Baby’s Watch

by Justine Davis

  The stupidity of such thoughts when he was hurting so much, when there was so much at stake, wasn’t lost on him, and he made a fierce effort to regain his focus.

  The cell phone rang. He stared at it for a split second, disconcerted by the ring. She’d obviously programmed it for the baby, a quiet, simple lullaby. Recovering, he grabbed it, checked the readout and answered.

  Thankfully, it was Gibson and not Furnell.

  He explained quickly, leaving out his personal connection to the baby. They didn’t need to know. Better that they didn’t; if they thought he had a personal stake in this, they might pull him off the mission.

  “Why didn’t you just play along?” Gibson asked.

  Clearly, instead of mooning over Ana, he should have been thinking of answers to questions he should have known were coming. He could hardly explain it all now.

  “It just went haywire,” he said. “Alcazar’s main man, he decided he didn’t trust me.”

  Gibson’s voice was suddenly sharp. “Did they know you were working for us?”

  “I don’t think so. The guy just didn’t like me. Maybe he thought I was trying to move in on his spot.”

  It was lame, but the best he could come up with. Quickly he went on, hoping Gibson would drop the questions he couldn’t answer for the moment.

  “I don’t know where they were taking her. We were supposed to get a call with further directions.”

  “A cell call?”

  “Probably.” Something else occurred to him. “They told me I’d be driving back the way I came. First cell reception should be about at the west corner of the Bar None where it meets the county road. It drops to next to nothing after that.”

  “Hold on.” There was a minute or two of dead air, and Ryder wondered if they had a way to check on any cell calls made in the area.

  They’re the feds—of course they do. What good would they be if they didn’t?

  “Three calls around the right time,” Gibson said without preamble when he came back. “One from a local prefix, two with Del Rio prefixes.”

  Ryder went still. “The limo, the one Alcazar was in when we met up…it had one of those metal logos attached. Some dealer in Del Rio.”

  “Right on the border,” Gibson said. “That could be the start of their network. We may have been looking in the wrong place for that end of the operation.”

  Ryder spoke quickly, before the man could bolt too far in that direction, away from where Ryder needed him to focus.

  “We’ve got to find that baby,” he said. “She’s our best chance at breaking up this end of the ring.”

  “She?” the agent asked.

  Ryder ignored the curiosity. “We’ve never been this close before, Gibson.”

  If the agent was surprised by Ryder’s unaccustomed use of his name, he didn’t let on. “I know. We’ve never been on them this soon after they’ve picked up a kid.”

  It’s not some anonymous kid, Ryder shouted in his mind. It’s Maria, damn it!

  “They’ll be moving her for a while yet, if we’re right about how far they like to get from the border before they hand off to the next link.”

  “We are,” Gibson said. “You know we’ve been working this from the other end, too.”

  Ryder knew they had, that they had located at least three couples who had obtained their babies through this operation. The last he’d heard, none of them had been very cooperative, fearing the loss of the child they considered their own.

  Bought and paid for, Ryder thought sourly.

  Did they ever think about the parents, the mothers like Ana, grieving endlessly?

  He knew that wasn’t quite fair, that the couples were likely told by the operators of the ring that the children were discards, unwanted, that they were giving them a much better life than they would otherwise have had. And maybe in some cases it was true.

  But not in Maria’s.

  “Have you gotten anything out of them?”

  “Not yet. But we think one of the men is about to break. I’ll let you know.”

  “Immediately,” Ryder said, not caring if Gibson took offense at being ordered by his ex-con recruit. But Gibson sounded more amused than offended.

  “Those Del Rio calls have to be the right ones,” Ryder said. “Can you track them back, isolate the phones they came from, and track those?”

  “Maybe, if I can commandeer the resources. Sit tight, I’ll be in touch. This number?”

  “Yes,” Ryder said, not explaining that he meant only to the last part; he had no intention of sitting tight and waiting. Not when Ana had put her trust in him.

  Not when he had promised a tiny little girl that he would bring her back to her mother.

  Chapter 13

  Ana set her jaw.

  “No.”

  She said it firmly. She had somehow found the backbone to face down her father, and her fiancé. She had had the courage to sneak out when they’d tried to confine her. She’d had the nerve to make her way on the perilous path out of her country to a different, strange, wonderful yet frightening place where she was determined to make a new life for herself and her baby.

  She certainly was not going to back down now just because this man had told her to stay here and let him handle this. She was through blindly trusting the men in her life to do the right thing.

  She had put her trust in this man, that was true.

  But not blindly.

  “Ana, you can’t. You need to stay here, wait for me to—”

  “I will not.”

  “It’s only been two weeks since Maria was born. You can’t go chasing off—”

  “I am fine. And that is for me to decide.”

  “These are dangerous men.”

  She glanced at the bloody washcloth she had used to clean his face, his ribs, then met his gaze.

  “Do you truly think I do not know this?”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “They have my baby,” Ana said simply, as if there was nothing else to be said.

  And for her, that was true.

