Let's Make a Baby!

by Jacqueline Diamond

  “After all,” Lothaire pointed out, “it’s only a million and a half dollars. To Schuyler De La Pena, that’s chicken feed.” Compared to the well-being of his family, that was true, Lisa thought.

  “We have to be sure the bills are real,” Boris muttered. “Lothaire, when you pick up the suitcase, open it.”

  “I will conduct a quick inspection,” he said.

  “Not too quick!”

  “It is a tense situation,” said Lothaire. “We should not linger.”

  “We will linger as long as I see fit!” Boris flared. “Don’t forget who is the brains of this operation.”

  As Lothaire turned away, Lisa caught the quirk of his mouth and wondered if he were thinking the same thing she was. Boris is an idiot. But he’s an idiot who has created a lot of trouble.

  *

  Ryder edged along the row of trees, staying beneath the dripline so as not to be seen from the helicopter. Between the roar of the engine and the sweep of the rain, he didn’t worry about anyone hearing the occasional cracked twig. Still, he stopped some distance from the vehicle that he assumed belonged to the De La Penas.

  As the chopper lowered toward earth, a couple emerged from the vehicle’s front seat, leaving the doors ajar. They were followed by two deferential figures from the back, evidently employees.

  The tall, striking woman opening a black umbrella must be Lisa’s mother, Ryder thought. He could see a resemblance, although she had a remote air that her daughter lacked.

  Nearby, hands fisted, a short, intense figure that must be Schuyler De La Pena paced through the downpour. With his snub nose and bulldog frame, he resembled a street fighter more than an aristocrat.

  Ryder watched the military-style chopper circle the field, then aim for a spot near the center. His heart wedged in his throat as he waited to see if Lisa was on board.

  What if something went wrong? He hadn’t brought a gun. At best, he might be able to create a distraction, but who in this bunch of amateurs would be able to take advantage of it?

  The copter set down, its rotors flattening the tall grass. Any identifying marks had been removed from its exterior, Ryder noted. He had to hand it to Boris Grissofsky. The man had done a skillful job, kidnapping a woman in California and bringing her all this distance, across borders and through changes of aircraft, without drawing suspicion. Either he’d had a great deal of time to prepare—unlikely, under the circumstances—or he had underworld connections. Not a pleasant prospect.

  Although it went against his instincts, Ryder knew his best bet was simply to wait this out. If no one played any tricks, the ransom should be handed over and Lisa safely restored to her family. He tried not to think about how frightened she must be. Or whether she might have been injured in the abduction.

  A door opened in the side of the chopper. Through tree branches and sheets of water, Ryder discerned a blurry figure jumping down, swathed in a trench coat and broad-brimmed hat. Too big to be Lisa, and moving with masculine ease. What he could see of the man’s face appeared young and smooth. Was this Boris?

  Ryder detected no sign of surprise from the De La Penas, so perhaps not. The kidnapper crossed to them and, Ryder gathered, was demanding the ransom. Schuyler shook his head and gestured at the craft. Smart man. Get your daughter before you make the payoff.

  As if on cue, a slender figure appeared in the doorway. Lisa! Ryder started forward, then caught himself. Waiting beside a rain-blackened tree trunk, he watched her jump to the ground and wince at the impact. Dark hair straggled around her face, and even in the filtered light she looked pale. But she was clearly moving under her own steam as she walked toward her parents.

  Mrs. De La Pena took a step forward, but paused when her husband shouted, “Valeria! Stay clear of the helicopter!”

  Lisa broke into a run, stumbling, until she reached her mother’s arms. Simultaneously, Schuyler retrieved a briefcase from the vehicle.

  Ryder released a long breath. Things appeared to be proceeding smoothly. Just let the abductor take the ransom and leave.

  His attention snapped to the helicopter doorway. Who was that bulky man standing there, wearing a Richard Nixon mask? Lisa hadn’t reacted to his presence, but Schuyler De La Pena did. He stood holding the briefcase, not releasing it to the man in the trench coat.

  Ryder couldn’t imagine why anyone would complicate a hostage release unnecessarily. Dismayed, he watched as the masked figure dropped to the ground, stumped across the field and grabbed the briefcase. When Schuyler held on, it seemed as if there might be a tug-of-war.

