by Rita Herron
“Kim?” he said gruffly.
“I can’t believe this is happening. I almost lost Lucy once. I can’t lose her now.”
His brows furrowed. “What do you mean, you almost lost her once?”
Voices interrupted, cutting off their conversation. She hadn’t meant to reveal that detail about her past and didn’t want to share the painful memory with Brandon.
A tall, attractive woman wearing a royal-blue suit and heels strode toward her. “Hi, I’m June Warner. Johnny Long asked me to do an interview regarding his niece’s kidnapping.”
Brandon looked at Kim with questions in his eyes, and she nodded. “I talked to Johnny. He set it up.”
“Good,” Brandon said, then lowered his voice. “But if Carter sees an interview of us together, he’ll know Lucy isn’t his.”
Kim rubbed her forehead. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
The vein in Brandon’s neck throbbed. “Maybe you should do the interview alone,” he suggested. “At this point, we don’t know what frame of mind Carter is in. All we know is that he’s desperate and has anger issues. We don’t want to do anything to piss him off or jeopardize Lucy.”
Perspiration beaded on her forehead. “You’re right.” Kim offered her hand in greeting as June approached. “I’m Kim, Johnny’s sister.”
“Right, I remember you from the Bucking Bronc Lodge,” June said with a sympathetic smile. “Your brother explained that you think one of the prison escapees may have abducted your little girl.” The woman waved a cameraman inside. “This is Robbie. He’ll film the interview, then we’ll get the clip on the air ASAP and run it until Lucy is found.”
Kim wiped her clammy palms on the pants of her jeans, then shook his hand. “Thanks for coming.”
June squeezed Kim’s arm. “Hang in there, Kim,” June said, then adopted her professional mode. “Now, first, I’ll make the introduction to the story, give the sheriff a minute to fill in the details, then we’ll turn the camera on you.”
Nerves knotted Kim’s stomach. “What should I say?”
“Just be yourself.” June offered an encouraging smile. “At the end, we’ll post the number for the police department and Lucy’s photo, as well as the special tip line for people to call if they have any information regarding her disappearance. Sometimes family or friends of kidnappers are suspicious and will call in themselves when they realize their loved one has committed a crime.”
“Carter doesn’t have any family,” Kim said.
Brandon pressed a hand to the small of her back. “We don’t know for certain that Carter abducted Lucy, Kim. Maybe someone spotted him and Lucy, and we can track them down.”
Kim nodded mutely, then ran a hand through her hair as the cameraman set up. She’d been through hell and back tonight and probably looked a fright, but she didn’t care. They had to do everything they could to ensure Lucy’s safe return.
“This is June Warner bringing you a breaking story. We’re at the home of Brandon Woodstock, owner of the Woodstock Wagoneer. A guest and friend of his, Kim Long, sister of famous rodeo star Johnny Long, was assaulted on the Woodstock property tonight, and her attacker abducted her four-year-old daughter, Lucy.”
She pushed the mic toward the sheriff. “Sheriff, can you tell us more on this terrible incident?”
“As Miss Weaver said, four-year-old Lucy Long was kidnapped tonight.” Sheriff McRae widened his stance. “At this point we have reason to believe that Carter Flagstone, one of the escapees from the state penitentiary who was serving a life sentence for murder, may have kidnapped her.” He flashed a picture of Carter. “If you see this man or this little girl, please contact the local police or the number on your screen.”
The reporter smiled, then motioned to Kim to step forward. Kim silently prayed for courage as she faced the camera.
“Miss Long,” June said. “Would you like to say a few words?”
Kim took a deep breath before speaking. “My name is Kim Long,” she said in a shaky voice. “My little girl Lucy is only four years old, just an innocent little girl. She’s missing, and I…love her and…want her back.” She had to pause to gather her composure. “I don’t know who you are or why you took her. But if it’s you, Carter, or someone else, please, please, I beg you, just don’t hurt her. I’ll do anything you say, pay your ransom, meet your demands, just keep her safe and send her back home where she belongs.”
