Ultimate Sins (43 page)

God, what was he going to do?

How the hell was he going to protect them, keep them from being hurt, keep life from dimming that innocence in both their eyes?

That was his job, he realized with a thoughtful frown. Wasn't that what his father had once said about his wife and daughter?

Another memory surfaced, like the first, forgotten and left to lie in wait until it was needed.

As fresh as it had been the day it happened, Crowe remembered standing next to the open hood of his father's car when he'd been no more than eight.

David Callahan wore his Stetson and cowboy boots, faded stained jeans, and a western work shirt with the sleeves rolled up his muscled, tan forearms.

As Crowe had stared into the mystery of the motor his father was working on, his dad ruffled his hair.

“What are you doing out here, son?” Gruff, yet always filled with affection, his father had smiled down at him with eyes the same color as his own.

“Mom told me to come out and play with you.” Crowe grinned back up at him. He'd felt like a man, standing there with Dad and mimicking his thoughtful expression as he stared into the car's innards.

“Why did she do that?” his dad asked, his voice firm and patient.

But it was a tone that demanded an answer.

Crowe breathed out heavily. “She says I got too much tostrone, or something.” He frowned up at his father. “What's tostrone, Dad? Will it make me sick?”

His father laughed, his eyes crinkling in a way that assured him he hadn't done anything wrong, but maybe Mom had done something that was going to cause his dad to give her a kiss and get all goofy with her.

“It's testosterone, Crowe,” he answered, the laughter still in his voice. “And you just might have your share and more besides. Only time will tell. But no, it won't make you sick.” His dad chuckled then. “Though it might end up making the women in your life a little irritated with you as you get older.”

Oh well, that was okay then. He liked irritating his mom sometimes, especially when she was spending too much time with that bratty little girl across the street.

“Well, Mom says I got too much now.” Gripping metal frame, he tried to lift himself up to see the motor better. “But Mom's actin' all girlie again anyway, like she's gonna cry or something.” He looked up at his father again. “Like I said, actin' weird again, Dad.”

A hint of sadness touched his father's eyes. “Mom's just a little sad sometimes, Crowe. We'll make it all better for her later, huh?”

Crowe nodded, but he was a little sad now. “Because Grandpa was yellin' at you last night?”

His father's gaze had hardened for just a moment before he blew out a hard breath, his big hand rubbing at the back of his neck the way he did when he was trying to figure out why the motor sounded funny.

He stooped down until he could stare in Crowe's eyes with a look he only used with other adults. “Crowe, son, one day you'll understand,” he said, his voice kind of sad as Crowe tried to listen to him with the same expression his uncles used. As though he understood, when at the time he hadn't really. “It's a man's job to see the world, to climb his mountains and learn all he can about the rules. You learn all you can so that when you find that special girl you love, and you have a daughter of your own, you know how to protect all that innocence that fills their hearts. Because that's our job. To make sure, no matter what we have to do, that the women we love are always innocent. That the monsters of the world never touch them. But sometimes, the monsters get sneaky, Crowe, so you have to be on your guard all the time. Ya know? I think Mom just gets worried sometimes that those sneaky little problems are going to get past us, and touch you, or even me. When she gets worried, she tends to get a little sad. That's what grown-ups do.”

“Not real monsters, though, right, Dad?” he asked somberly, wondering if real monsters existed.

“Not the kind that hide under beds,” his father promised.

Crowe nodded, trying to understand. He wanted to be grown up like Dad, and he wanted to climb a mountain, and learn all the grown-up rules, and help Dad fight the monsters so Mom wouldn't get all sad or worried.

“I'll be grown up soon, Dad,” he promised. “I'll help you watch for the monsters, okay?”

His dad smiled. A smile that reached his eyes, and Crowe knew his father trusted him to do just that.

Had his father known he'd fail to protect his wife and children from the monsters? Crowe wondered. Or had he just feared it and done all he could to prepare his son for a world without the parents who would have tried to shelter him?

