by Silver James
Tunneling his fingers through his hair, he worked to calm down as he tried to figure out why they continued to fight over this. He still had every intention of asking her to marry him. Even now, the velvet box resided in the pocket of his leather jacket currently hanging downstairs. He wanted official acknowledgment that CJ was his son. He thought he’d made a simple request. CJ is my son. I want to petition the court to issue an amended birth certificate. The kid had his own room at the ranch as well as one at Cord’s condo in Oklahoma City. Jolie admitted CJ was his. What was the big deal? But she’d freaked out. Big-time. What was she afraid of?
Cord toyed with his cell phone. He wanted to talk to Jolie. No, he needed to talk to her. He’d been patient. He’d courted her, given her space and done everything he knew how to reassure her. Christmas was just around the corner. He wanted his family together for the holidays. Jolie and CJ were his family. The best Christmas present in the world would be his name on CJ’s birth certificate and his engagement ring on Jolie’s left hand. What was wrong with that?
Evidently everything, judging by Jolie’s reaction. He hadn’t even gotten to the proposal yet. She didn’t trust him. She’d tossed that little gem into his lap, too. Well, trust was a two-way street, and he realized he didn’t quite trust her, either. She’d kept their son a secret from him. Anger swelled, deep and raging as bile rose in his throat. He swallowed it down.
“Getting mad isn’t the answer,” he muttered. He’d get even. That was what Barrons did, right? He had the results from the paternity test. CJ was his. Chance had the papers ready to file. The devil on his shoulder tempted him to give Chance the go-ahead to file suit. Which would be the worst thing he could do. Inhaling the dust and mustiness in the air, he huffed out a breath. He needed to forgive and forget. And so did Jolie. It would be the only way they could move forward.
A scuffing noise had him whirling. Cash stood in the doorway, a smirk on his face, thumbs hooked in his jeans’ pockets, his expression nonchalant.
“I didn’t figure you for a nostalgic fool, Cord.”
His youngest brother resembled their father more and more every day, a thought that worried him. “What are you doing here, Cash?”
“I live here, too.”
Cord just managed to stop the eye roll. “None of us live here anymore. You and Chase have made a point of staying away, in fact.”
“Some of us have jobs that keep us on the road.”
“You didn’t answer my question. Are you spying on me for the old man?”
Lifting one shoulder in a negligent shrug, Cash still wouldn’t look directly at him. “Naw. Why bother?”
“But you just happened to wander up here.” Yeah, right. Cord eyed his brother and didn’t bother to hide his skepticism.
Cash stared at him. “The stairwell door was open.” He stepped into the room and looked around. “Can’t believe all this stuff is still here.” He nudged one of the equipment bags with his foot.
“Miz Beth doesn’t throw anything away, especially if it’s even remotely sentimental.” A lump formed in Cord’s throat, and he swallowed around it to add, “Or had anything at all to do with one of us.”
“Sentimental to who?” Cash delivered a savage kick to the bag.
“Her, I guess, since she pretty much raised us. She and Big John never missed any activity one of us was into. Clay’s debates and speech tournaments. Chance’s and my rodeos. All of our games from Mighty Mites Football and Little League until we were out of high school. I bet if we dig deep enough, the score books John kept are up here somewhere.”
Cash’s upper lip curled into a snarl. “Some of the kids thought they were our parents.”
Cord stared at his brother, his gaze thoughtful as he considered where Cash’s sudden vehemence came from. “At least they were there, bud. Our old man never made time for us in any way, shape or form.” As Cord watched, an unidentified emotion flickered across Cash’s face. It took a few moments for him to figure it out. “He wasn’t there for us, either. None of us. He couldn’t be bothered. Unless he was telling one of us what to do.”
“Yeah, whatever.” Cash kicked the bag again and then stared at him. “So what are you going to do about it?”
“About the old man?”
“No. About your own son.”
Cord reached down and snagged a Tonka truck. CJ would like it. Tucking it under his arm, he brushed past Cash but paused at the door.
