Chance intended to. He was on shift for another two days, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t start now. Flowers, balloons, that chocolate she liked. He’d avoid greeting cards. That was only sensible. But everything else was fair game. For the next two days, he’d launch a campaign that would not only show Janey-girl that he was sincere but that he wasn’t giving up.
It wasn’t the same as bringing her flowers in person, but it would have to be enough for now. But damn, he wanted to see her. Two days without seeing her smile, touching her soft skin. It was going to be hell. The one photo he had of her in his phone was going to get a lot of views.
That was the first thing he’d do when he got her back, take more pictures. Well, maybe the second or third thing. Definitely top ten.
Her smile came unbidden to his mind. The one she gave him right before . . . He ran a hand through his hair. Two more damn days. He’d never make it. He needed to see her, live, in person, right—
Her small blue car bounced over the curb, screeched to a stop at his feet. He and the chief jumped back, then Chance rushed forward as she lowered her window.
“Get in the car,” she said, her face tight.
“What’s wrong?” He scanned what he could see of her, didn’t see any wounds. But she looked like she was in pain. “Are you—”
“It’s Josh. He called me. He needs you.” Her knuckles were white around the steering wheel. “Now get in the damn car.”
Chance’s feet were moving before his brain could catch up. Jane had been heading to work when he’d last seen her. So if Josh was calling her, he’d called her at work, dialed 9-1-1. He threw himself into the passenger seat. “Is it Katie? Did she pass out again?”
The chief jogged back into the station as they pulled away. They hadn’t gotten a call yet, but Chance knew Finnegan would be making calls of his own to find out what was going on.
“It’s not Katie.” Picking her cell phone out of her cup holder, Jane pressed it between her ear and her shoulder. “Anything new?” she asked the person on the other end of the line. “Well, what do they say their ETA is?” Her jaw clenched, and Chance’s pulse skyrocketed.
“Who are you talking to? What’s going on?” he demanded.
Jane ignored him. “I know. Sharon, I know,” she said, her voice getting heated. She pulled onto the highway onramp, cutting off a truck. “Look, I’m driving like crap. I’m going to put you down again. Hold on.”
Dropping the phone back in the cup holder, Jane kept her eyes on the road, swerved around a slow-moving RV. “Josh called 9-1-1 about ten minutes ago. He said he was with his mom, and that some men were yelling at her.” She darted a look at him. “One of them grabbed her. Josh is in the car.”
“Where?” His voice came out harsher than he’d intended. It wasn’t Jane’s fault. God help him, he’d forgotten Josh was spending the afternoon with Annette. He’d been too wrapped up in thoughts of Jane. If one hair on his son’s head was injured because of Annette, he’d strangle her this time.
“They’re over in Clarion Township. At a gas station. Police are on their way.”
He picked up the phone. “Sharon, this is Chance. Tell me what’s going on.”
“Hold on,” she said. Chance heard her talking soothingly to someone else. He heard his son’s name. She was talking to Josh. The pressure in his head popped, and he became dizzy. Josh was okay. As of now.
Sharon came back on his line. “Chance, Josh is still in the car. He’s fine. But he’s very upset. I’m going to patch you through so you can talk to him.” Two clicks, and then he heard his son crying. Crying. His chest felt like it was caught in a vise.
“Hey, buddy. It’s Dad. Everything’s going to be fine.” A road sign came up, whipped past. Clarion Township. Two miles. Jane needed to drive faster. “Can you talk to me?”
“Daddy?”
Christ. When was the last time Josh had called him daddy? His five-year-old had given up what he called “baby talk” at least a year ago.
“He . . .” A soft sob met Chance’s ear, tore through his heart. “One of the bad men hit Mommy.”
“Are the doors locked in the car?” Chance asked. It was only a small layer of protection. If Annette was outside, her keys probably were, too.
“Daddy, where are you?”
“I’m almost there.” He looked at Jane, who nodded grimly. “We’re almost there. Just stay in the car until I get you.” Then the most beautiful sound came through the phone. The wail of a siren.
