Kidnapped At Christmas
Barb Han
Suddenly a father!When the blonde beauty who shared his bed a year ago tells him he’s a father, Wyatt Jackson is stunned. But the attempted abduction of their newborn daughter drives him to uncover the dangerous secrets of Meg Anderson’s past. Can Wyatt crack the case before it’s too late?
This Christmas brings the revelation that he’s a father.
Now he needs to keep his little family safe when they become a target...
When the blonde beauty who shared his bed a year ago tells him he’s a father, Wyatt Jackson is stunned. But the attempted abduction of their newborn daughter drives the Texas cowboy to uncover the dangerous secrets of Meg Anderson’s past. Can Wyatt crack a twenty-year-old cold case before Meg’s Christmas becomes her last?
Crisis: Cattle Barge
USA TODAY bestselling author BARB HAN lives in north Texas with her very own hero-worthy husband, three beautiful children, a spunky golden retriever/standard poodle mix and too many books in her to-read pile. In her downtime, she plays video games and spends much of her time on or around a basketball court. She loves interacting with readers and is grateful for their support. You can reach her at barbhan.com (http://www.barbhan.com).
Also by Barb Han (#u44bc1709-5adc-598a-b538-5369751a2076)
Sudden SetupEndangered HeiressTexas GritStockyard SnatchingDelivering JusticeOne Tough TexanTexas-Sized TroubleTexas WitnessTexas Showdown
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Kidnapped at Christmas
Barb Han
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-07936-5
KIDNAPPED AT CHRISTMAS
© 2018 Barb Han
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Brandon, I’m amazed by your brilliance and kindness.
I’m so very proud of you. Jacob, I can’t wait to play the
games you’re working so hard to create. Tori, I love to
watch you dance. From Twinkle to Transformation to
It Is Done you have so many stories to tell.
Babe, my guy, for being my best friend and
partner in crime. I love you.
To Michelle Spall for helping me see a new way
to define home. I’m so grateful for your friendship
and am looking forward to many more dance mom
antics together.
Contents
Cover (#ud0dadea2-94a2-53e0-9509-e7c611fa6137)
Back Cover Text (#u501a2f9f-9f71-5eb0-8dd3-37e10cb87ebf)
About the Author (#ubede61f3-9544-5e6c-81b4-d6582198d684)
Booklist (#u18e4c0e9-4380-52d4-8639-6477c9a292ba)
Title Page (#ua50a6488-a156-5f8b-b0d5-257e5b6ca2e3)
Copyright (#u33889fde-4241-5e4b-9aba-db2f8163e6f4)
Dedication (#u53344c55-7cd1-542e-9c4c-976722d62393)
Chapter One (#u5be352d4-7d20-5f85-8878-56cb636f707a)
Chapter Two (#ue84749bc-01c9-54a3-a74e-1e8a922ceece)
Chapter Three (#uce8c1720-0a59-5250-b899-583f4ab1de3b)
Chapter Four (#uff771e72-4f49-5685-9ae9-0cb35da130ed)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u44bc1709-5adc-598a-b538-5369751a2076)
“Why can’t I think of one word to say to him?” Meg Anderson looked down at her sleeping angel, trying to psych herself up for the conversation that needed to take place with the baby’s father.
“You’re the best child advocate in Texas, Meg. The words will come.” Meg’s best friend and business partner, Stephanie Gable, walked over and ran her finger along two-month-old Aubrey’s cheek.
“He deserves to know about her, right?” Meg already knew the answer, but she asked anyway. She’d do just about anything to gain a few more minutes of courage before walking out the door.
“He does.” Stephanie’s sympathetic tone struck a chord.
“I’m being totally unfair to her by keeping her from her father.” Tears burned the backs of Meg’s eyes.
“That’s right. If you can’t do it for yourself, think of Aubrey.” Stephanie seemed to be catching on. “It’ll work out.”
“What if he rejects her?” Meg tamped down the panic causing her heart to gallop.
“Then it’s his loss.” Stephanie didn’t hesitate.
Meg made eyes at her friend. “You’re absolutely right.”
“What’s the worst he can say?” Stephanie shot her what was supposed to be a nerve-fortifying look.
“I don’t think I want to go there, not even in theory,” Meg answered honestly. The rejection from her mother still stung even ten years after she’d walked out.
“You face bigger challenges every day and win.” Stephanie was making good points, and yet Meg’s courage still escaped her.
“Work challenges. This is personal.” She twisted her fingers around the corner of the baby blanket swaddling her infant daughter, Aubrey. “And I’m pretty sure the statute of limitations and good taste has run out considering our daughter is two months old and I still haven’t told him about her. How am I supposed to explain that?”
“If he’s too stupid to figure out how you guys made a baby, he’s definitely not worth all this stress.” Stephanie laughed.
The joke was meant to ease the tension, so Meg smiled as she rolled the edge of the blanket in between her thumb and forefinger.
Normally the ploy would work. Not today. Not when Meg’s thoughts were careening out of control.
“Okay, I can see my bad attempt at humor isn’t helping. How about this? I’ll take Aubrey to the park while you feel him out. See if he’s ready.” Stephanie’s calm demeanor had little impact on Meg’s frayed nerves. “You had good reasons for waiting. And he’d be crazy to turn his back on that little girl.”
“A total nutcase,” Meg agreed, gazing down at the sleeping bundle.
“She’s perfect.” Stephanie could hold her own with anyone in an argument. She was a huge asset to One Child—One Advocate. “She might just be the best baby in the world, bar none, and it would be his loss if he walked away from her.” Stephanie smiled at Aubrey with the kind of sheer adoration reserved for aunts. She might not be a blood relative, but Stephanie was the closest thing to family Meg had aside from her daughter.
“The man should be given the option to be part of her life.” Meg was steeling her resolve by picking up Aubrey. Holding her daughter, so much innocence, inspired her to do the right thing even when her nerves were frayed and her stomach threatened to revolt.
“I’ll be right down the street with her at the park. You give me the green light and I’m there at the restaurant. If you don’t pick up on the vibe that he wants to know or if he makes one wrong move before you tell him you can always do this another time.”
“Will you text me first so I don’t seem rude or obvious if I have to whip out my phone in front of him?” Meg hedged. Thinking through an exit strategy made her feel less trapped.
“Great idea. I’ll take the baby for a lap or two before checking in.” Stephanie picked up her purse. “The fresh air will be good for us both, and the park is so pretty this time of year. Plus, the mayor’s lighting the Christmas tree at noon.”
“She’d love that. It’s probably just all these hormones and this time of year giving me jitters.” The first part was true enough. Meg didn’t want to acknowledge how much the thought of seeing Wyatt Jackson again affected her. This was the first time the Christmas season had brought a feeling of renewal and hope instead of sadness and dread. The magic of the holidays had always escaped Meg until having Aubrey. Facing Wyatt with the news he was a father stamped out all the newly gained warm-and-fuzzy sentiment.
Stephanie shot a sympathetic look. “I know. Everything in town’s been strange ever since Maverick Mike Butler’s death this summer. The whole town’s been on edge. But everything’s calming down and slowly returning to normal. It’s only a matter of time before the sheriff finds the person responsible and we can put all this behind us. You have a new baby and lots of memories to look forward to. And it’s nice to focus on something besides murder for a change.”
Meg nodded. The town had been through a lot since its wealthiest and most infamous resident was killed on his ranch this past summer. But it was more than that. The holidays brought back a memory of being interviewed for hours. The unspoken accusations had been so obvious that even a ten-year-old girl had understood them. Meg shivered involuntarily, thinking about the past. She couldn’t bring herself to talk about it with anyone. She needed to focus on something else. Bad thoughts had a way of multiplying, causing her to tumble down a slippery slope of pain and regret.
Meg turned her attention to her sleeping baby. The change in Meg this year was because of Aubrey. That little girl brightened everything she touched. Her baby held a special kind of magic that made Meg want to believe in miracles again, precisely the innocent sentiment that would end up crushing her in—she checked her watch—less than five minutes.
She shouldered the diaper bag. “Ready?”
When Meg had become too sick to drive herself to a doctor visit, Stephanie had stepped up to help. Not long after, her work partner had found herself in a bind when her two-year relationship ended and she had no place to live. Meg had volunteered to room together and the friendship had blossomed from there. It was nice to have that in her life after keeping herself isolated for so long.
