“You have no right to keep me here,” Darby said, her voice quaking. “Just let me go home, and I’ll forget all about your horrid kidnapping tactics.”
Jones said nothing as he stepped out of the car.
Darby glanced from one marshal to another, clearly looking for an ally, a weak link. “Please! We have a little girl who needs us. You can’t keep us both away from her!”
As he climbed awkwardly from the backseat, his hands still cuffed behind him, Connor’s hip gave a throb of protest. Though he’d recovered from the small injection of poison to his system, he still had a dull ache in his hip from the marrow extraction. He considered it a good pain, though. He thought of his little girl, his marrow at work in her body, and prayed it was healing her, building her strength and defenses. Please, God.
The hum of an engine and rumble of tires crawling over parched ground drew his glance down the long drive. A nondescript sedan, much like the one that had brought them out to the safe house, pulled in behind where Jones had parked. Marshal Morris was behind the wheel, and another man sat in the passenger seat.
Darby sucked in a sharp breath, and Connor saw hurt flash in her eyes. When Morris cut the engine and joined them by Jones’s vehicle, Darby narrowed her eyes at the younger marshal. “Et tu, Morris?” He opened his mouth to respond, and with a shake of her head, she quickly added, “Save it. I know the company line.”
Morris set his jaw and pulled his shoulders back. “I know our method of getting you here was extreme, but honestly, would you have come with us voluntarily?”
“She shouldn’t be here at all. This was never part of the plan!” Connor shot an angry look at Morris.
Jones shrugged. “The plan changed. From here on out, we do things our way. Bending the rules for you got your sister-in-law blown up, Raleigh burned and you nearly killed.”
Ramsey pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked Darby’s handcuffs.
“But Savannah—”
“Will be fine,” Jones cut Connor off. “She has your family, the hospital staff and two more marshals sharing protection detail and reporting in to us. If there is any significant change in her condition, we’re close enough to the hospital to get you there within the hour.”
“An hour! That’s sixty minutes too long.” Darby rubbed her wrists and sent an encompassing glance around them. “Where the hell are we, anyway?”
“Far enough from Lagniappe that you should be safe if you follow our rules, but close enough to town that we can get back soon enough if anything changes with Savannah,” Jones said. “That’s all you need to know. Morris, car key.”
Marshal Morris tossed Jones the key in his hand, and Jones slipped both cars’ keys into his pocket. “Just in case you get any ideas of trying to steal a car and leave, the keys will be kept in a safe. We’ll also be locking up your cell phone, which is not secure—” he nodded toward Ramsey, who held her purse in one hand and pulled her phone from a pocket “—and the one secure line cell phone we arranged for official business.”
Connor frowned. “Can’t a cell phone be traced even if it’s turned off?”
“Turned off, yes,” Ramsey said, “but I had her battery and SIM card out of her phone before we were two blocks from the hospital.” He dropped Darby’s cell back in his pants pocket, then pulled out the tiny data chip and cell battery.
“Each of us—” Jones’s gaze encompassed the other three marshals “—is, of course, armed, but extra weapons and ammo will also be stored in the safe.”
Darby gaped at Jones, horrified at what she was learning. “You can’t do this! Holding me against my will is illegal.”
“Are you saying you no longer want the protection of the U.S. Marshals for you and your daughter?” Jones asked, arching an eyebrow.
“I—” Darby scowled at Jones. “Of course I want my daughter protected, but this...” She huffed her disgust with Jones. “If something happens to my daughter, I need to be with her. Immediately! You need to take me back to Lagniappe. Now!”
The marshals only stared back at her, their expressions neutral. Unmoved.
Connor balled his fists, sharing Darby’s frustration and fury and itching to hit something.
Jones pointed to the red-haired man who’d arrived with Morris. “This is Marshal Hargrove. He’s also from the Dallas office. You have him to thank for finding this property and getting the place set up and supplied. We’ll be divvying up our protection detail out here in rotating shifts. Now, how about we check out your new digs?”