“P’weece are here,” Josh yelled. “The men are running.”
“And where’s your mom?” Chance asked. “Do you still see her?”
“Yeah. She’s sitting down.”
Because she was injured, or upset? At that point, Chance didn’t care. She’d frightened their son for the last time.
“An ociffer is knocking on the window,” Josh said. A hint of excitement battled with the fear in his voice. Thank God kids were resilient. “I gotta go.”
Chance stared at the phone. “He hung up on me.”
Clutching his arm with one hand, Jane almost lost control of the car. “Oh my God. Did the men—”
“He’s fine.” Chance grabbed the steering wheel with his right hand, rubbed small circles into her shoulder with the other. “The police are there. Everything’s going to be fine.”
“Good.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “That’s good.”
“Hey. Josh is safe. We’re fine.” Chance was tempted to tell her to pull over just so he could hold her. But there was too much unsaid between them. Jane was worried about his son. But she’d tensed under his touch.
“I know.” She sniffed. “So why am I crying?”
Chance leaned back in his seat. “It’s the adrenalin. You were pumped up for action, and now that it’s over, your body doesn’t know what to do with it.”
“If anything had happened to him . . .”
“I know.” Chance didn’t want to think about it.
“I don’t like your wife.” Jane ran the back of her hand under her eyes.
“Ex-wife.” He caught Jane’s gaze. “It’s official. I got the papers yesterday.”
“Congratulations.” She turned back to face out the windshield. “With this latest incident, I don’t think you need to worry about custody. Any judge would grant custody to a single dad over that miserable excuse of an ex-wife.”
“What if I don’t want to stay single?”
“What?” Jane frowned.
“You’re right. I don’t need a wife to secure my son.” Tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, Chance let his fingers trail down her neck. “So when I come for you, you’ll know I’m doing it because I want to. Because I want you. You should have known that already.”
Maybe berating her wasn’t the smartest move to win her back, but dammit, he was pissed, too. Between his hurt and the influx of fear for his son, Chance wasn’t in the mood to hold anything back. He couldn’t. His control was on the edge of snapping.
She scraped her teeth over her bottom lip, darted a glance at him. “Why did Katie say that if it wasn’t true?”
“Katie’s got a big mouth and says whatever pops into her head.” Speaking of, he should call his sister, tell her what had happened. Once he had Josh in his arms, he would. “She’d joked about that weeks ago. Thought she was being smart. It wasn’t a plan I’d agreed to.”
Jane turned onto a main street, and flashing red and blue lights came into sight. Josh sat on the hood of a patrol car, swinging his legs, chatting with a uniformed officer. Chance’s whole body sagged. His son was okay. He didn’t look around for Annette. Before Jane had put the car in park, Chance was out the door.
“Dad!” Josh yelled, just before Chance swept him into his arms. The cop gave them some space, and Chance leaned back against the hood and just enjoyed the feel of his son’s small body, whole and safe, next to his.
Josh, however, wasn’t as eager for a quiet bonding moment. “Did you see there are six p’wee
ce here? Six.” It was said as though that were a mystical number. “One gave me a badge”—he pointed to a sticker on his shirt—“but he wouldn’t show me his gun. But cops get to carry guns and you don’t.” Josh wrinkled his nose. “I’m going to be a p’weece man when I grow up.”
“Hey.” Chance pulled back, looked his son up and down. Completely unharmed. The last of his tension rolled away. “I get to carry an axe sometimes. That’s pretty cool.”
Josh considered that. His face lit up. “Jane!” he screamed. Right in Chance’s ear. But he couldn’t blame the kid. He got that excited when he saw Jane, too. His son twisted away from his grip, threw himself at her.
Jane grabbed him before he fell. “Hey, buddy. Quite an adventure, huh?” Gathering him close, she put her nose on top of Josh’s head, placed a kiss on his hair.
“I’m going to be a cop when I grow up.”
