Читать книгу Cowboy's Secret Son - Robin Perini, Robin Perini - Страница 11
ОглавлениеSpring didn’t bring new beginnings to Last Chance Ranch; it choked ’em dry in the West Texas sun. Jared King had learned long ago that his family’s cattle spread richly deserved its name. It had for six generations.
Now, he even had to fight his north-side neighbor, Ned Criswell, for water that was rightfully theirs. A never ending feud he’d tried to escape for years.
When Jared had volunteered for the Army at eighteen, he’d been convinced he would never succumb to the ranch’s bad karma. What a young fool he’d been. After being discharged he’d brought home a beautiful young wife and pretended he could find hope where only despair had dug in roots. After Alyssa’s death, he’d finally given in to whatever mojo the half-million acres possessed. He wouldn’t try to buck destiny again.
He tilted his Stetson against the afternoon glare and hooked his boot on the sturdy rail of the bull pen. He leveled the dead-cold stare that would have sent his ranch hands quaking and running for cover on Ned Criswell and his no-good son. The two burley men refused to back off. “You can’t keep that river dammed up. Last Chance Lake is down several feet already.”
Ned’s face turned beet red, and he stuck out his barrel chest. “The water stays on my side of the property line until you stop those company men from traipsing across my land.”
Jared head throbbed. They’d replayed this scene countless time over the years. The bad blood between the families stretched back decades, but Ned Criswell had become even more ruthless. And relentless. He might actually do it, just to get back at Jared’s father, even though he’d passed away years ago.
The son, on the other hand, Chuck Criswell was all about the money. And the power.
“The water’s running low for my cattle,” Jared said, fighting to keep his tone reasonable for the moment. “You don’t want to take this fight any further, Ned. You know I’ll win.”
“My father has as many friends in Austin as you do. We want what’s coming to us.” Chuck spit a wad of tobacco on the ground.
“Shut up,” Ned said, glaring at his son.
Even with the same goal, the two men couldn’t show a united front. A sure way to lose. Jared was fine with that.
A loud snort sounded from the enclosure next to them. Chuck scooted away from the fence. “That bull is a menace.” He frowned. “You shouldn’t have saved him.”
Sometimes Jared agreed. Angel Maker had earned his name. He’d nearly gored a half dozen of Jared’s best hands. The black bull from hell pawed at the dirt, giving Jared the evil eye. He’d saved the bad-tempered beast from being put down after a deadly episode at the San Antonio Rodeo earlier this year. The bull’s bloodline would solidify Jared’s place as the premier stock supplier for the Professional Bull Riders rodeo circuit. His money might come from oil and gas now, but at his heart he was still a rancher, and the rodeo was in his blood.
Besides, Jared had a penchant for lost causes...at least those that didn’t touch his heart.
Angel Maker butted his head against the fence. This time Ned joined his son, away from the pen. Jared bit back a smile. If the animal had wanted to do any real damage that pen wouldn’t stop him. “He likes you.”
The older man bit out a curse. “You gonna say something to those oil guys or not?”
“You signed a contract. They have a right to cross your land on the road.”
“I changed my mind.”
Yeah. He wanted more money. Jared recognized the gleam in Ned’s eye. The Criswells had a weakness for gambling—and Chuck had developed a rep for being particularly unlucky. Rumor had it that between the football play-offs, Super Bowl and the latest NCAA basketball tournament, the Criswells had cleaned out their bank accounts.
“If you don’t knock down that dam, Ned. I’ll do it for you.”
“I don’t like threats. You’re worse than your old man, King. And he was an SOB.”
“You took advantage of him and nearly cost Dad our land,” Jared said, with a bite. “But I’m not the pushover my father was. The Army taught me how to fight.”
Ned’s face paled, but like most cowards, he didn’t face a battle, he ran.
“This isn’t over.” He turned to his son. “Start the truck.”
Chuck ran over to the brand-new F-350 and jumped in. Ned followed and heaved himself into the front seat. “I’m keeping the dam.”
Chuck gunned the accelerator, leaving a cloud of dust in their wake.
