Deeper Evil (The Evil Secrets Trilogy Book 2)

by Vickie McKeehan

  Connor had found her anyway. And it hadn’t been difficult at all.

  At the first opportunity she planned to put it back to its original blonde.

  When Sarah’s fussing grew louder, she hurried next door to the bedroom designated as Sarah’s nursery before the baby woke up Dylan. Pushing open the door to what used to be his office, she wondered why he had insisted setting up Sarah’s crib in here and not her room. She hated the idea of intruding on Dylan’s personal space, kicking him out of his own office seemed rude. She wasn’t even paying rent. He had refused to take a dime. And she was grateful for his generosity. Now that she’d had time to think about it, she wondered how she could have ever thought going on the run with a baby was the answer.

  But thank God Connor hadn’t seen Sarah.

  Thinking about him had her wondering if her life would be in turmoil from this point forward, hiding, running, moving every time she got scared he might find out—about the daughter he didn’t know existed—and take her away.

  Just because Jessica was dead didn’t mean that she hadn’t trained her sons well. Her death didn’t mean that if he found out about Sarah he wouldn’t try something just as underhanded out of spite. Baylee knew the whole family was well-connected and capable of almost anything. She couldn’t take the chance. No matter what she had to do to keep Connor from finding out the truth, she’d do. If it meant hiding out here at Dylan’s for a while, if it meant pretending Sarah belonged to Dylan, she’d do whatever it took.

  Thank God, she’d had the foresight to leave the father-line “unknown” on Sarah’s birth certificate. Maybe she could talk to Dylan, see if he’d be willing to put his name on the document now, just in case. It was asking a lot from someone who’d already been far too giving. But this was no time to let pride get in the way of what was best for her baby daughter.

  She was embarrassed about her breakdown the other night in front of Dylan. But she’d been so tired to face yet another move, to face how often she’d failed as a mother over the past few months. Sarah had been born nine days before Christmas on the sixteenth of December. Baylee hadn’t even left the hospital yet when Tanya Lincoln had called and told her about her father’s brain cancer. She’d been torn as to what to do. In the end, she thought she’d done the right thing when she’d packed up and brought her eight-day-old baby back to L.A.

  They’d spent the holidays with Kit in San Madrid. From there she’d moved back in with her father. But the past month he’d started drinking heavily—again. And when William Scott, the infamous director, drank, he was not a happy camper. Baylee had refused to expose Sarah to that kind of verbally abusive environment and had packed up again and moved into Gloria’s guest cottage. She’d only been in the cute little house a little more than a week. She sighed. She’d miss living there.

  She had to admit, it was downright strange to be sharing a house with a man. Four years at UCLA, she’d shared an apartment with Kit and Quinn but it wasn’t the same thing. After that volcanic kiss the other night, the two of them would get to know each other in a hurry.

  He’d probably get tired of having them around anyway, she thought, as she walked over to the crib. But she had no intentions of staying long enough to get kicked out. It had been days since the incident at the Book & Bean. Maybe Connor had gone on with his own life just as they all hoped he would. As soon as this mess with him was over, when the coast was clear, she intended to get her life back.

  Over the next few weeks she had to figure something out and stop all this moving around, maybe buy a little house of her own, somewhere near the beach, like the one Kit rented from Gloria. A little house like that would be perfect for her and Sarah.

  She liked San Madrid, and house-wise, the little town was certainly more affordable than anything in L.A. She didn’t mind working at the Book & Bean, even though it wasn’t her first choice for a career. But how could she make a living designing jewelry when it was nothing more than a hobby? She hadn’t been able to completely support herself in the design business before Sarah. Now that she had two mouths to feed she couldn’t depend on a sideline business for security no matter how much she enjoyed the work.