Darby angled a look of disbelief to Connor, and he stepped closer to pull her into a hug. “I’m sorry I got you into this.”
She wilted against him, curling her fingers into his shirt. “You’re not to blame. None of this would be necessary if not for the Gales. I blame them.”
* * *
James Gale glared across the dining room table at his brother and struggled to hold his temper. “So not only did your man screw up the hit on Mansfield, he was shot in the process? Do you realize that every time one of your buffoons gets caught, the police have one more opportunity to link the attempts on Mansfield’s life to us?”
Victor, who’d showed up at the house just as James’s family was finishing dinner, gave a nonchalant shrug. “Then I guess it’s a good thing Bolton was killed. That way, he can’t talk.”
James slammed a hand down on the table, rattling the dishes. “Don’t blow this off like it’s some video game you lost! Real people are dying. Real felonies are being committed by people with real connections to this family.”
“I know that,” Victor growled. “At least I’m doing something to avenge Pop.”
“Yet Mansfield is still alive.” James leaned forward, lowering his voice and narrowing his gaze on his brother. “Word is he and Darby Kent have disappeared. And we’re no closer to giving Pop the justice he deserves.”
Victor mirrored his combative position. “Maybe that’s because you’re sitting here in your white bread castle, refusing to get your hands dirty!”
“I have a family to think about and a company to run. I don’t hear you complaining when you cash your dividend checks every month.” Grinding his back teeth, he glanced out the back window to the patio where his wife and daughter were enjoying the swimming pool. He couldn’t look at the cool, clear water without thinking of Billy’s limp body and Connor Mansfield breathing life back into his boy. Acid gnawed his gut, and he shoved aside the conflict warring inside him. “Do you have anyone competent left on your payroll to finish the job? If Mansfield goes back into hiding, we may never get another chance to take him out.”
“I have people I can call. But I’m tired of relying on other men. I have a new plan of attack—a plan Pop suggested and I intend to handle myself.”
An uneasy feeling tickled James’s neck. “What plans?”
“Mansfield and the woman may have disappeared, but there’s a surefire way to draw them outta hiding.”
James stiffened. “No.”
“The kid is just lying there in the hospital. Too weak to fight back.”
“I said no. Don’t. Touch. The. Girl.”
Victor flipped a palm up. “It’d bring them running out of the shadows. Might not even have to kill her.” He twitched his mouth in callous dismissal. “We’ll see.”
James lunged to his feet and jabbed a finger toward his brother. “Stay away from that little girl! Mansfield’s family is off-limits!”
“For you maybe. I ain’t got no problem using whatever means needed to finish this once and for all, and neither does Pop.” Victor pulled out his cell phone and set it on the table. “Call him yourself if you need confirmation.” He frowned and snapped his fingers as if remembering something. “Oh, wait. You can’t call Pop anymore. Mansfield got him locked up.”
Melinda burst through the back do
or and scampered into the dining room, dripping water on the hardwood floor. Her eyes were bright with excitement, and she bounced on her toes, waving for him to follow her. “Daddy! Daddy! Come watch. I know how to dive now!”
He schooled his face and sent his daughter a proud smile. “That’s great, princess. I’ll be right there.”
“Hurry!” Melinda chirped and ran back outside.
Victor pushed his chair back and stood. “Go on. We’re done here.”
James sighed, still edgy about Victor’s intentions. “Don’t do anything without my approval, Victor. We don’t need any more screwups.”
Victor shoved his hands in his pockets and tipped his head as if in deep thought. “Uh, no.” He started for the door. “I’ll handle Mansfield my way.”
A chilling premonition of disaster snaked through James. “Victor!”
His brother stopped and sent an impatient glare over his shoulder.
James set his jaw and leveled a hard stare on him. “I’m warning you. Don’t go near Mansfield’s daughter. I would just as soon let Pop go unavenged as hurt that innocent child.”
