by Lisa Jackson
“So you’re alone?” she asked, her heart squeezing. Trust him, just once more, for God’s sake, Kate, you love him!
“Yeah.”
“Why do I get the feeling that you like it that way?”
“’Cause I did,” he admitted, his words gruff. “Then I met you and it changed everything.”
Nervously she licked her lips and his jaw grew hard as granite. “But not enough to tell the truth.”
“I couldn’t.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, blocking out the vision of his rough-hewn face. Staring into his night-shadowed eyes, the lamplight and snow swirling around them, she almost gave in to the wayward wishes of her heart.
“Kate,” he whispered roughly as his strong arms circled her, drawing her close. His breath feathered across her hair. “Don’t you know that I love you?”
“No, Daegan, don’t,” she said firmly.
“But I do and I will forever, but I won’t ask twice. Marry me, Kate. Say you’ll be my wife.” His lips found hers then and she fought the sobs building in her throat. Warm and solid, his body seemed to shield her from the elements, and she was lost in a swirl of emotions that ripped at her soul and stole all denial from her mind.
Love him, just love him, her willful heart pleaded. You’ll never find a love like this again.
Never trust him again, her mind insisted. He’ll only lie to you and hurt your son.
“I—I can’t do this,” she cried, pushing away from him. “Please, Daegan, understand.”
He stood for a second under the blue light of the streetlamp, and in that instant she witnessed a change in him, the stiffening of his spine, the squaring of broad shoulders, the pride in the jut of his chin, the sudden condemning censure in his gaze, and most of all, the hardening of his heart.
“Never,” he said.
“But Jon—”
“He knows where to find me. It’s up to you whether I see him again.” A tic moved a muscle in his jaw. He shoved his hands deep in his pockets and started walking away. Wrapping her arms around her middle to ward off the emptiness in her soul, she heard his voice. “And if you don’t want to see me, I won’t bother you again, Kate,” he vowed, not even glancing over his shoulder as she crumbled inside. “Never again.”
“If I ever hear of you going near that boy or sending anyone else, I’ll personally come down here and pay you back tenfold,” Daegan promised, his voice filled with malice. His eyes were bright with hatred as he stood on the other side of the threshold, his fists clenched, his face set in harsh determination. Snow swirled around him, and the fury radiating from him was nearly palpable.
Alicia swallowed hard and thought of Wade, her precious son. She couldn’t believe that Daegan would actually hurt him, but then again, what did she know about the bastard? How ruthless was O’Rourke? How much did he care about his own illegitimate son? The man could be a raving maniac, a savage for all she knew.
“I was just…just protecting Wade’s interests.”
“By trying to kill his cousin,” Daegan said in a voice of deadly calm. But that serenity was belied by the tic beneath his eye and the cords bulging in his neck. Grudgingly she realized that he was a handsome man, a ruthless man, and a man who should never be crossed. Not that she would lay a finger on Jon Summers now. The idiot didn’t want to be a part of the Sullivan dynasty, and Robert had given up playing mentor to the little bastard, what with the detectives swarming around the entire Sullivan family, sniffing out facts on the boy’s kidnapping and even digging back to Stuart’s death eons ago.
It was all a tangled, sordid mess, one which Alicia had fended off with flat denials. No, she didn’t know a Neils VanHorn. No, she’d never had contact with the man. (Thank God she’d met him in anonymous bars!) Did she ever offer him money to kill Jon Summers? Well, that was just laughable! Ludicrous. Preposterous.
“Mommy?” Wade’s voice called from the top of the stairs. She glanced over her shoulder and saw his precious face peering through the rails. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes, honey, it’s…it’s fine. You just go on back to your room and I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Who’s he?” Wade asked, his gaze trained on Daegan.
The devil, Alicia thought, rising straight from the depths of hell! “He’s…he just stopped by to give Mommy some advice and wish her a happy holiday.”
“Happy holidays,” Daegan mocked.
Satisfied, Wade shrugged and headed back to his bedroom.
