“I’ve always known she’s unstable.” Agitated, as much by how badly she wanted to touch him as she was by the situation, she jumped from her chair and began to pace. “Why the hell else do you think she’d be breaking into my house and calling me?”
A muscle worked in his jaw. “You do realize you are putting yourself in danger?”
Swallowing hard, she boldly met his gaze. “It’s time to end this, once and for all. I’m counting on you to keep me safe.”
Though he didn’t react verbally to her words, something smoldered in the depths of his eyes.
“Do you think you can do that?” she pressed.
“I can,” he promised, his voice husky. “You can count on that.”
“Thank you.” Now that the hard part was over, she exhaled and pulled a chair out to take a seat before reconsidering. “Would you like something to drink? I have cola, iced tea, lemonade or water.”
“Water is fine, thanks.”
After she’d placed their glasses on the table, she again took her seat, gripping her glass with both her hands.
His bare arm, tanned and muscular and silky with hair, rested on top of the table. She fought the urge to touch him, to stroke his skin and see the desire blaze into life in his eyes. Even now, when she knew he’d used her, she still ached for him. How foolish was that?
“All right, let’s get what details we can. Are you reasonably certain the caller was female?” He sounded exactly like the cop he was—professional and detached...too detached. Though no doubt his calm, reassuring tone was meant to soothe, conversely she wanted to shake him up, ruffle his feathers, make him show emotion—any emotion.
In the other room, Ryan laughed out loud at his television show, a reassuringly normal sound that was so out of place with this discussion that she jumped.
What the hell was wrong with her? She took a deep breath. “No. I’m not certain at all. There was no way to tell. As you know, whoever it was uses some kind of computer-generated voice software.”
“But they agreed to meet you. Did they say where?”
Aware he wasn’t going to like this, she took another deep breath, wincing. “Here. Whoever it is plans to come here. And he or she said they’d show up unannounced.”
He reached across the table and captured one of her hands in his big one, startling her. “I don’t like this,” he said.
“Of course you don’t.” Though she didn’t pull away, she couldn’t resist a verbal jab. “After all, someone else actually might have a valid claim to what you think is yours.”
This time, when pain flashed across his rugged face, she steeled herself and didn’t break their locked gaze.
He leaned forward, toward her rather than recoiling away as she would have expected, keeping her hand trapped in his. He looked big and powerful, and she knew a second’s fleeting longing that he would always be there to protect her and keep her safe and warm.
This proved that fools never, ever changed.
About to open her mouth and ask him to leave now that their business had been concluded, a slight hesitation in his expression made her wait.
“Listen, I’ve been thinking about this. About him.” Speaking quietly, he glanced back toward the living room, where Ryan sat still engrossed in his program, eating his cookies and drinking his milk. “I wanted you to know that I’m not going to try and take him away from you.”
“What?” She blinked, blank, amazed and disoriented. “Say that again?”
“If the DNA test proves I’m—” he lowered his voice again “—if it proves I’m his father, I’m not planning to try and sue for custody.”
All she could do was stare and then stupidly ask him why not.
“You’re his mother now.” He gave her a long look, full of rueful warmth. “I wouldn’t take that away from him, away from either of you. But I would like to work out some sort of visitation agreement with you. So I can be in his life, help him grow up. And assist you if you need me.”
Shock siphoned the blood from her face. Dizzy, for a moment she thought she might actually faint. Shaken and momentarily speechless, she found herself gripping his hand so hard the tanned skin turned white.
She stared at him, her heart pounding. “Are you...” The words caught in her throat. Swallowing hard, she tried again. “Do you really mean that?”
“Of course I do. If Ryan is my son, I have a right to share in his life but not to ruin it. He loves you, and I can see how much you love him.”
Almost afraid to believe it, she focused on her breathing—in and out, trying to center herself, attempting to accept his words as truth. This felt like a miracle, as if her prayers had not only been heard but answered.
Eyeing him across the table, his generous mouth quirked in the beginning of a smile, she couldn’t catch her breath. With her throat aching and tears pricking the back of her eyes, she wasn’t sure she could speak.
What a wonderful, amazing man.
Again, she longed to go to him and wrap her arms around him. Instead, she pushed past the emotion clogging her voice. “Thank you,” she said, the warmth in her voice warring with the huskiness of raw emotion. “I can’t tell you how much that means to me.”
Now he did smile, dazzling her. “I’m not your enemy, Emily. I never was.”
In the other room, the familiar jangle of a popular commercial came on. Ryan appeared, carrying the wadded up cookie bag and his empty milk glass. He froze when he saw his mother’s tear-filled eyes and devastated expression.
“Mommy? Are you all right?”
“Of course I am!” Pushing herself up, she took his glass from him, carrying it to the sink and rinsing it out. The very ordinariness of the action helped calm her. “Throw your empty bag in the trash,” she told him, glad she sounded relatively normal again.
Once he’d done that, she crouched down and opened her arms wide. “Come here, you.”
He ran over, gave her a quick hug and then began squirming when she tried to keep him close. “Mommmmy! My show’s coming back on.”
