by Rita Herron
He gestured toward the parking lot. “Hey, where’s my limo? I expected to be escorted home in style.”
Lindsey rolled her eyes. Gavin growled and shoved him toward his car. “You’re not going home.”
Faulkner laughed as he climbed in the back seat. “Then where are you taking me?”
Gavin started the car and pulled from the parking lot. “We were hoping you could tell us.”
Faulkner shrugged. “I told you I don’t have a clue.” He brushed a hand across the worn fabric of the seat. “But I certainly hope my next mode of transportation is a little more upscale than this.”
“If you think I give a rat’s ass about your comfort, Faulkner—”
The phone jangled. Gavin glanced at the number on the screen, realized it had been directed through Lindsey’s home line, and indicated for her to answer it.
“Hello?”
“You did a fine job, Miss Payne.” The voice sounded muffled, as if the caller were speaking through a handkerchief.
Lindsey clamped her hand over Gavin’s to alert him the kidnapper was on the line. “I did what you asked, now tell me where my baby is.”
“Is Jim Faulkner with you?Lindsey glared at her ex-husband. “Yes, he’s here. Tell me if my baby’s all right, please.”
“The baby’s fine. Now put Faulkner on the line. I’ll give him directions. He’ll tell you where to go.”
Lindsey seethed, but lifted the handset. “He wants to talk to you.”
Faulkner had the grace to look surprised, but accepted the phone in silence.
“Dad?” He paused. “Wait a minute, who is this? Yes. Yes, I know where that is. Yes, I’ll bring them there.”
When he hung up, he rubbed his neck. “It wasn’t my father.”
“Then who the hell was it? Someone who works for him?” Gavin asked through clenched teeth.
“I don’t know, maybe. I didn’t recognize the voice, he sounded as if he was speaking through a vacuum, like he was disguising it.” Faulkner paused and stroked his chin. “We’re supposed to go to a little hotel outside Asheville and wait for further instructions. Do you have a map?”
Gavin pulled one from the glove compartment.
“How about a gun?”
Lindsey heard the slight tremble in her ex-husband’s tone. Gavin obviously picked up on it, too. “Why do you ask? Worried someone might have arranged your release to set you up for a hit?”
The frightened expression on her ex-husband’s face would have been laughable if Lindsey hadn’t realized Gavin had zeroed in on the truth. And if he had and his fears were real, were they going to get her baby back? Or were they walking into a trap?
Chapter Twenty
Gavin stewed over the long night ahead with Lindsey and Faulkner, finally deciding the three of them would have to share a room. With Lindsey’s life in danger, he didn’t feel comfortable leaving her alone, and they couldn’t afford for Faulkner to escape before they negotiated the trade-off for the baby’s return.
Faulkner apparently was contemplating his options—had his release been orchestrated by his family so they could save him or as a setup for someone who meant to hurt him? Damn, he wished he could shake this awful feeling. They didn’t need another complication at this stage of the game.
He had to believe they were going to find his son or he would go crazy. Gavin grimaced when he finally found the Hotel Flamingo. The only comfort he took in seeing the dilapidated two-bit dive was Faulkner’s reaction. Faulkner obviously hadn’t reserved the accommodations. Of course, that also meant Faulkner’s parents might not have orchestrated the release and they were walking into a trap.
“I suppose you’ll reserve us separate suites,” Faulkner said sarcastically as Gavin parked in front of the blinking neon sign.
“Yeah, right.” Gavin hurried to help Lindsey from the car. She’d been uncomfortably quiet and he was worried about her, especially after their interluderoom the night before. He still didn’t understand why Lindsey didn’t hate him for putting them in jeopardy in the first place.
Faulkner stared at him blankly as he handcuffed him inside the car and locked the door. Gavin quibbled with the clerk at the front desk about one room, grimacing at the thought of Faulkner ogling Lindsey while she slept. Finally he opted for two connecting rooms. She simply glared at him but said nothing as they started back to the car.
“I don’t understand, why not meet us tonight?” she asked as the bell above the door clinked, marking their exit from the lobby.
“My guess is whoever has the baby needed time to prepare a getaway.”
