Protecting Her Secret Son Page 6

  She ran her hands over her hair, tugging the wispy bangs into place over her forehead. The only hope for her eyes was dark sunglasses. All traces of the mascara she’d swept on this morning were long gone. Didn’t matter.

  “Believe.” Daniel said that was her primary task right now. “Aiden is coming home. Believe it.”

  Chapter 3

  Hearing her in the hall bath, Daniel backpedaled to the kitchen. He didn’t mean to catch her coaching herself, yet he’d worried when she hadn’t come back right away. The overhead light in the hall winked out and she paused in the kitchen doorway.

  “Feeling better?” he asked.

  “Getting there.”

  He’d relayed everything she’d said to Grant, caught between trusting her assessment of her ex’s involvement and common sense. There hadn’t been enough time to develop a real lead, though the video could prove helpful. Though learning construction at his dad’s hip had taught him patience, he knew the waiting would wear down her resolve. He’d just find a way to help her through it.

  “Do you date at all?” he asked.

  Her pale eyebrows furrowed over her nose same way her son’s had. “Beg pardon?”

  “I’m thinking about the concert.” He felt like a jerk for bringing it up, for pushing her more after such a traumatic day. “We need to go, but if dating isn’t normal for you, I’m not sure how to proceed. Grant’s leaving the decision to us.”

  “Oh.”

  That wasn’t exactly the clarification he needed. “Do you ever go out with girlfriends? It’s Saturday night.” He watched her closely while his mind sifted through the tasks ahead. Training with the PFD had conditioned him to dive in, to problem-solve and help. In that role, he rarely felt helpless, thanks to training and teamwork. Assisting on a kidnapping in any capacity was way more than he’d ever expected to do.

  “How can they ask me to be normal?” she demanded in a hoarse whisper, staring at her phone. “What could possibly be normal about my life while they have Aiden?”

  She was on the verge of cracking again. He could see it in the hard set of her shoulders. A stiff breeze would shatter her. He took away her phone, caught her hands when she reached for it in a blind panic. “Shh. I’ll help you through it, Shannon.”

  Her hands fluttered under his like trapped butterflies. “I have to be alone. They said normal.” She sucked in a breath, held it while she lifted her gaze to the ceiling, blew it out slowly. “I am not going to lose it again.”

  “It’s okay if you do.” He let her go, missing the contact more than he should.

  “No.” She took another deep breath in and out. “No, I don’t really date.” Her eyes slid to a point over his shoulder. “Saturday night is usually Aiden, me, pizza and a movie.” She got through without another tear.

  “Nicely done.” He admired her grit and resolve. “You and Rachel never go out?”

  “Well, sure. A few times a year.”

  “They don’t know your routine,” he said, theorizing on the fly. “It’s another hoop for you to jump through, buying them time.”

  “That fits Bradley’s methods,” she allowed.

  “It’s something to consider.” He released her hands and picked up his keys. If he was lucky, it would give her mind something to do besides worry. “Now let’s get moving. We’ll go back to your place and I’ll stay over. Tonight we’ll go out, as if we’d made plans like normal people.”

  “Like a date?” She flicked her hands up and down. “Look at me. I can’t do that.”

  He swallowed the immediate protest. From his vantage point, she looked beautiful and he was sure she could do anything she set her mind to. Under the sadness and the stress, the qualities that had always drawn him to her were still there. She personified commitment and tenacity, managed to keep her balance between a demanding job and her young son. The packaging of her pretty face and lovely curves was simply icing on the cake.

  “I’m trying to help, Shannon.”

  “I know.” More tears shimmered in those wide brown eyes. “A date is hardly part of the routine for me. Dating me isn’t in your routine, either.”

  He made a mental note to figure out what she meant by that. Later. This wasn’t about him. “We need to buy time for Grant,” he said. “And I don’t see a better option than the club. It’s the safest place to talk with him and we’ll be surrounded by friends. It’s bad luck for them that they attacked right when you started dating someone new.”

  With a roll of her eyes, she shook her head. “No. My ex is behind this...Just, no.” She used her shirtsleeves to blot her eyes. “Take me home and I’ll find a way to deal with him on my own.”

  “No, right back,” he said, bracing for an argument. He knew all about her independent streak and her pride on the job. He’d seen her house, noticed all the evidence of the same traits. “This isn’t a situation you can ‘deal with.’ Routine or not, you’re not going through this alone.”

  “Daniel.”

  Hearing her say his name with an exasperated sigh only spurred him on. “Remember what Grant said. Alone, you’re a sitting duck and what good will that do Aiden?”

  He’d never been happier to have a woman shoot daggers at him. “That’s low.”

  “You’ll find I get creative when lives are on the line.”

  Her lips parted and snapped shut. Nudging him aside, she walked over and turned out the kitchen light. He interpreted the move as a minor victory, though he was sure there were plenty of battles ahead of them.

  * * *

  “We’ll swing by my place,” he said, meandering through the neighborhood side streets. “I pack fast, don’t worry. We’ll be settled at your place right away. Later, we’ll meet Ed and the guys at the Escape Club for the concert. We’ll stay for one set, get Grant’s take on any news and go home.”

