Bonded

by Laura Wright

  Fourteen

  She’d done it.

  She’d actually done it.

  Granted, the move had been quick and headstrong and maybe not all finely planned—zero furniture until tomorrow—but it felt good. She felt good.

  Leaning against the massive broom she’d found in the office closet, Emily stared around the room of her new apartment. One bedroom, one bath, a cute but small kitchen, huge windows, flowers everywhere she could manage, and loads of charm. It didn’t have the space and comforts of home, but it had something else. Something she thought might end up being more important in the end. The ability to teach her autonomy.

  She headed downstairs and put the broom away. She’d spent the past hour working on the floors and cleaning the bathroom and kitchen. Now it was time to get her bags. She hadn’t brought much. A week’s worth of clothes and toiletries, some books and music, a few candles. Her brothers were coming tomorrow with all the rest. She smiled as she thought of them, how they’d insisted. That smile waned slightly when she opened the door to her car and saw the two food warmers, each with a Post-it note on top. Her mom. Susie Shiver hadn’t given her any grief when she’d told her the plan. But her eyes had filled with tears, and her arms had stayed around Emily for a good five minutes before allowing her to leave.

  Just call me, Em. Let me know you’re okay. I love you, Baby Girl.

  Emily swung a bag over one shoulder and scooped up the two food warmers in her hands. She was on her way inside when someone stepped directly into her path. “Shit!” she said on a gasp.

  “I’m so sorry,” came a woman’s voice.

  Righting herself, Emily glanced up. When she saw who it was, her heart stuttered inside her chest. “Oh . . .” Had the woman slipped inside the house when Emily had been digging out her luggage from the car? “You scared me.”

  “Didn’t mean to.” The woman smiled. “I’m Natalie, by the way.”

  “I know who you are.” Realizing she sounded a bit abrasive, Emily pulled back a little. “I remember you from school and from the bakery.”

  “And maybe from Blue?” she said hopefully.

  Bags in hand, Emily stood in the doorway, unsure of how to proceed. What exactly to say. What she knew about Natalie Palmer was sketchy at best. But she’d definitely heard about the woman’s father and what he’d allegedly done and how he’d passed away before he’d even gone to trial. She knew a little about Blue’s online relationship with her. And she knew that Blue had found Cass Cavanaugh’s diary at Natalie’s place and believed her to be involved in the girl’s disappearance. She hadn’t known until that very moment, however, how hung up on Blue Perez Cavanaugh Natalie Palmer was.

  “Has he talked about me?” Natalie pressed.

  Emily glanced past her to the street. This was incredibly strange and awkward. And yet, she felt compelled to answer. “A little, I guess,” she said warily.

  Like a little girl hearing she’s pretty for the first time, Natalie beamed at the news. “He’s a good guy.”

  “Yeah, he is,” Emily agreed.

  “Are you two seeing each other?”

  “Um,” Emily stumbled, “I don’t . . . you know, I really have to get going.”

  But instead of nodding, saying good-bye, and heading down the street, Natalie turned and ventured back into the building. Emily followed. This chick was weird. Social-cue simple. What was she going to have to do to get rid of her?

  “I love this space,” Natalie was saying, looking around the room. “When I saw that it was for sale, I was thinking about it for my bakery. But it’s just too small.”

  “You’re opening a bakery?” So maybe that was it? Why she was here. Same as Emily. She’d just really liked the—

  “It’s always been my dream,” Natalie cut into her thoughts. “And us girls need to follow our dreams, right?” She smiled broadly, but the gesture didn’t reach her eyes.

  A shiver moved through Emily. “Sure.”

  “Even if the road is paved with obstacles,” Natalie went on. “We can’t give up. So many people try to bring you down . . . have you noticed that?” She raised a brow at Emily.

  It was rare that Emily felt at a loss for words, but as she stared at this woman, dressed in a lovely green-and-yellow sundress, she couldn’t muster a response. Was Natalie just trying to connect with her? Had she been passing by a space she’d also been interested in, and thought, Hey, I’ll take a look inside and say hi to the new tenant . . . ? Or did she have other motives? Like sending a passive warning regarding Blue? She was obviously still interested in him.

