by Rita Herron
The huge man turned on Gavin, his fists flying in the air. But Gavin snapped his gun from the waistband of his jeans and aimed it at Swain’s chest.
“Go ahead, give me a reason,” Gavin said through clenched teeth. “As if I don’t have enough of one already.”
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Swain bellowed. “I got released, been trying to make a fresh start, then find some cop on my tail. I knew it had to be you.”
“You earned a tail when you kidnapped Miss Payne’s baby.”
Lindsey slowly picked herself up, watching the beefy man’s reaction. “Do you know where my baby is?” Lindsey asked.
His eyes blazed a dirty trail over her body. “Lady, I don’t know anything about a kid.”
“I don’t believe you,” Gavin snapped.
Swain folded his massive arms across his chest. “Leave me the hell alone, McCord.”
Gavin pressed the tip of his gun to Swain’s chest. “Tell me where the baby is.”
Lindsey saw the first sign of fear flicker in Swain’s face when his ruddy complexion turned white. “I told you I don’t know—”
Gavin clicked the safety off his gun and Swain tensed, his bushy eyebrows shooting upward. “You sent me the message An Eye For An Eye, then you kidnapped my son.”
Swain raised his hands, waving him to calm down. “I sent the message to shake you up, but I didn’t take no kid.”
Gavin pushed the gun at Swain’s chest. “You’d—”
“Move away, McCord, I’ll take it from here.” Agent Barnes appeared in the doorway, nursing a knot on his head, but appearing calm. “I’ll call the locals to take him. Assaulting a man and woman with a weapon definitely violates your parole, buddy.”
Gavin’s hand tightened on the weapon. “I’m not through with him.”
Barnes slowly moved toward Gavin, finally resting a calming hand on his shoulder. “You gonna beat the answers out of him?”
“If I have to.”
A shudder coursed through Lindsey. “Please, Mr. Swain, if you know where my baby is, tell me.”
The man refused to look at her, simply muttered in a harsh voice, “I told you I don’t know nothing about your kid.”
Gavin stood ramrod straight, the anger pounding through him.
“You don’t talk, I’ll see to it you serve your full sentence and then some.”
Barnes handcuffed Swain and pushed him out the door. “Don’t worry, McCord. We’ll get to the truth.”
Gavin fisted and unfisted his free hand, then stared at his gun for several seconds before recapping the safety and placing it on the table. Lindsey’s legs trembled as she walked toward Gavin.
“Are you all right, Linds?”
“Yes. Are you?”
Gavin nodded, then dragged her into his arms, his heart hammering. She curled a hand on his chest, soaking up his heat and the strength in his big-steely arms. He soothed her with gentle kisses and stroked her hair until her shakes dissipated. Only then did Lindsey feel the fine tremors in his tightly controlled muscles.
He cupped her face with his hands, searching her eyes. Protectiveness, concern, desire, fear, anger all darkened his eyes.
“What did he say before I got here?”
“The same thing he told you—to quit tailing him.”
A muscle ticked in Gavin’s jaw. “Did he hurt you?”
“No.”
His gaze dropped to the red bruises on her wrist, then flew back to her eyes, rage darkening his features. “He did hurt you.”
“He threatened me, that’s all.” Lindsey glanced toward the door. “Where was that Agent Barnes earlier?”
“Swain must have seen him in the truck. He knocked him out, but obviously he’s okay.”
“If Swain had our baby, why wouldn’t he have made his demands?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he’s playing some kind of sick game.”
“Or maybe he doesn’t have our baby.”
“Right.” Gavin pressed against her, his expression closed.
Lindsey closed her eyes and sighed tiredly. “What happened with Dr. Cross? I heard about the shooting on the radio….”
“He confessed.”
“He told you where our son is?”
“I’m afraid not, Linds. He slipped into a coma before he could give us a name.”
Chapter Seventeen
Gavin clung to Lindsey, his breathing ragged in the silence that followed. Her disappointment scraped him raw. And he couldn’t stop quaking from the realization that Danny Swain had had his hands on Lindsey, the only woman he’d ever loved.
