Red Hot Lovers: 18 Contemporary Romance Books of Love, Passion, and Sexy Heroes by Your Favorite Top-Selling Authors

by Milly Taiden

  “How can the truth be wrong?”

  “I don't know, but I can't help worrying.”

  He patted her hand. “I hear you are married and that you have a baby on the way.”

  Hope's face lit up as she thought of her family. “You know, Father, I never thought I’d become Mrs. Brennan Rawley.”

  “He was quite an irascible character when last I saw him.”

  Hope laughed.

  “I wish I had been able to perform your marriage ceremony, Hope. You always said I would.”

  “Who would have thought I’d be right on so many things. And wrong about so many others.”

  Father Bertaut grinned and patted her hand. She felt strength well up within her heart and some semblance of peace. The loneliness of missing Bren, of wanting to kiss and hold Michelle began to ease a bit.

  *

  Judge Lim Thatcher's chambers were majestic, with mahogany furniture, dozens of plaques and certificates on the wall, a towering shelf of books behind the desk, and an enormous window overlooking the city.

  The room did not at all suit the earthy old man who slowly made his way into the chambers, squinting as he accessed the occupants. Setting a thick manila folder onto his desk, he finally sat down, then smiled at Van and motioned with his hand for him to speak.

  “Judge Thatcher, this is Hope Sheffield Rawley. She personally asked to have this meeting with you—”

  “Well.” The man turned to her, his voice hoarse with age. “What is it you have to say?”

  Hope sighed, wringing her hands in her lap. “I want—I will not disclose Michelle Taggert's location unless I can be assured she will not go to her grandparents.”

  “They are her legal guardians.”

  “Yes, Your Honor, I know they are, but I have reason to believe Harold Taggert sexually and physically abused his daughter, Justine, and I cannot allow my—the baby to be given to him. That is why I kidnapped her, you see, Your Honor.”

  “What reason do you have to believe that?” he questioned, skewing his eyes at her.

  “Justine told me, sir. I was counseling her at the shelter downtown. She was a prostitute, and she came to us because she was pregnant. She wanted to change—to do right by her baby. We got her straight from drugs, helped her get a job and move into an apartment. I—became good friends with her. She wouldn't have made that story up. She couldn't have made up what happened to her. She had clearly been tortured all of her life by what her father did to her. Before she was brought to prison, she begged me to try and save the baby. I did the only thing I could think of.”

  Thatcher turned to Audrick Van Buren. “What judge presided over the custody case?”

  “Judge Nathaniel Kleinberg, Your Honor.”

  “Humph! And it isn’t a coincidence that he just happens to be on vacation this week? Do you have an emergency petition prepared, Van?”

  “Yes, Your Honor. It was filed today.”

  The old man nodded, reaching for the telephone. “I’ll see what I can do. Don’t let me regret this, Mrs. Rawley. It isn’t a small thing I’m doing now.”

  Hope left smiling. No promises were made, but with the visit from Father Bertaut and now the meeting with the judge, she felt a glimmer of hope. Even when she was returned to her small dark cell, the grin remained on her face. She finally was able to close her eyes and sleep that night.

  ***

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Hope was in bed, her knees curled to her chest in a fetal position, one arm over her eyes to block out the light. Brennan almost started crying when he saw the smile on her lips. He grasped the cold iron bars of the cell and stood there watching her. She heaved with a soft laugh, her smile widening.

  “Hope—” he murmured.

  Hope didn’t seem to have heard him at first, sighing in her sleep but not waking. He spoke her name again, a bit louder. Dropping her arm from her face, she looked up into his misty blue eyes. A strangled moan escaped her, and she ran to the door, clutching his face so that she could kiss him through the bars.

  “You were smiling,” he said, his expression tender, as he caressed her cheek.

  “I was thinking of that time the family went to that fancy restaurant for dinner. Meg was so excited about going out together, but the night ended up a disaster. The children screamed and misbehaved, and your uncle! Lord James was nearly worse than the little ones. When he threw that bread stick like a football. . .God, Bren, I loved every moment of it.”

  “They’re here, too, but I wanted to see you first.”

  “Are you mad at me? I’m sorry I did this, but I just couldn’t stay away.”

  He reached a hand inside the cell and touched a finger to her cheek. “I love you.”

  “I know. I love you, too. Michelle? She's with the Coles?”

  “Yes.” He nodded solemnly. “She seemed all right when I left her. They have young children of their own and she loves them.”

  “Good, good,” Hope whispered with a smile, though the tears in her eyes betrayed the action. “I know she will be well cared for. I was told Mrs. Cole is a respected foster mother. She'll be fine.”

  “As long as they give her carrots, I'm sure she will.”

  Hope grinned, recalling how much the baby loved to eat the strained vegetable.

  “Do you want to see everyone?”

  Hope was guided to a large conference room under the watchful eye of a female guard who glared at her like she might try to flee. Sir James hobbled to Hope on his cane and gave her an enormous smack on the lips. When he saw the guard's brows lift, he frowned and kissed her again.