Victor grunted. “Well, that’s where you and I differ. And I don’t answer to you. My loyalty is to Pop.”
Chapter 19
That evening, after a dinner of turkey sandwiches and restlessly pacing the floor while Marshals Ramsey and Jones played Texas hold ’em with Connor, Darby retired to one of the two bedrooms in the old but comfortable safe house. Hargrove had done an admirable job of supplying the house with beds and linens, a small amount of furniture, a stocked pantry and refrigerator, a TV and DVDs, books...and all the add-ons the marshals needed to keep the place secure and hold Darby hostage. Dead bolts had been put on all the doors, wired alarms and locks secured the windows, and the safe with a combination lock sat in the living room for the storage of a secure cell phone, keys to the cars and extra weapons.
Hargrove had even brought Toby out to the safe house at Julia’s suggestion, to make the place feel more homey and to relieve Stan’s cat allergies, which had flared up since having Darby’s cat living with them. It irritated her a bit that Julia had known the marshals’ plan and had said nothing. But she knew Julia saw the move as being in Darby’s best interest. Especially in light of Tracy’s death.
When Darby had questioned Hargrove about the expense and effort of purchasing and furnishing the short-term safe house, he’d given her a mysterious smile. “WitSec is always going to have someone needing a new place to live and make a new life.”
Now, with the late May sun sinking behind the loblolly pines out the bedroom window, Darby dropped on the edge of the queen-size bed and stroked Toby’s soft fur. Toby had settled into his new digs obligingly after roaming the entire house, sniffing everything. He slept soundly, curled up on the bed Darby had claimed for herself and Connor, and purred as she idly patted him. She squeezed her eyes shut, and immediately, an image of Savannah, tethered to her hospital bed by IV lines, oxygen tubes and monitor wires, hovered in her mind’s eye.
“Dwelling on Savannah’s condition will only make you crazy, you know.”
Darby opened her eyes to find Connor standing just inside the room. Seeing his broad shoulders filling the doorway still sent a surreal tremor through her, even after spending the past eleven days with him. He’d shed his earlier disguises and looked more like the Connor she remembered, but her brain still balked as if she were seeing a ghost. Albeit a sexy, golden-eyed ghost with a heart-melting smile. “How do you know I was thinking about Savannah? Maybe I was trying to think of a way to escape the marshals.”
“Because I know you. I know your looks. And because our daughter has been just a thought away in my own mind all day.” He walked into the connecting master bathroom, and she heard him tear off a few sheets of toilet tissue. As he came out of the bathroom with the tissues in his hand, he stopped and studied the bathroom door. “Huh.”
“What?”
“This door was installed backward, the hinges on the outside. It opens into the bedroom.” He moved the door, demonstrating.
She hesitated, confused. “So?”
“So nothing. Just an observation. And proof that you can take the man out of the construction business, but you can’t take the construction business out of the man.”
She sent him a weak smile, and he crossed the room to hand her the tissues. As she wiped her eyes and nose, he sat beside her, ruffling Toby’s fur before he put his arm around Darby’s shoulders. When she relaxed in his comforting embrace, he nudged her head down on his shoulder. “For your own sake, try to find something else to think about, to distract yourself from worrying about Savannah.”
She shook her head and murmured, “Impossible. It’s a mother’s job to worry. I don’t see how I can think of anything else.”
“In that case...” He shifted on the mattress, pulling her down to lie beside him in the fading light from the window.
She noticed that he was careful not to kick Toby, still snoozing at the foot of the bed, in the process, and his consideration of her sleeping cat touched her. But that was Connor. He’d always been kindhearted, thoughtful. A good man to the core.
“Tell me about our little girl,” he said. “Let’s focus on your happy memories instead of on worry. I want to hear more stories like her birthday cake face-plant.”
Darby gave a short, sad laugh and laid her head on Connor’s chest. She could feel the strong, steady thump of his heartbeat under her ear, and the even rhythm was calming. “Where do I begin?”
