“No.” Nate thought about how to say it and decided to just toss the truth out there. “The danger isn’t over. If Ramirez doesn’t give up the person who hired him, then one way or another I’ll have to find out who he is. That might take some time.”
She didn’t argue. Didn’t look as if she had the strength to put up even a token resistance. “And in the meantime?”
“Noah and you will stay here.” That was the logical solution. The ranch had a security system. Plus, there were at least a dozen ranch hands on the grounds at any given moment. It also didn’t hurt that five lawmen lived there.
And four of those lawmen might be a problem.
“Your brothers?” she said, getting right to the heart of the matter.
“There’ll be tension,” he admitted. “But no one here will turn you out. The kidnappers went after our children. They might try again.”
She shivered, and closed her eyes. Did she see the same nightmarish images that he did? The gunmen, the children huddled on the floor of the preschool? The explosions that tore apart the Lost Appaloosa only minutes after they’d rescued Noah and Kimmie?
Her eyelids fluttered open, and she met his gaze. “If Ramirez doesn’t talk, I think we know where your investigation starts. Sandra Dent’s son, Adam, or her ex-husband, Edwin Frasier.”
Yeah. That ball was already rolling. Mason was arranging for both men to be brought to Silver Creek for questioning. Too bad they couldn’t find the dead woman’s missing diary. Then maybe they would know who was behind this. Nate knew from accounts from Sandra’s friends that the diary existed, but it hadn’t turned up in any of the searches of her estate. Of course, her killer could have destroyed it, and with it any possible evidence.
“I can’t rule out Dent himself,” Nate added. “He could have orchestrated this to make himself look innocent.” He braced himself for the lawyer to kick in.
But she only nodded. “About how much would it have cost to put this kidnapping together?”
“Three vans, seven men, weapons, explosives. We’re probably looking at a minimum of a hundred thousand.” He hesitated. “Unless Ramirez’s drug-lord connections are behind this. Then the men could have been coerced into helping with the kidnapping.”
A heavy sigh left her mouth, and she plowed her hands through her hair to push it away from her face. But then she winced when her fingers raked over her stitches.
Nate moved her hand so he could have a look, which required him to push aside a few strands. Her hair was as soft as silk. And despite their ordeal in the woods, she didn’t smell of sweat and blood but rather the faint aroma of the fragrant cedars. Her own scent was there, too. Something warm and musky.
Something that stirred feelings best left alone.
“Well?” she prompted.
“The stitches held.” But there was an angry bruise around the edges. He made a mental note to call the doctor and ask him to come out to the ranch to examine Darcy. He also made a mental note not to let her scent get to him.
“How does it look?” she asked. But she waved him off. “Never mind. I know I look bad.”
That was the problem. She didn’t. Even with the fatigue, the stitches and the bruise, Darcy managed to look amazing.
Beautiful.
And that was not a good thing for him to notice.
Nor was her body. It was pretty amazing, too. She was a good eight inches shorter than he was. On the petite side. But she still had interesting curves. Curves that reminded him it’d been too long since he’d held a woman.
Or had one in his bed.
His own body responded to that reminder. His blood started to race. His heart, too. And his jeans were no longer comfortable.
Nate stepped back, or rather, tried, but she caught his arm. “I’m sorry.”
Of all the things he’d expected her to say, that wasn’t one of them.
He studied her eyes. Also beautiful. And he shook his head, not understanding her apology. He was the one with the bad reaction here.
“I’m sorry for everything,” Darcy clarified. Her voice was mostly breath now. “Especially for defending the man whose hired gun killed your wife. I’m sorry I managed to keep him out of jail so that he could go after Dade and Kayla.”
Oh, hell, no. Nate didn’t want to go there. He didn’t want to talk about Ellie. So he shook off her grip and turned to leave.
“For what it’s worth,” Darcy continued, “I’ve applied to be the assistant district attorney here in Silver Creek.”
That froze him in his tracks, and Nate eased back around to stare at her. As the A.D.A, she’d have to work with Grayson, Dade and Mason. Work closely with them, on the same side of the law.
“I’m not a bad person.” Her voice trembled again. So did her bottom lip, and her eyes began to water. “I just got wrapped up in doing…what I thought I needed to do. Old baggage,” she added in a mumble. “Something you might know a little about.”
Oh, yeah. His old baggage had baggage.
“When did yours start?” she asked.
Nate didn’t have to think about that. He also didn’t have to think about it to know this was a conversation he didn’t want to have. But he answered her, anyway. “Twenty years ago when I was fifteen, my grandfather was murdered, and it was never solved.”
“Yes. Sheriff Chet McLaurin. Kayla asked me about him.”
Nate was sure he blinked. “Why would she ask you that?”
“She called me a few weeks ago and wanted to know if I’d come across a photo of your grandfather in any of Charles Brennan’s things. She faxed me a copy of the picture and said it was taken on the day the new sheriff’s office opened.”
Now, he understood. Kayla had asked because Darcy was the executor for Brennan’s will, and the picture was definitely in question. Kayla had seen a copy, and now the family wanted to know why a man like Brennan had held on to a photo seemingly unrelated to him.
