"I dunno what the hell you mean, Sey.” If Declan sounded cold, it was only because he felt like his entire body was chilled.
Sey’s eyes flickered over him and away again, as if they saw inside him and found him wanting. The tip of his tongue came out and licked lightly at his suddenly-dry lips. Declan stared at Sey’s mouth, like he was hypnotized, his storm-grey eyes the only sign of animation in his face. He could hear Sey’s breathing, ragged and erratic, like he was on the brink of breaking down. Yet outwardly, there was no way to tell that Sey was upset.
Sey glanced at the children, still hovering nearby, not quite catching the growing tension between their parents. All at once, his eyes snapped back to Declan’s defiantly neutral face. “You lied to Sasha,” he hissed.
For a second, Declan looked completely lost. But he recovered quickly. “You were listening?”
When Sey nodded slowly in confirmation, Declan bit his lip. Okay, it hadn’t bothered him all that much when he did it. But now...in the face of Sey’s obvious distress, Declan felt like an outlaw. By way of explanation, he offered what was at best only an excuse. “I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, Sey,” he whispered, trying not to draw Sasha’s attention.
Sey remained silent, but Declan heard every single word of condemnation as if it had been shouted. He averted his face, suddenly unable to meet his lover’s eyes anymore. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t a good enough reason.”
Sey blinked, the muscle twitching in his cheek the only other movement that betrayed how he felt. “It’s just-- That’s how it starts, Dec. Next thing you know...it’s *something else*.”
Declan’s head whipped around. “I’ve always been honest with you, Sey.”
“Till now,” Sey reminded him, his wounded eyes reproaching him.
He lowered his head, his dark hair hiding his face, and pushed by Declan, striking him in the shoulder as he passed. Declan turned and stared after him. “What’s this about, Sey?” he called after him, no longer caring if Sasha heard him. This wasn’t about Sasha. This was *something else*.
When Sey didn’t answer, Declan folded up like an old card table, sinking into the nearest chair. Shit, this was bad. This was beyond bad. And he didn’t even know why.
Only two things kept him from revealing his feelings. Training. And the children. Even now, Sasha was regarding him with injured eyes, looking too much like his father for Declan’s comfort. “Daddy looked upset, Da. How come?”
Cause I’m a bloody fool. “I dunno, kiddo,” he said in a voice approximating normal.
“Aren’t you going to go after him, Da? What if he’s crying? Don’t you care?” Sasha’s voice hurt his ears. You made him cry, Da. He could hear the unspoken words in Sasha’s childish tenor. You did. You made him cry.
No, I didn’t. That’s one thing I didn’t do, Sasha. But I’ll tell you something. I let him down. And that hurts worse than I expected.
Emmy crawled into Declan’s lap, her tiny hands clutching at the long red curling tendrils that draped over his jacket. “Is Daddy going to be okay?”
“Aye, Princess Em,” Declan managed to say, his voice husky from unshed tears. The strain of holding back his own feelings was growing unbearable. “As soon as I figure out how to make things right.” As soon as I figure out what I did.
***
Walter found Birkoff sitting on the front porch, holding his head in his hands. He wasn’t crying. But he couldn’t be far from it, judging from the way he looked.
“Hey, amigo. How come you look like you lost your best friend?”
Sey lifted his head for a moment, and Walter stared into his tragic dark eyes long enough to realize that was the wrong thing to say. Walter almost physically backed up, the pain that was emanating from Birkoff was that strong, but he knew that Birkoff needed him. “Talk to me, buddy,” he exhorted in his smoke-and-whiskey voice.
Birkoff shook his head and buried his face in his hands again. His long soft hair fell over his cheeks, hiding whatever expression Walter might have been able to discern. “Look, Seymour, you can’t keep this all inside you. Whatever it is. It’s not healthy.”
“I don’t care.”
“Yeah, you do. Now talk to me.”
“I don’t want to talk,” Birkoff growled through gritted teeth.
“Fine. We’ll just sit here in silence and enjoy the sunset.”
Birkoff wasn’t fooled by Walter’s blithe tone. He would literally sit there until dawn, if need be. “Just...leave me alone, Walter.”
“Nope, can’t do that, little buddy.”
Birkoff shuddered and raised his head to glare at Walter. His eyes were wet, but the real tears had yet to fall. “Fuck you, I’m not your little buddy.”
Walter would have been affronted if he hadn’t seen how much Birkoff was hurting. In an even tone, he replied, “Hope I make a good stand-in for all that anger.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Then make me.”
“Why can’t you just go away?”
