The Secret Son

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  “Probably not.”

  “Might be candy, though.”

  “Maybe.”

  “But only if you’re a guy who’s not good at giving ladies presents.”

  Jack’s head tilted back, his hair brushing over his collar. “Why’s that?”

  Kevin bounced his legs against the chair. “’Cause ladies like all that flowery paper and bows and stuff that makes a present hard to open.”

  Jack looked at Erica, eyebrows raised. “He’s been taught well.”

  Erica smiled, fighting a flood of guilt.

  She was desperate to maintain her precarious hold on all the pieces of her life—by keeping all her roles separate and distinct. And yet she needed Jack to know the truth just as badly. She was only beginning to realize how much Kevin could gain from this man.

  But then, if Jack knew, he wouldn’t be sitting there so easy and relaxed, teasing her son about a bag.

  And Kevin. Could she risk her son’s emotional health because of her own need for absolution?

  “So are you good at giving ladies presents?” Kevin asked.

  Jack nodded. “Very good.”

  “So who’s the surprise for?” Kevin’s voice rose on the last word. He’d scooted to the edge of the chair, his legs dangling, swinging.

  Erica stared out the window again, trying not to let things matter so much. She took a sip of the wine she’d barely touched.

  “I don’t know,” Jack said. “I forget.”

  Erica turned back in time to see him peering into the shopping bag. He looked up, glanced between Kevin and Erica, and then back down. Very carefully he refolded the top of the bag.

  Kevin’s face fell and his feet stopped moving, but his eyes were filled with anticipation as he stared at that bag. They got bigger and bigger as the bag moved his way.

  “I think it’s for you,” Jack said, when the bag was close enough for Kevin to reach. “Seems to me it’ll only work for someone your size.”

  Off the seat and on the floor—where Erica hadn’t seen her son in months—Kevin eagerly tore open the bag. She and Jeff had given him ten presents for his birthday and he hadn’t shown even a shadow of this enthusiasm for one of them.

  But then, they’d been too worried about him to be playful, as Jack had just been.

  “Rollerblades!” The boy hollered, pulling the skates out of their wrapping. “Look, Mommy! Just like yours!”

  Erica was unaware that her son even wanted skates. She made all the right sounds, said all the right words, wore the right smiles as she congratulated Kevin on such a great gift and watched him pull off the constricting dress shoes and work his way into the skates. She knew better than to try to help. Kevin would just tell her he was all grown up now.

  However, he didn’t say that when Jack slid down to the floor, leaning back against his chair as though he was only getting more comfortable, and quietly lent an unobtrusive hand the one or two times Kevin had difficulty fastening the skates.

  “They’re too big,” Jack said once, to which Kevin replied, “No, I like them that way.”

  “Having a little room to grow is good,” Jack said, considering. “Maybe if you just wear a couple pairs of socks…”

  The boy nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “That’ll do it for sure.”

  “I’ve got some just like these,” he told Kevin. “I figured you and your mom and I could all go down to the river and skate together.”

  “Cool!” the little boy said. “Did you hear that, Mommy?” Kevin didn’t even look up. “We’re going skating.”

  Erica heard. And was suffocating.

  By dinnertime Kevin had collected himself, reverting to the man-child as he played host to their guest. But for a brief moment Erica had seen the little boy she’d lost when she lost Jeff.

  Jack wasn’t just a miracle worker in her life. He was in his son’s, as well.

  But if he knew the truth about them, they’d be anything but a miracle in his.

  JACK PACED his apartment, the third bottle of beer sweating in his palm. He’d been home for hours, had left before Kevin could invite him to share in a bed time story. He couldn’t have handled that.

  The skates had had their intended effect. They’d made Erica’s son feel liked and wanted. They’d also freed Jack from the necessity of too many intimate meetings with the kid. Only so much conversation was possible when you were skating along the Potomac. And other than a possible broken bone or two, it was an activity that presented no real dangers. He’d bought the most expensive protective gear for Kevin. He’d told the boy that the only stipulation attached to their outings was that he always wear all the gear.

  He’d been made more clearly aware of the challenges Erica was facing with her young son when the boy hadn’t even groaned at the pronouncement.

  Dinner had been okay. Jack looked out his front-room window, missing the lights, the activity, the distraction of Manhattan at night. Instead of crowds surging past, the sidewalk below was deserted. There was nothing to look at, nothing to take him away from his thoughts.

  Not only had the meal with Kevin and his mom been a fairly quick one due to Kevin’s bedtime, it had been entirely taken up with FBI questions that kept everything safe. Impersonal. Still, he’d been afforded a few glimpses into the mind of this boy Erica loved so much.

  So why—hours later, in his air-conditioned apartment—was he sweating like a pig?

  Jack’s mind raced from one child to the next.

  From sweet Courtney, whose baby smell he could still conjure up, to the myriad children he’d rescued over the years, to the one in South Dakota he hadn’t been able to save, to amazing little Kevin. Trying to understand the events of his life, put everything neatly in place, he took another long swig of beer.

