Mystery Bride

by Daniels, B. J.

  He knew she was joking, but a mortician sounded good to him right now. He watched her glance toward Zack’s bedroom, and saw the worry in the little furrow between her brows, in the slope of her strong shoulders, in the depths of her bottomless blue-green gaze. He warned himself to stay out of it.

  He’d interfered enough just getting into her Firebird, refusing to get out and asking a lot of questions. Samantha knew what she was doing. She did this sort of thing all the time, right? And the kid, well, she’d find the boy’s father. Or get Zack to one of his mothers.

  Tomorrow, as soon as they found a car rental agency, airport or bus station, Will would be returning to his well-planned, safe and simple life. And his quest for a bride. He doubted his path would ever cross Samantha’s again, and wondered why it had even once, let alone twice.

  His gaze fell on her face, and he felt that same strong pull he had at the party. What was it about this woman that tugged at him like a hangman’s noose?

  Before he could stop himself, he took her shoulders in his hands and pulled her to him. This time the kiss was all his idea. And a bad one at that. Her lips parted, and she leaned into him as if drawn by a force of her own. He drew her closer, tasting her, teasing her tongue with his, feasting on her luscious inviting mouth, taking but wanting more. So much more.

  She pulled back first, her eyes dark with desire. And quiet despair. She didn’t have to say a word. They both knew how impossible this was.

  He reminded himself that his birthday was only days away. Just the thought of his self-imposed deadline to find a prospective mate made him grit his teeth. He should be out looking. Not kissing this shamus/child-napper.

  “We should get some sleep,” she said. “We leave early in the morning.”

  “I’ll take the couch,” he said hoarsely. There was only one other bedroom aside from the one Zack was in.

  She didn’t put up an argument. Probably decided to let him have a little control over his life. How thoughtful. She got him some bedding and then bid him good-night, disappearing into the second bedroom but leaving the door ajar.

  He stood before the fire for a long time, staring into the flames, feeling anxious and wide-awake, the kiss still coursing through him like high-voltage electricity, giving him a buzz, making him jittery.

  After a while, the fire burned down and his heart rate slowed. The fire inside him cooled. He returned to his usual sensible self again, and went to look in on Zack.

  The little boy was out, a slight smile on his cherub face. The kid was cute. He had his arm around his backpack as if everything he cared about was inside. Will wondered if that was true. What had this boy’s life been like? And how had he become such an adept thief at such a young age?

  Will smiled wryly, remembering his own childhood. He wondered if he didn’t have more in common with Zackarias Lucien O’Brien than anyone would have suspected.

  He left the bedroom door partially open and glanced into the other bedroom. Samantha was curled in a fetal position, the covers kicked off. He stepped in and quietly pulled the quilt up over her slim frame. In slumber, she had Zack’s childlike angelic sweetness about her.

  Unless you noticed the barrel of her pistol sticking out from under her pillow.

  Chapter Four

  Samantha woke just before daybreak, the dream so real she jumped out of bed, her heart pounding, and rushed in to check on Zack.

  Curled in the middle of the double bed, he looked even smaller and more vulnerable than usual. She felt her breath catch at the sight of his tiny sleeping form. So young. So alone. So scared.

  She knew how he felt. Since the night of the party, her life had been thrown into spin cycle. Lucas missing, suspected of a burglary at the computer company where he’d worked. The police looking for him. Zack kidnapped. And her house ransacked.

  She thought about the kidnappers and what Will had said about them taking the boy to the rest home. It didn’t make any sense. Unless you knew Lucas.

  So why hadn’t he called again? She’d been so sure he would. From the moment Cassie had contacted her, Samantha had believed Lucas was behind Zack’s so-called kidnapping, just as Cassie had. She’d been convinced of it when she’d learned from her cousin Charley, the cop, that Lucas had purchased two train tickets to Wolf Point. She hadn’t been surprised when she’d found the kidnappers had taken Zack to Wolf Point to his great-grandmother’s rest home.

