Читать книгу Safe with a Stranger - Linda Conrad - Страница 12

Not ready to discuss their almost-kiss, Clare spent the next two hours finding ways to divert Jimmy’s attention from the long, boring ride. She handed the baby one of his favorite soft blocks, then a handful of fish crackers and finally told him a story he loved hearing over and over.

She’d been willing to do anything to keep Jimmy’s mind off getting out of his car seat to play—and her mind off Josh. Lucille’s cab had suddenly become too small by a factor of one very broad-shouldered man. But Josh didn’t seem to be facing the same problems she and Jimmy were. After nearly driving her mad with those intense looks and lust-filled expressions, he now drove the narrowing roads stoically and paid no attention to either one of them.

He’d been good with Jimmy at the gas stop. So good it had almost made her cry. The baby also noticed his firm but gentle care, and occasionally looked up at the back of his head with obvious admiration and yearning. Jimmy had never reacted with such instant bonding to any man, not even his own father. But then Ramzi was always too busy to pay much attention. In Ramzi’s world, babies were consigned to the women’s domain until old enough to be educated.

Josh had somehow known just what to do to settle and soothe her boy. She had been sorely tempted to find out how good Josh could be with her, too. As he’d stood beside her by the truck, she’d been suddenly wild with need. Narrowing the tiny gap that he’d infuriatingly left between them in a desperate attempt for just one taste had become an instant and insistent obsession. One she had fought hard to conquer, and congratulated herself for having mastered when she’d finally stepped away.

What was with her? She’d known the man less than a day. Furthermore, she had promised herself there would not be any romantic involvement with someone so obviously uninterested in making a commitment to a family.

Was Josh really not interested in kids? What about those longing looks he had given Jimmy? She knew what she’d been seeing. Those were the same kind of wistful looks she knew had been in her own eyes for babies before Jimmy was born. The damn man was confusing as hell with his gentleness and—and his declarations of not caring.

It was enough to make her wish for more time to figure him out. But her main concern, the entire focus of her existence for the immediate future, had to be finding a way to keep Ramzi from taking Jimmy back to Abu Fujarah.

Sighing in frustration, she sat back in her seat just as they drove past the sign that said Welcome To Zavala Springs. Except for a sleek new office complex built outside the old part of the town proper, the place didn’t look too different from any small town. Beyond the new-looking complex, they passed two brand-new multistory hotels and a couple of national chain restaurants. The newness of everything made the area look prosperous.

“Do those new buildings we passed just inside the town limits belong to the Delgado Ranch?” she asked Josh.

He shrugged a shoulder. “Beats me. I haven’t been back in a lot of years. But I’d have to guess they do. I can’t imagine any other businesses would make that kind of investment in Zavala Springs…or that the Delgado would allow anyone else to buy that much land from the company.”

“Does all the land in town belong to the Delgado, too?” She hadn’t thought of that, but it seemed logical when she considered how big and powerful the ranch and its owners were.

“Most of the land for a fifty-mile radius is part of the company’s holdings. Zavala Springs started out as a company town. I’d guess you could say it was sort of an expanded bunkhouse for the families of the ranch hands and those who worked at the wells. When the ranch last changed hands a couple of decades ago, many of the employees’ families inherited the land where they had been working or residing.”

“You mean the last actual owner named Delgado left parts of the town to the citizens in his will? As sort of a reward?”

“Yes, ma’am. That’s just the way it was.”

Wanting to ask him how he was related to the Ryans and the Delgados but afraid she would sound either nosy or pushy, Clare left their conversation at that and stared out the window. The town was neat and clean, even though the mostly one-story stucco and shingled buildings on the main street didn’t look exactly new. She imagined that the whole place was probably no more than a hundred years old at most, but it still seemed to belong to another time. Small live oaks grew in planting beds next to the sidewalks, and there were colorful flowers in pots at every corner.

Certainly Ramzi’s men could never follow them here. Clare took her first real easy breath of air since she’d left Abu Fujarah.

On the other side of the small town’s business district, Josh turned the pickup down a side street. Here the trees were taller, and though there were no sidewalks, houses set on grass lawns and painted in soft pastel colors lined the street on both sides.

“Where are we headed?”

“My grandfather Will lives…lived…in a big house in town for as long as I can remember. And my younger sister has been living there with him since our mother died back when we were teens. My guess is she’s going to stay on now that he’s gone, but I haven’t had a chance to talk to her about her plans.”

His mother was dead. It hadn’t occurred to Clare to ask about his immediate family. His parents. His siblings. Wouldn’t that be one way to find out if he was related to the Ryans of the Delgado Ranch?

