His Secret Christmas Baby

by Rita Herron

  She bit her lip, knowing he was right, but the sight of that baby blanket and the kidnapper’s words were tearing her up inside.

  Derrick ushered her toward the car, and she huddled in the passenger seat while he climbed behind the wheel and started the engine.

  But as he drove down the mountain, she turned to look back at the burning rubble and smoke curling into the sky, and guilt assailed her.

  She’d failed Ryan by not stopping the kidnapper, and now she felt as if she was abandoning him, as well.

  IMAGES OF ALL THE CASES HE’D investigated taunted Derrick as he drove back to Brianna’s house.

  A house fire where three children had died. A car crash with an infant inside. A little boy burned when his father had punished him by throwing a pot of hot water on his face.

  His own son couldn’t have been in that fire. It was too horrific for him to accept.

  Yet he knew the depths of evil that possessed some people, the ones lacking a soul.

  He blinked away the images, reminding himself that he hadn’t actually seen an infant in the cabin, and that the kidnapper could have simply wanted to make them believe the baby was dead.

  If it took him until the day he died, he would find the cold son of a bitch and kill him with his bare hands.

  Brianna had lapsed into a pained silence, her breathing labored. By the time they reached her house, the snow had thickened to a haze of white and the wind had intensified, whistling shrilly as they rushed inside.

  He flipped on a light, and Brianna paused to look at the Christmas tree. Twinkling lights danced across the den, almost macabre in light of the empty house and desolation scenting the room. The sight of the baby stocking made his stomach clench.

  Then he spotted the photographs of Ryan sitting on the side table and mantle and his heart broke.

  He helped Brianna remove her coat, frowning at the way she continued to tremble, afraid she was going into shock. He rubbed her arms with his hands trying to warm her. “You’re freezing,” he said in a gruff voice. “I’ll light a fire.”

  The urge to soothe and protect her overwhelmed him. The need to have her up against him, to have her hold him and assure him, was just as strong. She looked at him as if she didn’t know what to do with herself, then mumbled that she was going to take a hot shower.

  He wanted to join her, but forced himself not to touch her or he’d sweep her into his arms, carry her up the steps and warm her with his body and hands. Instead, he watched her retreat, his own pain and guilt immobilizing him.

  He rushed to the side porch where she kept a stack of firewood, brought it inside and lit the kindling. But the glow of the flames and the sound of the crackling wood reminded him of the meth fire, and instead of warding off the chill, it resurrected the fear that Ryan had died tonight.

  That he had failed as a father.

  That he hadn’t been able to save his own son, the most important person in the world.

  The sound of the shower kicking on echoed from above, then the muffled sound of Brianna crying. His gut twisted, and he went outside to drown out the sounds.

  Filled with rage and anguish, he stepped off the porch and stared into the thick dense woods and rising mountains, then sat down on the porch steps, bowed his head and silently howled his despair into the emptiness.

  BRIANNA COULDN’T STOP SHAKING.

  She stripped her clothes and stepped beneath the hot water, letting the tears fall as the hot water sluiced over her.

  She quickly scrubbed her body and hair, then leaned back into the water, closed her eyes and tried to banish the images of the fire.

  She imagined Ryan lying in the crib, snuggled safely beneath his blanket, his teddy bear by his side. Then she saw pictures of him as he grew, as he learned to smile and coo, as he learned to walk and talk.

  In her mind, she saw Derrick there picking him up, swinging him around, chasing him in the yard. The two of them hand in hand taking him to the park, pushing him on the swing, teaching him to ride a bike.

  Foolish.

  Even if they did find Ryan, Derrick would raise him as his own. She wouldn’t be a part of their lives.

  The thought choked her up again, but she swallowed back her self-pity. She hadn’t indulged in that emotion when she had lived in the orphanage, and she refused to now.

  The only thing that mattered was finding Ryan alive and keeping him safe from harm.

  They hadn’t seen him in that fire—she refused to believe he was gone. She refused to give up.

