by Laura Scott
“Mommy, I’m hungry,” Brodie said, breaking the strained silence.
He couldn’t help but smile when he heard Shayla sigh. “Okay, have a few fish crackers.”
Without taking his gaze off the field, Mike said, “Remind me to stop at the store tomorrow so we can stock up on crackers.”
For a moment there was nothing but the sound of Brodie chewing and swallowing.
“Do you see anyone out there?” she asked.
“The sports car is gone. No sign of anyone on foot, either. This is Hawk coming to get us now.”
The twin headlights turned toward the farmhouse as Hawk drove through the open field the same way Mike had done earlier. The headlights illuminated the area enough that Mike could see that no one else was out there.
Hawk’s arrival must have scared the gunmen off. Mike stood, reholstered his gun and faced Shayla. “We can head outside now, they’re gone.”
“The bad guys are gone?” Brodie repeated, his mouth stained orange from the cheesy crackers.
“Yes, they’re gone,” Mike repeated, wishing once again he could pull his son into his arms. “You and your mom are safe with me.”
The boy nodded and rested his head on Shayla’s shoulder. “’Kay.”
He turned on his phone flashlight again, illuminating the way through the rickety old farmhouse. They went back outside in time to see Hawk pulling in behind Mike’s SUV.
“I saw them take off,” Hawk said. “I wanted to follow, but knew I needed to come here. And I was too far away to get a license plate number.” Then he let out a low whistle. “I see they hit your car.”
Mike went over to see what Hawk was talking about. The bullet hole was located to the right of the back of the car.
The passenger side.
His stomach knotted with fear as he realized how close Brodie’s car seat had come to being hit.
How close he’d come to losing the son he’d just discovered he had.
* * *
Shayla shifted Brodie into her arms, bracing the bulk of his weight on her hip. He was heavy and she hadn’t wanted to put him down in the grimy farmhouse.
Her phone buzzed in her purse and she fished around for it. Her heart quickened when she recognized the number for the hospital.
“Hello?” she quickly answered.
“Ms. O’Hare? This is Dr. Torres.”
“What’s wrong? Is my dad okay?” She couldn’t imagine why her dad’s surgeon would be calling her so late.
“Everything is fine,” he said reassuringly. “In fact, he’s doing so much better that I’d like to move up his surgery to first thing tomorrow morning.”
“So soon?” She couldn’t decide if this was good news or bad. “But—I thought you were worried about his blood pressure.”
“He’s been stable all day and I think it’s best we get in to replace his cardiac arteries as soon as possible.”
She couldn’t help glancing at Mike, who’d come over to stand beside her. Despite being at odds earlier, she appreciated his support now. “Okay, thanks. I appreciate the call.”
“He’s scheduled for first thing in the morning,” Dr. Torres went on. “And I expect he’ll be back in his room in the cardiac intensive care unit by noon if you want to visit.”
“I’ll be there.” She wanted to be there early to see her dad off, but wasn’t sure that was feasible. “Can I talk to my dad?”
“Of course. I’ll have the nurse transfer this call into his room.” There was another long pause, then more ringing.
“Hello?” Her dad’s hoarse voice made her eyes sting with tears.
“Hi, Dad. It’s Shayla. I hear you’re having surgery tomorrow morning.”
“Yep, that’s the plan. How are you and Brodie doing? I thought you were coming back here tonight.”
Unwilling to add to her father’s stress level, she decided against telling him about the episodes of gunfire. “Brodie’s being fussy, so we’ll come in tomorrow, okay? I’ll see you after surgery.”
“Sounds good.” Was it her imagination or did her father’s voice sound weaker? “I’ll look forward to seeing you, Brodie and Duncan tomorrow, then.”
“I’ll be there,” she promised, feeling sick at the thought it was likely Duncan wouldn’t be. “I love you, Dad. Get better soon.”
“I will. Hug my grandson for me.”