Jared rubbed his brow where the headache had erupted just beneath the surface. Ned had to know he was on thin ice diverting a waterway that flowed across more than his own property. Problem was, bureaucracy could take months to deal with it and the spring livestock needed that water.
“I say we send some equipment in and bust a hole in the dam.” Jared’s foreman sidled up to him. “The Criswells won’t give in,” Roscoe Hines said under his breath. “They’re getting desperate.” He glanced at their newest hand. “Tim, try to distract Angel Maker.”
Jared kneaded the base of his neck in exasperation. “Ned was a bully when he screwed my dad. He hasn’t changed. He won’t back off even if it’s in his own best interest. Using water as a leverage to change our deal is a mistake. He’s doing a lot of damage and he won’t win. Our contract is ironclad.”
The clatter of wooden planks and the banging of metal clamored from Angel Maker’s pen.
“Speaking of bad blood...” Roscoe raced to the bull’s pen. “Get out of there, Tim.”
The eighteen-year-old hand jumped over the fence and out of the pen. Angel Maker rammed the wood, and it creaked under the two-and-a-half-ton bull’s weight.
Tim’s freckled-face had gone red with exertion. He bent over and sucked wind, but his eyes gleamed with challenge.
Roscoe shook his head in incredulity and sauntered back over to Jared. “That kid’s either going to be a hell of a good hand, or he’s going to wind up dead.”
“I’m betting the former,” Jared said. “Reminds me of Derek the first time you guys drove up to the ranch after Dad hired you.”
“That son of mine was some daredevil, that’s for sure.” Roscoe smiled, that proud grin only a father could have for his son. “He said he’d come visit soon, but every time he makes plans, work interferes.”
“We need to get him out here, see if he’s forgotten how to ride.”
Man, they’d had fun together as kids on a ranch with no fences, no boundaries. The moment Derek had arrived on the ranch he and Jared had been inseparable. There’d been hard work and a lot of chores; they’d gotten into their share of trouble, but Jared hadn’t minded. They’d faced the discipline together. From junior high rodeo through high school football, up through and including enlisting at the Army recruitment office. Strange how life had taken them in different directions. Their paths had diverged so much, he hadn’t seen Derek in a couple of years.
“He likes his new job?”
“He seems to. Makes more money than I ever dreamed.” Roscoe shook his head in befuddlement. “Not sure how exactly. Something to do with computers.”
“He was always book smart,” Jared said. He’d have to give his old friend a call. Roscoe had been looking a little under the weather lately. Jared couldn’t convince his foreman to see the doc. Maybe Derek could.
The roar of an engine broke into his thoughts just as a baby blue Mustang drove up to the main house about fifty or so feet away.
“You expecting someone?” Roscoe asked, eyeing the vehicle.
“Not that I know of.” Who’d drive a dang fool car like that onto his ranch?
“Maybe someone else on the hunt for all those greenbacks you got stashed in the bank.”
Jared scowled at his foreman. A few five-times-removed relatives had come out of the woodwork once word of the oil went public. Jared had tried to help until they’d made it clear they hadn’t wanted a leg up, but a perpetual handout. Once he’d cut off the money, they’d disappeared once again.
The car stopped and the engine went quiet. It sat there for several moments until one long, shapely leg, then another, stepped out.
The woman ran her fingers through her hair. The sun gleamed off the blonde locks. Roscoe let out a long, slow whistle.
Jared couldn’t move. He blinked once. Then again.
It couldn’t be. Not her.
She stood still, in her four-inch heels and tailored dress, looking like a city girl who had been dropped into a foreign land. She tucked her short hair behind one ear and hesitated, turning in a circle, taking in the lay of his ranch.
He fought the urge to wash the dirt away and waited, his breath quickening as the lines of her back then the curves of her front came into view. It was her, all right. He didn’t know her name, but what he did know made his libido perk up and his heart thud to attention for the first time in the eighteen months since he’d held her in his arms.
Unable to stop himself, Jared crossed the yard. The closer he got, the more he noticed the fidgety movement of her hands.
