Читать книгу Desert Ice Daddy - Dana Marton - Страница 7

Taylor slept in fits, on and off, after a tense day where she had to pretend in front of the cops that nothing had happened, pretend disappointment when the men came back to the ranch to take care of the animals and rest, then pretend hope as they geared up for a night search and left again.

Crying in frustration was the easiest part. She didn’t have to pretend that.

At least Akeem and Gary hadn’t gotten into a fight on the way to Gary’s place. Neither sported any bruises this morning.

She sipped her coffee at the kitchen table, watching them talking quietly in the living room. They’d shown up at about the same time an hour ago. Gary looked sullen, but sober and willing to cooperate, which was what counted. He even had on clean, if wrinkled, clothes, his hat in hand.

He nodded one more time to whatever Akeem had told him, then left him and moseyed over to the cops. Akeem strode to the window. In a room full of tension, he was a bastion of calm and solid strength, his movements unhurried, his attention focused. He’d left his corporate gear behind for once, wearing blue jeans with a sand-colored Polo shirt and boots, reminding her of their younger days. Even in informal clothes, he looked every inch the prince of the desert that he was—a real prince, if estranged—something few knew about him beyond his circle of friends. He liked to keep his private life private.

His silhouette blocked half the window, but she could see through the other half. The ranch hands were waiting outside, the vehicles lined up, Flint out there with them, dividing up the area that needed to be covered. Lora Leigh, his new wife, was at his side, ready to go to bat for Christopher.

Lucinda, the housekeeper, stood out there, too, but only to see everyone off. She’d had a hard time the day before in the heat. She was going to stay home to rest. Only because she knew the score. Beside Taylor, Akeem, Flint and Gary, Lucinda was the only one Taylor had told about the ransom call.

Lucinda was like family. She loved Christopher like a grandmother.

She could think about little else now. In a few hours, she would have Christopher back. She wouldn’t allow herself to let any doubt enter her mind. When those thoughts pushed their dark despair into her heart anyway, she closed her eyes and said another prayer, for the thousandth time since Christopher hadn’t come back for his pancakes and grits.

“Looks like they’re about ready.” Akeem stepped away from the window and came over to her.

Gary was leaving his conversation with the officers and wasn’t far behind. “Here. Some coffee to take with you.” He produced a tartan-patterned Thermos from somewhere. And she recognized it after a moment—a gift from a neighbor a few years back, along with a picnic basket they’d never used.

“Good luck. Be careful.” His blue eyes were clear for once, the encouragement in them genuine. He could be nice when he wanted to be.

“Thanks,” she responded with a tired smile and accepted the Thermos, although Lucinda had already set everyone up with food and drinks. She ran the house like a general. Thank God for her. She had taken good care of Flint all these years, and Taylor was grateful for that.

She walked to the door behind Akeem, her knees nearly locking, and glanced back before stepping through the door he was holding open for her. She looked to Gary one last time, hoping he would hold up long enough without a drink. “You can call on my cell if anything happens here.”

Then she walked out into the morning sunshine and found Flint’s gaze on her face, his expression tight with worry. He’d gone a few rounds on the phone last night with Akeem about who should be driving her to the exchange. Akeem had won, but only because he had more experience with Hell’s Porch.

Flint hadn’t been happy about using someone else’s money either, even if it was from one of his best friends, but with the time limit, he had no choice but to accept.

“Sure you don’t want me to go with you instead?” Flint being Flint, he couldn’t resist asking one last time, adjusting his Stetson on his head.

“I’ll be fine with Akeem. Thanks.” She headed for the Navigator, said nothing at the surprise that waited for her in the interior until the doors were closed behind them. “What’s all this?”

Plasticky-looking, black foot-by-foot squares covered the sides, save the windows.

“Kevlar.” He started the engine, but didn’t pull out ahead of the pack. They were to lag behind, then take their turn toward Route 109 when nobody was looking.

Her fingertips were numb from nerves.

“You bulletproofed the car?” She shouldn’t have been surprised. Akeem had always been a man who paid close attention to detail. The kind of man a woman could come to trust and depend on. Some other woman. After the mess her marriage had turned into, it would be a long time before she completely trusted another man.

“Mike and the boys worked on it last night.”

He waited until most of the pickups were rolling down the road, raising a cloud of dust, giving the look of a herd of migrating elephants over the African savannah, then pulled to the end of the line. “Flint told me about Jake Kenner.”

The name had the power to squeeze her heart. “He hadn’t come back in last night.”

“And you don’t think he got lost.”

“Nobody saw him go out, nobody saw him during the search.” Flint had called to tell her that just as Akeem had left with Gary the day before. “He hasn’t been answering his cell phone. What if he went off earlier? Before the search began?”

“With Christopher?”

She nodded, sick to her stomach from the thought. “Christopher would go with him. Jake is a trainer. He’d been giving Christopher riding lessons.” That thought alone made her break out in a cold sweat.

“Flint said he was new to the ranch.”

“He came a month before I did.” She clenched her teeth, guilt nearly killing her. What kind of mother was she to trust her son to a kidnapper? She should have known, should have paid more attention. Jake had been aloof, but she’d thought only because he was still new and hadn’t adjusted to the rhythm of the ranch yet. He’d been patient with Christopher, doing whatever the little boy’s fancy was, whatever made him happy.