He frowned. “So you go to the police.”
“And tell them what? That Michelle’s Honduran housekeeper, who is in the country illegally, is feeding me the information she gleans from spying on the woman who pays her minimum wage? Elena would be deported, but little else would happen. They’d question Michelle, maybe. She’d tearfully inform them that her concerns for her grandchildren had played out in the courts, and being a law-abiding citizen, she was willing to live with the verdict.”
“Wait a minute.” Cort straightened and she was struck again by that aura of danger he carried with him. “She sued you in court for custody of Matt and Molly? On what grounds?”
Just the memory of that nightmare was enough to stir anger again. “Grounds she made up. Tried to claim I was unfit, addicted to drugs, that I’d left the children alone.” Memory of the lies she’d had to combat in a court of law could still ignite her temper. “My character witnesses were able to refute her allegations. The case was thrown out.” Her smile was grim. “That pretty much ruined the pretense of a civil relationship between us. I cut off her access to the children after that and according to Elena, she turned her focus to winning another way.”
His eyes had gone flat and hard. “This was your mother-in-law?”
The incredulity in his voice had dark humor rising. “She’s not exactly the nurturing type. I was never good enough for Parker in her eyes and I couldn’t be controlled like she was used to doing to her son. We never hit it off, but our feelings used to at least be disguised.” The gloves had come off during Parker’s illness, however. And while Emma wasn’t totally surprised by the depth of Michelle’s venom she’d totally underestimated the lengths the woman would go to get what she wanted.
And what she wanted in this case were Emma’s children.
“I trust Elena. I helped her with her son once when he was in trouble and she feels indebted to me.” Because her lips wanted to tremble then, she firmed them. “I don’t know how recent her information is, though. I might only have a day left. Possibly two before an attempt is made.”
It was impossible to know what Cort was thinking. His expression remained enigmatic. But there was a curious sort of relief experienced in the telling, as if weight had been lifted from her. She was nonplussed a moment later when he turned and walked back into the kitchen. A couple minutes later he returned and crossed to her, shoving a piece of paper in her hand. “You’ll need to go to Butte. Any closer won’t have the supplies we need.”
“I’m not going shopping, Cort. I have to be with the kids at all times.”
“I’ll stay with them,” he announced calmly. His bright blue gaze was alight with purpose. “Chances are we’ve got a little time to work with, but if an attempt is going to be made, they’ll be safer with me here.”
That sparked her temper. “I grew up handling guns. I can protect my children.” A desperate mother was capable of going to great lengths to keep her kids safe. Michelle Cunningham was going to find that out.
He gave her a slow nod. “I expect you’d do your damnedest. What you’ve accomplished alone took brains and guts. But truth is, I’ve had training only a few in the country are given. I’ve used it in situations you can’t imagine. If it comes down to you or me against whoever she’s sending, who can do a better job protecting those kids in the back yard?”
His words struck her hard in the chest. Torn, she looked down at the paper he’d handed her, the jumble of words on them making no sense at the moment. It was anathema to her to give up even a fraction of control with her children in danger.
He waited silently, as if understanding her inner battle. With difficulty Emma swallowed around the boulder that had lodged in her throat. Sidestepping emotion, she reached for logic. Cort would make a valuable ally. He hadn’t acquired that lethal air by fixing fence on his dad’s ranch.
“I’ll be back as quick as I can.”
“Take the truck.” She caught the keys he took from his jeans pocket to toss to her. “In case they somehow got your license plate.”
The thought chilled, but shoving doubts aside, she strode to the door. As nervous as it made her to put her fate and that of her children in the hands of another, she’d be a fool not to recognize that Cort Ramsey was her best weapon in this desperate battle with her former mother-in-law.
Chapter Eight
“You’ve been busy.”
Cort carefully made his way down the ladder that allowed him access to the back porch roof. The last thing he wanted to do was land on his ass at her feet, and he’d had some near misses that afternoon. “I’ve got half the cameras installed and hooked up to two of the monitors inside.”
Her eyes were on the children, tearing around the back yard, each sporting a doo rag fashioned from some bandanas he’d found in a drawer in the kitchen and brandishing a length of foam packaging he’d taken from the monitor boxes. “They’re pirates, and I have to say, pretty blood-thirsty ones. They’ve been demanding I walk the plank for the last hour. I can’t guarantee your safety.”
Emma flashed him a slow smile that had his gut clenching. “You were always the creative one.”
“Believe me, it takes creativity to keep those two occupied.” The work had probably taken hours longer than it should have since he had to keep stopping to tend to them. Which gave him a renewed respect for what she’d managed to accomplish with the fence. “I fed them lunch but they said they don’t take naps anymore.” The look she gave him said otherwise. “So they scammed me.” His mouth curled. “They were pretty convincing.”
“Con artists usually are.” Hands on her hips, she tilted her head back to survey the camera he’d mounted. “Didn’t take you long to figure out the system, I see.”
“I have a bit of experience.”
“Maybe with me helping we can get the others up by nightfall.”