At least she couldn’t hide her nerves. Made him feel a bit better, because his damn hands were shaking too.
About ten feet away from her, he paused.
She faced him and lifted her gaze to his.
His breath caught. It was her. She was here. On his land. Exactly like he’d dreamed more times than he could count.
Her cobalt blue eyes widened as if she couldn’t believe it was him.
Well, ditto.
The rumblings of a tractor, the whinny of the horses, the snort of Angel Maker faded into the background. The world melted away; his heartbeat whooshed inside his head.
She blinked and glanced over her shoulder into the vehicle.
Her movement shocked him back to reality. He strode toward her, forcing himself not to hurry too fast.
“I’m surprised,” he said, determined to keep his tone nonchalant.
“As am I,” she said.
Her voice was a bit huskier than he remembered. He studied her face and detected tension around her mouth, redness staining her eyes.
They stared at each other, the awkward silence continuing far too long. What was he supposed to say? I came back to the hotel room but you were gone? Or maybe the more appropriate, So, we slept together a year and a half ago and the earth moved. What’s your name?
At that moment, Velma marched down the steps of the main house, wiping her hands on a dish towel. Not much gave away her age, except her silvered-auburn hair and her devil-may-care curiosity. She wasn’t shy about inserting herself into almost any conversation either.
She shot him a piercing stare and tilted her head. He could see her interest building. A small curse escaped under his breath. His housekeeper was more like his grandmother than anything. She’d worked for the King family as long as Jared could remember. She knew him too well, and unfortunately, she’d developed a sixth sense whenever Jared found himself in a situation that could turn awkward at any moment.
Her gaze alternated between him and their visitor. “Quite a set of wheels, boyo. You must be drooling.”
She sent him that knowing gaze she’d used when she knew he wanted something in the worst way. She had no idea. Unfortunately, Jared could feel the heat flooding his cheeks.
“And who might your friend be?” Velma asked with a satisfied grin, walking boldly over and sticking out a hand to introduce herself.
“I’m Courtney Jamison,” the woman responded. A nervous smile tilted their visitor’s lips.
Courtney Jamison. He let her name settle across his mind. It suited her. It screamed New York and the Waldorf Astoria where they’d met. It definitely didn’t suit the Last Chance Ranch. Not by half.
A cry sounded from the car.
“You have a little one?” Velma asked, her smile lighting as bright as the West Texas sun on a clear day.
“His name is Dylan.” Courtney reached into the backseat, fiddled with something in the car and pulled a baby from the vehicle.
“Almost a year?” Velma asked.
“Nine months,” Courtney said softly, looking straight at Jared.
“A big boy then.”
Nine months. That meant she got pregnant about eighteen months ago. New York.
It couldn’t be. It was just one night. One...
As if in a trance, he closed the distance between him and Courtney. He stared into the little boy’s eyes. One brown. One green. The baby had heterochromia. Just like him.
Jared held out his hand. It shook. Dylan leaned against his mother’s chest and dipped his face into her neck.
“Dylan,” Courtney whispered. “This is your daddy.”
The words struck Jared harder than Angel Maker’s most vicious charge. His mind whirled in denial even as the truth peeked at him from beneath long, baby-fine lashes. He couldn’t deny that he stood face-to-face with the one thing he’d never believed he’d have.
Dylan tilted his head and a smile lit his face. He leaned forward with outstretched hands. Jared bent closer. The baby grabbed his hat and threw it to the ground, chuckling.
“Takes after you, boyo,” Velma said. “That’s plain to see.”
A strange white noise buzzed in Jared’s ears. He shook the static away. “How did you find me?” he asked, barely able to croak out the words.
He didn’t want to say more. Velma and Roscoe both had big ears, and they were obviously curious. He’d be fielding a whole lot of questions before sunset hit anyway.
Jared picked up his hat and held it toward Dylan. He couldn’t take his eyes off the baby. The little guy grabbed the brim and tugged.
Strong grip, his son had.
His son.
What was he supposed to do about that?
