The Deadly Series Boxed Set

by Jaycee Clark

  “We get killed.” He brushed his finger down her nose. “You do know we are retired?”

  “Said the pot to the kettle,” she said, leaning up to kiss him. “Go make nice with Quin so he’ll listen to you next time. I’m going to start digging more into Jareaux’s background. I don’t know as I trust his colleagues to fully vet him now, or punish him either.”

  He laughed. “Already on it, love.”

  “Figured.” They walked back into the living room. Quin was helping Ella into a coat that someone had gotten for her. The bright blue jacket did nothing to help her pale complexion.

  “Aiden called because others called to warn him,” he said, pulling Quin to the side.

  “Why? About what?”

  “Mom and Pops are on their way. Will be here later today.”

  Quinlan grimaced and glanced to Ella, who waited by the door. “Great. I’ll tell her. Get them another room though. I love ’em, but I can’t handle them right now and all the questions and what all not.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” Ian shifted. “I’m sorry I upset you earlier, Quin. That wasn’t my intention.”

  “No? You accomplished it anyway.” His brother’s green eyes blazed at him as they had all morning. He knew Quin trusted him, or had.

  “Look, we need her help. She needed a nudge to stop blaming herself.”

  “There’s a difference between a nudge and a shove.”

  Kid was right. He nodded at him. “For what it’s worth, I apologize for my methods.”

  “Can we all stop with the never-ending apologies?” Ella asked. “You’re making me go to the doctor,” she said to Quin. “I don’t want to go, but I’m going, so let’s go already. I’m fine. Stop being mad at him. I’m sure he’s pissed everyone off at least once.”

  “Usually twice a day,” Rori quipped from beside him. “For the most part, though, he’s great.”

  “Rori’s going to head home, as well,” Ian told them. “Kids are getting restless.”

  Ella frowned. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize . . .”

  “No worries, love,” Rori told her. “When a Kinncaid’s in trouble, the family descends.”

  “But I’m . . .” Ella’s words faded.

  “Glad you didn’t finish that, or my mad would have switched from Ian to you really quickly,” Quin said. “Ready?”

  “No, wait.” She tilted her head and studied Rori, her eyes narrowed. “I admit, I’ve been out of it, and I haven’t seen you much. You’re quiet. But I think I know your voice, you’re the woman on the phone. Quin’s phone. Why did you . . . but I heard . . .” She looked from one to the other.

  “Oh, not what you think,” Rori said.

  “Yeah, about my phone,” Quin said, his eyes narrowing on the two of them. “Care to explain that?”

  “That was me getting back at your husband,” Rori explained. “A joke really. I am sorry. If I’d been a bit more . . . well, if I’d given you the time of day, as it were, we might not be here now. Or if I’d just answered it and passed the phone on like a normal person.” Rori shifted. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry.”

  Ella took a deep breath. “It doesn’t matter, does it? Bless your heart.”

  Rori laughed outright. “I like you. You say the nicest thing, yet it sounds so ‘fuck you.’”

  Ella ignored that, knowing Rori was right. She looked at Quin. “At least you weren’t actually screwing someone.”

  Quinlan jerked. “Wait, you mean . . . you thought . . .”

  “Let’s go,” she told him, and to Rori, “Thanks for all your help here. Seriously. You ready, Quin?”

  “No, but let’s go. Apparently we have a few other things to discuss, like what loyalty means. Vows, that sort of thing.”

  Ella sighed and pulled her jacket to her. She was always cold. They walked through the hotel’s corridors and down through the lobby. The sunlight was brighter than she’d been expecting.

  “Here.” Quin stopped her and pulled a pair of shades from his pocket. “Forgot to give you these.”

  “Do you know where we are going?” she asked him.

  “Rental has GPS. We’ll get there just fine,” he said, settling the shades on her face and tucking her hair behind her ears. “I can’t get over your hair,” he muttered.

  “Huh?”

