Peek-A-Boo Protector

by Rita Herron

  His gut impression told him that Tanner and Honey would have been more of a match than she and the judge. Of course, Honey might have set her sights higher on the Wexler money, and if Tanner actually cared about her or the babies and she’d chosen Wexler over him, that could have pissed him off.

  And a pissed-off man was dangerous, especially one where paternity issues were in question. Judge Wexler had claimed he’d wanted to raise the babies as his own.

  What if Tanner wanted the twins and knew that Wexler could buy them? He apparently didn’t have the wealth or power to compete with a man like that. He could have confronted Honey and things had gone sour….

  His cell phone buzzed, and he checked the number. The Dallas Police Department. “I need to take this,” he said, then handed Tanner his business card and headed toward the car.

  Sam followed, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. He connected the call as he settled in the driver’s seat. “Wise.”

  “Wise, it’s Detective Arnold. Listen, we found Kinney’s place. You might want to get over here and take a look.”

  The man’s tone of voice raised the hair on the back of John’s neck. He memorized the address and sped down the graveled drive from the Double Kay toward Dallas, wondering what the detective had found and hoping it led them closer to Honey.

  “THAT WAS DETECTIVE ARNOLD,” John said as they drove away from the Tanner ranch. “They found Neil Kinney’s place and want me to come by.”

  “Was Kinney home?” Sam asked.

  “I don’t know. That’s all he said.” He turned on the highway leading away from Springton back toward Dallas. “What did you think of Tanner?”

  “I don’t know what to make of him,” Sam said, replaying the scene at his house in her mind. “Reed Tanner certainly seemed more Honey’s type than Judge Wexler, but Honey had wanted her dreams and might have thought the judge could help her reach them.

  “I think Reed Tanner was hiding something,” Sam admitted. “But also that he might have cared for Honey. He sounded sincerely worried about the babies.”

  “Maybe,” John grunted. “He definitely knew more than he admitted. I have a feeling he knows where that baby boy is.”

  Sam stewed over that possibility. “Maybe he does. Maybe he’s trying to keep him safe like we’re doing Emmie.”

  “Then why not cooperate?” John asked.

  “I don’t know.” Sam lapsed into silence as they finished the drive. Hopefully Detective Arnold had answers.

  Forty-five minutes later, they arrived at Neil Kinney’s. He lived on the outskirts of Dallas in a small rental house. Patches of dirt and brittle grass dotted the lawn, the paint was chipping off and two of the shutters were hanging at odd angles.

  A police car and CSI unit were parked in the narrow driveway, and John spun in behind them. Together they walked up the sidewalk and a police officer greeted him, then led them into the house. Sam noted the plaid brown sofa, faux leather recliner, small TV and a half dozen girlie magazines scattered on the coffee table.

  Detective Arnold met them at the door to the bedroom, a grave expression on his face. Sam tensed, sensing he had bad news.

  “I thought you’d like to see what we found,” he said to John.

  John nodded and they followed him inside. Sam’s stomach turned at the sight.

  Dozens of photos of Honey covered one wall, candids of her at her apartment, at cheerleading tryouts, on dates with other men, shots of her and Reed Tanner, of her and Judge Wexler, of Honey pregnant at a store shopping for baby items, of Honey and the twins.

  Photos that were recent.

  “He’s been stalking her again,” Detective Arnold said. He gestured to the dresser where a manila envelope lay. Another picture sat on the dresser, this one of Honey when she was in high school—a picture of her and Sam together.

  Detective Arnold showed them a photo of Neil Kinney—a redheaded man with freckles. Then he pointed to a small sheet of paper. “He had your address, Miss Corley. Neil Kinney knew you and Honey were friends, and he found out where you lived.”

  Sam’s lungs constricted. Kinney could have followed Honey to Georgia and to her place. Kinney could have hurt Honey and now he wanted to hurt her babies. And if he’d come back to Dallas, he could have been following them and shot at them in Teddy Wexler’s parking deck.

  “You have to find this sick son of a bitch,” John muttered. He moved closer to Sam in a protective stance. “And this time when we catch him, he’s going to jail and he won’t get out.”

