Heart of the Night. Lenora Worth
you fought for me once, remember?”
“More like, I fought against you, trying to save your life.”
“You did save my life and now it’s my turn to save yours. I’m going to say prayers for you right now. Oh, and you’d better be here for our wedding in February.”
“That is one promise I will keep. Sweet dreams, mon amie,” Eli said. “Tell Devon he is a lucky man.”
“He’s a blessed man,” Lydia countered. “There’s a difference.”
Eli hung up with a smile, thinking she always had to have the last word.
“And I’m a blessed man, too, for knowing you,” he said. But it would sure be hard living up to Lydia’s sweet expectations.
Eli went to the big window next to the bed and opened the heavy curtain. He could see a single light burning upstairs in the big cottage where his son was sleeping. He wondered what it would be like to live there with Scotty, to watch his son laugh and cry, to play catch in the backyard, to go fishing out in that deep water. What would it be like to be a real father to Scotty?
“Only one way to find out,” Eli said, smiling for the first time in a long time.
At least he knew Scotty was safe here tonight. That meant a lot to him even if he did resent his son being here. But what about tomorrow or the next day?
As he watched the house, a massive cloud moved over the water and turned the night a dark, moonless gray, causing shadows to dance against the tall trees and craggy rocks. A shudder clutched his spine like spider webs, sticky and unbreakable, trapping him with a new kind of fear. A little prickle of awareness and apprehension caused the hairs on his neck to stand up. He went from fatigued and worn out to wide awake and on full alert.
What if Eli’s worries came to pass? What if Scotty wasn’t safe here? What then?
THREE
“Look out your kitchen window.”
Eli stood in the small den, watching the house across the snow-covered yard. When Gena appeared looking wary and surprised at the window a few feet away, he waved to her. “Is the boy up yet?”
“He has a name,” she said, her voice low. “You can’t keep calling him the boy, you know.”
“Is my son up yet?” Eli retorted, his voice gravelly. He had not slept well, but then he never slept well.
“He’s getting dressed for school.”
“I’ll take him. Give me directions.”
“No, you will not take him. You’re a stranger to him, Eli. Just give me some time to figure out how to handle this.”
Eli let out a sigh, his eyes scanning the yard. In the light of a crisp white morning, this place looked serene and peaceful, as if it’d been purposely set up for a Christmas card. But it hadn’t seemed that way late in the wee hours when he’d seen every shadow and shape as something sinister and dangerous. He didn’t like this antsy feeling that had brought him here, but he was glad he’d followed his instincts.
“I’m coming over,” he said, disconnecting and moving away from the window before she could respond. He did turn in time to see the frustration on her face.
Let her be frustrated. He wanted to get to know his son, but more importantly, he wanted to protect his son. Because he hadn’t been there when his wife and child had needed him the most. That reality ate at him day and night, always. But he was here now.
Closing his eyes to the dark, swirling memories, Eli took another swig of coffee and wished he had some strong Louisiana coffee instead. This brew would have to suffice for now. He grabbed his coat and headed out across the crunchy snow, noticing the vulnerability of this quiet cove. A sheer drop of cliffs off into a frigid ocean on one side and a copse of trees that blocked the view to the road on the other. Not good, not good at all. He felt an urgent need to get his son out of here, but he reminded himself Scotty had been safe here for six years.
But that didn’t matter in Eli’s eyes. He’d heard some rumblings when he’d been down in New Orleans recovering from being shot. Since the news of his grandfather’s involvement in a South American drug cartel had come to light this summer, he’d felt deep in his bones that more trouble was on the way. His instincts had never let him down before, not even after Leah had disappeared six years ago and he’d gone off the deep end. Not even after CHAIM officials had forced him to go into confinement in Ireland for a few years to cool off and get his head straight, and not after he’d left and come home only to find out someone wanted him dead. That someone had been his own estranged grandfather. His instincts had been right on all those accounts, starting with the bad feeling he’d gotten when the team had first hit the ground in South America all those years ago. And things had gone very wrong down there. Eli had the distinct feeling that the situation still wasn’t all cleaned up and tidied.
The Peacemaker would have seen to that.
Even though the Peacemaker was dead and buried and his South American crime group dissolved, the man had probably left henchmen everywhere to carry on his dirty deeds. And if the Peacemaker’s cohorts had any inkling that he had a great-grandson…well, Eli didn’t want to think about that. What if someone, somewhere, was just biding time, waiting to make a move on him or his child?
Maybe Dev was right, he thought as he knocked on the front door. As long as Eli had been out of the picture and tucked away in that retreat in Ireland, Scotty had been relatively safe. But once Eli had reappeared on the CHAIM radar last summer, he’d also set himself up for retribution from past enemies because he’d never been one to win friends and influence people. And now that meant his son could become a target. Somehow, he’d have to make Gena see that Scotty was better off with him.
But when she opened the door hard enough to shake the bright red ribbon on the fragrant evergreen wreath, a brooding frown on her pretty oval face, Eli got the impression that Gena wouldn’t listen to any worries he might have.
Gena was fully prepared to slam the door back in Eli’s too-good-looking-for-his-own-good face, but knowing her son was about to come barreling down the stairs, she didn’t do that. This was Scotty’s father, after all. And in spite of her sleepless night, Scotty and Eli both deserved a chance to get to know each other.
“What did you tell him?” Eli said as he muscled past her, then pivoted to glare at her. “I mean, about his father? Does he even ask?”
Gena glanced upstairs, then motioned toward the kitchen. “I never lied to him, if that’s what you’re asking. I have always told him that his father had to go away and that he might not be able to come back.” She looked down at the floor. “He held out hope, I think, that one day he would see his father.”
Eli thumped his fingers on the newel post. “Well, guess what, catin, I’m here now. Time to confess all.”
Gena’s heart did a little pulsing jump. “Eli, please?”
Before she could plead her case, Scotty called out, “I’m hungry, Mom. Did you make pancakes?”
Gena stopped in the entryway, her gaze locking with Eli’s. “Not now,” she whispered.
Then Scotty appeared at the top of the stairs, backpack in hand, his hair rumpled as usual. “Who’s that?”
Gena watched as Scotty sized up the big man standing near the stairs and she also watched Eli’s face transform from a scowling mask of restraint and resolve to a genuine smile of curiosity and awe. And she saw a sudden solid terror in those usually fearless eyes, too.
“This is—”
“I’m Eli Trudeau,” Eli said, lifting a hand toward Scotty, his voice verging on shaky. “I’m a…friend…your Uncle Devon knows me.”
Scotty dropped his backpack and