Taken by Surprise (11 page)

Rhonda fell silent behind him. Her footsteps grew so light he felt the need to look over his shoulder to be sure she still followed him. She did, with her eyes watchful and ears obviously listening even as the wheels turned in her amazing mind.

"Phay pinned me as a bigger threat to his new ventures in the States and, more specifically, Silver Springs. He came after you to get to me, but you figured that out already." Michael stopped, reaching a hand behind her to catch her as he angled his head and listened closer. He heard water, a stream flowing over shallow rocks maybe, and judged the distance to be less than a click to his right.

"Thirsty?" He turned enough to snake his outstretched arm around Rhonda's waist and pull her into him.

"Parched." She stood stiffly in his embrace.

He wished she would loosen up again. He wanted her relaxed and pliant like she had been last night. He wanted her slithering and writhing beneath him as he touched every place he meant to touch before and then some.

"Do you think it's drinkable?"

"It certainly won't hurt to find out." He led her through the dense brush and trees in the direction of the sound.

"There's not much out here that escapes you, is there?"

"I could say the same about you." He noticed how she took in everything around them, from the movement of the leaves, to the snapping twigs under animal feet, to the squawk of the birds. His keen observational skills came from his training. He decided hers did, too, though through the discipline of a writer rather than an agent.

"You first. If you start holding your throat and choking, then I'll know not to drink it."

Michael glanced at her, expecting her lips to twitch as she tried to bite back a grin. The serious set to her mouth raised his internal alarm. "Did you wake in a mood this morning?" he dared to ask.

She seemed to think about that for a second and then nodded. "I think so. I'll let you judge if that's good or bad."

"I'm afraid to."

She made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a giggle and walked ahead of him toward the water. He didn't remind her to stay behind him for fear he would get struck by another bolt of anger.

He reached the stream a millisecond after her, tested it, considered pretending to choke before he thought better of it, and cleared it safe to consume. He couldn't help but study her as she sank to her knees and leaned down to cup the water in her hands. Dirt, twigs, and who knew what else clung to her dress. Streaks of the same stained her slender arms. He saw the discoloration of a bruise marring her flesh just above her right shoulder blade and winced. Her hair fell in mussed waves down her back and around her face, matted in places and stamped with grime in others. The legs bent beneath her as she knelt at the water's edge weren't in much better shape, scraped and bruised from their trek through the forest. Yet, despite the filth and disarray, she struck him as more beautiful in that moment than ever before.

"Adrien told me about a few of the busts you've made, some of the dealers you've flipped that turned up information on Phay's operations at home, in Silver Springs." She sat back on her heels, squinting up at him. "That's why he came after you, isn't it?"

Michael nodded. "The task force we've set up with the SSPD and FBI's help has put several holes in his cartel in Silver Springs. He knows I won't stop until I take him down. I want him out of my city, off my coast."

"And he thinks by killing you his problems will be solved?" she asked incredulously. "I took him for smarter than that."

Michael shrugged. "It all boils down to drugs, weapons, and money."

"The sales of the drugs supply the money to buy the weapons, which he then sells to every two-bit terrorist organization and crime lord with enough dough to make the exchange."

"Impressive," Michael complimented. "And close. Most of the time he's using the drug supply to trade for the weapons."

"Narco-terrorism. But why trade all the drugs for weapons when you can sell them to an open market in the States and pull in some more dough?" Rhonda straightened, glanced down at herself. "There's probably no reason to take a hippy bath."

"Probably not." It cost him to agree when the suggestion he really wanted to make pertained to skinny dipping in the very shallow stream.

"Yeah, I'll just get dirty all over again about three minutes from now."

"It helps keep the bugs off."

"Hmm, if ever I heard a reason for staying dirty, there's the best one." She stepped back, nearly plowing into him where he stood scant feet behind her.

Instinctively, he reached for her. His hands folded easily on the waist that seemed intent to drive him mindless today. Comfort seeped into his palms. He recognized it as the kind of cozy feel that came from finding a place of belonging. He had been well on his way to convincing her that his hands did belong there once, that she belonged with him.

If at first you don't succeed
…

"Lucas would love this." She didn't acknowledge his hands on her, acting, in fact, as if a full mile spanned between them rather than barely a breath.

Michael felt her pull away, start to move, and used his hold on her to shift her aside so he resumed the lead. If she could pretend she didn't notice his touch, he could pretend he didn't catch the sparks of temper in her eyes.

"I heard about his camping trip with Ryan Magee and Timmy." Stewed in envy over it too, he thought crossly as he stomped over a patch of thick forest brush. He never thought about being a father, never considered having children. He devoted his life to the DEA, to making a difference. He worked impossibly long hours and never managed to grasp the concept of leaving the job at the office. He had never wanted to, until he met Rhonda.

"He had a great time. Ryan's fantastic with him! Lucas needs a man around sometimes, a male influence, and Ryan's given him that. Adrien has, too. Lucas loves palling around with his favorite fruity agent."

Michael tensed as a double shot of jealousy heated his insides. He wanted to be that male influence in Lucas's life. He wanted to be the boy's favorite agent. Behind him, Rhonda laughed, the sound musical and loaded with pure jubilation. It made him smile despite his suddenly cross mood. He loved hearing that sound, wished he heard it more often rather than merely when she talked about her son.

"Adrien started that, calling himself the fruity agent. It loosened the tension between him and Lucas. You know, because of how Preston used to talk about gay men and all."

Not just gay men, Michael recollected, but any man Preston Ramsey saw as a threat.
"Who is that gay fucker Lucas is talking to?"
Michael had overheard Rhonda's ex-husband that long-ago day at the docks. The "gay fucker" in question happened to be Michael, not Adrien.