Lindsey stopped midstride. “So you think they’re planning to fly out of the country?”
“I can’t imagine Faulkner staying in the U.S. now. His family isn’t stupid. They know once we have the baby back, we can come after him.”
“Shouldn’t you have someone watching the Faulkners?”
“It’s taken care of,” Gavin said quietly. “If they do have our son and make a move, my partner will be right behind them.”
“Then they might lead him to Cory?”
Gavin nodded. “That’s the plan. But I doubt they’ll do anything until your ex is free.”
A shuddered look crossed Lindsey’s face but she continued walking. “I hate to see Jim get away with all this.”
“So do I.”
They both fell silent as they arrived at the car. Seconds later they shuffled into the tiny rooms, the tension thick. A lumpy double bed with a worn spread occupied one room, while twin beds with similar faded spreads were in the other. Both rooms were painted dingy off-white with brown shag carpet.
“Not exactly luxurious,” Gavin commented to Lindsey.
Lindsey shrugged. “I wish we could keep going tonight.”
Faulkner stared at the furnishings in dismay. “My father definitely didn’t arrange this. He has too much class to send us to a dive like this.”
Gavin frowned. “It’s a step up from your cell.”
Faulkner’s face turned harsh. “I never should have been put there.”
Lindsey’s eyes darkened with fury but she didn’t reply.
Gavin simply gave him a cold look and decided if Faulkner didn’t like the room, he certainly wasn’t going to like the room service. But he’d sure as hell better enjoy it because Gavin had every intention of sending Faulkner’s butt back to jail when they found his son. And if Faulkner had orchestrated the kidnapping, he’d make sure the man sat in the cell for the rest of his life.
Later, Lindsey lay in the big lumpy bed by herself, thinking of Gavin and her ex-husband sharing the neighboring room. Ironic that the man she’d once been married to was now sleeping in the same room with the man she loved.
There was no dt in her mind that she loved Gavin.
Gavin was strong and protective, a gentleman at heart. A man who risked his life for strangers every day, then risked his own happiness to keep the ones he loved safe. How could she not love him?
Sure, last night she’d been hurt when he’d pulled away, even angry when he’d had his little outburst. But now she knew the reasons Gavin had refused her love.
He didn’t think he deserved it.
He thought by pushing her from his life, he was protecting her.
He was wrong. She’d sure as hell found trouble before she’d met him. She’d been young and foolish and had been taken in by Jim Faulkner’s charisma and charm. But she’d matured during their short marriage and now surface beauty no longer attracted her—the true grit she saw in Gavin did.
The problem remained—how could she convince Gavin he was wrong about marriage and family, especially when he’d grown up with a cop as a father and a neurotic alcoholic mother who hadn’t been able to handle life? No wonder he harbored such doubts.
She suddenly sensed someone was watching her and bolted to a sitting position, pulling the covers to her chin. A hulking shadow filled the doorway, the hiss of breathing echoing through the room. Had her ex-husband come in w
hile Gavin was in the shower?
“Linds?”
Her breath quivered when she recognized the gruff voice. “What is it, Gavin? Did you hear something?”
“No, I just wanted to make sure you’re all right.”
His footstep faltered in the doorway. She saw him struggling over whether to move closer, and she silently willed him to come to her, to crawl in bed and hold her all night.
“Linds?” His voice sounded weary, clipped.
“I’m fine. Where’s Jim?”
“He’s not going anywhere. I handcuffed him to the bed.”
His words brought reality crashing back. His admission the night before had created a deep, wide chasm between them. His job meant he could not have her and a family. And she didn’t have any answers to solve the problem. So she simply said good-night and watched silently as he retreated to the other room.
THE PHONE CALL came at 5:00 a.m. By five-thirty, he and Lindsey and her ex-husband climbed in the car for what he hoped was the final leg of their journey. Faulkner shifted in the back seat, grumbling at the confining handcuffs, but Gavin ignored him. As far as he was concerned, Faulkner was still a prisoner. He’d told him that he didn’t intend to release him until Lindsey was holding her baby in her arms.
