Dangerous Illusion Read online

  The bell jangled again, a cheery sound cutting the tension like a butter knife: softly does it. A happy-faced man in his mid-thirties poked his head inside the door and grinned at her. “Hey, Beth. Donna said you’d be happier for Danny to train with us if we’re in sight?” He pointed to the grassy field before the hill McCall slept on each night.

  Strangely, Beth whitened at the words; but within moments she gained control, and smiled. “Thanks, Ken. I appreciate your thoughtfulness.” She turned to Danny. “How’s that, sweetie?”

  But McCall heard her voice quaver. Equilibrium wasn’t yet restored. Beth Silver was a woman on the edge of one hell of a precipice, and McCall would be there to catch her when she fell, whether she trusted him to be there or not.

  Danny whooped. “All right! Let’s go, Brendan!”

  “I don’t think we need bother Mr. McCall now, Danny.”

  McCall caught the boy’s quick, longing glance as Ken Richards headed across the road, his arm slung across his son’s shoulder. “It’s no bother,” he said, smiling at the boy. “I’d like to play.” Yeah, he remembered too well sometimes watching the kids playing with their dads, and wishing his dad could be interested—or sober enough—to play a game with him. But drunk and abusive, ignoring him unless he had to thrash him again for some boy’s misdemeanor, he’d still known who his dad was. His dad wasn’t the role model he’d longed for, but he had a face to the name. Danny Silver had neither.

  Danny’s face had lit up like the Sydney Harbour Bridge during the Olympics. “Thanks, Brendan!”

  McCall grinned. “High five.” They slapped hands.

  “That’s Mr. McCall to you, Danny. Respect your elders—and strangers,” Beth said, cool. Reminding him who he was. Keep your place. And in her opinion, his place was nowhere near her son.

  He shrugged. “Let him call me Brendan. Doesn’t hurt anyone.” In fact, it was the first time in years anyone had used his given name. It felt good. Like he was a normal member of the human race, with people who knew him, or liked him.

  “It does if he learns to trust everyone who offers to play with him,” she hissed, in a fierce undertone. “And remember, Danny, Mr. McCall is a stranger. We do know Mr. Richards, and surely he can show you all the moves you need.”

  “Can’t I play with Brendan?” Danny’s piping voice thickened with the tears in his eyes as he looked up at McCall with sudden doubt, fear and suspicion. “Don’tcha like Brendan, Mummy? Is he one of those bad guys? The Stranger Danger guys who wanna take me away?” With the words, he shuffled backward toward his mother, his thin body shaking. “Are you gonna hurt me, or my mummy?”

  Poor little Danny. Trembling with terror, he was still trying to cover his mother, to protect her….

  Beth had done a hell of a number on him. Not that he blamed her, but couldn’t she see what damage passing on her fears and well-founded paranoia was doing to this child?

  McCall squatted on his haunches. “Danny, your mom’s right to warn you of the danger—there are a lot of people like that in the world—but I would never hurt you, or your mom. I’m here to help you. I’m your friend.” He held the boy’s gaze unwavering, willing him to see a truth his mother refused to recognize.

  If anything, Danny whitened more. “M-Mummy said that bad guys say things like that to make you go with them….”

  “Yes. They do,” he admitted. “That’s one of the things you learn as you grow up, Danny. You learn who to trust. You learn to listen to your instincts—”

  Danny sniffed, and wiped his eyes on his school-jumper sleeve. “What’s that? In—”

  “Instincts,” he repeated gently. “They’re those things that talk to you, that tell you when something, or someone, is good or bad, nice or scary.” He reached out, touching Danny’s shoulder. “There’s a voice in your head when I touch you, isn’t there? It’s either saying ‘Brendan’s a nice guy,’ or ‘I don’t want this creepy guy talking to me. I don’t trust him.’

  Danny nodded solemnly. “I hear it.”

  McCall smiled at him. “You don’t have to tell me which it is, but your mom will always need to know when you hear the voice saying the bad-guy thing to you, okay? It’s your body’s warning system, telling you something bad’s gonna happen to you if you don’t get away. You should always listen to it.”

