by Angi Morgan
The television in the far corner of the room was muted. No news bulletins. He hadn’t expected any since the FBI was keeping a tight lid on things. There hadn’t been any Amber Alerts for his kids. Special circumstances, he’d been told.
That part he agreed with. They all knew who had hired the kidnappers. Now they just had to find them.
“I owe you an explanation,” Tracey said softly.
“Not sure I can process anything.” He scrubbed his face with his palms, desperately attempting to lift the haze. His mind screamed at him not to. If it did, he’d have to find a way to save his kids.
Too late. He was thinking again.
He dropped onto the cushions, breathing fully and under control. For the moment.
“I don’t know how to apologize for what happened.” She nervously rubbed her palms up and down her thighs. Gone were the scrubs, replaced by regular clothes.
“Forget that for now. Before the van showed up, I asked why being rich needed to be a secret. Have your family problems put my kids in danger?” He shook his head as if he needed to answer that himself and start over. He didn’t want to blame Tracey, but the words slipped across his tongue before he could shut himself up. “If I wasn’t certain that Tenoreno’s people were behind this... Go ahead—explain to me why I should trust you again.”
Tracey snapped to attention, cleared her throat, then shrugged. “I was raised like every normal millionaire’s kid.”
Josh was too tired to be amused until it hit him that Tracey was serious. She sat on the sofa next to him, knee almost touching his leg, hands twisting the corner of a throw pillow, bodyguard at the door.
“You’re serious.”
“My family’s been wealthy for a couple of generations. West Texas oil fields.”
“Let me guess. You wanted to see how the other half lived so you went to work as a nanny?”
“I understand why you’re mad, but—”
“I’m not sure you do.” Josh burst up from the couch with energy he didn’t realize he had. Pace. Get back under control. “I looked into your bank accounts, Tracey. There wasn’t money there. You drive a crappy car. You’ve lived in the same off-campus apartment for four years. Why? If you have enough money to buy the state of Texas, why are you slumming it?”
“I didn’t lie and I don’t have all the money. My family does. At first, I thought you knew about all this. I told Gwen when she interviewed me who my uncle was. I gave you permission to run a background check. Later, when it was obvious you had no idea about the money, it was nice that you didn’t want a favor or something from my uncle.”
She thought that he’d want something from her family? Second curve... Gwen had kept this from him. He closed his eyes again. The blackness returned along with the thought he had to get moving. He was ready to move past this, leave and find his children. But he had to understand what he was dealing with regarding the bodyguards and Tracey’s family.
“Is Tracey Cassidy your real name?”
“Yes. I legally changed it when I was twenty-one. I just dropped the Bass. Not that anyone actually associated me with the Bass family in Fort Worth.”
He stared at her after she’d thrown two curveballs at him. She was a Bass? As in Bass Hall and the endowments and three of the wealthiest men in Texas?
“Why now? Why have bodyguards come into your life after you’ve lived in Waco for this long without them? I know they haven’t always been hanging around. I think I would have noticed them.”
“My parents divorced when I was six. I went to live with my grandparents. They said it was for my own good. Everyone threw the word stability around a lot back then. It might have been better. I’ll never know. Both my parents remarried, started new families. By then, I was too old and filled with teenage angst.”
He paced until he landed in front of the television screen and the dancing bubbles in the commercial. “Were you hiding from your family?”
“No. My uncle controls the trust fund left to me by my grandfather. With that, he thought it gave him complete control of my life. I decided not to let him dictate who was trailing after me in a bulletproof car, or what I did or when. So I left. I walked away from that life.”
He couldn’t let the bodyguards or Bass family screw things up the next time he received instructions. “Why didn’t Gwen tell me about any of this?”
“I honestly thought she had. Look, Josh, my life changed after I walked away from my uncle. I sold my expensive car and lived on the money for almost a year. I had to keep things simple. I had to find a job. I did that through Gwen. She helped before and after I came to work here.”
“I wanted her to hire a nurse. In fact, we argued about it a lot.” He swallowed hard, pushing the emotion down. “She was right, of course. It was better to have someone she could be... She needed a friend.”
“I told her that—the part about a nurse. But she was insistent that you needed a friend, too. She was a very determined woman.”
“Yeah, she was.”
“I first came here because a secretary in the department wanted to help me make ends meet. I stayed because Gwen asked for my help.”
“Why are you still here? I know about the job offer in Minnesota.”
She stared at him. Her lips parted, a little huff escaping before she pulled herself straight. Back on the edge of the couch she shook her head as if she couldn’t believe what she’d just heard.
“I’ve spoken to the men who work for my uncle. They said they work for him and he’s the only one who can give them new orders.” She ignored his question.
The proverbial elephant was sitting in the middle of the room. Neither of them wanted to talk about her leaving. That’s why he hadn’t discussed the possibility or their accidental kiss.
He had made it a point to work late to avoid talking to her. “I don’t have any control of your life, Tracey.”
