The Embrace Series: Romantic Suspense Box Set

by Dana Mason

  “I’m sure they’re not coming back here until they’re completely finished investigating the restaurant.”

  “Oh . . . yeah, I guess that makes sense. Do you think they’ll wake us if they find anything?”

  “I’m sure if it’s important, they’ll let us know.”

  Johnny woke wrapped around Ali’s naked body, in the same position he went to sleep in. It took every ounce of strength he had not to caress her awake and make love to her.

  God he wanted her all the time.

  He had never been so enchanted by another person in his life and that scared the shit out of him, but at the same time, it forced a smile on his face. Ali was everything he needed and everything he wanted, and Johnny wanted to be her everything as well. This, he realized had been the problem. She didn’t seem to need him, even though she insisted—everyone insisted she did.

  Johnny’s body reacted to the feel of her, but he forced himself to focus on self-control. He could wait to have her again, wait for Micah to be home safe and wait for life to return to normal. He silently prayed that would come today.

  His worry for Micah had morphed into a sickening all-consuming grip on his soul, and until that baby was home, things would never be right for him or Ali. His worry for Ali had been just as consuming. He feared she would reach her breaking point. Ali was strong but she could only take so much.

  As he lay there, he felt one with her, as if their souls were as intertwined as their bodies and their hearts were beating in synchronization. What a fool Carl had been for letting her slip away.

  Regardless, Ali was his now, he nuzzled closer. Too fucking late, fool, should’ve treated her right.

  She started to stir, making Johnny curse under his breath, he’d hoped she would sleep for at least another hour.

  “What?” She moaned.

  “Nothing, sweet, go back to sleep . . . do you want me to hum you a lullaby?”

  “You’re sweet,” she whispered with a smile. “I have to go check on Micah.”

  “They’ll get us if they have any news,” he said, ignoring her protest.

  “I should be doing more.”

  “Your job is to stay healthy and take care of yourself until he comes home.”

  “I want to know what happened after they went to The Dynasty yesterday. And you need to make a doctor’s appointment to get your injuries checked out.”

  “I’m not leaving your side.” He insisted. “Don’t even think about sending me away. I won’t go.”

  Ali tried to push away to get up, but he held her in place. “Don’t—stay in bed with me. You need a few more hours of sleep.”

  “Nope, I need to go check on the status.” She pecked him on the cheek, “Come shower with me, then we can go down together.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Ali headed downstairs, more awake than she had been since Micah was taken. And now, with a clearer head, her lack of action embarrassed her. Her child was missing, how could she sit around and feel sorry for herself? She should be out knocking on doors, asking for help

  She swung open the door to the dining room and met Agent Peters’ eyes. “I want to make another statement to the press—plea to the kidnappers for his return and offer a reward.”

  “Ah . . .” Agent Peters glanced down at the paper in his hand then back up at her. “There’s already a reward being offered.”

  Chairs scooting against the wood floor rang out in the room and Ali looked around at the confused faces of Brian and Mark. Papers shuffled about the room faster than Ali could blink. Agent Peters’ face dropped as he motioned to a chair. “Mrs. Hayes, please sit down, I have something I need to share with you.”

  “Um . . . bad idea. That’s a bad idea, Bill,” Mark said, shaking his head. “It won’t help the situation.”

  “Tell me what.” She glared at Mark then met Brian’s eyes. “Has something happened? Do you have more information about Micah?”

  “No, Ali,” Brian said. “I’m sorry. We don’t have anything helpful about Micah. Most of the tips we’ve received have been pranks.”

  “Did you find something out at the restaurant yesterday?” she asked.

  “We’re still working on that too . . . Mrs. Hayes, I have something to show you concerning your husband,” Agent Peters said.

  “Ex,” she corrected. “Carl is my ex-husband.”

  “Have a seat,” he said, motioning to a chair again.

  Ali sat, with Johnny next to her. Butterflies attacked her stomach in record numbers and a sense of dread overcame her. What didn’t Mark want her to know?

