by Trisha Telep
Another subtle glance over her shoulder revealed nothing. She checked the reflection as she passed a window and gave points for skill to whoever the tail was.
She was too close to the future she’d painstakingly planned to lose it to a street thug.
Or worse. The thought came with a shiver of dread as she settled at her station.
No, there wasn’t a “worse” here. Lorine deliberately reviewed the facts. Her warped uncle had been discredited and recently killed by his own greedy power play. He’d never seen her while she was pregnant, nor had access during her delivery or recovery. Zach was a normal, healthy toddler. And he’d stay that way. Soon they’d be settled on a small slice of farmland south of the city. A quiet rural area in an excellent school district, with green spaces full of children. Her own definition of utopia, where the air didn’t need to be filtered and the views weren’t pockmarked with urban decay.
The daydreams got her through the boredom of her shift and eased the tension in her shoulders while she waited for someone from Slick Micky’s security detail to walk her back.
Chicago had been good to her, and she’d enjoyed more than a little satisfaction hiding here and actively undermining her uncle’s ridiculous regulations about sugar and caffeine.
She smiled when she caught sight of her escort back to the warehouse.
“You look like the cat who ate the canary,” Trina said.
They hadn’t known each other long, but Lorine considered the woman a good friend already. “Pretty much,” Lorine confessed. She waited to add more until they were alone on the street. “I was just basking in the pride of a job well done.”
“All your jobs, I take it.”
Lorine appreciated Trina’s quick understanding. “Of course. I’m glad they sent you to meet me.”
“I volunteered,” the redhead said with a wink.
Lorine frowned. “Is everything okay?”
“Sure. Sometimes I just have trouble sleeping.”
“Mm-hmm.” Lorine didn’t believe it but she let it slide. “I’ll miss you when I move.”
“That’s mutual. Though I feel obligated to add we’ll probably miss Zach more,” Trina teased.
“He is the most adorable child ever, in my completely unbiased opinion.”
Trina’s light laughter faded too quickly. “So why did you call for security?” The dark edge in her voice worried Lorine.
“Someone tailed me from the el, all the way through my route.”
“Anything distinctive?”
“No. That’s what creeped me out. It’s third shift and the route is too short for a big team. I did everything I’ve been taught and none of it worked. Sorry.”
Trina waved it off as they climbed the stairs to the el station. “Sometimes I think the talent is getting better in this town.”
“That’s unsettling.” Of course, “talent” probably meant different things to each of them. Her uncle had specialized in programming talent into the genetic code of embryos headed for in vitro fertilization. She shuddered, thinking of what he might have done to Zach if given the chance.
“Can I ask a personal question?”
Lorine nodded.
“Does this move have anything to do with Zach’s father?”
“Not at all.” Lorine pleated the strap of her purse. “The man’s most likely dead by now. He was a soldier who got addicted to the juice.” She’d called off the wedding when she’d discovered his addiction to the toxic formula and his inexplicable loyalty to Kristoff. The pregnancy test had turned positive two weeks later.
The substance had terrible side effects, a few were known already, and Lorine intended to work to reveal more in the coming years.
“And you still got pregnant?”
“Yup,” Lorine said with a smile. She considered Zach a miracle, as the health department had admitted a link between juicing and infertility.
Their trip was uneventful, and Lorine felt a little silly for calling in the support. “Maybe it was third-shift paranoia,” she said as they neared the warehouse.
“Men are paranoid. Women are intuitive.”
Lorine chuckled. “I like that.”
“Professional philosophy. Besides, it’s better to be safe about these things. You’ve got a little one relying on you.”
“Don’t I know it.” Lorine picked up her pace. “I’m going to peek in on him, then sleep for a few hours.” They passed the sentry doing his best squatter impersonation and entered the long corridor that dropped under the street and into the next building.
When she reached the day care, it took all her resolve not to scoop her son into her arms and cart him back up to their apartment. But she needed rest, and the staff here would keep him entertained in the morning when he woke up full of energy. So she brushed his silky hair behind his ear and indulged in a sentimental moment before she headed out to her own suite.
The lingering glow of maternal joy and the odd twilight of working third shift distracted her so thoroughly, she collided with the person trying to exit the elevator when the doors parted.
Big palms landed hot and heavy on her shoulders. “Steady, there,” Jim said.
“Ex-excuse me,” she stammered, going stiff under the touch. She felt her face heating with embarrassment. How long had it been since a man had touched her? “Lost in thought.” She tried to smile, but knew the relief was all too obvious when he lifted his hands.
“Me, too.” Jim shoved his hands into his pockets. “I was just doing the last rounds. The boss says I’ll be helping you move.”
He was built like Zach’s dad. Too big, too much . . . everything. She suspected he’d been a soldier, though no one in Slick Micky’s employ was addicted to anything stronger than full-caff coffee.
“Oh?” She cleared her throat. Jim defined safe and trustworthy. Micky had told her he’d arrange for help, she just hadn’t expected him to assign the head of security. “Thank you. There isn’t much.” She skirted around him to call the elevator back.
“Whatever you need.”
