Colton Christmas Rescue

by Beth Cornelison

  Slade’s thumbs stroked Amanda’s cheeks, and he drilled her with a penetrating stare. “She’s going to be all right. We’ll find her. Okay?”

  She blinked as tears filled her eyes. “We don’t know that. The animal that took her has killed before. He killed Tom. He shot at me, he’s attacked and murdered other members of the house staff.”

  Slade’s hands tensed, his fingers digging lightly into her skull. “We can’t think that way. Cheyenne’s just a baby. We have to believe that whoever did this is just after the money. If it’s an inside job, as we believe, surely they care about Cheyenne, and they’ll be careful with her.”

  A fire of conviction blazed in his eyes, a hope she wanted to share.

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because—” he started, but his voice cracked, and she saw the shadows of doubt and fear that appeared in his gaze. Moisture crept into his eyes, and her heart stilled. “Because...” he tried again, his voice rough and heavy with emotion, “I can’t believe God would be cruel enough to let two babies I loved die.”

  Two babies? Amanda was still processing that startling revelation when another truth hit her. He loved Cheyenne. He was hurting as deeply as she was over Cheyenne’s kidnapping. With her head and heart full of grief and worry over Cheyenne, she hadn’t thought she could feel anything else. But a tender ache swelled in her chest and stole her breath seeing the emotions filling Slade’s eyes.

  The same moment she recognized his pain, however, he closed his eyes, clenched his teeth and drew a deep breath. Shoving the pain and tears down. Pulling out the mask of stoicism. Putting the walls back up.

  When he stepped back from her, turning his face away, hiding his tortured expression, frustration and desperation surged through her.

  Amanda lunged forward, slamming her fists against his chest. “No!” He raised a startled look as she pounded her fists against his chest again. “Don’t you dare do that!”

  He seized her shoulders, his brow furrowed, confused. “Do what?”

  “Retreat into yourself again! Withdraw from me!” She poked his chest hard with a shaking finger. “That emotion from you, your tears, is the most honest you’ve been with me, ever! It’s what I want from you. What I need from you! Don’t hide it. Not now. Especially not now!”

  He stared back at her, clearly stunned by her outburst. “Amanda, I...I don’t—”

  Curling her fingers into the front of his shirt, she pleaded with her eyes, her tone. “You said two babies you loved. Tell me about the other baby. What other baby?”

  Beneath her hands, his heartbeat raced, and his breathing grew rapid and shallow. A haunted expression filled his face. “This isn’t the time to—”

  Her grip tightened on his shirt. “This is the perfect time. Talk to me, Slade. Please. Tell me what happened.”

  His hands raked through his hair, leaving it disheveled as he tried again to take a step back from her. But she clung to him, knowing somehow he needed her as much as she needed him.

  “Slade?”

  He dragged in a tremulous breath. “Her name was...Emily.” He paused. Swallowed hard. “She was my daughter.”

  Air froze in Amanda’s lungs. Slade had lost a child? She could only imagine the pain she’d feel, the agony if she lost Cheyenne....

  He turned bleak eyes to her, clearly struggling to speak. “She was born with a heart defect and...died when she was three weeks old.”

  Her throat clogged with grief for him, but she rasped, “Oh, Slade...I’m so sorry....”

  Tears dampened his eyelashes. “She never left the hospital.”

  Moisture blurred her vision as she framed his face with her hands and kissed his cheeks. Wrapping him in a hug, she held him close as his shoulders shook, and he released his grief.

  “My wife...took it especially hard.”

  Amanda leaned back to meet his gaze, remembering he’d said his wife had died, as well. A deep-seated chill settled in her gut. “Slade...no,” she whispered, fearing the truth.

  “She refused to go to Emily’s funeral.” His tears dripped down his cheeks, and his face crumpled in torment. The raw pain in his eyes shredded her heart. “When I got home...I found her on our bed.”

  She shook her head mutely, pain stealing her breath. But he continued, confirming her fears.