“Of course you don’t. I never thought you did.”
“You deserve more.”
“I seriously don’t believe you. After everything we’ve been through—are going through.” She jumped up from the couch. Her sudden movement caught the attention of her guard at the door. He took a look and didn’t react. “More of what, Josh? This is so not the time to be thinking about my future. We have to get the twins back before Jackson crashes or worse.”
“The kidnappers called me.”
“What? Why are we talking about me? Do they want money? I can force my uncle—”
“No. It’s not about you.” He scraped his fingers through his short hair. “It involves you. I mean, I need your help.”
“Anything. I already told you.”
“I think they want you to come and take care of Jackson. If they’d known about your family, they would have taken you this afternoon.”
“I begged them to.”
“It’s dangerous. This is possibly one of the hardest things I’ve ever said, but I don’t think you should.” Damn!
“Why would you even think that? You want me to run to safety while Jackson may be...he might be...”
Control. He needed control. But he wasn’t going to get it by ignoring that Tracey needed comfort. Or by pretending she wasn’t a part of the situation.
She straightened to the beautiful regal posture he’d noticed more than once. “I’ll do it. I’m not hiding. I’d never be able to live with myself.”
He stood, wanting to go to her. To hold her. Take as much comfort as he could, possibly more than he was able to offer her.
“If you said that back at the bridge to hurt me...” she sniffed “...maybe to get me back in some way for messing up the exchange at the bridge...well, it worked. I get it. As soon as Sage and Jackson are okay, I’m leaving for Minnesota.”
“Yeah.” The resignation in his voice was apparent�
��at least to him. But he hadn’t meant it and didn’t want her to go. He needed her.
She walked to the window that opened to the back of the house. Sometime in the hour that he was away, she’d gone by her place and picked up clothes. Now she was in jeans, a long-sleeved gold summer sweater over a black lace top.
The boots Gwen had given her for Christmas years ago were on her feet. He recognized the silver toes. She wore them a lot and every time he thought back to that last gift exchange...
So much about her reminded him of his wife. But the strange thing was he’d actually had a longer relationship with Tracey. God, he was confused. Mixed-up didn’t sit well. He wasn’t a soft or weak guy.
Not being able to concentrate was killing him or would get him killed. What he wouldn’t give for the dependability of his men and a solid plan of action. Give him an hour to be in charge and he should be able to resolve this. But he wasn’t going to be in charge. He had to accept that.
Thinking like this wasn’t helping. Besides, no one could have predicted that Tracey’s uncle would send bodyguards. Or that they’d arrive at exactly that moment.
Whoever was in charge—he stared at the phone still in his possession—a bastard on the other end was dictating the fates of every person he loved.
All he could do was wait.
Tracey sniffed. Her shoulders jerked a little. She was trying to conceal that she was crying. He’d hurt her and been a... Hell, he didn’t want to be a jerk.
“I didn’t mean it,” he said without making a move toward her. “It’s just...everything.”
“I know. Everything has to work out somehow.”
“I need to be doing something.”
“Leave.”
Josh looked up from his pity party about to ask her where she wanted him to go. But she’d directed her command at the bodyguard still at the slightly open door.
“If you don’t leave, I’m going to encourage this...this Texas Ranger to take your head off. Are we clear?” Tracey wrapped her fingers into fists and snapped them to her hips.
With her short hair whipped up like it had just been blown by a big gust of North Texas wind, she almost looked like Peter Pan. Her shapely bottom would never pass for a boy who’d never grown up. But she did look like she was about to do battle.
The bodyguard backed through the door. Tracey took a step forward and slammed it in his face.
“What was that for?”
She spun around and marched across the room. Her battle stance had been switched to face Josh. “No more tears. You think you need action? So do I. What can we do?”
He sputtered a little. The change in her threw him even more off-kilter than he had been. If he’d had any doubts about her, they flew out the window along with the fictional character he’d been envisioning. Tracey was real and very determined.
“When did they contact you?” she asked, hands still on her hips, unwavering.
“How did you—?”
She came in close, taking his hands. “Let’s clear the air and get down to business,” she whispered. “I understand that whatever might have been developing between us is gone.”
Josh wasn’t as certain as her upturned face staring at him seemed to be.
“There’s only one reason you would have come back here,” she continued. “Me.”
He deliberately lifted an eyebrow while he glanced at the closed door and searched for the men who’d been passing in front of the windows.
“The only person I’ve ever worked for is you, Josh Parker. I want to help.” She squeezed his hands.
Clarity returned. Her reassurance seemed genuine when he looked into her eyes. As her strength flowed through her grip, sanity returned.
“Whatever it takes. I mean that.” The catch in her voice made him want to draw her into his arms again.
Yet, there was something else hanging there, left unsaid. “But?”
She dropped his hands. “We get through this without doubting each other again. But afterward, I’m really leaving. You need to know that.”
“I understand.” He didn’t. Then again, he did.
