Never Forget: A Novella in the Echo Platoon Series (6 page)

“Only because Mr. Kuzinsky called him off every time.”

“He’s watching out for you then.” Relief edged her worry aside. “He’s not going to let you get bitten.”

“Hah. I’m not going back.” Turning his head, he stared mulishly out the passenger’s side window. “I hate that dog.”

Maya handed him the money she held between her palm and the steering wheel. “Here’s your pay,” she said breezily.

Glimpsing his surprise as he took the bills, she hoped there’d be no more talk of not returning.

“You need to save that,” she added as Curtis leaned forward so he could shove the bills into the back pocket of his shorts. “In two years, you’ll have your driver’s license. What do you think you’re going to drive?”

“Not this ugly thing,” he asserted.

“Correct.” She cast him a sugar-coated smile.

He retreated into silence as they flew up the boulevard headed toward their neighborhood. She could only assume Curtis was weighing the pros and cons of keeping his job.

“By the end of summer, I could save five hundred dollars,” he mused out loud.

Victory
. A warm tide spread through her. She would get to see Rusty again. It was a shame he was emptying his pockets just to help her out, however. Maybe there was something she could do for him in exchange?

“All right, I’ll go back,” Curtis conceded suddenly, “on one condition.”

“Oh?” What made him think he held the upper hand?

“You take away my grounding. It isn’t fair that I have to work all day and then I can’t hang out with friends afterward.”

He had a point there. Nor did she particularly want him underfoot at the end of her day.

“How about a compromise?” she countered. “You may hang out with your friends from four to seven, but you’re home after that.”

He made a sound of disgust and rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he said.

“But no hanging out with Santana.”

“Why not?” The face he turned on her was the very picture of affront.

“He’s trouble, that’s why.”

“Oh, come on.”

“You come on. He’s at least sixteen, and he’s extremely rude.”

“He’s in my grade,” Curtis retorted. “Are you racist or something?”

“What?” She pictured Santana’s swarthy skin and realized for the first time that he was of mixed race. “Of course not. Race has nothing to do with it.”

“Sure it doesn’t.”

“Wow. You know what?” She caught herself back from recanting on her decision to let him off of his grounding. Did she really want a rebellious, angry teenager wrecking her peaceful evenings? No. She would try another tactic. “I trust your judgment, Curtis. If Santana tries to influence you in any bad way—if he offers you drugs or makes you watch porn or something—”

“Mom!” He affected a look of disgust.

“—then I trust you to walk away, understand? I raised you to be respectful of your elders, to think about your future, and to stay clear of trouble. Now I expect you to monitor yourself on all those fronts. You’re practically an adult.”

“Okaaay.” He drawled out the word as if waiting for the other shoe to fall. “So I can hang out with him?”

She cringed at the mere thought. “As long as his behaviors don’t rub off on you.”
Any more than they have already,
she added silently.

“They won’t,” he promised, making her feel a little hopeful. “Thanks,” he added, sending her a remnant of his little boy smile, the one full of love for his mother.

How she missed those simpler days.

Chapter Six

‡

C
URTIS BACKED AWAY
from Santana’s front door after knocking. It sounded like Draco was inside the house, barking furiously and clawing the door, but Santana didn’t even own a dog.

Puzzled, Curtis checked the house number, making sure he was in the right place. The door swung open, and a Doberman Pinscher strained through the opening, caught back by a dark-skinned stranger, who held the growling menace by his studded leather collar.

Curtis tore his nervous gaze off the dog’s snarling visage. “Uh, is Santana home?”

The man regarded him with hard eyes. “He just left for Walmart with his mom.”

“Oh.” Noticing a family resemblance, Curtis guessed that the stranger was a relative.

“You want to wait inside?”

Considering the stranger’s hostile look, the offer caught Curtis by surprise.

“Santana won’t be long,” the man added.

The dog continued to snarl.

“Shut up, Lucifer,” the man scolded.

“No, that’s all right,” Curtis said, thinking the dog’s name suited him. “I’ll wait until I see his mom’s car.”

Hard eyes drifted over him again. “You’re that special investigator’s son,” the relative stated. “Schultz, right?”