Her tears spilled over and she swiped at them with trembling fingers.
June squeezed her elbow, then reclaimed the mic. “As you can see, Miss Long is devastated over tonight’s events, and desperately needs help finding her young daughter. Once again, if you have any information regarding the abduction or Carter Flagstone’s whereabouts, please contact the police.”
A numbness settled over Kim as the reporter and cameraman packed up and left.
The Sheriff turned to Brandon. “The FBI is going to put a trace on your phone and hook your cells up to the landline in case you need to leave the house. Call me if you hear anything. And send me that list of anyone suspicious from your past.”
Brandon shook his hand. “I will. Thanks, Sheriff.”
Sheriff McRae gave her another sympathetic look; then he and his deputy walked out the door. Outside the rain was still pounding, lightning streaked the sky and thunder rumbled in the ominous silence.
Exhausted and overwrought with emotions, Kim swayed on her feet. Brandon’s eyes raked over her, his dark look feral.
She should have taken better care of Lucy. Was he thinking that, too?
Tears clogged her throat, and she started toward the stairs, but Brandon caught her and drew her into his arms. She collapsed against him, needing his strength and courage, needing his reassurance that their little girl would come home alive.
Without Lucy, her life would mean nothing.
BRANDON CRADLED KIM in his arms and rubbed her back to soothe her. She had suffered a terrible ordeal tonight, and he was amazed she hadn’t collapsed before.
“Let me walk you upstairs. You have a head injury, Kim. You need to rest.”
She shook her head against his chest. Her tears soaked his shirt, but he didn’t care. He desperately wanted to assuage her pain.
Self-recriminations screamed through his head. If he hadn’t gone to check on that vandalism, he would have been here, able to protect them. Which raised suspicions again that the vandalism had been a ploy to separate them.
“I can’t rest,” Kim said in a strangled voice. “Not until we find Lucy.”
“Then sit down and let me fix you a drink.”
Kim nodded and he guided her to the sofa. “Wine or tea?” Brandon asked.
“Just water.” Kim picked up the stuffed lamb and hugged it to her as if it were a baby.
He went to the bar and poured her a glass of water and himself a brown whiskey, then returned to the couch and sat down beside her.
“I should have stayed in the house with Lucy,” Kim said, her hand shaking as she cradled the glass with her palms. “It was dark and I should have waited for you to return, but Lucy wanted to see the kitties and I thought we were safe here.”
So had he. “It’s not your fault, Kim. I shouldn’t have left you alone.”
Her tortured gaze met his, tears brimming on her lashes. “We can’t lose her, Brandon. I…can’t…even think about life without Lucy.”
His throat tightened. “We won’t, Kim. I promise I’ll bring her back to you if it’s the last thing I ever do.”
Her gaze fell to the glass of water, and she stared into it as if it might hold answers. Her earlier comment echoed in his head.
“What did you mean when you said that you almost lost Lucy once? Did someone try to kidnap her before?”
“No…” Kim sipped the water and set the glass on the coffee table. She looked weary, blood still dotting her hair.
He massaged the base of her neck hoping to help alleviate the tension knotting her shoulders. “Then what did you mean
?”
Kim tucked an errant strand of hair behind one ear. “Early in the pregnancy, I almost had a miscarriage.”
Brandon gritted his teeth. “What caused it?”
Kim released a labored sigh. “Who knows? Tension, stress…there are a million reasons women miscarry.”
His mind registered the obvious. “But you were under enormous stress because you were alone.”
Kim traced a bead of water from the glass. “That’s not what I meant, Brandon.”
“But it’s true.” He tossed down his drink, grateful for the slow burn of alcohol. Although nothing could ease his guilt. “What happened then?”
“The doctors ordered me on bed rest, and I thought the worst was over. But toward the end of the third trimester, I developed preeclampsia.”
