“I wish tear ducts were on the bottom of our feet,” she whimpered, the outburst over for the time being. Even that reminded her of Rory. “I, umm, need my dark glasses. I left them at my desk.”
He was out the door and back in a minute with her sunglasses in hand. When she put them on, she swallowed what little dignity she had left and stood. “I’ll think about your Dr. Payne,” she said softly. “Thanks for talking with me.”
“We’ve all been there, Ember. Every single one of those guys out there knows what you’re going through, too. They’re worried about you.”
She stuffed the tissues into her sleeve and opened the door, her eyes forward and not looking at all those concerned guys and gals. At least Alex hadn’t given her the debriefing report to do over, not that she’d have done it. She was tired. She was through.
There was only one thing left to do.
Morning came too early at the Dennison household.
Tyler still snored softly, his little body sprawled face down on Rory’s chest. This was his idea of heaven on earth, his son sound asleep in his arms, breathing in and out like a healthy kid. No congestion. No rattle in his throat. Just his usual little boy snore. Rory dozed and let his son sleep as long as he needed. The latest antibiotic seemed to have done the trick. Tyler slept fitfully for the first time in days. So did his father.
When he woke again, he glanced around the apartment, thinking of the crazy scarf he’d made Ember buy in Ohio. She looked good in bright colors, but he’d lost track of it.
And now Thanksgiving was just around the corner. He needed to call his folks in Nebraska as much as he needed to call Ember. But she had yet to pick up her office phone when he called. It rang once and immediately went to her voice mail message. Her cell phone was the same so he’d stopped trying. Her home phone was no better. He was beginning to worry. Had something else happened while he was on leave?
Tyler stirred and coughed, stretched and yawned. “Hi, Daddy. Whatcha doing in my bed?”
Rory smoothed his hand over his son’s shoulders and down his back. “Whose bed?”
Tyler chuckled. “Ha. I like sleeping on the couch.”
“Are you hungry yet?”
Tyler’s nose scrunched up as he thought really hard for all of two seconds. “Yep!”
The single word reminded Rory of another motherless soul. He brushed the pain-filled reminder of Nima away. “Come on, buddy. How about pancakes and eggs?”
“Kin you make ’em look like punkins?”
“How about turkeys? It’s almost Thanksgiving.” Rory had pancake molds for every season of the year and a couple others just for fun. Anything to make his little guy smile.
“Yeah! Turkeys! I yike turkeys, Daddy.”
Rory ruffled his son’s curly hair as they rolled off the couch together. They could practice enunciating those pesky L words later. “I can make those pancakes fly if they’d make you happy.”
“You can? Wow!” Tyler’s eyes were as big as the pancakes would be, but the word brought a pinch to Rory’s heart. On their way to the kitchen he dialed Ember’s phone just to hear her say, ‘Wow,’ again, too.
She didn’t answer. Where was she? His heart hurt. He needed to know.
After breakfast, he stripped the sheets off their beds while Tyler played in the tub. When his house phone rang, he scrambled to get it. Ember!
“Hello, son. How are you doing?” His father’s voice boomed through the phone.
“Hi, Dad. We’re good,” Rory answered, juggling the phone on his shoulder. He hoped he’d masked the disappointment in his voice while he helped Tyler out of the tub and into a towel.
“Glad to hear that because your mother and I are flying in for a visit tomorrow.”
“Wow, tomorrow? Sure. Great.” Rory ran a hand through his hair at the unexpected news.
“Anything wrong? You sound a little tired. Have you been sick?”
His father knew him well enough to know he was holding something back, so Rory spilled the beans. “Tyler has, but he’s good now. When does your flight get in?”
Rory wrapped Tyler in a bath sheet while he jotted down the information and talked with his father for a while. He told him about the pneumonia and how sick Tyler had been. And of course, his father scolded him for not calling when Tyler first went into the hospital, but that’s the way grandfathers were.
He didn’t, however, tell his father about the Lobsang operation. That was his secret to keep. His parents had worried enough while he was deployed to Iraq. They didn’t need to know the downside to his current job.