“At the beginning.” He stroked a hand up and down her arm, and she curled more snugly against him. “Was it a good pregnancy? What was it like to feel her kick? Did you find out she was a girl before she was born?”
She smiled as fond memories flowed through her. “Yes, other than morning sickness. Amazing. And yes.”
Connor jostled her. “Not good enough. I want details. Spill.”
She did. For the next couple of hours, until long after the sun had set and the only light in the room came from the moon’s glow through the blinds, she filled in the blanks of Savannah’s birth and early days, laughing at times and shedding an occasional tear. Milestones, funny quotes, favorite foods, habits, injuries, imaginary friends. Some of her stories started into territory she thought would bore him, minutia about Savannah’s first tooth or her favorite T-shirt that sported a picture of an alligator saying, Later ’Gator.
“She thought the expression was riotously funny.” Darby shook her head and waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, well. That’s probably more than you wanted to know.”
“Wrong.” He brushed the hair off her forehead and kissed her cheek. “That’s exactly what I want to know. That’s the good stuff—the kind of things a parent knows and no one else cares about except with their own kids.”
She angled her head to meet his gaze, and a jolt ricocheted through her when she found moisture in his eyes. She rolled to her side and cupped his face in her hands. “Connor, what—?”
“I can’t stand the idea that I’m going to continue to miss all these moments with her when I leave. I may never see her again.” He drew a ragged breath. “And I hate that she might think I wasn’t there because I didn’t love her. I’m leaving because I love both of you more than anything else.”
Darby’s chest seized, and her throat knotted. “No. I won’t let that happen. I’ll tell her every day what a wonderful and loving man you are. I’ll make sure she knows you love her. I promise.”
His fingers tightened on her arm. “Thank you.” He closed his eyes for a moment, clearly struggling with his emotions before locking a gaze on her that penetrated to her marrow. “Remember that for yourself, too. I love you, Darby Kent. Every day. Always.”
His profession arrowed through her, and a bittersweet ache exploded beneath her ribs with a strength that left he
r winded and raw. She tried to pull away, unwilling to hash through their untenable circumstances and heartbreaking sacrifices again.
But Connor looped an arm around her waist and hauled her back, rolled on top of her. “No. No running away.”
His fingers plowed into her hair and dug lightly into her scalp as he held her head immobile and captured her lips with a searing kiss. Longing rushed through her like water from a broken dam, a powerful wave that swallowed everything in its path. All of Darby’s defenses crumbled. A five-year-old desire surged from the corner of her heart where she’d suppressed it for long months. She wrapped her arms around Connor, her fingers clinging to his back, then threading through his hair. She pulled him closer, angling her head to deepen the kiss. His lips molded hers, his tongue sweeping inside to tangle with hers, and heat built in her, tingling under her skin and coiling at her core.
Connor’s hands skimmed down her sides and sensuously traced the curve of her breasts, the dip of her waist and swell of her hips before traveling up again to find the hem of her shirt. He slipped his fingers under the blouse, and his warm palms stroked the bare flesh over her ribs. His thumbs nudged aside her bra, and a gasp of pleasure escaped her when he cupped her breasts, grazing her tight nipples.
He broke their kiss long enough to shove her shirt and bra off over her head in one smooth motion. In turn, she peeled his shirt from him and drank in the sight of his broad chest in the pale moonlight from the window. Raising her gaze to his chiseled cheeks and square jaw, her pulse jolted. Connor.
He was here. With her. Holding her again. Making love to her again. The fulfillment of a dream that had seemed so unlikely just weeks before, that she’d not dared to acknowledge it. And now it was real. She had this moment, even if it was all she’d ever have with him again.
He was staring at her with the same awestruck wonder and heartbreaking emotion that made her eyes fill with moisture. “I want to memorize this. Every detail. To hold on to on long, lonely nights ahead.”
The Return of Connor Mansfield Page 20
