Breaking Away (Military Romantic Suspense) (Book 3 of the SEAL TEAM Heartbreakers) Page 17

  Joy grabbed the pack and head-down dawdled toward the house.

  “Is there anything I can fix to go with the steak?” Sam asked.

  “I have potatoes baking and asparagus in butter on the grill. Does Joy like asparagus?”

  “Wow. I didn’t think guys liked vegetables.”

  He grinned. “I have to have some carbs in my diet. I run every day.”

  “I’ve seen you.” Did her admission sound like she’d been watching him? Her face flushed hot. “Joy likes anything green, but I don’t think she’s ever tried asparagus.” Joy’d reached the front porch and was waiting on her. “I’ll herd her this way in a few minutes.”

  “You didn’t tell me how you like your steak.”

  “Just a little pink when you cut into it.”

  He grinned. “Roger that. Bring the hot dogs.”

  Roger that? She’d heard the expression before. Where? TV possibly. Wasn’t it military lingo? She studied him for a moment. Getting up every morning at five to run, the precision he used to organize his tools and materials, knowing how to fix and install electronic things could be ingrained by military training. And explained his unflappable calm about moving in next door to a woman with a violent ex-husband.

  “Be back in a few minutes.” She crossed the yard to the front porch, unlocked the front door and held it open for Joy.

  “Are you mad, Mommy?”

  At the anxious expression on Joy’s face, tension curled around the back of Sam’s neck. “No, I’m not mad.”

  Sam set her purse on the small table next to the front door and, taking Joy’s backpack, dropped it beneath it. She took Joy’s hand, led her to the couch, and pulled her onto her lap. Joy smelled of baby shampoo, the playground, and kid. For a moment she wished for the tiny baby back. Things had been so much simpler when she’d just needed a diaper change and a bottle.

  “I know you like Mr. Tim.”

  “He fixed my Big Wheel.”

  “He did?” Well that explained how Mr. Tim could fix everything. “I’ll have to thank him for doing that.”

  She monitored Joy almost constantly when she played in the back yard. But she had to pee now and then, and fix food for them. “You know you’re not allowed to go outside the fence in the backyard, or ride your Big Wheel anywhere but the patio out back.”

  “I didn’t, Mommy.”

  “How did he know it was torn up?”

  “It wouldn’t go.”

  Trying to get information from a five year old was like pulling hen’s teeth.

  “How did he fix it?”

  “He said stay in the yard. He took it for a long time.”

  A long time could be anywhere between five minutes to half an hour.

  “It goed good again then.”

  Sam smiled. “I’m glad it goes now.”

  It had to have been the day he’d been on the ladder putting up the lights. Joy’d been playing out in the yard and watched from the fence. She’d obviously been waiting for him to bring back the Big Wheel. Why hadn’t Sam seen him?

  Because she’d been getting ready to take Joy to school, making her breakfast and studying for an exam. She’d learned to take multi-tasking to a whole new level since she’d started the college classes.

  “It’s good that Mr. Tim fixed your Big Wheel. I’ll be sure to thank him. But we don’t want to bother him too much.”

  “I don’t bother him. He likes me.”

  “How do you know?”

  “He smiles at me and calls me sweet tart.”

  Sam bit her lip to keep from laughing. She gave Joy a squeeze.

  Joy’s stomach growled. “My tummy’s mad. It’s hungry.”

  “I heard it. How many hot dogs do you want?”

  “A ho, ho bunch.”

  That usually meant two, one on a bun plain and an extra cut up on a plate. The second one she might or might not eat. She’d urge her to try the asparagus and half a potato. But she’d slice her up an apple too, just in case.

  “Take your backpack to your room and I’ll change.”

  Joy wiggled free, grabbed her backpack and ran down the hall.

  Sam followed at a more sedate pace and went into her bedroom. She changed into shorts, a scoop-necked top and rubber flip-flops. It felt good to get out of the pantyhose and dress she’d worn for work. She padded down the hall to the kitchen. Joy was in the refrigerator and turned with the package of hot dogs in her hand. “I got them, Mommy.”

