Sasha grabbed his backpack in one hand, a glass of orange juice in the other, and he was almost to the door before Declan stopped him. “Hey, kiddo! You were up awfully late last night. What was that about?”
Shit. He almost made it. Turning slowly, he tried out various excuses in his head, none of them seeming quite right. Finally he settled for the obvious. “Nothing. I told you. I was watching TV.”
“After midnight?”
“Well….”
“Sasha, I can hear you thinking all the way over here, kiddo. What was it really about?”
“Why does it have to be about anything?” he countered defensively.
While Declan was speaking, Sey had moved quietly to stand behind Sasha. Despite the fact that Sey made no real effort to sneak up on his son, Sasha didn’t register his presence until he placed a hand on Sasha’s shoulder. Sasha nearly jumped. “Jeez, Dad.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Why does something have to be wrong? Look, I’m in a hurry—“
“You’re early. You’re never early for anything, Sasha. What’s this about?”
Sasha suddenly looked very, very young, his eyes huge in his pale face. “It was just a phone call, okay?”
Sey frowned, feeling Declan slowly coming up behind him. Declan leaned on his lover, his fingers absently squeezing his arm. “What kind of a phone call?” he asked.
“It was—just some guys. From school.”
“Who are these guys?” Declan’s tone was growing increasingly ominous, and only his proximity to Sey was keeping him from flying wildly out of control. If he had any inkling, any at all, that anyone was threatening his son, he would deal with it. Himself.
“I-I dunno.”
Declan glared fiercely, his pale grey eyes lit with silver fire. “You dunno? Or you won’t say?”
For a moment, Sasha seemed affronted by the question. Then he put himself in his father’s position. Perspective came with maturity, and Sasha was beginning to see things in a different way. It was enlightening.
His voice ringing with sincerity, Sasha said, “I wouldn’t lie to you, Da. I really don’t know who they are.”
“What did they say?”
“Stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“You know. Just—stuff.”
“About you?”
Sasha’s dark eyes slid away from his father’s, unable to maintain eye contact. The fire in Declan’s eyes died away, to be replaced by something cold and bleak. Something awful was there in his eyes, and Sey could hardly bear to look himself. “Dec-lan….” Sey whispered to him, feeling like everything was about to change again.
“About—us?” Declan’s voice was a frosty whisper, so pained, the air ached with its vibration.
Sasha raised tear-filled eyes to his father’s. “I can handle it, Da.”
Declan’s hand on Sey’s arm tightened its grip to viselike intensity. “You shouldn’t have to, kiddo.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Sey asked, reaching out to touch the heavy sterling silver bracelet on his left wrist. It was still there. Somehow that reassured him. He didn’t know why. But it felt good there. Like Declan’s hand pressing into his upper arm.
“God, Daddy, I didn’t want to hurt your feelings!” Sasha burst out. “It’s all shit anyway! Those guys don’t know what they’re talking about!”
“What did they say?” Declan asked quietly.
“I won’t tell you! I won’t repeat it!” Sasha rubbed at his eyes. “I’m trying to forget it, Da! Please don’t ask me again!”
Declan nodded solemnly. “Is there anything we can do to help?”
Sasha sniffled, searching in vain for a tissue, which Sey produced from his shirt pocket. “Thanks, Daddy,” Sasha said gratefully.
Sasha wiped his nose and said huskily, “Look how brave they are, Da. Calling on the phone. They prolly know if they say that stuff to my face, I’ll kick their asses from here to kingdom come!”
Declan smiled, but the smile never reached his eyes. “Sasha, I never wanted any of this to touch you or Emmy.”
“Shut up, Da,” Sasha said with a tearful grin. “I love you guys. Nobody’s ever had better parents than me. You think I don’t know that?”
All at once he put down the untouched juice and dropped his backpack. With an inarticulate cry, he hugged Declan, and then kissed his cheek. Then he turned to Sey and affectionately embraced him. As he slid out of Sey’s arms, he noticed the bracelet. It felt warm to his touch. Like it was a living, breathing thing.
“Hey, this is new. Nice.”
“Your da gave it to me last night.”
“Ohhh…” Sasha smiled knowingly. He ran his fingers over the bracelet’s surface again and again. “You know—I’m okay with this. I have been—almost since the beginning.”
