by Rita Herron
Her thoughts raced as she pulled down his covers and checked below his mattress, the bottom of the box spring and the back of the headboard.
Panic was starting to tear at her, and she threw the closet door open and searched the floor. Shoes, toys and a cereal box. On the top shelf she found the extra blankets and sheets she’d folded along with a flashlight, Sam’s Halloween costume and boxes of rocks they’d collected at the creek.
She dug through the corner of the closet and found a stack of magazines—rodeo magazines. Her throat closed as she spotted a picture of Brett on the front of one of them. He must have found this in her nightstand drawer.
“Any luck, Willow?” Brett’s voice jerked her from her thoughts and she stuffed the magazines back inside.
“No, nothing. You?”
Brett scowled. “No, but I’m going to look around outside.”
“I’ll check the attic.”
He nodded and she rushed to the hall and climbed in the attic while he stepped outside. The rain had slackened, although droplets pinged off the window where the wind shook it from the trees.
Several boxes of old clothing and quilt scraps were stored on one wall. She went to the antique wardrobe and opened it. It would be a perfect hiding place. In fact, Sam had hidden inside it once when they were playing hide-and-seek. After that, she’d made sure that it couldn’t be locked so he wouldn’t get trapped.
She swung the door open and found fabric scraps from her projects along with boxes of photographs of her and Brett in high school.
But there was no money anywhere.
Outside an engine rumbled in the distance, and she looked out the attic window and saw lights flickering. Was it them?
Did they have Sam?
* * *
BRETT FOUND NOTHING in the garage, so he scanned the side of the house for a crawl space or a hiding place but didn’t see one.
The sound of the car engine made his nerves spike. He hurried inside and grabbed the rifle along with the duffel bag. Willow raced down the steps from the attic and clutched his arm. “Brett, what are we going to do?”
“Play along with me.”
She nodded, although terror filled her eyes. Brett stepped onto the porch, deciding to use the darkness to camouflage the bag. A black sedan pulled up, lights turned off.
He held the rifle beside him, hand ready to draw, the duffel bag in his other hand. Willow’s nervous breathing rattled in the quiet.
The sedan door opened and a man wearing a ski mask stepped from the backseat. The driver remained behind the wheel, hidden in the shadows.
The silver glint of metal flickered against the night. “The woman needs to bring the money over here.”
“First, we see the boy,” Brett said in a tone that brooked no argument.
A hesitation. The wind hurled rain onto the porch and caused a twig to snap and fall in front of the man. He didn’t react, except to reach inside the car and snatch something.
Brett feared it was another weapon, but a little boy wearing a jacket appeared, his body shaking. He couldn’t see his face well for the shadows, but he cried out for Willow.
“Mommy!”
Willow stepped onto the porch. “Sam! Honey, I’m here. Are you all right?”
“I wanna come home!” Sam yelled.
Brett caught Willow, before she barreled forward.
“Send the boy over, then I’ll throw you the money,” Brett ordered.
A nasty chuckle echoed from the man. “No way. The woman brings the money. When I see it, I release the kid.”
Brett’s fingers tightened around the rifle. He was a damn good shot. But this was a dangerous game.
Willow’s and her son’s lives depended on him.
“Fine.” Willow grabbed the duffel bag.
“Willow?” Brett reached for her but she shook off his hand.
“I have to do this,” Willow said. “I’ll do anything for Sam.”
Brett’s gut churned as she slowly walked down the steps.
“Send the boy,” Brett said.
The man took Sam by the collar and half dragged him across the yard. Brett inched down a step, but the man aimed the gun at Willow. “Stay put, McCullen, or they’re both dead.”
Chapter Sixteen
Willow soaked up the sight of her little boy’s features.
His dark eyes were big and terrified, but he was alive. And she didn’t see any visible injuries or bruises.
“Are you okay, honey?” she asked softly as she approached Sam.
He gave a little nod of his head, but his chin quivered. “I wanna come home.”
“You are coming home,” Willow assured him. There was no way this man would leave with her son. She’d die first.
The man’s gun glinted as she neared him, but that ski mask disguised his face.
Willow clutched the duffel bag to her side. “I have what you came for. Now let my son go.”
The man glanced down at the bag. “Closer.”
Willow inched forward, but kept the bag slightly behind her, determined to lure Sam away before the man realized the bag was empty.
She hesitated a few inches from him, then stood ramrod straight, her chin lifted. “Let him go.”
The man met her gaze, then shoved Sam. “Go on, kid.” At the same time, he reached for the bag.
“Mommy!” Sam ran toward her, and she hugged him to her and threw the bag at the man’s feet a few inches from him.
She gripped Sam by the arm just as he ripped open the bag to check the contents. “Run back to the house, Sam!”
He was crying and clinging to her, and she turned to run with him, but the man lunged at her and snatched her arm. “You lying bitch.”
“Run, Sam, run!” Her head snapped back as the man caught her.
Brett was coming down the steps, his rifle aimed. “Let her go!”
Sam stumbled and fell, crying out for her. “Mommy!”
“Save him,” Willow shouted to Brett.
