“She’s a quiet baby,” Josh added. “Unlike mine and most of the others on the ranch.”
That was true. There were several contenders for the loudest Ryland kid, and Josh’s was one of them.
“You think you two will be okay without us?” Bree asked. “Lynette had the twins, and I’d like to go to the hospital to see her. If Kade will let me off the grounds, that is.”
Kade probably wouldn’t allow that for a while, not until they were positive all was well.
“Are Lynette and the babies all right?” Caitlyn asked.
Bree nodded. “Gage sounded downright giddy when he called and said that the C-section went well. The boys are little, only four pounds each, but otherwise healthy. I could hear them crying in the background.”
Great. More criers. More kids. But Drury found himself smiling at that thought. He’d never wanted to live on a quiet ranch anyway, and there was something comforting about knowing there’d be another generation of Rylands to run the ranch. Some of them might even follow in their footsteps and become cops.
“We’ll be fine here,” Drury assured Bree. Then he looked at Josh. “You can head home, too. The thug that Mason and the others caught is on his way to jail. Melanie, too.” In fact, she was probably already there.
Caitlyn and Drury thanked them both again. Josh and Bree gathered up their things, both of them kissing the baby before they headed out. Drury locked the door behind them and armed the security system.
“It’s just a precaution,” Drury said when he saw the renewed concern in Caitlyn’s eyes.
“Good. I don’t want to take any more chances.”
That sounded a little unnerving, as if she weren’t just talking about security now. Maybe she wasn’t ready or willing to take a chance on, well, him.
He eased down next to her on the sofa and was prepared to tell her how sorry he was that all of this had happened. But he didn’t get a chance. That’s because Caitlyn leaned over and kissed him. It wasn’t a peck, either. This was an honest-to-goodness kiss, not of relief, either. This felt more like foreplay.
“The adrenaline,” he said, ready to offer an excuse so she’d have an out. If she wanted an out, that is.
Apparently she didn’t.
“I didn’t kiss you because of the adrenaline,” she insisted. “Or because we were nearly just killed.” She paused. “Okay, maybe it did have a little to do with nearly dying, but things got crystal clear for me tonight when I thought I’d lost you.”
Drury had experienced some of that clarity himself. “Yes,” he settled for saying.
She stared at him, maybe waiting for more, and since Drury wasn’t sure what more to say, he just kissed her right back. At first he thought she might be disappointed that they hadn’t continued what could be the start of a promising conversation, but she moved right into the kiss. As much as she could anyway, considering that she still had the baby in her arms.
“You’re very good at that,” she said with her mouth still against his.
“I think it’s just because we’re good at it together.”
Caitlyn eased back, met his gaze, and again she seemed to be waiting for him to say something important. Something that didn’t have anything to do with what had just happened.
Drury finally managed to gather some words that he hoped made sense. “I realized tonight that life’s short. And there are no certainties.”
She frowned but nodded. “You’re talking about Lily now.”
It was Drury’s turn to frown. “No.” And he wasn’t. “I was talking about us.” He had to stop and try to figure out how to say this. “I don’t want you to leave. I want Caroline and you in my life.”
At least she didn’t frown, but Caitlyn did continue to stare at him. That wasn’t the response he wanted, so Drury kissed her again, and he kept on kissing her until they were both breathless.
When they finally broke for air, she looked down at the baby. “She’ll always be Grant’s biological daughter.”
He lifted his shoulder. In the grand scheme of things, DNA didn’t seem important. “She’ll always be your daughter. And I get what you’re saying. Or maybe it’s what you’re asking. Can I accept her? Can I accept any of this?”
Caitlyn nodded.
Drury nodded, too. He could definitely accept it if Caitlyn was willing to stay and give them a chance. However, he didn’t have time to spell that all out for her because his phone buzzed, and he saw Grayson’s name on the screen.
Hell, he hoped something bad hadn’t happened.
“Put it on speaker,” Caitlyn insisted, and she eased the baby back into the bassinet as if preparing herself for one more round of the nightmare that they’d thought was finished.
“Are you two all right?” Grayson asked the moment Drury answered.
“Yes,” they both answered cautiously. It was Drury who continued. “Did something else go wrong?”
“Not here. Why? Did something go wrong there?”
“No.” Drury looked at Caitlyn. But everything wasn’t all right just yet. He still needed to tell her so many things. First, though, he had to get through this call with Grayson.
“Dade just called me from the hospital,” Grayson explained a moment later. “Nicole is being examined now, but the doctor doesn’t think her injuries are life threatening.”
