Daniel

Daniel wasn’t quite sure how he ended up sitting in what looked like an empty classroom with a cup of hot coffee and a pecan sticky bun. One minute he’d been squaring off with Hope, the next he’d been outmaneuvered by someone a foot shorter and about forty years older than himself. Shaking his head, he took a sip of the coffee and warmed his hands on the mug.

He could see into the hallway from his position and had a clear view of Hope’s office. Lydia had even gone as far as leaving the outer door all the way open so he could see the couch in the waiting area.

He was actually thankful he had a few moments alone to come to grips with what had happened to his life in these past twenty-four hours. In that time, he’d managed to find and lose the love of his life all over again. He rubbed a fist into his chest, wishing the ache would go away. His whole body hurt like he’d been in a battle and his thoughts resembled scrambled eggs. Before he’d seen the shelter, he’d been so sure he had made the right decision, and embraced his pain like a martyr suffering for the greater good. If he removed himself from Hope’s life he wouldn’t damage her anymore. Now, looking around and really seeing what Hope did, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d made a horrible mistake.

During the walk down to the cafeteria, Lydia had proudly pointed out different sections of the shelter, explaining about the work they did here with obvious pride. When she spoke about Hope, it was clear Lydia worshiped her. She went on and on about what a kind, wonderful, generous woman Hope was, and how she was an inspiration to them all. Every word made Daniel feel smaller and smaller until he’d wanted to vanish through the well-cared-for wooden floors like a bug.

This place was nothing like the shelters he’d lived in with his mother. For one thing, it was clean and didn’t smell like an overflowing toilet. For another, each family that came in had their own space, no sharing a big communal hall where he had to lie awake at night on a cot and listen to the sobbing of women and children in the dark. All of his possessions would be packed into whatever they could carry, each time fleeing one abusive asshole or another, and each time his mother promised, swore, that it would be the last. But then something would happen, something his mother blamed on him, and they’d be on the run again.

They would get set up in some government-provided, shitty housing with second-hand furniture donated by people who always seemed to be looking down their nose at them. His mother would smile and suck up to whoever helped them, telling the social workers whatever they wanted to hear in order to get as much out of them as possible. Sometimes she’d even remain sober for a week or two making her eventual relapse even worse because he’d almost believe this time she meant it. Maybe, this time, she’d go to work at whatever restaurant would hire her as a waitress or bartender, and he could go to one school for more than a couple months.

Even in the depths of her addiction, his mother had been a beautiful woman with long black hair and big brown eyes. She’d used that beauty to get what she wanted, which usually meant hooking up with some local drug dealer in order to get what she needed for free. That went on until she became addicted to meth. What happened after that made the previous twelve years look like a fairy tale. All too soon, her lovely caramel brown skin became marked with dozens of sores from where she’d scratched herself, trying to dig out the invisible bugs she imagined crawled beneath her skin. His last recollection of her as he’d been taken into the back of the ambulance was of a woman who weighed no more than ninety pounds, screaming at him through her rotting teeth for killing her boyfriend, shrieking like a harpy out of some Greek tragedy about it being all his fault.

A woman’s voice from the hallway pulled him from his bitter memories and back to the present. He downed a large gulp of the still hot coffee, welcoming the slight burn and wishing it could take away the sour taste in his mouth. Lydia had left him a magazine to read, some random gossip rag about some celebrity cheating on another one or some similar bullshit. He quickly flipped it open so anyone glancing in his direction would think he was doing something other than hanging out in an empty room.

He pretended to study the article about zebra print being the next big thing in fashion while a slender redhead and what had to be her daughter went into Hope’s office. Their voices blended with Lydia’s laughter and the little girl, a miniature copy of her mother no more than five years old, spun around in circles with her eyes shut and her arms out wide. She stumbled and, before she could hit the floor, her mother had her scooped up in her arms.

