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“They gave him you,” I conclude. “They let him send his inexperienced, unqualified kid into a dangerous situation and hope to bring you out again alive.”
He chuckles. But he bounces his foot and nods. “That’s about the gist of it. I got a special title and rank out of it, he got to boast his only son was as badass as he was. Thirteen years after I became an agent, my partner and best friend was murdered. By Vallejo’s men,” he adds, quieter now. “I walked away and disappointed the man thatswearseverything he does, he does for me.”
“He’s disappointed in you?” Frowning, I bring my gaze back to my mother. “Really? That’s harsh.”
“He’s disappointed I gave it up,” he rumbles. I see him in my peripherals. I feel his eyes on me. But I focus on my mother and count the spots on her cheeks. “He thinks I’m lazy, like doing regular police work islessthan what he does.”
“Why did you give it up?” I peek up and find him looking at the door. Watching my back. Protecting me, when I can’t protect myself. “You stayed in the police force anyway. Why give up the rank and your father’s approval, if you’d still be dealing with guns and bad people?”
“Well…” He exhales a deep breath and considers my question. “I guess it’s because I get to do the work during shift and hang it up at the end of my eight hours. Being an agent meant being whoever the agency wanted me to be. Around the clock, and at their whim instead of my own, so I’m not even sure Drake Banks existed as a twenty-something-year-old. I skipped over that decade completely, and it all began on that Malone case when I wasn’t even legally allowed to drink.”
Thoughtful, he reaches up and strokes the short stubble on his jaw. “As a cop, I get to be with my friends. Make relationships. Make enemies.” His lips curl higher. “I have family that isn’t blood-related to me. People who care about me. I have former lovers who are happy now, and better yet, they still consider me a friend, and so do their husbands.” He releases his chin and meets my eyes. “I can’t have that when I’m working undercover all the time. I’m a social person, and it’s lonely being someone else, having a fake persona inside the mob, so the only constant in my life was my father, who I don’t like very much, and my best friend…”
“Who is now dead,” I finish.Got it.Lowering my gaze, I slide the very tip of my finger along a vein that lines the length of my mom’s arm. “I’m sorry you lost him.”
“I’m sorry you got caught up in the same web,” he counters. “I’m sorry you’re gonna lose your mom.” He glances toward my leg, though I know he can’t see it through the bed. “I’m sorry your car got hit by someone else’s and your whole life has been tossed on its head.” But then he cracks a smile and looks me dead in the eye. “I’mnotsorry your ex-boyfriend was a soft cock who messed up.”
“Oh. Well…” Mortification makes my cheeks warm, but a soft snicker still manages to roll along my throat. “Thanks, I guess. I’m glad my heartache serves as amusement for you.”
“Your heart wasn’t broken, Little Bird. You never loved him. You hardly even tolerated him.”
“You can’t know that.” He’s right, of course. But that doesn’t mean I have to give him that knowledge so easily. “Maybe I wanted to marry him.”
“Nah.” He lowers his foot and settles back, opening his jeaned legs wide. “You were never going to risk making the same mistakes your mother did. You weren’t looking for a husband. I doubt you ever had sex without doubling or tripling up on birth control. And when you finally do decide to settle in with a man, he won’t be some corporate jackoff who bores the shit out of you and reminds you of your father.”
“You’re making assumptions.” I lift my chin and look down my nose at him. “And to speak of my sex life is rude.”
“I like him.”
Stunned, I wrench my head down and find my mom’s lips curled into a smile. Her eyes are still closed, but I see her. I see the delight in the way her cheeks color. “And that triple protection thing is a good idea.”
“Mom!” Tears burst free of my eyes and soak my cheeks, though I have no friggin’ clue why. My emotions sit too close to the surface these days. My humiliation a close second. I shove forward in my seat and set my forehead almost atop hers. “Don’t listen in to my private conversations.”
“Don’t have private conversations six-inches from my ear and expect me not to listen,” she taunts. Her voice is husky and pained, but her smile is so beautiful. So sweet, as I pull back and study her face. “Who is he? He sounds fun.”
“Drake Banks.” Drake introduces himself, of course, and offers a plastic cup filled with water. He passes it to me since he probably doesn’t want to intrude, but as Mom inches just a little higher in her bed and I bring the straw to her lips, he settles his elbows on the railings and smirks when she finally opens her eyes and sees him. “You havethemost beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen in my life, Ms. Swanson.”
“Oh. Well…” Her cheeks warm, despite how unwell she is, then to buy herself time, she takes a sip of water and swallows it. Voices and noises hum outside our room. The world continues on. But in here, hearts swell. Friendships are made. Frayed emotions are smoothed over by a smoother man. “Thank you, Drake.” If she had lashes, I think she’d flutter them. Slowly bringing her gaze my way, she raises a brow. Or, well, where her brow would be, if not for the chemotherapy causing it to fall out. “I see now why you’ve been too busy to visit me.”
“Stop it.” I hug her hand and press her palm to my cheek. To hide my blush? Or simply to be close to her? Maybe both.Probably both. “Drake is my friend, Mom. Non-romantic.”
“I mean…” Drake flashes a grin so wide that the movement alone is enough to draw her eyes back his way. “It could be romantic, too. She sure is pretty. And last I heard, she broke up with that tool from school.”
I roll my eyes toward the sky and shake my head. “Real professional, Banks. And not at all confusing for my poor mother.”
“My body is failing,” she scolds. “Not my mind.” Then she grins and looks Drake up and down. “What do you do, Drake Banks? You’re not in college, are you?”
He laughs and stares into her eyes like she truly is the most beautiful woman he’s ever known. He has this way of making a girl feel like theonlygirl on the planet. “I’m a cop, actually. College was never for me.”
“A cop,” she ponders, surprise in her tone as her brows pinch just a fraction tighter together. “What kind of cop?”
“The kind who enjoys writing tickets and watching folks try to flirt their way out of them.” He takes back the plastic cup and sets it on the bedside table. “Rory here has been pretty naughty the last few days. Driving recklessly, stealing from stores. She even rolled a little, old granny in the street for her last pack of gum.”
I exhale a breath of exasperation. “Not true.”
“Sure it’s true,” he counters smugly. “Why else would I be here, if not to watch her shamelessly flirt her way out of trouble?”
Mom rolls her head my way, slowly, thoughtfully, and meets my eyes. “A granny, Aurora? Really?”