Chance frowned. Josh obviously hadn’t considered it as well as he’d hoped.
Jane laughed. “Whatever you do, I’m sure your dad will be very proud.” She hefted Josh up, settled him more comfortably on her hip. “And I’m proud of you calling 9-1-1. Again. You’re a really smart kid for knowing when to call for help.”
“I know.” He wiggled down Jane’s body and grabbed Chance’s hand.
Chance rolled his eyes. He would have to work with his son on his modesty. But today he’d let him enjoy his due props.
“Dad, Mom’s over there. Come say hi.” Josh started pulling, and reluctantly, Chance let himself be propelled over to her. He didn’t even want to look at the woman much less talk to her. And nothing he wanted to tell her could be said in front of Josh.
Annette held an ice pack to one cheek and stood talking with a cop. She was pale, but her eyes warmed when they caught sight of Josh. And that right there was her sole redeeming quality.
“I’m sorry our afternoon got messed up,” she said to Josh. “I promise next time we’ll have fun.”
Chance turned to the cop. “Can I speak with my ex-wife? Are you done taking her statement?”
The woman nodded. “She’ll need to come down to the station to file a report.” Flipping her notebook closed, she pushed it into her breast pocket. “When you get down to the station, ma’am, ask for me.” She nodded at them both, smiled at Josh, and walked away.
Annette put down the ice pack, smiled as brightly as she could around her swollen cheek. “Well, who’s for pizza? My treat.”
Chance clenched his jaw so tight he could have ground diamonds into dust. He bared his teeth. “Buddy, go hang out with Jane for a bit. I need to talk to your mom.”
Annette watched Josh run to Jane, a brittle smile on her face. “I know what you’re going to say.”
“I don’t think you do.” Chance forced his voice low. Josh couldn’t hear all he had to say. “If you did, you’d be jumping in the back of that patrol car, begging the officer to get you away from me.”
Annette rolled her eyes, and Chance felt the heat and anger that had settled in his gut rise through his body like it was on an express elevator. It was such an odd feeling that Chance stepped back, took a deep breath.
“It wasn’t that big a deal,” she said. “Josh shouldn’t have called 9-1-1. There was just a misunderstanding.”
He jerked his head at her face. “The bookie slipped and he accidentally hit you? You walked into his fist? How is that bruise a misunderstanding?”
Annette nudged a leaf with the toe of her brown suede pump. “That . . .” She cleared her throat. “He got more upset than he should have. I told him I’d pay! But when he found out I was from California, he thought I’d skip.”
Which raised a gut-churning thought. “Why are you here?”
“To see my son. We’ve been over this.”
Chance crossed his arms over his chest. Kept them from wrapping around Annette like a python, squeezing the life out of her. “Doesn’t explain why you’re in Clarion Township. A city twenty miles from Pineville. Is it just because this is where your bookie works? And how you found a bookie in the few times you’ve been here I don’t want to know. Or is it because Clarion Township is right next to the interstate? Just how far were you planning on going with Josh today?”
She shifted her eyes sideways.
“Son of a bitch!” Chance clenched his hands into fists. “I’m calling the cops back over here. You were going to kidnap Josh?”
Annette snapped her head up, poked a manicured nail into his chest. “He’s my son, too. It wasn’t kidnapping. You’ve had him long enough.”
“Not according to the California court system. And I can guaran-goddamn-tee that you will not be getting custody of Josh. Ever.”
“You’re going to have me arrested for kidnapping my own son?” A tinge of hysteria wound through her words. “You can’t do that.”
Chance looked over to where Josh and Jane sat on a bench. His son was head down over Jane’s smartphone, but Jane watched them, concern and worry written all over her face. What would it do to his son if Annette was arrested? Would he have to testify against her?
Josh wiggled on his seat, pointed at something on the screen to Jane. Giving him a big smile, Jane put out her fist for Josh to bump.
No. Chance forced his swollen throat to swallow. He couldn’t do that to his son. He faced Annette. “Here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to call my divorce attorney and tell him that you left rehab, continued to gamble, and put our son in danger. Again.”