“I’m going to take care of him. Whatever it takes.”
Seventeen
Jolie ignored the restaurant’s bustle as she pushed the food on her plate around with her fork. She wasn’t hungry—hadn’t been since her blowup with Cord after Halloween. She’d somehow managed to get through Thanksgiving, but since then there’d been another fight about CJ’s birthday. She’d refused to let him go with Cord, though she’d allowed Cord to talk to her son, and had given CJ the presents Cord dropped by. Despite her insistence she didn’t want to talk to him, Cord called. Often. And like an idiot, she answered. He pushed to spend more and more time with CJ. And with her.
Christmas was two weeks away and her life was careening out of control. She didn’t know how to avoid the train wreck. Glancing up, she found her father staring at her.
“He’s not good enough for you.”
She just barely resisted the urge to sigh. “Dad, please.”
“You deserve better, Jolene. You deserve a man who will put you and CJ first. A man who will fight for you. Cordell Barron is not that man.”
“People change.”
“Not that much.”
“You don’t know him, Dad.”
“I know him better than you do, baby girl.”
She stared at her father, doing her best to decipher the expression on his face. There was more to all of this—especially his bragging about knowing Cord well—than he was letting on. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He just looked enigmatic, cutting and eating his steak as though she hadn’t asked the question. She seethed in silence, following his example. She’d watched him play this game all her life and she’d learned to play with the big boys. Using her father’s tactics got her through college, and then through the admissions process for nursing school. Her clinicals. Her boards. And she’d used them when she insisted she was moving to Houston to have her baby.
“Why are you defending him?”
Opening her mouth to refute, she snapped her jaw shut before speaking. Her dad was right. She’d just defended Cord. The man she was mad at. The man who wanted to twist her world into Gordian knots. She’d had it up to her chinny-chin-chin with alpha men, including her father. But there was only one man who captured her thoughts, held them and made her do and say things totally against the grain. Cord Barron. Damn him.
A tense détente continued until Rand finished his dinner. She’d still barely touched hers. Her stomach roiled with tension. Their waitress cleared their plates, brought dessert Jolie hadn’t ordered and filled her coffee cup. She added two creamers and an overflowing teaspoon of real sugar. Ignoring the crème brûlée, she sipped her coffee, watching her dad over the rim of the cup.
“Eat your dessert, Jolene. It’s your favorite.”
Huh. He’d broken the silence first. Interesting. She was even more curious about his motivation for this tête-à-tête dinner as a result. Indulging him, she spooned a bit of the creamy concoction.
“I’m not a little girl anymore, Dad. You can’t divert my attention with treats.” She laughed and almost choked. “Or ponies.”
Rand chuckled at the memory. “Pony. Singular. And I’m not the one who decided to braid his tail with ribbons.”
She smiled fondly, savored another creamy bite and then plastered a serious look on her face. “You should try being honest with me, Dad.”
�
��I am, sugarplum.”
“Ugh. First ‘baby girl.’ Now ‘sugarplum.’ ‘Princess’ can’t be far behind. Good grief, Dad. When are you going to treat me like an adult?” She wagged her finger. “Do not tell me—” She inhaled, and in a reasonable facsimile of her father’s voice said, “When you act like an adult.”
“Jolene, you don’t even know why he broke up with you.”
“Want to bet?” She gloated a little over her father’s expression. She’d certainly caught him off guard.
“Why don’t you tell me the Barron version?”
So she did. She spoke of wanting Cord all through high school. She told him how she’d tried to seduce him at that ill-fated frat party and how Cord had been a perfect gentleman. She admitted to sneaking around behind everyone’s backs.
“You were devastated when he broke up with you.”
“Yeah, Dad, I was. I loved him. With my whole heart. I was nineteen and I’d given him my virginity.” She didn’t laugh when her dad blushed, and then stewed a little. “Jeez, Dad. I was, like, the only virgin in my graduating class. And that wasn’t for a lack of trying on the boys’ part. It’s because none of those high school boys held a candle to Cordell Barron.”