The man could have crushed her fragile body with his bare hands.
If he’d lost her… God, he couldn’t allow himself to think about losing her. At least not yet. Not until they found their son.
But then he would have to leave.
Or would he? Family is the most important thing in the world. Sometimes you don’t realize it until they’re gone.
His old fears rose to haunt him. He’d put Lindsey in danger, just as his own family had been in danger so many times from his dad’s job. And now, Swain had barreled into Lindsey’s life and threatened her, right in her home. Sure, this time she was all right. But what about the next maniac he angered? Would he use Lindsey to get to him? Would he hurt her?
No, he couldn’t put Lindsey through that kind of life. She deserved better. And so did his son.
He pulled away. Crossed the room. Resisted the urge for a stiff scotch. Grabbed a cold soda from the refrigerator, popped the top and took a long sip. If the caller phoned with demands, he wanted steady hands and eyes. Given the chance to shoot, he intended to nail the sucker in one round.
“So, what now?” Lindsey asked quietly, sounding resigned.
He curled his fingers around the can.
“We wait for demands. Meanwhile Barnes will break Swain. Maybe Simon will turn up something I missed. He was examining Cross’s files when I left.”
She nodded, stooping to pick up a shattered picture frame. He knelt to help her, their hands touching as they both reached for it. Gavin’s breath felt trapped when he realized Lindsey had framed the photocopy of their son’s picture.
“I’ll get another frame.” Her fingers trembled as she lovingly traced themherublike face and hurried to the bedroom. No doubt in his mind she’d love his son unconditionally.
As had his own mom before the alcohol had changed her. Then she’d dished out affection so sparingly he could barely remember it. The train ride to D.C. wormed itself into his mind. His mom and him rushing out of town because of another threat. Bunking in one of the small compartments, taking an adventure, visiting the Lincoln Memorial, the Smithsonian. The memory was one of the few good ones he had, the reason he’d always loved trains.
But after that his mother had started drinking and had gone downhill fast. The days and nights had rolled into one big black void for her. And for him.
Eventually he’d ended up in juvenile. He’d decided his father had chosen his job over him and decided to punish him. Then his dad had died in a freak car accident. Ironic—after all his mother’s worrying, his father’s death hadn’t been in the line of duty. If Walter Perkins hadn’t arrested him and taken him under his wing in that Big Brother program, he would probably have wound up courting the other side of the law. In jail with guys like Swain and Faulkner. The very reason he’d tried to be a Big Brother to Dwight Johnson’s boy.
No, he wouldn’t make a good parent.
But he didn’t want his son to think he didn’t want him, either. To think he’d purposely chosen his job over him. Family is the most important thing…
The sound of shattered glass being swept into a pile brought his attention back to Lindsey. She’d swept up most of the debris, repositioned the photographs on the sofa table, and placed their son’s picture in the center.
“Why don’t I make us some dinner?” Gavin suggested.
Lindsey emptied the glass into
the trash. “I’m not really hungry.”
“You aren’t feeling ill again, are you?”
“No, it’s just—”
“You’re eating.”
Lindsey didn’t argue. She gestured toward the kitchen. “Okay, there’s a couple of steaks in there if you want to grill them. I have some salad and bread to go with it.”
“I can handle that.”
She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, reminding him of the filthy man who’d been pushing her around a few minutes earlier.
“I think I’ll go take a bath.”
He nodded, trying to focus on the image of her immersing herself in a sea of bubbles instead of Swain pushing her to the floor. She left the room without even looking at him. He set to work preparing the simple meal and prayed the phone would ring and end their torturous waiting.
LINDSEY’S BATH momentarily washed away the stench of Danny Swain’s hands on her, but nothing could alleviate the tension in the house. She stared at the phone during dinner, willing it to ring, but the machine remained painfully quiet. Just like the rest of her home. Except for that confounded clock on the wall. Different birds chirped the hour with their individual sound; something she’d thought adorable when she’d first seen the clock at the nature store. She’d imagined telling Cory about each kind of bird, hearing him imitate the fluted sounds of the red robin, then the sparrow.
