by Regan Black
He’d barely gotten settled when the front door slammed open and Nicole burst through. Eyes wild, expression panicked, she skidded to a stop when she saw him. “I need your help,” she said, talking too fast, the words tumbling over each other. “It’s Jacob.” She broke down, weeping copiously.
Jacob? A chill scuttled up his spine. Instantly, he put himself in crisis mode. Early on in his ranger training, he’d learned how to separate himself from his emotions in order to function better at the task at hand.
Instead of offering Nicole comfort, he’d find a solution instead. “What happened to Jacob?” he asked, his voice crisp. “Is he sick? Is he hurt? Where is he?”
Something in his matter-of-fact tone must have gotten through to her. She sniffled, and straightened. “Theresa Mabry has him.” She took a deep breath, clearly trying not to strangle on panic. “And she’s told me she’s not giving him back. She says possession is nine-tenths of the law.”
“She’s wrong,” he told her. “She can’t get away with this.” He pulled her close, hoping his matter-of-fact tone would slow her racing heartbeat. “Take a deep breath. I need you to be as calm and rational as possible. Tell me what happened.”
To his relief, she did as he’d asked, though the way she gulped in air told him she still had a long way to go before calmness was anywhere in her radar. “I thought Jacob was with your mom,” he finally prompted.
“He was. I took him over to my mother’s house so she could take him to Grandparents’ Day at the church. I was a little nervous, but I let her. As I told you, it was actually her first attempt at being a real grandmother.” She sniffled. “I was hopeful that maybe things could change between us.”
“Please tell me your mother didn’t do this,” he pleaded. “Tell me she didn’t plan for Theresa to get ahold of our son all along.”
Nicole started shaking her head before he’d even finished speaking. “She didn’t. She’s really upset. She let Theresa hold him while she went to use the restroom. When she came back, Theresa and Jacob were gone.” Her mouth began trembling. “They don’t even have an infant carrier for their car. I got back the one I loaned my mother. What if they were in an accident or something?”
“One thing at a time.” He hugged her close. “Did you call Theresa or go by her house?”
“I called first. That’s when she told me she wasn’t giving him back.” She took a deep, shaky breath. “After that, I drove over there. My mom came with me in her own car. Theresa refused to even answer the door. We knew she was home because her car was in the driveway.”
“Where’s your mother now?”
“I sent her home. She kept saying she didn’t want people to start talking. That’s what she always worries about, how she appears to others. That’s my absolute last concern. Since she wasn’t helping, I simply asked her to leave.”
He could understand that. “What about Dan? Does he know about this?”
“I don’t know.” She pulled out her cell, her hands trembling so badly she nearly dropped it. “Let me call him and see.”
Still holding her tucked under his arm, he waited while she called and listened.
“No answer,” she finally said. “I don’t know what to do.”
“I do. You have no choice but to call the police.”
* * *
“Let me get this straight.” If anything, Sheriff Cantrell seemed unhappier than ever. “You want to file kidnapping charges against your mother-in-law?”
“Yes.” Nicole stood tall, her chin lifted. “She took my son without permission from a church event. I’ve contacted her and she’s refusing to give him back.”
“Oh geez.” Pinching the top of his nose, the sheriff looked down at his desk. He shuffled a few papers around before returning his gaze to meet hers. “He’s her grandson,” he exclaimed. “Have you been keeping her from seeing him or something?”
“What does that matter?” Nicole glared. “I fail to see how any of that has bearing on this issue. They took my son without permission. That’s against the law. Since you are the one charged with keeping the law in this town, I need you to do something about it.”
“Like what?” He glared right back. “What exactly do you propose?”
“Send some armed deputies over there and retrieve him. Do what you have to do—I don’t care. Just get my boy back, unharmed.”
Kyle, who until now had been silent, spoke up. “I don’t understand your reluctance, Sheriff. Would you care to explain?”
The older man heaved a big sigh. “This is a small town. You two know that as well as anyone. Word gets around. How is it going to look if I arrest Theresa Mabry for wanting to see her own grandson? Have you thought about that?”
“How is it going to look?” Repeating his words back to him, Nicole’s volume increased with each syllable. She couldn’t believe how much he sounded like her mother. “I don’t care how it looks. Nor should you. The woman committed a crime.” She pushed to her feet. “Get. My. Son. Back.”
Finally, the sheriff appeared to understand that she meant business. Still, he hesitated. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely positive. I want to press charges.”
“I’ve been working here twenty-seven years,” Cantrell muttered. “I might be new to this position, but I’m not new to this town. I thought I’d seen everything as a deputy. Not once in all that time have I ever dealt with anything as crazy as this.” He pushed up from behind his desk, lumbering past them on his way to the door.
Before leaving, he turned and looked at Nicole and Kyle. “If you two want to come, you’re welcome to ride in the back of my squad car.”
She needed no second urging. Stomach churning, all she could think about was how badly she needed to see her baby and make sure he was all right.
