“Sorry. It’s all I’ve got.” She sighed, hating how she sounded. She’d never been the type of woman to play coy games but she knew that was how she came off at the moment. “It’s something personal and I’m trying to decide the best way to handle it,” she said, trying to smooth over the rough edges of her previous statement. “I know that’s not a fair answer, but I promise I will tell you when I think it’s time.”
“Now you’ve got me worried,” Rafe said, his brow furrowing. “Maybe if you talked it out, you’d find the answer more quickly. I’m a good listener.”
“I know you are. The problem isn’t you, it’s me.” He cast her a semiplayful look and she chuckled at her choice of words. “I know, that’s a classic relationship line that’s been used in countless movies and books, but in this instance, it’s true.”
“Okay,” he allowed, backing off to give her the space she needed and desperately appreciated. “I’m here if you need me.”
“Thanks.”
“Hey, I should tell you something else that happened at the station,” he said, switching tracks, for which she was absurdly grateful. “I told Fargo I wanted more resources put on my son’s case and that you and I were together.”
“Whoa. Back it up. Those are two bombshells. First, how’d he take the demand for more resources?” she asked.
“Not well, but in the end, he saw things my way. He’s agreed to post a bulletin with Devin’s picture tomorrow. I just have to bring him the photo.”
“Funny how he never offered to do that before,” Darcy said, not trusting that creepy chief farther than she could throw him. “Don’t you find his sudden helpfulness suspect?”
“Of course, but he didn’t come to this newfound helpfulness without a little prodding on my part.”
“Well, whatever you did, I hope it works.”
“Me, too.”
“And how did he take the news that you and I were an item?”
“Worse than the other. He looked mad enough to chew nails, which tells me that Samuel’s been putting serious pressure on Fargo to get you to play ball.”
Darcy shuddered. It was a Greek tragedy just waiting to happen. Good gravy, the idea was…simply appalling. “Well, maybe he’ll lay off and leave me alone now.”
“Maybe. Let’s hope.”
They finished the ride to the house in silence, each locked in their own thoughts. Darcy appreciated that Rafe had claimed her as his own, but she couldn’t help but wonder if that might backfire on them both. From what she’d learned thus far of Samuel, he didn’t take setbacks lightly and he really didn’t handle jealousy well.
A part of her wondered just how shocked Samuel would be and what he would do if she came out and said, “Hey, Samuel, sorry I’ve been ducking you and ruining your little plan for seduction, but here’s the thing—I’m your daughter.”
What made her equally sick to her stomach was the chance that Samuel might find the idea of sleeping with his own daughter intriguing. As twisted as he was…she couldn’t discount the possibility.
* * *
The next morning, Rafe went to grab his photo of Devin and found it missing.
“Darcy!” he called out, dread rising in his voice. “Have you seen my picture of Devin?”
Darcy appeared, drying her hair. “I thought you kept it in your wallet?”
“I did, but I took it out a few days ago because I planned to scan it into my hard drive so I would have more than one copy. I put it here on the desk.”
She responded with a solemn shake of her head and apprehension in her eyes. “No, Rafe. I haven’t seen it.”
“It was right here,” he said, more to himself than anyone else. He started shoving papers aside and tearing open drawers. “Right here!” He swore. “How could I be so stupid?”
“You think someone took it?”
“Damn straight, I think someone took it. It was the one piece of evidence I had of Devin being real when everyone in this godforsaken town has been trying to convince me that he doesn’t exist.” Angry tears pricked his eyes and he ground them out with the heel of his palm. That corpulent bastard Fargo got someone to come into his house when he and Darcy were gone and snatched it. And Rafe had made it damn easy for him, too, by keeping it in plain sight. Rafe was sick to his stomach. He wanted to storm into that police station and shake the information out of Fargo, but he knew that would likely get him shot, and probably just the thing Fargo would love to do so he could claim self-defense. He had to throttle it back before he lost his mind. “Darcy, please call my patients and reschedule. I’m taking a personal day,” he said before stalking from the house. He needed to run, to clear his head, or else he was going to do something crazy.
