Camouflage Cowboy

by Jan Hambright

  As if sensing her presence, he turned his head and looked at her, then reached out and patted the seat next to him. “How is he?”

  She moved into the room, feeling the heat from the flames in the hearth warm her skin. “Sleeping. It was an intense day for the little guy, but he came through it fine.” Needing a measure of separation, she chose to sit down on the ottoman in front of him. “Thank God he only saw the man’s boots and not his body. I’m not sure how I would have explained that to him.”

  Nick watched her with an intensity that made her heat on the inside, as well.

  “What have you got there?” he asked, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and lock his fingers together in front of him.

  A flutter of doubt whispered through her, but she willed it away and gathered her fortitude. “I know you already know what happened in my past, but I want you to understand it from my perspective.” She let go of the bulky envelope and held it out to him.

  He took it from her and sat back, but his gaze never left her face. “What’s this?”

  “The trial transcripts. My testimony. The testimony my defense attorney says got me acquitted.”

  “And what do you think?”

  Discomfort wiggled inside of her, but she met his gaze and contemplated his question. “I told the truth that day on the witness stand.”

  “But there’s a part of you that still believes you committed a crime? Tell me, Grace. I want to hear it from your lips.”

  She blinked back hot tears that seemed to flame up from nowhere. She’d done everything she could to forget that night, and now the man she trusted, and cared for, was asking her to relive those horrific moments?

  “I can’t… I can’t—”

  “You have to.” Nick tossed the package onto the couch, reached out and took her hands in his. “I’m not going to judge your actions that night, Grace. Hell, I’m the last one who’s capable of doing that. But I want the details to come from you. Then we never have to discuss it again. A wise man once told me, ‘We’re all human. We all make mistakes. Let’s mitigate them and get on with living.’ You can let go. You don’t have to run anymore. That’s what I want for you.”

  For us.

  He pulled her into his arms, soothing her against him as he brushed his hand against her silky hair.

  He stopped counting the minutes until she regained her composure, and instead tried to focus on his own dilemma, until she pushed back and looked at him.

  “Troy Marshall hit me for the first time two days after I found out I was pregnant for the second time. I’d miscarried once before, and I used that fact to get him to stop, but I was terrified. I realized that I had to stay calm, or risk losing my second child. He didn’t hit me again until Caleb was a year and a half old, not long after we learned he had aplastic anemia.”

  “Dear God.” Nick reached for her and settled her next to him on the sofa. “I had no idea.”

  “I called the police and they sent his rookie-cop brother, Rodney, to escort him to jail for the night. The next morning he was apologetic and blamed his over-wrought emotions on learning of Caleb’s illness. Two months later, he did it again, and spent thirty days in jail before being released.”

  Nick swore under his breath as tension knotted his muscles. He’d have taken Troy Marshall apart if he wasn’t already in his grave.

  “At that point I asked him to move into the spare room and I locked my bedroom door every night. He would bang on it and eventually go away, but one night he came home and flew into a rage outside of the door. I was terrified when he kicked it open and burst in. I could smell the alcohol on him. He hit me and blamed the sorry state of our marriage on Caleb.”

  “That SOB.”

  “Troy lunged for him, but I got to him first. He chased us to the top of the stairs.” Grace sucked in a labored breath as he rubbed her hand where it lay in her lap. “And he grabbed for Caleb. I sidestepped Troy, spun around behind him and pushed him with my body in an attempt to protect Caleb. Troy lost his balance and went down the stairs headfirst. In an instant he was lying at the bottom in a heap. I called 9-1-1, but by the time they got there it was too late. Rodney Marshall showed up and called me a murderer. He was escorted away by his buddies, but not before he threatened to kill me over his brother’s death.”

  “It wasn’t your fault, Grace. You saved your child’s life that night.”

  “A month later I was charged with manslaughter, and you know the rest.” She let out one last stuttering breath and relaxed against him.

  Nick continued to gently stroke her hair until he was certain she’d dozed off, glad he’d forced her to verbalize the details she’d refused to acknowledge for too long. She was finally free of her past.