  “Your hair. I picture you the way I remember you. Wild, funky hair, either pale blue or purple. This dull dark brown with hints of red just isn’t you to me.” He frowned. “Sorry, it’s your hair. If you like it plain, I’ll get used to it. And either way, you’re still beautiful.”

  She laughed, surprising herself, and grinned at him. “My hair? You miss my blue hair?”

  “With the pink tips, or purple.”

  She shook her head and looked around. “Well, maybe we can stop on the way home and I can take care of that. I’d planned to go pink for the baby.”

  He sighed again and raked a hand through his hair. “Look, I thought about not telling you, but I don’t think you’d want any surprises right now, but please don’t freak.”

  She stilled, felt her muscles tightening.

  Mr. Brasher was leaning against the car. Quin stopped. “I can get her to the hospital, thank you,” he told the man, a slight edge to his voice.

  Mr. Brasher shrugged.

  “Why are you here?”

  “I was asked,” he only said.

  “My wife and I want some time alone,” he said, opening the passenger door of the silver SUV and helping her in. “Tell my brother we don’t need a babysitter.”

  Mr. Brasher looked from one to the other. “That’s what I told him you’d say. See ya.” They watched him stride across the parking lot and back into the hotel.

  Quin drove like he did everything else, confident and alert. When they stopped at a red light she asked, “What do you have to tell me?”

  “Oh, sorry. My parents are flying in today. They’ll probably be there when we get back from the hospital.”

  “What? You just now mention this?” Oh my God. She looked down at the clothes she was wearing.

  He reached over and laced their fingers. “They’ll love you.”

  “Oh, sure. I broke their baby boy’s heart after I married him in Vegas after we only knew each other for a couple of days. Then I don’t tell him I’m pregnant, and on top of all that someone took the baby. I’m sure they’ll just love my ass. At least my hair isn’t pink,” she muttered. “When are they going to be here?”

  He squeezed her hand and rubbed his thumb over the outside of hers. “Later today. Not sure what time. They wanted to come out much earlier, but I asked them to wait until we knew what all was going on.”

  “They are not going to approve of me.”

  He cut her a look from the corner of his eyes. “They don’t have to approve of you. You’re my wife. That’s all that matters.” He brought their joined hands up and kissed her knuckles. “You’re worrying too much about them. They’ll be fine. Granted, they may wonder and they’ll probably think we’re both stupid for walking away from a marriage. My parents are one of those solidly old-fashioned couples who believe in lifelong marriages, as long as everyone is happy and safe. But they also think you can work together and become happier.”

  “Really?”

  “Really, not that they’ve ever said as much, that’s just who they are. They don’t think anyone should marry lightly.”

  “Mark against me there.”

  He shook his head. “Stop looking at faults. It’ll all be fine. They’ll all be so pissed I didn’t say anything that it’ll eclipse any wrong you could have done.”

  “Oh, you mean like not telling you you were going to be a father?” She raised her brow at him. “Uh-huh. Right. Bless your heart, you just keep telling yourself that.”

  He pulled into the parking lot of the hospital and found them a parking spot pretty close to the main doors. “I would drop you off, but I don’t want you waiting alone.”

  “This is f
ine.”

  She started to reach for the door handle, but his hand on hers stopped her.

  “Ella. My parents are . . . involved in their sons’ lives, but only to a point. All of us have married where we wanted to, who we wanted to, when we wanted to. Mom’s just bent because all the weddings were either rushed or hushed, as she said, and she never got to plan a big wedding.”

  “I don’t even remember our wedding,” she said. “Not really. I remember an Elvis. Which reminds me, what the hell did we drink?”

  He thought back and remembered the bright green liquor in Vegas. “Absinthe, maybe. I think. I don’t know. I only know I haven’t drank since then.”

  “Me either. Well, the wine we had at the house in New Orleans, but that’s it.”

  His gaze held hers. “So no worrying about Mom and Pops. They will be nice to you or they can get back on the damn plane and go home.”

