The Hidden Heir

by Debra Webb

She closed her eyes and summoned a dozen mental pictures of her son. God, how she missed him. He and her mother would be well away from Missouri by now.

  Then again, she couldn’t be so sure they would leave Missouri. She had no idea what her mother’s strategy included. That was the deal. Ashley couldn’t know. Answers couldn’t be gotten out of her if she didn’t have them. Extreme maybe, but necessary in her opinion.

  Her mind toyed with the idea that maybe Keith—she had to stop calling him by his first name—could help her. If she showed him her evidence, would he defect to her side? Forget about his commitments to the agency he worked for?

  She was putting far too much stock into this brewing chemistry. But she had to try, didn’t she? He seemed like a nice guy.

  So had Desmond when you first met him, the voice of caution warned.

  Appearances could be deceiving. She could only imagine how much Desmond was paying this agency to locate his son. Counting on this attraction to divert a man from his obligations to his career was not only foolish, but also outright dumb.

  She might have been a fool once, but she wasn’t going to be again. And she darned sure wasn’t going to go stupid over a hot guy.

  One look at the driver and her body staged a rebellion. A yearning so overpowering roared through her that she shook with it.

  Sex, she assured the doubts nagging at her. She’d waited way too long and now she was suffering the consequences. If she’d had a healthy social life, she wouldn’t be having this trouble keeping her mind off how it felt to be held in his arms. The incredible way he kissed. She looked away.

  No use torturing herself.

  This time was about distracting him. Sure, it would be nice if he believed her about Desmond being a monster, but the goal was to buy sufficient time for her mother and son.

  As soon as she got out of this, she’d have to find a new life somewhere. Maybe California. She’d always wanted to live near the ocean. Someplace where the weather was nice all year round.

  She would contact her mother when it was safe.

  A smile lifted the corners of her mouth. Another elaborate plan. Ashley would put an item up for auction on eBay. Her mother knew what to look for, the buzzwords that they had agreed upon.

  To ensure no one else attempted to lure either one of them into a trap, there would be a series of questions, each with a specific answer. Only Ashley knew the questions she would ask; only her mother knew her own. The questions weren’t preplanned. But each understood that questions only the other could answer were necessary.

  Once they had established contact, a reunion would be planned in whichever location appeared to be the safest.

  So a move to California might end up more like a lengthy vacation than a relocation but that was okay with her. She couldn’t wait to see her son again. Maybe, somehow, this time they could be together 24/7.

  New identities. New home. The works.

  A familiar sadness welled in Ashley. No matter how many identities they assumed or how many times they moved, there was always the risk that Desmond would just keep coming after them. The only hope she had of ever being safe was if he did die.

  The idea of wishing another human being dead to save her son and herself felt wrong. Yet she couldn’t help feeling that. If what Keith told her mother was true, Desmond was dying.

  The only problem was, she doubted it would be anywhere near soon enough.

  She sat up in her seat and ran her fingers through her hair. Almost ten o’clock. Fatigue had set in, draining her of strength as well as of her ability to fight over all those troubling thoughts.

  Music could help. She started to reach for the radio, but hesitated. “Do you mind?”

  He glanced at her, then shook his head.

  Allowing her gaze to linger far too long on his profile, she shifted her attention to the radio. It took some time to locate a decent station. Soft rock was her favorite. She had no idea what he liked and she didn’t ask, just tapped the scan button until a song she recognized drifted from the speakers.

  She relaxed into her seat and let the music sidetrack her. Closing her eyes, she mouthed the words, let the rhythm lure her body into a little side-to-side motion that kept time with the beat.

  As long as she was still alive, there was hope for hers and Jamie’s futures. She wasn’t about to let that die without a fight.

  Another of her favorites filled the air and the music energized her, empowered her. She would get through this. No matter if the man sitting next to her was on her side or not. She would survive.

  KEITH STOLE A LOOK at his passenger and felt his muscles tense when he’d been fairly certain his body couldn’t get any harder.

  Her eyes were closed. Those soft lips silently formed the words of the song, making him ache to taste them again. And that little rhythmic sway of her upper torso made him want to feel her moving against him like that.

  He was pretty sure he would have taken her right on the clothes dryer back there if the mechanic hadn’t interrupted.

  Big, big mistake.

  And he was barreling in that direction so fast he could hardly manage a deep breath.

  He’d already taken an enormous chance by putting off giving up her location another twenty-four hours. His job had been so damned simple. All he had to do was find her. Attempt to persuade her to permit her son’s father to see him. If that didn’t work, he was to give her location to Brody and watch to make sure she didn’t run until he arrived. So damned simple.

  Here he was driving along this deserted road, more than likely making a major fool out of himself.

  This so-called evidence might not exist.

  His entire career could be over with this one assignment.

  But he had to give her a chance.

  Too many things didn’t add up. Like the extreme measures she was willing to take to protect her son from Van Valkenberg. He’d mulled that over and over and came up with the same answer every time. There had to be some truth to her accusations.

