Royal Rescue

by Lisa Childs

  A millionaire and a mobster’s widow? Brendan chuckled.

  “I’m really glad that you’re still here,” she said.

  His heart warmed, filling with hope. Did she have the same feelings he had?

  “I owe you an apology,” Josie said. “It was all my fault—all of it. And my mistakes cost you three years with your son.” Her voice cracked. “And I am so sorry….”

  He closed his arms around her and pulled her against his chest—against his heart. She trembled, probably with exhaustion and shock. She had been through so much. She clutched at his back and laid her head on his shoulder.

  “My father knew who you were,” she remarked. “What you were. From his sources within the FBI, he knew you were an agent. If I’d told him what story I was working on when the attempts started on my life, he would have told me to drop it—that there was no way you could be responsible. I should have known….”

  “He knew?” Brendan had really underestimated the media mogul in resources and respect. He could be trusted with the truth, so Brendan should have trusted his daughter, too.

  “He’s a powerful man with a lot of connections,” she said, “but still he didn’t know that I wasn’t dead. I hate that I did that to him. I hate what I did to you. I understand why you can’t trust me.”

  “Josie…”

  She leaned back and pressed her fingers over his lips. “It’s okay,” she said. “I understand now that sometimes it’s better to leave secrets secret. There will be no stories about you or your mother in any Jessup publications or broadcasts. And there will never be another story by me.”

  “Never?”

  Tears glistened in her smoky-green eyes, and she shook her head. “I should have never…”

  “Revealed the truth?” he asked.

  “Look what the consequences were,” she reminded him with a shudder.

  “Yes,” he agreed, and finally he looked at the full picture, at what she’d really done. “You got justice for your friend—the girl that kid assaulted. If you hadn’t written that article, it never would have happened. And I know from experience that it’s damn hard to move on if you never get justice.”

  “That’s why you went after all those crime organizations,” she said, “to get justice for what your dad did to your mom.”

  “She gave up her justice for me,” he said.

  “So you got it for her and for so many others.”

  He shook his head. “No, Margaret got it for her. Go figure. But you helped your friend when no one else would. You can’t blame yourself for what the boy did. And neither should his father.”

  “He needs someone to blame,” she said.

  Just as the people in her new town had blamed her for her student’s death. Someone always needed someone else to blame.

  “And so did I,” she added. “I shouldn’t have blamed you.”

  “You shouldn’t have,” he agreed. “Because I would have never hurt you, then or now.” He dragged in a deep breath to say what he’d waited around to tell her, what he’d waited four years to tell her. “Because I love you, Josie.”

  “You love me?” She asked the question as if it had never occurred to her, as if she had never dared to hope. Until now. Her eyes widened with hope and revealed her own feelings.

  “Yes,” he said, “I love your passion and your intelligence and—”

  She stretched up his body and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I didn’t think you’d ever be able to trust me, much less love me.”

  “I don’t just love you,” he said. “I want to spend my life with you and CJ. No more undercover. I’ll find a safer way to get justice for others, like maybe helping you with stories.”

  She smiled. “That might be more dangerous than your old job.”

  “We’ll keep each other safe,” he promised. “Will you become my wife?”

  “It will thrill CJ if his parents are together, if every day is like that day at my house,” she said.

  That had been such a good day—a day Brendan had never wanted to end. His heart beat fast with hope. She was going to say yes….

  “But as much as I love our son, I won’t marry you for his sake,” she said. “And you wouldn’t want me to.”

  He wasn’t so sure about that. But before he could argue with her, she was speaking again.

  “I will marry you,” she assured him, “because I love you with all my heart. Because even when I was stupid enough to think you were a bad man, I couldn’t stop loving you. And I never will.”

  “Never,” he agreed. And he covered her mouth with his, sealing their engagement with a kiss since he had yet to buy a ring. But it was no simple kiss. With them, it never was. Passion ignited and the kiss deepened.

  If not for the dinging of the elevator, they might have forgotten where they were. His mother stepped through the open doors, her eyes glinting with amusement as if she’d caught him making out on the porch swing.

  “We’re getting married, Mom,” he said.

  “Of course,” she said, as if there had never been any question in her mind. “Now, open the door for me.” She juggled a tray of plates and coffee cups and a sippy cup.

  He opened the door to his son, who threw his arms around Brendan’s legs. “Daddy! Daddy, you’re still here.”

  “I’m never leaving,” he promised his son.

  “Gramma!” the little boy exclaimed, and he pulled away from Brendan to follow her to his grandfather’s bedside.

  With a happy sigh, Josie warned him, “We’re never going to have a moment alone.”

  “Our honeymoon,” he said. “We’ll spend our honeymoon alone.”

  Epilogue

  “We’re alone,” Brendan said as he carried Josie over the threshold of their private suite.

  Since his arms were full with her and her overflowing gown, she swung the door closed behind them. It shut with a click, locking them in together. “Yes, we’re finally alone….”

