Acceptable Risks (2 page)

There was a faint, felt-rather-than-heard
whump
. The door on the landing they’d just left vibrated. Jason registered the explosion on some level other than his brain, and panic sped through him.

“Go! Go! Go!” he shouted, shoving his gun into its holster and racing down the steps. He hauled Adrina into his arms and followed Matt and Kolanko, letting the bodyguards take the rear.

The roar wasn’t as loud as he expected, but the heat was intense. He ducked instinctively and grabbed the rail so he didn’t stumble. Matt, one turn below him, looked up, his shocked face orange in the glow from above.

The heat receded, the noise abated, and they kept running. No one asked the obvious questions. Adrina clung to him, her face damp against his neck. He paused for a second to check her for injury, but she seemed unharmed, only scared.

He didn’t blame her.

Chatter from his operatives, reacting to the blast and reporting in from their sectors, buzzed in his ear, only half processed. Someone shouted from below. He did a quick-glance over the rail, keeping Adrina back. His men ran toward them, a few floors below.

“Here.” Jason handed Adrina to her father. She tightened her hold for half a second before letting go.

He faced back up the stairs, waiting. He knew the blast wasn’t the end of it. Thank God they had the floor to themselves, with orders to keep even housekeeping away unless summoned. There should have been no casualties. He tried not to think about the guys in the elevator shaft. Depending on where the explosives were on the floor…

There. A scrape of sound, maybe two flights up. Hard to tell, with his ears ringing and all the noise from below. But then he heard it again—just before a figure hurtled over the railing above, landing on the steps in front of him, already slamming a flat palm in his face.

Jason managed to deflect the blow, and the next one, and settled into a classic rhythm of block and strike. But his opponent had the advantage, backing him down the stairs, and was more skilled. Jason tried to sweep the man’s legs and missed. Then they reached the landing, and his superior height allowed him to actually land a punch on the guy’s cheek. The attacker’s dark eyes gleamed as he fell back. He obviously hadn’t expected street tactics. Jason allowed a grim smile. But he knew his opponent would adjust.

And he did. His foot kicked up at Jason’s crotch. He dodged, off balance, and saw stars as the man shoved his head into the wall. Jason rebounded toward the rail and the abyss on the other side, but recovered and snapped a punch into the guy’s nose.

And then, suddenly, there were three more. Jason fought fiercely, knocking out two opponents but knowing he wasn’t going to win. His goal was simply to allow time for the others to get to safety. A blow landed on his temple, blurring his vision. He used his stagger to land a shoulder in the second guy’s gut and was rewarded with a grunt, but a fist in his kidney banished his satisfaction. He gasped, trying to keep his feet, arms up to protect his face from the final strike.

But then Matt was there, at his back, turning him so they each faced one opponent. New energy infused him, and in short order both opponents were on the ground.

Jason panted, his hands clenched, waiting. Listening. These people were too determined to let it end here. But long minutes passed with nothing coming.

“Thanks for coming back.”

“Thanks for staying.” Matt didn’t sound nearly as out of breath as Jason did. Unfair. Of course, he’d only fought one guy.

Without discussion, they started searching the men sprawled all over the stairs. Jason radioed down for pickup and for the police, who were already on site.

“No IDs,” he said.

“Didn’t expect any,” Matt replied. “Kolanko and the girl are in—”

The only warning they had was a chip of concrete block hitting Matt in the cheek. Instinct had Jason in motion before the blood welled on his friend’s face. He leapt up the two steps between him and Matt, shoving him back against the wall, out of the line of fire. Something hot pierced Jason’s shoulder. He jerked, tripped over the legs of the attacker at his feet, and lost his balance.

He had only a moment to register the shock and horror on Matt’s face before tipping backward over the railing.

Chapter Two

Lark stood next to her father at Jason’s graveside, while the reverend said a few final words and the casket was lowered into the ground. All around them people wept, but aside from a moment in the church, while he gave the eulogy, her father hadn’t broken. Yet to anyone who knew him well, which included Lark and probably half the agents here, he looked ravaged. It didn’t help that her mother was buried here, a few feet away. He hadn’t so much as glanced at Kelly Madrassa’s grave. Simply because the memory compounded his pain? Or was it more complicated than that?

Her mother’s death hadn’t had the suddenness of Jason’s. They’d seen it coming, the awareness that she’d be gone from their lives pressing down until the grief crushed them. But this loss had shredded her father, ripped something out of him. She’d never doubted his strength ten years ago. Now…now, she was less sure.

She accepted condolences as the service ended and everyone moved off toward the cars lining the cemetery road. Minutes ticked past and her father didn’t move. Finally, chilled by the early-December air, she stepped closer and slid her hand into his.

