In a Fix (Torus Intercession 2)

“May I ask about your first husband?”

Jackie coughed softly. “Mr. Bauer was killed in the line of duty shortly after Dallas was recruited by the FBI.”

“He was a policeman?”

“No, he was a fireman,” she explained softly. “There was a baby, and he went back for her.” She took a breath. “I used to get a Christmas card from her mother every year, but as soon as the little girl, Kristin, was old enough, she started writing as well. So now I get a card from both of them every year. She graduated from high school this year, and she’s going to nursing school. I’m so proud of her, and I know that Reid, that’s Dallas and Cate’s dad, would have been as well.”

I nodded.

“That is amazing,” she said suddenly, shaking her head.

Realizing that she was looking at Dallas beside me, when I tried to turn my head, I got a face full of his clean, coarse hair, just as I had the night before. I inhaled deeply before turning back to her. “Ma’am, your son is kind of a buzzkill. He keeps falling asleep on me.”

She looked like she might cry.

“Stop it,” Cate warned her mother. “You’ll scare Croy away, and we don’t want that.”

“No,” she said firmly, looking me in the eye. “We don’t want that.”

“It’s insane.” I leveled with both women. “We live on opposite ends of the country, and we just met. As in, we met yesterday. Night. It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours yet.”

Her smile was serene. “Yes.”

“And, begging your pardon, but he’s ten kinds of trouble. Anyone can see that.”

“Yes,” she repeated, not giving me any argument.

“I’m normally not like this.”

“Not like what?”

“I’m not the dive-in-and-take-chances guy. I don’t do that.”

Huge smile then, and from Cate I got a heavy sigh and a smile.

“You know how you meet people, and you wonder what your life would have been like if you had followed them out of the airport instead of getting on the plane?”

“I do,” Jackie said. “I absolutely do.”

I leaned my head against his, and we all heard his rumbling purr of contentment. “This is new, and I’m scared to death, but he’s going to visit me in Chicago, and we’ll see how it goes.”

Both women teared up then, and Jackie got up and came around the coffee table to kiss my cheek.

“I want you at my home for dinner tonight, Croy. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I agreed. “We’ll be there.”

The howl startled me, and for a second, because the sound was so alien, I wasn’t sure what it was. Putting my laptop on the coffee table, I got up to look outside, but halfway there, when there was a wail, this time followed by a soft moan, I knew it was Dallas.

Bolting into the bedroom where I’d put him earlier, having woken him after his mother and sister left, and getting him into bed, I saw quickly that he was shaking. When I got close, I realized that he was covered in sweat. Quickly, I got under the covers and drew him into my arms, holding tight and calling his name softly.

There was twitching and a couple of jolts before he made a rumble of waking, and leaned his head back so he could see my face.

“Hey,” I murmured, pushing his sweaty hair back from his forehead. “There you are.”

“Oh no,” he groaned, and tried to drop his head forward, into my chest.

Taking his face in my hands, I tilted his head back so he had no choice but to look at me. “You told me that you had bad dreams, but this is the first one you’ve had since I’ve been here.”

His brows were furrowed, and he looked like he was in pain.

“I didn’t want to run the risk of waking you while I was typing, but maybe if I’d been in bed, you wouldn’t have had a bad dream.”

“Now you’re gonna think I’m damaged and you won’t want anything to––”

“Did you know,” I said flatly, kissing his forehead, “that the FBI has in-agency mental health services?”

“Of course I––”

“Which makes one think that perhaps the Bureau is aware that the intensity of the job lends itself to that kind of self-care.”

“Do you know what kind of shit I would open myself up to if––”

“Then certainly a private therapist would be helpful. You don’t want meds prescribed, because that’s a whole other issue, but talking to someone who can help you manage your trauma and not let it jump you in your sleep would be beneficial.”

He was staring at me, searching my face.

“You have questions, I have answers, talk to me.”

“That’s it? Just you being logical?”

I squinted at him. “It’s my default.”

“Yes. Yes, I know.”

“Then?”

“No, I just—I thought––” He swallowed hard. “Most people get a little freaked out when you wake up screaming.”

“I’m sure,” I agreed, sliding my fingers through his hair.