“I know,” said Sey.
“Just wanted to make sure you knew. If it means anything to you.”
Sey pulled the young boy into his arms and hugged him, kissing his hair. “It means everything.”
Declan sighed and wrapped his arms around both of them, feeling dangerously close to tears. “We were very lucky when we found each other, Sasha. But we were even luckier when we found you.”
“Daddy!”
“Dadddddeeeee!”
Michael lay on his stomach, his face buried in his pillow, a tiny ribbon of spittle leaking from the corner of his mouth. Struggling to raise his head, he focused bleary-eyed on the alarm clock on the night table. Barely 7:30 am. “Unh…” he groaned into the pillow. Whoever slept late didn’t have a five-year old.
“Luc?”
“Daddy!” Luc answered, gleefully shouting his father’s name. In his ear.
The small boy was perched atop his father’s naked back. Thank God the sheets had not come off completely during the night, or Michael had a feeling he would be attempting another version of “What do big boys have that little boys don’t have?” It was way too early for that.
Even Chris had never been this inquisitive. Luc was like Faith. But worse. He was playful and curious. And he had no inhibitions at all about pursuing his latest objective. In this case, Michael.
There were explanations he could give. But they would either go right over his son’s head or they would provoke more questions. So he settled for terse. Terse was doable.
“Luc…go see Grandpa,” Michael said, referring to Walter.
Nikita smiled, half-asleep, clutching her pillow. She too lay on her stomach, her breasts pressed into the firm mattress. Too comfortable to move just yet, she was listening to Michael and Luc when she registered what Michael just said.
“Umm…no, Michael. Dad’s on a road trip, remember? Just him and Miranda? And the Harley?”
Michael began lightly stroking Nikita’s exposed back with his fingertips, and she chuckled, moving just out of reach. “Ah, ah, ah…we have an audience.”
He patted her backside, through the sheet, somehow turning an avuncular gesture into a loving caress. With a sigh, he said, “Luc, Daddy’s getting a crick in his back.”
When that didn’t produce the desired result, he said more loudly, “Luc, get off my back.”
When Nikita started to laugh, Michael suddenly realized just how funny that sounded. In moments, he joined her.
Luc jumped from Michael’s back to the carpet, demonstrating considerable agility for one so young. “Can I watch cartoons before school?”
“Sure.”
“Can you turn on the TV? Faith hid the clicker.”
Michael thought about that for a moment, wondering why Faith had to hide the remote control. “Okay. Go downstairs. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“No, you won’t. You’ll go back to sleep.”
“No, I’ll meet you there, Luc.”
He climbed back up on the bed, this time wedging his little body between his mother and father. “I’ll just stay here till you’re ready.”
“Luc, I told you to go downstairs.” Michael’s eyes narrowed. Luc already showed an annoying willfulness at the oddest times.
“Not till you come with me,” he whined.
Michael rolled onto his back. What a way to wake up. His 200 plus freshmen class was easier to handle than one small five-year old boy. He was in the middle of weighing his options, trying to see whether it was better to push the issue or let it go. To push. Or not to push. That was the question.
Deciding that the slings and arrows of Luc turning a mere whine into a full-blown temper tantrum were not worth the wasted morning and the heartache that would ensue, Michael heaved himself out of bed, pulling the sheet around his lower body. Now it became a question of getting into the bathroom without company.
Luck was with him. As soon as Michael stood up, the sheet clung to him, concealing just what he needed to conceal. Unfortunately, or fortunately, in this case, it left Nikita’s back completely exposed. That caught Luc’s attention. “Mommy! You’re naked!”
“Yes, Luc,” she agreed, a bemused smile crossing her lips. Run, Michael, run, she cried inwardly, before Luc latches onto an important part. That made her giggle. Especially since there was nothing she would like better than to latch onto one of Michael’s important parts. Oh, my, she could feel the flush starting at her hairline and traveling right down to her toes.
Michael ducked into the bathroom, putting on a clean pair of shorts as quickly as possible. Then he tossed the sheet to Nikita, who hurriedly wrapped it around her waist. Michael wanted a shower desperately, but Luc made it clear that he would not wait patiently.