“Cause...I love you, man. You still want me to go away?” Walter’s arm crept around Birkoff’s shoulder, and for some reason, Birkoff left it there.
“You don’t love me. No one loves me,” he whispered, and Walter pulled Birkoff against his chest.
He resisted for a few moments, but in the end, Birkoff still felt safe with Walter, so he allowed Walter to hold him. “I love you, you jerk,” Walter repeated gruffly, feeling like tears weren’t very far away for him either.
“So...what happened?”
Declan had been standing in the doorway for several minutes. Watching the two men grapple with their feelings. But when he heard Sey say that no one loved him, his heart broke. How could he think that? After everything they’d been through together?
I love you, acushla. He could swear he hadn’t said the words aloud, but when he saw Sey’s head turn in his direction, he was suddenly unsure. What the hell difference did it make? He did love Sey. He would always love him. No matter what he said to the contrary.
Walter knew there was something wrong when Birkoff’s body went rigid in his arms. Without warning, Birkoff clambered to a standing position, albeit unsteadily. His face contorted by anger as well as pain, he screamed, “Get the fuck away from me!”
“Why, Sey? Why?” Declan moved forward a step, only to find his way suddenly blocked by Walter.
“Walter, stay out of this. This is between me and Sey.”
Walter put his hand solidly in the middle of Declan’s chest. “Sorry, Declan. He looks like he needs defending more than you do.”
“You don’t understand!”
Walter sighed in frustration. “That’s what *he* said. Would one of you like to tell me what the hell this is about?”
“You know, Declan. You know.” Sey pointed his trembling index finger at Declan.
“No, baby, I don’t know.” Declan looked like a man driven over the edge. He had no idea what he had done, or why things had suddenly gone bad between them.
“Don’t call me that! I’m not your fucking baby!”
“Sey, please! What the fuck did I do?”
Birkoff huffed and puffed, his breath wheezing in his chest like an old steam engine. All at once the tears were there. Pouring down his cheeks in silvery tracks. Etching their way down his pale skin. “You...you...fucking liar! You found someone else!”
Walter turned sad eyes on Declan, looking like this was one conversation he hoped he would never hear. “You didn’t.”
“I didn’t! I swear to God!”
“You don’t believe in God, you fucking liar!”
Walter shook his head. “What’d I tell you, Declan? If you ever hurt my boy, you’d have to fucking deal with me, man.”
God, this was a nightmare. Declan shivered. His skin felt cold and too tight and he just wanted to scream...until it was all over. He sagged back against the front door, all the life drained out of him. He couldn’t fight something he couldn’t see. He couldn’t fight. At all.
Birkoff literally leaped between Walter and Declan. “S-stop! D-don’t h-hurt him, Walter!”
“Birkoff, you’re not thinking straight. If he’s screwing around on you, why the hell are you protecting him?”
“I-I love him,” Birkoff said, his breathing all hitches and sighs. With a sob, he turned blindly towards Declan, pressing his face against his chest. “I love you, I can’t help it, but I do.”
Declan would have needed to be dead not to have felt anything at that point. Such a more or less public outpouring of emotion was hardly his or Sey’s style. Yet he answered him, just as publicly, just as vocally. “I love you, too,” he whispered into Sey’s hair, his arms encircling his lover.
Walter regarded the two of them tearfully. “Shit, I don’t know who to believe now. You two make a fine pair.”
“I didn’t find someone else. I swear. I swear,” Declan murmured over and over again, hoping some part of his lover could hear what he was saying.
Sey closed his eyes and clung to Declan. He wanted to believe him, he did, but he kept hearing that voice in his head. That voice kept saying that Declan was cheating on him. And not with just anyone. With a woman. It was his worst nightmare come true. That Declan would find someone else. That Declan wouldn’t love him anymore. That Declan would leave him.
His fingers working their way into Declan’s hair, Sey was almost beyond hearing anything. “Shesaidshesaid...” it sounded like he was saying. Declan pulled away, and the sudden movement frightened Sey, who thought he was quite possibly losing everything.
“Who said, baby? Who said?” Declan asked softly, not even registering that he was still using Sey’s pet name. Sey never noticed.
“The woman on the phone.”
Declan froze. His eyes met Walter’s over Sey’s head, and he saw the older man nod imperceptibly. “What woman?”
“I was half-asleep when the phone rang. She said she knew you. Saw you. With *her*. You were touching each other. Right there on campus.”
“Sey, I--” Declan’s protective instincts were aroused now, but more than that, he was suspicious. This was too coincidental. He replayed his afternoon with Pam, noting again the way she grabbed his arm, holding it too possessively for mere acquaintance. Shit.