  “You shouldn’t have done this, girl. Your mother is well, and we should have just locked you in a room or something.” Lord James shook his head, “You're becoming thin as a rail, and your skin is paler than a—”

  “Even a locked room couldn't have stopped me, Uncle.”

  The old man harrumphed and continued to shake his head. Hope smiled at him affectionately.

  “What would I do without all of you?” she reflected. “You've all taken such good care of me. How will I ever thank you for—”

  “Thank us?” James scoffed. “You gave me back my lost nephew, a new daughter, and two more beautiful children—well, one and half.” He pointed to her belly.

  “Where are you all staying? My parents have room—”

  “We're just fine, Hope,” Jeremy informed her. “Bren has gotten us good hotel rooms and he’s staying at your parents’ home.”

  “Good. The hearing begins tomorrow—”

  “Kay's told us everything. Don't worry. We're all going to get you through this, Hope,” Meg assured.

  “Where are your boys?”

  Margaret grinned. “At Arrington. They would have proved to be too much temptation for Daddy to misbehave.”

  Sir James didn't appear offend by that comment. In truth, he seemed proud, grinning like a rascal. He looked even more like Bren when he smiled like that.

  When the visitation time was over, everyone took their turns hugging Hope. Brennan grabbed her around the waist and kissed her fiercely, holding her in a tight embrace.

  “I love you,” he said against her ear. “You're the only person I know courageous enough to handle this and still be able to smile.” Then, behind her back, he tucked into her pocket the things he'd cleared with the guard.

  Hope reached for them, but he stopped her with a smile.

  “Wait until I leave,” he said.

  When she returned to her cell, Hope pulled from her pocket a thin stack of pictures and short note:

  To my wife, Hope. We are always with you, Mommy. We love you.

  The photographs were of Michelle and Brennan. Hope peered adoringly at each of them, tears blurring her vision. She fell asleep with them clutched tightly to her breast.

  ***

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Brennan, Lord James, Meg, Jeremy, Hope's parents, Jim, Mark and Cindy were all seated behind Hope in the courtroom. She was wear
ing a blue dress, a purposefully modest outfit her mother had brought to her. This was only the preliminary hearing on Van’s motion to dismiss. This would decide if a real trial should be held.

  With her hands in her lap, Hope listened as Audrick Van Buren gave his opening remarks to the court. Judge Anita Jacobs was listening, her glasses resting low on her nose so that she had to lift her head back and look down to see. Hope glanced at the DA and then to the couple behind him.

  Harold Taggert turned and sneered at her. She could feel Brennan tense behind her, and she shot him a slight smile to calm him. He didn't return the gesture, but he sat back against his seat, relaxing just a bit.

  Looking up, Hope watched as Van Buren came back to his seat. He nodded curtly to her, a sign she took to mean he would do his best for her. Kay patted her hand warmly as Willie Freyer was called to the stand.

  He was the father of the little boy Thomas she had once tried to adopt. She had expected this. Van had assured her the man's testimony could be used to help her case, showing how much she loved children and would do anything for them. Hope was still afraid the hostile man would ruin her chances.

  He was questioned in length about Hope's attempted adoption of his son. It was clear the DA was trying to prove that Hope was nearly insane in her want for a baby, eventually making that the reason she must have taken Michelle. Several more witnesses were called: a psychiatrist to determine Hope's psychological reasons for the kidnapping, and two friends of the Taggerts, pleading to the couple's innocence.

  Then it was Van's turn. He had received special permission to practice as her attorney, given he wasn’t licensed in the state. He had local co-counsel beside him, but he was very clearly in charge. The man screamed power and strength, and it was easy to see why Kay was in love with him.

  His first witness was Justine Taggert, who was led into the room with her arms and legs chained. Hope smiled to her, trying to show her friend how much she still cared for her. Justine smiled back, swiped a lock of blond hair back from her eyes and turned her attention to Van.

  “Could you please state your name for the court?” he asked first.

  “Justine Taggert.”

  “Justine, do you have any family in the court today?”

  She nodded. “Yes, my mother and father are here.”

  “Do you have any loved ones here?”

  “Yes.” She nodded again, not going any further in her answer.

  Hope could see that she was clearly nervous. She was playing absently with the chains on her wrists as she rocked back and forth in the chair.

  “Who are the loved ones?”

  “Only one,” she answered. “The only person I can really say I love is Hope.”

  “Hope Sheffield Rawley?”

  “Yes.”

  “And why is she the only one?”

  “She's always—accepted me for me. She never demanded more than I was ready to give.”

  “Your father made demands on you, didn't he?”

  “Objection.” The prosecutor stood. “Leading the witness.”

  “I'll rephrase, Your Honor,” Van amended. “Justine, who has made demands on you?”

  “Just about everyone. My father, my mother, the men I—the men that hired me.”

  “What men?”

  “I—was a hooker.” she told him, avoiding his eyes in obvious embarrassment.

  “Let's get back to your father. How did he put demands on you?”

  “Everything? You want to know—it all?”

  “Please, Justine.”