“These will provide enough security for now.” The house set back from the road at least a quarter mile. If time allowed, he’d set something up for the barn and closer to the road, but it wasn’t his highest priority. “You can take the two-sided tape you bought and run it along the top of the fencing.”
Comprehension lit her face. “And then stick the thumb tacks sharp side up along the tape? I wouldn’t have thought of that.”
“I’m the idea guy for things you don’t have the experience to think of.” Which was probably why she hadn’t considered the dark thoughts that had been haunting him all afternoon about her situation. Now, however, wasn’t the time to share them with her.
“Mommy!” Molly had spotted her and was running across the yard at top speed, Matt hard at her heels.
Emma shot him a worried look. “I’m hoping in the rest of the supplies you had me pick up that you have an idea for the front of the house. I was planning an electric fence but chances are . . . ”
Her voice trailed off as Molly reached her and was scooped up in her arms. But Cort knew what she’d been thinking.
Chances were they wouldn’t get an opportunity to take that precaution.
Matt and Molly’s voices rose in an attempt to drown each other out to be the first to tell their mom of their adventures that day. Cort winced a little at the look Emma sent him when they excitedly recounted the ‘pirate grub’ he’d made for lunch. “Scrambled eggs with cut up hotdogs,” he said defensively, bending to scoop up the empty packaging on the porch. “It tastes okay with ketchup.”
“It was awesome, mom!” Matt assured Emma.
Cort could tell that she remained unconvinced but she didn’t say anything more about it. Which was good, because it he’d been uneasy enough realizing how comfortable he’d felt with the kids cooking them lunch and spinning tales of long ago pirates who’d eaten the same thing.
It shouldn’t feel so natural to feel protective of her and her family.
The thought had something inside him rearing back. Emma had reluctantly accepted his help because she was in trouble, not signed on for anything more personal. He was he
re because she trusted him, that was all.
As the thought seared a path through his chest, he knew he was going to have a helluva time remembering that.
Chapter Nine
Emma shot Cort a look when she re-entered the living room. He was on the couch, his head bent, engrossed in his task.
“Kids in bed?”
She gave a wry smile. Barefoot, she would have sworn her approach had been soundless. “Yes. They crashed earlier than usual.”
“Because they hadn’t had a nap?”
“It’s not the first time they’ve gone without.” And he’d have been hard pressed to get them to lie down regardless, she thought, sinking onto the couch next to him. Both of her kids seemed to regard Cort as half man, half super-hero.
And maybe, in some respects, they were right.
She studied him surreptitiously. Other than a limp, his injury didn’t slow him down much, although she could tell by the way he moved sometimes that he wasn’t quite used to the prosthesis. If it caused him pain, that didn’t show either. Emma had a feeling that Cort Ramsey had become used to keeping his emotions in check.
She’d be wise to do the same.
It had been a curious experience to cook supper for the four of them while he’d made some phone calls on the back porch, and then to call him in for the meal, as if he belonged there. Odd to listen to her children chatter endlessly about what he was doing, why he was doing it, and the purpose of the tools he’d been using.
It was especially strange, and not entirely welcome, to discover that the feelings he’d awakened in her with that brief hug on the porch the day before hadn’t dissipated. And recognition of that fact made her edgy.
“What’s that?” She indicated the contraption he was taping together with the duct tape she’d bought in town.
“It’s going to be a transmitter and silent alarm.” He held it up to show her how he’d secured the two-way radio with the alarm.
Comprehension registered. “So if someone stumbles over that wire you ran across the front of the property . . . ”
“If they set off the trip wire, they’ll trigger the alarm which will be transmitted to the second radio we’ll have in the house.” He nodded toward the radio in question.
“You had me buy eight radios and four alarms.”
“Tomorrow I’ll run perimeter trip wires thirty five feet from the property line on all sides.” At least he hoped he’d be given the opportunity. “The alarms will be set to different frequencies so I’ll be able to tell which side is being breached.” When he saw her jerk a little, he mentally damned his choice of words. This wasn’t an op he was running, it was her life.
Reaching out, he took her hand. “We’re going to be ready. Whether it’s tonight, tomorrow or the next day . . . we’ll be prepared. I won’t let anyone hurt you or the kids.”
Relief flickered across her face. “This isn’t your fight. I feel guilty for making it seem like it is. But I’m also glad you’re here and that makes me feel guilty again, so . . . ”
“Guilt’s a useless emotion.” He made peace with that much in rehab. It was useless to feel guilty that he’d made it home alive from Pakistan when some of his team mates hadn’t been so lucky. Equally worthless was his guilt over his sense of loss about his leg when Colton hadn’t come home at all. “You need the kind of help I can provide. And I don’t mind helping. I’ve always . . . ”
Liked you, is what he meant to say. Maybe cared a little. But his throat stopped working and the words remained trapped in his brain. Which had become strangely disconnected with logic. Because instead of saying more, he leaned in slightly and kissed her.
Her lips were full and exquisitely soft. He half expected her to pull away, to show the good sense he was lacking and firmly remind him of why he was here. What he didn’t expect was for her to lean into the kiss. To slip her arm around his neck and open her mouth beneath his.
