In Too Deep

by Janelle Taylor

  And she hated herself, too. She’d been a world-class fool. Fifteen years of staying away from men and then she nosedived into a relationship that was a great, big, fat lie.

  “Oh,” she said aloud. “Oh …”

  She drove on, feeling exhausted. To be honest—painfully honest—she’d looked forward to telling Rawley about Hunter. She’d already painted him in as this perfect stepdad. Oh, yeah. She could admit it. She’d been inventing all kinds of happy little scenarios inside her head, mostly unformed, just feel-good fantasies that kept a smile on her face and a spring in her step. Thoughts that made life just a little bit shinier and more wonderful and beautiful.

  “You idiot!” she yelled, wanting to scream at the top of her lungs.

  She missed the turn-off for the camp, had to double back, railing under her breath all the way. By the time she arrived at Three Winds and stepped from the car, she brushed back her hair and had to remind herself why she’d come. The trip had taken two hours, she realized with surprise. It felt as if it had passed in a heartbeat.

  “I’m here to pick up Rawley Holloway,” she said to the man behind the rustic front desk. He was dressed in soccer shorts and a shirt with a name tag that read “Tim” clipped to it. He held a soccer ball beneath one arm. The distant shouts and sounds of a ferocious game still in progress drifted in through the window.

  “Rawley Holloway …” the man repeated, glancing down the list. “Hm. Looks like he’s already been picked up.”

  “What?” Jenny craned her neck to look at the list. “I told Janice that I would pick him up. When was Rick here? Rick Ferguson,” she explained a bit testily when the man frowned.

  “This just says his dad picked him up. Let me check with Bruce. He was your son’s leader.”

  “His dad?” she repeated. Maybe they got it wrong. Maybe they meant her dad. Or maybe they’d thought Rick was his dad. Or maybe he was thinking of some other boy.

  She followed Tim outside where he signaled to one of the counselors. The counselor jogged over, but before Jenny could say anything, Tim asked the newcomer, “Where’s Bruce?”

  “Uh, I dunno.” The newcomer’s name tag read Paul.

  Jenny couldn’t stand it any longer. “Paul, I’m looking for my son, Rawley Holloway. Tim said Bruce was his leader.”

  Paul scratched his head and looked around. “Yeah, he’s—”

  “There must be some mistake,” she cut him off, “because the name roster at the front desk says Rawley was picked up by his father.”

  “Oh, yeah.” He nodded. “I remember the guy.”

  “You do? Was it Rick Ferguson?”

  “Uh … Brandon’s father? No, this was Rawley’s dad.”

  Jenny felt panic rise in her like a tide. “Rawley doesn’t have a dad. No one should have picked him up who said he was his dad!”

  The two counselors looked worried. Paul offered, “He had his passport. And he showed us I.D.”

  “Whose passport?”

  “Rawley’s.” Paul shrugged and looked anxiously to Tim for confirmation.

  Jenny asked faintly, “Whose I.D.?”

  “I don’t remember,” Paul murmured. “Bruce wasn’t around. But Rawley said he was his dad. He wanted to go with him.”

  “Paul …” Tim said warningly.

  “Hey, the kid’s fifteen. He wanted to go with his dad. He called him Dad!”

  Jenny held up a hand. Struggling, she asked, “Was his—father’s—name Troy Russell?”

  Paul’s expression cleared. “That’s it! Troy! That’s the guy. I told you it was his father,” he declared triumphantly to Tim.

  Tim gazed at Jenny, truly worried. On steady legs Jenny walked to the edge of the soccer field and promptly vomited her breakfast.

  If she’d thought the drive down had been fast, the drive home seemed to take an eternity. She couldn’t think. Words circled her brain. Phrases. Nothing made much sense.

  Rawley was with Troy.

  She heard herself sobbing uncontrollably. She should have never let him go to that soccer camp. She should have made him go with her to Puerto Vallarta. She shouldn’t have gone to Puerto Vallarta.

  “Oh, God … oh, please, God … please …”

  She parked on the street outside the Fergusons and ran to their front door, pounding on it like a maniac.

  Becky opened it up and said, “Yes?”