  Agent Peters handed her a newspaper. The front page cover bared a picture of Carl with the headline.

  “What the fuck?” Johnny said through gritted teeth.

  Ali’s hands started shaking. She fought to hold the paper steady. Carl using the word baggage made her sick. He was obviously projecting his own feelings onto Johnny and the press had bought it.

  Ali couldn’t read another word. She dropped the paper on the table, completely speechless. How could Carl even open his mouth to criticize Johnny when he didn’t want anything to do with Micah?

  “Ali . . .” Mark said, placing a hand on her shoulder.

  Johnny snatched the paper up and held it, reading again the words that were so unfair and so incredibly hurtful to the recovery of her son. If people thought this was a domestic dispute, they wouldn’t take the search seriously. They’d consider Micah a baby born of poor circumstance . . . shake their heads and turn away from what was clearly a problem at home and not the completely random violent crime it had been.

  “Ali . . .” Mark said again. “You okay?”

  “What can I say?” She closed her eyes, wishing she hadn’t gotten up and come downstairs at all. How could Carl do this to her after everything he’d already put her through? Did he hate her? What had she done to deserve this from him? She’d gotten pregnant—by accident—and refused to have an abortion. Having a child didn’t make her a bad wife, much less a bad person.

  “Mrs. Hayes, we have cleared Detective Bennett and we’ve informed the press.”

  “But the damage is done!” she spat, slapping at the offending newspaper. “How will they ever take this seriously now?”

  “I’m sorry,” Johnny said. “Maybe I shouldn’t be here. I don’t want to distract from Micah.”

  “No!” Ali cried, no longer able to fight her tears. “This isn’t your fault, it’s Carl’s. How could he play the distraught father when he hasn’t even called to check on his son in four months?”

  “That’s not the point. If they focus on me and you, they’re not focusing on Micah.”

  “Stop it,” Brian said. “Stop with the pity party. Of all the things we need to be concerned about, it’s not the public’s opinion of your relationship. At this point, as long as they’re talking about the two of you, they’re also talking about Micah.”

  “Still, we shouldn’t exploit it,” Mark said. “And we need to shut him up before he does more damage.”

  “True,” Brian agreed. “But what’s done is done. We’ll try to keep the two of you out of sight until we can’t avoid it.”

  “Mrs. Hayes, I assure you, they are taking this seriously.” Agent Peters said. “I’ve never received a response like this before and I’m sure it has to do with the randomness of the crime.”

  “Yeah,” Brian said. “Just peek at the news breaks. They give updates every half hour. People are scared shitless their kid’s going to be next.”

  Ali rubbed at the pain in her chest. “It’s awful. It’s a sickening fear that’s . . .”

  Johnny reached for her hand and she looked up for the first time to see the intense sense of grief in his eyes. She shook her head and repeated, “This isn’t your fault.”

  “Listen, guys, let’s focus on the positive.” Brian waved a hand at her. “Ali, you said you wanted to make a statement.”

  She nodded. “I feel like we should be doing more. Shouldn’t we make
fliers—show his picture.”

  “That’s all being done at the Volunteer Center, and his picture is going up with every newsbreak,” Brian said. “And a reward is already being offered.”

  “Who offered the reward?”

  “Your mother. She put up a hundred grand.” Brian flipped through the papers in front of him and pulled out the flier. The volunteer center is working with the Klaas Foundation and the Center for Missing and Exploited Children.”

  Ali dropped her hands to the table, staring at the flier with Micah’s picture, feeling like the air had been knocked from her lungs. Where had she been while all of this was happening? “Why is time moving in slow motion?” She put a hand over her mouth and shook her head. “Nevermind.” It didn’t matter. What mattered was that it’d been days and her son wasn’t home yet. “We’ve got nothing”—she took a deep breath—“even with such a high reward.”

  “We have some things, they just haven’t led to Micah yet,” Brian said.

  Ali nodded, not sure what else to say.

  “There are at least a hundred people volunteering every day, strategizing . . . all looking for Micah,” Mark said.

