The Baby Pursuit

by Laurie Paige

  “I don’t know. I could follow up on it myself, but I’d rather stay close. In case we get another call or letter.”

  Vanessa listened as her father agreed to hire an investigator to pursue the missing cowboy. When Matthew and Claudia arrived, both looking tired, discouraged, and hardly speaking, she felt her spirits dip lower.

  “I thought I would take up the offer of a room out here. I would like to be closer to the ranch for a while,” Dev continued after greetings had been exchanged with the couple and they were seated. “I, uh, could stay in the bunkhouse.”

  “Isn’t your room satisfactory?” Mr. Fortune asked.

  “Well, yes, but—”

  “Then it’s settled. You’ll stay here. Are you available to have dinner with us tonight? It’s only the family.”

  Vanessa was surprised when Devin agreed. She wondered why he felt the need to stay on the ranch. The answer came to her after she went to her room later that night.

  To keep a closer eye on the family.

  She watched from her bedroom while he walked around the inner courtyard before driving off toward town to get his clothing. Her heart beat hard at the thought of his sleeping in the room next to hers.

  “Don’t, ” she said softly to the errant organ. Getting ready for bed, she recalled an old song, something about knowing a heartache when she saw one.

  “I believe Vanessa and the FBI agent are interested in each other,” Lily said when she and Ryan were alone in the swing under the trellis with the sweet-smelling vine growing over it.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Very, darling.” She touched his cheek. “A woman in love is attuned to these things.”

  He caught her hand and planted a kiss in the palm. “I’m oblivious to everything but you. I’ve missed you this week.”

  “I had things to do. I was worried about Maria. I still am, but she doesn’t want to talk about her future, at least not to me.”

  “Kids. They’ll drive you crazy if you let them. Did you feel the tension between Matthew and Claudia?”

  “This is so hard on them. They need each other more than ever, but there are problems between them that aren’t resolved.” She hesitated. “There are so many things that can tear people apart… Maria thinks you’re stringing me along. That we won’t marry.”

  “Then she’s dead wrong. I promise you this—we’ll marry as soon as I’m free to do so.”

  She sighed and laid her head on his shoulder, believing him implicitly. “I do love you.”

  “And I you. I’ll never let you go again, so make up your mind to spend the rest of your life with me.” He turned her face to his and gave her a hard kiss of assurance.

  She closed her eyes and tried to think only of the moment. But reality always intruded. “Sometimes I’m afraid—”

  “Don’t,” he ordered gently, fiercely. “I’ll be free to marry you soon if I have to strangle Sophia myself.”

  She shuddered and shook her head. “Be careful of what you say. Words can come back to haunt a person.” From the corner of her eye, she thought she saw a movement. “Who is it?” she asked.

  No one answered.

  “What is it, love?”

  “I thought I saw someone, but I guess it was only shadows. The wind has come up and the tree branches are moving around.”

  “It’s time to go in.” He pulled her to her feet. “I need you in my arms tonight. I’m beginning to get discouraged about my grandson. I thought we would have him back by now. Rosita tells me there are strange things afoot, but she doesn’t know who is involved.”

  “I didn’t realize you were a superstitious person,” she teased, bringing them back to a lighter note.

  “I’ve known Rosita too long to discount any premonitions she might have. She’s been right in the past.”

  “I know. She once told me a snake has a forked tongue so it could tell two different tales at the same time. I should have listened to her. I let…others drive us apart.”

  He led her into the house and to his suite. “It doesn’t matter now that we’ve found each other again. We have the future. Forget the past.”

  The sadness of past mistakes rose in her, of loving this man and leaving him because of her own stupidity, of listening to the lies of his brother, Cameron, instead of her own heart. She sighed deeply, recalling the pain of being young and in love and terribly unsure of that love. “If only we could.”

  “We can. We will. I lost you once. I won’t let it happen again. I mean that, darling.”

  She looked away, unable to face the confidence in his eyes, the love reflected there. So much had happened during the years they were apart, things she would have to tell him about…someday. But not tonight. Tonight was for them. Sometimes she felt she had only the moment, that the next one would be snatched from her.

  Perhaps she should ask Rosita what she could see in her future.

  Four

  Vanessa heard the outer door close. She opened the one between her room and Dev’s. “About time.”

  He gave her a severe frown. “Does that door lock?”

  “There’s a sliding bolt on your side.”

  “Good.”

  Her confidence that together they would solve the case, that they would grow closer, dimmed and flickered dangerously close to blinking out. His adamant refusal to let down the barriers, coupled with her continued worry over Baby Bryan, gathered into a hard ball of pain inside her.

  Stepping back, she closed the door and pushed in the button to lock it on her side. She took a deep breath, then another. For a moment doubts assailed her. Being one of the Fortunes of Texas didn’t guarantee life would be roses and sweet wine. Once she had thought her father commanded the world, then her mother had died. She had learned even the Fortunes couldn’t control fate.

  And neither could she.

  She knew she expected too much from life. She always had. “Without dreams and aspirations, what are we?” she asked softly of the closed door between her and Dev.

  Troubled, she went to bed.