She finished off the custard and pushed the dish away. “He didn’t tell me anything that night. He walked into my room, said, ‘It’s over’ and walked right back out. When he found out about CJ, we talked. Cyrus Barron, that old bastard. Cord left me because his father didn’t give him any choice.”
“That’s bull.”
“No, Dad. It’s not. You know that evil old man. He laid things out to Cord. Showed him what he could have right before jerking the rug out from under him. He was young. So was I.”
Rand attempted to interrupt, but she held up a warning finger to stay him. “Let me finish. You asked what I know and believe. I’m telling you.” She sipped her coffee and regrouped her thoughts, even though coffee wasn’t what she wanted at the moment. What she really wanted was a good stiff drink. But she’d met her dad at the restaurant and was driving, so coffee would have to suffice.
“St. Paddy’s Day. I was out with the girls celebrating passing our boards. And there he was at Hannigan’s, with Cooper and some of the guys. I planned to seduce him, Dad. And then get up and walk away, leaving him like he left me. Only we were both so drunk birth control was the last thing on my mind.”
She didn’t get the rise she intended. Instead, he studied her for a long moment before speaking. “Interesting. That’s pretty much the same story he told me when I asked him. Unusual for a man like him to admit a weakness.”
Jolie didn’t breathe for a moment and then sputtered, “You’ve talked to him?”
“I had a talk with him one day when I picked up CJ at the ranch.” His gaze arrowed in on her. “What was his excuse for leaving you pregnant with my grandson?”
“That’s all on me, Daddy.” She scrubbed at her forehead with the heels of her hands, but the action did little to alleviate the headache blooming there. She couldn’t meet his gaze for a long moment. “You know he didn’t walk away when I was pregnant. I never told him.”
Rand’s expression never changed. Jolie caught no flicker of his thoughts revealed on his face or in his eyes. He simply stared, mouth grim, eyes half-hooded by his lids. When he finally spoke, his words tore at her nerves like a cheese grater.
“I raised you better than that. I didn’t agree with you at the time, and look what’s happened by keeping that secret.” He leaned back and folded his arms across his chest. “The boy might have surprised us both. I know the man has.”
Before she could retort, her cell rang. She would have ignored it, but it was her home number. Jolie answered and Mrs. Corcoran’s voice spilled out before she could even say hello.
“You have to come home. You have to come right now.” The nanny’s words ran together.
“Mrs. C? What’s wrong?” Jumping to her feet, Jolie snatched her purse and jacket and headed for the exit. Rand tossed money on the table and followed at her heels. He didn’t question her, but steered her to his car and handed her into the passenger seat. Jolie stayed on the phone, listening to Mrs. Corcoran. Fear prickled across her skin, with anger hot on its heels. Her voice tight with emotion, she kept up a running commentary so her father could catch up.
“It’s CJ. Some men came to the door. They have papers. Mrs. C is too upset to make sense of them. They’re taking CJ. One took him upstairs to get some clothes and his backpack. Mrs. C says he’s terrified and crying.” Then she put the call on speaker.
She shivered as her father reached across the console and patted her knee. “We’ll get to the bottom of this.”
Jolie knew he meant to reassure her, but it wasn’t helping. What was going on? “Mrs. C? Mrs. C! I want to talk to whoever’s in charge.”
A man’s voice cut through the nanny’s hysteria. “This is Harris.”
“This is Jolene Davis. Why are you at my house?”
“We have an emergency pickup order for the minor child, Cordell Joseph Davis, pending a hearing on termination of parental rights.”
Her heart seized, and she couldn’t force words past the pain in her chest. Her father took over.
“This is J. Rand Davis. You touch my grandson and I’ll see your ass in jail.”
“I have a court order, sir. We are removing the child per that order.”
A wail tore from Jolie’s very core, but she clapped hands over her mouth to cut it off as her dad squeezed her leg. “My daughter and I are en route. I’m also notifying my attorney. You will do nothing until we arrive.”
“That’s not the way it works.” The line went dead.