  “Thank you. You can carry those for me. We’ll take the whole package. Mr. Tim might want a dog, too.” Sam put some of the pear salad she’d made the night before in a plastic container for desert, sliced up a couple of apples and put them in another.

  Joy wiggled impatiently. “Come on, Mommy.”

  “Almost done.” Sam gathered hot dog buns, paper plates, plastic forks, cups, napkins, bottles of water, and a plastic table cloth to cover the dilapidated picnic table behind the garage, and packed them all into a basket.

  “All right, go ahead. I’m right behind you.” Joy ran out the back door while Sam paused to flip on the switch to activate the porch light.

  By the time she’d made it across the yard and around to the back of the garage, she could hear Joy chatting away to Tim.

  My friend Nancy Jane paints real good.”

  “I bet you do, too,” Tim said.

  “I try real hard.”

  Tim chuckled. “The next time you paint a picture will you do one for me? I need something to hang on the wall in the living room.”

  Joy’s whole face lit up when she smiled. “All right.”

  Sam’s heart turned over. He was so good with her.

  But he’d never had a steady diet of five-year-old chatter and the hundred questions she asked a day. Joy wanted—needed—a positive male influence in her life. Was hungry for it. And Tim seemed to have won her daughter’s heart just by fixing her Big Wheel. That thought brought an ache of tears to her throat.

  Tim Carnes would only be around until he got his business established. When the money came rolling in, he’d leave. And she didn’t know enough about him to say if he would be a good influence. Or even that she wanted him to be one. She’d made some horrible mistakes in the past and Joy was still paying for them, just as she was. She couldn’t afford to make another by trusting a stranger.

  The beat-up picnic table sat behind the garage on the concrete slab that stretched the length of the building. She still remembered the truck coming to pour the concrete for the garage floor and this patio they’d used for barbecuing. The distance from the house was only the width of the drive. She set the basket down on one of the benches and spread the plastic cloth over the tabletop.

  “Do you want to help me set the table, Joy?”

  “I’ll do it, Mommy.”

  Sam stood close by as Joy climbed up on the seat and knelt to delve into the basket. She set the plastic container of pears and apples out, then set out the plastic plates. She positioned them one next to the other on one side of the table.

  “Would you like some apple slices until your hot dog is ready?” Sam asked.

  “Uh-huh.”

  Sam pulled the top from the container and shook some apple slices onto one of the plates. Joy settled onto the bench and nibbled at one. She pulled three little people out of her shorts pocket and lined them up next to her plate.

  “Don’t feed Sarah, Dewey, and Fudi any of your food. They make a terrible mess,” Sam said.

  Joy giggled.

  “Looks as though you’ve done that a time or two,” Tim welded long tongs as he flipped the steaks. He had opened the hot dogs and put some on the grill.

  “A few times. Joy and I have picnics out here pretty often.”

  “There are drinks in the cooler.” Using the tongs, he pointed toward a small red cooler sitting next to the grill. “There’s a beer or two, but mostly soft drinks.”

  “I brought water too.”

  “Can I have a Coke, Mommy?” Joy asked.<
br />
  Sam looked from Tim to Joy and back again. Darn it, she didn’t want to deprive Joy of the treat all the time, but she did try to limit the amount of sugar and caffeine she allowed her, especially later in the day.

  Tim’s grin was rueful. “Next time I’ll know to check it out with you beforehand.”

  “It’s okay.” She turned to Joy. “You can have a little.” She retrieved the soft drink from the cooler, found a plastic cup in the basket, poured a third of the can into it and set it next to Joy’s plate, setting the can at her own place and sliding one of the plates to the other side of the table.

  “Do you have children?” she asked.

  “No.” His look of surprise made her smile. “I’ve never been married. Why do you ask?”

  “You just seem to know how it works.”

  His expression evened out. “I have good friends who have kids. I’ve baby-sat for them several times. But I’m no expert.”

  “You seem to do okay.”