Two hours later, Gavin grew uneasy as they wound around the Blue Ridge Parkway, but Faulkner seemed to know the roads well, signifying they were headed to a familiar place. He’d already radioed for backup, checked his mike, set everything in motion. They would find the cabin, make the exchange, then the feds would swoop in. Hopefully, the switch would go off as planned.
this was a setup to hurt Faulkner, he’d have to protect the bastard.
Lindsey remained silent, simply staring out at the scenery as if they’d gone for a relaxing Sunday afternoon drive, but her face was drawn, the tension between them humming through the car.
The lush green mountains rolled in front of them, caverns sprawling from the cliffs like a magazine promo piece selling mountain property. Wildflowers swayed in the breeze and the colorful fall leaves painted a parade of colors along the horizon. Picnic spots sprang up along the outlook areas, along the river banking the highway. Families parked on the overlook paths, sightseeing, lounging on the banks to cook breakfast over campstoves, settling in for a long morning of fishing.
But the mood in the car was anything but relaxed. And if he were right, they seemed to be heading in the direction of the Johnsons’ cabin. He’d discounted Johnson, but could the man have forged a deal with the Faulkners? The connection seemed far-fetched. Then again, the Faulkners had money. If they had hired a detective to find his Achilles’ heel, they would have eventually ended up at Dwight Johnson’s door.
Too bad Cross was still in the coma, although his prognosis indicated he would recover so maybe he would wake soon and talk. Swain hadn’t confessed yet, but he’d just gotten out of prison, probably needed money. Maybe old man Faulkner hired him to do his dirty work.
“Down that graveled road.” Faulkner pointed toward a narrow dirt road winding through the hills.
Gavin made the turn, checking around him for signs of an ambush but saw nothing except greenery and wildlife. The river thinned and tapered into a creek, then a trickle of a stream, the picnic spots non-existent on the isolated stretch. His ears popped as they climbed altitude, the brush growing thicker, the road more narrow, until finally they hit a dead-end.
“What the hell?”
“Guess we have to walk the rest of the way,” Faulkner said dryly.
“Walk where?” Lindsey asked, suddenly looking nervous.
Faulkner gestured toward the rising hills. “To the cabin. It’s up there a few miles.”
Gavin should have known the caller would have sent them the most indirect route. He’d figured the kidnapper would choose a remote spot to make the trade and praised himself for his logic in suggesting Lindsey wear jeans and sneakers. He’d even grabbed some bottles of water and slung them into a backpack.
Weeds and sticks crackled beneath his boots as he climbed out. Lindsey shucked her long-sleeved shirt and tied it around her waist over her T-shirt while he helped Faulkner from the car.
Faulkner shoved his hands toward Gavin. “I could hike easier if you’d unfasten these.”
Gavin simply gave him a push. “Now, why would I want to make things easier on a guy like you?”
Faulkner’s glare promised retribution, but Gavin remained unfazed.
“Lead the way, Faulkner, this is your show.” Gavin moved his gun from his jeans and flicked it in the air. “And remember, I’m right behind you.”
“You think I don’t want to see my baby?” Faulkner asked.
“You never wanted children,” Lindsey said stiffly.
“Not back then, but maybe I’ve changed. Maybe I’ve decided I need a legacy.”
“You’d make a lousy father, Faulkner, and you’re not running off with Lindsey’s son,” Gavin snapped.
Faulkner muttered a curse at Gavin, then scanned the countryside, obviously getting his bearings. Lindsey bit her lip in worry as they waited, the early morning sun beaming down. Faulkner gestured toward an overgrown trail and began the hike. Gavin ushered Lindsey in front of him, following closely behind.
The stench of a dead animal wafted around them as they hiked deeper into the grove of trees. Thick weeds clawed at their legs, overgrown tree branches pricked at their hair and faces. Forty-five minutes later, the sun grew hotter, the hill steeper. Gavin was in good shape but he worried about Lindsey. It hadn’t been long since she’d left the hospital.
“Stop a minute, Faulkner, let’s rest on these rocks.” He indicated a small clearing where a storm had obviously destroyed some of the older trees. They lay in half-rotted mangled positions, their trunks splintered. Chipmunks had created a home in one, in the other a nest of beetles attacked the bark. Gavin moved toward a large, smooth rock, then leaned against it.