  Then Lisa’s father let go. The bulky man plopped the case to the ground, knelt and flipped the catches. Ryder tensed, bracing to hear an explosion or see paint shoot out. Nothing happened, except that the man lifted out a bundled stack of bills and leafed through it. He replaced it and took out another pile, then another. What was this clown planning to do, count the entire ransom?

  His accomplice shouted something incomprehensible to Ryder, but it didn’t take a linguist to understand the man was hurrying him. At last the newcomer closed the suitcase with a satisfied nod. Gesturing at his companion, he turned toward the copter.

  Just when Ryder began to breathe again, the Nixon pretender swung around, a gun in his hand. Shocked expressions flashed across the faces of everyone present. The other kidnapper took a step backward.

  “I heard you on the phone last night, Lothaire,” the large man sneered in the heavily accented English of Mr. Smith, whom Ryder assumed was alias Grissofsky. “I know what you and the pilot are planning. You will never make a fool out of me!”

  He aimed the gun at Schuyler De La Pena. “I need your car, and I will be taking your daughter with me for insurance.”

  “No!” cried Valeria.

  “Yes,” said the man in the mask.

  Ryder refused to let him take Lisa again. He was too unstable and, with the ransom in hand, no longer had a strong motive for releasing her unharmed.

  Grissofsky possessed a gun and control of the situation. Since the only advantage Ryder had was the element of surprise, he kept to cover as he scooted toward the far side of the vehicle.

  “I’ll take that briefcase, Boris.” From within his jacket, the younger accomplice pulled an automatic pistol.

  “Boris?” Mrs. De La Pena’s voice broke on the second syllable. “Boris Grissofsky?”

  “One and the same,” said the second kidnapper. “Let’s cut our losses, shall we, Boris? Bring the ransom and we’ll both get out of here alive.”

  With a snarl, the heavier man ripped off his mask. The square, jowly face beneath bore a certain resemblance to the caricature of Nixon. “You’ll pay for this, you traitor,” he barked.

  The other man shrugged. “I think not. You’re the one who owes money, and I’m here to collect it.”

  Just let Lisa go, Ryder ordered the kidnappers silently. Get in the helicopter and fight over the ransom somewhere else.

  “You work for the Russians?” demanded Grissofsky.

  “Yes. So you might as well hand it over, because sooner or later they’ll find you.”

  “I didn’t go through all this to end up empty-handed!” Any second, these two would begin shooting, and neither appeared to care who else they hit.

  Crouching, Ryder sprang from the shelter of the trees. Rain matted his hair and dripped from his forehead as he raced toward the vehicle. No one noticed him. They were all riveted on the scene playing itself out in their midst.

  Without warning, Boris dodged toward Valeria, seized Lisa and pulled her in front of him. It was a clumsy maneuver, since he had the briefcase tucked under one arm and the gun in his hand, but with the barrel wavering near her ear, Lisa was in no position to fight.

  “Well, Lothaire?” challenged Boris. “Are you willing to shoot the girl to get me?”

  The automatic pointed straight at Lisa. Ryder’s hands itched to grab a weapon, but there was nothing nearby, not even a rock.

  The barrel swung away.
“It’s not my job to shoot innocent women,” said Lothaire.

  “Good.” Keeping Lisa in front of him, Boris angled toward the car. “Stay back and nobody gets hurt.”

  “Take the car but leave my daughter!” cried Schuyler.

  “Do you think I’m a fool?”

  “Please! Just let her go!”

  “Not until it suits me.”

  In that moment, Lisa’s gaze met Ryder’s through the open vehicle. Her eyes widened in shock. He mimed a quick ducking motion. If only she would trust him enough to obey without question!

  His meaning took a second to register. Then, without hesitation, Lisa ducked.

  Ryder plunged across the seat, heedless of the steering wheel’s bruising impact on his thigh and the fact that he’d left one shoe stuck in the mud. Propelling himself over Lisa’s head, he smashed into Boris and sent them both thudding to earth.

