this was over, and everything had settled back down to normal, she’d tell him, she promised herself. She’d tell Luke he was Stevie’s father, and then they’d figure out how to go on with their separate lives from there.
“Okay,” she said finally. “For a couple of days.”
He gave a quick nod, as if to affirm she was doing the right thing. “Can I help you pack?”
“Just keep Stevie occupied,” she said, heading for the bedroom. Inside, she picked through the mess the intruders had left and found a few days’ worth of clothes for her and for Stevie, which she packed in an empty gym bag she found tossed against the wall under the window. She added toothbrushes, vitamins and a few other things Stevie would need into his diaper bag. His favorite book. The stuffed rabbit he didn’t like to sleep without. Blinking back tears, she headed out to the living room.
She found Stevie sitting quietly in the wooden rocking chair near the corner, watching Luke sweep up the broken crystal box. Luke looked up as Abby entered, a faint frown on his face. “Matt gave you this, didn’t he?”
She followed his gaze to the gold wildcat set into the cut crystal of the box’s top. “For our wedding.” Matt’s nickname had been Wildcat, and at the time he’d given her the box, she’d thought the gesture wildly romantic, as if he were giving himself to her symbolically.
She hadn’t realized that the box was almost all of himself he intended to give to her or any other woman. His first love was intrigue, and he’d have sacrificed anyone and anything for that beguiling temptress.
She took the piece of crystal from Luke’s hand. It was warm, but only from the heat of Luke’s fingers. She dropped it in the trash can by the kitchen nook and retrieved Stevie from the rocker, settling him on one hip. With the gym bag in her other hand, she looked back at Luke. “Let’s go.”
He caught up with her at the door, taking the bag from her hand. “He loved you, the best he knew how,” he murmured as he opened the apartment door for her.
She knew he was right. Matt had loved her in his own way. She’d loved him, as well. For all his faults, he’d been a hard man not to love.
It just hadn’t been enough.
THEY LEFT ABBY’S CAR at her apartment and took his Mustang, transferring Stevie’s car seat before they left. As Luke navigated through light traffic on the way back to University City, he found himself glancing in the rearview mirror now and then to check on the sleepy little boy, who’d fussed a bit when Abby had told him they were going on a trip.
“He’s past his bedtime,” Abby murmured. “He’ll probably be asleep by the time we get there.”
Luke looked at her. “You look pretty worn-out yourself.”
Her lips curved. “Gee, thanks.”
“I’ll call my supervisor tonight and tell him I’m working from home the rest of the week.” It was one of the perks of his job, directing his own schedule, for the most part. Now that the case in Rancho Santa Fe was over, he just had some paperwork to fill out and some loose ends to tie up, most of which he could do over the phone or by e-mail.
“What are you doing now?” she asked, stifling a yawn. “Jobwise, I mean.”
“Security work. Protective detail, investigations. That sort of thing.”
Her chuckle was low and warm, like cello music. He felt a rush of pure male heat flood his veins in response. “So, basically the same kind of work you did in the corps.”
“Basically,” he agreed, proud of how steady his voice emerged, despite the tremors going off low in his abdomen. He tried to concentrate on her question rather than his libido. “Compared to the corps, my job’s a day at the beach. Sometimes literally.” He grinned. “What about you? Where are you working these days?”
“I freelance with a couple of local school systems that don’t have full-time speech therapists. A few nonprofits that need temporary translation services. Some private tutoring.” She turned to look over her shoulder at Stevie. “I do some consulting work for Homeland Security, too. Linguistics stuff relating to wiretaps, that sort of thing. I’m looking to branch out, though. Bring in a little more money so we can afford a real house.”
MSI might be interested in her services, he thought. For a moment, his first thought was to mention her to Dave Malkin to see if he could find her some more freelance work.
But he quickly quashed the notion. The last thing Abby and her son needed was to have Luke in their lives, even hanging around the periphery.
He was dangerous to know.
“Luke, what if we don’t find what Matt took?” A tremble in Abby’s voice belied her calm expression. “What if these people are wrong and he didn’t take anything from them to begin with?”
“We’re going to sort it out, I promise.” He wasn’t yet sure how, but the one thing he knew, as surely as he knew his own name, was that he wasn’t going to let anyone hurt Abby or her son. He’d spent the past three years wishing he could have done things differently with Abby Chandler, and this was all the chance he could expect to make up for his mistakes.
He had no intention of letting her down this time.
He made the turn down his street and scanned the area, looking for anything that seemed out of place. He recognized all the vehicles parked within a block of his bungalow and didn’t see any strange people walking the streets. He lowered the car window as he made a pass down his street once without stopping. He could hear the muted sound of music coming from within a couple of the houses, and here and there dogs barking, but nothing seemed out of sorts.
“Didn’t we just pass your house?” Abby asked.
“Yeah. I wanted to drive around once, just to make sure everything’s calm.” He circled the block, moving neither too fast nor too slow, and kept his ears open. A block over, a beagle was baying frantically at something in the backyard of a small yellow stucco house located directly behind Luke’s own backyard.
Might be a squirrel or an opossum driving him nuts.
Or not.
Luke pulled up the short drive to his garage and reached across to press the door opener. The whir of the door’s machinery seemed deafening to his ears, though he knew from testing the security system that the sound of the garage door opening wasn’t nearly as audible in the house.
But if someone had managed to bypass his silent alarm and made it inside his house, would the faint noise of the garage door opening give them warning that he was on his way?
“Is something wrong?” Abby asked softly.
He met her worried gaze, not surprised that she was able to read his body language so well. She’d always seemed to know what he was thinking and feeling more clearly than he had known himself. “I’m cautious,” he admitted.
“Why don’t you have a security system?”
“I do,” he said with a smile. “It’s a silent one. You tripped it, by the way.”
“I’m an amateur. These people aren’t.”
