The CEO's Secret Baby

by Karen Whiddon

  “Here.” Finn handed him a cell phone. “It’s also in your name. You have unlimited minutes and text messages. My number is already in your phone book, under F. Call me if you need anything.”

  “I will.” Taking the phone, Tucker dropped it into his pocket. “Now what?”

  “Now we wait for someone to contact you. Don’t worry, we’ve got eyes on the house. No one will be able to get to you without going through us.”

  Pretending to be relieved, Tucker forced a smile. “Glad to hear it.” He cleared his throat. “What about a weapon?”

  “No.” Finn didn’t even hesitate.

  Doggedly, Tucker continued. “I need some way to protect myself. Like a gun.”

  “We’ll always be near you. There’s no need.”

  Seeing that Finn wouldn’t be swayed, Tucker shrugged. With the area’s avid hunting population, procuring a pistol of his own shouldn’t be too difficult. For the first time he was glad of the DEA’s prepaid charge card with it’s two-grand limit.

  “Are you sure you don’t need anything else?” Finn checked his watch. “I’ve got a few things to do before I go on surveillance.”

  This surprised Tucker. “You have to work surveillance, too?”

  Finn shrugged. “It’s my operation and we’re shorthanded, as always. So I help where I can.”

  “Looks like I’m set,” Tucker said. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Probably tomorrow.” With that, the DEA agent left.

  Once he heard the car start and drive away, Tucker checked out the rest of the house, glad he didn’t have to continue to pretend an interest in furnishings and such. To his surprise, the closet had been stocked with clothing in his size, as had the dresser drawers. Jeans and T-shirts mostly. There were even socks, underwear—both boxers and briefs—and shoes. All in his size. Someone had certainly done their research. Scary, but that was undercover operations for you.

  Wandering back to the kitchen, he found the refrigerator full of food, along with a six-pack of Coors, his favorite beer.

  Of course. They’d taken care of everything, right down to the last detail. Pretty soon he’d stop being surprised.

  “Thoughtful,” he murmured, popping one open and taking a long swallow. He’d see what was on TV and then he’d try and get a decent night’s rest in the brand-new bed on the clean, crisp sheets.

  In the morning, all bets were off. Sorry, Finn. But there was no way he was going to wait around like a sitting duck or, as he preferred to think about it, bait on a hook. He had his own plan, and they’d have to adapt and provide backup. That was simply the way it was going to be. Finn would learn that soon enough.

  As the temperatures rose, nearly setting a record for the hottest day in July ever, Lucy couldn’t contain her restlessness. Two more days passed without Tucker reappearing or even calling. Sean reported that he’d never checked in at Boulder’s Best Brew. This was so weird and out of character for the Tucker she knew, that her nagging sense of worry and unease intensified.

  “Something’s happened to him,” she told Sean. “There’s no way he’d show up and then disappear like this.”

  “I’m sure he’s fine.” Dismissing her fears with a kiss on the forehead, Sean seemed distracted. “Actually, I’m glad he didn’t make it into work. Some weird, menacing-looking man came looking for him.”

  She froze. “What? Who was he? What did he want?”

  “I don’t know what he wanted.” Sean frowned. “Even I was put off by him. Big Hispanic guy, claiming he only wanted to talk to Tucker, no one else. He gave me his card. He claims to be with the Mexican Consulate.”

  “That could be a good thing.”

  “No, it’s not. I’d bet you he has something to do with that drug cartel and the missing ten million dollars.”

  Stunned, she stared, unable to mask her fear. “Do you really think so?”

  “Yes, I do.” Sean seemed absurdly satisfied to relay this information. Sometimes, she didn’t understand his thought process. While he might feel a bit threatened by Tucker—who’d gone MIA and wasn’t a threat at all—she couldn’t believe he’d seriously wish his friend harm.

  “The drug cartel? You think he works for them and he’s here because of the missing money?”

  “The very same one. Of course,” Sean hastened to elaborate. “I don’t know that for sure. I’m just speculating.”

