by Debbie Mason
The money didn’t matter so much as that the clothing line was one more step in Skye’s goal to prove to a judge that she was capable of being a responsible mother. Since the night she received the registered letter from Ethan, looking good on paper had been Skye’s sole focus. She knew she would be a good mother despite what Ethan and Liz thought. She planned to make sure the judge did, too.
Skye wasn’t going to lose custody over her child because of some stupid mistakes she’d made when she was young and… well, stupid. Learning about her mother had been an eye-opener. She wished her father had told her years ago. She could’ve avoided a lot of those mistakes if she hadn’t been so angry at him, rebelling so hard against him. But that was in the past now. Old hurts that Skye hadn’t even realized she’d been carrying around were now healed. She was stronger and more self-assured. Ethan had no idea what he was up against.
She ignored the hollow ache that always accompanied thoughts of him. Yesterday, she’d only experienced that hurtful throb ten times. Today, her goal was eight. She sighed, wondering if it would ever go away as she pulled the drapes across her bedroom window, blocking out the midmorning sunlight.
Crawling into bed, she propped the pillows behind her. “Okay, Meadow,” she said to her baby, who started kicking as soon as Skye lay down, “time to sleep.” Skye began to hum “Wild Horses.” The other day she’d noticed the baby stopped kicking when she sang or hummed the song. She thought it was a coincidence, but it wasn’t. Once again, the baby calmed, and Skye closed her eyes.
She’d barely fallen asleep when a sound jolted her awake. Someone was in the room with her. “Daddy,” she said groggily to the large shadow at the end of her bed. She rubbed her eyes, and panic ricocheted through her. This man, and it had to be a man, was too big to be her father. She closed her eyes, praying she was imagining things, then opened them again. She wasn’t. A low whimper escaped from her before she could stop it. He moved toward her, a light-colored cowboy hat hiding his face.
“Take it easy, I’m not going to hurt you,” he said in a deep, gravelly voice.
Skye jolted upright. “Help!”
“For chrissakes,” the man muttered and lunged for her, covering her mouth with his large hand. “Stop screaming. I told you I’m not—Jesus,” he cursed when Skye slammed the heel of her palm into his nose. He let go of her to cover the blood spurting from his nostrils. “I think you broke my nose,” he said, sounding more shocked than angry.
“I’ll break more than that if you don’t get out of here,” she threatened, scrambling to the other side of the bed. Quicker than she expected, he recovered and came after her. Raising her arms in a defensive position, she bent her leg at the knee and pointed her toes.
He crossed his muscled arms and cocked his head. “What are you doing?”
“I’m trained in capoeira,” she said, referring to the form of martial arts she’d studied from a master when she’d lived in Brazil. “You’d better leave. I don’t want to hurt you.”
She saw a flash of white under the brim of his Stetson. “Learn that while you were smoking yopo with the Yanomami, did you?”
“How did you know that?” she asked, lowering her arms. There was no way she could take this man down. And she didn’t want to risk hurting the baby. But if she distracted him, she might be able to reach the panic button on the wall behind the nightstand.
“I know everything about you, Sugar Plum.” He reached in his back pocket, the movement drawing her attention to the gun tucked in the waistband of his jeans. Gun! He had a gun! She dove sideways across the bed, her arm outstretched in an effort to reach the button on the wall.
He grabbed her ankles. “I should’ve known this wouldn’t be easy,” he said, and swore when she got a foot loose and kicked him. Dragging her across the bed, he lifted her onto her feet and wrapped his arms around her, locking hers to her sides at the same time he trapped her legs with one of his. It was like being restrained by bands of steel.
“Now, I’m going to say this nice and slow so you understand me. I don’t want to accidentally hurt you or your baby.”
Her head whipped up, and she cracked him on the bottom of his jaw, his teeth clinking together with the force of the blow. “How do you know about my baby?”
She wasn’t sure, but she thought he might have said “bleeping Nell”—only he used the real word; the “bleeping” was her choice. “What Nell? Are you talking about my Nell? Christmas’s Nell?”