  Straightening, she flipped off the water, dried off and pulled on a thick terry cloth robe. She blew dry her hair, patted her tear-swollen eyes, then forced her chin up. Sliding her feet into her slippers, she knotted the robe at her waist and left her room, pausing for only a moment to look at the empty baby bed inside the nursery. She’d wanted to paint and decorate the room, maybe with ships or animal characters, but hadn’t had the chance.

  Derrick would fix a room for him at his own house when he brought Ryan home.

  Her resolve in place, she descended the stairs, expecting to see Derrick in front of the fire, but he wasn’t inside. She checked the kitchen, but it was empty, then she walked to the front and looked out the window.

  Her lungs constricted as she spotted him slumped on the front porch steps. His head was bowed, his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking. The sight wrenched something deep inside of her.

  She understood his fear, pain and guilt. Derrick had been strong for her so far. She had to be strong for him now.

  Even if he didn’t love her, if he had loved Natalie, she loved him.

  She’d known it for years, that her heart belonged to him. It always had. It always would.

  Sucking in a breath for courage, she pushed open the door and stepped outside. The wind swirled her hair around her face, and she tucked it behind her ears, then inched closer to Derrick. His body was trembling with silent sobs.

  So tough. So strong. So protective of others. How many children had he saved?

  How many had he lost? Those probably ate at his soul and conscience just as the kids she couldn’t save did her own.

  She laid her hand on his shoulder, and he immediately tensed. “Go back inside, Bri.”

  “Not without you,” she whispered.

  His body went more rigid, and he swiped his hands over his face. “Please, just go.”

  She moved around in front of him and knelt on the steps, then pulled his hands away from his face. The anguish in his eyes and tears on his cheeks sent a streak of pain and love through her. “No.”

  “Please…I want to be alone.” He choked on the word, but she gripped his fingers instead and pulled him up.

  “No. Come inside and sit with me by the fire.”

  He shook his head, but she gently cupped his face in her hands, then leaned forward and pressed her lips to his jaw, his eyes, his lips.

  He groaned a guttural response, then fused his mouth with hers in a fury of raw need that swept her away with its intensity.

  HE THREW CANDY DOWN ON THE BED and tore off her clothes.

  She kissed him feverishly. “I’ve been missing you, sweetheart.”

  “Me, too,” he growled. But now that they’d gotten rid of the kid, his libido was back, and he wanted to pound himself inside his girlfriend.

  “You think we’re in the clear?” she asked.

  “Sure as hell.” He lowered his head and bit at her nipple. “We’re getting so far out of town no one will ever find us.”

  She spread her legs, and he thrust inside her, pumping wildly as the bedsprings creaked and groaned. Candy wrapped her legs around him and bit at his neck, and they both forgot about the money and the baby as he spilled his frustration into her.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Derrick couldn’t resist Brianna’s kiss.

  He’d never tasted anything so sweet, so giving, so innocent. So loving.

  He didn’t deserve it, but he craved her touch with every ounce of his
sorry being.

  She made a soft sound in her throat, and shivered. Although his mind was numb with the thrill of finally tasting her, he realized they were outside, and she was wearing only her robe. The thought of her naked skin beneath it made his body harden.

  Slowly, he broke the kiss. “Let’s go inside.”

  She nodded, and he took her hands and pulled her inside. Firelight flickered across her golden skin, the warmth cocooning them in a hazy sensual glow. Time and reality slipped away.

  He had wanted Brianna when he was young, but he hadn’t been good enough for her. He still wasn’t.

  But he needed her tonight. And he didn’t have the willpower to resist.

  She lifted her hand and stroked his jaw. “Derrick?”

  “You should rest,” he said, trying to do the right thing.

  “No, I need to be with you.” She traced a finger over his jaw. “And I think you need me.”

  God, did he….

  She moved closer to him, so close he inhaled the sweet strawberry scent of body wash lingering on her skin, saw her irises darken as she lowered her eyelids, heard the hiss of her breath as she pressed her lips to his again.

