiated trust and fondness. Uh, oh. Not good.
The last thing he wanted was her thinking of him as daddy material. Even though she’d vowed she wouldn’t remarry, he knew enough about her to know she’d do anything for Mikey. But Anthony wasn’t ready to be a father. Or a husband, for that matter.
And that realization gave him pause. Was that why he hadn’t chased after Becca?
Stowing the question to the back of his mind, he strode to the van. After securing Mikey in the back, Anthony rounded the van and found Viv by the driver’s door.
“That was amazing,” she said in a soft voice. “He likes you.”
Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Anthony reached for the door. “He’s getting used to me, is all.”
Skepticism flashed in Viv’s blue eyes. “If that’s what you want to believe.”
He didn’t want to think about it. “We should get going.”
She blew out a breath before going around to the other side of the van and getting in. Silent tension filled the van as the miles went by. Anthony couldn’t help noticing how cute Viv looked in the jeans and the flowered long-sleeved blouse she’d bought. He forced his gaze back to the road. He couldn’t fix it because he didn’t know what to say, how he could explain why he wasn’t the right guy for her or Mikey. Could never be even if he wanted to, because he didn’t have what it took, what she needed, what a woman like her and a kid like Mikey deserved.
When they hit the state of Iowa around noon, Viv asked if they could stop for lunch.
“Sure, we’ll find a drive-through up ahead,” Anthony said as he took the next exit.
“Okay, but can we eat in a park of some kind? I need to stretch my legs and get some fresh air. And so does Mikey.”
“If there’s one close,” he promised. The fast-food clerk gave him directions to a nearby park in a residential neighborhood. Anthony parked at the curb. Wearing their hats and sunglasses, they climbed out of the van.
As soon as Viv released Mikey, he squealed with delight, “Play!” He took off across the grass toward a solid wooden play structure complete with slides and swings.
Viv watched him with a soft smile. “He loves swings. I should go after him.”
Anthony’s gaze swept the park, looking for anyone who might be a threat. The oblong park was flanked on all sides by picturesque homes. A few other children played on the structure while their mothers or nannies sat on a bench, talking. A couple played Frisbee in the middle of a lush green lawn, a woman walked a toddler in a stroller along the sidewalk that rimmed the park at the far end and an elderly man with an English bulldog on a leash crossed the street to enter the park. The neighborhood appeared safe enough. And if anyone entered the park they would be easily spotted.
“He should be okay for a moment.” He gestured toward an empty picnic table. “Let’s set up over there.”
They walked to the table. Viv laid out several napkins like a tablecloth. Anthony took out the hamburgers and fries and set the drinks on the table.
“I’ll get Mikey.” Viv walked away toward the play area, leaving her sunglasses on the table.
Shifting his attention away from Viv, Anthony’s gaze swept the park once again. He popped a fry into his mouth and could feel the grease congealing in his veins even before he swallowed. He longed for some of his mother’s home cooking. Manicotti bursting with ricotta cheese and a zesty tomato sauce, vegetable frittata loaded with fresh veggies from her garden boxes or her tiramisu with rich chocolate and mascarpone over espresso-soaked ladyfingers.
“Anthony!”
Viv’s desperate cry tore him from his thoughts. She stood near the structure. Even from this distance he could see the panic on her lovely face. Dread slashed through him. Something was wrong. He jumped up and ran to her.
Taking her by the shoulders, he stared into her eyes. “Steady now. What’s the matter? Where’s Mikey?”
She could barely get the words out. “He’s gone.”
Anthony’s stomach dropped. “He’s got to be here somewhere.”
“What if they got him!” She yanked out of his grasp. “I should have kept a closer eye on him. I just thought we were finally safe.”
Feelings of failure, of inadequacy, reached up to choke Anthony. Could he have missed a tail? Had the bad guys found them again? No. He would have seen them. They would have drawn his attention.
He forced himself to think clearly, calmly. “Maybe he’s hiding in the play structure or went to the restroom.” He gestured toward the building at the other end of the park, the only blind spot.
They searched the structure. Ant
hony asked the women sitting on the bench if they’d seen Mikey.
“I didn’t see where he wandered off to,” one of the women said. “We’ll help you look.”
The three women gathered their children and then spread out, calling for Mikey. Viv and Anthony ran to the restroom. He wasn’t there.
