“My daughter and I walked to the bakery that last day in France. Trish had duties with the students. We got the usual loaf. She hugged it so tightly, almost as tightly as I hugged her to me on the walk back to the housing. The searing pain came out of nowhere. At first, I thought I was having a heart attack. I felt a burning in my shoulder and back. Then I saw the blood. The man who wielded a knife stepped in front of me.”
He looked up at the light and blinked furiously. “I wasn’t a fighter, but I was prepared to take on the world to save you.” Patrick wiped at his eyes.
Kat let her tears fall freely. Therapy. Don’t mask your feelings. Let them flow. Apparently, today that was down her face, ruining what makeup surgery hadn’t.
“I didn’t know it, but there were four of them. Organized. They had a fancy car, and I was losing blood so quickly. That bastard...excuse my language—”
“Those pieces of shit,” Trish supplied.
“They’d known just how to hit an artery. When they pulled my daughter from my arms, all I could do was lay on the pavement and watch the most horrifying thing I’d ever imagined happen.”
Surely, when he’d said you, it’d been a slipup. She was the age their daughter would’ve been. She had a light complexion and light hair like they did. She just reminded them of the daughter they’d lost. No, the daughter stolen from them.
“When I got to him on the sidewalk, he was unconscious and so close to death I didn’t know what happened to our daughter. The police put out a bulletin, but it was two days before Pat was well enough to speak. In a city of fancy black cars and no witnesses to the crime, there were no leads.” Trish had reined in her emotions, but she still spoke with purpose and conviction. “We stayed for three months, prodding the police, walking the streets, and interviewing people. None of the pieces led anywhere.”
“They forced us to leave after a one-week extension of our short-term visas.” Pat shook his head. “Before we left, we hired a French investigator. He just took our money. We had given him a lot because we were desperate to find our daughter. Over the years, we’ve taken countless trips to France. We begged the US embassy for help. We hired American investigators. We paid off French officials.”
The couple clung together as if they were the only thing keeping each other upright. They quieted.
Kat let the story sink in. She could envision everything from the little girl to the streaks of blood on the street. Her imagination even painted the face of the man who took their daughter. It was the face of Tor Royan. Then again, Kat was in intense therapy for a reason.
She wiped the tears from her eyes and licked her lips. “Did you ever find your daughter?”
“Yes,” Pat and Trish answered in unison. Their eyes glossed with fresh tears and large smiles stretched their mouths.
Pat kissed the back of his wife’s hand. “Hunter searched the missing person database for weeks. When he came across our story, he made contact and asked questions. We never expected… But he came back with a ninety-nine point nine nine percent DNA match to you, Kat.”
Kat covered her mouth. Tears slipped over her fingers.
“I don’t mean to upset you, doll.” Pat grimaced.
She shook her head because words weren’t yet possible. Pat pulled another handkerchief from a pocket and handed it across the table. Kat clutched the cloth like a lifeline.
“He searched Tor Royan’s financials,” Pat continued, “and found no record of him having a daughter until the week of your disappearance. The records also showed that Tor was in France that week, working on a deal to funnel illegal drugs through the area. Hunter was convinced you were our missing daughter.”
“And you?” Kat croaked.
“We were hopeful, but after so much disappointment through the years, we were skeptical”—the woman sighed—“until you walked into the room.” Trish fought off tears by using her hand as a fan but lost the battle. “I’d, we’d, know your face anywhere.”
It was all too much to take in at once. She had a family. For her entire life, she’d been loved and not known it. Tor had stolen her from her father’s arms and left him for dead.
Kat couldn’t get her body to move. It was as if shock paralyzed her. Joy and rage formed a heady mix she didn’t know what to do with.
“Please.” Trish lifted her hands in prayer toward Kat. “We know this is a lot to take in all at once. The last thing we want to do is cause you more pain. Hunter didn’t tell us much, but we know you weren’t physically harmed and that you had at least a good education.”
