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“He was crippled in an attack trying to save me,” Beatrice went on. “He’s getting the use of his legs back after being paralyzed for a long time. He believed he was done for, sidelined, and he probably would’ve put a gun to his head if I hadn’t insisted he take over my cyber unit. I believe his paralysis is more mental than physical.”
The dog came to its feet and sniffed Vivi’s hand. She’d seen it occasionally with Cal, and heard stories about the therapy canines SFI now trained and had available to those who needed them.
Beatrice rocked back and forth and fiddled with a Mont Blanc pen. “What don’t you remember?”
Vivi patted the dog’s head before she dropped into the vacated chair, and worried her fingers in her lap. Ironic that the only thing Beatrice and everyone else wanted from her was buried in her mind. “Your fifteen minutes with me is pointless. I know what you want and I can’t give you the information because I …” The void rushed up, a tsunami. She could remember up to a certain point, then…nothing. Until she woke in a helicopter, cuffed and labeled a traitor. The information she wanted desperately to recall was trapped behind a thick, solid, and neatly impenetrable steel door.
Even now when she teased at the lock of the blockade, her body flinched as if she’d been shocked. She unclasped her hands and grabbed the chair’s arm rests, digging her nails into the wood. Her voice came out a rasp. “I don’t remember what happened that night.”
A child’s voice came from behind her. “Mommy?”
Vivi turned in the seat and sucked in a breath. A mini version of Beatrice strolled slowly toward her mother on chubby toddler legs, keeping her big blue eyes pinned on Vivi.
She hadn’t even noticed how large the office was, or the playmat taking up an entire corner underneath a window. Toys were everywhere, including a dollhouse, kitchenette, and a trunk of dress-up clothes.
The single thing on the mat not a toy moved lazily. Ian kicked out his long legs, crossing them at the ankles. He and the girl had been playing with an assortment of dinosaurs, and he glanced away as Vivi met his eyes.
Children. They’d talked about them, wanted them. After he completed his final assignment. After she’d turned in her resignation. After…
Vivi pivoted back to look at Beatrice and the pint-sized girl. “Dr. Montgomery.” Beatrice lifted the child and tucked her onto her lap. “I’d like you to meet my daughter, Sloane.”
Sloane like the doctor? Interesting.
“Yes,” Beatrice added, sensing her question. “After Jaxon. He means a great deal to me.”
Vivi stood, attention torn between the tiny double and the man glaring at her from a fortress of colorful play things. “Nice to meet you.” To Beatrice, she said, “Excuse my interruption. I didn’t realize… You’re busy. I’ll make an appointment with your assistant and come back later.”
“Let’s talk now.” Beatrice rose, setting Sloane on her hip. “It’s time for her nap.”
“No nap,” the girl exclaimed. “Not tired.” At the same time, she dropped her head to her mother’s shoulder and rubbed her eyes.
“I can take her.” Ian joined them. “I’ll even read to you for a few minutes,” he said, reaching out his arms.
Beatrice gave a small shake of her head. “I have a better idea. How about we take a ride? Uncle Ian will read to you later, okay?”
“Yes!” The girl did an adorable tiny fist pump. Maggie barked. “Uncle Idol come, too?”
Idol? Vivi scrutinized him. Rock Star Security provided bodyguards and a solid, law-abiding front for Shadow Force International, the unit that provided private intelligence, security, and paramilitary missions for those who had nowhere else to turn. They all used rock star code names—was that his?
Ian glanced at the door—ready to escape? “I have work, stinkbug.”
“We could use a driver.” Beatrice winked at him over Sloane’s head. “And maybe a drive will put you-know-who to sleep.”
Sloane pointed a tiny finger at her mother’s face. “No sleep.”
Ian's lips firmed—he didn’t like the idea, and Vivi had one guess as to why—her. He kept his attention on the child and his boss. “I’ll bring the car around.”
Without a backward glance, he left them. Beatrice retrieved a bag from her bottom drawer, never putting her daughter down. “I don’t care about that information. Don’t stress over it. You’ve been through an ordeal, and it’s not surprising you’re repressing the very thing that caused it. You’ll remember in time.”
Sweat broke out around Vivi’s hairline. The thought of leaving the building, this fortress, made her legs tremble. She forced courage into them. “Then what is this? What do you want to ask me?”
Ian hadn’t fully shut the door as he’d left and now another man entered. Callan Reece. He pulled up short when he saw Vivi. Maggie rushed to his side and he greeted the dog, saying to Vivi, “Good to see you out and about. How are you adjusting, Dr. Montgomery?”
It seemed weird being referred to her by her professional label. “Vivi, please. I’m doing as well as can be expected, I suppose.”
Sloane reached for him and he lifted her from her mother’s hold. “Some of us attend peer support group meetings down the block once a week, or whenever we’re in town. You’re welcome to join us.”
Caught off guard, she wondered what she, a highly trained psychologist, could gain from such a group. Probably a hell of a lot. “Thank you. When I feel more”—safe—“up to it, I’d love to attend.”