  Grace Marshall was free.

  He watched flames reduce the logs to embers, then stood up, lifted her into his arms and carried her down the hallway to her room. As much as he needed to feel her next to him again tonight, he wanted her there of her own accord.

  GRACE STEPPED OUT of the shower, toweled off and slipped on her clothes. Stepping to the vanity mirror, she took out the clip on her head and released the twist of hair she’d piled up to keep dry, shook it loose and finger-combed it.

  If she’d known telling Nick about her past would have the cathartic effect last night’s experience had, she would have done it sooner. Now she needed to thank him for pushing her to tell him what happened, because for the first time, she realized, she could see a future ahead for herself and Caleb.

  Where was Caleb anyway? By this time on a Saturday morning he was usually up bouncing around and asking for a breakfast pancake shaped like a cowboy boot, but he’d still been asleep when she’d headed into the bathroom half an hour ago.

  Maybe he’d found Nick in the kitchen and put in his request by now.

  Grace flipped off the light, pulled open the door and stepped out into the bedroom.

  Concern glided across her nerves as her gaze settled on the bed and Caleb’s tiny form still snuggled up on his side under the covers.

  “Caleb?” She moved toward him. “Hey, sleepyhead, it’s time to get up.” Sitting down on the edge of the bed next to him, she brushed the top of his head, smiling at the down-soft feel of his blond mop of hair. “Caleb?”

  He didn’t respond, no movement, not even an attempt to open his eyelids.

  She shook his shoulder. “Caleb!”

  Panic zipped through her system as she pulled the covers down and rolled him onto his back to make sure he was breathing.

  She shook him again. “Caleb! Wake up! Please wake up!”

  No response.

  Terror cut away the last of her composure.

  “Help! Nick!”

  Grace’s terrified scream echoed through the house and slammed against his eardrums like a hammer. He dropped the spoon he’d just used to stir his coffee and bolted out of the kitchen.

  In a matter of seconds he was in the bedroom where Grace worked frantically to wake Caleb up. He went to his knees next to the bed. Assessing the rag-doll consistency of Caleb’s tiny body and the lack of color in his skin.

  “He won’t wake up, Nick. I can’t get him to wake up.” Grace turned a pleading blue stare on him that ripped his heart apart.

  “I’m calling an ambulance.” He pulled his cell out of his pocket and dialed 9-1-1 before searching for Caleb’s pulse, unsatisfied until he felt it drum under his fingertips at the child’s carotid artery.

  “Hang on, buddy. Help’s on the way.”

  “YOU NEED TO TAKE THIS, Grace,” Dr. Cal Murphy said, holding out a slender black case.

  Nick watched her reach for it, pull back, then finally complete the task reluctantly.

  “Caleb is going to need a complete transfusion twice a week now of red cells, white cells and platelets. His stem-cell levels of production have dropped. I’ve requested that he be moved up the transplant list for the best human leukocyte antigen match we can find to avoid post-transplant rejection com
plications.”

  “And the transfusions, will they still allow him to function like a normal little boy?”

  “Within reason, Grace, but I’d like to see him try to conserve his energy as much as possible. No rough play, to prevent bruising.”

  She nodded and leaned back into Nick; he responded by putting his arm around her waist and pulling her closer, trying to give her the support he knew she needed right now.

  “I’ll send the Donor Coordinator, Melissa Johnson, up to give you the particulars on the protocol if the beeper goes off, but be aware you’ll need to come to the hospital immediately so Caleb can be flown to the donor’s location.”

  Nick didn’t like the look of grim determination pulling Dr. Murphy’s brows together.

  This was bad. Caleb’s condition was deteriorating at a pace that scared the hell out of him. He could only imagine what it was doing to Grace.

  “Hang in there, Grace. We’ll find a suitable donor match.” Dr. Murphy patted her shoulder, and glanced into the room where Caleb was. “You can take him home in an hour or so. By tomorrow, he’ll be back to his normal self, and we’ll transfuse him again on Tuesday. I’ll get it scheduled with my nurse.”