Staring at Amelia and Kimmy now, his hands hanging between his spread knees, Crowe felt the same deep sense of failure that he'd felt the day his parents, and the tiny form he'd believed was his sister, were buried.

He hadn't helped his father protect his mother and sister, and he hadn't been able to protect Amelia or the child he hadn't known existed.

He'd climbed the mountains, learned the rules of the world, and had learned to navigate the world of monsters. Yet here he sat, unable to eliminate the danger stalking his woman and his child. Still, though, both of them retained their innocence. Now keeping that innocence in their eyes was paramount.

He couldn't fail.

His father hadn't known the identity of the monsters. It was a knowledge Crowe had, and staring at the two most important people in his life, Crowe swore he wouldn't fail.

“I'll make sure the monster is destroyed. I know who it is now,” he whispered, confident they slept. “I swear to both of you, I won't fail.”

Rising to his feet and leaning over the bed, he laid a whisper-soft kiss against the top of Amelia's head before laying his head next to the tiny form of his daughter.

“Sleep, sprite,” he whispered. “Daddy's here now. And I promise you, you'll never have to hide again.”

Straightening and moving to the door, he left the room silently and made his way to bed.

He was enjoying his own form of protection, a backup no one would know existed but himself.

As he'd gone over the system the day Mike had been sent back to the office, Crowe had remembered one of Wayne's first victims. Her security system had included several highly expensive cameras inside her home. Wayne, or one of his partners, had managed to completely disable it. Crowe had been working for days to ensure that none of the cameras, mics, or security alarms could be breached so easily.

Never again, he swore to himself, would he allow Wayne to strike out and take anything from him.

Sure as God was his witness, he would not allow Wayne to steal the woman who carried his soul or the child she'd died for precious minutes to protect.

No one, not even Ivan, realized what Crowe had been doing to the equipment Mike's careless installation had apparently rendered useless. Programming, wiring, as well as electronics had been so sloppy it had been all Crowe could do not to find the bastard and kill him.

Mike still hadn't been found. Once he had time, Crowe thought, he and Ivan would deal with him. Until then, Crowe would ensure that the tech's carelessness remained, to anyone interested, irreparable.

Unless it was needed.

Should it be needed, then that tech would die the same painfully slow way Crowe intended to ensure Wayne suffered.

One bloody bullet at a time.

*   *   *

“Mama, you awake?” Kimmy whispered, her voice so soft it was barely audible as she turned in Amelia's arms, her drowsy gaze meeting her mother's as she fought to blink back her tears.

“I'm awake, baby.” Staring into the somber, damp depths of her daughter's gaze, she sent a quick thank-you heavenward for the short visit Crowe had made to the room.

“Daddy loves me,” she whispered, awe filling her voice.

“I told you he loved you, Kimmy,” she reminded her. “Sometimes we just have to let Daddy get used to things, right?”

Kimmy nodded before cuddling into her mother's arms again. “Next time, I'll give Daddy time, I promise.” Then she looked up at her mother again. “But I still get to act like I don't know, right? Just a little bit?”

Amelia had to laugh, though softly. “Just a little bit, Kimmy. Don't overdo it, huh?”

“I promise.” Kimmy nodded, then lay back against her mother.

She yawned as Amelia wrapped her arms tighter around her, tucked her closer, and felt the tear that slid down her cheek.

Sometimes Crowe just needed a minute, that was all.

Lying next to the child they created together, Amelia let a small smile tug at her lips.

God, she loved him. Loved him until her heart felt ready to burst.

Memories she had held back over the past years surged through her mind. That first summer that had resulted in Kimmy's birth was filled with memories she'd had to bury to survive. But she didn't have to hide them any longer.

That first night at the Spring Social. She'd been the coordinator's assistant since she was sixteen, until she took over as coordinator herself at age twenty.

That first Fairy Ball had been her idea, but the coordinator hadn't understood the magic that could have been created. Amelia's dress had been the creation she envisioned, though.

The russets, golds, and dark browns had been perfect for her coloring.

