“I don’t wanna go.”
“I know that too,” she mumbles there.
“Okay if I keep your key?” I stroke a hand over her tangled hair as she lifts her face, a small smile tugging at her lips.
“Yeah.”
I bend down for a kiss. “I’ll be in touch.”
“Okay.”
She reluctantly lets go of my shirt and I grab the electronics off the counter, tucking them under my arm. “Walk me to the door, Sweetheart.” I turn to her in the small hallway. “Lock the door behind me, okay?” She nods. “And try to get some more sleep.” She rolls her eyes at that, making me grin. “Now kiss me.”
Her hands wrap around my neck as she lifts up on her toes, and her lips find mine. Soft, sweet, and not nearly enough to last me through the day.
“Be careful out there,” she whispers, before letting me go.
I wink, pull the door open, and step outside.
“Marya?” I partially turn my body to her. “It wasn’t nearly enough time—that would’ve required an entire weekend of exploring you. Still, I’ve never had better.”
CHAPTER 19
Marya
Perhaps a little late—given that Dylan’s hands were all over me this morning—but it feels good to get rid of the stubble I’ve been cultivating for a few weeks.
Life gets busy and with three kids, grooming is definitely not a priority.
Not that Dylan seemed to care one way or another. It didn’t put a damper in the way his body responded to mine.
I run my hand over the now smooth skin of my leg and lift the other one on the edge of the bathtub.
Of course I hadn’t been able to go back to sleep after he left and instead decided to take the few hours before the kids inevitably roll out of bed looking for sustenance, to treat myself to a bath.
My body still primed from this morning’s activities and Dylan’s parting words, I distracted myself with my razor.
“Mom?”
Shit.
I toss the razor on the ledge and grab my washcloth to press over the fresh cut on my leg. Figures.
“Yeah, Bub?”
“I had a bad dream.”
Poor Harry, sensitive little boy that he is, he often processes things in his sleep, resulting in occasional nightmares. I should’ve expected this.
“Give me a minute, okay, baby?” I hesitate briefly before adding, “Go ahead and get in my bed. I’m just getting out of the tub.”
That’s often all he needs: crawl in bed with me, tell me about the dream so he could let it go, and then he’d often fall right back to sleep. For a moment, I considered telling him to get back to his own bed, given what took place in mine this morning, but that’s not what we’d normally do. Whatever happens between Dylan and me will have to find its place in my routine with the boys.
This is real—this is life with kids—you just deal with the next thing that comes along.
I quickly dry off, slap a Band-Aid on my shin, and put on my ratty robe. Harry is curled up under my covers, his eyes on the bathroom door, when I open it.
“Two secs, Bub.” I grab clean undies, a T-shirt, some yoga pants, and dart back into the bathroom. I used to have no problem changing in front of the kids when they were much smaller, but these days I’m a little more careful.
“Wanna tell me?” I ask as my boy snuggles up against me.
“It’s stupid,” he mumbles.
“Not stupid if it freaked you out, Harry.”
I wait him out, letting him come to his own decision. “It was weird,” he finally speaks. “One minute I was under our Jeep, and then suddenly I was in a box. I was yelling ’til my throat hurt and I kept banging against the top, but no one could hear me so I stopped. Then suddenly you were there, pulling me out of the box. That’s when I woke up.”
“That sounds pretty scary to me. I hate dreams like that, where you’re helpless.”
“You get dreams too?”
I bark out a laugh, I’ve had more than my share, although not as much as when I was a kid.
“Not as many as I used to, but yes, baby, I get dreams too.”
“Next time you have a dream, you can come tell me,” my baby says, and a lump forms in my throat.
“Thanks, Bub,” I whisper, kissing his mop of hair.
“I’LL GO GET THE KIDS.”
Damian had arrived twenty minutes ago, with a female agent in tow. Damian introduced her as Agent Linden, on temporary assignment with the La Plata office. Her smile was wide, but it made me feel uncomfortable.
