Carol Ericson - Point Blank Seal

She returned his kiss like a woman starving. He broke away first as the passion rose, and she grabbed his hands.

“Come inside. You have to see Mikey. Miguel, we have a son.”

He cupped her face with one hand, and smoothed the pad of his thumb across her cheek. “I know and I can’t wait to see him, but I have to tread carefully.”

“What are you talking about?” She tilted her head farther into his hand.

He touched his lips to her soft earlobe. “You had a break-in recently, didn’t you?”

She drew back from him, her eyes wide. “How do you know that? How long have you been here, in Austin?”

“I’ll tell you everything later, Jen.” He jerked his thumb toward the small house where his son was sleeping. “There’s something I need to do in the house first.”

“What? Is Mikey in danger?”

“No.” The lie felt right on his lips—for now. “Before we talk inside, I need to sweep the place for bugs.”

If he discovered a hidden camera, that would be a different matter completely. He’d have to leave immediately.

“Why would someone want to bug my house?” She grabbed handfuls of his shirt and tugged.

“To get to me.”

“I don’t understand any of this, Miguel. I don’t even know if you’re really here.”

“Oh, I’m here all right.” He pressed another kiss against her lips to prove it.

“D-do I need to wait outside?”

“No, but when we’re inside don’t talk to me. Pretend you’re alone.”

“I can do that. I’m good at that.”

He pinched her chin. “I’m sorry.”

“Okay, let’s do this. I’m getting cold.” She rubbed her arms.

He stopped to pick up the bat and held it up. “Glad you still have my Louisville Slugger for protection.”

“You almost got a hit upside the head for sneaking around out here.” Pressing her fingers to her lips, she led him into the house and slid the door closed behind her.

Miguel’s eye twitched as he watched Jennifer pluck up the wineglass from the coffee table and carry it into the kitchen. She’d vowed never to drink like her mother, but he guessed a dead fiancé and raising a child on your own could change plans.

He pulled the electronic bug detector from the front pocket of his jeans and began scanning the living room. He’d gotten lucky with the size of this house.

It shouldn’t take him long to get through the house...and into the bedroom to see his son.

Jennifer rinsed her glass in the sink and turned toward him.

He put his finger to his lips and flicked the switch on his bug detector. He had it set to the display option. If there were any listening devices planted in Jennifer’s house, he wouldn’t want the sound of his bug sweeper to transmit to the people on the other end of the device.

Facing the wall, he waved the tracker from corner to corner, sweeping across the bookshelf. The listening device would most likely be in this area, across from the TV.

Miguel’s pulse jumped along with the squiggly red line on his tracker. He followed its lead and was rewarded with the gleam of a tiny mic wedged between two books.

He became aware of Jen hovering over his shoulder, and he jerked back. He pointed at the TV and then cupped his ear.

She dipped next to the coffee table and picked up the remote control. Aiming at the TV, she clicked, and the sound of a commercial jingle filled the small room.

Perfect. He plucked the listening device from its hiding place, and pinched it between his thumb and forefinger.

They’d hear a bunch of static on the other end and not much more. With the mic still squeezed between his two fingers, he mimed drinking a glass of water.

He didn’t remember Jennifer being very good at charades but she was catching on quickly to this game.

She scurried in the kitchen and filled a glass with water from the tap. When she put it down on the kitchen table, he dropped the device in the water.

Her blue eyes widened as she stared at the black spec settling at the bottom of the water glass. She parted her lips, but he shook his head and placed two fingers against them.

This might not be the only bug in the place. He continued his search by sweeping the kitchen, but beyond a few false reads from the microwave, he found nothing there.

Swallowing hard, he moved toward the hallway. He turned into the first room on the right and turned on the bathroom light. He gestured toward the sink, and Jennifer cranked on the water.

His throat tightened when he saw the yellow rubber duck on the edge of the tub and the cartoon fish on the shower curtain. He’d missed so damn much.

A familiar sharp pain lanced the back of his head and he dragged in a long breath. He had to stay focused if he didn’t want to miss even more of his son’s life.

With the bathroom clear, Miguel turned back into the hallway, holding his breath. He stepped into his son’s room, a gentle glow from a night-light illuminating a path to his bed.

Miguel followed the light and crouched next to his son’s bed. Pride and joy overwhelmed his senses, and he reached out and traced Mikey’s chubby cheek with the tip of his finger. He wanted to gather the boy in his arms and never let go, but he had unfinished business.

Jen had come up behind him and squeezed his shoulder.

He covered her hand with his own and squeezed back, hoping to convey all his regret and sorrow at not being here with her during her pregnancy and the first year and a half of Mikey’s life.

His nose stung, but he knew there would be no tears. He’d lost the ability to cry, but crouching here next to his son, inhaling the smell of his hair and skin, he knew he hadn’t lost the ability to feel.

That thought had been the one thing that terrified him during his months of captivity.

Miguel pushed to his feet and scanned this room with even more vigor than the others. The guys who’d planted that bug obviously hadn’t wanted to listen to the crying and fussing of a toddler.

Miguel shook his head at Jennifer and she straightened Mikey’s covers before leading him out of the room.

When he walked into Jen’s bedroom, the scent of her signature perfume hit him like a wave. Some nights he’d wake up in his cell smelling that fragrance. He knew it was a dream or hallucination at the time, but he’d wallowed in it anyway.

His gaze tripped over the king-size bed, and he momentarily squeezed his eyes shut. Had she shared that bed with anyone else since his...disappearance? He couldn’t hold that against her if she did. She had every right to move on with her life.

But the way she’d kissed him and clung to him outside gave him a selfish hope that she hadn’t.

He swept the room and got a hit. The blood boiled in his veins as he removed the device from a picture frame above her bed. He dropped that bug in the same glass of water and then finished his search of the rest of the house.

He tossed the bug detector on the kitchen counter and enfolded Jen in his arms again. “I’m just glad they didn’t plant a camera, or all of that would’ve been for nothing.”

She squirmed from his grasp and pressed her palms against his chest. “You’re going to tell me what’s going on, where you’ve been and why someone is bugging my house.” Her fingers curled into the material of his shirt. “Not that I’m not thrilled you’re back and safe, even if I am still pinching myself.”

He took both of her hands and kissed one wrist and then the other. “Let’s sit down.”

“Do you want something to drink? To eat?” She skimmed her hands down his sides. “You’ve lost weight.”

“I’ll just get some water.” He pushed aside the glass with the two bugs. “Not this glass.”

She filled a glass with water from a dispenser in the fridge and handed it to him. “Let’s talk.”