“Daddy.”

The quiet word seemed to snap Matthew back into himself. “I’m sorry, Lark. We can go.” He folded his other hand over hers, but didn’t tear his eyes away from the grave.

“Take as long as you need.”

But he shook his head slightly and finally started walking.

“I don’t think I can face the crowd at the house,” he admitted, scanning the sea of dark clothing ahead of them. “Would it be too much to ask you to step in?”

“Not at all.” She hesitated. “I didn’t see Jason’s parents.”

“No. They didn’t come.”

Lark recognized by his tone that it would do no good to ask why. “All right. Anything I need to know? If people ask about his…fall?”

He flinched, but shook his head.

He was silent as the limo glided through the streets of suburban Virginia back to his house. The heavy car seemed to cocoon them from the world, but it offered no comfort. Instead, it held in the broody darkness. Lark held her father’s hand, her gaze at the window, but not really seeing the world outside it.

She hadn’t known Jason that well. Once she left for college, their paths didn’t cross much. But she understood how important he was to her father. As important, in a different way, as her mother had been. Lark didn’t have anyone who meant that much to her, except her father.

When the car pulled into the circular drive, the house was already full. Her father’s assistant, Caitlyn, had arranged for the caterer and arrived early to let everyone in.

“Please pull around to the back of the house,” Matthew instructed the driver, who followed the narrow drive to the space in front of the garage. The driver got out and opened the door for them, accepting Matthew’s tip with a somber nod. Lark followed her father through the kitchen door into the tiny mudroom at the base of the back stairs.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” He kissed Lark’s cheek.

“Can I bring you anything?” she asked. “A plate of food, or a drink?”

“No, I’m fine. Just dealing with this—” he indicated the clusters of people in the kitchen and dining room, “—is more than enough.” He disappeared up the stairs.

He wasn’t even close to fine. Lark blew out a breath and braced herself to circulate.

Over the next two hours, she accepted so many hugs her back ached, and no drink alleviated her dry mouth. Finally, everyone had left except the clean-up staff and Caitlyn. The assistant took a stack of plates out of Lark’s hands and set them back on the oak coffee table in the large living room. “Leave this stuff. That’s why we hired people. You should go rest.”

Lark rubbed her hand across her forehead, trying to ease the tightness that forecasted a headache. “
You
should. You were closer to Jason than I was.” She’d been so focused on her father, she hadn’t thought about that before. “You’ve done so much. I shouldn’t—”

Caitlyn waved her down, her smile wan. “The distraction helped. I’m a doer. That’s why I have this job in the first place.” She looked around at the now-clean living room. The cleaning staff had been discreet but quick, wiping down surfaces and whisking away debris. Sounds of swishing water and clinking glassware drifted out from the kitchen. “They should be done soon. Are you staying long?”

“Just another couple of days. I can’t miss more work than that, not right now.” Ralph, Lark’s boss, hadn’t even wanted to give her that much, but her fellowship trip to Indonesia had brought Botanical Medicality enough promising new source material to keep them in R&D funding for years. That gave her a little clout. But Ralph suspected she was working on some things on her own, they’d fought about it, and he hadn’t been in the mood to be generous when she requested time off. Her compound was developed from plants she’d obtained before going to work for BotMed, which fell outside the terms of her contract. She’d also sold it and wasn’t officially working on it now. Bottom line, though, was that she couldn’t afford to take extra time.

She looked up as her father entered, his shirt untucked and tie missing, hair mussed and the lines around his eyes strained. Guilt twisted her insides. He needed her. How could she leave him?

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize anyone else was still here. Caitlyn, thank you for everything.”

“It’s nothing. The least I could do.” She looked dissatisfied by the clichéd words.

“It’s a lot. And appreciated.” He looked at his watch. “You go on home. We’ll finish up here, and I’ll see you in the office on Monday.” As he walked her out, Lark thought maybe the time alone had helped him. His step seemed lighter, more natural. She started to follow, but held back when her phone rang. She checked the display—it was Carl.

“Hey, babe,” he said when she answered. “How you holding up?”

She sank onto the soft brown suede sofa, her legs and back aching. “All right. Better than my father.” Her feet had swelled inside the heels she rarely wore, and rejoiced when she toed them off. She barely held back a groan of pleasure.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come down with you.”

“It’s really okay.” She’d never expected him to even offer. They’d only been dating a few months, and their relationship wasn’t that deep. “I wouldn’t have had much time for you, anyway. There were so many people.” They talked for a couple of minutes about the funeral and the work that had kept Carl from flying down from Boston with her. Lark quickly wrapped up the conversation when her father came back into the room.

