Sweet Danger

by Cheryl Pierson

  "Are you gonna die?"

  He started to automatically answer with a reassurance, then stopped himself. While dying was not a certainty, it was a distinct probability. But how could he tell a five-year-old child that? What the hell was he doing in this situation in the first place? The ridiculous impossibility he found himself in made him angry all over again. He should be out buying the bunk beds Nash wanted for his birthday. The only thing he'd asked for. When Melissa and Jake balked, he should've bought them and put them at his place.

  "Are you…Dad?" His son's voice brought him back to the present.

  "Nash…" Jesse's lips tightened as he fought back the emotion that swelled inside him. He shook his head, his hair falling forward around his face. Absently, he pushed it back. Dad. How long had he waited to hear that? How sweet it sounded. He locked the sound of it in his heart, a treasured memory to be replayed later, over and over.

  "No," he answered finally, looking directly into Nash's clear gaze. "No, I'm not gonna die—not if I can help it." He smiled slowly, his mouth only aching a little at this point. It occurred to him Nash hadn't stood on propriety—hadn't asked if he could call him 'Dad.' He'd just done it. Then, he found himself wondering again how long Nash had known, what he'd thought, and how it had made him feel to keep up the charade with no one to talk to, no one to ask.

  He felt inadequate as a father all over again. He'd let Nash down in so many ways and was beginning to wonder how he could ever make it all up to him. Was it even possible? Would he have the chance? Not if Hardin had his way.

  Looking into his son's earnest face, his heart clenched. All was forgiven already. Nash looked up at him with something like worship in his eyes. Jesse knew he'd never seen his boy look at Jake like that.

  "I won't let them kill you," Nash said. "I'll give them my Transformer shoes."

  Jesse pulled Nash to him again, ignoring the lightning bolt of pain that ripped through his shoulder. Finally, Nash could hold the tears back no longer. He wiped furiously at his eyes, burying his face against Jesse's side. Jesse held him close and let him cry.

  What have I done? Made the biggest mistake of my life, giving Nash to Jake and Melissa. But it's not permanent, not yet. He made a solemn vow to himself. He would fix this, if he got out of here alive.

  "I love you, son," he whispered. After a moment, he asked, "Nash, do you know what your middle name means?"

  Nash shook his head and sniffed.

  "It means 'standing together'. It's a Cherokee name, since we're part Cherokee, just like Nashoba is Choctaw. I gave you those names. Nashoba—wolf. Because I knew you'd be a fierce warrior someday. And Degataga—standing together—because I wanted you to always remember I'd be there beside you, forever. You might not have realized it, Nash, but I have always been with you."

  Nash nodded. "I knew."

  Jesse felt Lindy's fingers move against his hand. He looked at her, thinking how young she looked, younger than she truly was. It had saved her from Hardin, so far. A jolt of desire lanced through him, surprising him with its intensity. A grim smile touched his lips. Her youthful looks had saved her from Hardin, but nothing would save her from Jesse Nightwalker, once they got out of this hell.

  She smiled at Nash reassuringly, and Jesse noticed her eyes were almost as dark as his son's. Almost as dark as his own.

  "Do you know how to speak Choctaw, Nash?" she asked.

  She was interested, Jesse noted. Not disdainful, as Erica had always been. There was no reserved quality about her, not now that she knew him and his son. She was more at ease with him after one day than Erica had been after nearly two years of marriage and a baby.

  Nash shook his head. "No. My—uh—mom said I didn't need to know it."

  Lindy threw Jesse a glance, and he could see she was unsure if she was treading on forbidden ground. He gave her a quick smile.

  "I do," he said quietly, "if you want to learn."

  Her lips curved up mischievously. "I'll bet there are a lot of things you could teach me."

  His heart skipped a beat at her words.

  Before he could respond, Nash said, "Yeah, my dad knows all kinds of stuff, Miss Lindy."

  She winked at Jesse over Nash's head and he gave a teasing groan.

  "Hey, big guy, don't be tellin' all my secrets, now."

  Nash laughed.

  "Nash, did you know you've lost a tooth?" Lindy asked, mock seriously. "Right here." She pointed to her own mouth, the front bottom tooth.

  "The tooth fairy came, and I was rich!"

  "How rich?"

  Nash held up four fingers on each hand. "I got—this much quarters. Eight. An' that made two whole dollars!"

