by Rita Herron
And the sooner he dumped the kid, the better. Then he could put some distance between him and this mess, and no one could link the baby’s disappearance to him.
Chapter Seven
A haunting silence hung in the house as Brianna and Derrick entered, the air filled with memories of what had happened that morning. Derrick flipped a light switch, and the Christmas tree lights twinkled merrily, but the small packages beneath the tree, the stocking she’d made for Ryan, and the fact that he might not be home for the holidays made her heart ache.
She wanted to dress him in the little red sleeper she’d bought and make a Christmas photo as Natalie would have done. Make cookies with him when he got older. String popcorn and buy him a puppy and see the magic in his eyes when Santa left surprises beneath the tree.
Derrick had picked up two specials at the diner for them, and took them to the kitchen. “Come and sit down, Brianna and eat.”
“I’m really not hungry,” she said.
He took her by the arm. “You haven’t eaten anything all day. It won’t help Ryan if you end up sick.”
Her body was aching, but she was too tired to argue, so she slumped into the kitchen chair. The scent of Delilah’s beef stew wafted toward her, and she managed to eat at least half the food, while Derrick inhaled his.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said about Natalie being nervous, seeming afraid,” Derrick told her. “Did you keep any of Natalie’s things after she died?”
Brianna leaned her head on her hand. “A few things. I boxed them up and they’re in the extra bedroom. Her computer is there, too.” She hesitated. “I didn’t know what to do with it.”
“I’d like to look through them. Maybe I’ll find some clues.”
Like Ryan’s father’s name.
“Of course you can go through them,” Brianna concurred.
“Go take a hot bath and lie down. You need some rest, Bri.”
“How can I sleep when Ryan is out there somewhere, God knows where? What if this man hurts him, Derrick?”
Derrick rose, then cradled her elbow in his and coaxed her to stand. “You have to try. When we bring Ryan home, and we will, you need to have your energy back.”
She nodded, although her mind screamed with self-recriminations. If only she’d woken up five minutes earlier. If she’d had Ryan in her room. If she’d been stronger…
“Come on.” He urged her toward the stairs. “A hot bath will help your sore muscles. And I’ll fix you some tea or a drink, whatever you want to help you sleep.”
“Hot tea would be good,” she said quietly. “That and some painkillers.”
He walked her through her bedroom to the bath and bent to turn on the water. Slowly his dark gaze rose to meet hers. His eyes flickered with amber and gold flecks, and skated over her with such intensity that her body tingled. “Do you need help?”
A blush crept up her face. Had he read her mind? “No. I can manage.” The idea of Derrick helping her undress would have sounded appealing under different circumstances, but she didn’t want him to see her battered body now.
Especially after he’d been with Natalie. Natalie was beautiful and had the perfect body. Big breasts. Thin hips. Experience with men.
His eyes darkened again as if he wanted to touch her, but a second later, he averted his gaze and she assumed she’d imagined it. “Then I’ll go make the tea and look into Natalie’s things.”
The mention of her deceased friend’s belongings tossed water on the spark of desire that had rippled through her, and she nodded, then watched him leave the room.
He had been in love with Natalie. And he might be Ryan’s father.
Nothing could ever happen between them.
DERRICK SILENTLY CURSED himself. For a minute when he’d looked at Brianna, he’d imagined undressing her and had itched to remove her clothes. To touch her and hold her and console her.
To kiss her and assuage her pain.
But reality quickly intruded. He had a job to do. To find Ryan. To know for sure what had happened with Natalie. If she could possibly have been murdered.
He couldn’t let Brianna get under his skin.
Women were not to be trusted.
After all, she might have known Ryan was his son and kept it from him.
If she had, he couldn’t forgive that.
Figuring it would take Brianna a while to bathe, he put on the water for the tea, then retrieved the box holding Natalie’s things and her laptop. His gaze fell on Ryan’s photos, and he walked over to study them.
Ryan was a plump little baby with dark blond hair and brown eyes. Hair and eyes like his.
Ryan had to be his son.
Maybe there was something in that box or on her computer to prove it. He lowered himself on the sofa and dug through the box. A few photographs of Natalie and Brianna when they were younger, a silk scarf, certificates of awards Natalie had received in high school, her college degree, three yearbooks from the high school.
Nothing to verify that he was the baby’s father or indicate what had upset Natalie those last few months.
While he booted up her computer, he heard the teakettle whistle, so he made the tea, then carried it up the steps. He’d search Natalie’s browser and e-mails once Brianna was asleep.
It was quiet as he approached Brianna’s bedroom, and he knocked softly, but she didn’t answer.
Concern caught in his chest. She’d been through hell today, both physically and emotionally, and should have been in bed instead of running all over town. But she’d toughed it out to find the baby.
His son.
Because she loved him, too.
He knocked again, but once more she didn’t respond, so he tiptoed inside. The bathroom door was ajar, and he spotted her lying back in a sea of bubbles, her head on a bath pillow, her eyes closed.