  Danny’s tear-wet face broke into a tremulous smile. “My voice likes you, Brendan. My voice says you’re a cool guy.”

  McCall grinned at that. “My voice says you’re a cool guy, too, Danny.” He winked at the boy, who held up a hand. He slapped it in another high five.

  Danny lifted his face to where Beth watched them—her face damp as her son’s, and just as pale. “Mummy? I—I don’t think Brendan’s a bad guy…and—and—” his little face grew so uncertain, so lost “—and, well, Ethan’s got his own dad…”

  Beth closed her eyes in agony. “Go on, sweetie. Mr. McCall will be with you in a minute.” Her voice sounded flinty, filled with the anguish of fear and turmoil hiding inside her eyes.

  Danny whooped again, and bolted out, yelling for his friend.

  The door slammed behind him. McCall stood, waiting. When she didn’t or wouldn’t speak, he took the initiative. “You won’t have any cause for fear—or regret—in letting me play with Danny.”

  Her eyes didn’t open. “If I see even the smallest reason to worry, McCall, you’ll be dead in seconds.” She put a trembling hand out to him, her eyes open and filled with a magnificent fire. A vivid-eyed tigress protecting her cub. “Give me your keys and your wallet.”

  Without a word he handed them over.

  “And—and the other thing you had in your hands a few minutes ago. And any others you have hidden on you.” A shaking defiance, her nostrils flared and her cheeks white. “You’re not playing with my son with that thing on you.”

  McCall swore beneath his breath. Great. The Glock was the easiest weapon to reach in crisis, there to protect her and Danny, but there was no way she’d believe that.

  He handed over the semiautomatic, his throwing knife and the small second pistol to satisfy her, but kept the sleeping darts made by the Nighthawks’ chemistry department and doctors. He had to have some protection for Danny if—

  “You make one move away from that hill and the police will be here in two minutes. I’m friends with the local lieutenant.”

  He’d expected a threat of some kind. “I’m not going to hurt him or take him from you, Beth,” he said quietly. “Listen to your heart. Listen to your instincts. You know me.”

  She turned away. “My instincts have been wrong before.”

  He silently cursed Eduardo de Souza for his hatchet job on Beth’s innocent love and trust. There was nothing he could say to fix that. “Do you have any more stipulations, or can I go outside and teach Danny some football now?”

  She scowled at him. They both knew she was painted into a corner. If he played with her son, she couldn’t go anywhere, couldn’t run without him knowing, at least during the day, but if she’d said no, Danny would have resented her for years. The good mommy giving her son what he needed, vying with the hunted woman’s need to keep her son safe from Falcone’s clutches.

  Needing to reassure her, he said, “I swear to you, Danny couldn’t be in safer hands.” If only she understood that—man, he’d lay down his life for the kid. Go down as the last resort, take your targets down with you, but at all costs save your subject, the people you’d sworn to protect. It was standard Nighthawk policy as well as his own personal vow. If you couldn’t prove your belief in that credo, you didn’t make it past the first round of recruitment. “Your son’s safety is sacred to me.”

  She looked down to the wet clay beneath her fingers, now a half-sodden lump from too much water, and too much unconscious pounding. “Just remember,” she said quietly.

  “I do,” he said softly. Testing her. “I remember everything. Do you remember, too? Do you?”

  She turned on her wheel and began shaping the
clay with distracted fingers. “Just go. Please.” Her voice was weary, gentle and sad. She turned her face and scrubbed at her cheek with clay-smeared hands, smudging her cheek. A dirty angel wiping at tears she was too proud to show him or use to gain sympathy.

  He couldn’t push her anymore.

  But he’d call in the team to move into the local perimeter at least. And Anson had to come in on this as well, with a second team. He had no choice if he wanted to keep Beth and Danny alive.

  His gut churning, he followed Danny’s path out the door, knowing it wouldn’t be long before Beth shut up shop and followed them, watching him as he’d been watching her.

  With his Glock in her pocket.

  McCall had almost pulled a gun on Danny—and not just any gun. A Glock 18 with a release button for automatic firing…

  Whatever McCall did for a living these days, he was a consummate pro. Instincts honed to a razor’s edge.