  "That's great!" Lindy told him. "What did you buy?"

  "Nothing. 'Cause I'm saving."

  Jesse's brows slashed together. "What're you saving for?"

  "Bunk beds," came the solemn reply.

  Jesse looked away. If he could have bought bunk beds for every room in his house, he'd have done it—might do it yet, if they got out of here. Was it so much to ask? Why hadn't Jake and Melissa bought Nash the coveted bunk beds? He knew money was not the issue.

  "Why haven't…your parents—Jake and Melissa—bought them for you?" Lindy blurted.

  Jesse turned to wait for his son's response, curious as well. When it came, he was livid.

  "My…mom—Melissa—she told my other dad that I couldn't have them until they had a baby," Nash answered matter-of-factly. He stumbled a little as he continued on. "She said…she said…if they had a baby to put in the bottom one, I could have the top."

  "That bit—" Jesse snarled.

  "Oh, my goodness," Lindy murmured, squeezing his hand in warning. There was no way Nash could understand the adult undercurrents and he had thought of Melissa as his mother until fairly recently.

  "Maybe that'll happen real soon," Lindy said with a smile.

  "Yeah," Jesse agreed, holding back his anger at Melissa's tactics. "Maybe." Maybe there was more to the story. But somehow, he doubted it.

  "What a nice little family gathering." Leon Jackson stood over them, giving them a greasy smile. He took the box cutter from his pocket, turning to look at Tony Johnson.

  Johnson recoiled, eyes widening. Jackson chuckled, wiping the blade on his pant leg as he took a step closer to where the two officers were manacled.

  Caspar looked up at him wearily. "Don't you ever get sick of being crazy, Jackson? Put that damn knife away and leave us be."

  "Shut up, you pig bastard." He tested the blade with his thumb. "You know how they kill pigs, don't you?" His voice easy and smooth, he stepped forward again. "They slit their throats…let 'em bleed to death." He watched the tip of the blade, as if he thought it might escape him somehow. Then slowly, he let his gaze roam over the two police officers.

  Jesse took a steadying breath. Johnson was scared out of his wits, and Leon Jackson knew it. "C'mon, Leon," Jesse murmured. "Lay off. You've had your fun."

  "Yeah, an' I ain't done yet!" Jackson whirled on him, his eyes glittering with madness. "Here, Jesse, why don't I cut on you awhile? Cut that bullet outta ya…oh no, wait—our sweet Lindy's gonna do that, ain't she?" Jackson's lip curled in a sneer. "I can't wait. You'll be screamin' for sure." He licked his lips. "An' if she don't make you beg, I bet I can—"

  "Lee, that's enough." Hardin strode over to them, laying a hand on Jackson's shoulder.

  "Just havin' a little fun, boss. That's all."

  "I know." Hardin nodded at Nash, who sat wide-eyed and silent beside Jesse. "But you're scarin' the boy, here." He glanced at Lindy and added, "And the women folk."

  Lindy lifted her chin stubbornly and met his gray gaze. He watched her a moment, then laughed shortly. "On second thought, Lee, I don't believe you scared her at all." He got control of himself, forcing the smile away for a moment. "No, I think what scared her most was when you made mention of her playin' doctor to Jesse, here." His eyes narrowed.

  "Yes sir, I think maybe she's purely afr
aid of having to hurt him." He lowered himself slowly to his haunches, eye-level with her. She didn't look away. He studied her in silence for a moment.

  "If it gets rough, Linden, it might be that Jesse will have to…ah, accompany us, should we be required to make a hasty exit—with a hostage. I need him…and I need him able to travel, should that situation arise. So," he pursed his lips, "I can let him live with it, like it is, or let you try to take it out. Or…I could turn Leon loose on him, but that wouldn't be so pretty. Now…if I let you do it, what will you trade for that privilege, Miss Linden Oliver? What, indeed?"

  Reflexively, Jesse sat forward, and at the movement, Hardin slowly turned his attention back to him.

  "Remember, Jess," he murmured conversationally, "I still have two other pigs I can run with. It don't have to be you."

  Chapter Sixteen

  "Well…sweet Linden? What's it worth?"

