She answered after three rings, sounding a little breathless. She was apparently happy to hear from him. Or maybe she’d had to run for the phone.
Whatever her reason, everything inside him responded to her sweet voice. They’d agreed to keep in touch, but he hadn’t spoken with her since he and Liam had said goodbye to her Sunday night.
Now something tugged at him, the longing to be with her again, even if only for the day. Maybe it would help Liam. Maybe he needed regular visits to know that Jasmine wasn’t gone like Mandy.
He cleared his throat. “What are you up to?”
“Painting.”
“That’s dedication. Liam and I haven’t even eaten breakfast yet.”
“What are you having?”
“Pancakes, complete with mouse ears. His, anyway.”
“You’re a good dad.” There was a smile in her tone.
It tugged one out of him. “Thanks. How about doing a late Christmas dinner with us?”
“In Murphy?”
“No, I’ll bring it to you. You’ll just have to walk across the street.”
“That sounds good. I’d love to see Liam again.”
“What about his grumpy father?”
“Him, too.”
“It’s not going to feel like Christmas. There won’t be any decorations.”
“At least the company will be good.”
“We’ll try. I’m afraid you won’t get much interaction out of Liam, though.” He drew in a breath and released it in a sigh. “He’s regressed. As of last night, he’s completely stopped talking again.”
“Oh, no. I was afraid of that.” She paused. “If you want to maintain regular contact, I don’t mind. If we FaceTimed or Skyped on a regular basis, that might help him adjust.”
He closed his eyes, that tug stronger than ever. Jasmine was a special person. The assignment was over. She owed them nothing more. But she was willing to do whatever she could to help ease Liam into the next phase of his life.
After settling on a time for dinner, he disconnected the call and carried plates and utensils to the table. Last was the maple syrup and a milk-filled sippy cup.
When he returned to the living room, the dump truck was parked, and his son was playing with a set of Lincoln Logs.
“Are you ready to eat?”
Liam didn’t look up.
“We need to eat our breakfast. Then we’re going to have dinner with Miss Jasmine.”
Liam’s head swiveled toward him. Hope filled his eyes and his mouth lifted in a one-sided smile.
Colton scooped him up and walked to the kitchen. His son wasn’t the only one whose day had gotten brighter. Colton was now looking forward to a meal he’d dreaded for the past two days.
He put Liam in the high chair and placed his plate on the tray. Although Liam eyed the pancakes hungrily, he waited until Colton sat, then held out his hands. When Colton had finished praying, Liam’s eyes met his.
And they held life.
As Colton cut the Mickey Mouse pancakes into bite-size pieces, his stomach twisted in a mixture of anguish and hope. For almost seven months, he’d tried to be everything for his son. But it wasn’t enough. Liam needed more.
He needed Jasmine.
As long as she was willing, Colton would see to it that they maintained regular contact. He’d drive to Atlanta on weekends and holidays. During the week and anytime he couldn’t make it, they’d FaceTime or Skype.
Anything to help ease Liam’s loneliness.
But what about his own?
NINE
Colton opened the oven door and a blast of heat hit him in the face. Cartoon voices drifted in to him from the living room, where Liam was occupied with Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Jasmine would arrive in thirty minutes. They’d scheduled Christmas dinner for three to give her extra time to paint.
Satisfied that the food was progressing as it should, he closed the oven door and walked from the room. When he entered the living room, Liam was standing at the front window, vertical blind slats resting on each shoulder, head holding them apart. He seemed to have been watching for Jasmine almost from the moment they arrived. Colton had lost count of how many times Liam had run to the window to peer out, then returned to the movie.
“Dinner isn’t ready yet, but when it is, she’ll be here.” He carried Liam to the couch and settled in next to him. The movie continued to play, and he hugged his son close, a sense of contentment swelling inside. Thank You, God. He’d brought them through a scary time. They still had healing to do. And Jasmine’s place in their futures was a big unknown. But they were safe.
The ringtone sounded on his phone. Rather than trying to talk over Rudolph, he strode into the kitchen to take the call. It was Jasmine. When she spoke, she sounded breathless. “I just finished the living room, which was a chore with the cathedral ceilings.”
“At least you got your workout today.”
She groaned. “Stretches, check. Quads, check. And a few other muscles I didn’t know I had, check, check and check. I’m going to feel this tomorrow.”
“I can imagine.” Although, she was probably exaggerating. As physically fit as she was, her body likely wouldn’t even register the additional activity. Jasmine was no couch potato.
“Anyhow, I’m running about twenty minutes late. I’ve got to clean my brush and rollers and then myself.” The humor returned to her voice. “I’m a three-coat painter—one on the wall, one on the floor and one on me.”
He laughed. “Take your time. Liam is occupied with Christmas movies, and I can always turn the temperature down on the oven.”
He laid the phone on the counter and removed a glass from the cupboard. After filling it with ice, he poured some of the sweetened tea he’d picked up yesterday.
When he returned to his spot on the couch, he kissed Liam on the head and gave him another squeeze. For the next several minutes, he sipped his tea while watching the animated movie.
