He grabbed a cola from the fridge and let Lia debate what the boys could and couldn’t have. He drained the drink in a few long swallows. He was beginning to think he was going to have to drug or use the stun gun on the pair of Dobermans so he could sneak close to the house. He hadn’t wanted to do that since he wasn’t sure how often the men checked on the dogs during the night. If they discovered them unconscious or even groggy, secrecy would be a thing of the past. But this couldn’t keep dragging on, either. He needed it to be over, before—
Conall didn’t let himself finish the thought. He’d long since learned not to dwell on possible risks and wasn’t going to make an exception for a risk that wasn’t physical.
Lia finally produced homemade oatmeal raisin cookies all around, and he fell on them with as much enthusiasm as the boys did. She watched in amusement. “They’re skinny. You look well fed.”
He grinned at her, making her cheeks become tinged with pink at the unspoken reminder that she knew every contour of his body. “I usually only get store-bought cookies.” He patted his belly. “I’ll bet I’ve put on ten pounds since I came to stay here.”
She made a scoffing sound accompanied by Walker’s and Brendan’s laughter.
“You’re not fat,” Walker said. “You have to run lots to keep up with us.”
“You do keep me hopping.” He smiled at them, thinking about how long it had been since he’d gotten any real exercise. He didn’t want to make himself visible by running daily, as he did whenever his job allowed it, and Lia didn’t have a treadmill or exercise bike or weights. She kept slim by caring for house, children, garden and animals instead.
He went out and kicked the soccer ball with the boys for an hour, then elicited their help in doing some work on the barn he’d had in mind. Lia provided gloves for all—she had kid-size ones for her garden. Conall put in some nails to hang yard tools, then laid out smaller tools to determine how large a peg board they’d need. Finally he took the boys with him to the hardware store. Lia kept offering to pay any costs, and he stared her down.
He purchased peg board and hooks as well as lumber and brackets to put up shelves. For once he worked up a good sweat by the time he had to go in and shower before relieving Jeff.
Conall was a little surprised when he emerged from the bathroom to find Brendan lurking in the hall.
“I wish you were having dinner with us,” the older boy said.
Conall smiled crookedly. “Me, too.”
Brendan shifted from foot to foot. “You really, really need to hear what those guys are talking about, don’t you?”
“We’ll figure out a way to do that. That’s what I get paid to do.”
“Do you think they have guns?”
Yeah. He was pretty sure the neighbors had enough guns for a small army, but he wasn’t going to say that.
“You afraid they’re going to shoot me?”
The kid hung his head and shrugged.
Conall ruffled his hair. “Better men than them have tried. You haven’t seen any holes in me, have you?”
Actually, he’d had a few, the ugliest of which had been in his groin and another that left a long scar on his thigh. Lia had discovered both—traced them with featherlight fingertips followed by soft brushes of her lips and moist breath. Who knew having a woman inspect his battle scars could be so erotic?
“No-o. Has anyone ever shot at you?”
“Yeah, but most people aren’t very good shots. Especially when the target is moving.”
Brendan frowned as if concentrating hard and nodded. “So you run really fast, right? And zigzag, like they do on TV?”
Conall laughed. “Something like that. Listen, I need to work, and don’t I hear Lia calling you?”
Looking sulky, the ten-year-old said, “How come Jeff doesn’t eat upstairs every night? He hardly talks to us anyway.”
Conall hid this smile. “I promised I’d let him out of the attic every other day. Otherwise he could sue because the living conditions are inhumane.” Pretending to worry, he said, “Maybe every other day isn’t enough, though. Do you think he’s forgetting how to talk? His wife won’t like that when I send him home.”