by Robin Perini
She shrieked and whipped a towel around her naked body. “What are you doing?”
Fighting against temptation, Jared averted his gaze from her damp skin and walked over to the crib. Dylan stood in the crib, clutching the wood edge, his face twisted and red. The kid could use those lungs full force, that’s for sure.
“Whoa, little guy, what’s got you so mad?”
Jared turned his attention to the baby to avoid Courtney’s tempting shape. Dylan looked up at his father. Huge tears fell from his glistening eyes. His mouth pouted and the crying wouldn’t stop.
Jared slid his hands around the baby’s torso and lifted him against his chest, then above his head. The shocked baby stopped crying for a moment and looked down.
“Quite a different view from up there, huh, Dylan?”
The baby screwed up his face.
“It’s not working, Courtney.” Jared could feel the panic rising within him. “What do I do?”
“He’s hungry and wet,” she said, tucking her towel under her arms. She reached into Dylan’s bag. “I ran out of diapers last night and am running low on wipes. I need to get to a store.”
“You can’t leave the ranch,” Jared said. “Not until we know more.”
She crossed her arms in front of her in an image he would never forget. An absolutely livid expression dressed in a too small towel.
“Well, Dylan can’t do without the supplies. Can we send someone? Maybe Velma or Roscoe?”
There was a more immediate solution. Jared sighed, knowing he had to take her to the one room in this house he hadn’t wanted her to see. The room he’d entered less than a handful of times in five years. But since he didn’t know what she’d need or what sizes would fit his son, he had no choice. “Throw some clothes on and come with me. Please.”
She must’ve heard the strain in his voice, because she didn’t argue with him, she simply disappeared into the bathroom.
When she left, Dylan reached toward the closed door and screamed as if Jared were torturing him. He tried bouncing the baby up and down. Tried flying him like an airplane. Nothing worked.
Roscoe appeared in the doorway holding his ears. Jared shrugged.
“I’m going outside to work on the tractors where it’s quieter,” the foreman shouted.
The baby squirmed in Jared’s arms. He was ready to bang on the bathroom door when he tried one last time to lift Dylan over his head.
The hard crying stopped. The baby chortled and smiled. Jared brought him down to face height. Up, and a smile. Down, and a frown.
After a few more push-ups, to Jared’s immense relief, Courtney appeared in the doorway, dressed. Jared handed over the fussy baby. He should have been pleased to give his son to her, but the emptiness in his arms lingered. He enjoyed those chubby legs and belly, and that laugh. Dylan’s laugh could light up any dark day.
“Let’s go.” Jared led them through the convoluted hallways to the old part of the house and the nursery door.
With one last look at her, he slipped the key in the lock and opened the room.
Courtney gasped.
He knew why. She saw a finished nursery with a few missing pieces and one huge hole in the wall. A changing table sat on one side of the room. The crib and rocking chair he’d delivered yesterday were gone. The walls had been painted yellow in a Noah’s Ark theme, though the missing drywall marred the happy color.
Deliberately avoiding the scar, he opened several drawers and stood back. “Take what you need.”
Her steps tentative, Courtney leaned over and looked in the drawers. Dylan balanced on her hip, she pulled out a few onesies. “These are for a newborn. Too small.”
Jared cleared his throat. “Try the closet.”
She slid open the door and viewed stacks of cloth diapers and washcloths which sat untouched.
“Who—?”
“Take what you need.” Jared picked up the never-used diaper bag and handed it to her. He knew each word was clipped and angry, but every moment in this room sent a tsunami of pain through him.
Courtney balanced Dylan and filled up the bag. The baby whimpered, then let out a full cry.
“I need to change him.”
She lay the baby on the table and covered his midsection with a washcloth.
“Where are the pins,” she muttered, wrestling with the square cotton diaper.
Jared’s mind had gone numb, but he forced himself to look. He dug into a drawer and pulled out some animal-styled fasteners.
“Not quite a disposable,” she said, holding Dylan down with one hand. “I’m learning more and more to appreciate stick-on tape.”
Dylan grinned up at her. He bounced with a laugh, kicking his feet in the air and sending the washcloth flying.
“You’re an exhibitionist, Jelly Bean,” she chuckled before fastening the last pin. She looked over at Jared. “Are there any rubber pants in the closet that would fit him?”
Jared scanned the room. He remembered storing a ton of unidentifiable supplies after Alyssa had gone crazy in the baby store. She’d bought items for up to a year old. He squatted down and opened the bottom drawer.
“How about these?” He handed her two plastic-looking briefs.
Courtney took them. “Even an extra. We should be fine for a while.”
Good. Then maybe he wouldn’t have to come back here. He fought to breathe against the suffocating flood of memories. “I’ll send one of the hands to Carder for whatever you need. Or better yet, maybe have someone from CTC buy what you need. Less cause for talk.”
“Who would care?”
“There’s no superstore in Carder. Just a general store. Everyone knows everyone’s business. If someone from the ranch starts buying baby supplies, the entire town will know by lunch.”
“I can’t imagine having that many people interested in what I do or say.”
“Small towns,” Jared said. “Not a lot of distractions.”
