her back and told Harry the story of The Very Hungry Caterpillar.
Still within the safety of Nick’s arms, Harry listened and Shanni thought it was the first time she’d ever known Harry to listen at all.
She held her breath and waited.
And it wasn’t just the pills she was waiting on…
It was strange, Nick decided. Surrealistic. For Nick, accustomed to living life at full speed, to be forced to lie and hold a child and listen to the exploits of a make-believe caterpillar… He’d never done such a thing in his life.
The whole world held its breath.
Over at the window, Shanni could sense Len was listening too. And waiting. She made her voice calm and warm and even and when Harry dropped off to sleep again she wasn’t surprised.
What did surprise her was Nick. Gently he disengaged Harry’s clutching fingers, let the little one slip sideways onto the pillows and then, with a questioning look at Shanni—a ‘help-me-with-this’ look—he rose and crossed steadily to Len at the window. Shanni watched him every step of the way, her hand coming down to cradle Harry so he wouldn’t notice Nick’s absence.
‘Len?’ Nick said softly.
His head jerked up. He was so close to sleep… ‘Yes?’
‘You’re cold, boy.’ He pushed the reading chair forward—the only comfortable chair in the kindergarten. It was padded, with a high back, and he tossed a couple of cushions on for good measure. ‘It might take hours for the helicopter to arrive. If you’re not comfortable your muscles might cramp up and you’ll fall off your stool. Use this one.’ He pushed the chair against the window. Then, as Len hesitated, he threw a couple of blankets on top.
‘Make yourself comfortable,’ he suggested.
‘Why are you doing this?’ Len’s face was all suspicion.
‘If you fall off the stool, chances are that gun will go off,’ Nick said bluntly. ‘Then you’ll have every cop in the country storming in. Neither of us wants that.’ And then he grinned. ‘And you let us have pancakes.’
His smile was beguiling—even Shanni was beguiled, for heaven’s sake, and this man was a lawyer!—and it worked a treat. Len didn’t answer—he glared—but he grudgingly moved from his hard stool to the comfortable chair. And when Nick offered blankets, he threw them over his knees and almost managed a smile of thanks.
‘It’ll get better,’ Nick said, and Shanni practically gaped in astonishment at the sympathy in his voice. ‘This isn’t the end of the world, you know.’
‘What would you know about it?’ Defiance—but also fear.
‘I know you haven’t killed anyone. I know you’re young and young offenders don’t go to jail. They go to remand homes where, if they want, they can learn a trade. I know there’s a heart under that tough exterior…’
‘I can’t…’
‘And you love cars,’ Nick said softly. ‘I can see that.’ He motioned out of the window to where the smashed grey Mercedes lay between them and the police. ‘If you have to steal cars, at least you steal cars with class. It’s taken a darn sight more skill to steal this baby than a cheaper job.’
His dark eyes twinkled down at Len and it wasn’t just Len who was mesmerised. Shanni was speechless. This was a whole new facet to the man. Up until now she hadn’t been able to see past the smooth exterior, but now…there was a human being in there somewhere. ‘If you’re willing to learn about mechanics while you’re in remand school, I’d bet there’d be luxury car dealers who’d be prepared to take you on,’ he said.
‘Yeah? Like who?’
‘Like my uncle,’ Shanni interjected, smiling up at Nick as if he was talking absolute sense. ‘He runs a dealership. I know one of his lads has a police record, but my uncle doesn’t care—as long as he keeps straight now and knows how to fix his engines.’
‘He wouldn’t employ me.’
‘You’d have to do your time first,’ Shanni said thoughtfully. ‘But if you put your time in the remand home to good use…’
‘I ain’t going to remand school.’
‘Hey, Len, just think about it,’ Nick urged gently. ‘While we sleep.’
‘Another story, I think,’ Nick said as he returned to his mat. Shanni’s eyes were wide with appreciation.
As were Nick’s. This woman was extraordinary. As he’d made Len warm and comfortable and soothed his terror, she’d given Len what he most needed—hope. Len was dead tired, and, if Nick’s guess was right, he was full of sleeping pills. Now all they had to do was set the mood—and Shanni was right onto that.
‘How about if I read Goodnight, Goodnight?’ she suggested.
‘Harry’s asleep already,’ Nick said reluctantly. He’d lifted Harry into his arms again, unthinking, as if it was an instinctive movement. It was starting to feel as if the child belonged there.
‘He might wake up if I don’t keep reading,’ Shanni said softly. ‘If I keep my reading going I’ll soothe him into sleeping for ever.’
Or who else might she soothe into sleep?
It was so…seductive.
Shanni had turned on the heater and the room was warm—almost over-warm. The huge breakfast had made Nick feel so sated he almost needed sleep again himself, even though it was only two hours since he’d woken. The child in his arms slept on and on, catching up on missed time.
Shanni’s voice was low and sweet and melodic—soothing him toward rest.
If Nick hadn’t been watching Len…
But he was. He was watching Len like a hawk. The gun was slowly slipping. It must be so heavy.
Please let those outside not use the loud hailer or try to contact him again, Nick thought, but if Shanni’s brother had twigged as to why she wanted the hay fever tablets then they wouldn’t be so stupid.
They weren’t.
Shanni read and Nick watched Len—and Nick watched Shanni. He watched the gentle rise and fall of her breast, and he listened to the soft lilting of her voice. If I was three years old this is where I’d like to go to kindergarten, he thought dazedly, and had to shake himself. No one had ever read him stories. Not ever!
For heaven’s sake, he was thirty-two years old. This was stupid. He was feeling like this just because it was a novelty. A situation like this…
A woman like Shanni…
He’d never met anyone like her.
And finally her voice fell away to nothing.
And she’d succeeded.
‘He’s asleep,’ she said softly. At the window, Len’s face had fallen forward so his chin was resting on his chest. His gun had fallen to one side in the chair and his hands were lifeless. His chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm.
‘Len?’ Shanni asked softly.
‘Leave him be for a bit,’ Nick said. ‘We’ve worked on this. Let’s not spoil it by hurrying.’
‘We’ve worked on this?’
He grinned at that, tension easing. ‘Okay, smartyboots. You’ve worked on it. How many tablets did you give him?’
‘Four at twenty-five milligrams.’
‘Enough to stop the worst sneezing.’
‘Even mine,’ she said virtuously. She wrinkled her nose and her eyes danced. ‘See? Not even a sniffle.’
‘Miraculous. How many did