Fever (33 page)

Authors: Joan Swan

BOOK: Fever

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Dargan snapped the papers from Mitch’s hands. “I will investigate each and every word on these documents, Mr. Foster. If one thing is out of place, just one, I will have your ass in front of the bar.” She turned and pointed at Luke, who looked at her from several yards away. “And I’ll have your badge, Agent.”

A news van rolled up in the background and a cameraman jumped out, dragging gear in his wake.

A pretty, dark-haired female reporter shoved a microphone in Dargan’s face. “Deputy Director Dargan, can you speak to the allegations of misconduct by D.A.R.P.A. regarding taxpayer funds in recent military scientific research projects, specifically—”

“No comment.” Dargan swiveled and set a brisk pace for her Lincoln, flanked by her wall of security.

“Oh, and Director,” Mitch called, “I went ahead and cc’d Senator Schaffer on all that paperwork. Good for everyone to be on the same page, don’t you think?”

Alyssa passed Dargan on her way toward Teague. He couldn’t keep his eyes off the sight of Kat in her arms, his daughter’s eyes fighting to focus. Nerves squeezed his chest, as he wondered how she’d react to seeing him unexpectedly and outside prison walls. There was always the chance that she really wouldn’t want to be with him.

“Uncle Luke?” Kat asked.

Teague’s heart stopped.

“Yeah, baby, right here.” Luke walked over and took Kat gently from Alyssa’s arms. She immediately curled into him and buried her face in his shoulder.

A violent rip of pain tore across Teague’s chest.

Alyssa came to him, stood close, and threaded their fingers. It helped. But ... Shit.

Luke hesitated. He took a moment with Kat, ran a hand over her hair, closed his eyes, pressed an extended kiss to her head.

Pressure built behind Teague’s forehead, eyes and nose. His throat thickened. If she rejected him ... Teague couldn’t do it. He could face a man with a gun. Face running into a burning building. Face going back to prison. He couldn’t face his five-year-old rejecting him.

Luke walked up beside Teague. “Princess, look who’s here.”

“I want to go home,” she cried against his shoulder.

“Luke,” Teague said, his voice raspy, thick. “Don’t.”

Luke ignored him. “Come on, baby. One quick look. You’ll be happy. I promise.”

She lifted her head, her dark curls a tangled mess over her bleary eyes and soot-streaked cheeks. Luke pushed them aside as Kat assessed him.

He held his breath.

Tightened his fingers around Alyssa’s.

“Daddy?” Her head tilted. She reached out a hand to touch his chest, as if testing to see whether he was real. “I saw you, but you disappeared. Like a dream.”

His breath leaked out from between tight lips. He lifted his free hand, wrapped his fingers around hers and brought them to his mouth. Kissed them. Pressed them to his cheek. When she didn’t pull back, the rest of his tension ebbed. Tears burned his eyes.

“I’m real,” was all he could find to say.

“You’re not in jail?”

“Not anymore.”

“Forever?”

Teague opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“Forever, kid.” Mitch walked up from the sidelines. “Your dad is out of jail forever.”

Kat smiled, leaned toward Teague and reached out to him with both arms. “Uncle Seth told me you’d come home someday.”

Alyssa squeezed his hand, then released him to allow Teague to pull Kat into his arms. When he did, his entire world telescoped into view and focused. Like the heart of a labyrinth. Right here. Right now. With the woman and child he loved.

“He did?” Teague asked.

“Your file
did
come through my office,” Mitch said. “Seth submitted it.”

Teague’s eyes fell closed. Gratitude pushed the last remnant of fear aside. He dropped his face to Kat’s feather-soft hair despite the residual fire debris.

“It was a secret,” Kat said, resting her cheek against his shoulder, her lids growing heavy.

Tara.
Teague swung toward the house, where most of the flames had been conquered, but charcoal smoke still flooded the sky. “Did they—?”

“In the ambulance.” Alyssa’s soft voice floated over his shoulder. “Critical, but alive.”

“Are you going to live with us now, Daddy?”

Teague returned his gaze to that cherub face he’d dreamed of every night in prison and picked up one of Kat’s dark curls, twirling it around his finger over and over. “I, uh, I—”

“Yeah.” Luke grimaced, raked a hand through his own hair and pushed out a breath. “He is.” Then he muttered, “Whose freaking idea was that?”

“Forever?”

“No.” Luke gave Teague a hell-no look. “Just for a while.”

Kat’s dark eyes landed on Luke with a clearly disapproving, disconcerted expression.

Luke held up his hands, palms out. “Don’t worry. None of us is going anywhere. We’ll all be here whenever you want us. Me, Uncle Seth, your dad ...”

“Sucker ...” Teague teased, a half-grin lifting his mouth despite a sudden wave of exhaustion settling in. “She’s got you wrapped.”

“What about Mommy Tara?”