“I, uh, appreciate that.” When would the door open, and why was she acting like an idiot?
Jim tipped his head in the direction of the day care. “Is he okay?”
“Oh, yes,” she said. “He always has a blast with everyone there.”
Jim cleared his throat, but the elevator’s arrival stopped whatever he might have said.
Making sure she didn’t repeat her collision with someone else, Lorine paused before stepping inside. “I guess I’ll see you soon.”
Jim nodded.
Two
Knowing the place was wired from the rooftop atrium to the second sub-basement, Jim wondered if the boss had used the elevator to interrupt him when he was talking with Lorine.
He wasn’t going to talk her out of moving. Well, he wasn’t going to push the issue. Not really. He’d been hoping to get some information about the boy. Any information would be better than nothing, and yet the boss was essentially sending him in blind.
Why?
When Lorine had requested a protective escort after her shift, Jim was pleased she had trusted her instincts, even if it was likely Trina who’d set her off. Why wouldn’t his sixth sense cooperate?
He stopped at the wide windows of the day care. The playroom would soon be lit up, and kids would come and go according to their mothers’ schedules.
Who would help Lorine when she was out there on her own?
He started to turn away when a movement caught his eye. Lorine’s boy came wandering into the dim playroom. He had the floppy bunny by the ears in one little fist, while the other rubbed at his eye. He stopped directly in front of Jim and tipped his head up.
“Sir?” he said, with a salute, like a soldier reporting for duty.
What the hell? Hiding his uncertainty behind his years of training, Jim dropped to one knee and looked the little guy in the eye. “Just checking in. Go back to bed. And stay there.”
The boy nodded, did a pe
rfect about-face, and toddled off.
Jim got to his feet, heart hammering against his ribcage. That was no ordinary little boy. Granted, he wasn’t an ordinary man anymore. Juicing had changed him, in a mostly beneficial way. But the kid obviously hadn’t served in the military, and Jim hadn’t juiced since he’d left the service.
Taking the stairs down to his apartment, he tried to tell himself it was coincidence. The little guy woke up, saw a grown-up and did the normal thing for a polite, outgoing kid. But that wasn’t normal.
Micky’s warning about keeping the kid safe echoed in his head. Jim had witnessed soldiers caught up by the mind-control side effect. Nothing inside him had ever responded to an internal summons nor summoned another person, but he’d added signal jammers to the warehouse security plan anyway.
Precognitive episodes of potential danger were plenty to deal with. The nasty stuff interacted with every soldier differently. Was he changing? Or was there something in the kid that was programmed to respond to soldiers?
Lorine dreamed of church bells pealing happily, then growing more insistent. Soon her subconscious gave up the fight and she recognized the sound of the comm system.
Bolting upright, she reached for the monitor, a mother’s worry pounding in her heart when she saw the day care on the display. “Yes? What’s wrong?”
“Annie here. Zach’s fine. I hate to bother you.” Lorine blinked until Annie’s face came into view. “He refuses to get out of bed. I was hoping you could say something. It’s no big deal. But, this just isn’t like him.”
Lorine agreed. Zach rarely disobeyed. “I’ll be right there.”
She tugged jeans on under her nightshirt and grabbed shoes and a cardigan to put on in the elevator. Telling herself not to panic didn’t help. Three-year-olds had ornery moments. Not even the best scientists could completely explain what went on in their developing brains.
Racing in would only scare the other kids and add credence to the chaotic thoughts churning through her brain. She pasted a smile on her face as she entered the day care.
It was situation normal in the playroom, but Lorine caught the concerned glances from the staff. Annie was sitting on the floor, chatting with Zach, when Lorine walked into the sleeping area. She paused and opened her arms, but her son didn’t budge.
“Hi, Mommy.”
“Hi, buddy. Annie tells me you don’t want to get out of bed.”
“Stay here.”
“How come?”
Zach shrugged.
He had to be hungry. “I’m in the mood for pancakes. You want to help me make pancakes?” The mess would be worth it if it got him out of bed.
He nodded, his smile bright. She’d never seen this combination of stubborn and happy on him.
“Let’s go, then.”
“Hafta stay here.”
“But we can’t make pancakes in bed.”
His face fell.
Lorine signaled Annie to give them a minute. “Can I sit by you?”
He scooted over and wiggled a little more than necessary.
“You have to pee?”
“Uh-huh.”
But still he wouldn’t leave the bed. She searched for the right angle to break through his odd stubbornness. “Zach, why do you have to stay?”
“He told me stay there.”
Dread coiled like a snake in her belly. “We don’t have to obey the people in our dreams.”
“Not dreamin’.”
As the potty dance got worse, Lorine resigned herself to the fight of dragging him to the bathroom against orders.
Orders. He was acting like a new recruit.
“Who told you ‘stay there’?” She listed all the names of the day-care staff. He shook his head at each one, clutching his bunny to his chest. “Who, Zach?”
“The big man.”
An image of Zach’s father popped into her head. She dismissed that as impossible. No one got in the warehouse uninvited, not even dead people. The ridiculous thought only showed how exhausted she was.
She struggled for calm. “When did the big man talk to you?”
