The Baby Pursuit

by Laurie Paige

  She had flogged herself all the long hours of the night, wishing she’d done differently, but his words made her realize how badly she had messed up. Because of her, the kidnappers had gotten away, he had been injured…

  “Stupid little rich girl. Always has to have her way. Stupid me…for letting her…”

  She wrapped her hands around the metal railing as dizziness washed over her. She held on and listened to the terrible truth he spoke.

  “I know,” she said when he fell silent. “Dev, I know. If I could turn back the clock, I would.”

  She faced his unrelenting gaze as steadily as she could, hating herself for having caused harm to him.

  He closed his eyes. “Go home, Beauty…the fairy tale has ended…happily for the baby and his parents. For me…for us…this case is closed. For good.”

  She stood there as if carved from stone for the longest time. Outside, birds chirped. The sun shone. Cars sped down the street. The world carried on. The shattering of a heart didn’t even cause a hitch in its busy schedule.

  Without another word, she picked up her battered Stetson and walked out into the shimmering dawn of another hot day.

  Dev lay there listening to her footsteps long after they were gone. He glanced at the nurse, who busied herself checking his bandages. She looked rather stunned and maybe a little stricken by the incident she had witnessed.

  The way he felt.

  The way those green, green eyes had looked while he said the words guaranteed to send her away. He had hammered in every nail, doing it and knowing he was doing it, knowing he was hurting her, knowing he was delivering rabbit punches straight to the heart. The most vulnerable spot in the human body. It had been necessary.

  Best. This way was best. For a while he’d lived in a fool’s dream, thinking maybe she was right, that there could be a future for them.

  Stupid. Really stupid. He had never had that kind of future, the one with the family and the living happily ever after, at all. Hadn’t he learned that simple fact long ago, as a boy and again as a man, standing beside a coffin in the hot Texas sun?

  For a short time he had let himself forget, had even let himself consider a future. It had been foolish to take that kind of chance. This time, he was the one who had paid for his foolish dreams, but if he let her stay, she could be the one hurt next time. He wouldn’t take that chance. Not with her. She was all the good things of life—the laughter, the warmth, the sweet raging desire, the peace afterward, the joy of living. She was all those and more. She was the one thing he would never regret and never forget.

  “She’ll find someone,” he explained to the silent nurse. “The glow will return. It’s just dimmed a little now. It’ll come back.”

  Memories rushed at him. He saw Vanessa’s eyes shining with tears as they made love, heard her sexy little cries of pleasure…saw them riding through green meadows, saw other things as memories changed to fantasy.

  Vanessa, holding a child in her arms, tucked right up next to her heart. The child was hers. His and hers. For a while he’d even thought it might be possible. Fool.

  For twenty years he’d lived alone, without longing for those things that would never be. She’d opened the door where hopes had lain fallow within him with the force of just a smile. She’d opened the door and let the sunlight fill the darkness. For a brief moment she’d even turned him into a believer.

  But he should have known better. He had known.

  hen that first shot had rung out, he’d faced the blackest moment in his life. He had thought she might be dead. God in Heaven, it wasn’t a thought he could live with. Not then. Not now. Not ever.

  He’d learned his lesson. Never would he tempt fate again. The darkness roiled in him, triumphant once more.

  Slowly, slowly, he forced the rusty door back on its hinges until finally it closed with a forlorn sound that echoed in his soul. Hope was back in its place, locked into the black hole of despair where, he’d learned long ago, it belonged.

  And she, the loveliest of all lovely dreams, would find her true love, a younger man, one who could make her wishes come true, as he could not. She would be happy. It was the one thing he made himself believe.

  Dev thanked the nurse for the ride without being sardonic about it, then lifted himself out of the wheel-chair and walked to his SUV, newly repaired from its brush with the tree, its paint fresh, its tires new. After eight days in the hospital, he should have felt renewed. He didn’t.

  Wyatt, who’d had a deputy drive the vehicle to the hospital, smiled and waved, then drove off after his man climbed into the passenger side of the sheriff’s truck.