Setting the little girl down on the couch, the mother headed for the side of the room that held the door to Hope’s office, leaving the child alone, her little feet swinging back and forth. Her lovely copper hair was held back from her delicate face by a big hot pink rubber band that matched her bright pink shoes and shirt. She spoke with Lydia for a little bit, standing and sitting more than a dozen times in less than a minute.

Whatever heartbreak had driven her mother to the shelter hadn’t broken the little girl’s spirit; she practically radiated health and happiness. He picked at the pecan roll and wondered what his life would have been like if his mother had come to a place like this. Would she have stuck around or would she have fled to another shelter where she could get through the system as quickly as possible? Somehow he couldn’t picture someone like Hope being blind to his mother’s manipulations.

The little girl wandered into the doorway of the room, inching in and out while singing some nonsensical song about fluffy, puffy unicorns. He closed his eyes and let her voice wash over him, her joyful innocence blowing away the remaining cobwebs of the past clinging to his mind. She reminded him of the way the children in Afghanistan would play, using what they had to find their own joy in the middle of a war zone.

God, he wished he’d done a better job protecting them.

“Are you going to eat that?”

He jerked in his chair and almost knocked over his cup of coffee. The little girl stood before him looking up at him with big hazel green eyes. She had a smattering of freckles over her face she would probably curse as an adult but, right now, they added to her cuteness. Tilting her head she narrowed her eyes at him.

Remembering she’d asked him something he cleared his throat. “I beg your pardon?”

“I beg your what?” She leaned closer. “Why are you wearing rock star glasses?”

He felt like he was speaking to someone in a foreign language. “I beg your pardon is something you say when you don’t understand what someone else said.” She continued to stare at him. “It’s the polite thing to say.”

“Oh, you mean manners. Like please and thank you.”

“Yes,” he said with relief. A quick glance over her shoulder showed no sign of Lydia and he wondered if he should walk her back over to the reception area. “I wear the glasses because I hurt my eyes.”

She grew solemn and the color drained from her face, leaving her freckles standing out like cinnamon sprinkled on snow. “Did someone hurt you?”

He hesitated and decided for a version of the truth. “Not really. Just a bump on the head.”

She reached for him and he drew back. Giving him an impatient look she grabbed his suit and pulled him down. Afraid of what she would do if he didn’t comply with her silent order, he leaned down and let her remove his sunglasses. With a very somber expression she turned his head this way and that, her small hand on his jaw making his heart ache. She was so little, so fragile, and he prayed whatever Hope was doing with her mother helped.

“They look okay to me,” she said in a suspicious voice. “Are you fibbing?”

“Rebecca Mildred!” Lydia said in a shocked voice from the doorway.

He tried to jerk back, not wanting Lydia to think he was doing something wrong with the little girl, but Rebecca held firm to his jacket. “Is he a rock star?”

Lydia gave him a bewildered look and he was glad he wasn’t the only one knocked off his feet by someone less than four feet tall. “No, I don’t believe Mr. Escobar is a rock star.”

Moving slowly, he put his head down and placed Rebecca’s hand on the scar along his skull. “See? That’s where I got hurt at.”

Her tiny fingers traced along his head, as light as the touch of a butterfly. After a careful examination she seemed satisfied and released her hold on him. Pointing to his pecan roll with barely concealed yearning, she said, “So are you going to eat that?”

“I’m not really hungry. Would you like it?”

“Rebecca!” Lydia said and moved across the room. “It’s not polite to ask people for their food.”

“But if he’s not hungry we shouldn’t waste food.” She looked back at Daniel. “Isn’t that right?”

Bemused, he gave her a solemn nod. “That is correct.” She started to reach for it but he stopped her. “But, you need to ask your Mom first.”

Her face fell and he had to bite back a laugh. “Promise you won’t eat it?”

“Well, I don’t know, I’m gettin’ kinda hungry...”

Tears welled up in her eyes and he immediately felt terrible for teasing her. Before he could say anything, Lydia stepped in. “Rebecca, remember, you can have as much as you want to eat, anytime you want. You will never go hungry here.”