  “It’s easy when all the hard stuff is already done. You’re doing a good job with Joy. She’s a real sweetheart.” He slid the steaks onto a platter and turned the hot dogs.

  Sam laughed. “Thank you. She says you call her sweet tart.”

  Tim laughed. The sound was so masculine, she caught her breath. Will had stopped laughing about a year into the marriage. What had caused him to change so drastically? Had it been something inside him, or was it her?

  “I’ll have to make a point to call her Sweet Tart from now on.” He looked toward the table. Using the tongs he grabbed one of the hot dogs. “Joy, is this black enough to suit you?” he asked holding it up for her to see.

  Joy broke away from her pretend conversation with her little people to look up. “Yes.”

  Tim smiled at her and dished up the hot dogs with the steaks. He turned his attention to Sam. “How’d the new job go this week?”

  “It was okay. I’m doing secretarial work and answering the phone. It’ll pay the bills until I finish my college degree.”

  “What kind of degree are you working toward?” He moved a foil-wrapped package off the grill onto a glass plate and set it on the cooler.

  “Right now, I’m trying to get my general education requirements. Eventually I want to practice family law.”

  His brows rose. “Couldn’t find anything any more challenging?”

  Sam laughed at his dry tone. Her gaze strayed to Joy. “I had a really good lawyer. He helped me a lot. I’d like to pay it forward.”

  “Any more trouble since the tire incident?” he asked.

  Was it kindness or curiosity that pushed him to ask? “No. It’s been quiet.” But it wouldn’t last. It never did.

  “Good.”

  “How long were you in the military?” she asked.

  The question reverberated through Flash’s brain. Shit! He’d hoped she hadn’t noticed his slip. “Seven years.” He checked the potatoes with a fork and, finding them tender, took them off the grill and put them with the steaks and dogs.

  “What branch?” she asked.

  “Navy.” What had he been thinking asking them to eat with him? But when Joy had come around the corner with her more than cute smile and asked if he was fixing hot dogs, he just couldn’t say no.

  “It must have been good training for what you do now.”

  “Yeah, it was. Chow’s on.” He could hear the short staccato answers he was giving her. He slipped past her with the meat platter and placed it in the center of the table. “It wasn’t so different from what I do now. I just get to sleep more.” Yeah, right. It had been constant training, sometimes dangerous stuff, and, when in combat, sometimes moments of pure terror, but he’d loved every minute of it. And he’d never been bored.

  Sam smiled. “But you still work seven days a week.”

  “New businesses require more work at the beginning. It’s hard to plan ahead for anything but the next job. But it pays the bills.”

  “What would you do differently if you could?” she asked, opening the hot dog buns and pulling one out. She stabbed a dog with a fork and put it on the bun and placed it on Joy’s plate.

  Never agree to do anything for the FBI. “What makes you think I would do something different?” He sat down and used the tongs to put a steak on her plate.

  “Nothing. I just wondered. Everybody has a dream.”

  She sat down next to Joy, divided a potato between her and her daughter and started mashing up the half on Joy’s plate.

  Sam’s blonde hair tumbled over her shoulder. Sunlight filtered through it, setting to light the corn silk like golden strands. She looked up right into his eyes. He grew hard. Why couldn’t she be ugly? Why couldn’t her eyes be less green? Why couldn’t her lips be less inviting? Why did she have to smell so good? He’d caught a hint of her perfume despite the grill smoke. Honeysuckle again.

  “I forgot the butter and sour cream. I’ll be right back.” Flash slid off the wooden bench and jogged around the garage, dashing up the stairs like he was running for cover. He needed a moment to get his head on straight.

  He couldn’t get involved with Sam. He was living a lie, and she deserved better. He was living a lie, and getting too close could be dangerous for her and her daughter. But he wanted her. Bad. And the way she was with her daughter, the loving, gentle nature she had, was something he’d never experienced, which just made him want her even more.

  It was perverse human nature, wanting something he couldn’t have. He could control this.

  He grabbed up the sour cream and the tub of margarine and returned to the impromptu picnic at a slower pace.

