One of These Nights. Justine Davis

was strung tight over this particular project—even Stan, who, while bright enough, was more of an administrator than anything. His talent lay in the research, not in the development. Along with his computer skills, which were legend around the division, paperwork and organization, things that were an anathema to Ian, were Stan’s pride and joy.

      And without him, you’d be stuck doing that, Ian told himself. So with a sigh he reined in his temper and set about updating Chilton, which in essence meant telling him that in hard data they were exactly where they’d been the last time he’d asked.

      “So far, so good,” Sam reported.

      “He doesn’t suspect?” Josh asked.

      “No.” She lifted a shoulder to hold the phone receiver against her ear as she finished pouring icy soda water into her glass. “I’ve got a good watching post for when he’s in the house at night, and a way to stick close to him on weekends. The only problem is transit between here and Redstone. Right now I’m following him in and then back home, but I don’t think that’s going to work forever.”

      “You think he knows you’re following him?” Josh asked.

      “I told him I work in the same direction. But he works unpredictable hours, and that makes it tricky for me to match his schedule without him getting wise.”

      “Shall I have somebody else do the tail, so you can be less obvious?”

      “That would be a good idea, for the interim.”

      “The interim?”

      “I still don’t like him driving alone. Too much could happen. If somebody was really prepared, they could grab him before we could get to him.”

      “Unacceptable,” Josh said. And she knew he meant it.

      “I’ve got a way around it, but I think I need to wait a bit. He needs to know me better, get used to me being around.”

      “It’s your call.”

      She understood what trust and faith were implicit in those words. Josh didn’t need details, he trusted his people to do their jobs. Never once had he even hinted that she was any less capable than any of the men on the team, or that she needed backup. Josh had hired her, Draven had trained her, and she carried her share.

      “I’ll arrange for someone to track him in the meantime,” Josh said.

      “Thanks. Have you heard from Draven?” she asked, now that the head of her section had come to mind.

      “This morning. He’s wrapping up in Managua and will be headed back the end of the week, with the package.”

      Way to go, she thought. They’d all wondered if they would be called in on that kidnap situation. Should have known better, with Draven on it.

      “How’s Billy?” Josh asked.

      “Fine. I just got back from the school. I’m able to see him every day now, as long as our boy is in the lab. It’s working out well.”

      She knew Josh had somebody on the inside watching—his longtime and rather spookily omniscient assistant, St. John, she suspected—ready to call or page her if Gamble left unexpectedly. That left her quite free during the frequently long work hours the professor put in, hours she put to good use visiting her brother and catching up on her sleep.

      “I’d like to stop by and see him,” Josh said.

      “He’d love that. You know you’re always Uncle Josh to him.”

      She could almost see him smiling, and there was no denying the genuine pleasure in his tone when he answered. “He’s a special kid.”

      “Yes,” Sam said quietly. Her little brother was a very, very special kid. And it took a man the caliber of Josh Redstone to realize that.

      After she’d hung up she sat still for a moment, thinking once more how lucky she was. If Josh hadn’t pulled her out of her old job, who knows where the restless streak she’d been born with would have led her. Her parents, had they lived, would have been aghast at her work now, at the danger of it, the very thing that kept her exhilarated and buoyant.

      But they would have been pleased that she’d taken care of Billy. Not that there had ever been any question. Her sweet-natured, always happy brother was considered handicapped by some, but to her he was the base of her world, the center that kept her sane.

      And sometimes the single thing that kept her restless streak from becoming a reckless one.

      Ian nearly drove through his garage door.

      He wasn’t really accident-prone, just sometimes he got to thinking and lost track of what he was doing. Fortunately his reflexes were fast enough to keep him out of trouble most of the time, but there was a reason he always bought used cars.

      Thinking had nothing to do with it this time, however. When he pulled into his driveway and saw Samantha in his garden, wearing only a bright-blue tank top and cutoff jeans that bared too much of those long legs for his equilibrium, he completely forgot what he was doing. That is, driving.

      He stopped a fraction of an inch away from an expensive repair job on both garage door and already recently repaired car. Samantha looked up then and gave him a cheerful wave. She held a small pair of clippers, he saw then, and other gardening tools were in a small bucket on the ground beside her. She had on those dark, wraparound sunglasses, and a lime-green baseball-style cap, with her long, pale hair pulled through the back in a makeshift ponytail.

      And the three-foot section of garden in front of her had been reclaimed. It wasn’t anything drastic, just…tidier. The profusion of color his parents had loved was still there, it was just that you could see it all now.

      Slowly he got out of his car and walked toward her. It was still warm out, even though it was after five, and he could see that she’d been at this a while, as she’d worked up a sweat. She seemed utterly unconcerned about it, which he thought was nice. He also saw a large bottle of water beside a tube of sunscreen in the tool bucket. She was careful, he thought. And wise. With her fair skin she could truly suffer from too much sun without protection.

      “I hope you don’t mind,” she said as he stopped before her. “I wasn’t going to start this until Saturday, but I got off a bit early today. I only did a little, until you could see and approve.”

      “I do. Approve, I mean,” he amended hastily. “It looks just like it used to, when my mother was here.”

      “She planted the garden?”

      He nodded. “Most of it. They’re both big on bright colors and the exotic, so she added that to what was already here.”

      “She got both,” Samantha said with a grin. “What a great place. I presume the bird of paradise was her pet?”

      “And the lilies, I think.”

      “Then the passionflower vine must be hers, too.”

      “Is that that one, with the odd, round flowers?” he asked, pointing to the vine that was now so heavy it was nearly collapsing the trellis that was supporting it.

      “That’s it,” Sam said.

      “Yes, that was one of hers, too. I guess it was the only way she could let out what was inside. She was trying to be a homebody, for my sake.”

      “Trying?”

      “It just wasn’t in her. Oh, she did it, until I graduated high school. Then I went off to college, and they…just went.”

      “You don’t sound particularly bitter about it,” Samantha said.

      “Bitter?” he asked, startled. “No. Not at all. It’s so against her nature I’m amazed she lasted as long as she did. But she did it for me. I don’t begrudge her now.” He smiled. “Miss her, yes, and my dad, too, but not begrudge her.”

      She smiled at