Burned Hearts (20 page)

Now we all lived under the dark, ominous cloud.

Several days passed. While the rain pelted the windows and beat down on the roof, I settled Amsel in the crib I'd set up in my office, next to my desk. As my son amused himself—he currently found his bootie-covered feet fascinating—I did the only thing I could do. Continue my off-site supervision of the Lux lobby rebuild. I had plenty of photos and updates to wade through. I also kept up with my secret-society puzzle.

I recalled Amano telling Kyle that he'd been shot in the shoulder at a social-economic summit in Mexico one year. The revolutionaries had been particularly riled and, unfortunately, armed. Dane's father had been at the conference, and Amano had been his bodyguard. He'd taken the bullet for the senior Bax.

I was curious about all of the socio-poli-econ affiliations of Dane's family. Even more obsessed over the lack of details on the Internet regarding Bax history. I already knew that Googling Dane and his dad would prove futile, so I tried a different tactic, because my curiosity about the family—and their extreme secrecy—never abated.

I researched international economic summits. Captured all the documentation and let the laser printer spit out page after page.

I had no idea what the purpose to that was. But then again, my entire life with Dane had been about finding the needle in the haystack. Like him at times, I never really knew what I searched for—it just always hit me when I found it.

So while one hand made funny little gestures at Amsel, distracting him from peeling off his booties, and he let out puffs of air and tiny squeals, I grabbed the sheets of paper, looked at the images, and then tossed them into the recycle bin.

A half hour passed. Kyle joined me.

“Shit, you're more bored than I am.” He plunked down into a chair, wearing nothing but sweatpants.

“Just a friendly tip,” I told him, “but you'd be better off showering and dressing—like in a parka and ski pants—in the event Dane shows up. He's going to be in a mood, and seeing you half-naked and hanging out with me and Kid…” I shook my head. “You think Amano worked you over?” My gaze landed on the bruises on Kyle's midriff. “That's nothing. And remember that Dane could have gone into professional boxing, he was that good.”

“I gave Amano the shots he was due. I deserved it. He's pissed and I don't blame him. But he wasn't all I-could-kill-King-Kong-with-my-bare-hands like normal. He tried to get me to change up my thinking a little, like he's forcing me to learn counter-moves. It's kind of badass.”

I glared at Kyle. “You're
enjoying
getting the crap kicked out of you?”

He chuckled. “It's called training.”

“Well, you still need to be living in fear of Dane finding out about our excursion.”

“You have a point there.”

I discarded another stack of papers. What had I been thinking, printing out all of this? I didn't know what I searched for and was killing trees for no valid reason.

“He won't let this one slide,” I stated the obvious. “Not even given the advantageous fact that I'm still breathing.” I shook my head. “We're in deep, buddy. Like up to our chests in quicksand and sinking fast. All it'll take is one call from Amano to Dane and—” I lost my train of thought as I studied a photo with a stage setting, a podium, palm trees in the background … and a semi-familiar visage in the foreground.

“What's wrong?” Kyle asked.

I handed over the printout. “Doesn't that look a bit like Ethan? I mean, a million years ago, but still.”

“Yeah. Sort of.”

Recalling that Dane had once said Ethan was a renowned financial forecaster, I realized it wasn't out of the ordinary for him to be at one or more of these summits. So this wasn't exactly a clue for me to latch on to.

I set the page aside. Sifted through some more.

“Anyway,” I continued, picking up my previous stream of consciousness. “Just because our adventure with Wayne Horton yielded excellent results—seriously, that asshole will be doing more time than Manson if all goes well—Dane will likely go postal on us himself.”

“So this would be the time for you to use your feminine wiles, marital charms, whatever.” Kyle smirked.

I balled a piece of paper and tossed it at him. “Smart-ass. It doesn't work that way.”

Well, most of the time it did.

I considered the predicament. Then said, “You're right. I'll have to calm him down before he gets crazy. Especially when he sees you. He'll want to blame you for corrupting me.”

“I rocked that last part of the confession scenario with Horton,” Kyle reminded me. “Don't I get props for that?”

