Luke wrapped his arm around Keira’s shoulders. “You must have been—”
“Projecting.” Everyone said at the same time.
Mitch rubbed his face with both hands. “Jesus fucking Christ.”
“Teague?” Alyssa said. “I think I’ve hit my cursing limit. How about a dopamine hit?”
Teague came over and took the baby from her arms. “It’s a tough job, sugar, but I’ll never step back from a strike straight down the middle. You’ll get that hit right after we talk to Halina.”
Teague used his free arm to pull Alyssa up and into him, kissing her.
“You can’t do that shit,” Mitch said. “He’s only a couple weeks old.”
Alyssa grinned as she took Teague’s hand and followed him through the office doors. “You’re reading the old baby books. And I’m a doctor. I cleared myself.”
“At least leave Brady with me,” he called after them. “You’re going to warp the kid.”
Teague’s laugh drifted clearly to Mitch. “Wait ’til you’re a parent, dude. You’ll get it whenever and wherever you can. Besides, Brady’s got to be a little warped to fit in with this crowd.”
Jessica stood and followed Teague and Alyssa into the office, where Mitch could already hear Quaid talking about physics and energy waves and probabilities that made Mitch’s head swim.
He leaned toward the door. “Lys.”
Alyssa turned and met Mitch’s gaze. All he had to do was dart a look at Jessica, then Quaid and meet her gaze again, and he knew she understood he was asking her to buffer Halina from them.
She nodded and before Teague closed the door, Mitch saw Alyssa position herself on the sofa beside Halina.
Mitch leaned against the kitchen counter, an apple in one hand, a knife in the other. He sliced off a section and used the knife to put it in his mouth as he stared through the living room and out the picture windows. Of course he saw nothing but the stunning, picturesque scene beyond. But he trusted Kai’s instincts, and the man was pacing like a caged panther. Whatever he was feeling had Keira and Luke on edge too. They both had their holsters at their hips. Cash had started scribbling in the notebook again, but seemed distracted. Agitated.
Mitch sat down next to Cash and leaned his forearms on the table. That’s all he had to do to have the man spilling his guts.
“Look, I’m sorry,” he said, his gaze holding on the paper, gesturing with both hands, his fingers spread wide. “I just . . .” He dug his hands into his hair and rested his head there. “If she’d just told someone about Schaeffer, even if he wasn’t put away, he could have been fired or demoted or something. He wouldn’t have been able to continue that program. Rostov wouldn’t have gone off on that tangent. Zoya—”
He stopped. Heaved a breath.
“It might have happened that way,” Mitch said, letting his mind wind around other scenarios for the purpose of relieving Cash’s pain. But it also opened up a lot of windows Mitch had never considered looking through before. “But think about Schaeffer’s nature, Cash. Do you really think a few lousy uncorroborated charges from some foreign worker would have damaged him that severely? Do you think he would have let a measly immigrant hurt him? He’d have killed her first. Even if she had gotten as far as ratting him out, we both know she would never have lived to see trial. She knew that too.”
Cash lifted his head and glanced at his sister, who sat across the table with so much guilt in her eyes Mitch had to look away. Keira had to live with the knowledge that Rostov had stolen Mateo because he was trying to reproduce her powers through a genetic connection and the knowledge that Cash’s wife had been killed trying to protect their son.
Cash dropped a hand on the table and reached for Keira. She took it in both of hers and lifted it to her mouth for a kiss, eyes closed. Tears slid down her cheeks as Luke massaged her neck beneath her hair.
“And even in the best-case scenario, say Halina had successfully gotten Schaeffer out and the project had been canned. Rostov had already made strides. The seed for his crazy-assed plan of creating paranormal abilities through some genetic connection had already been planted. Without Schaeffer’s threat, Rostov would have been free to do whatever he wanted. There’s no telling what he might have tried. You might not even have your son now.”
“Mitch,” Keira said softly.
“Look, Cash,” Mitch said, “I’m not defending what Halina did. Believe me, she and I have been at each other’s throats about this very subject, and I’m with you two hundred percent. I didn’t lose my wife. And the pain I’ve suffered is nothing compared to yours. But in my own pathetic life, it’s enough to motivate me to see that Schaeffer pays.
“She wants that too. But she’s scared. She’s trying, within her own limited capacity, to help.”
Cash pulled his hand from Keira’s and nodded. “I’ll . . . try to . . . be civil.”
Mitch slapped him on the back, picked up his apple and knife, and rose. His body felt heavy, his chest as dense as granite. He wanted to wind his limbs around Halina, sink into a soft bed, and sleep holding her for . . . days. He wanted to wake up and realize this had all been a nightmare.
Mitch glanced at the room where Halina was getting grilled and sliced another piece of apple, feeling as if his guts were being sliced the same way.
No longer hungry, he turned toward the sink, set the apple down, and rinsed his hands. Kat’s chirp, Dex’s excited bark, and the patter of Mateo’s little feet created a joy-infused chorus coming down the hallway.
“Uncle Mitch, look. Dex can shake.”
He stood there while Kat proceeded to demonstrate the new trick, and Mateo, obviously intrigued by the dog, remained standoffish and hung back.
Mitch couldn’t drum up his usual enthusiasm, but still gained as much relaxation and enjoyment from watching Kat play with Dex as he did from an entire bottle of wine. No, on second thought, he got a lot more from being with the kids.
“Good boy,” Kat praised in her sugar-sweet high pitch.
“That’s pretty cool, Kat. You’ll have to show Halina when—”
The office door jerked open on the other side of the dining room, and Mitch looked over, surprised they were done so soon. But Halina stood there, her hands gripping the jamb, her eyes wide and sharp with what Mitch could only describe as sheer panic.
His stomach went cold. “What’s wrong?”
Her gaze swept the open space, while her chest heaved with quick breaths. “Mitch . . .”
He took a step toward her and she nearly lunged out the door with her hands up. “No! Don’t move.” Panic choked her voice. “Just . . .” Those light, bright, wild eyes took one more sweep toward the windows, then her gaze jerked back toward Mitch, her fear now stark terror. “Down! Dex, okhrana detey!” She sprinted toward Mitch. “Get down!”
Mitch didn’t have a chance to get anywhere. Halina hit him at a full run, shoving him down. Before they even hit the floor, an explosion detonated in the living room, shattering the picture windows.
Mitch turned, throwing his body—already partially tangled with Halina’s—across the mound made up of Kat, Mateo, and Dex. Glass sliced through the air. Crashed against tile, furniture, and appliances. And cut into Mitch’s back. He tried to cover Halina as Halina tried to cover the kids and Dex. Kat’s screams were muffled. But Mateo didn’t make a sound.
Within seconds, the glass explosion had cleared, and icy cold cut through the house. Mitch’s ears vibrated with an incessant buzz. He pushed up and glass sliced into his hands. Dex still lay sprawled across Kat, licking tears off Kat’s face and watching Halina for instruction.