No Way Out

  * * *

  Connor and Stephen were scarcely in the door when a scuffle of footsteps sounded from overhead. An instant later, Brian came racing down.

  "Dad!" He stopped short when he saw his father. "What happened to you?'

  Stephen managed a grin. "I tried fixing the car. I'm not really good at crawling around under those things. I scraped myself to pieces, slammed my head twice, and when I crawled out, the tailpipe butted me in the eye. I guess I look pretty grim, huh?"

  Nancy had come up quietly behind her son. She was staring at Stephen, a haunted look in her eyes.

  "Hi," Stephen greeted her gently. "Don't look so worried. I'm fine."

  "Right." She cleared her throat, turned to Brian. "Okay, our deal starts now. Ten minutes with Dad. Then it's bedtime. We'll get that ear looked at in the morning."

  "His ear's bothering him?" Stephen wasn't usually this jumpy. Then again, he wasn't usually on alert for his son's safety. Given how on edge he was, even a minor earache threw him for a loop.

  Nancy scrutinized him intently, then nodded. "He started complaining right after Connor left."

  "Yeah," Brian confirmed. "It's kind of like there's a tunnel in my ear. I hear an echo when I talk. When you talk, too. And it stings. I'll probably need some of that bubblegum medicine."

  "Probably," Nancy agreed. "I'll make an appointment with the pediatrician first thing tomorrow. We can rent a video on the way home. It'll be a rest-in-bed day."

  Connor and Stephen exchanged a quick, relieved look. They didn't want Brian sick, but having him home, safe and sound, was a big plus.

  Brian wasn't at all pleased. "I'll miss practice."

  "Pitchers need a few days off between games to rest their arms," Connor reminded him.

  "Yeah, I guess. But what about my baseball cap?" he asked. "How will I know if they find it at school?"

  Connor could actually feel Stephen tense at the mention of the cap, and warning bells went off in his head. The worst thing would be if Brian picked up on his father's tension and questioned it. Walker's veiled threat about Brian's safety was something Stephen needed to talk to Nancy about alone.

  Abruptly, he came up with an idea, a way to kill two birds with one stone: divert Brian and Nancy from picking up on Stephen's reaction, and get at someone he was more than eager to speak with, for several reasons.

  "I tell you what, ace," he interceded. "I'll go to your school first thing tomorrow. I'll get your homework from Miss Talbot and see if your baseball cap's turned up in the lost and found."

  That appeased Brian. "Okay. But you'll tell her how important it is, right?"

  A corner of Connor's mouth lifted. "I won't need to. We're talking about Miss Talbot. She's as committed to your pitching as you are."

  Relief flooded Brian's face. "You're right. She'll find my cap. Or you will." He squirmed a little, rubbing his right ear with the palm of his hand.

  "That's it. It's Tylenol and bedtime;' Nancy announced. Her voice sounded unnaturally high, and Connor studied her as she stepped into the downstairs bathroom, emerging a minute later with Tylenol and water. Her hand shook as she gave the medicine to Brian, and Connor wondered if she was on the verge of losing it.

  "But Dad just got home," Brian protested, after dutifully swallowing down the pills.

  "Dad looks worse than you. I'm going to give him some dinner, then send him to bed, too."

  Reluctantly, Brian nodded. "Okay. G'night." He headed toward the steps; then paused, turning to face his father. "Dad, will you be here for breakfast?"

  "Sure will." Wincing a little, Stephen walked stiffly over to his son, placing both hands on his shoulders and gazing down at him with a pained expression that Connor knew had little to do with his injuries. "How about waffles? They work wonders on ear infections and banged-up faces."

  A glimmer of hope flickered in Brian's eyes, as if his father's gesture were a lifeline, an indication that everything just might be okay. "Waffles would be great." He eyed his father. "Our car really messed your face up. Donny Simms looked like that after he put red ants in Mitch Pratt and Krissy Halpern's sandwiches and they beat him up. Mitch only gave him a bloody lip, but Krissy punched him till his whole face swelled up. I guess cars hurt even more." He patted Stephen's hand sympathetically. "Ice helps."