  She had to start thinking in terms of what was best for Sarah. Baylee didn’t mind hard work. She’d been working since she was sixteen, just like Kit and Quinn had. Living with roommates, she’d saved quite a bit of money during college. She didn’t require flashy clothes, or four-hundred-dollar shoes. That was one trait she shared with Kit and Quinn and one of the reasons they got along so well. They were not generally materialistic. Well, at least not much.

  Even going to an exclusive Beverly Hills private school, the three of them had known from the beginning they were not like the other girls. Life at home had been too difficult for all three of them to spend much time at the mall obsessing over what expensive clothes or shoes to buy.

  The reason had been simple. With Quinn, she hadn’t wanted to ask her father’s lawyer for money for things like that. And forget about asking her stepfather to pay for anything except the necessities. With Kit, she had resisted Alana’s efforts at every turn, of anything that even hinted they might make her into a carbon copy of Alana, because nothing would have pleased Alana more than if Kit had spent hours shopping at the mall. So they all three girls had their private reasons for not spending much time there. Instead, they had shared a love of sports, from beach volleyball to rollerblading to riding their bikes to hanging out at the miniature golf course or spending time riding go-carts, or any other outside activity that would get them out of their respective houses for any length of time.

  They would spend hours hanging out at the beach, or the pool, any place would do as long as they didn’t have to spend time at home.

  When Baylee spotted Sarah’s little arms and legs kicking the air in a furious motion with all the energy of a kick-boxing ninja warrior, she smiled.

  Maybe she could work a deal with Gloria to buy the house Kit lived in at the beach. After Kit and Jake moved into the Crandall House, the little Spanish bungalow would be vacant.

  And Baylee reminded herself when it came to trying to find work; she did have a college degree. Maybe it was only an art degree, but hey, it looked good on a resume. She needed to get her act together. Sarah deserved better, better than what she’d given her the last few months.

  Baylee knew Kit and Quinn would help her any way they could. But Sarah wasn’t their responsibility. She needed to step up and do better as a mother. Just looking at the little angel in the crib, Baylee resolved to get her life back on track.

  And she needed to do it now.

  “Good morning, angel-face. Are you wet? Let’s get you out of that wet diaper.” In a move that came with months of practice, Baylee had Sarah changed and powdered in a flash, then reached in and scooped the squirming baby to her chest. “Are you hungry? Did you wake up hungry?” As she settled Sarah to her breast, and the baby began to nurse, she decided she needed to find out exactly when Kit and Jake planned to make the move into Crandall House, which would leave Kit’s house available and ready for a new tenant.

  Baylee didn’t intend to waste any more time.

  Dylan sucked in a weary breath and rolled over in bed. Listening to Baylee’s soft voice over the baby monitor as she nursed Sarah was killing him, especially after the heated lip lock they’d shared.

  But it was impossible not to hear every syllable, every word she said what with the baby monitor he’d hooked up in his own room. Glancing at the clock, he wondered if he could maybe get back to sleep for an hour or two before he had to get up and start work. Working at home was new to him, but essential if he planned to keep an eye on Baylee and the baby.

  After several minutes listening to mother and daughter interact in such a personal way, he decided there was no way he’d be able to get back to sleep. He’d be better off taking a cold shower.

  He had, after all, agreed to take it slow. But slow with a woman who looked like Baylee was proving to be tough
er than anything he’d done in recent memory. What was he supposed to do about his feelings toward her now that she was living with him? How the hell was a guy supposed to date a woman with a baby when he listened to her breastfeed? Or for that matter, a woman who’d probably gone through one of the roughest years of her young life?

  Common sense had him checking off the points of taking things slow. But slow was killing him. He wasn’t a man used to taking anything at a slow pace. He liked fast cars. He liked surfing, moving through the water fast. He liked rollerblading on the quick. He certainly was not used to taking things slow when it came to a woman.

  Oh hell, why lie, he liked fast women, was attracted to them. When he saw a woman he wanted, he acted on the impulse, always making sure she understood there was no long term outlook, no strings, no commitments. They’d have some fun; have a few laughs, do the dance between the sheets, and then move on. No damage. No foul. That was Dylan’s dating playbook. Use the fast lane—get in and out quick, keep it light, and keep it fun. It had always worked well for him.