The second man in the car fired his gun, and Brett jumped back slightly, then pressed his hand on his left shoulder. Blood began to ooze out and soak his shirt.
He’d been shot.
“Please let me go,” Willow cried. “I don’t have your money, and my son needs me.”
“Shut up.” The man jammed the gun to her head, but Brett started forward again so the man spoke to Brett. “Move another inch and I’ll shoot her.”
Brett kept his rifle aimed, but froze a few feet from Sam. “Listen, man, she tried to find the money. But she doesn’t know where it is.”
A litany of curse words filled the air. Sam pushed up from the ground and shook his little fists at the man. “Let my mommy go!”
Sam started to run back toward her, but Brett snatched him by the neck of his jacket. “Stay still, son. I’ll handle this.”
The man kept the gun to her head and dragged her back toward the sedan. She wanted to fight, but the cold barrel against her temple warned her not to mess with him. She didn’t want to die and leave Sam motherless.
Sam was sobbing, so Brett picked him up. Willow saw the moment he looked into Sam’s face and realized he was his.
His gaze flew to hers, questions mingling with shock.
The driver of the sedan fired at Brett’s feet, though, and he dodged the bullet, protecting Sam with his body.
The kidnapper opened the sedan door. Willow shoved at him, but he grabbed her around the throat, then pressed the barrel of the gun to her head again.
“Don’t hurt her. I’ll get you some money!” Brett shouted. “I have a hundred thousand of my own I’ll give you in exchange for her.”
“Get it and we’ll talk.” The man shoved Willow inside the car.
Willow tried to crawl across the seat to escape out the opposite door, but he slammed the gun against the back of her head, and the world went black.
* * *
BRETT’S HEART WAS pounding so loudly, he could hear the blood roaring in his ears. The
driver of the sedan spun the vehicle around. The other man fired at Brett again to keep him from chasing them, and Brett clutched Sam and darted behind a tree to protect him.
“Mommy!” Sam screamed as the sedan accelerated. “Mommy!”
A cold knot of fear enveloped Brett as the sedan disappeared with Willow inside.
Sam wrapped his arms around Brett’s neck and clung to him, his little body trembling with fear.
Sam. His son.
The words echoed over and over in his head. Sam was his little boy.
All this time, these years, the past few days—Willow hadn’t told him. Had kept the truth from him.
Why? Because she thought he wouldn’t have been a good father...
“I want my mommy!” Sam sobbed.
Brett patted the little boy’s back, his heart aching for the ordeal Sam had suffered. For the fear and trauma, for the murder he’d witnessed.
And now his mother was gone, snatched at gunpoint in front of his eyes.
He pressed Sam’s head to his shoulder and rocked him in his arms. “Shh, son, it’ll be all right.”
“My...mommy...”
Sam’s sniffles punctuated the air, wrenching Brett’s heart. “I know you’re scared, son, and you’ve been through a lot.” Brett’s shoulder was starting to throb, and blood soaked his shirt. “But I’m here now. I’m here and I’ll make things right.”
I’m your father, he started to say. But he didn’t want to confuse Sam now. Besides, what had Willow told him?
Sam thought that bastard Leo was his dad...
Rage heated Brett’s blood. He would rectify that as soon as possible. As soon as he brought Willow home.
Then they would sit down and have a damn long talk.
Sam’s cries softened, but his fingers dug into Brett’s neck as Brett walked toward his pickup. He needed to take care of the bullet in his shoulder before he passed out. If he did, he wouldn’t be any good to Sam or Willow.
They were his priority now.
But how was he going to remove this bullet without seeing a doctor or drawing suspicion from the law?
He carried Sam around to the passenger side of the truck, his lungs squeezing for air when Sam looked up at him with those big eyes. Eyes that looked exactly like his. The cleft in his chin, the dimple...he was a McCullen through and through.
How had he not seen it before?
Because you didn’t look.
In the photo he’d seen of Sam, the boy was wearing a cowboy hat. It had hurt too much for him to think about Willow having another man’s son, so he hadn’t paid attention to the child’s features.
But this boy was his.
He fastened Sam’s seat belt, soaking up his face for a moment, and thinking about what he’d missed. All those baby years. The first time he’d walked. Christmases and birthdays...
Sam wiped at his nose and looked up at Brett. The fear there nearly stalled Brett’s heart. “You helping those mean men?” Sam whispered.
Brett nearly choked on a sharp denial. But he didn’t want to scare Sam any more than he already was. “No, son.” He gently raked a hand over the child’s hair, emotions nearly overwhelming him. “I’m a friend of your mommy’s. I’ve been helping her try to get you back from those men.”
Sam’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Brett’s shoulder. “They shot you like they shot Daddy.”
Leo was not his father. But Sam had witnessed the murder. “Yes, but I’m not going to die, Sam. And I’m not going to leave you.” Not ever again. “I’m going to get your mother back. I promise.”
Sam’s chin quivered, but he gave Brett a brave nod.
Knowing time was working against him, he walked around to the driver’s side and climbed in. He reached inside his pocket and removed a handkerchief, then jammed it inside his shirt over the wound to help stem the blood flow.
Then he cranked the truck and drove back toward Horseshoe Creek.