Drury could see the relief in Caitlyn’s eyes. Could hear it also in the slow breath she released.
“I’ve already got the approval from the DA for a plea deal with Ronnie,” Grayson went on. “Don’t worry, he’ll still get plenty of jail time, but in exchange for testifying against Melanie, he won’t be charged with murder.”
“Murder?” Drury and Caitlyn asked at the same time.
Grayson paused. “Jeremy’s dead. I’ve only spent about ten minutes with Ronnie, but according to him, Melanie set it up to look like a suicide, and in the note he confessed to killing Caitlyn and you. Grant, too.”
“Melanie said Jeremy did murder Grant,” Drury explained. “No proof, of course. And at this point we might never know for sure since Jeremy’s dead.”
“You’re right. And I don’t believe everything in this fake note. In it, he claims that Helen is responsible for stealing the embryo from Conceptions.”
“But she didn’t?” Caitlyn said under her breath.
“No, it was all Melanie, and Ronnie even has some proof. Guess he didn’t completely trust his boss because he recorded some conversations that he says will prove Melanie was scheming to get both the baby and the ransom money. The recordings won’t be admissible in court, but Ronnie can testify against everything on them.”
That would tie everything up. Well, except for Helen and Jeremy. Jeremy was dead, and Helen had lost another son. Even though they obviously weren’t close as most mothers and sons, Drury figured she’d still feel that loss. That didn’t mean he had much sympathy for the woman.
“Helen’s not getting Caroline,” Drury insisted.
Caitlyn had a new look in her eyes now, one of thanks for backing her up. Drury intended much more than playing backup for her, though.
“Can’t see how Helen would have a claim,” Grayson agreed. “Caitlyn doesn’t have as much as a parking ticket, and none of what happened was her fault. When I tell Helen about Jeremy, I’ll remind her that if she ever wants to see her granddaughter, then she’d better try to mend fences with Caitlyn.”
That might work, and if it didn’t, Drury would have a chat with the woman. After everything that Caitlyn had been through, he didn’t want her to have to deal with the likes of Helen.
“What about Nicole?” Caitlyn asked. “Other than being the surrogate, please tell me she didn’t have any part in this nightmare.”
“According to Ronnie she didn’t. I asked. He said Nicole didn’t have a
clue what was going on, not even after Melanie decided to have her kidnapped and held hostage. I’m sure Ronnie will give us a lot more info on how that all went down.”
Yes, it sounded that way. Which was a good thing considering Melanie’s other hired guns were all dead and wouldn’t be able to spill their guts the way Ronnie was doing.
“Guess you heard that Lynette had the babies?” Grayson continued a moment later.
“Bree told us,” Drury answered. “She said Lynette and the babies were doing okay.”
“They are. Gage maybe not so much. He’s crazy happy, but I figure it’ll soon sink in that he’s not going to get much sleep for the next few years what with twin boys in the house. By the way, has anyone mentioned that the females are seriously outnumbered on the ranch?”
Drury was instantly suspicious. “Mason said something about that. Any reason you’re bringing it up?”
“You’re a smart man. You figure it out.” And with that, Grayson hung up.
This was Grayson’s attempt at matchmaking, and he sucked at it. He was about as subtle as all the Ryland kids piled into the same room.
He put away his phone, checked the baby to make sure she was okay. She was. Then he looked at Caitlyn.
Not okay.
She was frowning again, and after all the good news they’d just gotten, that expression shouldn’t be on her face. Especially since the frown was paired with a determined look in her eyes.
“I’m in love with you,” she said as if it were a declaration of war. “I know that’s probably not what you want to hear, but I can’t undo my feelings for you. That doesn’t mean you owe me anything—”
Drury stopped her with a kiss, one of those long ones that did more than rob them of their breaths. The heat slid right through him.
“I don’t want you to undo your feelings for me,” he assured her. “And having you say you love me is exactly what I want to hear.”
She blinked. “Really?”
“Oh, yeah. Because I’m in love with you, too.”
Finally, that got the frown off her face and erased the doubt in her eyes. She smiled. Kissed him until he was certain if they kept kissing, it was going to lead them straight to the bed.
Or the sofa.
Smiling in between the kisses, Caitlyn eased him back until his head was against the sofa’s armrest. She didn’t stop there, thank goodness. She slid her body on top of his.
“So, where do we go from here?” Caitlyn asked, glancing down at their new position.
Drury didn’t think she was just talking about sex, and neither was he. “Everywhere. I love you, Caitlyn.”
