Free Trust No One by Diana Layne

Mommy’s not upset.” She turned back to him and said in a fake happy tone with a fake happy smile that didn’t fool him but worked with Angelina, “Find something pleasant or shut the– I mean, don’t talk.”
    Definitely prickly. Or thorny to play on her last name. Did that last mission with Keith cause it, or did it go back further—with the death of her parents perhaps? Did growing up being groomed for the business rob her of a normal childhood?
    Was she sharp and brittle with everyone—or just with him?
    Obviously she was warm and loving with her baby. And the waitress Paula loved her. More than likely her boss Tex and his wife loved her. So maybe it was him. Or men in general.
    Or maybe she really thought she had finished with the business. Surely she wasn’t so naïve to think she could ever truly leave. No one–
    Wait. Why the hell did he care? He was here to do a job. Nothing else. No matter how she intrigued him.
    They even managed to rope him back in, though he’d been lost in an alcoholic haze thick enough to cut with a knife. Somehow Jeff had gotten through to him, and Ben finally decided if he had to keep living—the slow poisoning with alcohol hadn’t managed to kill him—then he might as well work.
    Angelina tossed a piece of chicken onto the table, obviously finished with her meal.
    “Angel, no! Don’t throw your food,” MJ scolded and moved the child-sized plate to the table. MJ took a last bite of her own food before taking the baby out of her high chair. “I’ll give her a bath now. Be right back. Maybe.”
    “Are we going to talk anytime soon?”
    “Define soon? She does like her bath, and then there’s story time.”
    Ben shook his head. “I might as well make myself at home then.”
    “Don’t you dare. You are, however, free to leave.”
    “I’ll still be here, don’t worry. I’m a patient sort.”
    “Terrific.” MJ left the room with Angel in her arms, watching him over her mother’s shoulder.
    Soon he heard happy splashing sounds and lots of giggling down the hall. Ben busied himself cleaning the table and loading the dirty dishes into the dishwasher.
    Her cabinets were neat and organized and it didn’t take long to find containers to store the extra food. Inside, the fridge was neat as well—overall, MJ seemed to have her life neat, organized and running smoothly.
    And here he came to mess it up. As he shut the refrigerator door, a quick blast of cool air hit him. The chill seemed to go to his bones, and for the briefest moment he had the bizarre sensation that he would never be the same again after this job. Nothing but stupidity. He’d certainly had other jobs more life-changing. The last couple in fact. Nothing could top those two.
    Brushing the feeling aside, he told himself this was a job well below his training and experience, with the bonus of seeing how MJ had recovered. And once he finished, he’d get Jeff off his back, leaving Ben to go back to . . . what? More drinking?
    Ben turned and strode deliberately from the small kitchen, but paused at the sight of MJ returning to the living room carrying Angelina, now well-scrubbed and shiny with no traces of food from her dinner. A book in one hand, MJ settled into the rocking chair, the little girl tucked into her lap.
    The picture of mother and child brought vivid memories sharply into focus. The woman he’d married, rocking her son.
    Ben gripped the edge of doorway separating the kitchen and dining/living area, the tips of his fingers going white from the pressure. From long practice, he shut down those images. And wanted a drink more than ever.
    Breathe. “Do you have cable?” he asked when he found his voice.
    She nodded as she opened the first page of the book.
    “Mind if I watch the news?”
    “Just keep the sound down,” she said. She listed the news channels for him, and turned her attention back to the story.
    Seated on the sofa, Ben listened to the latest national news while keeping half an ear