“You stay away from my boy,” she hissed, cold, angry fear burning in her heart.
Daegan’s laugh was brutal. “I don’t want anything to do with him, but you keep away from Jon, because if anything happens to Jon, anything, I swear, Alicia, you’ll wish you’d never been born.”
He glanced up at the empty hallway. “Wade’s got nothing to fear from me, but you do, sister, you do. Remember that.”
“Oh, don’t be so damned dramatic,” Alicia said. “The only reason I was interested in Jon Summers was because Robert wanted to make him an heir. Now with that bit of insanity over, I could care less about your precious bastard.”
“Then we’re on the same page,” Daegan said. He turned away, calling over his shoulders, “And Happy New Year.”
A breath of cold air danced into the room and Alicia slammed the door shut, blocking out the image of his deadly face, the silent accusations in his eyes. Trembling, she leaned against the door and caught her breath. Didn’t anyone understand? Didn’t they know that she only did what she did for her darling son?
“Honey,” she called, her voice shaking as she mounted the stairs. She was at the landing when she heard the garage door go up.
Daegan! Oh, God, he’d changed his mind and was back. She ran down the stairs, nearly stumbling, kicking off one of her high heels. Sprinting through the kitchen, she grabbed the first weapon she saw, a fillet knife from the rack, and stood poised, ready to do damage when the door opened and Bryan entered.
“Oh,” she said, “I didn’t know it was you, I—”
Her husband stopped dead in his tracks, keys and briefcase in his hand, the shoulders of his wool coat dusted with snow. “I just got a call from our attorney,” Bryan said, licking his lips nervously, “and I didn’t understand all of it, but he was very concerned. There was something about you facing charges for conspiracy or kidnapping or something.”
“No—nothing’s been filed. It’s all a big mistake.”
“But you called him?”
“What I told him was in confidence.”
“I’m your husband, Alicia, or have you forgotten?” Bryan asked, his lips folded in on themselves.
“No, Bry, I think you’re the one who forgot.” Tears filled her eyes. “A long time ago.”
Grumbling under his breath, Jon tossed another log onto the fire and didn’t even manage a smile as the flames licked and crackled against the pitch and moss.
Their Christmas tree, a small pine, was decorated, lights shining merrily with frosty bulbs of blue, yellow, red, and green, and several packages with bright ribbons were scattered underneath.
Christmas Eve and they seemed so alone, so apart from the world. If only Laura and Jeremy had decided to visit, Kate thought as she poured Jon and her each an eggnog. Since she had no parents and was estranged from her aunt and uncle and Jon’s family…well, she hadn’t heard from the Sullivans since returning from Boston. Just today, on Christmas Eve, her attorney had called and said the new documents were on their way; it would take time for all the adoption paperwork to be complete, but it looked like smooth sailing.
“Here you go,” she said, handing Jon a glass cup of the frothy eggnog.
“Any booze in it?” he asked.
“Oh, right, I added three shots,” she teased.
“But I’m almost—”
“Still far away from being legal,” she said. He took the cup but she noticed his restlessness, knew something was bothering him, and could guess what it was. Hadn’t sh
e felt the same pangs of despair for the last couple of days? It was Daegan or the lack of him that had changed the tenor of her days, even though Kate knew that he was still just a field away, through the trees and across the snowy landscape to Eli’s old cabin. Her throat grew thick with a lump she couldn’t swallow, and she noticed Jon staring out the window that faced the McIntyre acres.
It’s better this way, she told herself though she hadn’t seen or heard from her neighbor ever since flying home from Boston. She knew he was there—she had spied his rattletrap of a truck and the horses—but he was probably getting ready to move. The word in town was that the McIntyre place was still for sale and Eli’s heirs would be satisfied with another tenant if they couldn’t find a buyer.
“Come on, a toast, on Christmas Eve,” she said, clicking the rim of her cup to his. “May all your Christmas wishes come true.”
He scowled and didn’t meet her eyes, just stared into his cup as if reading tea leaves in the thick opaque depths. Eventually, he took a long sip. “Christmas wishes are for little kids.”