  That theory began to unravel when Lucas didn’t show up; when she found out that Lucas’s grandmother, Gladdie O’Brien, had Alzheimer’s and didn’t know anyone, including Lucas, and hadn’t for months. But Samantha hadn’t gotten worried until the kidnappers had chased her after she’d snatched Zack. They hadn’t looked like friends of Lucas’s. They’d looked like thugs, not computer geeks.

  Maybe the train tickets had been a red herring, and Cassie was wrong about Lucas setting up the kidnapping. But why would anyone else kidnap Zack? What had the kidnappers hoped to accomplish? And, just as Will had noted, why take the boy to Wolf Point, Montana, to a rest home? Why no ransom demand?

  When Lucas hadn’t shown up by the second time the kidnappers took Zack to the rest home, Sam had known she had to act—and quickly. She’d left a message with the head nurse for Lucas to call her on her cell phone, and she’d grabbed Zack from the kidnappers.

  She’d counted on Lucas calling, convinced he was alive and had set this up to be with his son. But if that were true, then where was he? Why hadn’t he called? Maybe something had detained him or— She didn’t like to consider the alternative. That something had happened to him.

  But if she was wrong about the kidnapping, then maybe she was wrong about why the kidnappers had taken Zack to the rest home. Were they looking for Lucas for another reason aside from giving him his son? Or were they looking for something else?

  She closed her eyes, her head aching. There was only one thing she could be sure of: Lucas loved his son and wouldn’t have left him unless he had to. She knew Lucas.

  She leaned down to brush a lock of hair back from the boy’s face, feeling a surge of affection so strong it almost dropped her to her knees. This child could have been hers. Should have been hers.

  Those kinds of thoughts got her nowhere, she reminded herself. Instead she needed to concentrate on getting Zack safely to Seattle. Then what? Ideally, Lucas would turn up with a good explanation for his disappearance.

  But she wasn’t counting on that. Cassie had hinted that Lucas might be in some sort of trouble. If she wanted answers, she’d have to get them from Cassie. Or Zack. She suspected the boy knew as much as anyone about what was going on. But for some reason, he was either afraid or unwilling to tell her.

  When she’d questioned him last night, he’d definitely seemed frightened. But why wouldn’t he be? His father was missing and strangers had kidnapped him. That would be enough to scare any kid.

  She shook her head. Normally, she operated on instinct. But now her instincts were telling her they couldn’t be trusted. She was too personally involved. Add to that Will Sheridan. No wonder she was having nightmares.

  As she turned to leave the room, she caught sight of Will, his long lean male body stretched the length of the couch in the living room. He’d also been in her dream. Her skin flushed at the memory. That part of the dream had left her aching, just as his kiss had.

  Irritably she quickly showered and dressed, then dialed the Lazy Rest. No one had called for Gladdie O’Brien. Nor had Lucas O’Brien come by. She hung up and headed for the kitchen.

  Cooking. It was the one activity that could get her mind off everything else. Usually. Unless the object of her distraction was visible through the doorway.

  What had that kiss of his been about last night? Payback?

  She began to beat up a coffee cake, banging the pan, thinking about men. Thinking about the one in the living room, in particular.

  WILL WOKE to the banging of pots and pans. He sat up, startled and confused. It took him a moment to reme
mber where he was. And why. He groaned and fell back onto the couch with thoughts of pulling the covers over his head and going back to sleep.

  But Samantha wasn’t having any of that. The noise in the kitchen grew louder. He peeked over the back of the couch and saw her slamming around, looking out of sorts. What had made him think he’d want to wake up to that face every morning?

  He got up and padded barefoot into the kitchen, noticing his clothing looked like he’d slept in it. He had. It was something he’d never imagined himself doing—before yesterday.

  “Anything I can do to help?” he asked from directly behind her.

  She let out a satisfying yelp of surprise and dropped one of the pans.

  He picked it up and handed it to her. “Sleep well?” he enquired. She smelled heavenly, her hair still damp, her skin glowing.

  “Not as well as you, it appears.”

  He actually felt pretty good, considering the couch had been a little short for him and he’d had trouble getting to sleep after the kiss. But once he’d drifted off, he’d slept wonderfully, although too briefly. “Must have been the mountain air.”