“I saw a news story about the bull you saved. That’s how I found you.” Courtney nodded toward Angel Maker, who appeared to be eyeing Tim for a second soul-fearing battle. “That’s him?”
“In the flesh.”
He wouldn’t be diverted by that animal. He had a million questions, but he’d start with one. “Why are you here, Courtney?”
Her name caressed his tongue, and he lingered on the taste for a moment.
She glanced away, not meeting his gaze. Something didn’t feel right. The hair on the back of his neck stiffened to attention. She chewed on her lip and seemed to be searching for the words.
“You could’ve called,” he said. “Or had a lawyer contact me. Instead, you traveled halfway across the country with our son with no way of predicting my reaction. Why?”
She straightened her back and lifted her chin. At this angle, he could take in every detail of her reddened eyes and tightly drawn lips. Something was definitely wrong.
“I came for your help. Someone has threatened to kill our son.”
* * *
COURTNEY HAD NEVER seen anyone react so fast. The words had barely left her lips when Jared’s gaze scanned the perimeter. The muscle in his jawline pulsed, and a flat, dangerous stillness settled through his body.
“Come with me,” he said, gripping her arm with a firm hand.
He didn’t take a second look at Dylan, didn’t hesitate. He pulled her toward the sprawling ranch style house and glanced over his shoulder. “Roscoe, check in with the hands. I want to know if anyone’s seen anything...off.”
“But we’ve already doubled security because of—”
“Triple-check everything,” Jared snapped.
The grizzled cowboy didn’t hesitate. He gave a curt nod and hurried into a huge barn past the pen holding the angry-looking bull.
Courtney had never experienced a more surreal moment. Jared didn’t question her; he didn’t look at her like she was crazy. He simply acted.
He shuffled her up the steps and across the wide wooden porch. He opened the screen door and held it while she disappeared inside. She couldn’t quite accept the foreign place where she found herself. On an actual Texas ranch in the middle of nowhere after a too long drive from an airport that had taken all of ten minutes to walk from one end to the other.
Not to mention she currently stood only a short city block away from a vicious-looking bull, several stereotypical cowboys, a bevy of horses and a large barn. If it hadn’t been for the beat-up pickup truck she’d parked besides, she’d have wondered what century she’d landed in.
“Velma, lock the front door, shut the curtains and stay inside,” Jared ordered the woman hurrying behind them. “I don’t want either of you out in the open until I know exactly what’s going on.”
The housekeeper didn’t pause or argue, but moved in a whirlwind to follow his instructions. Jared tugged on Courtney’s arm. Normally she would have resisted the manhandling, but he’d stunned her. She hadn’t even showed him the note yet.
“My luggage—”
“I’ll bring it in later.”
The curt words brooked no argument. At Jared’s tone Dylan squirmed in her arms, whimpering a bit. She bounced him, holding him closer. “It’s okay, Jelly Bean. We’re going to be fine.”
She could only pray she wasn’t lying.
Courtney kissed his forehead and breathed in his baby powder scent. She touched her cheek to Dylan’s soft hair and closed her eyes. The blackmailer had forced her to keep his cell phone. She wasn’t stupid. He had to be tracking her. He had to know she’d flown to Texas. She’d believed him when he’d promised she couldn’t hide.
She’d needed help and law enforcement was off the table. She’d risked everything coming here. The blackmailer had been perfectly clear. He wanted money. Since she didn’t have any and neither did her father, she had no choice. Jared was her only option to protect her son.
After a glance through the shutters in the front window, he faced his housekeeper. “Velma, show Courtney into my study. I’ll check the back door.”
Brow furrowed, Velma crossed the stone foyer to a set of large mahogany double doors. “Come along, dearie.”
Courtney followed, trying to keep her increasingly unhappy son calm. She rubbed his back in slow, circular motions. Velma snapped closed the curtains on three large windows before flipping on a series of track lights to brighten the wood paneled room.
Dylan clutched at the neck of Courtney’s Louis Vuitton dress, his mouth drooling, his face reddening.
“I know what you want,” she whispered, gently pushing his light brown hair off his forehead. She settled into a large leather sofa and zipped open the diaper bag, pulling out a teething biscuit.
