The Chance (Thunder Point #4)(19)

But for Laine, there was a red flag. Having children, having a child, being a parent—even a recent or part-time parent—would seem to be one of the most obvious things to mention, maybe right after what you did for a living. How had they spent almost four hours together without that subject coming up? Concealment? Because hiding information was one of the first signs something was wrong.

Is that so, Agent Carrington? she chided herself. But wait, wasn’t her situation a matter of public safety? National security? Almost?

But she said to Gina, “It seems to have worked out, then.”

“Don’t let this get under your skin, Laine. I’m a very happy woman. Mac seems to respect Eric. And Mac isn’t easy. I’m sure when you bring this up to Eric, he’ll give you the whole story. He’s a very nice guy. Now.”

“He wasn’t then?”

“I don’t know, that’s a tough one. He was nice to me, but he was such a typical nineteen-year-old—shiftless, irresponsible, egocentric. And I was a completely typical teenage girl—love was more important than common sense. It’s a terrible trap—but I do believe we’ve outgrown those tendencies. Look, we all have baggage. Don’t we?”

“Sure,” she said. However, Laine believed she could keep the heaviest of her baggage to herself for a long time. And it wasn’t all about her work with the FBI. “But you know what? The best way to take care of this is to take care of this.” She stood up. “What do I owe you for the cocoa?”

“On the house. Don’t draw blood. I forgave him a long time ago and I think he’s forgiven me for keeping Ashley to myself.”

“I won’t hurt him,” she said with a weak smile. Then she got out of the diner before she thought about it any further.

She jogged down the block, hood up and covering her head, and went straight for the station. There were a couple of cars at the pumps being taken care of by a teenager. Inside the garage, she could see someone under the hood of a car. He had long legs she recognized, although now he was wearing a coverall of some kind.

“Eric?”

He peeked out. First he smiled, then he frowned in concern. “Laine, you’re all wet....”

She stepped toward him. “I just met Ashley in the diner. You didn’t mention her.”

He grabbed a rag and wiped his hands. “I meant to, but we were talking about other things.” He grinned at her. “Obviously I can’t keep her a secret. The hair, the eyes—she’s either a clone or mine. Isn’t she beautiful?”

Laine nodded but felt numb.

“She’s beautiful inside, too. Just an awesome kid. Gina and her mother really worked their magic raising her.”

“It makes me wonder, though, what other important things you might be waiting to tell me. Because I like the really major stuff up front. I don’t want to get involved and then find out there are issues like having a family that wasn’t even mentioned.”

Eric frowned as if in thought. He was quiet for a moment. Then he took a deep breath and spoke. “There’s no privacy for talking here, Laine. Go home, get dried off. I’ll wash my hands and come over. I’ll tell you the circumstances, you’ll ask me anything on your mind. We’ll get it all on the table. Before tonight.”

“Before tonight?” she asked, already disappointed.

“I don’t want you to waste your time. I like you. I want you to like me. But I’m not perfect by a stretch. So let’s do it.” He lifted one of those copper brows. “How’s that sound?”

It sounded like bad news was coming. But it had to be done.

“Don’t make me wait too long,” she said. Then she turned and jogged out of the garage and down the hill to her house.

* * *

Laine threw on a warm, dry sweat suit and put her chicken on to stew with a halved onion and the end of the celery stalks in the water. It was one o’clock. She put the ingredients for the Parmesan breadsticks on the counter—that would be her next project. She was determined to make her chicken and dumplings whether her encore date happened or not.

And then there was a knock at the door.

She opened it and there he stood in that blue jacket and pants. She took a breath. “I don’t mean to be like this—so suspicious of everything. Certainly a beautiful, sweet girl like Ashley is nothing to be—”

He came inside, took her elbow in a firm grip and said, “Come on, Laine. Let’s talk.” He directed her to the sofa. They sat there, facing each other. “Ashley’s one of the best things that ever happened to me. She’s letting me help her look at colleges. I shouldn’t even have that privilege—not only am I not educated, but Gina and Mac have been her parents, not me. I didn’t know about Ashley. Well, I wondered...”

“Huh?” she asked.

“I dropped out of high school at sixteen. I thought I had the world by the balls because I was making nine dollars an hour changing oil and tuning up engines. And girls—I had girls. And boy,” he said with a rueful laugh, “I thought I had all the moves, too. I thought I was so slick—God’s gift. And I was just a stupid horny kid. And Gina—she was the prettiest girl. All of fifteen, but I had no brain and it didn’t even register that she was too young. We dated, if you can call it that—it was a few fast-food meals and movies and a lot of making out. And then she said she thought she might be pregnant and I ran like my pants were on fire. I was nineteen and she was fifteen—I almost heard the cell door slam behind me. I headed out of town and didn’t look back. I found work in Idaho—more mechanics. And I found my kind of buds—the kind that worked by day and drank and partied and did some recreational drugs at night. We spent our money partying and I thought I had life figured out until I saw the flashing lights in the rearview mirror. My new buddies stopped for a case of beer and I was driving while they bought the beer because I was nineteen and they were twenty-one.”