by Debra Webb
From the foyer Nick took the west hall and headed in the direction of Laura’s bedroom. There were two bedrooms and two bathrooms at each end of the house. Laura’s was the farthest from the main part of the house. Nick’s was directly across the hall from hers. Nick opened the door and walked quietly across the plush carpeting to her bedside. She hadn’t moved since the last time he checked on her. That bothered him. Laura hadn’t shown any true violent tendencies in his opinion. A faint smile tilted his lips. Well, except for the way she crowned him with that coffee mug. Nick touched the still tender place at his temple. But that had been in self-defense, at least from Laura’s standpoint. Yet they had kept her drugged as if she were a serious threat.
Nick considered the shallow knife wound on her chest and the tiny prick at the base of her throat. The injuries weren’t consistent with anything self-inflicted in his opinion. Anger kindled inside him when he considered that no one had tended the injuries. He had done that himself, and then replaced the bloodstained T-shirt with a clean one Sandra had provided. Oh, Sandra had been apologetic enough. She had tried, she insisted, to take care of the wounds, but Laura had fought her touch. Nick wasn’t sure he fully believed the woman, but that really didn’t matter now.
Laura was safe for the moment. And one damned way or another he intended to see that she stayed that way. When she was up to it, he would get the answers he wanted. But first he had to unravel the mystery of where Laura had been and what she had been doing for the past two years. His gut told him that the answers he wanted about the man who shot him were somehow tangled in those missing months.
The pills Sandra had given him for Laura right before they left Jackson caught his eye. Nick sat down on the edge of the bed and picked up the prescription bottle to review the label. Take one or two every twelve hours. The pharmacist he had called this morning for information regarding the drug had said that the dosage was the strongest available. He had seemed surprised at the instructions to administer the medication more than once in a twenty-four hour period. Nick sighed and set the bottle back on the night table. The medication was strong enough that Laura hadn’t moved a muscle.
Nick watched her breathe for a long while, just as he had done for hours last night. He closed his eyes and resisted the urge to touch her. Touching her would be a serious mistake. He had to stay in control of the situation this time. Nick pushed to his feet. Whenever she roused from the drug-induced slumber, she would likely be hungry. Nick left the room without looking back. A quick inventory of what the kitchen had to offer would keep him occupied for a while. If any supplies were needed he would just call Mr. Rutherford and put in an order.
When Nick reached the spacious kitchen a light knock sounded from the back door. A quick look through a nearby window revealed an older man, in his sixties maybe, waiting on the back stoop. Mr. Rutherford, Nick presumed from the overalls and the work boots.
“Howdie, young fella,” the old man announced as soon as Nick opened the door. “I’m Carl Rutherford. Came by to see if you had everything you needed.”
“Good morning, Mr. Rutherford. I’m Nick Foster.” Nick pushed a smile into place and extended his hand.
“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Foster.” Rutherford clasped Nick’s hand and shook it firmly
“Please, call me Nick. And thank you, you’ve taken care of everything here quite nicely.”
Mr. Rutherford beamed with pride. “I’ve been seeing after this place for nearly thirty years.” His expression grew suddenly somber. “How’s Miss Laura this morning?”
Nick hesitated only a moment before stepping back. “Come in, Mr. Rutherford. I was about to have another cup of coffee.”
“You can call me Carl,” he insisted as he stepped inside.
Nick gestured for him to have a seat, then closed and locked the door. “How do you take it, Carl? Black?”
Carl settled himself into a chair at the breakfast table. “No sir, I like a little cream in mine if that’s not too much trouble.”
Nick shot him an amused look. “No trouble at all. You asked about Laura.” Nick withdrew two cups from the cabinet near the sink and placed them on the counter. He had already gone through one pot. “She’s sleeping right now.” Nick frowned as he poured the dark liquid into the cups. “I’m not sure I can answer your question about her well-being with any real accuracy.”