  But this was different. Baylee was different. The situation was different

  He threw back the covers and crawled out of bed.

  Thirty minutes later, the sun drenched Baylee’s back as she stood in the kitchen at the counter, drinking coffee and still trying to wake up. A bright-eyed Sarah sat happily in her infant carrier, a steady stream of baby babble filling the air. And Baylee carried on an animated conversation with her daughter as if she understood every word of baby-speak.

  When Dylan strolled in fresh from his shower, wearing a snug pair of jeans and an old Pearl Jam T-shirt, those surfer good looks had Baylee wondering why the women weren’t lined up at the backdoor, three deep. He’d kept his hair loose, letting it fall around his shoulders in soft curls.

  She’d known women who would have killed to have his hair. “Hi. Sorry we woke you. Again.”

  “Stop apologizing. I told you I get up early.” The lie sneaked out with a straight face. He poured himself an oversized mug of coffee and sat down at the table next to the baby carrier and stared at its precious cargo. “Look at you, had your morning shot of caffeine yet, sweetheart?”

  The minute Sarah spotted Dylan, heard his voice, she started squirming and kicking harder. Her baby babble turned into sincere efforts to get his attention.

  “I think she wants me to pick her up.”

  “Of course she does. She’s no dummy, Dylan. Every time she sees you she’s figured out you’ll hold her.”

  Willing to oblige, Dylan set down his java and started unhooking the straps of the baby carrier. He then hauled Sarah up to his shoulder like a pro. “She likes me, knows a good thing when she sees it.”

  “More like a soft touch, that’s for sure. You’re spoiling her, Dylan.”

  “And you aren’t.”

  Baylee laughed. “Okay, you got me. Want some breakfast? I made French toast.”

  “French toast? Really? You bet.” He sat back down at the table with Sarah on his lap. There were a few advantages to having a woman in the house. Especially this woman. And looking at Baylee in her snug Capri jeans this morning, he decided cooking was the least of them.

  “What time do you want to leave to see your father? It is today, right?”

  She sighed. “I’ll call Tanya and find out what’s the best time to drop by. She tries to keep him on a schedule if she can.”

  “How bad is he?”

  “The doctors think he might have another three months if we’re lucky.”

  “I’m sorry, Baylee.” He saw the sorrow come into her eyes. “How about before I get on the computer and check my e-mails, we take Sarah for a walk? You look like you could use some fresh air.”

  Her eyes danced. “That sounds wonderful.”

  He grinned, knowing what to dangle as bait to get on the woman’s good side. Kit had after all, given him a heads up about Baylee when he’d been curious enough to ask. “And why not grab one of my boards out of the garage, hit the surf? Kit said you were the best of the lot. Why don’t you show me what you’ve got? I’ll keep an eye on Gidget here.”

  She arched a brow. “Gidget?”

  “Yeah. She looks like a Gidget to me. After that, we’ll head over to see your dad?”

  An hour later, Dylan stood on the beach, holding a sleeping Sarah to his shoulder. He had no idea when he’d offered to watch the baby while her mother took a turn on the waves what an excellent athlete Baylee was.

  Concentrating on the shapely form in the water, as she effortlessly navigated the waves, Dylan realized she moved with all the grace of an Olympic-trained competitor. He loved sports of all kinds, appreciated the effort it took to compete at even an amateur level whether it was a company softball game or playing in a pickup game of beach volleyball. But he knew one thing watching Baylee; she was good. Kit had been right about her ability. And if he’d thought she had toned arms from lugging around an infant carrier, he shouldn’t have been surprised now to learn how physically fit she was. Her petite frame had her handling the water like a dolphin.

  He stood there riveted to every move she made. When she finally started paddling in on her board, coming out of the water, walking toward him, his mouth went dry.