“You’re sure we’re not putting you two boys out?” his father asked.
“Heavens no. You and Mom never put us guys out. Tyler can room with me while you’re here. Do you want to talk to him for a minute?”
Tyler took the phone and chatted with his Grandpa and Grandma. He was their only grandchild at the moment, and they visited as often as possible, but especially around the holidays. It would be good to see them again.
“Love you, Grampa.” Tyler blew smacking kiss sounds into the phone and handed it back to Rory, his eyes lit with excitement instead of fever. “Grampa coming to see me!”
Rory ended the conversation with his father.
“How about we take our medicine to make sure you feel good while they’re here?”
Tyler stuck both arms into his shirt as Rory pulled it over his head. “’Kay.”
“And then let’s have a sugar cookie party. We can frost them with orange and black and....” Rory thought of the silly scarf. “Maybe we’ll go visit a special friend of mine.”
Tyler wiggled his jeans up over his backside. “Be a robot!”
Rory immediately went into his jerky, robot dance routine. Tyler giggled and screamed at his daddy’s scary automated sounding voice. Rory picked him up like an airplane and sailed him into the kitchen where his antibiotics were. Life was back to normal at the Dennison household. Almost.
Later that morning, father and son went for a quick ride. Rory picked up a bouquet of orange and bronze carnations on the way to Ember’s apartment with a plate of orange and chocolate frosted sugar cookies. She shouldn’t be working on Saturday, but if she were, he’d head to the office and surprise her there.
Tyler was excited to be out and about. It would be a quick visit. Then he’d get Tyler back home in time for his afternoon nap. But right now Rory needed to know how Ember was doing. He needed her. Warmth spilled out of his heart. The air seemed crisper. Oak and maple leaves appeared brighter and more radiant along with all those other colors she loved.
With an extra bounce in his step, he entered her apartment building. Instead of taking the elevator, he opted for the stairs, clearing them two at a time even with Tyler on his shoulders.
Tyler hung on tight, giggling with every bounce. “Again! Again!” he squealed when they reached the second level, urging Rory on like he was the racehorse and Tyler the jockey.
“We’re already there,” Rory announced when he spotted Ember’s apartment number two doors to the right. “Number two eighteen. See?”
“Oh, goodie. Kin I knock?”
Rory tilted his son into the door until he could reach it enough to knock. It was time to share his son and life with this amazing woman. She had to be home. He could kiss her at her apartment, and he very much wanted to kiss her again. Tyler gave three quiet knocks, while Rory pressed the doorbell. “How are you doing up there?”
“I good, Daddy!” Tyler thumped the top of his father’s head in excitement. “I knocked!”
Rory smirked to himself. He was humming the theme song from, of all things, Tyler’s favorite television show. He definitely needed to get out of his apartment more often. But no one answered. He sighed and rang the doorbell one last time. Dang it. She wasn’t home.
As he turned to leave, the door cracked open. Some punk with a bright yellow Mohawk stuck his face out, squinting like a mole in the bright light of day. He smelled of bad breath and—p
ot. Rory’s hackles lifted. What was this jerk doing in her home?
“Whatcha want, man? Whatcha selling?”
“Isn’t this Ember Davis’s apartment?” he asked as he pulled Tyler off his shoulders, shielding him from the fumes wafting out the open door and into the hall.
“She ain’t here.” The guy had yellow teeth and straggly hairs on his chin. He scratched his nose and other body parts while he talked.
“When will she be back?” Rory asked politely.
The punk belched. “Sorry. I kinda been sick and, umm, whatcha want again?” He scratched his shaved scalp alongside the Mohawk, like it might help his brain work.
“I asked when will Ember return.”
“Uh, I don’t know. She don’t come home much anymore. You wanna leave her a message or something?” The guy scrunched up his face like it was hard to think rationally.
Rory took a tablet and pen out of his inner jacket pocket and scribbled a quick note to Ember that said, ‘Call me. Rory.’ He included his new cell phone number. “Tell her Rory Dennison came by to visit. Make sure she gets this.” He handed his message along with the flowers and cookies to the guy at the door.