“Done. Good night.” She disconnected, feeling awful about not being there for her dad. She closed her eyes and dropped her chin to rest on Brodie’s head. What if something happened and he didn’t survive his surgery?
“He’ll be all right,” Mike said in a low voice. “We’ll pray for him.”
She hadn’t grown up with God and faith the way the Callahans had. But she nodded. “I’d like that.”
“Okay.” Mike put his hand on her back and bowed his head. “Dear Lord, we ask that You keep Ian O’Hare safe in Your care as he undergoes surgery at Trinity Medical Center. Amen.”
“Amen,” she whispered. It felt weird to pray out loud, with Mike standing beside her, but she couldn’t deny feeling a little better afterward. “Thanks, Mike.”
“Anytime.” He hesitated and then added, “Listen, Shayla, I’d like you to get rid of your phone. I’m worried that the gunmen may be using it to track your movements.”
“What?” Her head snapped up, all sense of peace instantly vaporized. “I can’t do that. This is the only number the hospital has to reach me.”
“It’s okay, we’ll give them my number so that we’ll still be accessible.” He gently pried her phone from her hand. “Trust me on this, okay? These devices have GPS tracking imbedded inside. We can’t risk the possibility of being found.”
“Mike’s right about that,” Hawk piped up. “Best to smash it to pieces and leave it behind.”
Her brain told her they were right, but her heart wanted to rail at Mike for taking away the meager connection she had to her father.
And to her brother. Without her phone, Duncan wouldn’t have any way to contact her if he needed to be rescued.
“Shayla? Please?”
She let out a heavy sigh. “What’s your number? I want to call the hospital right now to make sure they have it.”
He provided the information and she used his phone to make the call. She left his cell number with her dad’s nurse and then called her dad’s room again, to make sure he had it, as well. Her dad asked why she was with Mike, and she assured him they were just friends catching up. He seemed to accept her response. It occurred to her that Duncan might call the hospital, even her father, to find a way to reach her if her phone didn’t work.
“Good night, Shayla.”
“Good night, Dad.” She sighed, handed the phone back to Mike and hitched Brodie up again, ignoring the screaming protest of her arm muscles.
“Do you want me to carry him?” Mike offered.
Despite her fatigue, she shook her head. “He doesn’t know you. I don’t want him to be afraid.”
Mike’s disappointment was palpable and she was reminded of the fact that, as Brodie’s father, he was well within his rights to hold his son.
But not yet. Not until Brodie had a chance to get used to Mike.
“We’ll swap rides,” Hawk said, holding out his keys.
“No, driving my SUV will only put you in danger,” Mike protested. “I’ll grab Brodie’s car seat and we’ll go together.”
Hawk frowned. “I’m not sure leaving your ride here is a good idea. They could come back to run the plates, find out who you are.”
Shayla froze. “I don’t like that idea.”
“I’m not sure it’s drivable, hitting the rock damaged the front axle. I’ll arrange to have it towed,” Mike assured her.
“Call now,” Hawk advised. “You don’t know how long it will take for the tow truc
k to get here.”
Shayla leaned against the busted SUV in an attempt to disperse Brodie’s weight. Mike called the tow truck, then took the car seat out and buckled it into Hawk’s SUV.
“Ready?” Mike asked, looking at Shayla and then at Hawk.
She nodded and gratefully set Brodie into his car seat with a muffled groan. After making sure he was secure, she went around to slide into the seat beside him, leaving Mike to take the front passenger seat.
“Where to?” Hawk asked as he began the rocky drive through the farmer’s field.
Mike didn’t answer right away. “What do you think about us spending some time at your cabin?” he finally asked. “It’s safer and closer than going back to the city.”
“Good idea,” Hawk agreed. “I was there last weekend, so there’s plenty of supplies and nonperishable food.”
A cabin? She hoped it was in better shape than the farmhouse had been.
“Don’t worry, there’s indoor plumbing,” Hawk said as if reading her mind. He captured her gaze in the rearview mirror. “And it’s relatively clean.”