  His thoughts weren’t cooperating. The visions wouldn’t go away. Children. It was always children. He cared about them. Understood them. Sometimes, when he was working, he could feel their fear, feel what they needed without their saying a word. It was as though he had a sixth sense. He just knew what to do or say to help them hold on until they could be rescued.

  But he’d quit all that. Moved into a field where—with very few exceptions—there were only adults in his day. Left the world of children behind.

  And now there was Kevin. Taunting him with something he couldn’t understand. An affinity that made no sense.

  How was he ever going to survive Erica’s son?

  Children. Their sweet faces and innocent spirits. Their trust. Courtney. That little body with a bullet hole through her chest.

  Pain seared through him. Swift. Sharp. He couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand to think of his baby daughter’s helpless assaulted body.

  No amount of alcohol in the world could ease his agony. Only forgetting could do that. And, oddly enough, Erica.

  But Erica had a son.

  Another child to pull at his tenuous compromise with grief.

  He was going to have to take the kid in very small doses.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  WITH HIS TIE DONE in a pretty good knot, Kevin put on his backpack and gritted his teeth so he wouldn’t be scared. Today was the day of Mr. Terratruce’s rally, he’d heard Mommy say so. He was sorta happy about that, happy that he’d finally be able to do something. And besides, the rally or party or what ever it was might be fun. At least more fun than sitting on the bench at Bobbie’s party had been.

  There’d probably be some food there that he liked. And maybe even some punch that he’d be allowed to drink.

  He looked around his room one last time and saw his new skates on the floor by his closet. He was glad Jack had brought them last night. He wished he could take them, but figured he’d better not. Men didn’t wear skates to parties, and today he had to be a man.

  His daddy wasn’t ever coming back home to live. He knew that ’cause now his mom was friends with Jack. Dads didn’t move home when moms had friends who were men. And that meant if nucl’ar war came to his house, he was
the one who’d have to save his mom.

  But sometimes…he got so scared thinking about that war.

  “HMM, THIS IS a rare treat.”

  Erica’s skin tingled with renewed desire as Jack lay beside her on his bed. He’d barely gotten the spread pulled out of the way before they’d fallen to the sheets.

  “You left too early last night,” she said in a sultry voice, “I wasn’t finished with dinner.”

  Lying on his side, propped on one elbow, Jack smiled and leaned in for a kiss. “Yeah, but lunch made up for it.”

  She’d called him that morning to see if he could meet her at his place for lunch. She’d promised to bring sandwiches. He was spending the morning looking at potential sites for the new crisis-training center and had been more than happy to comply.

  Losing herself in another lingering kiss, Erica wished she could stay right where she was until she had all the answers that were eluding her. While Jack’s presence in her life brought its own turmoil, it also brought her strength. And the confidence to believe she could get through the challenges facing her.

  At least she felt that way when she was in his arms like this. With life’s fire burning through her. Burning through him, too.

  She pulled away and fell back against the pillows. “You left awfully early last night.”

  He opened his mouth as though he had something ready to say, and then didn’t speak. Eventually he murmured, “I know.”

  “You were a big hit with Kevin.”

  Too big a hit.

  “That was the skates, not me.”

  “The skates were great, Jack,” she said, drawing the sheet up to her chin, “but it was you he was still talking about when he fell asleep.”

  The look on Jack’s face changed, sobered. “He’s a great kid.”

  “But you had trouble dealing with him, didn’t you?”

  “Nothing I can’t handle.”

  Then why didn’t he meet her eyes when he told her that?

  “He’s not going to rest now until we take him skating. You know that, don’t you?”

  And she wasn’t going to rest, either. Never again as long as Kevin and Jack were in the same vicinity. She was terrified they’d find out about each other, terrified of the damage it would cause. And tormented by guilt for not telling them.

  “I’m just wondering—” she reached over, ran a finger lightly down his chest “—at what point does time spent with him become too much? When does it get to the point where you can’t handle it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  It wasn’t a very reassuring answer. “So I just wait around whenever we’re with Kevin and wonder if that’ll be the time? And then you’re gone from our lives?”

  “No.” His glance was warm. “Let’s not borrow trouble, okay?” he said, taking hold of her hand. “All we really know about is today, and today’s looking pretty good to me.”

  Because Erica needed as badly as he did to put aside the future and its risks, she didn’t argue with him. But she couldn’t stop worrying about her son. Not when his emotional well-being was at stake.

  “I just don’t want either of us to have any false expectations, you know?” She met his eyes.

  “But you’re forgetting, there are no expectations.”

  He was right, of course. The fact that he expected nothing of her—no promises she couldn’t make or keep—made it possible for her to spend so much time with him. To be so open and available, emotionally, as well as physically.

  Which was great for the two of them. But how did you bring a five-year-old emotionally fragile child into that situation and have him survive unscathed? Children had expectations. Period.

  “Do you miss being a hostage negotiator?” she asked after a few minutes of considering all she knew about Jack, trying to understand, to predict. To figure out how long she’d have with him. How she could best preserve what they had.

  “No.”

  He seemed mighty focused on the patterns decorating the sheet. He was tracing the same one over and over with his forefinger.