Looking at Walter, Declan said, “We may have a problem.”
“Something Michael should know about?” Walter asked, sensing the shift in Declan’s mood.
“Yeah.” Declan stroked Sey’s hair, feeling him bury his face even deeper against his chest.
“The kid gonna be all right?” Walter couldn’t help but be concerned. This was Birkoff, for Christ’s sake. *His* boy. He always had been. If he but knew it.
“Aye. I can take care of him.”
“I know you can, Declan. That wasn’t really what I meant.”
“I know.” It took some effort, but eventually, Declan was able to pull himself together. “I love him, Walter. I would never hurt him that way. I meant it when I told you...if I ever betrayed him that way...I would eat my gun.”
“Christ, Declan,” the older man swore, swiping at his eyes. “That’s a helluva thing to say now.”
Sey might have looked like he was completely out of it, but on some level, he was listening. Listening with a desperation he couldn’t control. His crying had subsided long ago, and he seemed content to be held in his lover’s arms. But Declan’s declaration struck him with fresh pain. Twisting away from Declan, Sey stared at him in abject horror. “No! I wouldn’t want that! I wouldn’t let you!”
“Ssh, ssh, it’s okay, I’m not going anywhere,” Declan soothed in a husky whisper.
“That’s just another way of leaving me, Dec. You swore you wouldn’t ever leave me.”
“And I didn’t, Sey. I didn’t. I won’t.”
Birkoff turned sharply, begging Walter with his eyes, dark, wet wells of anguish. “Promise me, Walter. Promise me you won’t let him do that. Promise...”
I dunno how I could possibly stop him, amigo. The man loves you more than his life. Even I can see that. But what can I say? Walter nodded silently, trying to ignore the reproof in Declan’s eyes. He could literally see Declan’s mind working. I’d be dead and gone before you knew it, old man.
“Is Michael home yet, Walter?”
Walter shook his head negatively. “Nope, this is his long day. Won’t be home for another hour or so.”
“Could you let me know when he gets here? I need to talk to him.”
“Sure, man. Where will you be?” Declan started to say something, but Walter held up his hand, interrupting him. “Never mind, I’ll...find you.”
***
After Walter left, Declan continued to lean against the front door, Sey’s body pressed tightly against his, his grip tenacious, like he would never let go. “Sey...we need to talk about this,” he began in a low voice.
He could feel Sey shaking his head back and forth before he even answered. “Not now, Dec. Please. Not now.”
Declan sighed, his soft exhalation of breath mussing Sey’s hair. “There’s never going to be a good time for this, Sey. We need to get things straight. Now.” His tone more urgent than before, he felt Sey press his lips to his neck before releasing him from his tight embrace.
“Not here.”
“Aye, not here.”
“Would you think I was a coward if I said I don’t want to talk about this in our room either?” Sey waited impatiently for Declan’s reply.
“No, that makes sense, Sey. I don’t want to bring it there either. It would...ruin something.” Declan sounded impossibly sad, though his voice was steady now.
Sey splayed his hand across Declan’s cheek. “You’re blaming yourself. I can hear it in your voice.”
“Oh, come on, Sey, even though I’m not guilty of what you think, all of this is still my fault.”
“Let me decide.”
There was a long pause before Declan spoke again. “Would you come for a walk with me, Sey? Maybe this will play better if we both just keep moving.”
Sey wiped his eyes with both hands, then fumbled in his pockets for a tissue. Declan handed him a handkerchief with a sorrowful smile.
They walked slowly in silence until they came to the road. Declan inclined his head, and soon, they were headed in the direction of Davenport’s house. Conscious that he was almost wringing his hands, Declan stuffed both hands in his jacket in an effort to regain some degree of control. He would be fine. If he just didn’t think.
“Promise you’ll listen before you say anything, Sey.”
“I promise.”
“There was a girl this morning--”
“Shit, Declan! I don’t want to hear this!”
“You promised, Sey!”
Sey squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated fiercely. They couldn’t argue out here in the street. He couldn’t break down. Was that why Declan suggested a walk?
“Okay, Dec. It’s just that...I thought we trusted each other completely, and this is--”
“A violation of that trust? I know what you’re thinking, Sey. Let me finish. Please.”
“This girl. Her name is Pam. She’s a TA like me. Works out of the same department.” He paused, as if waiting to see if Sey would interrupt him again. But Sey merely nodded.
“We barely know each other. We got to talking. I was telling her about Sasha’s birthday. I showed her pictures of you and the kids, Sey.” Suddenly a bit agitated himself, Declan stopped in the street and faced his partner.