Now, the clock only reminded her of all she had lost, carving each excruciating hour without her baby into her memory with its barrage of sounds.
She would buy a new clock. A quiet clock that didn’t remind her of the long hours of waiting she’d endured. The long hours without her baby.
The tension between she and Gavin had doubled since he’d returned from Cross’s. She only wished she understood the reason. But he wouldn’t talk. Had simply retreated into his brooding, dark shell.
Well, let him brood.
She scraped the dishes, unlocked the nursery door and slipped into the baby’s room while he phoned his partner. Her heart bled at the sight of the beautiful white crib, the white rocking chair with the blue gingham cushion, the tiny diapers stacked on the changing table, the wallpaper border…
What was she doing in here? Trying to tear her own heart out?
Blinking back tears, she quickly slipped from the room and locked it, then turned to see Gavin watching her from the den. His gaze cut to the room and back. Her hand tightened on the doorknob.
“Did Simon find out anything new?”
He shook his head.
Suddenly weary, she said good-night and headed to her bedroom. Loneliness welled inside her, almost cutting off the oxygen to her lungs as she slipped on a soft blue nightgown and climbed into the big sleigh bed. She pulled up the blue-and-yellow comforter, craving its soothing warmth as she buried her face into her pillow, letting the tears fall. Tears for the baby she longed to hold in her arms.
Tears for the man she had hoped would someday live there with them.
GAVIN FORCED himself to stretch out on the sofa, well aware he wouldn’t sleep. Not with his mind on the phone call that hadn’t yet come. Not with Lindsey lying in the next room. Not knowing how much he needed her tonight.
He considered the information Simon had given him. Apparently Swain’s sister had worked at the clinic, but only briefly. She’d left long before Lindsey had delivered. A dead end there. And he was inclined to dismiss Johnson from the list. But Swain?
An Eye For An Eye… The note taunted his subconscious. Was the message a threat or a declaration of a crime already committed—A son for a son? Or had Swain been telling the truth?
He checked the phone. Sometime during the night, the kidnapper would phone with demands. Hopefully, tomorrow he would find his son, give him back to Lindsey and step out of their lives to keep them safe. Maybe one day he’d be able to explain to his little boy the reason he’d left, make him understand he loved him.
His body ached, physically hurt for Lindsey’s touch. But his soul needed her even more. Needed one night to hold her in his arms before they
Knowing this might be his last chance, he rose from the sofa, tiptoed to her bedroom, and pushed the door open. Moonlight spilled like a halo around her golden hair which fanned across the pale pillowcase. Shadows played and fell across the room, her lithe, beautiful body draped in a pale yellow sheet. The soft whisper of her breathing told him she was asleep. He didn’t want to bother her.
But he had to hold her. Just for a little while.
He slipped off his shoes and socks, shucked his jeans and shirt and crawled into the bed beside her.
She smelled like fresh flowers and rain. He closed his eyes, savoring the erotic scents. Her back faced him, the soft fabric of her gown gliding across his bare chest as he slid his arm around her waist and cradled her spoon style. Her bottom fit perfectly against his groin, her long soft hair tickled his chin. She moaned and snuggled farther into his warmth. He couldn’t resist. He brushed a kiss into her hair and whispered the three words he thought he’d never say to a woman. “I love you, Lindsey.”
LINDSEY LAY perfectly still, her mind spinning with the realization that Gavin had just climbed into her bed and whispered his love in the dark.
He thought she was asleep.
She let him believe that for a few minutes, knowing his admission had been a private confession, not meant for her ears. Then his hand slipped around her waist, gently stroking her abdomen, his leg brushed hers so she felt the coarse hair on his thighs against her legs, his breath whispered behind her ear. All the tension and love and hunger she’d had bottled away for months sprang to life with an intensity she couldn’t ignore. Vonda Shepard’s song about love and breaking your heart flowed through her mind, but she knew there was no turning back. Her heart had always been his to break, since that night they had lain together, body and souls merging into one, hearts embracing love in the most intimate form. She had to have that love one more time, even if it was given only in the darkness of night, with whispered words she was never meant to hear.
