ON TUESDAY MORNING, C.J. was surprised to circle around the house and find yet another O’Neil brother visiting his sister. Dylan. He swerved up in a snazzy red Fiat and unfolded from the small car. He was taller than Aidan, with a rangy build that reminded her of Clay Wainwright’s. His hair was stylishly cut, and his sunglasses prevented her from seeing his eyes.
He gave her a once-over. She felt uncomfortable in her denim capris and white T-shirt. “Why Agent Ludzecky, you’re transformed.”
“Hello, Mr. O’Neil. I wasn’t aware you were visiting today.” She scowled. “How’d you get in?”
“I charmed Millie at the gate.” Millie was a uniform.
At her raised brows, he chuckled. “Kid-ding. I phoned Bailey earlier and the guards were expecting me.” His brow furrowed and he removed his glasses to reveal troubled eyes several shades darker than Aidan’s. Same shape, though. “I’ve got something you guys and Bay need to know about.”
They’d begun to walk toward the house. Bailey swung open the front door just as they reached it. “Dyl. I’m so glad you’re here.” She hugged him, said, “Come on in,” and held his hand the whole way to the sunroom.
Mitch came up the stairs just as they passed them. “Hi, Dylan. Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”
“I’m not sure. It might not be too bad. I just thought I should drive up and tell you about it.”
Pa and Ma O’Neil came down the corridor to greet their son with big hugs and smacking kisses. Aidan wandered in from the deck, wearing cargo shorts and a boxy checked shirt. The brothers embraced, too.
“What’s up?” Aidan asked.
Holding out a DVD case, he faced Mitch. “This ran on the eleven o’clock news last night, which I routinely tape. It might compromise Bailey’s safety.”
Mitch took the box from Dylan, crossed to the DVD player and put the disc in the machine. Aidan dropped down on the couch next to Bailey.
C.J. recognized the anchor woman, Rachel Scott, from the hospital when Pa O’Neil was admitted. She wore a lovely peach-colored suit, styled hair and perfect makeup. “Good evening. I’m Rachel Scott with a special report on our very own Big Apple girl, the Second Lady, Bailey O’Neil.” She grinned for the camera. “We’ve followed Ms. O’Neil’s life here in New York since her marriage to Clay Wainwright. After her highly lauded work getting kids out of gangs, it appears she didn’t quite forget her old friends when she moved to Washington as the wife of the vice president.”
The woman’s voice continued over a video clip. “After canceling her trip to Zanganesia, Ms. O’Neil was spotted in upstate New York. We caught a glimpse of her at the National Women’s Rights Museum on Friday.”
On-screen, the camera panned the buildings on the site. Bailey was shown exiting the car, and a clear shot of C.J. came on. There was footage of them walking side by side along the Wall. They looked like friends out for a stroll. The camera zeroed in on their faces, and C.J. was laughing.
“Ms. O’Neil’s friend, Suze Williams, received an award, at this renowned birthplace of women’s rights.”
Suze was shown onstage getting her plaque, then the camera switched to Bailey—and caught her whistling. Scott chuckled and said something about Bailey being real.
“Don’t tell Suze’s connection with ESCAPE,” Bailey whispered, clutching Aidan’s hand. “Please.”
“Ms. Williams received the award for overcoming her own street gang past and going on to help get kids out of gangs today.”
There was a shot of Bailey and Suze hugging at the reception. At least they didn’t mention the name of the organization.
“Damn,” C.J. said, “that’s who they were.”
Mitch shook his head. “The ones you pointed out.”
Dylan straightened. “This is the bad part.”
A panoramic view of the lake filled the screen. “Ms. O’Neil is staying at the Wainwright cottage on Keuka Lake, a gated site no one is allowed near. Our camera did catch a long-range view of the cottage. But here’s the jackpot: some pictures of the Second Son.”
“Oh, shit.” This from Aidan.
There was video footage of Aidan and the boys in the boat, coming across the lake. Of them arriving at the park. Aidan carrying Rory.
Still shots of C.J. watching Rory, and smiling. C.J. frowning in the direction of Aidan. Jim Connors handing her a bottle of water.
More shots of Rory. Of Aidan.
Another view across the lake from the park zeroing in on the Wainwrights’ cottage.
“She might as well have drawn a map for anybody interested in Bailey’s whereabouts.” This from Dylan.
