What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 8)

by Sabrina York

  “You disappeared one day with no explanation and didn’t leave a way for me to contact you. How could I not come when I got the chance to finally get some answers?”

  “You know why I left.” She pulled her hand away with a vicious jerk, causing her skin to sting. “Just as you must have known I wouldn’t want you here.”

  “How would I know that?” He trailed his fingers down her forearm.

  “Because I haven’t spoken to you in a year. I like it that way.” She frowned at him. “I want you to go now.”

  Brendan shook his head. “I’m not leaving you again, Cari. Once you’re home, we’ll talk about what you’ve done.”

  She shivered, imagining his version of talking. It would invariably involve violence. “I wouldn’t move back to your condo under any circumstances. I won’t live with you again.”

  Brendan raised a brow. “I think our daughter needs two parents, not one.”

  Caris drew in a shaky breath, trying to fight off the urge to faint. “Wh-what are you talking about?”

  “Little Jessica Reese.” He smiled. “She looks so much like you, and she sounds like you too.” Brendan’s mouth twisted. “She screamed the entire time I held her, but the nurse told me she’s done that since she arrived. Apparently she’s a fussy little brat.”

  She tried to keep her voice steady when she said, “My baby isn’t yours.”

  He shook his head. “You’ve never been a good liar, love. I know she’s mine.”

  “You can’t prove it.”

  “I can with a DNA test, but I don’t need to. They told me she’s about three months old, and you left ten months and four days ago.” He held up nine fingers and lifted his left thumb. “You must have been pregnant when you left.”

  A chill worked its way up Caris’s spine when he rattled off exactly how long she had been gone. Dear God, he hadn’t even tried to get over her. Why else would he know how long she’d been gone, down to the day? “That doesn’t mean she’s yours.”

  He laughed, but it sounded forced. “My shy, virginal little Cari sleeping around?” Brendan patted her leg. “No, I don’t think so. She’s my baby, which leaves only the question of why you left when you were pregnant. Most women would have dug their talons in deeper.” His tone was bitter. “Pushed for marriage—but not you. Why?”

  She scowled at him. “I didn’t want my child to become another target for you.”

  His mouth tightened. “You deserved it—”

  Caris shook her head. “No one deserves the hell you put me through for four months. I won’t go back to that.”

  “You will if you want your kid.”

  She maintained her firm expression.

  “Social Services is evaluating you right now.” He leaned closer, whispering. “It sounds like you’re going to have a hearing before you get her back.”

  Caris’s mouth dropped open. “No.”

  He nodded, looking pleased. “I promptly admitted to being her father, said I hadn’t known.” His smile was cold. “I might get temporary custody of her while they investigate last night’s events.”

  “You can’t have her. You don’t even want her.”

  His hurt expression was too forced and his voice too wobbly to be convincing. “I deserve a chance to get to know her. I need to know my baby.”

  Caris scowled at him. “They won’t give you custody. Not when they know what I know about you.”

  Brendan laughed again. “Who will believe you? The judge will dismiss your claims as lies spun from desperation.”

  Caris tried to appear confident. “It’s nothing more than the truth. I don’t need to lie to keep you from getting my child.”

  Brendan frowned at her. “Come back with me, and I’ll make this problem disappear. You know I can do it.”

  To protect Jess, she almost said yes, but the latent ulcer sent a fiery trail through her stomach, reminding Caris of the stress of living with him. She couldn’t do that to her baby. What kind of protection would that be, especially as she got older? There was no way they would give him custody of Jessica, even temporarily. She was a good mother. They would see that and let Jess come home. “Get out.”

  His disappointment was too blatant to be sincere. “If that’s the way you feel, I guess I can’t change your mind.”

  “No.”

  A feral smile slashed across his lips. “If I can’t have you, I guess I’ll settle for revenge.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll sue you for custody.”

  She shook her head. “You wouldn’t. You don’t want her, Brendan. You once said you would rather die than have kids.”

