5 Minutes to Marriage

by Carla Cassidy

  “Just give me my kids,” Jack said, his voice cracking with his emotion. “You have the diamond ring, and you have the money. What else do you want from me? You want me to beg? I’ll beg. For God’s sake, just give my kids back to me.”

  Paz drew a deep breath, as if to calm the rage inside him. “I’ve been thinking that maybe this is just the down payment,” he said.

  Down payment? The implication of those words created a red fog inside Jack’s brain. “Where are my boys?” he raged as he took a step toward Patrick.

  “Get back or I’ll shoot you,” Patrick yelled as Jack took another step toward him.

  Jack heard the sound of the gun, a sharp crack that echoed in his head.

  There was a split second when his heart cried out. Not because he believed he was about to die, but rather because he would die without seeing Mick and David’s first day of school, he’d miss seeing them become teenagers—become men.

  His heart cried not just for his children but for Marisa, whom he now recognized he loved not just as the mother figure to his boys but as the woman he wanted in his life forever.

  He tensed, waiting for the killing bullet, but instead he watched in stunned surprise as Patrick crumpled to the ground.

  Harold stepped out from around the side of the building, a gun in his hand. “I couldn’t let him kill you,” he said.

  Jack stared at the unmoving Paz with a growing sense of alarm. “Oh, God, what have you done?” Jack raced to the fallen man, vaguely aware that Marisa had joined Harold.

  It took only one look to see that Paz was dead. Jack stared down at him with a growing sense of horror. He finally looked at Harold and Marisa. “He didn’t tell me where the boys were. I don’t know where Mick and David are.” His voice cracked once again.

  A cry escaped Marisa, and she ran to Paz’s car and tore open the back door. “They aren’t in here.” She began to cry.

  “I had to shoot him. Otherwise he would have killed you,” Harold said, his voice a mix of anger and fear.

  The trunk. Jack stared at the car with a new sense of horror. Was it possible that Paz had put his sons into the trunk of his car?

  He leaned down and fumbled in Paz’s pockets until he found the car keys. As he approached the trunk the only sound was that of Marisa’s sobs.

  A roar resounded in his head. Would he open the trunk lid and find them curled up together, not breathing? His hand shook so violently that it took him three stabs before he managed to get the key into the lock.

  He opened the trunk and wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or devastated. The trunk was empty. “Call the police,” he said, his voice sounding as if it came from very far away. Where were his sons? Where in the hell had Paz stashed them?

  They were all seated around a large interrogation table in the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department. Kent had been picked up and now sat in shackles next to Officer Jeff Cookson, who was trying to make sense of a dead body behind a deserted casino and one of the wealthiest men in the country seated next to him.

  Marisa and Jack sat side by side, their hands clasped in a tight grip as they listened to Cookson grill Kent for any clues that might help them locate Mick and David.

  An Amber Alert had been issued but so far had yielded nothing. Officers were out searching the area around the King’s Inn casino. It was the middle of the night and David and Mick were out there someplace, alone and hopefully still alive.

  Marisa felt Jack’s desperation radiating through his hand. It was a desperation she shared.

  “I met Patrick in a bar,” Kent now said. “We got to drinking and talking, and it wasn’t long before he told me how much he hated the Rothchilds and I told him how much I hated Jack.”

  Kent looked at Jack with narrowed eyes. “We were best friends. You could have changed my life, but you left here and never looked back.”

  “You could have changed your own life, Kent,” Jack replied with a rough edge to his voice. “I was never responsible for you.”

  They had already learned that it had been Kent who had tried to break in to the ranch. He’d watched the house and had known that Marisa and Jack often stayed up late in the living room talking.

  The plan had been for Kent to break in to Marisa’s bedroom and steal silently across the hallway to the boys’ room. If they’d awakened they wouldn’t have been afraid to see Kent. Patrick had been waiting just outside the window of that room to get the boys from Kent.

  When that particular plan hadn’t worked, Patrick had decided to take care of getting the boys on his own. When Jack had called Kent to make arrangements to meet at Kent’s house and talk about their fight, Kent had called Patrick to let him know Marisa and the boys would be alone at the ranch.

  As Marisa had listened to him talking about the plot her blood had chilled, something she hadn’t thought possible, as her blood was already cold enough to freeze her solid.

  What had Patrick done with the boys? Where could he have put them while he went to retrieve his ransom? Were they warm enough? Were they thirsty or hungry? Were they still alive?

  Her heart lurched, and she shoved that particular thought away. She had to believe that they were all right. Any thought to the contrary was too difficult to fathom.

  “I’ve told you a million times, I don’t know what he did with the boys,” Kent exclaimed. “I don’t know where he was living or what his exact plan was. We only met in bars or at my place. This isn’t my fault. I didn’t know he was dangerous.”

  Marisa stared at Kent in incomprehension. How could he have done this? Even if he’d hated Jack how could he have placed those two little boys in harm’s way?

  Jack leaned across the table, his stormy gray eyes swirling with fury. “You didn’t do anything to change your life in the past, but you’ve definitely done something to change your future. I’ll make sure you stay locked up for the rest of your miserable life.”