  “I can remember when I was eight, he made me clean the house, from top to bottom. I was standing on a stool, cleaning the spider webs from the corners and I fell. I bruised my arm, but he wouldn't let me stop. He— hit me, yelled at me— until I climbed back up to finish.”

  “What did he hit you with?”

  “A strap, across my legs and back. I had those bruises for a long time.”

  “Did this happen often?”

  “Often enough.”

  “Did he treat your brothers and sister in the same manner?”

  “Sometimes, but—mostly me. I wasn't—I didn't look like him, like they did. He thought I was ugly because I looked like my real mother.”

  “Your real mother?”

  “My real mother left us when I was just a baby. I call Carol my mother.”

  “Carol is the mother to your brothers and sisters?”

  “Yes.”

  “What else did your father do?”

  “When I was about thirteen—fourteen. He came into my bedroom—one night—” Justine turned to Hope, and Hope smiled to her, nodding.

  “He--he touched me—and—did things to me.”

  Justine had turned into a frightened child again, her eyes wild and fearful.

  “Did he rape you, Justine?”

  “No—not that night—but later. He raped me a couple of weeks later.”

  “And did this continue?”

  “Yes.”

  “How long?” Van asked, pouring her a glass of water and bringing it to her.

  “Until—I was seventeen and I left.”

  Van went on to ask her about her relationship with Hope. She told of how they had met and how Hope had helped to get her on her feet when she was pregnant and on through to Justine's murder trial.

  “Were you upset when you heard Hope had taken your daughter?”

  Justine smiled, shaking her head. “She promised me would save Michelle. I knew she would. That was why she took her, to get her away from my father.”

  “Is Hope the person you want to raise your daughter?”

  “Yes. Hope loves Michelle. She always has. I've been thinking a lot in prison and—I think God knew I couldn't do my baby justice, so he found some way to get her to someone who could raise her right. What kind of role model could a prostitute be?”

  “Thank you, Justine. No further questions.”

  The DA attempted to get Justine to change her testimony about her father, asking her if Hope had coerced her into lying. Justine remained strong, though, never relenting. After going through some of Justine's past, the District Attorney gave up.

  Next, Van called Justine's sister, Geneva, to the stand. Harold Taggert was clearly worried about her appearance. He even stood, as if to stop her from going to the stand, then sat down with eyes wide.

  “State your name for the court, please.”

  “Geneva Taggert Simpson.”

  “And you are Justine's sister?”

  “Yes.”

  “Were you listening to your sister's testimony?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you believe your sister?”

  Geneva turned to look at her father, her eyes glossy with tears, and then she nodded as she peered down at her hands. “Yes, Justine is telling the truth.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “Well, Daddy was always hardest on Justine. He made her work until she could barely walk and he hit her sometimes—with the strap like she said.”

  “Did he hit you?”

  “No—well, sometimes, but not like he did Justine. Usually he just spanked me and the others with his hand.”

  “What else do you remember?”

  “Justine kept telling me she was leaving. I was only ten and she was sixteen, but we were kinda close. She said Daddy did ugly things to her. I didn't understand until—” She sighed heavily and shook her head as if denying the memory.

  “Are you all right, Mrs. Simpson?”

  She nodded. “There was a storm one night. I hated lightning. Justine used to let me sleep in her room, but I didn't want to wake her so I just climbed into the closet and made a pallet in there. Just as I was laying down—Daddy came in—” The young woman was crying now, shaking with her sobs.

  Hope turned to look at Harold Taggert, whose face had turned pale. His eyes were crazed as he looked at his wife who had snatched her hand from his. It was clear Mrs. Taggert was finally realizing what her husband was
. She was breathing heavily, frowning with disgust as her daughter described what he had done to Justine.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Simpson. Your witness,” Van said to the DA. The other attorney just shook his head. It appeared that he too now understood what Harold Taggert was.

  The judge called a recess until after lunch. Hope sighed, glad things were moving so swiftly. Brennan came behind her and put his arms around her neck, kissing her cheek, and then stood as the District Attorney came to Van Buren.

  “I need to speak to you.”

  Van nodded, and he, Kay, and Hope all followed the man to a large conference room. It seemed Justine and Geneva's testimonies had had an enormous impact on him. After nearly an hour of diplomacy, it was finally decided that Hope could do community service to pay for the crime, along with paying a huge sum as restitution.

  Hope seemed to be in shock when court resumed, and the judge declared the trial over. She stood, turned to Brennan with eyes wide.

  “You're free,” he laughed, pulling her across the railing and into his arms.

  “Thank God!” she screamed as he spun her around and around.

  “You'll never get my granddaughter,” a sinister voice said from behind her, and they all put their eyes on Harold Taggert.

  “Do you know what we do to disgusting perverts like you in New Durma—” Lord James began, but Hope put her hand over his shoulder to stop him.

  “Michelle is our daughter, Mr. Taggert. And maybe very soon you'll realize that.”

  “Never! She will be ours—”

  “Harold,” Mrs. Taggert called, her eyes still full of loathing. “Leave them alone, Harold. Leave them alone.”

  The man stared at Hope a long moment, his eyes clearly showing his hatred for her, and then he turned and followed his wife from the court.

  ***