FOR THE CHILDREN Read online

  "I'm positive. I saw them myself at the same time Maggie and Casey spotted them."

  "What are we going to do? Maggie and Casey are going to be clamoring to play with them now."

  Damien turned and stared out the window for a moment before answering. Finally he said slowly, "Then we'll let them. I know Laura Weston and her kids, Todd and Jenny. Laura was born and raised here in Cameron. I'd rather no one know we're here, but the kids have seen us and we won't be able to keep it a secret."

  "I'm not sure it's a good idea to let the girls play with your neighbor's children. What if they tell someone else?" Abby knew Damien could hear the panic in her voice, but she couldn't help herself. After seeing the men watching them at the lake, she didn't want another soul to know where they were.

  "I'll give Laura some story about why you're here. She won't tell anyone."

  "You trust her?" Abby heard her voice rising, but didn't bother to disguise her skepticism.

  "We don't have much choice at this point," Damien answered grimly. "Todd and Jenny have already seen someone in the house. We can't hide inside, because that would just make them more curious. I'll think up some reason why you're here and we'll let Maggie and Casey play with the kids." His mouth a thin line, he added, "After all, it'll just make everything seem more natural to the girls. And natural is what we're after if we want them to talk to me."

  "I can't believe that you're willing to trust our safety to a perfect stranger," she muttered.

  "We don't have any choice, Abby." He reached out his hand and took hers, absently rubbing her knuckles with his thumb. "They already know I'm here and that I'm not alone. And they're not strangers. Laura will be over to say hello, and we have to have some story ready for her. I'll think of some reason why you're here, and some reason she can't tell anyone."

  "Why don't we just leave?" Abby whispered, looking out the windows at the hills and valleys that could hide so many threats.

  "Where do you suggest we go?" Damien squeezed her hand, then let her go as he stood up and went to the window. "We can't go back to your house, that's for damn sure. And we can't go back to my apartment in Las Vegas. You can bet your life they're being watched." He glanced over his shoulder at her. "And you would be betting your life. No, even though Jenny and Todd have seen us, I still think we're safer here than anywhere else. And besides, with any luck the men watching us will be following one of Devlin's deputies to Cedar City."

  "Maggie and Casey need to tell you what they saw, don't they?" Staring down at the hand that still tingled from Damien's touch, she tried to still her instinctive objections. This problem wasn't going to go away, and trying to protect her nieces would only endanger them more.

  "Yes, Abby, they do." Damien's voice was surprisingly gentle. "And eventually they will." He moved back over to the table and took her hand again. "It'll be all right," he said softly. "They'll be fine. Nobody's going to get hurt."

  As Abby clung to his hand, she realized with astonishment that she believed him. More than that, she trusted him to take care of Maggie and Casey. He would never hurt them or endanger them. As much as it pained him to be around children, Abby knew that be would guard them with his life.

  "I believe you," she said, and her wariness must have been plain in her voice because Damien's face softened as he watched her.

  "Was that so difficult?" be said, the corners of his mouth turning up in a slight smile.

  Staring at him, unable to believe what her heart had told her, she finally said baldly, "Yes. When I'm responsible for them, I've never trusted anyone but myself when it came to their safety."

  The smile disappeared from his face, and his eyes glittered as he leaned toward her. "You won't ever regret trusting me with them, Abby. I swear it. They'll be as safe with me as they would with you."

  Involuntarily she glanced toward the loft, where she could hear their voices, then looked back at him. "I'll cut your heart out if you ever hurt them, Damien."

  Pain flashed in his eyes for a moment, then he turned away. "Don't worry, Abby. They'll be safe with me."

  Ashamed of her words, regretting the impulse that had made her blurt them out but unable to call them back, she twisted in her chair and spotted the unfinished room. She said the first thing that came to mind. "What kind of addition are you building?"

  His eyes darkened, and his mouth compressed to a thin line. Turning his head slightly, he stared at the skeleton of a room that was only a few feet away. He stared at it for so long Abby was sure he wasn't going to answer.