  Jack unclasped Marisa’s hand, stood and stalked out of the room. Marisa went after him, and she found him leaning against the wall outside the interrogation room.

  Deep sobs wrenched his body, and Marisa wrapped her arms around him and held tight. Together they wept for the lost boys, their fear palpable in the air around them.

  Marisa had no idea how much time had passed before he finally straightened, leaned back against the wall and raised a hand to shield his eyes as if embarrassed by his show of emotion.

  “I’m trying to be strong,” he finally said, his voice weary.

  “You are strong, Jack.” She reached up and grabbed his hand and looked into his eyes. “It’s a courageous man who walks into a deserted back lot with two suitcases full of money. It’s a selfless man who goes to the person he fears most to get the money to save his boys, and it’s a strong man who faces up to his fear for his children.”

  “Where are they, Marisa? What could he have done with them?” The torment in his eyes reflected the emotion inside her heart.

  “I wish I knew.” Once again he reached for her and they stood in an embrace until Officer Cookson and Harold came out of the interrogation room.

  “I don’t think he has any information that can help us find your kids,” he said. “He’s been taken back to the jail, and he’ll be charged first thing Monday morning. In the meantime I need to see what we’re going to do with Mr. Rothchild.”

  Harold said nothing. In the past hour he’d looked as if he’d aged ten years. His skin held an unhealthy pallor, and his posture was that of a defeated man.

  “He saved my life,” Jack said. “If he hadn’t shot Paz, then I wouldn’t be here right now. You can’t arrest him—he killed a dangerous man.”

  “We’re going now to meet with the district attorney and explain the whole situation to him. It’s doubtful that Mr. Rothchild will face any charges,” Cookson said.

  Before any of them could move from their position another officer appeared. “Hey, thought you might be interested that we just got a call from the Timberline Motel.
The manager called to tell us he’d found a toddler wandering around in the parking lot. He’s got the kid in the office and is waiting for somebody to respond.”

  Jack grabbed Marisa’s hand so tight she winced beneath the pressure. “The Timberline Motel? Where is it?” he asked.

  “Let’s go,” Cookson said. “You can follow me.”

  Within minutes Marisa was in the passenger seat of Jack’s car and Harold was in the back as they barreled down the street just behind Cookson’s patrol car.

  Marisa’s heart beat frantically, although she was afraid to acknowledge the tiny ray of hope that tried to emerge. It could be the child of somebody staying at the motel. It might have nothing to do with David or Mick.

  Jack’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel and a muscle knotted in his jaw. She wanted to tell him not to hope too much, but she saw it shining from his eyes—the need to believe that the child in the parking lot of the motel was one of his own. And even though she was afraid for him, she didn’t want to be the one to take that hope away.

  The Timberline Motel was located in the downtown area about ten minutes from the abandoned casino behind which Paz had been killed.

  In the land of flashing, gaudy lights the one-story building was woefully inadequate, as the vacancy sign sported more than a dozen burned-out bulbs. It was obviously a low-rent operation, the kind of motel that probably rented out more by the hour than by the night.

  Jack’s car squealed to a halt in front of the office, and all three of them jumped out of the car and raced toward the office door.

  Marisa was just behind Jack as he burst through the door. She cried out in sweet relief as she saw both David and Mick sitting on chairs in the small lobby.

  “Daddy!” Mick cried, and met Jack halfway. Jack released a deep sob as he grabbed Mick to him, then rushed to David and picked him up in his arms, as well.

  “Daddy, David needs time-out. He went out the window again,” Mick exclaimed with a hint of indignity.

  “Time-out,” David said and nodded his head with a happy smile.

  “We’ll worry about time-out later,” Jack replied through his tears.

  Little David had pulled his Houdini act, climbing out the window of whatever room they had been in. Marisa gave Jack a moment to hug and kiss them, then she moved forward, needing those little-boy hugs and kisses for herself.

  As the four of them had a group hug, Officer Cookson and Harold questioned the manager of the motel. “Room 121. He checked in as Martin Bale,” Cookson said to Jack. “He didn’t show identification and paid cash for one night. I’ve called in the crime-scene unit to check it all out.”

  “I’m taking my boys home,” Jack said. He held Mick in his arms, and Marisa hugged tight to David, reveling in the warmth of his little arms around her.

  “I’m sure we’ll have more questions for you,” Officer Cookson protested.

  “Not tonight,” Jack said firmly. “It’s way past my boys’ bedtime. I’m taking them home now so they can sleep in their own beds.” He looked unflinching at the officer. “If you have any questions for me you can come to the ranch either tonight or in the morning, but right now we’re going home.”

  “I’ll stay here,” Harold said. “I can tell them whatever they need to know, and then Officer Cookson can take me back to my car.”

  As they walked out of the motel office, a euphoric joy flowed through Marisa’s heart. It was over. The danger, the drama, the terror, it was all over now and her family was safe and sound.

  Her family. A fierce protectiveness surged through her. Mick and David and Jack. In a shockingly short period of time they had become her heart, her very soul. They were a unit of love she couldn’t imagine not having in her life.

  They had just buckled the boys into their car seats when Harold walked toward them. Instantly Marisa tensed.

