The Deadly Series Boxed Set

by Jaycee Clark

  “How was I to know she had scared herself into running to the one place we thought she was scared of. Between the meds we were giving her and the session with our lovely shrink, we were sure she was scared the father would take the baby away.”

  Neither of them said anything for a moment. Finally, he took a deep breath and asked, “How did she get out?”

  He watched her swallow and shift. Worried, was she? Stupid bitch had better be worried. He’d disposed of those who had irritated him less than she did.

  “She was unconscious. We’d unbound her during delivery. She was bleeding too much from the placenta, which ripped when she expelled it. We had unbound her so it would be easier to move her later and dispose of her.” She shrugged. “I was only gone for a bit. Kevin and I took the baby away to the motel room for now. When I came back, there were police all over the damned street. Somehow she got out. And got help.” She turned to him then. “She’s in the hospital.”

  He merely looked at her and continued to look at her even as she shifted.

  So damned stupid.

  “If you cost us anything . . . time, trouble . . . Damn it.” He tapped his pen on the blotter. “It’ll only be a matter of time before they come here searching for answers.”

  “It won’t be a problem. What is she going to remember anyway? We’ll claim she ran from us because she was delusional and afraid we’d take the baby. We were more worried with her peace of mind and the health of the child with her spiraling into paranoid delusions. We’ve no idea what happened to her or the baby.”

  He sighed. She only saw the dollar signs. Why was that? He really needed people to see the larger picture. So few did see the larger picture, could see the various layers and all the ripples one little pebble could cause.

  He frowned and leaned back in his chair. “You should have made certain she would not be a potential problem or just have left her alone.”

  “We’d already sold the baby, what did you expect would happen?” she snapped. “For a quarter of a million, I have a feeling the new parents would be rather disappointed and might, just might cause problems of their own.”

  “How? By going to the cops? Who the hell is going to admit to buying a baby? Besides, it was a girl.” He stopped and stood, turning to his own window. “Girls outnumber boys, plain and simple. Another girl would have come along in a day, a week, whenever. You could have given the couple that one.”

  “And done what with her? She was too curious, and I think she knew far, far more than she was letting on. I still think she’s working for someone. The feds, the cops, another family, I don’t know. She just asked too many pointed questions, her and Fran both. After the Fran incident, she just clammed up, which isn’t like her. Acting up and then just running, leaving? She was packed.”

  He sighed and studied her. She’d been with him for a while, saw this as a business as much as he did, and yet she could be so very squeamish when it came to some of the darker aspects of things. And so bloody cold when it came to others.

  “This wasn’t my mess. You tried to talk her into things she didn’t want. She was never into any of it. From the beginning and the papers. Who signed them? If you were just going to make her a donor, you should have waited for me and we could have done it together, efficiently and cleanly. Like we have so many other times before. This . . . this mess you’ve created . . .”

  She looked at him.

  “Is there a father that will make an issue of things?”

  “Not since everyone who would be of concern will think the baby is dead.”

  “You hope,” he muttered. Then he shook his head. “You should have called me instead of trying to take care of the situation yourself.”

  “It all went well.”

  One of her quirks. She could take babies, talk women out of their children, lie to them, but she had a problem with killing them.

  “We should have left her alone.”

  “The couple wanted a girl, from a more affluent line, a child with brains and beauty. Did you look at the parents? Child is perfect. Parents paid the money and we’re happy.”

  “She’s not.”

  “If we’re lucky, she’ll be dead soon,” she muttered. “I gave her a large dose of heparin.”

  “So? With the blood she was losing, I’m sure they immediately started her on a coagulant. She’s in the hospital, they’ll notice in her tox screens. And she’s clearly talking to the police, and if that’s the case, I’m sure the father won’t be far behind. When you push someone far enough into the corner, they only come out biting you in the ass.”

  She shrugged. “Fine, we tell them the baby died.”

  He fisted his hands. “We can’t do that, they know where she was, or did you forget? You’re the one who called me upset because the cops were all over the house here in Albuquerque. Remember? Didn’t you say the street was crawling with cops. If she was hemorrhaging, then all they have to do is follow a damned blood trail to whatever door or window she crawled out of. You. Fucked. Up.”

  For a moment, she said nothing, only sighed. Then, “Fine, we’ll say we don’t know what happened, that she was anxious and paranoid someone was going to steal her baby. That we wrote it off, but maybe someone here was watching her and did try to steal her baby.”

  He thought about that. Hmmmm. “Maybe. Guess I could use you.”

  “You could, but then I’d take you down with me,” she told him sweetly. “And you worry too much. If it does lead to us, then what? We have the papers where she signed the child over for adoption, but as she left, we have no idea where the baby is, who she might have given it to or trusted in her deluded state. Besides, who will they believe? A flighty yoga instructor with a penchant for weird hair, estranged from a seemingly wonderful man, or a respected and decorated physician?”

  “Will she remember anything?”

  “No. Might claim to have heard the baby cry, but that’s normal, isn’t it? Denial of the truth? How many times, when we told a mother that something went wrong, did they say the same thing? ‘But I heard my baby cry’?”

  Yes, but most of them had.