Curtis nodded. “Yeah, you know my mom?”

“We’ve met,” he said. “I’m Santana’s Uncle Will,” he said.

Curtis nodded and backed off the stoop. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Will. I’ll come back later.”

“You do that,” said Will, managing a smile that failed to reach his eyes.

As he walked away, Curtis could feel the man watching him. It was pretty obvious Santana’s uncle didn’t like his mom. She’d told him before that a lot of the men she worked with didn’t like her. Men had issues with women who were as tough as they were. He probably shouldn’t mention Santana’s uncle—or his dog—to his mom.

*

R
USTY FORCED HIMSELF
to let his cellphone ring three times before he cleared his throat and answered it. “Kuzinsky,” he said out of habit.

“Hi, it’s Maya.”

Her voice sounded huskier on the phone. He pictured her lying back on her bed, the shoes kicked off her tiny feet, her purple-framed spectacles on a nearby nightstand next to a glass of red wine. The PG-rated vision aroused him instantly. How pathetic was that?

“Well, you don’t sound like you’re mad at me, so that’s good,” he began.

“Why would I be mad at you?” Her tone dismissed the mere idea.

“For putting your son in harm’s way?” he suggested.

She hummed her acknowledgment. “He did say that the dog is crazy.”

“Yeah, well…” He couldn’t deny it. “War does that to everyone.”

Her sudden silence made him want to retract the depressing statement.

“I know it does,” she said, with enough compassion to reassure him. “But I trust you to know the difference between crazy and dangerous. You watched over Curtis today. Just promise me you’ll remain that vigilant until the dog settles down.”

His hopes rose. “Does that mean he’s coming back tomorrow?”

“Yes. Absolutely.”

He closed his eyes briefly. “Good. It was touch and go today,” he admitted. “Draco could sense Curtis’s fear. Your son needs to establish himself as the alpha, which could take time and can’t really be taught.”

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I know you have better things to do than babysit my son.”

“It’s not a problem.” Except that it sort of was a problem. His SEALs were showing up tomorrow evening.

“There are so many pitfalls awaiting teens these days. I see corrupting influences everywhere, and there’s only so much I can do to protect him when I work every day. So, thank you. I’m really grateful for this distraction.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he begged. “We’ve got a long way to go.”

“I will understand if it becomes too much,” she said.

An unmistakable warmth emanated from the vicinity of his heart. Hearing Maya’s gratitude, he didn’t care how hard it got. “We’ll play it by ear,” he promised.

“Is there … anything that I can do to return the favor?”

The ideas that popped into his head weren’t suitable to mention. In fact, they tied his tongue in knots, keeping him from saying anything.

“What about your list?” she suggested.

“My list?”

“You know. The shopping list you had at Home Depot. Did you find everything on it?”

“Uh, not yet.” But he wasn’t about to ask her to go shopping for him.

“What do you still need?”

The opportunity dropped so suddenly into his lap, he couldn’t afford to let it pass. “A date,” he suggested.

“A date?”

Her startled tone had him backpedaling.

“Well, I’m taking Friday night to myself to get away from the house and all the guys who’ll be here. I thought I’d make a small bonfire on the beach, but if you’d rather not…” Maybe she wasn’t interested. Maybe he’d completely misread her.

“No, that sounds nice,” she said with slightly more enthusiasm, yet still a hint of reservation. “It’s just … I haven’t been on a date in over a decade.”

Suddenly, there was Ian Schultz’s ghost standing right in front him, just looking at him.

Rusty gripped his phone harder. “Look, if it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll be okay by myself.”

“No, I’d like to join you,” she stated haltingly.

“You sure?” he asked. She didn’t sound sure.

“Yeah, I think so.”

Maybe she just needed time to adjust to the idea.

“In the meantime,” she added skirting the subject suddenly, “let’s see how Curtis does on his second day.”

Ah, so a date with him depended on what happened between the boy and the dog.

“Fair enough,” he replied. After all, the dog could end up biting the kid. The mother could end up blaming
him
. All hopes for a romance might burn completely to the ground. But hope was a stubborn son-of-a-gun, and he was still going to try. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he said.