  “You know,” Emily began, “I really need to get going—” She lifted her bags and knocked her chin in the direction of the stairs.

  “Oh, of course,” Natalie said, looking suddenly normal and friendly and upbeat. “I’m so sorry to keep you. I was on my way home, saw the light on.” She gave Emily a wave before turning and heading for the door. “Have a great night.”

  Yeah. “You too.”

  Emily followed her out the door, then watched as she walked down the street. It was only when the woman was three blocks away and had turned onto Metcaffe that she went back inside and up to her new apartment.

  * * *

  The River Black jail was pretty much the last place Blue ever wanted to return to. Being inside felt constricting as hell, and it smelled worse, like a combination of cleaning products, old coffee, and suspicious brother.

  Just like the one who was sitting across from him right now, staring and waiting.

  Cursing, Blue glanced at his phone, checked the time.

  “So?” Steven Shiver pressed. “Where are they?”

  He gave the deputy sheriff a shrug. “Hell if I know. They told me to meet them here at five.”

  Shiver pointed to the clock on the wall. “It’s five now.”

  “Hey, you can tell time.” Blue’s brows lifted. “Does River Black Elementary know about you?”

  “Funny. I can see why my sister ran away from you.”

  A muscle in Blue’s jaw pulsed.

  Steven grinned, glanced down at some paperwork on his desk, then back up again. “So what? You want to sit in silence? Or keep jabbing at each other? I have a brother, so I’m real good at that. I got a million of ’em.”

  Blue dropped back in his chair. “What’re my other options?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Talk about you and—”

  “No.”

  “You and Em, was what I was going to say,” he continued, “and what’s going on with the two of you. What you’re thinking. What your plans are.”

  If he had the answers to all that, he’d be sitting pretty right now, instead of checking his phone to see if she’d called or e-mailed or texted. Thinking and plans? Not even close. “And if I don’t, am I going to end up in handcuffs and behind bars?”

  Steven snorted. “Come on now, Perez. When are you going to let that go?”

  “It’s Cavanaugh. And never.”

  Shiver just moved right on by that. “I mean, you should be thanking me.”

  Blue stared at the man. Christ on a cracker, Shiver had balls the size of Texas. “You want me to thank you for locking me up and leaving my truck on the highway?”

  A shrug and another grin. “Hey. I got Emmie to tell you about the baby, didn’t I?”

  The word rolled through him like a soft, gentle wave. It was crazy the effect it had on him. Just the word, the idea. What was happening to him? No—what was threatening to change him? “I’m sure she would’ve told me,” Blue said. “In her time. That whole pull-over-and-arrest spectacle wasn’t needed.”

  “First of all, you were speeding,” he pointed out. “Second, and more importantly, you clearly don’t know my sister.”

  Blue didn’t answer. Just scrubbed a hand over his face. Where the hell were the Cavanaughs?

  “Mom and Dad are beside themselves, by the way,” Steven told him. “Emmie’s done a complete one-eighty on them. She’s always been their little homebody.
Grown up, but content to live at home. And yet, she came home from work today, packed up a few things, and said she’d see us on Sunday. For dinner.” He tossed his hands in the air. “Like it was nothing at all.”

  “What?” Blue sat forward. He didn’t give a rat’s ass about dinners and Emily’s parents’ reaction. “She moved out? Already?”

  Steven’s brows drifted upward. “You didn’t know?”

  “’Course I didn’t know. I would’ve been there. Helping her. Why aren’t you there helping her? She’s pregnant, for Christ’s sake!”

  “I’m here waiting on your goddamned brothers!” Steven nearly shouted. “And for the record, she didn’t want any help. She only brought clothes and some personal stuff. She had this idea of going it alone—especially for her first night. I didn’t like it. None of us liked it. But you’ve seen her in action. She’s stubborn as shit. And an adult. So she can pretty much do as she likes.” He inhaled and dropped back in his chair. “Anyway, me and Jeremy will bring all the rest tomorrow. Check in on her.”