  Instead of relieving her, this comment stressed her out even more. “Seriously? But those guys are all on the border, and in New Mexico and Texas and California. What would he be doing in Colorado?”

  “Looking for Tucker? Remember, ten million dollars is still missing.”

  “Surely they’ve figured out by now that he doesn’t have their money. And maybe that guy really was with the Mexican Consulate. Maybe the Mexican government wants to offer their help.”

  “I don’t know.” Sean seemed to be relishing his line of thought. “It’s possible, but highly unlikely. If this guy really is on the up and up, he would have contacted the DEA or some other office authority. I’m pretty sure he was with the cartel.”

  “If he was, I don’t understand why they still think Tucker took their money. I mean, come on. Wouldn’t he have taken off to the Bahamas or the Virgin Islands or something?”

  “I don’t know. It looks bad, especially with Tucker disappearing like he has. They might still be watching him. His vanishing act makes it seem more likely that he knows where the money is.”

  “If this is what they really think…” She hated to voice her fears, but knew she had to. “Then we have to consider the possibility that he’s been captured again. We should alert the authorities.”

  “Honey.” Sounding amused, Sean massaged her shoulders. “Tucker is my oldest friend—”

  “Then act like it,” she snapped, before she could help herself.

  Sean narrowed his gaze and cocked his head. “Lucy, come on. You’re really upset about this?”

  “Of course I am.” Moving away, she glared at him. “And I can’t believe you’re not.”

  He looked down, and then raised his head to meet her gaze. “Okay, I’ve got to tell you the truth. Honestly, I find Tucker’s story about being held captive…well, slightly off. Think about it. It’s crazy.”

  “Crazy?” Stunned, she sucked her breath in. “I can’t believe…you think he was lying?”

  “Maybe. Or embellishing the truth. Either way, don’t tell me you didn’t sense that he wasn’t telling us everything.”

  “You know better.” She swallowed back a flash of anger. “Tucker doesn’t lie. He might have omitted some details, but he wouldn’t lie, especially to us.”

  Sean shook his head, his brown eyes radiating anger. “Listen to yourself. How can you defend him when you really don’t know where he’s been and what he’s done?”

  “He’s done nothing. Except show up and then vanish.” Close to tears, she struggled to maintain her composure. “I do know him, Sean. No matter what you think, he wouldn’t abandon his son.”

  “No, maybe he wouldn’t.” Sean grimaced. “At least not permanently. But you have to realize, whether he’s innocent or not, he’s lying low until all this blows over. Once the cartel goes away, he’ll surface again.”

  Since he held out a branch of hope, she grabbed it and held on with both hands. “Will they? Will the cartel give up and go away?”

  “It’s possible.” He grimaced. “But only once they find their money. Judging by what’s been going on at the Texas, New Mexico and Arizona borders, these drug cartels are ruthless and appear to have no fear of repercussions, so whoever took it might give it up, if pressured enough.”

  “I understand why Tucker might be hiding from them,” she said slowly. “But why us? We’re his closest friends.”

  “I’m thinking this may be temporary. Until he gets over the shock of us being engaged, right now, we’re not exactly his favorite people. I’m imagining he’s pretty damn angry.”

  “Because
we got together?” she scoffed, trying to ignore a twinge of guilt that told her Sean might be right. “Tucker understands.” She hoped.

  “Does he? I think you’re being a bit naive here.”

  His condescending tone served as a red flag. Worse, she felt certain he knew this and was purposely pushing for a fight to clear the air. The way she felt at the moment, she wasn’t sure that would be a good idea. She might say things they both would regret.

  Taking a deep breath, she tried to keep her tone rational. “Sean, I know Tucker, even better than you do. We were together a long time. No matter what, Tucker wouldn’t make up a story about being held captive to explain away his absence.”

  “Are you sure about that?” His mouth twisted bitterly. “Or are you letting yourself believe it because having a valid reason makes you feel better about his abandoning you?”

  He was pushing for a fight. Well, he would have to wait. Refusing to let go of the rest of what she wanted to say, she doggedly pushed on. “Furthermore, if Tucker had ten million dollars, he wouldn’t keep it hidden. He has plenty of his own money, you know.”