“Umm, yeah, man. Sure thing. Roy Dennis. Got it.”
“No. The name is Rory Dennison. Rory. Not Roy.”
“Whatever. I got it.”
“Who are you?” Rory really wanted to ask, ‘Who the hell are you?’
The guy scrunched up his nose. It seemed to be his intelligent look for the day. He weaved back and forth like he might go down for the count. “I’m Larry, her main squeeze. It don’t get no better than this, ya know what I mean?” he said, belching while he offered a Vanna White flourish down his scrawny body.
Rory stepped away, thoroughly disgusted. Tyler’d seen enough, but the punk at the door turned friendly.
“’S okay, man.” He stepped out of the door and poor Tyler got a bigger eyeful than any little boy needed. Larry was dressed in black briefs—and nothing else. His scrawny chest and shoulder were inked with some bright red tribal tattoo. The punk looked like he was wearing tights. Ink covered his thighs and legs. For some reason, the idiot had pierced both hairy nipples. Not a pretty sight.
Rory turned his son away from the scene while Larry, the pothead, waved goodbye. “See you later, man. I’ll be sure to give her the stuff, Roy.”
And Rory wished Larry would shut up, go back inside and close the door.
“Wow, Daddy. He smelled icky,” Tyler said as they walked to the car.
“He did, didn’t he?” Rory belted Tyler into his booster seat, his mind a thousand miles away. He didn’t know much about Ember’s home life other than she had a cat, Maple Syrple, or some other off the wall name like that.
He was pretty sure she didn’t have a man in her life right now, regardless what the doper, Larry, said. The punk said she wasn’t home most of the time. Then where was she? Ember didn’t do drugs, so what was some addict doing in her home? She could lose everything if anyone decided to call the police, yet Larry certainly hadn’t hidden what he was doing.
“How are you feeling, Tyler?” Roy asked. “You ready to go home yet?”
“I fine,” Tyler said, but Rory knew better. His son wasn’t bouncing much anymore.
Instead of the impromptu visit to his office, they went straight home for lunch and naptime. Tyler went out like a light after that.
At last he dialed Ember’s number. “Hey. This is Rory. I’ve been calling you for days now. We need to talk. Call me. I left something for you at your apartment today. Hope to hear from you soon. I love you, sweetheart.”
There. That ought to get her attention.
Twenty-Four
Rory’s parents adored Tyler. They’d all but moved to Virginia four years ago when he was born with complications. Rory’s mother baked. His father built a walk-in closet in Rory’s bedroom, and all because they were scared Baby Tyler wouldn’t survive.
The news of this bout of pneumonia sent them into another tailspin. Rory’s mother started baking and cooking the moment she arrived. His father decided the kitchen needed granite counter tops and immediately got in his wife’s way. Rory smiled and stayed out of the kitchen. He knew when not to argue.
The news they’d decided to stay for Thanksgiving was welcome, too. Tyler was Grandpa’s little helper and Grandma’s best boy in the whole world. For once, Rory took a long nap on the couch without worry while Tyler got the daylight spoiled out of him. And all was right with the world.
The day after they arrived, Rory went back to work. It was a beautiful November day, chilly and bright with the definite hint of frost in the air. Autumn colors glowed everywhere. Red and orange oaks, sugar maples, golden aspen, it seemed the whole world was decked in the bright colors Ember loved. And because she loved them, Rory loved them.
For the first time in a long time, he drove his Mercedes to work. Instead of taking the elevator after he parked in The TEAM’s underground secure lot, he ran up the stairs taking them two and three at a time. He arrived on the second floor without even breathing hard. It was a beautiful day—until he saw her.
He had to look twice. Ember? Where was the bright, vibrant blonde who loved little children and possibly him? Only a week had passed, but she’d changed. A lot. Dressed in black from head to toe, her gorgeous honey blonde hair was dyed black and twisted into shiny sharp spikes. Her feet and legs were encased in butt-high platform boots that made her look like an Amazon woman. She was a mix between steam punk, Goth maybe, and Rory didn’t know what else. The spiked dog collar around her neck looked pretty damned sharp, too.
