wanted to help him?
Xu said, “I want to see you. Take off those sunglasses and that ball cap now or I’ll drill you between the eyes.”
“Okey-dokey, fair enough, but ready yourself. You’re in for a big whopper surprise.”
The ball cap and the sunglasses came off. Xu stared, so stunned that for a moment he didn’t feel the pain in his arm.
“Got you, didn’t I?”
Xu could only nod.
“Fact is, I mean, who can you trust in this sad world?”
“You,” he said. “Maybe I can trust you. You’re as bad as I am.”
“No, you’re wrong about that. I’m worse.”
Sean was teaching Cal and Gage how to play
She caught herself thinking that kids were so different now, an observation probably made by every single generation in man’s long timeline. She smiled to herself. Time always passed, and everything always changed. No kid today could imagine the world without a small device called a cell phone that would soon do everything but make them Kool-Aid. And now you could ask your phone a question and it would answer. But people, she thought, people themselves never changed.
Cal shouted, “I got you, Gage. I’ve moved up two ranks. I’m flying! I’m a Major Monk now.”
Sherlock felt bone tired, and was trying not to show it, but she didn’t mind, because she’d succeeded in fooling Sean. She’d hidden her bandage well enough—thank God for all her curly hair—and he’d accepted her being gone Tuesday night, inquiring only if Emma had wondered why he hadn’t come to see her. Sherlock had lied to him cleanly. “Of course Emma wanted to know where you were, Sean. I told her you’d promised yourself to your grandparents and you’d never break a promise.”
“You didn’t tell her I went to see
“Nope.”
“She doesn’t know Grandpa and I ate two buckets of kettle corn, does she? I don’t want her to think I’m a pig.”
“Nope.”
Sean looked thoughtful, an identical expression to his father’s. “There’s so much to do, Mama. Sometimes I just don’t know.”
His grandmother had walked in then with a freshly baked plate of chocolate-chip cookies, and Sherlock forgot to ask him what he just didn’t know.
She sensed Dillon behind her and heard his deep voice. “Here, sweetheart.” He leaned down, kissed her mouth, and handed her a cup of hot tea. “Drink it down. Then I’m thinking it’s time for you to hang it up for the night.”
“But—”
“Dr. Kardak said you’d give me grief and I was going to have to be the enforcer. You’ve done well, stayed nice and quiet all afternoon and evening. Now it’s time to let your brain and your body knit themselves back together while you have pleasant dreams.” He paused for a moment. “I’m thinking I have some good ideas on how to help you make that happen.”
She took a sip of tea, looked up at him. “You’re going to read me a bedtime story?”
“I could, but I hadn’t planned to.”
“I wonder what you could possibly have in mind?”
He smiled at her. “You finish your tea and we’ll see. Molly called, said Ramsey misses you since you were a civilizing influence on all those males around him. She’ll be here with Emma soon to pick up Gage and Cal. Ah, if you like, I can remove Sean before Emma comes in.”
“I’ll watch Cal and Gage,” Evelyn Sherlock said. “I’ve got the power as long as I’ve got these chocolate-chip cookies.”
Sherlock said, “Maybe it’d be good to take Sean upstairs, otherwise he’ll be so excited about seeing Emma it’ll be difficult to get him to bed.”
Half an hour later, Sherlock was lying in bed, the pill Dillon fed her quashing the remnants of pain in her head.
Now, what else did her husband have in mind, as if she couldn’t guess? She heard him singing a country- western tune in the bathroom, a song James Quinlan, a fellow agent and musician, had written about a man who loved wild broncos, wilder women, and black gold. When he came into the bedroom a few minutes later, he was wearing only pajama bottoms, slung low on his hips.
Sherlock thought she’d swallow her tongue. “Don’t move, please.”
He obligingly stood still, arms at his sides, backlit in the bathroom doorway, smiling at her. “I missed you scrubbing me down.”
“Me, too.” It was true. As a shower mate, Dillon was a keeper.
“How’s your head?”
“What head?”
He was grinning when he came to stand over her. “Life’s been a tangle, hasn’t it? I say we take a small break from the madness. What do you think?”
It was amazing how good she felt in that moment. This was probably the best idea she’d heard in a very long time.
“You’ve got a burn just there.” Harry lightly touched his fingertip to a red spot on Eve’s neck.
She never looked away from him. “I could put some more burn cream on it, or maybe you could kiss it and make it well.”
“Not a good idea,” he said, and took a step back from her.
Harry, Eve, and Griffin had been treated by the EMTs at the Fairmont, had been pronounced good to go, had been debriefed at the Federal Building, and had showered and cleaned up at Harry’s house before he’d brought her back to her condo.
Eve felt punch-drunk, both hyped and exhausted. The weird thing was, this potent mix had her seeing Special Agent Harry Christoff with new eyes. The new eyes really liked what they saw.
Harry knuckled his own eyes. “I keep seeing Xu coming into the suite, and then I hear Griffin yell for him to get his hands in the air. Then everything happens so fast, all at the same time—the explosion of bright light and that god-awful noise, and fire everywhere.