Annette started to protest, and Chance raised his hand. “Shut up,” he said. “That’s all public record now and I want the police report here to show up in the custody record. But the attempted kidnapping”—Chance swallowed again, barely able to breathe around those words—“I’ll keep quiet about.”
The strain in Annette’s face dissolved. He didn’t let her enjoy the moment long. “Provided you tell your attorney to write up the documents that give me full custody of Josh permanently.”
“But—”
He stepped close. “You’ve lost custody of Josh either way. This way keeps you out of jail. For once in your life, do the right thing. You’re no good for him.”
The look she sent their son almost had Chance softening his words. Almost. He let a part of himself feel bad for his ex-wife. And he hoped that she’d work on her problems and end up having a role in Josh’s life. But that role wasn’t going to be full-time mother. Josh deserved better.
“I’ll call my lawyer,” she whispered. “You’ll have the papers by the end of the month.”
“Good.”
“Can I say goodbye to him?” Annette asked.
“Yes.” Chance waved at Jane, indicating they should come over. She leaned down, said something to Josh, and pointed his way. His son dropped the phone on the bench and tore over to them. Jane followed more sedately and stopped about twenty feet away, obviously not comfortable joining in.
Annette bent down. “I have to leave again. Go back home to California.” She gave Josh a peck on the cheek, a small squeeze around his shoulders. “Be a good boy for your father and remember I love you.”
“Why don’t you just live here now?” Josh asked. “It’s pretty nice.”
Annette ran her hand over a cowlick on Josh’s head. It popped back up. “It’s not that simple, baby. But I’ll talk with your dad, try to work out a time when I can come see you again.”
Chance ground his teeth. He knew it was good for his son to know his mom cared, but he hoped she didn’t call for a while.
“Okay. Bye.” Josh stepped to his father’s side, hooked a finger in Chance’s pocket.
Annette looked between the two of them, nodded, and walked away. Only one patrol car remained, almost as if the incident had never occurred. Chance thought about how everything could have gone differently, and he scooped Josh into his arms, held tight.
Instead of trying to wiggle away, Josh wrapped his chubby arms around Chance’s neck, laid his head on his shoulder. The feeling was just about perfect.
He locked eyes with Jane, took a step toward her. She gave him a small smile and started walking to meet him halfway.
“You smell funny, Dad.”
Jane heard that from ten feet away, widened her smile.
“I was working out before I came to get you, buddy. I’ll take a shower soon.” For his son to comment, a boy who’d once made a fort out of garbage, Chance must smell pretty ripe. Normally he wouldn’t inflict his sweaty body on a woman. Right now, he didn’t care.
Holding out his arm, the one not wrapped around Josh, he paused, waiting for Jane to take the final steps. She moved into his body, wrapping her arm around his waist and resting her head on his chest. Obviously, she didn’t care either.
Chance looked down at his two armfuls. His son and the woman he loved. Their bodies nestled against his, warming him from the outside in.
This feeling was absolutely perfect.
Chapter Twenty-two
Jane stood in the shadows off to the side of a small platform in city hall. The mayor and Judge Nichols were speaking to the assembled audience, giving a rundown on the fundraiser, how much money it’d raised for their charity. Soon the judge would introduce her and Chance as the cochairs, and they, along with Chief Finnegan, would present the absurdly oversize check to the representative of the charity.
Jane had argued over the added expense of the supersized cardboard check, saying it was a silly tradition. The judge had been adamant. Some traditions weren’t altered. So the thirty-dollar tradition rested behind the podium, awaiting its presentation.
The fine hairs on the back of Jane’s neck raised a second before a warm body pressed into her from behind.
“Those guys really like to talk,” Chance said in her ear. “And the mayor wasn’t even involved with the fundraiser. How can he find so much to say about it?”
Jane smiled. “He’s a politician. Even for the local ones, it’s a required skill, the ability to jabber on and say nothing for half an hour.”
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