  His eyes glittered with suppressed rage. “But you’ll die without her. It’s worth the inconvenience, Cari.”

  “Please don’t do this, Brendan. You don’t know anything about love or being a father.”

  He touched a strand of her lank hair after abandoning the plastic chair. “You had a chance to teach me, but you left. Don’t complain about the consequences.” His mouth tightened. “And don’t tell me I don’t know anything about love. I loved you so much I wanted to die when you disappeared.”

  “Brendan—”

  He continued in the same anguished tone. “I lived in hell for those first few days, thinking you were kidnapped. The cops didn’t care. After a cursory investigation, they told me you’d left.” He shook his head. “At first I couldn’t believe it. I knew you wouldn’t do that to me, knowing how much I loved you.”

  “You showed your love each time you raised your hand to me.” Caris unconsciously fingered the small scar at the corner of her left eye, caused by an impact with the corner of his antique coffee table within the first month of her moving in. His fist had been the impetus propelling her into the furniture. She had other scars that weren’t in visible places too.

  He seemed not to hear. “Once I realized you really had left me, I knew I had to get you back.”

  “I won’t—”

  His blue eyes fastened on her. “Just in case, I had a plan B in mind. I didn’t know how, but I knew I’d make you suffer as I have. I’ve found the way.”

  “You’ll never win. You don’t even know her.”

  Brendan dropped his hand away from her hair. “Whose fault is that?”

  “I was protecting her. I’ll make them understand that.”

  He laughed again, this time sounding amused. “You’re trash, darling. You don’t carry any weight next to me. They won’t go against a McNeil. I’ve already won, and we haven’t even gone to court yet.”

  She clenched her hands into fists. “I won’t let you have her. You were my biggest mistake, and I don’t intend to let you back in my life. You stay away from her, and me!”

  A knock on the opened door drowned out his reply. A middle-aged woman in a cheap dark suit stood in the doorway. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I need to speak with Miss Reese.”

  “Of course, Ms. Whitney. I’ll just leave you two alone.” Brendan flashed the woman a charming smile.

  The same one he had used to entice her, Caris noticed with a frown. Her stomach clenched when his cold eyes turned back to her. “Get out,” she mouthed.

  “Goodbye, Caris.” Brendan smoothed down a wayward lock of his blond hair on his way out of the hospital room.

  A tense silence followed in his wake before the woman entered the room. She took the seat Brendan had vacated a few minutes before. “I’m Ms. Whitney from Child Protective Services.” She didn’t offer her hand.

  Caris swallowed. “I’m Caris Reese.”

  “You’re Jessica Reese’s mother?”

  She nodded. “When can I take her home?” She crossed her fingers, praying Brendan had been lying just to see her squirm.

  “There will be an investigation into the accident first.”

  She forced down her panic and anger, trying to remain calm. “I didn’t know he was drinking. Please believe me.”

  Ms. Whitney’s stony expression didn’t change. “I can’t p
rove that either way.” Her tone left little doubt of her opinion. “We need to determine if it is wise to release her back to your care.”

  “I’m a good mother.”

  She sniffed lightly. “Good mothers don’t have their children out at three in the morning on icy roads with no car seats.”

  She flinched at the woman’s cold tone. “She was sick. We were on the way to the hospital. Trent was pulling over to let me drive when it happened.”

  Ms. Whitney looked at the file she had carried in. “There is no mention of a fever.”

  Panic rose again, and Caris struggled to suppress it. “The nurse said it might have broken while she was in the cold.”

  The corner of her lip lifted, but she didn’t respond to the explanation. “If you were that alarmed, why didn’t you call an ambulance?”

  “I wish I had. If I’d known this would happen—” Caris blinked back the tears pooling in her eyes. “They are so expensive, and I don’t have insurance. I’m still paying the hospital and doctor for the birth. It seemed better to drive her here.”

  “Without a car seat?”

