THEY SPENT their time establishing a routine that was deliberately designed to be easy to track. Jack worked three daytime shifts at the diner and then switched to three nights, with a day off in between each block. He and Sean joined the local gym and attended twice a week. Clare shopped at the same stores every weekend.
Saturday morning at 0600 hours found Jack in the fenced-in backyard, facing off across from Sean.
“You’re letting your guard down, Jack. You’ve left yourself exposed. I could have you on your ass in two moves.”
Jack repositioned himself, keeping a wary watch on Sean as they circled each other. Two sessions a week of humping weights at the gym didn’t cut it as far as Sean was concerned, and he had introduced an early morning training session into Jack’s regime that he expected Jack to attend, regardless of how late he’d worked the previous night.
Jack had forgotten just how tough a sparring partner Sean was. He never pulled his punches, he never seemed to tire, and he always played dirty. About ten seconds after his warning, Jack found himself flat on his back in the dewy grass, so winded he could barely pull in a breath.
“Didn’t I tell you?” Sean said. He leaned down and clasped Jack’s hand, then hauled him to his feet.
“That was one move,” Jack gasped.
Sean grinned and patted his damp back. “That’s even worse. Go again.”
Jack suppressed a groan and faced Sean, bending his knees as he crouched and took up position. They began to circle each other, and Jack was about to surge forward when a glint of sunlight bounced off a surface and momentarily blinded him. He stumbled just as Sean lunged forward and swept his legs out from underneath him to send him crashing to the ground.
“Jesus, Jack!” Sean swore. “What the hell happened?”
Jack wasn’t sure he knew. A shadow appeared over him as Sean bent to help him to his feet. Without conscious thought, Jack twisted onto his side and jerked Sean’s knees, tumbling him into the grass alongside him.
Sean grunted, and a minute later he had rolled over and was pinning Jack down, his full weight pressing him into the ground.
“Nice try. But your follow-through is crap, kiddo.” Sean rolled off him, and Jack hauled himself upright, rubbing the back of his head where it had cracked against the ground.
“I thought you had me there,” Sean said. “But then you lost focus. What distracted you?”
Jack frowned and lifted his head. His eyes traveled the back fence of the enclosed yard, but he didn’t see anything other than the tall trees in the neighbor’s yard and the back of the man’s house.
He shrugged. “Just the sun in my eyes, I guess.”
Sean clambered to his feet, and Jack followed. “You have to factor that in. You know that.” He picked up his towel and draped it around his neck. “You’re at the diner today?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Okay. Go grab a shower. We’ll leave this for now, but I expect better from you tomorrow.”
Jack sighed as he walked into the house. Expecting better was pretty much the only position the Center ever took; it would be nice if just once somebody thought he gave enough.
“GOOD MORNING, sweetie.”
Ronnie rolled into the diner with two minutes to spare before opening. She ruffled Jack’s hair in passing and blew a kiss to Leo. “How are my favorite boys?”
“Did you have a good day off?” Leo asked.
Jack tried not to roll his eyes, wondering what kind of story Ronnie had for them today. She seemed to live a particularly colorful life for somebody who barely set foot outside the town limits. But whatever story she planned on telling had to be shelved when the door to the diner opened and the first customers spilled across the threshold.
The first couple of hours went by quickly. Jack had learned to tune out the group of girls who crowded in every day to sit in one of the booths Leo serviced and flirt with him endlessly. Since his run-in with Jason, his own fan club had dwindled as Taylor and her friends no longer showed up, although there were still enough girls who came in on a regular basis, lingering way too long, and asking him more questions than all his Center psych evaluations put together.
He was trying to evade the latest interrogation when he heard the door to the diner open. By the time he was able to escape their attentions and turn around, the man who had entered was sitting at a table facing the door, his alert expression and nervous energy immediately putting Jack on guard.
He approached the man’s table cautiously. “What can I get you?”
The man’s head turned briefly, but his eyes kept darting around the room nervously.
“Just a coffee.”
Jack smiled politely and then backed up before turning around. He retrieved the coffeepot from behind the counter and returned to the man’s table, noting the quick glances he kept throwing over Jack’s shoulder and the tension in his stance.
Jack poured coffee into one of the mugs on the table and took a step back. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
The man’s hand suddenly shot out, and his fingers wrapped around Jack’s wrist. Jack let out a startled gasp and slammed the coffeepot onto the table. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Leo’s head whip around and his hand disappear under his sweatshirt to rest against the small of his back. Jack moved instinctively until he found himself grasping the handle of his own knife.
The man dropped Jack’s wrist quickly.
“Daddy?”
Jack spun around, his fingers reflexively tightening around the knife handle. He heard Leo hiss something unintelligible and his head jerked down, his heart racing when he saw a small boy standing close by, practically under his feet, his wide-eyed gaze swiveling between the man in the booth and Jack.
“It’s okay, son.” The man glanced up at Jack, clearly puzzled. “He needed the bathroom,” he explained. “I thought you were going to step on him.”
