The Return of Connor Mansfield

by Beth Cornelison

  She shook her head. “No. Go back to sleep. I just wanted to tell you that Marshal Morris is taking me to your parents’ house now.”

  The cloud that passed over Hunter’s face said he understood the purpose of the trip. He nodded. “Tell him I said...” He paused. Sighed. “Tell him...”

  Darby nodded sadly. “I’ll give him your love.”

  “Tell him I respect his choice. And that I’ll look out for you and Savannah.”

  She bit her bottom lip and nodded. She wanted to tell Hunter that intentions and justifiable choices were no substitute for the presence of a father in a child’s life. She’d never know her father’s reasons for leaving his family. She hadn’t cared. As a young girl, nothing could justify her father’s abandonment. Just like nothing could ease the sting of Connor’s leaving now. “I’ll probably grab a shower before I come back up here. So maybe two hours. Call my cell if there’s any—”

  Hunter’s expression said, Really, Darby? Don’t you think that’s understood?

  She chuckled at herself and lifted a hand in a wave as she left. “Right, right. Okay, bye.”

  “You’re lucky to have such a large extended family that loves you and takes care of you.” Morris pushed the elevator button and angled his gaze to watch the lighted numbers over the door mark the cage’s ascent.

  “I am lucky. My family means the world to me.” She glanced back at the waiting room, thinking how much she’d have to give up if she were to go into WitSec with Connor. If Savannah weren’t sick. She’d miss Hunter’s unflagging friendship, her sisters’ love and support, Grant and his precious girls, who were as dear to her as Savannah. Connor’s parents. How could she ever get along without them? The logistical help, love and encouragement they’d showed her, especially during Savannah’s illness and hospitalization, were exactly why the idea of leaving them behind seemed so impossible.

  And that was exactly why Connor hadn’t asked her to come with him the first time. He knew her too well, knew what her father’s desertion had done to her family and how she felt about the relationships she cherished. He really had been put in an impossible situation. Maybe his leaving had hurt her, but he hadn’t made his choice lightly. He’d left her behind because he’d thought it was what was best for her. She got that now. Really understood it. But it still chafed that he’d made the decision without her. Hadn’t trusted her with the plan to fake his death. Knowing he was still alive and safely ensconced in a new town with a new identity would have made losing him so much easier.

  Or would it have? Darby frowned, considering what life would be like in the coming years, wondering what Connor was doing in his new life. Worrying if he was still safe or if the Gales had found him. Wishing she could hear from him, if only an anonymous postcard. Wondering if he’d found someone else to take her place, to marry, to make love to.

  A prick of uneasiness sawed in her gut. Would Connor move on with another woman? Her heartbeat sped up, and a sick feeling knotted her stomach.

  You’ll always have me. You’re the only one for me. Connor’s vow just three days ago reverberated in her mind. Her heart somersaulted, somewhat mollified, and yet it wasn’t fair to Connor to expect him to live the rest of his life with no one beside him, no one to share life with, make a family with. Maybe it couldn’t be her, but she had to convince him to move on, to give love with someone else a chance.

  Even if she knew she never could.

  “Hey, earth to Darby. You coming?” Morris’s voice nudged her from her disturbing line of thought. He stood in the elevator, holding the door open with his arm.

  “Oh. Yeah.” She shook off the unnerving idea of Connor replacing her with someone new in his life, in his bed, in his heart and stepped into the elevator.

  “Should I ask where you were just then? ’Cause you sure weren’t here.” Morris pushed the button for the parking garage and sent her a side glance.

  She gave a little grunt of despair. “Nowhere good. Letting my imagination run in directions that hurt to consider.”

  “Mmm. Well, save the woolgathering for the shower. When you’re in public, especially when we’re moving between locations, you need to stay alert. Be aware of your environment.”

  “Right. Sorry.”

  “That’s good advice for a woman anytime they’re in public. Not just for you in your circumstance. Thieves target women who aren’t paying attention, people they can get a jump on.”