  “The car seat was in my roommate’s car, and she wasn’t home.”

  Ms. Whitney’s eyebrows rose. “You live with a roommate that wasn’t home at three in the morning?”

  Caris swallowed, suddenly feeling as if a giant hole was opening under her feet. “She works nights.”

  “What does she do?”

  She dropped her gaze from the social worker’s. “She’s a dancer at Patterson’s Gentlemen’s Club.”

  The woman’s mouth bowed into an O. “You live with a stripper?”

  Caris nodded, miserable she had revealed more than she should have. “She’s a very good person and never brings anyone back to the apartment. Her job doesn’t have anything to do with Jess.”

  She frowned. “I’ll determine that, Miss Reese.” Ms. Whitney didn’t allow an opening for rebuttal. “About Trent Jones. Is he your lover?”

  She shook her head. “Absolutely not. He’s just a friend.”

  “Did you know your friend has been in and out of jail for stealing, DUIs, drug abuse, and other petty crimes?”

  “I didn’t know.” She closed her eyes, suddenly certain Brendan had been right. They were going to make her prove she was a good mother before they let her have take Jessica home.

  “He’s facing serious charges when he wakes up from his self-medicating.”

  A tear slipped from her eye. “But he doesn’t have anything to do with whether or not I’m a good mother. I love my baby. You can’t take her away from me.”

  There wasn’t a hint of sympathy on her rigid face. “I’m charged with protecting Jessica’s best interests. I won’t return her to you without a full investigation.”

  “You can’t do that. She’s my child, you bitch.” Caris’s green eyes glowed with fury.

  Ms. Whitney’s remained unflappable. “Name-calling won’t do you a bit of good, miss. An attitude like that will only delay her return.”

  Caris tried to swallow her anger. “Where will she go?”

  “Foster care.”

  Tentatively, Caris asked, “Then you won’t let Brendan have her while you do the investigation?”

  “He’ll be allowed visitation, of course, but he won’t be permitted custody until he is cleared too.”

  Mingled dread and relief filled Caris. The thought of returning home without Jessica made her want to weep and never stop, but she got a small measure of comfort knowing Brendan wouldn’t be allowed to have her either. “Can I see her?”

  “If the doctor allows you to tomorrow, you may spend a half-hour with her in the nursery. You won’t be allowed unsupervised visits until you’ve been cleared.”

  Caris couldn’t seem to muster her previous anger. “What gives you the right to tear families apart?” Her tone was almost dispassionate.

  Ms. Whitney glowered at her. “I’m acting in the service of the child’s needs. Any good mother would want her child’s best interests to be served.”

  She shook her head, wondering if her own mother had heard the same words. “She belongs with me. I’m what’s best for my daughter.”

  Rising to her feet, Ms. Whitney shrugged. “If that’s true, you have nothing to fear.” She left without another word.

  Caris tried to believe her words, but she was still frightened. The pending investigation wasn’t nearly as terrifying as the thought of Brendan fulfilling his promise. He was her biggest fear and nightmare, all rolled into one.

  Chapter Two

  Caris glanced at the clock on the waiting room wall for the tenth time in as many minutes. The hour she had spent waiting in Legal Aid’s reception area seemed to creep by. Each minute was longer than the last, and she had the irrational notion that each moment would continue to expand into infinity. She would spend the rest of her life in this tattered chair, absently running her hands along the scarred wooden frame before remembering to thumb through the magazine she held on her lap without reading. Time was not her friend, as she had become aware of recently—very recently.

  “Miss Reese?”

  Caris looked up at the brusque woman who had so impatiently responded to her request of an unscheduled meeting with John Murphy. “Yes?”

  “Mr. Murphy can squeeze you in for five minutes.” She tossed her head, sending white-cloud wisps of hair floating around her lined face. “Not a minute more, you understand?”

  “Yes.” Caris nodded for emphasis as she left the chair and followed the receptionist across the thin, brown carpet that squeaked with each of her sneakered steps.