Courtney lifted Dylan. “I noticed a few toys in the back. Can I bring some with me? We left in a hurry.”
“Take whatever you want,” he said in a rushed voice. The room had begun to close around him.
Courtney piled a ball, some blocks and a stack of brightly colored rings in the large bag. She paused at the two-foot-diameter hole in the wall Jared had been avoiding staring at since they entered the room.
“Let’s go,” he said, and lifted the bag over his shoulder before she could ask about the center of the wall he’d destroyed with a sledgehammer.
With a slight hesitation and one last regretful stare, they walked back to her bedroom.
He braced himself for the question, because he didn’t want to tell her. Didn’t want her to know how badly he’d failed.
She sat Dylan on the rug and rolled the ball to him. He giggled and stuffed the edge in his mouth.
“Whose nursery was that?” she asked.
* * *
A DEAFENING SILENCE engulfed the bedroom. Courtney had been shocked by a lot of events over the last few days, but finding a fully stocked nursery in Jared King’s house confused her as much as anything.
Dylan banged a ball on the floor, obviously enjoying his new toy almost as much as the stuffed bull Velma had given him. Courtney smiled at her son, but the expression faded when she saw Jared’s devastated face.
Obviously the Last Chance Ranch hid a lot of painful secrets.
Jared stood quiet and unnaturally still, staring at their son with an intensity that made Courtney shiver.
She closed her eyes. She’d been so relieved to find supplies that Dylan could use, she hadn’t really thought what it meant until they’d returned. She shouldn’t have asked. How could she take it back?
“You asked about the nursery—”
“Everyone has a right to some secrets, Jared.” Courtney tried to
give him an out. The pain in his eyes was hard to look at.
“You more than anyone have a right to know.”
Dylan crawled across the floor and pushed the ball at Jared’s feet. It bounced against his boot and the baby grinned. Jared hunkered down and returned the ball to his son.
“I was married before.”
She’d known. His wife had died. That much her private investigator had told her. As he spoke, Courtney wished she could retract the question. She didn’t like the direction her mind took her.
“You don’t have to—”
Dylan shoved the ball back at his father. Jared sat on the floor and focused on the game, avoiding Courtney’s gaze.
“You remind me of Alyssa a bit,” he said finally. “You both exude class when you walk into a room. You both look out of place on a working ranch.”
Jared turned the ball over and over in his hand until Dylan grabbed for it. He let the baby take the toy.
“We were happy. Mostly. But she got bored with small town life. We hoped having a family would fix the problem.” Jared shrugged. “It might have. I’ll never know.”
He glanced over at the baby’s bed. “I made the crib for our daughter. I spent weeks wanting it to be perfect. She never slept in it. She died with Alyssa.”
Courtney couldn’t stop the choked sob from escaping. He’d lost his wife, and his unborn child. She couldn’t imagine the agony. She crawled to Jared’s side and placed her hand on his arm. “Please, don’t relive any more. I’m so sorry I asked.”
He didn’t move away from her. Instead, he lay his hand on hers and after a few moments lifted his gaze to hers. She’d never witnessed so much pain behind a man’s eyes. He broke her heart.
“It’s important you hear this,” he said after a long, deep breath. “I was busy trying to keep us out of bankruptcy. We couldn’t afford enough help so I drove the cattle to the far end of the ranch to graze. Took me a day and night on horseback. When I got back Alyssa was gone. There was a message painted on the wall of the nursery. They wanted money in exchange for her safe return.”
Courtney shivered at the similarity. “You’ve been through this before? Like me?”
“Not like you. I had no warning. When I came home, Alyssa had simply vanished. I didn’t receive a note. The message was spray painted on the wall of the nursery I’d just finished painting.”
Nausea rose to her throat. Please no. Not that.
“The guy knew exactly how much would break me. But he didn’t know I’d just used all my cash to purchase a new stud. No way I could liquidate by his deadline so I called the local sheriff. I told myself I had no choice.”
Jared’s tone went flat. “The guy taunted me, made me think I could save Alyssa. I didn’t follow his instructions and she paid the price. She died along with our unborn daughter.”
Courtney leaned up against him and slipped her hand into his. “Did they catch him?”
Jared rubbed the back of his neck. “After it was over the guy vanished. He’s still out there somewhere.” Jared sent her a quiet, devastating glance that tore her up inside. “Even if we catch the blackmailer, the threat against me will still be out there. I can’t risk anyone else getting hurt because of me.”
What could Courtney say? She’d do the same thing. For a few moments, she rested against Jared, wanting him to feel her support. Nothing could be said to comfort him. A little human contact was all she could offer.
Across from them, Dylan gripped the ball. He pressed one of the sides and tinny music started to play. He giggled and rolled over toward them, shoving the toy at his father.
Jared’s jaw throbbed and Courtney realized how much he strained to maintain control. She could see he wanted to let himself open up to their son. She understood more than ever why he couldn’t.
“I’m so sorry for what you’ve lost. If I’d known—”
“You would’ve come here anyway because you’d do whatever it takes to protect Dylan.”
Yes. He understood like no one else in the world ever could or would. “You’re right.”