Teague’s grin dropped. Everyone went silent.

“She’s not feeling well right now,” Alyssa said, saving them from answering. “But when she’s better, I’m sure you can see her.”

Kat’s dark eyes slipped to Alyssa. “Who are you?”

“I’m Alyssa.”

“Are you going to live with us, too?”

Alyssa smiled, tilted her head, and opened her mouth to respond.

But Mitch spoke first. “I heard rumors that Gregory Dyne has resigned from St. Luke’s. The scuttlebutt is that as soon as an accusation of defamation of character hit the airwaves, he hit the pavement. Seems St. Jude’s is trying to locate you to offer you a permanent position.”

Alyssa’s mouth froze in that open position as she stared at her brother. Teague couldn’t read her expression past the shock. But how could he possibly compete with that offer? Despite the fact that he’d always suspected he’d have to give her up eventually, he hadn’t anticipated the immediate and complete shredding sense of loss that hit him now.

“But”—Luke slid his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and glared at Mitch while speaking to Alyssa—“if you decide you’d rather not go back to an overpopulated, polluted, crime ridden hellhole of a city and prefer to live in the pristine Sierra Nevadas instead”—he turned his gaze on Alyssa—“I happen to know the head of H.R. at Tahoe Basin Community Medical Center. I’m sure they would jump at the chance to have a physician with your qualifications on staff.”

“Ransom,” Mitch said, “mind your own damn business.”

“This is more my damn business than it is yours now, Foster. I don’t see him sleeping on your couch.”

The news reporter sidled up to the group, but she only had eyes and one hell of a flirtatious smile for Mitch. “Excuse me, Mitch. Do you have a minute?”

“Beautiful job, Brittany.” He turned on the charm like a light. “I believe I owe you dinner.”

As Mitch wandered off with Brittany, Luke looked toward the A.T.F. van. “I’m going to check in.”

Teague watched Luke go, twirling Kat’s hair in an attempt to calm the nerves in his stomach. Finally alone with Alyssa, all the emotion bottomed out. He turned and nearly fell into her, wrapping his free arm around her shoulders and pulling her to him, sandwiching a now snoozing Kat between them.

“My God, you scared me to death.” He closed his eyes and absorbed the all-consuming relief. “I thought I was going to lose you.”

She closed her arms around his waist and fisted the shirt at his back. “Now you know how I felt when I saw you in that house with Vasser and all those guns. Only you weren’t near as nice to me as I’m being to you now.”

“I know. I was a shit.” He turned his head in and kissed her neck.

“There you go with your famous understatements,” she murmured against his shoulder. “Just so you know, I won’t be accepting the extenuating-circumstances excuse ever again.”

Teague looked down at her. With the fear washed out of her eyes and the stress drained from her face, she looked tired. He longed to drag all the anxiety of the last several days from her body, wished he could ease the worry of the next few weeks from her mind. But he couldn’t.

He could only give her what he had. And based on the fact that he was now free and the shadow government was off his back, that was a hell of a lot more than he’d had to offer several days ago.

He took a breath, brushed stray black hair off her forehead with his fingers. “What if I were so over-the-top insane about you that I lost my head and did crazy things? Would that be an acceptable extenuating circumstance?”

The shadow of fatigue drifted out of her eyes, replaced by a spark of surprise and a grin of interest. “Depends on the offense. What kinds of crazy things?”

“Like ...” Oh, shit, here he went. The biggest risk of his life. “Like if I asked you to stay in Truckee with me and Kat, even though I know the job in San Francisco is better. And promised we’d go anywhere with you once we got things straightened out back home. And told you I love you more than is rational for time or circumstance and that the thought of losing you scares me as much as the thought of losing Kat again.”

“W-wow.” Her eyes grew wider with each confession, their irises glittering with unshed tears. “Those are pretty crazy.”

He tried to smile, but his stomach was wound in knots waiting for her response. “That’s me. Impulsive. Reckless.” He paused, searching for another word to finish off the trio. “Foolish,” tumbled out.

Alyssa laughed. The sound bubbled out of her chest like a fountain of champagne. She squeezed close and swept her palm across his cheek, her skin warm and smooth. “Those are just a few of the things I love most about you. And if you
hadn’t
asked me to stay, that house”—she tipped her head toward the charred remains behind them—“wouldn’t have been the only thing on fire around here.”

This time, Teague’s smile spread across his face and stuck. And when Alyssa pushed to her toes and pressed her lips to his, he knew it was way too late to think about starting fires. Or smothering fires.

“Baby,” he murmured, a breath away from her mouth, “where you’re concerned, I’ll always be on fire.”

BRAVA BOOKS are published by

Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018

Brava and the B logo are Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

ISBN: 978-0-7582-7789-3

ISBN-10: 0-7582-6638-3

First Kensington Trade Paperback Printing: March 2012