  “Joy!” Sam’s voice was high-pitched with a note in it he’d never heard before. He broke into a jog.

  Panic was written all over her features as she stood over her daughter. Joy’s face was mottled and red, her mouth wide open in a soundless scream. She clutched the neck of her pink and white shirt.

  Flash dropped the containers. Sour cream splattered across the concrete and over his feet as the plastic tub hit bottom first and exploded. He broke into a run. His foot hit the butter bowl and it spun across the concrete like a Frisbee.

  Flash jerked Joy to a standing position on the seat, supporting her with his arm, and with the heel of his hand, struck her between her shoulder blades. She felt so fragile, so tiny, if he hurt her—His heart hammered in his ears. He looped his arm around her and, bunching his fist, pushed up against her diaphragm, once, then twice.

  A small disk-shaped piece of hot dog popped out of her mouth onto the table and she gasped in air, then started coughing.

  “Jesus!” He sucked in a breath. He eased the child down on the seat and knelt to brush her pale blonde hair back from her face. The deep red color infusing her cheeks eased a bit, but she still gasped for air.

  Sam sat down next to her, her movements jerky and uncoordinated. Tears streamed down her face. She shook as though electricity danced along her skin. She put her arms around Joy and rested her cheek against her hair.

  “Mommy?”

  Flash caught his breath. Hearing Joy speak was like manna from heaven.

  Sam offered him a shaky smile despite the tears that streamed down her cheeks. “I’m here, baby. You’re okay.”

  “He squeezed me really hard.” Joy’s voice sounded a bit froggy.

  “Yes, he did. He squeezed that piece of hot dog right out so you could breathe.”

  Joy leaned forward to put her arms around Flash’s neck, and she clung to him. Not knowing what else to do, he rose and tucked a forearm under her bottom to hold her close. His hand shook as he rubbed her small back. Jesus, what if he’d really squeezed her too hard? “Maybe we should go to the ER and have her checked out.”

  “That would be good.” Sam reached for a paper towel to wipe her face. She pressed close against him and buried her face against his chest. Her voice was hoarse and muffled. “Thank you, Thank God for you.” Her shoulders shook.

  It was the most natural thing in the w
orld for him to put his arm around her and hold her.

  He felt the pressure of her body all the way down his side. A knot the size of a softball lodged in his throat. His voice husky, he murmured, “We’re okay. We’re all okay.”

  Will glared through the binoculars as rage pulsed through his veins and shot heat into his face. He’d kill that son of a bitch for touching her, for touching them. And he’d kill her for letting him. She was his wife. His wife. And Joy was his kid. No, glorified security guard was going to come in and take what was his. The guy transferred Joy to Sam’s arms and started piling food on a platter and disappeared around the garage.

  Sam wandered toward the house carrying Joy. The guy jogged around the garage, paused to do something to the grill, then ran toward the house. A few seconds later the car pulled out of the drive and away.

  One minute they’d been getting ready to eat and the next they got up and left. Something must have happened.

  Now that the guy had the garage wired with alarms, Will couldn’t approach the building without setting something off or being videoed. Damn shame. He’d discovered how to jimmy the downstairs garage door lock and had often sat up in the apartment in comfort and watched Sam and Joy. Sam had been a good little wife, keeping to herself, taking care of Joy and that fucking busybody Ellen. Now that the old bitch was dead, he’d planned to edge right back into Sam’s life.

  And now this fucker had come along. But not for long. He’d burn him out if he had to.

  CHAPTER 20

  Flash fidgeted in the hard plastic chair, trying to get comfortable. He’d thrown on a shirt and slid his feet into deck shoes, but the smell of grill smoke still clung to him. His knee bobbed in a nervous jig, and he stretched his leg out to stop it.

  He glanced at his watch again. Five minutes later than the last time he’d checked. Sam and Joy had disappeared behind the emergency room doors at least an hour ago.

  A nurse came to the double doors leading back into the examining rooms and called a name. A man with his hand wrapped in a bloody towel rose and hustled to her.