  Beth still felt the tremors down her spine. Did he draw to protect her, or himself? And if he was so wired that he’d pull on a little boy, what would happen when the real danger came?

  She couldn’t let her son be here when it happened.

  Trust me, Beth. Do you remember? Do you?

  Watching them through the window, she stifled the pang of wistfulness. Oh, she remembered all right—and ached.

  After a decade that seemed more like a century, he was back, and he’d made a little boy’s dream come true. For the first time, Danny could look at a friend playing with his dad and not feel wistful…and even McCall couldn’t be that good an actor. He was having as much fun as Danny, teaching him to pass and catch, kick the ball and take a tackle.

  Much as she was terrified to trust him, McCall was acting like a normal dad out there. The kind of dad Danny longed for with his sweet, innocent baby’s heart…and she knew that, if McCall’s recollection of this day would be hazy in hours, it would shine in Danny’s memory for years to come.

  McCall was right, damn him. Danny was suffering because of her stifling overprotection. She had to take risks…and though her mind screamed that this one seemed too big to take, her heart and deepest instincts cried out that McCall was here to help her, to help Danny.

  Listen to your instincts. You know me.

  She stifled a sigh and moved to return to her wheel, when the phone rang. She grabbed the receiver, placing it between her shoulder and ear for balance as she washed her hands. “Hello?”

  “Hey, Beth. It’s Donna.”

  The smile on Beth’s face came through her voice. Donna Richards was the mother of Danny’s best friend Ethan, and the closest thing to a girlfriend she’d ever known. “Hey.”

  “Did that guy find you? Mr. Tall, Dark and Gorgeous, not to mention Ruggedly Mysterious?”

  She sobered immediately. “Yes.”

  “Do you know him?” Donna whispered as if McCall could hear. “I thought he might be an old lover come to play catch-ups…”

  Dear Donna, couching it as “girlfriend” questions, in case he was Danny’s father, and there with her now, or listening in. Beth closed her eyes, and offered a silent apology for the lie she had to tell. For Donna’s sake… “No. But—but, Donna—it’s turned personal,” she said, keeping her voice light, as if she and McCall were an item. “If I need to leave the Bay suddenly—”

  “I’ll be thrilled that you’ve finally decided to get a life, sweetie. Consider the house closed up and the business taken care of for a few weeks, until you contact me.” Donna’s return voice was teasing, cheerful. “By the way, I found a new piece of technical wizardry to amaze you. I bought one, and organized for yours to come through the mail. It should come today, I think. Enjoy it, okay? And don’t even think of paying me. It’s a gift.”

  Beth sighed, both in relief at the information and Donna’s careful wording down the phone line. A new, unused cell phone every two months, untraceable to her because it was always in Donna’s name and billed to Donna’s address, spelt a six-letter word she was addicted to—safety. “Oh, that’s so sweet. Thanks, Donna. And…” she hesitated, then said it, “And thanks for sending Ken and Ethan here to play.”

  “I’d want that, too, in your shoes,” Donna said simply. “Beth, I’d like to ask a favor. A big one.”

  “Name it,” she replied without hesitation, rubbing moisturizer into her dry, cracking hands. Donna had given so much through the past two, almost three years.

  Unexpectedly, Donna asked, “Do you trust me?”

  Beth frowned. “Of course.”

  “You—you know Ken and I can’t have any more kids…”

  “Yes.” Beth put aside the bottle of hand cream. She knew that for Donna to mention the painful subject after almost losing her life giving birth to Ethan, this had to be serious.

  “We’re going camping this weekend…and Ethan’s decided it’s not enough, just having us. He—he wants a friend to come. More specifically, he wants Danny…” Her voice trailed off. “Beth…”

  Words sprang to her lips—words she could never say to Donna. Her friend didn’t plead for her son, a child as precious to her heart as Danny was to Beth’s.

  How could she let Danny go, but how could she say no? Ethan had probably already told Danny…and again, Danny would resent her for years if she didn’t let him go. She’d seen it in Danny’s eyes—she’d seen it in Ken Richards’s face, in Donna’s—even in McCall’s, bare minutes ago.

  Damage.