  “She’d taken a bottle of sleeping pills.” His voice broke with grief, but he finished, despite his choked tone. “I was too late to save her.”

  Amanda murmured an unladylike curse and dragged him into a fierce embrace. She held him, squeezed him hard, both of them shaking. “Slade, I—”

  Her cell phone jangled, a perky Christmas tune completely incongruous to the dark moment. Amanda stiffened, then spun to the window sill where she’d left her phone. The screen read Unknown Caller.

  Slade was on her heels as she darted over to pick it up. She put the phone on speaker. “Hello?”

  “Cheyenne is alive,” a mechanically distorted voice said. Amanda’s gaze darted to meet Slade’s damp eyes. “If you want her to stay that way, her ransom is five million dollars. You have twenty-four hours to get it. I want a hundred thousand in cash, the rest in a cashier’s check. You’ll get delivery directions later.”

  “Don’t hurt her—” Amanda started, but the screen flashed Call Disconnected.

  The cell slipped from her fingers to the carpet and Amanda slumped where she stood, her knees buckling under her. Slade’s arm circled her waist before she could drop. As fresh sobs racked her body, he scooped her in his arms to carry her to her bed. For long minutes he stroked her head and back, his body rocking as he comforted her.

  Finally, he levered away and thumbed a tear from her cheek. “I’ll take your phone to Chief Peters and get them started tracing the call.”

  With a hiccup, she nodded. “I’ll c-call the bank. I don’t have that much money, but maybe my d-dad—”

  Five million dollars. She prayed Cath was right about Jethro paying the ransom for his own granddaughter. If not...

  “Will you be okay if I go?” Slade caressed her cheek, his eyes dark with worry.

  When I got home...I found her on our bed.

  Her chest gave another squeeze of grief for Slade’s losses.

  She nodded and touched his face. “I’m hurting, but I’m not a quitter. I’ll be here when you get back.”

  He pressed a kiss to her forehead and pushed off the bed.

  “Slade.” She caught his hand before he could leave.

  He faced her, already shifting into battle mode, his expression grim and determined.

  “Thank you...for telling me about your family. About Emily.”

  A muscle in his jaw twitched as he gritted his teeth, his only outward reaction. For a strained moment he said nothing, then with a jerked nod, he strode toward the hall. Pausing in the door, he glanced back at her. “I will get your daughter back safely, Amanda. I promise. Whatever it takes...I won’t let you suffer what I did.”

  * * *

  Slade retrieved Amanda’s phone on the nursery floor where it had fallen from her hand and headed out to the police station. He’d made it as far as the top of the stairs when an overwhelming fatigue swamped him. He was physically and emotionally drained.

  He gripped the newel post at the top of the stairs and bent at the waist, digging deep for his second wind, the energy to face the long hours ahead. Telling Amanda about Emily’s too-short life and Krista’s suicide had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done. Yet he also felt relieved to have shared it with her, to have someone else sharing his deepest grief and darkest moment. At the same time, knowing Cheyenne was in the hands of kidnappers chilled him to the bone. He couldn’t bear the thought of going through the loss of another baby or seeing the fathomless anguish of a dead child in another mother’s ey
es.

  “Slade, are you all right?”

  He glanced up to find Catherine and Gray coming up the stairs. Catherine hurried to him as he straightened and gathered his composure. “Yeah. I— The ransom call came in. I’m headed to the police department with Amanda’s phone now. She’s in her room, if you don’t mind staying with her.”

  Cath nodded. “That’s where I’m headed.”

  “What can I do?” Gray asked.

  “Ride with me. We’ll talk, plan our next move.” Slade started down the stairs, and after giving Cath a kiss goodbye, Gray followed.

  Chapter 18

  Late that night, Slade returned to the ranch, having met with Chief Peters for hours, discussing their options. The FBI was called in to help, and two agents were slated to arrive tomorrow morning. He headed upstairs to Amanda’s suite to report to her, though he hated arriving without good news.