He paused, his breath catching again, this time at the beautiful picture she painted. She’d swept her ebony hair up on top of her head. But soft tendrils had escaped and fallen around her cheeks. Cheeks pale and bruised from the kidnapper when she’d fought to save his son.
Bubbles covered most of her body, dotting the soft curve of her breasts, but one puckered nipple slipped through the cloud. The sight of it stirred his lust. And her lips were slightly parted as if she’d finally given into fatigue and fallen asleep.
He had always admired Brianna when they were young, had thought she possessed a quiet strength and spunk, especially knowing her past. And he’d secretly always wanted her.
But it was nothing compared to the hunger flaring inside him now.
She looked soft and sweet and vulnerable, and he wanted to kiss those pink lips.
Unable to resist, he placed the tea on the bath vanity, then walked over and brushed the hair from her cheek. Her eyes slowly fluttered open, filled with the haze of sleep and confusion.
A second later, they widened as if reality intruded, and she crossed her arms over her breasts. Instead of hiding her though, the movement sent water sloshing over the tub, revealing both voluptuous breasts. They were firm and high but swayed as she moved, her nipples stiffening as they met the cool air.
His body hardened, but the sight of the black and purple bruises on her torso made his jaw clench in fury.
“Dammit, you should have gone to the hospital.”
Embarrassment heated her cheeks, and she lowered her gaze. “Hand me a towel, please.”
He reached for the towel, and she grabbed it from him. “You can leave now.”
He raked his gaze over her once more, wanting to help her up, but sensing he’d already said too much. So he turned and walked to the door.
But her soft moan of pain made him race back to her. She was doubled over, gripping her chest in an attempt to breathe through the pain and clinging to the wall with her other hand.
Ignoring the glare she gave him, he grabbed the towel and wrapped it around her, then lifted her from the tub.
“I’m fine,” she grumbled thro
ugh gritted teeth.
“The hell you are.” He grabbed another towel and dried her feet and shoulders off, again ignoring her protests, then picked her up and carried her to her bed. He yanked the covers back, then gently eased her down on the sheets.
“Do you have an Ace bandage?” he asked.
She breathed in and out. “In the cabinet below the bathroom sink.”
He hurried to retrieve it, then lowered himself on the bed beside her and reached for the towel.
“I can do it myself.” She lifted her chin defiantly.
“Stop being so stubborn,” he said in a low whisper. With one quick flick, he lowered the towel then began to wrap her ribs.
She closed her eyes and clenched her jaw, and he forced himself not to kiss her bruises when he wanted to press his lips to her skin and ease her pain.
And make them both forget that Ryan was still missing and might never be found.
MORTIFICATION STAINED Brianna’s cheeks, but she closed her eyes and allowed Derrick to tend to her. All day she’d fought not to break down in front of him and struggled not to give in to the pain racking her body, but it had taken its toll. Even the hot bath hadn’t alleviated the throbbing in her chest and head.
“Where’s your gown?” he asked in a voice so soothing and full of understanding that tears blurred her eyes. No one had ever taken such tender care of her without asking something in return.
She pushed aside the bad childhood memories and focused on the present. She’d long since let go of the past.
Of her mother and the boyfriends who’d passed through their house, virtually strangers in the night. Strangers who sometimes liked little girls….
The reason her mother had finally dropped her at the orphanage. To protect her, she’d said.
But Brianna had known the real reason—her mother had chosen the men over her.
She’d vowed never to follow in her footsteps. Never to need a man. Never to put him before her child.
But in doing so she’d shut down, hadn’t developed a relationship because she was all closed up inside. Because she didn’t trust. And without trust she couldn’t love or be loved.
Don’t be silly. Derrick loved Natalie, not you. You’re just a tool to find his son.
“Brianna?”
“In the top dresser drawer.”
She forced her eyes open, to gather her pride as he dug through her drawer and returned with a flannel nightshirt. He helped her ease it on, then pulled the covers over her.
“The tea might be cold by now.”
“It’s fine,” she said. “I think I just need to close my eyes for a minute.”
He patted her arm. “Get some rest, Brianna.”
“Did you find anything in Natalie’s things?” she asked.
“Not yet, but I’m going to search her computer now.” He flipped off the light. “Call me if you need me. I’ll be downstairs.”
She sighed and nestled in the covers, then closed her eyes. Maybe she could sleep for a few minutes, then she’d get up and help him. Hopefully by that time, he’d have some answers, and they would know where to look for Ryan.
And when they did…
For a moment, she allowed herself to fantasize that they would bring him home together, that the two of them would raise him as theirs.
But reality nagged at her, and she knew that the DNA test would prove that Ryan belonged to Derrick. He’d already said that when they brought him home, he would fight for custody.
And he would win, move on and leave her behind.
DERRICK FORCED HIMSELF TO leave Brianna’s room when he really wanted to crawl in bed beside her, pull her into his arms and hold her. She looked so damn vulnerable and soft, but so damn strong, that his lungs constricted, and for a moment, he simply watched her sleep. For the life of him, even though he wanted to mistrust her and steel himself against caring about her, he was having a hard time doing so.
