by Rita Herron
A kindness that belied her money and station in life.
Although when she looked up at him, her expression crinkled with sadness.
Confused, he fell into step beside Taylor, something moving inside him at the troubled expression lining her face. “What’s going on, Taylor?”
“We’re leaving. Margaret wants to visit her father.”
“Fine. I’ll drive you home.”
She caught him by the arm. “Actually, I’m going with her.”
“Then so am I.”
Her shoulders stiffened. “Hayes, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
He arched a brow, daring her to argue. “I told you that you go nowhere without me. Remember what happened the last time you did?”
Her face paled, and he felt like a jerk for reminding her, but he couldn’t forget she was in danger. And she shouldn’t, either.
“I’ll sign the bill,” Margaret said in a shaky voice.
Margaret gave him another odd look, spoke to the waiter, returned and offered Taylor a strained smile. “All right. I’m ready.”
Taylor nodded and they followed Margaret to her silver Jaguar, then he and Taylor went to his SUV. Just the sight of his utility vehicle next to Margaret’s and the other expensive toys in the parking lot reminded him of the differences between them.
When Taylor settled in and buckled her seat belt, he angled his head toward her. “What was in that envelope, Taylor?”
Her labored breathing reverberated through the small confines of the SUV. “Nothing.”
“Don’t lie, Taylor. Whatever it was upset Margaret. Was it some kind of threat to you or Margaret?”
Taylor’s gaze shifted to look out the window, and she twisted her hands together. “No,” she whispered hoarsely.
Tension rattled her voice, and he reached out and laid a hand over hers. “I can’t help you or her if you don’t confide in me.”
Her eyes looked tortured. “Just drive to Margaret’s, Hayes. She and I will explain later.”
He studied her for a second, then reluctantly accepted her answer. Whatever was wrong involved Margaret, and she had to discuss it with her father.
Before the day was over, he would find out what was in that file.
GUILT NAGGED AT TAYLOR as Hayes parked in front of Link Hathaway’s Spanish mansion. What would Hayes think if he knew he was about to meet his grandfather?
The man who had insisted Margaret give him away. The man who’d lied to her and assured her that Hayes was happy and lived with a loving family.
The man who had enough money that he could have kept Hayes, even if it meant raising him by nannies. The man who probably wouldn’t want anything to do with Hayes now.
Link was a formidable man. Driven by guilt over a teenaged pregnancy, Margaret had always had a difficult time standing up to him.
Margaret pulled into the six-car garage, and Hayes parked in front of the impressive mansion, a frown marring his face as they walked up the tiled path to the arched doorway. When they entered, his gaze swept the interior, a scowl deepening the grooves around his mouth as he assessed the imported chandeliers, two-story winding staircase and Spanish decor.
“Mr. Hathaway likes history,” she said, earning a sideways look of disdain.
Margaret appeared through a set of double French doors and glanced at Hayes with such longing and pain that Taylor’s heart clenched.
“Father’s in the study, Taylor. Ranger…H-Hayes,” Margaret stammered. “Would you like to sit on the veranda? Elda can bring you something cold to drink.”
“I’ll wait here,” Hayes said, shoulders squared.
She shot a nervous glance toward Taylor, then nodded. “All right. Make yourself comfortable.”
He gave them both a look that said that was impossible, and Taylor’s stomach churned. As soon as they entered Link Hathaway’s office, Taylor sensed he was angry. That perhaps he even knew the reason for this meeting.
But how was that possible? No one knew about the file but her….
Unless the man who’d killed the private investigator had found the files. Would he phone Link if he had? Maybe for blackmail money?
“Father, I just discovered the truth about my baby,” Margaret said in a surprisingly strong voice. She dropped the folder from the private investigator onto her father’s desk. He glanced at it then up at Margaret, and slanted a furious stare toward Taylor.
“Don’t you think we should discuss this in private?” he said sharply.