“Did you find the picture in Brennan’s things?” Nate asked.
Darcy shook her head. “I looked but didn’t find anything. It might turn up, though, because I’m still going through his estate.” She paused. “Is it important?”
“Could be. Maybe there’s something in Brennan’s files that will tell us who killed our grandfather.”
“I see.” And a moment later, she repeated it. “When this is over, I’ll look again.” Another pause. “His death is the reason you became a cop?”
“Yeah.” And this was another wound Nate didn’t want reopened tonight so he turned the tables on her. “What baggage made you become a defense attorney?”
A pained look flashed across her face, and Darcy opened her mouth. Closed it. And that pained look got significantly worse.
“It’s okay,” he quickly assured. “The conversation’s over.” And he was probably as thankful for that as she was.
They didn’t need to be delving into baggage or what had brought them to this point. Didn’t need to be discussing anything personal.
He especially didn’t need to be thinking of her as an attractive, troubled woman he should haul off to his bed.
Besides, he had a mountain of stuff to do—stuff that didn’t require getting Darcy naked and in his bed. Phone calls to make. An investigation to start. He also needed to see if Grayson had made any progress with Ramirez.
“If you need anything, my room is just across the hall,” he let her know. “The security system is on, and all the ranch hands are on watch to make sure no one suspicious enters the property.”
There. He’d doled out all the info she needed for the night, and he could go. Good thing, too, because he was exhausted.
But he didn’t move.
His feet seemed glued to the floor.
Her eyes widened, as if she knew a fierce storm was already upon them. And it was. The storm inside him. Nate cursed. Because he saw the alarm on Darcy’s face.
Followed by the heat.
Oh, man.
One-sided lust was bad
enough, but two-sided was a disaster in the making.
His feet finally moved. In the wrong direction. Nate went to her, catching her hands and pinning them against the wall. Hell, he pinned her, too. Pressing his body against hers as he lowered his head.
And kissed her.
He captured her breath and the sound of her surprise all at once. Nate might as well have had sex with her because the slam of pleasure was that intense. The instant awareness that he was about to lose it. And that taste.
Yeah.
Like something forbidden.
“Nate,” she managed to say, the heat burning her voice.
He didn’t attempt to say anything for fear that the sound of his voice would bring him back to his senses. For just this moment he wanted to be pulled deep into the fire.
He wanted to feel.
And he did. For those scalding-hot moments, Nate felt it all. The desire for a woman. The need to take her. The ache that he’d suppressed for way too long.
But he forced himself to remember that even with all those aches and burning needs, he shouldn’t be kissing Darcy. Nate pushed himself away from her. Not easily. He had to force his body to move, and then he had to force it not to go right back after her again.
Their gazes collided.
In her eyes, he saw all that fire still raging. Heard it in her thin breath. Felt it pulsing in her wrist.
He let go of her, and her hands dropped to her sides. Nate watched her recover, hoping that he could do the same.
“What was that?” she asked, breathless.
“A mistake.” He was breathless, too.
She stared at him, the pulse hammering in her throat. Since looking at her throat made him want to kiss her there, Nate took another step back. And another for good measure.
Her gaze slid over his face, his chest, which was pumping as though starved for air. In a way, it was. Then, her eyes lowered to the front of his jeans.
Where she no doubt—no doubt—saw the proof of just how much that kiss had aroused him.
“We can blame it on the adrenaline,” she whispered.
For some reason, a stupid one, probably, that made him smile. For a split second, anyway. And then reality crashed down on his head. He shouldn’t be kissing her and he shouldn’t be smiling.
“Good night, Darcy,” Nate told her.
“Wait. There’s something bothering you. Something other than that,” she clarified, her attention dropping to the front of his jeans again.
Oh, man. This brain connection they had was almost as bad as the fire she’d started in his body. Darcy was right—something was bothering him. He’d intended to keep it to himself. Because it could alarm her. But heck, he’d already opened a big box of alarm just by kissing her.
“Did you think there was anything strange about Ramirez when the gunman took us into the ranch house?” he asked.
She stayed quiet for a moment. “You mean stranger than the fact he had kidnapped our children?”
“Yeah. He didn’t ask us how we’d found them.”
“You’re right.” Darcy pulled in her breath. “Neither did the gunmen in the woods.”
Nate made a sound of agreement. “They seemed ready for us. As if they’d been expecting us all along. But why would that be? The only reason we went to the Lost Appaloosa was because Marlene wrote the initials on the van door.”
She pressed her fingers to her forehead. “And from what we know, Marlene might not have even been in that particular van. It could have been just a decoy.”
“So who wrote the initials?” Nate finished for her. “And why did Ramirez want us to find him?”
“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “Do you?”
“No. But first thing in the morning, I intend to find out.”
Chapter Eight
“I’m fine, really,” Darcy told the Stetson-wearing doctor again, but Dr. Doug Mickelson continued to slide his penlight in front of her eyes. He’d already examined her stitches and a small cut she’d gotten on her elbow.
She wanted this exam to end so she could go back to her son. Darcy could feel the anxiety creeping through her, again, and she wondered how long it would take before she could get past the ordeal of the kidnapping.