“Mikey!” Desperation rang in Viv’s tone.
Anthony winced, but knew that at the moment, it was more important to find Mikey than keep a low profile.
Movement near the porch of a house across the street from the park caught Anthony’s attention. For a split second he was sure he’d seen Mikey. Taking Viv by the elbow, Anthony steered her toward the yellow house with its wide front staircase and wraparound porch. A noise drew them to the right side of the stairs. Mikey had wiggled halfway under the porch, his legs and feet pushing against the ground. Relief crashed over Anthony. He couldn’t decide if the kid was trying to wedge himself in farther or was trying to get unstuck from the tight space between the wood and the ground.
Viv rushed forward. She squatted beside the boy and tugged him free. “Mikey, what on earth are you doing?”
When he came out, he was holding an orange tabby cat. Mikey smiled triumphantly. “Kitty!”
Hugging her son close, Viv began to cry. “You scared Mommy.”
Mikey frowned and touched Viv’s wet cheek. “No cry.”
Viv’s eyes widened and then softened into a loving gaze. Anthony’s blood pounded in his ears. The purity of Viv’s love for her son heightened her beauty way beyond the mere physical and touched Anthony’s heart.
“We need to let the kitty go,” Viv said. “He has a home to go to.” She helped Mikey to release the cat, who darted back under the porch.
Anthony held out his hand for Viv, intending to help her up, but Mikey slipped his hand into Anthony’s larger one. Surprise and something else, something foreign, exploded in his chest. Anthony held his other hand out to Viv. She gazed at him with such trust and affection he thought he might bust.
She grasped his hand and he pulled her to her feet. She held on as the three of them walked back to the park. From the outside Anthony knew they appeared to be a family, connected by hands, by love. A father, mother and son.
The thought sent his heart galloping. He was becoming attached to his protectees. Not a good thing. Very dangerous.
One of the first rules of protection was: don’t get involved. Doing so impaired the protector’s ability to make objective decisions.
By the time they reached the picnic table, rational thought returned. These two people were his clients. Not his family. He had a job to do. Nothing more.
Though the food had gone cold, Mikey didn’t seem to mind as he ate his burger and started on the fries. Anthony had lost his appetite and apparently so had Viv. Their food lay untouched.
Viv reached over to caress his hand. Her soft skin felt so good against his own. “I’m sorry I got a little hysterical.”
Despite knowing how he should behave, he turned his hand over and captured hers, entwining their fingers. The responsibility of caring for these two people weighed heavily on his shoulders. If something happened to them…
He could deny his feelings until doomsday but he was beginning to care more than he should. More than was warranted. If he weren’t careful he’d find himself wishing they were a real family. And that terrified him. They were in danger and he had to do what was best for them. Not what he wanted.
He lightly ran his thumb along hers and tried to pull his hand away. She wouldn’t let him.
“You were scared,” he said. “I was scared, too.” He paused. Heart thumping at lightning speed, he had to make a decision. The best decision for them. “It would be better if I have Trent send someone else to escort you the rest of the way.”
Viv squeezed his hand. “No way. I don’t want anyone else. We don’t want anyone else. Mikey trusts you. You don’t know how rare that is.”
His gut clenched. He wasn’t willing to live with the consequences if something were to go wrong. “I told you what happened to the last person who trusted me to keep them safe.”
Her gaze narrowed. “What was the saying your superiors used? ‘If a bullet’s got your name on it there’s nothing anyone can do.’ And what did you tell me that meant?” Without waiting for him to answer, she continued, “It means even the best sometimes can’t stop the inevitable.”
“But I’m not the best,” he argued. “Not by a long shot.”
Determination lit her eyes. Her chin lifted in a show of stubborn defiance. “You’re the best for us. And I know God is with us. He’s been with us from the beginning.”
Anthony blew out a breath, wishing he believed God was with them. Yet, looking at Viv and Mikey, knowing their story, knowing how deeply her faith went, Anthony found himself hoping she was right.
If only they knew who was after them.
Anthony’s gaze shifted to Mikey. The kid had witnessed his father’s murder from beneath the desk. Could he really identify the killer?
And if he could, that would be the only thing that would keep them safe.
“Vivian, we need to know what Mikey knows.”