As soon as she let him go, he rushed back into the other room.
“See what I mean?” Mac’s eyes were suspiciously bright. Seeing that, she gave in to impulse and went to him, hugging him from behind. The instant her arms wrapped around his shoulders, he froze, as if her touch was too much for him to handle just then.
She felt foolish, immediately backing off, though she refused to apologize. If anyone deserved a hug, Mac did.
A moment later, he uncoiled himself from his chair. “I’d better be going. Before I do, I’ll call Renee and make sure she’s arranged for twenty-four-hour surveillance.”
Biting her lip, she hesitated. After all that he’d given her that night, she knew she owed him this much. She decided she’d go for it and say exactly what was in her heart. “I thought this was your case.”
In the middle of paging through the contact list on his phone, he paused. “This is,” he said slowly, a question in his eyes.
“Then wouldn’t you be the one doing surveillance?”
“We take shifts. I’m not sure who’s on tonight.”
“I asked you to come over.” She took a deep breath, then plunged on before she thought better of it. “Why don’t you just stay here? I have a foldout couch in my office. You can sleep there.”
Staring at her, when he finally offered her a slow, arresting smile, she knew he’d accept her offer.
“Let me run to my house and throw a few things into a bag. I’ll be back in less than an hour,” he said, his deep voice vibrating with emotion.
Throat tight, she followed him to the door, watching as he got into his car and drove off. Then she secured the dead bolt and the other lock, hoping her stalker didn’t decide to make an appearance in Mac’s absence.
* * *
As he drove away, Mac finally admitted to himself the truth. He loved her—with every beat of his heart and more. He loved her. And he could never let her know. He wondered if fate would ever
stop laughing at him.
He’d found his son, true. But he’d also found the woman with whom he wanted to spend the rest of his life.
Allowing himself a moment to dream, he pictured them: he and Emily and Ryan together. A family.
But now she’d never believe he wanted her for herself. She’d always believe he only said he loved her because of the child they shared. Sadly, he couldn’t blame her. So he’d best learn how to be grateful for what he could have.
At least he’d once had a family—unlike Joe, who’d never married. That’s why Mac had been glad to see the spark of interest between Joe and Renee.
The knowledge that his friend might finally have something going on in the romance department made Mac happy. Joe had always been the perpetual bachelor, dating a large variety of girls but never getting serious. He’d even refused to bring a date when he’d gone out with Mac and Sarah, claiming being a single third wheel was better than introducing his best friends to women he didn’t love.
Though Mac had found this slightly odd, Sarah always seemed to find it amusing. Good-naturedly, Mac had humored them both.
As he thought of this, he was struck by something else. Remembering those days no longer felt as painful. He hummed under his breath and realized this was because not only had he finally located his son but he’d found a woman with whom he wanted to spend the rest of his life.
He merely had to stop an overzealous stalker and then spend all his time showing her that they were meant to be together.
Throwing a couple of clothing changes into a gym bag, he grabbed the essential toiletries. He tossed the bag in his car, checked his mailbox and his answering machine, then climbed into the car and headed back toward Emily’s.
As he pulled out of his driveway, his cell phone rang. It was Joe.
“What’s up?” Mac asked good-naturedly.
“I need a favor.” Joe sounded distracted, almost upset. “I ran out of gas in my rental car and need you to bring me five gallons. I’m stuck in the middle of nowhere.” He rattled off a location clear on the opposite end of town.
Glancing at his watch, Mac knew he didn’t have time. “I’m going to call one of the other deputies to meet you. I have somewhere I really have to be.”
“Come on, Mac,” Joe groaned. “I have a huge flower arrangement in my car, along with a giant stuffed toy bear. Since they’re for Renee, I really don’t want anyone else in the department to see them. Imagine the ribbing she’d get. Please come yourself. It will only take a few minutes. I promise.”
Again Mac checked his watch. It had only taken him twenty minutes to get home and pack. Running out to rescue Joe would take at least that long. He didn’t want to leave Emily alone in case the stalker chose that night to pay her a visit.
“I’ll do what I can,” Mac finally told Joe. “Rescue will arrive in a few minutes.”
* * *
Aware Mac would be back soon, Emily tidied up while letting herself imagine various scenarios, all of them erotic. She couldn’t imagine what had possessed her to invite the man to stay overnight in her home, but now she was glad she had. Though she knew it would be difficult to resist temptation. Did she even want to resist? That was the million-dollar question.
She sighed. Despite his enigmatic exterior, she sensed his inner vulnerability, especially concerning her son. Rather than pushing her away, his Achilles’ heel pleased her and made her desire him even more.
But she would have to table her wants and needs right now. They had more important issues to worry about.
Once she’d finished straightening up the house, she sent Ryan to brush his teeth and pulled out the sofa bed. She found sheets in the linen closet and made the bed up for him, imagining Mac’s tan skin against the smooth sheets. Smiling at the image, she finished making the area as comfortable as she could.
When the doorbell chimed a scant thirty minutes later, Emily wiped suddenly sweaty hands down the front of her jeans and grinned. That had been really quick. She’d just gotten Ryan tucked into bed.
