He leaned forward, aware that what he was about to tell her was something he’d scarcely acknowledged to himself. “The bullet in my head changed things for me. I can’t trust myself anymore. I can’t be truly effective anymore, never knowing if or when one of those migraines might strike.”
“What have the doctors said about them?” She leaned forward as well, bringing with her the scent that had the capacity to heat the blood in his veins, make him want to carry her to his bed and claim her as his own one more time.
“They might get worse, they might get better, they could go away altogether.” He shrugged. “None of the doctors are sure what will happen in the future. I’ve managed to put away enough funds that I can take as much time as I need to decide what comes next. Right now I just don’t have any idea what that might be. Besides, I quit planning on a future when I was about eight years old and my father beat me so bad I had to miss school for a week.”
He saw the jump of sympathy into her eyes and he held up a hand to halt whatever she was about to say. “I don’t want your sympathy. I’m just telling you this because it made me the kind of man I am. I don’t think too much about tomorrow and I don’t think too much of other people.”
It was a subtle warning to her not to care about him, not to give him her heart because he wouldn’t have any idea what to do with it. His entire life had been about survival, nothing more, nothing less. And even when this was all over here in Cold Plains, unless they managed to round up every single one of Samuel’s henchmen and fanatical Devotees, he had a feeling he’d be looking over his shoulder for a very long time to come.
They remained seated in the living room talking about everything and nothing until she got up to put Sam down for his nap.
Micah decided to head back into his own room and grab a nap, as well. The night had been too short and being around Olivia for too long of a time created a well of want inside him that he’d never felt before, that he didn’t even want to acknowledge to himself.
It wasn’t just desire to have her in his arms again, although that simmered inside him whenever she was near. Rather this was a wistfulness that he’d be able to listen to her laughter for a long time to come, that he’d see Sam grow up, that he’d not only save Ethan but also have the opportunity to get to know the child who had been separated from his mother for far too long.
Foolish thoughts, he told himself as he settled down on the cot in the quiet, dark room. He was born and bred to be alone and he’d only be doing Olivia a disservice if he forgot that fact for a single moment. He cared about her far too much to give her any false hope, to make her believe in any way that there was a future with him.
He fell asleep and awakened with the scent of dinner filling the air, letting him know he’d slept much longer than he’d intended.
The sound of laughter drifted from the kitchen as he walked toward the room that was the very heart of the safe house. He could easily pick up the sound of Olivia’s laughter among the others and he couldn’t help the way it threatened to wrap around his heart and tie it captive. He consciously steeled himself against it, against her.
Laughter from any place in the cave was rare, but the moment he walked into the kitchen he saw the source of the merriment. Jesse was whistling an upbeat tune and Sam danced in the middle of the kitchen floor, his diapered butt beneath his little jeans shifting back and forth with each Saturday Night Fever move he made.
Olivia sat at the table, laughing so hard tears had sprung to her eyes and June stood at the stove, her face wreathed in a huge grin.
Jesse suddenly stopped his whistle and Sam froze in place, his gaze focused on Jesse. When Jesse began to whistle again Sam started dancing as if nothing had happened, a smile of bliss on his little face.
This caused the women to renew their laughter and Micah grinned at the small tyke who had brought even a little bit of joy to this place.
Sam toddled over to Micah and grabbed his hand, as if inviting him to join him in his dance. “Oh, no, little buddy,” Micah replied and swung him up into his arms. “I’m not about to attempt dancing and let these people all laugh at me.”
Sam studied him soberly and then threw his arms out, palms up as if to ask a question. “Eton?”
The laughter in the room halted abruptly and Olivia’s eyes grew far too shiny with suppressed tears. Micah’s heart dropped to his feet as he recognized what the little boy was asking.
“Ethan’s not here right now, Sam. Ethan’s gone for now,” he said, surprised at the lump that crawled up in the back of his throat as he looked into the little boy’s bright eyes. “But he’s going to be back very soon.”
Sam stared at him for a long moment and then leaned forward and curled into him, placing his little head in the crook of Micah’s neck, his breath a butterfly whisper against Micah’s skin.
The sweet scent of little boy innocence, coupled with the utter trust Sam displayed as he snuggled tightly into Micah’s arms, frightened Micah more than any other experience in his life.
Because he liked it. Because for just a single moment in time, he wanted this…a child who trusted him, a child who respected and loved him.
As Olivia got up and held out her arms to take her son, Micah found himself reluctant to relinquish him. Still, as he did, he made himself a new promise.
He’d abide by the wishes of Hawk and the rest of the FBI agents and lie low for tonight. He knew that Samuel’s men would be pounding the pavement, turning over every rock and looking behind every tree for him in the next day or two.
But sooner or later Micah was going to ignore the advice the FBI had given him.
Sooner rather than later, he intended to head back into that town and somehow he would bring Ethan home.
* * *
Darcy raced through the dark woods, grateful that night had finally arrived. She’d spent the entire day in her room, needing to be alone, wanting the solitude to mourn the mother she knew in her heart was dead.