  In the minutes that they had driven together and followed Jack to the back lot of the King’s Inn casino, Harold had talked a lot, and in that conversation Marisa had recognized him as a man who admitted the mistakes he’d made in his life, a man who had sounded as if he wanted to make amends, turn things around.

  But as he approached their car every protective urge she had inside her rose to the surface. She couldn’t forget that Harold was the one person on earth who could possibly take the boys from Jack.

  “Jack,” he called. “We need to talk.”

  She stepped between Jack and Harold. “Mr. Rothchild, it’s late and we need to get the boys home where they belong.” She emphasized the last words. “Surely whatever you have to say can wait for another day.”

  To her surprise Harold’s mouth turned upward in a half smile. “You’re a pushy little thing, aren’t you? I can see what Jack sees in you. I think Jack will want to hear what I have to say.”

  Jack placed a hand on Marisa’s shoulder and faced his father-in-law. “What is it, Harold?”

  “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, Jack. I haven’t always been a good man, a righteous man.”

  “You came all the way out here to tell me that?” Jack asked dryly.

  Harold shook his head. “I came all the way out here to tell you that I see now that taking those boys from you would be just another mistake for me. I won’t fight you for custody,” he said. “I see how those boys love you…how you love them. I just wanted you to know that I have no intention of causing you problems.” He looked him straight in the eye. “I promise you that you don’t have to worry about me anymore. I might be a lot of things, but you know that I’m a man of my word.”

  He held out his hand to Jack. Marisa released a tremulous sigh. She believed Harold and apparently so did Jack, for he grasped Harold’s hand and they shook.

  Marisa felt it in the air, the healing between the two men who both only wanted what was best for the precious little boys who were already sound asleep in their car seats.

  “If you need anything for them or for yourself, you call me and I’ll see that you get it,” Harold said as the handshake ended.

  It was only when they were in the car and headed home that the full significance of Harold’s words hit Marisa and all the joy she’d felt minutes before whooshed out of her.

  Jack now understood what the boys needed from him, both as a disciplinarian and as a loving parent. Harold had promised he had no intention of fighting Jack for custody.

  That meant her role in Jack’s life was now unnecessary. The very reason for their marriage no longer existed. She was no longer needed. She glanced over at Jack and wondered just how long it would take before he came to the same conclusion.

  Chapter 13

  Jack sat in the boys’ room for hours after they’d come home from the police station. He’d needed to be close enough to them to hear them breathing, to smell the familiar scent of them.

  When he thought of how close he’d come to losing them, his heart ached and the memory of his terror nearly froze him in place. So close—so frighteningly close.

  They were safe and home where they belonged, and Harold had promised that he wouldn’t try to take them away.

  Jack believed him. As Harold had said, he might be many things but as he’d reminded Jack he was also a man of his word. He would cause no more anxiety as far as the boys were concerned. Jack could sleep nights knowing that Harold was no longer a threat.

  It had to have been the love that Harold saw that existed among the four of them, the family unity that they’d shown must have been what had made him come to his decision to leave them alone.

  Sure, there would probably be times in the future where Jack and Harold would butt heads, and certainly Jack expected Harold to be a part of the boys’ lives. But the fear of losing them had eased out of Jack’s heart, leaving nothing but his intense love behind.

  It was near dawn when Marisa appeared in the doorway. She was clad in her little red nightgown and her long hair was tousled around her head—the very sight of her chased any memory of the terror away and he finally ros
e from the chair and left the boys’ room.

  “You need to get some sleep,” she said softly.

  He raked a hand through his hair and released a weary sigh. “Yeah.” He smiled and reached out and traced his finger down the side of her cheek, the warmth of her skin stirring him. “Come to bed with me?”

  There was a moment of hesitation as she gazed up at him. “All right,” she said.

  Together they walked down the hallway to his bedroom. He stripped off his clothes as she crawled in under the sheets.

  He was exhausted, both physically and emotionally, but the minute he got into bed next to her and drew her warm body against his, he wanted her.

  He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to hash over what the night had held. He just wanted to make love to his wife.

  She seemed to sense what he needed. She pulled off her gown and tossed it over the side of the bed, and they came together with a tenderness that was healing.

  The horror of the night fell away, replaced by the heat of her lips and the comfort of her naked body against his.

  There was a sense of desperation in her kiss, in the way her hands clutched his shoulders, and he guessed that she was chasing away the demons that had plagued them through the long night.

  He held her tight and kissed her with all the passion, all the love that burned in his heart. This was the woman he’d been meant to marry, the woman who completed him like no other.

  The winds of fate had blown her into his life. She’d needed his boys and they had needed her. The fact that Jack had fallen so deeply in love with her was just icing on the cake.

  As he caressed her she cried out softly in pleasure. He loved the feel of her silky flesh, the taste of her skin as he ran his lips from one breast to the other.

  He’d never felt this way with Candace. He’d never felt this need, this connection that went far beyond the physical. When he knew she was ready he moved to take her completely.

  He entered her and looked down at her, her face bathed in the dawn light. Tears oozed from the corners of her eyes, tears he assumed were of relief, of pleasure.