Her hand slid down to stroke the top of his, her leg entwined with his muscular one, her bottom nestled farther against his sex. He moaned, the soft purr of his lips on the nape of her neck sending a thousand delicious sensations skittering up her spine. She gently glided her foot up and down his thick calf, warmth pooling in her abdomen as his firm muscle flexed beneath her touch. His hand skimmed up to stroke the underside of her breast, circling slow, cupping, kneading her curves, then traced a path of ecstasy in her every pore when he stroked her nipple to a hard peak of desire. One by one he slowly unbuttoned the small buttons of her nightshirt and parted the silk fabric, his hands hot as they found her bare skin. She continued to stroke his legs with her foot, reaching behind her to rub his waist, his hips, to feel his hard, firm body pressing into her with more urgency.
His lips tasted her neck, the inside of her ear, his tongue teased her earlobe, her cheek. With a growl, he rose slightly, tilting her face around so he could find her sweet lips. Lindsey groaned and parted her lips, savoring his tongue as he plunged his warmth into her mouth. They danced a slow heat, awakening need and hunger left buried for long lonely months, until every cell in her body screamed for release. She suckled his lips, clutched at his bottom, drove herself against his trobbing heat. Their bodies rocked together, mimicking the joining of lost souls.
But she needed more, needed his clothes completely off, needed to feel his heavy weight within her.
“Oh, Mac.” She turned into his arms and saw the fire glistening in his dark eyes. Sweat dotted his bronzed chest, the black hair on his chest curly and thick, and so enticing she sank her hands into it, stroking his nipples and hungrily meeting his kiss.
“I want you so much, Linds,” Gavin whispered. “I’ve wanted you all these months.”
“I’m all yours, Mac.” She tunneled her hands through his hair. “Make love to me.”
“I wish I could make promises, but I—”
/> “Shh.” Lindsey silenced him with a kiss. “Just love me tonight, Mac. That’s all I want. Make me forget all the bad things that have happened, make me feel alive again.”
He nibbled her neck tenderly, threading his fingers through the long strands of her hair, stroking them away from her face. Lindsey lowered her mouth and took his nipple between her teeth, teasing and torturing him with hungry kisses. He cupped her chin, bringing her face back to his, stroking her mouth with his tongue just as he wanted to plunge himself inside her. His hot breath scorched her neck as he skimmed the nightgown from her body. Her panties came next, then he wedged his thigh between her legs. His hands were everywhere, on her breasts, twisting and loving her nipples, gliding down across her thighs, parting her legs, teasing her heat.
She grasped the edge of his boxers and pulled at them, aching to hold his sex in her hands, smiling when the pulsing evidence of his arousal twitched and jutted toward her. He moaned and rocked his body into hers, slipping a finger inside her and kissing her at the same moment, deep, deeper as if he could fill her with his soul. Lindsey arched toward him, clutched his hips and dug her nails into his back as he rose above her. He paused and took her chin in his hand, tipped her face up to gaze into her eyes, dropped a kiss on each of her closed eyelids. “Open your eyes, Linds. I want you to watch me inside you.”
A chill of excitement skittered through every nerve ending in her body as she did as he asked. He suddenly reached for his jeans and she whimpered, afraid he was going to pull away. Instead he grabbed a small foil packet and ripped it open with his teeth.
The protection they’d forgotten the first time they made love.
She was relieved he’d remembered this time. “Let me do this,” she whispered.
He grinned and actually pressed himself into her hand. She slowly took the condom from him and molded it to his hard shaft, enjoying the tortured look he gave her as she rubbed and stroked him. Finally, he grabbed her hand and pulled it up to his face, pressing her palm to his cheek. He smelled of musk and heat and sex. His powerful body poised above her, the muscles of his arms strained as he tried not to crush her. His huge sex pushed against her feminine folds and she ached for completion, so she lifted her hips, whimpering when the tip of his erection played at her heat, then retreated. She saw the devil in his eyes, smiling wickedly, enjoying the torture, and she reached down again and took his hard sex in her hand, stroking it from the base to the tip until she felt his hips convulse. His smile faded, h control snapped.