  She nodded. “Keys ready, head up, walk with purpose. I know the drill. I’m usually much more careful.”

  The elevator dinged as it arrived at the parking garage in the basement and the doors slid open. She let Morris step off first and sweep his gaze around the garage.

  “All right.”

  She followed him a few steps away from the elevators before he held his hand up, his head turning left and right as he checked the area. “Wait here while I check the car out. Don’t move from this spot. I’ll be right back.”

  She nodded, doing her own visual sweep as he hurried down the line of parked cars. The garage was quiet except for the soft thud of Morris’s shoes on the concrete floor and a black cricket chirping by the trash can in the corner of the elevator lobby. She leaned to the side to see between cars, ducked her head to look for men hiding under vehicles, raised her gaze to the garage rafters...and noticed a black plastic sack had been put over the security camera for that section of the parking lot.

  She frowned. That was odd. And more than a little worrisome. Someone should report it to the hospital security. In fact, why hadn’t security already noticed the bag and done something about—

  Without warning, a heavy cloth bag swished over her head.

  Chapter 17

  Before she could even scream, a muscled arm snaked around her chest, squeezing the wind from her lungs. Her attacker lifted her from her feet, and her world upended as she was tossed over his shoulder. Still struggling to regain her breath, she gasped to call out to Morris. But the cry was too weak to be heard beyond a few feet.

  She fought her captor as he jostled her, making his escape. She heard a car engine, the squeal of brakes being applied hard, the click of a door being opened.

  No!

  Several thoughts fired in her brain in seconds. The Gales! If she let them put her in the car, she was as good as dead. Fight! She thought of Savannah, of her sisters...of Connor. If she died, Savannah would lose both parents today.

  She kicked her legs, twisted her torso, thrashed her head—anything she thought might help wrest her free of the kidnapper’s grip. Finally she drew enough air into her lungs to yell, “Marshal!”

  The next second, she was tossed onto a padded seat, presumably into a car. With her arms now free, she battled to regain her balance. Her wrists were seized, pulled behind her and cuffed. “No! Let me go. Don’t do this. Please!”

  She fought harder, lunging in the direction of the door. Her exit was blocked by a large wall of man. He pushed her backward, climbed in beside her and slammed the door shut.

  “No! Please, don’t do this!” She thought of Savannah, her precious little girl, upstairs battling for her life. Savannah needed her. She couldn’t die. And Connor—a pang of sorrow and regret choked her. “Please, let me go,” she said, tears rushing to her eyes. “My daughter needs me.”

  “Darby?” Connor’s voice. He sounded stunned. Worried.

  She stiffened. “Connor?”

  Her query was answered with a string of curses. She turned the direction of Connor’s voice as he railed, “What the hell are you doing? Why is Darby here? Let her go!”

  No one answered him as the car drove away, bouncing over the curb then turning sedately onto the street. No roaring engine or speeding vehicle to draw attention. But surely Marshal Morris had heard her scream, seen the vehicle, gotten a tag number or other information to tr
ack her. Even now, she prayed, he was jumping into her replacement car and pursuing the kidnappers, calling for backup.

  “You bastards! Darby is not a part of this. You’re terrorizing her! Let her go!” Connor continued to argue on her behalf. Though she appreciated Connor’s efforts, she doubted the Gales’ henchmen had any sympathy for his demands.

  For her part, she could try to gather as much information as possible, assess her situation, just in case she got a freak chance to call for help. Just in case she and Connor found an opportunity to attempt an escape. Just in case she found a weakness in the kidnappers’ execution to exploit. Execution. She shivered. Poor word choice. She didn’t want to even think about what would happen if she and Connor didn’t get away.

  Steadying her ragged composure with a slow breath, Darby scooted closer to Connor and took stock of her situation, her environment. Be smart. Think. Plan.

  A beefy goon sat to her right, but could they get away out the other side of the car? She wiggled slowly, trying not to draw attention with her slight shifts. An inch at a time, she moved farther to the left, closer to Connor.