* * *
Darcy stared as Rafe left the house in a black rage. She didn’t begrudge him the freak-out, but seeing him so lost was unsettling. The knowledge that someone had invaded their home made her feel vulnerable. She glanced around the familiar surroundings and wondered where they’d gained entry. Instead of standing around being scared, Darcy was propelled to do something. She went around the house and checked every possible door and window, looking for a sign of forced entry. She checked the front door and found nothing, not that she expected to—most thieves don’t walk up to the front door, brazen as you please, and kick it in. But she checked it anyway, looking for tool marks. Then she did the same for every door in the house. She went to the garage and found the doorjamb splintered. Darcy swore under her breath. She’d watched on a police program how the garage door was the most vulnerable as it usually only had a flimsy lock to the outside and was made of cheap wood. A person could practically put their foot through the door if they had enough force. But all it takes is a good kick, and it’ll splinter the jamb, which is what had happened.
And because the garage door had been locked, they hadn’t bothered to lock the door leading into the house.
It’d been foolish and she felt partly responsible. But she supposed placing blame wasn’t going to help, so she simply prepared to be as supportive as possible when Rafe returned. In the meantime, she had phone calls to make.
* * *
By midafternoon, Rafe had found some semblance of calm, though a lake of red-hot anger seethed beneath a thin, barely there surface. When his cell phone rang, he was tempted to ignore it, but when he glanced at the caller ID and saw that it was Virgil Cruthers, his good sense prevailed and he took the call.
“Playing hooky today, I see,” Virgil said with good-natured humor. Unfortunately Rafe couldn’t find it in him to banter. Not today.
“How can I help you, Virgil?” he inquired politely.
Sensing Rafe wasn’t in the mood to joke, Virgil got straight to the point. “How would you be interested in heading the OB department in the clinic?” he asked, shocking Rafe into stunned silence.
When he found his voice, he said, “What about Dr. Bulger?”
“Rolf is no longer with us. He decided to retire to Florida.”
“That seems sudden. I just talked to him. He never said anything about retiring to Florida.”
“Yes, well, who knows what was going through the mind of that crazy Hungarian. Anyway, it’s a done deal. He’s gone and we need someone with experience. You seem to be working out well at the clinic and we’d love to have you. Of course, we’d have to discuss fair compensation because you wouldn’t have time to operate your practice.”
This was all too much to take in. He needed time to process. “Virgil, I’m flattered, but I’m going to need to think about it. Can you give me a few days?”
“Of course, but don’t take too long. Opportunities like this don’t fall out of the sky.”
No, they happened when someone disappeared, creating an opening. “Thanks, Virgil.”
“You bet. I look forward to nailing do
wn the specifics,” Virgil said as if Rafe’s acceptance was a foregone conclusion. Before Rafe could clarify his position, Virgil had hung up.
“What was that all about?” Darcy asked.
“I was just offered a job as head of the OB department at the clinic,” Rafe said, pocketing his cell. “Dr. Bulger retired to Florida, suddenly.”
Darcy stared. “Florida? Maybe that’s where Liza went, too. Seems a nice way of putting murder.”
“We don’t know if they’re dead,” he reminded her, but the admonition rang hollow. He didn’t hold much hope that Liza was alive, and now, hearing about Bulger, he didn’t have a good feeling about the older Hungarian, either. “The last time I saw him, something was bothering him, but he wouldn’t talk about it.”
Darcy exhaled, shaking her head. “People are disappearing at a rapid rate around here. Maybe we ought to get the hell out while we still can.”
He looked at her sharply. “Not without my son.”
She nodded, almost miserably. “I know. It was just a thought.”
“You should go,” he said, looking away. “But I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’m just saying you’re not going to be much good to Devin if you’re dead, and it seems people who piss off Samuel Grayson end up six feet under somewhere, vacationing in Florida.”