  “His funds are all tied up in probate. To regain access, he’s going to have to contact the court and prove he’s alive. So far, he’s made no effort to do that.” Sean shook his head. “Which, unfortunately, further proves my point.”

  “No, that proves nothing except that money means little to him.”

  Sean threw up his hands. “Come on, Lucy. He needs money to live, just like the rest of us.”

  To this, Lucy said nothing. She didn’t have a good explanation, but damned if she was going to let Sean tar Tucker’s reputation with such a wide brush.

  Because, when it came down to it, Sean would never change her mind about Tucker. She would never believe he would lie, cheat and steal the way Sean seemed to.

  Which proved that on this, they would never see eye-to-eye. Using a technique she’d learned in therapy, she closed her eyes and visualized letting go of her anger. Picturing a bright red balloon floating away, she took several deep breaths, waiting until she felt calm again before opening her eyes.

  “I guess you’re right,” she lied calmly, even managing to give Sean a small, tight smile. “But you know me. I can’t help but worry.”

  “Well, stop.” Sean seemed relieved, too. “Maybe you should focus on planning our wedding. That would be the perfect distraction from all of this. The first thing we need to do is choose a date.”

  Her first reaction—honestly? Horror. Her chest felt tight and she couldn’t breathe. Though she realized what Sean was trying to do, she couldn’t believe his bad timing.

  “Not today,” she said, her voice short.

  “Then when?” he persisted doggedly.

  She couldn’t meet his gaze. “Another time, okay? Not today.”

  Sean put his hand under her chin, lifting it to make her look at him. “I understand,” he finally said, his expression telling her he really didn’t.

  As he moved away to grab a beer from the fridge, she let her thoughts return to what really mattered to her right now. Tucker. She couldn’t take much more of this not knowing if he was all right. And then she realized what she’d have to do.

  If Tucker was staying away because he was devastated due to her and Sean’s engagement, she had to make things right. She had to find him somehow and insist that they talk things out. He was Eli’s father and she wanted to make sure he had a great relationship with their son. Nothing more.

  Resolve strengthened, she went to check on Eli before getting ready for bed. She bent over him, inhaling his sweet baby smell, before straightening. She had the most absurd urge to see his beautiful eyes, the exact same blue as Tucker’s.

  Odd how she could miss him as much now that he was alive as she had when she’d thought him dead.

  Chapter 5

  Waking up the next morning, Tucker felt disoriented. He sat up in the unfamiliar bed, heart pounding, panic clogging his throat as he tried to figure out his location.

  Once he’d ascertained he was no longer in the fetid cell in Mexico, he took stock of his surroundings as his memory quickly returned.

  Then, stretching, he pushed back the sheet and got out of bed, padding to the kitchen to start the coffeepot. He’d had to grin when he found a bag of Boulder’s Best Brew in the pantry. The DEA agent who’d stocked the place must have known better than to buy Folgers or Starbucks.

  While the coffee brewed he poured himself a bowl of cereal with two percent milk. He didn’t normally eat cornflakes, preferring Cheerios, but he’d make do with what he had. After Mexico, he found himself much less particular about what he ate.

  Everything tasted like ambrosia, which meant his recovering body was still starved for nutrients.

  Breakfast finished, he downed his first cup of coffee as quickly as possible, needing the caffeine jolt. The second cup he savored, walking from room to room. The little house provided by the DEA felt sterile and as far from his home as possible, but at least it felt safe.

  Still, damned if he was going to sit here like a minnow on a fishhook, waiting for the cartel to come and try to kill him.

  Instead, he’d have to decide on a plan of action.

  He started with the obvious. If the DEA had made sure that word on the street was that he was back in Colorado, then if the cartel was searching for him, they’d begin with his business.

  Ergo. He’d stake out the offices of BBB—Boulder’s Best Brew.

  Riding his bike back into town, he stopped and bought a pair of dark sunglasses at the drug store, along with a fake beard he found, inexplicably in the toy section.

