by Rita Herron
The first time she’d seen Night Walker, she had been infatuated with the mysterious, enigmatic Native American. He was soulful, intense, a creature of the shadows. A loner who had found his place in the world, a solitary place he allowed no one to enter.
What a fool she’d been, certain that their passion was all that mattered. That she could breach those forbidden walls and touch the man within.
But she had grown up fast when he’d disappeared from her life. Even more quickly with her subsequent pregnancy.
“I’m here about the kidnapping,” he said without preamble. “ICU sent me.”
Samuel cleared his throat. “I don’t want you working on this case.”
“That’s not up to you, sir.” Night faced her father, the two men going eye for eye as if wild animals ready for battle.
Holly clutched her arms around her stomach, her insides quivering. Her father had been acting strangely ever since Sky had been kidnapped. She was sure he was keeping things from her. Maybe to protect her. Maybe not. Whichever, she didn’t give a flip about who he wanted on the case. She was tired of being out of the loop, protected, depending on others.
She wanted her baby found.
“Daddy, let me talk to him.”
“Yes,” Celia said, dragging her husband out the door. “Maybe he can help.”
“Then let’s go to my office,” her father said.
“No. I want to speak to Holly in private,” Night demanded.
Holly’s father shook his head. “Absolutely not.”
Emotions clouded Holly’s eyes. “Please, Daddy. I’ll be all right.”
Her father exchanged a charged look with Night, then relented, his body rigid. Night waited until her parents’ footsteps receded before he stalked toward her. Anger rolled off him in waves.
She stepped backward, her legs nearly buckling. Had he guessed the baby was his? “Night…”
“Show me the nursery.”
His sharp order took her off guard. She’d been certain he was going to ask her. Maybe he expected her to speak up….
His hand seized her arm and she winced, then he propelled her through the door and dragged her down the hall.
“Is it this way? Downstairs by the serv’ quarters so the nanny could hear him?”
His insult rankled. He assumed she was so spoiled she’d turn her baby over to a nanny? “No, it’s right here, beside my room.” She halted and jerked her arm free from his grip. “The adjoining bathroom made it easy to slip through and feed him during the night. I didn’t want him to wake up alone.”
His eyes softened just a fraction, but his tight mouth didn’t falter. Again, she thought he might ask about Sky’s parentage, but he didn’t. Maybe her father was right, maybe he didn’t want to know.
“He’s been missing a week?”
“Yes.” She ached just thinking of the empty days and nights since she’d last held him. The hours she’d spent pacing and worrying, wondering who had stolen her son and what horrible things might have happened to him.
What had she done with her time before she’d had a baby? She couldn’t bear to think about going on now, doing mindless paperwork for her father’s investments.
“But you didn’t hear anyone come into the nursery and take him?”
Guilt assailed her as she shook her head. She should have heard something. She should have known he was in trouble. She should have been able to save her son.
“How did someone get past the security on the mansion?”
“I…don’t know.”
He gave her a suspicious look, as if he’d heard the rumors about the Langworthys staging the kidnapping to get sympathy for Joshua and believed them. Then he stepped inside the room, hesitating a second as his gaze scanned the simple decor. The native American border with mountains and bear and buffalo circling the room, the adobe color accented with navy and dark red and greens. Colors that had reminded her of Night and his heritage.
He stalked toward the crib, his trained gaze seemingly scrutinizing every feature.
“Tell me what happened the night he was kidnapped.”
Oh, God, did she have to relive it all again? “I’ve already told the police.”
“I read the report. I want to hear it from you.”
She swallowed, clasping her hands together, trying to block out the worst of the memory as she recited the details. If it helped, she’d tell her story a thousand times. Everything except the evening with Carlton Sanders. “I…I had been out.”
“With Sanders?” His gaze shot to hers with more accusations. Then she realized what he thought, that Carlton was her baby’s father.
She refused to talk about Carlton with Night. Especially with Night. “When I got home, I checked on the baby. He stirred, and I gave him a bottle.”
He simply stared at her, so she cleared her throat and continued. “I put him back down, tucked the covers around him, then went to bed.” There was more, but she couldn’t admit it. Not and watch his face twist with more disdain. He’d already decided she’d jumped straight from his bed to another man’s, when, God help her, the truth w she had never been with or wanted any man except Night.
“And you never heard a sound? No footsteps, door opening, the baby didn’t cry?”
She shook her head. “I was exhausted, I hadn’t been sleeping much, I don’t know how…why he didn’t cry.” Her voice broke off and she looked away, unable to keep the emotions at bay or tell him about the sedative she’d taken. The one she had refused, but the one she suspected their maid, Antonia, had slipped into her tea to calm her from the ordeal with her father and the man he’d wanted her to marry.
Night studied her for a long moment as if he was trying to strip her defenses and read her mind, uncover her secrets. Then he slowly dropped his gaze back to the crib. He ran his strong hands over the edge of the baby bed, stroking the blanket as if it held a connection to him or might offer him answers as to who had taken Schyler. His jaw was a solid rock, his cheekbones so defined her heart squeezed. Her son would share that same profile one day.