Margaret shook her head. “Taylor knows everything, Father. She hired a private investigator to find my son. The file came from him.”
His thick gray brows drew together as he scowled. “You should have minded your own business, Taylor. Are you trying to ruin my daughter’s happiness?”
“I thought I was helping her,” Taylor said.
“She knew I wanted to know more about my baby.” Margaret folded her arms. “Why did you lie to me, Father? Why did you tell me he was in a happy home when that file proves otherwise?”
Link paced the room, agitated. “I did what I thought was best to protect you and your future.”
“But my baby suffered,” Margaret cried. “And he was, is, your grandson. How could you leave him in a bad situation when we could have taken care of him so much better?”
Link Hathaway’s nostrils flared. “You were fifteen years old, Margaret. Just a child, and an immature, irresponsible one at that, or you wouldn’t have found yourself pregnant.”
Margaret’s face crumpled at his harshness. “I was in love with my baby’s father.”
“Yes, but he was young, too, and in no better position to get married than you were. You could barely take care of yourself, much less an infant.”
“But you could have done something to make sure my son was happy like you promised, not leave him in a home where the people didn’t love him.”
“He was a bastard child,” Link snarled. “He got what he deserved.”
Margaret’s face blanched. “That’s cruel and untrue. He didn’t ask to be born.”
Link growled. “I wish to hell you’d had the abortion like I suggested.”
Margaret wiped at a tear. “I could never have done that, and you know it.”
“I gave him a mother and father, and that was enough,” Link said, his voice tight. “It was better for all of us not to look back. Not to keep in touch. And my biggest mistake was that I didn’t send him overseas to live with strangers instead of with the Kellers.”
“Why them?” she asked.
“They’d lost a son and wanted a replacement. At the time, I thought it was best.”
Taylor sighed. But the family obviously hadn’t connected with Hayes.
“No.” Margaret ran a hand through her hair. “It wasn’t better for my son. He should have had loving parents. And some of this.” She gestured around the room. “All our money and he had nothing.”
“He will never have our name or our money,” Link said. “I’ve worked too hard to build my reputation and to keep yours untainted for you to ruin it now. Leave the past behind, marry Goldenrod and look toward your future.”
A long silence ensued, anger and accusations stretching between them. “I can’t do that, Father. I know where my son is. I know the name those people gave him.” Her voice turned shrill, growing nearly hysteric. “His name is Ranger Hayes Keller. And he’s in your house, Father. A house that should have been a home to him all these years.”
Link circled his desk and gripped Margaret by the arms. “But he doesn’t know that, and he doesn’t have to. What purpose would it serve now, Margaret? You’re marrying Devon. Don’t spoil that by dragging some bastard kid into the picture.”
“Stop calling him that,” Margaret snapped. “He deserves the truth. And I’m going to tell him.”
She spun around and headed to the door, then swung it open. Taylor rushed behind her, and Link followed, his heels pounding angrily on the floor. He grabbed Taylor by the sh
oulder and forced her to look at him.
“This is your fault, Taylor. Fix it, and keep Margaret quiet and away from that ranger, or you’ll be sorry.”
Chapter Twelve
“Take your hands off of Miss Landis,” Hayes ordered in a menacing tone.
Link Hathaway cut his gaze toward Hayes, a mixture of cold bitterness and another emotion Hayes couldn’t define in his gray eyes. Eyes that chewed Hayes up and spit him out as if he was a nasty rodent who had invaded his lavish, ostentatious house and his perfectly orchestrated life.
“I said, take your hands off of her.” He took another deliberate step toward the pompous ass. “And don’t threaten her again or you’ll deal with me.”
“This is between me and my daughter,” Hathaway said sharply. “Stay out of it, Ranger Keller.”
“You’re wrong about that,” Hayes said. “I’m working a murder investigation, Mr. Hathaway, so anything that involves Taylor is my business. And from where I’m standing, you just threatened her.”
“Get out,” Hathaway barked.
