Taking Fire (21 page)

“If you like 'em, I like 'em,” Bobby said.

That brought a grin. “I've got a football,” Meir said, looking hopeful.

“Yeah? Maybe after dinner, we can go out and toss it around for a while. If it's okay with your mom, that is.”

“Can we, Mom?”

The excitement in Meir's voice had Bobby's heart expanding. When he glanced at Talia, he sensed she'd been watching him during the entire exchange.

A telling smile lit her face. “Of course.”

38

It was as dark as a deep well. As quiet as a graveyard at midnight. Then Bobby heard a muffled chorus of whispers. The flashes of tracer fire grew closer as the enemy encountered the hidden trench.

Light. Weak. Distant. More of an afterglow, like lightning strobes flashing beyond a coal-black horizon. It wouldn't be long now.

They were coming.

He ducked behind a thick concrete wall, pressing his back flush against it. His finger poised on the trigger, he waited for the enemy to make their move.

“Stand down,” he whispered to his team members. “Hold . . . hold.”

Then they came. The shuffle of feet on concrete as the raspy breath of his enemy drew nearer.

“Now!” He sprang around the wall, leaning on the trigger. “You're a dead man!”

“Aw, geez.” A boy of around sixteen glared at him. “Dude. You're
way
too old to be playing laser tag.”

“Then why am I still standing and you're dead?”

With a roll of his eyes, the kid shuffled dejectedly back to his team's utility box to reset his laser gun.

“Nice shot, Bobby.”

“What did you call me, soldier?” He scowled down at Meir.

The boy giggled. “Oops. Sir. Nice shot, sir.”

“There ya go.” He squatted down to Meir's level. “Next one's yours, Sergeant. Let's go smoke 'em out.”

“Yes, sir,” Meir said, with so much enthusiasm that Bobby laughed. Beside him, in the reflective light of the red sensor tags on her vest, Talia was smiling, too.

This was their third outing in as many days, and he'd been having the time of his life.

So had Meir, if the look on his face was any indication.

“We make a good team,” Talia whispered, as they followed Meir down the dark hallway, on the lookout for the green and red enemy teams.

They made a damn good team, Bobby agreed. He may be biased—hell yeah, he was biased—and Meir was pretty young, but the boy had all the makings of a super operator. He really got it when Bobby taught him the hand signals. And now, taking point, Meir attacked the game like a born leader.

The kid was strategic and tactical and strong—like his old man. And sometimes, Bobby thought, as he followed Meir down the dark hallway, the way he smiled and the expressions he got on his face. Wow. He reminded him so much of himself when he was a boy. Like him, the kid was absolutely unstoppable.

Pride swelled in his chest—and then he spotted the lights of the green team coming straight at them.

“Take cover!” Bobby instinctively dived in front of Meir and took a bullet for him, taking out two enemy combatants as he fell, landing stretched out on the concrete floor with a thud.

“Wow,” Meir said. “That was soooo cool!”

Before Bobby could get up, the room lights flashed on, glaring into the battlefield like strobes.

“Uh-oh.” Talia grinned down at him when a door opened and one of the game managers walked in.

“Sir.” He scowled down at Bobby. “I told you during the first game, it's against the rules to dive to the floor. I gave you a pass since it was your first time, but I can't do it again. I'm afraid you'll have to leave. And by the way, you're the oldest person I've ever had to eject.”

*   *   *

They were still laughing when they pulled up in front of the Levines' house.

“Been a long time since I've been dressed down by a pimply-faced kid with a ponytail.” Bobby got out, then walked around to the passenger side of his truck and opened Talia's door.

“The look on your face.” Talia chuckled. “Priceless.”

“Guess I didn't set a very good example, huh, bud?” Bobby opened the rear club-cab door so Meir could get out.

But he was sound asleep, his head lolling forward, his chest straining against the shoulder strap of the seat belt.

“He's gone.” Talia reached in and unbuckled his seat belt. “It was a very big day.”

“Here, let me get him.”

She stood back, and Bobby easily lifted around forty pounds of exhausted boy out of the truck.

“Man. When he's out, he's out,” he whispered over Meir's head as he cradled him against his chest. “And he goes one hundred percent, one hundred percent of the time.”

“He loves being with you. It's brought out a side of him I've been waiting to see. You're good for him.”

That went both ways. The heat and the weight and the little-boy salt and sweat scent of his son triggered emotions he'd never known were inside him. It wasn't just that he felt protective of, proud of, or even love for his son. He felt . . . fuller. Like a part of him had been missing, and now he was whole. Like his reason to be was so much more significant than it had ever been before.

All his life, he'd protected first his buddies, then his country. Now . . . now he had this small, perfect little person he was responsible for. It added weight. It added purpose. It added meaning to everything he did. It was scary as hell but more gratifying than he could have ever imagined.

Talia let them into the house. “Mom and Dad are out for the evening. Bridge at the Emersons'.”

“Sounds . . . exciting?” he said doubtfully.

“Oh, it is. That sweet little woman I call Mom? She plays cutthroat.”

“Good to know,” he said, laughing, and headed up the stairs.

He knew which room was Meir's. The boy had shown it to him yesterday before they'd left for the zoo. He'd felt a ridiculous rush of pleasure that Meir had wanted to share his private space with him.

“Just lay him down,” Talia whispered, as she folded back a Dallas Cowboys sheet and bedspread. “He can sleep in his T-shirt and shorts tonight.”

Bobby carefully deposited Meir on the bed, then took in the sight of his sleeping child's face as Talia made quick work of removing his shoes and socks.

“He's a miracle,” he whispered, finding himself in another of those moments of wonder he so often experienced simply being around this child.