  Slowly he turned to look at her, and his eyes were so full of raw pain that she wanted to leap from her seat and wrap her arms around him. She opened her mouth to apologize for asking, but he answered before she could speak.

  "It was going to be a nursery."

  Appalled, she could only stare at him for a frozen moment as the meaning of his words sunk in. "Your wife was pregnant when she died?"

  He gave a small, stiff nod of his head, as if every muscle screamed in protest at the movement.

  "Oh, Damien, I'm so sorry. No wonder you don't…"

  His chair scraped on the floor as he shoved it away from the table and stood up. "Don't, Abby. You have no idea what happened. Just leave it alone." His eyes warned her not to probe as he retreated from her. The length of the kitchen separated them as he turned his back to stare out the window.

  "I'm sorry," she said softly. "What a horrible thing to lose both your wife and your unborn child at the same time."

  He stood stiffly at the window, his back and shoulders silhouetted against the bright sunlight. Abby stood up and moved across the room, putting her arms around his waist and pulling him close. All of his muscles tensed, and she thought for a moment that he would pull away from her. To her surprise, though, he turned and wrapped his arms around her, holding her as though he never wanted to let her go.

  Abby had no idea how long they stood locked together in the sunlight. She was conscious only of the feel of his arms holding her tightly and the beating of his heart, strong and steady against hers. Comfort flowed like a warm river between them as the tension in Damien slowly dissipated.

  Finally he leaned away and smoothed her hair back from her face. "Thank you, Abby," he whispered.

  "I didn't do anything," she answered, unable to take her gaze off his eyes. They had been black with despair earlier. Now she saw life stirring in their depths, something awakening that had nothing to do with death or pain.

  "You did everything." His kiss was meant to be quick and light, she was sure, but the moment their lips touched a lightning bolt of desire arced between them.

  She clung to him, feeling herself being swept away and glorying in it. For a few beats of her heart she forgot about the twins, forgot about the danger that Damien was protecting them from, forgot about everything but the man who held her so tightly.

  Damien broke away abruptly. "Someone's coming." He looked out the window for a moment, then ran to the stairs, sliding his gun out of its shoulder holster in one smooth motion. Abby watched, numb, as he disappeared above her.

  Damien took the stairs two at a time, struggling to replace the lingering passion of Abby's kiss with the cold logic and precise timing he would need to defend her and the twins. Stopping abruptly at the front door when he saw the doorknob turning, he gripped the gun more tightly as he called out, "Who's there?"

  "It's me, Damien. Laura." His neighbor's friendly voice was tinged with impatience, as if she wanted to ask him who else could possibly be at his door. Shoving his gun back into the holster, he pulled on a jacket to cover it before he opened the door.

  "Hi, Laura," he said as the door swung open.

  Without waiting for an invitation, his next-door neighbor stepped into the house. "The kids said you were here." She smiled and handed him a plate of cookies. "It's a good thing I did some baking this morning."

  He looked clown at the plate in his hand and saw that the cookies were his favorite kind. "Thanks, Laura."
<
br />   She waved her hand. "It was nothing. It's good to see you again, Damien." Her smile slowly disappeared as she examined his face. "How are you doing?" she asked softly.

  "I'm fine." He set the plate down on a small table and shoved his hands into his pockets, making a quick decision. Better to tell her now about his visitors than let her think he was trying to hide them. "I'm not here alone."

  Her eyes lit up. "Damien, that's wonderful. It's about time you joined the human race again. I know how you felt about Carol and-"

  "It's not what you think," he interrupted, knowing what she was going to say and not able to bear it. "I have a woman and her two nieces staying here, and it's not a pleasure trip."

  The smile slowly disappeared from her face. "What do you mean?"

  "The woman is trying to protect her nieces and running away from an abusive situation. Please don't tell anyone they're here. If her husband finds out where they are, they could be in serious danger."