He shrugged.
“Where?”
“At the window.”
She made a mental note to double-check with security. There had to be a camera with a record of the interaction. “No one wants you to pee in the bed. Go on to the potty.”
“No!” Tears brimmed in his big eyes. “Said stay there.”
She barely restrained her temper. “Who is a smart boy?”
“Me.”
“That’s right. Do the smart thing. Go potty, and come straight back here.”
“Big Jim said stay there.”
Jim? “Mommy says go now.”
Lorine suffered a wealth of emotions in the long seconds Zach weighed her authority over Jim’s. When her son rocketed from the bed, triumph was short-lived, quickly replaced by a quiet fury. She wanted a piece of Jim and she wanted it now.
When Zach returned, she gave him new orders, and promised him pancakes for lunch.
Leaving a happy son and relieved staff in her wake, she stormed down to Jim’s apartment.
She didn’t bother with the comm system, she pounded on the door until it opened and Jim’s wide palm caught her fist before it landed on his chest.
His bare chest.
“Lorine? Wh— What the— ” His gaze drifted down her body, lighting little fires along the way.
She yanked her hand back to her side and thought she might have exercised her intelligence by pausing to put on a bra first.
Then she thought of Zach in his dinosaur pajamas nearly wetting the bed because he was following orders, and her temper boiled over once more. “I demand an explanation.”
“Huh?” He rubbed a hand over the stubble shadowing his jaw.
“My son! What did you do?”
In the blink of an eye, he pulled her inside and she was all too close to that broad chest. He slammed the door closed behind her. He had her wrist cuffed in one hand and braced himself against the door with the other. The man was too close. Too big. But she couldn’t stop her eyes from taking a foolish journey over that perfectly sculpted arm.
“Explain. Slowly,” he said.
“Zach.” Her throat dry, she tried again. “He refused to get out of bed or cooperate with the day-care staff because you ordered him to ‘stay there’.” She put it in air quotes. “When and why would you have anything to do with my son?”
He scowled. Not at her, rather through her. In a rush, he dropped her hand and pushed away from the door, turning his back as if the mere sight of her offended him.
“Jim, I expect an answer,” she said when she could form words. His back might be his best side, from a purely anatomical standpoint, barring the flat white scars that splashed from shoulder to hip. At some point in the past he’d been doused with scalding water. Accident or abuse? From the little she knew about him, he’d likely been protecting someone.
She shook off the surge of sympathy. His past problems or heroics didn’t give him the right to upset Zach.
“I don’t know what happened, Lorine.”
“My son gave me the impression he was following your orders.”
Jim turned, his face pale. “When I was walking by, he just showed up. I told him to go back to bed and he did.”
“He was at the window?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re lying. I’d just looked in on him. He was sound asleep.”
“Maybe you woke him.” He winced under her harsh glare. “Okay, maybe not. I was tired. When he showed up, I just sent him back to bed. Seemed safest.”
That she believed. Jim was all about security all the time. Something she’d been grateful for until this morning. “What else?”
“Huh?”
She wished he’d put on a shirt. It was hard to stay mad when the man put a kick in her pulse this way.
“Why were you near the day care?” She made herself ask the more pertinent question. “What do
you know about Zach?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. Other than I’m slated to help you move.” He slumped onto the couch and rested his elbows on his knees. “I’m sorry I upset your kid. I like him.”
“He likes you, too.” Which was probably why he’d been so persistent about following orders. “You didn’t do any manly little soldier routine, did you?”
“No way.” Jim shook his head, but he didn’t meet her eye.
“Any chance you can go by the day care with me and confirm your orders are lifted?”
“Sure.” He pushed to his feet. “Give me a second.” True to his word, Jim returned within moments wearing a gray sweatshirt and running shoes. Lorine tugged her cardigan tighter around her as they walked to the elevator.
“Sorry I came on so strong,” she said as they waited.
“You’re a good mom.” He gestured for her to board first, and punched the button.
“Thanks. I know I’m overprotective.” For good reason, she didn’t add. “And I’m a little wired from working third shift.”
“It happens.”
The doors parted and they stepped out, but she stopped him with the merest brush of her hand against his arm. “Why are you being so nice about this?”
“Fastest way to get to bed.” He grinned, then his words sank in and his eyes went wide. “That’s not . . . Aw, hell. I meant— ”
She laughed. “I get it. You want to get back to sleep. Me too.” She ignored the sneaky bit of disappointment that she didn’t ignite his desire the way he ignited hers. She’d always been a sucker for a fine chest, and his would forever be the gold standard. Not that romance was on the agenda until Zach was grown. She refused to let her hormones lead her into a temptation that might jeopardize her son’s safety.
They reached the day care and she breathed easier when she saw Zach flopped on the floor working intently on a puzzle.
“Does that mean I’m off the hook?”
Lorine was about to answer in the affirmative, when Zach turned toward them. He pushed to his feet and hurried over, skidding to a stop right in front of Jim, saluting. “Sir?”
Lorine stared as Jim dropped down in front of her son and told him he was on leave until further notice and didn’t need to follow his orders anymore.