“Something’s bothering you,” Kate finally said, deciding that it was time to face whatever was troubling him head-on, even though she inwardly guessed at his answer. Her fingers tightened around her cup as Jon finished his drink and paced from one room to the other. Houndog, his fur less patchy, tagged after him, a tennis ball in his mouth, his tail wagging as if he hoped Jon would finally get some brains and play fetch.
“Just a feeling.”
“You had a nightmare last night.”
He slid a glance in her direction and frowned. “Yeah.”
“About?”
“Todd.”
“I thought he was expelled.” Kate didn’t believe Jon’s restlessness had to do with the Neider boy. No, she knew the real reason, the same reason she couldn’t sleep at night.
“He was, but he’s still in town,” Jon said, rubbing the back of his neck in agitation. He set his cup on the mantel and kicked at another tennis ball. Houndog scampered frantically to the other end of the house, finally catching the ball under the dining room table.
“Has Todd been bothering you again?” she asked, since Jon had been on vacation for a couple of days already.
“Nah, not really.” Jon flopped onto the couch and picked up an old Christmas catalog. “I was just thinking that maybe we should have Daegan over. It’s Christmas and he’s all alone; he’s just got a bunch of creeps for relatives and…well, I don’t know.” Nervously he bit at the stubs of his fingernails.
She set her cup on a nearby table. “Do you want him to come over because he’s your father?” she asked, paralyzed inside. What if Jon decided at some point that he wanted to live with Daegan, to experience having a father, to do some of that all-so-important male bonding? She swallowed hard.
“I just like him. That’s all. And I don’t see why just because you two had a fight, I can’t see him.”
“I know but—”
“Isn’t Christmas a time of forgiving, of looking out for others, of…of loving thy neighbor and all that?”
“Yes,” she admitted.
“So?”
“It’s more complicated than that,” she said, feeling her son’s eyes following her every move as she warmed the backs of her legs against the fire in hopes of chasing a deep chill that had settled in her bones.
“It’s only as complicated as you make it.”
“Look, I don’t want to argue about this—”
The phone rang and Kate’s heart nearly stopped. She couldn’t help thinking it was Daegan, but when Jon answered and his voice lowered so that she couldn’t hear, she decided he was talking to Jennifer as he did nearly every night. She smiled to herself and experienced a wave of relief that she didn’t have to deal with Daegan O’Rourke.
At fifteen, Jon was suffering the highs and lows of first love. There was even a present from Jennifer under the tree and Jon had spent all his money on a pair of earrings that he’d found in Boston before they’d returned.
She walked to the window and pulled back the curtain. Maybe Jon was right; maybe Christmas was a time for forgiving. Biting down on her lip, she silently argued with herself and thought of her private Christmas wish, an impossible request really, that she and Daegan and Jon could be a family, a loving, decent, normal family.
“Don’t be silly,” she told herself, her breath fogging on the windowpane. “There’s nothing even remotely normal about anyone related to the Sullivans. And Daegan can’t be tied down. Be glad it’s over.”
Kate’s hair fanned around her face and her whiskey gold eyes looked up at him with love and laughter. “Again?” she teased, her body naked and rosy in afterglow, her breasts already taut, the nipples dark and inviting.
“I just can’t stop.” He was apologizing again, as he always did when he was with her. It was so hard to believe that she was finally his…
“I wouldn’t want you to.”
Her fingers linked with his and she pulled his hand forward to press it against her breastbone so that he could feel her heart beat, hear the steady thud, thud, thud…
“Daegan!”
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Daegan’s eyes flew open and he blinked.
“Daegan, help me.” Kate’s voice, anxious and loud, echoed through the old house.
“Coming,” he yelled, rolling off the bed and feeling his erection—still stiff as marble with his erotic dream. “Damn it,” he grumbled, stepping into boxers and jeans and snapping the fly as he hurried to the front door, and hit one light switch with his elbow.