Jack felt the surge of adrenaline immediately drain out of him, leaving him feeling shaky and sick. He unclenched his fingers from their tight grip on the knife’s handle, his heart still thudding against his chest—though this time for very different reasons.
As the child climbed up onto the bench seat beside his father, Jack took an involuntary step back, realizing how badly he’d misread the situation and how close he’d come to pulling his weapon on a kid. He tried to speak, but the words came out in a garbled mess. He was vaguely aware of Leo stepping forward to speak to the child, allowing Jack to turn and stagger blindly toward the kitchen. Ronnie was watching him with eyes that were unnervingly alert. He tried to send her a reassuring smile but was pretty sure it died before it reached his lips.
Leo approached the counter and grabbed a can of soda, which he deposited in front of the kid with a few cheery words. Jack ventured a glance at the man, who seemed to have relaxed now that his son was safely tucked into the booth alongside him.
Leo arched an inquisitive eyebrow as he finished up and walked back, but Jack shook his head, not yet ready to talk about what had just happened.
“Aren’t you two twitchy today?” Ronnie said. “Too much caffeine?”
“Late night,” Leo lied easily.
Ronnie snorted. “I hope you’re not being a bad influence. That boy is too young for what you get up to.”
“I’ll bear that in mind,” Leo said, flashing her a grin.
“You want something to settle your stomach, sweetie?” she asked.
Jack ducked his head to avoid her sympathetic look. “I’m okay,” he said.
“You just let me know,” Ronnie said. She patted his back as she walked past him, and Jack forced down the bile rising in his throat.
“You okay?” Leo asked under his breath.
“Shit!” Jack couldn’t squeeze any other words out. He realized his hand was shaking, and he pressed it down on the countertop to try to steady it.
“You need some air,” Leo said firmly.
He signaled Ronnie, who was refilling coffee cups, and she nodded.
“Come with me.”
Leo grabbed him by the elbow and steered him through the kitchen, past Jimmy’s carefully averted gaze, to the back door that led into an alleyway lined with dumpsters. The air was heavy with the smell of garbage, but it was cooler than inside the diner, and though it did nothing to reduce the acid souring Jack’s gut, it was at least removed from prying eyes.
“You okay?” Leo repeated, more forcefully this time.
Jack reached behind him and pulled his knife out of its holster, his face contorting in disgust. With a muttered curse, he threw the weapon hard, wiping his hand on his jeans as it stuck, blade-first, into the side of one of the plastic dumpsters, the handle quivering with the force of the throw.
“I almost pulled my knife on a fucking kid,” Jack gasped.
Leo’s hand hovered inches away from Jack’s arm, but he let it drop without touching. “You were just responding to the situation. It’s exactly what you’ve been trained to do.”
Jack shot him an incredulous look. “I haven’t been trained to attack a damned toddler!”
“You didn’t touch the kid,” Leo said. “You checked yourself in time. But if it had been a threat, you’d have been ready. I would too. It’s what we do.”
“How the fuck can you say that so calmly?” Jack sputtered, his voice rising. “Jesus, Leo. I almost lost control of the situation.”
“But you didn’t,” Leo said sharply. “I’m not going to let you do this. Your response was exactly right. If that had been the bad guys in there and you hadn’t been ready, you’d have been goddamned sorry.” His expression hardened subtly, and he pointed to the knife. “Now, pick it up and don’t let me see you without it again.”
Jack gritted his teeth, forcing his panic to recede. He pulled in a breath, feeling his nerves steady. Leo was right: if the threat had turned out to be real, it wouldn’t have just been his ass on the line. Leo would have been vulnerable too.
He bent down and pulled the knife out of its plastic sheath, and then he tucked it back into its holster and gave Leo a sharp nod.
“Good. Now I’d better get back inside,” Leo said. “Take a couple of minutes to catch your breath.” He glanced around and then cupped Jack’s neck and shook him gently. “You did good, Jack.”
Jack managed a small smile. “Thanks, Leo. And thanks for having my back.”
“Always. Catch you inside. Don’t be too long. Ronnie will be pitching a fit.” Leo grinned and dropped his hand, then turned and pushed his way through the back door.
Jack pulled in another deep breath, his nose wrinkling as the smell of rotting food stung his nostrils. He readjusted his knife holster and smoothed his T-shirt, briefly wondering how much Ronnie had seen. She hadn’t seemed too spooked, so it was unlikely she’d seen the weapons hidden on both himself and Leo. Shaking his head at how dangerously close he’d come to screwing up, Jack turned toward the door.
He was totally unprepared when hands grabbed him from behind and slammed him face-first into the wall beside the kitchen door. His arms were wrenched up behind his back and his legs were kicked apart as the heavy weight of a muscled body pressed him into the wall, scraping his cheek against the bricks.
Hot breath tickled the back of his neck and a low voice murmured against his ear, “I don’t know who the fuck you are. But you’re definitely not Alex Sutherland.”