  Ryder studied her for a long, silent moment. She returned his gaze levelly, masking her instinctive sympathetic response to his battered face. And hiding the unwanted appreciation she was feeling for the beautiful way this man was put together. Hard and lean, not soft like Alberto. Just looking at his bare chest made her feel odd longings, made her wonder what it would feel like pressed against her.

  She wished he would put his shirt back on.

  She was not unaware that, if he was telling her the truth, he had already sacrificed a great deal for Maria. But her past experience had taught her the value of that simple word if.

  “I appreciate what you have done,” she began, then stopped when a sardonic expression flitted across his face.

  “If I’d done what I should have,” he said as he did as she’d silently wished and pulled his bloodied shirt back on, “I’d have been bringing Maria home to you, not just dragging my own sorry ass here.”

  The bitterness in his voice startled her, and despite her doubts, she found she believed that it was genuine. He truly blamed himself for not rescuing her baby right then, outnumbered or not.

  She still had reservations, and deep inside she feared she might regret going against her better judgment, but her judgment had told her for too long to ignore the obvious about her father, and then about Alberto.

  “You say you can find her.”

  “I’ve never been so close to cracking the ring. Never known when they had…a baby in the pipeline, only found out afterward. This is the time, when the pathway they’ve built is in use.”

  Ana listened. It made sense. But when it came down to it, much as she might hate the idea of what these men were doing, only one thing mattered to her.

  “I do not care about them. I cannot afford to care about them. I care only about Maria.”

  “Then stay here, and stay safe for her.”

  “I have decided to trust you, Ryder,”
she said, using his name for the first time since he’d given it to her. “But I am not a fool. I believe a great man in this country once said ‘Trust, but verify.’ I intend to follow that advice.”

  “Ana—”

  She held up a hand to stop his protest. “I made a promise to my little girl. I promised her that I would build a new life, a better life for her, that I would never give up on that dream. And I will not.”

  Ryder was looking at her with a touch of amazement, which puzzled her. She did not find what she was saying so strange, or different. It was what any true, loving parent would do, was it not?

  “And besides,” she said, “you are injured. You may need help.”

  He lifted a dark brow, then winced at the movement. Ana managed not to react to this obvious sign proving of her point, but his wry grimace told her he had gotten it.

  “And I may be of use in other ways,” she added. “Women can sometimes go unnoticed where a man cannot.”

  He blinked, looking startled this time. “I suppose.”

  She pressed her case. “I am coming with you,” she said firmly. “The only question is how much energy you will waste in trying to stop me.”

  She saw the moment when he gave up. Without a word she turned and began to gather some few items that she tucked into the pink bag that had served her as a diaper bag but carried all the other baby accoutrements as well, plus her own small store of things she would ordinarily put in a handbag.

  “What are you doing? You want to lug all that?”

  She looked over her shoulder. “This is the trusting part. You say you will find Maria, so I will need her things.”

  Were it not for her deep, gnawing fear for her little girl, the look on his face, even through the swelling on his jaw and around his eye would have made her smile.

  Ryder felt a little like he’d been caught up in a tornado. Or maybe a flash flood. There was no stopping either, and there was obviously no stopping Ana Morales.

  He thought about slipping out now, starting out on his own, while she was changing clothes in the bathroom. But he had the distinct feeling that if he did, she would merely follow him anyway. And he would rather have her where he could keep an eye on her than out poking into dangerous territory by herself.

  Which, he thought ruefully, is exactly what she’d do.

  He shook his aching head, but cautiously. He sat there, trying not to imagine what she looked like, shedding one set of clothes for another. How had this woman, in such a short time, become the focus of his world? He’d already admitted the obvious, that she was a strikingly beautiful—and clearly intelligent—woman. And that he admired her determination wasn’t so hard to acknowledge. That he was slightly in awe of this kind of fierce, maternal love, was a bit harder, but he couldn’t deny it.

  He was having trouble with the realization that the combination made him incredibly, ridiculously hot. Beautiful, sure. That was always a plus, although it hadn’t always been a requirement. But the rest? Hadn’t he always shied away from smart, determined women? The kind who wouldn’t settle for the little he was able—or willing—to give?

  Or was it just that you knew they wouldn’t have anything to do with you? That any woman with smarts would see right through you?

  That little voice in his head was starting to annoy him. He’d never been troubled by it before, and didn’t think it was a coincidence that it had started nagging him shortly after he’d been stupid enough to let Boots get to him. The old man had a lot to answer for, and Ryder was going to let him know it when this was all over. With no small amount of pleasure.

  Ana came back, dressed in a pair of black jeans and a sleeveless black turtleneck. The clothes made her look impossibly slender for a woman who had just given birth two weeks ago. Yet the full swell of her breasts and the womanly curve of her hips reminded him, as if he’d needed any reminder.

  In one hand she carried a lightweight jacket. In the other, puzzlingly, she had a glass of water.

  She held the glass out to him. He took it, looking at her curiously. Then she held out a small bottle that had been hidden by the glass.

  Aspirin, he realized.