  Mathilda Perkins spotted him as he started up the wide stairway to the family quarters and called to him. “Mr. Kent, where are you going?”

  “Amanda’s suite,” he said without stopping.

  “Mr. Kent, wait!” Mathilda’s tone sharpened. “You’re not permitted in the— I said stop!”

  “She’s expecting me,” he said, his jaw tight. He was in no mood for this woman’s antiquated policies.

  “Mr. Colton has been very clear about the rules for employees,” Mathilda protested, dogging his steps as he reached the family quarters, “and he doesn’t want—”

  “Mathilda, give it a rest. Will you?” a woman said.

  Slade glanced up to find Amanda standing in the door of the nursery, glaring at Mathilda. In her arms, Amanda held her long-haired orange cat. She clutched Reyna to her chest like a child might cling to a teddy bear.

  Behind him Mathilda gave a hurt-sounding grunt. “Miss Amanda, I’m only trying to look out for you and your family. Your father has always insisted the line between family and employees be strictly enforced.”

  Amanda sagged visibly. “I know your intentions are good. I’m sorry I snapped. I’m just so worried about Chey—” Her voice cracked, and she squeezed her eyes shut.

  Mathilda brushed past Slade and stroked Amanda’s back. “I know you are, dear. Can I get you anything? You never ate any dinner. How about a sandwich? A glass of warm milk?”

  Amanda shook her head. “No. Thank you.” Her gaze found Slade’s. “Please tell me you have good news.”

  His gut clenched. “I wish I could.” He glanced at Mathilda, then stepped forward, guiding Amanda into the nursery. “We’ll talk in here.”

  Once the door was closed, he led Amanda to the rocking chair to sit. He gave Reyna a quick scratch on the head before the Manx jumped from her arms and strolled away.

  “Tell me everything. Don’t try to protect me.” Her gold eyes searched his, and the desperation clouding her gaze tugged at him.

  “We have no leads yet. No one saw anything, and the ATV tracks led to a mishmash of tracks out in the pasture. No help there. We’ve called in the Feds to help, though. We will find her.”

  “I tried to talk to my dad while you were gone about arranging the ransom, but Levi had just given him a shot of painkiller, and Jethro was asleep.” Amanda scowled and growled in frustration and agony. “How could this have happened? I hired a bodyguard for her! I kept her with me as much as possible. And you...” She narrowed an accusing look on him. “You promised to protect her! You said you wouldn’t let anything happen to her!”

  She thumped a balled fist against his chest, but her recriminations were what cut him. Because she was right. He had failed her, and he’d failed Cheyenne. Pain fisted in his chest. “Amanda, I—”

  “Where were you? If you’d been with us, you could have stopped him. You could have saved her!” She was growing hysterical again, and he pulled her close, smoothing his hand down her hair and back.

  “God knows, I wish I’d been there. I was in my room, talking to Darla and Tawny.”

  Amanda jerked back. “Darla and Tawny? Why on earth did you have them in your room?”

  “Not my idea. They found me. Insisted we talk in my room for privacy.”

  Amanda scrunched her nose. “Talk about what?”

  “I think Tawny was just there to hit on me.”

  Amanda scoffed in disgust. “Typical.”

  “But Darla...” He pulled her close again, tucking Amanda’s head under his chin as he held her. “Your stepmother is suspicious of me because I’ve been asking questions. She recognized my name, saw the photo I have of my dad and began connecting dots. She wasn’t happy.”

  Amanda wiggled free of his hold and glared up at him. “Why would she care what you—” She paused abruptly, her face blanching. “Wait, she sought you out? Insisted on talking to you then, in your room?”

  “Yeah. Why?” But a tickle of suspicion crawled down his spine.

  “Doesn’t the timing bug you?”

  “You think she was purposely distracting me, occupying me while you were attacked and Cheyenne was taken?”

  “Makes sense to me!” Her eyes brightened as the theory clearly jelled for her. “She could have sent Trip to take Cheyenne!”