“Preeclampsia?”
The ice in the glass clinked as Kim set it down on the coffee table. “I developed high blood pressure. It causes gestational hypertension.”
Brandon sensed he wasn’t going to like the rest of the story, but he had to know anyway. “Go on.”
Kim shook her head. “It’s not important now, Brandon. That was four years ago.”
“It is important,” Brandon said. “Tell me the truth, Kim. Everything.”
Kim’s voice warbled. “Lucy and I both almost died during the birth.”
And while she’d been suffering and nearly died giving birth to their little girl, what had he been doing?
Signing a deal with the devil to make enough money to bring his little sister home and save her.
But he’d lost her. And his child and the only woman he’d ever loved had nearly died as a result.
And now Lucy was gone…
What if he never got her back?
KIM CLOSED HER EYES to block out the horrific memories of that traumatic night. She’d needed Brandon so badly that she’d almost caved and begged Johnny to call him.
“I should have been there,” Brandon said. “You should have called.”
Anger rolled through her, and she stood and jammed her hands on her hips. “I should have called? Why, Brandon? So you could remind me that you didn’t love me?”
“Kim—”
She slashed her hand through the air, cutting him off. “In fact, the night I went to the hospital, I had just seen another story about you and Marty at some charity function on the news. Your wife looked like a million dollars in a long gown and diamonds.” All her pent-up emotions bubbled over. “You were beaming with joy. You had a gorgeous bride by your side, were glowing in the light of the social world that promised you all your dreams.”
She poked him in the chest.
“So what was I supposed to do?” Her voice shook with fury. “Ask you to leave the woman you loved to visit your ex-girlfriend and illegitimate child? Beg you to sit with me and hold my hand for the night and pretend you cared?”
Brandon’s face turned ashen, but Kim couldn’t hold back the words. They spilled over.
“I’m sorry, Kim,” Brandon said in a deep, anguished voice. “I… You have no idea how sorry I am.”
“I didn’t want your pity then,” Kim shouted. “And I don’t want it now.”
He closed her fingers around his arm. “It’s not pity, dammit. And it wouldn’t have been back then.”
“Then what would it have been, Brandon? Guilt?” A sarcastic laugh escaped her. “For God’s sake, you would have thought I was trying to trap you.”
A smoky hue settled over his eyes. A hue she used to think was sensual. Hunger.
Love.
But she’d been a fool.
“Kim…things were complicated—”
“No, they were simple,” Kim said. “You didn’t love me, you loved her.”
She jerked away and went to the window and looked out, willing someone to bring her daughter back. Willing the phone to ring.
A million emotions warred inside her. Kim wanted to believe he would have cared, but his actions had proved differently. Besides, she couldn’t deal with her feelings toward him now. Not when she was so raw from the attack.
Not when she was so terrified that she might never see Lucy again.
“Like I said earlier,” she said between clenched teeth, “it doesn’t matter about the past. All that matters is finding our daughter.”
Pain darkened his eyes, but Kim couldn’t allow herself to have empathy for him. So she grabbed her cell phone and ran upstairs. She needed to be alone. To pray for Lucy. To pray for herself, too.
He could be a father to Lucy.
But she would never trust him with her heart again.
Chapter Nine
Brandon had almost confessed the truth.
But how could he admit that he’d made the worst mistake of his life by marrying Marty when Kim was so terrified about losing Lucy?
Besides, after the way he’d hurt her, he had no right to expect her forgiveness.
Dammit, he’d ruined his chances of ever earning her trust or love.
His body taut, he strode outside on the front porch and inhaled the night air. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, the ranch muddied by the hazy fog of gray clouds. Still, the rolling pastures and hills were beautiful to the eyes. This ranch and his house—they had consumed his dreams for years.
He’d built the porch and the porch swing himself, modeling it after that magazine picture Kim had taped on the wall of her dilapidated house when she was fifteen. As he’d pounded the nails and hung the swing, he’d remembered the times they’d talked and laughed and dreamed together. Their first kiss and the first time they’d made love and the promises he’d made and broken.
