The Cradle Mission
Page 18
Cain had to swallow twice before he could talk. “You look better than you did in that casket.”
That brought Eric’s hand away. “I hate that the guy died…”
“It’s not your fault. We think Arnold Hughes is responsible.”
“He’s the man who wanted Alanna and the baby?”
“Yeah.” Cain filled him in on everything that had happened.
“So, she’s going to get to adopt the baby?”
“Yeah, and this time the feds did their job. They’re going to help her relocate.”
Eric wrestled with the sheet, pulling it over his bandaged thigh. Cain thought of all the times they’d argued, how much he’d regretted the disagreement they’d had that last day.
Of how he’d wished he’d told his brother how much he admired him.
He couldn’t wait any longer. Taking the vinyl chair beside the bed, he bowed his head. “Eric, I can’t tell you how I felt when I thought you were gone. I hated that we’d fought—”
“You don’t have to do this,” Eric said, his own voice uncharacteristically full of emotion.
“Yes, I do.” Cain met his gaze head-on. “I never understood how you saw things before, and we may not always see things eye-to-eye in the future, but I understand the grays now.” He emitted a self-deprecating chuckle. “There are lots of grays.” He cleared his throat. “I admire you for all the people you helped along the way.”
“Found yourself in that murky water with Alanna, huh?”
His brother must have read more than he’d intended in Cain’s voice. Instead of arguing though, he nodded.
“What exactly happened between the two of you?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t lie to me, Cain. I can see it in your eyes every time you say her name.”
“Maybe.” He shrugged, battling emotions he didn’t care to feel. Like want and need and…and love? “But nothing can come of it. I’m a cop, I don’t have ro anyone in my life.”
“’Cause you’re afraid of losing them again?”
Cain raised his head. Seconds earlier, he’d admitted to his brother how hard it had been when he’d thought Eric was dead. And when his mother had died, he’d been so busy taking care of Eric he hadn’t dwelled on his own pain, his own sense of desertion…
Had he let that subconscious fear of being deserted again, of losing someone, keep him from falling in love?
“You care about this woman, don’t you?”
“I…” He started to deny it, but the words lodged in his windpipe.
“You’re crazy if you let her go and don’t tell her.”
Cain steepled his hands in front of him. Eric was right. When he thought he’d lost Eric, he’d regretted not telling him how he felt.
He couldn’t let Alanna go without telling her that he loved her.
EXHAUSTION PINCHED Alanna’s shoulder muscles as she dressed in a nightgown and robe, but she knew sleep would not come quickly. Every moment she’d been in Cain’s arms haunted her, the feeling of loneliness that had engulfed her when he’d driven away growing more intense with every minute. Reminding herself she should be grateful to be safe, to have Simon in her life forever, she tried to banish the memories of Cain from her mind.
Because occasionally daydreams of marriage and raising Simon with Cain flashed into her head. Hadn’t she learned that dreams didn’t come true? That love was foolish, a waste of time and energy?
Frustrated, she paced the confines of the hotel suite, irritated that the shadows from the corners and noises outside the door still startled her.
A soft knock penetrated the haze around her, and she stumbled toward the door. Cain and Luke were the only two people who knew her location. Had Cain returned to see her?
To tell her that he couldn’t live without her, that he loved her?
Butterflies fluttered in her chest as she clutched the knob. “Who is it?”
“It’s Phyllis French, Ms. Hayes. Please let me come in.”
“What are you doing here?” Adrenaline shot through Alanna. “How…how did you find me?”
“Look, Ms. Hayes, it doesn’t matter, but you have to see me. It’s about Simon, and it’s important.”
Alanna gulped. Maybe she should call Cain or Luke—
“I have Simon’s birth certificate, Ms. Hayes. I know who his mother is.”
“His mother is dead,” Alanna said through the door.
“No, she isn’t. She’s very much alive and I can prove it.”
Chapter Twenty
Cain raced toward Alanna’s hotel, anxious to confess to her that he loved her. It had taken a damn long time for him to admit it to himself.
He only hoped she returned his feelings.