  The interior of the SUV was blessedly cool. Dev winced as he reached for the seat belt, but managed to get it fastened. He put the truck in gear and drove himself home.

  The house was pleasant and shining when he let himself in the front door. Delicious smells enticed him to the kitchen. There he found what he had half expected, half hoped for and totally feared.

  Vanessa.

  She’d come to visit him every day at the hospital, despite his refusal to see her. He’d tried the only way he knew how to push her away—for her sake. But she was stubborn in her naive faith. He closed his eyes and let the anger simmer and bubble and boil. It was time she learned a Fortune didn’t always get her own way.

  “Hi. Lunch in ten minutes. Take a seat. You like raspberry iced tea? It’s on the table. I have plain, if you would prefer it.”

  “This is fine.” He went to the table, which was covered with a green plaid tablecloth and set with Mexican patterned dishes he’d never seen before. He sat so he could watch her while she worked, her hands skillful at the chore of cooking, a fact that never failed to astonish him.

  As if a Fortune would ever have to lift her hand to a skillet if she didn’t want to.

  She set a platter of shrimp and vegetables between their plates. A colorful bowl held hot, buttered rolls.

  “Salad,” she murmured, and went to the refrigerator.

  The meal was superb, as he’d known it would be. She did nothing by halves. He ate until he was filled, because the food was good, because it was cooked by her, because he wanted to postpone as long as possible what he was going to say.

  “I suppose Wyatt told you the real news about the baby?” she asked.

  “That it’s a Fortune baby but not the missing one? Yes, he told me. Your family must be in a quandary.”

  “That’s putting it mildly. Wyatt said we should keep that news a secret for now. Until he can find out what’s going on.” She paused and gazed at him, her eyes warm and loving. “Matthew and Claudia are keeping Taylor—that’s what they’re calling the new baby—until we find out who its parents are. We’re still left with Bryan missing.”

  “It’s been a strange case.”

  “I understand the FBI considers their part done. My father said you wouldn’t be back.”

  “That’s right. The case isn’t closed, but without those two men or more information, we’re stymied.”

  “I know. Do you know where you’ll be assigned after you return to work?”

  “No.”

  She nodded and fell silent after that.

  He didn’t tell her he was thinking of retiring from the FBI. With his service time counted, he had his twenty years in. Sam Waterman was urging him to come work for him in his detective agency. That would mean staying in San Antonio permanently. He wasn’t sure he was up to that. But he would think about it later. When he had all the time in the world.

  “Thanks for the meal,” he said, finishing before she did, his tone deliberately offhand, almost flippant.

  She shot him a considering glance, then picked up the used plates. She replaced them with two perfectly baked flans flanked by slices of berries.

  He grimly ate the dessert. He pushed it away, then caught her wrist before she could rise again. “I don’t want to see you again,” he said flatly.

  “Why?”

  “That Fortune confidenc
e,” he murmured. “Most women would have given up long before this.”

  “I’m not most women.”

  He had never thought that. She was fire and water, earth and air. She was like no one he’d ever before encountered. For a moment he envisioned her in his arms, her eyes sparkling like grass laved with dew, her face aglow, her beautiful fiery hair spread across the pillow they shared. That image belonged behind the door, too. He forced it away.

  “This isn’t going to work, Beauty. No way. No how. Let’s just end it gracefully.”

  She propped her elbows on the table and leaned her chin on her hands. He could sense a quietness in her that he’d never encountered before, a careful waiting that wasn’t part of her nature, a wariness that was new.

  A fist took hold of his heart. She was hurting, and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it.

  “Why?” she asked. “Why not just ride it out and see where it goes and how long it lasts? Would that be so terrible?”

  Ruthless. He had to be ruthless. Because none of what she suggested could ever be. “Yes.”

  “Liar.”

  She spoke softly, teasing him, but her eyes…the hurt was there. Better a little now than a lot later on. She swallowed, but said nothing more.

