Hide and Seek by Charlene Newberg

now, Montero’s garnering sympathy votes because his son is missing. Other than wanting his kid, it makes no sense for him to chase an ex-wife. Why, he's reeking wealthy. He can have any woman."
    Holt shook his head. "You haven't seen Caprice."
    "Is that so?" Jack’s expression turned hopeful. "I'm a leg man."
    "Then prepare yourself for a treat."
    His father stepped back and swept his arms wide. "Well...give me clearance, so I can meet this vision."
    ****
    When the door to the Freelander opened, Armor barked. Jolted by the unexpectedness, Caprice dropped the flashcards she had been using for Shawn’s signing and vocabulary practice.
    "Caprice, this is my father, Jack LeBerger," Holt said, shutting the door behind them.
    His father took her hand and winged his brows at Holt. “Hello, darlin’.”
    "This is Shawn," she said softly. “I'm so sorry for your troubles, Colonel LeBerger."
    "Call me Jack, and that’s an order. Esmeralda was some ripsnorter, but people are resilient. Now that I have a generator, I can live like a human until Virginia Power restores the electricity.”
    After handing his father a beer, Holt's gaze drew up her entire length, and his husky tone caressed. "Caprice?”
    “Thanks, no. I don't drink."
    Jack sat on the sofa and removed his sneakers. "Damn. I've got trench foot. Holt, did Melissa send socks?"
    Holt returned and tossed Jack a package of crew socks. After retying his shoes, Jack stood and his somber gaze encompassed them. "You may as well see the house."
    Within minutes, Caprice stood in Jack LeBerger’s living room. Rain-stained drapes sat in a sodden heap on an equally wet couch. They walked across carpets, spongy with water. The walls were mud-spattered with grass and shingle grit. Like a thief in the night, the storm had ransacked Jack’s house, but Caprice schooled any unnecessary remarks.
    In the dining room, Jack gestured to a yellow bucket filled with glass shards. "I lost two windows in here."
    "I'll get the generator," Holt said. "I brought a case of bug repellent. Thought you might need some."
    "I'll ration some to the neighbors. The mosquitoes are murder. Oh, a few of us received tetanus shots yesterday. That's big talk around here."
    The older man's attempt at levity squeezed Caprice's heart. "Jack, when did you eat last?"
    He scratched his head. "Yesterday the Red Cross delivered peanut butter and jelly sandwiches." He considered Holt. "Come see the flooding in the basement."
    Once they left, Caprice gripped Shawn's hand and headed for the kitchen. She was determined to help in some way. Thinking of salvaging some foods, she opened the refrigerator. Shawn made a strangled noise and backed away, covering his nose.
    Caprice fought instant nausea against the unmistakable odor of rancid chicken. She slammed the refrigerator’s door and ran to inhale air from the open window over the sink. After a moment, she wiped her eyes and studied Shawn for any stomach distress.
    Instead, Shawn pressed his thumb nail to his chin and wiggled his pointer finger in the direction the two men had left.
    Kneeling before him, Caprice finger spelled, J-A-C-K. “A storm broke Jack’s house."
    He nodded. "We fix.”
    Fierce pride filled her to overflowing as she hugged him. “Yes. We can help.”
    Later, Holt entered the kitchen as she twisted a rag, wringing out bleach water. "Most of Jack’s perishables are spoiled. I threw out so much food from the refrigerator and freezer," she said conscious of her hair piled haphazardly on her head. “It’s clean now.”
    "The generator should run some lights and the refrigerator." He tousled Shawn's hair then stopped before her, a boot heel scuffing the floor. "This isn't your problem, Caprice, or part of our agreement. You don't have to clean."
    "I want to help."
    “I appreciate that,” he said, going to the window, “but this place isn't safe. It was a mistake to bring Shawn.”
    Sensing that he would soon be issuing orders, she tossed the rag