Читать книгу Operation Bassinet - Joyce Sullivan - Страница 14

Stef held Keely in her arms and stared mutinously at Mitch Halloran over the roof of the black luxury sedan as he stowed their luggage in the trunk. She was not ready for this. Night surrounded them with cold velvet. The stars were crystal-clear overhead.

Stef couldn’t bring herself to touch the door handle. It had been hard enough to pack clothes and toys for Keely and to allow Mitch to collect a DNA sample from their mouths with a swab. She did not want to get into this car and drive toward an uncertain future, which might not include the precious baby she held in her arms.

She couldn’t do it.

She had to do it. Another child needed her.

Mitch closed the trunk and stared back at her, not saying a word, but his Goliath expression said plenty.

She hated him, she really did. Hated how he loomed over the car—a golden malevolent griffin with sun-bleached hair. Hated how she noticed how endlessly broad his shoulders were and how she could feel his eyes silently reminding her that her flesh-and-blood child was spending yet another day without her real mommy.

That was the worst part of it. Nausea and anger churned in her at the heart-wrenching thought that she’d only known her real baby for a day. What if her real daughter was dead? Or would be killed once the ransom was paid. What if she never saw her again?

“Mommy?” Keely’s voice sounded pitifully small and tired in the darkness. “I don’t like that man. He makes you sad. I want my snuggie and my beddy-bye time.”

“Kee, that was rude. Mr. Halloran is a detective, which is kind of like a police officer, and he needs Mommy’s help. So we’re going to go with him and help him, okay? It’ll be fun. An adventure.”

Keely didn’t look convinced. Her brow wrinkled like a plump raisin. “No.”

Stef saw the white flash of Mitch Halloran’s patient smile in the darkness as he walked to the driver’s side door. He obviously knew better than to clash wills with an obstinate two-and-a-half-year-old. She smoothed the hair back from Keely’s forehead and kissed her frown away, her throat tightening with suppressed emotion. “Sometimes, Kee, we have to do things even when we don’t want to do them.” God, what an understatement! “I have snuggie and I’ll tuck it around you and we’ll have our beddy-bye time in the car.”

As she spoke, Stef opened the rear door of the car. The door handle felt cold in her grasp. “Okay, baby gorilla, into your car seat. I’ll sit right beside you.”

To her relief, Keely obeyed, though she moved at an excruciating turtle’s pace. Stef fastened her daughter into the car seat and covered her with her snuggie, the crocheted rainbow-pastel blanket that had been a gift from Brad’s former boss. Then she handed Keely her cup of milk with the leak-proof lid.

Stef was uncomfortably aware of Mitch Halloran’s unrelenting size filling the car, his scent commingling with the scents of leather and the sweet baby smell of Keely’s blanket. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so aware of a man’s presence. It had probably been her wedding day when she’d walked down the aisle and seen Brad waiting for her at the front of the church.

Brad. He’d been handsome, engaging and unreliable.

Funny how she’d fooled herself into thinking he’d always be there for her. The fact that he was estranged from his parents, who hadn’t been invited to their wedding, should have been her first clue that family wasn’t at the top of Brad’s priority list. She wouldn’t be going through this nightmare if he’d stayed overnight in the hospital with them. But he’d had that job interview the next morning, which he’d blown anyway by arriving late.

Guilt struck her. It wasn’t Brad’s fault that someone had stolen their baby.

Mitch looped an arm across the back of the front passenger seat, his face a study of intense sharp angles as he backed the car out of the driveway—away from the home she’d bought with the money from Brad’s life insurance policy. At least he’d been responsible enough to buy life insurance when Stef had discovered she was pregnant.

Angry tears blurred her vision. She licked her dry lips as Mitch put the car in drive and her house receded from view. Next time she came home, would Keely be with her?

She straightened, lightly stroking Keely’s hair. She had to think positively. As soon as her real daughter was safely returned, she’d hire a lawyer and fight for custody of Keely, even if she had to sell her house and everything she owned to pay the legal fees.