  Lindy moistened her lips. What does he want me to say? Hardin was unpredictable—mad, really—as were his men. Crazy, to do what he had attempted in this kidnapping fiasco. But she needed to buy some time. Admitting her feelings for Jesse Nightwalker would do nothing but cause grief for all of them, especially Jesse himself.

  This would be a gamble, but one she had to risk. Offering Hardin anything was just an invitation for him to rob her—them—of everything, including their last scrap of humanity, individually and collectively. "You go to hell, Tabor Hardin!"

  Hardin's lips compressed, a spark of anger igniting his silver eyes just for an instant, before he rocked back on his heels and began to laugh. He shook his head as he came to his feet. "I tell you, Jesse, you better hang onto her. She is crazy in love with you, boy." He gave Lindy an appreciative look. "Take what you need from this stuff." He pointed at the medical supplies on the bar. "You can use the bedroom. Don't want these kids gettin' spooked—'specially this one." He glanced down at Nash.

  "I need these men released." Lindy pressed, nodding toward Johnson and Caspar. "To help me—"

  Hardin shook his head, the smile evaporating. "I won't go that far, Miss Oliver. This ain't the Mayo Clinic. Take this boy here and make do with him." He kicked at Tommy's leg. "Nash, you go back over with your buddies. Pigs'll stay put." He turned to look at Caspar directly. "Where I can keep an eye on 'em."

  Tommy stood up stiffly, offering a hand to Lindy.

  Nash made no move to go back to the other side of the deli. He looked at his father, waiting for whatever instructions he might give him, steadfastly ignoring Tabor Hardin.

  Hardin scowled and gave Jesse a narrow look "Don't guess I need to remind you, Jesse; I'll have your boy right here with me. You try anything at all and I will turn Leon loose on him with that box cutter of his. You won't recognize him—if you ever see him again."

  Jesse regarded him grimly. "No. You don't need to remind me, Hardin." He gave Nash a pat on the shoulder. "Run on, Nash. Mrs. Montgomery depends on you, son."

  Nash stood reluctantly, but didn't question Jesse.

  Hardin watched Nash make his way back to the other children. "Well, best to get things straight right from the get-go. He's a cute kid. I'd hate to see him…messed up."

  Lindy's skin crawled, but she kept herself from shivering.

  "Then you get something straight, Hardin," Jesse responded coldly. "You touch him—you're dead."

  Hardin grinned again. "Don't look like you're in much position to threaten anyone, Jess. Be even worse off once Miss Lindy here goes diggin' around for that bullet. Lord, makes me hurt all over just thinkin' about it."

  He looked at Lindy. "And you…be careful. I don't want him dead. He's valuable to me as a hostage. I reckon Ryan Lucas would do about anything to get him outta here in one piece, but he'll want him alive. I can pretty much guarantee that part of it. Just don't know how alive he'll be, once I get done with him. So, you save me some of him, Lindy-girl. I got some ideas I been thinkin' on about what I might do. Man's gotta pay for his sins against his brothers, ain't that right, Jesse?"

  "Damn you to hell, Hardin. Damn you, and the horse you rode in on, and the dog that followed you."

  "Well, you always did have a way with words, Jesse. Don't let me hear a sound out of you while she's takin' that bullet out, or so help me God, I'll blow one of these pigs to hell and back. You better keep real quiet in there. And remember what I told you, if you want to see your boy alive and well again."

  Lindy watched in helpless silence as Tommy reached to help Jesse to his feet. Jesse took his outstretched hand, slowly straightening, unsteady on his feet.

  "Yeah," he breathed. "You remember, too."

  * * * * *

  Getting to the bedroom was the hardest thing Jesse had done in a very long time. The blood loss made him light-headed, the room pitching and rolling under him like the deck of a ship in a storm-tossed sea. He leaned heavily on Tommy, who was surprisingly steady, and they moved forward at a slow pace. The lead in his left shoulder sent pain rolling through him from neck to waist with every step he took.

  Sweat beaded his face. Tommy shot him a quick glance, his grip tightening almost imperceptibly. Jesse didn't look at him, just kept putting one foot in front of the other.

  As they neared the bedroom doorway, Tommy shifted just momentarily to allow Jesse through, his grasp loosening for a split second before becoming tighter than before.

