Читать книгу Protecting His Secret Son - Laura Scott - Страница 15

Reeling from the news he was Brodie’s father, Mike struggled to stay focused. Shayla’s stubbornness frustrated him, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized she was right. They absolutely needed to stick together. And he’d rather have both Shayla and Brodie with him than alone in a motel room.

His anger toward her was redirected to himself. She had called him a few months after their fight and he’d interrupted whatever she’d been about to tell him.

Granted, it had never entered his wildest dreams she might confess she was pregnant. That the one night they’d shared had changed their lives forever.

If anyone should have called again, it was him.

Standing awkwardly near the SUV, he waited for Shayla to strap Brodie into his car seat. When she finished, he held the passenger door open for her and she shot him a curious look as she slid into the passenger seat. He went around to the driver’s side and put the SUV in gear.

Neither one of them broke the silence for several long moments.

“Why did you move to Nashville?”

“Huh?” She looked confused, then shrugged and turned away. “My aunt Jean lives there. She offered to help with the baby.”

“I would have helped with Brodie.” The words shot out of his mouth before he could stop them. Seemed to be happening a lot lately.

Shayla shifted in her seat to face him. “You accused my father and brother of being criminals, remember?”

He couldn’t deny it. And he’d apologize except that two days ago he’d witnessed her brother meeting with Lane Walters. And to his eye, they’d appeared very friendly.

More miles passed before he spoke again. “You’re sure he said Jacksonville?”

“Yes.” She shivered a bit in the cool night breeze. Once the sun went down, the warmth promising a hint of summer quickly evaporated. The pink hoodie she wore wasn’t very thick.

He turned up the heat for her sake and Brodie’s, then glanced at her. “I want to be a part of Brodie’s life.”

Shayla let out a harsh laugh. “I’m sure you do. However, has it occurred to you that the two people you’re accusing of being criminals are Brodie’s uncle and grandfather?”

A hard lump formed in the back of his throat, making it impossible to speak. She was right, he hadn’t considered that fact, yet he couldn’t let go of what he knew in his heart was true. Duncan and Ian were involved in his father’s murder and needed to be brought to justice.

No matter the consequences? His resolve wavered. He couldn’t lose his son.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Shayla said in a weary tone. “You really won’t even entertain the idea that Duncan is working undercover?”

“I’ll consider it,” he said, forcing the admission past his tight throat. “I’m willing to listen to your brother’s side of the story.”

“That’s something, I guess.” Shayla turned to stare out the passenger window.

He knew he needed to tread lightly from here on out. Alienating Shayla wouldn’t help his goal of being involved in Brodie’s life.

Maybe a mediator would help. He dug his phone out of his pocket and gently lobbed it over the center console. “Find Hawk’s number—it’s in my most recent calls. I spoke to him ten minutes ago. Wouldn’t hurt to have backup.”

She fumbled with the phone for a moment, then hit the number and the speaker. The sound of a ringing phone could be heard before a sleepy, querulous voice answered. “Callahan, don’t you sleep?”

His mouth quirked in a reluctant smile. “I need backup, can you meet me in Jacksonville?”

Hawk uttered a low groan. “Yeah, but I need to know where exactly you want to meet.”

“To a motel called...” He waited for Shayla to pipe in.

“The Rustic Resort,” she finally admitted.

Hawk made some sort of grunting sound and then the line went silent.

“That was weird,” Shayla murmured. “He didn’t say goodbye.”

“That’s just how Hawk is.” He held out his hand for the phone and she dropped it into his palm. The device was warm from her touch and he closed his fingers around it, wishing he could go back in time to do things differently.

“Mommy? I’m hungry.”

Shayla reached behind her seat to lightly touch her son’s knee. “We’ll get something later, okay?”

“We can stop and get something,” Mike interjected. He felt bad for not thinking of it sooner. He’d forgotten what it was like to be around little kids.

Not just any kid.

His son.

Her expression turned wry. “We picked up dinner at Burger Barn shortly before you came rushing to our rescue. Trust me, this is normal. Brodie’s always hungry. The kid has an appetite that doesn’t quit.”