She stood on the porch, bundled in layers, her face peeking from beneath the hood of a red parka. Her eyes were dark and round and in one gloved hand she held a flashlight, its beam directed at the old floorboards. “It’s Jon,” she said as he kicked open the screen door and let her inside. Her face was tight with worry.
Fear clawed at his heart. “What about him?”
“He’s missing, I thought maybe…” She let her voice trail off as she saw the boxes stacked in the corners, the evidence of his moving. “Maybe he would’ve come over here. He said something about seeing you earlier and I followed tracks leading this way…”
“He’s not here,” Daegan said, grabbing a flannel shirt from the back of his couch. He found socks and boots, then donned his jacket and hat. “We’ll find him.”
“Oh, God, I hope so.”
Without a thought, he grabbed her, held her close, stared down into her worried eyes, and said, “I’ll find him, Kate. You can count on it.” Then he let her go and was out the back door and whistling for Roscoe.
Footsteps and hoofprints led from the barn. “Damn it all,” he growled, staring at the evidence. “He’s taken Buckshot.”
“But where?”
“We’ll find out,” Daegan insisted as he snapped on the lights in the barn. Loco, whinnying in protest, blinked under the harsh single bulb. “Have you called the police?”
“No, I thought, I mean I was sure he was over here. I followed the tracks and then your house was dark and—” Her voice failed her.
Desperation stilled her lungs as they hurried back to the house, where Daegan called the sheriff.
“I’ll do what I can,” Swanson told Kate once Daegan had connected with him and handed her the receiver. “But it’s Christmas Eve and we’re short a few hands. I’ll put out an APB, but I can’t promise anything.”
Kate hung up. Her entire body shook and her imagination ran in horrifying circles. “They won’t do much.”
“Don’t really need ’em. Come on.”
She was still stunned from finding Houndog whining outside her door and investigating to discover Jon missing, his window open, the butt of a fresh cigarette ground into the snow of a gutter. She’d found his tracks and had assumed that he’d decided to visit his father himself, not wait for her approval, just take the bull by the horns and show up on O’Rourke’s doorstep. But he hadn’t. Instead he’d stolen a horse in the mid
dle of the night. Why? she wondered. Why? Why? Why?
“We’ll take the truck,” Daegan said, “for as far as it will make it. After that, it’s snowshoes.”
“Oh, God.” Where could he be? Where?
“Here.” He tossed her the keys. “Start the pickup and warm it up. I’ll get some supplies.”
“Supplies?” she whispered.
“Just in case.”
She didn’t ask in case of what and did as she was told, fighting sheer terror as she saw him toss two pairs of snowshoes, a couple lengths of rope, a pick, an axe, a first aid kit, a tarp, a lantern, blankets, and flares into the back of the truck.
“Better safe than sorry.” With a little effort he put the truck into four-wheel drive, slid behind the steering column, and followed the horse’s tracks through a field adjoining her house to the government property beyond. An old logging road, that had originally been used during the gold rush days, cut through the sparse jack and lodge pines dotting the hillside. The night scape seemed eerily serene. Much too quiet.
Grateful for the moonlight that aided the beams of the headlights, Kate stared out the windshield and silently prayed that Jon was safe.
“Why would he do this?” Daegan wondered, casting a glance in her direction.
“I wish I knew.”
“You two have a fight?”
She fingered the disintegrating upholstery on the door. “Not really…but, well, as I said, he wanted you to come over tomorrow for Christmas.”
“And you didn’t,” he guessed, his voice edged with bitterness.
“I don’t know what I want,” she admitted, biting her lower lip. “Funny, isn’t it? A few months ago I could tell anyone who asked exactly what I wanted out of life, what I expected, and then…then you came into town, into my life and now…now I can’t even figure out what it is I need in life.” Sighing, she kept her gaze trained on the underbrush looking for something, anything that would help. “Right now all I care about is Jon.”
“That makes two of us.” The road was narrow and treacherous, winding along the side of a steep cliff, cutting ever downward toward the river. “Look,” he said. “Footsteps joined him.”