“And I love you,” she repeated, pulling him to her.
* * * * *
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THE LAWMEN OF SILVER CREEK RANCH
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Pursuing sadistic killers is what former
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AFTER THE DARK,
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KILLER INSTINCT
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After the Dark
by Cynthia Eden
THE SCENE WAS all wrong.
The killer—the balding man in his late thirties—the man who stood there with sweat dripping down his face, a gun held in his trembling hand and a dead girl at his feet... He was wrong.
FBI Special Agent Samantha Dark raised her weapon even as she shook her head. She’d profiled this killer, studied every detail of his crime spree. And...
This is wrong.
“Drop the gun!” That bellow came from her partner, Blake Gamble. He was at her side, his weapon drawn, too, and she knew all his focus was locked on the killer.
They’d come to this house just to ask Allan March some follow-up questions. He’d been one of the custodians at Georgetown University, a university that had recently become the hunting grounds for a killer.
At Blake’s shout, Allan jerked. And when he jerked, his finger squeezed the trigger of the gun he held. The shot went wide, missing both Samantha and Blake. She didn’t return fire. Allan doesn’t fit the profile. This is all wrong—
Blake returned fire. The bullet slammed into Allan’s right shoulder. Not a killing wound, not even close. Blood bloomed from the spot, soaking the stark white shirt that Allan wore. Allan should have dropped his gun in response to that hit, but he didn’t. He screamed. Tears trickled down his cheeks, and he aimed that gun—
Not at Blake, but at me.
“Has to be you...” Allan whispered. “Said...has to be you...”
She didn’t let any fear show, even as the emotion nearly suffocated her. “Allan, put down the gun.” Blake’s order had been bellowed, but hers was given softly. Almost sadly. Put the gun down, Allan. I don’t want to shoot you. This isn’t the way I want things to end.
The FBI had been searching for the Georgetown University killer for months. Following the trail left by the bastard—a trail of blood and bodies. But the trail shouldn’t have led here.
Allan March was a widower. His wife had passed away two years ago, slowly dying of cancer. He’d been at her bedside every single moment. All the data that the FBI had collected on Allan indicated that he was a dedicated family man, a caregiver. Not—
A serial killer.
“I’m sorry,” Allan whispered.
And Samantha knew what he was going to do. Even as those tears poured down his cheeks, she knew.
“No!” Samantha screamed.
But it was too late. Allan pointed the gun right at his own face and pulled the trigger. The thunder of the gunfire echoed around them, and, a moment later, Allan’s body hit the floor, falling to land right next to the dead body of Amber Lyle, the twenty-two-year-old college student who’d been missing for three days.
“Fucking hell,” Blake muttered.
This is wrong.
Samantha rushed toward the d
owned man. Her weapon was still in her hand. Her eyes were on Allan. On what was left of his face. Dear God.
* * *
“THE PRESS IS ripping us apart, Samantha! Ripping us apart!” Her boss glared at her as they stood inside the small FBI office. “You were supposed to be the freaking superstar—a profiler who could do no wrong. But your profile was shit. You had us looking for a man who didn’t exist. Three women died while we were looking for the killer you said was out there!”
Samantha stood, her shoulders back and her spine straight, as Justin Bass berated her. Spittle was flying from her boss’s mouth. His blue gaze blazed with rage.
The executive assistant director was far more pissed than she’d ever seen him before. The guy had a temper, everyone knew that truth, but this time... There’s no going back.
Justin didn’t like to look bad. He liked to be the agent in charge, the man with the answers. The suit who handled the press and gloried in the attention he got when his team brought down the bad guy.
“Damn it, Samantha!” Justin snarled, a muscle twitching in his rounded jaw. “Do you have anything to say?”
Did she? Samantha swallowed. Did she dare tell him what she thought? When every single piece of evidence said just how wrong she’d been?
“Take it easy, Bass.” Blake spoke on her behalf. He was at her side, sending her a sympathetic glance. “What matters is that the Sorority Slasher has been stopped.”
The Sorority Slasher. Samantha hated that name. It sounded like something from a really bad horror flick. Leave it to the tabloids to glam up a grisly killer.
“We’re the fucking FBI,” Justin said, stopping to slap his hands down on his desk. “We can’t afford to make mistakes.”
Her temples were throbbing. She knew exactly who they were.
“Someone has to take the fall for this one. Three women died because you were wrong. You were wrong, Samantha. The superstar from Princeton. The woman who was supposed to change the face of profiling. FBI brass shoved you down my throat, and you were wrong.”
Drury Page 19