Blood pulsed through his veins in a rapid staccato rhythm as he approached the hotel. Hunger unlike anything he’d ever known drove him. For a man who hadn’t wanted love, he certainly felt desperate to have her fall into his arms. Then he would strip off her clothes, touch every inch of her sweet body until she cried out his name and begged him never to leave.
His cell phone rang just as he pulled in the parking lot.
“Caldwell here.”
“It’s Paul Polenta.”
Cain gulped. “What is it, Polenta?”
“You have to get to Alanna. That French woman. She’s deranged. She came to my hotel room here looking for Simon.”
“What?”
“She shot me—”
“Are you all right?”
“Don’t worry about me. The paramedics are on their way. You have to save Alanna. The woman claims Simon is her baby.”
Wind slapped Cain’s face as he jumped from his car, ice freezing in his veins. “How did she find you?” He checked his weapon as he ran across the parking lot and into the hotel.
“She said she’d followed me to my hotel. She’s searching the rooms now for Alanna.”
Dammit, they should have put the two of them in different hotels for the night.
“I’m almost there.” Cain took the inside stairs two at a time. “Hughes hasn’t shown up, has he?”
“No, I destroyed all references to Project Simon and his birth. Hughes will never know he has a son. But there’s something else,” Polenta said breathlessly. “I was wrong about Simon’s mother being dead. I found the original files on the project. You aren’t going to believe who Simon’s mother really is.”
Cain halted at the door, stunned at Polenta’s next words. But he reached Alanna’s room and alarm shot through him at the sound of the women’s heated voices inside.
ALANNA HADN’T MEANT to let Phyllis French inside the room, but she’d opened the door barely enough for the woman to slip the papers about Simon’s mother through and the woman had busted the chain lock on the door.
Now Phyllis’s hand trembled as she pointed a small pistol at Alanna’s chest.
“You’re Simon’s real mother?” Alanna went numb with shock. “Paul said she died.”
“They lied to you just like they did to me.” Agitation lined Phyllis’s hard features. “I went to the fertility clinic to have in vitro an worked, but I had a miscarriage at six months. Then I learned I had another child. The egg they fertilized to make Simon, it was my egg.”
This couldn’t be happening. Just when Alanna thought Simon was hers forever. “How can you be sure?”
“I know Simon is mine.” Phyllis waved the gun toward the piece of paper. Instead of a birth certificate, she held a computer printout from the lab at Nighthawk Island showing the details of Project Simon, the source of sperm and egg donors.
Alanna’s eyes blurred with tears when she saw Phyllis French’s name printed on the sheet listing her as an egg donor.
“They used my egg and gave it to someone else, a surrogate mother,” Phyllis said, her voice gaining in momentum. “Then they killed that woman and hired you to take care of my baby boy. I want him now.”
Alanna glanced at the bedroom door, her heart aching. She had to stall.
She couldn’t let this woman leave with Simon. “I have temporary custody now. We’ll have to go to the authorities, have DNA testing—”
“No, I’ve waited long enough. I’m prepared to go to the press with the story,” Phyllis assured her. “So don’t even think about having your boyfriend cover up the DNA tests to keep me from getting Simon.”
“I wouldn’t do such a thing.” Alanna struggled to keep her talking, to give herself time to think. “You knew about Project Simon from the beginning?”
“No, after I had a miscarriage. I was devastated, but then I found out they’d kept one of my eggs.” Her eyes blazed with anger. “I’m not leaving without my Simon.”
The woman took a step forward, the gun bobbing up and down with her shaky hand. Alanna froze. But suddenly the door swung open and Cain stepped inside, his own weapon drawn by his side.
“Put the gun down, Ms. French. You’re not Simon’s mother.”
Phyllis whirled around, swinging the gun toward Cain. “Yes, I am!”
“No.” Cain stalked forward, fury in his eyes. “I just talked to Polenta, right after you shot him and left him to die. He discovered the truth about an hour ago.”
“What?” Alanna gasped.
“Ms. French had the research papers altered so she could claim Simon. She killed the OB-GYN so he couldn’t reveal the truth.”