“He was a twisted man who never laid an ill hand on me but who abused me through neglect.” Kat smiled to put them at ease as much as she could. “It’s something I didn’t realize until our mutual friend pointed it out. It’s something I’m working on with a therapist.”
“I’m glad you’re getting help.” Trish nodded and wrung her hands. “It makes all the difference. We just want you to know we’re here for whatever you need, as much or as little as you want. You don’t owe us anything.”
“Now that you’re free, your life truly is yours to live as you choose.” Pat nodded. “Of course, we’d love to get to know you but not at any cost to your well-being.” He placed a card on the desk. “This has all our contact information; address, phone numbers, cellular phones. If you want to reach out, we’re available at your disposal. Anytime.”
They stood. Kat’s leg wouldn’t work, but she offered Pat his hankie.
“Please, keep it.” He grinned.
“Thank you for listening to our story.” Trish placed her hand on Kat’s and held it there for a few seconds. “I know it will be hard on us all, but one day, I hope you’ll share your story with us.”
Kat wanted to say something. Thank you. Thank God. Thank Hunter. She just sat and watched the couple—her parents—walk out of the door and close it behind them.
Peace and longing, contentment and angst, elation and anger; each emotion cut in line in front of the other. They pushed and shoved their way to the lead. Overwhelmed wasn’t the word to describe what she was. An accurate one didn’t exist. Not in her vocabulary anyway. Some of Hunter’s words would work, though.
She sat for hours. The sunlight streaming through her small office window finally ebbed as did her tears. Her skills as a doctor had given Hunter another shot at life. His skills as a badass had gifted her with another shot at life; one she hadn’t known she’d missed until she’d met him.
Her wet finger twined in the handkerchief her father, by blood and love, had given to show her comfort. Kat couldn’t imagine the strength it took for them to walk out, but then again, she’d walked away from Hunter. Sometimes, the right thing wasn’t what you wanted it to be, and other times, like today, it was exactly the thing you’d hoped and dreamed about every day of your life.
Kat slid the card she’d been staring at all afternoon toward her. Then she pulled the one from her desk drawer Hunter had given her before they parted. It was white except for a single phone number. From no family to complete love in a day—the day Hunter had opened his eyes and looked at her—the gift was almost too much to comprehend.
She picked up the receiver and dialed the home number for Trish and Patrick Austen. The line went live after the first ring.
“Hello?” Patrick answered.
“Hi, Dad.”
In all the years she’d thought she’d had a father, never once had she called Tor dad. The title hadn’t belonged to him.
“Kat, doll.” There was a pause. “I’m so happy.” He sniffled and laughed. “I’m so happy you called.”
“Me too.” She picked up both cards in the hand with her dad’s handkerchief and crushed them all to her chest. “Me too.” In the background, she heard Trish’s squeal.
“I’m going to put you on speakerphone if that’s okay?”
“That’s perfect.”
“Okay, Kat. We’re here,” Pat announced. His voice sounded bigger than it had before.
“I�
��m shocked and overwhelmed,” Kat admitted. “For the first time in as long as I can remember, though, it’s not by loneliness but by love. I want you in my life. I want to share my story with you, and I want us to make new stories.”
“Oh, Kat.” Trish sobbed. “That’s what we want too. So much.”
“If it’s not too soon, I’d like to meet with you tomorrow. I totally understand if you have plans or think it’s too much,” Kat hedged.
“Doll, it’s not soon enough,” Pat said.
“Kat, please, come to the house any time tomorrow or tonight. I’ll have food. You can stay as long as you want,” Trish insisted.
“Would it be okay if I invited Hunter along?” Kat asked.
“Doll, I owe that man a couple of my nine lives.” Pat chuckled. “You bring him anytime.”
“I don’t know that he’ll come.” She rubbed her thumb over the number that’d yet to connect them.
“Kat?” Trish asked.
“Yes?” Kat whispered.
“He loves you as much as we do. He’ll be here. Just ask him.” Her mother sounded so confident.
