put an arm around the boy’s thin shoulders. “We’re going to take very good care of you, Ryan.” A slight blonde woman in her early forties, Mary seemed to have a special way with kids. “I’m going to make sure of that myself.”
Ryan did start to cry then, and Mary pulled him into a hug. “It’s all right, sweetheart. Everything’s going to be okay.”
When the scene came to a close, Ben handed Ryan one of his business cards. “My numbers are all there. If you need anything, I want you to call, okay?”
Ryan nodded, looking up at Ben as if he were his personal savior. Which in a way he was. “Thanks.”
Ben ruffled his hair. “Take care of yourself,” he said a little gruffly. “You’re getting another chance. Don’t be afraid to take it.”
After final farewells, they left the facility, and Ben drove Claire home, neither of them saying much until they got the car parked and walked back inside.
Claire tossed her purse on the kitchen table. “I guess the men who hurt Ryan are going to get away with it.”
“Ryan told me he’d never seen Gonzales before the meet. He didn’t know the names of the guys who were working him on the street, and he was with them by choice. There’s not much chance of tracking them down. And the truth is the kid is better off just getting on with his life.”
She shook her head. “Doesn’t seem right, though.”
“There are a lot of bad people out there, Claire. Ryan’s getting a second chance. A lot of kids don’t.” He fell silent, and she knew he was thinking of Sam, wondering if his boy was being beaten and abused.
“Oh!” Remembering the photo album, Claire hurried into the living room. “I found something while you were gone. A picture. I think it’s Troy and his brothers.”
“Where’d you find it?”
“I went back through Claire’s things, took another look at the album where I’d found Troy’s photo. I thought I might have missed something, and I had.” Claire picked the photo up off the coffee table, walked back and handed it to Ben.
“You might make a P.I. yet,” he said, his expression full of approval.
Claire just smiled.
Ben looked down at the photograph Claire had found. “I think you’re right. These guys are brothers.”
“They look a lot alike, don’t they?”
He tapped the photo against his hand. “Laura never mentioned meeting them?”
“She was in a bad place when she was living with Troy. She was drinking heavily again. She knew I didn’t like him. I think that’s why she never said anything about the brothers’ visit. She broke up with him right after.”
He pointed at the photo. “You see what they’re wearing?”
“Camouflage. I don’t know what the emblem means.”
“The fist is a white-supremacy symbol. Remember Sadie saying something about Troy not liking Billy’s mixed-blood heritage?”
“That’s right! And she said he thought men were superior to women.”
Ben shrugged. “Well, you can’t fault him on that one.”
When Claire’s eyes narrowed, Ben laughed.
Claire’s eyebrows went up. “You’re making another joke. I can’t believe it.”
Ben waved the photo. “Let’s see if we can figure out what the 33/6 means.”
It only took a couple of clicks on Google to find an article written by an intelligence operator with Homeland Security that gave them the answer.
“Says here it’s a reference to the Ku Klux Klan. The eleventh letter of the alphabet is K. Three times eleven is thirty-three.”
Claire rubbed her arms as if she felt a chill. “Does it say what the six means?”
Ben went back to reading. “The first era of the Klan started after the Civil War. The sixth era began in 1996. The six denotes the rebirth of the Klan.”
“The Ku Klux Klan. If Troy’s heading back to meet his brothers and they’re white supremacists...”
“Then we’ve got to find Sam and get him the hell out of there.” He stood up from the computer. “We need to talk to Eddie Jeffries. It’s too late to see him tonight, but we can be there when visiting hours start at 10:00 a.m. tomorrow.”
Ben set the photo next to the computer and turned to Claire. “Just so you know. I really liked kissing you.”
Her head came up. “You...you did?”
“I was kind of hoping I wouldn’t.”
She moistened her lips, making him remember how sweet those full lips tasted, making him want to kiss her again. Desire curled through him and heat slid into his groin.
“We don’t...don’t have time for that kind of thing.”
“I know.” But he couldn’t resist moving toward her, catching her shoulders, bending his head and settling his mouth over hers. He forced himself not to linger. Just sank in and tasted. Felt the rush of heat. Released her. “Good night, Claire.”
She reached up and touched her lips. “Good night, Ben.”
* * *
Claire went in to shower before she went to bed. She told herself not to think of the kiss, told herself it was just a simple good-night. But it wasn’t.
Ben Slocum wanted her. There was heat in the eyes that had locked with hers the instant before their lips met, fire in the way his mouth took possession of hers. For an instant, the air seemed to crackle with sexual tension.
She couldn’t let it happen. She meant nothing to Ben, just another conquest, someone to satisfy his appetites while he was searching for his son.
She wasn’t a fool to be used and discarded. She might desire Ben, but she wasn’t ruled by her passions, not like some women. She was a rational, thinking woman who made rational, thinking decisions.
As she climbed into bed and settled beneath the covers, she vowed to have a talk with him in the morning, set some boundaries, tell him it was time he stopped calling her angel. Time he took a big step back.
The doorbell rang, putting an end to her thoughts. Trying to imagine who it could be at eleven o’clock at night, Claire grabbed her robe, slipped it on and went into the living room. Through the peephole in the front door, she recognized a familiar face.
Michael? She opened the door.
“Hello, Claire.” Michael Sullivan was tall, about the same height as Ben, wide-shouldered but spare, not an ounce of fat on his trim athletic body. With his dark brown hair and brown eyes, he was handsome.
“I know it’s late,” he said, “but I just flew back to town for a week, and I had to see you. I’ve really missed you, Claire.” Michael pulled her into an embrace and tried to kiss her, but Claire turned her face away. “What’s the matter? Aren’t you glad to see me?”
Just then Ben appeared. He had pulled on his jeans, but his feet were bare and so was his magnificent chest. Claire felt a little jolt in the pit of her stomach.
“I don’t think we’ve met,” Ben said, striding forward, those pale eyes fixed on Michael’s face. Michael’s nostrils flared. The testosterone in the room was as thick as heavy perfume.
Claire tried to smile. “Ben Slocum, this is Michael Sullivan.” She positioned herself between the two men. “Michael, Ben is Sam Thompson’s father.”
“Sam Slocum,” Ben corrected.
Claire kept the smile on her face but it wasn’t easy. “You