“The baby’s name is Schyler?” His voice sounded more hoarse than normal, strains of his Native heritage filtering through.
She nodded, her heart breaking. “North Schyler Langworthy.”
A muscle twitched in his jaw. The flare of anguish that deepened his brown eyes to black sucked the air from her lungs.
Now, he knew the baby was his.
He remembered telling her that romantic story about his ancestors.
How could he even think she’d been with another man after that incredible evening?
“I’m sorry, Night…I—” her voice broke, the pain of the last week, of her father’s humiliating accusations the evening Night had walked out of her life resurfacing. Her father had never let her forget the depth of her sins for taking Night to her bed. Especially when he had discovered she was pregnant. And Night had never looked back. She had needed him….
“Did you ever plan to tell me I had a son?”
“I…wanted to,” Holly said, knowing her excuse would sound weak to his ears. But she had to try to make him understand. “You left and you never called, you never came back. I didn’t know how to contact you.”
“You didn’t try.” Steely rage underscored his softly spoken words.
She shook her head violently. In spite of her father’s fury, she had tried to find Night. “I did look for you, but you just disappeared, and then I…I was ashamed that I’d seduced you. You’d told me all along that you didn’t want me, that you would never be tied down, that you were like a wild wolf, free forever.” Her words rushed out, the contempt in his expression seemingly mounting with every word she spoke. “I didn’t think you’d want to be trapped into marrying me. And I was afraid you’d think I got pregnant on purpose.”
He squared his shoulders, fisting his hands by his sides as if fighting for control. “You were going to marry Sanders and let him raise my baby as his? Were you seeing him before t
he night we were together?”
“No.” Holly felt the color drain from her fa. He couldn’t know the truth.
“Did Sanders kidnap the baby? Is he working for your father?”
“What?”
“Did your family arrange this kidnapping to get publicity for Joshua’s campaign?” He pinned her with a look that burned straight through to her soul. “Did you help them or did Sanders? Are you hiding our baby somewhere until after your brother is elected governor?”
She staggered backward at the depth of his distrust. “No,” she whispered. “Heavens, no. I swear it.” Defenses she hadn’t known she possessed flourished, then anger followed. “How can you suggest such a horrible thing? You have no idea the hell I’ve been through. You walked out of here the night we were together and left me alone to deal with everything, my father, the pregnancy. You never once looked back or tried to contact me. What was I supposed to think?”
“I had no idea you were pregnant because you didn’t bother to tell me,” he ground out. “Your family kept it a secret until the baby was kidnapped.”
“They were trying to avoid a media frenzy,” Holly argued. “And Daddy wanted to protect me. It’s not like you actually cared. I didn’t think you wanted me, much less a baby.”
“I do want my son,” he said, his words cold and clipped, leaving no doubt in her mind that he didn’t want her. “And make no mistake, Holly, when I find our baby, he will know his father. And his heritage.”
He gave her one last look of disgust, then turned and stalked down the stairs, his booted feet clacking on the marble foyer just before the door slammed behind him.
Holly leaned over the crib, tears overflowing.
Another reason she hadn’t contacted him—her father had warned her that Night might try to take the baby from her, that the laws might even give him custody, let him carry their son to live on one of the reservations. She’d even wondered if Night might have discovered she’d had his baby and kidnapped him himself. And when her worst fears had overwhelmed her this past week, when she’d pictured her helpless infant at the mercy of a crazy person or a killer, she’d actually hoped that Night might have taken him. At least then she would know her son was safe.
But Night obviously hadn’t.
Her world spun, crumbling around her.
Where was her precious little boy? Was he still alive? She looked up through the window at the inky sky.
Was he out there somewhere, alone and scared, crying for his mother?
Chapter One
Late November
Where was her baby?
It had been four months since he’d gone missing. She’d thought for sure she’d have him back in her arms by Thanksgiving. Now Thanksgiving had come and gone.
Holly sat on the edge of her seat her father’s study, twisting her sweating hands together, as she waited on him to finish the phone call.
Something was wrong.
She saw it in the way her father pulled at his chin and angled his face away from her. Between his hushed phone calls with the FBI and local police the past few days, the barrage of extra security on the house, the press hounding them and the claustrophobic feel of hiding out between the walls of the mansion for the past four months, her nerves had reached the hysteria level.
Why hadn’t they received a ransom note?
Why hadn’t someone called with information? And why didn’t her father tell her everything that was going on?
With every day that passed, the chances of finding her son grew slimmer and slimmer. She wasn’t sure she could take it anymore.
Her father dropped the phone into its cradle, sighed and pivoted in his leather chair to face her. His expression looked worried, but commanding, as always. Once again, she sensed he was holding back, hiding things from her. Why?
“Did they find anything?”
Her father shook his head slowly, drumming fingers on his chin. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. There’s no news.”
“There’s something,” Holly said, her voice a mere whisper. “I can see it in your eyes, Daddy. Now, tell me.”
He hesitated, then looked back at Holly’s mother, who had moved to stand behind him, one delicate hand placed on his shoulder. Her mother—the weaker one on the surface, but behind the scenes, the rock of the family, the one always offering support.