“I will. Thank you, Mom.” The word felt new yet comfortable in her mouth.
“My absolute pleasure, Kat. We look forward to seeing you soon.”
“How about tomorrow at eleven?”
“Perfect,” Pat chimed.
“We’ll see you then,” Trish squeaked.
“We love you, Doll,” Pat said.
“God, yes we do,” Trish agreed.
“I don’t know you just yet, but I know that I’ll love you two in no time.”
Their cheers and laughter filled the line for a second as Kat placed the phone back in its cradle only to pick it right back up again. She dialed the number Hunter had given her with a smile on her face. By the sixth ring, the smile faltered. When the recording told her to leave another message, Kat didn’t hang up for once. She breathed deeply.
“Hunter, there aren’t enough words to express how thankful I am that you came into my life. So, I’ll use grand gestures. I’m willing to use my body too. Whatever it takes to get you back in my life, I will do it. If any of that sounds like something that moves you, I’d love for you to join me at my parents’ house tomorrow at eleven a.m.” She shifted to hang up the receiver but stalled. “Thank you, Hunter, for showing me love and helping me learn how to love. Whether I see you tomorrow or never again, I’ll love you forever.”
27
If Kat took any longer, Hunter’s fingers would freeze completely and have to be removed due to frostbite. She loved him as a single above-the-knee amputee. Would she love him with no fingers? Probably not. His fingers played her body like an instrument and were starved for the sound of her, the feel of her. The past five weeks had been more torturous than her captor’s chamber. He shifted his ass cheek he’d propped on the hood of his ‘69 Mustang Boss—right to left—and looked at his watch.
9:15 a.m.
He expected her to bound out of her condo any minute now and head to her car to start the hour and a half trek to her parents’ house. No way in hell would he let her make that drive alone. Meet her there. Who was she kidding? Hunter wasn’t the romantic type, but Cara, Carmen, and Rin were a heart and flowers dream team. Even Tucker had thrown in a decent idea or two. After one meeting, operation Get the Girl was a go.
Stage One: Find Kat’s Mother had shocked the hell out of him. When he’d expected to find a clandestine grave on one of the Royan properties, he’d found Patrick and Trish. Stage Two: The Reveal, letting the Austens know their daughter was alive and well, had lifted him to a level of fulfillment he’d only experienced in Kat’s presence.
According to Patrick and Trish, Stage Three: First Contact had gone beautifully. Which progressed him on to Stage Four: Wow and Woo. He had flowers and a dictionary. Each of the words they’d learned while hiding in the cabin was highlighted in yellow with yellow tabs as well as some words highlighted in pink with pink tabs. Those she needed to familiarize herself with.
He’d arrived early, in case she’d decided to get a head start. The girls had told him the surprise was over half the fun. He wasn’t to knock on the door but wait for her—in the cold—with the ønske burning a hole in his chest. The hot and cold should’ve balanced each other. Instead, they created an irritation he couldn’t shake until she was in his arms.
Getting out of the car hadn’t helped. Maybe pacing would. He knew it wouldn’t, but what the hell else did he have to do until she came outside? Hunter shoved his hands in his pockets and started up the sidewalk. When he came even with her building, he saw large hollowed out footprints in the snow from a row of hedges on the west side of the two-unit condo. Kat’s unit. The footprints in themselves were curious. No one walked in the snow when perfectly clean sidewalks were available. Also, the only thing on the side of the building were windows. Windows into Kat’s house.
Hunter’s palms slicked. Suddenly, the frigid temperature was the least of his concern. He talked himself down for a three count. Then his gaze traveled the line to Kat’s little coupe.
As casually as was possible with at least a peeping Tom in Kat’s midst and at most a person her father had wronged seeking revenge, Hunter grabbed his phone, dialed Oliver, and walked perpendicular to the footsteps toward the back of the building.
His friend picked up on the second ring.
“When’s the date, bro?” Oliver asked.