“Yeah. I’ll see you.”

At least he could tell that she was smiling when he hung up.

Rusty shoved his phone back into his pocket and returned Ian Schultz’s steady regard. He suffered an urge to stick his tongue out at the man.

“She must have really loved you,” he said to the big, burly warrior.

Sometimes the ghosts talked back to him; sometimes they ignored him. Ian just shrugged with macho confidence.

“You got a problem with me asking her out?” Rusty asked.

Sliding his hands into the pockets of his desert camouflage BDUs, Ian looked Rusty over as if measuring up the competition. At long last, he shook his head.

“What’s that mean? You don’t mind, or you think I can’t win her over?”

The ghost sent him a knowing smile. And then he vanished just as suddenly as he’d appeared.

Rusty sank onto the edge of his bed and scrubbed a hand over his face. What would a woman who based her career on facts and hard evidence say to his assertion that he saw dead people—including her late husband?

She’d accepted his offer of a date with lukewarm enthusiasm for a reason. Maybe he just didn’t live up to the standards she was used to.

The sound of jets buzzing his rooftop on their descent to Oceana Naval Air Station prompted Draco to fly into a panic. Crated out back, his strident barks resonated with irrational fear.

Poor dog. Poor him.

Rusty heaved a tired sigh. His SEALs would show up tomorrow and he hadn’t put so much as a dent in his to-do list since the dog showed up. Maybe he ought to take up Maya’s offer of help after all.

Chapter Seven

‡

“C
AN YOU GET
the door, honey?” Maya called to Curtis.

Rusty’s offer of a date for the weekend had led to a fitful night’s sleep. Her alarm had failed to awaken her on time, and now she was frantically applying makeup so as not to be late for the meeting with a JAG officer regarding three airmen who’d managed to steal weapons from Logistics, probably to sell on the black market. With scanty evidence to prosecute them, Maya feared the men were going to get away with their trafficking.

Curtis crossed the living room, his footsteps audible through her bathroom wall. She heard him open the door, heard Rusty greet him.

Just the sound of Rusty’s voice put a tremor in her fingers. All of this angst for what? It wasn’t like he’d asked her to marry him! She blinked at the startling thought, smudging her mascara. She reached for a tissue to wipe it off.

A bonfire on the beach was a harmless proposition. But fires and beaches were so darned romantic. A couple couldn’t walk beside the waves without holding hands. They couldn’t sit in the glow of a snapping fire and not feel a kindling of desire. It had been so long since she’d done either, she feared she’d make a fool of herself.

What were Rusty’s intentions, anyway? He’d been a bachelor all his life. Was he thinking of settling down and starting a family? She’d already done that—had no wish to do it again.

But starting a family would compete with Never Forget Retreat. Perhaps he was only looking for a good time. A little fun, a light romance.

She had never done “light romance” or one-night stands—ever. She and Ian had met at Texas A&M. They’d been each other’s firsts. She could scarcely remember the rituals involved in dating.

With Rusty she wanted more than a dalliance. Until she knew what his agenda was, her only course of action was to hold back.

Casting a harried glance at the peach shell and black skirt she wore, she squared her shoulders and exited her bedroom, running straight into Rusty, who stood at the breakfast bar in her kitchen. Curtis was wolfing down his cereal. Rusty waited, tapping an index card on the granite counter top.

He turned at her approach, and her nerves started jangling all over again.

“Hi,” she said, moving to stand beside her son.

“Good morning.” Rusty’s haggard aspect suggested he hadn’t slept well either. Why not? Had he expected her to leap at his proposition?

“What’s that?” she asked, glancing at the card.

He tapped it two more times then held it out to her to take. “You asked if I’d found everything on my list. I’m still looking for these items.”

Pleased that he’d taken her up on her offer, she took the card and skimmed it. Only five items comprised the list which included an off-white trash bin for a bathroom and a dog brush.

“I’ll take care of this,” she promised. The offer made her feel better about stringing him along. “In fact, I’ll have them for you by this afternoon when I come to collect Curtis.”

“That’d be great,” he said, his manner subdued. “Good luck finding the trash can, though. I’ve looked everywhere for a metal one.”