  Baylee stepped out of the surf, spotted Dylan, and waved.

  “That was some ride out there. You’re pretty good even if you are goofy-footed,” Dylan said, as he handed her a towel with his free hand so she could dry off her hair.

  “Goofy-footed, huh? You aren’t the first to notice. I’m a little rusty though. A couple of times I was up too far on the board, had to remember to glide back. The water was fantastic though. You’ve got good natural breaks here. Thanks for watching Sarah. She’s still sleeping.”

  “Like a rock.”

  They started walking back to the house at a leisurely pace.

  “There’s something I meant to ask you, a favor really.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s big. You may not want to do it. If you don’t, I’ll understand completely.”

  “Just ask.”

  The words lodged in Baylee’s throat. She choked, could she really ask this man to do something so huge? She shook her head. “No, I’m thinking it’s too much.”

  “Spit it out.”

  “Okay. But it’s a bad idea.”

  “Baylee.”

  “Okay. If Reese Brennan could legally amend Sarah’s birth certificate, would you be willing to put your name on the dotted line so to speak, willing to be listed as her father? I wouldn’t want child support or anything like that. It wouldn’t mean financial support in any way, zero; none because I’d sign a waiver to that effect or whatever.”

  Dylan stopped walking. Humbled at the offer, he tried to act casual. “I’ll call Reese when we get back to the house, get him working on it.”

  “Just like that? You should take some time to think about it. I’d insist on signing anything Reese suggests to make sure you aren’t obligated to pay child support in the future. But even with that, this is serious stuff, Dylan. I’m no lawyer, but I know what I’m asking. It would mean lying, lying on an official state document. You shouldn’t take this lightly. And Reese would have to take care of it in Colorado since she was born in Denver. I’m not even sure Reese could do that in another state. But I have a copy of her birth certificate if that would help.”

  “I’ll tell Reese. I don’t know why I didn’t think about the birth certificate angle first. It’s a perfect solution. If I’m listed as her father, Connor wouldn’t even consider she might be Dylan.” At least he hoped not.

  “I’ve thought about this all morning. I know what I’m asking is huge. But her birth certificate might be the one convincing document that Boyd would respect in court if it comes to that. Of course he might make you take a paternity test and then the jig would be over.”

  “But it would buy us time. I’ll get Reese working on it.”

  As soon as they reached the deck, Baylee hu
ng the wet towel on the railing and turned to get out of her wetsuit.

  Dylan heard the zipper go down from five feet away, and made the mistake of turning around.

  Living at the beach, he scoped out scantily clad women all the time traipsing around in bikinis, women of all shapes, all sizes, and all colors. But staring at Baylee, he found he couldn’t form spit.

  Even though her yellow string bikini top didn’t match the red bottoms, it didn’t need to. It did the job just fine, giving him a glimpse of her wet, sun-touched skin, her flat stomach, her cute little bellybutton. The sight was enough to hold his gaze until his eyes drifted upward. Apparently, she’d gotten cold in the water because her nipples stood at peak attention. Dylan stood there like a schoolboy fighting for control. Luckily for him, she quickly disappeared inside the house to shower off the saltwater, totally oblivious to the effect she’d had on him.

  Yeah, taking it slow definitely sucked, he thought, as he ducked inside with Sarah, wondering why the hell he’d wanted to take it so turtle-moving-slow in the first place.

  CHAPTER 5

  Two hours later, Dylan found himself sitting down with the infamous William Scott in the director’s study, a massive room filled with shelves that held books and awards from days when the man ruled Hollywood’s list of elite directors.

  He looked over at the man sitting in a wheelchair now and was struck by his appearance. Even though he’d never met William Scott until today, as a bit of a movie buff, Dylan had seen interviews of him many times on TV, and was reluctant to admit before the meeting, he’d Googled the guy on the Internet and memorized his impressive bio just in case.