  And she didn’t want to waste a minute of their wedding night, so she wriggled in his arms, the way their independent son did because he thought himself too big to be carried. As she slid down Brendan’s body, he groaned as if in pain.

  “Was I too heavy?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “No, you’re perfect—absolutely perfect.” He lifted his fingers to her hair, which was piled in red ringlets atop her head. “You looked like a princess coming down the aisle of the ballroom.”

  “Well, technically…” She was. It had made her an anomaly growing up, so she’d often downplayed her mother’s royal heritage. When she’d married Stanley Jessup, her mother had given up her title anyway. But here it was no big deal. Josie was only one of three princesses in the palace on St. Pierre Island. Four, actually, counting Charlotte Green-Timmer’s new daughter. Charlotte and Aaron had married shortly before their daughter’s premature birth.

  There was a prince, too—Gabriella and Whit Howell’s baby boy. The princess had fallen in love with and married her father’s other royal bodyguard. There were so many babies…

  So much love. But she’d felt the most coming from her husband as he’d waited for her father to lead her down the aisle to him. In his tuxedo, the same midnight-black as his hair, he looked every bit the prince. Or a king.

  And standing at his side, in a miniature replica of his father’s tuxedo, had stood their son—both ring bearer, with the satin pillow in his hand, and best little man.

  “It was the most perfect day,” she said. A day she had thought would never come—not four years ago when she’d had to die, all those times she nearly had died, and during the three months it had taken to plan the wedding.

  “As hard as you and my mom worked on it,” he said, “it was guaranteed to be perfect.”

  She blinked back tears at the fun she’d had planning the wedding with Roma. “Your mother is amazing.”

  “She’s your mother, too, now,” he reminded her.

  And the tears trickled out. “I feel that way.” T
hat she truly had a mother now. “And my dad loves you like a son.” He couldn’t have been prouder than to have his daughter marry a hero like FBI Agent Brendan O’Hannigan.

  “I’m glad,” Brendan said. “But right now I don’t want to talk about your dad or my mom.” He stepped closer to her, as if closing in on a suspect. “I don’t want to talk at all.”

  Her tears quickly dried as she smiled in anticipation. “Oh, what would you rather do?”

  “Get you the hell out of this dress,” he said as he stared down at the yards of white lace and satin.

  With its sweetheart neckline, long sleeves and flowing train, it was a gown fit for a princess—or so his mother had convinced her. Josie was glad, though, because she had wanted something special for this special day. A gown that she could one day pass down to a daughter.

  “Your mom told the seamstress to put in a zipper,” she told him. “She said her son was too impatient for buttons.”

  He grinned and reached for the tab. The zipper gave a metallic sigh as he released it, and the weight of the fabric pulled down the gown. She stood before her husband in nothing but a white lace bra and panties.

  “You’re the one wearing too many clothes now,” she complained and reached for his bow tie.

  He shrugged off his jacket, and for once he wore no holsters beneath it. He carried no guns. When their honeymoon was over, he would, but as a supervising agent, he wouldn’t often have occasion to use them. He wasn’t going undercover anymore—except with her.

  She pulled back the blankets on the bed as he quickly discarded the rest of his clothes. “In a hurry?” she teased.

  “I don’t know how much time we’ll have before CJ shows up,” he admitted.

  “His grandparents promised to keep him busy for the next couple of days,” she reminded him. “And he’s more fascinated with the royal babies right now than he is with us.”

  Brendan grinned and reached for her.

  “He wants one, you know,” Josie warned.

  Brendan kissed her softly, tenderly, and admitted in a whisper, “So do I.”

  She regretted all that her unfounded suspicions had cost him—seeing her pregnant, feeling their son kick, seeing him born, holding him as a sweet-smelling infant…

  But she would make it up to him with more babies—and with all her love. She tugged her naked husband down onto the bed with her. “Then we better get busy…”

  Building their family and their lives together.

  *

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  Chapter One

  “This special news report just in—an amber alert has been issued for six-year-old Hank Forte. Hank was last seen at the county fair in Amarillo.”

  Brody Bloodworth’s heart clenched as a photo of the boy appeared on screen. The little boy had blond hair, was wearing a black T-shirt, jeans and cowboy boots. He could be one of the kids on the BBL, the Bucking Bronc Lodge he had started for needy children.

  But he reminded him more of his own little brother, Will, and launched him back seven years ago to the day Will had gone missing.

  Not from a county fair but from the rodeo where he was supposed to be watching him.

  Self-loathing and guilt suffused him, once again robbing his lungs of air. He understood what the family of that little boy was going through now. The panic. The fear.

  The guilt.

  If only they’d kept a better eye on him. If only they hadn’t turned their head for a minute.

