The Devil's Elixir

“San Diego.” I hesitated, then added, “Something’s come up. I need to be there.”

“Anything I should be worried about?”

“No.” I was hating the lie, even though it was more of a lie of omission—not that anyone ever bought that line, least of all me right now. But I couldn’t tell her, not now, not over a car speakerphone.

“But it’s enough to have you jumping on a plane at the drop of a hat?”

I hesitated again, feeling too uncomfortable with the lie. I just had to cut the call short. “It’s nothing serious. Look, I’m at the airport, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you from there, okay?”

She went silent for a moment, then said, “Sure. Okay. Just—Sean?”

She didn’t have to say it. The worry was coming through loud and clear. She always said it, even after all the time we’d spent together and all the close shaves we’d been through.

“I know,” I told her.

“Call me.”

“I will.”

I hung up, feeling awful about having her worry unnecessarily, and feeling a lot worse about not telling her the truth.

The fact was, I didn’t know how I was going to break the news to her. No matter how I prefaced it or framed it or sugarcoated it, it was going to hurt.

We’d tried, and failed, to have a baby for a couple of years. Who really knows why that happens. The doctors will run all kinds of tests and explain why they think it’s happening, but ultimately, I think it was just our bad luck. As far as the specialists were concerned, the likely cause lay with Tess’s age and her being on the pill for so many years, but whatever it was, and despite trying the very best IVF treatments on offer, it just wouldn’t happen for us. The grueling process had turned into a drawn-out ordeal, with each failed attempt causing more emotional trauma. Tess, in particular, had grown more and more depressed with feelings of inadequacy, something that seemed insane to me—she was the most capable and giving woman I’d ever met. But she knew how much I had wanted to be a dad myself, and not just a stepdad to Kim, and although I’d done my best to play down the disappointment I felt deep down and no matter what I said, I guess I just hadn’t been able to hide it convincingly enough. She started finding it harder and harder to be around me and ended up flying off to Jordan, using the excuse that she needed to do some research for a Templar novel she was prepping. It was only recently, and by fluke—a near-death one, at that, after Tess had been kidnapped by some whackjob Iranian operative while she was in Petra—that we’d gotten back together again.

And now this.

It was definitely going to hurt.

It was also the kind of wedge that could drive a couple apart, and that was a prospect I was desperate to avoid. I mean, Tess was my life. But I knew that the sudden reemergence of an ex-girlfriend with my young child in tow would be, at best, a source of recurrent friction and, at worst, a complication that could wreck us. It wouldn’t help that Michelle Martinez was smart, funny, seriously hot, and—the deal breaker—someone I’d never mentioned to Tess. I’d blanked out that whole episode of my life. And no matter how attractive Tess was herself—which she was, in spades, the word luminous springing to mind whenever I try to describe her—and despite the fact that I was nuts about her and that she knew it, I had a strong feeling she’d inevitably feel threatened by my blast from the past. Anyone would. I get that. Hell, I would, too, no question. And, again, I’d probably end up having a hard time convincing her that she had nothing to worry about. Which she didn’t. Michelle had been a serious flame for me, but Tess, without a doubt, was the full bonfire.

Definitely not a conversation I was looking forward to, though it was already playing itself out in my mind. And as I drove into the parking lot worrying about Tess, far darker thoughts intruded and took center stage again, thoughts of Michelle and a little boy I’d never met and the dangers lurking around them.

I was starting to have a sinking feeling that maybe I should have grabbed a jet.

5

SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA

As the door swung open, my heart froze.

Not in a bad way. It froze in an oh-my-god, paralyzed-from-sensory-overload kind of way. The good kind of sensory overload.

She still had it. The smooth, honey-hued skin. The delicate dusting of freckles across her thin nose and sculpted cheeks. The dazzling blue eyes, windows into the cauldron of intelligence and mischief within. The body, curvy and taut, that could make Hugh Hefner’s head spin. It was all just as I remembered it.

But that wasn’t what froze my heart.

What did it was the four-year-old boy standing quietly by her side, holding onto her hand tightly and staring up at me.

The sight of him made me forget to breathe.

When Michelle had said that Alex was four, I hadn’t quite realized just how tiny a four-year-old was. How tiny, and how fragile. I just hadn’t been around many kids of that age. I didn’t have any nieces or nephews, Kim was around ten when I first hooked up with Tess, and, aside from Aparo, I wasn’t socially close to any of the people I worked with, some of whom had young kids. Hence the shock and awe rolling through me. And right there and then, standing in that bland and uninspiring hotel hallway, my heart soared as it never had before. I just knew that Alex was mine.

“You gonna just stand there like a burro, or you gonna give me a hug?” Michelle asked.

I dragged my eyes away from Alex and up to hers. Despite the apparent bravado, there was a smoldering fear in her eyes. It was subtle, barely there, and not everyone would have spotted it, but I did. I smiled, took her by the shoulders and pulled her closer, and gave her a kiss, a slightly awkward one that wasn’t quite on the lips but wasn’t on the cheeks either. Her arms slid up and she hugged me, tight, burying her head in the crook of my neck.

I’m not gonna lie to you, and don’t hate me for saying it, but right there and then, it felt great. Awkward, yes—but great.

Then I felt the shivering and any notion of “great” vaporized.

We stood there for a long moment, breathing each other in, a riptide of confusing emotions tugging at us, an unfinished past colliding with a brutal present, standing there in silence, stretching out the enjoyable part of our encounter, knowing the real reason for us being there, together again, would soon take over. Then we pulled back, holding each other’s eyes in a silent commemoration of what we’d once had until Michelle turned and, palms out, game show hostess–like, gestured at her son.

“So . . . this is Alex,” she said, her face a mix of pride, unease, and pain.

I glanced back down at the boy, who was staring at me uncertainly, and something twisted inside me. Alex’s eyes were wide with what I suddenly realized was more than just uncertainty. It was fear. I bent down to say hi to him, but as I did, Alex shrunk back and tucked himself in behind his mother’s thigh, hugging it tightly while burying his head into it.

“No,” he pleaded in a small voice.

Michelle swiveled her head around to him.

“Alex, what’s wrong?”

The kid didn’t say anything. He was still cowering behind her leg, not looking out.

I looked a question at Michelle. She turned and crouched down and pulled Alex out from behind her, but he resisted and screamed, “No,” again.

“Alex, stop it.” Her tone was even, but firm.

“No, Mommy, no,” the boy whimpered.

“Meesh, it’s okay,” I offered.