“It was nothing. She offered to help me shop for Sasha. We went to the mall...and I started to feel really weird about the whole thing.” Declan frowned, pulling his hands from his jacket and starting to gesture animatedly.
“I don’t know why. She didn’t say anything...personal. But she made me feel...like I couldn’t breathe. She grabbed my arm. That was *damn* weird, now that I think about it. And I thought I saw someone or something out of the corner of my eye, but when I looked up...no one was there.”
Declan looked expectantly towards Sey, but Sey shook his head. “Wasn’t me, Dec. I slept in this morning, and I kept on dragging my ass all day long. I never really got going at all. That’s part of the reason I was so fuzzy when the phone rang.”
“Don’t you get it, Sey? A girl called you. Told you lies about me and another woman. And it *was* lies, Sey. Make no mistake about it. What she said...never happened.”
Sey’s face gradually relaxed, the lines of stress and strain disappearing slowly, leaving his skin smooth and seemingly untouched again. He could hear the conviction in Declan’s voice. That was clear. But more than that, he really did trust Declan. With his life. And his love.
“I believe you, Declan.”
The words were few and softly spoken, but Declan heard them just the same. “Thank God.”
“I don’t think I could live without you, Sey.” He didn’t mean to make him sad. It was simply the truth.
If Sey felt the weight of that responsibility, he bore it well. He was, after all, a survivor. He smiled gently and pulled Declan’s head down for a kiss. “I love you,” he murmured against Declan’s lips.
Declan returned the kiss and the smile. And of course, the affirmation.
“Oh, man....” Davenport drawled, rubbing his big hands over his face. “I can’t believe you two are freaking making out in front of my house, man.”
“It was the pheromones, Dav. All those dogs. What a turn-on. Woof!” Declan said dryly.
Sey giggled, but when he would have moved away, Declan held onto him, pressing him closer to his side. Smiling at Davenport, Declan refused to relinquish his grip on Sey, earning him a puzzled look from his lover. It wasn’t like Declan to be so demonstrative in public, even in front of their friends and family, but then...it had been a rough afternoon.
If they had been alone, Declan would have told Sey that it was like surviving a near-death experience for him. He needed to feel Sey, alive and well, right next to him. He needed to touch him, reassure himself that they were still part of one another. If that was weakness, so be it. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone but Sey himself.
Davenport scented trouble. He was a damn good operative in Section, and those instincts, honed to razor-sharpness with time and effort, did not fade away as easily as one might think. Now that he had gotten a closer look at the two of them, he suspected something was wrong. “Something going on?” he asked, pretending a casualness he didn’t feel.
“Maybe,” Declan said tersely.
Davenport raised an eyebrow. “Something personal or something I can help with?”
Declan managed a faint smile at Davenport’s attempt at diplomacy. “Well, if it was too personal, me and Sey wouldn’t be standing here, getting off on the smell of your dogs.”
Davenport laughed before he protested, “Hey, they’re not *all* mine, you know. Some of them belong to you Samuelles.”
Declan blinked and gave Davenport the blank stare. “Hell, I’m not a bloody Samuelle. Are you, Sey?”
Sey shook his head, his dark brown eyes dancing mischievously. He loved the way Declan was trying to distract both of them from the pain of what happened. But it wasn’t quite over yet.
Davenport snorted. “Well, I for one don’t want to be a Samuelle. I’d have twice as many kids and all you people hanging around my house all the livelong day.”
“Heh, come to think of it, you *are* hanging around my house. You wanna come in?”
“Well....”
“Oh, come on. You must be sick of supper at the Samuelles. It’s about time you tried dinin’ with the Davenports.”
“Jeez, you must have been on the debate team in high school, Dav. You’re such a smooth talker,” quipped Sey, beginning to feel a little more like himself.
Declan noticed immediately, giving his shoulder an affectionate squeeze. “I would like to see my sister, but I have to talk to Michael as soon as he gets in.”
“And I repeat...is there something going on?” Davenport could have drilled a hole through Declan’s forehead with that intent black glare of his.
Declan shrugged, reluctant to get into discussing the implications of what happened earlier with Davenport. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust him. But the pain was still so fresh in his head and in his heart. He didn’t want to risk hurting Sey any more than he already had. Perhaps by the time Michael got home, their emotions would have settled down.
Sey looked up at Declan, seeing the way his mouth thinned out with barely controlled tension. He relaxed his body against Declan’s, and when he felt some of the tension ebb away, he understood why Declan refused to let go of him. He needed that sense of connection. Sometimes they were able to feel it on a purely emotional level, without physical proximity. But Declan was evidently more shaken by this afternoon than he was letting on. He needed to reinforce their connection any way possible.