  “It’s all right, Darby. I’ll straighten this out. I won’t let them do this to you.”

  She answered by leaning into him and whispering, “I trust you, Connor.”

  But she wouldn’t leave their safety, the possibility of escape, entirely up to Connor. She continued working through what information she could sense. She knew of at least two henchmen in the car, including the driver. She sighed her frustration and recognized the new car smell that filled her nose. So it was a recent model vehicle. She filed that tidbit away. What else could she detect? After initially taking various turns that tumbled her left or right, the car had been traveling mostly straight ahead for the past few minutes. Based on the engine and road sounds, they were traveling at a pretty high speed. Okay, so they were off the city streets and on a highway of some sort.

  Her stomach sank. Were they headed to a remote bayou out of town where she could be shot and her body tossed in the water for the alligators? The thought had her hyperventilating. Given the smothering hood over her head, that meant she was using oxygen too quickly. She felt her head spin. Calm down. Think clearly.

  “Taking Darby was not part of the bargain! You jerks, someone answer me! What are you doing?”

  The bargain? Had Connor negotiated some kind of truce with the Gales, giving himself up in order to end the vendetta and save his family? Her heart slowed as she considered what might be happening. The other men in the car remained eerily quiet. Maybe if she could get them to talk to her, she could deduce more pieces of information she might use to her advantage. “What do you want from me? Where are you taking me?”

  Silence.

  “Look, I have a little girl. She’s very ill, and she needs me. Please, let me go back to the hospital. Don’t leave my baby without her mother!” Her voice broke, even though she fought to suppress the tears in her voice.

  Beside her, the man to her right sighed heavily. “Calm down, Ms. Kent. You’re not in danger.”

  The voice was deep and suspiciously familiar. She keyed in on that man. Could he help her? “Who’s there? What’s going on?”

  “Darby, you’re safe,” Connor said, frustration thick in his voice. “But these a-holes aren’t when I get my hands on them.”

  She frowned. “You know them?”

  Connor blew out a huff of disgust. “Yeah. And so do you. That’s Ramsey beside you, and Jones is behind the wheel.”

  Shock flowed through her. “The marshals? But...” She gritted her teeth. “Were all these cloak-and-dagger dramatics really necessary? Morris was taking me to your parents’ house to say goodbye.”

  “We’re not headed to the Manfields’,” Jones said, his voice filtering back from the front seat.

  “Then where—” She fisted her hands, still cuffed behind her, and took a breath for composure. Confusion, anger and unspent adrenaline had her shaking all over. “Why am I in cuffs and blindfolded?”

  “So you don’t hurt yourself or one of us before we get to our destination. We knew you wouldn’t come willingly. The hood is so you don’t see where we’re going. An attempt to keep you from trying to leave or giving our location away to anyone accidentally.”

  She scowled and felt a bead of sweat roll off her forehead. Beneath the heavy hood they’d put on her, it was hot and stuffy. “I...I don’t understand. All of this just so I can tell Connor goodbye? Isn’t this overkill?”

  “We’re taking you with us to a safe house.” Ramsey’s voice.

  “What?” Shock shuddered through her. “No! You can’t do that! I can’t—”

  “The protection detail decided it was for the best. We determined you were at risk, and we could best protect you if you were at the safe house with Mansfield.”

  “You decided?” Connor barked. “Without even mentioning this to me?”

  “We knew you’d fight us. But this way is for the best—”

  Connor bit out an earthy obscenity.

  Panic squeezed Darby’s lungs. “But I can’t...Savannah needs me! You can’t do this. Take me home!”

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Kent. We can’t allow that. Yet.” Jones sounded contrite, but his refusal still gnawed at her.

  The air under the hood was growing increasingly hard to breathe. Between the cuffs and the hood over her head, she was at a distinct disadvantage. Of course, that was the marshals’ objective. She wondered where Morris was. Was he in on this kidnapping? She had no reason to think not. The sting of betrayal bit her. She’d trusted Morris, confided in him. She’d trusted all of the marshals. Connor and his family had put their faith, their lives in these men’s hands.