Aidan said, “Bay, I’m sorry. I never thought we’d be seen.”
“Why should you?” She looked to Mitch. “How bad is this?”
“I’m not sure. The location of the cottage wasn’t a secret to begin with, though we’ve kept news media away from the gated grounds. But it wasn’t publicized that you were staying here now. And I don’t like having your exact whereabouts broadcast to several million viewers. Worst case, anyone with a grudge might get ideas from hearing this newscast. Best case, people drive by, or more press could pester us at the outer perimeter.” He looked to C.J. “We could go back to New York now. The town house is a more secure location.”
Frowning, Pa said, “I promised Rory we’d go to the fair Saturday. We’d do the pond fishing thing together.”
Bailey’s eyes flamed, and C.J. got another look at the old Street Angel. “I won’t be sent running by the press, Mitch.”
“I suppose we could increase security around the perimeter.” Mitch’s tone was reluctant.
C.J. added, “It’s only until Sunday.”
Mitch waited a beat. “All right.”
As he took the disc out of the DVD player, Dylan’s face was dark. “Scott must have what? Found out you’d be in Seneca Falls?”
“How would she have done that?” Bailey asked.
This time, Mitch scowled. “She must know people in the area or at the Women’s Rights Park. It’s highly possible she’s covered events at the museum before. The advance team wouldn’t have gone unnoticed when they went down, and somebody could have caught on and alerted her.”
“So she’s there to catch pictures of you, then she what?” Dylan shook his head. “Trailed you back here, camped out and followed Aidan and Rory over on a boat?”
“Or used the zoom lens from the other side.” Mitch didn’t appear to be too upset. If he was, fair or no fair, they wouldn’t be staying.
Dylan seemed the most disconcerted. C.J. remembered the talk about his column in CitySights and how he sought out people abusing their power and hurting others in the process.
“Dyl,” Bailey said. “This isn’t a big deal. She didn’t do anything to harm us.”
“Let’s hope not.” The tense set of his jaw and his rigid stance made C.J. realize that this O’Neil brother was someone to be reckoned with.
Over his shoulder she saw Bailey lean into Aidan. He kissed her head and whispered something to her.
Then again, C.J. thought, Dylan wasn’t the only one.
o0o
SUNSET ON the lake was almost a physical experience. Through his camera lens, Aidan caught the pinks and reds and yellows forming a watercolor sky. On the deck chair behind him, his brother sipped a beer. “Blow up one of those shots for me. They’re winners.”
“Sure.” Aidan stuffed the camera in a case at his feet, then turned and dropped down into the other chair they’d brought out. Dylan handed him a beer. “So, how’s it going with Hogan?” Aidan asked.
Dylan’s brow furrowed. Mostly, this brother was low-key, and often a wise guy, but when something got his back up, he bristled like a porcupine. His ex-wife could flick that switch in a second. “Acting out. Stephanie left him alone yesterday to meet with some of her outside investors, and he was bored out of his mind in her apartment.”
“What’d he do this time?”
“Took a bus to the Village. By himself.” Hogan was thirteen. “My guess is he bought some pot.”
“I thought that was a onetime thing.”
“His mother brings out the worst in him. Jesus Christ, I hate when she comes to town and insists he stay with her. It’s like ten steps back for him.” Raking a hand through his hair, he shook his head. “I was glad to get away for an overnight because we were close to coming to blows.”
“Why didn’t you bring Hogan?”
“I wanted to. But Stephanie pitched a fit. I caved. So did he, the poor kid.”
“Sorry. Anything I can do?”
“Maybe spend some time with him when you get back to the city. He digs his uncles.” Dylan looked down the shoreline. A figure was approaching. “Who’s that?”
“Bailey’s agent, C.J.”
“How can you tell? She’s far away.”
“I don’t know. Being around her, I guess.” Aidan made an effort to control his tone of voice, and anything else which might clue Dylan in. His brother took no prisoners in the razzing department. That’s why Bailey had dubbed him The Taunter. “You think Bailey’s in any danger?” he asked, changing the subject.
“Probably no more than usual.” Dylan dug the label off the bottle with his fingernail. “That reporter rankles me.”
“She’s a looker. And has red hair. Maybe you’re just attracted to your type.”
“Hmm. Our type.” As C.J. drew closer, Dylan said, “Though blond’s looking mighty fine to me right about now.”