  JOHN WAS SEETHING AS HE and Sam drove away from Kinney’s house. He had to find the bastard and lock him up before he hurt Sam.

  Evening was falling, the long deserted road he’d taken almost eerie. Suddenly a truck raced up behind him, the headlights blinding, then screeched around them and slammed into his side.

  Sam shrieked, and John clutched the steering wheel with a steely grip, trying to maintain control, but the truck rammed the side of the rental car again and sent them bouncing off the road. He braked and the car skidded into a light post, glass shattering on the driver’s side and pelting him as the air bags exploded. Metal scrunched as the front bumper folded, and he ripped away his air bag, then reached sideways to see if Sam was all right.

  But the door swung open, and suddenly a red-haired man tried to drag Sam from the car.

  Dammit, it was Neil Kinney.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sam screamed and pushed at Neil Kinney, trying to escape, but he jerked her arm and yanked her to the ground. John reached for his weapon, drew it and shoved at his door to open it. He cursed as the door stuck, then kicked it again and jumped out.

  “Stop or I’ll shoot!”

  Kinney was tall and obviously stronger than he looked, and pulled Sam toward a green pickup truck. But she clawed and kicked at him, and John was afraid to shoot, afraid he’d hit her. Adrenaline surged through him, and he ran after Kinney and attacked him, knocking them all to the ground.

  Sam screamed again, and Kinney lost his hold on her, grunting from the impact of John’s body slamming into him. Sam pushed to her hands and knees and crawled to the side of the street.

  Fury raged through John, and he punched Kinney with his fist, but Kinney swung his fist up and connected with John’s nose. John cursed, and they rolled, trading punches, but his rage enhanced his strength, and he overpowered Kinney, gave him a hard right, then rolled him to his back and straddled him.

  Kinney bucked, but John shoved his gun in his face. “We know who you are, Kinney.”

  Kinney’s eyes widened, his pale skin glowing white in the headlights. “Wait, please don’t shoot me.”

  Out of the corner of his eyes, John saw Sam shove her tangled hair from her face and push to her feet.

  “Are you all right, Sam?”

  “Yes,” she said in a shaky voice.

  John turned back to Kinney, tightening his grip on Kinney’s arm as he kept his gun aimed at his head. “Where’s Honey Dawson?”

  Kinney’s breath wheezed out. “I don’t know,” he said. “That’s why I stopped you.” He jerked his eyes toward Sam. “You’re her friend. I recognized you from Honey’s pictures, so I figured you could lead me to her.”

  “You assaulted us with your vehicle and tried to kidnap Sam,” John snarled. “You’re going to pay for that, you bastard.”

  “You don’t understand,” Kinney wailed. “I love Honey. She disappeared a few days ago, and I was worried about her, so I’ve been trying to find her.”

  “I’ve heard that story from a few other people in this town,” John said. “I also know that you stalked Honey, broke into her apartment and stole her underwear.”

  “I went to jail for that,” Kinney said. “I served my time. And when I got out I wanted to apologize to Honey, make sure she knows I love her, that I’d never hurt her. Never.”

  Sam moved over to stand beside them, and crossed her arms. “You stalked her again, and took pictures of her. You even have a pi
cture of me and had my address in your apartment.”

  “You were watching the police and us there, weren’t you?” John asked.

  Kinney bobbed his freckled face up and down. “Yes, but I already explained the reason.”

  “I don’t believe you. This is what I think happened,” John said through gritted teeth. It was all he could do not to kill the bastard for trying to hurt Sam.

  “You thought you loved Honey, and you were jealous when you realized she’d been with other men. Those pictures of her with them tormented you. You couldn’t stand the thought of her having another man’s baby. If you couldn’t have her, no one could.”

  “She was mine,” Kinney shouted. “She was.”

  John’s jaw ached from clenching it. He wanted to beat the sick man into a bloody pulp. “That’s right, you thought you owned her, so when she tried to leave, you came after her. You caught up with Honey in Georgia and followed her to Sam’s, then attacked Honey.”