  Frustration hummed inside of Blue. He hated this. Not knowing where the mother of his child was. Hated that she hadn’t told him, hadn’t asked him for help. “Where did she go?” As in, how had she found a place in such a short time? It didn’t make sense. And yet, something in his gut told him that his pushing her on moving in and getting married was part of the answer.

  “An apartment above the new shop your brother owns,” Steven informed him, giving him a pointed look. “On Main. She’s been coveting that place for a long time now. Had wanted to buy it and turn it into a flower shop. It’s her dream, you know?”

  No, he didn’t know. He should know. Hell, he should know everything about her. Not just how her skin felt, or the bright sweetness of her smile when she was happy, or how pissed she got when you surprised her. He should know what was in her heart. What was worrying her, paining her . . . what she wanted most out of her life.

  Voices rang out in the hall then, followed by heavy footfalls. And in seconds, the Cavanaughs strolled into the room. Deacon regarded both Blue and Shiver and said a quick “Evenin’” before taking a seat. But Blue was single-focused now. He had his eyes on James. The offender. He pushed out of his seat and approached the man. “You let her move into your apartment?” he accused.

  Confused, James put his hands up. “Whoa. I clearly walked in on something.”

  “Damn right you did,” Blue shot back. “A pregnant woman living alone. No family. No . . .” He stopped right there before he said something to the effect of man in her life.

  Cole and Deacon exchanged looks.

  “Emily’s pregnant?” James asked, stunned.

  “Yup,” Steven said, still seated behind his desk. “And your brother here did it.”

  “You asshole,” Blue ground out, shooting the man a dirty glare.

  Cole busted out laughing. “Holy shit.”

  Deacon, however, remained quiet, contemplative.

  “Wow,” Cole said. “Congrats, man.”

  “Forget that for a moment.” James eyed his eldest brother. “You get what this means, don’t you?”

  “Perhaps,” Deacon said.

  “Well, I do,” Cole said with a grin. “That baby’s going to be related to us. Our niece or nephew. I hope it’s a niece. Be nice to have some female Cavanaugh energy—”

  “Who says this baby is going to be a Cavanaugh?” Blue said with a bite to his tone. “Or if any of you will be a part of its life.”

  All three of them turned to look at him. But it was Cole who spoke, his expression offended. “Why do you have such a goddamned problem with us? It wasn’t me or Deac or James who did the steppin’ out all those years ago—”

  “Cole,” James began, his tone laced in warning.

  But Cole wasn’t listening. Probably had that shit bottled up inside of him for quite some time. “Wasn’t us who lied to you. If anyone should be pissed around here, it should be James, Deac, and me.”

  “Oh?” Blue ground out. “How do you figure?”

  “All you’ve wanted since you found out we’re related was the Triple C. No relationship. No family.”

  “As if that’s what you all want,” Blue shot back.

  “You never even gave us a try,” Cole said. “As hard as it was for us hearing about our father’s many sins—and it was hard—we’ve opened up to you. But you’re a fucking locked door.” Then for good measure he uttered, “Little brother.”

  “That’s enough.” It was Deacon who spoke now. Low, commanding, all business. “We didn’t come here to argue family issues or discuss Blue’s relationship with your sister, Deputy.”

  “Then why did you come, Mr. Cavanaugh?” Steven asked.

  Deacon leaned forward and placed an envelope on Steven’s desk.

  “What’s this?” the man asked even as he opened it and took out the single piece of paper inside.

  “That, Deputy Shiver, is what you’re going to use to open an investigation of Natalie Palmer for the abduction and murder of our sister.”

  Fifteen

  Emily had spent the past two hours cleaning the small apartment. The kitchen shined and the bathroom sparkled. Now she was going to grab a shower, then hunker down with her mother’s very welcome dinner and the second season of Downton Abbey on her laptop. But the water had just barely turned to hot when there was a knock at the door.

  Nerves skittered through her. After the strange encounter with Natalie Palmer, she was kind of hoping for nothing else to go down tonight. She slipped her robe back on, grabbed her cell phone, and went to the door. Another knock echoed through the room.