  Her eyes dropped to her lap. “I’m sorry for not helping.”

  “Don’t start beating yourself up again,” Johnny said, squeezing her hand.

  He was right, she needed to stop dwelling and start doing. She looked back up at Agent Peters. “I’ll add another fifty grand to the reward. If they won’t bring him back, I’ll buy him back. I’ll appeal to their business side since they’re selling babies.”

  Mark laughed. “What an awesome idea.” But his smile faded and he said, “Can you do that, Ali? It’s a lot of money.”

  “I’ll take out what little equity I have in this house.”

  “Mrs. Hayes.” Peters placed a legal pad in front of Ali. “Let’s get started on your statement. It’s the most important thing we can do at this point.”

  “Please call me Ali, after everything you’ve done for me, I can at least let you use my first name.”

  He smiled and nodded. “And you may call me Bill.”

  Ali picked up a pen and focused on the one thing she had some control over, trying not to think about how she’d get that kind of money. She could scrape it up, but she’d have nothing left to live on. What was there to consider? She’d do anything to bring her baby home, even if it meant living with her mother.

  Ten minutes later, Mark slid a plate of lasagna and garlic bread in front of her then leaned in to whisper in her ear. “We’ll put up the money. Don’t take out your equity.”

  “No.” She shook her head violently. “Forget it. I can’t let you do that.”

  “Well . . . tell Sarah, she’s already calling her accountant.”

  “I won’t accept it.”

  “You can’t refuse.” He lifted his eyebrows. “This is for Micah.”

  “Mark.” Ali dropped her head onto her hand, hiding her face.

  “Just let Sarah do this, it won’t hurt anyone or anything and it’ll make her feel useful.”

  The sincerity in his voice was hard to deny. “ . . . I don’t know what to say.”

  “Don’t say anything. Eat and work on your statement.”

  She nodded her head with a teary smile. “Thank you.”

  Peters took over the task of writing as she ate. It was easier to think while dictating her statement than trying to write it herself. Bill and Brian helped her with some of the wording and made sure she didn’t say too much. She had to find a way to win people over after the ridiculous statements Carl had made. They also wouldn’t let her mention Johnny at all, insisting we shouldn’t feed into the hype and focus solely on Micah.

  She ate as she talked and with every bite, she felt better. She glanced over at Johnny to see he was cleaning his plate too.

  The color returned to his face as he ate. He never left her side . . . how long had it been since someone had cared about her like that.

  The more she thought about it, the more considerate the gesture seemed. Before Jamie was born, Mark had been attentive and thoughtful, always concerned with her needs. Of course once they became parents things changed. Most of the changes were on her end, she couldn’t deny that.

  Carl on the other hand, he was always only concerned with himself. She put in one hundred and ten percent for him and he took complete advantage. He was all consuming, self-centered and needy. She couldn’t remember the last time he had done anything for her without an ulterior motive.

  She looked around the table at Johnny, Mark, and then Brian. She was loved, Micah and Jamie were loved. She needed to remember that and stop feeling sorry for herself. These men sitting here with her now were all blessings. Carl was the mistake in her life, not them.

  As Johnny ate, he went over every second he and Ali had spent together since they’d met. Nothing stood out. Things had been pretty easy going until they’d spent the night together here in this house.

  That blaring alarm waking him up, all those people in the house when he only wanted Ali to himself. Shane came to change the locks, hell, even Brian showed up. What are the chances Ali would have a break-in, and then get hit by a car the next day? He thought about the impact from the car and breathed a sigh of relief. Thankful he’d pushed her almost completely clear of it.

  “Johnny?” Ali said, putting her hand on his knee. He peeked around at her, hoping she didn’t notice his distraction. “Are you finished?” She gestured to his plate.

  “Yeah, sorry.” He sat back in his chair when she stood and took both their empty plates into the kitchen. “Brian, can I have a word with you?” Johnny said when Ali was out of earshot.