  Kinney twitched. “No, that’s not what happened. I’ve never been to Georgia.”

  John gripped Kinney by the collar of his shirt and shook him. “You’re lying. You and Honey fought and when she tried to escape, you attacked her. Is she dead or alive, Kinney? Did you kill her and dump her body somewhere in the mountains or the river?”

  “No!” Kinney cried. “I didn’t hurt her. I didn’t go to Georgia. I swear.” Kinney angled his head toward Sam. “Do you know where she is? Is she okay?”

  “If I knew, I wouldn’t tell you,” Sam said. “You’re sick, Mr. Kinney, you need help.”

  “Sam, call Detective Arnold,” John said. “Tell him we have Kinney. Maybe a night in jail will persuade this bastard to tell us the truth.”

  “Think about it,” Kinney cried. “If I knew where Honey was, why would I have tried to take you, Sam?”

  SAM WAS SHAKING AS Detective Arnold arrived and took Neil Kinney into custody. Even as the detective handcuffed him and shoved him into the back of the squad car, Kinney continued to deny that he had hurt Honey and ranted that he loved her and would never harm her.

  Sam didn’t know what to think or who to believe. Her head was swirling with questions, suspects and worry.

  John phoned and arranged for a tow truck to haul the rental car to the repair shop, and one of the uniformed officers drove them back to their hotel. When they arrived, John pulled her close to him as if he thought someone else might try to grab her again.

  He remained gruff and silent, jaw rigid, anger radiating off him as he unlocked her room. He pressed his hand to the small of her back and ushered her inside, scanning the hallway and room as they entered. With a raised finger, he gestured her to be quiet and he rushed through both rooms checking them as if he expected to find an intruder.

  Her nerves skittered. If he still thought someone was out to get her, then he must think Kinney was innocent.

  He returned from the adjoining room, stopped in the doorway, then his dark eyes met hers. He stood rigid, but an odd look flickered in his eyes—anger? Possessiveness? Fear?

  Desire?

  Her heart fluttered, and her chest ached as her own needs surfaced. She wanted to be held, touched, cared for…loved.

  To forget that Kinney’s hands had touched her, that he could have done God knows what if John hadn’t saved her. To forget that Honey was still missing and might be dead.

  That her little baby boy was missing, too, and if anything had happened to him…

  When Kinney had grabbed her, déjà vu had struck and she’d relived the horror of her parents’ murder. Of the man who’d shot them grabbing her.

  She’d fought back, had bitten the man’s leg, and that mark had helped the police catch their murderer and send him to jail. But she’d had nightmares ever since.

  “Sam?”

  She inhaled sharply to stem the emotions churning through her. “What?”

  “Are you really all right? Did he hurt you?”

  His gruffly spoken words touched her, and she nodded, although she couldn’t speak.

  His breath hissed out, and suddenly he moved toward her, tension rippling between them, then he pulled her into his arms.

  “God, Sam, I thought he was going to hurt you. I…didn’t think I could stand that.”

  Sam sighed and leaned into his hard chest, then curled her hands against him. She’d always felt tough, a tomboy, a fighter and survivor, one who stood alone and wanted no one else.

  But next to John’s big, muscular frame and height, she felt small and vulnerable and willing to let him take up the slack, as if leaning on him didn’t mean she was weak or giving up herself. As if he understood her and liked what he saw.

  As if he wanted her for her.

  The silence stretched as he held her, and she clung to him, his heart beating beneath her cheek. Desperate to be nearer to him, she pressed a kiss against his neck, inhaling his erotic scent as her lips met the salty skin at his throat.

  A sigh escaped him, then he dropped a kiss into her hair. The gesture was so seductive and sweet, the low sound in his throat so hungry that heat flooded her, emboldening her, and she looked up into his eyes.

  Desire flared hot and potent, his raw need triggering her own, and she traced her hand over his chest, then lower to tease his stomach, feathering one finger over his zipper.

  “Sam?”

  “Shh,” she whispered, then stood on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his. This time, instead of turning away, he fused his mouth with hers and emitted a guttural groan that sent her heart racing.