  “What do you think?” Vanessa asked. With the new day, her low spirits had revived. She had decided to take matters into her own hands.

  Sheriff Wyatt Grayhawk read over her profile of the kidnapping. When he finished, he looked up, his hazel-green eyes bright with intellect and interest. “Very insightful.”

  “I need more information in order to expand the profile.”

  “Hmm,” he said.

  She wasn’t offended by his reserved manner. Like Cruz, Wyatt was part of her childhood. Six years her senior, he had been a friend and playmate to her brothers. She had helped in his election campaign for sheriff by delivering flyers and calling everyone she knew.

  “What does Kincaid say?” Wyatt asked when she managed to outwait him for once.

  “Nothing,” she admitted. “He’s like you, the strong, silent type.”

  “He hasn’t mentioned other evidence?”

  She perked up. “Ah, there is more. Tell me.”

  He smiled slightly. She grinned back and curbed her impatient nature.

  Wyatt went to a file cabinet and unlocked it. He removed a folder. “We do have a bit more information.”

  He opened the folder and lifted a note enclosed in a protective sheet. It was the ransom note. The letters and words cut from newsprint seemed to mock her efforts at solving the crime. Disappointment washed over her.

  “I’ve seen that.”

  “But did you see the date on the back of one of the words?”

  “Date? No.” She took the sheet when he handed it over.

  One cut-out word was flipped over. On the back was the date and a few letters from the start of a word.

  “April sixth. L. B. W-e-e,” she read. She bent closer and studied the letters. “Why, this is from the Leather Bucket Weekly Gazette.”

  “Very good,” Wyatt said. “The note was composed at the motel on the interstate near the Leather Bucket exit.”

  “How d
id you find that out?”

  “We had a lucky break. One of my deputies is dating the daughter of the motel owner. She told him about her father complaining about the damage people did to the furniture. Someone had cut slashes in a table and left a mess of newspaper scraps on the floor. I had just assigned him to check some details of the case, so he put two and two together. The cuts match the size of the letters and words cut from the newspaper.”

  “I suppose there were no fingerprints.”

  He was silent for a moment. “The maids do a good job, but we did find one latent partial print that we can’t identify.”

  “It could belong to anyone who has stayed there.”

  “True.”

  She hit the heel of her fist on the cluttered desk. “Why don’t they contact us? What are they waiting for? We have the money. If they want it, they have to tell us how to deliver it.”

  “They will, but in their own sweet time. They’re pretty crafty for criminals.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Think about it. If you wait until everyone has given up and the cops and FBI guys have gone back home, there’s less likelihood that anyone could set a trap when the delivery is made, especially if you don’t give the family much time.”

  “Whoever is doing this is patient. That makes it harder to catch them. They don’t make many mistakes.”

  “Neither will Kincaid. Sam Waterman says the agent is the most tenacious man he’s ever encountered.”

  She slumped against the hard vinyl of the chair. “I want to help, but Dev won’t let me.”

  Wyatt nodded. “He’ll probably have my head on a platter for telling you what we’ve found, but since it came from my office, I feel justified in sharing it with you. You’re sharp. He’ll realize it sooner or later.”

  He didn’t insult her by saying the information was top secret. She was grateful for that. At least Wyatt had confidence in her, unlike a certain FBI agent.

  “Well, I suppose I’d better get back. Thanks for your help,” she said, rising and adjusting her purse strap over her shoulder.

  Wyatt walked her to the door and opened it. “I’ll keep you informed.”

  She reached up and touched his cheek in gratitude, her faith in herself restored by his trust. Heading out, she ran straight into the icy shards of a summer-blue gaze.

  “Dev,” she said, gladness at seeing him upping her heart rate.

  He glanced from her to the sheriff, then back. “What are you doing here?”

  “She wanted some information,” Wyatt said easily. “I gave it to her.”

  “On the case?”

  “Yes.”

  Vanessa watched the interplay between the men. When Wyatt didn’t back down, Dev shrugged. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” he said to the sheriff, ignoring her.

  She decided she would have to be the aggressive one if they were ever to get anywhere. “I’m hungry. How about going to lunch? I’m buying.” The latter was said to provoke him.

  It did.

  He gave her a glare. “I have business. If I could have a moment of your time,” he said to Wyatt.

  Vanessa set her mouth into a smile and left the county building where the sheriff’s department was housed on the first floor. Outside, the sun pelted her with unrelenting heat, shining from a cloudless sky, reflecting off the mica in the sidewalk and concrete structures.

  She stood on the steps for a long minute, her mind curiously empty as she tried to decide what to do. She could call any of her many friends in San Antonio and go to lunch. She could go back to the ranch. Or she could wait.

  Choosing a seat on a concrete wall that supported a patch of grass and an oak that gave her a bit of shade, she waited for Dev to reappear.

  Dev stopped on the top step when he spied Vanessa. His heart did one of its annoying flip-flops. He strode over and clasped her elbow. “Come on. We have things to discuss.”

  Her smile wasn’t lost on him, but he didn’t let it sway him, either. He was damn mad at her and the sheriff. He led the way toward his car.

  “My car—”

  “We’ll pick it up later,” he snarled at her.