Tears overflowed, and Jolie could barely breathe between the sobs, her fear and a boiling anger so strong she could melt the polar caps. By the time they arrived at her house, the men had gone, taking CJ with them. Mrs. Corcoran sat at the kitchen table, sobbing. A Nichols Hills police officer stood there looking uncertain. When Rand pressed for an explanation, the local cop explained that Mrs. Corcoran had hit the panic button on the security system’s alarm panel and he’d responded, but not in time to stop the men.
“Yes, sir,” he told Rand. “The papers are on the table. They were signed by a district judge. I’m sure sorry ’bout all this. Your nanny told me you were on your way, so I figured it best to stay here with her until you arrived.”
“I appreciate that, Officer.” Rand’s voice left icicles in its wake.
Fifteen minutes later, Mrs. Corcoran had calmed enough to make coffee. Rand and Jolie had both read the papers the men left behind, but none of it made sense to her. When one of Rand’s attorneys arrived, he quickly leafed through the papers and explained while Jolie paced the length of the family room, pivoted and paced back.
“CJ won’t go into the foster care system. Judge Braxton signed the order, which appears to be civil, not criminal. The order was filed on behalf of the alleged father, and I’m guessing that’s where they took your son.”
“Have some coffee, honey.” Mrs. Corcoran held out a mug as Jolie stalked past her.
Jolie didn’t want coffee. She didn’t want a drink. She wanted blood. If Cord Barron had been there, she would have sliced him into little pieces and fried him up with hash browns for breakfast. “That means Cord took him. He’s probably at Cord’s house right this minute. How do I get CJ back?”
The attorney continued perusing the paperwork and it was her father who answered. “I’ll call Judge Wilson.” Rand patted the seat next to him. “Sit down, Jolene, before you wear out the carpet. The judge owes me a favor. He’ll sign a temporary order returning CJ to you.”
She didn’t want to sit, either. Anger surged through her veins, leaving her hot and cold in waves. “CJ must be scared to death, Daddy. I want him home.” Jolie made another pass across the r
oom. “I can’t believe Cord would do this, the sorry son of a bitch.”
Rand folded his arms across his chest. “I suspect he’s gotten desperate, Jolene. You haven’t exactly been trying to work through the custody issue with him.”
“Whose side are you on, Dad?”
Mrs. Corcoran cleared her throat. “Miss Jolie? Wasn’t CJ’s daddy who came with those men.”
Jolie stopped dead, fingers and toes tingling from the surge of adrenaline. “What do you mean, Mrs. C?”
“The man looked like Mr. Cord, but it wasn’t him. When CJ saw him, the little tyke stopped cryin’ and ran to him. Called him Uncle Cash.”
“That’s it.” She grabbed her purse and coat. “Give me your keys, Daddy.”
“What are you doing, Jolie?”
“I want my son back. I’m going to go get him.”
When Rand didn’t react fast enough, she rooted in the pockets of his overcoat, found the keys and dashed for the door. She didn’t wait for the men as she jumped into her dad’s SUV and headed off in a reckless charge to reclaim her little boy.
That twenty-minute drive was one of the longest in her life. As she parked in front of Cord’s condo, she let her anger surge. By the time her dad and the attorney arrived, she was standing at the door, tight-lipped, hands fisted at her sides, her heart thudding. She was going to kill Cordell Barron for this.
She pounded on the door. “Cord, open up!” She pounded again and yelled even louder.
Lights blazed on inside and a voice yelled, “What the hell? I’m comin’. Give me a sec.”
The locks on the door clicked and the door swung open to show a sleepy-eyed Cord with bed-tousled hair, wearing nothing but gray cotton gym shorts. He absently rubbed fingers through the hair on his chest as he blinked at her, and then registered the presence of her father and the attorney.
Jolie had a moment when anger and fear toppled over into arousal. Damn, but Cord was sexy. How could this man dissolve her into a puddle of wanton desire just by opening the door? Especially now, since, according to those papers, he’d taken her son. What was wrong with her?