  “You don’t regret your decision to quit?” But he could regret the decision at any time. And be gone. Leaving her—and Kevin—to cope alone.

  Jack frowned. “I’m certain I made the right decision.”

  Because there seemed to be so much he wasn’t saying, she waited, hands folded across her chest, hoping he’d elaborate.

  “It was time,” he admitted, his eyes shadowed as he glanced at her. “That little boy in South Dakota.” He shook his head. “I can’t get him out of my mind.”

  “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “Intellectually I know that.” He went back to tracing patterns. “But it doesn’t stop that look on his face from haunting me. I don’t know,” he continued. “Maybe I’ve just seen too much of the dark side of life.”

  “And your mind’s overcrowded with these bad memories—and not enough good ones to balance them?”

  He seemed surprised. “Yeah. Maybe.”

  “So I guess we’ll just have to get some good ones in there, huh?” She slid her hands around his neck, slowly pulling his face toward her.

  “I guess.” The words were muffled against her lips just before he took her mouth in a hungry kiss.

  There was going to be a problem. She knew that as surely as she knew death would someday come. She and Kevin and Jack were traveling down a steep hill, and the end of their journey was predetermined. All that remained to be seen was how long they could delay the inevitable.

  As she gave herself up to another hour of afternoon loving, Erica determined to squeeze every bit of goodness she could out of the time she had with Jack. Just as long as she kept in mind that she could lose him at any minute, that she would lose him eventually, she’d be able to handle it when she did. She’d be prepared.

  And keep Kevin prepared, too.

  JACK WAS DOZING when the phone rang. Not sure if Erica was awake, he only shifted as much as he had to in order to get the receiver, holding her against his chest as he did so.

  “Shaw,” he said, reluctant to leave the lethargic peace he’d found in Erica’s arms.

  “Jack?”

  He didn’t recognize the voice. “Yeah?”

  “This is Jefferson Cooley.”

  Jack sat up, dislodging Erica in the process. Although, technically, he no longer had reason, he felt guilty as hell.

  “Hello,” he said inanely. Did Cooley know that his ex-wife was there with him? Could he somehow have guessed how they’d spent her lunch hour? That would certainly explain the tension in the other man’s voice.

  “Is Erica there?” Cooley’s words were definitely clipped.

  “Yes. Just a—”

  “No!” Cooley interrupted. “Don’t let her know it’s me on the phone.” Cooley’s breathing was rough. “I need your help.”

  Fully awake now, Jack picked up on the urgency in the other man’s tone. “Of course.”

  “Our son has been taken hostage,” Cooley blurted without any attempt at keeping up a facade.

  Jack could feel the blood drain from his face. “By whom?” he asked, an automatic calm taking over. “Where and when?”

  Erica had been lying there watching him through half-closed lids. He pulled her close, smoothing the hair back from her face, as much to calm himself as to buy her a few more minutes of peace. Just until he had the facts.

  “We’re not sure of the details,” Cooley said. “They noticed him missing from school at recess, but it looks as though he left there of his own free will. A reporter saw him at a Terratruce rally on Capitol Hill. I’ve been in a meeting, and when the school couldn’t find Erica they notified the police. I just got back to my office to find the FBI waiting for me.” There was a pause. “They said you were the best,” he said simply.

  Jack hadn’t worked on a missing person’s in a long time. He’d always been better at talking down than he’d ever been at tracking down.

  “I’ll come immediately,” he sa
id, still holding Erica. He was going to have to tell her. “But Rick Charles is the best at finding—”

  “Charles is already at work trying to locate Kevin,” Cooley said. “They know who has him and they want you ready to go to work.”

  Understanding what that meant, Jack couldn’t tear his mind away from the woman lying against him. This was going to kill her. “How do they know?”

  “There’s been contact. I’ve been warned that either I quit fighting the nuclear weapons proposal—or my son dies.”

  Kevin Cooley had been taken hostage.

  ERICA SLID AWAY from Jack even before he’d finished his conversation. She found her panties and bra. Put them on. It had been obvious, just from his side of the conversation, that he was needed.

  Probably meant there was a child involved. With her heart in her throat she sent up a silent prayer for the child, that Jack would get there in time, and for the mother—the family—of that child. Wondered how on earth a parent could possibly be expected to cope in a situation like that.

  Jack’s tension pervaded the air. His face was pinched. In that moment Erica understood why he couldn’t think about tomorrows. In the life he’d known all these years, there was only the next hour, the next minute to get people out alive. The days might change, the children might have different names, but to Jack, it all must seem pretty much the same.

  He’d told her once that when he was working, there was only one reality. He had to bring that child out alive. His life was going to be worth nothing to him if he didn’t.

  “Erica.” His face pained, he hung up the phone and pulled on the slacks he’d shucked earlier.

  “It’s okay,” she said, wanting to go to him, but knowing she couldn’t slow him down. “I’ll take care of the lunch trash in the other room and lock up. You just go.”

  “Erica.” The tautness of his voice worried her. He could do this, couldn’t he? He’d be able to put South Dakota out of his mind, do the job he’d been trained to do.

  “Where are you going?” she asked, trying to keep him focused on the task ahead.