Her lower lip trembled but she nodded and let Lydia pick her up, immediately cuddling close. Lydia caught his questioning look and shook her head. “Now, why don’t we go back to the waiting room and I’ll show you the new coloring books I got.”

Rebecca lifted her head from Lydia’s shoulder and sniffed. “Are there any unicorns?”

“I’m not sure. Why don’t we go see.”

Lydia started to walk out the door but Rebecca said, “Wait!” and squirmed out of her arms. She ran back to Daniel and gave him a hug. Her hair smelled like strawberries and she was surprisingly strong for such a little thing. “I’m sorry about your eyes.”

He hugged her back, aware of how slight she felt, how vulnerable and precious. “They don’t hurt anymore.”

She pulled back and nodded. “Sometimes things can stop hurting on the outside but still hurt on the inside. Dr. Walker says it takes extra hugs to make them all better.”

Lydia took Rebecca back into the waiting room. This time, she closed the door, but before she did, she gave Daniel a sad smile filled with understanding. Alone in the sudden quiet, he wondered if the wounds on his heart and soul would ever heal, and if he hadn’t made the biggest mistake of his life all over again.

His cell phone vibrated in his pocket. When he pulled it out, Boden’s number flashed on the screen; Danny picked it up.

“What’s up?”

Boden snorted. “I could ask you the same thing. Why the fuck am I being pulled off the search for DeLuca to guard Dr. Walker? I thought that was your job.”

“It’s complicated.”

“No shit, Sherlock. Anything to do with women becomes complicated. You were so adamant last night that you were going to stay on and guard her. Since I’m going to be taking over for you, I need to know what caused this change of heart.”

“It’s personal.”

He heard the soft hiss of Boden pulling in a deep breath. “If you don’t give me more than a two-word answer, I’m gonna to break into your house and shit on your pillow.”

Despite himself, Daniel grinned. “No need to get all fecal about it.”

“C’mon, man, ‘fess up. Milton is wondering why you flaked out on him. I don’t have to tell you that the one thing you never do is put a client in harm’s way. That’ll get you fired quicker than you can blink.”

“I’m not putting her in danger...” he lowered his voice a bit, even though he didn’t think anyone could hear him. “Look, you were right. I care about her - a lot. But I’m no good for her. Someone else would do a better job of protecting her. I’m a liability, just like you said.”

“Yeah, well I may have been talking out my ass on that one.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look, I think you going off this job is a mistake. If you want to bring in a backup guard that would be fine, but don’t just leave. You know Dr. Walker. She trusts you.”

“Not anymore,” he muttered.

Boden’s tone turned icy. “Did you hurt her?”

“No!” He lowered his voice and cast a guilty look at the open doorway. “No, I would never hurt her. That’s why I have to leave.”

“No, that’s why you need to stay. I saw the way she looked at you. That woman would forgive you for pretty much anything if you asked.”

“I doubt that.”

“You don’t know anything about women, do you? When my late wife and I would have a throw down fight, the kind that clears the air in a really yelling-at-the-top-of-your-lungs manner, I might have ended up sleeping in the guest room for a night or two, but we always made up.” A melancholy tone entered his voice, “I was wrong last night, buddy. If you have a chance to win a good woman’s heart you should never give up.”

“Even if I wanted to stay on as her guard, Milton would never let me.”

“Let me talk to Milton. I’ll ask him if we can both do a 24/7 with her, but on rotating cycles. I’ll tell him something about you not being sure you could guard her in full daylight, that you were worried that you’d put her in danger.”

He felt like shit for using his injury as an excuse but, when it came to Hope, he’d do anything to keep her safe. “Think he’ll go for it?”

“I have no idea. Even if he does, it won’t mean shit if you can’t get Hope to agree to you staying on. If the client wants you off the case, Milton will usually reassign you.”

“I made such a big, fucking mess.”

“Of course you did. You’re nothing but a jarhead. Leave the heavy thinking to your superiors.”

“Fuck you, Goldilocks.”

“No thanks. While you do have a sweet ass, you’re not my type.”

