by Mindy Neff
“And that is?”
“My weapon. Adam Walsh isn’t on the government records.”
She understood the situation immediately. He had friends in high places who could get him out of a jam, but it might mean several hours in lockup until it got straightened out. Jason North had carried an FBI shield. Adam Walsh was simply a guidance counselor at Clemons High.
She pulled up the back of her shirt. “Stick it in here. The things I do for you,” she griped.
“Damn it, Molly. Where the hell’s your purse?”
“In your unlocked car announcing its availability.”
After a brief wrestle with indecision, he shoved the weapon in the back of her jeans and snatched the hem of her shirt over it just as a couple of LAPD black-and-whites screeched to a halt, high-powered spotlights glaring. The officers crouched behind open car doors, weapons drawn.
“We’ve got a shoulder wound,” Adam called. “Not life threatening, but he needs an ambulance. One perp’s in the Dumpster over there, the others got away—probably a ten-minute lead.” He nodded to the .45 Colt several feet away.
“Kid in the Dumpster dropped that.”
Molly glanced at Adam. “How did a kid get in the Dumpster?”
“I put him there.”
“Oh. Why isn’t he getting out?”
Adam shrugged, looking at Lamar and the police officer, who both appeared highly interested in that answer. “When I flipped the metal lid over, the damn thing bent in on itself.”
“Oh, dear,” Molly said, “wasn’t that a lucky thing?”
Having gotten the all-clear from the police, the paramedics rolled in with a stretcher. Adam stood, drawing Molly with him. “Let’s give them some room to work.”
“Miss Kincade?” Lamar said, his voice shaking with fear.
“I’m right here, sweetie.”
“Don’t leave, okay? I gotta talk to you.”
“I won’t leave. But I believe we’ve already covered the subject of talking. Hush now and let the paramedics have a look at you.”
She turned to Adam. “I’ll ride in with him. You can follow in the car.”
“I’d have suggested just that.” He gave her braid a gentle tug and pressed his lips against her temple. She might boss and sass, but he felt the tremor of anxiety that ran through her compact body. “You going to be all right?”
She nodded. “I’ll be fine. I’d be a lot finer if these damn kids wouldn’t go around shooting one another.”
“That’s my Molly. Determined to save the world.”
“Maybe not the world, Adam, just those who are mine.” She gave his bare shoulder an absent kiss, then jumped as if something had goosed her. Her eyes rounded. I’ve got a damned Smith and Wesson poking me in the butt!
He leaned down, whispered in her ear. “Safety’s on. Chamber’s empty. Clip’s in my pocket. Your butt’s perfectly safe.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I think.”
He waited until she climbed in the back of the ambulance with Lamar, then headed for his car. A slip of paper was anchored under his wiper. His eyes narrowed as he got a good look at it.
A parking ticket.
He’d gotten a damned parking ticket! His chest tightened, and his blood boiled. For crying out loud, a kid had just been shot, drugs were sold on street corners like candy, guns hawked like yesterday’s newspapers and he gets a damned parking ticket! On a deserted street. He wasn’t blocking any driveways, and no fire zones were posted.
He stepped back and slammed into something solid, automatically reaching for his weapon before he remembered he’d disassembled it and given it to Molly.
Heart pumping, he turned slowly. A parking meter. Emotions all over the place, he gave the thing a shove. It bent into the shape of a giant U-turn sign, pointing straight to hell.
Great. In addition to parking fines, he could be facing destruction-of-city property charges.
MOLLY HELD Lamar’s hand as the ambulance sped through the city streets. They didn’t bother with sirens, since his condition was stable.
“Miss Kincade, you gotta see about Lizzy.”
“I will, honey. How about your mom? Does she work nights?”
Lamar’s eyes darted away. “My mom’s gone.”
“Gone? Where?”
“Dead.”
“Oh, honey. When?”
“’Bout eight months ago. It’s just me and Lizzy now. She’ll be scared. You gotta see about her.”