Carl huffed an indignant breath. “Was never a thing wrong with that little girl as long as she lived here.”
Nick eyed the old man curiously as he stirred the cream into his coffee. “Tell me about Laura…before,” he suggested cautiously. “Maybe that will give me some insight to what’s going on now,” he added at the older man’s suspicious look.
Carl folded his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair, lifting the two front legs off the floor. “She was a mighty sweet little thing growing up. Everybody loved her. Like an angel she was.”
Nick had made that same connection several times himself. There was just something angelic and seemingly vulnerable about Laura’s features. “She never got into trouble in school?” Nick placed both cups on the table and sat down across from his talkative visitor.
Carl shook his head adamantly. “No sir.” He waved off the obvious conclusions. “Oh, the tale was that she got a little wild right before she went off to college.” He made a scoffing sound in his throat. “That’s why James Ed rushed her off to that fancy college up north.”
“And you don’t think that was the case?” Nick watched the older man’s swiftly changing expressions.
“Land sakes no!” The chair legs plopped back to the floor. “Wasn’t a thing wrong with that little girl except she had a mind of her own. She didn’t fall into step like James Ed demanded.” He harrumphed. “Why she was just like her daddy, that’s all.”
“Like her father how?” Nick’s interest was piqued now. He sipped his coffee and listened patiently.
“You see, I worked for James Ed’s granddaddy, James Senior, when I first moved to this county,” Carl explained. “Right before James Ed’s daddy, James Junior, went off to college he got a little wild.”
Nick eyed him skeptically. “What do you mean wild?”
The old man shrugged. “Oh, you know, running with the wrong crowd. Even got himself involved with a girl from the wrong side of the tracks.”
“Rebellious, like Laura?”
Carl nodded. “So the tale goes.”
“What happened?”
“Well, James Junior got himself hustled off to one of them Ivy League law schools.” The old man frowned in concentration. “Harvard, I believe it was. There was a bit of a stir about it. All the big shots hereabouts have always gone to Ole Miss. James Senior went to Ole Miss.”
“But not James Ed’s father?”
“Nope.” Carl took a hefty swallow of his coffee. “When James Junior got back, he joined his daddy’s law practice and married a girl of the right standing, if you know what I mean.”
Nick considered his words for a time before he spoke. “What happened to the other girl?”
“Can’t rightly say.”
“So you think James Ed ushered Laura off to school in Boston in order to keep her out of trouble here.”
“Yep.” He leveled a pointed look at Nick. “But I think it amounted to nothing more than James Ed being too busy taking care of business and building his political career to deal with a hard-to-handle teenager.” Red staining his cheeks as if realizing too late he had said too much, Carl scooted his chair back and got to his feet. “Thank you for the coffee, Nick. I’d better get going. Lots to do, you know.” He turned before going out the door and met Nick’s gaze one last time. “Give Laura my best, will you?”
Nick assured him that he would do just that. After the old man left Nick paced restlessly. He slid off his jacket and hung it on the back of a chair. For the next half hour he played the conversation over and over in his head, looking for any kind of connection. Each time he came up blank. Not
taking any chances, he put in another quick call to Ian and added James Ed’s daddy to the list of pasts to be looked into.
Maybe if he looked long and hard enough he would find at least some answers.
LAURA LICKED her dry lips and tried to swallow. Her throat felt like a dusty road. With a great deal of effort she opened her eyes. Focus came slowly. Where was she? Pink walls. Shelves lined with stuffed animals and a collection of dolls brought a smile to her parched lips.
Home.
She was home.
And Nick was here.
The events of the past few days came crashing into her consciousness. Laura wilted with reaction. Her baby. Oh, God, where was her baby? Clenching her jaw, she forced the overwhelming grief away. She had to get up. She couldn’t find her baby like this.