Stephanie examined Meg with a questioning look. “I am.”
“It’s just a conversation,” Meg said to herself as she walked outside, bracing herself against the blast of frigid air. Her small SUV was parked in the lot behind the office. “I speak to people every day.”
“And you’re pretty darn good at it, too.” Stephanie closed and locked the door behind them. It was Friday and they’d let the receptionist go early so she could watch the tree-lighting ceremony. “But anything about this guy gives you pause and I’m only two blocks away. I can be at the restaurant in less than five minutes.” Stephanie snapped her fingers.
Meg froze as an awkward thought struck. “What if he doesn’t remember me?”
“It’s only been a year, Meg. You said that he’d been clear about not being the type to settle down, but I seriously doubt you’d spend time with anyone who was that much of a jerk.” Stephanie jangled her keys. “Besides, I’m following you in my car in case you both remember all too well and decide to get to know each other again while I babysit.” Stephanie wiggled her eyebrows.
Meg held back the laugh trying to force its way out of her throat. Wyatt Jackson didn’t want anything to do with her.
“I had to email him half a dozen times in order to get a response. If he remembers me at all from a year ago, he obviously wasn’t too impressed.” Meg secured Aubrey in her car seat in Stephanie’s car. The baby stretched but didn’t wake. She’d had a bottle twenty minutes ago so, fingers crossed, that should buy Meg a couple of hours to do what she should’ve done months ago before the baby arrived. Shoving the guilt aside, she climbed into the driver’s seat.
Meg glanced around with that awful feeling of someone watching her. Her stress levels were already on an upward trajectory and this made it worse. It was probably nothing more than the thought of facing her baby’s father that had her insides braided and the tiny hairs on her arms standing at attention. Or maybe it was the time of year. The holidays. The cold. The memories...
Meg glanced at the rearview. No one was there. She started the vehicle.
Wyatt Jackson was just a man like any other. This wasn’t the time for her brain to point out that he was intelligent, successful and unnervingly gorgeous. In retrospect, the man seemed almost superhuman to her. But then, he’d given her the absolute best gift in her life, her daughter, and that was likely the reason she’d built him up so much in her mind.
Meg checked the rearview one more time, making sure that Stephanie had cleared the parking spot behind her. She glanced at the backup camera as she pressed the gas pedal. Something crossed the corner of the screen.
Heart jackhammering, she touched the brake.
What was back there? An animal?
A tiny little thing darted toward the trees, yellow stripes streaking past the driver’s side. It was just a cat, barely more than a kitten.
Hands shaking, Meg white-knuckled the steering wheel, trying to calm her rattled nerves by sheer force of will.
There was nothing to be afraid of.
Right?
* * *
CHRISTMAS MIGHT ONLY be weeks away, but the holidays were something Wyatt Jackson would have no trouble skipping over altogether. New Year’s was more his style with its all-night partying and the attitude of ringing in the New Year with free-flowing booze and a carefree attitude.
Speaking of which, receiving an email from the blond-haired beauty Wyatt had spent time with last year had caught him off guard. She’d made it look easy to ignore his repeated phone calls this time last year, so he’d returned the favor by deleting her messages when she’d first contacted him.
In fact, in the past twelve months he’d done his level best to forget she existed. Although part of him had known that would be impossible given that he couldn’t seem to shake the feel of her soft skin on his fingertips, her intellect or the easy way she made him laugh.
The last email from Meg had seemed urgent, and to make matters even more interesting Maverick Mike Butler’s lawyer had been hot on Wyatt’s tail to get him to come to Cattle Barge. Mike Butler had been one of Texas’s most colorful citizens. A billionaire cattle rancher who’d been murdered on his own property this summer had sent the media into a feeding frenzy.
Ed Staples, the family’s lawyer, had seemed downright shocked that Wyatt already knew he was Mike Butler’s illegitimate son. Probably because Wyatt hadn’t made a single attempt to contact the estate—and thereby claim his right to the Butler fortune. Wyatt had made a success of himself on his own terms and had no need for a handout from the family who’d left his mother pregnant and destitute.
The first thing Wyatt had noticed when he hit Cattle Barge city limits was the swarm of media people. The town was still overrun months after Butler’s murder, although reporters were starting to write fluff. News about the famous will being read on Christmas Eve splashed across headlines on every outlet. Maverick Mike could take his money and shove it up his...
Wyatt realized he’d white-knuckled the steering wheel and laughed at himself. The holidays had soured his mood, and he had no plans to let emotions get in the way of what he hoped would be a hot reunion between him and the blonde. Besides, he couldn’t imagine that Maverick Mike’s legitimate kids would welcome him with open arms. Making the Butler heirs uncomfortable wasn’t the main reason Wyatt had hit the highway leading to Cattle Barge. He saw it more as a fringe benefit.
Wyatt knew the reason he’d been summoned, and to say he had mixed feelings about Maverick Mike Butler being his father was a lot like saying ghost peppers burned the tongue. Was he a Butler? His mother had said so, but in his heart he could never be connected to the man who’d walked away from her, from him.
Wyatt didn’t want the man’s money. His twenty-fifth Tiko Taco restaurant was about to open and he didn’t need a handout from anyone. Wyatt had learned how to work hard for his successes and he enjoyed the fruits of his labor to the fullest.
The Butlers weren’t the real reason he’d accepted the invitation to meet the family. There was another benefit to coming to Cattle Barge—seeing Meg Anderson again. He’d needed a good reason to show, convincing himself that a reunion wasn’t pull enough and especially with the way she’d left things. To prove a point to himself—the point being that he didn’t need her—he’d taken his time to return her emails.
That her tone had intensified, saying that they needed to meet got his curiosity going. They’d spent time together and—according to his memory—had one helluva good time before she’d ditched him. She’d cut off communication a few months after their smoking-hot affair started, leaving him scratching his head at what he’d done wrong.
Granted, he wasn’t the relationship type by a long shot and he’d been up-front about it with her. He was always honest. And he knew deep down that one of them was bound to walk away first sooner or later. Normally he hit the door, not the other way around, and that was most likely the reason she was still on his mind a year later. He could make that concession.
He’d been clear about his intentions, and although he’d enjoyed her company—he could further admit that enjoyed put it lightly—they hadn’t been together long enough for real heartbreak. And yet there’d been an uncomfortable feeling in his chest that felt a lot like a hole ever since she’d walked away.
Wyatt flipped the radio channel to his favorite country-and-western station. The breakup song playing reminded him of how he’d felt when Meg cut off communication. Now he was a bad cliché, and that just worsened his mood.
And even though Christmas was coming, he was most definitely not a ho-ho-ho type. Kris Kringle had never been more than a fat man in a silly suit. Wyatt tried to convince himself one more time that he didn’t care what Meg had to tell him. He was doing her a favor by showing up to hear her out and he needed to be in town anyway, so he might as well see what she wanted.
He parked at the Home Grown Foods Restaurant and ignored the fact that his pulse kick-started with each forward step toward the door. What was he—a teenager again? That ship had sailed long ago, and Wyatt didn’t appreciate the blast from the past making his collar feel stifling and his palms warm and sweaty.
The restaurant, located in the center of Main Street, had all of seven patrons. Traffic alone should’ve dictated a full house, although he remembered spotting a sign on his way in with details about a tree lighting at the park. He’d only been half paying attention.
Meg was hard to miss in her spot at the four-top table dead center in the room, and it was more than just her beauty that drew him toward her, although she looked even better than he remembered. She gave him one of those awkward morning-after smiles, the nervous kind with thin lips and scarcely any teeth showing. Even so, she was stunning and his heart reacted to seeing her by ratcheting up a few notches.
Acknowledging her with a nod, he removed his Stetson and closed the distance between them.
“Thanks for coming.” She motioned toward the chair and quickly pulled her hand back like an alligator might bite it. “Please, take a seat.”
The muscles on her forehead were pinched, which did nothing to dull her beauty as she sat on the edge of her seat. All hope this was going to be fun-filled day of reunion sex after a quick greeting and a decent meal died.
“You said this was important.” He took the chair opposite her, reminding himself not to get too comfortable. He leaned back, crossed his legs and touched his fingertips together, forming a steeple. The most beautiful pair of sky-blue eyes framed by thick dark eyelashes stared back at him. Her eyes were the color of summer.