The knot in Molly’s stomach grew even tighter. Dear God, these kids were living on their own. Legally she ought to report it to the authorities. They were underage. But she’d done the same thing—when she was exactly Lamar’s age. She’d raised her younger brother on her own and lied to the school system, afraid if they found out they’d separate her and Sam. The same thing could very well happen to Lamar and Lizzy.
And Molly knew she couldn’t do it. This boy had been through too much. Damn, why did the world have to be so tough for kids?
“Miss Kincade?”
She squeezed Lamar’s hand. “I’ll take care of Lizzy. You just worry about getting better so you can get back in school.”
Through the back doors of the ambulance, she saw the lights of the city, people walking on sidewalks, friends gathered on street corners. It all looked so innocent, yet could turn deadly in an instant.
Molly wanted to scream at the senseless injustice. She truly believed that education was the key. If these kids would fill their minds with knowledge, learn a trade, embrace a goal, their self-esteem would strengthen. They’d work toward a better life, a life where they could live proudly. Safely.
She looked back at Lamar’s young face, at the white gauze wrapped around his shoulder. No. She wasn’t going to turn this kid in. She was going to take him in. He had a mind like a thirsty sponge. If given half a chance, he’d make something of himself.
She intended to see that he got that chance.
ADAM WATTED by the emergency-room doors, watching as the ambulance backed in. He’d raced like a demon to get here first—parking-meter assaults aside. He didn’t want Molly facing this situation on her own.
Hell, every time he thought things were squared away, that he could start to ease back, all hell broke loose, tossing him right back into the thick of her life.
He felt his emotions ebb, impatiently wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his arm. His knees threatened to buckle, so he leaned against the wall, praying that his strength would last. He couldn’t remember when he’d felt so damned tired. Hell, if he wasn’t careful, he could easily slip right down this drab wall, end up in a heap on the floor. They could haul him in right next to Lamar and all the other patients.
And wouldn’t the doctors have a field day with the results of his blood tests, he thought in disgust.
He noticed the relief on Molly’s face when she saw him waiting. He hated that bruised look in her eyes, her guilt because she couldn’t fix an entire world, a world that would take a hell of a lot more manpower to fix than just a half-pint teacher who had a core of steel beneath the sweet exterior.
He could use a little of that steel right now himself.
She eased up next to him, slipped her hand into his as they wheeled Lamar through the emergency doors.
“Adam, you’re trembling. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
She studied him, pressed the backs of her fingertips to his cheek. “Your skin’s burning up.”
“Don’t fuss, Molly.” This was exactly what he’d hoped to avoid.
Her eyes narrowed. “It wouldn’t kill you to lean on me, you know.”
“No, my freaky blood’s doing an adequate job of murder all by itself.”
“If you didn’t look like you were about to fall over, I’d hit you for that.”
His lips twitched. If there was such a thing as being healed by faith, his Molly could do it. She simply refused to believe the worst—about anything.
“Fine. Be a ma
cho man. I need your car keys,” she said.
He handed them to her without thought, then wanted to snatch them back. His brows flattened. “Where are you going?”
“To get Lizzy. Lamar’s been raising that little girl on his own.”
“Which explains the unreturned phone calls by the Castillos. Look, why don’t you let me—?”
“Don’t start, Adam. There’s a scared ten-year-old worried about her brother and alone. I’m going to pick her up, and you’re going to stay here with Lamar.”
He took a mental step back, felt like grinning but was seriously concerned that she would clobber him. “Yes, ma’am.”
She nodded, her eyes narrowed, her features tight. “And Adam? You’d better push those certification people. Paperwork or not, these kids are coming home with us.” She kissed his cheek and absently patted his chest in a gesture so loving it was all he could do not to slump back against the wall again.
Adam watched her walk out the doors, her spine stiff, her stride filled with purpose. God help anybody who had the misfortune to get in her way. He had an idea he might need to buy another house. North Haven would violate the occupancy limit within a week the way Molly collected strays.