  If that were the case, how could he, in good con science, turn over her location until the Colby Agency had looked into the matter more thoroughly. Which would infuriate the client. And, if Keith turned out to be wrong, make the agency look bad.

  This was a mistake he didn’t want to make, but he couldn’t see any way around it.

  His logical side had it all figured out. He would review the evidence, listen to her side of the story and then contact Victoria for her input. She wouldn’t be happy that he’d taken this additional twenty-four hours on a hunch without discussing the full story with her, but what was done was done.

  It might not be the route he’d intended to take, but it would work. Then he could at least say he’d given Ashley the full benefit of doubt.

  That was the only way he’d be sleeping at night in the future.

  He rubbed at his eyes and admitted that he could use some shut-eye about now. His head didn’t hurt anymore. His hand went back to the wheel and he clutched it more tightly than necessary.

  If he could just get his mind off her.

  He allowed himself another peek. She was still quietly singing along with the music and doing that little dance with her torso. He wondered if she had any idea what effect she was having on him.

  She seemed oblivious now but she sure as hell hadn’t been a few hours ago. When she’d wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him to her he’d almost lost his mind. Certainly the will to fight—to even think—had deserted him entirely.

  He wasn’t sure he’d ever met a woman who turned him on quite as much. Just taking a deep breath and smelling her subtle scent drove him mad with lust.

  The silky feel of her hair and skin was the stuff fantasies were made of. Her body—well, there was something else to make a man lose all sense of protocol. Slender curves that beckoned him on every level.

  He’d been nursing a major hard-on for about a hundred miles.

  Her little foray into musical entertainment damn sure wa
sn’t helping.

  The car abruptly surged, then slowed.

  His attention snapped to the dashboard. The service engine light flickered.

  “What the hell?”

  He pressed a little harder on the accelerator and the car lunged forward, the engine running smoothly now.

  He relaxed a fraction. The gas gauge indicated plenty of fuel. The mechanic had filled the tank for him and he’d stopped about an hour ago and topped it off again.

  The service engine light started to flash its warning once more and the car surged and slowed a second time. This time, no amount of acceleration did the trick. He had no choice but to guide the vehicle onto the side of the road. By the time he shoved it into Park, the engine had died.

  “What’s going on?” She turned off the radio.

  “Don’t know yet.” He twisted the key in the ignition. The engine would turn over but it wouldn’t crank. He swore.

  The service engine light remained lit now.

  Great.

  He turned off the headlights, tucked the keys into his pocket and popped the hood before getting out. He surveyed the deserted road as best he could in the dark and moved to the front of the vehicle. As talented as he was in many things, he was no mechanic. He knew how to check the battery and various fluids. Even how to replenish those fluids. But he knew absolutely nothing else about the workings of the monstrosity under the hood.

  The light beneath the hood allowed a minimal visual inspection but unless the problem was glaringly obvious, it didn’t really matter.

  “What do you think is wrong?”

  He glanced at the woman who’d gotten out of the car and was now standing next to him. The idea that she had done something else to the car rammed into his head with the same impact as that rifle butt the drug thug had wielded.

  “What did you do?”

  Her gaze collided with his, her eyes wide with innocence. “I didn’t do anything. I swear.”

  “Dammit.” He slammed the hood closed. “You promised you’d behave if I gave you twenty-four hours.”

  She probably couldn’t see him fuming in the moonlight but just then he didn’t care.

  An incensed breath huffed across those sweet lips that he could see clearly with his mind’s eye. What the hell was he doing letting her get to him like this?

  “I had nothing to do with this.” She flung an arm toward the car, the big movement apparent in the sparse moonlight. “Just because you don’t know squat about how a vehicle operates isn’t my fault. You figure it out.”

  She stormed back to the passenger side door and got in.

  Okay, maybe she hadn’t done this.

  Or maybe that little show had been a ruse to throw him off.

  He stamped back to the driver’s door and dropped behind the wheel. The interior light stayed on long enough to allow the driver time to get the key into the ignition so he was able to shoot her a warning look. “If you’re lying to me and I find out—”

  “Just call somebody,” she snapped, her lips a furious line, her eyes glittering with outrage.

  The interior light faded into darkness.

  Did he dare trust her?

  Did it matter?

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Ben would send someone. No problem. All he’d have to do is give his location.

  He hesitated as he was about to enter the number.

  Was it routine to have to call for backup twice before an assignment was even complete?

  Ben would surely let Victoria know he’d contacted him. Then Victoria would know what a mistake she had made pulling him out of research.

  Keith had spent his entire life focusing on the details. In school he’d always been the teacher’s pet. The smart kid that no one else related to. The geek, in a sense. Not as much of a nerd as Ben, but along that line.

  He hadn’t cared. He’d pretty much been a loner. Done his own thing. Some people called him shy, but actually he just preferred not to put himself out there. Trouble couldn’t find him if he stayed out of its way.

  Until a couple months ago, when Victoria had suggested he move into field work. He’d turned her down at first. But then, he’d started to think that maybe it was time he turned over a new leaf. Got involved. Put himself out there.