  "Thanks."

  "G'night, Dad."

  " 'Night, Brian." Stephen leaned heavily against the banister, staring after Brian until he disappeared from view.

  The phone rang.

  "I'll get it," Nancy said. She headed toward the kitchen, darting a jittery glance at Stephen as she did. She looked as close to collapse as her husband. "After I get rid of whoever that is, we'll talk."

  Stephen sank onto the bottom step, resting his head against the wall.

  "I'll go to my room. You two need time alone," Connor assessed quietly.

  "Fine." Stephen sighed. "It's good that Brian will be home with Nancy tomorrow. It'll give me time to do some digging without having to worry about repercussions."

  "For a day," Connor agreed. He rubbed his palms together, gazing solemnly toward the kitchen. "Nancy's a mess."

  "No kidding." With great effort, Stephen pushed himself into an upright position. "I'm not telling her about the threat to Brian. The rest, yes, but not that."

  Connor's jaw dropped. "What?"

  "She'll fall apart, Connor. I don't have the emotional reserves for that. Not right now. I've got to focus on protecting Brian and getting something on Walker. Once I'm in the driver's seat, then I'll tell her."

  "She's Brian's mother."

  "And I'm his father. I'll handle this."

  "You keep saying that," Connor ground out, trying to keep his voice low so Brian wouldn't overhear. "The truth is, you're not handling a goddamn thing."

  "I am. I will." That familiar defiance was back in Stephen's eyes, the defensiveness that surfaced whenever he was called on the carpet and he knew damned well he was at fault, that his gambling had, once again, screwed things up. His life was spinning out of control, and he was thrashing around trying to stabilize it, "I just need a couple of days. In the meantime, telling Nancy wouldn't do either of us any good. She can't help me. No one can. I got myself into this. I'll get myself out. I'll keep my wife and son safe. I'll protect the family name. I'll do it all. Just back off. Cut me some fucking slack."

  Before Connor could respond, Nancy returned to the hallway. She looked positively ashen. "That was Julia Talbot. She's seriously worried about Brian. He's showing signs of depression. He's isolating himself and blaming himself for whatever problems are going on at home. She says it's getting worse."

  Stephen rose unsteadily, defensiveness escalating into panic. "What did you tell her?"

  'Tell her?" Nancy dragged a shaking hand through her hair. "I didn't tell her anytiiing. I don't know anything. I made up something about it being a bad time to talk. I told her Brian was sick and needed me. I practically hung up on her." Hysteria crept into her voice. "Stephen, what the hell is going on? Who beat you up? What kind of trouble are you in?"

  Connor saw me irrational anger erupt on his brother's face, and he inserted himself, determined to nip the oncoming battle in the bud.

  "Stephen, don't," he ordered tersely, his fingers digging into his brother's arm. "Brian's still awake. According to Julia, he's already an emotional wreck. Don't make things worse. Whatever you and Nancy have to thrash out, do it quietly. Poor Brian's absorbing too much of this as it is. Please, think about your son."

  It was the only appeal that would work. Connor knew it, so he wasn't surprised when some of the blind rage on Stephen's face drained away. "Yeah, you're right."

  Connor turned, glancing briefly at Nancy. "Go easy," he murmured. "For everyone's sake."

  She nodded, and Connor walked off, heading for his room. He'd done everything he could.

  But hearing their tightly controlled, biting voices as he retreated down the hall—Stephen's providing a fabrication about a political
adversary to whom he owed a huge chunk of money and who was blackmailing him, then Nancy's snapping back a shocked, bitter reply about Stephen's gambling ruining their lives—he wondered if anything he said or did would be enough.

  Not just enough to save his brother's marriage. Enough to keep the walls from crashing down on the Stratfords.

  * * *

  16

  April 10 8:25 A.M.

  Julia was at her desk early, just as Connor expected.