Dylan had sent me a message to expect them. He was apparently on his way to Montrose, and even though he didn’t specify why, I’m not an idiot. I know they’re looking into Jeremy.
I’d offered the agents coffee, and we settled in the kitchen, where Damian proceeded to ask me questions about Jeremy. Much of it I’m sure he already knew from either Luna or Dylan.
“Do you mind if I go downstairs?” Damian asks carefully. “It’s possible they’ll open up easier without you around. May hold back if they think it’ll upset you.”
I don’t like it but I nod my understanding. It’s not like he’s not been here plenty of times before. After all, he’s my best friend’s husband. I know I can trust him. “Sure,” I quickly agree, but the moment he disappears, I notice the chill in the kitchen.
I slowly turn to Agent Linden. The smile is back on her face but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
“Would you like some more coffee?” I offer just to break the tension.
“Please.” She slides her mug toward me.
“Would you care for something to eat? It’s almost lunchtime, I have some cinnamon rolls left I made this morning.” I know I’m babbling as I pour her coffee, but I feel her eyes follow my every move.
She doesn’t say anything until I turn and hand her the full mug back. “No thanks. I’m careful what I put in my body,” she says in a saccharine sweet tone, but the up and down look she affords me betrays her true intent.
I’m not one to put a lot of stock into what other women think of me, but for some reason from this woman it burrows under my skin, which is why the next words out of my mouth are sharp.
“I bet you do.”
Her head tilts to the side and her eyes narrow. “You know...it’s funny, when Dylan first mentioned you, I wasn’t expecting someone...” She gives me another head to toe once-over, and I find myself straightening my back. “...quite as mature.”
I try not to let the sting show and leave a blank mask on my face. “Maturity is unavoidable with three sons,” I share, layering on the fake friendliness thick.
I have no fucking idea why this woman is trying to push my buttons, which I have no doubt she means to do. I just wish I knew why.
“I’m sure it is. All I meant to say is I’ve known Dylan for quite some time, and it just surprises me he’d elect to be with someone with baggage. Three of them, no less.” The chuckle that follows is as malicious as the words.
“My children are not baggage,” I hiss at her. “And if you know Dylan at all, you’d know he has a son of his own he dotes on.”
Too late I notice the satisfied smirk on her face. “Oh, surely I didn’t mean to imply they are, and I adore little Max.” Another sharp knife to the gut with the familiarity. I’m starting to see a picture form and it has me off-balance. “All I meant to say is, I know from first-hand experience, he likes to keep life uncomplicated and more kids don’t play into that.”
She’s been in his bed. I suspected it when I got a taste of her attitude, now I know it for a fact. Not a pleasant sensation, to be blindsided like that.
I suspect this is a case of a disgruntled ex-lover, but I’m surprised Dylan didn’t think to give me a heads-up about her when he was laying everything else on me this morning. I’m not about to indulge the woman in her obvious game though and turn my attention to the dishwasher that needs emptying.
“Of course,” she starts, and I know right off the bat this is he
r knockout punch, so I brace. “I would know, since he demanded I abort his child.”
The two glasses slip from my hand, shattering on the floor.
DYLAN
“Wanna tell me what crawled up your ass?”
I throw an angry glare at Luna beside me.
“Nothing,” I bite off.
“Bullshit. You’ve been giving off wounded bear vibes since we got on the road. What gives?”
I know Luna; she’s like a goddamn bulldog once she gets hold of something. I know she’s not going to let go unless I give her something.
“I’m involved with Marya.”
“Tell me something new,” she quips, but I’m not amused.
“Should’ve been me heading over there with Gomez.”
I can feel her eyes on me but keep mine firmly on the road ahead. “I would think that’s a pretty good reason for you not to be there.”
“Yeah? You think it’s better he brings Linden?”