“Father, stop it,” Margaret said. “Hayes has a right—”
“He has no right.” Link shot a warning look toward Taylor. “Tell her, Taylor.”
Margaret’s words echoed in Hayes’s ears. What did she mean, he had a right? He searched her face, and a dozen tumultuous feelings darkened the depths of her eyes.
Taylor folded her arms around her waist. His mind boomeranged between all the elements of the case, all the questions that needed answers, the pieces that didn’t quite fit into the puzzle yet.
“Does this have to do with that P.I.’s report?”
A thick unwavering silence stretched across the room, then Hayes addressed Link. “Mr. Hathaway, you’re aware that a P.I. named Morris was murdered last night and that someone shot at Taylor.”
A muscle ticked in Hathaway’s jaw. “Maybe Miss Landis was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“This is the third attempt on her life.” He whirled around toward Taylor. “You’re obviously keeping something from me. If the P.I. discovered something on Sutton and the city council, or if someone’s blackmailing you or Margaret, then I need to know the reason.”
Margaret moved closer to Taylor, a low sigh escaping her. “Taylor, it’s all right.”
Hayes glared at Taylor, tired of all the secrets and lies. “Maybe you had something to do with the illegal bids, Taylor.”
Hurt registered on Taylor’s face. “I would never do that.”
“Then stop lying and tell me what the hell is going on.”
“Taylor has done nothing wrong,” Margaret said, drawing his gaze back to her. “In fact, she’s been covering for me, trying to protect me.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Protect you from what?”
Link cleared his throat and reached for Margaret’s arm but she jerked away, fury flaring in her eyes. “No, Father. I’m going to tell him the truth. He deserves to know.” Her voice cracked. “Besides, this man Morris might have been killed because of what he uncovered.”
Hayes made a low sound in his throat. “Go on.”
Margaret wet her lips with her tongue, and Taylor inched closer to her, placing a supportive hand on her back.
“When I was fifteen years old, I gave birth to a baby out of wedlock,” Margaret said in a strained voice. “I gave that baby up for adoption, but I’ve always regretted it and wanted to know where my son was, if he was safe and happy.” She hesitated, clenching her hands together, then brought them to her neck, twisting at a silver chain around her neck. “Taylor hired Mr. Morris to locate my child.”
Hayes scowled. “And he did?”
She nodded, her face etched in pain.
“You think this is why Morris was killed?” Hayes asked.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m sure my case wasn’t the only one he was working on.”
“But it’s possible,” Hayes said. Rich people covering up their secrets.
“Stop this now.” Hathaway reached for Margaret again, but she spun on him, planting her fisted hands on her hips. “No, Father, you lied to me, told me my son was happy, that he had a good life, but that wasn’t true.”
Hayes’s chest began to throb, some germ of a thought sprouting as he began to connect the dots. Hathaway said he didn’t belong here…Margaret had argued that he did…
He jerked his head toward Taylor, saw emotions darken her eyes, then Margaret’s where tears began to trickle down her cheek.
“I’m so sorry, Hayes. I…”
“What are you saying?” Hayes asked through gritted teeth.
Margaret cleared her throat. “You’re my son, the baby I gave up for adoption.”
Shock rooted him to the spot, anger and humiliation and old feelings of abandonment clawing at him. “I don’t believe you.”
“It’s true,” Margaret said softly. “The papers were in that file Taylor gave me at lunch.” She pushed them toward him, and Hayes took the papers and studied them, his jaw clenched.
He looked at Taylor for confirmation, and she nodded, sympathy in her eyes. He didn’t want her damn pity.
Margaret reached for him. “I’m so sorry, Hayes—”
He cut her off. “You’re sorry I’m that child?”
“No…” She shook her head and moved toward him again, extending her hand, her fingers sparkling with rubies.
Hayes held his callused one up to ward off her attempt to touch him. “Sorry I didn’t turn out like you thought.”
“Hayes, listen,” Taylor whispered. “Margaret wanted to find you. She cares about you.”