  Boris dropped the briefcase and Lisa, but he still had the gun. As Ryder struggled to regain his balance, the other man wiggled like a greased pig until he got his arm clear to take aim.

  “No!” Lisa kicked at his wrist. “I won’t let you!”

  With a deafening blast, the gun went off. A bullet whistled so close that Ryder could feel the powder burn, and his ears rang like carillons. The explosion knocked Boris flat.

  It also spurred Schuyler De La Pena into a frenzy of action. Shouldering Ryder aside, he flung himself on top of the fallen Boris and began pounding him with his fists, screaming, “I’ll kill you!” in three languages.

  Beneath the onslaught, Boris’s face crumpled like a papier-mâché mask left out in a storm. On the grass, Valeria hurried to grab both the gun and the briefcase before the accomplice could reach them. Holding them defiantly, she glared at Lothaire.

  With a shrug, he holstered his weapon and strode away. A fresh burst of rain obscured Ryder’s vision where he sat, his head throbbing. He could see only smeary shapes, including one breaking into a lope toward the helicopter.

  “Are you all right?” Frantic hands pulled at his jacket. “He didn’t hit you, did he?” Lisa. She smelled wonderful, kneeling in the rain, her hair trailing across Ryder’s chest as she examined him feverishly. Essence of wildflower mingled with fear and passion made a heady perfume.

  He couldn’t resist digging his fingers into that hair. Turning her face toward his, he caught a startled glint of green eyes, and then he kissed her. She tasted even better than she smelled. Fiercely alive, hungry, and all his.

  “I’ve never been better,” he said when he came up for air. “How about you?”

  Her arms tightened around him. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

  “Help!” wheezed Boris a few feet away. “He’s killing me!”

  With an exclamation of disgust, Schuyler quit pounding him. “Sebastien! Ici!”

  The butler approached, carrying a rope. He and his employer rolled the whimpering captive and bound his hands behind his back.

  “Oh, Ryder!” Lisa pressed her cheek to his chest. “You saved my life.”

  “Saved your life?” roared her father. “This maniac nearly got you shot! Ryder? Ryder Kelly? Sebastien, tie him also!”

  Ryder stared at Lisa’s father in disbelief. Was it possible Schuyler De La Pena had misunderstood the situation, or did he simply resent seeing his daughter in the arms of a man who lacked the proper pedigree?

  “Monsieur?” said the puzzled butler, who was trying to drag Boris upright.

  “Tie him?” Lisa demanded. “You’re crazy, Papa. He flew all the way here from California to rescue me, and this is how you thank him?”

  “He flew here because he wants a piece of your fortune.” With a grimace her father indicated the briefcase. “Why don’t you give him the money and tell him to leave? I’ll bet he’ll take it, and gladly.”

  The man was hopeless. “Lisa,” Ryder said, “we should get out of the rain before you catch pneumonia. There’s an inn at the village where we can scrape this mud off.”

  “Don’t go.” Her mother spoke with a soft, Spanish-accented voice. “I saw how you risked your life, Mr. Kelly. We owe you a great debt.”

  The butler stuffed Boris into the back seat of the vehicle. He showed no interest in restraining Ryder.

  “A debt?” Schuyler said. “For all we know, he was involved in this mess from the beginning. Maybe he’s in league with that other kidnapper, the double-crosser. What do you say, Boris?” Even now, Ryder thought in amazement, Lisa’s father would seek advice from a proven criminal, as long as he had noble blood.

  “In league? Who knows?” snarled Boris. “In any case I assume she’s already paid him to make her pregnant.”

  Schuyler issued a choking noise. Valeria gasped.

  “Why are you both so shocked?” Lisa cried. “That’s why I ran off, to give you people the heir you insisted on. But I certainly didn’t pay Ryder!”

  “You intended to have a baby with a stranger?” said her mother. “Annalisa, how could you?”

  “There was no need to do such a foolish thing,” said her father. “We had everything arranged.”

  “For me to marry this lowlife because he’s related to the Hohnersteins?” Lisa snorted. “Do you know he owes money to gangsters and that his business is a wreck?”

  “It sounds to me,” said her father firmly, “as if you need a long rest, Lisa.”