  “Well, we can do nothing but wait and see, can we?” She paced one way then the other. “We’ve been in worse situations before. We’ll get through this one. So we won’t borrow trouble for now.”

  He hoped not. He needed a plan in place if things went south. A lot of money was at stake with each transaction, he knew that. She knew that.

  But other things were at stake as well. He supplied others with merchandise when they asked because his operation was discreet and those bigger fish were not ones that he would want to piss off. So not only was a small fortune on the line but his life. And if his life were on the line, then by God, he’d make certain hers was as well.

  He sighed and paced away from her. “Did she keep any records of anything?”

  The woman shook her head. “I don’t think so. While she was at the Nursery the other night, I checked her house. Place was clean. Her laptop was locked but what would she have on it? DVD of the sonogram. Baby books, the normal crap.” She walked to him. “I checked everywhere, worried she’d taken files or something with as much as she was here and there . . . all the girls she talked to. The suspicions she raised, but her place was clean.”

  That didn’t mean there wasn’t anything. Didn’t she know that?

  She shook her head. “You worry too much. Her place was clean. I searched places a meth addict would have been proud of.”

  “So where is she?”

  She waved a hand. “University Medical.”

  “Who was the father again?”

  “Um. Some rich boy. And you know how those types are. They don’t want scandals and secrets to mess up their perfect lives. We’ve done them a favor.”

  “Yes, but did she ever give you his name?”

  “Kinncaid, I think. Kilarney? Kirkpatrick?” She took a deep breath and shrugged. “She only ever called him Quinlan or Quin.”

&nbs
p; He’d look in the file. He hated surprises and he didn’t like leaving things up to chance. He’d have to make a few calls.

  “No more on-your-own shit. We clear?”

  “But you profit as well.”

  “We both profit as long as we don’t get greedy. Get greedy and the whole damned thing could come crashing down. How do you think this operation has lasted this long?”

  She pouted. “You’re just pissed you were left out of it.”

  In more ways than one.

  For a minute he only stared at her. Then he sat again behind his mahogany desk and shuffled files around.

  “Will I see you later?”

  He shook his head. “No, I’m meeting with the buyers. Here as a matter of fact. And I’ve a family engagement tonight.”

  He heard her sigh, heard the whisper of scrubs as she walked to him and turned his chair to face her. She shimmied out of her pants and straddled his lap, her legs going over the arms of his chair.

  “Then we wouldn’t want to waste any more time, would we?” She leaned in and kissed him. Lust hit him hard as her heat burned him through his slacks. She deftly unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned and unzipped him. By the time she had her hand on him, he was hard enough he simply gripped her and thrust into her hot, always welcoming warmth.

  “One day,” she whispered in his ear, “you’ll realize I’m better than she is.”

  He doubted it. She started to ride him.

  He’d never leave his wife for this woman.

  But damned if she didn’t have her uses.

  After she left, he cleaned up in his bathroom, washed and dried his face on one of the perfectly white towels folded to the side of the mirror. He walked out and stood again at the window, watched as she climbed into her car and drove away.

  That woman was trouble. He knew it, but he needed her for now. Later? Well, she wouldn’t be the first one he’d have to get rid of, would she?

  He sat behind his desk and pulled up Ella’s file.

  Ella, he actually liked the woman and respected her, but that wouldn’t stop him. He read through her file quickly.

  The father wasn’t listed in the first few pages, only later in notes that his lovely assistant had added. A Kinncaid from the D.C. area. Rich and dangerous. Which was why Ella had asked to be paid in cash. She was scared of the guy, or so she’d first claimed after the initial interview.

  Later she mentioned they were just estranged.

  Either way, a man like that? If it were the former . . . well, a man who controlled his woman generally didn’t like it if the woman gave the man’s baby away.

  Not that she’d wanted to give her child up at all. He knew that, he’d spoken to her about it himself.

  He saw “hotels?” written in the margin.

  A quick search brought him what he needed and didn’t want to know.

  Damn it.

  Prominent family, his ass.

  These people were all about family, and they were not only affluent but powerful as well. They adopted kids, or one of them did, based on a write-up in a hotel magazine. There was not a complete family photo. He’d like one so he’d know who he had to watch for.

  Shit. Why hadn’t he vetted this one more closely?

  He tapped his fingers on his desk.

  Then again, maybe it was a different Kinncaid?

  He looked at what he knew to be forged adoption documents.

  Mother’s signature.

  He squinted. Surely his assistant could have done better than that.

  And the father?

  Quinlan.

  Quinlan Kincaid. The signature was missing an n. He drew a deep breath. He just might have to kill that stupid, albeit sexy, bitch yet, or rather sooner than he wanted to. Kinncaid had two ns.

  He did a search.

  Yes. Same family.

  He sat back again. Maybe the rich guy was an ass, which was irrelevant. If Ella made it to the man, or if he found out, he could cause problems. Because though they could claim Ella had signed the document, Mr. Kinncaid would undoubtedly state he’d never signed the damned thing.

  This was a clusterfuck waiting to happen.

  He jerked out his desk drawer, rummaging until he found the plain black-and-white card he’d used several years ago. He’d saved it because one never knew when he’d need certain services.