“Look,” she says in a softer tone. “I gather you have a history with her.” She quickly raises her hand to silence me. “And no, no one told me. It was pretty obvious from the way she looks at you, and the way you freeze over when the two of you are in one room. I gather it didn’t end well?”
I snort at the understatement. “Fucking right it didn’t. She shouldn’t be anywhere near Marya.”
“You know we don’t have the luxury to pick and choose right now, Dylan,” she scolds me. “There’s a kid missing and we’re scrambling to grab hold of a good lead, so we can get that boy back to his family.” I know she’s right, which is the only reason I didn’t risk my job for insubordination when I discovered she’d be heading out with Damian. Doesn’t mean I have to like it. “Besides,” Luna continues, “Damian will make sure she stays professional.”
“I hope so, I haven’t had a chance to share all of my history with Marya yet,” I confess.
It’s myself I’m most angry with. I should’ve fucking made the time, but there’s already so much crap flying around, I thought I’d spare her the shit between Toni and me for now.
“Why the hell not?” I can hear the disapproval in her voice and it doesn’t sit well.
“Maybe because ever since this thing between us started, there hasn’t been a moment’s peace to even take her out on a proper date, let alone do a full dissection of my accumulated fuck-ups over the years.”
Her hand lands on my arm for a squeeze. “I’m sure it’ll be fine,” she says, but she doesn’t seem too sure.
The morning started out in the best possible way. How the hell did it get so fucked up?
“PLEASE CALL ME SYLVIA.”
The blonde leads us from an opulent foyer with marble floors, a crystal chandelier, and an oak stairway curving to a second floor, to an equally swank sitting room. I can’t call it a living room; the place looks more like a museum. Must’ve been a hard transition for Jeremy to go from this to a cabin in the woods.
Even more surprising is the presence of an older gentleman, already seated in the room. A familiar older gentleman. Connor Keswick. I just read something the other day about Contechs, his electronics manufacturing company, opening a third plant near Austin, Texas. I saw the name in the background check on Jeremy’s wife, but I didn’t make the connection to Contechs until just now. His picture’s been in the news.
“This is my daddy, Connor Keswick. These are Agents Barnes and...I’m sorry,” she turns to Luna, “I’m afraid your name escapes me.”
“Agent Roosberg,” I answer for her, noting Keswick doesn’t bother getting up.
“Of course. Please have a seat.” She points at the ugly Louis XV-style bench on carved legs.
The seat is much lower than the other chairs in the room, and designed for discomfort. I’m well aware it’s supposed to make us feel off-balance and inferior. At my height, though, I’m still able to look Keswick straight in the eye, something that appears to irritate the man. Good.
I let Luna handle the questioning of the daughter, while I am engaged in a silent standoff with the father. He’s so bent on proving me inferior; he forgets to pay attention to the questions Luna fires off, until she asks about the assault Sylvia reported.
“You can read all of that in the police report,” he suddenly interrupts. “My little girl’s been through enough.”
“Not a problem,” I butt in, with what I hope is a friendly smile. “In that case, perhaps you could help us with just a few more questions.”
The man didn’t get where he is if he was stupid. He hears the challenge. “Of course. Pumpkin, why don’t you go check on Amelia? I will see the agents out.”
“Daddy?” The woman looks surprised. “But Alba is upstairs with—”
“Sylvia.” Keswick’s voice snaps like a whip and has the woman on her feet in an instant.
“Of course. Pleasure to meet you.” She nods awkwardly in our direction before leaving the room.
“You had questions?”
“Just a few,” Luna takes over. “Your daughter mentions Jeremy works for your company? Strange, because we weren’t able to find a record of that anywhere. In fact, from what we can tell, he hasn’t reported employment income to the IRS in the past five years.”
The man’s face looks like he just ate something unpleasant. “It was my daughter’s idea. The man was a useless waste of space from the start, but my little girl had her eyes set on him. I gave him a job, just so he’d have something to do, but he failed at that too. The only thing he ever did right is that little girl upstairs. She’s a treasure.”