Twice June had come to check on her, to see if she had wanted something to eat, if she needed some company, but each time Darcy had sent the woman away.
There was only one person Darcy wanted to see, needed to see and that was Rafe. And she’d had to wait for the cover of darkness before leaving the safe house to sneak into town.
Even though she still had to contact Ford McCall and let him do whatever he needed to do to confirm not only that Jane Doe was indeed Catherine George but also Darcy’s birth mother. Even though she knew it might take a little time to confirm that the dead woman was her mother, Darcy didn’t need the confirmation. She felt it in her soul that Catherine George had been the woman who had given her birth and was now dead because of Samuel Grayson.
Her father had killed her mother. How screwed up was that? As she stealthily made her way through the woods, always on the lookout for danger, she knew Rafe would be surprised to see her.
He never liked the idea of her slinking about in a town she’d supposedly left, but her need was far greater than any fear tonight.
As she reached the end of the woods, she surveyed the streets. Samuel would be in the middle of one of his nightly seminars, brainwashing his people, manipulating lives and perhaps plotting another woman’s death.
She never forgot that half of her genes came from evil, but Rafe had made her realize she wasn’t her father’s daughter, that whatever genes of his resided inside her had nothing to do with the kind of woman she’d become.
She had no idea if Rafe would be at the 1930s converted bungalow he used as an office or if perhaps this early in the evening he’d be at the Urgent Care building where he volunteered time in an effort to network and find his missing son’s location. Or he could already be home, in the small cottage at the edge of town.
It was in that direction she ran, along the perimeter of town toward the place they’d co
nsidered an asylum away from the craziness in Cold Plains.
The lights shining from the cottage were a welcomed sight as she went around to the back door and knocked. If he wasn’t here, then she knew where he kept the spare key and she could let herself inside.
She knocked softly and when there was no reply she found the spare key where it was hidden behind one of the shingles and let herself inside.
The first thing she smelled when she walked through the door was the scent of Rafe’s cologne, and it smelled like home. She curled up in the corner of the sofa to wait for him.
This is where she belonged, here with Rafe in this little house where they’d found such love for one another. When she’d taken the job as his receptionist, the last thing she’d had in mind was falling in love with her handsome boss, but she had and more amazing was the fact that he loved her back.
And she needed him now, with her grief a bitter taste in her mouth, with her heart broken by the shattering of the dream of a reunion with her mother.
She hadn’t been there long when she heard his key in the front door. As he came into the door, his eyes widened at the sight of her. “Darcy, what are you doing here?” He quickly closed and locked the door behind him and then hurried toward her and pulled her up and into his arms.
“You shouldn’t come here. You know it’s dangerous,” he said.
“I had to come. I needed you,” she said into the front of his shirt.
He released his hold on her and instead framed her face with his palms so that she was looking at him. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”
“Micah identified Jane Doe. Her name is Catherine George and I’m sure she was my mother.” As the words left her lips she began to cry.
Rafe led her to the sofa and eased her down and held her until the torrent of tears had finally stopped. When the heartache was momentarily spent, she remained in his arms as he stroked the length of her hair.
“Sooner or later this will be over,” he said softly. “We’re going to find Devin and then we’re all going to go far away from this godforsaken town. We’ll find a wonderful place where we can build a life together. Devin and I will be your family and I swear you’ll never feel alone again.”
She clung tighter to him, hoping that his words would come true, praying that there was a happy ending not just for them but for every innocent victim of the man who was her father.
CHAPTER 10
Night had fallen, Sam was in bed and everyone else had disappeared into their rooms except Micah and Olivia who were once again seated on the sofa in the living room area. The room was lit with several oil lamps, creating a warm ambient glow that might feel romantic, if Micah had been a romantic kind of man.
“When I first arrived here, my only thought was getting Ethan back,” Olivia said, her heartbreak shining in her eyes. “And even though that’s still my first priority, now I also want Samuel gone forever and the town healed.”
“We can take out Samuel, but I’m not so sure it’s going to be easy to heal the town. We have no idea how deep the cancer runs in Cold Plains. Samuel isn’t the only one who needs to be excised. Aside from Chief of Police Bo Fargo, who we know is crooked, there are people playing major roles in Samuel’s game and we don’t even know their names. They aren’t even on our radar.”
“What makes a town like Cold Plains?” she asked. “I mean, how does something like this happen? How does one man build such a powerful empire where so many people are simply puppets?”
It was getting late and Micah knew this was always the time of the evening when her thoughts turned to Ethan and he saw the whimpering panic beginning to simmer in her eyes. The best thing to do was to keep her talking until she grew too tired to think, too tired to grieve.
“Samuel certainly isn’t the first charismatic leader to wreak havoc in people’s lives. There have been lots of men before him, men like Jim Jones of the Peoples Temple and Marshall Applewhite, who got thirty-nine people to commit suicide along with him because they believed their bodies would be picked up by a passing UFO and taken to a new plane of existence beyond the human one.”