“I have a situation. Suspicious as all fuck footprints outside Kat’s condo and car. Get some of our crime scene guys—”
Talking or, rather, the belligerent rant of an unfamiliar male voice coming from inside Kat’s condo stopped everything; his heart, the world, the future.
“Hunter?”
“Shhh.” He crouched low and moved close to the brick. Through the closed blinds, he could see nothing, but this close, he heard the one-sided conversation too well.
“I’m the loyal child, the one he kept close, in confidence. The one who didn’t get him killed. You did that, you and that agent.”
Hunter moved around to the front of the building. “Trey Royan, the fucking weasel I’ve been looking for, is inside yelling at Kat about getting her father killed. I’ve gotta go.”
“Wait for backup.”
“It’s at least thirty minutes by HELO. She’ll be dead by then.”
“Remember what happened last time you bailed without backup?”
“I am, and I’d do it again. That and more. Just like you would for Mar.”
“Stay safe, brother. I’ll be there as fast as the bird will fly.”
Hunter placed the phone on vibrate, shoved it into his pocket, and tried the door. The knob gave, and he eased it open a crack. If only he’d been here before. He had zero idea of the condo’s layout. The mix of voices sounded as though they still came from the back of the building, but was there a straight shot from the back to the front? Was Trey watching it?
Fuck. Were he in full gear, he’d have a mirror, flash-bangs, and tear gas. All the things he’d need to get Kat swiftly and safely out of harm’s way. Instead, he had the technological equivalent of a Swiss army knife and his side arm. He pulled the smart phone from his pocket, switched on the camera, and eased the lens into the crack.
The door led into a small living room. A key chain lay on the floor surrounded by shards of glass and plastic. The indestructible phone case sat empty next to the upturned coffee table.
Rage boiled in his veins, turning adrenaline to speed.
Kat’s living room led into a narrow hallway with two open doors and an archway at the end. Kitchen counters lined what he could see of the far wall. There was a clear shot to the front door. For the moment, no one watched it.
Hunter replaced his phone and eased the door open wide enough for his frame to fit. He shifted to the far side of the door and leaned in, still keeping his body out of the line of fire. His view of the hallway widened to the edge of the kitchen.
No Kat. No Trey.
<
br /> He hurried inside and eased the door back to its frame. The desperation in Trey’s tone grew louder.
“I will carry on the family name.”
“No one says you can’t.”
A large thunk split the air. Something shattered. Two large hunks skidded across the floor in Hunter’s view. Several smaller bits followed. “The man you let escape says I can’t. My sources say he’s been looking for me.”
Hunter would have doubled over from the gut shot his words delivered, but that wouldn’t help Kat now. Only his very best work would do. He’d love nothing more than to set up in a tree and blow this guy’s brains all over the wall, but that wouldn’t help Kat move on with her life. He had to defuse the situation, up close and personal.
“I don’t know anything about that.” Kat’s voice sounded calm and confident.
“Don’t lie to me,” Trey screamed.
She didn’t reply.
That a girl. Don’t give him any ammo.
From the living room to the hallway lay a minefield of noisemakers. Hunter grabbed a knitted throw from a chair and dragged it across from one side of the mess to the other. The tiny shards made noise, but nothing the maniac would hear over the sound of his own demanding voice. Hunter tossed the blanket out of sight and eased down the corridor to the first doorway.
The bedroom smelled of Kat. Were there not a madman’s heir fighting for his place in the world, Hunter would’ve sported instant wood. He didn’t even have time to admire the large bed and fluffy comforter before he shifted to the next doorway. The bathroom smelled like Kat too.
“I know that you and Tor had a different relationship than he and I did,” Kat admitted.
“We did,” he agreed boisterously.
“I know, but that doesn’t mean everything he told you was the truth,” she explained.
“What are you trying to say?” A loud bang, like a fist on a table, sailed out of the kitchen and ricocheted into the bathroom.
“Did you know Tor wasn’t my real father?” Kat asked.
“Who told you that?”
Captor Mine (Base Branch Series Book 13) Page 20