Awaken to Danger (9 page)

His part-time job at a restaurant then had almost turned deadly when the boy's boss had tried to use

Chris as cash mule for drug money.

Damn, hadn't the Price family been through enough?

"Hey, Mom?" Chris cupped her elbow. "How about we go inside and I'll dig up some of that chocolate

peanut butter and marshmallow ice cream you've been craving?"

Rena straightened from the car, her gaze shifting from Carson to her daughter and back again with too

much perception for his comfort level. Rena tucked her hand in the crook of her lanky son's elbow. "That

sounds wonderful, Chris. Then Scorch can finish, uh,
checking
on Nikki."

Nikki shifted from foot to foot, fidgeting in a way he recognized as her need to run. He completely

sympathized, which steeled his resolve to make this right between them.

Carson tapped the earphones dangling around her neck, soft strains of something filtering through but

unidentifiable. "What's playing?"

A smile teased at her full lips, no gloss needed. She had a shine all her own. "Want to guess?"

"Lady, I couldn't figure you out if I had a million guesses."

"Thanks, I think." She reached down to the CD player clipped to her Lycra running pants and turned off

the music. "My secret shame—I'm a big band, WWII music addict. Ragtime, too. Anything over sixty

years old, and I'm there."

"God, you're full of surprises." How odd to realize he didn't know her any better than she knew him. He

thought he'd been the one with all the secrets.

"That's me, unpredictable as ever, although I have to confess that these days I'm in the mood for a boring

life."

The past few days had to have been scary as hell for her. Carson cupped her elbow, which seemed

surprisingly frail even through the thick cotton of her pullover and a body he knew to be toned from

running, workouts and even her membership on a local rec-league soccer team. Thank heaven for those

honed quick reflexes. Still, she had to be sore, bruised maybe.

He searched for signs of scrapes but found nothing visible. "Are you okay? You look tired."

She scrunched her elegant nose. "Thanks."

"Are you feeling any aftereffects from the fall? You didn't actually go into work today, did you?"

"I wish. But no work for me today. The principal thinks it's best I take a couple of weeks off."

"What the f—" He stopped short, biting back the word along with his anger at the injustice before

shoving it all aside to focus on her. "I'm so damn sorry."

"Me, too. The principal was hanging tough until word leaked that DNA tests of the skin under Gary's

fingernails matched mine, which of course still doesn't mean a thing since I was obviously there with him."

His jaw flexed with tension or—more unsettling—jealousy? "Having your life on hold must be hell."

"They're paying me, so I shouldn't complain, but my students..." She shook her head, ponytail swishing

from the back of her Atlanta Braves ball cap. "I wanted to be there with them when they present at the

regional history fair."

"The sarcophagus."

"At least we got to finish the display and the reports before my surprise vacation." She nodded toward

the open garage door full of gardening supplies. "I'm keeping busy around here in the meantime. I figure I

can sabotage most of Mom's gorgeous landscaping by the end of the week."

The perfect excuse to hang around here longer and launch his plan to resurrect their unlikely friendship.

"Want some help? For your dad, of course." He winked.

Snorting, she rolled her eyes. "You're picking on me, aren't you?"

"More than a little."

"I think I lost my sense of humor along with a few hours of my life." She scooped a second sweatshirt off

the hood of her truck and tugged it over her head on her way to the garage. She could pull on five layers

and his mind's eye would see the beauty underneath, his hands itching to tunnel inside for a second

sampling.

"About my dad—" she sidestepped a table saw on her way to the wheelbarrow "—I had to tell him

what's going on before the news filtered over there."

He walked up alongside her in the garage, the scent of motor oil arousing as hell when mixed with a hint

of Nikki's soap. "That must have been tough."

"Totally sucked." She passed him a rake. "I was so proud of myself for being independent, and yet, here

I am."

She emptied the wheelbarrow, tossing two bags of mulch on the cement floor and grabbing the handles

to roll it outside. Empty oak branches swayed overhead along with evergreens. She'd run a couple of

miles and now planned to cool down with yard work? This woman really did need a friend's support

more than maybe even she knew.

"Independence doesn't mean stupidity." He scraped the rake over the yard, gathering a growing tidal

wave of dead pine needles. "It's good, normal and damned lucky to have family you can count on who

know they can count on you."

"What about your family?" She knelt to scoop up the growing pile of pine straw with her hands. "You

mentioned a sister."

"My sister's married, lives with her husband in Ireland."

"Ireland? Wow, you don't hear that one all that often."

He rubbed his thumb against two fingers in the universal "money" symbol.

"Ah, lucky for them."

He shrugged, raking faster. The Prices seemed a helluva lot richer to him with their overflowing home and

working class values.

She stared up as she rose to take the handles again. "The whole 'money doesn't buy happiness' notion?

Hmmm... maybe not, but it sure pays the bills." She dumped the full wheelbarrow by the curb and rolled

back to his next pile of straw. "What about the rest of your family?"

"Well, they don't have any problems meeting their bills."

"You have that look to you."

"That look?" He peered over his aviator glasses, liking the
look
of her so much it was tough to process

her words.

"Prep school education. A far cry from my parents' garage jam-packed full of yard gear, greasy tools and

workout weights."

Her implied censure gave him pause. He'd always known she had a crush on him. He knew he had his

faults—big ass faults—but since she didn't know about his alcoholism, he'd never stopped to consider

there might be other things she disapproved of about his way of life. That tweaked more than it should

have. "I think you're insulting me."