“It is.” Blond locks spilled down her back. Was she this stunning before? Damn. She was and more.
Seeing her again awakened cells he thought were beyond resuscitation. Too bad she wanted something from him. And then he thought about it. News must be out that he was a Butler. A small town like Cattle Barge would have trouble keeping anything secret for long. Was she making a play for his inheritance? His heart argued against the idea even as the thought made him frown. Besides, he had no plans to claim anything about being a Butler, so she’d be out of luck.
A waitress brought over a menu. She was short, maybe five-feet-three inches, and had mousy brown hair. Her name tag read Hailey. The woman was the complete opposite of Meg, who had those long legs and shiny blond locks.
“Can I get you anything to drink?” Hailey asked.
“No. Thank you, Hailey.” He didn’t figure this conversation was going to take long enough to stick around. Meg would make her demand. He’d say no. Problem solved.
Ignoring the tug at his heart, he said, “I’m not staying.”
Meg let out a little grunt.
“You sure about that?” Hailey asked with a smile and a wink.
“Never been more certain of anything in my life.” Out of respect for his companion, he didn’t flirt back.
“Let me know if you change your mind,” Hailey said with a pout.
There was another emotion radiating off Meg—impatience. Or it could be jealousy, but that was most likely wishful thinking on his part. Sue him. She was even more beautiful than he remembered, and another pang of something—remorse?—hit as he acknowledged to himself she didn’t seem to want to be there any more than he did. At least he was trying to make the best out of a bad situation. What was her excuse?
Her arms were crossed and her gaze laser focused.
“Might as well go ahead and spit it out.” He didn’t bother hiding his impatience. “What do you want from me?”
A sound ripped from her throat and she made a move toward her purse.
“Do us both a favor.” She looked him square in the eyes. “Forget I called.”
“Suit yourself,” he said without conviction as he stood.
Wyatt turned around and walked right out the door.
Chapter Two (#u44bc1709-5adc-598a-b538-5369751a2076)
With every step the handsome cowboy took toward the parking lot, Meg’s pulse climbed another notch. Let him leave and it was all over. She couldn’t imagine finding the courage to contact him again, and even if she did he wouldn’t take her calls.
Seeing him again, all bronzed hair and steel-gray eyes with thick lashes, had thrown her off. The restaurant should’ve been full over the lunch hour but she’d forgotten about the midday tree-lighting ceremony in the park. The place must be bustling about now, and she figured that was half the reason she hadn’t heard from Stephanie yet.
Meg pushed off the chair and followed Wyatt. A young guy held the door open for her, but their feet collided and she had to take a couple of steps to recover her balance.
She acknowledged his mumbled apology with a nod. Her gaze was locked onto Wyatt’s back side as she ignored the sensual shivers running through her.
The fact that he’d been clear about flying solo had been the exact reason she’d ended their fling last year and walked away before her emotions got involved.
“Wait,” she said to his back, a strong one at that. Birds fluttered in her chest. When he didn’t stop, she added, “Please.”
Wyatt slowed his pace, which allowed her to catch up to his long strides without breaking into a run.
“I’m sorry about before...” Now at his side, she could see him smirking. Meg stopped. “I have something serious to say, but if this is just a game to you then forget it.”
Wyatt turned to face her and put all signs of his playboy swagger in check.
Wow. Meg had been nervous before, but she had totally underestimated how much harder this was going to be in person while staring into his eyes. Her legs threatened to give.
“Last year, I stopped returning your calls—”
He brought his hand up to stop her.
“If that’s why you called me here, save it. It was a long time ago and I don’t need an explanation. We had fun. You moved on. End of story.” Was there a momentary flicker of...hurt?...in his eyes? Meg must be crazy and seeing imaginary things. What was next? Unicorns? She’d been reading too many fairy tales to her daughter because her mind was flirting with believing them.
He made a move to walk away again, and the pressure mounted...
“We had more than fun. We had a baby,” she blurted out, her pulse pounding wildly in part because of what she’d just shared and in part because of the strong virile male standing two feet in front of her.
He looked her up and down like he was evaluating her for a trip to the psych ward. His eyes grazed a hot trail as they lingered on the curve of her hips and then the fullness of her breasts. An unwelcome sensation of warmth slid along her belly and heated her inner thighs despite the frigid December temperatures.
“How do you know it’s mine?” That question was the equivalent of a bucket of ice water dumped over her head.
“You were the only possibility.” She brought her fisted hand to rest on her hip and her body shivered to stave off the cold.
Wyatt glanced around. “I don’t exactly see a baby, so...”
“She’s at the park.” Meg fumbled inside her purse for her cell, willing her shaky hands to calm down. After his accusation, they were trembling with anger. She needed to check her texts to see if Stephanie had tried to reach her. “She’s eight weeks old and I haven’t slept since she was born, so excuse me if I’m a little rattled.” She threw one of her hands up in the air.
“If you’re after the Butler fortune you’re going about it the wrong way.” The words knifed her chest. She’d expected him to be surprised but not condemn her as money-grubbing crackpot, but hold on a minute. Had she heard him right?
“What does my daughter have to do with the Butlers? Your last name is Jackson.” Now it was Meg’s turn to look at him like he’d lost his mind. Although, she shouldn’t be surprised at the news. Maverick Mike Butler had fathered at least one other child that no one knew about.
Wyatt stared at her, same as before, with a raised brow and unbelievable expression.
“No, I’m not in need of psychiatric care.” She located her cell and white-knuckled it. “And I do have a baby.”
Meg entered her screensaver password and noticed there was still no text from Stephanie. An uneasy feeling gripped her as she stuck her phone out at Wyatt. A picture of Aubrey was her wallpaper and, therefore, proof. “See.”
He nodded as he scrutinized the image.
“You still haven’t answered my question. What does Aubrey have to do with the Butlers?” Her patience was running thin and she really was starting to get worried about Stephanie.
Wyatt looked at a loss for words.
“Never mind. Excuse me for a second while I make a call. My friend took my—” she flashed eyes at him “—our daughter for a walk around the park. She was supposed to text me in case things went sour...” Meg ran her finger along Stephanie’s name. She didn’t dare turn her back on Wyatt for fear he’d disappear even though she wanted to make this call in private. The cell ran straight into voice mail and her pulse shot up a couple more notches. “Stephanie, give me a call as soon as you get this. Hope everything is okay.”
Wyatt, who had been quiet until now, said, “I’m sure everything’s all right.”
“It’s not like her not to do something if she says she’s going to.” Meg started to pace, torn between walking away from him—and possibly never seeing him again—and checking on her daughter.
“Do you trust your friend?” he asked.
“Absolutely.”
“Then you have to believe that she wouldn’t do anything to put your daughter in harm’s way. That’s really what you’re worried about, right? Something bad happening to...” He seemed to be searching for the name so she supplied it.
“Aubrey.”
His jaw muscle ticked. “Right. You said something about a tree-lighting ceremony and that’s probably what the traffic I drove in to get here was for. Thus, the reason I was late. They could be playing holiday music. She most likely can’t hear her cell.”
“Wouldn’t we hear if it was that loud?” she asked.
“It’s two blocks away from the restaurant. I doubt it.” He was making sense, being rational, while her over-the-top protective instinct was waging war on her insides. The two had driven separate vehicles because Stephanie had errands to run later.
“I have a bad feeling.” She couldn’t shake it no matter how hard she tried.
“You and every mother I’ve ever known.” Wyatt’s steel gaze intensified.
She looked at him, shocked.
“What?” He lifted a shoulder.
“How many like me have there been?” Astonishment flushed her cheeks.
“Like you?” He shot a look. “None.”
“Then how do you... Oh, right, you had a mother.” She didn’t figure him the type to notice the little things. “Everyone does. Even someone like—”
“You really don’t like me very much, do you?” he said with half a smirk and that infuriating twinkle in his eye that had been so good at seducing her.
“I’m sorry. It’s just ever since my—” she glanced up at him “—our daughter was born I’ve been on high alert, afraid something could happen to her. She’s so tiny and fragile except when she cries. Then I know there’s a tiger in there waiting to come out. But the rest of the time she’s just this little thing who’s totally dependent on me and I’m trying my best not to mess everything up.” Had all that really just come out? Wow. Meg was on the verge of a meltdown. She was normally more of the quiet type.
Wyatt seemed too stunned to speak.