  “Home to my place.” She drummed her fingertips on her cell phone.

  “That’s right.”

  “You may want to pack a bed, too. Aiden’s will be too small for you.”

  He gave her a long glance while they waited for a traffic light to change. “The couch is all I need.”

  She didn’t reply and he couldn’t get a read on her with her face turned toward the window. The sound of his phone caught her attention. The hands-free setting showed Ed’s name on the truck’s radio display. “I’ll call him back.”

  “You should pick it up. It’s probably about the charity house.”

  He did as she asked, hoping for the best. He’d bitten off a big goal aiming to finish the project before he went back to his normal shifts. Suppliers had the materials standing by, and Daniel had put his best people on the job, including Shannon. Despite his father’s doubts, he was confident they could pull it off.

  “What’s up?”

  “I went by Officer Caldwell’s house,” Ed said, referring to the pro bono project. “Found a water leak under the bathtub.”

  “We suspected we’d have to re-pipe.”

  “Yeah, but this has been long and slow. Subfloor is rotted nearly through.”

  Shannon winced in sympathy.

  Daniel sighed. Nothing kept a man as humble as working construction. “Did you send the material order to the office?” Jennings kept a warehouse of the basic materials on hand for smaller jobs and situations like this one. Based on his recollection of last month’s inventory sheet, pulling from the stock wouldn’t pinch any of his Dad’s projects.

  “I’ve got it worked up and ready to send over. Just giving you a heads-up.”

  Daniel forced himself to smile, hoping it translated into easy confidence over the phone. “I appreciate that, man.”

  “You’re meeting us at the concert tonight?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it,” Daniel promised, raising his eyebrows at Shannon.
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  She gave him a thumbs-up with plenty of sarcasm.

  “Great. My wife’s been talking about this one since you gave us the tickets.”

  “And the first round’s on me even if I’m not tending bar,” Daniel said, the smile on his face feeling natural now.

  “You’ve met Ed’s wife, right?” he asked after Ed hung up.

  “She’s great,” Shannon replied. “Lying to her won’t be easy.”

  “In your shoes, they would do the same thing,” he said. “When it’s over, I bet they’ll be the first to hold a celebratory barbecue.”

  “They do that nearly every nice weekend since we put in that backyard kitchen.”

  “Still.” Checking the clock on the radio display, he gave thanks for the weekend. As it was Saturday, he figured he had about fifteen minutes before his dad called about the unexpected order for materials rather than the stingy five minutes max if it were a weekday. Plenty of time to pack. “Here we are.”

  “You live here?”

  “Don’t you like it?”

  “It looks great.” She hopped out of the truck and perused the other houses on the block. “Not quite what I pictured for you.”

  He laughed it off, though he wondered what she did see when she looked at him. “Someday you’ll have to explain that.” Pulling out his key for the side door, he led her around. “Short-term thing,” he explained. He caught her eyeing the temporary stairs and the cracked siding doing little to protect the crawl space. “And it’s torn all to hell right now.”

  “I’ve seen worse,” she said.

  “You and me both.” He opened the door to the honest scent of sawdust and sweat. “I’m sure we’ll see worse again.”

  The first floor was torn down to the studs and looked more like it was ready for a wrecking ball than drywall. “Mind your head if you move from this spot,” he advised. “I won’t be long.” He hesitated, debating the wisdom of leaving her alone.

  She arched one honey-gold eyebrow. “Problem?”

  “Promise to be here when I get back?” He wouldn’t put it past her to call a cab or ride share and leave him behind. It didn’t matter that he knew she’d go straight to her house. The idea of her out in the city alone while someone was bent on causing her trouble slid like ice between his shoulder blades.

  She made an X over her heart. “Promise.”

  Trusting her, hoping he wouldn’t get played for a fool, he took the stairs two at a time to the bedroom he was using upstairs. Living out of a duffel made it easier to pack. He grabbed up his clothes, double-checked that he had a dress shirt and clean jeans for tonight and jogged back downstairs.

  Shannon was replaying the video. He could tell by the blend of longing and sorrow on her face. “Something new?” he asked.

  She jerked her head up and pocketed her phone, looking guilty. “No.”

  It broke his heart watching her suffer. More than anything he wanted to hold her and promise they’d rescue her son. He just couldn’t do it. If things went south, she’d never trust him and he’d never forgive himself.

  “I remember Ed telling me you go out with the guys occasionally after work.”

  “That’s not dating,” she insisted. “Aiden sleeps over at Rachel’s place once in a while.”

  “Close enough for me,” he said.

  “That hardly explains how we went from boss and employee to you moving in within a day.”

  “I don’t plan to explain anything to the bastard who took your son.” Daniel stopped short of venting his full opinion about her ex—though his involvement didn’t make any sense—or the team that snatched Aiden from the sitter’s house. “We need a plausible story for the guys tonight.”

  “Not if we skip it,” she said, her chin cocked stubbornly.