Bouncing up and down on the bed, Luc began chanting, “Cartoons! Cartoons! Wanna watch cartoons!”
Nikita pulled her pillow over her head. She wasn’t ready to come out and play.
***
Luc thumped and thudded down the staircase, pulling his bookbag along behind him, uncaring if anything got broken. Singing loudly and off-key, he traipsed into the living room, noting that the TV was already on. Faith was laying on her stomach, watching an infomercial about some kind of network of psychic friends, the remote next to her hand.
Dropping his bookbag, Luc grabbed the remote and ran to the edge of the room, clicking it madly, changing channel after channel, in a blur of sight and sound.
“Hey! Gimme that, squirt!” Faith chased after her brother, and soon, the two of them were wrestling with each other on the floor. Faith knew she could disarm her brother, but she didn’t think she should use karate on someone so much younger.
Then Luc clenched his fist and punched Faith right in the stomach, knocking all the air out of her. Faith’s eyes narrowed as she reconsidered her options. Maybe karate wouldn’t be so terrible after all. The little….
“Dad!” Faith exclaimed. She was never so happy to see a grown-up in her life.
Michael, now dressed in a red polo shirt and black jeans, walked quietly to where the remote control lay on the floor. In between the two children. Where it had dropped out of Luc’s hand when he realized that his father was there.
With fluid movements, Michael picked up the remote, clicked off the TV, and threw the remote onto the couch. “Faith.”
Michael’s tone was deadly. He was, ahem, for lack of a better word, pissed. Faith got up off the floor, smoothing her hands down the sides of her clothes in an effort to straighten herself out. “Yes, Dad?”
“Twenty-four hours. No TV.”
“But Dad—it wasn’t m—“
“Don’t make me repeat myself.”
“No, Dad.” Faith bent her head and cursed little brothers.
“And you,” Michael indicated Luc with a sharp gesture.
Luc stood up, but he didn’t look appropriately chastened. If anything, he simply seemed to be waiting. Well, Michael was no psychologist, but he knew what worked and what didn’t. If his son wanted attention, he would get it.
But he’d be damned if he was going to like it.
“Apologize to your sister.”
Luc blinked. He expected yelling. Or even spanking. But this seemingly neutral statement that an apology was required?
“I’m sorry, Faith.” Luc’s tone was so insincere, it was clear that he didn’t mean a word of it. But he had done as instructed. His father demanded an apology. That didn’t say he had to mean it.
“Now apologize to me.”
Huh? That was a new one. Luc didn’t quite know what to make of it. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”
That was debatable. But Michael was no longer in the mood to argue the point. Michael picked up Luc’s bookbag and handed it to his son. “When you come home from school this afternoon, I want you to go straight to your room. No TV. No playing outside. No friends. You’ll have dinner in your room, and then, you’re going to go to bed early. Is that understood?”
“Yes,” came the low reply.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
Now Luc looked like he finally got the message. He turned and walked away slowly.
Michael watched until Luc was out of sight. Faith looked at her father in awe. “Wow, Dad. I’ve never seen you do that before. You were like this close to losing your, um, cool.”
“Don’t you need to leave for school?” Michael asked rhetorically, indicating he was not about to discuss his feelings or Luc with her.
“Yep,” Faith said with a gulp. Don’t want that look directed at me, no, sir. “Bye, Dad.”
As soon as Faith left the room, Michael wearily sank down onto the couch, finding that he was nearly sitting on the remote. Clicking the TV back on, he watched what Faith had been watching for all of two seconds, then snapped the TV off again.
Christ, World War 3 would undoubtedly be fought over something like this. It was enough to give one pause.
“You’re my brother, Chris!” Luc yelled, seemingly at the top of his lungs.
“You’re late, Luc. Those are the rules. You need a late pass from the main office. Go see Madame Wilding.” Chris looked impassive, even impenetrable. Sure, Luc was his brother, but rules were rules. He was a hall monitor, for God’s sake. Who knew what chaos would reign if he showed his little brother favoritism?
Luc seethed with all the unruly emotion a small five-year old boy could summon up. “I-I-I…” Luc searched his brain franticly for a suitable curse. “I hope your stupid badge falls off!” he said finally, pointing to the hall monitor badge that Chris wore proudly.