  “No,” she said. “What I need is to stop acting like a teenager and start acting like an adult.”

  “You will do as I say!”

  “She’ll do as she pleases.” Ryder would have liked to stand up, but Lisa was sitting on his lap. “Believe me, this lady doesn’t take orders from anybody.”

  “You’re on French soil now, monsieur.” Schuyler removed a cell phone from his pocket, sheltering it with his body against the rain. “The police can deal with you.”

  “Monsieur, vous êtes un monstre!” The insult arose from the maid, who until this point had huddled silently behind the others. Why was she calling her employer a monster? Ryder wondered, not that he wouldn’t gladly second the motion.

  “Mireille?” said Lisa. “What do you mean?”

  “I gave that other man information. That Lothaire.” The woman stepped forward tearfully. “I did not do it for money. I thought I was helping to promote a romance of true love for mademoiselle. I thought that young man was enamored of her. I wished to help her escape because you treated her like a prisoner!”

  “A prisoner?” asked Valeria.

  “You’re fired!” said Schuyler.

  “I quit!” said the maid.

  “I think we should get out of the rain,” said Ryder.

  Lisa sneezed. That settled it.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lisa hated letting go of Ryder. She didn’t feel cold until the air rushed between them, and then nothing could warm her, not even the blankets that her mother and Sebastien kept piling on her as they jounced back to the château in the vehicle.

  It infuriated Lisa that her father insisted on acting irrational. Finally he calmed down enough that, by the time the police arrived to take Boris, he was no longer suggesting that Ryder should be arrested. He also rehired Mireille, who apologized profusely for her role in the abduction.

  But Lisa could tell that her father expected her to return to being the little girl who’d accepted being shut away in the château, who’d been afraid to confront her parents for fear of losing them. She scarcely knew that girl. Lisa’s memories had returned, but they might have belonged to a different person.

  What mattered now was Ryder. That he hadn’t turned away when he learned the truth about why she’d sought him out. Still, she didn’t dare read too much into his actions. An honorable man like him might have felt guilty for leaving her alone at the store on Saturday. Or perhaps an obligation upon learning that she might be carrying his child.

  Having ensured she was safe, he had no further duty. He owed her nothing. Nothing that he did not want to give freely.

&n
bsp; As soon as she dried off and changed clothes, Lisa went in search of him. Her parents had put Ryder in the Marie Antoinette chamber. It was rumored that the ill-fated queen had once slept there, and, as Lisa recalled, the ornate furnishings and sumptuous bed coverings reflected that long-ago era.

  She knocked twice. Hearing no answer, she entered anyway.

  She’d forgotten the immensity of the room, like a gymnasium, and the rococo excesses of wallpaper, draperies, moldings, china knickknacks and carved furniture that stuffed the place. How must it strike a man who never bothered to hang a picture on a wall?

  Seeing no sign of him, she started toward the inner door that led to the bath chamber. It opened as she approached. In a blast of steam Ryder emerged with a towel wrapped around his midsection. Wet, freshly combed hair clung to his well-shaped head. Along his bare torso, muscles rippled, and with a flare of longing Lisa remembered how it felt to run her hands over his chest.

  He stopped short, nearly on top of her. “Lisa! I didn’t know you were here.”

  She could read nothing in his face. Several opening lines ran through her mind, but she rejected them all and waited until Ryder spoke again.

  “One of the servants was supposed to pick up my suitcase at the train station. I wonder if he’s done it.” He walked to a freestanding mahogany wardrobe and opened it to reveal several suits and shirts, which he must have thrown in his bag haphazardly before his flight. They were perfectly pressed and hanging in place. “Good heavens! What efficiency.”

  “Say something to me.” Lisa lowered herself onto the edge of the bed. “Please.”

  As he turned, the towel slipped. He yanked it into place. “I was under the impression I was saying something.”

  “Don’t talk about your clothes. Tell me why you followed me all the way to France after I treated you so horribly.”

  Ryder fumbled to open a drawer, retrieved some underwear and put it on under the towel. “You were in trouble.” He tossed the towel aside.

  “Aren’t you angry? That I used you to try to get pregnant?” She desperately needed to understand his mood.