And there Alex stopped, not wanting to go down this memory lane. It never ended well. It was like watching reruns of the Titanic sinking. Everyone always died, and the day he’d lost his mom was still an unfathomable ache he couldn’t forget and wouldn’t forgive. Maybe Mel hadn’t killed her, but he’d sure never cared what cancer had done to her. How she’d wasted away. How her beautiful body had turned skeletal, and how her honey blonde hair had fallen out in handfuls. How she’d cried herself to sleep some nights, and how lovingly Gramps and Gram had taken care of her until they’d had no choice but to transfer her to a hospice home for the dying.
Sucking in a deep breath, Alex released it on a slow sigh. “What do you want to know?”
“Tell me about Abigail. What’d she look like? Why didn’t her family take care of her when she got sick? What did she do while you were in school during the day? Is she the one who taught you to love books and how to read?”
“Yes,” he admitted quietly. “She taught me to read and how to laugh. Mom and me visited Gramps and Gram quite a bit, you know, because Dad was always deployed—or so he’d said. Gramps built a treehouse up high in the willow outside his guest bedroom. That’s where we’d stay while we were there. Mom was blonde and willowy thin. Her parents both died before she’d met Mel. She used to climb out the window with me. Sometimes we’d just sit in that great big tree and talk and laugh. Old willows are jungles all by themselves.” Alex paused, once more wrapped up inside his mom’s arms, their bare legs dangling happily into thin air. “One summer day, she dragged a wooden chest into my treehouse. Said it was buried treasure, just for me. It was full of books. Used books of adventure, stuff boys liked. She loved to read.” Hell, she loved me.
He cleared his throat. “Every day that summer, we’d hide out in our tree. I was five, maybe six. She started reading “Treasure Island.” By the end of the book, I was reading it to her. We didn’t live with Gramps and Gram all the time, but Mom made sure we visited every summer. Gram kept their guest room ready for us. Mel never came along, always said he was too busy.” The liar. “Which was okay. I think those weeks were the best times of our years together, me and Mom. She’d help Gram with chores, and Gramps was always tinkering with something. I helped him build the treehouse, and he made sure I could access it from the wooden ladder he installed down the side of the house, as well as from the guest room window. He thought of everything. Eventually the guest room became my room. By then…” He took a deep breath and slowly let it go. “Mom was gone.”
Kelsey’s gentle fingers on his wrist pulled him out of the reverie of long-lost times. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. She’s another one I’m looking forward to meeting when it’s my time to pass on. Imagine me, Sara, and Abigail sitting on a cloud in heaven, comparing notes about you. I wonder what secrets they’ll tell me.”
Alex shook his head at the way his wife always focused on the positive side to living and dying. Gramps might have made him a man, but it was Abigail who’d taught him to love, and Kelsey who’d taught him, eventually, to forgive himself. But love or forgive Mel? There was a tough one. Two things Alex didn’t know when or if he’d ever care enough to do.
Rin-n-n-n-n-g! Talk about being saved by the bell. Tugging his cell out of his rear pocket, he caught Mark’s ID on his screen. “Yeah, Stewart.”
“Hey, Boss. Sorry to bother you so late, but wanted you to know there’s been trouble at Reagan. Lucy Shade’s plane blew up. She’s safe and already talking with the press, but—”
“Who’d we assign to guard her?”
“Jameson Tenney. Maddie drove him and Shade to Reagan.”
“Maddie and Jameson? Were they—?”
“Yes, I have reason to believe they were inside the jet when it blew. I’m at the terminal now, but Boss…” Mark choked. “It’s a damned inferno. Airport fire trucks are here. Firemen are all over the place, but they haven’t been able to knock it down yet. Son of a bitch won’t die.”
“What the hell was on that jet?”
“It had just been refueled. Tank was full. Was ready to taxi and had clearance to leave as soon as Shade showed.”
Jet fuel could burn for days without proper fire suppression. But not at Reagan. More than any other airport in the States, the crews at Reagan knew how to deal with disaster.
“I’ll be right there.”
“No, Boss, stay with your family. There’s nothing you can do here. I’ll keep in touch.”
Alex hesitated, something he rarely did. Mark was right. He could handle this. But two TEAM agents had died tonight, one newly hired, the other a damned good Protocol Officer who had no business being on that jet. What the hell had happened?
“I’ll be there. See you in ten,” Alex told Mark, then turned to his wife and said, “I have to go. Sorry.”
Kelsey blinked. “What’s wrong?”
“Jet exploded on the tarmac at Reagan with two of my people allegedly on board. Mark’s already there, but I need to be there, too.”
“Then go. We’re fine. Do what you have to do, Alex. Hurry.”
He nodded, a hard lump stuck in his chest at the merciless whim of Karma. God, she was a bitch. Give a life. Take two? “I’ll call as soon as I know more.”
“I know you will. Be safe, sweetheart.”
“Take care of the people I love best,” he murmured as he dipped his head and kissed her mouth. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
Chapter Eight
Jameson came