He found himself mesmerized by every morsel of information she doled out about his son and insatiable for more. He wanted to ask about everything from how her pregnancy went to the delivery to who watched Brodie while she worked, if she worked, which he assumed she must. It burned to know that he hadn’t paid a dime of child support.

He would have, if he’d known. And whose fault was that?

His. And hers. But mostly his.

The sight of the Jacksonville sign interrupted his crazy thoughts. They’d made good time, arriving sooner than expected. “We need to find out where the Rustic Resort is located.”

“It’s off County Highway BB.” She was looking down at her phone. “Roughly five miles from here.”

He hoped Hawk had made good time as well, because he wasn’t about to put Shayla or Brodie in danger. He and Hawk would talk to Duncan, while Shayla and Brodie stayed well out of the way.

“I think that’s it, up ahead.”

He saw the building she indicated and slowed down to pull off the road. Hitting the redial button on his phone, he called Hawk. “How far away are you?”

“Eight minutes, maybe less.”

Sitting out in the open like this made him twitchy. It was past midnight, which meant traffic out here in no-man’s-land was nonexistent. They were an obvious target and he didn’t like it. “I’m going to drive past the place, see what we’re dealing with. Call me when you get close.”

“Yep.”

He tucked his phone into his pocket and pulled back out onto the highway. The Rustic Resort was all rustic and very little resort, with ten rooms in a long row. It was set back about one hundred feet from the highway, but even as he drove past, he could see there were only three cars parked in the lot and none of them was a white pickup. A black pickup was in front of the third room, but not a white one, the kind Duncan drove.

A chill snaked down his spine.

Either Duncan had ditched his truck and hitched a ride, or he’d got his hands on a spare vehicle. For Shayla’s brother’s sake, he hoped it was the latter.

Without a ride handy, her brother would be stuck there like a mouse in a trap.

From what he could tell, the motel butted up against a farmer’s field. There were long rows of newly turned dirt and a farmhouse way out in the distance. No lights were on inside the place, making him wonder where the owners of the land were. Or maybe they just leased the land to someone else who did the work.

Worst of all, the farmland didn’t offer any type of cover. He couldn’t imagine what Duncan was thinking to choose this place. He and his brothers would have looked for something with an escape route. Even the American Lodge had one, especially from the corner room that he’d given Shayla.

At the next intersection, he turned right and pulled off the road. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. Patience wasn’t his strongest attribute and he was finding it difficult to wait on Hawk. After five minutes had passed, he pulled out his phone, but before he could call Hawk, his buddy’s name popped up on the screen.

“I’m approaching the motel now,” Hawk said without preamble. “What’s the plan?”

“There isn’t any coverage behind the place, so I’ll park on the south end of the lot while you take the north. We’ll meet in the middle.”

“Know how many hostiles we’re facing?”

“Nope. But I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough.” He hung up, hoping Shayla hadn’t heard Hawk’s term for her brother. Hawk had spent time as a soldier, fighting overseas in Iraq. In Hawk’s world, anyone who wasn’t a good guy was automatically deemed a hostile.

Despite seeing the meeting between Duncan and Lane, Mike couldn’t help admitting Shayla had a point. There was a chance, albeit a remote one, that her brother was working undercover.

It didn’t explain what he’d overheard at his father’s funeral, but still. He’d promised to listen to Duncan’s side of the story, and he would.

After making a U-turn, Mike headed back toward the motel. He could see Hawk’s SUV headlights approaching from the opposite direction. Relieved to have Hawk’s assistance, he pulled into the parking lot, turned around and backed into the spot near the south side of the building. He purposefully positioned the SUV so that it was directly facing the road, in case Shayla had to leave in a hurry.

“You need to get in behind the wheel,” he directed. “And if anything goes wrong, I want you and Brodie to bolt out of here, understand?”

Her expression was full of concern. “And leave you? I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I’ll be fine with Hawk. You have our son to worry about.”

She bit her lip, then nodded. “Okay. You’ll be careful, right? You won’t hurt Duncan?”

It was on the tip of his tongue to point out that he would only take action against Duncan if her brother started it first, but there was no reason to say anything that might upset her.

“Everything will be fine,” he said reassuringly. “This is all just an added precaution. But promise me that if you hear anything go wrong, you’ll drive straight to the closest police station. Ask for my brother Miles, or Matt. Or Noah Sinclair. And if all else fails, you can ask for my dad’s buddy Kirk Stoltz.”

