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“Roger that,” he said, all casual and sexy. “All night long,babe.”
He disconnected and Vivi clamped down the urge to hurl her phone at the wall. She stared unseeingly at the buildings across the street. He called her babe. He only did that when he wanted to rile her up or distract her.
Done and done.
Whirling on his accomplices who were still trying to look innocent and failing, she marched to her desk.
Maggie’s ears perked and she whined. Cal went on high alert, or at least higher than his normal hyper-vigilance. He automatically reached for Beatrice’s hand and she took it. They both looked terrified.
Good. Vivi caught herself before she said things she might regret later. She was angry at all of them, but mostly herself. Ian had crawled under her skin again, made her care too much. If she lost him now, after everything…
Clenching her jaw and forcing herself to breathe through her panic, she resumed her seat and met Cal’s hard gaze. “One hair. One eyelash. So much as ahangnail. Anything happens to him, I will walk out of here and wash my hands of you both. Are we clear? Then I will sneak back and kill you in your sleep.”
“And leave Sloane an orphan?” Beatrice squeaked.
“She has a family here, doesn’t she?”
Beatrice looked chagrined, but Cal said, “I can’t guarantee nothing will ever happen to Kincaid. He’s a soldier; it’s in his blood. Wrapping him in a cocoon serves no purpose, and there is risk involved in each and every action we take. You know that.” Beatrice squeezed his hand, attempting to make him shut up. He didn’t. “He’s skilled, trained, and can handle whatever happens. You can’t protect him from the world.”
He held her stare a heartbeat longer, then slouched in his chair. Beatrice closed her eyes and made a face, seeming to brace herself for Vivi’s reply.
She considered chucking her desk lamp at Cal. Getting up and walking out. Yelling obscenities and more threats.
None of those things would ensure Ian’s safety. Cal, damn him, was correct—the world was not a safe place. Ian could fall in the shower, be involved in a car accident, have a heart attack. All unlikely, but things like that happened each and every day and she couldn’t cover him in bubble wrap, no matter how badly she wanted to.
From her drawer she selected a pencil and snapped it in half. The splintering noise caused Beatrice to jump slightly and her eyes flew open. Maggie shifted, uneasy.
That accomplishment did little to ease Vivi’s anxiety but the physical act of doingsomethingtook the edge off her anger. Inside her mind palace, she catalogued the sensations coursing through her, then shoved them into a box. Dropping the individual pieces into her empty waste can, she forced herself to breathe again and detach from the betrayal she felt over what had happened.
She slid on a pair of readers and cleared her throat, her therapist persona saving her from drowning. “We’ve covered the details of the events that transpired the night of Sloane’s birth. What I want to review is how you felt about it.”
Both glanced at her as if she’d grown six heads. Keeping her personal stuff separate from everything else made her feel like she had.
Beatrice released Cal’s hand and fiddled with the hem of her blouse. “Some moments, it was frightening, but we handled it.”
Handled. The term was often used in place of ‘controlled.’ Control was an illusion. “You had no control over the woman invading your house during the event. I assume you had a birth plan, and having your life and that of Cal and Sloane’s threatened wasn’t part of it.”
“Of course not.”
It was challenging to get folks like the two in front of her to examine their gut-level reactions to threats, but Vivi had found using certain language helped. “We’ve discussed how you responded to the physical threat, and handled the attack with your quick-thinking and bravery. What reactions did you experience internally when the event arose?”
Blank stares were the answer. Were they reliving it in their minds or refusing to open that door?
Vivi put herself in their place. “Normal people would report fear, anger, panic, and perhaps also the push of courage, justice, and retribution. Do any of those terms describe how you felt while it was happening?”
Cal relaxed a smidge, tapping his thumb on the armrest and nodding. “All of them.”
Now they were getting somewhere. “Protecting your family put your skills and training to good use, correct?”
Another nod.
“But the idea of losing them may have also caused extreme fear. That fear, when not expressed and released, builds. It causes flashbacks to events you experienced while in the field. Nightmares. Like a bullet wound leaves a physical scar, the trauma of the event leaves emotional and mental ones.”
“We’re aware of that.” Beatrice shifted and crossed her legs. “How does that affect Sloane? What happened happened. We can’t go back and change it.”
Vivi made a note. “I think we can.”
“How?” Cal asked.