  She wasn’t inviting a kiss, though his brain went there automatically. With deliberate motions, he ushered her out of the house and back to the truck. This wasn’t going to be simple for him, watching over a woman he’d hoped to date. It never would have been easy, considering she worked for his company, but until this morning he’d felt like he had a pretty good shot.

  Not now.

  “No one needs to know we’re staying in the same place,” he said, when they reached her driveway.

  With a sniffle, she put her phone away, having watched the video again on the drive over.

  From his perspective, she was torturing herself watching that video nonstop. What did he know? He wasn’t a parent. No amount of compassion or sympathy gave him a full understanding of what she was going through. Smothering his attraction to her was an annoyance compared to her struggle. Nothing he did or said would ease the wounded look hollowing out her brown eyes.

  They didn’t talk much as he unloaded the truck and carried their bags inside. He put her suitcase and tote just inside her bedroom and stashed his bags in the closet downstairs. Maybe if he stayed out of her way, kept himself as out of sight as possible, she’d relax.

  “I’m going to take a nap,” she said. “Just do...whatever you want.”

  He started to reply and she held up a hand, cut him off. “I know we have to go to the concert. I’ll set an alarm and be ready on time.”

  Checking on her once, he found her curled up on the bed, Aiden’s blue rabbit tucked under her chin, phone charging on the nightstand. Her eyes closed and her breath deep and even, he figured sleep was her best defense against the senseless situation.

  Restless, he meandered through the house downstairs. He found three paint chips taped to the wall in the kitchen and eyed them critically. He was debating between two good choices when his cell phone rang. He picked it up without looking at the display. “Daniel Jennings.”

  “You can’t just take whatever you want and write it off, Danny.” Matthew Daniel Jennings was calling to take a strip out of Daniel’s hide.

  “Hi, Dad.” Daniel stifled the sigh just in time, pinching the bridge of his nose as he stepped out on the small back porch. Conversations between them had a tendency to get loud and he didn’t want to wake Shannon. “I checked the inventory,” he began.

  “Well, you didn’t check the new work orders for next week,” his dad snapped. “I can’t spare the subfloor. You’ll have to order it.”

  Waiting on delivery meant his crew would be standing around Monday morning with nothing to do. A costly decision on a charity project he needed to finish within the next two weeks. Usually he and his father were both a little bit right when they butted heads on things like this. He forced cheer into his voice, hiding his weariness with the constant pushback. “How about my crew meets yours and helps with your subfloor. Then they can take any leftovers, swing by the—”

  “No. Too many hands only jam things up.”

  “Right.” Daniel practically growled the word. Cooperation, support weren’t part of the elder Jennings’s vocabulary when it came to his sons.

  “You bit off more than you can chew on this one. Thinking with your heart, not your head.”

  “Stop,” Daniel barked. He’d memorized the lecture, having heard it all his adult life. “The Caldwell project is mine. My mistake assuming we could pull from the available supply.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You just did,” Daniel pointed out.

  “You didn’t even ask!” Matthew shouted.

  What the hell was the supply order if not a request? Daniel wanted to shout back, thought of his mother’s reaction if she heard they’d gone another few rounds. Anticipating her disappointment drained the fight out of him.

  “Sorry, Dad. I’ll let the crew know the change in plans.”

  “Good.”

  “We wrapped up the job in Garden Court.”

  “I heard.”

  Although his dad sounded less than pleased, Daniel refused to bite
. “And I got the place in Francisville staged.”

  His dad made a noise that could be interpreted a number of ways. Daniel took it as a positive, if only to annoy the elder Jennings. “I’m happy, too. It should sell fast.”

  “We’ll need the profit with you handing out subfloor like candy.”

  Daniel laughed, though there wasn’t any joy in it. “Well, it’s been a long day, Dad. Give my love to Mom.”

  Matthew cleared his throat. “You’re not coming by for dinner tomorrow?”

  Even if he wasn’t helping Shannon, he wasn’t about to put himself in his dad’s crosshairs again so soon. “Maybe next week.” He yanked open the screen door and found Shannon in the kitchen, staring about, lost, dark circles under her eyes.

  “If this is some kind of punishment,” his dad started ramping up again.

  “It’s not. Bye.” He ended the call on his dad’s sputtering protests and pulled the door shut, threw the deadbolt.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  “I should be asking you that question. I’m fine. A little father-son bonding is all.”

  Her lip quivered, though she stopped it with a nip of her teeth.

  He wanted to knock down a wall, letting his dad get under his skin. “That was insensitive. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t. You can’t walk on eggshells around me.”

  “You’re hurting.”

  “True.” Standing at the open pantry, she gave him a long look over her shoulder. “You, too.”

  He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Did my conversation wake you?”

  “No.” She laid a hand over her stomach. “Hunger did. Now that I’m up, nothing sounds good.”

  He crossed the kitchen in two quick strides and nudged her into a chair at the table she’d placed under the sunny back window. “Let me handle it.”

  She didn’t argue as he rummaged through her kitchen, coming up with a can of tomato soup, bread, cheese and butter. He set the soup simmering and had the sandwiches browning in the skillet while she stared out at the backyard. He was relieved that though her phone was nearby, she’d stopped replaying the video.