Nan Dixon - To Catch A Thief

He tried not to blink, not wanting her to examine his soul.

He was the weakest Cornell. Would his father have let a dog keep him from his mission? Would his brothers have ended up wounded, suffering massive headaches and dizzy spells?

No. Because that wasn’t the Cornell way.

“I’ll be fine,” he said.

“If you have problems, you’ll call?” his mother asked.

He made a cross over his heart. “Absolutely.”

She listed the food she’d made and frozen. Then attached the list with the cooking directions to the freezer. “I popped over to the store, so you’re good for milk and other staples.”

“Thank you.”

She checked the time. “Cab should be here in a few minutes.”

He started to stand.

“You stay here.” She rolled her bag to the door.

“I’ll walk you down.” He tried to keep the growl from his voice. “You’re my mother. I want to know that you’re safe.”

“You are your father’s son.” She sighed. “Come on.”

They took the freight elevator to the main floor. He’d never noticed how much it rocked. He leaned into the corner so his mother didn’t see him wobble.

Keeping a hand on the wall for support, he led her to the entry. When had they put a bench outside the building? Excellent. He sat and waited with his mother. “Thank you for coming. For making all that food. For just being—you.”

Her eyes filled with tears. “That’s what a mother does.”

When the cab pulled up, he pushed off the bench and opened the door. Luckily, the driver loaded the luggage. He wasn’t sure he could lift her case. “Safe travels. I love you. Say hello to Jax and Bart.”

“I will. Love you to the moon and back,” she whispered.

Sage chuckled as the cab pulled away. He tipped his head and the sun shot into his eyes.

Mistake. Pain stabbed his brain. His eyes watered but he refused to let the tears drop. He was a Cornell. Stumbling to the bench, he collapsed.

He had to gather his strength before conquering the trip back to his condo. He took in a deep breath. Another mistake. His cracked ribs ached from the damn mastiff. That pain took a back seat to his blooming headache. Apparently hitting the cement foundation of the house and taking a bullet hadn’t knocked sense into him; it had knocked something loose.

He closed his eyes and leaned against the brick wall, listening. The Savannah River lapped the seawall next to the condo. Pedestrians filled River Street. The sounds of conversations and laughter washed over him.

“You all right?”

Damn. Sage jerked and the headache that had eased roared back. He’d actually fallen asleep. He opened his eyes. “Kaden? What are you doing here?”

“Checking on you.” Kaden crossed his arms and his gaze took in too much. “Are you okay?”

“I...just saw my mother off.”

Kaden looked at his phone. “An hour ago.”

“What?” He’d sat here for an hour?

“She texted me.” Kaden flipped his phone so Sage could see the message.

Unfortunately the numbers and letters swam. “What are you doing texting my mother?”

“I agreed to check on you.”

“Not necessary.” Sage took a breath and pushed up off the bench.

“I promised.”

Kaden kept pace as Sage used his keycard and headed inside the building.

“Are you escorting me to my door?” Sage snarled.

“Keeping a promise.” Kaden looked sideways at Sage. “How are the headaches?”

Sage grunted. Talking and walking wasn’t easy.

He punched the elevator button and leaned on the wall. “What’s the latest on the third man from the raid?”

“He was spotted in Five Points so the Atlanta Bureau is keeping watch.”

They stepped into the elevator.

“Margaret must hate that,” Sage muttered.

Margaret and Roger, the Atlanta agent-in-charge, didn’t play well together. Their divorce had been bitter. And Margaret had stolen Kaden from her ex when he’d worked a case in Savannah and fallen in love with Courtney. “I gather you were the liaison to broker that deal.”

Kaden snorted. “Yeah. Those two need to learn to separate business from their animosity.”

It took all of Sage’s concentration to walk from the elevator to his condo. When he arrived at his door, he pointed. “This is me.”

Kaden didn’t take the hint and leave. Sage dug for his key and opened the door. Somehow the hallway from his door to the kitchen had grown. He let his shoulder brush the wall to keep from stumbling. He couldn’t show weakness in front of his mentor. Kaden might report that he wasn’t able to work. “I’d offer you a beer, but I’m not sure if I have any.”

“Still on the pain meds?” Kaden asked.

Sage shrugged. Let him guess the answer. If he was unbalanced now, what would happen mixing meds and alcohol? “Check the fridge. Mom stocked it yesterday.”

Kaden headed to the fridge and didn’t witness Sage collapsing onto a kitchen chair.

“Found one,” Kaden said.

“Opener’s in that drawer.” Sage pointed. He had a water bottle from earlier. It wouldn’t look weird if he didn’t move.

Kaden took the seat across from him. He tipped his beer bottle. “Here’s to your successful recovery.”

Sage held up his water bottle. “I can drink to that.”

They talked Bureau business. Cases. Sage kept up, but all he wanted to do was nap.

Kaden finished his beer. His steel-blue eyes stared into Sage’s. “Why don’t you stay at my place? You’d have people keeping track of your recovery.”

Sage hadn’t fooled him. Would he report to Margaret that he wasn’t able to work? “I’m good here.”

“At least come to dinner tonight.”

He could barely walk. How would he get to Kaden’s apartment? “My mother put together a bunch of meals. I think I’ll stay in.”

“Okay. Thanks for the beer.” Kaden found the recycling and dropped the bottle in. “I’ll keep asking. I have to keep my word to your mother.”

Sage grinned. At least he hoped it was a grin and not a grimace. “When I run out of food, I’ll take you up on your offer.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” A goofy smile covered Kaden’s face. “I’d like you to meet my fiancée.”

Sage started to nod but the pain cranked up. “I can’t wait.”

He dug up enough energy to walk to the door.

After Kaden left, he threw the locks and grabbed the wall to stay upright. He’d gotten rid of his mother, but he couldn’t escape Kaden’s watchful eye.

CHAPTER THREE

“MAMÁ, MRS. HALVORSEN is bringing over sweet tea and cookies.” Their neighbor promised to visit with her mother while Carolina drove to Savannah.

“Is this the interview with the witch?” her mother asked.

Carolina inhaled. Her mother was losing her filters. “It’s with Abby Fitzgerald.”

“She’s probably as uppity as her mother.” Mamá’s lips pursed as tight as if she’d eaten a lemon.

“Then why did you hound me to apply for the job?” Frustration filled Carolina’s voice.

“Because I want you to find out what those Fitzgeralds are up to.” Her mother’s blue eyes narrowed. “I want you to see where we should have been living if your father hadn’t died so young.”

“I didn’t have to apply for a job to do that.”

Her mother wrapped an arm around Carolina’s waist. “But if you get into the house, you could...pick up something for me.”

“What?”

“A...souvenir.” Her mother’s voice rose. “Something small.”

“I can’t.” A shiver ran down Carolina’s spine. Her mother’s cancer was making her irrational.

“For your mother?” Tears dripped from Mamá’s eyes.

“I’m not a thief.” Had her mother stopped distinguishing right from wrong? “Why would you ask me to do this?”