  “So that’s it? No discussion? No questions? Just bam, I’m your hostage?”

  “Hostage is a harsh word.” Ramsey again.

  “You think?” She pivoted on the seat toward him, even though she couldn’t see him. “And yet I’m handcuffed, hooded and being taken somewhere against my will. What would you call it?”

  “I’d call it a crock,” Connor grumbled. “As Raleigh would say, FUBAR.”

  “This is all for your safety, your protection,” Marshal Ramsey said, his voice rife with irritation. “We’re doing our job, the best way we know.”

  Darby worked to tamp down the frustration and worry spiking her pulse. Freaking out was not going to advance her argument at this point, but it was making it harder to breathe under the hood. Keeping an even tone, she said, “Look, it’s hard to breathe under here. Can you at least pull the hood up a bit, allow more fresh air in?”

  The muscular arm next to her tensed. After a brief hesitation, Ramsey shifted her head cover, letting in more air. She drew the fresh oxygen deep into her lungs. And caught a scent that made her heart skip a beat. It was subtle, but—she inhaled again, held the air in her lungs.

  She could smell Connor’s masculine scent, and she relished the comfort in the familiar aroma tinged with cedar. Her pulse leaped into overdrive. She’d slept beside him, made love to him, snuggled with him, kissed him, hugged him, lived with him long enough to memorize the scent of his skin, the unique body chemistry that was his. The clean male scent that never failed to make her body sing and her heart race.

  If there was a silver lining to be found in this ordeal, at least she was with Connor. While she hated, loathed to the point of nausea, the idea of being sequestered away from Savannah when she was so weak and vulnerable, she knew Connor had her back. She knew Connor would understand her need to get back to their daughter. And until they could convince the marshals of that urgency, she could store up a few more treasured moments with the man who would always own her heart.

  Chapter 18

  Blindfolded for the trip to the safe house, Connor was dwelling on the marshals’ subterfuge, his back teeth g
rinding together, when he felt Darby scoot closer to him on the backseat. She snuggled against him, her body strung tight and trembling. The press of her hip against his, her thigh along his leg, her breast brushing his arm was a sweet torture. In the years he’d been without her, he’d savored memories of how perfectly her body fit with his, how the simple touch of her hand in his or a kiss from her could pull him from a bad mood. She’d spoiled him for any other woman.

  As Sam Orlean, he’d had opportunities to sleep with other women, but he’d turned them down. Even believing he’d never see Darby again, he’d felt in his bones that being with anyone else equated to cheating on the woman he loved. And now, thanks to the marshals’ bringing her with them, he had days, maybe weeks ahead of him, secluded with Darby, endless, empty hours to talk. To reconnect. To rediscover the magic they’d shared. A new hope blossomed in him that somehow, he and Darby could come up with a way to stay together and also keep them all safe.

  Connor clenched his jaw, hating the guerrilla tactics the marshals had employed to whisk Darby into hiding. Obviously, Darby would never have left Savannah willingly, but the strong-arm tactics the marshals had used would only make Darby more defensive.

  The car Jones had acquired for their operation bounced over a rut as they turned onto a dirt driveway. Darby didn’t miss the significance of the change in direction and road quality. She gasped, and her body tensed.

  “We’re there,” Ramsey said, and Connor felt his blindfold get tugged off.

  Blinking in the sudden daylight, Connor took in their surroundings, miles from town, in the middle of acres of forest. Beside him, Darby had been unblindfolded as well, and she eyed the scenery with a wide, wary gaze. As they bumped down a rutted dirt road, they passed a pasture with cows grazing and a dilapidated house with a rusted truck in the side yard. Some things were a cliché for a reason, and this part of Louisiana certainly contributed to the popular image of the rural South.

  When Jones pulled to a stop outside a wood-frame house in desperate need of a new coat of paint, Ramsey opened his door and took Darby by the arm, guiding her out of the car.