  Then, glad McGuckin’s Hardware store opened at 7:30, he roamed the clothing area and grabbed a green cap with the words “John Deere” printed on it, a pair of denim overalls with the McGuckin’s logo embroidered on the pocket, which he paired with work boots and a long-sleeved, button-up work shirt. After he paid for his purchases, he changed in the men’s room and studied himself in the mirror. With the fake beard in place, he almost didn’t recognize himself.

  Satisfied that he looked as different from the CEO of BBB as he could get, he put on his new sunglasses and rode the beat-up mountain bike down Arapahoe. Glad of Boulder’s fantastic bike areas, he made better time than the traffic.

  At the sight of the two-story, brick building he leased, he felt nostalgic. Parking his bike in the bike rack, he sauntered toward the corner café where he marketed his coffee.

  Glad to see a small crowd queued at the counter, he got in line. He purchased a large latte, slightly amazed and gratified that no one recognized him. On the way out, he bought a copy of the Daily Camera from the newsstand, and stationed himself on the brick wall, near the corner where he could see everyone coming and going from the BBB corporate offices.

  Watching as his employees arrived for work felt oddly bittersweet. One by one, he recognized them with a sense of shock akin to joy. First to arrive was kindhearted Aida, his fifty-something personal assistant, who liked to pretend she still lived in the seventies. She always wore tie-dyed blouses with vintage bell-bottom jeans. Today she’d paired this with a matching headband.

  Right behind her came Phil Pilling, the pompous director of marketing, wearing neatly pressed chinos with a starched button-down shirt. Phil drove a battered BMW and always managed to figure out a way to drop high-end, name brands into any conversation.

  During the next twenty minutes, Tucker watched as various clerical employees arrived. He was on a first-name basis with many of them due to his predilection of dropping by the various departments unannounced and visiting with the staff. Even so, not a single one spared him a glance.

  But then, as far as they all knew, he was still dead. Though he told himself it was all for the best, at least until he’d brought his captors to justice, he’d never realized until this very moment how much he’d missed them.

  Finally, at exactly eight-thirty, the last stragglers arrived at work and his building entran
ce grew quiet. Meanwhile, the BBB coffee shop he’d put on the westward corner had a steady stream of customers. Even though it was a workday for the locals, tourists still packed Boulder in the summer.

  Sipping his cooling coffee, he settled in to wait. Once he’d skimmed the entire newspaper, he set that down and concentrated on drinking the last of his coffee. That done, he people watched, amusing himself by picking out the tourists from the locals.

  After an hour of this, he realized that, contrary to what television portrayed, stakeouts were boring. As the sun climbed the sky, the temperature rose and he moved to the shade. Despite the fact that he’d gotten a good night’s sleep, he found it more difficult to keep his eyes open than he would have believed.

  Finally, he got up and purchased a second cup of coffee and a bagel. As noon approached, he switched the coffee for a can of diet soda. Luckily, his shop sold sandwiches, so he figured he’d just grab one of those for lunch.

  Only a few people entered or exited his building. Since the employees were already at work and the delivery entrance was at the back, watching the front door had become an exercise in monotony. Since he didn’t have anyone to relieve him or provide backup, he could only hope nothing happened on the rare occasions he had to leave his post.

  When the dark-skinned man appeared at one o’clock, Tucker had just returned from the men’s room and almost missed him. Frequently glancing at a notepad, black hair styled impeccably, the man stopped in front of the building and stood back, staring up at the sign. Wearing a dark suit and tie, he looked out of place in free-spirited Boulder, where even CEOs like Tucker frequently wore jeans, sandals and T-shirts.

  Appearing to finally reach a decision, the man entered the BBB building. Through the sparkling clean glass, Tucker could see the reception desk where the man stopped, apparently to ask directions before getting into an elevator. Tucker wondered if Sean was about to have a visitor.

  Though the man looked Hispanic, that didn’t mean he was a member of the Mexican drug cartel. Still, Tucker didn’t believe in coincidences. Adrenaline pumping, he fidgeted but forced himself to remain still and exercise patience. Ten minutes later, he was rewarded as the man exited the building and began walking, heading toward Fourteenth Street.