  The fire crackled behind them, glowing off her radiant face, and he deepened the kiss, nipping at her lips until she parted them, and he delved inside with his tongue. She threaded her fingers in his hair, and he slid his arms around her, pulling her into his embrace.

  She fit perfectly.

  Her breasts brushed his chest, sending an erotic thrill through him, and he slid his hand down to pull her hips against him. His hands itched to tear off that robe, his body ached, his sex throbbed.

  Their tongues danced and mated, her hips moving against his, and he dragged his lips from hers, then trailed them over the soft shell of her ear and her neck. She made a low throaty sound of pleasure, and hunger ripped through him.

  He lifted his head slightly and looked into her eyes. If she wanted him to stop, he had to. But the desire and heat flaming in her look stole his breath.

  Emboldened, he kissed her again, this time so deeply that she moaned and clung to his arms. He swept his tongue over her throat again, then lower, pulling the edges of the robe apart to tease the curve of her breasts.

  She leaned her head back in silent offering, an erotic gesture that sent a tingle of desire through his fingertips. Slowly he untied the belt at her waist and pulled the edges of the garment apart, revealing the most gorgeous woman he’d ever laid eyes on.

  She had been pretty as a young girl, but she was beautiful now. Her skin glowed in the firelight, her breasts were heavy and full, the tips stiffening to peaks that made his groin ache. And her hips flared enticingly, the triangle of curls at the juncture of her thighs begging for his touch.

  He dipped his head and traced his tongue over one turgid peak, then the other, smiling at the purr of excitement Brianna whispered into the air. Cradling her bare hips in his hand beneath the robe, he tugged one nipple into his mouth and suckled her.

  “Oh, Derrick,” she moaned.

  He deepened the movement, wetting her with his tongue and savoring her response as she dug her hands into his hair. He laved one nipple then the other, moving his fingers over her hips, then licking his way down her flat belly until her legs buckled.

  “Derrick…”

  “Shh, I want you, Bri.”

  Her moan of pleasure echoed in the air as he lowered her to the braided rug in front of the fire and ripped off the robe so that she lay naked in front of him, a feast for his starved eyes.

  BRIANNA’S ENTIRE BODY SANG with pleasure. Derrick had lowered her to the floor, and she sighed and reached for his clothes. It wasn’t fair that she was naked and he was still dressed.

  She wanted to see him, touch him, feel every inch of his bare flesh against hers.

  She slowly unbuttoned his shirt, and he shrugged out of it, the feral look in his eyes arousing her to the point of torture. He tossed the shirt aside, then she reached for his belt buckle and yanked it free.

  A small smile curved his mouth, and her hand slid lower, stroking over the hard length pressing against the fly of his jeans. He growled, then shoved her hand away, stood and shucked off his jeans.

  He looked exquisite, a portrait of masculinity with thick biceps and thighs, corded muscles rippling across his abdomen, and a faint dusting of hair across his chest that tapered down and disappeared into the waistband of his boxers.

  Hunger and need spiraled through her and she reached out and shoved his boxers down his legs. His sex jutted free, thick and hard, and she cupped him in her palm and stroked him.

  “Brianna…” he groaned. The dark shadows in his eyes flickered with desire, and he lowered himself to the rug and took her in his arms. A frenzy of arms and legs, of tongue lashes and kisses, and touching swept her into an erotic torrent.

  He licked his way down her body, suckling and kissing and nipping at her sensitive skin, using his fingers in magic ways that made her body quiver beneath his touch.

  He edged her legs apart, and licked her inner thighs, then traced his damp tongue over her sensitive nub. She cried out as pleasure rocked through her.

  Her moan of joy must have excited him because he spread her more open to him, and loved her the way no other man ever had. Unable to tame her desire, she bucked beneath his titillating torture and welcomed the force of his mouth tipping her over the edge.

  He didn’t stop then. He kissed and licked and suckled her until she finally begged him to join his body with hers. With a groan, she pulled him up her body, wrapped her legs around him and urged him to make her his.