  Brian nodded, following Johnny out of the room. He closed the door behind them and said, “You didn’t hear one word of her statement, did you?”

  “What leads do you have? What about the break in, has there been any progress, any connections?” Johnny said, ignoring the question.

  Brian poked a finger at Johnny’s chest. “We have some leads we’re working on but—”

  “Tell me, I want to help.”

  “No.” Brian shook his head. “Hell no, Bennett, you’re way too personally involved.”

  Johnny pushed Brian’s hand away. “Those fuckers almost killed me and Ali. You have to let me in on this.”

  “You concentrate on getting your shit together. You said you cared about her. If that’s true then just be here for her and let the FBI handle the investigation.”

  “Brian—“

  “No, Bennett! Listen, the only thing holding her together is you holding her hand through this—so that’s your job now. All you have to do is sit down, be quiet, and hold her hand.”

  Johnny dropped his head, trying to bite his tongue. “Yeah . . . well, I suck at being quiet.”

  “Do you think you can step in and do a better job than the rest of us?”

  “Fuck off, Brian.” He lifted his eyes. “I want the updates so I know there’s progress.”

  “You get the updates when she gets the updates.”

  “You haven’t given her any updates, damn it!”

  “Did it occur to you that we have a good reason for not telling her anything yet?”

  “The only reason would be if you thought Micah—“ Johnny staggered backward, his stomach dropping to the floor. “Oh, God . . . you think he’s dead.”

  “Yeah, Bennett, you’re ready to help. C’mon, you’re a wreck, man.” Brian waved a hand at him. “Relax, we don’t think Micah is dead.”

  Johnny closed his eyes, trying to get the image out of his head. “Then what? Tell me something, Brian.”

  “All I’ll tell you now is that we think the kidnapper is closer than he appears.”

  Johnny straightened his back, “Who?”

  “Forget it. You’re not getting anything else out of me.”

  They both turned at the pounding on the front door. A few minutes later Simms rounded the corner followed by another man.

&nbs
p; “You are fucking kidding me,” Johnny said as Ali and Mark stepped out of the dining room at the same time.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Carl approached Ali with outstretched arms. “Honey, I just got the news.”

  Johnny stepped sideways, cutting in front of Carl. “No you don’t.”

  Carl looked Johnny up and down, and Johnny wanted to punch that snooty expression right off his face.

  “Do you mind if I hug my wife.”

  Blood rushed to Johnny’s head, his heart pounding so hard it made his ears ring. He fought to keep a growl from his voice. “She is no longer your wife.”

  “What do you want, Carl?” Mark asked, stepping to Johnny’s side.

  “What do I . . .” Carl stammered and Johnny swore his chin quivered. “My son has been stolen. What do you think I want?” Carl’s gaze steadied on Mark. “And I’ll remind you, Mark, this is my house.”

  ”This is my house, not yours,” Ali said, squeezing between Johnny and Mark. Johnny reached for her, but he wasn’t quick enough to stop Carl from enclosing her into a hug. She stiffened and braced her hands against him, clearly not wanting any part of his hug.

  Johnny lunged at him, wrapping his hand around Carl’s throat, ready to watch the life drain from his smug face. He slammed him against the wall, and with every ounce of strength he had, he would end the son of a bitch. When Brian and Mark tried to pull him off, he couldn’t keep his footing and lost his balance, letting go of Carl.

  Deep breaths, deep breaths. Focus. He inhaled and tried to count as Carl sputtered and gasped, grabbing his throat.

  “I want him arrested for assault,” Carl said, pointing to Johnny, one hand massaging his throat.

  Mark took a step toward Carl, forcing him to flinch and step back against the front door. “Shut-up, bastard,” he said, brushing a dismissive hand at him. “Nobody is getting arrested.”

  “Why are you here, Carl?” Ali was fighting tears, Johnny could see it in her face.

  “Arrest him or I’ll step out those doors and tell the press about how Detective Hammel isn’t doing his job,” Carl threatened. “Tell them how I was assaulted in my own home after coming here to find out about my son.”