Page 17 of Big Bad Wolfe

“Yes.” Jillian lowered her voice. “That doesn’t mean I like it.” She again knelt down to the child. “Case, you go with Zane. I’ll be right here when you’re done.”

Casey stared up at Zane, as if determining his trustworthiness. “He’s going with me?”

Jillian nodded. “He’ll stay with you the whole time.”

Zane held his breath until the child finally spoke. “‘Kay. Can we get ice-cream after, like we did when I had my shots?”

She ruffled his hair. “You betcha. But only if you cooperate.” She stood and addressed Zane. “Watch over him.”

Disconcerted, he nodded.

The little boy followed the receptionist down the hallway with Zane close behind. She ushered them into a tiny exam room painted industrial green. After promising the tech would be along “soon,” she departed.

Casey looked at the exam table draped with standard scratchy paper, and edged closer to Zane. “I don’t very like this.”

Boxed into the airless, institutional room, Zane wasn’t thrilled either. The smothering medicinal odor reminded him of nightmarish visits to his mother. The day of Trevor’s death, she’d suffered a complete breakdown and spent a year in a care facility before she’d died. The doctors had confiscated her booze, but kept her in a tranquilizer-induced fog. Substituting one emotional painkiller for another.

He dropped into a chair and forced a hearty tone. “Everything will be fine. Nothing to it.”

Casey leaned on Zane’s leg and sent a pleading look up at him. “You won’t let that mean old nurse stab me, will you?” His brown eyes dilated. “Last time, she sticked me a whole bunch.” The little boy’s lower lip trembled.

Zane’s throat convulsed, and he swallowed hard. At that moment, he would walk barefoot over hot coals for the kid. “No.” His voice shook and he cleared his throat. “I won’t let anybody hurt you.”

“I didn’t think so.” The child’s intelligent gaze studied him from the part in his hair to the soles of his shoes. “I saw the gun under your coat. Are you a Rebel smuggler, like Han Solo?”

Zane furrowed his brows. The kid had amazingly keen observation skills. After a decade of wearing his weapon everywhere but the shower, nobody saw his gun unless he wanted them to. “I’m a law enforcement officer.”

“Donnie and Robbie Ray’s daddy is a policeman.” Casey wrinkled his nose in an endearing miniature imitation of Jillian.

“Ah … that’s nice.” The suffocating room got smaller by the second. Zane loosened his tie a notch. Where was that tech?

“He gots a big dog named Axel, and a uniform. Where’s your uniform?”

“I don’t wear one. I’m an FBI agent.”

“Oooh!” Casey’s eyes widened in awe. “A secret agent.”

“Not a secret agent, an—”

The door banged open and a burly woman barreled in. “Hi, I’m Louise. Zane and Casey?” At Zane’s nod, the scarily jovial woman whisked Casey up. “On the table with you, little man, and we’ll get started.”

“Zane!”

The child’s panicked cry instantly had Zane on his feet and beside the exam table. He awkwardly patted Casey’s bony little knee. “It’s okay, kid.”

The tech snapped on a pair of surgical gloves and grabbed a long, intimidating-looking swab from a cabinet. She advanced on the child. “Open up, now. There’s a good boy.”

Casey firmed his mouth into a stubborn line and crossed his arms over his chest.

Uh oh.“Open your mouth for the nurse,” Zane commanded gently.

The little boy shook his head.

“C’mon, it won’t hurt,” Zane tried in a reasonable tone. “It’s only a swab.”

Casey shook his head again.

Shit, now what? When all else failed, try bribery. “Remember the ice cream?” The reward system even worked on snitches—except he usually dished out twenty-dollar bills instead of strawberry ripple. “But you have to cooperate.”

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