  For a brief moment, he stopped, then he reached for his jeans, yanked a condom from the pocket, ripped it open and began to roll it on. His hands were urgent and shaky, sweat beading his lip, their breathing erratic, and she reached up, took the end and rolled it over his length.

  He kissed her again and pleasure obliterated the insecure voice that screamed that he didn’t love her. That he’d wanted her best friend.

  Instead, she closed her eyes, imagined him whispering her name in love and savored the moment their bodies became one.

  DERRICK THRUST INSIDE BRIANNA, his heart racing as she opened and welcomed him. She clawed at his back, urging him deeper, and he pushed his length inside her, the taste of her pleasure still heady on his tongue.

  She arched her back, and he felt her muscles clench around his, her body shuddering as another orgasm rippled through her. His own teetered on the edge, robbing his sanity, and he suckled her neck, pulsing inside her.

  Mind-numbing sensations pummeled him as his release began to strip him of reason, and he intensified the pressure of their bodies, lifting her hips until he sank himself all the way to her core.

  She cried out his name, holding onto him as he hammered his way home, his body shuddering as a flood of erotic sensations and emotions overcame him. He buried his head against her chest, holding her tight.

  She sighed and wrapped her arms around him, her chest rising with each labored breath. He rolled her sideways to keep from crushing her with his weight, and she curled in his embrace.

  He’d finally made love with Brianna, the girl of his dreams.

  But reality intruded. The sound of the fire reminded him of the earlier explosion. Of his missing son.

  How could he indulge himself in such pleasure when his son might be dead?

  And if he wasn’t, he was missing, out there somewhere in the dark with a total stranger who might not care what happened to him at all.

  He started to pull away, but Brianna clutched his arms. “Please don’t go, Derrick.”

  Dammit. Her soft plea tore at him. He didn’t want to leave her. He didn’t want to be alone. He wanted her in his arms, at least for this one night.

  But most of all, he wanted to pretend that he would get his son back.

  BRIANNA CURLED INTO DERRICK’S arms and drifted to sleep, desperately banishing the fear that crowded her chest. She expe
cted him to fall asleep now that they were in her bed, but he nuzzled her neck, and within minutes, they were making love again.

  His hunger mounted this time, his touches gentle but eager, the desire and need even more urgent than before, as if by leaving the bed, the horrible reality would return.

  The reality neither of them wanted to face.

  He drove her wild with his tongue and hands, bringing her to orgasm after orgasm, and stirring emotions that she’d fought since the day she’d seen him holding those lilies for Natalie’s grave.

  Finally, she fell into a deep sleep, her body warm and sated, her mind filled with the memory of Derrick loving her and making her his.

  But dreams shattered her euphoria. Dreams of Ryan being ripped from her arms. Of Ryan dying in the fire and never coming home.

  DISTURBED BY THE TUMULTUOUS feelings bombarding him, Derrick slid from bed and tugged on his boxers, jeans and shirt. Still his breath stalled in his chest as he gazed down at Brianna’s sleeping form. She moaned his name again then grabbed his pillow and pressed it to her, inhaling his scent.

  He smiled, an odd twinge pulling at his chest. She was so damn beautiful. So damn loving. So damn giving.

  But she’d been Natalie’s best friend. And now he’d slept with them both.

  A big mistake.

  He had a son with Natalie, a son they still had to find.

  Certain he wouldn’t rest anymore, he went downstairs and stoked the fire. Anxious for news, he checked his phone but there were no messages, so once again he rummaged through the box holding Natalie’s things.

  First the notes about Brianna and then about the meth lab and her fear that someone was following her. He dug deeper and searched for any files concerning Ryan, of her request for Brianna to raise her son.

  But there were none inside.

  Frowning, he decided to search Brianna’s desk. She must have removed them and filed them somewhere else. He dug through her desk, noting bills and a work calendar along with a birthday card or two from Natalie.