To her surprise, Sheriff Cantrell didn’t enlist any of his deputies for backup. He drove over to the Mabry’s with Nicole and Kyle in the backseat. On the way there, he kept up a steady stream of chatter, most of it revolving around “domestic disputes” and how talking could often resolve family issues.
Preoccupied with worry, Nicole didn’t bother to even try and keep up, never mind respond. When she sighed for the third time, Kyle took her hand and laced his fingers with hers. “It’s going to be all right,” he murmured. “Theresa Mabry won’t hurt Jacob.” She nodded, hoping with all her heart that he was right. Her former mother-in-law had clearly lost her mind. She could only pray that didn’t extend to harming a defenseless infant.
When they pulled up in front of the Mabrys’ house, the sheriff ordered them to wait in the car. Though doing so violated every maternal instinct inside Nicole, she complied. Vibrating with tension, she watched as he walked up to the front porch and rang the doorbell. Nothing happened. The door remained closed.
“She’s not going to open it,” she told Kyle.
He squeezed her hand. “Wait and see. Surely she’ll see reason.”
The sheriff waited another moment and rang it again, with the same nonresult. He turned and faced the squad car and shrugged. Shrugged!
“He’d better not be thinking of giving up.” Nicole started to push up out of the backseat but Kyle pulled her back down.
“Wait,” he said. “Give him another minute.”
But instead, the sheriff returned to the squad car. “She won’t answer the door. Guess I’m going to have to get a search warrant.”
“Seriously?” Nicole protested. “I can’t believe this.”
“Maybe you could try calling her,” Kyle suggested. “She might be more amenable to listening to reason from you.”
Sheriff Cantrell looked from him to Nicole and then back again. He sighed. “Damned if I know what Theresa Mabry is thinking. Must be her grief talking. She knows she can’t just go around taking home other people’s babies without permission, even if this one is her grandson.�
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“Call her,” Kyle urged again.
Frowning, the sheriff finally agreed. “It’s worth a shot,” he said, pulling out his phone and going through his contacts. “I’ve got her in here somewhere.”
It didn’t surprise Nicole one bit that he had Theresa Mabry’s number since he attended the same church. The church considered themselves all one big family.
Apparently, Theresa answered. “I’ve got the boy’s mother in the car with me,” he told her. “You need to open the door and give her back her son.”
And then he listened. And listened. Though she couldn’t make out all the words, Nicole could hear enough to realize Theresa had unleashed a torrent of invectives at him.
To his credit, he didn’t interrupt, just waited until she apparently finished. “Nicole has informed me she will press charges,” he finally said. “Since she wishes to do so, I will be getting a search warrant. If you choose not to hand the baby over peacefully, we will enter your home and remove him forcibly. And you will be arrested. Is that what you want?”
Again the sheriff listened, this time only briefly. He turned to Nicole. “If she releases Jacob to you right now without a fight, will you drop all charges?”
“Yes.” Nicole didn’t even have to think. “All I want is my baby back.”
He relayed this information to Theresa. “Sounds good,” he finally said, and ended the call. “Come on. Let’s go and get your boy.”
When Kyle also got out, Sheriff Cantrell stopped him with a hard look. “Son, I think it’s best if you wait out here.”
“No,” Nicole countered immediately. “I want him with me for support.”
With Kyle at her side, she followed Sheriff Cantrell back up the steps to the front door. Theresa opened the door before they reached it. She held Jacob in her arms.
“Here,” she said, passing him over. “I bought some diapers and changed him, but he wouldn’t take the bottle of formula I tried to give him.”
Accepting her son, Nicole breathed in his precious baby scent. “He’s still being breastfed,” she managed, blinking back tears. “I don’t understand how you could do this, Theresa. I’ve lost so much these past few days. Why would you want to take my son away too?”
The older woman looked at her, really looked. Her haughty, remote expression crumbled. “Jacob is all I have left of my son,” she said. “Please don’t take him from me too.”
Nicole stared. “Theresa, ever since Bill died, you’ve done nothing but treat me like dirt. You’ve accused me of everything under the sun. Now you try to steal my child?”
Nicole shook her head. “You know what? This has been a hard time for me too. I could have used your support. You’re lucky I agreed not to press charges.”
With that, she turned and walked back to the patrol car. Kyle followed her. The sheriff lingered a moment or two, talking to Theresa, before he joined them.
“I think she’s really sorry,” he said, starting the engine. “Maybe you were a little harsh on her?”
“Or maybe not,” Nicole responded. “You have no idea how awful she’s been to me. And really, this is none of your business.” If Theresa really wanted to mend fences, Nicole would try. But it wasn’t going to be easy and it would take some time.
Once Sheriff Cantrell had dropped them off at Kyle’s house and they’d gone inside, Kyle sighed. “Are you ever going to tell her Jacob isn’t Bill’s son?”
Stricken, she swallowed as she placed Jacob in his play yard. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Not only would that be one more missile in her arsenal against me, but I kind of hate to take that last connection away from her.”
“She’s been awful to you.”
“I know. And I hate that. Before she lost her son, she treated me okay. She wasn’t ever really warm, but she was civil. Maybe the grief made her act so crazy.”