Daniel couldn’t help but laugh and something in his chest loosened, enabling him to draw in a deep breath. “Give Milton a call and let me know what he says.”

“What if he says you’re off the case?”

“Well, then, I’ll use my vacation time and stalk you and Hope.”

“Peeping through the curtains while I shower?”

“Man, you are so wrong.”

“Time’s running short. I’ll call you after I talk to Milton.”

“Roger that.”

“Now you go do your part. Talk to Dr. Walker and do some major ass kissing to get her to forgive you for whatever dumb fuck thing you did to piss her off.”

“I’d rather talk to Milton.”

“Bye, Escobar. And remember, don’t try to understand her logic. Just keep telling her you’re sorry until she gives up and forgives you just to shut you up.”

Laughing, Daniel hung up the phone and, in the silence of the empty room, he began to plan on how to win Hope back.

*****

A HALF-HOUR LATER THE door to Hope’s office opened again, and Rebecca’s excited chatter spilled into the hall like water racing over rocks. He kept his gaze on the magazine before him and wondered how one magazine could have so many pages devoted to Hollywood couples cheating on each other. But happiness didn’t seem to sell magazines, so he guessed everyone who had a good relationship in Hollyweird didn’t get much PR.

He wrapped up the partially eaten sticky bun, tossed it into the garbage, and grabbed the empty coffee mug and magazine, making sure his suit was free of crumbs. He walked across the hall and knocked on the metal frame surrounding the door. Hope sat on the corner of Lydia’s desk and the look she gave him was less than friendly. He was glad he still wore his sunglasses so she couldn’t see how his gaze went automatically to admire her crossed legs. In his experience, women who were angry didn’t understand how, in the middle of a fight, a man could still want to do carnal things with her...real dirty, nasty things that would make her blush every time she looked at him the next day.

Lydia smiled at him and took the coffee cup from him. “Thank you for being so nice to Rebecca. She can be a bit...overwhelming.”

“When did you see Rebecca?” Hope asked as she slid down from Lydia’s desk, her dark slacks molding to her lush thighs.

“She came over while you were talking with her Mom. Nice kid.”

Lydia and Hope exchanged a glance and, to his surprise, Hope smiled at him with real warmth. “She talked to you?”

He chuckled at the memory. “Oh yeah.”

“That’s wonderful!”

Lydia nodded in agreement. “I was worried when I noticed she’d gone across the hall, but there she was, jabbing away like a mocking jay who’d had too much tea. And he isn’t even a unicorn.”

“Am I missing something?”

Hope’s smile fell from her lips and he wished he hadn’t said anything. “Rebecca won’t talk to men...until now.” She looked like she wanted to say more but then the line appeared between her eyebrows and she shook her head. “I can’t discuss it, patient confidentiality and all that.”

“I understand.” He took off his glasses and made eye contact with Hope, wanting her to see his sincerity. “Can I ask you one thing?”

She crossed her arms and nodded.

“Is she going to be okay?”

“Yes. Children are remarkable in their ability to open themselves to love no matter how many times they’ve been hurt in the past. Their courage and ability to forgive astounds and humbles me on a daily basis.”

The way she looked at him when she said that made him feel more like she was talking about him than Rebecca. He held her gaze, trying to put all he was feeling into his eyes, to tell her how sorry he was, how much he regretted his words. “Wish it was that easy for adults.”

“It is,” Lydia chimed in, breaking his gaze with Hope. “Adults just tend to have a million bullshit excuses for being too afraid to trust someone enough to give them their heart.”

The cell phone in his pocket chimed and Daniel nodded to the women. “Excuse me for a moment.”

He stepped outside and read the text from Boden. Everything was in place and they were waiting for him and Hope. The next few hours at the diner where the FBI was going to use Hope as bait were going to be extremely risky. The thought of leaving her alone with Boden and the surveillance team made his palms sweat. Now it was time for Hope to make a very public departure from the shelter and, hopefully, lure DeLuca into making a mistake.