He was starting to feel weak, and he needed help. Someone to remove this damn bullet and someone to watch Sam, so he could get hold of that cash and trade it for Willow’s life.
He didn’t know where to go. Who to turn to.
Maddox would be furious when he found out what Brett had done.
But he was the only one who could help him now.
He’d probably lock Brett up when all was said and done.
He glanced over at Sam who was watching him with those big sad eyes.
But Sam was his son, and if there was anything that Maddox cared about, it was family.
Brett would pay the consequences when this was over and go to jail if it came to that.
But he’d save Willow first.
* * *
WILLOW STIRRED FROM UNCONSCIOUSNESS, but her head was spinning and nausea rose to her throat. She lifted her hand to the back of her head and felt blood. The car bounced over the rocky road, jarring her and making her feel ill.
She struggled to sit up, but the car veered to the right, throwing her against the side.
“Be still, bitch, or you’re going to get it again.”
A sob welled inside her, but she sucked it down. “Please let me go. My little boy needs me.”
He barked a sinister laugh. “You’re the one who screwed up. You should have given me the money instead of getting greedy.”
Willow pushed herself to a sitting position. “I’m not greedy. I told you I didn’t know where the money was and I don’t.”
He grabbed her arm, clenching it so tightly that pain shot through her arm and shoulder. “We know Leo came to see you, that he took the money from where he’d first hidden it. He was supposed to meet us that day with it, but he stopped off at your house first.”
“Leo and I have been separated for years,” Willow cried. “He came by to drop off divorce papers, not give me money.”
“Because you were already keeping it for him,” the man snarled.
Willow shook her head back and forth. How could she convince them that she was telling the truth?
And what if she did and they killed her because she was of no use to them anymore?
Then she’d never see Sam again, and he would grow up without a mother...
She closed her eyes and said a prayer. Even if she didn’t make it, Brett had recognized that he had a son. He would raise Sam as a McCullen.
Sam will be all right.
Except she wanted to be there to see him grow up, to learn to ride a horse, to play ball and graduate from school and get married one day...
* * *
BRETT IGNORED THE PAIN in his shoulder and focused on driving back to the ranch. He had to get Sam to Horseshoe Creek where he’d be safe.
Dark clouds hovered above, threatening more rain, and he took a curve too quickly and nearly lost control. Sam’s little face looked pale in the dark, and Brett reached out and squeezed his shoulder.
“I know you’ve been through it, little man, and you miss your mother, but hang in there a little longer.”
“You said you knew her?” Sam said in a small voice.
“Yes,” Brett said. “We were friends back in high school.” Friends and lovers. And I’m your father.
Although Sam obviously had no idea.
Sam suddenly tilted his head to the side. “You’re that rodeo star aren’t you? I saw your picture in that magazine Mommy had.”
Willow had a magazine with his picture in it.
Of course she had. She’d seen pictures of him and Kitty. She thought he was sleeping with a different woman every night.
And he had, he admitted silently.
But would he have if he’d known he had a child? That Willow had delivered his baby?
Regret and heartache ballooned inside him as he turned onto the road leading back to Horseshoe Creek.
Sam sat up straighter, his little face turned toward the window. “Where are you taking me?”
The poor kid had been kidnapped. He probably was wondering what Brett was going to do to him. “We’re
going to my ranch,” Brett said. “Your mommy likes it there. And I have two brothers and a nice lady named Mama Mary who took care of me when I was little. She’ll take care of you till your mommy is home.”
As soon as he said the words, he felt better. Maddox would be angry, but Mama Mary would love Sam unconditionally with no questions asked.
“You gots horses?”
Brett’s mouth twitched. “Yes, buddy. Do you know how to ride?”
“Not really.” Sam’s voice dropped to a low whisper. “Mommy said I was too little.”
Brett rubbed his hand over Sam’s head again. “Well, you look pretty big to me. And I know you’re tough. So I’ll teach you to ride soon. Sound good?”
Sam nodded, and for a moment, Brett saw himself when he was little. Anytime he was upset or mad, he’d ridden across the ranch and the world had seemed better. He could pass that on to his son.
The farmhouse slid into view, and for once, he was relieved to see Maddox’s SUV in front of the house. He parked, pressing his hand to his bloody shoulder as he hurried around to help Sam.
The little boy took his hand and jumped to the ground, and Brett held on to him as they walked up the porch steps. When he opened the door, Maddox was standing in the hall, his expression dark.
“Brett, I need to talk to you. This evening I found something—”
Brett cut him off. He had to get the words out fast. “I have to talk to you, too.” Brett swayed slightly, his head light from blood loss.
Maddox’s gaze took in Sam, then he noticed Brett’s bloody shoulder. “Good grief, you’ve been shot.”
Brett nodded and stumbled forward, and Maddox caught him. “It’s worse, Maddox. I need your help. Two men...they kidnapped Willow.”
Chapter Seventeen
Willow struggled against the bindings around her wrists and feet as the man tossed her into a dark room. A sliver of light managed to peek through the curtains, and she dragged herself on her belly to the bed and slowly clawed her way on top of it.
She pushed the curtain aside, and hoped to escape through the window, but it was nailed shut.