“Thank you,” she said, feeling bad about her unkind thoughts. “I appreciate you helping us out.”
“Yeah, the Callahans owe me big-time and I have every intention on finding a way to collect.”
“I’m sure you will,” Mike agreed dryly.
Brodie yawned, his head tilting to one side. His eyelids fluttered despite the jostling of the SUV as Hawk made his way through the field.
She put a reassuring hand on his legs to steady him during the rough ride. At least it wasn’t as scary as running from the gunmen.
When they reached the road, Shayla finally relaxed in her seat, feeling safe for the first time in hours. On one hand, her father was doing well enough to have surgery. But on the other, Duncan was still missing.
The ride to Hawk’s cabin took less than twenty minutes. His driveway wasn’t paved, but wasn’t nearly as bad as driving through the field had been.
“Give us a minute while we get the lights,” Mike said.
She nodded, battling a wave of exhaustion. Hopefully, Brodie wouldn’t wake up when she carried him inside.
When the lights went on in the cabin, she pushed open her door and slid out. She walked around to the other side so she could unbuckle Brodie.
“Shay?” Mike’s voice was soft and husky beside her. “Will you allow me to carry him inside?”
She hesitated but then nodded, taking a step back to give him room. Mike slid his broad hands beneath Brodie and carefully lifted him out of the seat, cradling him against his chest.
Their son wiggled around a bit but didn’t wake up.
Mike surprised her by pressing a kiss to Brodie’s temple as he carried him inside the cabin. Her heart fluttered at the picture they made together, father and son, both having the same dark hair, with the cowlick that refused to lie flat.
This was it, she thought, shivering as she followed them inside. The point where life as she’d previously known it ended and a new life full of unknowns began.
From this moment on, she’d have to share Brodie with his father.
FIVE
Mike cradled his precious son for a moment, inhaling Brodie’s baby-shampoo scent as Shayla opened a sleeping bag on one of the twin beds in Hawk’s guest room. His heart swelled with love and longing. Holding his son in his arms felt amazing and he was loath to let him go.
Shayla finished with the sleeping bag and stepped back, eyeing him expectantly. Obviously he couldn’t stand there with Brodie all night, so he gently and reluctantly placed Brodie on the bed. He lightly covered Brodie’s husky frame with the edge of the sleeping bag and then bent to press a kiss on the top of the boy’s head.
“Good night, son,” he whispered.
Shayla ducked her head, avoiding his gaze as she straightened the edge of the sleeping bag. She also kissed Brodie, then picked up a chair and set it back-first against the bed.
“What’s the chair for?” he asked after they tiptoed out of the room.
“He has a big-boy bed at home, but there’s a safety rail along the side to make sure he doesn’t roll out onto the floor.” Shayla crossed her arms over her chest and looked past him at the kitchen. “I figured the back of the chair should work just as well.”
“I see.” He felt foolish for not knowing more about how to take care of a three-year-old. It never occurred to him that the boy could roll off the bed onto the floor. “Good idea.”
“Where’s Hawk?”
“He left, but will be back in the morning with another vehicle, a laptop computer and a set of disposable phones.” He sensed she was uncomfortable with him, but didn’t quite understand why. “Are you hungry? You want something to eat? I was hoping we could talk for a bit. I have so many questions about your pregnancy, Brodie’s delivery and your childcare arrangements...”
“No, I’m fine. Except I’m not really up for a conversation. If you don’t mind, I’d rather try to get some sleep, especially since it’s likely Brodie will have another nightmare.”
“But—” He swallowed his protest, hating to admit she was right. They’d narrowly escaped another round with the gunmen and he had no idea what impact their rugged escape through the farmer’s field would have on Brodie. “Okay, see you in the morning.”
“Good night.” Shayla went into Brodie’s room, quietly shutting the door behind her.
Mike let out his breath in a heavy sigh and went into the kitchen. Hawk was right about there being plenty of food, even instant oatmeal for breakfast. Did Brodie like instant oatmeal?