“Yeah, she’s okay.”
“I’d like to get in her pants.”
Aidan controlled the impulse to tell Dylan not to be crude about C.J. Or to punch him in the face.
“Women with guns and handcuffs are a turn-on.”
“Can it, Dyl.”
“Bet she’s hot in the sack. All that pent-up emotion. She has to stifle everything. I wonder what she’s like when she lets off stream.”
She’s wonderful. Aidan didn’t trust his voice to respond.
“Think she likes being on top? I’ll bet she—”
“Shut up, Dylan.”
“Huh?”
“I said shut up. She’s a federal agent and you shouldn’t be talking about her like she’s a piece of fucking meat.”
Dylan laughed, deep and from his belly. It took Aidan a minute to know that he’d been had. “So that is the way the wind blows. I kinda figured. Don’t think you’re gonna get anywhere with her, little brother. Now me, I could—”
Aidan stood and kicked back the chair; it slammed against the wood of the deck, resounding in the night air.
His brother looked over at him. “Oh, man, this is worse than I thought.”
“I said, shut up about her.”
“Yeah?” Now Dylan stood. “Who’s gonna make me?”
“You sound like a kid.”
“You sound like an adolescent boy, mooning over some cheerleader.” Dylan straightened his shoulders. “And for the record, I’ll say what I want. Whenever I want. You certainly aren’t gonna stop me. “
They got into it sometimes, him and his brothers. Looked like this was going to be one of them. When Dylan turned his back to walk down the deck, Aidan lunged for him. He got him in a headlock from behind.
Dylan bucked. “What the hell?”
“I’m gonna make you.”
Again the condescending laugh. Before he knew it, Dylan hooked his leg around Aidan’s, breaking his neck hold. Aidan started to go down, but grabbed Dylan around the waist. The reaction unbalanced them both and they fell—right off the dock into the lake.
They hit the water hard, went under and came up sputtering. “Jesus Christ,” Aidan said, shaking his wrist in front of him. “I got my new watch on.”
Dylan looked down. They were knee-deep in seaweed. “I’m wearing expensive boots. You shit.”
“Me?” He wiped the hair out of his eyes. “You started it.”
Then they both burst out laughing. They did sound like little boys and were men enough to admit it.
“What’s going on here?” C.J. stood on the dock in her jeans and T-shirt over which she’d thrown a white sweater. “What are you guys doing?”
“Sunset swimming.” Dylan winked at her. “Want to join us, pretty lady?”
C.J. scowled. “Have you two been drinking?”
Dylan glanced at Aidan. “Not much. My brother just needed cooling down.” He grinned. “A lot, from the looks of things.”
Aidan grabbed Dylan’s arm. “Be careful what you say here.”
Dylan pushed on his chest sending him back into the water; Aidan surfaced swearing. He attacked Dylan from behind and brought them both under again.
As they surfaced, he heard C.J. say, “Little boys. Jesus.” She walked away.
He and Dylan dragged themselves out of the water and sank down dripping into the grass. They watched the waves lap for a while. Dylan sobered. “Seriously, if something’s going on, maybe I could help. “
Aidan shook his head. “Nah, it’s hopeless. Just don’t rag on me about it, okay?”
“Okay.”
“And stay away from her. No more of this ‘pretty lady’ shit.”
“Sure.” He stood and held out his hand to Aidan. “Race you to the copse of trees.”
Rolling to his feet, Aidan said, “You’re on,” and took off.
Sometimes, it was better to act like a little boy than deal with a grown man’s problems.
o0o
C.J. STARED at herself in the mirror. The white towel turbaned her head and accented the tan she’d gotten from being outside with the O’Neils these four weeks. Because of her light complexion, she usually avoided the sun, but the bronze tone of her skin looked good on her. Glancing down, she took in the pink she wore. Not her style, too frilly, but she was getting used to bright colors. Well, it all would end tomorrow. They were going back to the city on Sunday.
Tugging the towel off her head, she began rubbing her hair dry. The past week had been hard in a lot of ways. First, all the agents on the VPPD were tense, given the knowledge that the whole world knew where Bailey was staying. Though they tried to hide it from the family. But sending for field agents to help around the perimeter of the cottage had added an extra layer of security, dispensing with the illusion that this was just a regular vacation. Even C.J. had been lulled into feeling the latter. She was going to miss Ma O’Neil’s cooking, Pa’s grumbling about the nurse’s visits and exercise regime, which Aidan had done with him after the first week.