Slowly, putting one foot in front of the other, he made it past the ER nurse by telling her he was Lamar’s guardian. The kid looked young and scared lying in the curtained cubicle. Hell, he was young and scared.
“How’s it going, kid?”
Lamar shrugged and winced when the action pulled at the bandage on his shoulder. “Did Miss Kincade go for Lizzy?”
“Yeah. She’ll be back before they’re even ready to spring you, so don’t worry.” He pulled up a chair and prepared to sit. His left knee gave out, and he sat. Hard.
He heard Lamar’s worry and shrugged. “Old injury,” he explained even though he hadn’t been asked. “What happened tonight?”
“I needed money. I used the last of what I had to get the electricity turned back on.”
Hell, these kids had been living in the dark.
“Some guys were putting pressure on me to join up with them. I thought it was the only way, easy money, you know?”
“Drugs?”
“Yeah, man. But I got scared, tried to back out. And when I did that, they thought I was a snitch.” He crooked his uninjured arm over his eyes. “They wanted me to take a territory that I just couldn’t. I’d have to hit on the kids Lizzy’s age—over at the elementary school. I couldn’t do it, man.”
“Why not?” Adam snapped, then made an effort to temper his tone. “Drugs are drugs. What does it matter whether it’s a ten-year-old or a sixteen-year-old? It’ll still mess up a life.” God, how he knew that. He had a chemical in his system, and it wasn’t something he’d intentionally taken. Still, it was ruining his life—whatever it was.
Lamar winced and brought his arm down, his voice choked. “It wasn’t just Lizzy that made me back out. I did it for Miss Kincade. She’s always harping on choices. Telling us we can be more. I want to be more.”
Chalk one up for Molly, he thought, wishing she were here to hear this, to know that she had made a difference. A spitfire who didn’t take any guff from anybody, yet had a heart as big as an ocean.
He’d thought she needed somebody to watch over her. But she didn’t. She did just fine on her own. She was the one with the strength.
Now he knew with a certainty that made him ache that it was time to pull back. To ease out of Molly’s life before she was forced to witness more trauma—before the borrowed time he was living on exploded in their faces.
She might be strong, but he’d be damned if he’d hang around and let her watch him die.
Chapter Fourteen
Lamar recuperated nicely under Elena’s clucking and Molly’s no-nonsense caring. Lizzy, who’d been dubbed kitchen assistant, was in her element. Cookies shaped like Mickey Mouse heads and plates of brownies lined the granite countertops; threatening everyone’s waistline.
The lawyers were squared away, deed and titletransfer papers already signed by Adam—still sitting unsigned by Molly. Every time he handed her a pen, she simply turned her back on him and claimed writer’s cramp from grading papers.
When the time came, though, when her hand was forced, it would be a simple formality.
And that time might be sooner than he expected. Adam hadn’t regained his strength after the last incident with Lamar. Hell, he couldn’t even lift a two-hundred-pound barbell—a weight that had been a cinch even before he’d acquired these freaky powers.
Feeling as if he were eighty instead of thirty-five, Adam made his way through the den. He heard Molly’s voice, heard her talking to someone in the foyer. A man.
His gut jolted with both excitement and dread.
“So you’re the Frank Branigan I’ve heard so much about. I’m happy to meet you at last.”
Adam stopped, his sneakers rooted to the tile floor. Frank Branigan’s gray eyes were tilted at the corners, eyes that could—under certain circumstances—turn cold and deadly like the flick of a light switch.
Right now, though, as his ex-partner gazed at Molly, there was nothing lethal about the look. It was friendly, intrigued and way too speculative as far as Adam was concerned.
At fifty-eight, Frank was in better shape than most men half his age. The evidence showed in the way his knit shirt banded his biceps and clung to his rock-hard stomach.
Snow white hair against a tanned face and a lady killer smile were things Adam had teased the man about. Now he didn’t feel like teasing, didn’t like the way Frank’s eyes were clinging to Molly as if she were the best thing since sliced bread.
Which she was. And Adam was a fool to feel threatened by this man. His friend. His surrogate father.
