Page 12 of Grissom
“I know how hard you try, Tanner, and that’s all anyone can do. You’re a good boy. Don’t let anyone tell you different, and don’t worry if you still have accidents. One of these days, your body will mature, and your brain will wake you up in time and tell your muscles to hold on a little longer. You’ll see. Some of us guys mature later than others. It’s no big deal. It just is what it is.” Grissom rocked his firstborn on his lap until the sobs and hiccups ceased. “No matter what happens, no matter how many times things don’t go like you want them to, you’ll always be safe with me. I’ll never hurt you, scream at you, or scare you. Never. And who cares what Mr. Estes thinks? I sure don’t. He’s a big, fat jerk.”
Grissom got a weak chuckle out of Tanner at that childish pronouncement.
Telling him about Pam’s and that fat bastard’s demises could wait for the day Tanner was more confident, maybe after he and Luke received the counseling help they needed. He might tell them their mom was dead then… But he might not. Grissom wasn’t sure how to handle traumatic news like that, but he’d deal with it. Eventually. After he paid Murphy back for this outlandishly expensive hotel room. And for the days Grissom had spent in that asylum. And for his new cell phone. The new house Murphy had helped Grissom locate and buy. The boys’ and his counseling. All of those things cost money Grissom didn’t have and didn’t see a way of accumulating in the near future, not with his kids living with him now. They came first. Debt would always come second.
Instead of feeling weighed down with responsibility, Grissom felt good for the first time in years. Pam was permanently out of his life. He and his boys might never be wealthy, but the three of them were going to be okay.
“You know what, Dad?” Tanner asked, his sweaty fingers fidgeting with the bottom strands of Grissom’s shaggy beard.
“What, son?”
“I’m glad Mom isn’t coming back.”
“You know what, Tanner?”
“What, Dad?
“Me, too.”Fuckin’ glad.
Chapter Seven
Two Weeks Later
Tuesday unbuckled her seat belt and leaned forward, stretching her lower back muscles to get the kinks out after the flight north to New York City from Miami. She’d given Robert two-weeks’ notice, although if he’d pressed, she’d still handle an occasional assignment from him. They’d worked together for years; it was what friends did, and their friendship was solid. He knew he could call her anytime and she’d answer. He also knew she’d been reassessing her priorities, since Maeve Astor’s death in Little Rock, Arkansas.
Which was true. Tuesday needed to step back and take a good long look at the life she’d thought she’d chosen. It was time to reclaim the person she’d been before her friend and benefactor, Frederick Lamb died. Life on the road or stuck in the air for hours at a time was no longer good enough. It used to be. Once upon a time, she’d thrilled at the adulation heaped upon the photos her world travels and innate talent had wrought. She’d worked hard to achieve the pinnacle of success she’d never intended to reach. She’d been proud of her reputation, and she hadn’t minded the isolation of her chosen career.
Until that day on the beach…
Until she’d faced off with that bitch and her sadistic boyfriend…
Until she’d felt a little boy’s terror pounding like a steam engine against her heart…
Until she’d known the simple comfort of that same child’s tender, freshly showered, sweet-smelling body aligned with hers on a bed in a hotel room...
Tuesday couldn’t explain why those few days with the McCoy boys had affected her as deeply as they had. But standing up for them against those two narcissistic creeps had made her acutely aware how life had more to offer than just awards and adulation. For the first time in years, Tuesday felt hollow, as if she’d leaned the ladder of her life and every last one of her good intentions, dreams and plans against the wrong tree. Tanner and Luke had filled that hollowness, and now, she craved something besides the life she’d always thought she wanted.
After the last passenger had tromped by dragging a large rolling carry-on behind him, she stood in the aisle and reached into the overhead compartment for the hard-shelled, hybrid carry-on that housed her priceless cameras. Clothing, shoes, and everything else she traveled with were always checked at the gate. Never her cameras. They were expensive, sure, but their real value came from the grandfatherly man who’d given them to her.