"It's a good thing. I want Lucas to grow up accepting that people should have the right to be who they are and should not be subject to ridicule because of their choice. Adrien is a perfect role model for that. He and Ryan are fantastic for showing him how important it is to work for the things you want to achieve, too, instead of sitting back waiting for someone to hand it to them."

Like Preston always did
. She didn't say as much, but Michael figured it out. They had never talked about her failed marriage before. To this day, he didn't know what finally prompted her leaving. Hell, if not for the photo Rayne Jasper had taken in the park two years back, he might not even know Rhonda had left the loser. A chance capture of an exchange between Boran Roumduol and a shady insurance agent on film with Rhonda in the background led to Michael seeking her out at the restaurant where she worked. He discovered that day she'd separated from Preston. He also discovered that day she never intended to contact him with the news.

And if you had left it alone, left her alone, you wouldn't be here now
.

"Has he gotten any better about keeping in touch?" Calls, and especially visits from Preston, had been few and far between in the months Michael hung around Rhonda's house. Not because of Michael's presence. She always rushed to reassure him of that. Irresponsibility and selfishness proved the sole contributors to Preston's lack of involvement in his son's life.

Michael heard his answer in Rhonda's sigh even before she spoke.

"If anything, he's gotten worse about it. The more time passes, the more distance he puts between himself and Lucas." Her voice wobbled. She took an audible breath. When she spoke again, her words came steadier. Michael even caught the icy edge to them now. "Sadly, Lucas is getting used to broken promises, men being there for him one minute and gone the next. He's learned to handle it pretty well for a child his age."

Michael felt that jab like a knife to the chest and knew it had less to do with Preston and more to do with him. He felt his own temper stretch to the max, barely caught the edge of the taut thread before it snapped.

"I did what I had to do." He didn't turn around. He kept moving, picking up pace in his anger.

"Yeah, I get that." The conversational way she said it only succeeded in pulling that thread tighter. "But see, it wasn't just me you walked away from, Michael. You walked out on Lucas, too. And the broken promise, you made that to me when I asked you specifically not to do that. I knew he would get attached. You pushed your way into our lives, and I all but begged you to assure me that if anything caused our friendship to dissolve, you would keep in touch with Lucas."

The thread snapped. He couldn't stop it, didn't even attempt to catch it. He stopped in midstride and spun on her. His quick move startled her into jumping back a full step, eyes growing wide as a gasp of surprise escaped her lips.

"I did
not
walk out on either of you." He didn't yell, but his tone landed on the tension-filled air between them like a hundred-ton weight, heavy and monstrously hard. It took a lot to infuriate him. He prided himself on keeping his temper at bay, grasping control of any situation and thinking his way through it, rather than blowing his top. He saw a wave of panic wash through her expression, knew he not only startled her but likely set off every one of her internal alarms. It didn't surprise him. When he got this way, he could hear his own sirens blaring in warning.

To his astonishment and chagrin, her trepidation lasted only a nanosecond before she squared her shoulders and faced off with him.

"You waltzed out of our lives as fast as you weaseled your way into them. Lucas and I were eating Cocoa Krispies one morning and watching them swim in rotten milk the next."

Michael would have smiled at her analogy if he hadn't been so pissed. "Only a writer would think that way."

"Only a woman watching your sexy ass disappear through her front door without a backward glance would think that way," she countered hotly. "You came over, took us to the aquarium, fed us lunch, took us to play goofy golf, cooked us dinner, and left." She ticked off each activity of the last day he'd spent with her and Lucas on her fingers. Then she dropped her hands to her sides with an audible smack. "I don't know what you would call it, Michael, but I call it walking out on us."

"I call it doing what I had to do to protect the woman and child I love," he fired back. He didn't tell her about the bust that went down a block away from her house later that night. He didn't tell her what he discovered during the interrogation of the dealer he and Adrien arrested or the message that dealer passed on. This message came from the kingpin himself, a warning of just how close he could get, how much closer he
would
get if Michael didn't back off.

Rhonda barked a humorless laugh. "Well, that worked like a charm." She angled her head, narrowed her eyes. Her forehead wrinkled as if she couldn't quite grasp a thought. "Funny thing is, Michael, if you were protecting us from Phay, it seems to me sticking around would've been the better way. After all, Roumduol already threatened to come after you before you strode into that movie theater."

That took the wind out his sails. Michael stared down at her, and all he could think was,
Fuck
. He must have said it, too, because he saw her wince.

"Adrien told you." He didn't guess. He already knew. How else could she have become privy to the information about the threat Boran Roumduol left for him through the battered lips of Rayne Jasper?

Rayne could've told her, or Ford Harris, or Cory Knox, or any of the other agency officials, medical personnel, and officers on scene that day.

No, he didn't believe any of them relayed the message to Rhonda. Her nod confirmed his suspicion.

"After a lot of poking and prodding and definitely not in specific terms. He left me to put two and ten together, subtract five and three before I finally came up with four. But, in the end, I got it."

"I didn't expect it to take this long to get to Phay. I thought…" He'd firmly believed with each bust they made, each lab they confiscated and stash house they cracked, that the DEA would take down Phay before the kingpin set his sights on Rhonda and Lucas. "I got cocky," he admitted. He'd let his attraction for her run the show. "I took the first threat with that proverbial grain of salt."

Par for the course, or so he thought at the time. He'd been threatened plenty in his years with the DEA. Oh, he hadn't brushed off the threat. He simply hadn't let it stand in his way of positioning himself in Rhonda and Lucas's lives when he coincidentally landed the chance to hang with them at the movies the night of the incident in Rayne Jasper's apartment. He had convinced himself he could be satisfied being friends with her. He'd convinced her he could take their relationship as slow as she needed, right up until the moment when fear settled in with the terrible truth.