Certainly the boy had much to fear—as much as Hieronymous had to gain.
Mordi stepped out from the cabin behind the kid, then guided Davy toward the ramp. The boy’s face relaxed, and Hieronymous marveled at his son’s ability to calm the tyke. It was not a skill he’d expected, and was certainly an added benefit. If the lad trusted Mordi, it would be that much easier to get Davy in place and prepped for Operation IQ.
As he watched Mordi and Davy move down the dock toward the entrance to the island complex, Hieronymous stifled the urge to rub his hands together. Operation IQ—which he fondly referred to as Project Dumb and Dumber—had been stuck in the planning stages for years. Despite his keen intellect and superior technological skills, Hieronymous had never been able to make the last piece fit. Not, that is, until he came at the problem from a different angle. He didn’t need to
think
harder. He needed to
be smarter
.
Which was where the halfling child fit in. Hieronymous had methodically scoured all halfling performance records. Young Davy, unregistered as he was, had been a challenge, but Hieronymous had spent hours in the last year watching and reviewing past reports from the boy’s mortal elementary school, even stooping to interview the boy’s mortal teachers. It had been an unseemly task, but one that had paid off. The boy was positively brilliant.
Of course, the boy’s genius was to be expected. After all, blood would tell.
As it turned out, the little prodigy’s brain power was the perfect complement to Hieronymous’s already existing intelligence. Now all he had to do was steal it. Just a few more days and he’d be in a position to do just that.
No wonder he was in such a good mood.
Lane couldn’t move. No matter how hard she tried, she simply couldn’t. And so she just stood there like an idiot, staring at Jason, unable to do anything but blink.
He looked much like she remembered: dark and tan and masculine, his silvery eyes burning just the way they had so many years before.
Back then, she’d thought that look was seductive. Now she knew better. Now she knew it was dangerous.
For years she’d imagined their reunion—as if that would be a good thing. She’d fantasized about how she’d be asleep, how he’d slide naked between her satin sheets. In her fantasies, she could always afford satin sheets.
He’d press close against her, peeling off her clothes and leaving a trail of kisses on her newly bared skin. He’d silence her questions with a finger over her lips and then, after they’d made love until dawn, he’d tell her the previous years had all been a bad dream. He’d been there all along, and they were already living happily ever after.
Never in her wildest fit of imagination had she imagined Jason in cuffs, restrained because he’d kidnapped her son.
Their
son.
Why?
She blinked, forcing herself to glance from Jason to Deena. “What’s going on? Tell me what’s going on or I swear I’ll scream.”
Jason took a step forward, but one of the burly Protectors surrounding him held him back. A flash of anger crossed his face, quickly replaced by pity. Pity? How dare he? Her anger erupted, and she rushed forward to pummel him with her fists.
“Lane!” Deena cried out, pulling her away. “Lane, stop it!”
She struggled against Deena’s arms, wrapped tight around her chest.
“You have to believe me,” Jason was saying, his voice low and earnest. He shook his arm free of the nearby Protector’s grip. “They’re wrong. I tried to save him. And now he’s gone, and
we need to find him
.”
The intensity of his voice cut to Lane’s core, and she relaxed despite herself. An invisible band tightened around her chest, one that had nothing to do with the vise grip in which Deena held her, and she struggled to breathe. Once upon a time, she and Jason had known each other so well she could practically read his thoughts. Now, she didn’t know what to think. All she
Mordi stepped out from the cabin behind the kid, then guided Davy toward the ramp. The boy’s face relaxed, and Hieronymous marveled at his son’s ability to calm the tyke. It was not a skill he’d expected, and was certainly an added benefit. If the lad trusted Mordi, it would be that much easier to get Davy in place and prepped for Operation IQ.
As he watched Mordi and Davy move down the dock toward the entrance to the island complex, Hieronymous stifled the urge to rub his hands together. Operation IQ—which he fondly referred to as Project Dumb and Dumber—had been stuck in the planning stages for years. Despite his keen intellect and superior technological skills, Hieronymous had never been able to make the last piece fit. Not, that is, until he came at the problem from a different angle. He didn’t need to
think
harder. He needed to
be smarter
.
Which was where the halfling child fit in. Hieronymous had methodically scoured all halfling performance records. Young Davy, unregistered as he was, had been a challenge, but Hieronymous had spent hours in the last year watching and reviewing past reports from the boy’s mortal elementary school, even stooping to interview the boy’s mortal teachers. It had been an unseemly task, but one that had paid off. The boy was positively brilliant.
Of course, the boy’s genius was to be expected. After all, blood would tell.
As it turned out, the little prodigy’s brain power was the perfect complement to Hieronymous’s already existing intelligence. Now all he had to do was steal it. Just a few more days and he’d be in a position to do just that.
No wonder he was in such a good mood.
Lane couldn’t move. No matter how hard she tried, she simply couldn’t. And so she just stood there like an idiot, staring at Jason, unable to do anything but blink.
He looked much like she remembered: dark and tan and masculine, his silvery eyes burning just the way they had so many years before.
Back then, she’d thought that look was seductive. Now she knew better. Now she knew it was dangerous.
For years she’d imagined their reunion—as if that would be a good thing. She’d fantasized about how she’d be asleep, how he’d slide naked between her satin sheets. In her fantasies, she could always afford satin sheets.
He’d press close against her, peeling off her clothes and leaving a trail of kisses on her newly bared skin. He’d silence her questions with a finger over her lips and then, after they’d made love until dawn, he’d tell her the previous years had all been a bad dream. He’d been there all along, and they were already living happily ever after.
Never in her wildest fit of imagination had she imagined Jason in cuffs, restrained because he’d kidnapped her son.
Their
son.
Why?
She blinked, forcing herself to glance from Jason to Deena. “What’s going on? Tell me what’s going on or I swear I’ll scream.”
Jason took a step forward, but one of the burly Protectors surrounding him held him back. A flash of anger crossed his face, quickly replaced by pity. Pity? How dare he? Her anger erupted, and she rushed forward to pummel him with her fists.
“Lane!” Deena cried out, pulling her away. “Lane, stop it!”
She struggled against Deena’s arms, wrapped tight around her chest.
“You have to believe me,” Jason was saying, his voice low and earnest. He shook his arm free of the nearby Protector’s grip. “They’re wrong. I tried to save him. And now he’s gone, and
we need to find him
.”
The intensity of his voice cut to Lane’s core, and she relaxed despite herself. An invisible band tightened around her chest, one that had nothing to do with the vise grip in which Deena held her, and she struggled to breathe. Once upon a time, she and Jason had known each other so well she could practically read his thoughts. Now, she didn’t know what to think. All she
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