  “Thank you for that, but you can’t send them home. They’re older and trips are harder on them than someone younger. Not to mention that if they raised such wonderful sons, they’d want to be there for one of you if you were in trouble. And this is their grandchild.”

  Her child, her daughter, had grandparents. A whole involved extended family.

  “What?” he asked her.

  “I just realized she has grandparents, and uncles and aunts.” Why had she never thought of that before? Ian had mentioned kids. “Cousins?”

  He smiled at her. “I know. Girl’s gonna be spoiled rotten in no time when we get her back. Which reminds me, what did you name her?”

  She just sat there. Her daughter wasn’t alone. It wasn’t just the two of them.

  “What? What are you thinking, what put that look on your face?”

  “It was just my mom and me growing up, you know? I don’t even know if Mom had siblings, she never said. I know I didn’t have grandparents, or she said I didn’t. I just . . . for the last few months, it’s just been me and the baby. I kept thinking of you too, and it’s always been either the two of us or the three of us in my mind. I never saw beyond that.” She smiled at him. “She has grandparents. And aunts and uncles who will drop everything to help find her.”

  He grinned back, a dimple winking from his right cheek. “Yes, she does. And enough uncles I won’t have to worry about being the only one not letting her date.”

  She laughed. “Feels weird. Good, surprising, but weird too.”

  He leaned over and brushed his lips over her cheek quickly. “Get used to it, babe.”

  Quin climbed out of the car and hurried around the hood, opening her door and helping her out.

  “I hate doctors.”

  “I imagine you do, but I’ll be there with you.”

  Chapter 35

  Albuquerque, Thursday morning

  “Do you think she’s too warm?” his wife asked him yet again.

  DeSaro sighed and set the paper aside. “I don’t know. I told you I didn’t know when you asked me before.”

  “What if something is wrong with her?” she asked him, worrying her bottom lip as she bounced the little bundle in her arms. The baby had cried most of the night.

  He stood, sighing, and wished again he’d researched the agency they’d used a bit deeper.

  The news was filled with the story of the mother found wandering bloody and disoriented, looking for her baby.

  The police and federal agents were looking for the missing baby as well. Luckily his wife had been too busy with the baby to notice the news, or to hear it, or to know that the baby the police were looking for had red hair and was only about a week old.

  He’d kill someone at that agency. It didn’t really matter that the baby was theirs; legally he was looking at a fucking nightmare.

  And he knew Ian Kinncaid had not just called him out of the blue. He still wanted to know how the boy had gotten his private number. He knew Jock, remembered his boys. He had his guard look up the family and had a dossier on the entire clan.

  Granted, Mr. and Mrs. Ian Kinncaid had adopted other children, but no babies. And he ran a high-end security firm.

  Mr. DeSaro would bet the man was here to find that baby. If he was, then why? Had the mother hired him, and if she had, then the woman was better connected than he’d first thought. He wanted to look at the adoption papers again but his wife had them tucked away, and he didn’t want to ask for them and alarm her. He hadn’t really paid attention to the birth parents on the forms. He’d just signed the papers. If memory served there were no parental names other than theirs on the paperwork. It was a closed adoption. So there wouldn’t be a birth mother’s name or father’s name on the paperwork.

  God help anyone who lied to him. He knew that world was not a black-and-white place with readily defined lines. He knew there were varying shades of gray. The fact the damned agency did not return a single phone call he’d made to them, well, that was telling as well, wasn’t it?

  If they sold him someone else’s child, and one not up for legal adoption, he’d make sure they never hurt anyone like that ever again. They wouldn’t have to worry about the feds, or the cops, or the fucking Kinncaids. He’d take care of them himself.

  His wife crooned to the baby and rocked her again. “What if she’s sick, Vincent?”

  She was so worried, already so attached to this baby. They could have just gone home immediately, but something had kept him here.

  He couldn’t tell her, though, what he was already worried about. He couldn’t hurt her that way. She wanted a baby so badly and he’d made certain she’d gotten one.

  The baby was beautiful, there was no arguing that fact. Bright red hair, pale perfect skin. She’d grow into a beautiful girl and woman someday.