  He looked her in the eye. “You nearly got yourself killed last week. If you’re going to act stupid, I’d rather you didn’t kill me in the bargain.”

  Guilt skipped across her face.

  “If you hadn’t interfered, I would have called for backup and we would have nabbed those men. As it was, we barely got out of there alive.”

  “That was foolish of me. I promise never to do anything so foolish again,” she said, her face earnest.

  “You just don’t get it. I’m not willing to take that chance on what is, after all, a casual affair. A fling isn’t worth either of our lives. My work is dangerous. I don’t have time to worry about an amateur butting in and messing things up.”

  Her eyes went wide. He watched the shock of his words ripple through her body. She blinked. Then her chin came up. The Fortune pride. He was counting on it to save him, to save them both.

  Leaning toward him, she met his gaze without flinching. “Is that what it was between us, Dev? A fling? That’s all?”

  “That’s all.”

  He saw her chest move as she took a careful breath. “Okay,” she said. She got up and proceeded to silently clean up the kitchen. When it was neat, she picked up a tiny purse with a long, thin strap.

  “You’re throwing away something good, but I can’t force you to accept the gift of our love. I know that you’ve been hurt. I think, given time, we could get past that. But you have to trust, Dev. I can’t do it for you.”

  She put the strap over her shoulder and walked out of his house. Out of his life.

  It was better this way. He’d seen the hope slowly beaten out of his mother. His own had died when he’d watched them lower his dad into the ground and known life was never going to be what he’d hoped. He’d seen Stan’s wife stand beside her husband’s grave with her children at her side, her eyes beyond hope.

  Outside, a car started, then left. There had never been a chance in hell for them anyway. He listened to the silence for a time before giving in to physical pain. He took two pills the doc had prescribed and went to bed.

  Fourteen

  Dev parked his truck in the shade and sat there staring at the hacienda baking in the afternoon sun. September was proving to be as hot as August.

  Ryan Fortune had called and asked him to join him for a wrap-up meeting on the kidnapping. Dev wasn’t sure about being there. He was officially off the case. Off everything, in fact, he admitted fatalistically.

  He was dressed in jeans and a white shirt. He wore black sneakers. Theoretically, he was still in recuperation and had the whole month off before the doctor would okay his return to work. Sitting in the house all day was driving him up the wall. He had seized upon the excuse to get out.

  He laughed silently, mockingly, at himself. Now that he was here, he was afraid to get out of the truck. He had no doubt that his redheaded, green-eyed nemesis would be at the meeting. He would live through it.

  He sighed and forced himself out of the truck and to the front door. Rosita opened it at once.

  “Come in,” she invited, her face wreathed in smiles. “It is good to see you again.”

  He returned her smile and stepped into the cool interior. “Thanks for the food you’ve sent. It’s been a lifesaver. My cooking is registered with the FBI as a lethal weapon.”

  She closed the door and gave him a scolding glance. “You know who sent the food. And cooked most of it.”

  A flush crept up his neck.

  She nodded her head regally. “Señor Ryan is in his study. You are to join him.”

  Dev walked down the short hallway. The door was open. His heart beat hard, almost painfully. He went in. There was no one there but the Fortune patriarch.

  “Good afternoon,” Dev said, stepping forward and holding out his hand. The darkness stirred relentlessly.

  Ryan came around the desk and shook his hand, clasping his shoulder warmly at the same time. “Well, you’re looking better than the last time I saw you.”

  Dev, Wyatt, Sam and Ryan had held a couple of meetings in his hospital room. The head nurse hadn’t liked that. She said his temperature went up each time.

  “I’m feeling much better, sir.”

  “Have a seat. Rosita brought us some tea.”

  He handed Dev a frosty glass of raspberry tea. Dev recalled his first visit to this house and his awkwardness with the elder Fortune and his determined daughter. This time he removed the mint leaf and orange slice, laid them on the side of the coaster and took a refreshing drink.

  “Did Wyatt tell you about the infant seat?”