  “But why? Why would she risk her position here, the cushy arrangement she has? Where’s her motive?”

  “Money, of course! Maybe she thinks that with my dad dying her gravy train is about to derail.” She stiffened. “And she’d be right about that!”

  Slade squeezed her shoulders and shook his head. “Amanda, calm down. You have no evidence—”

  “Then I’ll get some!” She wrenched free of his hands and stormed toward the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To Darla’s suite. I have questions for her.”

  Slade sighed, following her down the hall. “Amanda, wait. If you charge in there making accusations before the police can interrogate her, you give her a chance to cover her tracks or arrange an alibi or—”

  She didn’t stop. Amanda marched militantly down the corridor, yanking her arm free when Slade tried again to stop her. “I want her to look me in the eye and tell me the truth. That freeloader is not going to get away with this!”

  “Amanda, it’s after midnight—”

  She banged on Darla’s door. “Darla! Tawny! Open up!”

  Slade raked his hand through his hair, considered throwing Amanda over his shoulder and carrying her back to her suite. “Amanda, let Chief Peters question her in the morning. I know you’re desperate for answers, but this—”

  “Ya think?” she snapped at him. “My baby has been kidnapped at gunpoint, and you think I might be desperate for answers?”

  Tears had puddled in her eyes again, softening the edge to her voice.

  Darla’s door opened, and a bleary-eyed Trip glared at her. “What the hell is your problem?”

  “Where’s Cheyenne?” Amanda demanded, grabbing the front of Trip’s pajamas.

  “How the hell should I know?” He pried her hands off him and sneered at her.

  “You took her!”

  “No way! I didn’t touch your snot-nosed brat!” Trip growled.

  Amanda lunged again, her fingernails bared like cat claws, and Slade caught her around the waist, hauling her back.

  Trip tried to slam the door, but Slade stiff-armed the door before it closed. “Where’s your mother?”

  “Out.”

  “Out where? When did she leave?”

  Trip shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  Slade shot him a hard look. “Think about it.”

  “I don’t know. She and Tawny took off hours ago. An overnight shopping trip or something.”

  “Shopping?” Amanda shrieked. “My daughter has been kidnapped, and they think it’s a good time to go shopping!”<
br />
  Slade pressed a finger to Amanda’s lips, then faced Trip. “If you hear from either Darla or Tawny, tell them to get back here immediately. The police need to talk to them. And in the meantime, don’t you leave town. Everyone on the ranch is to stay put until Cheyenne is returned.”

  With that, Slade pulled Amanda with him as he headed back toward her suite.

  “They’re not shopping, Slade.” As she stumbled along with him, her fingers gripped his arm, digging deep into his flesh. “They have Cheyenne, and they took her out of town.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Don’t I?” She raised wide eyes. Lack of sleep and worry etched lines in her ivory skin. “Darla has always been a greedy, selfish witch. I don’t doubt for a minute that she’d stoop to stealing my baby if she thought she’d profit!”

  “Look, I’ll call Chief Peters and tell him to post a BOLO for her and Tawny, but we have no proof that either of them have anything to do with Cheyenne’s kidnapping.”

  “They could have taken her out of the country! What if they sold her to some black market adoption ring or child pornography ri—”

  Slade did the only thing he could think of at that moment to silence her. He kissed her. Deeply. Thoroughly. And in addition to quieting her panicked tirade, he found it help center himself, as well.

  When he pulled back from the kiss, she blinked up at him. “Why did you do that?”

  “Because I like kissing you.” He stroked a hand along her cheek. “And because you were spinning out of control and needed to be reeled back in.”

  A crease dented the bridge of her nose. “I’m not—”

  “You were.” Slade rubbed her arms, then pulled her into a hug. “We have absolutely no reason to think Cheyenne’s kidnappers are connected to child porn or the black market. Your imagination is running wild, and it serves no purpose but to make you crazy.”