“Come on downstairs,” Talia said. “If you've got a minute, I want to talk to you about something.”

He gently brushed the hair back from Meir's forehead, then followed her down the stairs.

He'd been wanting to talk to her about something, too. He wanted to tell Meir he was his father. It was time.

*   *   *

“This morning, when we were waiting for you?” Talia turned away from the bar and handed him a glass of whiskey. “Meir told me that he wished you were his dad.”

She watched his face. This rough, deadly warrior who ate bad guys for breakfast, who walked into live fire, turned into an emotional wreck right before her eyes.

She sat down beside him with her wine. She'd fallen deeper in love each hour she saw him with Meir. So tough, so focused, and so in control in every way. Yet this boy could wring emotions from him she suspected no other living person ever had.

“Thanks. For sharing that. And . . . wow.”

She let him have his moment. Meir was head-over-heels hero-worship in love with Bobby. That also was a first. He'd always been reserved around the men in her life. Not that there'd been many. Mostly family men with children who were playmates. There'd been only a few men she'd dated during the last five years. None much more than once. One, however, she'd made an attempt to get to know better.

Frank had been a nice guy. He'd liked Meir, and Meir had liked him. But he and she had never truly bonded, maybe because she hadn't really given him a chance. Because Bobby Taggart's memory had always haunted her.

“I want to tell him,” he said, meeting her eyes. “What do you think? Is it too soon? I don't want to mess this up or upset him.”

“I've been thinking about it a lot.” She'd been thinking about
him
a lot, too. About how he was pleasant yet distant when he was around her. How he avoided any accidental contact between them. How he failed to pick up any signs she put out there that she wanted to be more to him than the mother of his child.

It was frustrating. And a little heartbreaking. But she was a big girl. And this time was all about Meir. The condition of
his
heart was what mattered most.

“How about the two of you have your own day together? Then you can decide whether you think he's ready. When you come back, if you think it's time, then we'll tell him together.”

He looked at her long and hard, then reached out and covered her hand with his. “You could have made this all so difficult. I want you to know how much I appreciate—”

“He's your son, Bobby,” she interrupted. “And if anyone has a right to be difficult, it's you. You missed so much. Meir missed so much. I have to live with that—and with myself, knowing I'm responsible for those lost years for both of you.”

There were only so many ways she could say she was sorry. And there were only so many times she could look into his eyes and see how her decision to keep father from son had affected him. How it affected the two of them now. He said he wasn't angry anymore, but if that were true, he should have forgiven her. But he hadn't. And the longer time went on, the more she feared he never would.

She turned her hand into his, gripped it tightly. “You haven't asked, but I want you to know that I'm staying in D.C. It's not only about you and Meir, but your relationship does play a big role in my decision.”

His clear relief told her this issue had been weighing on his mind. And she'd told a white lie. Her decision
did
hinge on his and Meir's budding relationship. She didn't want to take them away from each other. And she wasn't ready to give up on him yet, either.

“I've had enough drama in my life,” she went on. “I want to start over here, where Meir can be close to you and to his grandparents. So they can enjoy being with him.”

“What will you do?”

“For now, my only job is looking out for Meir. I'm in no rush to go back to work. With my background and connections in the State Department, I don't anticipate any difficulty finding a position here when I'm ready.”

“You'll stay here? With your parents?”

“No. They enjoy having us, but they need their space. We do, too. So I'll start looking for a place—but again, I'm in no rush.” She was dragging her heels. Even though it seemed unlikely, she still held on to the hope that if she gave him enough time, gave him enough reason, when she moved out, it would be someplace large enough for the three of them.

“Bobby.” She looked at their joined hands, then up at him. “You know I'm hoping there can be more for us.”

“Talia. Let's not—”

She cut him off. “Go there? I'm sorry, but I have to. This is killing me. I meant it today when I said the three of us make a good team. I need to know if there's—” She stopped, swallowed. This was so difficult. “If there's any chance for you and me to start over.”

He stood abruptly, let go of her hands, and snagged his drink. He tipped it back, downing it with one swallow.

“I know you care about me.” She pressed. “I know you're still attracted to me—”

This time, he cut her off. “I do care. My God, you're Meir's mother. Of course I care about you. Attracted? Hell yes. I don't think that's ever going to go away.”

“But the anger,” she said, reacting to the rigid set of his shoulders as he walked to the bar and refilled his glass. “That's not going away, is it?”

“I've tried. I've lain awake countless nights and tried to talk myself out of these sudden rages that come over me when I think about what we had, about how you threw that, and me, away. About how you kept Meir from me. My God, Talia, you broke me. Something died. Right here.” He pressed a closed fist to his heart. “Anger took its place, and I don't know how to get rid of that.”

She watched him with tear-filled eyes, knowing she had no one to blame but herself.

“Look,” he said, turning back to her. “Give me some time, okay? I'm still working through this. Hell, I'm still figuring out how to be a father. I've got to get that down first. Then . . . then maybe I can work on me. Figure out why I can't let go of this.”

She lowered her head. “I understand.”

“I've got to go.” He sounded weary and even apologetic.

She pulled herself together and stood, forced a smile. “Sure. So tomorrow? Guys' day out?”

“If that still works for you.”

“Of course it does. Meir will be thrilled. What time should I have him ready?”

“Let's say ten. Tell him to wear his guy clothes. He'll know what I mean.”

“Ah. You two already have your little manly secrets,” she said lightly.

“Don't worry, Mom. You're always going to be his number one squeeze.”

Great. Now they were both pretending nothing was wrong.

“Thank you for today. We had a really fun time,” she said sincerely.