  “Humph,” she said.

  He watched her, perversely enjoying the thought that their kiss might have disturbed her sleep. Her kiss at the party certainly had more than disturbed him.

  He knew it wasn’t fair to blame her because she hadn’t turned out to be the woman he’d thought she was. But he couldn’t help himself. She’d definitely looked the part at the party. But that had been the point, hadn’t it? To fool people? Well, she’d fooled him, all right.

  He caught a whiff of the intriguing scents emanating from the oven and was again reminded of her culinary skills—although he did wonder what she’d done with her gun.

  As the coffeemaker finished, he helped himself to a cup and poured one for her, as well.

  She took it almost contritely. “Thanks.” Her gaze touched his, and he saw something in her eyes that surprised him. Fear.

  “Wanna talk about it?”

  She shook her head and turned her back to him as she continued making breakfast. “I’m just worried about Zack’s father.”

  He stepped around to her side so he could see her profile. “He hasn’t turned up?”

  She shook her head again. “I’d hoped he would by now.”

  He nodded, wanting to cup her face in his hands and kiss away her fears. But her fears were real, and his kisses only had the power to make matters worse. Ultimately, he was heading back to Billings. Samantha to Seattle and whatever awaited her there, then back to Butte. They’d made their choices a long time ago.

  “Something sure smells good,” he said.

  She gave him a small smile, acknowledging his change of subject. “I just whipped up a coffee cake and a frittata. If you’d get down the plates—”

  “You’ve got it.” He passed close enough to her in the small kitchen that he could feel her body heat. She seemed to radiate a sensual warmth that drew him more powerfully than gravity. He hurriedly set the table.

  “My cousin’s about your size,” she said.

  He looked up and realized she’d caught him inspecting his wrinkled linen slacks.

  “I can scare you up some clean clothes, and there’re fresh towels in the bathroom,” she said.

  Under normal circumstances he wouldn’t have borrowed clothing. Especially from Samantha’s cousin. If that was who really owned the place. But just the thought of a shower and clean clothes sounded so…normal.

  He took a hot shower, letting the water pour over him the way thoughts of Samantha did. He felt anxious, too aware of the woman in the next room, too aware of his desire for her. He unconsciously made a mental list, which, of course, ended heavily weighted on the con side. What was he doing? He knew she wasn’t what he was looking for. No reason to flog a dead horse.

  When he stepped out of the shower, he found clean jeans, a T-shirt, socks, boxers and a shirt waiting for him. The thought that she’d come in while he was in the shower did nothing to curb his longing. An image of the two of them in the tub together, soapy and pink from the heat, flashed into his head. He groaned, turned on the cold water in the shower and stepped back in.

  When he got out again, he heard the cell phone ring and Samantha answer it. Quietly, he cracked open the bathroom door, shocked that he was eavesdropping.

  Worse yet, that he was letting himself be drawn deeper into this—whatever it was. He was too intrigued with “Sam” Murphy and too worried about her little pickpocket ward.

  “I’VE BEEN TRYING to reach you,” Sam said, unable to keep the admonition out of her voice. It had been two days since she’d gotten the frantic call from Cassie about Zack’s kidnapping. Two days and no word since, although she’d left messages at the number Cassie had given her. The number, it turned out, was an answering service in Seattle.

  “Have you heard from Lucas?”

  “Nothing,” Cassie said. “The police are still looking for him in connection with the burglary at Whiz Kidz.”

  “Whiz Kidz?” she asked.

  “Lucas’s computer software company.”

  Wait a minute. “Lucas owns the company?”

  “He is one of the partners. Did you find Zack?”

  The hope in Cassie’s voice touched her more than she wanted to admit. “He’s with me.”

  “Thank God.”

  Cassie sounded so relieved. Maybe she genuinely did care about her son.

  “You were right. The kidnappers went to Wolf Point to Lucas’s grandmother.”

  “Had Gladdie heard from Lucas?” Cassie asked anxiously.