“If they were going to do something, they would’ve done it by now. Besides, they wouldn’t offer me a job at the clinic without plans to keep me around for a while.”
“Don’t take that job,” Darcy said, her tone urgent. “I have a really bad feeling about it.”
“It would be a perfect opportunity for me to get in on the inside,” he countered, ignoring that little voice that sided with Darcy. “No more skulking around in broom closets—I would have easy access and cause to be there. No one would question if I was walking around, because I’d have clearance.”
“And you think that clearance wouldn’t come at a price?” she asked, tears sparkling in her eyes. “I’m serious, Rafe. This is a devil’s bargain. They know you’re onto them, and what better way to keep an eye on you than to rope you into something you can’t get out of? You might start on the right side, but in no time at all you’ll be sliding down a slippery slope. What do you think all those cribs are for?” He startled, unaware that she’d seen the cribs that night. She nodded vigorously. “Yeah, I saw them. And you and I both know nothing good was happening to those babies. What if you’re asked to do something you’re morally against but can’t get out of? This is bad. Very bad. And the very fact that Samuel has his greasy fingers all over it should tell you to steer clear.”
All salient points. But there was a seductive quality to the offer that was hard to ignore. “I have to make the choice that’s right for my son,” he said, stubbornly clinging to the idea that being on the inside might bring him closer to the truth. “I know it’s hard for you to understand—”
“You’re damn straight it’s hard for me to understand, because you’re being a jackass,” she interrupted hotly, wiping away the tears that had begun to track down her cheeks. “I just lost my mother. I’m not about to lose someone else I love just because they wanted to play the hero.”
Rafe stared, stunned, as Darcy spun on her heel and disappeared into her own bedroom, slamming the door and keeping him out.
She loved him?
She loved him.
Ah hell…this complicated things.
Because he loved her, too.
CHAPTER 22
Darcy spent a restless night in a cold double bed in the guest room, the room that was supposed to be for her, yet she’d never slept in once. Her bed had been with Rafe, always.
She rose when the sun crested the horizon, eager to be free from that lonely bed, and quickly showered and got ready to head to the office. She was ashamed of how she’d behaved last night, wishing she’d shown more maturity, but it scared her to irrationality to think that Rafe might be willfully putting himself in danger. She wanted him to find his son, but she didn’t want to lose Rafe in the process.
And there was still the issue sitting between them that Rafe wasn’t even aware of: her paternity. She worried her bottom lip, rehearsing in her head a few possible scenarios where she spilled the beans, and his subsequent—possible—reactions. Best-case scenario, he laughed at her fears and told her he didn’t care who had fathered her; worst-case scenario, he looked at her with disgust and kicked her out of his home and his life. Surely there was a happy medium somewhere between those two scenarios…. She swallowed and kissed her pendant for luck, figuring she needed all that she could get.
Rafe was waiting for her with a coffee mug in hand, a peace offering if there ever was one, and she accepted it wordlessly. She didn’t trust her voice right now; she was too close to tears as it was.
“Good morning,” he murmured, ducking down to kiss her sweetly. “I missed you.”
She stared up at him, the coffee mug between them, and jerked a short nod. “Yeah, me, too. I mean, I missed you, too.”
“Are we still fighting?” he asked.
“Are you still considering that job offer at the clinic?” Rafe’s mouth tightened and she had her answer. She blinked back tears. “We’d better get to the office. Your patients will be arriving soon.”
“Darcy…”
She waved away his protests, not interested in rehashing the argument if neither of their positions had changed. “Hurry. We’ll be late. I need to check on Brando before we open.”
Rafe nodded, plainly not satisfied with her answer, but at least he respected her wishes.
* * *
Rafe felt like a jerk. He’d caused those tears glittering in Darcy’s eyes, and it made him sick. But how could he pass up this opportunity to get in on the inside of that place, when his son might be hidden there? Didn’t she understand he’d do anything to get his son back? Even sacrifice his morality? His dignity? His relationship with Darcy?