  Laura's eyes had widened as she listened to him. "This is an FBI case?"

  "I can't tell you all the details. Please just don't say anything to anyone."

  "You know I won't," she assured him. "And I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions. It's just that I hate to see you like this, coming up here only to torture yourself by working on that damn nursery. I'm glad you have company this time, even if it's only part of your job."

  His chest tightened as he thought about how much more Abby had come to mean to him than being just part of his job. He wasn't sure if the feeling was fear or pleasure.

  Changing the subject, he said, "I saw those urchins of yours in the bushes outside the house. I suppose they told you about the two girls."

  "They said you weren't alone, but that was about all. I'm not sure they realized you had kids here with you." She grinned at him again. "Why don't you send the girls over to play sometime? There's only so much time kids can spend with their siblings before all hell breaks loose. A change of scenery might do them some good."

  "Maybe we'll do that." He looked down at the plate sitting on the counter. "Thanks for the cookies, Laura. I'm sure we'll all enjoy them."

  The woman laughed. "I'm going, Damien. I can take a hint." Her smile disappeared. "And don't worry. I won't breathe a word to anyone about your guests."

  Damien felt his face relax into a genuine smile. "Thanks, Laura. I know you won't."

  Abby waited in the kitchen. "You didn't tell her that the girls would be over to play with her children, did you?" she said the minute he walked into the room.

  Surprised, he set the plate of cookies on the counter and turned to stare at her. "I thought we talked about that. I told you, I know Laura. It's not like I'm letting them go to a stranger's house."

  Abby scowled. "You should have asked me first."

  "I'm sorry, but I thought we had already discussed it." He kept his voice mild.

  "Forget it, then." Abby turned away and fussed with the plate of cookies. "Did your neighbor bring these? That was nice of her."

  "Abby, tell me what's wrong." He reached out for her and gently turned her to face him. "Why are you so upset about me agreeing to let Maggie and Casey go to Laura's house?"

  "I'm not upset," she insisted. "I just thought you should have put her off until I met her."

  "I'm sorry," he said again, wondering what was wrong.

  She turned to head up the stairs, but he reached out and stopped her. "What's going on, Abby? And don't give me any more of that bull about discussing it with me first."

  For what seemed like a long time she stood rigid in his grasp, staring at something on his chest. Finally she looked up at him. Her eyes were huge and full of remembered pain. "I'm sorry, Damien," she whispered. "You're right. It does make sense to let Maggie and Casey play with your neighbor's children, and it was stupid of me to get upset."

  "Then why did you?"

  Hesitation, fear and pain flitted across her face in the split second before she answered him. He only had time to wonder uneasily why he was able to read her so readily when her face softened and she said, "I know I overreact sometimes. I'll try to be more reasonable."

  She turned to continue up the stairs, but he slid his hand down her arm and took her hand. "Tell me, Abby. What's wrong?"

  Slowly she turned to face him, and now there was nothing but sadness on her face. "It's unfortunately a too common story, Damien, and really not a big deal. My family was what is politely called dysfunctional. My mother was an alcoholic, and Janna and I were pretty much on our own. Since I was the oldest, I was responsible for her."

  She tried to smile. "Alcoholics aren't known for their sense of responsibility. Janna almost drowned once when she was seven and I was ten, and I felt like it was my fault That's why she's so afraid of water, and I guess that's why I take my responsibilities so seriously. Sometimes it feels like I've been responsible and in control my whole life. I don't have any excuse for bringing it up now besides the fact that I'm worried about Maggie and Casey. I didn't stop to think."

  "This isn't about Maggie or Casey," he said, drawing her back into the kitchen. He followed her glance up the stairs and said, "They're fine. You can hear them playing in their room. I don't want to talk about the twins, Abby. I want to talk about you."

  "There's nothing to talk about."

  "I think there is." He led her into the living room and pulled her down next to him on the couch. "I understand better now why you're so protective of the twins. And so vigilant when they're near water."

