Doranna Durgin - Survival Instinct

“Ever,” she said…and prepared to do it again.

Karin managed evening chores with an old sock over her cast to keep it from picking up unsavory farm substances, and with Dave by her side. “Yes,” she’d told him. “I’ll come with you. But we have to talk.” So they fed the goats, and she taught him how to milk Agatha, leaning over him to wrap one hand over his, initiating just the right rhythm in his fingers.

He gave her a sideways glance, one sparked with humor. “You’re enjoying this.”

“Hell, yes,” she told him, and licked his neck.

He carried the milk pail as she fed the sheep, apologizing to them for the whole Mad Sheep disease ploy. The sheep did not appear to care, and as they ate, Dave took a rake to the worst spots of the pen. He and Karin cast simultaneous glances at the old henhouse and she waggled her eyebrows at him, eliciting a somewhat smug grin. She drank it in.

She figured it was one of the last she’d see. That connection between them, so warm and nearly palpable…she figured she wouldn’t have it much longer. Maybe that was why she pinned him against the barn for one last, deep kiss before taking him by the hand and walking along the crest of the hill. When she sat, ignoring the dampness of the spring ground, he followed suit. But he’d picked up on her tension.

“You’re not changing your mind,” he said warily, more a prod than a question.

Karin drew her knees to her chest and pulled her hoodie sweatshirt out to envelop them. Total coincidence if it looked something like a fetal curl. “I’m not. But you might.”

He thought on that a moment and shook his head. “Nope,” he said. “Too cryptic. You’ll have to give me more.”

She thought wistfully about his flask, but knew he wasn’t carrying it. A swallow of that Cardhu would have gone down well, cask bite and all. “This Owen of yours,” she said. “The family business. Are you all rescuers?”

That surprised him. He withdrew, looking down the slope of the greening pasture. When he glanced at her, his eyes were back to cool ice. She told herself to get used to it. He said, “The safe house tipped you off, huh?”

“Well, yeah.” That was the truth, but not all of it…and here, on this hill, Karin was offering the whole truth. She added, “Not just that. It’s the way you are. A rescuer. I figure you either come from a family of them, or a family of the opposite. A kick-you-when-you’re-down family.”

Dave snorted. “No, not that.” He turned his jacket collar up, though it wasn’t nearly cold enough to inspire the need. “Rescuers. I never thought of it like that before, but…yeah.”

“So what’s Owen’s beef with you? He’s a rescuer…you’re a rescuer. I thought you said you weren’t in the family biz.”

“This day isn’t about me.” He tried to put some finality into his words. He didn’t have much success. Not after what had happened between them that afternoon.

She leaned into him, bumping his shoulder. Did it again, until he looked over at her. Not happily. She shrugged. “Maybe it wasn’t when you got here. But now, kinda…yeah, it is.” And besides, I don’t think there’s any way we’re going to have this little talk after I spill the beans on myself.

He scruffed his hand through his hair. It looked like defeat to Karin. “When my parents started the agency, they kept it personal. Small cases, affecting individuals. But once Owen truly had control, things changed. He got a few big jobs…he headed upscale. Instead of dealing with individuals, the agency manages big-picture ops. Saving the world, instead of just your neighbor.” He shrugged. “It’s a good agency. It’s a superb agency. Their operatives are the best. But…they’re operatives. I’m not.”

She thought about that a moment. A long moment. Then she asked, “Why?”

He made a gesture of impatience. “Ellen, is this-”

“Yes,” she interrupted, unrepentant. “If I leave with you, then yes. I want to know more about who I’m going with.”

“You knew enough to…”

This time, her smile-a little wry, but undeterred-was enough to cut him short. She said, “Yes, I did. That was my now. This is about my future.”

Dave did the hair-scruffing thing again. When he spoke, it was grudging. “Okay. Yeah. Look…there’s nothing wrong with Owen’s way. It’s just not for me.”

“But you don’t mind drawing on the resources of the family agency.”

He stiffened slightly. “No,” he said. “I don’t. What I’m doing is just as important. If my parents were still alive, they would have the same priorities. Owen might not appreciate the path that I’ve taken, but he understands that. It doesn’t happen all that damn often, but if I need resources, I ask for them.”

“And you help them, too.” She filled in that blank; he gave her a disgruntled and impatient look. “You said something about Pittsburgh. Ribs…collarbone. I’ve got good reason to know how long ribs can stay sore.”

His eyes had narrowed. “You’re full of surprises.”

Oh, ha. You’re about to find out how right you are.

But he conceded her point. “Yes. I help them out when they need me. Which is just often enough to remind me what Owen thinks I should be doing, but not so often that I tell him to take a flying leap. He’s good like that. Knows just where the line is.”

“Where?” she asked softly, knowing he would be appalled that she seldom bothered to draw lines at all. Morally acceptable to unacceptable…she’d lived her life moving freely on either side of that line. “Or should I ask, why? What made you different? What made your work more important than what your family expected of you?”

Because this was one of those families. A family with obligations and expectations. Rather like Rumsey, only with an entirely different focus.

She thought he might object again. She said, “I’ve got the persistence to hang off the side of a cliff all night. What makes you think I’m going to give up on this?”

He said his bad words again. The whole string, under his breath, not even looking at her. Nom de Dieu de bordel de merde. Then he said, “It was just one of those things. Everyone’s got one or two of them.” He glanced at her as though guessing what hers might be but she didn’t flinch; he’d know soon enough. “I was nine. I took ride-alongs with my dad all the time-not the crucial stuff, nothing inappropriate. Meeting people he worked with, handling legwork. But I got greedy, and I wanted in on some of the exciting stuff. When you’re nine, you can’t even imagine…”

Well, yes. She could. Rumsey had hauled her everywhere, introducing her to the life. But she nodded anyway. “So you…what? Invited yourself along?”

He hadn’t expected her to guess it so closely, but he got past his surprise to say, “Just that. Hid in the backseat of my dad’s sedan one night. Turned out he was on his way to a body recovery.” He looked at her without turning his head, just a flash of those bright eyes. “Little boy about my age, the son of a French diplomat who was touring our wine county. He’d been kidnapped and dumped. It was an ugly scene.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It must have been a shock.”

“That’s one way to put it.” He shifted to look her straight on, obviously struggling to move past the memory. “Don’t bother with psychobabble, by the way.”

“Me?” She hadn’t intended it. In truth, she was too lost in her own thoughts, in what came next.

“You. Anyone. I’ve heard enough of it-how it’s too late to save that kid, and if I spend my life trying I’ll just waste my time. The way I see it, I was pretty much headed for this business. I might as well choose how I go about it.”