But Ryan was missing. And he had to save him and give him the future the innocent little boy deserved.
Grateful she was finally resting, he jogged down the steps then focused on Natalie’s computer, skimming her e-mails for anything suspicious. Several work-related messages filled a file, along with a few personal notes from friends and acquaintances. But nothing that stirred his suspicions. Not even another boyfriend or lover.
He logged onto the Internet and found a MySpace page and skimmed her interests, her song choices and friends, but again found nothing that indicated problems or that anyone had a grudge against Natalie.
Then he found a reference to a personal journal, so he clicked on the icon for the pages and began to read the entries. First, she talked about her and Brianna and their close friendship, about how Brianna had always told her that she’d saved her years ago when she’d befriended her, but Natalie had looked up to Brianna instead.
Next, he read several entries about her job and her internal debate over whether to leave town. Then a reference to trouble with a few students. One in particular she thought might be involved with drugs. A reference to a conversation where the boy had become belligerent.
Then a different reference to a teen at Magnolia Manor she suspected might be involved in drugs.
He made a note of the names to check them out.
He skimmed a few more entries, then sat up, taking notice at a mention of him.
I was really nervous and uptight about everything going on at the school. And I took a trip to Raleigh and ran into Derrick McKinney. God, I made a big mistake. I had too much to drink and hooked up with him, and now I don’t know how to tell Bri. I know she’s had a crush on him for years, and she’ll hate me if she finds out.
Perspiration trickled down his forehead. Bri had a crush on him?
Why had she never said anything? Never let him know?
Then the realization of Natalie’s note set in. Bri knew he and Natalie had been together so eventually Natalie told her about that night. If she’d been standoffish before, had not shown her feelings, she sure as hell wouldn’t now.
Especially when he and Natalie might have shared a son. A son Natalie had asked Bri to raise, and never told him about.
Why hadn’t Natalie wanted him in her baby’s life? Because she didn’t think he was father material?
Battling the pain that thought triggered, he scrolled through a few more pages until he discovered another entry that made him pause.
Today I heard some of the kids talking about The Club. They said it had started up again, just like eight years ago. They were whispering about something awful that had happened back then, some kind of explosion that had killed dozens of people.
I went to Principal Billings and asked him about it, but he told me that he would check into it, that I shouldn’t ask questions, that it would be dangerous if I did.
Tonight, someone tried to run me off the road and I almost crashed. I don’t know what to do or whom to trust.
I want to tell Bri, but what if confiding in her puts her in danger, too?
Derrick balled his hands into fists. Tomorrow he would talk to Principal Billings about this club. He’d also visit the hospital and inquire about Natalie’s death.
If he didn’t get the answers he wanted, he’d talk to Beau Cramer and arrange to have Natalie’s body exhumed.
An autopsy would tell them if she had been murdered.
Chapter Eight
By dawn the next morning, Derrick had showered, dressed and had coffee ready. He also checked in with Ben and Running Deer, but there were no new developments. He was drinking his third cup when he heard Brianna rambling around upstairs.
She looked more rested when she came down the steps, although her eyes remained haunted, the bruise on her cheek still stark.
“Did you sleep?” he asked.
She didn’t look at him, but nodded and poured herself a cup of coffee. “Did you?”
“I’m fine,” Derrick said. “I looked through Natalie’s computer last night and discovered a person
al journal.”
Brianna claimed the chair facing him at the table. “Did it help?”
“Maybe.” He cradled the mug between his hands to keep from touching her cheek, from asking her if she was still in pain, from kissing the tender skin and pulling her to him. Her slow movements indicated she was hurting, but she’d latched on to the stubborn determination he’d seen the day before and wouldn’t complain.
“What?” Brianna asked, jerking his mind back on track.
He bypassed the personal entries about him, and the fact that Natalie said Bri had had a crush on him. Had she really?
“In her journal, Natalie noted that there might be a meth lab somewhere, that she’d heard some teens talking about it.”
“A meth lab?”
“Yes. She also mentioned a club and something that had happened eight years ago. She talked to the principal about it, but he told her that he’d check into it, and warned her it was too dangerous for her to ask questions.”
“What kind of club?”
“I don’t know, but I intend to find out.” He sipped his coffee. “But you were right. Natalie was scared. Someone tried to run her off the road. She wanted to tell you, but she was afraid confiding would endanger you.”
Brianna’s troubled gaze met his. “She tried to protect me.”
He nodded. “But she was scared, and if she stumbled onto something that this club wanted kept quiet, maybe they caused her death.”
“The doctor was vague,” Brianna recounted. “But why kidnap Ryan?”
“I don’t know, unless they were afraid that Natalie told you something.”
A look of dawning stretched across Brianna’s face as if she’d suddenly remembered something. “I did go back to the hospital and ask questions about her death,” she said.
Derrick stood. “We need to talk to the principal and that doctor again.”
Brianna glanced at the phone. “It’s been over twenty-four hours, Derrick. Why won’t they call?”
Derrick gritted his teeth so hard his jaw ached. The only explanation he could think of was that this wasn’t a kidnapping for ransom.