  Grace nodded, snagging hope from the optimistic grin that flashed across the doctor’s mouth.

  “We’ll be here.” She watched him turn and hurry down the corridor of the pediatrics unit, bound for his next emergency.

  Reluctant to remove herself from Nick’s reassuring hold on her, she turned in his arms instead, and faced him.

  “Welcome to my world,” she whispered as he pressed a kiss onto her forehead.

  “You’re a trooper, Grace, and he’s your copilot.” Nick canted his head toward the bed where Caleb played with a couple of toys. “I don’t have a clue what Doc Murphy just said. My reaction to a fight has always been to come out swinging and ask questions later.”

  “Our approach isn’t that much different.” She pulled back and stepped through the doorway into the room. “I ask questions first, then come out swinging.”

  He followed her in and stood at the end of Caleb’s bed. “Looks like that ride yesterday whipped ya.”

  Caleb grinned. “Nope. It’s my sick. My counts was low.”

  Grace listened to her son try to explain something most four-year-olds knew nothing about, and smiled in amusement. He was doing pretty well, staring up at Nick, and her heart squeezed in her chest.

  “I got three—” he used his left hand to hold down the thumb and pinkie on his right hand, then held up three fingers “—kinds of things in my blood. Red cells, white cells and dinner-plates.”

  “Huh,” Nick said, watching him with a serious expression Grace could see was about to crack. “Do you mean platelets?”

  Caleb nodded vigorously. “Yep, and you got them, too, Mister Nick.”

  “I sure do, buddy. And I’d give them to you if we matched.”

  Caleb grinned and settled back against the pillows behind him. “We match,” he said. “See?” Fingering up a piece of his hair, he worked it in between his little fingers.

  Nick’s cell phone vibrated inside his shirt pocket, but he ignored it, waiting for Caleb to finish.

  “The same color,” he said, as he let out a sigh then slowly closed his eyes.

  “Take your call, Nick,” Grace whispered. “He’ll be out for a while.”

  He nodded, unable to swallow the lump in his throat as he fished the cell phone out of his shirt pocket and stepped out into the corridor, where he looked at the phone screen.

  The Corps Security and Investigations headquarters number came up on the caller ID. No doubt Nolan had put together a briefing on yesterday’s events at the ranch.

  The call rolled over to voice mail and Nick headed for the waiting room to pick up the information, finding an unoccupied corner, where he entered his access code and listened to Nolan’s message that a mini-briefing would start in half an hour. He closed the phone and headed back to tell Grace he’d be back for her and Caleb within the hour. They would be safe at Holy Cross until he returned.

  “COFFEE?” AMELIA OFFERED as she carried the serving pitcher around the main open area of CSaI headquarters.

  “No, thanks,” Nick said. “I’m too wound already.” Leaning back on his desk, he studied the other team members.

  She moved on and filled Nolan’s cup again.

  “The coroner confirmed that Joe Sims’s time of death was Wednesday night, sometime between 7:00 p.m. and midnight.”

  Nick nodded. “Around 8:00 p.m. is when I caught sight of the flicker of light from my kitchen window.”

  “Prelim on the weapon used, a 9-mm pistol,” Wade said, stepping forward. “And I got a call last night from my buddy in the Marine Corps death-notification office that Wes Bradley was confirmed dead, and identified through dental records. Whoever is roaming Freedom using his name isn’t the real Wesley James Bradley.”

  “Anything on a list of soldiers in his unit?”

  “Negative. Won’t come in until the end of next week, Nolan.”

  “Dammit. And Governor Lockhart isn’t backing down from her press conference at Cradles to Crayons. Looks like we need to ramp up the security to make sure she’s safe. Matteo and Harlan, put together a diagram of the location and a one-hundred-yard perimeter. I’ll talk to Sheriff Hale and see if we can request some additional law-enforcement officers from surrounding counties to cover the outside venue. The governor will call in her personal protection detail from Austin, as well.”