“But those cults were based on religious ideas. Samuel hasn’t advanced any religious ideology,” she replied.
She looked so soft, so small curled into the corner of the sofa. There was nothing he wanted to do more than to reach out and pull her into his arms. Instead he focused on the conversation.
“Samuel made himself a kind of God here in town. The Community Center is his temple and his word is the law.”
“But he’s not even from Cold Plains. How did he gain so much power?”
Micah ran a hand through his thick dark hair and stared into the fireplace where no fire burned but logs were laid in wait for the colder months to come. The survivalist who had built the cave had vented the fireplace up through the mountain in two directions so that the smoke would be less visible if a fire burned.
“Samuel always had followers. I think before he arrived in Cold Plains he’d amassed quite a group of people who believed in him through his motivational speaking skills and charisma. Once he bought the land from old man Pierce here in town, he set about gathering those followers to this centralized location. As more new people moved in, the people who had lived here before found themselves faced with two choices, embrace the changes Samuel was making, embrace Samuel or work against him.”
“And those who worked against him had unfortunate accidents, or went missing altogether,” she added, her eyes dark.
He nodded. “I’m sure some of the townspeople were thrilled that somebody had come in and was making updates, cleaning everything up and taking them from a rough-and-rowdy town into something nicer and more upscale. Unfortunately, they didn’t realize the price they paid was their soul to the devil.”
He frowned thoughtfully, thinking of the way his brother had accomplished his goals. “There’s definitely a group mentality at play. Samuel is good at fostering the ‘you’re with us or against us’ kind of mentality. He creates an ‘in’ crowd and it’s uncool not to belong. Peer pressure isn’t just felt by teenagers and can be a terrible thing when it comes to situations like this.”
She was silent for a long moment, her gaze troubled as she stared at the fireplace and then looked at him once again. “I’ve never heard any rumors about Samuel actually hurting children.”
“I’ve never heard anything like that, either,” he assured her, realizing that their discussion hadn’t taken her mind off her missing son at all. “Samuel sees children like commodities to be sold. In Devin’s case, he knew that Abby Michaels was dead so Devin became a candidate for an illegal adoption. With you missing and no father in the picture, that makes Ethan an adoptable commodity, as well. The absolute worst thing that could happen to Ethan and Devin is that they’ll be sold out for adoption.” She winced at his words. “But, the FBI have been checking vehicles leaving town and they feel certain the children are still there.”
“But nobody knows where,” she replied flatly. She rubbed a hand across her forehead, as if attempting to numb a headache. “Maybe I should go back to town. I could leave Sam here and make up some story about the FBI questioning me or something. I could tell everyone that I knew Wilma Lathrop would take care of Ethan in my absence.” She dropped her hand back to her lap.
“Who is Wilma Lathrop?” he asked. It was a name he hadn’t heard before.
“She’s an older woman who works at the day care. She’s sweet and very good with the kids. I’m hoping that she’s taking care of Ethan in my absence.”
“I’ll tell you right now, you aren’t going back into town,” Micah said forcefully.
“But it might be the only way I can get information about where Ethan is being held,” she protested.
“So, you’re just going to waltz up to Samuel or one of his minions and ask
where Ethan is after what you saw him do, not knowing if he saw you witness his crime that night? Olivia, if I have to hog-tie you to your bed, you aren’t going back into that town.”
“You wouldn’t hog-tie me to the bed,” she scoffed.
“Don’t test me, Olivia,” he warned.
She released a deep sigh. “If anyone needs to be tied up to keep them from going to town, it’s you.”
“I have no intention of going into town tonight.”
She eyed him dubiously. “And what about tomorrow night or the night after that? The FBI have basically told you to stand down and stay out of sight. Are you going to listen to them?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” He didn’t want her to know that he had every intention of returning to town. He’d made her a promise and even though she’d attempted to release him from it, he wouldn’t be satisfied until she had her son back.
“You scare me, Micah.”
He looked at her in surprise. “Scare you? Why?”
“I’m not scared of you hurting me or anything like that, but I’m afraid of you doing something to hurt yourself, taking chances you shouldn’t take. I know I’ve been a neurotic crybaby where Ethan is concerned, but I don’t want you to sacrifice yourself for him.”
“You haven’t been a crybaby. On the contrary, I think you’ve been amazingly strong through this whole thing,” he replied. This time he couldn’t fight the impulse that he’d been combating since the instant they had both sat down.
He leaned forward and touched her arm and she came willingly forward as if she’d just been waiting for the right moment. She leaned into him, her head resting on his chest, her body warm and softly feminine against his.
“I’m not sure how I could have handled all this without you here,” she said.
He stroked the softness of her hair, the scent of her filling his nose, half-dizzying his brain. “You would have been fine without me here. You’re going to be just fine when this is all over.”
Perfect Wyoming Complete Collection: Special Agent's Perfect Cover ; Rancher's Perfect Baby Rescue ; A Daughter's Perfect Secret ; Lawman's Perfect Surrender ; The Perfect Outsider ; Mercenary's Perfect Mission Page 104