"No. Only commenting on our obvious differences. Just because I feel you did a really scumbag thing a

few months ago doesn't mean I believe you're an actual scumbag."

"Thanks." Sort of.

"But while we're on the subject of that really scumbag thing you did for which you have finally apologized

but never explained..." She dumped another load of pine straw, her face averted a little too conveniently

to be coincidence.

"Noticed that, did you?" He leaned on the rake, taking in the overstiff brace of her shoulders and wanting

to kick his own ass.

"Tough not to notice." She slumped back against the tree, hands behind her. "So why did you walk out

the door and never bother to call? Or better yet, why did you invite me through your door in the first

place?"

And into his bed. That much, at least, he remembered along with the feel of her bare chest against his as

they'd tumbled onto the mattress. He'd just lost most of the parts between bed and waking up. The good

parts, stolen by a drunken blackout. Finding Nikki naked next to him in the morning and knowing he'd

broken her trust, her father's trust and his own code of honor made him realize he'd bottomed out.

He'd rolled his sorry, hungover butt off the mattress and found an Alcoholics Anonymous chapter. A.A.

meetings had saved his life. Slowly, he was regaining his self-respect.

One day at a time. Never take it for granted.

"Why did I go to bed with you?" The truth wouldn't hurt any worse. He flattened a hand to the tree

beside her head and let what he was thinking and feeling show for the first time in...he couldn't remember

when. "Because I really wanted to be there, for a long time, almost from the first time I saw you. You

were legal, but damn, you were young. And on that day, I was truly too much of a scumbag to stay away

—"

"Stop." She clapped a hand to his mouth.

"Stop?" Speaking felt too much like kissing her hand, which messed with his head more than any drink.

"I've changed my mind." Her hand trembled. "I don't want to hear this tonight. I want to rake leaves and

talk like we used to." Her hand fell away.

Her soft touch lingered, a simple caress when they'd shared far more overtly sexual touches and still he

went stone hard, wanting her so much his teeth hurt. "Before you realized I'm a scumbag?"

"Yeah."

Wasn't that what he'd wanted as well in coming here tonight? So go. Leave. "Do you think you can really

forget what I did that night?"

"I can forget for an evening."

Less than he'd hoped for but more than he deserved. "Fair enough."

Since she didn't move away he let himself keep staring into her eyes. What could happen outside in her

parents' front yard while traffic inched past? Branches rustled overhead raining more pine straw around

them, some catching in her hair. He lifted his hand and still she didn't move away, apparently as caught in

this insanity as he was. He swept his fingers over her head. Silky strands. So damn soft that before he

knew it he'd cupped the base of her skull.

Her pupils went wide, her gray eyes stormier still until he could have sworn the sun was sinking faster. So

easily he could urge her closer. Or step forward. Or hell, just lean and taste her because it killed him,

absolutely freaking killed him, that he only had spotty recollections of what happened between them that

night.

He would give anything to have at least the memory of those lost hours. Although he suspected

remembering would torment him even more.

The front door blasted open a second ahead of her brother Chris loping through onto the porch. "Mom

sent me out to ask if Carson would like to stay for supper?"

A mom probably smart enough to realize things needed breaking up out front before he snapped the thin

thread of Nikki's returning trust.

Carson backed away, shoving his hands in his pockets. He didn't deserve that trust, but he would be

damned if he would abuse it again. As much as he wanted to climb those steps and hang out with this

awesomely normal family and listen to Nikki's even more amazing laugh, he knew better now. He'd made

a step in reclaiming their friendship, but would need to tread warily to resist stealing more.

"Thanks, but I need to get back to the squadron."

She really needed to get back to work, but there were no new breaks in the investigation.

Nostalgia and longing mellowing her, Nikki stared down the empty corridor at the high school, only the

rumblings of Saturday in-school suspension swelling from the lunchroom. At least she still had her tutoring

stints here with older students until she resumed her junior high position. She glanced at her Minnie

Mouse wristwatch she'd bought on a lark because she thought it would charm her cranky fourth period

class.

Ten minutes early. Good. That would give her time to set up in the library.

Her footsteps echoed down the hall as she passed a poster announcing an FCA meeting. Good luck

banners stretched for the basketball team along with a sign for the drama department's upcoming

production of
The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.

She ached to teach her students, to recapture the rash of that moment when youthful eyes lit with

enthusiasm over learning something new. She even loved the challenge of breaking through with the surly

ones. Junior high was such a pivotal time, building foundations and confidence to carry into this high

school world with temptations and dangers beyond any she'd seen just a few short years ago when she'd

graduated.

And the world beyond was definitely scarier than she'd ever imagined.

Who'd have thought she would yearn for lesson plans? Or even a tour of bus duty? She would sacrifice

almost anything for a stack of ungraded papers to take her mind off what happened in the yard with

Carson. Had she really almost kissed him again? And why was he working so hard for her forgiveness

now?

Nikki rounded the corner into the library where she would meet up with Billy Wade Watkins. The kid

didn't seem particularly interested in learning, but he preferred school to home. A start. Hopefully he

would realize that education was a means to a better life. Not that social services had been able to prove

squat. He'd been removed and returned to his alcoholic parents twice over the years. She'd even tried to

work some magic for the kid through the base since his father was retired military, but no luck.

She scanned rows of books lining the walls, more partitioning aisles and study stations until she spied the

top of a masculine head in a computer booth, a dark-haired male like Billy Wade, apparently making use

of the free Internet time. She rounded a large circular table on her way to the cubicle. Feet came into