Were there even any Collingwood family members who’d fight for custody of Keely? The Collingwood murders had been all over the news—speculation running rampant on the talk shows over who would get the money because there were no other living relatives except Lexi’s greedy sister, Annette York. Annette was probably going to get the death penalty for killing her sister and brother-in-law.

Stef cleared her throat and glared at the back of Mitch’s head. “Where are we going?” she asked.

His face was reflected in the rearview mirror. He drove the way the cops on those reality TV shows drove, both hands on the wheel, his body language vigilant as if he expected trouble to come leaping out of the bushes.

Oh, God. Did he?

Visions of car-jackings raced through her mind. She suddenly realized that if Keely really was the lost Collingwood heir, she’d stand to inherit a fortune, which was why she’d been kidnapped in the first place. Her inheritance would make her vulnerable all of her life.

“We’re going to New York City,” Mitch said, his baritone bursting Stef’s panicky realization that he hadn’t exaggerated when he’d said Keely needed protection. “The Foundation has offices there. My boss has reserved a suite at a hotel. He’ll meet us there.”

“Who’s your boss? Is he related to the Collingwoods?”

“He calls himself The Guardian.”

Stef wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly. “Excuse me?”

“He’s a private security consultant who keeps his identity under wraps to protect his clientele. Ross Collingwood hired him after Riana was kidnapped. He was the one who nailed Annette York for killing Ross and Lexi Collingwood.” Mitch’s voice held deference and respect. “When I was with the L.A.P.D., I heard stories about him from officers who’d assisted him with celebrity stalking cases.”

Stef didn’t care who The Guardian was or what he’d done. She was prepared to dislike him on sight. As far as she was concerned, The Guardian was just a man who wanted to take Keely away from her.

“Are there other family members? I’ve only heard about the sister—she doesn’t sound like someone I want to meet.”

“That information is being kept under wraps.”

Stef rolled her eyes. From the tone of Mitch’s voice, she wasn’t going to get any information out of him about the Collingwoods. Maybe she’d have better luck with his boss.

Keely popped the cup out of her mouth and twined her tiny fingers in Stef’s hair. “Mommy, beddy-bye story?”

“Sure, baby.” Stef curled an arm across her daughter’s body as if shielding her from Mitch’s real-life tales of pseudonymous detectives, celebrity stalkers and murderers.

“Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Keely, who lived in a cozy blue house on Maple Lane. One fall day Keely and her mommy were outside raking leaves when they heard a bell-like voice say, ‘Ouch!’ Keely looked down into the grass and found a tiny fairy who was just big enough to fit in her hand. The fairy was crying. The rake had ripped one of her beautiful wings and now she couldn’t fly home.”

She made a scooping motion with her hand and held it up to her daughter’s face. “Keely took the fairy home and made a soft bed for her with her snuggie. And her mommy put a special bandage on the fairy’s wing. The next morning when the fairy woke up, her wing was all better and she could fly home. To thank Keely, the fairy promised to grant her one special wish. And what did Keely wish for?”

Kee popped the cup out of her mouth again and yawned sleepily. “A daddy.”

Stef gaped at her in surprise. Where the heck had that answer come from? Keely had never said anything like that before. But then, she’d never been whisked away from her bed at night by her mommy and a towering stranger, whom she perceived as making her mommy sad. Keely was just a baby. Too young to understand that her daddy had died and gone to heaven. But instinctively old enough to articulate that she wanted a daddy to protect her and her mommy from Mitch.

Stef’s heart broke. Keely didn’t need a daddy. She had a mommy who loved her more than life itself and surely a judge would recognize that and rule in Keely’s best interests even if Stef wasn’t Keely’s biological mother. No matter how big of a fortune was involved.

Yeah, and Stef had bought into the fairy tale that she and Brad would live happily ever after, too.

“Oh, Kee,” she whispered, pressing her mouth against her daughter’s silky head and fighting to keep her tears from clogging her throat and upsetting Keely even more. “That’s a lovely wish. Now close your eyes and go to sleep just like the fairy.”