Sey smiled as he felt Declan’s fingers twining through his long brown hair. There were worse things than having someone depend on you like that. To Sey, it was the realization of a dream. To be loved that much. Sliding his arm under Declan’s jacket, he wrapped the arm casually around Declan’s waist, anchoring him to his body. Emotional shorthand, that’s what it was. I love you. I’m here for you.
“Maybe we should give you a raincheck on that dinner, Dav,” Declan said, casting a fond glance at his lover. “Michael should be home any time now.”
***
Not quite. Michael, as it turned out, was having an interesting day. First, there was the now notorious “health” lecture, which he concluded he would never live down, even if he lived to be a hundred. Second, he was nearly late for his own seminar, teaching for the first time to a couple hundred freshmen, who could frankly care less who he was or why he was there.
That had never happened to him before. He was used to commanding a certain level of attention from people. In his previous life. In his new life. When he spoke, he expected people to listen, even if they did not obey. But to be honest, he expected them to obey, too. Just ask any of his children. Excluding Luc, who was much too young to have an opinion.
This experience...was somewhat disconcerting. There he was, waiting expectantly. For what? For some barely-there student to connect with what he was saying? Why were they there if they didn’t want to listen? To take up space? It bothered Michael on a level he wasn’t sure he understood completely. Maybe it was because they were wasting an opportunity he would have begged to have. Before his life took a turn. Before his life became his “death”. And the rest was Section history.
It hadn’t been long enough for Michael to forget. Forget what prison felt like. Forget what Section felt like. Sometimes he thought he lived his life in a state of suspended animation. Always waiting for the other shoe to drop. That way, when it did, he wasn’t surprised.
But he dismissed his class. Dismissed their disinterest. Dismissed the whole episode from his mind. Or he would have. Except for one thing.
He had a groupie. It was not an uncommon thing, other instructors told him. Some students found it easier to sleep with the professor than do the necessary paperwork to get through a course. But she was his first one.
She had close-cropped bright red hair, which of course drew male attention like sirens to a fire. She was tall. Not as tall as Nikita. But above average. More voluptuous than his wife. Softer. Softer looking, his mind corrected, noting the distinction as important. He could honestly say he had never touched her, he thought with an inward smile.
She stayed after class, lingering by the podium, even as Michael stacked papers inside his briefcase. “Mr. Samuelle?” Damn, her voice was amazingly soft, too. Unless he missed his guess, she was about to proposition him.
She trailed her fingers along the sleeve of his suit coat, and he watched, vaguely fascinated, as if it were happening to someone else. When he didn’t answer, the girl repeated his name, a bit more loudly, chuckling at his apparent reverie.
Her tongue crept out from between two perfectly made-up red lips. Then she smiled, tapping his wedding ring. “You’re married, huh?”
Michael looked blankly at the girl, wondering why it was so hard to make words come out of his mouth. Finally, though the strain nearly killed him, he replied, “Yes.”
Her long, impossibly long, eyelashes swept down to cover her beautiful green eyes. “Want to go somewhere and get some...coffee?” she asked seductively.
Michael blinked. What was he thinking? He wasn’t tempted. He was just tired. “Thank you, no. I...uh...don’t care for coffee.” Liar. What made him say that? A simple “no’ would have been fine.
“We could get...something else,” she offered. And suddenly Michael knew she wasn’t talking about coffee. Or any other beverage.
He forced himself to smile. “I...don’t think so. Thanks.”
“Awww...I was hoping we could do this the easy way,” she said, a coquettish look on her face.
“What do you mean?”
All at once, another young woman strode towards the podium. “Dammit, Cherise, this is the wrong one.”
“It is? Gee, I think he’s pretty...interesting.”
“If you’d stop thinking with your boobs, maybe we wouldn’t have this problem,” the other woman continued.
The girl grinned playfully. “I don’t think it’s a problem. We take him to the house, like we planned, and boff him silly.”
The other woman sighed heavily. It was so hard to get good help these days. “Cherise, the whole point of blackmail is to target the right victim.”
“Oh.” That bothered Cherise for all of ten seconds, at which point she began entwining her arms with Michael’s. Michael quietly and calmly disentangled himself, saying, “Sorry, girls, but I have to go.”
“Go? You can’t go. You’ve seen us. You’ve heard our plan. We’ll have to take you, too.”
“Give me five minutes, and I swear, I’ll have forgotten both of you.” Michael picked up his briefcase and turned on his heel.