Dylan grabbed the treat in both hands and stuffed it into his mouth, gnawing with gusto. He sagged against her, content for the moment.
“You know your boy well,” Velma remarked with approval.
“He’s my son.”
“And mine.” Jared stood, outlined by the dark wood door frame, a rifle crooked over his bent arm. “The house is secure. I’ve instructed four hands to keep watch. Velma, I could use some of that coffee cake you made yesterday.”
“Go easy, boyo,” she cautioned with a small pat on his arm.
Courtney shivered at the warning. Jared didn’t respond, but firmly closed the doors behind Velma’s retreating figure. The catch clicked into place.
Slowly he faced her, his tall figure and broad shoulders shrinking the large room. Most New York apartments would fit comfortably into a tiny corner of his home.
She squirmed in her seat, feeling at a distinct disadvantage. If Dylan hadn’t been so comfortably settled on her lap, she would have faced Jared standing instead of him looming above her. The weapon didn’t help.
As if reading her mind, he propped the gun in the corner, squatted down in front of her and stared unblinkingly at Dylan. The baby gazed back, still working on his biscuit. Jared thrust a hand through his short dark hair. It shook slightly and a flash of insight struck Courtney. He may have gone all alpha on her, but their son had Jared King spooked.
Cautiously, gently he touched Dylan’s leg, then clasped his tiny hand. The little boy grabbed his finger and squeezed. A small smiled tilted Jared’s lips. A sad sigh escaped him and reluctantly he pulled away.
“Who wants to hurt our son?” he asked with a frown, his focus still glued to Dylan.
Despite some misgivings, Courtney had no choice but to trust Jared. That’s why she’d come. She tugged a sheet of paper from the zippered pocket of the diaper bag and handed it over. “I found this pinned to one of Dylan’s stuffed animals yesterday. Someone was in my apartment. They k-killed...”
Her voice broke as she relayed what little she knew.
He read the note and with each word of her explanation Jared’s eyes grew icier. His jaw muscle pulsed. “Did you call the police?”
She shook her head. “I couldn’t risk their involvement with that note. I had to protect Dylan.”
“I see.” Jared stared at the floor, his gaze thoughtful. “Leaving was your only option.”
His words were a statement of fact, not a question and the vice around her heart eased a bit. Maybe she’d done the right thing after all.
Who else could she trust after everything that had happened? Her entire body shook as her mind rewound yesterday’s horror.
“I left Marilyn. On the floor. Alone. Her family lives in Maine. They don’t even know what happened.”
Courtney pressed the heel of her hand against her eyes to keep back the tears. The guilt tore through her. “I was so afraid they might come back, I went to my father’s house. I thought I’d be safe there, but whoever did this knew I’d hire a car. The note warned me, and I believe them.”
She’d never felt so alone.
On the drive from the airport, each time she’d passed a police car, she’d considered flagging him down, and every time she’d let the vehicle pass her by. “I couldn’t stop looking over my shoulder the entire trip here. I kept imagining every person I encountered was following me.”
She clutched Jared’s arm. “I won’t involve law enforcement. It’s too risky. He knows too much.”
Would Jared agree? Was she being foolish? They’d killed Marilyn in cold blood. She couldn’t bear it if Dylan... A stark shiver skittered through her. No, she was doing the right thing. She had to be.
“Hey there.” Jared touched her knee and squeezed gently. “I understand, more than you know.”
Relieved Jared seemed to see the situation her way, Courtney’s shoulders relaxed, but only slightly. “Good.”
“Courtney, do you think the blackmailer knows who I am? Is he aware Dylan is my son and that you’ve come to me?”
“They can’t know. I didn’t know your name until a week ago.” She bit her lip. She had to tell him everything, but if he turned her away... She let out a long, slow breath. “I only learned where you lived yesterday, but...” Her gut twisted and she pulled the cell phone from her purse. “They ordered me to keep this phone with me at all times. If they can track it, they know exactly where I am.”
Jared didn’t speak for a moment. Courtney held her breath, every muscle in her body taut with apprehension.
