The Deadly Series Boxed Set

by Jaycee Clark

No. Kinncaids stuck together.

  The Richardsons had called him. He’d let them know when she was found, but asked them to stay in Taos until he knew something for sure. Now he was glad they weren’t here yet. They were older, they didn’t need to be pacing hospital waiting rooms or corridors at all hours of the night. He still didn’t have any news for them.

  Mr. Richardson had told him they’d be over tomorrow.

  Brody strolled into the waiting room and muttered something about western cops wanting easy fixes.

  Whatever.

  Quin just wanted to see her. He hadn’t really seen her yet. Not yet, not really. He’d seen her through the window, but then the feds had shown up and wanted to talk to him.

  Someone sat down beside him in the chair in the stupid waiting room. He knew these walls intimately, had counted the number of scuffs and scratches in the pale yellow paint.

  Why couldn’t he see her yet?

  “Mr. Kinncaid?” the person said.

  He jerked and turned to the man beside him, dressed in a white lab coat.

  “I’m Dr. Forrester,” he said, holding out his hand. “You want the good news or the bad news?”

  Seriously? Quin only raised a brow and shook the man’s hand. “Right now, I just want to see her. I’ve been here for over an hour and I still haven’t gotten to see her.”

  His nerves were frayed and he’d snapped at everyone who called to the point that he’d finally just handed his phone to Ian, asking his brother to tell everyone to just leave him the hell alone for a while.

  The police believed she’d had a baby. Which means the doctors must believe it as well.

  So where the hell was the baby?

  “Quinlan?” Brody shook him by his shoulder.

  Finally, he looked from Brody to the doctor. “Whichever. Just tell me something and let me see my wife.”

  The doctor nodded. “Right now, she’s in PACU—post anesthesia care—and being monitored. We’ve managed to stop the bleeding, given her a couple of bags of blood and fluids. Her hormone levels are still high enough she couldn’t have had the baby more than a day ago.” The doctor sighed and raked a hand over his bald head. “Her tox screens are off. I’ve given those reports to the authorities.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “We want copies as well,” Brody interrupted.

  “Her blood levels show depressants, how long, I’m not sure. Other things usually found in post-op patients. So we’re wondering about that as it’s not available to just anyone.” He took a deep breath. “Her INR levels are insane. She was already bleeding, and frankly, I’m surprised she’s not dead.”

  “INR levels?”

  “That means that whoever delivered the baby did not do so in a hospital, which was evident in how she was found. She should never have been given a blood thinner, which is what the INR basically measures. Looks like someone gave her a large dose of heparin, with the torn placenta and the fact she was probably hemorrhaging already. Had the police not found her when they did, she’d have bled out, and then I wouldn’t be talking to you, you’d be talking to the medical examiner. The torn placenta would have bled her out eventually anyway, and the blood thinners sped that process along.”

  Well, that was blunt.

  He took a deep breath. And another, past the tight bands squeezing his chest.

  Who the hell would . . .

  “Bastards,” Brody mumbled, pacing away from them and then back.

  Quinlan couldn’t think. None of this made any sense.

  Brody’s phone rang and Quinlan watched as he glanced at the caller ID and then walked away, answering whoever it was on the other end.

  “Does anyone know where the baby is?” he asked the doctor, looking into the man’s tired eyes. It was after midnight. He knew the man had probably had a long night already, but then so had he.

  “You probably know more about that than I do. I only know she had one, and I know the police are looking.”

  “I wish they’d look more. We told them last night she was missing. Why are so many of them here?” He shifted and rubbed his thigh. “Shouldn’t they be doing something . . . anything to catch the sorry bastards who did this. Who would do this to anyone?”

  The doctor cleared his throat. “There is another possibility the police asked me about.” He took a deep breath. “There’s no way to tell if the baby was born alive or not. From her hormone levels and her mutters from earlier, I’d assume it was. However, things can often go wrong, I won’t lie about that. If it wasn’t for the irregularities in her tox screens, I’d say it was perfectly normal if the baby had been stillborn, and if she lost it, for her to be in denial that she did something with the baby’s remains.”