The gun took him by surprise. But seeing as how it was poking its way into his spine, he could hardly ignore it. “You don’t want to do this,” he started to say, his voice still calm, still collected.
“Actually, we do,” Cherise giggled. “Isn’t that right, Pam?”
“I dunno why I thought we could start leading a relatively normal life. I just did. You know how hard it is for me to trust anyone. And what happens? Shit happens, that’s what.”
Declan would have kept muttering to himself if it weren’t for Sey’s timely interjection. “Are you through?”
Declan plunged his hands into his jacket pockets and stopped where he was. They were already halfway back to Michael’s house. Sey touched Declan’s cheek, his expression grave. “Dec, we can’t have a normal life. Whatever that means.”
Declan started to protest, but Sey placed his fingers gently over Declan’s mouth, silencing him. “We can’t. We can want it. Hell, I think we even need it. But we can never have it.”
Declan’s pale grey eyes went dark. “But it’s what I want to give you, more than anything else, Sey. You of all people deserve it.”
“It’s okay, Declan. I’ve learned to live without the things I...want.”
“But it’s not fair. You shouldn’t have to.”
“But it’s made me what I am, Dec. A survivor. We both are.” Sey removed his fingers from Declan’s lips, but Declan grabbed them and kissed them lightly. Sey’s dark eyes grew warm, melting like bittersweet chocolate in the palm of a lover’s hand.
“When Section took us...it did something to us. Something permanent. All we can do is...stay together, be there for each other. Cause we truly are the only ones who can understand who we are.”
Declan’s arms enfolded him, held him in an embrace so tight, he could barely draw breath. But it was all right. Better than all right. Surrounded by the love and the support he had never had until he met Declan, he didn’t care if they ever had a normal life. This was his. And he claimed it.
***
Michael’s gaze shifted slightly, taking in where Pam and Cherise were, relative to him. It would have been entirely too easy to disarm Pam. Everything about the situation rang false. There was something desperately wrong here. So he waited. He was good at waiting. He was grateful to Section for that much.
The gun poked him again, its metallic muzzle pressed firmly against his spine once more. Who were these two women? It was obvious why they wanted to take him hostage. He was privy to their plan. He could identify them.
But then...they didn’t know him very well. He wasn’t their original target. They were acting out of frustration and fear. Masked by a great deal of bravado. Maybe he could get them talking. Find out something that would be useful.
Pam glanced affectionately at Cherise. The two women clearly had a history. Friends? Lovers? His preoccupation was interrupted by Cherise’s plaintive whine. “Oh, come on, Pam... Can’t we boink him just a...little?”
“No. I said no boinking.”
Michael wondered again who the original victim was and what exactly they planned to do with him. “Are you taking me to your car?”
“Shut up!” Pam hissed, a cord standing out in her neck. “I’m the one with the gun, remember?”
Michael nodded without speaking. He remembered. How could he forget? Suddenly the phrase, Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?, took on a whole new significance.
Pam started to nudge Michael towards the door of the lecture hall, but he abruptly stopped. “My briefcase,” he said, indicating the leather attaché on the floor next to the podium. Where he had deliberately left it.
Pam gave Michael an exasperated look, but waved the gun in that direction. “Cherise, go pick up his damn briefcase.”
The moment Cherise left Michael’s side, Pam leaned closer to Michael, whispering hurriedly. “Listen to me. I won’t hurt you. I’m a cop. Interpol.”
“Undercover?” Michael asked softly.
“Glued to this crazy ass bitch,” Pam replied with some bitterness.
“What’s her problem?”
Pam gave a derisive snort. “We don’t have time. Believe me.”
Cherise made her way back to Pam and Michael, the briefcase now dangling from one wrist. “Heard you missed me. I’m back.”
“Of course, sweetness,” Pam drawled, wondering how she managed to keep from choking.
Michael kept his face carefully blank. Whatever interest he once had in discovering the who and the why behind this attempted kidnapping waned. He was tired. He was hungry. And dammit, he wanted to go home.
No one knew who he really was. That part of the equation was satisfactorily resolved. He had nothing to fear from these people. As far as Section went. But his life was in danger just the same. And frankly, he was a bit weary of risking his ass.
Cop to cop...wait, that wasn’t quite right. Good guy to good guy? Almost. Michael didn’t want to ruin whatever case Ms. Interpol was building here, but he had a life. A life he was just starting to enjoy. Hell, here he was, waiting patiently for the other shoe to drop. And he never saw it fall. Until it was already too late.
He *was* tired.
“Look...” he said, placing his hand on Pam’s upper arm. She stared at his hand for several long seconds. He could sense her indecision. How much experience did she have anyway?