“From me? Certainly. From the FBI, sure. From Dane and Amano?” I gave Kyle a dubious look. “You can't tell me you aren't feeling the freeze-out from Amano when he's not punishing you under the guise of mentorship.”

“Yeah.” He scowled. “Not so cool. At the same time, why can't Dane be impressed? Glad that Amano taught me so well? Thrilled I was able to channel all of that tutelage into something worthwhile?”

“Because we went against his wishes. And because it could have been much more dangerous. Wayne could've pulled a gun on me.”

“Not in front of all those people. And Price and Johnson were there, anyway.” Kyle turned angsty. “Dane'll think I went off half-cocked after I swore I wouldn't, right?”

“We both took a chance,” I said, commiserating with him. “Am I proud of us living a little too much in the red zone? No. I'm pretty rocked to the core about the whole thing. I have Dane and Amsel to think of. What am I doing playing Lara Croft when I have so much at stake? Then again.” I shook my head and moved away. Amsel had zonked out and the room was quiet. I sank into my chair and said, “Don't I have the right to protect my family, too?”

“I'm not exactly in favor of you putting yourself in jeopardy,” Kyle confessed. “But I understand the reasoning behind it. And something had to be done about Horton. Sooner rather than later.”

“Deep down, I'm hoping Dane and Amano will realize how impossible it is to just ‘sit tight.' To do whatever we're told when someone like Wayne Horton is out there wreaking lethal havoc.”

I tapped my fingertips on my leather blotter. “I'm not cavalier about this. But since I started at the Lux I've been a target. At some juncture, you stop being the victim. You stop cowering in a corner or praying you'll never face a hissing rattlesnake or pissed-off scorpions. You accept that being terrorized just feels weak and wrong.”

I stood and glanced down at Amsel, so sweet and peaceful. So beautiful. “Nothing can happen to my son,” I told Kyle, “just because I was too frail or too scared to protect him. My husband has heavy weights on his shoulders—they're really not his to bear. But he takes on whatever he has to in the name of justice. And, yes, vengeance. I won't lie about that or dismiss it. Yet the bottom line is that when you're wrapped up in the stuff we are—even inadvertently—you have a choice. Hide under a rock and try to pray away the danger. Or take a stand.”

“You're going all
Tombstone
on me now.” He laughed softly. “I'm not saying that's a bad thing. I hear you, Ari. On the one hand, I want to give you a
hell, yeah!
shout-out. On the other hand, I want to cover your mouth and drag you off where no one can hear your rant. By
no one,
I mean Amano.”

I nodded. “I know. And I'm sorry. You do so much to keep me safe. But just thinking of all that Wayne could have gotten away with makes my blood boil. Honestly, when I saw him at the casino, as much as I was scared, all I could think was that he had to pay. If I could help make that happen, it was worth any price.”

Amsel sighed contentedly in his sleep. I groaned.

Kyle said, “Not
an
y price, Ari. You have to stop thinking you have nothing to lose.”

“You're right.” I contemplated this further, then asked, “What about you? It's not like you're an orphan. Maverick. Lone dove. You have a lot at stake, too.”

“Such as?” He pinned me with a blank stare.

“An entire future. You're twenty-three now.” We'd recently celebrated his birthday—and my twenty-seventh. Unfortunately, without Dane, but that was the reality under which we lived. “You can't tell me you don't have thoughts of a family in your head—a pretty wife and gorgeous children? You sure as hell have the genes for them.”

He waved me off with a hand.

“What?” I said. “You've already proven to be very good with babies.”

“As long as I don't have to change them.”

“There is that.” Whenever Amsel pitched that sort of fit, Kyle promptly handed him back.

“Anyway,” Kyle told me, “I'm thinking of investigating a field career with the FBI. Or the CIA.”

My chest pulled tight. “Don't you think it's time for another desk job?”

“And let everything I've learned go to waste? Be serious, Ari. Agent Price has already given me the rundown on the process. It'll be a bitch to go through all the background checks, but—”

We both heard the front door slam shut. From this far back in the house.