Never was a distinct possibility.
“You’re sure the children are okay?” Darcy asked when the doctor plugged the stethoscope into his ears so he could listen to her heart.
“They’re right as rain,” he assured her. “They were lucky.”
Yes, and she hated that something as fragile as luck had played into keeping Noah and Kimmie safe.
“All done,” the doctor finally said. He hooked the stethoscope around the collar of his cowboy-style light blue shirt. “No concussion, but I’ll need to see you early next week so I can take out those stitches.”
She nodded but couldn’t think beyond the next hour, much less next week. Darcy hurried off the foot of the bed, then out of the guest room and into the hall, leaving the doctor as he was putting his gear back into his medical bag. She got to the nursery, where she’d left Noah with Kimmie and the nanny, Grace Borden.
But the nursery was empty.
Just like that, the panic grabbed her by the throat. No! Had her son been taken again? She knew that wasn’t a logical conclusion, but her mind wasn’t logical right now. The pain was still too fresh.
“Noah?” she called out. She didn’t even wait for an answer before she shouted out his name again.
“In here,” Nate answered.
Darcy practically rammed into the doctor coming out of the guest suite, but she followed the sound of Nate’s voice. And the sound of laughter. She found him in the last room at the end of the hall. A massive sun-washed playroom. Bright. With lots of windows and shelves loaded to the brim with books and stuffed animals.
It took her a moment to pick through the toys and the brightly colored furniture, but she finally spotted Nate. Not in danger. Not trying to stop another kidnapping. He was on his hands and knees on the floor.
Both Kimmie and Noah were on his back.
And Nate was giving them a pseudo horsey ride. He was even making the neighing sounds while holding on to them.
Kimmie’s auburn curls were bouncing all around her face. Noah was doing some bouncing, too. Clearly her brain had overreacted because the children were in no kind of danger.
“Grace is in the kitchen having some breakfast, and Bessie brought you some of that cinnamon tea you said you liked,” Nate let her know, tipping his head toward the tray on a corner table. But he must have noticed her expression. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she managed to say. “I panicked when I couldn’t find Noah.”
“Sorry. I thought it would be okay to bring him down here while you were with Doc Mickelson.” He reached behind him and gently moved the children off his back and to the thick play mat.
“It’s okay.” Her son had obviously been having fun, and her panic had ended that fun.
Well, sort of.
Even though Noah was no longer on Nate’s back, her son giggled and crawled into Nate’s lap the moment he sat up. Noah babbled something and threw his arms around Nate’s neck for a hug.
“He’s not usually this comfortable with strangers,” Darcy remarked. To give her hands something to do, and to settle her nerves, she went to the table and poured herself a cup of tea.
Nate shrugged. Or rather, he tried to, but Kimmie toddled right into him and he had to catch her to keep her from falling. Noah giggled again. Kimmie did, too.
“I guess Noah knows I like kids,” Nate remarked.
And he did. There was no mistaking that. Nate started a gentle wrestling game that ended up with both babies landing on him in a tumbled heap.
Now, Nate was the one to laugh.
The sound was rich, thick and totally male. It went through her much as his kiss had the night before, and suddenly the panic was gone. In its place was that spark. Okay, it was more of a jolt that touched
every part of her body.
Every part.
His looks didn’t help ease that jolt. Nate was drop-dead hot—that was a given—but this morning he was rumpled hot with his dark stubble, jeans and charcoal gray shirt. It was only partially buttoned, and she got a great look at the perfectly toned chest that he’d used to pin her against the wall for that kiss.
Suddenly, Darcy wanted to be pinned and kissed again.
“What?” Nate asked, snapping her attention back to him. “You’re smiling. I’ve never seen you smile before.” His gaze slid down her body. “And I’ve never seen you wear jeans.”
She glanced down at her jeans and rose-colored top because for a moment she forgot she was wearing anything at all.
Get ahold of yourself.
“Someone picked up clothes from my house for Noah and me,” she told him, but he obviously already knew that.
“Kade,” he supplied. “He also brought your cosmetics and meds that he found in your bathroom.”
Oh.
Meds, as in birth-control pills.
She almost blurted out that the pills were to control her periods and not because she was having sex, but that seemed way too personal to tell Nate.
“I’ll make sure to thank Kade. And all your brothers. Bessie and Grace, too.” She added some milk to the tea so she could cool it down for a quick drink. “Your family really pitched in when we needed them.”
“They always do,” Nate mumbled, and it sounded like a personal confession that he hadn’t intended to reveal to her.
Darcy understood. Other than Noah, she hadn’t had any family for a very long time, and she missed the closeness. The blind acceptance.
The love.
And that was a personal confession she wasn’t ready to make, either.
Since it seemed the wrestling play might go on for a while, Darcy finished her tea, put the cup aside and sank down on the floor next to them. Nate didn’t look at her. He kept his attention on the children.
“Do I need to apologize?” he asked.
For a moment Darcy had no idea what he meant, but then Nate glanced at her. And she knew. This was about that scalding-hot kiss. “No apology needed. We just got caught up in the moment.”
Nate Page 7