Without conscious decision he hauled her closer, his free hand spearing through her fall of long dark hair. Heat spread in his belly, licked through his veins. For a moment, just an instant, he immersed himself in her. Scent, taste, touch. Let the sensations zap and sing through his system. Emma Watkins wouldn’t be a woman easily taken, easily forgotten. The thought traced across his mind, vanished.
Because Cort had no intention of forgetting her. Or this.
He tore his mouth away, dragged in a ragged breath before moving his lips to trail a line of kisses down her neck. There was a pulse beating madly at the base and he lingered there, laving the spot with his tongue. The realization that she was as affected as he was small solace. Because their timing was just about as bad as it could get.
He lifted his head to look at her. “Listen,” he started to say, then stopped, the word balling in his throat and nearly strangling him. Her eyes opened, lids heavy and the dazed look of desire in them nearly had him throwing caution to the winds.
He wanted to lay Emma back on the couch and slide his hand up under her tee shirt, feel the satiny skin there. He longed to strip her down, his mouth discovering each newly bared inch of skin until he learned every intimate secret. And even the thought of her seeing his amputated stump did little to cool the fever in his blood. And that notched her right up from desirable to dangerous.
Because he needed to be able to think, he looked away for a moment, tried to order his thoughts. They threatened to riot in the next moment when he felt her slightly roughened palm cup his jaw. “Cort.”
Just one word. But spoken as it was in that rumpled silk voice, the word laden with meaning, it was enough to have him wanting to throw his head back and howl. It took every ounce of will he possessed to focus on the reason he was here.
“If you want to continue this when this is over . . . ” He cleared his throat, wished he could clear his mind as easily. “ . . . you better believe I’m interested.” Interested. Yeah, right. He was so primed he was ready to disgrace himself. “But you might change your mind after hearing what I have to say.”
He waited for the desire to fade from her expression. Mourned the loss. “Those phone calls I made before dinner? I touched base with a few of the townies that seem to make it their business to know everything about everyone in the area.” He paused for an instant as she nodded in bemusement, before adding deliberately, “And I told all of them where you’re staying.”
Chapter Ten
Emma blinked, certain she couldn’t have heard him correctly. “You wouldn’t . . . ” The look in his eyes said just the opposite. She sagged against the back of the couch, disbelief warring with panic. “Why would you? I trusted you, Cort!”
“I had some time to think this afternoon.” His face was as grim as she’d ever seen it. “And I believe you may be wrong about your mother-in-law’s intentions.”
His words sent her temper from simmer to full boil. “You think I’m making too much of this?”
“No, you might be underestimating the danger. I’m not sure she’s planning on kidnapping the kids at all. I think she may have hired someone to target you.”
His words acted like a bucket of ice water on her anger. “Michelle Cunningham is ruthless when it comes to getting her own way, but she’s not a murderer.”
“Doesn’t have to be. Money buys just about anything. Think about it.” Cort shifted position, stretching his leg out. “If she steals the kids she’s on the run for the rest of her life, looking over her shoulder for the police. For you. Why would she give up her friends, her lifestyle if there were another way to get what she wants? Who gets the children if something happens to you?”
“I . . . ” She swallowed hard, her mind swirling. “I named my mother as their guardian.” But his words were taking on an awful sort of sense. Helen Watkins was battling health problems that would make caring for two active youngsters a challenge. And if Michelle Cunningham took Emma’s mother to court, her former mother-in-law’s vast wealth might mean the custody outcome could turn out far differently than it had wit
h Emma. She shook her head, but couldn’t dislodge the horrible logic of his words.
“Bridgit Lewis—you remember her, she’s worked at Al’s Diner since we were in grade school—she said there was someone in just yesterday asking about your family. Mid-forties, thinning blond hair, about five ten or eleven, hazel eyes?” It was a moment before she realized what he was asking.
“No. I haven’t seen anyone like that.”
“He’ll lurk around the area as long as he needs to, trying to gather information. We could wait for him to make his move. But by making sure he learns your location sooner, rather than later, we flip the advantage to our side. He’ll come sniffing around here soon. He won’t be able to help himself.” That lethal air she’d noted before seemed to radiate from him now. If she didn’t know better, Emma would think Cort was looking forward to the man’s arrival.
“And when he does show up . . . I’ll be waiting.”
Chapter Eleven
The wait was excruciating. Which was ridiculous, Emma thought as she tossed the ball underhand to Matt and ducked when he hit it squarely with the bat. She’d been bracing for this moment since she left Palm Beach. Had recognized its inevitability.
But knowing the stranger was in town and knew where to find them made the situation even more nerve wracking.
She cheered her son around the makeshift bases while Molly scrambled after the ball. She glanced at the back window and saw Cort moving about the living room. Her throat dried. All day yesterday and again today he’d been working on the perimeter trip wires and the rest of the transmitter alarms. Each time a cloud of dust on the road indicated a vehicle coming this way, he’d headed back inside and watched the action on the monitors.
SEAL of My Dreams Page 8