After unlocking her dead bolt, she opened the door, her welcoming smile fading as she belatedly realized she should have followed her own rule and used the peephole.
It wasn’t Mac standing on the doorstep. It was Mac’s friend, dressed in a hoodie and jeans. This time, she got a good look at his blond hair, tanned skin and blue eyes—the same color as Mac’s.
“Can I help you?” she managed to ask politely, though before she finished speaking she already knew. Heart pounding, she tried to close the door, but he stuck his foot inside and gave it a heave, sending her stumbling back against the wall. He pushed his way in, kicking the door shut behind him.
“I’ve come to get Ryan,” he said, his tone coolly menacing as he pulled out a pistol and pointed it at her. “Bring him to me. Now.”
Emily stared, even as panic coiled in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t know what to say, how to choose the right words—something that wouldn’t set him off. She had to do something to buy her a little time until Mac returned. Because there was no way in hell she was letting this man take her son.
When she didn’t respond, the man took a step closer, a shadow of annoyance darkening his face. “I mean it. Get the boy. Now.”
Instead of moving, she studied him. His compact medium build spoke of latent strength, and he walked with a fighter’s muscular stance.
Either way, his presence here didn’t compute. Though he appeared extremely dangerous, he couldn’t be her stalker. After all, Albany, New York, was a long way from Texas, and he’d just gotten into town.
So what did he want with her son?
Either way, she’d die before she’d let him take Ryan.
“Did you understand me?” The silken voice he used to ask the question made her even more ill at ease. “I’m not asking again. Get Ryan.”
“What do you want with my son?” she demanded, refusing to let him see how much he frightened her.
“Your son?” His laugh came rimmed with icicles. “Do you mean the baby you had stolen from the hospital nursery so you could adopt him?”
She felt as if her breath had been cut off as she glanced uneasily over her shoulder. “If this is some misguided attempt to help Mac, you need to stop. He wouldn’t want this. He and I are already working something out. I know you’re his best friend, but this is completely unnecessary.”
At her words, he gave her a black, layered look. “You honestly think—”
Before he could finish, the doorbell rang. Mac? Her heart leapt into her throat as she instinctively turned toward it.
“Don’t move,” Joe barked. Keeping the gun trained on her, he crossed to the door and checked the peephole. “Perfect,” he said, unlocking the dead bolt. “Reinforcements.”
Franco and Desiree stepped inside. Desiree’s overly made-up eyes widened at the sight of the gun. Franco, on the other hand, appeared unfazed. He faced Joe and cocked his head. “Did you find the diamonds?” he asked.
“Not yet,” Joe answered. “I’m sure it’s here somewhere. Right, Emily?”
Afraid to move, she slowly shook her head. “I’m sorry, but like I told Desiree earlier, all of the jewelry was sold.”
“And that’s why we’re going to grab the kid,” Franco sneered. “Because I’ll bet you find the diamonds real quick if you’re worried about your son.”
Emily froze. “That’s why you want Ryan?” she asked softly, watching both Franco and Joe. “Because of some stupid, nonexistent diamonds?”
Joe started to speak, but Franco cut him off. “Half a million of ice isn’t stupid. Now go find the jewelry or we’re taking your kid.”
Terror skittered a path up her spine, giving her an involuntary shiver. “Please,” she appealed to Joe. “You’re Mac’s friend. You have to know he believes Ryan is his son. Don’t do this.”
Joe laughed, a bitter sound. “I know what he believes. He’s always believed that. But I know better. Ryan isn’t his son. He’s mine.”
She needed to buy enough time for Mac to return. Mac was her only hope.
“Please.” She kept her tone cordial, like that of a hostess speaking to a welcomed guest. “I’m confused. Mac told me the exact same story, except he said Ryan is his son. He can’t be both.”
He stared hard at her, his mouth twisting. She looked back as calmly as she could, hoping he couldn’t see the wild tattoo of her rapidly beating heart.
Finally he looked away, appearing to be considering her words. Though judging from the tight grimness of his jaw, she didn’t have long before he lashed out again.
Inwardly shuddering, she prayed she could pull this off. Time...she needed time. And she needed Mac. She could only hope he returned soon.
As he considered her words, his handsome face twisted in rage, a caricature of the icily composed man who’d faced her a moment ago.
“Sit down.” Motioning with the gun toward her sofa, he waited.
She sat.
“Let me tell you about me and Mac.” He sneered the words. “We’ve been best friends since we were in the third grade. We competed for everything, too. Sometimes I won. Sometimes he won. Neither of us really minded—until Sarah came along.”
“Mac’s wife?”
“That’s right. She and Mac started dating, and then they married. I tried, but I couldn’t let her go. All along, I was the proverbial third wheel. Mac used to tease me because I never brought dates around them.”
The way he looked at her, as though she was supposed to comment, had her scrambling for something noncommittal to say. “You sound like you all were a close group of friends.”
A muscle worked in his jaw, making her think she must have made a mistake. But then he slowly nodded. “We were. Until Sarah realized I loved her and began to love me back.”
The Cop's Missing Child Page 16