“I didn’t say Nell. I have a court order to take you back to Christmas. Which I was going to show you when you tried to push the panic button.”
She tried to tilt her head to look up at him, but he reared back. “Oh no, you don’t. Now get dressed. This is already taking longer than I have time for.”
“I’m not getting dressed, and I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Fine by me if you want me to deliver you to your husband in your pj’s.”
“ ‘Husband’? Ethan put you up to this?”
“Court order, Sugar Plum. You took your husband’s baby out of state.” She sneezed, and because her arms were locked at her sides… “For chrissakes,” he cursed and let her go. He grabbed the tissue box off the nightstand and handed it to her, taking one to wipe his arm. “Be a good girl and get dressed. We have a plane to catch.”
She glanced at her stretchy pink pajama top and the matching bottoms that rode low on her hips to reveal her baby bump. “I’m not getting dressed. You’ll have to take me as I am.” With her plan to stay on the law’s good side, she didn’t want to ignore a court order. She didn’t think Ethan had any rights until the baby was born, but she wasn’t a hundred percent certain. Her attire alone should draw someone’s attention at a crowded airport, and if a policeman happened to stop them, and the court order was invalid, he could arrest the man.
“Suits me,” he said, and before she realized what he was going to do, he zip-tied her hands together.
“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” She shook her bound hands at him.
“Soon as you promise to behave, I’ll take them off you.”
She went to grab his gun from the waistband of his jeans, but he whipped it out of her reach.
“Jesus, you’re a pain in the ass. Maybe I should do Ethan a favor and leave you here,” he muttered, lifting her into his arms and heading for the spiral staircase.
“That’s exactly what you should do,” she said, head bowed as she focused on removing the zip ties. “Whatever he’s paying you, I’ll pay you more.”
“Sorry, Sugar Plum. I don’t think you can afford me. You’re blog’s doing well, but not that well.”
“What? How?” She jerked upright, knocking off his champagne-colored cowboy hat. She gasped. “Superman.”
* * *
“Why couldn’t you stay asleep until we got there?” he grumbled, as they drove into Christmas.
Yes, her genius plan had backfired. How was she supposed to know that the Man of Steel had a private plane tucked away in its own private hangar, and he knew how to fly the darn thing? If he hadn’t kidnapped her, she might have thought that was kind of hot. If she wasn’t still in love with her husband—yes, it was pathetic but true—she might have thought Chance McBride was one of the most gorgeous men she’d ever seen. He was all hard muscle and chiseled good looks. He’d also hurt her best friend.
“You broke Vivi’s heart, you know.”
“For the twentieth time, I’m not having this conversation with you.”
“Well… You’re in love with her.” She gaped at him. “I can’t believe I missed that. She’s Lois Lane to your Superman.”
He growled low in his throat and gave her a menacing stare. She snorted. “You don’t scare me. But don’t worry, your secret’s safe. I’m not letting you break her heart again. And you did protect her.”
“Pain in the ass,” he muttered, patting down his pockets.
“Looking for something?” She smirked and held up his phone. He s
houldn’t have removed the zip ties. And while she might not have been able to get help at the airport, that didn’t mean she was facing down Ethan and his family and friends without backup. She imagined that since he lost the election because of her, she was persona non grata in Christmas.
Chance took the phone from her, but his mouth quirked beneath his dark blond scruff.
As they pulled into Gage’s driveway, Skye’s heart started to race. There were several vehicles parked on the street, Ethan’s Escalade among them. Along with the nerves, she felt a small spark of excitement and realized there was part of her that was anxious to see him. It’d been weeks since they’d talked, weeks since he held her in his arms and kissed her. She’d missed him desperately, but her pride and her anger had kept her from reaching out to him. Her fear that he didn’t love her anymore or that what she thought was love had simply been lust.
Maybe this was a good idea after all. She could convince him to drop the custody suit. Tell him how sorry she was he’d lost the election because of her. And just maybe he’d realize how much he loved her. How much he’d missed her.
