Page 16 of Big Bad Wolfe

Before he followed the family party line and destroyed this beautiful woman and innocent child.

Jillian glanced up at him. “Zane? Are you all right?”

He gripped the edge of the table. “Yeah.”

“Are you sure? You went pale.” She stretched her fingers toward his forehead. “Are you sick?”

He jerked away before she could touch him. “No.”

Casey watched the exchange wide-eyed. “Are you gonna hurl? Robbie Ray hurled last week, green and red and yellow and—”

“Case, if you’re done with breakfast, please put your dishes in the sink and go wash your hands and face,” Jillian intervened. “Remember, I explained about our visit to the lab this morning?”

“Yeah.” The little boy trudged off.

Jillian pursed her lips. “Zane—”

“Don’t start. I’m not five, and I’m not your responsibility.” He surged to his feet. “I’ll wait outside.”

Desperately clinging to control, he stood on the porch and inhaled bracing sea air. He had an accomplished career with a comfortable income, a quiet high-rise apartment, and casual female companionship when he chose. So what if he was lonely from time to time?

An occasional bout of loneliness was better than the unforgiveable alternative.

By the time Jillian and Casey exited, he’d nearly succeeded in regaining his shredded composure. Jillian shot him a concerned frown, but thankfully didn’t say anything. The threesome silently climbed into the pink car, Zane commandeering the driver’s seat.

Casey spent the fifteen minute trip waving his arms and singing a boisterous song about a sponge who wore square pants. In spite of Zane’s inner turmoil, the little boy’s enthusiastic, humorous concert made him smile.

As they walked toward the automatic doors, Casey’s footsteps lagged. The instant the child saw the brunette receptionist dressed in blue surgical scrubs, he jerked to a halt. “This is the shot place!”

Jillian whispered to Zane. “He had to have blood work a couple months ago for his allergies.” She knelt to the little boy’s level. “No shots, Case. I explained about the mouth swab to you this morning, remember?”

Casey looked dubious. “No needles, Aunt Jelly?”

“Cross my heart and eat apple pie, stick a French fry in my eye.”

The little boy’s face lit up, and he giggled. “Okay.”

Zane sat on a hard plastic sofa in the empty waiting room and filled out a ream of paperwork. Used to paperwork in his job, he neatly and quickly completed the forms. This joint had the FBI beat hollow for useless duplication.

Smelling far too enticing, Jillian sat beside him writing down Casey’s information. She’d found a birthday card Deb had given her, and they hoped the lab could collect enough trace DNA from the envelope.

The kid ignored toys and books on the child-size table, instead conducting a thorough visual examination of the lobby’s aquarium. His intent assessment reminded Zane of himself.

Both the kid and the woman were beginning to have far too dangerous appeal.

Avoid the hot zone.

Before long, the receptionist called their names. She asked to see Zane’s ID, and made a photocopy of it and Casey’s birth certificate. As she handed the certificate back to Jillian, Zane caught a glance of the document long enough to see the line for “father” was blank. He scowled. It shouldn’t bother him. After all, he never planned to tell the kid who he was, or be part of his life. Nevertheless, that empty space rankled.

The receptionist sealed Deb’s envelope in a plastic bag, and then gestured to the sofa. “Ms. Ramsay, you’ll have to wait out here.”

Jillian frowned. “Why?”

“For DNA samples, only the parties being tested are allowed in the exam room.”

Jillian tucked her hair behind one ear. “Could you make an exception? Casey had blood work recently and he’s a little—” She spelled out, “N-e-r-v-o-u-s.”

“I’m sorry. Med-Lab’s policy is very strict. We’re required to protect the integrity of the evidence. Considering the litigious climate these days, I’m sure you understand.”

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