  “Becky!” Janice yelled from around the corner. “Don’t open that door until I’m there!” She came striding into the room, spied Jenny and relaxed. “Don’t do that,” she scolded her little girl. “You don’t know who could be there.”

  “It’s Jenny,” Becky said, hurt.

  “I know, honey, but it might not have been,” she answered in exasperation. Spying Jenny’s face, she asked, “What’s wrong?”

  “Did Rick pick up Brandon? Is he back yet?”

  “Yeah, they got in about ten minutes ago. Why?”

  “He didn’t … Did he pick up Rawley, too?” Her voice cracked.

  Janice’s mouth opened in shock. “No, oh, Jenny!” She grabbed her by the arm and dragged her into the overcrowded living room. Jenny stumbled over a toy truck, and she felt tears fill her eyes anew.

  “Oh, Jenn, no. It’s okay. I’m sure it’s just a mistake. Wait here.” Scooping toys and books off the couch, she sat Jenny down. “Rick! Brandon!” She scurried toward the back of the house.

  Jenny clasped her hands and stared down at them. She was still in that position, head bowed, praying, when Rick and Brandon came into the room.

  “Jenny?” Rick asked, concerned. “Rawley wasn’t at the camp when you got there?”

  She lifted her head and swallowed. “No.”

  “Well, where could he be?” he asked. “Could anyone else have picked him up?”

  “They told me his father picked him up.”

  “His father?” Rick repeated blankly. “Who did they mean?”

  “Troy,” Jenny answered in a suffocated voice.

  “What?” Rick’s jaw dropped. “No. How? That doesn’t make any sense!” He turned to Brandon who was gazing fixedly down at his shoes. “Brandon?”

  “Huh.” He didn’t lift his eyes.

  “Do you know anything about this?”

  “What?”

  “Brandon!” Rick lost patience.

  “Brandon, please,” Jenny said, lifting a palm in supplication. Brandon darted her a quick look. His stricken face confirmed her worst fears. “Was it—his father?”

  “He said he was. Rawley wanted to go with him real bad. I didn’t like him!” He shot a frightened glance at his own father. “I really didn’t. I told him not to go with him, but Rawley was like in a trance!”

  “Whoa …” Rick held up his hands. “Start at the beginning.”

  “Was he tall, dark and handsome?” Jenny asked bitterly.

  Brandon nodded and started to cry.

  “I’ve gotta go,” Jenny said, clutching her purse. “I’ve gotta go home and see if there’s a message.”

  “Brandon, why didn’t you say something?” Rick demanded, to which his son started sobbing in earnest.

  “No, don’t,” Jenny said, walking to the door in her own trance. “It’s not his fault. It’s Troy’s.”

  She left her car on the street and walked to her apartment on legs made of lead. She wanted to collapse. At the bottom of her steps she pressed her hand to her lips and clung to the rail for support. But Rawley was Troy’s son. He wouldn’t hurt him. He was his son!

  A deep canine growl sounded from above. Jenny forced herself to the upper landing where Benny stood outside her door, facing it, the ruff on his neck raised, his lips pulled into a snarl.

  “Benny,” she whispered, alarmed, but the dog didn’t move. The door suddenly flung open from the inside and Rawley peered out.

  “Mom?”

  She nearly collapsed in relief. “Rawley!” Tears fell down her cheeks and she gathered her son into her arms, ignoring his immediately stiffeni
ng body in the need to crush him to her.

  “Hello, Jenny.”

  The cold voice made her heart stop. Looking over Rawley’s shoulder, her startled gaze landed on Troy Russell standing inside her doorway, big as life. Even his smile was chilling. She felt a stab of real fear, her only reassurance the continual, low growl emanating from Benny’s throat as the dog intently watched Troy’s every move.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  After fifteen years he looked remarkably the same. She walked past him, concentrating on holding herself together. Rawley was safe and that was all that mattered.

  “He picked me up at camp,” Rawley said as he started to close the door.

  “Put the dog outside,” Troy ordered.

  Jenny stated flatly, “Benny can stay,” as Rawley reached for the dog’s collar to obey his father.