Chris smiled imperturbably. It was a shame that insubordination was a charge that only teachers could level at students. Chris thought Luc was a good candidate to challenge that particular rule. If he believed in challenging the rules.
His little brother stalked down the hall toward the main office, muttering under his breath the whole way. He wasn’t having a very good day.
***
By the time Luc obtained the late pass, things somehow got worse. According to school policy, he was forced to return to Chris to present his pass for inspection. Before he could go to class.
To say Chris made the most of that situation would be an understatement. He wasn’t trying to gloat. He wasn’t that kind of boy. But he clung to rules because rules made him feel safe and secure. And Chris simply couldn’t understand anyone who ignored or broke them. Like Luc.
“Go on to class,” Chris stated authoritatively after scanning the slip of paper Luc handed him.
His brother glared at him. If looks could kill….
***
Luc was not having a very good day. Kady and the Davenport twins were already playing with another child that Luc didn’t know. Suddenly feeling like he was truly a stranger in a strange land, Luc sat down on his mat. Lunchtime was beginning to look good.
Eventually, the preliminary play period over, the kindergarten class settled down for a brief nap. Everyone took to their appropriate mats on the floor, and Luc scooted over to where Kiarra put hers.
“Hey, Kiarra,” Luc called.
Kiarra’s eyes widened. She was a beautiful little girl. Midnight black hair, like her father’s, hung straight to her shoulders. Her skin was smooth and tanned easily, which made a striking contrast to her light eyes. Her eyes, silvery-grey like the rest of the McLaren family’s, stood out against her lightly tanned face.
Looking around anxiously, to see if anyone was paying attention, Kiarra whispered, “We’re not supposed to talk during naptime, Luc.”
Instead of stating the obvious, that he didn’t care, Luc snuggled closer to her. “I like you, Kiarra,” he sang in a low voice, his only concession to what passed for rules in kindergarten.
“Luc…” she whined, “you’re going to get us in trouble.”
He sighed and pillowed his head on his folded arms. “Aw, come on, Kiarra. Say you like me, too?”
A warning shush from the teacher quelled whatever response she might have made, and Luc rolled onto his back, to stare blankly at the ceiling.
Damn rules.
***
At lunchtime, the four kindergarteners sat close together at a table by themselves. They weren’t anti-social, but they were their own best company.
Swinging his legs back and forth under the table, Jago said, “Luc, you want to come over later and play with the puppies?”
Luc’s face brightened. He loved puppies. “You got new ones, Jago?”
“Yup. Daddy says these’ll prolly be the last ones, though. He’s gonna close down the kennel, I think.”
Jago was every bit as striking as his sister. Fraternal twins, they didn’t share the same sex or the same coloring. In fact, they really didn’t resemble each other at all. Where Kiarra was light, he was dark. Where Kiarra was dark, he was light. Opposites in nearly every way.
Jago’s hair was red, like Declan’s, instead of chestnut brown, like his mother’s. Whatever wonderful McLaren genes there were to pass on, they combined in a rather amazing way to produce Davenport’s son. His hair was bright, but true red, without a bit of orange. Cut short, his hair nevertheless lay in attractive curls around his head. Instead of light eyes, however, like his sister and his mother, his eyes were black, like his father’s. People often stopped just to look at Jago. Yet for all of that, he remained unspoiled.
It was obvious that Jago took after his father. He was often quiet, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t always thinking. He was far from being as delicate as he looked, too. His body was graceful, like his mother’s, yet sturdy, like his father’s. He liked to study people, and his observational skills were definitely above average. As a result, he tended to notice things that other people didn’t.
“Why’s your Daddy going to close the kennel?” Kady asked, speaking up for the first time.
She was a bit shy at times. Introspective. The product of Madeline and Neil’s combined genetics, Kady Elizabeth Hunter was undeniably beautiful, like her mother. In fact, she closely resembled Madeline in almost every way. Big dark brown eyes. The color of chocolate. Melting chocolate, perhaps, since her eyes looked every bit as luminous as Madeline’s. Long thick hair, dark brown, nearly black, falling past her shoulders.
It might have been better had Kady inherited her father’s dry sense of humor or his innate way of caring for those he loved. Instead, Kady was at a loss to define herself. Her mother saw her as the perfect child. Which she certainly was not. But she wasn’t going to argue with her mother. Even Madeline’s children didn’t argue with Madeline.