  Jesse was breathing hard, but couldn't help being amused at Tommy's change of attitude. He sobered once again at the thought of what brought that change about. Jennifer Riley's death had been unholy to witness, for all of them. No matter how Tommy had acted toward Jennifer in the beginning of all this, he had cared for her. He'd told her so, in the end. Jesse believed he had meant it.

  "Are you okay?" Tommy asked.

  Jesse could see the fear in his eyes.

  Tommy nervously reached to brush back a stray strand of hair, then moved firmly closer to Jesse, as if sensing Jesse was about to let go of him.

  "Yeah," Jesse responded. "I'm doin' all right."

  Tommy met his eyes, his surprise showing at the kindness in his tone.

  Jesse immediately felt guilt wash over him at that look, but tamped it down. He'd had to get a grip on Tommy when all this started. He didn't regret that he'd been hard with him.

  They moved closer to the bed and Tommy cautiously released his hold on Jesse's taut waist, ducking out from under his right arm. Jesse turned and lowered himself to the bed, shouldering away the perspiration trickling down his cheek. The movement left him breathless with pain. He closed his eyes against it and took a slower, steadying breath. Sitting wasn't much better than standing, but at least there was no more movement. None, other than what he had to do by lying down.

  He thought of the gun Abe had described and wondered which pillow it was under…if it was still there. But first things first. His arm was useless to him right now with the slug embedded in the bone. He couldn't lift it, in fact could barely move it. Even though it meant going through an amateur surgery at a beginner's untrained hands, he would do whatever it took to regain some use of his arm again. Even if he found the gun, in his present condition, he doubted he'd be lucky enough to kill all Hardin's men. Not before they killed Caspar and Johnson. Or Nash. No, if Lindy could manage to get at the bullet, he'd be better off, probably still be hurting like a son-of-a-bitch, but hopefully able to gain a little more mobility.

  He looked up as Lindy crossed the threshold, her arms laden with medical supplies. Rod Macklin stood behind her with his pistol pointed at the back of her head. Something rose up inside of Jesse at that. Something he refused to name as love—at least, not in that moment. As she stepped toward him, her eyes holding his, he could not deny it a second longer.

  He loved her.

  He was in love with Lindy Oliver—a woman he had only been introduced to a few hours earlier.

  How can this be?

  He'd held himself apart from everything, and everyone, since Erica's death…even his own son. He hadn't even realize
d he was doing it.

  She was so beautiful—inside and out. There was no way in hell he could keep her at arm's length. He wanted her—body and soul. It couldn't be—not ever. He had to deny himself the very person he needed, in order to protect her. She'd been right there in front of him for the past year—two doors down—and he'd let that precious time slip by him. Life had been running past him like water for the last four years, since Erica's death—deeper and deeper—until he'd nearly drowned.

  He'd managed to keep himself aloof—and alone—emotionally.

  Until today.

  This morning, his life had changed forever. Not just by Tabor Hardin, and his fortuitous choice of hideouts from which to stage his battle, but even more so because of Lindy and the changes she had unknowingly brought about inside him.

  He'd kissed her, his lips brushing hers in a gesture that had branded him more selfish than he'd ever intended. One moment of indulgence resulted in consequences that might ultimately lead to Lindy's death. Strange to think of all the ramifications one simple kiss could have for so many people. It was what had bound her to him, preventing her from going as he'd told her to do. It was his freedom, a rebirth after four years of merely existing, but it had become her prison—one which tied her to him and kept her at his side through this nightmare.

  The sight of Rod Macklin's blunt features, his lifeless eyes set in the expressionless face as he held the gun steadily on Lindy, made Jesse want to deck him. The fierce protectiveness stunned him, and he realized with stark clarity there was no turning back now—not for him.

  Lindy moved past him, setting the medical supplies down on the old dresser against the wall on the opposite side of the room.

  Macklin's face melded into a leer of lust as he eyed Lindy's graceful movements. Jesse felt his own anger twist inside him, tensing his body all over. Lindy turned to look at Macklin, ignoring the lecherous stare he gave her.

  "Would you please come in or out, Mr. Macklin?" Her tone was crisp.

  Macklin grunted and stepped forward, closing the door behind him. He kept the gun trained on Lindy. She smiled tightly. "I assure you, I don't intend to waylay you, Mr. Macklin. I'm just trying to do what your boss has ordered. Holding a weapon like that must take a tremendous amount of energy; I mean, to keep it steady."