  Why not?

  Hell, he was thirty-two. Life was just going to pass him by if he didn’t jump in and join it. His folks had been telling him that for years. Of course, this wasn’t exactly what they’d had in mind, but they appeared to be happy for him.

  Finding that tire wrench in his bag popped into his thoughts. He refused to screw this up. He could handle this without any help.

  He closed the phone and tossed it onto the dash. He wasn’t calling anyone until he was certain she didn’t have anything to do with this. She wasn’t going to make him look like an idiot again.

  “It’s late.” He turned to Ashley, could barely make out her still ticked-off expression in the dark. “We should get some sleep. I’ll call a tow truck in the morning.”

  Her mouth fell open. “You’re kidding, right? We’re going to sleep here? On the side of the road?”

  “I do have a gun, in case you’ve forgotten. We’ll be fine.” The memory of those guys at the shack in the woods skipped through his head, but he evicted it. Just in case, he pressed the lock button. Of course, he didn’t actually have any intention of sitting here all night.

  For about ten seconds, he thought she might just come clean. Then she showed him that no matter how hard he tried, she was always, always one step ahead of him.

  She hit the unlock button and wrenched her door open. “No way am I sitting here all night. I’ll walk.”

  “Damn,” he muttered, then got out and went after her.

  “Don’t even think about it,” she warned when he moved up alongside her and was about to take her arm. She held onto the shoulder strap of her purse and just kept walking.

  “You can’t do this.”

  “Why can’t I?” She didn’t slow, didn’t look back. “I’ve done it before.”

  A new blast of anger broadsided him. “If I find out you—”

  She spun around to face him. He barely stopped before slamming into her.

  “I told you I didn’t do this.” She stabbed him in the chest with her finger. “Stop trying to blame this on me!”

  He manacled her hand, the contact only serving to ratchet up the tension already vibrating through him. “You’ve orchestrated every other disaster since I met you,” he growled right back.

  “Maybe you just can’t handle the job without your pal in the trench coat rushing to your aid.”

  He shut her up with his mouth. He hadn’t meant to let things go there, but, hell, he was only human. He couldn’t take any more of her talk…but her lips, well they were a different story.

  She shoved at his chest once, as if she didn’t want him kissing her, but her resistance only lasted two or three seconds. She melted against him the way she had that first time they’d kissed, and every part of him responded.

  The kiss went on until they were both gasping for breath. “We should—” he kissed her chin “—get back—” he kissed her cheek “—in the—” his lips traced her jawline “—car.”

  She hung her arms around his neck and dove in for more, determined not to let his lips get too far from hers. But he needed more. He lifted her and her legs went instinctively around his waist and, somehow, he found his way back to the car.

  He opened a door, not caring which one, and crawled inside with her still clinging to him.

  Somewhere in the back of his mind, backseat registered and he was glad. No steering wheel to contend with. He kicked his shoes off and tucked the toes of his left foot into the armrest and pulled the door shut as if he’d done it a thousand times. The accomplishment emboldened him all the more.

  Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. The scrape of her nails made him crazy with want. When her soft palms flattened against h
is chest, he groaned with pleasure.

  Twice he told himself that this was a mistake…that he should stop this insanity…but he just couldn’t do it. Couldn’t do anything except exactly what he was doing.

  Those wicked fingers found the waistband of his jeans and the button slipped loose…the metal-on-metal sound of his fly lowering made him shiver.

  Grasping control of his runaway lust, he pulled her hands away, ushered them above her head with one hand while he had his turn. Slowly, he pushed her blouse up and over her bra. Her breasts heaved with the gasp of air she sucked in. He wished he could see more of her, but the sparse moonlight just wasn’t cooperating. But his imagination was running damned wild. Those lace-covered mounds of creamy flesh made him want to taste the budding nipples he felt beneath his fingertips.

  Her hips arched against his and she cried out with her own desire. “Hurry,” she whimpered.

  Torn between rushing for his sake and going more slowly for her pleasure as well as his own, he opted for the right thing.

  He tasted her through the lace of her bra. She screamed. Her hands flew loose from his hold and tugged at his shirt in an attempt to draw his body closer to hers. He ignored her urgent prodding. He kissed his way down her torso, ravished the sensitive skin with his tongue. She squirmed and whimpered some more. The idea that he was making her feel exactly the way he did proved to be a heady sensation. He wanted to take his time, but each touch of his lips to her skin fueled his own urgency.

  Ashley couldn’t take any more of this. “Stop!” She pushed at his massive shoulders. His weight felt so good pressing against her, but it just wasn’t enough.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She glared into those amazing blue eyes glittering in the darkness as need, desire and flat-out frustration pushed her over the edge. “Look,” she said breathlessly, “I haven’t had sex in ten years. If you don’t get down to business right now, I’m going to lose my mind.”

  He hesitated, but only for a second. Suddenly they were working to peel off her jeans. Why the hell had she worn the tightest ones she owned?

  Gasping for air, hands fumbling for purchase, he managed to get them off. Her panties went next.