  Quinlan pierced the man with a glare, as any words he wanted to say wouldn’t help the situation.

  The doctor slapped him on the shoulder. “I just wanted you to know the possibilities that the police are questioning. I, however, don’t even consider that one on the map, and that’s without even factoring in the ligature marks. I guess they need to cover all their bases though. However, whoever took the baby wasn’t concerned for her welfare, clearly, other than the fact she was pregnant. They couldn’t have cared less about her, and as that factors in, it is possible something went wrong with this forced delivery and I have no way of guaranteeing the baby was born healthy or not.”

  Quinlan tried to picture that. What if something had gone wrong? What if she’d lost the baby or something and . . . She loved kids, loved helping people, and she clearly wanted the baby or she wouldn’t have been having it.

  The baby . . .

  “No. No. One of the policemen told me she was adamant the baby was alive and that someone took it. And why would anyone give a pregnant woman blood thinners?” Then something else the doctor said jarred him. “Ligature marks? What did you mean?”

  The doctor sighed. “As for the ligature, well, you’ll see as soon as you see her, she was clearly bound. Ankles are a bit bruised, which tells me her ankles weren’t restrained for long. Her wrists, though, are traumatized, she’ll need physical therapy.” He looked straight at Quin. “As for the blood thinners, there could be a couple of reasons, but neither of them is relevant in her case.” The doctor stood and offered his hand again. “You should be able to see her soon. We’re just watching her vitals for now. The bleeding, which, luckily, we stopped. And we didn’t have to perform a hysterectomy. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know what all we were, or might be, dealing with. She’ll be sedated for a while.”

  “For how long? Can’t she help us if she’s awake? Answer questions for the police or—”

  “Mr. Kinncaid, your wife almost died. We tried bringing her out of it post op, but frankly, I didn’t like her stats. She’s lucky to be alive and is my first priority.”

  He stood, shoving his cane into the utilitarian multicolored tiles and shook the doctor’s hand. “Of course, of course. Thank you, Dr. Forrester.”

  “No problem. I’ll be around. I want to keep an eye on her. You’ll see her soon.”

  Brody stood against one wall.

  Raking a hand through his hair, he all but snarled. “I don’t know what the hell to think at this point.” He huffed out a breath and looked up to where Brody stood.

  “Ian called, he’s around in some corner somewhere with better wi-fi reception. Anyway, he’s been looking into her, and there’s something you should probably know.”

  “What?”

  “Well, she was currently employed and volunteered at a couple of places. One was at a resort—the Nursery. Or actually, the Nursery of Dreams.”

  “I know, he mentioned it earlier, and . . . ?”

  Brody took a deep breath. “It’s a high-end adoption agency, Quin.”

  No. No, she would not have given his child away. No. She’d have . . .

  “Brody, she wouldn’t do that. In fact, she was scared of someone taking the baby.”

  Brody didn’t say anything at all. Ano
ther family came into the waiting room and a toddler was crying for M&Ms from the vending machine.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” he told his cousin. “I know things between us are messed up. I know she didn’t tell me until two days ago. Hell, no . . . I don’t know what the fuck to think right now, but I know. I’ve told you what she said, I’ve told the cops, the feds.” No, she’d wanted help. Knew he’d help them. The idea she’d give up the baby was idiotic.

  “Maybe she changed her mind,” Brody said.

  He shook his head and took another deep breath. He hated not knowing everything. Rage beat against his chest.

  “Either way, it wouldn’t matter, as you are the father and did not give consent to the adoption. I’ve already started to draft—”

  He held up his hand. “Just please be quiet, Broderick.”