Jaw tight, he studied her. “I have to say, I’m not cool with the idea of continuing to let everyone believe Jacob is Bill’s son. He’s mine.”
Again, unwanted tears welled up in her eyes. “You’re willing to publicly claim him?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
She looked down, taking a necessary moment to get her emotions back under control. “There will be a lot of fallout, you know. My mother will be livid. The Mabrys will be shattered.”
When she raised her gaze, she found him watching her. “What about you?” he asked, his voice soft. “What do you want?”
“I’m tired of lying. I want everyone to know the truth. It’s what I’ll tell my—our—son when he’s old enough to want to know. I don’t want him pining after a man who was never a father to him, biologically or emotionally.” She wiped the back of her hand across her eyes.
“Thank you.” The gruffness of his tone spoke to his own deep emotional reaction. “Jacob is all I have. My only blood relation, my family. I’m glad you’re not willing to ask me to give that connection up.”
Startled, she frowned. “I’d never ask that of you. I’m not willing to deprive my son of his father. But I would like to wait a little bit before we announce this. There’s too much already going on.”
“Agreed.” From across the room, he met and held her gaze. “I do need to ask you though if you’ve given any thought to what you want to happen to Jacob in the event you’re hurt or killed.”
A quick flash of pain ripped through her. How easily he said those awful words. Dying before she’d raised Jacob, leaving him without a mother, would be her worst nightmare.
“Not that I plan on letting anything happen to you,” Kyle continued. “I’ll protect you with my own life, if need be.”
Startled she eyed him. Her unspoken question must have shown in her gaze because he continued, answering it without her ever having to ask.
“Because you’re the mother of my son,” he said. “No one can take that away from you. Whatever happens between us, that will never change.”
Though it wasn’t exactly what she’d secretly hoped to hear, for now it would have to be enough.
“And no matter what the Mabrys or your parents’ church will think, the fact remains that I am Jacob’s father. No one can take that away from me either.”
Unless she allowed it. Which she had, so far. Even now, with her entire life in such upheaval, she still hesitated to rock the boat any further.
But as she considered, she realized Kyle had a point. If she were to die right this instant, the Mabrys would gain custody of Jacob, believing him to be their own grandson. Kyle would have to go to court, force a DNA test, and more, all to try to regain custody of his own child. After all he’d been through in service of his country, he didn’t deserve that.
“You’re right,” she admitted. “With all that’s going on, I need to make sure no one could separate you and Jacob. I’ll write out instructions and have them notarized immediately. Since you’re listed as his father on the birth certificate, that should be enough. As for publicly…” She paused.
Expression impassive, he waited.
“This Sunday, I’ll make an announcement at my parents’ church. The Mabrys will be in attendance. After that, you know how fast news will spread in this town.”
“While I like that idea,” he said slowly, “I’m thinking the note will be enough for right now. I don’t want to goad whoever set your house on fire and shot at us. Let’s keep a lid on this until that person or people are caught.”
And then, while she mulled this over, he crossed the room, hauled her up against him and kissed her.
CHAPTER 12
As his mouth covered hers, Nicole let herself melt into the kiss. She needed this—feeling, rather than thinking, desire instead of worry and fear. She needed him. She always needed him.
He tangled his hands in her hair, keeping her close.
A sound escaped her, something between a
moan and a plea. He pushed his body against her, hard and muscular and fully aroused. Of course her body responded instantly.
“Kyle.” Clutching at him, she tried to get him closer. But there were clothes in between them, and the best she could do was press herself into him.
And then he moved away and turned his back to her, his harsh breathing and the rigid line of his back a testament to how hard he worked to get himself under control.
Aroused and confused, she put her fist against her mouth, trying to make sense of his actions.
“I’m sorry,” he finally rasped. “I promised this wouldn’t happen again.”
She gathered up her courage. “What if I want it to?”
Slowly, he turned the face her. The tormented look in his eyes caused her heart to break. “It won’t work, Nicole.”
“Why not?” she challenged him. “Sometimes, there are things worth fighting for. We can find our way back to where we were. There’s even more reason to try now, with Jacob. We can be a family finally, Kyle. I know it.”
“Find our way back?” he repeated, his tone incredulous. “You have no idea what happened to me, do you?”
“Of course I do. You’ve been through hell. You have PTSD—”
“I don’t,” he snarled, interrupting her. “I’m a ranger. We don’t get PTSD.”
His vehement denial felt like her heart had been torn in two. “Maybe not,” she said. “But you can’t deny you have some issues. There is help out there, if you’ll just reach out for it. Let them help you, let me help you. Heck, let Gus help you. I read an article about how dogs can be trained to assist with PTSD. Maybe you could train him.”
When she finished her rush of words, he simply stared at her, his expression as hard as his gaze.
“I don’t need help,” he insisted. “I’ll find my own damn way back. Sua Sponte.” And he turned and left the room. After a moment, Gus heaved himself up from his spot on the rug and followed him.
With her body still throbbing, she took a seat at the kitchen table and tried to think. Her heart ached for him, and she wished he would at least let her try to help him.