Rudolph had just been chosen to be the head reindeer guiding the sleigh. The turning point. The start of the happy ending. Was there one in store for him and his son? Actually, they’d had one, with the arrest of the Perez brothers. But what about the hole that Mandy’s death had left in their lives?
Whenever he tried to envision that happy ending, Jasmine figured prominently in every image. He’d already decided to maintain regular contact. And she’d agreed.
But Liam didn’t just need occasional visits. He needed a constant in his life. Someone to kiss away the boo-boos with the tenderness that only a woman could provide. Someone to hold and comfort him after a nightmare. He needed a mother.
And Colton needed more than a friend. The loneliness had been more acute in the past two days than it had in several months. He’d gotten used to having Jasmine around and never dreamed that the house would feel so empty without her.
Now that the assignment was over, their relationship had moved easily from strictly professional to friends. Was there any chance it could move from friends to something deeper?
He couldn’t deny the attraction he felt. She was completely different from Mandy, but every bit as beautiful. He already respected and admired her. Strong in spite of a fractured past. Tough when needed, but surprisingly tender. Caring and selfless, putting others’ needs above her own. It wouldn’t take much for the admiration and respect he felt to grow into love.
Jasmine would be an amazing mother to Liam. And a good wife to him.
The thought was like having a bucket of cold water thrown in his face. He rose from the couch and started to pace. Over the past few minutes, he’d taken the leap from being glad they could visit regularly to thinking about making her his wife. How had that happened?
He stopped in the foyer and leaned against the front door. What he was thinking wasn’t even practical. Jasmine liked him as a friend, and she’d connected wit
h his son in a powerful and unexpected way. But she’d never hinted at feeling any kind of attraction toward him.
He returned to the living room in time to see Liam disappear into the hall, headed toward his room. He’d apparently lost interest in the movie.
Colton continued to pace. Once he got used to Jasmine not being there and they settled into the routine of regular visits, he’d get his head back on straight. It was just that the loneliness was getting to him. The time of year didn’t help, either—the holidays with their constant focus on family, the continual reminders of what was missing in his life.
He walked into the foyer again and paused. Did he just hear the kitchen door rattle? He couldn’t have. Brutus had been inside with them earlier, but Colton had let him out an hour ago to do his business and enjoy the outdoors. As long as he was outside, no one would get anywhere near the house.
Unless they had a tranquilizer dart.
His gut filled with lead. Perez’s brothers were off the street. But what if there was someone else?
His eyes went to the alarm panel two feet to his right, and he pressed the button to arm the system. When he reached for his phone, he winced. He’d never picked it back up after pouring his tea.
The next moment, the sharp snap of splitting wood sent a bolt of panic through him. Someone had just kicked in the back door. The ear-piercing squeal of the alarm filled the house, setting his teeth on edge.
He ran toward the back, reaching the living room the same time two men entered from the direction of the kitchen. A sick sense of déjà vu swept over him. Two men in ski masks and gloves. One larger and one smaller.
He continued his panicked dash into the hall. He had to get to Liam before they did. The police would have already been notified. The alarm was still monitored. He just had to hang on until they arrived.
But Jasmine would get there sooner. She was probably already in action. She’d have heard the squeal of the alarm from across the street, grabbed her weapon and dashed out the door.
As he ran down the hall, heavy footsteps pounded behind him. He’d just bolted through his son’s door when a large body crashed into him, tackling him from behind. He hit the floor, his assailant landing on top of him. The impact knocked the air from his lungs, and he struggled in a constricted breath.
Liam released a terrified scream as piercing as the wail of the alarm. The man rolled Colton onto his back while the second man entered the room. Colton twisted, reaching for his son. A meaty fist moved toward the side of his face at lightning speed, connecting almost before the threat registered. Stars exploded across his vision.
The thinner man lifted Liam from the floor and Colton struggled to rise. But the larger man tightened his hold, keeping him pinned to the floor.
As the man carrying Liam moved past him, Colton lifted an arm toward his son. “No.”
The word sounded far away, as if it came from somewhere else. Someone was taking his son, and there was no one to stop him. Why hadn’t Jasmine come?
Suddenly he was free. He rolled onto his stomach, then rose to his hands and knees. Blackness encroached from all directions, and a watery weakness filled his limbs.
He lifted one knee, placing that foot flat on the floor. He couldn’t let the men take his son. He had to get up.
He reached for Liam’s dresser, but his perception was off. His hand found nothing but air. A boot met his ribs, and pain shot through his side. The blow knocked him back onto the floor. The men disappeared from the room.
He pushed himself back into a crawling position. He couldn’t lose consciousness. He had to save his son. God, please help me.
He forced a hand forward, then a knee, then the other hand, rotating his body as he moved. The open doorway was in front of him. Inch by inch he crawled through, his circle of vision growing smaller by the second. The alarm still squealed, but there was another squeal, even closer. It was inside his head.
He flopped onto his side, the last vestiges of consciousness slipping away.