Her expression held a note of uncertainty. “I will.”

He hoped so. He slid out from behind the wheel. Shayla awkwardly climbed over the console and dropped into the driver’s seat. He waited until she had the seat adjusted for her shorter frame before gently closing the door and loping across the parking lot to meet up with Hawk.

“Which room?” Hawk asked.

“I don’t know. We could ask the clerk.” He frowned when he noticed the black pickup. There was something off about it. “Wait a minute. I want to check this out.”

“I’ll cover you.”

Next to his brothers and brother-in-law, Hawk was the only other person Mike trusted to cover his back. Despite being injured during his stint as a soldier, with a long jagged facial scar to prove it, he knew Hawk would go to the mat for him, and vice versa.

Mike hunkered down beside the truck and swept his hand over the side panel. It wasn’t smooth, the way paint from a factory was. There were rough spots. He turned on his phone and used the flashlight application to inspect the underbelly.

Edges of white paint could be seen behind the black.

“This is Duncan’s truck,” he whispered. “He must have painted it black to disguise it. He’s likely in room three.”

“Not necessarily,” Hawk pointed out.

Mike knew Hawk was right. He’d purposefully parked in front of his own room at the American Lodge, leaving the space in front of Shayla’s room vacant. That way the room looked empty. If he were staying here, he’d absolutely park in a different spot. Especially with so many to choose from.

“We’ll try three first.” Using the truck for cover, he approached the motel door. He flattened himself against the wall on one side of the door, leaving Hawk to do the same on the other side.

He rapped on the door with his knuckles.

Nothing.

He and Hawk exchanged a long glance before he tried again with the same result.

They repeated the tactic on number two and number four.

Still no response.

“Let’s check with the clerk,” Mike finally said.

Hawk followed as they went inside the small lobby. An elderly man looked up in surprise. Judging by the bilateral hearing aids, the guy hadn’t heard them knocking outside or their approach as they’d walked in.

Mike flashed smile. “I’m here to pick up a friend of mine, Duncan O’Hare. He called me from room three, but isn’t answering the door.”

“Eh?” The man leaned forward. “What’s the name?”

“Duncan O’Hare,” he repeated loudly. “Room three.”

The old man used his two index fingers to tap on the computer screen, then sagely nodded. “Yes, he’s here.”

Mike glanced at Hawk and then repeated himself. “Duncan’s not answering the door. He must be really sound asleep. Would you mind giving us a key? I don’t want to wake up your other guests.”

The guy frowned. “I don’t know about that...”

Mike lifted his hands. “I get it, no problem. We’ll just keep knocking, I’m sure he’ll wake up eventually.” Without hesitating, he turned and began to walk away.

Before he reached the door, the elderly man called him back. “Wait, son. Take the key.”

The threat of creating a lot of noise had worked. Mike flashed a grateful smile. “Thanks, I appreciate it. Poor guy’s going through a rough time.”

“Aren’t we all?” the old guy agreed. “Business ain’t so good these days. Can’t afford to lose my guests.”

Key in hand, Mike approached the door cautiously. Hawk once again took up a defensive position on the other side of the door. Mike unlocked the door and pushed it open with his foot while hugging the wall.

Still nothing.

He and Hawk cautiously entered the room, noticing the fast-food wrappers in the garbage bin and that the bedspread was messed up, as if someone had stretched out there.

But there was no sign of Duncan O’Hare.

A feeling of helplessness washed over him. Duncan had left, without his white-painted-black truck.

Leaving nothing resembling a clue behind.

* * *

Waiting for Mike was sheer torture. Shayla gripped the steering wheel, hoping that he’d hurry up and get her brother out of the motel. She’d feel better if Duncan stayed with her, Brodie and Mike.

There was strength in numbers.

Mike and his friend Hawk moved with excruciating slowness. The wait was killing her. She wasn’t cut out for this kind of thing. Skulking around in the dark was causing her imagination to run wild.

If this level of suspense continued, she was afraid Brodie wouldn’t be the only one to suffer from nightmares. She’d have them, too.

Braced for the worst, she hunched her shoulders, listening intently for any sound of a struggle. She doubted Duncan would welcome Mike with open arms and prayed things wouldn’t get out of hand.