That night she had teased Crowe into one of the secluded grottoes to slip to him the information that she'd seen a part of a file Wayne was gathering on him and his cousins. While he was there, she convinced him to dance with her. Then she'd convinced him to take her to a secluded area in the Sweet Water Gorge where they could talk.

The little glade set back from the swiftly flowing river held calmer waters that lapped at a sandy shore. Huge boulders, natural grottoes, and small caves dotted the horseshoe-shaped canyon. That night the full moon had glowed overhead, spilling its golden rays to the hidden glade.

It was there, in his pickup truck, that he'd kissed her for the first time.

Staring into the dimly lit room now, she realized something. In the weeks they had been together that spring and summer, and the weeks that he had come back into her life, she had never told him she loved him.

Kimmy shifted in the bed, the little bed hog deciding that three nights with her mother wrapped around her was plenty. A sharp little elbow dug into Amelia's arm and a skinny foot kicked at her shin.

Amelia rolled her eyes.

Rising, she tucked the blankets around her daughter's shoulders and slipped quietly from the room to return to her own.

Crowe was awake as she entered. His dark eyes watched her as she moved to him, his expression somber and intent.

He'd already showered. His damp hair lay around his face, thick and dark, emphasizing the natural beauty of his powerful body and the savage features of his face.

The blanket was pulled to his hips, one hand lying on his tight, hard abs, the other curled behind his head. He looked lazy and indolent, though she knew he was anything but. That he was a sensual, sexual being intent on pleasure at any given moment was far closer to the truth.

He was a proud man. A strong man. He was a man in every sense of the word, and one with a code, an inborn sense of honor that might sometimes offend the letter of the law, but understood justice.

They hadn't talked about Stoner or how Crowe had ensured he never hurt another young girl since the night she had learned he was definitely dead. Amelia had worried about that at first. Now, she realized, there simply was nothing to talk about. Crowe wasn't scarred by the experience, or resentful. It was something that had to be done, he'd believed, and he was the one there to do it.

She wouldn't change him.

He might bend for her. He might compromise a time or two, but at no time would he change a decision he felt had to be made simply to please her.

“How long have you been awake?” he asked.

She could see the other question in his eyes, though. Had she heard what he'd said?

“I haven't been sleeping well without you,” she admitted. “And Kimmy flops around like a fish when she's asleep so I was only dozing when you came in.”

He lifted his hand from where it rested against his tight stomach and held it out to her, his fingers curling around hers as she laid them against his palm.

“I never meant to hurt her.”

“Shh.” Placing her fingers against him as she sat on the side of the bed, she refused to hear an apology. “You've done what you've believed was best to protect her. No one could ever ask for more.”

“You should have told me, Amelia,” he whispered, though the statement lacked anger or resentment. “I would have helped you protect her. It shouldn't have fallen to you alone to make the decisions you've had to make.”

Laying her hand against his chest as she stared down at him, she knew she, too, had done the only thing she could.

“It would have tortured you,” she whispered. “You were out of the country, doing whatever you did in the military that had every woman's instinct inside me terrified for you. The knowledge that Kimmy was there, protected only by the fact that the Slasher didn't know about her yet, would have killed you, Crowe. I knew that, even when I went to Clyde to try to contact you.”

He shook his head. “You were too young to have to do it alone, Amelia.”

“But I wasn't alone,” she reminded him. “You may hate it, I may regret every moment it was necessary, but even you and your cousins couldn't have done more than Dad and Uncle Jack did to ensure no one followed me when I went to see her. Just as they made certain no one learned she existed. I knew the day would come when you'd be back. That one day the Slasher would be gone forever. I made sure Kimmy knew that the only reason you weren't with us was because there was a very bad man trying to hurt you, one who would have hurt me and her as well, if he'd known about her. She accepted that, and she's awaited the day she'd know you. But.” She stopped him when regret flashed in his gaze and he would have spoken. “Don't think Kimmy isn't enjoying the hell out of the little confrontations the two of you are having. She loves to argue. She loves to push her boundaries. She's a feminine replica of you, Crowe, and she terrifies me with her courage. Just as you've always terrified me with yours.”