  Scalding tears filled her eyes. The thing she’d worked so hard against—what she’d sacrificed her world for—was happening. She hadn’t protected Danny, she’d infected him with her fears. Fears justified in truth, but fears no six-year-old should know about, let alone act upon, or hate his mother for.

  She had to let him go.

  You have a day, two at most. Dared she risk it? If Falcone’s men were as close as McCall hinted—

  A sudden, blinding thought hit her. I can plan our escape while Danny’s away.

  As if he could hear the cogs turning in her mind even from a hundred meters away, McCall glanced at her, intense, searing with heat—and knowledge. Yes, he knew she’d run, and he’d be there to stop her.

  “I think Danny would love it, Donna. Thank you.”

  Her friend’s voice sounded choked up. “No, Beth—thank you for trusting us with Danny.”

  Beth felt almost sick. At least Danny would have one night with Ethan. It wasn’t a proper goodbye, but it was something. “Don’t go in too lonely a spot, will you? I’d worry about that.”

  Donna was an intuitive person, and had already picked up on the unnatural tension. “Of course, Beth. We haven’t booked. At this time of year we don’t need to. We were just going to drive off into the sunset tomorrow morning.”

  Perfect. “Sounds good. I’ll, ah, need to know, the, ah, exact location when you arrive. If it can be an, um, open kind of place, Donna? Where there’s lots of space for him to run?”

  To her credit, Donna didn’t gasp at Beth’s impeccable English suddenly descending into broken um-and-uh speech—their devised signal. “Of course, Beth. I know how Danny likes to run free.”

  “Sometimes I think he’ll, um, take off and fly on his own if I didn’t watch him. Let me know if he’s too much, and I’ll, um, come and get him,” she laughed, feeling a trickle of sweat run down her spine. The code had been practiced so many times; but now that the time had come, neither of them was ready for goodbye.

  “Of course. Can you pack his things? Pack a big bag for him—Ken’s planning to take the boys fishing, and you know how many times I’ll have to make them change out of wet, filthy things. We’ll pick him up tomorrow morning, first thing.”

  “Tonight might be better,” she suggested. “Then if he gets upset at being away from me, we’ll know while I’m close by. And it will, um, give me time with Mr. Tall, Dark and Mysterious…”

  “Good idea. Ken and Ethan can pick him up. Eight o’clock do?” Donna was very quiet now. She knew Beth’s suggestion
had little to do with practicality for Danny’s first night away and nothing at all about a budding romance.

  “Yes, that will be fine. Thank you. I’ll pack his gear now.”

  “The boys will have a ball.”

  But beneath the words, the undercurrent of sorrow tugged at her soul. I’ll miss you.

  Beth swallowed the lump in her throat. She had no time for sentiment, no right to get so attached. If anyone went nosing around, and found out Donna had helped her escape—

  She’s safe. She doesn’t know the truth.

  As they’d prearranged, Donna asked no questions, said nothing extraordinary in case anyone was listening to the conversation. She yakked for a few minutes about her family and Danny and the school fete coming up, told a dirty joke and ended the call.

  Old Harry Silver’s words almost five years ago when she and Danny had arrived in the Bay area would always keep her safe from prying questions.

  This is my granddaughter Beth, and her boy, Danny. They moved up here from Dunedin to escape the cold—and Danny’s father. He’s a bit of a psycho, so they ran from him. Hit her, you know. If anyone ever asks about her or the boy, let us know, will you?

  Her entrée into Renegade River life was assured with that part-lie. Beth met Harry Silver through old Dan Cassell. Dan had been her beloved friend in England—her one-time landlord and surrogate grandfather…the beloved old ex-spy who’d lost his life through his association with her. Harry and Dan fought their own unique war during World War Two. They were Special Operations Executive Pilots who’d smuggled goods, services and information to members of the French Resistance. They’d trusted each other with their lives more than once—and that utter faith had saved her life when she’d come to New Zealand.

  With one look in her eyes, wise, seen-it-all Harry had seen all she’d wanted to hide, just as Dan had—and he’d created a “granddaughter” and great-grandson, complete with his name, and birth certificates to prove they were New Zealand natives.