At first she’d protested the marriage. Two husbands at once was not only illegal, but also something she’d wanted no part of. That’s when Ryan showed her documentation proving her marriage to Steven was all a huge charade. She pressed harder with her fingertips. Good grief. They were never legally married. Steve lied from the beginning and staged their wedding to prevent her from having any claim to the family’s assets. Fake preacher, fake church, and even fake guests.
What a living nightmare.
How could she be so naïve? Steven was a master manipulator and con artist. Gentleman, her ass. He’d brought her flowers, opened doors for her, always made a point to tell her how beautiful she was. Then wham! After the so-called nuptials were said and the fairy tale reception ended everything changed. Chills raced over her skin as memories bombarded her resolve.
Overnight, Steven turned into some kind of barbaric monster. He treated the help better than he treated her. And to this day she still couldn’t figure it out. Why the charade? Why her? What had she done to deserve such a horrible life? And her precious son? How could Michael have deserved anything he’d been put through?
Life really didn’t make sense. Never had. That is until she met Ryan.
Theirs had been a whirlwind romance. She’d denied the attraction until she couldn’t anymore. Ryan made it impossible to leave him behind. For some reason, Michael latched onto Ryan and he became a safety net she couldn’t afford to remove.
Chapter Twelve
The minute the warehouse came into view, Ryan’s senses zipped into high gear. Something strange was going on. The limo had returned unexpectedly. He watched hopeful, but the driver emerged alone. No Nicholas. The large goon did a quick check of the surroundings and then hesitantly entered through the rusty metal door at the front of the building.
What the hell was going on?
Ryan kept his head straight ahead as he passed by the driveway, not wanting to draw any attention and alert anyone on the inside. The surveillance team was still in position across the street. There had been no movement inside or out since he’d left to find Makayla.
Steven always traveled with an entourage. This one goon arriving alone proved Ryan’s gut feeling correct. Their main target was lying low, playing some kind of sick game. The warehouse and limo could both be distractions—meant for no other purpose but to keep the FBI chasing ghosts until the real plan was set into place. But the driver’s actions revealed a great deal more than any clues so far.
A setback.
The large man kept wiping sweat from his brow as he paced back and forth in front of the limo, talking to himself. Nervous? Jittery even. Like he might have bad news to deliver.
Ryan pulled his truck into the parking lot a few blocks away where he still had a clear view of the entrance and then exited the truck, the tiny hairs at the back of his neck prickling. Gravel crunched beneath his boots, the sound loud to his oversensitive ears.
“What are you up to, Steven?” Pulling a pair of binoculars from his tool kit, he watched over the bed of his truck. Only a few seconds passed before the limo driver and Steven appeared from the back of the building. Now that was odd. Why not the front door?
“Where have you been all this time?” Ryan whispered into the breeze. “And where is my son, you son-of-bitch?”
As the two men made their way to the front of the building, the metal door of the warehouse flew open and five other men joined them. Ryan’s muscles tightened.
“Let the games begin.”
A strong gust of wind stirred the leaves at Ryan’s feet and whipped at the men’s sport jackets making their weapons fully visible. Ryan’s insides cringed at the thought of his young son being exposed to this violence. He had to be terrified.
But there were still no signs of Nicholas. No more calls from Steven voicing his demands for a trade or ransom. What the hell was he waiting for? The reason ripped at his gut, tearing through his soul with an almost unbearable force. Heart racing, he pushed the horrifying thoughts away.
“No. Nicholas is still alive. He has to be.”
He pulled his cell phone from the clip on his hip and dialed the surveillance team. “Has there been any sign of the boy?” He waited and silently prayed for an affirmative answer.
“Negative. No sign.” The response sounded so final it threatened to do him in. “What’s your take on this, Carter?”
“They’re on the move. Call Harrington and watch your back.” Shoving the phone back onto his hip, he returned to his position trying to read the lips of the men as they spoke among themselves.
Singling in on one, he hit pay dirt. The Boy. That one was easy to read. They were talking about Nicholas. His fingers tightened on the binoculars.
The next few sentences were unclear. And then, a series of expletives that would have sent even the most streetwise mother running for the soap.
“What the hell? Mother f… He’s still…f’n lost…”
Some of the words he’d never even heard put together like that.
Steven took a breath to continue his verbal assault and just before Ryan caught the last few words, the man he’d decided to be the easiest to read swung his arms in the air, defending himself from Steven’s flying fists. Back turned, hands over his head protecting his ears, the man headed back inside with the others in hot pursuit.
Damn. No, wait. He needed more. What had Nicholas lost? What were they talking about? The uncertainty threatened to do him in. At least the fact they were talking about “the boy” gave him a ray of hope his son still breathed. Had they gone back inside for his son? The implications of what that might mean had everything inside him wanting to charge the building, gun poised and ready to shoot. Thankfully, common sense and years of training won out. He gritted his teeth, glancing over his shoulder at the agents not fifty yards away.
The one in charge shook his head, and mouthed no.
Damn. Take it easy, Ryan. Not time yet.
