by Laura Scott
Normally he wouldn’t hesitate, but he didn’t want to disturb Shayla and her son. The chances that someone could have tracked him from Duncan’s house to the American Lodge were slim to nonexistent. And if they had? There would be cops already knocking at the door.
Convinced they were safe for the moment, he slipped his phone back into his pocket. Feeling restless, he paced the small interior of the room. He wanted to go over to Shayla’s room to grill her about Duncan, but knew she wasn’t going to tell him anything more than she already had.
And maybe she truly didn’t know anything more. Interesting to find out she lived in Nashville and had only returned because of her father’s illness. No wonder their paths hadn’t crossed in the past four years.
Mike doused the lights and stretched out on the bed fully dressed. Since he didn’t have his file on his father’s murder to review, he thought it best to get caught up on rest. Working eighteen-hour days and sleeping less than six hours per night had taken its toll.
He fell asleep almost immediately, only to be woken by a piercing scream. Bolting out of bed, he grabbed his gun from the bedside table and barreled through the connecting door into Shayla’s room, his heart practically thumping out of his chest as he frantically scanned for an intruder.
All he saw was Shayla cuddling Brodie close, whispering reassurances to him. Mike’s heart rate slowed and he lowered his weapon, gulping air as he realized there wasn’t any danger.
“Is there something I can do?” he asked, approaching cautiously.
“Put the gun away,” she whispered harshly. “You’re scaring him!”
He didn’t bother to point out the kid had screamed in terror before he’d come in with his gun. He tucked the weapon into the back of his waistband, then stood awkwardly for a moment. “Are you sure you’re not running from his father?” he asked.
“I’m sure.” Her tone was firm.
“Then why the nightmare?”
Her deep brown eyes narrowed. “Obviously the scene in my brother’s driveway must have scared him more than I realized. Hearing gunfire would frighten any child.”
The boy’s dark hair was a stark contrast to Shayla’s riot of blond curls. He’d noticed earlier, the kid’s brown eyes were identical to hers, though; a fact that niggled at him.
He glanced around the room, then took a step back. “Let me know if you need anything else, okay?”
“I will.” She continued rocking the boy, pressing kisses to the top of his head while rubbing her hand along his back.
Mike didn’t leave, even though he knew he should. Several minutes ticked by before the boy relaxed against her, appearing to fall asleep. Satisfied the crisis was over, Mike turned away. But once again she stopped him.
“Wait, Mike. Will you stay for a few minutes?” Her voice was soft, as if she didn’t want to disturb her son.
“Uh, sure.” Surprised she asked, he pulled out a chair and sat. “What do you need?”
“I need—we need—to talk.” The seriousness of her tone made him frown.
“About what?”
She didn’t answer for a long moment, then finally met his gaze. “Brodie’s father.”
* * *
Shayla knew she couldn’t live with herself if she continued with the charade a moment longer. Gingerly, she eased away from her son so that he was lying on the pillow. He snuggled against it for a moment but didn’t wake up. She pulled the covers up over his shoulders and then slipped off the bed.
She felt terrible about Brodie’s nightmare. She’d hoped her young son hadn’t noticed the gun pointed in their direction by the small black car or that the sharp report he’d heard was from a gun.
But Brodie was smart and she’d failed to protect him from the grim reality of gunfire. Maybe she should demand Mike take her to her Jeep so she could drive back to Nashville. Brodie didn’t deserve to be subjected to terrifying experiences like this.
Then again, what if the danger followed her? What if the person trying to seek revenge on Duncan wouldn’t hesitate to take her and Brodie out to make a point?
“You are running from him,” Mike said, interrupting her thoughts.
“No.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She had no idea how to tell him. “Let’s go into your room, so we don’t wake Brodie.”
“Fine.”
She picked up her cell phone in case the hospital staff called and followed him through the connecting door.
“Who is he?” Mike asked.
She stared at him, realizing that once she told him the truth, her life and Brodie’s would never be the same. She’d noticed Mike didn’t wear a wedding ring, but not all men did. He could still be involved with someone. The knots in her belly tightened painfully but she told herself to grow a spine. She locked her fingers and lifted her chin. “You are.”
His jaw dropped comically, and then anger flashed in his green eyes. “Don’t play games. Brodie is what—four? Going on five?”
“He’s three,” she corrected swiftly. “His birthday is in February. Valentine’s Day to be exact. And yes, he’s big for his age. But I’m not playing games. Why would I? Brodie is your son.”
His face went blank for a moment, then he leaped to his feet. “And you’re just telling me now?”
“Shh, don’t wake him up. And I tried to call you when I found out, remember how that went?” She could tell her tone was defensive and tried to bring it down a notch. “You didn’t give me a chance to tell you.”
“You should have called me again,” he countered, but his voice lacked heat. He stood and paced the length of the room. “I can’t believe it. Mine. Brodie is my son!”
“Our son.” Her phone vibrated in her pocket and she quickly pulled it out. She expected the call to be from the hospital but her brother’s name flashed on the screen. “This is Duncan,” she said in relief.