“You don’t want me. You want this other guy...whoever he is. Why don’t I help you find him?”
Pam looked as though lightning had struck her. She wanted to scream at him, I’ve been trying all day to keep Cherise away from Declan! She’s fixated on him! She wants to freaking destroy him!
Luckily, however, Cherise had never met Declan. Her motive, such as it was, evolved out of a chance meeting with his lover. Sey. Cherise was not the brightest girl in the world, but she could be the most dangerous. When she was looking for a job, she happened upon the Arcadia Bookstore. Sey’s bookstore. Out of the kindness of his heart, Sey hired her, to stack boxes and pull inventory. The kind of thing that required brawn, not brain.
But Cherise was ill-suited to work, in general, and the bookstore, in particular, and Sey was forced to let her go. Unable to stalk Sey himself, Cherise decided to take her vengeance in a more indirect but just as deadly manner. By hurting Declan.
Until now, there was little for Pam to act upon. In fact, she couldn’t even arrest Cherise for attempted kidnapping. It was Pam’s gun that did all the talking. Pam was beginning to realize that she was in over her head.
But she knew one thing. She had to protect Declan at all costs.
That was her mission. And she had chosen to accept it.
Pam took a calculated risk, hoping that she was right about Michael. She didn’t know him. He was a total wild card. But he was so poised under pressure, she had a feeling there was more than met the eye here.
Well, right now Pam didn’t much care if Michael was a serial killer in hiding. She needed help controlling Cherise, and Michael looked like her best candidate.
“Do you know Declan?” Pam asked, knowing the answer would be affirmative. If there was one thing being a cop had taught her, it was: Never ask a question if you don’t already know the answer.
Michael nodded slowly, concentrating on Pam, trying to give the impression that he wasn’t even peripherally aware of Cherise.
Pam smiled, a sweet, well-satisfied smile. She *loved* it when a good plan came together.
“Take us to him,” Pam commanded.
That was what Michael expected Pam to say. So he wasn’t surprised. But he suddenly realized that if Declan was not at the University now, he was more than likely home. His home. Where their kids were blissfully playing, unaware of the drama presently taking place.
How could he bring a probable psychopath anywhere near the children? Or Nikita, for that matter. This was an unnecessary complication. He came to a decision without any effort. He would end this now. Here. Where he was the only one at risk.
“No.”
That not only took Pam aback. It clearly sent a message to Cherise. “Hey! No fair!” Cherise pouted.
As for Pam, she lowered her gun, knowing that she would never shoot an innocent. There was no provocation. Michael was simply within his rights to refuse to help her.
Within seconds, Cherise reacted to Pam’s gesture, fearing that they would lose Michael. “Don’t let him get away, Pam!”
Cherise lunged for the gun, but Michael was already where she wanted to be. Even tired, Michael was more than a match for the disturbed young woman. He held the familiar weight of the gun in his hands, automatically checking to make sure it was loaded and ready to fire. He couldn’t take any chances on this woman reaching his home or his family.
Pam was in awe of the man’s command. Of the gun. Of Cherise. Of herself. She found herself backing away, prepared to jump Cherise at a word from Michael. She had no way of knowing what Michael was capable of. But he looked...well, for lack of a better word, dangerous.
He stared at Cherise in a calculated, but oddly non-threatening manner. “What do you want with Declan?” he demanded. If he was going to be part of whatever this was, he wanted answers and he wanted them now.
Cherise’s bright, animated look abruptly altered. Her eyes narrowed, even as they lost their focus on reality. Whatever she was seeing, it wasn’t there. Michael glanced at Pam, checking to see if she would be any use in capturing the woman.
Pam touched Cherise’s shoulder, but there was no real response. She looked at Michael, almost relieved. “She’s hallucinating.”
“So I see,” Michael agreed.
“She’s unresponsive.” Pam frowned. “She has a history of catatonic episodes. I don’t think she’ll be--”
Cherise suddenly struck out at Pam, hitting her in the jaw with her clenched fist. Michael grabbed Cherise, immediately subduing her with a series of smooth martial arts moves that blurred together, culminating in her kneeling on the floor before him.
Michael looked at Pam, genuine concern in his eyes. “You okay?”
Pam tentatively touched the tender place on her jaw, wincing as she did so. “Should have seen that coming.”
“Not really. She seems fairly unpredictable to me.”
“I’ve never seen a catatonic do that before.”
Michael smiled. His experience was considerably vaster than hers, his expertise hard-won. “You’d be surprised.”
“Not anymore, I wouldn’t.”