  Troy’s lips tightened. She recognized the signs of his half-hidden anger. Fifteen years hadn’t erased all her memories. Benny snarled and Rawley nudged the dog with his sneaker. “Hey!”

  “You broke into my apartment,” Jenny said, keeping her gaze on Troy. “You stole Rawley’s passport and you went to his soccer camp.”

  Troy leaned one hip against the sofa table. His blue eyes were as icy and as calculating as Jenny remembered. He’d put on some weight, but it didn’t detract from his overall good looks. In fact, he looked better than she remembered—a fact she fervently wished weren’t true. It seemed unfair that someone so vicious could be so attractive. Unfair—and deadly.

  “No, I walked into your apartment,” he said with an unconcerned shrug. “The front door was wide open. Guess someone broke in while you were gone. I was worried about you. I walked in and called for you and this dog attacked me!” He glared down at Benny who watched him unblinkingly. The dog seemed to recognize an enemy.

  “Mom!” Rawley interjected.

  “I don’t believe you.” Jenny swallowed. “You took his passport.”

  Troy’s eyes narrowed. “It was lying beside his pictures. You didn’t bother telling me I had a son.”

  “Mom!”

  “He’s not your son.”

  Troy just smiled wider.

  “I know he’s my dad!” Rawley yelled. “I’ve got his picture!” He started digging into his backpack.

  “He’s not your son in any way that counts,” Jenny responded in a barely audible voice. With as much strength as she could muster she walked past him into the living room and plunked down on the couch. Every muscle felt rigid.

  “Mom, Mom …” Troy’s old picture in hand, Rawley rushed over to perch on the chair opposite her, holding out the photo. Jenny glanced at the faded photograph but refused to accept it. She hurt all over.

  Rawley threw a look at his father, then dangled his hands between his knees, the picture hanging loosely from his fingers. Troy’s characteristic smirk showed plainly in the photograph even though its edges were ragged with age. Rawley added anxiously, “He came to the camp a few days ago but I knew who he was. I recognized him!”

  She met Troy’s gaze again. He looked so self-satisfied she wanted to scream. “His name wasn’t on the list.”

  “So what?” Rawley demanded. “He’s my dad and he had my passport. That’s what counts!”

  “I got you that passport to go to Puerto Vallarta.”

  “I didn’t go!” Rawley yelled as if she were completely deaf. “I went to the soccer camp with Brandon! And then Dad showed up and I thought you sent him, and I was so glad!”

  Troy’s gaze slid down her body, possessively. Jenny shuddered. Memories of his hands on her made her feel dirty and slightly sick.

  “But you never told him about me,” Rawley pointed out in an injured tone. “You never told him.” He pressed his lips together, looking as if he might cry. “Why didn’t you?”

  Jenny gazed helplessly at Rawley, then slid Troy an angry glance. He lifted one ironic brow. She’d been wrong, she thought She did hate him. “Because I didn’t trust him.”

  “But I’m his son.” Rawley’s eyes were huge with betrayal.

  “I know.” She took a shallow breath. “I’m sorry.”

  She would have reached for his hand but, anticipating her need to touch him, Rawley recoiled. Jenny’s throat closed. If she lost him over this she would never forgive herself.

  “We’ve been making up for lost time,” Troy said conversationally. “Played a little soccer, got to know each other a bit.”

  “Rick never saw you at the camp.” She heard how shrewish she sounded and wished she could relax. But not with Troy in the room. That would be like turning her back on a rattlesnake. She could almost feel his intimate gaze crawling over her skin, and shuddered.

  “Rick? That Brandon’s father?”

  Rawley nodded.

  Troy laughed without humor. “They got pissed off at him at the camp for telling them how to play the game. He doesn’t know how to play the game—at all.”

  “He knows some soccer,” Rawley defended, misunderstanding entirely.

  Jenny knew Troy was lying about the break-in. She knew a lot of things Rawley didn’t. But now wasn’t the time to get into a shouting match that she knew from experience she would lose—and that could turn into something so much worse.

  “I thought you were here to make amends,” she stated flatly.

  “Amends?” Troy’s gaze was cold. “Look who’s talking.”

  “What do you mean?” Rawley asked.

  Jenny gazed at her son. “Rawley, I need a few moments alone with Troy.”