Aidan. After Dylan left, he’d been quieter than usual. She grinned as she plugged in the hair dryer. He’d been so cute with his brother. Their scuffle reminded C.J. of her sisters. They used to wrestle each other to the ground and dunk each other in the neighborhood swimming pool. At least C.J. had decided one constructive thing: She had to see them before she went back to D.C. It was another effect of being around the O’Neils. Which was an additional reason to return to New York—C.J. was acting out of character. Not being herself. That and the fact that even though Aidan kept to his promise to leave her alone, there had been a connection with him all week—a sizzle when they brushed past each other; catching each other with a long glance; smiles now and then. The exchanges were filled with a longing that she hoped nobody else would detect.
Except for this morning, he’d stayed away from her. She was off duty and having coffee down on the lower patio that the O’Neils never frequented. He’d found her there. He was wearing his Gap pajama bottoms and a T-shirt. Her whole body reacted to the sight of him...
“Good morning.”
“Hi.” She had to clear her throat. “You’re up early.”
“I was hoping to catch you alone.” He dropped down at the table with her and sipped from the mug he’d brought with him.
C.J. waited for him to explain why.
“The fair’s today. We’re going home tomorrow.”
“Yes. It’ll probably be good to be back in your own routine. Your own place.”
Hurt flashed across his classic features. She noticed things then...the curve of his jaw, the straightness of his nose. A little dimple to the left of his mouth. His beard was bristly and she had a quick fantasy of touching it—or it touching her. Intimately.
“I have to ask you again. One last time.”
Raising her chin, she stared at him.
“You sure this is what you want? To cut off ties between us?”
“I am.”
“Be honest, Caterina. If things had been different, what would be happening now?”
“Things aren’t different.”
“Answer the question anyway.”
“No.”
Emotion filled his face. “That’s what I thought. So I’m asking. One more time. Can we try to find a way to pursue what we’re feeling?”
“No. I told you what would happen to me professionally if I got involved with a protectee’s brother.” Because that felt weak now, she added, “And as we said before, I can’t be distracted by you while I’m trying to watch your sister and her family.”
He didn’t look convinced.
“And there’s something else we’ve never discussed.” She shook her head, thinking of the company joke—if the service wanted you to have a family, they would have issued you one. “You couldn’t live with what I do. You and your brothers are so macho. It’s hard for any of you to let me lift something heavy or drive the car when you’re in it. How could you stand by and let a woman you cared about put herself in danger?”
“It would be hard. I know that.”
“It would be torture.”
“Maybe I wanna try.”
“I’d never let you.”
“Why?”
She’d stood. “Because I do care, Aidan. About you.” She stared down at him. “But I don’t want this. I’m not going to risk it. For personal reasons. Because of Bailey. And for your own welfare. So, if you care about me at all, you’ll leave it alone. Like you promised.”
He nodded. Then rose, too. Before he left, he ran his knuckles down her cheek. Her heart constricted in her chest at just that light touch. “Good-bye, Caterina...”
Staring at herself in the mirror, C.J. drew in a deep breath. She’d stored the feel of that butterfly caress in her memory bank and summoned it now. “Stop it!” she told herself and concentrated on finishing up in the bathroom. She came out fully dressed.
Mitch was standing in the hallway. “Took you long enough,” he said. “I think you’re turning into a real girl.”
“Bite me.”
He headed down to the john.
“Mitch?”
He glanced over his shoulder.
“Do you think today’s a good idea? Going to the fair?”
“I’m not sure. But the O’Neils have been troupers this week, and Pa O’Neil really wants to do this fishing thing with Rory and Mikey.” He shrugged a shoulder. “We’ve got the field agents covering the grounds. It’s safe enough.”
“Maybe.”
“You don’t think so?”
“My gut tells me no.” Then again, her instincts were going haywire this week. “But you’re probably right.”
“We’ll be careful.”
“Yeah, sure. That’s our motto, right?”
“Something else wrong?”
“No, I’ll just be glad to get to New York” —she tugged on her pink shirt— “and out of these.”
He grinned, a very male one. “I’ll miss seeing you in those clothes, Caterina.”
She swallowed hard at the use of the name. She said again, “Bite me.”