He shot Taylor a glacier look. Through the years, he’d imagined a million different reasons his mother might have given him up.
Because she was ill. Dying. Had no means to raise a child on her own. No family to support her. That she was killed by a vicious murderer. Or that he’d been stolen and that he had a family somewhere wondering where he was, waiting to reconcile with their kidnapped baby and bring him home.
But never had he dreamt that a spoiled heiress and her rich father had gotten rid of him because he would have interfered with their social schedule and prestigious lifestyle. “Yeah, she cared so much she abandoned me.” He narrowed his eyes, accusing. “And you knew about this, Taylor. That’s why you lied to me.” His voice thickened and he worked to swallow the rage and pain clogging his throat. “You knew I was her son? The baby she threw away like trash.”
“I didn’t know until last night, when that private investigator called,” Taylor whispered. “But I had to talk to Margaret first.”
“Please understand, Hayes,” Margaret cried. “I was only fifteen…a kid myself. Father thought it would be better, that you’d have two parents, a loving home—”
“A loving home?” A sarcastic chuckle escaped Hayes, echoing shrilly through the grand two-story foyer and bouncing off the elegant walls. Slowly the realization was sinking in. Link Hathaway was his grandfather. Had said he didn’t belong.
And he was right. “My home was anything but loving.” He gestured toward the ornate crystal chandelier, the original oil paintings, the vases that had probably cost more than a year’s paycheck. “And nothing like this.”
“I know that now,” Margaret whispered. “But I didn’t know back then. If I had, I would have done something sooner.” She twisted the necklace, pulling a locket from beneath the shimmery fabric of her silk blouse and flipping it open. “See, this is a picture of you when you were born. I always wear it.”
Another bitter laugh rolled from deep in his chest. “Right. Because you thought of me every day when you were hobnobbing with your rich friends.”
“I did,” Margaret cried. “I missed seeing you grow up and wondered what you were doing. And every year on your birthday I mourned for you, imagined what you looked like, how you’d changed, if you had a birthday party.”
“I told you this was a mistake,” Link Hathaway interjected.
It all came
together in Hayes’s mind, why Hathaway hadn’t wanted her to tell him. He wanted to protect what was his. His money, his wealth, his power and image.
“Well, there weren’t any parties,” Hayes said dryly. “But I understand how you wouldn’t want a kid messing up your rich snotty lifestyle or your social calendar.” He directed a condescending look toward Hathaway, hating the man. “You people don’t care about anything but your wealth and how you look. But don’t worry. I don’t want your damn money.”
“Hayes, please, listen…” Margaret pleaded.
Hayes’s fists tightened. “Just answer me one question. Who is my father?”
Margaret gulped. “I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you that.”
“Can’t or won’t?” Hayes barked.
“I can’t,” Margaret said in a choked whisper. “He doesn’t know about you. He was young, too…I never told him I was pregnant.”
Hayes felt sucker punched. His heart pounding, he spun around and rushed outside. He had to escape these people, wished he’d never come to Cantara Hills.
Wished he didn’t know the truth and had never met the woman who’d given birth to him and hadn’t wanted him.
TAYLOR’S HEART ACHED for Margaret and for Hayes. She turned to fold Margaret in her arms, but Margaret shook her head. “Go after him, Taylor. Please…make sure he’s all right. He needs someone right now.”
The pain and desolation in her friend’s eyes tore at her, but Margaret was right. The best thing she could do for her was to comfort Hayes. To convince him that Margaret loved him. That they could have a relationship now.
If only he’d give her the chance.
“You’ll be all right?”
Margaret nodded and gently coaxed her toward the door. “Please, he shouldn’t be alone.”
Not that he’d want her with him, but Taylor nodded and rushed outside anyway. Hayes was sitting in his SUV, the engine sputtering to life, anger emanating from his icy glare as she settled in the passenger side.
“Why don’t you stay here with your rich friends?”