Her arms trembling, Laura pushed to a sitting position. Her muscles were sore and one leg was asleep. Grimacing at the foul taste in her mouth and the bitter knots in her stomach, Laura stumbled out of bed. She made her way to the bathroom and took care of necessary business, including brushing her teeth. Using her hand, she thirstily drank from the faucet, then splashed some of the cool water on her face. Laura felt like she had been on a three-day drinking binge. She supposed she should be thankful for the dulling effects of the drugs, for if she were to have to face this nightmare with full command of her senses—
Laura couldn’t complete the thought. Focus on something else, she ordered herself. Clumsily she fumbled through drawers until she found a hairbrush. Straightening out the mess her hair was in took some time and focused effort. Though still groggy, she felt at least a little human then.
Dressed in nothing but an oversized T-shirt and panties from the bag Sandra had sent along, Laura went in search of Nick. She needed to know if he had made any headway in the search for her son.
Laura’s heart squeezed at the thought of her baby. A wave of dizziness washed over her. She sagged against the wall for a few seconds to allow the weakness to pass. Please, God, she prayed, don’t let anyone hurt my baby. She closed her eyes tightly to hold back the burn of tears. Crying would accomplish nothing.
Robby, where are you? she wanted to scream.
Laura forced her eyes open and pushed away from the wall. She had to be strong. Her son was depending on her. If no one would believe her, she would have to find a way to escape. Somehow she would find Robby herself.
Somehow…somehow.
A touch of warmth welled inside her when she considered that Nick had rescued her. Maybe he believed her just a little. That shred of hope meant more to her than he would ever know.
Laura passed through the foyer and checked both the den and the living room. No Nick. She frowned and for the first time noticed it was dark outside. Had she slept through another day? God, how long had her baby been missing now? She repressed the thought. One thing at a time. She had to find Nick first.
The scent of food suddenly hit her nostrils. Laura staggered with reaction. How long had it been since she had eaten? She shook her head. She had no idea. Following the mouthwatering aroma, Laura found Nick in the kitchen hovering over the stove. She opened her mouth to call his name, but caught herself. She propped against the doorjamb instead and took some time to admire the father of her child.
Nick wore his thick black hair shorter than she remembered, Laura realized for the first time. But it looked good on him, she admitted. Nick was one of those guys who had a perpetual tan, the kind you couldn’t buy and you couldn’t get on the beach. His skin was flawless. And those lips. Full and sensual, almost feminine. Laura took a long, deep breath to slow the rush of desire flowing through her. From the beginning she had been fiercely attracted to the man. Laura had only made love with one other man, and that one time had proven more experimental than passionate.
There was just something about Nick. Laura closed her eyes and relived the night they had spent making love. A storm had raged outside, roaring like a wild beast with its thunder. Flash after flash of lightning had lit the room, silhouetting their entwined bodies in shadows on the wall. His kiss, his touch, the feel of his bare skin against hers….
“Laura?”
Laura’s lids fluttered open, her attention drifted back from the sweet memory of making love with Nick, of making their baby. Those assessing green eyes, the color of polished jade met hers.
“Feeling better?”
A trembling smile curled her lips. Her heart wanted so to trust this man. Every fiber of her being cried out with need in his presence. “A little,” she replied. Laura shoved a handful of hair behind her ear and trudged slowly across the room. Damn, she hated this zombie-status feeling. She leaned against the counter and peered into the steaming pot. Soup. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply of the heavenly scent.
“Hungry? You slept through lunch.”
The sound of his deep voice rasped through her soul. That knowing gaze remained on hers, analyzing. “Yes,” she murmured. With Nick wearing jeans and a tight-fitting polo shirt, Laura had an amazing view of all that muscled terrain she remembered with unerring accuracy.
Nick reached for a bowl. “Have a seat,” he suggested.
Laura frowned when she noted the gun tucked into his waistband, but the image of those strange pink eyes made her glad Nick was armed.
“Sit down, Laura.”