  “Look, none of the family knows anything about her. About the two of you. Though Ian does, as he’s been looking into her for the last five, six hours or so. Either way, Rori and Ian are talking about heading out to Taos to see what they can find out.”

  “And?”

  “And your parents are coming—”

  He shook his head. “Get Aiden. Tell him to call our parents because I just can’t right now. Mom and Pops right now, no. I’m sorry. I love them, but I can’t deal with them just yet.” He was tired. He’d have to talk to them eventually, but now was not that time.

  He sat in the chair and dropped his head into his hands.

  “Ian said he was checking the local hospitals for babies and births and someone matching Ella’s description. I even mentioned to the locals in charge that you had hired your brother’s security firm and that we wanted everyone to work together. Not sure how well that will work in reality,” Brody muttered.

  The carpet patterns bothered him. They were off a bit, or he hadn’t figured the pattern out yet. And carpet patterns didn’t matter, even if he’d stared at the damned things for hours.

  “Gavin called and said to tell the cops or whoever to check local midwives as well since more and more women are starting to have their children at home.”

  He looked up. “What?”

  “Gavin says birthing clinics and home births are becoming the option for many women. We need to see if that Nursery thing has a clinic or midwives on staff.”

  “Are midwives the only ones that can deliver babies?” Quin asked. “Besides doctors?”

  “How the fuck should I know that?” Brody snapped. “I’ll find out. Not that it would really matter. Honestly, Quin, any person could deliver a kid if they wanted it badly enough. The human race thrived for eons before med schools. Just be glad they didn’t simply gut her, take the kid and leave Ella dead.”

  Nausea greased his stomach. “You can stop talking now,” he said, not even looking at his cousin.

  Quinlan hadn’t thought of that. He’d just wondered where . . . who had taken . . .

  Oh God, his baby could be anywhere . . .

  Brody was doing something, fielding calls. Ian and Rori were checking and researching. Aiden was probably somewhere doing something. He wanted to do something. But he didn’t want to leave her alone.

  She’d been alone. And scared. He’d replayed their conversation a dozen times since they’d found her.

  And where had he been?

  Maybe he’d had it right the first time. What the hell did he know about being a husband, let alone a good one like his own father and his brothers. He’d already completely fucked it up and now his wife lay somewhere in this hospital and their child . . .

  His baby . . .

  No, Quinlan wasn’t going to leave her.

  But . . .

  Doubt slithered in. She hadn’t contacted him in almost half a year. What if she’d . . . She hadn’t wanted to be married to him. He’d tried. Time and again he’d gone to her, and just when he thought she’d come with him . . . she ran away.

  Had she known she was pregnant then?

  Why hadn’t she told him?

  If she’d ever tried to give his child away . . .

  Rage roared through him, hot and heavy. His hand trembled and he gripped his cane until the knob bit into his palm. No. No, she would not do that. He bit the fury back until the bitter taste was all that was left.

  Chapter 21

  “You can see her now,” a nurse said. “We’ve moved her into a regular ICU room. She probably won’t be there too long. But while she is, only two at a time, okay?”

  Quin just stood there. He could see her now?

  What the hell would he say to her?

  “I didn’t know, Brody. How could she not tell me?” he asked his cousin for the umpteenth time.

  Brody’s hard blue eyes held no mercy. “I don’t know. I can’t imagine what you’re going through,” he said, slapping him on the shoulder. “But we’re all behind you, you know that, right?”

  “Someone hurt her, though. They hurt her. I’m so . . . so . . . fucking pissed and I can’t . . . I don’t . . .” He took a deep breath.

  Brody cleared his throat. “I get that, I do. But as you said, she called you and tried to explain. She did tell you, late, but she did. She was scared. They just got her before . . .”

  “Before I could,” he finished.