  So Cassie didn’t know. “Gladdie O’Brien’s in a nursing home. She has Alzheimer’s and doesn’t even remember she has a grandson named Lucas.”

  “Oh, no.”

  Cassie sounded upset. Had she known Gladdie well? Sam assumed so, since Gladdie was Lucas’s closest relative. Only relative, as far as Sam knew.

  “So that means if Lucas had tried to contact her—”

  “The head nurse said Lucas hasn’t called or been to see Gladdie in several months,” Samantha broke in.

  “Really?” Cassie said. “Lucas hadn’t even written her? Or sent her anything?”

  The question struck Sam as odd. Sent her anything? “Like what?”

  “I don’t know, a card or a package. I think she just had a birthday. It’s not like Lucas to forget it. They were very close.”

  “I’m sure the head nurse would have mentioned a letter or a package,” Sam said. “But Gladdie wouldn’t even know who it was from.”

  “I suppose you’re right. But at least you have Zack.”

  She thought of what Will had said the night before. “I’m curious. What made you think the kidnappers would take Zack to his great-grandmother’s?”

  “I just thought Lucas would want to see her before he left the country.”

  “Lucas was leaving the country?”

  “It’s just an expression, Sam. I mean, if he was on the run—”

  “Cassie, what’s going on? You know, Zack told me that the men who took him said they were friends of yours.”

  “That’s crazy,” Cassie snapped. “The kidnappers must have been trying to get him to trust them so he’d go with them quietly.”

  “Wouldn’t it have made a lot more sense to tell him they were friends of his father, since Zack doesn’t even know you?”

  “I swear to you, Sam, I don’t know. Unless they meant Mercedes.”

  “Mercedes?” Mercedes had been Cassie’s sorority sister for a short stint and Lucas’s second wife for an even shorter stint, further proving he continued to marry the wrong women.

  “What does Mercedes have to do with this?” she asked.

  “Maybe nothing. I just know they went through a divorce. Mercedes blamed Zack for coming between them because he never liked her and Lucas knew it.”

  Sam cursed herself for getting involved in this. Again. It hadn’t been that long ago that she’d
been mentally planning a fairy tale wedding with Lucas. Mrs. Samantha O’Brien.

  She closed her eyes, the pain still sharp, the ache still there, the loss staggering. She’d lost so much more than Lucas.

  And now she’d let Lucas and Cassie drag her back into the past and all the hurt and regrets that came with it. She should wash her hands of this whole mess right now.

  She thought of the little boy in the next room and opened her eyes. Cassie might have hired her, but neither she nor Lucas was why Sam had taken the case. She’d started out doing it for Lucas, but the reason she was staying in the case was for Zack, the little boy she’d once dreamed of having with Lucas. It wasn’t Zack’s fault his birth mother was a flake and his father knew more about computers than women. Or kids, she thought, remembering Zack’s propensity for pickpocketing.

  “Cassie, what kind of trouble is Lucas in?”

  “Did I say he was in trouble?”

  “Give me a break,” she snapped. “What’s going on?”

  “It’s…complicated.”

  Sam groaned inwardly, thinking how she’d used those same evasive words with Will. “Uncomplicate it for me then.”

  Cassie seemed to hesitate. “I talked to Lucas a few weeks ago. He was upset. He thought someone was trying to steal his latest game design.” She sounded skeptical. “He said he was worried about Zack.”

  That would explain the strange phone call.

  “Sam, I think he might have set this all up—the burglary, his disappearance, all of it.”

  “Why?” she asked in disbelief.

  “Maybe to get out of some debts he owed,” Cassie said.

  “Would he do that?” Not the Lucas she had fallen in love with at college. But did that man still exist? Or had he ever existed?

  “Maybe.”

  “Cassie, it’s obvious you know something. Tell me what the hell is going on.”

  Silence, then a whisper. “Not on the phone. Meet me somewhere. I really need to see Zack, anyway. Just so I can see with my own eyes that he’s all right. You know what I mean? I think it would be best if he doesn’t see me, though. Or, at least, doesn’t know who I am—” Her voice broke. “Do you think that’s possible? I could tell you everything then.”