He’d made a terrible mistake. The capture of Perez’s brothers wasn’t the end. There were other men determined to bring him down.
Men every bit as dangerous.
And now they had Liam.
* * *
A roar filled the bathroom, and Jasmine’s hair danced in the hot stream of air coming from the blow-dryer.
Before cleaning her brushes and rollers, she’d set the light/heater/exhaust fan combo to heat. So the room had been warm and cozy by the time she’d stepped into the shower.
Now she was dressed in a sweater and a nice pair of jeans. She didn’t have a Christmas sweater, or even any holiday jewelry, but this one was at least red.
She pressed the off switch and laid the blow-dryer on the counter, then fluffed her hair with her fingers. She hadn’t always worn it short. When she was a teenager, it had hung almost to her waist. As a young adult, she’d worn it shoulder length. While deployed, she’d wanted easy. Wash and wear. The style had stuck.
A lot of men liked long, flowing locks. Fortunately, she wasn’t looking to please any men.
After winding up the cord on the blow-dryer, she dropped it into one of the vanity drawers. Eventually it would hang on the back of the bathroom door. Once she got a hook installed. One of many small projects still undone.
She took a final look in the mirror, then reached for the heater switch. She was ready except for putting on her boots. And it was five minutes earlier than the estimate she’d given Colton.
When she flipped the switch, the heater motor died. But she didn’t get the silence she’d expected. There seemed to be a faint squeal coming from somewhere else in the house.
She frowned. What was she hearing? She opened the bathroom door and moved through her room, down the hall and into the living room.
The squeal was louder now. A siren? No, the pitch was too constant. It was more like an alarm.
Colton’s alarm.
When she swung open the front door, she had no doubt. The shrill squeal was coming from across the street.
She raced to retrieve her weapon from where she’d laid it on her nightstand, but didn’t take the time to don her jacket or her boots. Seconds later, she was running down her driveway in her stockinged feet, weapon stuck into the waistband of her jeans.
Colton’s driveway was empty, the front gate still closed. His own vehicle was likely parked in the garage. Law enforcement hadn’t responded yet. So maybe the alarm had been triggered right before she shut off the bathroom heater. Whoever had tripped it could still be inside.
She pulled out her weapon and slipped through the gate. Brutus didn’t come to greet her. And he wasn’t barking.
A sick sense of dread wrapped around her.
What if the men who’d tried to kidnap Liam weren’t the same two who’d come after them in Murphy?
What if they’d let down their guard too soon?
She crept closer to the house, every sense on full alert. When she stepped onto the porch, she tried the door. Locked. None of the windows appeared to have been tampered with, either.
She moved across the front, rounded the corner and walked along the side. When she stepped into the back, she picked up her pace. Something didn’t look right. A dark shape stood out at the base of the shrubs lining the rear wall.
Brutus. Now she had no doubt. That dark, unmoving blob was the dog, likely the victim of another tranquilizer dart.
Which meant Liam’s kidnappers had returned.
Her gut burned with a cocktail of worry and fear. As she crept along the back of the house, another sound seemed to blend with the screech of the alarm, the pitch rising and falling. Help should be there within minutes. But Colton and Liam might not have that long.
She approached the kitchen door. It was open. The side of the jamb that was visible from her vantage point was splintered. Everyth
ing inside her demanded that she rush through, shouting Colton’s name. Instead, she shut down her emotions and called on her extensive training. She couldn’t lose her wits now.
She tiptoed toward the door, shifting to a crouch at each window. When she reached the nearest edge of the doorway, she stopped. A moment later, she leaped across the opening to disappear behind the opposite side, weapon still raised. During that brief span of time, she’d taken in the view of the kitchen and dining area. No one was there.
She jumped through the doorway and spun around the edge of the kitchen counter, then cleared each area the same way. The living room offered an unobstructed view down the hall, where a crumpled form lay half in, half out of Liam’s bedroom.
Once again, she had to corral her feelings. Heedlessly rushing in could get her killed. She stood frozen for several moments, listening. But the wailing alarm drowned out any possible sounds of movement inside the house.
So did the sirens. They were closer now, probably right at the entrance to the subdivision. In another half minute or so, backup would arrive. In the meantime, Colton’s life could be ebbing away. And she still didn’t know Liam’s whereabouts.
Colton stirred and released a moan. Relief shot through her. He was hurt, but he was alive.
He pushed himself to a seated position but didn’t try to rise. As she rushed toward him, conflicting emotions flitted across his face—relief mixed with agony. “They took Liam.”
“Who?”
“The same men as before. I don’t know. They had ski masks.” He grimaced and pressed a hand to the side of his head. “The alarm.”
“What’s your code?”
“Nine-four-three-six.”
As she made her way to the front of the house, sirens rose in volume, then fell abruptly silent. She’d just punched in the four numbers when a loud knock sounded on the front door.
She swung it open. Two Atlanta police officers stood on Colton’s front porch. She invited them in and told them what she knew, which wasn’t much.
When she led them into the hall, Colton was rising, clinging to the doorjamb for support. “They took my son.”
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