No. He talked a good game, but when he thought of losing Darcy, a sharp pain in his chest followed. In a very short time, she’d become an integral part of him.
Did Darcy have a point about his taking that job? He knew in his heart that Rolf Bulger was not vacationing in Florida, and yet he was considering eagerly sliding into the man’s position. What had Bulger done to piss off Samuel, and for that matter, how long would it take before Rafe made the same mistake? Likely not long, seeing as his objective had nothing to do with Samuel’s agenda and everything to do with his own. One thing was for certain: anyone who played for Samuel Grayson’s team gave up something—likely their souls—and there was no backing out. He wasn’t willing to play by Grayson’s rules. Deep in his heart, he knew he couldn’t.
So, that left only one option.
And Darcy had known all along. Too bad he’d been too stubborn to see what had been right in front of him.
* * *
An odd queasiness gripped Darcy’s stomach, and for an agonizing moment, she thought she might throw up. It was the stress, she reasoned, reaching into her purse for some gum. Nothing more.
But then another wave of nausea washed over her and she looked to her calendar with apprehension.
No… she thought. One time without a condom? How could it be that easy? But the calendar dates stared at her without pity. She should’ve started her period a week ago.
Are you kidding me? On top of everything else, a pregnancy scare?
What would Rafe say? She bit her fingernail absently until she heard her mother’s voice in her head telling her to stop. She dropped her hand to her lap and smoothed her blouse over her stomach. Could she have Rafe’s baby growing inside her? A little piece of Rafe and her, blending into one perfect package? She startled at the weepy maternal streak, which she’d never felt before in her life. She hadn’t want
ed kids. She certainly hadn’t ever cooed or gushed over other people’s babies. What kind of mother would she make? She already knew Rafe would be an excellent father. But as to her skills…she was already scared for the kid. She didn’t know how to change a diaper or even what to feed a kid aside from breast milk, but what after that? And breast-feeding? She touched her breasts lightly, searching for any telltale tenderness or fullness that hadn’t been there before. How could she manage a kid chewing on her nipples like one of those monkeys in the wild? She shuddered and then felt ashamed for her selfishness. Of course she would breast-feed. It made kids smarter, right?
“Darcy?” Rafe’s voice cut into her rambling thoughts and she actually jumped, nearly falling from her chair. “Are you all right?” he asked, concerned. “You look a little pale. Do you need anything?”
“Why would you ask that?” she asked, her eyes wide. Did he know? He was a doctor; maybe he could see some kind of universal, biological, neon signs that she’d completely missed. “I’m fine. Really. Fine. Perfectly so. And definitely not queasy or light-headed.”
He stared at her oddly, no doubt wondering if she’d fallen and bumped her head.
Darcy stood and shouldered her purse. “I’m going out for some lunch. Should I pick you up something?”
“Whatever would be fine,” he said, not convinced. “Are you sure—”
“Positive.” Oh! She reddened and moved away from him, darting for the door. “I’ll be back. Bye!”
If there were an award for acting conspicuous, she would’ve been a nominee if not the winner. But her head was a tangled mess. She couldn’t be pregnant. She wasn’t ready. Rafe certainly didn’t need this sort of added complication in his life. It wasn’t fair to either of them.
And it wasn’t fair to Devin, either. The poor kid hadn’t even met his father yet and he might be getting a sibling. She groaned. Hells bells, how’d this happen?
She stepped off the curb, intent to duck into the coffee shop for a Danish or something else sweet, when the air was knocked from her lungs as she fell to the ground, skinning her palms. She’d definitely been shoved, she thought in shock, turning to see who had been so rude, when a nondescript car barreled past her, missing her by inches. The car sped off down Main Street and disappeared without stopping to see if she was all right.
Perfect Wyoming Complete Collection: Special Agent's Perfect Cover ; Rancher's Perfect Baby Rescue ; A Daughter's Perfect Secret ; Lawman's Perfect Surrender ; The Perfect Outsider ; Mercenary's Perfect Mission Page 50