“None of which is your problem.” She glanced at the time. More than half an hour had passed and still no word from Stephanie.
“We can head down there to the park, to see for ourselves.” He was extending an olive branch and she would take it.
“Thank you. I’d like that a lot actually.” Meg started toward the park, remembering that although he might have the swagger of a playboy and was all alpha male, she’d been drawn to his kindness in the first place. There wasn’t anything sexier than a strong man who wasn’t afraid to show he had a beating heart in his chest.
“I’m not claiming responsibility for her,” he clarified, and it was so cold outside she could see his breath. So much for the warmth.
* * *
WYATT STARED AT the woman who was walking so fast he had to hustle to keep pace. His judgment with people and especially women was normally spot-on, and he hadn’t pegged Meg Anderson as unstable or a gold digger.
In fact, she’d seemed like the most grounded, intelligent woman he’d been with in a long time, possibly ever. Her sharp mind was what he’d missed most about her. Since their tryst he’d compared every date to her and no one seemed to measure up. Even sex had been lacking, but that was a whole other story that made him think he might be losing his edge. So, he was even more shocked by her whipping out the baby card. Was there even a child? His child? This whole conversation left him scratching his head and an unsettled feeling gnawed at his gut.
He took off his coat and placed it around her arms, realizing she didn’t have any covering on her shoulders. She must’ve left her jacket on the chair back where he’d last seen it.
He didn’t have the heart to walk away while she was so distraught. Even though she’d shown him the pic of the cute infant on her phone, he couldn’t ignore the possibility that she’d jumped off the deep end. Maybe she’d been on mood-regulating drugs when they’d spent time together. Maybe she’d stopped taking them and this was the real her.
His logical mind wrestled against the possibility, but that could just be his pride unable to accept that he’d made such a wide turn with his judgment before. Wyatt had always considered himself more intelligent than that. As they said, the proof was in the pudding and this “pudding” was starting to unravel in front of his eyes.
When he really looked at her, he couldn’t ignore the changes in her body. Her hips had more pronounced curves, which were even sexier now. There were definite changes in her breasts. They’d been full before but not quite this generous.
Even tired, she was still one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. He told himself the only reason he was noticing any of the changes in her was because he was trying to determine if she needed to be driven to Kruger Belton Mental facility for evaluation and not because he cared or was still attracted to her. His heart had fisted a little bit when he’d first seen her. He did care, generally speaking.
The park was crowded. Holiday music filled the air. Families walked in clumps, smiling and singing along with Christmas carols. It was something out of a Norman Rockwell painting and definitely not Wyatt’s scene.
“They aren’t here.” Meg stopped and looked at him, clearly flustered. She had that panicked-mother look even though he wouldn’t know from personal experience. His had been too exhausted working to keep food on the table to get too emotional. He’d known his mother loved him and the fact he’d grown up in poverty was all the more reason to be proud of the successful taco franchise he’d built from a food truck.
Meg dug in her purse and pulled out a baby’s cloth with little owls on it.
“Was she supposed to bring the baby to the restaurant?” He had no idea of the protocol in dealing with a nearly hysterical woman, but he could see from the way she twisted the baby’s cloth in her hands that she was working herself up. Experience with women had taught him that this was not the time to tell her to calm down.
“Stephanie was supposed to text first.” Meg worked the cloth in her hands.
“Her battery could’ve died.” She winced at that last word.
“I guess.” That cloth in her hands was about to become pulp.
Wyatt reached out to touch her shoulder in an attempt to reassure her but was left with a sizzle on his fingertips. He almost pulled his hand back but decided to ignore the frissons of heat.
Hot or not, this one was off-limits, and especially with the bomb she’d dropped on him earlier.
Still, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. The child, real or imagined, was obviously very important to her. So much so that she was trembling.
And then she looked up at him with those blue eyes that he’d liked looking into right before he fell off the cliff during sex. Okay, not the time for that thought, Jackson.
“I can’t imagine how all this must look from your point of view. Thank you for the coat. I must’ve left mine in the restaurant. I was in such a hurry to catch you because I knew if you left it was over. I’d never have the courage to email again. You should know that I don’t want anything from you. I just thought you had a right to know about your daughter.”
Whether he believed her or not didn’t matter. She seemed vulnerable, and that pierced his armor. “We’ll figure this out.”
Her phone buzzed and her ringtone sounded, same ones as before. He should know. He’d been the one to program the song into her new phone when she couldn’t figure out how to change the basic sound.
A look of sheer relief flooded her tense expression as she checked the screen. “It’s Stephanie.”
Wyatt needed to clear his head so he could face the Butler family this afternoon. To say this day was throwing curveball after curveball was a lot like saying Texas highways were crowded. At least Meg had received the call she’d been waiting for and that was a relief.
His respite was short-lived as Meg dropped to her knees.
“Tell me where you are and I’ll be there in two seconds.” Her voice shook and panic radiated from her.
He offered a hand up, which she took. The color had drained from her face as she glanced around. “The Butler Fountain?” She paused. “I know exactly where that is.”
Whatever her friend was saying wasn’t good, and he figured this day was about to get even longer.
“Did you give the sheriff your statement?” She paused again. “Do it right now. Tell them everything you just told me. I’m almost there.”
Now his curiosity was getting the best of him as Meg broke into a run.
He followed, easily keeping pace even though Meg was still obviously in shape. She gripped her cell as she raced toward the planned site of the Mike Butler Memorial Fountain.
A small crowd had gathered, facing away from the tree. There was a woman on the ground, her legs curled up and her face scrunched in pain and panic.
“What’s going on?” he asked Meg as they neared the woman.
“I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened,” the woman he presumed to be Stephanie said through sobs. “I was walking along fine and then I blacked out.” Her hand came up to the back of her head to rub. “Ouch...” She blinked in panic, tears welling. “I came to and she was gone. Someone took her. Someone kidnapped Aubrey. They must’ve taken everything, the stroller and the diaper bag. All I remember is blacking out.”
The most heartbreaking sound tore from Meg’s throat.
Wyatt’s head nearly exploded and an ache ripped through his chest. He couldn’t figure out why he’d have such a strong reaction to a child’s kidnapping when, first, he’d never even met the little tyke and, second, he still wasn’t convinced she belonged to him.
His heart didn’t seem to need confirmation one way or the other.
Chapter Three (#u44bc1709-5adc-598a-b538-5369751a2076)
“Did you call the sheriff?” Meg asked, looking like her world had just tipped on its axis in the same way Wyatt’s just had. But there was no way he could care this much about a child he’d never met. He chalked his feelings up to sympathy for the mother and the heartbreaking situation.
“I did.” A woman stepped forward. She was young, mid-twenties, and clutching a small child’s hand. The little boy couldn’t be more than three or four years old. “I wish I’d seen more. I heard someone scream and ran over to see what happened. I was too late.”
Meg thanked her.
“He’s on his way.” Stephanie glanced around at the gathering crowd, looking bewildered. “There was a guy—he was wearing one of those forest green park-maintenance uniforms—and he said he saw everything before taking off in that direction.” She pointed east. “Said he’d be right back.”
Meg looked on the verge of crumpling. The more people who gathered around the less likely it would be for him or Meg to see someone escaping with the stroller. Wyatt glanced at Meg.
“What color stroller am I looking for?” he asked.
“Red with big wheels to take it jogging.” She glanced from him to Stephanie with the most sorrowful look on her face.
Wyatt glanced around at the small crowd. “Did any of you see anything unusual or anyone hurrying out of this area with a red stroller?” The odds were slim anyone would notice details like that, but it was worth asking.
Heads shook.
“There was a lot going on and the music was too loud. I was afraid to wake her, so I stayed back here by the benches. I was worried that Meg would text and I would miss it.” Stephanie sobbed.
“You did the right thing.” Wyatt had no idea what to say, but he wished he could make the situation okay for both of them. Stephanie seemed like a nice person and he already knew Meg was. At least she hadn’t been lying about there being a child. Obviously, there was. No one would go through this much trouble to set up a lie.
“Go. Look for her. I’m fine,” Stephanie said, trying to push to her feet. She wobbled and a Good Samaritan steadied her by grabbing her arm in time before she landed on her bottom. She thanked him.
“We’ll stay with her,” the woman with the child said.
“Did you see anything?” Wyatt asked Stephanie.
