Always for You:Jack(4)

Ricky sat up straighter, for the first time releasing his death grip on  the door as he stared down at Jack's leg. "I saw you limping. You take a  bullet or something? You know, like in combat?"

"No, on the bullet. Yes, on the combat. I landed wrong on a night drop."

And that was all he was going to share with the kid on that particular  clusterfuck. The only good thing that had come out of that mission was  that everyone made it back to base more or less in one piece. His knee,  which had required a major overhaul, had been the worst injury, not that  he was complaining. All that really mattered was that everyone had  walked away from what could've been a total disaster. It might have  easily been so much worse.

He glanced at his companion. Yep, just as he thought, the kid looked  disappointed. He probably played video games and thought they depicted  actual combat. Yeah, some of the graphics were pretty realistic. It was  the stuff they left out, like the smell of blood and the screams of the  wounded, that drew a sharp line between a game and the hell of the real  thing.

At least the conversation might give Jack a chance to learn a little  about Ricky's own situation. "What about you? Anybody in your family  ever serve?"

The boy's expression went totally blank. "No."

Rather than press for more information, Jack changed the subject. "I could use your help again tomorrow if you're not busy."

Ricky was back to hugging the door. "Maybe, but I'm not sure where I'll be."

Remembering how he'd been at the same age, living on the edge of fear  all the time, Jack nodded. "Okay, if you're there, you're there."

Jack pointed out the window. "That's the restaurant up ahead on the  left. The bus stop is over on that corner unless you want me to give you  a ride home."

"The bus is fine. You don't want your mom's food to get cold."

Jack lucked out and found a parking spot right in front of the  restaurant. "You go find us a table by the water before they're all  taken while I place the order."

Ricky nodded and headed off down the beach. There was actually no rush  in grabbing a spot to eat because several tables were available. Jack  just needed a minute away from the kid to get his temper back under  control. He wasn't mad at Ricky, just the adults who should've been  looking out for the boy.                       
       
           



       

Short of calling the cops, which Ricky would see as a betrayal of the  highest order, there wasn't much Jack could do until the boy trusted him  enough to ask for help. After they ate, he'd have to drive away and  hope Ricky would show up to work again in the morning. It would kill  Jack to leave him out there on the streets. But if Jack tried to drag  him home to his place right now, Ricky would only take off.

On the other hand, maybe Jack could circle back around and see which bus  Ricky took. At least that way, if he didn't show up for work tomorrow,  Jack would have a starting point to start tracking him down.

He'd reached the front of the line. "I'll take two three-piece dinners with the works and two large chocolate shakes."

Once he had the food, he headed over to join Ricky at the table, where  the kid practically inhaled his dinner. As soon as he was done, he got  up to leave.

"Wait a minute before you go." Jack pulled out one of Joe's business  cards and a pen. He scribbled his name and cellphone number on the back  and added the twenty dollars he'd promised him. "If you ever want to get  in touch with me, the number on the front is our landline. The one on  the back is my cell. Call anytime, day or night."

Ricky shoved both the card and the money in his pocket. "Thanks."

"I hope to see you tomorrow, Just Ricky."

The kid grinned and walked away. It was damn hard to watch him leave,  but there wasn't much else Jack could do. Hopefully Ricky would show up  tomorrow. If not, Jack would go on the hunt and wouldn't stop until he  found him.

He'd also talk to Marlene about the boy when he got home and see what  suggestions she might have. God knows she had plenty of experience in  dealing with emotionally and physically battered kids. Meanwhile, he  ordered dinner for her and Mikhail, all the while keeping an eye on  Ricky to see where he went. Since he'd already let one bus go by, he was  likely waiting for one headed in a specific direction.

Luck was with him. Jack's order was ready just as Ricky got on a bus.  After memorizing the route number, Jack got in the truck and followed  the bus, taking care to hang back far enough to make it hard for Ricky  to spot him. At a stoplight, he called home. "Mom, sorry, but dinner is  going to be awhile. I'll explain when I get there."

His patience was rewarded a short time later when Ricky got off the bus  and ducked down an alley. As Jack drove by, he saw the boy handing his  sandwich to another kid and passing out the cookies to a few more. Jack  couldn't risk following him any farther for fear of being seen. Ricky  was skittish enough without him getting the idea that Jack was some kind  of predator.

Knowing the boy wasn't completely alone left Jack feeling marginally  better about the situation. That didn't mean he'd stay safe out there on  the streets indefinitely, but maybe it would give Jack time to figure  out how to help him.

"Joe, I wish like hell you were here. You would know what to say to him, but I'll do my best to help the kid."

And once again, he heard his father's voice in the back of his mind saying, "Your best is all anyone can ask of you, son."

That might be true, but what if his best wasn't good enough? He didn't  need anyone to answer that question, because he already knew what would  happen. It would be Ricky, and not Jack, who paid the price for his  failure.





Chapter 3


"Son, wake up! Someone is here to see you."

Jack went from unconscious to fully awake in a heartbeat. The adrenaline  rush from being jerked out of a dead sleep burned away all the cobwebs,  leaving him alert and staring up at his mother. Kicking his legs free  of the sheets, he sat up on the edge of the bed.

"Who is it?"

"The police. They want to talk to you."

Well, shit! He didn't bother to exchange his flannel pajama bottoms for  jeans before following his mother downstairs and across the driveway to  her house. She'd left the two officers waiting in the living room. From  the grim expression on the police officers' faces, Jack knew the news  wasn't going to be good. But then there was never a happy reason for the  cops to come calling in the middle of the night.

"Hello, Officers. I'm Jack McShane. I hear you're looking for me."

"We are, Mr. McShane." The older one of the two stepped forward. "I'm  Detective Daily, and this is my partner, Detective St. John. We wanted  to know if this is your card."

Jack only gave it a cursory look before nodding; he already knew it was  his. The only question was what had happened to Ricky since he'd last  seen him. The boy showed up the second day to help, but Jack hadn't seen  him since, even though he'd told him where his next job site would be.  He'd done a couple of drive-bys in the area around the alley where Ricky  had gone that first day, but he hadn't spotted him or any of the others  who'd been there with him.                       
       
           



       

"Yes, it's mine. Why do you ask?"

"Can you tell me how Richard Patton came to have it?"

So at least now Jack knew Ricky's full name. "I gave it to him. Ricky  approached me at a job site a few days ago to see if I could use some  help. He looked like he'd been living on the streets, so I offered him  twenty bucks to pick up trash for me."

The younger cop spoke up. "And you're an expert on what homeless kids look like?"

Jack sensed his mother moving up beside him. For her sake, he crammed  his temper down deep and under tight control. "I make no claim to be an  expert on the subject, Detective. I can speak to the fact that Ricky  looked a helluva lot like I did at that age when I was living on the  streets myself. Clothes a mix of too small and too big, everything badly  worn and in need of being laundered. I'm guessing he also hadn't bathed  in a while. When I shared my lunch with him, he wolfed down one and a  half sandwiches but made sure to put the other half away for later. He  was also sporting an impressive set of faded bruises."

The cops both went on point. "Why didn't you report the kid to the authorities?"

"Because I didn't know anything about him other than he told me to call  him Ricky. I had no idea if that was even his real name nor did I know  how old he was." Jack weighed how much to tell them. "He came back again  the next day to work, but that's the last I saw of him."