“Put it on speaker,” Mike demanded.
She frowned and shook her head, fearing her brother wouldn’t talk freely if he knew she wasn’t alone. “Duncan? Where are you? Why didn’t you meet me at the hospital?”
“How’s Dad?” His voice was soft, as if he were someplace he couldn’t talk.
“He’s fine. His surgery is still planned for the day after tomorrow. They want to make sure his blood pressure is stable before they put him under anesthesia.” She could feel Mike’s gaze boring into her and did her best to ignore it. “Where are you? I was worried when you didn’t come back to the house.”
“Yeah, well, I picked up a tail so I thought it was best to stay away.”
“Picked up a tail?” She glared at Mike, knowing he’d likely been the one following her brother. “Tell me where you are and I’ll meet you.”
She held her breath, waiting, hoping, praying. Then finally her brother admitted, “I’m in a motel in Jacksonville. A place called the Rustic Resort. But don’t come here. It’s late and Brodie’s probably asleep. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow.”
“Duncan, listen to me. Someone took a shot at me and Brodie outside your house. We needed protection, so I’m here with Mike Callahan. We’ll pick you up, okay? It’s better if we work together on this.”
“You were shot at? That’s crazy! Listen, I have to go.” Her brother abruptly ended the call.
“Duncan?” Feeling frantic, she hit the redial button on her phone.
The call went straight to voice mail. She dragged her gaze to Mike’s. “He hung up. I don’t understand what’s going on.”
“Where is he?” Mike demanded.
“In Jacksonville.” She hesitated, then added, “I’m worried he’s in trouble. He didn’t say it in so many words, but that’s the sense I get.”
“That’s why I wanted you to put the call on speaker.” The sharp note in his voice ticked her off.
“Well, we don’t always get what we wan
t, do we?”
Tension shimmered between them for a long moment and this time Mike turned away, raking a hand through his hair. “Okay, fine. Let’s go get him.”
“Good idea.” She jumped to her feet. “Let me get Brodie.”
Mike stared at her and she could tell he was thinking about the fact that Brodie was his son. “No need to wake him up. Give me the name of the motel and I’ll head over to get your brother. Better that you and Brodie stay here where it’s safe.”
“No.” She wasn’t in the mood for his drill sergeant persona. “We’re going with you.”
“Not happening,” Mike said firmly.
“You don’t know the name of the motel, but I do. Besides, I said Duncan might be in trouble, not that he was in danger. I’m the one who was shot at. Don’t you think we should stick together?”
Mike looked torn, as if considering her point.
“Let’s go,” she said. “We’re wasting time arguing about this.”
It was clear he didn’t like it, but he reluctantly nodded. She spun on her heel and went back into her room to pick up Brodie.
As she lifted her son into her arms, she hoped that Duncan and Mike could find a way to work together.
Her safety and Brodie’s could very well depend on it.
THREE
Reeling from the news he was Brodie’s father, Mike struggled to stay focused. Shayla’s stubbornness frustrated him, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized she was right. They absolutely needed to stick together. And he’d rather have both Shayla and Brodie with him than alone in a motel room.
His anger toward her was redirected to himself. She had called him a few months after their fight and he’d interrupted whatever she’d been about to tell him.
Granted, it had never entered his wildest dreams she might confess she was pregnant. That the one night they’d shared had changed their lives forever.
If anyone should have called again, it was him.
Standing awkwardly near the SUV, he waited for Shayla to strap Brodie into his car seat. When she finished, he held the passenger door open for her and she shot him a curious look as she slid into the passenger seat. He went around to the driver’s side and put the SUV in gear.
Neither one of them broke the silence for several long moments.
“Why did you move to Nashville?”
“Huh?” She looked confused, then shrugged and turned away. “My aunt Jean lives there. She offered to help with the baby.”
“I would have helped with Brodie.” The words shot out of his mouth before he could stop them. Seemed to be happening a lot lately.
Shayla shifted in her seat to face him. “You accused my father and brother of being criminals, remember?”
He couldn’t deny it. And he’d apologize except that two days ago he’d witnessed her brother meeting with Lane Walters. And to his eye, they’d appeared very friendly.
More miles passed before he spoke again. “You’re sure he said Jacksonville?”
“Yes.” She shivered a bit in the cool night breeze. Once the sun went down, the warmth promising a hint of summer quickly evaporated. The pink hoodie she wore wasn’t very thick.
He turned up the heat for her sake and Brodie’s, then glanced at her. “I want to be a part of Brodie’s life.”
Shayla let out a harsh laugh. “I’m sure you do. However, has it occurred to you that the two people you’re accusing of being criminals are Brodie’s uncle and grandfather?”
A hard lump formed in the back of his throat, making it impossible to speak. She was right, he hadn’t considered that fact, yet he couldn’t let go of what he knew in his heart was true. Duncan and Ian were involved in his father’s murder and needed to be brought to justice.
No matter the consequences? His resolve wavered. He couldn’t lose his son.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Shayla said in a weary tone. “You really won’t even entertain the idea that Duncan is working undercover?”