After knowing her for five years. After trusting her with his children. Yeah, he’d turned on her with a pittance of circumstantial evidence. She was hurt, but there was no going back. He’d lost her trust and maybe even her respect.
Tracey squeezed his left hand—the one where he’d recently removed his wedding ring. Had she noticed? No one in his life had said anything if they had. Another slight tug encouraged him to look at her.
“Now tell me, what do those bastards want us to do?”
Chapter Nine
Tracey had free run of the house. She’d publicly insisted that Josh shower and change, claiming he smelled like dogs. Fingers crossed it made the men watching him less aware of her. She had her fingers on the back door...
“Where are you heading, Miss Cassidy?” Agent Lanning strolled to the breakfast bar, looking as cold as the granite he leaned on.
“I just realized that no one fed the horses yesterday evening.” She pointed toward the barn even though it couldn’t be seen from the kitchen.
“I’ll go with you. It’s been a while since I’ve set foot in a barn.” He continued his laid-back attitude and sauntered to the door as if there were no other explanation for her sneaking outside.
He stepped onto the already-dew-soaked grass, paused, lifted the corner of his slacks and tucked them into his boots. “Like I said, it’s been a while, but I’ve done this once or twice.”
Great. Just her luck. He really was going to help her. The bottoms of her jeans would be wet by the time they crossed the yard and opened the gate. The agent who’d sat with her at the hospital stretched his arms wide and waved off the bodyguards who would have followed.
The very men she wanted to follow.
“Did Josh leave in the car or his old truck?”
“I beg your pardon?” She tried to look innocent and knew she’d overacted when George Lanning laughed.
“I may not have kids of my own, but I know what I’d do if they were abducted. And that’s anything. I’ve been through this before with my first partner. Josh came back here for a reason. Has to be that the kidnappers decided they need you to take care of Jackson. So is he leaving using the car or the truck?”
She couldn’t look directly at him, but saw that his shoulders sort of shrugged. Right that minute, she could see the tall lanky cowboy who seemed to be her friend. But she wasn’t easily fooled. Nor was she going to admit she and Josh had planned an escape.
“We’ve told all of you several times now. That’s what the bridge exchange was all about. Or that’s what we assumed. And for the record, Josh completely blames me that it got messed up.” She tilted her head toward one of her uncle’s bodyguards, who followed them across the yard. “I’m not exactly Major Parker’s best friend at the moment.”
“So it would appear.” He waved a gentlemanly hand indicating for her to precede him down the worn path to the barn.
Feeding the horses was a ruse that he’d seen through immediately. She’d had no intention of feeding them at two in the morning, but now she was stuck. At least an extra scoop wouldn’t hurt them. And she wouldn’t be there when Mark Tuttle came in the morning to clean up and take care of them before school.
George only thought he’d caught her trying to get free. He’d know for certain in a couple of hours—along with everyone else.
They walked through the barn door and right on cue, the bodyguard followed. Josh had come up with several ways for them to leave. That is, once he’d focused and told her what the kidnappers wanted.
Something had changed for the men who had abducted the children. It might have been the fiasco at the bridge, but their fear was that Jackson’s condition had worsened.
The faster she got to him, the better.
One thing stood in her way—being confined here at the house. She dipped the scoop into the feed, filling the buckets to carry to each stall. Her hand shook so much that some pieces scattered onto the ground.
“You must be pretty scared.” George leaned against the post near the first horse, closely watching her actions.
“Any normal, caring human being would be.”
“That’s right. So I guess you had to explain your background—or should I call it previous life—to Josh.” He rubbed his stubbled chin.
“Is my life as a rich girl pertinent to getting the children back?”
“Isn’t it?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
He nodded toward the bucket. “The horses only missed one meal, right?”
She’d been intently watching his every move instead of paying attention to what she was doing. The bucket now was overflowing onto the floor, making more cleanup for her. The bodyguard snickered a little at her mistake before he clamped his lips together tight and returned to his stoic expression.
“Let me.”
George picked up the bucket, held his hand out for the scoop, then finished putting the right amount into each bucket and then each stall. She let him while she wrapped her hand around the handle of a wooden tail brush. This wasn’t the original plan, but it was one of its versions.
Josh had argued against it because they didn’t know if the bodyguards would fall in line. She had to risk it. When George bent in front of her to scoop up the spilled feed, she raised her hand and let it fall across the back of his head.
She hadn’t rendered him unconscious and hadn’t expected to. It wasn’t a movie, after all. But he did fall face-first into the dirt. She had seconds. “You! Tie him up. We’re leaving.”
George grabbed the back of his neck and rolled to his shoulder. The man at the door ran quickly forward, for a man of his size. He stuck a knee in the agent’s back, practically flattening one of his hands under him.
“Tracey, stop! You don’t want to do this,” George called.
She looked around for something, anything to stuff inside his mouth to keep him quiet. The bodyguard yanked George’s hands around to his back, looped the lead rope and tied it off. Then he jerked George to a sitting position and tied him to the closest post.