Sweat dripped down Faulkner’s face. “What’s wrong, McCord, out of shape?”
“Lindsey was just released from the hospital.”
“I can go on,” Lindsey said stubbornly.
Gavin glared at her. “You need fluids.” He handed her a bottle of water, took one for himself, then released his cuffs for him to drink and gave one to Faulkner.
Lindsey sipped hers, then blotted the end of her shirt with water and wiped at her face. Faulkner wasn’t so polite. He poured some in his hand and sopped his neck with it.
“How much farther?” Gavin asked.
Faulkner shrugged. “Another couple of miles, I guess.”
Lindsey recapped her water and handed it back to Gavin. “Let’s go.”
Gavin nodded and stored the water bottles when suddenly a shot rang out. Faulkner dropped to the ground behind the rock and Lindsey screamed. Gavin dove to protect her, but he felt the sting of the bullet zing through him as he hit the dirt.
Chapter Twenty-One
The gun slipped from Gavin’s hand as he went down. His boot skidded on the raw dirt and sent his weapon skittering a good foot away in the gravel. Faulkner reached for it, but another shot pinged off the rock above him and Gavin crouched to the ground. A forest of trees shadowed the clearing, setting an ideal hiding spot for the assassin, a perfect trap. Blood spurted from Gavin’s shoulder, pain slicing through his upper body and arm.
“Oh my God, you’ve been shot, cried.
He ignored the horror in her voice. “It’s just my shoulder. Hand me my gun.”
She stared at him in shock, but Faulkner quickly lurched for the loaded weapon. She swiped it before Faulkner could, then raised it without wavering and pointed it at her ex-husband. “Don’t move, Jim.”
He froze, obviously surprised at her lethal tone. She calmly handed Gavin the gun, her gaze never straying from her ex-husband. Ignoring the pain in his body, Gavin pivoted to scan the bushes, trying to estimate how many shooters were in the woods, but another shot zoomed daringly close to Lindsey’s head. He sho
ved her down behind him.
“Who the hell is doing this?” he barked at Faulkner.
Faulkner shook his head as Gavin rose on his knees and fired a shot in the direction of their assailant. He saw a movement, a shadow darting through the bushes, fleeing, just as the gravel crunched behind him. Faulkner raced into the sanctuary of the trees, running for all he was worth.
“He’s getting away,” Lindsey yelled.
Gavin grabbed her hand to keep her from chasing him, scanning the distance in case another shot was fired. Trees rustled, the shadow of a person disappeared into the thick woods cresting the canyon. The shooter must have accomplished his purpose. Faulkner had escaped and run ahead, leaving Gavin injured.
“We’ll catch him,” Gavin said through gritted teeth.
“But we can’t go on, you’re hurt,” Lindsey said, her voice quivering. “We have to get you to a doctor.”
Dust assaulted him as a wind stirred the rocky terrain but he focused on calming Lindsey. “I’ll make it. We can’t go back now, Linds, or we’ll lose him for sure.”
Her tear-filled gaze made his heart squeeze. No one had ever cared that much for Gavin McCord.
He pressed his hand over the open wound, the crimson stain rapidly spreading across his chest. His head spun as he wrestled to remove his shirt. Lindsey jerked at his clothes, trying to help him. Finally she rolled his T-shirt into a ball and pressed it against the wound.
“Let’s tie this on and get going,” Gavin ordered.
Lindsey’s frightened eyes met his but a wall of courage went up and she nodded. She removed her shirt from her waist and tied it around his shoulder, creating a makeshift sling to keep pressure against his injury and support his arm.
As soon as she finished, he gestured for her to go. She gave him a hesitant worried look, then followed behind as he crept toward the bushes, trailing Faulkner. Overgrown weeds and tree stumps marred their path. They passed a carcass of a decaying deer, a beaver-engineered dam across the creek, then twisted through briars and poison ivy and wild mushrooms. Gavin followed Faulkner’s footsteps when he could find them, a broken patch of grass, the movement of branches swaying in the trees as if Faulkner had just fought his way through them, the entire time dodging the question echoing through his mind—what if they were too late? What if Faulkner had made it to the cabin and had escaped with their son?