Lullaby and Goodnight

by Susan Kearney

  “Racketeering.”

  “What’s that?” Rhianna asked.

  “Mostly white-collar crimes,” Rafe told her, then looked pointedly at the file. “Anything of a violent nature in there?”

  “Duncan had a girlfriend in college who was raped and murdered. Duncan was cleared of all charges,” Joe told them.

  “He told me the story months ago. What else did you find?” Rhianna prodded, almost purring as Rafe rubbed the ball of her foot. Lord, the man had great hands. Slow hands. A lover’s hands. At the thought, she yanked her foot away and lowered it to the floor. Rafe simply picked up her other foot and started all over.

  Joe frowned. “I don’t like loose ends. The police never found the woman’s murderer.”

  Rafe’s hands didn’t miss a stroke. “I assume the police questioned Duncan Phillips?”

  “Duncan didn’t have an alibi, but the cops didn’t have enough evidence to charge him, either.”

  “He didn’t tell me that! Anything else?” Rhianna sipped her milk, considering the new information again in a new light. She’d never seen Duncan turn violent, but she had seen his temper. When a horse he’d been riding refused a jump, he’d dug his heels into its ribs and cursed long and hard. The horse threw him, and after Duncan regained his feet, he’d struck the horse once with his crop. But that didn’t make him a murderer.

  “Nothing else on Duncan Phillips.” Joe switched to another file as the food arrived.

  Rafe excused himself to wash his hands. And Rhianna dug into her steak. “How’d you find out that information about Duncan?”

  Joe sipped his water. “One call to his college roommate, another to a business associate did the trick. Then I checked the information with the police.”

  “Impressive. You work fast. And still have time to tail us, too.”

  “We’ll keep digging.”

  When Rafe returned, Rhianna had finished half her steak. She mashed butter into her sweet potato. “So what else did you find?”

  “Judge Stuart has ties to the criminal world. He could easily pay someone to stalk Rhianna.”

  Rafe spread his napkin over his lap. “But why?”

  “I don’t know. But his ex-wife, Karen, took out a restraining order against him. She claimed he harassed her.”

  Rhianna paused. She’d thought she’d known Duncan, and while he’d told her about his past, she really hadn’t known him at all. He’d never told her the police had questioned him about the murder. And who would have thought that Judge Stuart’s wife was afraid of him? Maybe one person couldn’t ever really know another. She recalled that wonderful night with Rafe and how hopeful she’d been that he would want to come back to her.

  What didn’t she know about Rafe? Under that glossy black hair and behind that devastating charm, what secrets lurked? Had another woman jilted him so badly he couldn’t open his heart? Maybe he didn’t have the capacity to love. Or maybe she just wasn’t the right woman.

  Damn the man for walking back into her life, disrupting her routine. She didn’t need to speculate over what could never be. He didn’t want her. And it was time to grow up. Get over him.

  “Does everyone have these kinds of secrets?” she wondered aloud.

  Rafe pinned her with a stare, but his eyes twinkled. “Do you have secrets, Rhianna? Something you haven’t told us?”

  His tone might be teasing, but Rhianna didn’t like the way her heart speeded up. This light, intriguing side of Rafe had always been irresistible to her.

  She ignored his question and eyed the third folder, along with Rafe’s coleslaw. “What did you discover about the Stones?”

  Joe shoved his chair back from the table. “Nothing terrible.”

  “You sound disappointed,” Rhianna commented, preferring to ignore Rafe’s probing gaze as he calmly passed her his coleslaw.

  “They seem to be exactly who they appear to be. A couple devoted to one another. A rich older man and his young, loving wife.”

  Rhianna polished off Rafe’s coleslaw in four bites. “Do I hear a note of sarcasm?”

  Joe shrugged. “Let’s just say I’m always suspicious when the man is rich and the woman is beautiful. But if you’re asking if I have anything solid, I don’t.”

  Rafe nodded. “Hal and Janet Stone are at their ranch just outside Highview. We’ll pay them a visit soon.”