A few shallow breaths calmed the anxiety rushing his veins, but an endless array of possibilities lingered in his head. Nicholas could be a little pistol— a major handful and much smarter than any five-year-old should ever be. One thing was clear. Whatever changed the course of Steven’s original plans had to do with his son. And it was huge.
A small smirk eased onto the corner of his mouth as he thought about how Nicholas drove most people up the wall. But it quickly vanished when he remembered that Steven was not most people. He dealt with the devil on a daily basis.
No one remained as lucky as Steven over the years without some kind of demonic help. And that was the creepiest part about the whole idea. Ryan avoided believing ghost and demons could affect the paths of human lives. But the more he dealt with Steven, the more his beliefs were challenged.
He shuddered at the next gust of wind as it slipped beneath the collar of his shirt, replacing the eerie thoughts with chills the size of marbles. That’s when the faint sound of a motor registered off in the distance. Too loud to be a car, but definitely heading his way.
A motorcycle.
“Michael?” Ryan pointed the binoculars toward the hill just beyond the warehouse. Sure enough. The dust billowing up like a cloud of smoke from the dirt road told him his worst fears were on the verge of coming true.
“Crazy kid,” he mumbled under his breath, pulling his cell phone back out of its holster and dialing Agent Harrington.
“Hello. This is Harrington.”
“I need to speak to Makayla. Quick.” Beads of sweat trailed down his cheek to his jaw. He had to know if Michael told her what he planned to do.
“Sure. Let me get her.”
Silence penetrated the line like a heavy fog as he watched the motorcycle slow and stop at the top of the hill, just shy of the paved road.
“Ryan, what’s wrong?” He could hear the panic in her sweet voice and tried to keep his tone steady.
“I’ve found Michael.”
“Please don’t tell me he’s…”
&nb
sp; “Makayla, he’s fine for the moment. But I can’t say he’ll stay that way. What did he tell you before he sped off?”
“He’s not himself, Ryan. He…he plans to kill his father.”
Ryan cursed heavily under his breath. “How? Does he have a gun?”
The stillness on the other end of the phone sparked the tiny hairs on the back of his neck and gave him his answer. “Makayla, where’d he get a gun? And how did he find out where Steven’s holding up?”
More silence. He cleared his throat and asked again, “Where?”
“I took the gun from your drawer. I wanted to be prepared if things went wrong when I met Steven face to face. When I put it into the saddlebag of the motorcycle, I had no idea Michael would take off on the bike. He must have overheard Agent Harrington talking about the warehouse earlier, because that’s when he took off and gave them the slip.”
“Shit.” Ryan ran his hand through his hair now moist with perspiration. If Michael had found the gun and decided to pull it on Steven, things would escalate real quickly.
“Makayla, I’m going to try and intercept Michael before he makes this terrible mistake.”
“Ryan, wait!”
“I love you, Makayla.”
He could hear her frantic pleas of despair as he ended the call and his insides felt like shards of glass, twisting and scraping against his flesh. He needed a miracle.
Contacting the surveillance team, he explained how he planned to head off trouble and had them stand on full alert ready to protect his back if needed. Then he moved quickly to get into position.
He heard Michael revive the engine and knew only a matter of seconds would pass before the noise had Steven’s entire entourage standing outside ready to open fire.
Picking up his pace, he darted between the vacant buildings, making his way to the old gas station where he planned to cut Michael off. Every step felt like heavy bricks were tied to his shoes and he prayed he wouldn’t be spotted. Steven’s men had walked inside the warehouse minutes before he’d noticed Michael’s approach. But that didn’t mean they weren’t watching.
Steven probably sat at the window himself. Gun primed to shoot. This game he played had so many different rules. A scary-as- hell set of rules known only to its creator.
***
Makayla’s chest felt like a heavy rock, reinforced with concrete, rested against her ribs. Each heartbeat felt as if the force would cause permanent damage. Ryan found Michael. Thank, God. But what about Nicholas? And what did he mean Michael was fine for the moment? Why did he always have to talk in circles?
Growing up, Michael had always been headstrong, did most things without thinking through the consequences first. But this time it could cost him a lot more than his spot on the football team. This time it would cost him his life.
Agent Harrington walked into the kitchen, surveying her mood. “You all right, Mrs. Carter?”
She nodded unable to steady her voice. “Ryan’s found Michael.”
She fought back the despair working its way up her throat. Both her sons were in danger and she felt helpless, destined to sit back and pray the outcome turned out better than the picture torturing her imagination.
“Makayla, try not to panic. Steven hasn’t called back with his demands. I know this sounds bad, but trust me, it’s a good thing.”
She blinked in disbelief. How could not hearing from the maniac be a good thing? She wanted to hear from him. Wanted him to tell her what she needed to do to rescue her baby. Nicholas had to be frightened out of his mind by now.
Harrington moved closer. “The fact Steven hasn’t made further contact proves Ryan’s suspicions. Something’s put a kink in Steven’s plan.”
“What are you talking about?” She stood quickly, unable to control her arms as they waved in the air. “Those are my sons out there. Not yours. So don’t go expecting me to just turn off every emotion I have and trust a bunch of men who have no ties to our family, no agenda except to catch their bad guy.”