Madeline thought of Kady as an extension of herself. Through her desire to live vicariously through her daughter, she was robbing her of the freedom to choose who she wanted to be. So Kady fought back in the only way she had left to her. She was passive. To a fault.
Jago smiled kindly at Kady. “Daddy doesn’t have time anymore. He’s the Head of Security here now, y’know.”
Kady nodded. “What about your Mom?”
Jago leaned close to the little girl and whispered conspiratorially, “I think it’s s’posed to be a secret.”
“What is it?” Kady’s eyes grew round.
Jago looked both ways before continuing. “Nobody knows. ‘Cept her and Daddy. I bet not even Luc’s Daddy knows.”
Luc gave Jago a world-weary smile, just as smug as can be. Completely forgetting that he was angry with his father, he declared, “My Daddy knows everything. Even secret stuff.”
“Maybe,” Jago said. “But he doesn’t know this.”
“Aspatia.”
The beautiful brunette woman of indeterminate age turned to face the speaker. “Yes?”
He looked too young to be the Head of Comm. In some ways, it was a change long overdue. In some ways, it never should have had to happen. If Birkoff were still here…. Well, that was hardly a fruitful avenue of thought to pursue.
“Aren’t you going to congratulate me?”
She smiled patiently at the younger man, but the smile never reached her dark eyes. “Of course. Congratulations, Greg.”
He waited expectantly. Was there something else he wanted?
She gently inclined her head, as if acknowledging something, but she wasn’t sure either of them knew just what it was. Perhaps he suddenly had a yen for older women? Now there was an intriguing thought. Aspatia felt desire arrow right down to her groin. Talk about not getting in touch with one’s innermost feelings. She could have gone for years without suspecting that she felt this way.
Reluctant to voice what she was thinking, Aspatia played for time. Aspatia trusted her instincts, relied on them daily, but the thought of embarrassing herself in front of Hillinger held her back.
Curiosity finally won out over reason. “Was there something else…Greg?”
The dark-haired young man looked ill at ease. In fact, he felt sick to his stomach. He wanted Aspatia. But she would never look twice at an inept boy like him. Never mind that he was hardly a boy anymore. He might have been only 14 when he first came into Section, but it had been years since he was a boy.
“I…uhhh….”
Oh, how endearing. He was so cute when he blushed like that. Maybe they could work something out. Maybe there was a nice dark hallway somewhere. He looked trainable. It might be nice to…break him in.
She dropped her eyes to his mouth. It wasn’t a bad mouth. Maybe she could teach him a thing or two.
“Meet me on sub-level 4. One hour.” Her husky whisper seized him by the throat and held on for dear life.
She was so close. So close. And then he blew it. Bigtime. How could he know?
Producing a thin silver disc, he said, “Hey, you ever seen this particular kind of writeable CD before? It looks familiar, but I can’t place it.”
Shit. It was one of Birkoff’s special mini-discs. He made them himself. She recognized it immediately, though it had been years…no, wait… Oh, my God! The last time Birkoff was actually in Section was when George and Operations went head-to-head in the Deck, killing each other and setting in motion the chain reaction of events that brought Section to its knees.
That Section managed to survive was not by chance. It was the handiwork of someone very special. Someone in such deep cover that no one spoke his name aloud. No one could, for no one knew who he really was.
There was constant speculation. But no substantial answers.
Holding her breath, Aspatia held out her hand, hoping that Hillinger would surrender the disc before he realized where he had seen it before.
“I found it on the floor in Comm several years ago. It’s been sorta a good luck charm ever since.”
“Why don’t you let me have it? I can have Munitions drill a hole so you can carry it on your keychain.”
“Hey, good idea.” Hillinger smiled, and for a moment, Aspatia regretted that she wasn’t going to be able to sample how he tasted.
Now that she knew what he had, she couldn’t let him keep it. She had sworn to protect those who escaped Section so long ago, and it had been many years since she thought she might be tested. But here it was.
With the disc in the palm of her hand, Aspatia closed her hand around it, so tightly its hard metallic edges cut into her skin. What if he had looked at it? No, he couldn’t have. He would have said something. He was too immature not to want to share such a juicy piece of intel with her. Especially if he thought it might impress her and win him a place in her bed.