“I’ll consider it,” he said, forcing the admission past his tight throat. “I’m willing to listen to your brother’s side of the story.”
“That’s something, I guess.” Shayla turned to stare out the passenger window.
He knew he needed to tread lightly from here on out. Alienating Shayla wouldn’t help his goal of being involved in Brodie’s life.
Maybe a mediator would help. He dug his phone out of his pocket and gently lobbed it over the center console. “Find Hawk’s number—it’s in my most recent calls. I spoke to him ten minutes ago. Wouldn’t hurt to have backup.”
She fumbled with the phone for a moment, then hit the number and the speaker. The sound of a ringing phone could be heard before a sleepy, querulous voice answered. “Callahan, don’t you sleep?”
His mouth quirked in a reluctant smile. “I need backup, can you meet me in Jacksonville?”
Hawk uttered a low groan. “Yeah, but I need to know where exactly you want to meet.”
“To a motel called...” He waited for Shayla to pipe in.
“The Rustic Resort,” she finally admitted.
Hawk made some sort of grunting sound and then the line went silent.
“That was weird,” Shayla murmured. “He didn’t say goodbye.”
“That’s just how Hawk is.” He held out his hand for the phone and she dropped it into his palm. The device was warm from her touch and he closed his fingers around it, wishing he could go back in time to do things differently.
“Mommy? I’m hungry.”
Shayla reached behind her seat to lightly touch her son’s knee. “We’ll get something later, okay?”
“We can stop and get something,” Mike interjected. He felt bad for not thinking of it sooner. He’d forgotten what it was like to be around little kids.
Not just any kid.
His son.
Her expression turned wry. “We picked up dinner at Burger Barn shortly before you came rushing to our rescue. Trust me, this is normal. Brodie’s always hungry. The kid has an appetite that doesn’t quit.”
He found himself mesmerized by every morsel of information she doled out about his son and insatiable for more. He wanted to ask about everything from how her pregnancy went to the delivery to who watched Brodie while she worked, if she worked, which he assumed she must. It burned to know that he hadn’t paid a dime of child support.
He would have, if he’d known. And whose fault was that?
His. And hers. But mostly his.
The sight of the Jacksonville sign interrupted his crazy thoughts. They’d made good time, arriving sooner than expected. “We need to find out where the Rustic Resort is located.”
“It’s off County Highway BB.” She was looking down at her phone. “Roughly five miles from here.”
He hoped Hawk had made good time as well, because he wasn’t about to put Shayla or Brodie in danger. He and Hawk would talk to Duncan, while Shayla and Brodie stayed well out of the way.
“I think that’s it, up ahead.”
He saw the building she indicated and slowed down to pull off the road. Hitting the redial button on his phone, he called Hawk. “How far away are you?”
“Eight minutes, maybe less.”
Sitting out in the open like this made him twitchy. It was past midnight, which meant traffic out here in no-man’s-land was nonexistent. They were an obvious target and he didn’t like it. “I’m going to drive past the place, see what we’re dealing with. Call me when you get close.”
“Yep.”
He tucked his phone into his pocket and pulled back out onto the highway. The Rustic Resort was all rustic and very little resort, with ten rooms in a long row. It was set back about one hundred feet from the highway, but even as he drove past, he could see there were only three cars parked in the lot and none of them was a white
pickup. A black pickup was in front of the third room, but not a white one, the kind Duncan drove.
A chill snaked down his spine.
Either Duncan had ditched his truck and hitched a ride, or he’d got his hands on a spare vehicle. For Shayla’s brother’s sake, he hoped it was the latter.
Without a ride handy, her brother would be stuck there like a mouse in a trap.
From what he could tell, the motel butted up against a farmer’s field. There were long rows of newly turned dirt and a farmhouse way out in the distance. No lights were on inside the place, making him wonder where the owners of the land were. Or maybe they just leased the land to someone else who did the work.
Worst of all, the farmland didn’t offer any type of cover. He couldn’t imagine what Duncan was thinking to choose this place. He and his brothers would have looked for something with an escape route. Even the American Lodge had one, especially from the corner room that he’d given Shayla.
At the next intersection, he turned right and pulled off the road. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. Patience wasn’t his strongest attribute and he was finding it difficult to wait on Hawk. After five minutes had passed, he pulled out his phone, but before he could call Hawk, his buddy’s name popped up on the screen.
“I’m approaching the motel now,” Hawk said without preamble. “What’s the plan?”
“There isn’t any coverage behind the place, so I’ll park on the south end of the lot while you take the north. We’ll meet in the middle.”
“Know how many hostiles we’re facing?”
“Nope. But I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough.” He hung up, hoping Shayla hadn’t heard Hawk’s term for her brother. Hawk had spent time as a soldier, fighting overseas in Iraq. In Hawk’s world, anyone who wasn’t a good guy was automatically deemed a hostile.
Despite seeing the meeting between Duncan and Lane, Mike couldn’t help admitting Shayla had a point. There was a chance, albeit a remote one, that her brother was working undercover.