She pulled the visor down. Okay, so this was not the way she wanted him to see her for the first time in weeks. She looked like crap. No makeup, her nose was as red as Rudolph’s, and her hair looked like she’d stuck her finger in a light socket. She pushed up the visor and whacked Chance.
He rubbed his arm. “What was that for?”
“You could’ve warned me everyone was going to be here.”
“Feeling shy, Sugar Plum?” He grinned as he opened the driver’s-side door.
“Oh, shut up and stop calling me that,” she muttered. “Come get me. I’m not walking barefoot in the snow.”
“Barefoot and pregnant,” he said as he once again lifted her into his arms, “it suits you, Sweet Cheeks. But might have been a good idea to put on a bra.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “You are such a jerk. My best friend is better off without you.”
“Yeah, she is,” he said quietly as he walked up Gage’s front steps.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. If you hadn’t kidnapped me and scared me half to death, I’d probably like you.”
He gave a low, gruff laugh. “If you didn’t beat the shit out of me, and you weren’t such a pain in the ass, I’d probably like you, too,” he said as he walked through Gage and Maddie’s house.
Conversation and laughter at the dining room table abruptly ended as he set her on her feet. Everyone stared at her. Ethan sat beside Claudia at the far end of the table. They’d been smiling at one another, each of them holding the end of a wish bone, but as their eyes moved to her, their smiles faded. Skye’s cheeks heated, her embarrassment magnified tenfold at the sight of them together, happy and beautiful. And then her temper flared.
“Gage, arrest them. Superman kidnapped me on his orders.” She stabbed a finger in Ethan’s direction. “And if you won’t, I’m calling the… FBI. The CIA. Homeland Security!”
Chapter Twenty-One
Ethan stared at his wife. He’d imagined this moment, dreamed of it over the last several weeks, but Kendall standing barefoot in a pair of pink pajamas in Gage’s dining room was not how he’d envisioned their reunion. And he sure as hell didn’t expect her to demand his arrest, with her curly hair as wild as the temper sparking in her butterscotch eyes. Wait a minute, he thought, as he finally clued in to what she was ranting about. “Kidnapping? I didn’t have you kidnapped. Why would you…”
He might as well have been talking to himself for all the good it did him. Kendall spun around. “Give me your phone,” she said to the tall man who had unceremoniously deposited her in Gage’s dining room. Ethan dragged his gaze from Kendall to the lethal-looking stranger. Alarm flashed through him at the realization that this guy had taken his wife, his very pregnant wife, against her will.
But since Kendall was giving the stranger hell, she obviously wasn’t afraid of him. With a cowboy hat covering half his face, all Ethan could see was the man’s amused smile. “Now, Sweet Cheeks, calm down. Can’t be good for your blood pressure.”
Sweet Cheeks? Ethan stood up. “What’s going on…” He trailed off when, in an attempt to grab the phone from the man’s hand, Kendall knocked off his cowboy hat. Chance McBride. His wife’s kidnapper was his best friend’s brother.
Gage pushed back from the table at the same time as Paul. His stunned expression mirrored his father’s. “Chance?” the two men said in unison. No one had seen Chance McBride since his wife Kate’s funeral four years ago.
Paul went to greet his son, but Kendall turned on him. Somehow she’d gotten hold of Chance’s phone and pointed it at Paul. “Stop right there. Did none of you hear what I said? I was kidnapped. Kidnapped at gunpoint.”
“I didn’t kidnap you at gunpoint, and you know it. Dad, you might want to stay back until Sweet Cheeks here gets the drama out of her system,” Chance said as he picked up his hat from the floor.
“Drama?” Kendall waved the phone at Chance. “You dragged me terrified from my bed—”
“Terrified?” Chance rolled his eyes. “You don’t have the good sense God gave you to be terrified.”
“Hey!” She looked back at Chance and elbowed him in the gut. “I had enough good sense to defend myself against you, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, your capoeira moves were real scary, Sweet Cheeks.” Grinning, Chance put up his arms, raised his leg, bending it at the knee.
“Ha-ha.” Kendall scowled at him. “It wasn’t me who ended up with a broken nose and bruises, now was it?” she said as she pressed buttons on the phone. Chance sighed, took the phone from her, and ended the call.
