Raleigh rocked back on two legs of his chair, scrubbing both hands over his face. “God bless America, Sam. What happened to staying in town only long enough to talk to the kid’s doctor then getting the hell outta Dodge? You can make the donation from Dallas, can’t you?”
All eyes swung toward Connor, and his pulse rose, torn between what he knew would keep his family safe and his selfish desire to stay and get to know his daughter, patch things up with Darby, spend precious time with his family.
“Yeah, the doctor said I could donate from Dallas, if I proved a close enough match.” A stir of reaction interrupted him, sighs of disappointment from his parents, grunts of satisfaction from the agents. He looked to Darby, needing some measure of where her heart was. Her jaw was tight with stubborn anger, but her green eyes were full of pain and discontent. “But she also said the ideal arrangement, the way she preferred, was for me to be here.”
As he repeated the doctor’s words, a certainty washed through him, a resolve that settled the debate warring inside him. “I want only the best for Savannah. If I can be my daughter’s donor, I’ll do it from here. Even if it is only marginally better logistically, I want ideal circumstances for my little girl.”
Darby’s expression was conflicted. The struggle between gratitude and resentment, fear and hope, grief and joy was plain in her eyes. Connor’s chest ached for the hurt he’d caused her, the doubts and bitterness he was responsible for.
Raleigh shook his head, clearly unhappy with Connor’s decision. “Do you understand what you’re risking?”
“Of course I do. And I’m not saying I plan to wave a red flag in front of Gale Industries. I’ll lay low, take precautions, continue wearing a disguise in public.” He flicked his hand toward the fake beard in front of him. “Whatever it takes.” He leaned forward, drilling Raleigh with a hard stare and jabbing his finger into the table. “But I need you to protect my family. I need you to make sure the Gales don’t get anywhere near Darby or Savannah or any of the people I love.”
“Our job is to protect you,” Raleigh countered. “And the best way to do that is to get you back to Dallas and try to minimize the exposure from the cracks in your cover.”
“I’m not leaving Lagniappe until I’ve done all I can to save Savannah.” He hoped his tone conveyed his determination on that point. “Maybe that will be tomorrow, if I’m not a close enough match to her. But if I am, I need to know you’ll do everything in your power to keep my family safe while I’m here.”
Jones drummed the table with his thumb. “We’re only two people, man. We’re good, but we’re not superhuman. We’ll do what we can to minimize the threat to your family, but we can’t be everywhere. You’re still our priority, the witness in WitSec, and where our efforts have to be focused.”
“So bring in more men. Or I’ll hire private security.”
Jones raised a hand. “No. No outside hires.” He glanced briefly to Raleigh for some silent confirmation or perhaps giving him a chance to object. “We’ll see about getting a little backup, but the department is stretched kinda thin these days.”
Connor’s father, Stan, had been taking in the conversation from the opposite end of the table, his arms folded over his chest and his intense scrutiny shifting from one speaker to another. Now he pushed his chair back and stood. “Bring in extra men if you want, but don’t underestimate the ability of the Mansfield men to protect our own.”
Grant had been leaning against the kitchen counter. Now he stepped forward, nodding. “That’s right. Every one of the men in this family is trained in firearms and licensed to carry concealed. Dad spent fifteen years in the army, and Hunter spent five years in the reserves. I’ve been hunting since I was twelve.”
“What’s the saying?” Connor’s mother asked. “Forewarned is forearmed.”
The marshals exchanged another unreadable look.
“Well, being alert to problems will certainly help, but these men are professional killers, not common street thugs.” Raleigh rose from the table. “Let me make a few calls, see about getting an extra team down here.”
“Then we should head back to the hotel soon,” Jones said, sending Connor a direct look.
“A hotel?” Julia said, her tone full of dismay, as if Jones had suggested they were sleeping in the gutter. “But this is Connor’s home. He should stay with his family.”
“We have to be with him in order to guard him.” Jones raised one eyebrow as if driving home his point.