“There goes any advantage we might have had.” He shot to his feet and paced, “Okay. Let’s minimize your exposure as a precaution. Where did your plane land?”
“San Antonio.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose. Why hadn’t she thought this through more? “I should have driven, shouldn’t I? I used our real names to board.”
“It’s not easy to get passenger lists unless you’re with law enforcement or a hacker,” Jared said, his voice calm and reassuring. “Most rental company cars have GPS tracking, though.”
She slapped her hand over her mouth. “I didn’t even consider that possibility.”
“Why should you? One of my hands will return the vehicle to the airport, but we should still assume they know you’re here and will contact you.”
Jared settled across from her and leaned forward. “Let’s get down to the real question. Are you asking me to help catch whoever wrote the note or do you want to pay the ransom?”
Panic rose in her gut and she clutched tighter at Dylan. “I’d do anything to protect him.” Courtney avoided his piercing gaze. “The thing is, I could scrape together maybe fifteen percent of it, but I don’t have the kind of money they want.”
“They were very specific in their request. Are you telling me that not only does the ransom amount hold no meaning to you, you don’t have enough to pay?” Jared stilled. “I don’t know much about New York fashion, but that’s a very expensive designer dress you’re wearing and the Waldorf doesn’t come cheap. What kind of game are you playing?”
His narrowed look pinned her to her seat. She averted her gaze.
“It’s not a game.” She twisted the button on Dylan’s clothes, struggling to ignore the suspicious tone in his voice. “I thought my father could give me the money, but his situation has...changed. Last week the bank ran out of patience.”
“So that’s why you’re here.” Jared stiffened and pulled away from her. “You don’t need me. You need my money.”
His tone indicted her, and she couldn’t blame him. Most people would’ve been insulted and deep down the tone stung, but she understood. How many people had come into her life to get what they could? She’d learned a long time ago not to trust so easily. Or let anyone in. It was one of the main reasons she’d chosen not to live off the family money.
That didn’t stop her from bristling at the accusation. “I came here to figure out what to do,” she said. “I can’t deny that you’re the one person who can help me pay the ransom, but you’re also the only one who has as much to lose as I do. I’m out of options to keep my...our son safe.”
Our son. She’d have to get used to saying that.
Jared didn’t speak for a moment. His reproachful gaze burned into her. She met it with unblinking eyes. Obviously he didn’t doubt Dylan was his son. How could he? Their matching eyes were the tell. But the threat, the money, that could be an elaborate hoax. If Jared didn’t believe her, she had no plan B.
She gnawed on her lower lip considering her options. There were none.
“We’re not paying.” The muscle in his jaw pulsed. “I refuse to be blackmailed. They’ll just keep coming and it will never end.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but he shook his head. “This is nonnegotiable. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep our son safe. Giving into a blackmailer isn’t the answer. I know—” His voice cracked. “Excuse me.”
He quickly rose, scooped up the rifle and strode out of the room, shutting the door with a soft click.
Courtney stared after him. She wasn’t quite sure what had just happened. She rocked Dylan against her, staring at the closed doors. Jared King wasn’t what she’d expected. He definitely wasn’t the suave man she’d encountered in the bar of the Waldorf, but she didn’t need that man. She needed a fighter, and she’d witnessed the fury in his eyes.
For the first time since she’d walked into her apartment she felt a slight easing in her breath. Jared King was a warrior. A warrior with money.
A warrior willing to help them.
Whatever he thought of her, something in the set of his jaw gave her a glimmer of hope that Jared wouldn’t fail.
She had to believe that. For Dylan’s sake...and her own.
* * *
JARED SAGGED AGAINST the heavy doors of his study, his entire body shaking. The idea someone might kidnap his son... This couldn’t be happening. Not again.
Though unlike Alyssa, who had been taken without warning, the threat to his son had put them on notice. He would do whatever it took to prevent the abduction.
This time, the outcome would be much different. Only one question ate at his gut. Was Courtney Jamison telling the truth. Was she a victim, or was she after his money? And how could he be sure?