“Our first priority is to get Nicholas back, Mrs. Carter.” Agent Harrington held his ground. He was waiting for her to break down, start crying. But she refused to give him the satisfaction. She’d been weak for too long. Let her past influence how she dealt with and looked at her future. But no more.
“Then what suspicions are you talking about, Agent Harrington? I’m sick and tired of feeling like you are all hiding something from me. I’m a big girl. I’ve been through my own private hell. I assure you, I can handle whatever it is.”
Her sudden transformation startled him. His face softened to one of surprise and she’d almost swear a hint of admiration. “The phone call earlier. Ryan said Steven cut it short. He heard voices in the background. Could tell Steven wasn’t happy and ended the call before he’d intended to.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Okay. So what does that tell you, Agent Harrington?”
Agent Harrington raised a brow at her sarcastic tone. She was probably being a bit out of line, but at this point, she didn’t care. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you, Steven isn’t one to back away from a challenge, now is he, Ms. Prichard. And he did just that. He had Ryan right where he wanted. But didn’t proceed.” He paused, his eyes drilling into her. “So now, you tell me. What does that mean?”
She swallowed hard at the mention of her old name. Was it a slip of the tongue? Why else would he call her that except to put her in her place? Let her know he wasn’t fully sure he could trust her. An uneasy feeling raced down her spine. “I don’t know.”
His hands eased to his hips. “Something’s gone wrong, hasn’t it? You of all people should know that. Steven’s not one to stick around and drag these things out. Too risky.”
The minute the words registered, fear spread like a wildfire. What if Nicholas had made Steven mad? What if he’d done something terrible and accidentally killed him before he’d meant to? The vivid, horrid thoughts swirled in her brain, wanting to magnify the panic. She shoved them back. Locked them tightly away. Nicholas was fine. He had to be.
Agent Harrington nodded his acknowledgement of her understanding and then left the room without another word. Makayla stood stunned, hands gripping the top of the table like a vise. There was no way he could think she had something to do with Nicholas’ disappearance. That she was somehow working with Steven on this. What would she possibly have to gain? He was her son, for Heaven’s sake.
Her head throbbed with that annoying ping that usually signaled a powerful headache just over the horizon. She needed a couple of Advil and somewhere quiet to think. They were missing something, but she just couldn’t put her finger on it.
Agent Harrington was right. When Steven’s plans fell apart, he didn’t stick around to watch them crumble. No freaking way. The coward took off and ran like a dog with his tail between his legs, leaving his men to clean up the mess.
So what was different this time? If something had gone wrong, why was Steven still in town? And if not, why hadn’t he called back with instructions about where to meet and make the trade? Did he think he was still in control, that his sick resolution still lingered close?
Then a thought hit her. She released her grip on the table and let her back rest against the wall. Nicholas was a master at hide-and-seek.
Could the setback be that Steven lost Nicholas?
She closed her eyes, placing her fingers on her temples to relieve the pressure and shook her head. If it was true and Nicholas had managed to escape, she knew exactly where to find him.
Chapter Thirteen
Steven Prichard paced back and forth across the dirty warehouse floor, anger burning the back of his throat and ears. He couldn’t believe his rotten luck. The boy couldn’t have gone far. F—ing five. He was only five!
“Did you check the entire area?”
“Yes, sir. We turned over every trashcan, searched every nook hole. We even backtracked to his house on foot. But there ain’t no sign of’em. Lots of Feds, but not the boy.”
/> “You’re telling me a five-year-old boy outsmarted you?” Steven’s tone dangled on the verge of outrage.
“Sir. It’s the girl who lost the boy. She took him to the restroom against my wishes. They was out of the car before I turned around.”
Steven’s eye sockets throbbed from the pressure. “And she’s been taking care of, hasn’t she? Paid the price for her mistake. But what about you, Ricky?”
He heard the man gulp as he swallowed. “I’ll find him! I’ll find him, boss.” With the words spilling from his lips so fast they ran together in an inaudible gibberish, the large blubbering idiot backed his way out the door.
“You do that!” Steven kicked the door closed with his foot and spun around to eye the others left in the room with him.
What the hell was going on? This never happened. Not to him. He always won. Something in the universe tilted the day Makayla deserted him. His life turned upside down, had been anything but the victorious adventure he deserved. Now his days were filled with disruption and disorder.
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t keep his mind off of her. Even his mother’s threats to disown him hadn’t been enough to change his mind about bringing her into the family. Now he was forced to come to grips with the fact that in his own strange way, he really did love the horrid tramp. If it hadn’t been for the boy, well, things would have been different.
Everything had been perfect, run smoother before Michael was born. He couldn’t stand the fact she had to spend so much damn time with the boy. That’s not what he signed on for. She was supposed to be there for him. No matter what. No matter where. No matter when.
But the boy.
Oh, the boy changed all that in a heartbeat. He’d seen it the first day in the hospital. The look in her big brown eyes. All that love lingering in those beautiful depths and none of it directed where it should have been—at him.
Betrayals of the Heart Page 10