No one moved, staring openmouthed at the couple as the scene played out before them. Finally Gage, as if sensing Kendall was ready to go off on another rant, intervened. “So what you’re telling me, Skye, is that my brother kidnapped you at gunpoint from your father’s home in Texas.”
“Yes.” Chance gave her a light shove. “Okay, so it wasn’t exactly at gunpoint, but he did take me against my will.” She shoved Chance back, then pointed at herself. “Does this look like someone who went with him willingly? If I did, don’t you think I would’ve gotten dressed?”
Gage took in her attire and rubbed the back of his neck. “I see your point.”
Chance grinned as he leaned down to whisper in her ear.
Her cheeks went as red as her nose, and she crossed her arms over her chest. Obviously, Chance had pointed out to her what had been noticeable to Ethan and every man in the room. His wife was cold and had forgotten her bra. Ethan narrowed his gaze at the man he’d grown up with and asked, “Do you want to explain to me why you kidnapped my wife?”
Kendall rolled her eyes. “Oh, that’s rich. Don’t put on the innocent act. This was your fault. You put him up to this.”
“Skye, honey, why don’t you sit down? It’s not good for you and the baby to get this worked up,” Paul said. At the same time he tried to get his daughter-in-law’s attention, but Madison was looking at Nell, who was bent over her plate, eating her turkey as if nothing had happened.
“What did you do, Nell?” Madison said, and everyone turned to stare at the older woman.
Nell looked up, blinking her eyes. “Are you talking to me?”
Gage and Paul groaned, and Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose.
“ ’Fess up, Nell. You’re behind this, aren’t you?” Madison said.
“So she was behind it after all,” Kendall said to Chance. “That’s why you bleeped her.”
“He bleeped me?”
“No, I bleeped her ’cause you were a pain in the ass, Sweet Cheeks. Sorry, Aunt Nell, the jig is up,” Chance said.
“You can all stop looking at me like that. At least I did something. Not my fault that I’m the only one with gumption.” She aimed her fork at Ethan. “What are you complaining about? All you’ve done is mope around since she left you.”
“I wasn’t moping, Nell,�
�� he protested, more emphatically than was probably necessary. “There were a lot of loose ends that needed to be tied up.”
“Oh, is that why Claudia’s still here, helping you tie up all those loose ends?” Kendall said, her husky voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Actually, Kendall, I’m here to support Ethan. After you destroyed his chance of winning the election and stole his child from him, he needed me,” Claudia said, smiling up at him.
It wasn’t true, but there was nothing he could say without embarrassing Claudia.
“Skye. My name is Skylar Davis. And this is my child.” She placed her hand on her belly. “My body, my life. And all of you self-righteous, holier-than-thou right-wingers better get that through your thick skulls.”
After what she’d put him through these past weeks, that was the last straw. “Are you sure that’s who you are? Because I seem to remember the night we got married you were pretty clear that you wanted to be known as Kendall, Kendall O’Connor.” He slapped his forehead. “That’s right, now I remember. The reason you wanted to be known as Kendall O’Connor was the same reason you agreed to marry me, isn’t it? You were using me to hide out from Jimmy ‘the Knife’ Moriarty.” He jabbed a finger at her. “And that baby you’re carrying is as much mine as it is yours. And I’m warning you, if you do one thing, just one thing, to put my child at risk, I will do whatever I have to do to protect it, including breaking the law.”
Gage gave him a you’ve-lost-it look. Yeah, Ethan had already come to the same conclusion himself. He supposed letting out all the anger, hurt, and frustration he’d kept bottled up inside since election night wasn’t the best idea. No one, not even Gage, knew how hard that had been. How hard it was to know he’d wasted a year of his life—all that time, money, and energy he could never get back. And a woman he was in love with, a woman he’d believed felt the same way about him, was indirectly responsible for that loss. But it was her betrayal, the callous, cowardly way she’d left him, the way she’d completely cut him off as if he had no right, no place in his child’s life, no place in her life that was more difficult to bear.