“So would I.”
The stark words reignited the connection between them. She wanted to say more, to help him, but she had no idea how.
Before she could work up the courage, Jared’s phone sounded. He rose, relief written on his face at the distraction. Courtney had to agree, though she missed the warmth of his touch. Jared had faced and lost more than she could ever imagine. Nothing she could ever say or do would make it better.
“King,” he said into the phone. Within a few seconds he tapped the speakerphone. “It’s Léon.”
“Miss Jamison?” The operative’s voice sounded very solemn, causing her stomach to knot a bit. “Did you hire a private investigator to look into Jared’s life and finances?” The rustle of papers shuffling reached through the phone. “A man by the name of Joe Botelli?”
Her gaze flew to Jared’s. A cloud of fury darkened his expression. “Why would you do that?”
She swallowed deeply. “When I recognized you on the television, I needed to know who you were, Jared,” she blurted out, knowing how the facts must appear to Jared. She would’ve taken it the same way. “You were his father, but I knew nothing about you. It was never about money. I had to protect Dylan.”
Jared’s expression had frozen into a mask. “Go on, Léon. Does he have any insight?”
“I’m at your front door,” the accented voice said. “I think we should talk face-to-face.”
The doorbell rang. Courtney scooped up Dylan and his toy, and sidled up beside Jared. “I wasn’t trying to find out your bank balance.” The words raced out. “You have to believe me. I needed to know if contacting you was the right thing to do for Dylan.”
Jared rubbed his temple. “I get it. I really do.”
Did he, though? Had contacting Botelli ruined the trust between them so soon?
Velma reached the door before them. She hesitated. “Should I open it?”
“It’s CTC,” he said.
Léon walked into the house, his face solemn. “We need to talk.”
“Maybe I should watch the baby?” Velma said, holding out her arms.
Courtney hesitated. Every instinct in her screamed to keep Dylan tight in her arms.
“Are the perimeter alarm and cameras active?” Jared asked.
“Done,” Léon said. “And we’re constantly monitoring.”
“It’s up to you, Courtney.”
She glanced at the operative’s intense expression. He gave her a curt nod. “I think it’s best.”
With reluctance she handed over Dylan. Velma patted her hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll be right in the kitchen giving him a cookie. If I hear anything strange, I’ll hightail it right back to you.”
Courtney nodded and followed Jared and Léon into the study. “What’s wrong?”
“You may want to sit down,” Léon said.
“Just tell me.”
“Botelli’s dead. He was mugged two days ago around three in the afternoon near his office.”
Courtney slapped her hand over her mouth. “That can’t be. We met at lunchtime in a coffee shop just near there.”
“Whoa. Hold it. Mugged?” Jared paced back and forth and finally came to rest toe-to-toe with Léon. “Coincidence?”
A dismissive huff escaped the operative. “That’s what the murderer wants the police to think. I’m not seeing a lot of investigation going into it, but I don’t buy it. He was a Marine. Tough SOB from what I hear. No small-time punk took him out. Not from what I can tell. I have our forensic expert pulling the preliminary autopsy report.”
“You can do that?” Courtney asked.
“CTC can do a lot of things. We have friends who owe us. They believe in paying it forward.”
Léon took a seat next to the coffee table. “Sit
down. Both of you. There’s more.”
Courtney couldn’t imagine how much more there could be. Her mind had gone numb. First Marilyn. Now this. Who had them in their crosshairs?
She sat down on the sofa and Jared settled in next to her, leaving a good two feet between them.
“This is a copy of Botelli’s file on you, Jared. Nothing shocking. A few articles, financials, information about your wife.” The CTC rep placed a folder on the table. “We have to assume whoever is after your son has this information, as well.”
Jared glanced at the pages. She could read the fury in his glare along with a we’ll-talk-about-this-later message. “Are you saying Dylan’s kidnapping is because he’s my son?”
“I started in that direction. Until we found this.” Léon lay two more files in front of them.
Courtney glanced at the name on the folders. “Me and my father?”
Léon cleared his throat. “Some of this is a bit intrusive, but it couldn’t be helped.”
“Go ahead,” she said, bracing herself. Her father had shocked her already when he’d revealed he’d lost their family fortune. She didn’t think she could be any more surprised.
“Your net worth isn’t anywhere near enough to pay the ransom since you don’t own the penthouse where you live. Your grandmother’s trust is tied up, as well. Anyone wanting you to pay a ransom could figure out those facts easily and know they’d have to go elsewhere for the money.”
“To me?” Jared asked.
“You aren’t the first obvious source of money. Ms. Jamison is.” Léon opened up her father’s folder. A long list of numbers appeared.
“These are your father’s most recent loan requests and lines of credit. All rescinded within the last week, by the way, which forced him to sell everything. He’s broke. Take a look.”
She winced. She’d hope her father had been exaggerating, but the evidence didn’t lie. “There are some large numbers here, but none of them match the number in the note,” Courtney said.
“We haven’t found the correlation yet, but our current hypothesis is that your father’s finances might be at the root of the ransom.”
She sagged against the sofa’s back. “Someone’s using my son to get back at my father? Why?”