SEVEN
Failure! Rage seethed in the man’s veins. The two wounded operatives were found by the hotel maid trussed up like turkeys on Thanksgiving. The woman and child had escaped. The Wanderer Alert bracelet had been removed from the boy and sent on a wild goose chase to California. How much more incompetence could he take?
His hands fisted. His gaze zeroed in on his assistant. Wendell’s flushed face and anxious gaze fueled the man’s anger. “Tell me you have a plan,” he ground out.
Wendell blinked, his head bobbing. “Yes, sir. I’ve people watching everyone who Mrs. Grant might contact, plus I have men stationed outside Trent Associates’ headquarters in Boston. That seems the most logical place for them to go.”
The man grunted his approval and spun away. He stalked to the window to stare out at the view of the Washington Monument. “What do we know about this bodyguard?”
“Name’s Anthony Carlucci, ex-Secret Service.” Wendell delivered the credential like the bomb it was. Now they knew they were facing an additional skill set that could be game changing. “A year ago he took a bullet in the line of duty while protecting a delegate from Kashmir.”
“Ah, yes. I remember the incident.” He’d been in attendance at the state function when a man dressed as a caterer had delivered a fatal shot to the delegate. Carlucci had unsuccessfully tried to intervene. Just another example of incompetence. “Do we have anyone in Secret Service?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Make contact. If Carlucci reaches out, I want to know.”
“Sir, are you sure eliminating Mrs. Grant and her son is necessary? I mean, if the boy knew something, wouldn’t it be out by now?”
Gut twisting with anxiety, he replied, “I can’t take that chance.”
“I’ve tried.” The noises of the park receded to white noise as tension stiffened the muscles in Viv’s shoulders. “Whatever he saw is locked up inside his head.”
Anthony squeezed her hand. “Let me try. He responds to me.”
She couldn’t deny that. Mikey was receptive to Anthony in a way she hadn’t seen before.
Would Anthony’s questions do more damage than good to her son?
But did they have a choice?
Anxiety twisted her thoughts. On one hand she hoped Mikey would reveal something, anything that would set them free from the stress of being hunted like wild animals. Yet her heart ached to think of the horror of what he’d seen. No child should have to witness their father’s murder. “Okay. Be patient with him.”
He gave her an odd look. “Of course.” He focused on Mikey. “Mikey, do you remember the last time you saw your father?”
Vivian held her breath. Pressure built in her chest.
Mikey stilled, a French fry halfway to his mouth.
“You were in your bed,”
Anthony continued, his modulated tone soothing. “You got up and went downstairs. What did you see?”
Mikey’s fingers tightened on the fry. Potato squished out the sides.
Protective instincts surged, setting her teeth on edge. She wanted to tell Anthony to stop, not to push Mikey, but she understood how important it was to know what Mikey had witnessed. Empathy tore her up inside. But so much hinged on his answer. “It’s okay, baby,” she said. “Take your time.”
Anthony released his hold on Vivian to cover Mikey’s free hand with his own. “You went to the study. Your daddy was working at his desk.”
Mikey dropped the fry and began to rock.
Oh, no. This wasn’t good. Any minute he could lose it completely. The urge to draw her son into her arms gripped Viv. Every mothering impulse cried out to hold Mikey, to calm him, to protect him. She had to sit on her hands to keep from reaching for him. Trying to contain him would only make him more agitated. But she longed to shield him. She didn’t want him to suffer through the memory of his father’s death. She couldn’t. It was too late for that now. Their safety—their very lives—depended on what Mikey could remember.
“Not allowed,” Mikey said in perfect imitation of Steven’s voice.
Viv drew in a sharp breath. Though she’d heard Mikey imitate cartoon characters, he’d never mimicked his father before.
“Your daddy said you were not allowed in the study,” Anthony said encouragingly. “Was there someone else in there?”
“Hide,” Mikey said, again in a voice eerily like Steven’s.
The implication of the word rocketed through Viv. Steven had protected Mikey. For all her husband’s faults, he’d done a noble thing when it counted the most. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes.
“You hid under the desk?” Anthony pressed. “Someone came into the room?”
Mikey began to make a noise deep in his throat.
Viv recognized the noise. She winced. “Whenever Steven would raise his voice, Mikey would make this sound,” she said to Anthony.
Meeting her gaze, he nodded. To Mikey he said, “Your daddy was talking loudly. Arguing with someone. Did you see the person?”