  “Bless you,” he said, meaning it, and powered down four in a hurry.

  “Take them with us,” she said. “There are children’s aspirin for the little ones.”

  He’d already planned on it, and stuffed the bottle into a pocket. He was going to welcome the relief they gave him before this was over.

  “I’ll need to keep your phone.”

  She nodded without comment.

  “They took my truck,” he said. “We’re going to need a vehicle.”

  “There is a truck here. Besides the van Jewel drives. She said I could use it any time.”

  It seemed she had a answer for everything. “They took my gun, too. I don’t suppose there’s a weapon in this place?”

  “With all the children?”

  “It’s Texas,” he countered.

  “Jewel would never take the chance.” Then, after a moment, she added, “I am sure there would be weapons over at the Colton ranch.”

  She didn’t, he knew, realize the jolt she’d just given him. But she was sharp, and quick, and he didn’t want her to guess, so he muttered, “I don’t think so,” and turned away.

  I can just see myself, knocking on Clay’s door. “Hey, bro, yeah, I’m out, and just when you thought you were rid of me for good, here I am. And by the way, I need to borrow your scattergun…”

  No, the Bar None was not an option. Not that he wouldn’t be above sneaking in and grabbing what he needed from the gun rack, but Clay had never been a sound sleeper—all that worrying and responsibility—and Ryder didn’t want to risk it.

  Wouldn’t risk it.

  The last thing he wanted right now was to have to explain himself and what he was up to to his brother. Clay would likely never believe him anyway. Clay had washed his hands of his irresponsible, troublesome little brother when he’d gotten into the scrape that had landed him here, and Ryder didn’t blame him.

  At the sound of a drawer sliding shut Ryder snapped out of his reverie, annoyed that anything had the power to take his mind off the crisis at hand. More to lay at Boots’s door, he thought. The old man had harped on him endlessly about mending the breach between him and Clay. That had to be what had him thinking about even an unpleasant confrontation, when before he would have laughed off the idea before the image even formed.

  Apparently he hadn’t quite succeeded in cutting himself off completely, at least not in his mind.

  You can’t ever pry your family out of your heart, boy. No matter how hard you try.

  He’d laughed at Boots then. “Maybe not, but you can freeze them out,” he’d said, knowing it was true, because he’d done it.

  Assuming he had a heart to begin with, of course.

  “I have this, if you wish it.”

  He turned, and his eyes widened as he saw what Ana Morales held out to him.

  It was a knife.

  But not just some small, useless, ladylike pocketknife.

  This was a blade. In a tooled leather sheath, it looked to be at least six inches long, with the hilt adding another four. And what a hilt it was; some dark, exotic-looking wood carved into curves to perfectly fit the hand that gripped it, and inlaid with something white and gleaming that had the sheen of pearls. The butt end of the hilt was set with what looked for all the world like a real ruby; it winked blood red in the light.

  Almost in awe, he reached out and took it. He slid the knife out of the sheath. The grip seemed a little small to him, but the polished blade of clearly fine steel glinted. A quick touch with his thumb told him it was honed to the kind of fine edge that had given rise to the expression “splitting hairs.”

  The knife was meant for damage, the tip a fine point for stabbing, and the deadly curve that came after for slicing with ease.

  And it had to be worth a lot, he thought, knowing instinctively that this was something
a collector would prize. It was an elegant, almost dashing kind of weapon, and the old-fashioned word didn’t seem silly as he held the perfectly balanced knife.

  “Where in the hell did you get this?”

  “It was my great-great-great-grandmother’s.”

  He blinked. That explained the size of the grip, then. “Your great-great-great-grandmother?”

  “That is correct? The mother of my mother’s mother’s mother’s mother?”

  He wasn’t even going to try to work that one out. “Close enough,” he said. “It’s beautiful.”

  Ana smiled, the first he’d seen from her tonight. The first he’d seen from her since the moment he’d handed her her baby.

  “My great-great-great-grandfather did not think it so beautiful. She tried to kill him with it, the first time they met. She tells of it in her journal, which was handed down to me.”

  He stared at her. A smile of his own started to curve his mouth; she’d come by that courage and nerve honestly, it seemed. Whatever he’d thought about her when he’d first seen her, the idea that she was simply another illegal in a long line had vanished now. There was much more to this woman than he knew. This little bit of her history proved that.

  He wanted to hear that story about her great-whatever grandmother, but he knew there wasn’t time.

  He wanted to hear all her stories.

  The realization jolted him even more than the sound of the name Colton coming from her had. He wanted to know everything about her, what had made her the incredible woman she was. He wanted it all, and he had never wanted to know such things about a woman. He never wanted to know anything beyond what he needed to figure out how to get her into bed.

  He told himself that he was thinking this way because he knew that was not an option, given the short time since Maria’s birth. It was a comforting theory, but he wasn’t sure he believed it. Because he still wanted to know everything about her.

  But the first thing he was going to need to know, he thought, was the most important.

  Was she running to this country simply for a better life, or was she escaping something unbearable in her old life? And what—or who—was it?