“And we have to be with my family in order to keep them safe.” Connor sent the marshal a challenging stare. “I’m staying here. With Darby and my daughter.”
Darby’s head jerked up, and her gaze clashed with his. “You’re what?”
“I want to know you’re safe. If somehow word of my return has leaked beyond this family and the doctor’s office, which is a real possibility, I don’t want you here alone. What better protection than two U.S. Marshals and the man who’d die defending you?”
Darby’s cheeks paled, and her eyes widened.
Connor reached for her, and stroking her chin, he whispered, “Don’t look so surprised, Dar. I already died once to protect you. I’d do it again, for real, if needed.”
“Oh, Connor,” his mother said, her voice choked. “Don’t say that! It’s bad luck!” Her hand fluttered to her chest where she rubbed the cross charm on her necklace.
Darby huffed an exasperated breath and flattened her hands on the table. “Looks like the decision’s made for me.” She pushed to her feet. “Marshals, you can stay in the guest room. The decor is a bit juvenile, since I had in mind having my nieces and nephews staying with me when I decorated it. But the twin beds are new and should be comfortable. You—” she faced Connor, a spark of ire lighting her jade gaze “—can sleep on the couch.”
Jones chuckled under his breath. Raleigh opened his mouth as if to protest, then snapped it closed. Scowling, he jammed his hands in his pockets and jangled his keys. “I feel a FUBAR in the making.”
Darby pushed her chair back under the table and headed for the door. “I’m going to check on Savannah.”
Savannah. Thoughts of his sweet daughter lifted Connor’s spirits, which had taken a dive while discussing the serious security threats to his family. As concerned as he was by the unplanned turn of events, he couldn’t regret having time, brief as it may be, with his daughter. And no matter how angry Darby was with him for his past choices, this unexpected time with her gave him a chance, however remote, of healing the wounds he’d caused her.
Chapter 7
James Gale positioned his hands over his son’s, adjusting the boy’s grip on the golf club. “Like this. Keep your wrists straight.”
Billy did as instructed, then tipped his head back to look up at his father. “Like this?”
James grinned proudly and stepped back. “Perfect. Now swing away! In the hole!”
“Excuse me, Mr. Gale?”
James spun to face the man who approached, his jaw tight. “Not now!” He turned back to watch Billy’s swing.
The chubby man he recognized as one of his brother’s thugs persisted. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but—”
Billy glanced up from his stance with a startled look, interrupting his address of the ball.
James lifted a hand. “I’m sorry, Billy. Hold on.” He pivoted to the interloper, his body taut. “Do you not know how rude it is to disturb a golfer as he takes his swing?”
“I—”
“Did you not hear me say, Not now?”
“It’s important.”
“So is my time with my son.”
“But—”
James pointed a finger at the man and shot him a glare that made lesser men shiver in their shoes. “Silence. My son is taking his swing.” He turned back to Billy. “Go ahead. Firm wrist
s.”
With an uneasy glance to the chubby man behind his father, Billy addressed the ball again, swung and hit a beautiful drive that dropped onto the putting green and rolled within five feet of the hole.
James cheered and slapped his son on the back. “That’s the way! Beautiful!”
Billy beamed as he stooped to pull his tee from the grass, and James faced his brother’s lackey. He hoisted his bag of clubs on his shoulder. “Walk with me.”
The man fell in step beside James as he strolled down the cart path toward the putting green. “Victor sent me.”
“I assumed as much.” James pulled off his golf gloves and poked them in his back pocket.
“Something happened today at Mansfield Construction.”
James gave Victor’s man—Hollister, that was his name—a side glance, and conflicting emotions roiled inside him. “Mansfield. There’s a name I haven’t heard in a while.”
Connor Mansfield had betrayed his family, given testimony that sent Pop to prison. But he’d also once been a friend of James’s, had been to James’s house for barbecues. And had saved Billy’s life when his boy was little more than a toddler.