  “Nick, how much longer are you on assignment for the governor?”

  “I’m not sure, Nolan, but I can warm a chair inside.”

  “Good. Everyone else is to do the same. You’re to monitor everyone who comes into the room, and escort anyone out who looks or acts suspicious. We still have a slick shooter out there somewhere.”

  Nick tried to relax, but his nerves were frayed. He was going to get his chance to speak with Lila Lockhart at the event. His one opportunity to change her mind, and save Caleb Marshall’s life.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Order up,” Valerio Rodriguez said, putting a couple of plates of food along with their order ticket up on the pass-through window ledge.

  Grace looked at the ticket, pulled the plates and headed for table number five.

  “Meat loaf, baked potato?” she asked at the booth where a nice older couple sat.

  The gentleman nodded, and she slid his meal in front of him, then served the corned-beef Reuben to his wife.

  “Can I get you folks anything else?”

  “No, miss. Everything looks great.”

  “Enjoy your supper.” She smiled, put the ticket facedown on the table and headed for the counter, where Faith was waiting.

  “So, how’s it going?” Faith asked as she topped off a couple of water glasses with a pitcher.

  “Rather well, I think. It’s amazing how easy it was to get back into the flow of being a waitress. I’d forgotten how much I enjoy it.”

  “Good. I’m glad you’re here.”

  The front door opened, triggering its distinctive little bell jingle. Grace glanced up to see Stacy and Zach ary Giordano walk into the café. Stacy spotted her, and clutching Zachary’s hand, headed straight for her.

  “Grace, I’m so glad to see you. I was sick when I heard you’d taken a leave of absence from the preschool. Not to mention how much Zachary misses Caleb. How is he doing?”

  “You’re both welcome to check for yourselves. He’s upstairs in Faith’s apartment with Nick, a sitter and Kaleigh.”

  “Grace, why don’t you take your break and go up for a visit? I can handle things down here until you get back.”

  She turned a grateful smile on Faith Scott, a woman she already knew was becoming a friend. “Fifteen minutes?”

  Faith nodded.

  Grace untied her apron and put it under the counter, then went around to where Stacy and Zachary stood. Zachary was busy trying to separate his hand from h
is mother’s, but she was having none of it.

  “Bailey told me you were going to be working at Talk of the Town a couple evenings a week. I’m just glad I picked the right one.”

  “Me, too.” She showed them to the stairs leading up into the apartment. “Caleb misses Zachary, too, and he’s got a couple of new adventures to tell him about.”

  Stacy chuckled. “Maybe we better plan them a play-date. I haven’t got all night.”

  “Let’s do that.” Grace stopped on the landing and knocked on the door, which immediately opened, and she found herself looking at Nick. Her heart rate kicked up as she studied him in the backlight.

  “Zachary-G and Stacy stopped by for a visit. The boys miss each other.”

  “Come in. You’re just in time to help us put a puzzle together.”

  Zachary finally obtained his freedom from the mother ship, and he hurried into the apartment. A moment later, he and Caleb were galloping toy horses and chattering.

  “Thank you, Grace. For letting them see each other. Zachary has been a little hard to handle lately. Even Charlotte Manning commented on his sullen demeanor this morning.”

  “Oh, Stacy. I’m so sorry. I had no idea. But until something changes for the better with Caleb’s health, it’s just too risky for him to attend right now.”

  “But you are coming to the governor’s press conference on Thursday, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, good. Bailey mentioned that she’d called you, and you’d agreed to attend. Let’s make sure the boys get to sit together.”

  “Let’s do that. I’m slated to be in the second row with my students. Zachary is welcome to take the chair next to Caleb.”

  “And I’ll sit directly behind him, to make sure he stays put,” Stacy added as she eyed her little boy.

  Warning bells went off inside Nick’s head as he listened with growing concern to Grace and Stacy’s exchange. It had been foolhardy to believe that just because Grace had taken a leave of absence, she wouldn’t attend the event. She was, after all, a preschool teacher whose students would benefit from the new program the governor planned to announce.