  "No, that's not the point." She shook her head. "I'm not afraid that you would beat them or terrorize them. I know you better than that. But the bottom line is that Maggie and Casey are just an assignment for you. They're everything that's important to me."

  He held her hand, staring unseeing at her slender, delicate fingers. Images of the twins danced in front of his eyes, pictures of Casey grinning in triumph as she swam a few strokes, of the three of them setting bear traps, of the simple trust in Maggie's eyes when she looked at him.

  "They're a lot more than just an assignment for me, and I think you know that." He held Abby's hand more tightly, forcing himself to face the truth, to acknowledge that he cared about the two girls. "I would die myself before I let anyone hurt either of them."

  "Then why do you cringe when one of them talks to you? Why do you go out of your way to avoid them?" she asked, gripping his hand.

  Tell her, he ordered himself. Tell her the whole story right now.

  But the words wouldn't come, and he stood up abruptly and walked to the window.

  Face it. You're a coward.

  The harsh words echoed inside his brain, and he silently acknowledged their truth. He couldn't tell Abby what had really happened. He'd never told anyone the whole truth. He wouldn't be able to bear the condemnation he'd see on their faces and the silent pity that would fill their eyes.

  "Leave it alone, Abby. You don't want to know."

  "I do, Damien." She stood up and began walking toward him. "I want to know why you carry around so much pain. No one should have to carry a burden like that."

  "It's not nearly heavy enough," he said harshly, brushing past her and heading for the stairs. "I'm going to make sure everything is secure outside. You and the girls stay inside until I'm finished."

  As he walked up the stairs and toward the front door, he could feel Abby's gaze on his back. Not until he was outside did he take a deep breath. He had come too close in there. In another moment he would have been spilling his guts, telling her everything that happened and silently begging for absolution.

  And she would have given it. Abby wouldn't blame him for the deaths of his son and his wife. He knew that suddenly with a flash of insight. What's more, she would try to make him believe it, too.

  He wanted, more than anything, to believe her. But he knew, it was impossible.

  * * *

  Chapter 12

  «^»

  Damien was up the next morning long before dawn, unable t
o bear the tension. Abby slept on the other side of the wall, and every time she sighed, every time she turned in her sleep, a hot arrow of need stabbed at him. So he'd left the couch, gotten far enough away from Abby that he couldn't feel her presence. Now he paced in the kitchen, watching the sun rise over the mountains and battling the darker memories that tried to claim his soul.

  He had to get away, if only for a few hours. He had to get out of this house, away from the constant reminders of his failure. The rodeo in Cameron would be in full swing today, he knew. It was the Fourth of July. The four of them could get lost in the crowds, be just another anonymous family.

  The thought tore at him, but he pushed the pain away. They'd go to the rodeo, and he could forget for several hours.

  A few hours later Damien maneuvered his car into a parking lot that was already three-quarters full. Both Casey and Maggie were straining against their car seats, trying to look out the window. Even Abby was smiling.

  "I see why you wanted to come here," she murmured.

  He shot her a glance. "What do you mean?"

  "It's the old 'hide in plain sight' routine. There are so many people here that we're lost in the crowd."

  "That's the idea," Damien said grimly. He had his own ghosts of rodeos past to deal with, but Abby didn't have to know that. Couldn't know that.

  "Can we ride on that big round thing that goes up in the air?" Casey was so excited that her voice almost squeaked.

  He looked out the window. "That's the Ferns wheel."

  "Can we ride in one of those little chairs?"

  "Have you ever ridden on a Ferris wheel before?" he asked.

  "Uh-uh. But it looks like fun."

  "If you want to ride the Ferris wheel, then we will," he promised as he pulled into a parking place. "Everybody ready for the rodeo?" He struggled to inject some enthusiasm into his voice.

  "Yes! Yes!" the girls shouted.

  "They have pretty colored horses here that you can ride," Maggie said, her hazel eyes shining. "I saw them when we drove in."