“Simon’s mother is dead?” Alanna asked.
“Simon is mine!” Phyllis roared.
The blood thundered in Alanna’s ears as Phyllis fired the first shot. Cain leaped forward and tried to grab the gun. They struggled wildly, falling to the floor in a tangle of arms and legs. Alanna jumped into action to help, but the gun went off again and a grunt of pain followed.
Cain raised up slowly, his expression clouded with sorrow. Phyllis French had just died.
Alanna dropped down to see if Cain was all right. “Are you hurt?”
“No.” He yanked her into his arms, drew her to her feet and ushered them to the corner of the room, far away from the cruel reality of the French woman’s death. “God, I was scared to death when I saw her with that gun.” He searched her face, then cupped her cheeks in his hands and kissed her. “I don’t know what I would have done if something had happened to you.”
“Cain, shh, I’m okay.”
His mouth descended on hers, claiming her with a kiss that was both erotic and tender. His possession rang loud and clear. “I love you, Alanna. I really love you. Please don’t ever leave me.”
Cain held his breath, afraid Alanna would confess her love for Polenta. Afraid he’d finally given his heart but that she might crush it by turning him away.
Tears filled Alanna’s eyes, her heart melting. “I love you, too, Cain. I’ll never leave you. Never.”
He pressed his lips to hers in a mind-numbing kiss. Seconds later, their heated embrace was broken by a baby’s babble.
Alanna pulled back, her breathing raspy. “Cain, I have to know. Was that woman Simon’s mother?”
“No.” Cain cupped her face in his hands. “You are, Alanna.” He whispered another kiss into her hair. “Simon is your son.”
HOURS LATER, after the police and federal agents had left and Phyllis French’s body had been removed, Cain lay in bed with Alanna.
Desire still burned through him. They had already made love twice, but he still hadn’t slaked his hunger for her. He would never get enough of touching her, kissing and licking her body, hearing her cry out his name in ecstasy.
Alanna rolled over and curled into his arms, one finger trailing down his bare chest, sending a quiver through his body. The shadow of blond hair shone through the black roots of her hair, reminding him of how she’d come to him in disguise. How she’d broken down the walls around him a little bit at a time with her courage and loving care and that innocent child.
He pressed his lips to her forehead and held her tight. “Now that we know all the players in Project Simon and that you are really Simon’s mother, I don’t think you’ll need to stay undercover.”
“What about Hughes?”
“Polenta said he’s already destroyed any evidence linking the experiment to Hughes. He’ll never know he’s Simon’s father.”
“Thank God.” She curled a hand over his stomach. “All I want is for Simon to have as normal a life as possible.”
“And we’ll give it to him.” He tilted her chin up. “You know it will be safer if you cut any ties with Polenta. Can you do that?”
“Yes.” She traced a finger over his mouth. “Paul was a friend, Cain. Nothing more.”
He gripped her hand in his and kissed her fingers gently, the relief in his sigh audible.
“I never expected to find out I was s mother. Or to fall in love with you.” She pressed a kiss to his mouth.
“Marry me, Alanna.”
She bit down on her lower lip. “I’m not sure we should get married.”
His breath caught in his throat. “What?” He cupped her chin in his hands so he could stare into her eyes, nerves bunching his stomach. Did the idea of being married to a cop frighten her too much? Was she afraid for Simon to grow up with the dangers of his job constantly in their lives? “Is it my job—”
“No. Your job is part of you.” She pressed a finger to his lip. “It’s…it’s me. I may not be able to conceive another child. That is…if you want more children.”
A heartbeat of strained silence yawned between them before Cain leaned forward and nibbled at her mouth. “All I want is you, Alanna. Don’t you know that? I just want you…”
Cain rose above her.
He smiled and lowered himself over her and kissed her tenderly. “And Simon.” His husky voice resonated with passion and promises. “The little boy who brought us together.”
ISBN: 978-1-4268-7862-6
THE CRADLE MISSION
Copyright © 2003 by Rita B. Herron
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
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† Nighthawk Island
* The Hartwell Hope Chests
Table of Contents
Chapter O
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
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