  He stood in the open classroom doorway for a moment watching her grade papers. Her dark head was bent over her work, her features fixed in concentration as she read the material. A smile curved her mouth, and she caught her lower lip between her teeth as she reread whatever had amused her. Unaware that she was being watched, she fiddled with her necklace, her fingers sliding across the delicate chain, taking with them the tiny heart that dangled there.

  He found himself staring, watching her fingers glide back and forth across her bare skin just above where the scoop neck of her sweater ended, over her collarbone, down to the upper swell of her breasts.

  Damn, he wanted her. And not only because sidetracking her was crucial to protecting his family secrets but because the fascination he'd had for her from the start had grown into a full-blown obsession.

  He was still burning from that kiss they'd shared in her apartment. Memories of it had kept him awake the past three nights. And now? Hell, he was hard just from watching her play with a necklace.

  Julia must have sensed his scrutiny, because, abruptly, her head came up, and she met his gaze.

  "Connor." She lowered the papers, rising slowly to her feet behind her desk. "What can I do for you?"

  He walked over. "I need to see you."

  "I'm working."

  "Your class isn't due in for at least fifteen minutes. Besides, this is work-related. It concerns Brian."

  The look she gave him was wary. "What about Brian?"

  "He's sick. I came to get his homework, his class work, whatever assignments he has to make up."

  Julia's palms flattened on the desk. "Is he really sick?"

  "Of course. His mother told you so last night."

  "I know what she told me. I'm not sure I believed her."

  Connor's brows rose. "Why would she lie?"

  "You tell me. She sounded strained. Very strained. As if she'd say anything to get me off the line."

  "She was with Brian when you called," Connor answered smoothly. "His ear was stinging. He's got an appointment with the pediatrician this morning. I'm sure he'll be as good as new in no time. Ear infections are painful but easily fixed with some bubblegum medicine."

  "Right." Julia didn't smile. Instead, she scrutinized Connor with keen perception and gave one pointed clap of her hands. "You're very good, do you know that? Maybe you're the one who should be in politics."

  'What's that supposed to mean?"

  "It means you're a very glib speaker. You have an amazing way of relaying information—the information you choose to, that is."

  "I'm telling you the truth."

  "Part of it." She cleared her throat. "In any case, you're here to get Brian's work. I'll get it for you."

  She crossed over to Brian's desk, tugged out a reading workbook, a spelling list, and a looseleaf binder. She tore. a blank sheet of paper out of the binder and jotted down some instructions. "Here you go." She handed the entire pile to Connor. "This should be everything Brian needs. He already has his math text at home. Tell him to do only as much as he feels up to. And tell him to get well soon."

  "Thanks. I will." Connor took the stack of books but made no move to leave.

  "Was there something else?" Julia prompted.

  "Yes. I promised Brian I'd look for his baseball cap. He misplaced it yesterday afternoon. He's more upset about that than he is about his ear."

  Julia frowned. "He didn't mention losing his baseball cap."

  "It happened during afternoon recess." Connor's brows rose in tacit challenge. "Maybe that's why he seemed so out of sorts yesterday. That cap is his lucky charm."

  "I know. But I doubt it." She gestured toward the door. "Let's go check the lost and found. It's probably there."

  Connor caught her arm as she passed. "There's a third reason I'm here. I wanted to see you."

  Julia tensed. But she didn't yank her arm away. "Why?"

  "You canceled our date. Without giving me a chance to react, by the way. I want to reschedule."

  'Connor..."

  "What's happening between us has nothing to do with Brian" he stated flatly. "You know that, and so do I. Don't build walls that aren't there."

  This time, she did tug out of his grasp. "Maybe you can separate things into neat little compartments. I can't. My emotions overlap."

  "Meaning?"

  Julia glanced swiftly at the door to make sure they? were still alone. "What's happening between us is sexual attraction. Okay, maybe it's more," she added swiftly, seeing the dubious look in his eyes- "I don't know. What I do know is that I don't completely trust you. And I'm not even sure that I like you."

  The very frankness he'd found so implausible was now starting to turn him on. "Fine. Let's get together and talk about that." He wasn't going to give up. "Have dinner with me tonight."