An image of Connor Mansfield dragging Billy’s limp body from the swimming pool flickered in James’s mind before he shoved the disturbing memory aside.
“What happened?” James asked.
“Victor has a mole at Mansfield Construction, a guy he pays to report anything unusual.”
“Seems a waste of money.” James sidestepped an anthill and gave Hollister another glance. “Connor Mansfield has been dead for years, and we have no interest in his family’s company.”
“Well, that’s the thing. Victor’s contact at Mansfield Construction says a call came in this morning that got Connor’s daddy and big brother all riled up. They took off outta the office real quick, and when someone asked if there was a problem, the daddy smiled and said, ‘Not a problem. But maybe a miracle.’”
James waited for Hollister to continue and, when he didn’t, James glared at him. “That’s it? That’s what you thought was so important that you interrupted my time with my son?”
“I... Victor thought you should know.” Hollister took a wheezy breath before adding, “Also the family all went to Darby Kent’s house. Connor Mansfield’s widow.”
James tensed. “She’s not his widow. They were never married. Do your research.” He sent a scathing glare to the chubby man. “How do you know where they went?”
“As soon as his mole reported in, Victor followed up at the senior Mansfield’s house. He followed Mrs. Mansfield to Darby’s and parked down the road to monitor the situation.” Hollister gave a smoker’s wheeze, out of breath from the quick pace James set. “Outta the blue...all the rest of the family...started arriving. Along with a home health van.”
“Her daughter is sick. I already knew that.” James watched Billy trot up to the green and examine the lie of his ball. His gut tightened, knowing how he’d feel if either of his children were diagnosed with a fatal illness. He stopped walking and faced the chubby thug, thinking. “Do you think something happened with the girl?”
Hollister shrugged, coughed. “Could be. But...they looked happy. Excited.”
“So they got good news about the girl.” James slid the bag of clubs to the ground and selected a putter. “That fits with the father and brother saying there’d been a miracle.”
“I guess.”
James arched an eyebrow. “Anything else?”
Hollister wheezed again, gulping a breath. “Yeah. Victor thinks he recognized one of the home health guys. He thinks it could be Connor Mansfield.”
The first tickle of suspicion crawled up James’s back. He tapped his finger on his putter, watching Billy squat, eyeing the hole as he lined up his shot. “Interesting. He get any pictures of this home health guy?”
“Nothing clear. He kept his head down...” Wheeze. “Wore shades.”
“Is this guy still at Darby’s?”
Hollister shrugged. “Last I heard.”
James grunted, stalked toward the green. Hollister followed, and James swung the club up, poking the chubby man in the gut. “We’re done here. Get clear pictures of the home health guy when he leaves, follow him if you have to. I want him ID’d. Today.”
The odds that Connor was still alive were slim, but he knew better than to take a chance and be proved wrong.
“Yes, sir.” Hollister nodded and turned to leave.
“And Hollister?” James sneered in disgust. “You’re pathetic. Get in shape, or you’ll be dead before you’re fifty.”
When Darby reached her daughter’s bedroom, Savannah was lying on the floor next to the Chutes and Ladders board, her arm pillowing her head, her eyelids half closed.
“I think someone needs a nap,” she said, squatting beside Savannah and patting her daughter’s back.
Hunter stretched his arms over his head and gave a theatrical yawn. “Yeah, I do. But I promised Miss Priss I’d play with her.”
Darby gave Hunter a lopsided grin. “Well, you’re in luck, because I’m calling a time-out on this game. C’mon, Priss, Hunter needs a nap, so why don’t you get in your bed for a while, too?”
Savannah whined sleepily and looked past her mother to the doorway. “I want to play with Uncle Connuh.”
Glancing over her shoulder, she found that Connor had followed her from the kitchen. Her pulse jumped, and her body grew warm from the mere sight of him, his broad shoulders filling the door and his square jaw and full lips accenting a face straight out of her sexiest dreams. She’d never been able to resist his magnetic allure, not since the first day she met him while visiting Hunter’s family on a college break.