He and Marty had never dreamed together. She’d laughed at his ideas of a quiet ranch life, had scoffed at the idea of working on a ranch and dirtying her hands. She’d wanted a fancy mansion in the city, a maid and a cook, and to travel and hobnob with the wealthy socialites.
All he’d wanted was a home to bring his sister to, to rescue her from that godforsaken hole-in-the-wall home, where he suspected the residents weren’t always treated well. It had been nothing he could prove, but the idea of someone abusing or taking advantage of Joanie had killed him.
Marty had thought she could change him. That he’d buy his land and let someone else handle the day-to-day business of ranching while he flitted around the world with her. She’d expected him to hire someone to care for Joanie, and had even balked when he’d wanted to set up a trust fund in her name and start a charity foundation to raise money for research for her disorder.
But he’d insisted on the charity. And he hadn’t relented to her demands to not work on his own spread either. By god, he was a hands-on rancher, a man who breathed and lived for the land and his ranch, a man who was more comfortable in the saddle than on a jet. A man who put family first, not a social calendar. He had no desire to join her elitist world. And she’d had no desire to ride, much less live out in the wilderness.
Even worse, she’d been embarrassed when he’d wanted to bring Joanie home for Christmas.
They had been so different that they’d been doomed from the start. And after just a few years, their marriage was over.
A knock sounded at the door, and he rushed to answer it. Johnny stood there, anxious and sweating. “The chopper is gassed up. How’s Kim?”
“She’s upstairs,” Brandon said. “Let’s go.”
Brandon grabbed his night binoculars, and they hurried to the chopper. He scanned the property as Johnny lifted off.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Johnny said. “First Carter escapes. Now Lucy goes missing.”
“He has to have her,” Brandon said.
Johnny gestured toward the north quadrant, where the land was more deserted, and Brandon studied it but saw no movement. “At least if he does, we know she’s not in danger.”
Johnny sighed. “Listen, man, you’d better hang in there with Kim right now. She needs you.”
Brandon gritted his teeth. “I don’t need a lecture from
you, Johnny. Lucy is my little girl. I would have been there for her before if I’d known about her.”
“Would you have?”
Johnny’s question cut him to the bone. “I realize we had our differences, Johnny, but you know me better than that.”
“I thought I did, but then you broke Kim’s heart.”
So Johnny still harbored resentment against him for that. After what Kim had told him tonight about nearly dying and losing Lucy, how could he blame him? He should have been beside Kim during the pregnancy; he should have been taking care of her instead of Johnny.
“I deserve that,” Brandon said. “I messed up. But I…” I love Kim. No, he couldn’t confess his feelings. He had to redeem himself first. “I promise to take care of her now and bring Lucy home.”
A long, tense beat passed; then Johnny cleared his throat. “Good. Just don’t hurt her again, Brandon. Kim’s been through a lot the last four years. She deserves some happiness. Someone who really loves her and won’t abandon her.”
Like you did years ago.
The brutal truth echoed over and over in Brandon’s head as they searched. Twice, Brandon thought he might have spotted a truck or car, then realized it was two of his men still searching as he’d asked.
Finally after hours of nothing, he and Johnny had to call it a night. Rational thoughts told him that the kidnapper wouldn’t hide out on his own property with Lucy anyway.
So where had he taken her?
Johnny set the chopper down and made Brandon swear to call him the minute he heard anything.
“I’m going to look over my employee files for anything suspicious,” Brandon said. “And start putting together some cash in case we get a ransom call.”
“I’ll do the same.”
The house was quiet as Brandon entered, and he made a pot of coffee and strode to his office. He accessed his financials to review, then emailed his accountant asking him to liquidate some assets and put together some cash.
He’d give up everything he had, his money, his ranch, his business, whatever the bastard wanted, just to hold his little girl in his arms again.