“What’s your sister’s name? And does she have any kids?”

Josh’s lips quirked up in something that resembled a smile. “Her name is Maggie. She’s never been married and has never had babies. But she loves them. Her best friend is the next-door neighbor who has a youngster of her own and runs a day care out of her home. Maggie is over there a lot.” Josh threw a glance back at Jimmy. “Maggie is really going to enjoy having your son in the house.”

“She doesn’t know we’re coming, does she? Are you sure it’s going to be okay to have us come barging in on her when her grandfather just died?”

“It’ll be fine. Wait and see.”

In a small office right off the lobby of the Abu Fujarah Embassy in Washington, Abdullah Ramzi al-Hamzah questioned the man he had hired to find his son. “So your employees actually had my son within their reach in Houston but let his mother spirit him away? That is not the result I’m paying a small fortune to achieve. How did it go wrong?”

“That we found them at all was no small feat, Excellency. The American woman apparently has confederates here in her homeland that are helping to keep your child hidden. But there is nowhere she can hide the child for long. I have hired new men, men more familiar with the country who are new-technology experts. We are watching anyone who has ever come in contact with her and we will find her. It’s only a question of hours, perhaps a few days at most.”

Ramzi fisted his hands but stuck them in his pockets. He was frustrated beyond belief. His child. His beloved son. Taken from his place of birth and from the bosom of his rightful family.

Clare. Ramzi never imagined such a beautiful and gracious woman would be capable of committing the treachery of stealing his only son. At the end of their marriage, she had ceased to mean anything in his life. A minor annoyance only. He had been prepared never to think of her again once she was banished from his country. Now, he could think of nothing else.

“I will give you another forty-eight hours,” he told his employee. “Though I charge you to remember my instructions. I care nothing for what happens to the woman but my son is not to be put in danger. If baby Prince Bashshar is harmed in any way, I will hold you responsible.

“In the meantime,” Ramzi continued, “our diplomats are in the midst of negotiations with the U.S. State Department. I want no possibility of that woman seeking the help of her government in order to keep my child from his home. The U.S. must learn that harboring her will cause a serious rift in our oil negotiations. Soon she will be a fugitive in her own country. Neither friends nor any allies will give her refuge legally.”

Ramzi willed his temper back in place. He had to keep his mind focused on the goal. The return of his son. There would be time enough afterward to think of consequences.

Josh pulled the truck up in front of his grandfather’s home and was surprised to find a small asphalt parking area had been built beside the house. He’d almost forgotten that Grandpa Will had been running his private investigator’s business out of his home. The memories he’d kept in his heart were of his grandfather being a cop, but that had been long ago. It made Josh suddenly wonder what would happen to the P.I. business now that Grandpa Will was gone.

“This is it? What a cool place.” Clare sat and stared out the window for a few seconds. “You’re sure…”

“Come on. You take care of Jimmy. I’ll tote the stuff.”

The house looked like something out of a book, Josh thought idly as he gathered up their things. But he’d never thought about that while growing up. It had just been the place where his father’s second-generation Irish parents had lived. Now, looking up at the three stories with their gingerbread facade and at the wide porch encircling the entire house, he figured his grandfather’s home could possibly be considered cool, if you looked at it with fresh sight.

It could also be considered slightly run-down, as Josh noticed when he helped Clare and Jimmy up the front porch steps. The peeling paint and the worn boards of the steps spoke of neglect. While his grandmother Fiona had been alive, this place had never looked shabby. But she’d been gone a long time now. She’d passed away right after Maggie had graduated from college, about eight years ago.

Josh was sort of surprised that Maggie hadn’t been helping out with keeping the place up. She’d always been a whiz with tools. Maybe she’d had her hands full lately. If he decided to hang around a while after the funeral—and after he found a way to help Clare—he’d offer to fix a few things up around the old place. It would give him time to think.

He knocked on the door to his grandfather’s house, which was a first. He’d never even thought of knocking when his grandmother and grandfather had been alive. But it had been so long since he’d been home. And they were both gone now. He just didn’t feel comfortable here anymore.

After a moment or two, and there still was no answer, he knocked harder.

“Does your sister have a job?” Clare asked. “Maybe she’s gone shopping or to work or something and isn’t at home. We should’ve called when we stopped for gas.”

“Maggie’s been helping out with the business my grandfather ran from his home. If my sister is working, she’ll be here and should hear the front door. But you’re right, she could be out shopping. Somehow I can’t really imagine Maggie would be working on the day before Granddad’s funeral.” He tried the door and found it open.