“I apologize, Darren—Doc. I was out of line, and you have no reason to trust me yet, so you wouldn’t know I’ll always have your best interests at heart. Just as I do with Owen. My friends—and I don’t have many of them, so they’re precious to me—come first. I didn’t mind my mouth, and I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, okay.” Doc didn’t turn and look, keeping his gaze aimed out the windshield at the lane ahead of them. “Yes, she disappeared at a rodeo. Yes, I believe that bastard killed my little sister. Believe, but couldn’t prove it. I got out of there and headed to Boston, soon as I could. Then Boston wasn’t far enough, so I took a mission trip. Thailand happened, and it felt so different to what I’d done before, I stayed. For as long as they’d let me, I stayed. I think she’s in the woods somewhere between Tulsa and Siloam Springs. That’s where a bunch of the competitors were headed next. I stayed away because I never found her. I stayed away because I couldn’t help her. I couldn’t save her.”
“Few things hurt more than losing those we love.” Owen’s voice cracked, and he couldn’t find it inside himself to be embarrassed. “Makes things heavy. Then places get heavy. Sometimes staying away isn’t about feeling like you’ve failed, but because of self-preservation. If a place, a memory is heavy enough, it can become life-threatening.” The memory of cold metal in his mouth, the cool wood of a stock against his bare sole, pressed in, circling around him until all he could feel was the curve of the trigger against the pad of his toe.
“Owen.” He opened his eyes and looked at Doc, not surprised to see tears wetting his cheeks. “You’re mourning someone very special, and I can only imagine the kind of pain that loss left behind, but you didn’t fail them. If I didn’t fail my sister, then you can’t assign yourself the same kind of guilt you’re denying me.”
“Heavy.” His breaths came short and staccato, building like a steam engine making headway pulling loaded cars. “Shit always gets heavy until it’s easy to get lost in the memory, overwhelmed by the might-have-beens.”
“Heavy,” Doc agreed and reached over to pat Owen’s thigh. The light pressure was like a palate cleanser, wiping away the remaining physical reactions to the memories. “Good thing we’ve got each other.”
“Yeah, good thing,” he echoed, ignoring the flare of reaction he had to the man’s touch. He glanced at the tablet, unsurprised to find Alace’s head tilted just the slightest amount, a loud interrogatory from her.
Nope. Not going there.
Chapter Eight
Alace
She nodded at Owen and disconnected the video call, sitting back in her chair with a sigh of relief. “Oh.” She scrubbed a hand across her cheek and jaw, wrapped fingers around the back of her neck, and pulled hard, kneading the muscles there.
“I could have told you he’d be pissed off.” At Eric’s statement, Alace squeezed her eyes closed tightly, blocking out the light. The sound of the baby fussing had her opening them right back up, turning to look at where he stood in the doorway holding Lila. “Just sayin’, Alace. He had a point.”
“Did you listen in on the whole conversation?” His lips curled down as he nodded. “Then you heard me apologize.”
“I heard you tell the doctor you were sorry for bugging his car. Not tell Owen you were sorry for listening in on his private conversations.” With a headshake, he scattered her arguments. “No, Alace, you know I’m right. I suspect you’ll have some fence-mending to do with Owen.”
Lila fussed again, a noisy mewling cry that had threads of pain lacing through Alace’s breasts as her milk drew down. Wordlessly, she held her arms out, and Eric tipped his head to the rocking chair, kept in the bedroom instead of the nursery they still weren’t using, Lila sleeping in her bassinette next to the bed each night. Alace glanced at the computer and sighed. The dot representing Owen’s phone had reappeared, indicating he’d reassembled the device and turned it on. She grabbed her phone and sent a text, then leaned closer to the desk, reaching for the mouse. A few clicks later, the other location indicators disappeared, and she opened a folder to select a file, using a keystroke combination to do a hard delete.
“What’d you tell him?” Eric bent and placed Lila in her arms as she got comfortable in the rocking chair. Shirt and bra swept to the side, she settled her daughter against her chest, Lila latching on, causing those threads of pain to peak and then dim to a satisfying burn of warmth.
“That I’d stop listening in and would only keep the tracker on in his phone to show me where he is.” Eric crouched in front of her and edged closer to press a kiss to Lila’s cheek. His close proximity to her, to their daughter, to their child nursing at her breast, caused an unexpected flood of arousal through her, and Alace stroked along his cheek, carding her fingers through his hair. She clenched down and winced, her body reminding her again why the six-week rule was in effect. “I like how much he’s invested in those kids. And adding a doctor to our team is smart in a lot of ways.”
“You gave him your name. Are you so sure of him?” Eric reached up and trapped her hand against the side of his head, covering and gripping tightly. “Sure enough to risk that?”
“Everything I’ve found out about him underscores the fact he’s a decent guy who doesn’t tolerate bad behavior where it impacts kids. After hearing about his little sister, I think I’ve got a handle on who he honestly is deep down. He might not think he’s much like me and Owen, and he’d be right—mostly. But in another way, he unquestionably is. He has channeled his hatred of those who do wrong into helping the survivors. Me and Owen, we’re all about the bad guys. Even at the last warehouse gig, neither one of us followed the kids into the system. But we’ll gladly track down the bad guys without mercy. That’s who we are. He’s…” She shook her head, rejecting the term which naturally came to mind, knowing Eric would find the connotation offensive. “Different.”
“I’m glad you didn’t say what you started to.” The scold in Eric’s voice steadied her. “I wish you could see what you and Owen do from my perspective.”
“Maybe one day.” She shrugged and lifted Lila, positioning the little girl against her shoulder as she rubbed and patted her back. “Can you get me a bottle of juice?” He brushed his lips across hers, then kissed the top of Lila’s head before he rose and walked out. She listened to his footsteps descending the stairs, and once she knew he was gone, she earned a burp for her efforts before altering their positions to allow Lila access to her other breast. Once the infant had latched on again and was nursing steadily, Alace shook her head.
Crooning lowly, she whispered, “Momma’s a good monster, sweet girl.” Eyes with startling blue irises flashed open, then closed in contentment. Alace teased Lila’s palm with the edge of a nail, smiling softly as delicate fingers wrapped tightly around her finger. Humming, she mouthed the words to a lullaby. “Hush little baby, don’t say a word, Momma’s gonna buy you a mockingbird. If that mockingbird won’t sing, Momma’s gonna give you everything. If all those things don’t make you smile, Momma’s gonna go the extra mile. If that distance doesn’t impress, Momma’s gonna surprise you with a dress. If that dress it doesn’t fit, Momma’s gonna learn how to knit. If knit and purl are not her thing, Momma’s gonna go with lots more bling. If that bling-bling fails to shine, Momma’s gonna find something more divine. If divinity doesn’t approach, Momma’s gonna dig a hell of a moat. If that moat fails to protect, Momma’s gonna explain what she expects. If Momma’s expectations are not met, Momma’s makin’ sure that they’ll regret.”