Page 108 of Defenders of Jawhara

Slade watched them, still looking for something in the boy that looked like Brock.

Brock Wells was a redhead, with a touch of Viking somewhere in his background. Jason had dark-brown hair, those blue-gray eyes like Tayra’s, and he seemed small for his age, which would have to be at least nine if he really was Brock’s kid. Tayra and Brock had gotten divorced almost ten years ago.

The kid also walked funny—as if he had stiffness in one leg. Had he broken it in the past?

Following Bethany into the drugstore, Slade glanced around. The assessment habit was automatic these days—you hit a new location, you took in the exits, possible threats, and sized up the locals. In this hick town that wasn’t hard.

An elderly woman with a helmet of gray-blue hair stood behind the counter. A girl of maybe eighteen, with too much garish makeup on her face, leaned against the register, texting on her cell phone. That took care of the staff. He, Bethany, and Jason were the only customers.

Heading to the counter with the ice cream sign, Bethany ordered up a scoop of rocky road for Jason, a bowl of strawberry, and turned to Slade. He shook his head. “I’ll pass.”

Bethany’s eyebrows rose high and the look in her eyes had his face warming. Okay, they’d come for ice cream, so it seemed everyone was having some.

Nodding at Jason, Slade said, “I’ll have what he’s having.”

Bethany nodded and turned back to the elderly woman behind the counter.

When the woman handed over the ice cream, her voice thickened with sympathy. “So sorry to hear about your sister, dear. I heard the funeral was lovely. Plenty of flowers. Such a hard thing…breast cancer. Took my sister, too. I hope you’re getting regular checks. Runs in the family, you know.”

Bethany took a deep breath. She blinked hard, and Slade saw her nod. “Thanks, Maggie. I should get Jason home for a nap. He was up most of the night.” She took Jason by the hand and headed back outside. Slade followed, with his ice cream melting onto his fingers.

Outside, Bethany sagged against a wooden pillar holding up the overhang that shaded the front of the drugstore. She glanced at Slade. “It’s the sympathy that’s the worst. I hate anyone feeling sorry for me.” She dug into her ice cream like it was an enemy to take down, stabbing it with her spoon. With her mouth full, she asked, “Do you want Jason to finish his ice cream before we get into your car? I’d hate to have him drop it on new upholstery.”

Slade shrugged. “That’s what car washes are for.”

Her mouth twitched. “Around here, the car wash is the hose in the front yard, unless you’re lucky enough that the high school in Went, the next town over, is having one as a fundraiser.”

Slade nodded. “Okay, we’ll finish them here.”

She ate her ice cream in silence, just about bolting it down. Slade couldn’t imagine she tasted any of it. Jason obviously took his ice cream seriously—he methodically licked the cone down to the baked confection holder, then set about biting off chunks, working around it counter-clockwise. When he finished, Slade took Bethany’s cup and tossed it and his unfinished cone into the trash.

“Mama says…said wasting food was a sin.” The boy’s eyes filled with tears. “She’s gone to heaven.”

Slade nodded. “Sure hope so, son.”

* * *

Silence filled the vehicle on the drive back. Bethany knew that all too soon she was going to have to talk to Slade—she could feel the tension radiating from him. He had no legal right to Jason, of course—she wasn’t even sure Brock Wells had a right, even if Jason was his biological son. But Bethany knew she needed support from these men. She wanted the adoption to go smoothly. She wasn’t up to legal battles, but she had to make sure Jason got not only what he needed, but what he deserved.

Her irritation with Tayra spiked again. Tayra had insisted that she’d told her ex-husband about his son. By the time Jason was two, Brock had left the SEALs and had started Slade Security; she had no idea why the company didn’t use both of their names. Maybe Brock only worked for him? Once Brock was out, Bethany had suggested that her sister get in touch with him, that maybe now he might want contact with Jason, but Tayra had been adamant that Brock didn’t want his son. Didn’t want anything to do with either of them. What else had she lied about?

Tayra had said that Brock sent regular checks for Jason. But if Slade didn’t know about the boy, there was little possibility that Brock knew anything about him. So the checks had been a lie, too, and Tayra really had been scraping by. Tayra had told Bethany how tight the two men—Slade and Brock—were, which was why Bethany had been okay with Slade coming up here to sort things out.

Now she wanted to chew on her thumbnail, she was so nervous about what was to come. Would Slade want to take the boy? Could he? Would he call for Brock to come and take Jason away? She couldn’t have that—she wasn’t going to allow it. She’d raised Jason, more so even than Tayra had. She wasn’t giving him up without a fight. And where was Brock?

Slade pulled up in front of Tayra’s house—well, her house now, or maybe Jason’s. Tayra hadn’t been great about laying down clear instructions in her will. Climbing out, every muscle tired, Bethany helped Jason unbuckle. He was already yawning. Taking him inside, she glanced back and asked, “Would you care to wait on the porch?”

It wasn’t friendly of her, but she didn’t know this man, and she didn’t want him inside the house. Not until she knew if he was a friend or not. He nodded and Bethany headed inside. She’d bring out some lemonade with her—a peace offering. Then she’d settle down and tell Slade what Jason needed—and that she was keeping him, no matter what.

3

Slade pulled off his coat, loosened his tie, and sat down on one of the two rickety wooden chairs on the porch. A splinter jabbed him in the thigh. He shifted and pulled a thin cushion over the spot. The day was starting to cool. The air smelled of cut grass, and he could hear the drone of a lawn mower, along with the hum of bees.

Taking out his cell phone, he found he had two bars—a miracle in this place. He put in a call to Travis Larson. The man’s computer skills had come in handy at Slade Security more than once, saving lives and even preventing terrorist attacks at times.

When he heard Travis answer, he started to rattle off orders. “I need you to get me everything you can on one Tayra Wells, born Simmons. Not sure if there’s another married name, so get me anything on marriage licenses and medical records. I also want a workup on Bethany Simmons, Tayra’s sister, but I need to know if she’s biological or not, and dig into her past. She ever been arrested, or even involved with anything that hints at illegal?”

Travis’ voice came back, dry as desert bones. “Afternoon to you too, boss. Yes, thanks for asking about our trip. We’re just about to land in San Diego, so it’ll probably take me an hour or two before I’m in front of a computer again.”

---