  RAFE DIDN’T WANT TO TAKE Rhianna back to the hotel—not since her stalker had already traced her there and likely knew that Rafe had reserved a suite for the night. Thinking hard, he started the car’s engine and adjusted the heat to take the slight chill out of the air, but he didn’t shift into drive. “We shouldn’t return to the hotel.”

  “And I suppose going home is still out of the question,” Rhianna said softly. She patted her rounded stomach lovingly. “My folks agree we need to keep the baby safe.”

  Grateful she no longer seemed argumentative, Rafe placed his hand over hers. “If we flew on the senator’s private plane, we could be in Highview within the hour.”

  Rhianna shook her head. “That wouldn’t be smart. I shouldn’t fly this close to my due date. And since that’s your usual mode of transportation, the stalker might expect us to do just that.”

  “We could drive,” Rafe suggested.

  Rhianna moved his hand over her stomach, letting him feel his child’s kicks. Rafe marveled at the miracle of his son or daughter growing inside Rhianna’s womb. A strong surge of protectiveness washed through him, followed by a wave of anger. Who wanted to harm Rhianna and his child? And why?

  Rhianna rested her head on the seat back. “Look, whoever is after me also knows I’m with you. Won’t he expect you to take me back to the Sutton ranch?”

  “Even if he does, I can protect you and the baby there better than anywhere else. Your dad can pick up your truck and I’ll have the hotel send our clothes to the ranch. Strangers are noticed in Highview, and Sheriff Noel Demory is a good friend of the family. We also can ask the ranch hands to patrol the grounds.”

  Rhianna let out a long, low sigh. “I don’t know, Rafe. I’m so tired. Do what you think is best.” She shifted in her seat and looked him full in the face. In the streetlight’s glow, her eyes looked huge, her face pale. Then, as if shaking off her weariness, she hardened her tone. “But if there’s any sign of pursuit, I’m not promising to stay put like a sitting duck while everyone gathers round to protect me.”

  As if she’d have a choice. Rafe refrained from grinning. Now that his father and brothers knew the situation, that Rhianna carried Rafe’s child and the senator’s grandchild, no way would they let her walk away, into danger. The child was a Sutton. And Suttons protected their own.

  But Rafe saw no reason to make explanations that could wait until Rhianna and the baby were safe. She’d agreed to come with him, given in more easily than he’d expected. “How good are you at sleeping in a car?”

  “Catnaps are all I can manage when I have to use the bathroom every half hour. If you drive, we’ll have to make frequent stops.”

  “No problem.” Rafe shifted the car into first gear. “Use my cell phone and call your parents. We don’t want them to worry.”

  While Rhianna called, Rafe drove around the block, attempting to spot a tail. He changed directions several times before heading for the highway, and although he never spotted anything suspicious, he still felt as if someone was watching him.

  Hoping the feeling would vanish once he reached the ranch, Rafe planned to drive straight through, stopping only when necessary. He let the tension hum through him, keeping him awake, alert and ready for trouble. But nothing happened.

  Rhianna closed her eyes and napped, but she kept muttering in her sleep and jerking awake. Between the stresses of pregnancy and the stalker, it was a wonder she dared to shut her eyes at all.

  Rafe concentrated on shifting smoothly and merging onto the highway, while frequently glancing in his rearview mirror. He’d driven only a few miles when Rhianna tapped his arm. “S
orry. I need a bathroom break.”

  “Next exit,” he promised. “And there’s no need to apologize.”

  “Thanks.”

  The walls of the car enclosed them in a cocoon of privacy. And suddenly a different kind of tension filled the air. Rafe didn’t know why, but the silence seemed strained and awkward. For once they weren’t fighting, but now the darkness seemed fraught with unseen dangers. Maybe it was the politeness between them. He actually felt more comfortable when they were arguing. He flicked on the radio, but even soft jazz didn’t take the edge off.

  Rafe searched for a safe topic. “Have you thought about a name for the baby?”

  “Its last name will be McCloud.”

  At Rhianna’s statement, anger pricked at him. His child should have his name, his heritage. His child should have the same last name as his cousins, the same name as his grandfather. And Rafe suddenly realized he couldn’t have picked a more volatile subject.