Now that Mike knew the truth about Brodie, she couldn’t help wondering how they’d make things work between them. Selfishly, she didn’t want to share custody on alternate weekends and days of the week. Brodie didn’t even know Mike—surely he wouldn’t force the issue of custody right away.

And Mike’s opinion about her father and brother still rankled.

When she saw the two men emerge from the motel room, her stomach knotted. The men parted ways. Mike returned to the SUV while his buddy Hawk walked to a different vehicle on the other side of the parking lot.

She belatedly scrambled back over the console into the passenger seat. As soon as Mike was settled, she peppered him with questions.

“What happened? Where’s Duncan? Did you talk to him? Is he upset? Let me try...”

Mike started the engine, clicked his seat belt into place and turned to face her, his expression grim. “I’m sorry, Shay, but he’s not there.”

She narrowed her gaze. “You must have the wrong room.”

“No, the guy at the front desk confirmed Duncan was staying in room three and that’s his truck, now spray-painted black, parked out front. There are signs he was there, but he’s gone now.”

Her jaw dropped and she twisted to look through the back window. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Mike drove out onto the highway, heading back the way they’d come.

“But—” She glanced back at Brodie, who’d nodded off while they’d waited for Mike. She didn’t want her son to overhear her next question. “Do you think he’s hurt? Was there any sign of a struggle? Like—blood?”

“No sign of trouble,” he assured her, reaching over to give her hand a reassuring squeeze. It was the first time he’d voluntarily touched her and she was shocked by the tingling sensation that skipped along her nerve endings. She had to remind herself this wasn’t the time for long-dormant hormones to run amok. “Try not to think the worst, okay?”

She nodded, because speaking past the lump in her throat wasn’t an option. Losing Duncan would be awful. He’d been the main point of contact with her family. Her father had been upset about her pregnancy at first but had eventually come around. But being police chief took a lot of his time. Since her mother had died when she and Duncan were young, Aunt Jean had stepped in to help raise them. Once they were grown, Aunt Jean had moved to Nashville. Joining her aunt in Tennessee had been Shayla’s choice.

Aunt Jean, Duncan and her father were her only supporters.

Where was her brother? What in the world was going on?

“He’s working undercover,” she repeated, more to convince herself than anything else. Mike might claim her brother was involved in something illegal but she refused to believe it. “He knew I was safe with you, so he decided to go off on his own to work the case.”

“It’s possible,” Mike agreed. “Do you want me to pick up something for Brodie to eat?”

“Huh? Oh, no. He should be fine until morning. I have fish crackers in my purse if he needs something.”

“I don’t mind,” he insisted. “Just let me know.”

“Duncan didn’t leave a note or anything?”

“Not that I saw.” Mike glanced at her. “Try his cell again.”

She did, but naturally her brother didn’t pick up. She hadn’t expected him to.

“I’m worried,” she confessed softly. “I don’t understand where Duncan would go without his truck. This place is too far out to get anywhere on foot. It just doesn’t make any sense.”

“Hold that thought.” Mike’s gaze was focused on the rearview mirror. “We have company.”

“What?” She twisted in her seat, her heart skittering at the bright headlights growing larger and closer behind them. “It’s probably Hawk.”

“It’s not. Hawk took a different route. Besides, these headlights are low and widely spaced, like a sports car. They’re not high enough to be an SUV.”

Remembering the sports car that had pulled up in front of Duncan’s house caused fear to rake like talons along the back of her neck. Peering over her shoulder, she glanced at her sleeping son. “What are we going to do?”

“Lose them. Hang on.” That was all the warning he gave her before yanking the wheel hard to the left. The SUV bounced wildly as he drove toward a farmer’s field. She gripped the armrest, digging her fingernails into the cushion.

Brodie woke up and began to cry, no doubt because of the rough ride.

“It’s okay, Brodie, we’re fine. Don’t be afraid.”

Brodie continued to cry and she wanted to beg Mike to get them out of the field as soon as possible. She kept reassuring Brodie but his cries grew louder and louder.

She craned her neck, trying to see where the headlights were, when the sound of gunfire echoed through the night.

Someone in the car behind them was shooting at them!