  “So she doesn’t need an angry husband right now. Though, granted, you’ve every right to be. She’s alone, she’s scared, she’s confused, and no, she’s terrified. Worst case, the baby died, Quinlan. Best case, someone took the baby from her. Whether she told you earlier or not, should have let you know as soon as she knew or not, is irrelevant right now. Since we’ve been here, we’ve learned that she was perfect for whomever did this. Alone and without a family to help her. They targeted her, preyed on her, terrorized her, if the snippets of cop talk I heard are true. And stole her child—”

  “Our child.” He glared at his cousin he loved like a brother. “Our child. Everyone’s said ‘baby,’ I don’t know if she had a name picked out for our daughter.”

  Brody was quiet for a moment and then said, “Just . . . keep a cool head. She’s in a fragile place, Quin. Just be careful with her.”

  “Christ, what do you think I’m going to do to her, Brody?” With that he stalked off and left Brody standing outside the doors of the hallway. The nurse stood waiting patiently for him.

  Scared. She had been so scared on the phone.

  Ligature marks.

  “ . . . you’d be talking to the medical examiner . . .”

  Bastards.

  He knew she’d been scared. And preyed on and targeted.

  What he was pissed about was that she didn’t have to be. She—and their child, their baby girl—could have been safely at home.

  Why? Why? Why the hell hadn’t she just told him sooner?

  He was pissed he’d missed out on everything.

  Enraged he didn’t get to hear the damned heartbeat or feel a kick.

  But was that really important right now?

  He took another deep breath and tried to calm down, tried to focus.

  No. No, it wasn’t.

  So he’d swallow his damned anger and make sure Ella was okay.

  And they’d damned well find their baby and the bastards that had done all this.

  After that?

  He wasn’t going to worry about that just yet. There was too much to worry about before then.

  Carefully, he pushed the curtains aside. The ICU rooms were on the ground floor.

  “She’s resting. If all goes well today, we’ll move her later to her own room.”

  He nodded and stepped into the dimly lit room.

  She lay on the bed.

  His first thought was that her hair wasn’t right. Absurd though it was, he noticed, and that bothered him. Her hair was dark, with a touch of red in it. Brown? Dark red? Some brunette color. Where was the purple? Or blue? Or purple streaks? Or even pink?

  And she was too pale. Deathly pale. Her freckles stood out on her face, and dark circles bruised t
he skin beneath her eyes. He slowly walked to the side of the bed. She was hooked up to wires and tubes. He followed the clear and dark tubes to the bags hanging from the IV stand. Saline. And blood.

  He set his cane aside and picked up her hand. Her fingers were so cold. He bit down on the insane urge to wake her up. To see her eyes flutter open, to know that she was just cold and not dead.

  He looked at the monitor and followed her heart rate, her blood pressure, until he’d pushed back the panic.

  Her wrists were bandaged and wrapped in white gauze. Physical therapy because some monster had bound her.

  He closed his eyes.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, you stupid, stupid proud woman.” He leaned over and breathed deep, kissed her forehead. “Don’t you know what a phone is? Or rather a calendar?”

  She didn’t answer him. He didn’t expect her to. Taking another deep breath, he sat in the chair beside the bed and waited.

  “This I’ll defend,” he muttered. Some damned job he did, and how was he supposed to defend someone who didn’t even want his defense?

  God help them both.

  • • •

  Albuquerque, early Sunday morning

  “Have you found her yet?”

  He waited, but no answer was forthcoming. Finally, he looked up from the papers he was working on.

  She stood at the window, looking out over the dark mountains. “We know where she is.”

  “Really? And where might that be? You told me you had it taken care of, but it seems to me that perhaps you do not.”

  She didn’t move. He watched her.

  She would not be the first to fuck up. To betray him.

  No one, no one betrayed him.

  Not if it compromised the business. He ran a damned successful business and he would continue to do so. If someone or something got in the way, he took care of it.

  “She ran, or was going to. In fact, if I had been two minutes later, we’d have lost her. We worried she was too—”

  “And now, do you have any idea of the heat you’ve brought down on us? The scrutiny? It would have been better to just let her go.”