Mad, Bad and Blonde - Cathie Linz [40]
As far as he was concerned, Chicago held all bragging rights in the skyline department. And he didn’t just think that because he was a native. Hell, the city was famous for its architecture . . . and its Portillo’s hot dogs . . . and deep-dish pizza. Which reminded him, he was hungry.
He opened the container with his food and sampled one of the offerings before tossing the rest in a nearby trash container. Faith was right. He wasn’t really a sushi guy. He was a burger and fries guy. A steak and potato guy. Although he did have a secret love of broccoli that he never told anyone about because that was a dorky vegetable and not a manly Marine vegetable like . . . carrots.
Yeah, carrots. They were supposed to help with night vision. Not as much as night vision goggles, of course. Vegetables couldn’t compete with the tech support of the U.S. Marine Corps.
Still . . . he did have a fondness for broccoli. And that was entirely his dad’s fault. Because when Caine was a kid, his dad told him that broccoli was really a bunch of small trees that a mad scientist had shrunk.
As if on cue, a little rug rat maybe three years old ran up to Caine. “Wanna see my dog-dog?”
Not knowing what a dog-dog was, Caine froze for a second before seeing the stuffed animal that the little boy was waving around.
“Victor!” His dad raced after him and scooped the kid up in his arms.
The image of father and son hit Caine hard. He remembered being swung in circles by his father on a warm summer evening. “More!” he’d yell again and again.
His dad would swing him around while laughing and telling him about centrifugal force. His dad was always a scientist at heart. Caine couldn’t even count the number of times his dad would incorporate a lesson about a chemical equation into playtime. He could still hear his dad’s voice saying, “Hydrogen is the first element on the periodic table . . . not to be confused with a picnic table.”
Yeah, that was his dad. Karl the chemist comic Hunter.
Caine’s life was forever changed by his mother’s death when he was ten. His mother had been sick for several years before that—in and out of hospitals fighting cancer. She’d always wanted to go to Italy to visit her cousins there but didn’t live long enough to see that dream happen. So she’d made Caine promise he’d go to visit them someday, which was why he was in Italy a few weeks ago.
He’d also promised his mom that he’d look after his dad. He’d failed with that job. Her death had devastated his dad, and the chemistry jokes had stopped for a long, long time. Instead, his father had become immersed in his work, and Caine had been left alone a lot.
Caine had joined the Marines right out of high school. His dad had supported his decision. He’d felt bad leaving his dad on his own, but Karl hadn’t seemed to mind, claiming it gave him more time to devote to his work. Work that Caine had never really understood, despite his father’s best efforts to educate him.
He’d wondered if his dad might not remarry, but that never happened. “Your mom was the love of my life,” he’d told Caine. “The hydrogen to my oxygen. No other molecule or woman will do.”
Seeing what the loss of his mom had done to his dad made Caine determined not to display an equal vulnerability. Love killed something in you. Made you weak, not strong. These were the life lessons he learned. That, along with knowing the atomic weight of hydrogen.
Not that any of those things could help him now. He needed the skills he’d learned in the Marines: how to lock up his emotions to the horrors he saw around him. He’d heard a saying in the Corps—he wasn’t sure who said it—Death smiles at everyone. The Marines smile back.
But his dad hadn’t smiled back. He’d taken his own life.
Guilt shot through Caine. He should have done more, should have done something. Gritting his teeth, he refused to give in to the dark emotions eating at him. He couldn’t afford to go there now. He had to stay focused.
Caine couldn’t bring his father back to