  As their daughter.

  He’d always liked and respected the Kinncaids.

  Could he keep their child? What if it were his child or grandchild, as the case could easily be?

  He’d kill anyone who stood in his way of getting the baby back. Hell might be a furious woman, but a man on revenge, well, he knew all about that, didn’t he? Women and their fury was one thing, but a DeSaro wronged was another thing altogether.

  Vincent took the baby from his tired wife and felt the baby’s forehead. She was burning up.

  “How long has she been this hot?” he asked, worry icing through him, shoving thoughts of the Kinncaids and revenge away.

  She sighed and put her hands on her hips. “Since this morning when she woke up. I gave her some Tylenol and the fever went down a bit, but it’s still too high, she’s too hot. Something is wrong. We need to take her to the doctor. I told you this but you just smiled at me like I was being over-worrying or something. I’m not. She’s sick.”

  He thought about what that could mean.

  “Sweetheart, maybe we should head home and have one of our own doctors look at her.”

  She shook her head. “No. No. We need to take her to the doctor here. If she needs something, then she can get it and then we can go home. What if we flew home and something horrible happened, I’d never forgive myself, Vincent.” Tears filled her eyes. “Little Sophia needs a doctor now.”

  Sophia. They’d picked her name out weeks ago when the Nursery contacted them about the baby. Sophia had been his mother’s name.

  He looked down into the tiny red face and her coppery hair. Little ones should be protected. If the Kinncaids couldn’t protect their own, it wasn’t his fault.

  He had no problem protecting his own and little Sophia had definitely become his own.

  “Vincent, she’s sick. She needs a doctor.”

  She was right. He could feel the heat radiating off the small defenseless body even through her onesie and blanket. She didn’t even cry anymore, as if crying for the half hour before had completely worn her out.

  The hospitals, though, would be looking for a newborn like this precious little one. He held her up to his neck, shocked again at how hot she was.

  She wheezed against his neck.

 
“Vincent—”

  “Shh,” he told her, listening again.

  Wheeze. Wheeze. Maybe she was snoring?

  He pulled her away from him, cradling her head and looking into that tiny helpless face. Bright red cheeks. Her mouth was open and she wheezed again.

  What if she couldn’t breathe like she was supposed to be breathing? Didn’t babies sometimes get that breathing disease? R something or other. He hadn’t really ever paid attention, as all his other grown children had been perfectly healthy.

  He swallowed and nodded. “Get her things, and the papers. We’ll take her to the hospital.”

  They left with their guard and headed to the car. He knew, knew this was a bad idea. He should tell his wife what was going on, what he suspected. Worry lined her mouth and eyes. She hadn’t gotten much sleep. He had a feeling she wouldn’t be getting a lot in the days to come.

  Damn that Dr. Merchant. He knew this was all too good to be true.

  • • •

  Almost an hour later, they walked back out the hospital doors. The bright day was still cool and Quinlan made sure she’d zipped up her coat so she wouldn’t get cold.

  He’d checked his phone. Texts from both Ian and Aiden. Their parents were here. Ian was pissed John hadn’t come with them. Too damned bad. Quin wanted time alone with his wife. His overprotective brother could just deal.

  “See, I told you everything was fine,” she told him yet again as he helped her into the car. He quickly slid into the car and merged with traffic while she continued. “This was a waste of time. We should have gone to the house.”

  He didn’t need to ask which house she was talking about. “No.”

  “I might remember something else.”

  He stopped her. “You. Are. Not. Going.”

  Her eyes narrowed on his. “I’m done wallowing. You might not like it, and I will hate it. I’ll probably get sick and throw up, but I’m going. Not to is stupid, cowardly, and could cost our daughter her life. Something is wrong. I know it, Quin. I just know it. I have to help, and if looking at that house will help then I’ll try it.”

  “It’s not going to help with anything other than giving you more nightmares,” he bit out. He didn’t want her anywhere near the damned house.