“Is that her?” I ask, getting up when I spot a picture on the fireplace mantel. I walk over and pick up the frame. A beautiful little girl with blonde ringlets, looking more like a doll than a living, breathing child. The frame is pulled from my hands and placed back in its original spot on the mantel.
“That’s Amelia. Now, if there is nothing else...” He stays on his feet, a clear indication he considers this interview over.
I look at Luna, who shrugs and gets up as well. “Is there a good number to call you, Mr. Keswick? Should we have some more questions?”
He glares at her, but pulls a golden business card holder from the inside pocket of his jacket. Instead of handing it to her, he drops it on the coffee table for her to pick up. The prick.
“DADDY IS AN ASSWIPE,” Luna comments when we get back in the SUV.
“Won’t get an argument from me. Worth a pretty penny, though,” I bring up, starting the Expedition.
“No kidding,” Luna agrees. “From what I gather, Jeremy Berger was a kept man. Very generous of Keswick.”
“I get the impression that’s more about keeping his little girl happy. According to the records, the woman is thirty-four years old. She looks ten years younger, and I bet there’s a plastic surgeon somewhere who made a mint on it.”
“There’s no record of that,” Luna points out and I raise an eyebrow at her.
“Doesn’t need to be if you have enough money.”
“True enough. Are we hitting up the police station next?”
“That’s the plan.”
Luna’s phone rings in her pocket.
“You’ve got Luna—Okay. Yes, okay—Right away.”
“Who was that?” I ask when she tucks the phone away. A muscle ticks in her jaw. Something is up.
“Damian. Can you pull over for a minute?”
I’m puzzled at the request, but do as she asks. The moment I put the SUV in park, she gets out and rounds the hood opening the driver’s side door.
“Scoot over.”
“Why?”
“Just move over, okay? I’m driving.”
“What did Damian want?”
“I’ll tell you if you move your ass into the passenger seat.”
I have a very uneasy feeling, so I move over. “Luna? What the hell is going on?”
“Buckle up,” she orders, waiting for me to finish the task before she pulls away from the shoulder making a sudden U-turn
that throws me into the door.
“Are you nuts?”
“We’re heading back to Durango. There’s a situation.”
“A situation,” I repeat, my eyes on her, and I catch a quick worried glance in my direction.
“Keep your shit together.”
That doesn’t make me feel much better, but I nod in agreement.
“Damian called from Mercy Hospital.”
CHAPTER 20
Dylan
“I’ll drop you off at the door.”
I’m relieved to see Mercy Hospital. Finally. That was the longest fucking two and a half hours of my life.
Luna had moved at a fair clip, but there’s only so much you can do when you get stuck behind a big Mack truck on a mountain road.
I was able to get some information from Damian while we were on the road. There’d apparently been an accident that left a large shard of glass embedded in Marya’s knee. Details were still a little vague with the connection cutting in and out; the mountains are notorious for pockets of dead air. I finally connected with the office, but Jasper wasn’t able to provide much more other than she was being looked after and the boys were in good hands.
I fucking hope that doesn’t mean they were left with Toni.
Luna pulls into the hospital drive and stops in front of the main doors.
“Go, I’ll park and catch up with you.”
“Thanks,” I manage to mumble as I exit the car.
I aim for the gray-haired lady behind the information desk and give her Marya’s name, when I hear my own called. Turning to the sound, I see Theo running toward me.
“We were waiting for you,” he says a little breathlessly when he gets close. I’m startled when he walks right into me, giving me an awkward little man hug. It takes me a second to clue in, but the moment he lets go of me, I hook my arm around his neck and pull him close.
“Thanks, kiddo.”
Over his head I see Kerry approaching, Dante perched on her hip. My arm still hooked around Theo’s neck, I start moving us toward her.
“Where’s Marya?” I ask when we get close.
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