Michael forced Cherise’s head down until her body had to follow it to the floor. When Cherise showed no further signs of resistance, Michael relaxed his hold. A tiny bit. He was still wary.
“You do that pretty well,” Pam commented.
Michael looked almost pleased. “Here,” he said, tossing her gun to her. She instinctively caught it, noting the safety was clicked back into the ‘on’ position. “You know your way around a gun, too. I don’t suppose I should ask--”
Michael shook his head imperceptibly. “I wouldn’t.”
“So...you were never here, right?” Pam might have been a wee bit slow on the uptake at first, but she was catching up quickly.
Michael favored Pam with a crooked half-smile. “Nice collar.”
“But I still don’t have enough of a case to hold her,” Pam wailed in frustration.
“Conspiracy. Attempted extortion.” Michael shrugged. “You don’t need a dead body to put this one away.”
Who are you? Pam wanted to know. “Yeah, well, she’ll never stand trial anyway. She’s too twisted.”
“Why does she want Declan?”
“For revenge.” Michael looked blank. “Against his lover.”
Michael looked startled. “Birkoff? Birkoff doesn’t have any enemies.”
“He does now.” Pam put her gun away and stood behind Cherise, who was lying quietly on her side, oblivious to anyone and anything else.
“Do you have handcuffs?” Michael asked.
Pam nodded, pulling a set from her handbag. “I didn’t think we needed them.”
“I wouldn’t take any chances.” After Pam handed him the handcuffs, Michael snapped the metal bracelets around Cherise’s wrists. “Tell me the rest of the story.”
“It’s a long one.”
“Give me the short version. I’m hungry, and my wife’s waiting.”
“Cherise is unstable, but she’s always been functional--”
“Till now,” Michael corrected softly.
“Till now. Yeah. Who’s telling this story?” Pam asked with a grin.
“Cherise worked briefly at the Arcadia Bookstore. But she couldn’t hack the job, and this guy, this Birkoff?” At Michael’s nod, Pam continued.
“He fired her. Logical. But Cherise became irrational. Only thing is, she’s a devious little thing. She couldn’t get to Birkoff, for some unknown reason....”
Michael could hear the unspoken question in Pam’s voice and settled for a noncommittal response. “He doesn’t get out very much.”
Pam eyed Michael suspiciously. “Yeah, well...Cherise decided to go for Declan. Because she knew it would hurt Birkoff.”
You got that right, Michael thought.
“I went undercover as a TA in Declan’s department. To protect him.”
“Then whatever threat she posed was real.” Michael gave Cherise a considering look.
“Very.”
Pam shifted uneasily from foot to foot. “Look, I’m sorry you had to get involved in this. I thought I could control her.”
“You did.” Pam blinked owlishly at the former Section operative. “I don’t see anyone else here. Do you?”
All at once Pam looked extremely attentive. “You’re Covert Ops, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Michael’s verdant green gaze darkened, even as his body tensed. Fight or flight. He was ready to disappear, though Pam could make things very difficult for him and his family if she decided to pursue this.
“It’s okay. I can keep a secret.”
“Can you? That’s a dangerous assumption to make. People have been...killed...for less.” Michael’s voice was low. He had no desire to be overheard at this stage of the game.
“Is that a threat?”
“Not from me,” Michael replied coolly.
“Look, maybe we can negotiate some--”
“Non-negotiable. If you push this, my family gets hurt. I don’t want that.” It was more than that. Much more. She could see the warning in Michael’s eyes. He didn’t want to go there, but he would if he had to.
Pam was curious, but she knew better than to try to satisfy that curiosity. Whoever Michael was, she respected him. If her silence would protect his family, she would forget that she had ever seen him.
A few minutes later, Michael helped Pam pull Cherise to her feet. It took both of them to bundle the girl into Pam’s car. No longer visibly agitated, Cherise was considerable dead weight to be moved.
Pam slammed the door shut. On the car. On the case. She offered her hand to Michael. “Thanks for all your help. And I do mean that.”
“Thank *you*. And I do mean *that*.”
Pam abruptly realized that she was staring. Not only that, she was still holding onto Michael’s hand. Dropping his hand at once, Pam said, “You know, I don’t even know your name.”
“Let’s keep it that way,” Michael said softly.
“I could find out.”
“But you won’t.”
Pam smiled. No, she wouldn’t. It seemed a small price to pay for capturing Cherise and protecting Declan.
“Tell your friend not to worry,” she said over her shoulder, sliding into the car.
“There’s always something to worry about,” Michael said quietly, realizing it was true. Their lives, even on the outside, away from Section, could never be like anyone else’s.
That’s just the way it was.