  What was happening to him? Had he just wandered off? Would they find him hiding out or playing somewhere at the fair? Maybe he had fallen asleep in a stall housing one of the animals…

  Or had someone taken him? Maybe a desperate woman who’d lost a child and was out of her mind? A child predator who’d do God knows what?

  A killer?

  The reporter turned the microphone to Hank’s parents, a couple who were huddled together, teary-eyed and frightened. A second later, they began to plead for their son’s return, and the mother broke down into sobs.

  Brody hit the remote, silencing the heart-wrenching scene, but it played over and over in his head. But it wasn’t the Forte family’s cries he heard; it was his own family’s.

  His father who’d blamed him from the get-go.

  Because it was his fault.

  He glanced through the window at the sprawling acres and acres of land he’d bought, to the horse stables and pens and the boys that he’d taken in. All kids who had troubles, boys who needed homes and love and guidance.

  But no matter how much he did for them, it wouldn’t make up for losing his little brother.

  The clock in the hall struck 6:00 p.m., and he stood, pulled on his duster jacket and headed outside. One of his best men, Mason Blackpaw, and his fiancée, Cara Winchester, were getting married on the ranch in a few minutes. He’d promised he’d be there, and he was happy for his friend, but weddings always made him uncomfortable.

  And he’d attended a hell of a lot of them lately. In fact, all of his original investors had tied the knot. First Johnny Long, then Brandon Woodstock, Carter Flagstone, then Miles McGregor, and now Mason.

  Yanking at his tie to loosen the choking knot, he glanced at the field to the right where Mason had built a gazebo. Cara had rented tables and chairs and had decorated them with white linens, bows and fresh day lilies.

  Half wishing he could skip the ceremony, he started to turn and go back inside, but Mason strode up to the steps of the gazebo then glanced his way with a smile.

  Brody forced one in return. He couldn’t let his foul mood ruin his friend’s day.

  Still, it was all he could do to put on a congenial face as he took a seat in the back row. Weddings made him think of Julie Whitehead, the only girl he’d ever loved.

  The girl he’d snuck off to make out with at the rodeo, leaving his brother alone and unprotected.

  In the panicked and horrible days after Will had disappeared, he’d lashed out at Julie. He’d blamed her.

  But it was really himself he hated.

  Dammit, that news report had stirred it all up again, all the haunting memories. He needed to check the database for missing and exploited children, make sure Will’s information was still there.

  Over the years, he’d focused on making sure local law enforcement agencies as well as statewide ones didn’t give up looking. Even all these years later, he still had hope he’d find his brother.

  Although that hope was harder to hold on to every day.

  Worse, worry over what his brother had suffered ate at him constantly.

  Still, he had to know if he was dead or alive.

  *

  SPECIAL AGENT JULIE WHITEHEAD ran her finger over the embossed wedding invitation from Cara Winchester and Mason Blackpaw, then tossed it into the trash. She had worked with Mason on the Slasher case along with Detective Miles McGregor, tracking down a notorious serial killer who’d committed horrific crimes against women. During the case, they’d made friends, but she couldn’t bear to attend the couple’s wedding—not when it was taking place on the Bucking Bronc Lodge.

  Not when Brody Bloodworth would probably attend.

  After all, he was the founder of the ranch for troubled boy
s, a project she whole-heartedly admired, but he was also the man who’d broken her heart. Even after seven years, the thought of seeing him again tore her in knots.

  Of course, she hadn’t blamed him for hating her after his little brother had disappeared. If it hadn’t been for her selfishness, her eagerness to seduce him away from the rodeo, he would have been with Will, and the little boy never would have disappeared.

  She’d never forgiven herself for that.

  And she’d made it her sole mission in life to see that one day he was found.

  The very reason she’d joined the TBI.

  Agent Jay Cord, one of the agents who specialized in missing children cases, cursed as he strode over to her desk. “Dammit, did you hear that another little boy went missing?”

  Julie’s lungs tightened. “Hank Forte. I feel so bad for that family.” Memories of the torturous hours after Will’s disappearance flashed back. “Any leads?”

  “We’re still questioning all the workers at the fair, but so far nothing.”

  She squeezed the stress ball on her desk, knowing the routine all too well. The family was always suspect, a fact that appalled her on their behalf and made her sick at the same time because a large percentage of the time they were guilty.

  Next on their suspect list—their friends and relatives. The police and TBI would look into financials, search for motives, the whole time putting out feelers for pedophiles, ex-cons and mental patients. Then the wait for a ransom call. And what to do then?

  And if one didn’t come…the terrible realization that their child might be dead. “The parents check out?” she asked.

  “So far. Both seem devastated. No financial problems. No custody issues. No enemies that they know of.”

  Julie frowned, thinking of all the cases they’d seen. The first forty-eight hours were crucial. Every second after lessened the chances they would find the child alive.

  “I’m headed to Amarillo now,” Jay said. “Want to grab a bite of dinner with me on the way? There’s a great Italian place I’ve been wanting to try.”