  “It’s my birthday present from my father,” she told him. “Dad would skin me alive if it got stolen after I hounded him about it for four years.”

  Dev glanced at the expensive red sports car that probably cost more than every car he’d ever owned combined.

  “I’ll tell your friend, the sheriff, to put one of his deputies to guarding it.” He whipped out his cell phone, punched in the number and left a terse message on Grayhawk’s voice mail. “There.”

  “Thanks. I think.”

  He ignored her sexy glance and the white sundress that swirled against firm tanned skin a good three inches above her knees and concentrated on threading their way through traffic to the parking lot where his SUV waited.

  Once inside with the air-conditioning turned on high, he headed out toward the highway and the suburb where his own modest home was located. He turned in the drive and stopped under an ancient oak that shaded half the roof.

  “Where are we?” she finally asked.

  “My house.”

  “O-oh,” she said, a little hitch of surprise in the middle of the word. She climbed out before he could come around and assist her. “I assumed you were in a motel. I thought you were from Houston.”

  “I am, originally. I’ve been here a couple of years.”

  Devin watched as her green eyes assessed everything in the yard—the rock garden and pond he had built beside the tiny creek that flowed during heavy rains, the pecan and peach trees he’d set out around the house, the blossoms making the yard a wonderland of color in the spring. He wondered what she thought of it, then chastised himself for caring.

  He unlocked the kitchen door and let her inside. The coolness of the silent house was welcome after the hundred and ten degrees outside. He watched her look around while he removed his coat and tie and rolled up his sleeves.

  “Do FBI agents always have to wear dark suits?” she asked.

  “It’s part of the code.”

  “I figured it was. Is this?”

  Before he could prepare for it, before he could get his defenses up, she stepped into his space, raised up on her toes, wrapped him in her embrace and kissed him.

  He turned his head so she only caught the corner of his mouth, but it was enough to send spirals of dizziness washing through him. The scent of her hit his nostrils at the same time. Powder and perfume and shampoo—a scented soap, he chided silently, probably French and hand-milled—and her, the pure essence of woman, sweet and willing and passionate.

  His for the taking.

  His heart nearly exploded, it beat so hard. Blood roared through his ears. Desire spread in a tidal wave, effortlessly bursting through the dam of his control.

  “No,” he murmured, his voice a ragged moan of sound in the cool stillness of the house, an acknowledgment of the hot need in them.

  “Yes.”

  It was the last thing either of them said because he kissed her back then. Her lips were honey, as sweet as a peach fresh and fragrant from the tree. Her breasts pressed firmly against his chest. He could feel her thighs, the beckoning warmth between them.

  The roar grew louder.

  She turned her lips from his, murmuring his name. He trailed kisses along her neck. His hands moved restlessly over her back, down to her hips. She moved against him so intimately, he thought his knees were going to buckle as desire washed through him in deepening waves.

  “Your telephone,” she gasped. “It’s your telephone.”

  He lifted his head. As the riot of blood calmed slightly, he heard the muted ring of a phone. Angry at the interruption, he jerked the cell phone out of his pocket and pushed the talk button. “Kincaid.”

  “McCoy here.”

  “Yes,” Dev snapped, recognizing the name of the man who had been hired to trace the missing cowboy.

  “I have some inform
ation for you.”

  Every hair on his neck stood up at the detective’s words. This might be the break they were looking for. “Right. Go ahead.”

  “Your wandering cowboy was supposed to join a friend at a local rodeo in Wyoming and go on the circuit with him. He didn’t show up.”

  Dev muttered an expletive. “We knew that.”

  “However,” McCoy continued, “he called and apparently plans on catching up in a month or so, said he had business that wasn’t concluded yet. The rodeo guy thought his friend sounded nervous or upset about something.”

  Business as in taking care of a kidnapped baby? Dev wondered cynically. Was the delay in collecting the ransom making the kidnappers nervous? “Sounds like our man might still be in the area.”

  “That was my thought,” McCoy agreed. “You want me to keep a tail on the friend at the rodeo?”

  Dev considered. “He seems pretty forthcoming. Ask him to call if he hears from the cowboy again. Give him Sam’s number. I want to stay out of the picture.”

  “Will do.”

  After hanging up, Dev mulled the information over, adding it to the pieces of the puzzle muddling around in his brain. Collect enough pieces and all would come clear.

  He had a sense of events coming to a head. He could smell danger, like the ozone in the air before a storm. He tucked the cell phone into his pocket and turned back to the young woman who waited in his kitchen as if she were at home in a modest house in the suburbs.

  Vanessa smiled radiantly at Dev when he looked at her. “What was the information?” she asked, eager to put it down on paper. She had a pocket notebook on the table, open to her growing profile of the kidnappers.

  “None of your business.”

  The words weren’t spoken cruelly, and she didn’t take offense. “Yes, it is. I’m helping, remember?”

  “No,” he stated flatly.

  “My father—”

  “Your father isn’t in charge of this case. I am. I want you out of it.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re a distraction I don’t need or want.”

  “Oh, yes, you do want me. That’s part of the problem, as you see it.” She heard the stubbornness in her voice.