As if Molly felt his presence, she turned, held out her hand. “Look who’s here, Adam.”
“I can see.” He took her outstretched hand without thought, held his right one out to Frank. “You slumming, or what?”
Frank accepted the handshake, then went one better and pulled Adam to him in an embrace that had gentled a hard-nosed teen so many years ago. An embrace that made his throat ache.
“I’d hardly call this place slumming. Since I’ve been enlisted to use my considerable weight and persuasion this past month, I thought I’d come out and see what all the hoopla was about.”
“So you’re the mover and shaker,” Molly said. “And all along, I’ve been giving Adam the credit.” She cut her gaze to Adam, then stood on tiptoe and brushed her lips against Frank’s cheek. “Thank you. You G-men are handy to have around.”
“Hey,” Adam said, “I made the phone calls.”
She laughed and treated him to a similar kiss. “You two go plant yourselves and catch up. I’ll make coffee.”
Adam watched her leave the room, noticed that Frank, too, did the same, a besotted look on his face.
“She knows?” Frank asked.
“Yeah.” Adam led the way into the parlor. The room had Molly’s stamp all over it. Easy chairs with movable ottomans, bookshelves with everything from Byron to Stephen King, lacy drapes to let in the light. A refuge that invited you to put your feet up and stay awhile. “She guessed. I should have known. I should have been out of here sooner. I blew it.”
“Don’t be griping now, son. You made the choice. You came back here.”
“I didn’t think she’d recognize me.”
“So you just wanted to practice a little masochism, that it?”
“Hell, Frank, what was I supposed to do? She was smack in the middle of four thugs with a switchblade at her throat!”
“You were always an exceptional agent. Never once blew your cover.”
“I didn’t want to blow it this time.”
Frank pinned Adam with a look that took him back twenty years, to an interrogation room that had started his life on an uphill journey of discovery. A look that shamed and bullied and cared. A look that said there was always a choice.
“Ye
s, you did,” Frank said quietly. “That little gal gave you hope. A damned good thing to have. There’s no shame in it. Now I’m here to offer you more.”
“More what?” Molly asked, carrying a silver tray laden with cups and a slender carafe into the room.
Frank shot Adam a questioning look.
Adam shrugged, his eyes clinging to Molly. His Molly. Frank had taught him he always had a choice. With Molly, he was afraid he didn’t.
“Might as well spill it. If we try to keep secrets, she’ll get ticked. It’s a scary sight.”
“Darned right it is,” Molly said. “What are you offering our Superman?”
“A chance at being a weakling again.”
The cups rattled on the tray, betraying her emotion, yet her expression never changed.
Adam frowned, pretended affront, pretended Frank hadn’t just dropped an offer that would grant every one of his damned dreams. “I’ve never been a weakling.” Except for that emasculating bout with the weights.
“Dump the ego,” Molly said, setting the tray on the coffee table, her eyes never budging from Frank. “How?”
Adam growled, “I am in the room, you know.”
“Sorry,” she said absently. “You’re excused. How, Frank?”
Frank chuckled. “I like your lady, Jas—Adam.”
“Yeah. I like her, too.” He reached for a cup of coffee, figuring he might as well excuse himself for all the attention either one paid him. “The sassy mouth’s questionable, though.”
“He likes my mouth, too.”
Hot coffee spewed clear across the table as Adam choked.
Molly gave his back a gentle thump and grinned, never missed a beat. “Well, you do.”
His narrowed gaze focused on her lips, those full, sweet, talented lips. Hell, she made him hard with just a look. Did she have to add her erotic thoughts to the mix?
“Charming,” Frank mused aloud. “Absolutely charming.”
“Can we get to the point?” Adam grated.
“Malcolm wants to do more tests.”
Molly’s coffee sloshed over the rim of her cup. Adam didn’t move so much as a muscle. He felt frozen, shell-shocked, as if a grenade had just exploded in the room instead of six innocent words. Time was marked by the click of the grandfather-clock pendulum. Three beats. Four.