  At first, he thought she meant to refuse. Especially after what she'd just said. Not to mention that ambivalence was written all over her face.

  "We're very different," she hedged, engaged in her own internal conflict. "Right down to our priorities."

  "Maybe, maybe not. We won't know if we don't explore those priorities. Oh, and our principles. We still have to discuss those, remember?"

  He could feel her resolve slip. "I remember."

  "Do you also remember our plan to get together for several evenings during this week?"

  A measured look. "That was your plan, if I remember right."

  "Fine. My plan, then." He took a step closer, held her gaze with his. "Have dinner with me."

  The pull between them was winning. Connor could feel it.

  "What about Brian?" she murmured. "Won't he miss your

  "He'll be with his parents. And I'll be with you." Connor leaned forward until their faces were just inches apart, yet he made no further move to touch her. "We can talk, learn more about each other. Surely that would appeal to your overlapping emotions?"

  Julia wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. "It might."

  "Good. It's a weeknight, so we won't make it late. How about if I pick you up at six?" A corner of his mouth lifted. "I realize it isn't Saturday yet. So I'll come up to your apartment, but I won't cross the threshold. I'll wait outside in the hall, okay?"

  "Okay."

  Laughter and voices interrupted them as the students burst through the front doors of the school and scurried toward their classrooms to begin their day.

  Julia stepped away from Connor. Glancing at the clock, she headed back to her desk. "It's late. I don't have time to go to the lost and found."

  "Not a problem. I can find it on my own. Brian gave me great directions. He's pretty eager to get that cap back." Connor tucked the books under his arm. "See you tonight."

  "Connor, wait." Julia reached for her purse. Rummaging through it, she yanked out what she was looking for. She walked over and handed it to him. "Here."

  Connor felt the brush of fur against his skin. Puzzled, he glanced down and saw the bright red rabbit's foot she'd pressed into his palm.

  "That was my lucky charm on the mound," she explained. "My dad gave it to me when I was nine. I went twelve-and-three that season. Tell Brian it's his for as long as he needs it. It's got his team color and my dad's good luck. I'm passing that luck on to him." A soft smile. "The truth is, Brian doesn't need a lucky charm. He has talent, heart, and a ton of people who think he's the best. Still, with this baby, he can't miss. So he'd better take his medicine and get well fast. Tell him that."

  Connor turned the rabbit's foot over in his hand, knowing damned w
ell the lift this would give Brian's spirits. If Julia Talbot was too good to be true, she had a hell of a lot to teach the world. "Thanks," he replied, more touched by her gesture than he could remember being in a very long time. "I'll tell him." 11:50 a.m.

  Nancy pushed open the front door, her temples throbbing as she scooted Brian into the house.

  The wait in the pediatrician's office had been endless. So had the wait in the drugstore while the pharmacist attempted to fill Brian's prescription. In his haste, the poor man had spilled the last bottle of amoxyl. Apologizing profusely, he'd given Nancy the remainder of the liquid antibiotic—which he'd assured her would last two days—and promised to have the rest delivered to her house first thing tomorrow. She'd readily agreed, thrilled to get out of there. She had another stop to make, and she wanted to get home before the lunchtime traffic started jamming the streets.

  An eon later, armed with the partially filled bottle of medicine, a new superhero videotape, and an extra large box of malted milkballs, they were home.

  She was a mess. Not from the trauma of an ear infection—she'd been through a half dozen of those in Brian's life—but from last night. First, the shock of seeing Stephen, not drunk but beaten and bruised. Next, the phone call from Julia Talbot, which only fed the fear gripping her gut. And last, the argument with Stephen, It was the ugliest fight they'd ever had. Oh, they'd kept their voices down, retained their control, and behaved in a remarkably civilized manner. But the rage was there, brimming beneath the surface as they bit out accusations.

  She was on the verge of snapping. And Stephen, rather than being conciliatory about the mess he'd gotten them into, was defensive, nasty, ordering her to back off and give him room to fix things, accusing her of not trusting him, snarling that he had everything under control.