He had no idea.
There were many unknowns. So many things he wanted to know. Details that Shayla was apparently unwilling to share.
He went into the living room and stretched out on the sofa. His weapon dug into his side, but he didn’t want to set it on the table, on the chance Brodie would wake and wander into the living room. Just the image of Brodie playing with his gun made him break out into a cold sweat.
But he wasn’t willing to hide it, either. Not while Shayla and Brodie were in danger.
He slept fitfully, waking every couple of hours to walk around Hawk’s cabin, peering through windows and making sure there was no one lurking outside. At two in the morning he thought he heard Brodie crying, but when he went over to listen at the door, he figured it must have been his imagination.
At six, he set about making a pot of coffee, craving a jolt of caffeine. He pulled out an old teakettle and filled it with water and set it on the stove to heat up. For some reason, Hawk didn’t have a microwave.
Shayla emerged from the bedroom fifteen minutes later, her blond hair tousled from sleep. Her brown eyes were bright, though, giving him the impression that she’d slept well.
“I’d like to use your phone to call my dad.”
“Sure.” He unplugged it from the charger and handed it over. Sipping his coffee, he listened to her side of the conversation.
“Oh, he’s already left for surgery?” Her face fell with stark disappointment. “Okay, thanks.” She stared down at the phone for a moment before handing it back to him. “I just missed him.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, but he’ll be fine.”
“I hope so.” She crossed over, filled a mug with coffee and then joined him at the table. “I should have called earlier.”
“You couldn’t have known what time they’d take him.” He desperately wanted to take her hand in his but wasn’t sure she would be receptive to his touch. “We can pray for him again.”
“I have.” She was still avoiding his direct gaze. “I really want to go to the hospital to see him after surgery. I need to see him, Mike.”
“We will.” He hoped Hawk would show up sooner rather than later. “I had plans to head into town anyway. I’d like to stop by and visit Peter Fresno, y
our brother’s partner. See if he has any idea where Duncan might be.”
That made her look at him. “I’d like to go with you. I don’t know Pete, but I’m sure he’d prefer talking to me as Duncan’s sister than with a private investigator intent on sullying his partner’s name.”
His initial instinct was to refuse but he was forced to admit she had a point. At least about the part about Pete opening up to her more so than him. Visiting a cop hardly sounded dangerous, so he relented. “Okay, we’ll give it a try. And I’m not going to smear your brother’s name. I told you I’m willing to hear Duncan’s side of the story.”
“I know.” She lifted her mug and took a sip. They sat in silence for a few minutes before she offered, “You asked about my pregnancy?”
“Yes.” He leaned forward, trying not to appear too eager. “I hope it wasn’t a difficult time for you.”
“I loved being pregnant, but unfortunately I also suffered from gestational diabetes.” She shrugged. “I had to watch what I ate, but even so, Brodie was a large baby. I ended up delivering him via C-section.”
His stomach knotted with concern and a measure of guilt. His mother had complained about how big he was as a baby; was it his DNA that had created her pregnancy issues? “But you’re all right now? No lingering problems?”
“I’m fine and so is Brodie.” She stared into her mug for a moment. “My aunt Jean has been wonderful. I’m not sure what I would have done without her. She helps watch him while I work.”
He knew that Shayla’s dependence on her aunt was, in large part, his fault. For not listening to her when she reached out to him. For being obsessed with her brother and father’s complicity in his father’s murder. He should have been there for her, should have been paying child support.
Instead he’d missed his son being born, his first smile, his first steps... The list was endless.
He forced himself to remain focused on the present, rather than wallowing in the what-ifs. “What sort of work? Did you ever get into nursing school?”
“No. I’m a medical coder for a large hospital in Nashville, which is a fancy way of saying I read a lot of patient charts for billing reasons. It’s not exciting by any means, but it pays the bills and offers me the chance to work at home, which is frankly more important as far as having flexibility with Brodie.”