Whatever lightness she’d thought she’d seen had disappeared, replaced by murky despair. He settled into one of the matching armchairs as if uncertain he’d be able to rise again. “I’m sorry I left you to deal with everyone,” he said.

“It’s all right.” She pushed to her feet and went to sit on the arm of the chair. “Do you want anything to eat? There’s still plenty of food.” She smoothed his hair and frowned when he felt warm to the touch. “Maybe some fruit, at least?”

“Not right now.”

She bit her tongue. Nagging wouldn’t force him to take care of himself. She’d have to be sneaky about it. But even then, she couldn’t force him to eat or sleep, and she was only going to be here a couple more days. Maybe she could talk him into coming up to visit her in Boston. A change of scene had to be good, and being away might make it easier for him to pull out of himself.

“Who was that on the phone?” he asked.

Lark chewed her lip, taken off guard. “Just a guy from my building.”

For the first time all day, her father looked straight at her. “Oh, yeah?” His mouth curved slightly. “Just a guy, huh?”

Lark couldn’t help smiling back. “So far. Oh, stop,” she said when he raised his eyebrows. “It’s not serious, and probably won’t be. Don’t start with the whole ‘you need a partner’ thing.” The words reverberated in the room and struck her in the chest, bringing immediate regret. He’d lost both people in his life that he’d considered partners. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“I know.” He rested his hand reassuringly on her knee, but his gaze was troubled. “Lark, I hope you understand I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Our friendship was worth enduring this, and so was my life with your mother.”

“Of course I understand.” She was grateful for the sixteen years she’d had with her mother, too. But she’d never had a best friend or anyone else she loved as much as she loved her father. Chances were good she’d lose him someday—a thought that left her cold to the bone.

He lapsed into silence again, staring as hard at the floor as he’d stared at the coffin. His fingers plucked at the piping around the edge of the chair arm. Lark’s heart ached. Jason had been his best friend for ten years, and especially after her mother died, he’d been his rock. Now the only one he had to help him through was her. She was afraid she wasn’t up to the task.

“Is he good to you?”

Lark started. “What?”

He looked up, his head turned to face her. “That guy on the phone. He a good guy?”

She shrugged and smoothed down the skirt of her black silk dress, thinking longingly of the comfy clothes in her suitcase upstairs. “He treats me fine.”

“Would you tell me if he didn’t?”

“No,” she said without hesitation, and he laughed. “I can take care of myself, Dad, and you don’t need to worry about me.”

His eyes narrowed at her for a minute, then he nodded. “Okay. I guess I have to accept that.”

“So you’re going to run a background check.”

He gave her a “well, duh” look. But again, the light moment didn’t last. Lark watched the cloud settle over him again, and her eyes prickled. With nothing else she could think to do, she opened her mouth to offer to fix him a dinner plate, but he spoke first.

“If you’re okay here for a few hours, I’m going to go to the office for a while.”

“But you shut down today,” she said, “for the funeral. You’ve got to be exhausted.”

He shook his head and pushed to his feet. “Not nearly enough. I need to keep my mind busy. Plus, there are things…”

She hugged him, understanding. Fallout from the explosion had been swift, with canceled contracts and long-time clients questioning Hummingbird’s effectiveness. If anyone could hold the business together and salvage his powerful reputation, it was her father. But the man who’d helped him build both was gone, and she was worried he would never recover.

“Dad, it’s okay to take some time off. One day won’t—”

“Yes, it will.” He kissed the top of her head. “Don’t wait up, I might be late.”

She watched him go, an awful foreboding sinking into her.

The next two days were no different. Lark struggled to find ways to help him. She made his favorite foods, brought meals to the office, tried to get him to talk to her by opening up herself. Nothing seemed to work. He grew more despondent, until she got Caitlyn to cancel a meeting, trying to force her father to come home early. When he realized what she’d done, however, he just put on a mask and pretended he was fine.

The only reason Lark left was because Ralph refused to let her take any more time off. She was in the middle of too many promising projects that BotMed claimed ownership of, or she’d have considered quitting and moving back to DC. So she went home and launched into plan B. Which, of course, was just as unsuccessful as plan A. Weeks went by, and her father refused every request to come visit. After a few months, he’d stopped returning her calls. He left messages on her home machine when she was at work, false-cheery updates that didn’t fool her. And he knew it, or he wouldn’t be afraid to talk to her directly.

Lark talked to Caitlyn, his assistant, a lot. She gave Lark all the details her father left out of his messages. He was fighting hard to hold on to the business, and things were getting worse, with competitors circling Hummingbird like wolves. Lark hadn’t felt so helpless since she watched her mother getting sicker every day.