The rest of her clothing consisted of an extremely tight-fitting black leather jacket someone had taken a switchblade to for the sake of—fashion? Horizontal slashes marked it front and back, up and down the sleeves. A leather skirt completed the ensemble, or whatever she called it. Her pretty face concerned Rory the most. He stood there speechless. He’d never seen so much black eyeliner, lipstick, and mascara. It made her look cold. Hard. Sad.
“What are you looking at?” she snapped when he finally caught her eye.
This was not how he’d envisioned their reunion. “Umm, nothing.”
Harley and David were at his desk in a minute with the latest sports highlights, all the operations in progress, which agent was where, and who’d just returned. But Rory couldn’t take his eyes off Ember. After a few minutes of guy talk, Alex rounded Mother’s counter. “Rory, it’s about time you showed up. Good to have you back. How’s everything at home?”
Rory shook his boss’s hand. “Home is good. It’s good to be back.”
“Grab a cup of coffee and get settled. Then I need to see you and Ember in my office. Let me know when you’re ready.”
“Right now is fine with me. How about you, Ember?” Rory asked.
She didn’t look up. “I’ll be there.”
He would’ve been more than happy to walk with her, but she bee-lined to Alex’s office a step ahead of him. Alex sat at his conference table waiting, the debriefing report spread in front of him. “I have your final reports. Good job, you two. I’d like to clear up a couple discrepancies since you’re both here.”
“Sure. Anything you need, I’m sure we can help,” Rory said, by now feeling the cold shoulder from Ember’s direction. Or was it the rock solid ice cold shoulder? He glanced sideways at her. What on earth happened while he was off?
One by one Alex listed the few things he needed to understand better, like how Ember injured her leg.
“That was my fault,” Rory answered immediately. “I underestimated the distance—”
“It was not,” she snapped. “I hit a wall, exactly like I said in my report.”
Alex glanced from her to Rory. “Anything to add?”
He stared Alex down. “I was agent in charge. That makes it my fault.”
Alex wrote a few words in the margin of the report. “And the hospital stay in Chicago? Who do I send a check to?”
�
�I can get the address for—”
Ember jumped to her feet and stood over Alex’s shoulder, pointing to her report with an ugly black fingernail. “Oh, for hell’s sake, I put it right there. See? On this line.”
He squinted at the report. “I see it now,” he said softly.
Ember sat with a huff and crossed her long leather-covered legs. Rory sighed. Right now he didn’t recognize the woman who sat beside him. At all.
“And I understand I owe David another car?” Alex peered over his readers.
“Yes, Boss.” Rory and Ember answered at the same time. She seemed determined to have the last word, no matter what.
“Great. That will do it. Thanks for everything you did to make this a successful mission.” Alex shook their hands.
Rory reached to open the door for Ember, but she brushed by him and stormed toward the restrooms. He glanced back to Alex. “Did something else happen while I was gone that I should know about?”
“She’s not talking yet. Give her time.”
“Copy that.”
As perplexed as he was, Rory had plenty of work to do. Alex came back with a few minor changes. His boss was a stickler for accuracy and detail. All the agents joked the reporting process took longer than the actual operations, but Rory didn’t mind. He checked his email, filled out the supply list for things he needed, and signed up for quarterly weapons certification. Everything almost seemed normal. When Ember returned from the restroom, he grabbed the opportunity to talk with her. Mother had just gone into Alex’s office, so he figured he had time.
“Hey,” he said softly. “How are you doing, honey?”
She shot him down with a huff. “What do you want, Dennison?”
“What’s going on?” he asked quietly. “I thought—”
“Why don’t we start with you? Where have you been?”
“Umm, home, with a—”
“Home? Ha. You expect me to believe that? You know what? I don’t care.” She slapped her desk drawer closed. “I’ve got work to do and not enough hours in the day to get it done. Leave me alone.”
Rory (In the Company of Snipers Book 6) Page 27