Freddie’s memory held a treasured place in her heart, along with her father. They were the standards, the benchmarks she judged all men against. The man who finally stole her heart would have to be like them. Thoughtful. Generous with his affection. Handsome would be nice, but it wasn’t a deal breaker. She’d never been one to gush over pretty guys. Beauty was only skin deep, but ugly went all the way to the bone, and she wanted that undefinable something that Shane Hayes had with Everlee. What Mark Houston and Libby Houston had. That impossible dream called true love.That—she was a sucker for.
True love. Was it real? She believed so. She’d seen it from afar. She’d just never gotten close enough to experience it. She could’ve fallen for Shane and Heston Contreras. Both were honorable, courageous, handsome men with strength behind their convictions. But nothing had ever clicked with eitherof them. She considered them as friends, not boyfriends or manfriends. Just friends. Like Robert. Like Freddie.
Quickly, Tuesday double-checked to make sure her cell phone was in the inner pocket of her jacket, along with her chubby tube of cherry-flavored lip moisturizer. Not gloss. That crap made women look like they were trolling for easy hook-ups. Which. She. Would. Never. Good men were hard to find but they were out there.
The moment she stepped out of the breezy jetway into busy, noisy La Guardia Airport, she spotted Mark Houston in line next to her gate, boarding the flight to Paris. His beautiful blonde wife was with him. Weren’t they the most adorable couple on the planet? Libby waved energetically, and Tuesday waved back. Imagine seeing them here, of all places, and in this hectic crowd. They were near the front of the line and would board soon, so she hurried over to say hi. She got a big hug from Libby and a joking, “My heck, woman, you travel as much as my agents,” from Mark.
He was the tall, dark, and incredibly handsome type, a guy who worked out and was smitten with the boisterous, but diminutive, powerhouse blonde woman at his side. Mark and Libby were both in jeans, running shoes, and light jackets, with backpacks slung over their shoulders instead of carry-ons rolling behind them. They didn’t look at all like the power couple Tuesday knew them to be. Mark was a full partner in the highly-touted, yet much-maligned, covert surveillance company out of Virginia, The TEAM. Firecracker Libby was the mother of five and a former RN, who’d gone back to school to trade her nurses cap for a physician’s stethoscope. How these two managed all they did, yet stayed strong and were so obviously in love, was another positive sign that true love existed. They were what Tuesday wanted to be when she grew up. What she wouldn’t give to handle a private photo shoot with them and their kids and—.
Lightbulb!A photo shoot with all TEAM agents and wives. And their children! Great idea! Family photo shoots. Was it possible? Or had they signed NDAs to keep The TEAM out of the public’s very narrow eye? Judging by the way Tuesday’s pulse raced at the concept, it was worth looking into. She still had Murphy Finnegan’s and Alex Stewart’s business cards somewhere.
Mental note to self:Find those cards and call one of those guys the first chance you get.
When the Houstons said quick goodbyes and stepped up to the gate to scan their boarding passes, Tuesday walked away with a bounce in her step. So what if she had no significant other in her life? Sure, she’d like to be in a solid relationship like the Houstons, but she didn’t need a man to fulfill her. She wasn’t the quivering bundle of tears and nerves she’d been after her parents’ deaths, either. She could do this, and it’d be fun. If Mr. Finnegan or Mr. Stewart agreed.
Since she’d sold Freddie’s condo after his untimely death, Tuesday had no reason to visit NYC. The city held nothing for her. She rented a car and headed for the Hamptons, home of the filthy rich and famous, also where Jeff Lamb lived with his family. She spent a day getting reacquainted with them, then backtracked the next morning and caught I-95 south to Baltimore. Her heart wasn’t in the many historical sights of the city, so after spending a night in the birthplace of the‘Star Spangled Banner,’she hooked back onto I-95 and headed for the District of Columbia. It wasn’t long before she was cruising I-495 and crossing the Potomac River at the American Legion Memorial Bridge.
Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, and this adventure might prove futile. Most government offices were closed for the holiday season, and federal workers were already burning through their use-or-lose leave. But it might be the most opportune time, too.Managers had to stay and lock up, right? Surely Mr. Finnegan would still be in the office.