  The barriers between them fell away in a heated instant, and suddenly their hands and mouths were everywhere. He backed her up to the bed and tore at her clothes, and she returned the favor.

  One hungry kiss led to another. Their tongues mated in a dance of love and intimacy that she’d felt with no other man, the erotic noises from his throat echoing in the silence between them. As they fell onto the bed in a frenzy of tongue lashes and caresses, her body felt as if it might explode with the pleasure.

  Leaning over her, he paused and raked his gaze over her. Her body tingled as she lay sprawled on the sheets, her soft whispers urging him on as he trailed kisses along her neck, suckled her breasts, then climbed above her and teased her with his hard, throbbing length.

  He was huge, masculine perfection at its peak, and she parted her legs, aching to feel him inside her. He stroked her tender bud until she cried out and erotic sensations rocked through her, then he settled himself between her thighs. He reached into his jeans on the foot of the bed, rolled on a condom, and thrust into her.

  She gasped at the swift point of entry and pain, but sucked in her breath and savored the sensations that flooded her in its wake. John paused, cushioning her hips with his hands as he searched her eyes. “Sam? I’m your first. Why?”

  She cupped his face with her hands. “Because I want you, John,” she whispered. Her heart thudded. He couldn’t stop now. Couldn’t leave her like this, so needy and desperate and hungry, and wanting him deep in her body.

  His eyes darkened, a look of primal need on his face, then he tilted her hips up and thrust inside her again, this time filling her to the core. Sam closed her eyes and cried out as sensation after sensation overcame her.

  Colors danced before her eyes, and love for John made her heart swell.

  JOHN’S BREATH ESCAPED in ragged pants as his climax rocked through him. He’d had sex before, enough in his day to know what was good and what wasn’t, enough to know that none had ever torn him up inside and exhilarated him at the same time.

  Not wanting to crush Sam, John encircled her in his arms and rolled sideways to cradle her in his embrace, breathing deeply to gain control as the aftermath of their lovemaking slowly dissipated.

  But that aftermath left him even more confused. Normally sex was sex.

  But this was sex with Sam.

  Sam who was a tomboy, a friend, a woman he’d have to leave soon.

  Sam, a woman who was a virgin, fo
r God’s sakes.

  He heaved another breath, tucked her into his arms, his chest swelling at her purr of satisfaction. Yet his mind jumped onto a roller coaster of emotions and questions.

  Insecurities set in. Had he really satisfied her?

  Hell, he never doubted himself.

  Had she read more into the sex than he’d intended? His thoughts ping-ponged. Of course she had.

  But he would hurt her in the end when he left Butterville.

  Still, she clutched his chest, and her hair tickled his neck as she cuddled into his arms, and he relented and kissed her again. She felt so…right.

  For tonight, he’d hold her and let them both pretend that things between them could last.

  Tomorrow when morning came, they’d have to return to business. And they couldn’t make love again.

  SAM DREAMED OF HAPPY TIMES, of being loved and held and having a man by her side. Dreams she’d never had before.

  But other dreams intruded. The nightmare of her parents’ murder. The years of sleepless nights afterward. The horror of the gossip that had haunted her as she’d grown older.

  The fact that the only friend who’d understood and cared for her was Honey.

  And now John…

  Hours later, she jerked awake to the sound of her cell phone ringing and felt John’s arms still around her, his breath on her neck. God, she loved him.

  Could John possibly care for her, or had he given in to baser needs because they’d been thrown together on this case?

  Her phone buzzed again from her purse, and she eased out of John’s arms, climbed naked from the bed and hurried to retrieve it. What if it was Miss Mazie and something was wrong with Emmie?

  Her chest constricted, and she glanced at the number. An unknown.

  With all that was happening, she quickly connected the call. “Hello.”

  “If you want to see Honey Dawson alive, then go back to Georgia. You’ll receive further instructions then.”

  The voice sounded electronic, as if it had been altered through a machine. “Wait! How do I know you’ll tell me where Honey is?”