  Could it be James? she wondered, tightening her grip on her cell. To see if she’s settling in. Or maybe it was her brothers . . . “Who is it?” she called brusquely.

  “Blue.”

  A tsunami-sized wave of relief crashed over and through her. She tightened the tie on her robe and opened the door.

  Standing there, filling up the doorway, was one extraordinarily handsome man. Like, toe-curling, gut-tightening handsome. But it wasn’t just his blessed facial features or long, hard body that made him so. It was this air he walked around with: confident, ready, hungry, strong.

  “Hey,” she said, her gaze running over his faded jeans and black T-shirt. “What’s going on?”

  Blue’s eyes were pretty much doing the same thing. Taking in what she was wearing. Or not wearing. “Your brother said you left the house.”

  “I did,” she confirmed.

  “Without anything but your clothes?” He nodded at her robe. “And it looks like maybe you didn’t even bring that.”

  She smiled. “All the rest of my stuff is coming tomorrow. I just wanted to go . . . you know? Just needed to jump into the deep end.”

  “Without a bathing suit?”

  “I’m just crazy like that.”

  “Is this because of me, Emily?” he asked, his incredible blue eyes wary. “Did I drive you out of your home with all my talk of moving in and getting hitched?”

  “No.” She leaned against the doorframe. “Well, maybe.”

  “Ah, dammit.” He shook his head and sighed.

  “But not in the way you’re thinking. This was coming on for a while, Blue. I loved living with my family. They’re the best. And I was comfortable. Maybe too comfortable,” she admitted with a slight cringe. “But I’m having a family of my own now. Changes things. Changes perspective. And the drive within a person. Not to mention how one sees the future.”

  His jaw went tight. “Speaking of the future, where do you plan on sleeping tonight?”

  She looked at him strangely. “In my bedroom.”

  He raised a brow. “I mean on what? If you only brought some clothes—”

  “Oh. I have blankets, and a pillow.”

  He looked horror-struck. “That’s what I thought. Not going to happen, Em.”

  She laughed. “Come on. It’s fine. It’s one night . . . Blue, where you going?”

>   But he’d disappeared. Emily stuck her head out the door, only to be met with the end of what looked like a brand-new rolled-up mattress. No . . . futon. What was this? What had he done? She had no choice but to back up into the apartment as he carried it inside.

  “Where’s your bedroom?” he demanded.

  “To the left, past the bathroom,” she said. “But—”

  He was already moving in that direction. Emily followed him, confused, stunned. The sales tags were still on the thing. As she came to stand beside him, he had the rolled-up futon on the freshly mopped floor beneath the window and was taking out his Swiss Army knife.

  “Stop right now,” she said. “This is crazy.”

  “You’re not sleeping on the floor.” He clipped whatever was holding the thing together, and it uncurled and spread out beneath her window. “Triple C bunkhouse can always roll out another. I’ll take it back tomorrow when Steven and Jeremy bring over your bed. Hell, I’ll be helping them, so it’s easily done.”

  “What?” she exclaimed. “No. You don’t need to do that.”

  He turned to look at her. “’Course I do. Look, I know you’re angry with me for meddling, and that’s understandable and all. But it’s only because I want to do right by you, Emily. I want to help, be here.” He shook his head. “I should’ve known. About you moving. Where you were going.”

  Something pinged inside her, near her heart, as she looked up at him. The sincerity she saw there, the want and need and worry . . . He cared.

  “You’re carrying my baby, Em,” he said plainly.

  Yes, he cared. About the baby. Her gut tightened. That’s what mattered to him. All that mattered to him. Granted, she was glad for it. She wanted her child to have a father who loved and cherished it. Knowing that made her feel safe and protected. But she also was hoping . . . ever since that night they’d spent together . . . that maybe he might come to want her too.

  “Thank you for the mattress,” she said, going over to the bedroom door, making it plain it was time for him to leave. “It was very thoughtful of you. And don’t worry. I’ll keep you informed in the future. Of all the baby’s comings and goings.”

  He picked up on her tone and her meaning immediately. His eyes softened and he shook his head. “Come on, now, darlin’. You know it’s not just about that.”