She snapped her gaze to his. Food. Oh yeah. He wanted her to eat. Though food would never fill the emptiness inside her, she knew she had to eat. But only the feel of her baby in her arms would ever make her whole again.
“Have you learned anything about my son?” she asked abruptly.
Nick shifted his intense gaze to the steaming soup. “I have a man working on it.” After thoroughly stirring it, he met her gaze once more. “But to answer your question, no. We don’t have any more details other than those you gave me.”
Which were sketchy at best, he didn’t add. Laura could hear the subtle censoring in his tone. Anxiety twisted in her chest. “I’ve got to find him, Nick.” She sucked in a harsh breath. “Please, don’t keep me here like a prisoner when my son is out there somewhere.” She shook her head slowly. “I have to find him.”
Nick clicked the stove off and turned his full attention to her. “You’re not a prisoner, Laura. I didn’t wake you this afternoon and give you the scheduled dose of medicine for that very reason. I want your head clear. I want to help you.”
Hope bloomed in Laura’s chest. “You believe me?” she whispered, weak with relief. Laura blinked back the moisture pooling in her eyes.
He studied her for a long moment before he answered. “Let’s just say, I’m willing to go with that theory until I have reason not to.” He cocked his head speculatively. “Can you live with that?”
Laura gave a jerky nod. “As long as we find my baby I can live with anything.”
Warning flashed in those green depths. “If you make a run for it, or give me one second of grief—”
“I won’t,” Laura put in quickly. “I swear, Nick. I’ll do whatever you say.”
Tension throbbed in the silence that followed. “All right,” he finally said, then gestured to the table. “Have a seat and I’ll be your server for the evening.” A smile slid across those full lips.
Laura nodded and made herself comfortable at the table. Nick might still have reservations, but at least he planned to give her the benefit of the doubt. That’s all she could ask at this point. And he had effectively stalled James Ed’s plans to send her away.
Her eyes drinking in his masculine beauty, and comparing each physical trait to that of her small son, Laura watched Nick prepare her dinner and set it before her. Robby looked so much like his father. Laura longed to share that secret with Nick.
But she couldn’t.
Not until she proved her case—her sanity. She frowned. She had to find her son, and then prove herself a fit mother to the man who possessed the power to legally take her child from her. Laura’s heart ached at the possibility that Nick would li
kely never forgive her for keeping his son from him. He would probably hate her. She shook off that particular dread. She had enough to worry about right now. Some things would have to wait their turn to add another scar to her heart.
“Water or milk?” he asked.
“Water is fine,” she replied with a small smile. “I’m still feeling a little queasy.” His answering smile as he sat down across the table from her took her breath away.
Laura squeezed her eyes shut and tried to clear the lingering haze that continued to make coherent thought a difficult task. Not to mention she couldn’t keep drooling over Nick. Maybe once she got some food into her empty stomach she could think more rationally. Uncertain as to how her queasy stomach would react, Laura took a small taste of the soup. Swallowing proved the hardest step in the process. Finally, she managed.
“I hope that look on your face has nothing to do with the palatability of the cuisine.”
With a wavering smile, Laura swallowed again, then shook her head. “It’s wonderful. I’m just not as hungry as I first thought.” Her stomach roiled in protest of that tiny taste.
Nick’s concerned expression tugged at her raw emotions. “You need to eat, Laura.”
She sipped her water, trying her level best not to rush from the table and purge her body of that single sip. “I know.” How could she eat when she didn’t know if her child had been fed? Laura froze, the glass of water halfway to her mouth. The glass plunked back to the table, her hand no longer able to support its weight. She couldn’t.
Nick was suddenly at her side asking her if she was all right. Laura turned to him and stared into those green eyes that looked so much like Robby’s. Don’t lose it, Laura. She drew in an agitated breath. If you lose it he’ll believe James Ed and the hospital report, and then you’ll never find Robby. Laura blinked at the flash of fear she saw in Nick’s eyes. He still cared, but would that be enough?