Softly, very softly, Stef sang her daughter the “I love you” song they’d invented and glared at the sleek golden outline of Mitch Halloran’s head.

MITCH SWORE under his breath as he attempted to tune out the love and desperation in Stef’s voice as she sang to Keely.

He’d witnessed some horrible things in his career—butchered bodies, neglected and abused children, junkies so strung out they’d take a life for a couple of bucks to buy their next fix. Now he could add this poignant moment to that list of worst evers.

All he could do was hold fiercely to the fragile cord of hope that somehow Stef Shelton would get her real daughter back alive. Or this would destroy her.

Just as another girl’s death had destroyed another heartbroken woman who had depended on him. Theresa Lopez had died of a stroke eight months after Carmen’s death.

Decisions usually came easy to Mitch. He didn’t waste time agonizing over what to do. He made a decision and went with it until the circumstances changed and he had to make another decision. Paddy had taught him that valuable lesson after Mitch had been dumped on his doorstep because his mother’s boyfriend didn’t like having a teenage boy with an attitude hanging around. The visit with his grandfather was supposed to be for a few days. But those few days had stretched into a month, then a couple of months.

After watching Mitch check the window every time a car pulled in the drive, Paddy had told him he had to quit worrying about when and if his mother was coming back—events he couldn’t control—and to make a decision to soldier on and focus on things he could control such as making friends, getting good grades and figuring out what his mission in life was. Most importantly, deciding what kind of man he wanted to be.

Mitch had used Paddy’s advice to control his destiny ever since—cracking the books to get the grades he needed to get a degree in criminal justice, busting his ass in the police academy and distinguishing himself as a detective.

He stole another look at Stef in the rearview mirror. Her left arm was curled protectively around the top of the car seat, her head pillowed on her shoulder. He steeled his emotions to the heartbreaking story of love and fear her body language projected.

“Is she asleep?” he asked tentatively, trying to establish a rapport with her. Whether she liked it or not, he was in this with her.

Her tone was charged with rebellion. “Yes, finally.”

Oh, boy.

He kept his tone even. “I know this is rough, but I need to ask you some questions.”

“Such as?”

“Do you remember anything unusual happening in the hospital after Keely’s birth? Did you see anyone suspicious near your child? Maybe a nurse or a hospital worker?”

“Why would I tell you anything that would help you succeed in your ridiculous claim that Keely isn’t my child?”

“Because, ma’am, deep down you know my claim is not ridiculous and beneath the anger and the fear you’re feeling, you want to do everything you can to get your daughter back home to you safely.”

She snorted. “If you knew anything about my feelings, Mr. Halloran, you’d stop calling me ‘ma’am.’ Or maybe you don’t want to do that because you sleep better at night by treating people as if they’re just another nameless face.”

He felt a strong poke in his shoulder. It took every ounce of his self-control to remain relaxed and to not tense up. He assumed it was her finger and not a gun, but who knew to what extremes a distraught parent might go under the threat of having to give up their child?

“You take a good look at my face, Halloran,” she continued bitterly. “My name is Stef Shelton. This is my life we’re talking about. My family. So don’t you talk to me like I’m some nameless, faceless person.”

Her words hit Mitch like a match to a fuse. He jerked the car over to the side of the road, switched on the overhead light and turned to face her.

There was no gun. Just one very defiant woman, who was in real danger of losing her family. His stomach catapulted again.

He pointed two fingers at his eyes, his voice just as hard as hers had been. “Stef, look at me. Right here. I can’t afford to be emotional or I’d spend half my waking hours guzzling beer and the other half puking my guts out over the stuff I see day in, day out. I am thinking about your life. Your family. Your daughter. I want to know who took her, and I want to get her back for you alive. Now answer my goddamn question.” The hardness in his voice turned to a plea. “Please.”