  Sensing that Rhianna would jump all over whatever he said next, Rafe chose to say nothing at all. But he stewed in his own mix of stubbornness, pride and reason. Rhianna didn’t expect him to claim their child. She intended to raise the baby alone. And it would be easier for her if the child had the same name as its mother. On one level Rafe understood. On another, every cell in him rebelled.

  He hadn’t planned for this child. He might not be ready to settle into family life. But he couldn’t turn his back on his own blood and pretend the child meant nothing to him. He couldn’t pretend the child didn’t exist.

  Damn it. Even if he asked Rhianna to marry him, he already knew she’d say no. She’d thought he was proposing when she’d seen that jewelry box, and her voice had been firm in her refusal.

  Possibly they could reach a solution of joint custody. But what kind of life would that be for his child? Going back and forth between two families, two homes, two worlds. It happened to kids all the time, he told himself. Parents divorced. Kids survived.

  Rafe had grown up without a mother. She’d died when he was a child. And he’d always resented her absence. His mother hadn’t left him on purpose, but still the painful feeling of abandonment haunted Rafe. He wouldn’t forsake his child—financially, physically or emotionally.

  Already he’d bonded with the life he’d felt kicking beneath his hand. And those ties would only grow stronger after the baby’s birth. Maybe Rhianna would move to Highview, and agree to a joint custody arrangement. He could set her up in a house in town, where she wouldn’t have to work, and he could visit without disrupting his child’s life.

  And have your son or daughter called illegitimate? Children could be so cruel.

  Rafe was still sorting through possibilities as he pulled off the highway and headed toward a gas station. He did take a moment to check if any car was following them, but didn’t notice one.

  He parked by the gas pump and walked around the car and opened Rhianna’s door. Her face was devoid of emotion, and he suspected she was hiding her upset over his long silence. He’d thought it better to wait to discuss possibilities, but perhaps he’d been wrong. She needed a measure of certainty in her life. Some statement from him that he wouldn’t try to take the child from her. Not knowing what to say, he opened his mouth to speak, but she didn’t give him a chance, grabbing her purse and looking around for the bathroom.

  He ached to gather her into his arms, but didn’t know how when she was as stiff and prickly as a porcupine. As if oblivious to his feelings, she started toward the building. “I won’t be long. Do you want anything to drink?”

  “No, thanks. And I’m coming with you.” He walked by her side, needing the time to clear his head.

  And think.

  Rafe wouldn’t make promises he couldn’t keep. He’d gone through life without entanglements by keeping his relationships simple, easy and casual. The baby had changed everything—his way of thinking, his easygoing attitude. The future could no longer be left to take care of itself.

  Rhianna walked into the ladies’ room. Ten minutes later, he’d bought her snacks and a drink. When she hadn’t returned, he vowed to give her five more minutes.

  But he couldn’t wait that long. He told himself she just needed air—like when she’d gone out of the restaurant. But maybe she needed help. Maybe her contractions had started early. She’d seemed so tired, almost listless. Weren’t those early signs of labor? His sister-in-law Laura had cleaned the house from top to bottom before she’d delivered her second baby. His brother Chase had been furious to see her expending energy cleaning instead of saving her strength for labor. But Laura had been fine.

  So why did Rafe’s pulse race from just covering the few yards to the ladies’ room? He scoured the hallway and the small café. It would be just like Rhianna to slip away for a burger and fries. But she wasn’t there. Could he have missed her? He looked behind him but she wasn’t browsing the soft drink or candy isle. Finally Rafe knocked on the ladies’ room door.

  A blonde exited, a look of annoyance on her face. Then she got a good look at Rafe and smiled. “Can I help you?”

  “I’m looking for a woman.”

  “Will anyone do?”

  Rafe wanted to barge past the woman into the ladies’ room, but restrained his impatience. Flirtation with a stranger was the last thing on his mind, but he used the woman’s interest for his own purposes and didn’t feel one whit of guilt. “I’m looking for a red-head.”

  The woman tossed her ponytail. “Blondes have more fun.”

  “She’s eight and a half months pregnant.”

  “Why are all the good ones already taken?”

  “Look, she might be in labor. Could you check and see if she’s okay in there?”