“Oh, joy,” I deadpanned, jolted. I promptly reached for the baby. Dane wouldn't yell—quite so loud—with Amsel in my arms.

Kyle jumped to his feet. “I'm out.” He disappeared down the hallway. A wise decision, since he hadn't taken my advice and put more clothes on.

I stepped into the hallway, meeting Dane halfway. The expression on his chiseled-to-perfection face said it all. I really was in deep.

He stalked toward me, all dark and brooding. Sexy as hell in a black Armani suit and tie, but that was moot at the moment.

“Smart tactic, bringing my son to try to calm me down.”

“He misses you.”

“He'd be missing
you
if you'd gotten yourself killed.”

“But I didn't.” I spoke softly so as to not upset Amsel more since I'd just woke him—or set off Dane further.

“It was much too big a risk to take, Ari. And when I get my hands on Kyle—”

“It wasn't his idea, Dane. But we agreed we had to do something. When the bodies were found—”

“The FBI would have been on it.”

“When it comes to the society and the network, he was at the bottom of their list, and you know it.” Amsel wiggled in my arms and I handed him over. “Hold your son. You don't get to often enough.”

“This'll only work for so long, Ari. He'll fall asleep, and then you and I are going to have a very lengthy conversation.”

“I'll get a bottle.” I walked off, a bit concerned about the tension radiating from Dane and the lecture coming my way. I knew he'd be furious that I'd put myself in danger. Yet, in the end, after we talked, I was fairly certain he'd understand why it had been so important to me.

I joined him in the great room and took Amsel from him briefly while he slipped off his jacket, loosened his tie, and rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt up his powerful forearms.

Then I gave him the baby again, and the bottle.

All of the tall glass doors were open and the rush of creek water wafted in, along with a cool breeze. The rain fell past the eaves, the fat drops splashing on the leaves that rustled gently. There was a hint of humidity in the air but nothing stifling, since the temperatures remained moderate.

Unfortunately, the flashes of lightning and the crackle of thunder seemed to punctuate Dane's broody mood. One more thing I found damn sexy about him. Mostly because his intensity was rooted in passion. And love. For me—and now for our son.

I kept quiet while Dane fed Amsel, and admired how striking they were together. Not just in that they resembled each other so much, but the contrast of the tiny baby cradled in such a strong, steady arm. Dane was a mountain of a man to begin with—holding Amsel made him appear even more mammoth. More formidable, because a protective vibe enveloped him.

What called to me was that he was riled over more than his wife being in jeopardy. I was the mother of this incredible little creature, and I knew Dane would tell me I had to stop thinking in terms of just me or just us as a couple. We were a family and I needed to focus on raising Amsel while Dane did what he had to do.

I bit back a sigh. I'd just recently learned this lesson, had been conflicted by it from the time Kyle and I had hatched our full-blown plan to trap Wayne.

Seeing Dane with Amsel, though, and thinking I could have painted myself out of this precious family scenario made it hit closer to home.

“I'm sorry,” I said. “I know that doesn't exonerate me, but I couldn't let the opportunity slip, and I need you to understand that.” I explained everything to him the way I had with Kyle in my office.

Dane nodded as I spoke, though the tension remained. He wouldn't be letting me off the hook anytime soon, that was for damn sure. But I had a niggling suspicion he comprehended my logic as I continued to unravel my feelings about staying put when there might be something I could do to help out.

Kyle steered clear of us. Eventually, Rosa took the baby to bathe him and then put him in one of his cribs. Dane paced in front of the fireplace.

Finally, he drew up short, raked a hand through his hair, and gave me a grave look. “You're a strong person, Ari. The things that happened to you at the Lux—because of Horton and Vale—weren't signs of weakness on your part. In fact, you handled it all very well. But this…”

“I know I took a big chance. But Dane. I had Kyle with me and two FBI agents.”

“All of whom took too great a risk with your life. But that's a different issue entirely.”

I sat rigidly on the sofa, anxiety tripping through me.

Dane said, “This relationship, this marriage…” He shook his head. “It's not right.”