“No. I was walking with the stroller before I felt something hard hit the back of my head and then I blacked out. Next thing I knew the park worker was beside me asking if I was okay and I had a blinding headache.” She touched a spot behind her left ear.
Meg hopped onto a nearby bench and scanned the area.
“See anything up there?” Wyatt asked. He tried to convince himself that he’d feel this panicked whether the child might be his or not. An infant had been kidnapped, and he could admit that he still had residual feelings for the baby’s mother. The little girl didn’t have to belong to him for his heart to go out to Meg. If he could help her find her baby he would. And if she kept on insisting the baby was his, he’d ask for a DNA test before he got too worked up. Keeping a level head in challenging times had earned Wyatt his solid reputation in the business world and helped him expand to twenty-five locations. This was no different.
He joined Meg on the park bench. There were too many people spreading in all different directions. The ceremony had ended, which was the perfect time to execute this kind of crime because there was chaos while families exited the park area and spilled into the parking lot.
There was no way he was going to find the person responsible at this rate. He couldn’t justify standing around and watching all this heartbreak, either.
“Text me and let me know what the sheriff says. I have to do something,” Meg shouted to her friend, and he completely understood the sentiment. He was having the same conversation in his head.
Meg was on the verge of tears as she turned to look at him. “I don’t see any sign of her.”
“If I was going to commit the crime, I’d park in the closest spot.” He pointed to the nearest parking lot, which was slowly emptying. There was a line to exit, and the park’s location in the center of town off the main square caused traffic to move slowly. “Maybe we can spot your daughter in a car on the way out of the lot.”
“It’s worth a try.” Meg sounded hopeless as he held out his hand. She took it. A simple gesture really, but when their hands made contact a fire bolt shot straight up his arm. He ignored it as best he could and took off running. With their hands linked, Meg kept pace and he was pretty sure it was from pure adrenaline.
“Maybe there,” she said through gulps of air as they darted toward the light that regulated the exit. “I see the handle of a stroller in the back window and it’s red.”
Wyatt let her hand loose so he could push forward and catch the white minivan before the light turned and the vehicle disappeared. From this angle, he couldn’t get a good look at the plate. He pushed his legs harder, leaving Meg several strides behind. If he could get to the minivan in time maybe he could put this whole ordeal to rest.
The minivan was close, but the light could turn at any second. Wyatt pushed harder until his thighs burned and his lungs threatened to burst. He could see there was only a driver and the figure was large enough to be male.
“Hold on,” he shouted to the van’s driver. The window was up and the man didn’t so much as flinch.
As the light changed, Wyatt closed in on the van. He was so close. Dammit. There were three cars ahead of the minivan, not close enough for Wyatt to catch. The cars moved and the minivan turned left, which was the opposite side of Wyatt. What an unlucky break.
Wyatt shot in between two cars. One of the drivers laid on his horn and shouted a few terse words. Wyatt had no idea where Meg was and he didn’t risk turning back to look. The minivan was going at least thirty-five miles an hour. If he could catch a break and the light at the corner turned to red... Scratch that. Wyatt had never been lucky and that’s how he’d learned to work hard for everything he’d built.
Brake lights renewed his hope as he turned on the speed he’d known as a runner in high school. Although that had been a long time ago, he worked out and kept in shape.
The van disappeared around the corner before the light changed.
“Wyatt.” Meg’s voice rippled through him. There was a mix of hope and relief in the sound of her tone. “I got her.”
He immediately turned tail and saw a man in a forest green uniform standing next to Meg, who was holding a baby. He made a beeline toward the trio, driven by something deep inside. Was it a primal need to see if her child belonged to him? Would he even be able to tell by looking at her one time?
Meg stood there, baby pressed to her chest and her face awash with relief. She was gently rocking the crying infant. An odd thought hit: No one had better get close to her or the baby. He was struck with something else that felt a lot like longing, but Wyatt didn’t go there. He’d missed Meg. He could own up to it. That’s as far as his feelings went, he reminded himself.
“I’m Wyatt Jackson.” He stuck out his hand to the park worker. “And I can’t thank you enough for what you did.”
The man bent forward, panting as he took the outstretched hand. “Name’s Cecil. And I’m just—” he paused to take a breath “—glad I was there to help.” Cecil grabbed at his right side. “He got away, ditched the stroller by pushing it toward traffic. I had to make a choice to save her or catch him.” He paused long enough to take in another breath. “His back was to me the whole time. I couldn’t get a good look at his face.”
“You did the right thing, Cecil.” Relief washed over Wyatt. This morning had been right up there with... He didn’t want to think about the other depressing event that came with the holidays.
The baby was in her mother’s arms, safe. Crisis averted. That was all he would allow himself to focus on.
“Are you okay to walk?” he asked Cecil.
The man nodded.
The crime scene had been cordoned off, and a deputy was asking people to go back to work or home. Stephanie flew toward Meg and the baby; tears streamed down both women’s faces.
A man by the name of Clarence Sawmill introduced himself as the sheriff. Cecil recounted his story to Sawmill, who shook his head as he recorded details. His lips formed a grim line. Middle-aged, his eyes had the white outline of sunglasses on otherwise tanned skin. Deep grooves in his forehead and hard brackets around his mouth outlined the man’s stress levels. He was on high alert and, from the looks of him, had been since news broke of Maverick Mike’s death five months ago.
“Our family-oriented town doesn’t usually see much of a spike in crime.” Sawmill shook his head. For a split second his gaze stopped on Wyatt and he seemed to be sizing him up. The sheriff looked like he hadn’t slept in as many months and he probably hadn’t, considering Mike Butler’s murder still hadn’t been solved. Sawmill seemed like the kind of guy who would take his citizens’ welfare to heart.
The sheriff was holding an evidence bag.
“What did you find?” Wyatt asked.
“A child’s hair ribbon. It’s probably not connected. More than likely came out of a little girl’s hair while she was attending the tree lighting.” Sawmill pinched the bridge of his nose like he was trying to stem a raging headache. “My deputies will process the scene and we’ll keep you posted if anything relevant turns up.”
Meg thanked the sheriff as she gently bounced the baby, who had settled down in her mother’s comforting arms. He had to admit Meg seemed content with the job of mother.
The sheriff asked Meg a few routine-sounding questions. Her body language tensed when she spoke to Sawmill, but Wyatt figured it was justifiable under the circumstances. She was being asked if there was a reason anyone she knew would try to kidnap her infant child.
“We have a potential witness already on his way to the station to work with a sketch artist while the details are still fresh,” Sawmill said. “We’ll want you to come in and take a look as soon as we have an image in case you can identify him.”
Given the person had tried to take the baby while she was with Stephanie, Wyatt doubted that was likely.
Even so, he planned to reschedule his meeting with the Butler family lawyer. This day had taken unexpected turn after unexpected turn and, after getting a good look at Meg’s daughter, he had a feeling the day wasn’t done with him yet.
* * *
DINNER WAS HOURS away and yet all Meg wished for was a hot bath, a warm bed and sleep. Wyatt had said he’d been called away to a meeting, but Meg figured he needed air after the day’s events. Meg and Stephanie returned to the office since it was closer to the sheriff’s office and Aubrey had a pack-and-play crib there.
Stephanie had insisted on sticking around even though Meg had begged her friend to go to the ER instead. The most she would agree to was allowing an EMT to check her out at the scene.
“How’s your head?” Meg asked her friend.
“It’s been worse,” Stephanie said with a crooked smile.
“I still think we should swing by the hospital,” Meg said.
“My name is Stephanie Gable. It’s three weeks until Christmas. I live at 1212 Farm Road 236. With you, who should learn to relax a little more and stop washing every dish before it hits the sink, by the way.” She made eyes at Meg. “How’s that?”
“I think you took a bigger hit than we first thought,” she quipped, and they both smiled. Meg’s died on her lips the minute her cell rang.
A glance at the screen said it was the sheriff’s office. She took the call.
“We have an image to work with but, to be honest, it isn’t much to go on,” he said. Any hope this case could be sewn up and a criminal taken off the streets soon died.
“I’ll let Wyatt know and we’ll be there as soon as we can,” she informed him before ending the call and texting Wyatt.
An immediate response came: Stay where you are and I’ll pick you up.
“What did the sheriff say?” Stephanie was studying Meg’s reaction.