  “Sure, sugar.”

  The woman retreated into the rest room. Rafe tapped his boot on the floor and counted to ten.

  The blonde returned before he reached five. “She’s not there. Maybe—”

  Rafe pushed inside. “Rhianna?”

  A lady with a small child gasped and walked around Rafe, avoiding him as if he’d escaped from prison. Rafe checked four stalls. Empty.

  He rushed outside and searched for a back exit. There. To his left.

  Rhianna would be standing outside breathing in the night air, chiding him for his worry. He couldn’t wait to hear her teasing him, couldn’t wait to hear her tell him not to worry like a mother hen, couldn’t wait to hear her demand room to breathe.

  Rafe opened the exit door to darkness and the rotting stench of garbage that had sat too long in the sun. Surely Rhianna wouldn’t stay out here?

  Still he called her name. He walked around the garbage bin and heard a small cry—like an injured animal.

  Rafe rounded the building and a cat meowed at his feet and took off for the woods. He saw no sign of Rhianna, and a light sweat broke out along his scalp. She hadn’t wanted to live with him and she’d given in to his plan so easily—he now wondered if her agreement had been a ruse. Had she taken off at the first opportunity? Maybe hitched a ride with one of the truckers who had parked out back?

  Or had something more sinister happened? Rafe had a bad feeling in his stomach. He searched the store again, went back to the car to see if he’d somehow missed her. But Rhianna was gone. No one in the store had seen her.

  Rafe took little comfort in the fact that Rhianna still had her gun in her pocket. While he debated his next move, he prayed she would keep her head and not try anything foolish. If he called the cops and reported her missing, they wouldn’t even fill out a missing person’s report for twenty-four hours. But they’d keep Rafe here with questions he couldn’t answer, when he might be doing something more useful. But what?

  Rafe took a flashlight from his car and searched the woods behind the store. He sensed Rhianna was long gone, but he didn’t want to leave without checking every possibility. A half hour later, he returned to his car, discouraged and more worried than he’d ever been in his life.

  A white piece of paper beneath his wind
shield wipers made him break into a run. Had Rhianna left him a note?

  He ripped the paper from the window and held it to the light. The note wasn’t from Rhianna, and his rising hopes drowned in a black sea of horror.

  Someone had taken her from him. Fury and anger and fear lashed at Rafe so that his hands shook and he could barely read the message.

  Neatly typed, the note held instructions for Rafe. As he read the cold words, icy fear wound up his spine and froze his heart. “If you follow these instructions exactly, Rhianna and your child will live. Do not call law enforcement. Go to the Sutton ranch and raise a ransom. Wait to be contacted.”

  Rafe blinked at the astronomical amount of money the stalker had demanded. The Suttons didn’t have that kind of cash. Their wealth resided in land and cattle.

  With a sick feeling, he slumped in his car seat and pulled out his cell phone. There was no question whether or not he would comply. The lives of Rhianna and his child were at stake.

  The note hadn’t told him he couldn’t contact his family. And to raise this kind of money, he needed help.

  RHIANNA LAY BOUND hand and foot, gagged and blindfolded, in the back of some kind of vehicle—a big truck, she guessed from the roar of the engine. She fought back tears, determined to keep her air passages free and the terror at bay.

  The moment she’d left the stall of the ladies’ room, a gun had pressed into her side. Simultaneously, a black hood had dropped over her head. She’d had no time to shout, no time to pull her gun, no time to run. She’d been caught as easily as a lassoed foal. And felt twice as foolish.

  She should have been more careful. She shouldn’t have let Rafe make all the decisions. Their movements had been too predictable. But she’d been so tired. And she’d been weary of putting up a brave front, tired of fighting Rafe and her own feelings, too.

  Seeing Rafe again had been harder than she’d expected. Maybe if she’d prepared herself mentally, she would have been stronger. But he’d come back so unexpectedly that dealing with him, the pregnancy and the stalker had almost overwhelmed her. Even now her thoughts were jumbled and she had trouble focusing. Instead her mind seemed to jump randomly from thought to thought, as if she had little control over her own ideas.