  “What for?”

  “Please.”

  He set his jaw and scowled, reminding Jenny so much of Troy at that moment that she thought her heart might break. He was nothing like Troy. Nothing!

  Without another word he stomped off to his room, slamming the door. For once he didn’t play the music full blast. He was listening.

  “Jenny, Jenny,” Troy said in a silky voice. “You never to

  ld me.” “And I never would have,” she admitted.

  Her defiance clearly surprised him. “Guess it’s just lucky I found out, isn’t it?” He came around the couch and sat down close enough to brush his thigh against hers. She shrank away involuntarily and he chuckled softly. “Haven’t loosened up any over the years, I see.”

  He had the audacity to brush a curl away from her cheek. Jenny slapped his hand away. They glared at each other and to her horror she saw awakening sexual desire in his eyes. “You little bitch,” he whispered.

  “Touch me again and I’ll have you arrested.”

  He grinned cockily.

  “Have you been following me?” she blurted out, suddenly aware that she’d forgotten how wily Troy could be.

  “I coulda come by here anytime I wanted.”

  “You’re Mike Conrad,” she breathed.

  He chuckled and pretended to shoot her right between the eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “Bang.”

  Jenny couldn’t believe she was having this conversation. “You broke in here. I’ll prove it. What do you want, Troy? Money? Did you waste all that money my father gave you? Don’t touch me again,” she added in a fierce whisper when his hand drew too close to her thigh.

  “Come on, Jenny. Open up.” He took a lingering look over her legs. She had to resist the urge to clamp her knees together.

  “Get out, Troy.”

  “You can’t keep me from my son. Why, I could take this to court. How will it look to have the rich ex-wife keep her son’s father in the dark for so long?”

  “I’ll bring up the past. I’ll tell them you hit me.”

  Jenny could hear him inhale swiftly. The hairs on her arms lifted. He moved fast. One moment he was beside her, the next he had her pinned down, his mouth crushing hers, his tongue all over her lips and in the mouth she opened to scream.

  “He’ll hear,” Troy whispered fiercely, loving his power, gloating under it. “I’ll blame you. You, who kept him from his father!”

  “Get—off—me!” she deman
ded in growing hysteria.

  “Who do you think he’ll choose? Hmmm? Who?”

  He grabbed her full in the crotch, but then was off her an instant later. His chest heaved from excitement and his pants bulged. He watched her, waiting for whatever choice she made.

  Jenny’s own chest was heaving—but with terror. All she could think about was escape. Rawley and me. To Santa Fe.

  “You do it to yourself, Jenny. I’m just giving you what you want.” His voice was softer than a whisper.

  He hadn’t been this aggressive in the past. His cold control had developed into something else—something far more dangerous. He’d always been a bully, but it was overtly sexual now. She knew what he was thinking and her mouth grew dry as desert air.

  Her show of bravado was over. She’d lost this round. “How much money—will it take?”

  “Oh, no …” He wagged a finger in front of her nose. “I’m yours, honey. You, me and Rawley.”

  “I’ll kill you myself before I let you destroy my son.” His answer was a widening of that awful smile.

  Hunter didn’t like the way he was feeling. He drove aimlessly for a while, checking his watch, wondering when Jenny might be back from Three Winds. Probably already home. With her son. Could he just drop in and see her uninvited, the way she thought of him now?

  She hates you. She said so.

  He didn’t believe it for a moment. But he’d betrayed her, and she wasn’t likely to forgive him in the foreseeable future. If he were smart, he’d let some time go by and see what happened a few months from now. Give her time to settle in Santa Fe.

  “Damn it,” he muttered. Why had he let himself get involved? How had it happened? But just thinking about her … her soft skin and sweet sighs … her humor … the sexy way she had of pushing her curls away from her face.

  And there was Russell, too. The reason he’d taken this job in the first place. He couldn’t leave Jenny alone now even if she threw him out bodily.

  He drove to the apartment and parked, walking slowly through the courtyard and up the stairs to her door. He knocked lightly. There was no answer. He knocked again, a bit louder. Faintly he heard footsteps come to the door and then he realized he was being examined through the peephole by an unseen eye.