  Apparently, the woman couldn’t resist one more admonishment as she opened a door in the waiting room to lead Caris down the hallway. “You must make an appointment in future.”

  “I tried, but there weren’t any available.”

  The older woman shrugged. “We have to wait our turn.”

  Caris rolled her eyes, but bit back a retort. She didn’t have the luxury of waiting three weeks for another appointment. The first time she’d met John Murphy, she had been lucky to be worked in after four days. In three weeks, it would all be over. She needed his guidance today.

  The receptionist knocked on the door for Caris, and then turned the knob. “Five minutes.”

  She nodded and slipped past the woman, deliberately closing the door in her face. Caris walked to the chair in front of Murphy’s desk. He wore the same suit as the last time she had seen him, when she asked about the hearing with CPS. That had been their only acquaintance, but it had been enough for her to know she didn’t like him. He couldn’t have been more than fifteen years her elder, but he treated her like a simple-minded child.

  “Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Murphy.”

  He shrugged and opened a file on his desk. “What’s so urgent, Ms. Reese?”

  “Jessica’s father is suing for custody.”

  He nodded, and not one impeccably groomed brown hair moved. “You mentioned that possibility at the initial consultation.”

  Caris fumbled in her shoulder bag for the packet that had been delivered earlier. “He served me this morning.”

  Mr. Murphy took the brown envelope from her and removed a thick sheaf of papers. He spent less than a minute examining the pages. “Everything seems to be in order.”

  She gaped at him. “What about the first paragraph on the fourth page?” She waited for him to flip to it. “He can’t do that, can he?”

  Mr. Murphy nodded. “He’s within his rights to petition Social Services to keep Jill—”

  “—Jessica—”

  “—Jessica in foster care until the custody hearing ends.”

  Caris pleated the strap of her purse. “But why would he do that?”

  Murphy shrugged. “He lists his reasons as protecting her from you, and fear that you’ll kidnap her before a court order is established, outlining custody and visitation.”

  She slapped her hand on the desk. “It’s not fair. I haven’t ha
d my daughter home in a month.”

  His expression remained unsympathetic, though his eyes darted to where her hand rested on the desk before returning to her face. “He must have used contacts to get the hearing set so soon. Everything will be decided in two weeks.”

  “Ms. Whitney cleared me. How can he do this?” She blinked at the tears pricking at the back of her eyes.

  The attorney looked at the file once more. “You aren’t completely cleared yet, Ms. Reese. Her final decision is pending monthly inspections and your successful completion of a parenting class.”

  Caris shrugged. “She was going to let her come home. Please, you have to stop him from doing this. I’m going crazy without my baby.”

  Murphy’s eyebrow rose. “I can’t do anything.”

  “Why not?”

  He leaned forward, steepling his hands on the scarred desk. “Do you want the truth?”

  She nodded slowly, as her stomach spasmed with dread.

  “You don’t have the money required to put a stop to this order. I get paid $24,000 a year, so I don’t have the personal funds or time to take on your crusade.” He grimaced. “Mr. McNeil will walk into that courtroom with an attorney who bills more by the hour than you pay for rent each month. I don’t have the expertise to fight him, and you can’t do any better than me.”

  She sagged against the chair. “What are you saying?”

  “You can’t win this, and you won’t curry any favor with the judge deciding the issue by filing a motion to block the foster care request. Show you can cooperate, and they’ll be more likely to cooperate with you.”

  Her mouth dropped open, and she closed it with a click. “What am I supposed to do?”

  Mr. Murphy leaned back into his rickety leather chair, and it groaned in protest. “He’s going to get joint custody. You can’t change that.”

  “He’s suing for full custody.”

  “Keep your nose clean for the next two weeks, and be amenable. If you’re reasonable, it will look good for you. Don’t fight him on this, Miss Reese. Save your energy for the hearing in two weeks. You want to give the judge a reason to let you both share in the raising of Ji—Jessica.”