He’d find out which, but it didn’t impact his actions. Whether she was trying to play him or not, he’d never forgive himself if anything happened to Dylan.
The rest...well, the truth would come out. It always did.
Velma exited the kitchen carrying a tray. “What’s wrong?”
“Someone’s threatened to kidnap my son. They demanded a lot of money or they’ll take him.”
She gasped, set the tray on the foyer table and walked over to him. She pressed her palm to his chest in comfort. “This isn’t five years ago.”
“You’re damned right it isn’t. I’ll be smarter this time.” Jared shoulders knotted as he stood there. He couldn’t meet Velma’s gaze. He gritted his teeth. “It feels the same. I’m shaking, Velma. Like the moment I walked into the nursery and found the message.”
“It’s not the same. It’s not him. This doesn’t have anything to do with you or your past. You didn’t even know about the boy until she arrived.”
“Maybe.” Jared shot Velma a sidelong glance. “Did you see him, Velma? He looks like me.”
She patted his cheek. “I know, boyo. No doubt about who his daddy is.”
Jared stared at the scuffed toes of his boots. “I’m going to lose him, you know. Even if we catch the person threatening my son, Courtney won’t stay. They don’t belong here.”
“Just because Alyssa didn’t fit in—”
“Like you always say, the past is over.” He gently eased away from her. “Have Tim quit messing with Angel Maker so he can bring in Courtney’s luggage. Put her in the room across from mine. I want to be close at all times.” The staccato words came out harsher and more clipped than he intended. He bent down and kissed her cheek in apology. “I’ll be back. I have some plans to make.”
He turned on his heel.
“Jared?” Velma called out. “He needs a safe place to sleep while he’s here.”
He slowed his pace, but didn’t stop.
“Don’t let the past rule the present, boyo. You’ll regret it.”
Did she think he didn’t know that? Did she have any idea how tempted he was to grab that little boy and hug him tight. To take Courtney into his arms and convince her that they could make a city girl–country boy relationship work like a Hallmark movie.
Except life wasn’t a movie. There were no happy-ever-afters. Not in his world.
There was only reality. And bad guys won way too often.
Determined not to let history repeat itself, he strode down a barren hallway. His first order of business was to take care of his son. He veered from the door of the brand-new wing he’d completed just last year and made his way to the end of the original house’s hallway.
He hadn’t opened the door separating the old part of the house since he’d renovated, though Velma kept the place spotless. He stepped through, into the past. A white door loomed at the end of the corridor. His heart pounded, rushing through his ears. He forced his boots to cross the decade-old carpet to the end. For a moment he stood there. With a deep breath, he turned the knob and walked inside.
A never-used crib rested in the corner of the room. A yellow crocheted blanket lay abandoned on the floor. As his gaze took inventory of each item, one after another, pain twisted his heart. He would have bent over in agony if he’d allowed himself to feel. This room represented his failure to protect his family. And the threat that still loomed large over his life, a threat he would never deny.
He let his attention settle on a large hole in the drywall, marring the perfect paint job. A sledgehammer lay beneath the opening, a tool he’d swung with anger and fury and unrelenting grief.
Jared hadn’t ventured inside the room in five years. He almost hadn’t climbed out of the dark abyss after losing Alyssa and their unborn daughter. He couldn’t go through that kind of pain again.
Jared would make it impossible for the blackmailers to harm his son. To do that, he needed to identify the person who wrote the ransom note.
Actually, it was more like a blackmail note. A demand before the kidnapping. Strange. Dylan hadn’t been taken, but he could have been.
Why? What was the end game? To take a nine-month-old baby? To hurt Courtney? The more he considered the note she’d shared with him, the more he kept coming back to the unusual ransom amount. The number had to be the key.
He’d do whatever it took to find out who had threatened his son, and make them pay.
And then what? Jared closed his eyes. The moment he’d recognized Dylan as his child, his soul had threatened to reawaken.
He couldn’t allow it.
After it was over he’d send both of them away, back to the city, where they belonged.
And when they left, Jared had no doubt what was left of his heart would crumble to dust.