He saw the defiance leak out of her, saw her eyes turn to liquid gold in her pale face as they filled with new tears. His chest grew unbearably tight. She was a nice woman. And hot enough that he’d take a second interested glance if she weren’t intimately connected with the case. Stef Shelton loved Keely the way mothers were supposed to love their children. She’d never dump her child with a relative and disappear for years. Mitch didn’t even know whether his mother was alive or dead. He hadn’t seen his own dad except for that one time when he was six years old.

“I know this doesn’t seem fair, but we have to move beyond that and make smart decisions.” He snapped his mouth shut before he added the sorry platitude that life was rarely fair. He knew damn well that there was a chance that Stef Shelton’s real daughter could be buried in a shallow grave that would never be found.

But he wasn’t going to consider that possibility until he had strong evidence to suggest it was the case. He reached into the back and touched her knee, breaking the fundamental rule of successfully sustaining detachment, the line he never should have crossed with Carmen’s grandmother: don’t touch, don’t feel.

The moment he felt the wiry strands of Teresa’s gray hair against his cheek as she’d hugged him desperately, he’d lost his perspective. But he needed Stef’s cooperation. He had no badge that he could wave to induce her to talk.

She felt brittle and delicate as if sheer force of will was holding her together. “Trust me,” he said. “I only want to help.”

She took a shaky breath, her eyes still fixed on his. He could see the decision-making process going on in her head. Do I hate this bastard? Or do I trust him to help me?

Trust won out.

Mitch had the uncanny sensation he were staring down a gold-paved tunnel into her soul as she wet her lips and finally confided, “I woke up around 3:00 a.m. The sound of the door woke me. I thought it was the nurse or my husband coming to check on us because he’d decided not to stay overnight in the hospital with us. Dads can do that, you know.”

And she blamed her husband for not being there. He could tell by the defensive shift in her body language and the rigid tilt of her chin. But then, she was probably still angry with her husband for dying. Mitch was familiar with that kind of anger. Paddy was the one person he’d counted on being there for him. Always.

“Did you see the person? Could you tell if it was a male or female? Did you notice anything they were wearing?”

“No, sorry.” She sounded sincere.

“Did you notice anything unusual about Keely at all? Her hair? Her weight? The ID bracelets?”

She frowned, thinking back. “Nothing significant. It was two and a half years ago. To be honest, I don’t think Brad or I looked that closely at the ID bracelets. Having a baby is a pretty exhausting experience.”

“I’ll bet. I don’t have any kids, but I suspect they call it labor for a reason.” He squeezed her knee, intending to leave things on a friendly note and to get the sedan back on the road, but she stopped him, catching his hand with hers. Mitch’s heart kicked up a beat at the hesitant, light-as-a-feather touch of her fingers.

“Mitch…?”

He nodded encouragingly. It was the first time she’d used his name. But it also triggered a tremor of unease on the back of his neck at the level of intimacy it created.

“The ransom note you showed me—it said the little girl had her father’s eyes and her mother’s smile. W-what color were Ross Collingwood’s eyes?”

He held her gaze, smiled gently, relieved to see that she was rallying and wasn’t going to stay in denial about her biological daughter’s fate. He imagined Stef Shelton had strengths she hadn’t tapped yet. “They were blue. And the hairs that accompanied the note were dark brown.”

“Brad had blue eyes,” she said wistfully, releasing his hand.

Mitch searched her determined, tear-streaked face and Keely’s slumbering form for a second longer, then turned out the overhead light and pulled back onto the road.

Her lost daughter was becoming real to her.

HUNTER AND JULIANA SINCLAIR waited anxiously in the penthouse suite of the New York Clairmont Hotel for Riana’s arrival. Unbelievably, incredibly, after thirty long months, Ross and Lexi’s daughter was safe in Mitch Halloran’s custody and on her way home to them.

But what should have been a joyous event was overshadowed by the grim knowledge that another child’s life was perilously at risk. Poor Stephanie Shelton, the woman who’d unknowingly been caring for Riana, had just learned that the child she’d raised was not her own.

