Egan Cassidy's Kid. BEVERLY BARTON
a real home—in order to prevent this very thing from ever happening.
Pacing the floor, he forked his fingers through his hair and cursed under his breath. “I’ll move heaven and earth to stop Cullen,” Egan vowed as he halted his prowl and faced Maggie. “I’ll find a way to save Bent.”
Squaring her shoulders, Maggie lifted her chin and glared at Egan. “What did you do to this man to make him hate you so much? Can’t you undo whatever it is you did?” Although she sat perfectly still, her hands folded primly in her lap, there was just a hint of hysteria in her voice. “You can’t let him kill…kill my…” Tears glazed her soft, brown eyes.
Egan rushed to her, dropped down on one knee and grabbed her hands. “If I’d only known about Bent, I could have—”
Maggie jerked away from him, shoved him aside and rose to her feet. “Don’t you dare blame me for this! You keep saying if only you’d known about Bent, as if it’s my fault that he’s been kidnapped by some lunatic who wants to punish you.” She pointed directly at Egan, who rose from his knees to his full six-foot-three height.
“I didn’t mean to imply that this is your fault.”
“Then why don’t you place the blame where it belongs,” she glowered at him, anger and hatred gleaming in her eyes, turning them from brown to black. “You’re the reason my son was kidnapped, the reason his life is in danger. You—” she jabbed her finger into the air, pointing it in his direction and then at herself “—not me.”
“Maggie, let me explain.” He held open his hands, the very act a plea for her understanding.
“Explain what? That you’ve lead such an unsavory life, such a wicked life, that you have evil men, capable of murder, searching for ways to punish you.” Maggie flew toward him, her arms lifted, her hands cupped into taut fists. “The hard, cruel world you chose to live in, the ungodly way you chose to make a living is the reason Bent’s life is in danger.” Maggie hurled her fists into Egan’s chest. “You’ve never cared about anyone—ever! You’ve lived only for yourself, never wanting or needing me or my child. You don’t deserve to be a father!”
Her slender, white fists flayed him repeatedly. He barely felt the blows in a physical sense, but emotionally he felt as if Maggie had stripped him down to his bones, with one angry, cutting accusation after another.
He stood unmoving, allowing her to vent her frustration, to beat her fists against his chest until she was spent. He deserved her hatred. She was right. It was his fault that Cullen had kidnapped Bent.
When Maggie’s blows lost their strength and she seemed barely able to raise her hands, Egan wrapped his arms around her. If only she would allow him to hold her, to comfort her, then perhaps he could find some small amount of comfort himself. Her head lay against his chest as she sucked in her breath, gasping for air. Uncertain how to proceed, Egan lifted one hand to her head and caressed her hair. He remembered how much he had loved Maggie’s long, mahogany-red hair.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’d give anything if I could have spared you.”
As if suddenly realizing that the man who held her was the enemy, Maggie disengaged herself from his embrace and shoved him away. “I don’t want your apologies. Saying I’m sorry now is too little, too late. All I want from you is for you to save Bent.”
“I’m going to do everything—” Egan’s cellular phone rang.
Maggie jumped. “Would he call you on your cell phone?”
“No. There’s not any way he could get this number. All the phones issued to Dundee agents have restricted numbers and operate with a scrambling security frequency.”
Maggie laughed, the sound harsh and brittle. “You’re still in the cloak-and-dagger business, aren’t you?”
“Look, I need to get this,” Egan said, then removed his small cell phone from the clip on his belt. “Yeah?”
“Egan, I’ve called in our top six men,” Ellen Denby, the CEO of the Dundee agency, said. “And I’ve put in a call to Sam to alert him that you’re going to need not only manpower, but that he’ll need to use all his connections to make sure we head up this operation and we get full cooperation from the FBI. By the way, are you already in Alabama?”
“Thanks for handling things for me,” Egan said. “And, yes, I’m in Alabama, with the mother of my child.”
“Any word from the kidnapper?”
“Not yet. But it’s only a matter of time.”
“I’ve already called in a few favors of my own,” Ellen told him. “I’ll have a dossier a foot thick on Grant Cullen by morning. I’ll know what toothpaste he buys and how many times a day he uses the john.”
“Have the men on standby,” Egan said. “As soon as we hear from Cullen, I want to move in quick and hit him hard.” When Egan heard Maggie gasp, he glanced across the room at her and their gazes locked. “My one and only objective is to rescue my son. Getting Cullen will be a bonus.” Egan saw the startled look on Maggie’s face, the shock in her eyes, the very minute she realized that in order to save Bent, Egan might have to annihilate his abductor.
“When you’re ready to move, just let me know,” Ellen said.
“You’re the best, Denby.”
“Yeah, and don’t you ever forget it.”
Egan hit the Off button and returned his cell phone to its nest on his hip. “I work for a private security and investigation firm based in Atlanta,” he explained to Maggie, who was staring at him questioningly. “I’ve been with them for a couple of years now. Most of the agents are former special forces or former lawmen, all highly trained professionals. My boss has just called in the top six men at Dundee’s to be ready to act on my command, once we hear from Cullen.”
“You’re planning Bent’s rescue as if it’s a commando attack, as if this man Cullen is going to tell you where he has Bent and invite you to come and get him.” Maggie flung her hands out on either side of her body in an are-you-insane? gesture. “This is my child’s life we’re talking about. I’m going to call the FBI right now. I’ve had enough of this craziness.”
Maggie swerved around and headed toward the white and gold telephone sitting atop the chinoiserie cabinet positioned along the back wall. Egan reached her in three giant strides and grabbed her arm just as she lifted the receiver.
“Put the phone down.” His voice brooked no refusal.
Maggie glared at him, hesitating to obey his command. When he tightened his hold on her arm, she winced. “Why should I listen to you? Why should I do what you tell me to do?”
“Because handling this situation my way is the only chance we have of getting our son back alive.”
Maggie continued staring at Egan, but she gradually lowered her arm and replaced the telephone receiver. “So, what do we do now?”
Egan released her and when she rubbed her arm, he realized he might have held her too tightly. “Did I hurt you?”
“No, not really. You just don’t know your own strength.”
“You’ve got to believe me, Maggie, I’d never intentionally hurt you.”
“That’s debatable,” she told him. “But it isn’t important. Not anymore. But you didn’t answer my question, what do we do now?”
“We wait.”
“Wait for what?”
“Wait for Grant Cullen to call us and give us his demands.”
Grant Cullen strolled the grounds of his secluded Arizona camp, hidden away in the mountains southeast of Flagstaff. It had taken him years to build and stock his retreat and to man it with his own army. His troops, though few in