“He didn’t sound encouraged,” Meg admitted.
“We’ll figure this out.” Her friend’s words were meant to reassure, but did nothing to ease the knot braiding her stomach.
Meg glanced down at her sleeping baby. She’d been unable to move from the little girl’s side since... Meg couldn’t even think about what had happened, what could havehappened, without tears springing to her eyes. She was so grateful to have her daughter back where she belonged.
What kind of person tried to take a baby from her mother three weeks before Christmas? Granted, the person had tried to take the little girl from Stephanie, but the attacker didn’t know the difference.
Skipping lunch had been a bad idea even though Meg doubted she could get or keepanything down. A headache was trying to form in the spot right between her eyes.
Within fifteen minutes, Aubrey had been fed and the diaper bag packed.
“He’s on his way?” Stephanie paced in the kitchenette of their office.
“He should be here any minute.” Meg cradled the warm, sleeping baby in her arms. Her miracle, considering she’d never expected to have a traditional life of marriage and a family. “You should sit down.”
Stephanie shot her an apprehensive look.
“Well, then maybe you should rethink going to the hospital to get checked out.” Meg eyed the cup of coffee in Stephanie’s shaking hand, wishing her friend had gone for the calming tea, instead.
“The ibuprofen is already kicking in. I’ll be fine. I’m just so glad...” Another stream of tears slid down Stephanie’s cheeks. She turned her back and sniffed.
“Let’s not even go there. None of this is your fault.” Meg held her baby a little closer. “And she’s right here. Fine. Look at her.”
A knock on the glass out front startled them both.
“That’s probably him,” Meg said.
“Stay right here. I’ll check.” Stephanie was out of the room in a flash and Meg figured her friend needed to work off some of her stress energy. The adrenaline would wear off soon, and she was afraid Stephanie was in for one monster headache when it did.
Her own nerves were on edge after the day’s events and thinking about seeing Wyatt again didn’t help. Based on his actions earlier, he planned to be in Aubrey’s life, and Meg would have to get used to her body’s reaction to him. Her heart seized a little bit at the thought he didn’t want to be in hers, too. What did she expect?
Sure, they’d connected last year with chemistry she’d never experienced before, and that spark between them, mentally and physically, had produced amazingly hot sex. And a baby,a little voice reminded, grounding her.
“Ready?” Wyatt examined her and the baby in her arms. He was the kind of man who would do the right thing by his child no matter how he felt personally about the child’s mother. On the one hand, there was something encouraging about the sentiment. At least Aubrey would have a father.
Meg stood and reached for the diaper bag. Wyatt moved beside her in a beat, taking it from her. He hadn’t asked to hold the baby yet, and this was the closest he’d been to her since they’d found her. Not exactly encouraging, but it could’ve been so much worse.
Based on the crease in his forehead, the one he got when he was deeply contemplating something, he needed a little time to process. His daughter had almost been kidnapped.
“Wyatt, meet your daughter, Aubrey,” Meg said.
A flash of emotion passed behind his eyes as he looked at her but he seemed to get hold of it. “She’s a pretty little girl.”
“Do you want to hold her?” she asked.
“Not yet,” he said.
Fifteen minutes later, the four of them arrived at the sheriff’s office.
Janis, the sheriff’s receptionist, rose to her feet. “We’ve spoken on the phone a few times. Come on in. The sheriff is waiting for you.” She wrapped Meg and the baby in a big hug before leading them down the hall.
Sawmill got to his feet and extended his hand. “Please, sit down.”
The sheriff’s office was large, simple. There was a huge mahogany desk with an executive chair and two flags on poles standing sentinel to either side. A picture of the governor was centered in between the poles. Two smaller-scale leather chairs nestled up to the desk. A sofa and table with a bronze statue of a bull rider on a bull were on the other side of the room. Meg and Stephanie took the leather chairs across the sheriff’s desk. Wyatt stood a few feet behind Meg’s chair, arms crossed, leaning against the wall.
“I wish I could remember more about the man who attacked me. I’m just so glad everything turned out okay.” Stephanie’s shoulders seemed set in a forward slump. She shot another apologetic look at Meg as more tears welled.
“You were brave today. Without you, this could’ve turned out very differently,” Wyatt said, and there was admiration in his otherwise tight voice. It was probably easier for him to sympathize with Stephanie, or anyone who wasn’t Meg considering the bomb she’d dropped on him.
He put his hand on Meg’s shoulder and she ignored the sensual zing of electricity that always came with his touch. After a year, it hadn’t dimmed and that caught her off guard. She’d had the same reaction in the parking lot of the restaurant but was too stressed to acknowledge it.
“Mr. Daron, the park worker, gave the sketch artist very little to work with, so we’re hopeful his build will seem familiar to one of you.” Sawmill picked up a folder on top of a stack of papers on his desk. He showed them the sketch.
Stephanie balked. “He could be half the town. I wouldn’t be able to pick him out of a lineup if he was standing right in front of me and I actually knew what he looked like.”
Meg stared at the image. It was like a bomb exploded in her brain and yet she had no idea why. She could feel Sawmill’s eyes on her, examining her. The blast from the past nearly crippled her. She remembered being in this very office, although the furniture was different then. There had been a different person in the chair opposite her and an overenthusiastic rookie investigator grilling her for answers.
A scared ten-year-old had sat in the chair in Meg’s place. Being here, sitting in this very spot caused a lot of bad memories to crash down around her.
Meg took in a fortifying breath. She was no longer an innocent kid being railroaded by a system that too often protected criminals’ rights more than victims’. Besides, she’d grown into a woman. Everything in her life had changed since then.
The baby stirred in her arms and looked like she was winding up to cry. Like a balloon deflating, she blew out a breath and made a sucking noise before settling into her mother’s arms again.
Meg forced the old thoughts out of her mind—thoughts that had her feeling vulnerable and alone.
“I don’t know. Nothing about him looks familiar at all and yet I feel like I should know who he is.” She scooted closer to the image, but Sawmill was already up and coming around his desk with the paper in hand.
She took the drawing from him and studied it. Her brain hurt from thinking so hard and she was coming up empty. “All I’m getting is a headache.”
But then Stephanie had been the one with Aubrey when she’d been taken. She turned to her friend. “Does he look familiar to you?”
“You’ve never seen him before?” Sawmill said to Meg, a hauntingly similar note of disappointment in his voice. He had been hoping for better news, based on his tone.
Meg pushed but nothing came except more pain that felt a lot like a brain cramp. “I’m sorry.”
Sawmill turned to Stephanie. “What about you, Ms. Gable? Do you know anyone with a similar shape or build?”
She was already shaking her head before he finished his question. “No, sir. Not one person in particular.”
“Do you have any idea what age he might be?” Wyatt asked.
“Twenty-five to forty-five,” the sheriff supplied.
Not exactly reassuring.
“There must be more to go on than that,” Wyatt said. All signs of his casual swagger were gone, replaced by chiseled facade.
“White, male,” the sheriff added.
“What about the hair ribbon?” Meg asked, hoping for some good news. “Is it connected to the case?”
“There’s no information from forensics yet, ma’am. It might take a few weeks. I called in a favor to see if the results can be fast-tracked. The town’s been through enough already without citizens feeling like their families are no longer safe here.” The flash of frustration was quickly replaced by determination.
Meg studied the image on the paper in front of her. Fear rippled through her. But why? What was it about him? Was it the fact that this man had tried to kidnap her daughter? Those words were like gut punches.
There was something hauntingly familiar about the outline of his face. But Meg was certain she’d never seen this man before...
Right?
Chapter Four (#u44bc1709-5adc-598a-b538-5369751a2076)
One look from the sheriff and Meg had to fight her instincts to draw away from him. That look, that same damn look of disappointment bore down on her.
Did he think she wanted the maniac who’d tried to kidnap her daughter to go free?
It made her sick to think this person could try again with another unwitting mother.
Based on his expression, he felt the same way. Another crime in his town, under his nose. They were racking up and she could see every stress crack in the dark circles cradling his eyes. But she also knew in her heart that he couldn’t help her or her baby.
Wyatt’s eyes were different. His were harder to read than the sheriff’s. Hesitation? Yes...well, maybe. Skepticism? Certainly. And something else she couldn’t make out. Or, more accurately, didn’t have the heart to try. Because it was disappointment in her.