Juliana empathized with what Stephanie must be thinking and feeling. When Ross and Lexi Collingwood were murdered in an explosion six weeks ago, The Guardian had expected her to give up the Collingwoods’ five-month-old son, Cort, whom she’d been raising in secret to keep him safe from harm. Ross and Lexi had appointed The Guardian as the legal guardian of their children, Riana and Cort. Even though Juliana had been raised in the Collingwood household, it spoke to The Guardian’s intense security that she hadn’t known that Ross and Hunter were best friends or that Hunter was Cort’s godfather.

Regardless, she had not been willing to give up Cort without a fight. To protect her precious charge until he was old enough to claim his inheritance, she had married Hunter Sinclair, aka The Guardian. They were raising Cort as a Sinclair, their own son, giving him all the love that Ross and Lexi would have given him.

She rested her head on her husband’s solid shoulder, her heart bearing equal burdens of elation and anxiety. In the short time since their marriage she knew Hunter so well she could practically hear the gears turning in his pragmatic mind, assessing the extraordinary situation for legalities and lawsuits and risk management options.

He’d been overcome with emotion when he’d taken the call from Mitch Halloran earlier this evening. He’d excused himself from the dining room when the call came, then returned a few minutes later and silently held out his hand to her, blinking back tears.

She’d walked out to the greenhouse with him where he’d told her the news. They’d wept together at the miracle, mourning the fact that Ross and Lexi weren’t alive to welcome their lost little girl home themselves.

Hunter had promised her that he’d do everything possible to ensure the safe return of Stephanie Shelton’s real daughter. Then he’d put on his Guardian hat and told her in his endearingly arrogant way that they were going to act with the utmost caution until they knew who was behind Riana’s kidnapping. Riana’s return could be a trap.

The timing of this ransom demand so shortly after Annette’s arrest for the Collingwood murders was awfully suspicious. Annette and her lawyers were claiming she was innocent—that she’d been framed for the bombing and murders by someone higher up in the Collingwood Corporation.

The new ransom demand could be an attempt to make it appear as though another party was behind both the murders and Riana’s kidnapping. Annette had already proven herself a master of plotting and deception. They still couldn’t fathom why Annette hadn’t revealed Cort’s existence or Hunter’s identity as The Guardian to the press. Either she didn’t want to share the media spotlight or she planned to use the information as a trump card during her trial.

“I’m coming with you tonight,” Juliana had insisted.

He’d kissed her forehead, gently, tenderly, in that protective way that told her he was afraid.

“I’m not sure that’s wise at this point.”

She’d smoothed her palms over his chest, emotion choking her voice. Beneath his ever-present shield of caution and restraint, her husband deeply valued his family. “She’s Cort’s sister. Our daughter. I want to see her.”

“I want to see her, too. But I don’t want to put you at risk if it’s a trap.” His azure eyes clouded. “I came too close to losing you last month. And Cort needs you. You’re safer here. Del and Lars aren’t going to let a fly land on this island without their scrutiny and permission.”

Juliana wasn’t taking no for an answer. Lexi’s daughter, their daughter, needed her. “I’ll be fine. I’ll be with you. I’ll stay away from rivers and other bodies of water,” she added, referring to the terrifying night when she’d jumped into the St. Lawrence River to avoid being shot by Annette after Lars and Del had been seriously injured by her hired assassin. “I promise.”

Hunter sighed. “It constantly amazes me how frequently I give in to your unreasonable demands. You may come, but Cort stays at FairIsle with your father and Prudy. And, you’ll accompany me as the Collingwoods’ butler’s daughter, not as my wife. Leave your wedding rings here. I have no intention of revealing that I’m Riana’s legal guardian until we know what’s really going on. I still haven’t told Mitch about Cort or our marriage.”

Juliana had smiled and slid her finger inside the collar of his black sweater. He was the sexiest, most suspicious man she’d ever met and she loved Hunter with her whole heart and soul. Their marriage may have been brought about by the tragic deaths of Ross and Lexi Collingwood, but there was nothing artificial or contrived about their feelings for one another now.