“I’m afraid the FBI’s ready to call this a cold case. They’ll leave the phone surveillance intact, but may have to pull back some on the investigation. Other cases…”
He let the sentence trail off and Holly sucked in a sharp breath. “They can’t give up.”
“I didn’t say they were giving up,” her father said. “Just pulling back. And ICU is still on the case.”
Holly glared at her dad. “What are you keeping from me? They found him, didn’t they? They found him and he’s dead, but you’re afraid to tell me.”
“No, Holly, good Lord. Calm down.” Her father raked a hand over his face. “There’s really no other news. I wish there was.”
She pressed a hand to her mouth to calm her emotions. She couldn’t stand the waiting. And her father knew more than he was confiding in her. She was certain of it.
The tension between them had been almost unbearable, since her confrontation with Night. During her pregnancy, Holly had suspected that her father had had some part in keeping Night away from her. Lately she had even wondered if he had orchestrated Schyler’s disappearance to punish her or teach her a lesson for seducing Night, or to gain sympathy for Joshua’s campaign. Politics meant everything to her father. But now Joshua had won the election. If that had been the motive for the kidnapping, there was no longer a reason to keep Sky from home.
Sometimes, her dad seemed genuinely concerned, as if he was really worried about her and his grandchild. As if he feared some horrible thing had happened to her baby. But he had been keeping the details of the case from her, treating her like a child, and she couldn’t stand it any longer.
“You know, sweetheart,” he said in a low tone, “you…we all might have to come to terms with the fact that we might never find Schyler.”
“What?” Holly gasped. She must have heard him wrong.
Celia pressed a shaky hand to her mouth, then moved toward Holly, reaching out her arms. “I don’t want to hear that either,” she said. “But your father’s right. This ordeal is killing you, I can see it—”
Tears burned Holly’s eyes. “You don’t care if we get my baby back!”
“That’s not true and you know it, Holly,” Celia said in a more forceful voice. “But it’s tearing us all apart, the three of us are on pins and needles. I can’t handle watching you suffer so. I see you wake up every day with hope, then go to bed with it shattered at night. You’re not eating, not sleeping.”
Holly’s throat constricted. “How can I sleep and eat when my son is missing?”
Her father stood, shook his head and stared out the window at the gardens beyond. “We’ve done everything we can do.”
“No!” Her heart broke at his words. “I will never accept that my baby’s not coming back. Never.”
Holly backed toward the door, then spun around and ran from the room, tears blinding her as she took the steps two at a time to the empty nursery.
HER BABY NEEDED HER..
Holly rolled over and squinted through the darkened interior of her bedroom, the sound of her son’s cry warming her. He was safe and sound in his crib, but he needed feeding. Again. She hadn’t realized how often infants ate, how exhausting it would be to care for a baby.
How precious every moment she had with him was until she’d lost him.
She appreciated it now—now he’d been found and brought back to her.
Regardless of the fact that she’d just fallen asleep, Holly tossed the duvet aside, shoved her feet into her bedroom shoes and grabbed her robe. She cinched it at her waist, shoving a tangle of unruly hair from her face as she hurried through the adjoining bathroom to her son’s room. Th
e pale glow of the night-light bathed the room, her son’s whimpers a soft blip in the otherwise quiet nursery.
She could already see his chubby arms waving, his legs cycling the air, kicking off the covers, his dark brown eyes scrunched, searching through the darkness for her. She began to sing his favorite lullaby in a low voice to let him know she was there, and crossed the room, anxious to hold him to her breast, the tingle of anticipation already seeping through her, making her feel giddy.
She had never known she could love a ba so much. Had never known she could feel so much pain when he had been ripped from her life.
He lay curled on his side, covered in the crocheted blanket her mother had given him when Holly had brought him home. She gently eased it aside. “Come on, sweetheart. Mommy’s here. We’re never going to be separated again.”
A scream lodged in her throat.
Her baby was gone! Nooooo. Not again.
Tears swam to her eyes as she frantically searched every corner of the crib. But her efforts were useless. Her baby hadn’t come back. They hadn’t found him at all.
He might be lost to her forever….
HOLLY’S EYES flew open, a sob wrenching from deep inside her as she leaned over Sky’s empty crib. How many times in the past four months had she been entrenched in this nightmare and walked in her sleep to her son’s room? Tears flowed down her cheeks and dripped onto her hands as she dropped her head onto the railing and cried.
Why hadn’t they found him? Who had stolen her baby from his crib? Why would someone torture her like this? Maybe she had been spoiled, a rich girl, had played with fire by seducing Night, but she loved Sky, and he…he didn’t deserve this.
Her chest heaved with her sobs, the hope she’d clung to the first week he’d been kidnapped dwindling every day. And now the FBI and her father were practically giving up. Even the P.I.s working on the case hadn’t caught the kidnapper.
A shrill sound cut through her misery and she jerked her head toward her bedroom. The phone was ringing. Not a house phone though, her cell phone. Who would be calling this time of night?