Seeing that look in Wyatt’s eyes would crush her. And how stupid was that? They’d had a fling and Aubrey was the product. Meg couldn’t imagine life without her baby now that she was here, but she hadn’t exactly planned for any of this and was still winging the whole parenting thing.
“Mind taking one last look at the sketch?” the sheriff asked Stephanie, and Meg was grateful he’d redirected his attention.
Instinctively, she held her daughter a little closer to her chest, grateful this day hadn’t been much worse. Just the thought of anything happening to Aubrey...
No, Meg couldn’t go there. Not even hypothetically. Another pang of guilt struck like a physical blow because this whole scenario was too close to home. She had been ten years old when her best friend was abducted right before her eyes and Meg wasn’t able to remember a single detail. It had changed her life.
In this case, Meg was the mother who’d almost...almost...lost her child. A fresh sense of shame for not being able to bring peace to Mary Jane’s family washed over her, threatening to drag her to the ocean floor.
If only she’d been able to remember what had happened. Mary Jane’s family would have the closure that Meg could never give them. She’d seen the Fjords a handful of times after Mary Jane’s body had turned up. They’d seemed...hollow.
Mary Jane’s older brother, Jonathon, had been so affected that he’d had to be pulled out of school and, if memory served, he’d been too traumatized to return. She’d heard rumors that he was homeschooled after because he couldn’t bring himself to leave the house.
After this experience of almost losing her own daughter, Meg could certainly understand the Fjords taking extreme measures to keep their son safe. Icy fingers gripped her spine thinking about the past.
All Meg wanted to do was take her baby home and shut out the rest of the world until she could stop trembling.
“I understand the work you do puts you in a precarious situation with folks.” Sawmill seemed to realize that continuing to ask her or Stephanie to recognize the kidnapper from barely a sketch was as productive as squeezing water from a cell phone. Meg appreciated the redirection. “Have either of you had any disagreements with clients or been threatened in any way recently?”
Stephanie issued a grunt as Meg shot him a look.
“We help women and children leave abusive households, Sheriff. Being cursed at and threatened comes with the territory,” she said.
He nodded and pressed his lips together in a look of solidarity.
“Does a particular incident stand out in your mind?” he asked, and there was a hint of respect in his voice.
“Are you saying this might be personal?” Meg asked. The case she would be testifying for in two weeks had been her main focus since having the baby.
“I wouldn’t be doing justice to this investigation if I didn’t come at this from every angle,” he defended.
He had a point.
“I’m working a case involving a ten-year-old. Kaylee Garza has been physically abused by her soccer-coach father, Randol Garza. It’s a typical abuse story in that the little girl has become a master at covering her bruises for school.” She looked up at the sheriff in time to see his jaw clench. Hearing about abuse was never easy, especially when it involved children.
Out of the corner of her eye, she also saw that Wyatt’s body language was intense. Lines creased his forehead, and tension brackets formed around his mouth. Any decent man wouldn’t take hearing what she was about to say lightly and he seemed to know what was coming. She wondered if he’d been subject to abuse as a child and that’s what made him seem so sympathetic now. “That is until he whipped her with a cord and she couldn’t sit down in class. The domineering father had been abusive to the mother and child for a few years. But this time, he went too far and Kaylee’s mother, Virginia, reached out to us for protection and legal help.”
“I’m familiar with that story. One of my deputies arrested Mr. Garza. I don’t mind saying we were shocked. He seemed like a decent man. Reverend Dawson spoke up on his behalf,” the sheriff admitted. “I didn’t realize that case was one of yours.”
“Garza is fighting the charges against him, and—” she glanced at the sheriff “—he has a lot to lose if Kaylee and her mother’s claims turn out to be justified, which they will.”
The sheriff stared at her for a long moment. “He coaches the reverend’s daughter on that team.”
“That’s right. There are a few prominent members of the community who have daughters who play for him, as well. Doesn’t mean he didn’t beat his daughter so hard there were blood blisters on her bottom and legs. Her mother has fallen down the stairs or into a cabinet five times in the past eighteen months, which makes her one the clumsiest people alive or a victim. Given that she was once captain of her college long-distance track team, I seriously doubt she has issues with coordination.”
The sheriff leaned back in his chair, examining her as though he was checking her sanity or truthfulness. “My office is aware of the claims.”
Hearing about and being witness to such abuses, especially with children, was by far the most difficult part of Meg’s job. She couldn’t allow herself to focus on that side of the equation for too long or it would be crippling. The bright spot—the good that she would cling to in situations like these—was how much Kaylee and Virginia’s lives were going to change. Meg had a chance to guide them to a better future and a more fulfilled life. She couldn’t erase their pain, but she could give them the blueprint for their future. In her five years of working for One Child—One Advocate that was the part that kept her going, kept her fighting even when a case seemed hopeless.
“One of your deputies is married to Alysa Estacado,” Meg fired back. “She’s Garza’s cousin. My client asked for this case to be handled by another law enforcement agency and we petitioned the judge on her behalf.”
“Mrs. Garza had a tough upbringing. Seems I remember there were drinking problems in her family,” Sawmill said.
“If you’re saying what I think you are, yes. My client has had her difficulties with alcohol. She’s sober now and ready to work,” Meg defended.
The sheriff seemed to be contemplating what she said. She could see the road ahead with this case was going to be difficult based on his reaction to the allegations and her client’s history. She could only pray the case would be moved, as requested. It was a challenge she accepted with open arms because she could make a difference in Kaylee’s life. She could give Virginia a fresh start so she could be the mother she said she wanted to be. Fighting for that was worth every sideways stare she got from people—from the reverend to the sheriff himself.
“I’m not trying to convince you of the merits of this case,” she finally said.
Sawmill hesitated like he was about to say something, but his lips thinned and he nodded. “Any other cases I should be aware of?”
She didn’t have the heart to defend any more of her clients, considering only the most difficult-to-prove cases ended up on her doorstep. “I’ll send a list of names who might be worth investigating.”
“I’ll need more than that. I want histories, too. I’m especially interested in the past few months. Anyone you think might have a vendetta against you or Ms. Gable,” he said. “There’s a possibility someone targeted your child in order to show you what it would feel like to have your baby ripped from your arms.”
More icy fingers gripped her spine at the suggestion somehow her work was putting her daughter in danger. A scary thought struck. Could Wyatt use that in court to take Aubrey away from her?
Would he?
“I’ll email the list with as much detail as I can provide as soon as I get home. I don’t have to remind you everything I share is confidential.” This was over. Aside from the fact that she had nothing else to contribute, he had already given up on her ability to help. Besides, what happened earlier most likely didn’t have anything to do with her current caseload. She’d barely been back to work since having the baby.
There’d been threats before and they were idle. She was always quick to point out to the abusers that if anything happened to her they would be the first stop for the sheriff.
A little voice in the back of her head said that this time no one was threatening. Someone had taken action and they’d done it while the baby was with Stephanie, which would make it harder to tie the crime back to revenge against Meg.
If Meg didn’t know any better, she’d get excited about the possibility of forensic evidence nailing the kidnapper. She knew enough to realize that, unlike crime shows on TV, forensics wasn’t the be-all and end-all answer for most crimes. Furthermore, it took time to process a crime scene. She could only pray that this whole episode was random and that the attacker would be caught before he could make an attempt on another innocent child.
Meg wanted, no, needed to take her baby home. She stood. She knew the drill, so she preempted the sheriff. “If I can think of anything else, I’ll call.”
Wyatt caught her arm as she walked toward the door. “Where are you going?”
“Home. Let’s go,” she said with a finality that he should know better than to argue against.
One glance at him said he fully understood. He released his grip, and she didn’t stop walking until they made it into the lobby. Facing the sea of journalists out there looking for a story wasn’t exactly her idea of reducing stress.
“Maybe we could huddle together and shield the baby,” she said to Stephanie.
“Hold on a minute,” Wyatt argued. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Walking out the front door,” she said slowly, like she was talking to a two-year-old.
“I can see that. The question is why?” Something about Wyatt made her want to stick around and tell him what was going on. Was it a look? His body language? The sympathy she believed she saw in his eyes?
“Because I can tell when I’ve lost a battle,” she said with a little more heat than she’d intended. “There’s nothing else we can do or say in there.”
He stood for a long moment in what seemed like a dare. The first one to move lost.