“Does that mean we can’t make love to celebrate Riana’s return while we’re in New York?” She rose on tiptoes to nibble his ear. It was his Achilles’ heel, guaranteed to instantly divert his thoughts from logic to lovemaking. It brought the desired wolfish grin to his face.

His hand had slipped under her skirt, warm and proprietary. “How about a pre-celebration now?”

Juliana jumped as the ringing of the phone in the penthouse suite yanked her into the present. Hunter took the call. “That was the front desk. They’ve arrived.”

Juliana smoothed the black pantsuit she’d changed into for the helicopter trip to New York and tucked her long blond hair behind her ears. She was so nervous. What if Riana was afraid of them? Didn’t like them? She shot a quick glance at her husband.

He had his imperturbable Guardian face on again. They’d agreed earlier that she would make the introductions. It would be less threatening.

“Riana’s going to be so confused,” she said. “She’s not old enough to understand any of this.”

His eyes warmed lovingly. “We’ll make it work.”

“But what if—”

He laid a finger over his lips and motioned for her to greet their guests as the private elevator that served the penthouse suite arrived. The doors slid open.

With her heart in her throat, Juliana smiled at the gorgeous blond man who must be the hot-shot L.A. detective and the defiant dark-haired woman carrying a sleeping toddler. The toddler was wrapped in a blanket that Juliana could only describe as a dream coat because of its beautiful colors.

Riana.

The delicate nest of Riana’s dark curls brought a fluid rush of warmth coursing through Juliana. She could almost feel Lexi’s smiling presence in the room with them.

Juliana stepped forward, aching to touch those beautiful curls, but sensing that such a gesture would be ill-advised. “How do you do, Mrs. Shelton? I’m Juliana Goodhew. My family has worked for the Collingwoods for many years.” She gestured at Hunter. “And this is The Guardian, the Collingwoods’ chief security consultant.”

Hunter nodded. “Mrs. Shelton.”

This was so awkward. Juliana felt a warning chill pass over her spine as the tension mounted. Stephanie Shelton looked scared to death and she noticed that Mitch Halloran moved slightly behind the young woman as if providing her with emotional and moral support.

Juliana’s heart went out to Stephanie. This situation was going to be difficult on them all. “You’ve had a long drive and must be exhausted. Perhaps you’d like to get Riana settled first, then we can sit down and talk privately.”

Stephanie Shelton didn’t budge. Her green eyes glittered with the ferocity of a lioness protecting her cub. “Her name is Keely. Even if the DNA tests prove she’s Riana, I’m not giving her up without a fight. You can relay that message to her family on my behalf.”

Oh, dear. Juliana shot Hunter a look of dismay.

Hunter stepped forward. “Be that as it may, Mrs. Shelton,” he said courteously, “we still need your cooperation. If you’re the parent of the child the kidnapper is holding, then only you can make certain decisions about the ransom demand and how you wish to proceed. I suggest we leave the legal battles for the lawyers. Have you provided Mitch with some DNA samples? It takes three to four days to get DNA test results back from the lab, and we may hear from the kidnapper again before then. I have a courier standing by in the lobby.”

“This should do it.” Mitch Halloran passed Hunter two DNA test kits, then partially slid a royal-blue baseball cap from a paper bag. Office Outfitters was embroidered in red above the bill of the cap. “This was his ball cap.”

A guarded stillness came over Hunter. “Was your husband associated with Office Outfitters, Mrs. Shelton?”

“He worked for them for seven years until he was laid off when it was taken over by some big corporation.” She faltered, fear illuminating her eyes like flash-bulbs.

“Taken over by whom?” Hunter prodded gently.

Stephanie Shelton took a hesitant step backward and bumped into Mitch Halloran’s muscled bulk. The detective’s hands shot out to steady her. With nowhere to go, Stephanie clutched Riana more securely to her breast and admitted baldly, “The Collingwood Corporation.”