She started to turn away, but Hillinger’s hand clamped down hard on her shoulder. “You wouldn’t be playing with me, would you?”
His voice sounded so serious, his eyes, though, oh, God, his eyes were so troubled, so unsure. He wanted her, and he thought she was going to stand him up. What might he do if she did?
Would she have to sacrifice herself in order to prevent suspicion?
A delicious smile suddenly curved her full, sensual lips. She could live with that.
It was, after all, in the line of duty.
More or less.
Could she get a secure link to contact Madeline? Should she even try? Wouldn’t contacting them, for any reason, be dangerous? Why give Section unnecessary ammunition?
Aspatia lay on her back, her head resting against the headboard of the double bed. Coal-black hair fanning out behind her, she took a moment to contemplate the young man sleeping in her arms. He was hers.
Easy to manipulate, Greg didn’t present a challenge to the older woman’s considerable talents. Though she was hardly Valentine Op material, largely because her expertise simply lay elsewhere, she knew how to keep a man distracted and off-balance.
Her original plan was to duplicate the CD, substituting her copy for the real one. If Hillinger had never accessed its intel, and she was convinced that he hadn’t, he would never know the difference.
Her fingers traced the silky brown forelock that fell over his brow, hiding his dark brown eyes. He was a handsome young man. Not experienced. But that didn’t matter. His energy and his desire to please her more than made up for that.
No, there was only one real way to be sure that the family remained safe. There could be no loose ends. None at all.
She tried to tell herself that she could handle Greg, that she would know the moment he became untrustworthy, and therefore dangerous. But it was no use arguing with herself. Her compassion could lead to her, and Michael’s family’s, downfall.
She wouldn’t last two hours in the White Room. Greg, even less. He didn’t even know what he knew. He would never know now.
He sighed in his sleep, rubbing his face against her breast. She would take him again. Where was the harm in that? She would make his last hours happy ones.
His last hours.
Hers.
Her eyes unexpectedly tearing up, she cradled the young Comm operative’s head, pressing a kiss to his hair. He was so young. And now he would never get any older.
But she would make it painless. For both of them.
Greg stirred, his eyes slowly opening and focusing on Aspatia’s face. “Hi,” he said softly.
It could have worked. They might have had a relationship. If things were different.
“Hi,” she whispered back. She traced a slender finger along his hairline and across his lips.
He kissed her finger, grasping it in his hands as she would have pulled away. “I think I love you.”
She smiled. Some things were too painful to bear. But they could never ever show. This was Section. Where ruthlessness reigned.
Her lips trembled as she kissed him. But Greg didn’t notice. He rarely let his real emotions come out of hiding, so rarely he wasn’t sure she would even believe him. But he did love her.
His mouth opened under hers, and all of the regrets and the dark memories of times best left forgotten fled. Fled in the face of such overpowering warmth and light. Enveloping him in its embrace.
Their bodies joined, he raised himself up on both elbows and stared wonderingly into her mysterious dark eyes. “I love you, Space. For real. Trust me.”
I can’t. She closed her eyes, feeling for the knife under the pillow, certain there would never be a right time to act.
The fingers of one hand on the blade, she caressed his face with the other, finally opening her eyes. He gasped as he approached his climax, and she gave him a gift. Something she didn’t need to do. And yet she did.
“Greg…I love you, too.”
“You do?” The boyish smile that transformed his face said it all. Do it, do it, do it, her senses screamed.
She nodded. “Trust me,” she whispered brokenly.
“I do,” he cried out, completion washing over him in great waves.
You shouldn’t. My poor love. Aspatia plunged the knife between his ribs, thrusting up with the blade to bring a quick end to his young life.
She sobbed as she held him, cradling his still-warm body against hers. It was the only way, she kept repeating, it was the only way.
The disc was already destroyed, its contents forever unknown to anyone but her.
The note told of an unlikely love affair gone awry.
Wrapping her arms around Hillinger’s lifeless body, she took a deep breath and brought the knife home. One quick push…was all it took. To end the furious speculation.
Section might own their lives. But it could not claim their deaths. Not this time.