Wyatt took in a sharp breath, a concession breath. “Fine. Let me take you and the baby out the back way to avoid media attention.”
Meg held her ground. Her heart thundered against her rib cage as Wyatt disappeared into the sheriff’s office. He returned a few seconds later as a deputy motioned for her to follow him toward the opposite hall.
“I’ll grab the truck, circle the block and pick you up.” Wyatt was a study in determination. His outer appearance was calm, too calm. There was a raging storm swirling beneath the surface and Meg didn’t have the energy to withstand the gale-force winds. Not tonight.
Emotions torpedoed through her so fast that she didn’t have time to process them. Aubrey was stirring and she didn’t want her little girl to pick up the tension in her mother when Wyatt spoke.
Before she could agree or argue, he disappeared. He was probably trying to help, but she didn’t need someone walking into her life and taking over. She could think for herself and he needed to see that she’d been fine on her own and especially if the two of them could end up in a courtroom someday.
They could talk in the morning when she had a better perspective and time to gather her thoughts. Meg never fared well when she was caught off guard. She needed to mull things over because all her best decisions came out of respecting her need for time to process information.
As Wyatt walked away she turned to the deputy. “Can you take us home?”
He hesitated and then nodded before leading them out the back and to his SUV. Meg buckled up and held on to Aubrey.
Stephanie flashed eyes at Meg and asked under her breath, “What are you doing?”
“Taking my daughter home,” she said plainly.
“What about him?” Stephanie motioned toward the truck that was now behind them.
“Aubrey comes first. She needs to eat, and both he and I need a minute to cool down. There’s been a lot thrown at both of us today and we need time to process everything before we make an attempt to figure this out,” she said.
“Does that mean he’s planning to stick around?” Stephanie’s brow went up.
“I have no idea what his plans are. He accused me of trying to use Aubrey to get at the Butler fortune.” The accusation still stung and she hadn’t had time to process the fact that he was a Butler.
“What does he have to do with the Butlers?” Stephanie didn’t hesitate.
“Turns out he’s one of them but he didn’t seem happy about it,” Meg said. A self-made man like Wyatt wouldn’t care about the money. The family had been through a lot of trauma since Mr. Butler’s murder. The eldest Butler, a female, had been attacked. Another person, Madelyn Kensington, had been summoned to town by the family lawyer in order to be told Mike Butler was her father. A jealous ex had followed Madelyn and nearly killed her. And one of the Butler twins, Dade, had gotten involved with a local woman who barely survived a stalker.
“That family has certainly had their troubles. But he couldn’t have meant what he said to you,” Stephanie said.
“What makes you so sure?”
“Did you see the way he looks at you?”
Her friend was hallucinating if she thought Wyatt had any feelings left for Meg. He’d been clear about enjoying his single life before. Heck, the times she’d slept over at his place she realized he didn’t even have two coffee mugs. What person didn’t have two coffee mugs? One could be dirty. Meg didn’t have the energy to analyze it again. The message had been clear. Wyatt preferred the number one.
The realization had been a good wake-up call for Meg because she’d been starting down a slippery slope of developing actual feelings for the cowboy-turned-restaurant-mogul. What a disaster that would’ve been.
“I wish someone looked at me like that,” Stephanie said under her breath.
Yeah? Wyatt’s steel eyes had been serious, intense. Stephanie was probably misreading the situation.
Aubrey yawned before starting to fuss. Meg repositioned her daughter and spoke in a soothing tone.
The deputy pulled onto the parking pad and Meg thanked him for the ride.
Aubrey fussed and fidgeted as Meg climbed out of the back seat. “Will you deal with him? I need to take care of her. She’s hungry and I’m exhausted.”
“I’ll take care of the cowboy,” Stephanie said, and Meg’s heart squeezed. Would Wyatt be attracted to Stephanie? She was beautiful. Was Meg seriously jealous of her best—Meg couldn’t bring herself to say only, but it was true—friend? “Besides, we need to get the cars home. We left them at work, remember?”
“Yes. Right. Thanks.” Seeing Wyatt again was throwing Meg for a loop. She buried those unproductive thoughts and darted inside the house before Wyatt could catch up to her.
Inside, she made a beeline for the kitchen to prepare a bottle, which was difficult while trying to soothe a crying baby. Meg had more experience than she cared to think about, and a rogue thought had her wishing for a partner to help. Not just a partner, her mind protested—the child’s father. Wow, her thoughts were careening out of control.
Aubrey belted out a cry that made Meg’s heart fist.
“You’re okay,” she soothed, gently bouncing up and down while finagling the formula and the bottle. She couldn’t breastfeed and feared that was one hit in what would be a long line of disappointments for her daughter.
Meg also noted that in seeing the cowboy, as Stephanie had called him, again that she longed for ridiculous things like a family and a home. What would she want next? A minivan? A dog?
Where would that leave all the families who depended on her? And where would that leave her heart when the fairy tale didn’t come true?
If her own mother could walk out on her and not look back, why would anyone else stick around?
* * *
“I HAVE A right to see Meg and her baby,” Wyatt insisted. He already realized convincing Meg’s friend to let him inside the house was a losing battle and he should walk away, give the situation some breathing room. He could admit to being part bull when he decided to dig his heels in. His were firmly ground this time.
“I’m really sorry. She needs time,” Stephanie said.
Arguing wasn’t going to do any good, but Wyatt almost laughed out loud at the thought Meg needed time. “How much? Another year?” There was more anger and frustration in his tone than he’d intended.
Stephanie shrugged.
“She’s already had...what?...nine months, plus the baby is how old? How much more time does she need,” he countered, clinging to his sinking ship. Wyatt didn’t normally lose his cool. He’d built a million-dollar chain of taco stands because of his ability to make good decisions under pressure. As much as he tried to convince himself this was no different, he failed.
Another helpless shrug came from Stephanie.
The timer he’d set on his phone beeped. If he didn’t get going he’d miss his meeting with the Butler family. He was tempted to walk away from all of this, from all of Cattle Barge, and never look back. Hell, he had enough on his plate as it was with the expansion of his taco chain. His intention in Cattle Barge had been simple. Put to rest once and for all the fact that he wanted nothing to do with being a Butler, and maybe have a little hot sex with an old flame. Okay, since he was baring his soul, he wanted to have a lot of hot sex with the woman he couldn’t seem to keep out of his thoughts in the past year. But that was about as realistic as getting water from a rock. Or, in this case, walking inside that house.
Seeing Meg hold a baby—potentially his baby—should’ve been a bucket of ice water on the fire between them. Should’ve been. He was scratching his head as to why that didn’t seem to be the case.
“She has my cell. If I don’t hear from her in the next few hours I’m coming back and I’m walking inside that door,” he warned.
“Understood.” Stephanie’s hands came up, palms out, in the surrender position. “Like I said before I’m sorry for my friend. I think we’ve all had a rough morning and need a little time to calm down and sort this mess out.”
Since pressuring Stephanie for answers was as smart and productive as firing the guy who runs the cash register because the girl on the line messed up, he decided to cut his losses.
“Fine. I’ll be back,” he said, realizing it came off more as a threat than a promise.
Wyatt stalked to his truck and took his seat, white-knuckling the steering wheel.
Next up?
Deal with the Butlers.
Wyatt would thank Stephanie for her help when he returned. After all, it wasn’t her fault he was in this predicament, and he didn’t need to take his frustration out on her. He could’ve done a better job handling his emotions when talking to Meg. There were a few words he’d take back if he could in hindsight.
In his defense, this situation was emotionally charged without the attempted kidnapping. This also made him wonder if Meg and her baby were safe. He scanned the area. There weren’t many houses on this stretch of farm road. He’d been grateful for his truck, given the drive in. Stretches of road needed maintenance. Maybe he could convince Meg to move closer to town when she was thinking straight again. Being closer to supplies and conveniences would be better for her and the baby.
Whoa. Where’d all that come from?
Where Meg chose to live with her daughter was her business. The little girl in the house had gotten to him. He could admit it. Even though he still wasn’t ready to believe she was his child, she seemed like a good baby. A sweet helpless little thing. She’d done nothing to provoke a criminal to rip her out of Stephanie’s arms. Something had been bugging him since leaving the sheriff’s office. The sheriff seemed intent on Meg, but the baby had been taken from Stephanie. What was going on with Sawmill?
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