  “No, sir.” Dev looked a question at his host.

  “It was in the nursery the day of the kidnapping. It was checked for fingerprints, but no one thought to ask about it. The maid brought it out of the closet yesterday and asked Claudia if she wanted to use it again. Claudia said it wasn’t Bryan’s carrier. She hadn’t brought his in from the car when they arrived for the christening. She’d carried him in her arms and laid him in the crib.”

  The hair stood up on Dev’s neck as it always did when he found an important piece of evidence. “Who does it belong to?”

  Ryan shook his head. “That’s the mystery. No one here knows. I thought you might work on solving this puzzle while you’re recovering. If you feel up to it. You can direct Sam and his man, McCoy, in the investigation. Of course, you would need to stay out here.”

  Dev stared at the carpet. Something sweet and fragile and hopeless struggled within him to be heard. The darkness beat it back. “Sir—”

  “I asked you to let her down easy,” Ryan broke in, his gaze sternly reproving. “You have a lot to make up for with my daughter.”

  “Sir…” Dev took another long drink, buying time while he tried to think. The struggle resumed, stronger this time, more insistent. Hope beat at the rusty door.

  “I know she’s impulsive and headstrong. But she’s also loyal and honest, and arrow straight. She’d make a fine wife, if I do say so.”

  Dev’s heart pounded so hard, his chest was one big ache. He breathed deeply until he’d calmed a bit. “I hadn’t considered marriage. My work…my partner died. He left a wife and two kids behind.”

  “My first wife died of cancer.” Ryan fixed a laser beam on him from eyes that were discerning and candid. “Life doesn’t come with guarantees, man. My girl is no wilting violet. She’s a Texas bluebonnet. She’s tough and resilient.”

  “Yes, sir,” Dev agreed, reaching for a light tone. This was a joke fate was playing on him. Her father wasn’t really telling him to marry her, that he shouldn’t let the fact that she could have been killed stop him. “You left off stubborn, willful and opinionated.”

  Ryan stopped his tirade. A grin split his face. “I assumed
you were already acquainted with those traits. Well? You going to handle the investigation?”

  Dev tried to think, to put reason ahead of need and the stark hunger that urged him to find her and claim her for his own. The rusty door trembled and creaked like a house in a violent storm.

  He thought of life and how it had been before he met her, of how the darkness never left him now. He stared at the window and the slant of the afternoon sun across the courtyard. He could feel its heat through the window.

  Light.

  He knew what it was to live without it. How would it be to bask in its warmth every day? “I think I have no choice,” he said slowly, blinking as if just coming out of a dark theater into the sun.

  The father lifted his glass and waited. Dev picked his up. They made a silent toast, then drank.

  “She’s down at the stables,” Ryan said upon taking his seat again.

  Dev gulped the spicy tea. He nodded. “If that’s all?”

  Ryan nodded, walked him to the front door and saw him off. Dev drove down and parked in front of the ranch office. No redheaded female was in any of the paddocks. He went to the office and opened the door.

  Cruz was inside.

  “Where’s Vanessa?” he asked, seeing no need to exchange pleasantries.

  “Who wants to know?” the horse trainer replied.

  Dev paused a beat. “Her fiancé.”

  One eyebrow shot up. “She took a ride. I’d guess she was up at the ridge.”

  Dev pressed a hand to the scar on his chest and tested its soreness. “Can you saddle up the roan for me?”

  A slow smile spread over the other man’s face. “That I can do.” He went outside. In a few minutes he brought the big horse around front. Bending, he cupped his hands and looked at Dev expectantly.

  Dev grinned. “I’m no English lady, but I’ll take you up on the offer.” He put his foot into Cruz’s hands and let the cowboy heft him onto the tall mount. “Thanks.”

  “No problem. I put some jerky and stuff in the saddlebag. In case you miss supper.”

  Dev nodded his thanks and took off. He let the gelding go at a fast walk. He couldn’t handle anything bouncier than that, he discovered. The trip took an hour.