  He stared at it for several minutes. Probably have to use the guy again later if things kept on as they were, and wouldn’t that be a pinch in the damned checkbook?

  He dialed and waited. Three rings later a Southern voice drawled, “Hello, Doctor, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “I have a job for you.”

  “One would assume. And?”

  “And I’ll make it worth your while if you hurry. Like yesterday.”

  He waited and looked out the large picture window of his office, the predawn sky slowly fading black to blue. Taking a deep breath, he started the story and told the man all the particulars.

  “And when I find her?”

  “She’s become a problem I need . . . taken care of.”

  Silence. “Well, I assumed. People don’t call me to discuss the weather. How quickly do you want this finished?”

  “The sooner the better. Today.”

  “Give me her name.”

  “Ella. Ella Ferguson. Or Kinncaid. And she’s involved with a Quinlan Kinncaid of the D.C. area. Family owns hotels or some such. She’s currently in University Medical in Albuquerque.”

  “That ought to be easy enough. I’ll call you.”

  “Soon,” he blurted. “The sooner the better.”

  “As soon as I know something.” The phone clicked in his ear.

  He blew out a breath and leaned back, her image filling his computer screen. If they were lucky, all would be over soon.

  Pity though.

  She was a beautiful woman. Pregnant or not, he’d rather liked watching her give her yoga classes. He looked to the door. It was time to make a few adjustments to things before the cops showed up and shut them down completely, because that was coming as soon as the next sunrise. He was surprised they hadn’t already tried to shut the whole operation down, but it was coming. Then again, he hadn’t been answering his phone. Perhaps he should get rid of it in the next day or so.

  He rubbed a hand over his face. Had it all just happened yesterday? This had been a long damned weekend. At least the timing was working to their advantage, gave him a bit of time to get things in order.

  He had the buyer already, had the baby, who seemed healthy enough, and now . . .

  Now he had loose ends to snip.

  Part III: Reckoning

  Chapter 22

  University Medical Hospital, Sunday morning

  Quinlan stood outside her room on the third floor. Everyone else was scattered about the waiting room down the hallway. Ian and Rori were arguing when he’d left. John Brasher, who’d showed up at some point with Aiden, was somewhere, and there was the Jareaux guy from the FBI who wanted to talk to him, or to Ella. He’d told him what he could, which was damned little. Why didn’t the feds talk? He’d already talked to an Agent Sabino, who had only left sometime earlier saying she’d be back. He was okay with Sabino, she seemed to get it all. She questioned, pushed a bit, but seemed to get he didn’t know much.

  Jareaux though. That man was pushy with his questions and just annoyed him. The man had kept staring at him—why, Quin had yet to figure out—until he needed air, and he didn’t like to leave Ella for more than a few minutes.

  Aiden stood beside him. His other brothers, Gavin and Brayden, had stayed home—thank God. He just couldn’t deal with all of them right now, well-meaning though they were.

  “You okay?” Aiden asked.

  Everyone had been asking that and honestly he had no answers. His brothers wanted to know where she’d been and why he hadn’t known about the baby, and his sisters, or sisters-in-law, simply told him to be there for her. His mother was pissed she hadn’t known
he was even married; Pops hadn’t said a word other than, “You’ll know what to do.”

  Really? Because he really didn’t think he would, and yet it was the sanest advice he’d been given.

  Below, the hospital was a bustle of activity. Carts wheeled, speaker announcements bulleted out, shoes squeaked across the easily mopped floors of the lower-level ER and ICU. But not here. Here women rested in hushed halls. A baby cried behind a door and laughter floated from another.

  They’d moved her earlier today even though she still hadn’t really woken up in the ICU. She’d moved a bit, and he thought she’d tried to say something behind her mask, but other than that, nothing.

  He hadn’t been into this new room yet. They’d just moved her and then the cops and his brothers had shown up.

  The door before him was bare of any blue or pink bows or ribbons. No one laughed within.

  “Hey,” Aiden said, grabbing his shoulder. “You’re not alone, you know. This isn’t the crap from the last year or so—where we just give you lots of space. We’re all here for you and whether you want us or not, you damned well need us right now. This isn’t just you, Quin.”

  “I know. I know that. I do. But I really don’t think I can take one more piece of advice, one more well-meaning comment. One more . . .” He stopped and bit down. “Aiden. . .” He raked a hand through his hair. “Where the hell is the baby? Where’s my daughter?”

  He knew it was a girl, she’d told him as much on the phone Friday night. The paramedics said it was a girl, and her medical records, though not actually released to him, had shown she’d been pregnant with a baby girl. And it wasn’t due for over three weeks.

  Aiden tilted his head. “Are you sure it would be yours?”

  Quinlan ignored him and walked into the room, almost glad of the quiet hush of the room.

  Was it his?

  His gut and knee-jerk reaction was hell yes. But what did he honestly know of Ella? The timing was right and the Ella he’d known in New Orleans, or thought he’d known, had not been sleeping with someone else.

  She still lay hooked to IVs.

  He limped over to the bed, easing down into the chair beside her.