And now all that magnetism and sex appeal was going to be living under her roof for some undetermined time. Heaven help her, she couldn’t fall for him again. The prospect made her hands sweat and a flutter of nerves batter her gut. She’d do well to remember how he’d disappeared from her life without a word. How he’d let her believe he was dead. He’d made the choice to let her grieve, to keep her in the dark about his plans for WitSec. She needed to hold on to the hurt and anger his actions stirred in her. Maybe then she could protect herself from the pain of his leaving again. Because he’d made it clear he would leave, he would return with the marshals to WitSec. He would walk away like he had before.
Turning back to Savannah, she forcibly quashed the piercing pain that slashed through her when she thought of Connor disappearing again. She managed a smile for Savannah and scooped her little girl into her arms. “You can play with Connor after you rest. But you’ve had a big day, and your body needs sleep.”
“Later, Priss,” Hunter said, blowing her a kiss and heading out. Savannah smiled and pretended to catch the kiss in her small hand.
Lifting Savannah was far easier than it should have been. Her daughter had been small for her age before cancer and chemotherapy had diminished her appetite and ravaged her small body. Savannah was thin to the point of feeling frail in Darby’s arms, as if she would snap like a twig with the slightest pressure to her tiny bones.
She heard Connor shuffle into the room as she put Savannah in bed and arranged the covers around her. “There you go. All snuggled in.”
Darby pressed a kiss to Savannah’s forehead and tucked Benny, her ragged stuffed bunny, in beside her. At Savannah’s feet, their brown tabby, Toby, slept curled in a tight ball.
Savannah sat up and leaned down to press her cheek to the cat’s warm furry body. She gave Toby a squeeze, giggling. “Toby’s sleepy, too.”
“Gently, sweetheart. Don’t hurt poor Toby.” Darby demonstrated how to stroke the cat’s fur softly, silently thanking Toby for his relaxed, easygoing nature. Never once, no matter how roughly Savannah played with him, had Toby ever raised a claw to her daughter. T
oby had been Darby’s companion since college, through years of struggle and life changes, a steadfast and loyal friend.
Savannah followed Darby’s example, her small hand scratching Toby behind the ears. Savoring the attention, Toby stretched and rolled on his back, exposing his belly in a show of ultimate feline trust.
Giggling again, Savannah wiggled her fingers against the tabby’s belly. “Silly Toby!”
“And silly Savannah,” Darby said, tickling her daughter’s ribs. “It’s sleepy time for you, too. Not playtime, missy.” She scooped the cat up with one hand, making room for Savannah. Once Savannah was settled, she put the cat down again, and Toby cuddled groggily against her legs.
“Good boy, Toby,” Darby said, stroking the cat’s head. Her cat had kept Savannah company through long hours of discomfort and fatigue, and he distracted her from the pain and nausea of her chemo treatments. Just as he’d comforted her as best he could when Connor died four and a half years ago. Except he hadn’t died....
“Sleep tight, sweetie,” Darby whispered, and she kissed her daughter’s head.
“Have a good nap.” Connor brushed against her as he stepped forward to give Savannah a kiss on the forehead.
Darby swallowed hard, fighting the tears of joy that tightened her throat and the grip of hurt and anger that squeezed her lungs. Where did she begin to sort through all the revelations this morning? In just hours, her life, which had been tumultuous enough dealing with a sick little girl, had been turned topsy-turvy. And the source of the new tumult was standing beside her, flesh and blood, smelling like cedar, sunshine and tempting man.
Her pulse ramped up double-time as sweet memories assailed her of tangling limbs with Connor while his unique spicy scent surrounded her. When Connor lingered, staring affectionately at Savannah as she drifted to sleep, Darby planted a hand in his chest and backed him toward the door.
Through his shirt, Darby could feel the steady life-affirming thump of his heart and comforting warmth of his body heat. His taut muscles were a tantalizing reminder of how his hard strength had felt beneath her hands as they made love.
The Return of Connor Mansfield Page 7