Mystery Bride. B.J. Daniels
“Where’s his mother?”
She stirred at the pot on the stove. “Cassie?”
He raised a brow. “How many mothers does the kid have?”
“Just Cassie, his birth mother who left when he was a baby, and his ex-stepmother Mercedes, who left after less than a year of marriage.”
This could explain the kid’s budding criminal career. It sounded as if the boy had been left more times than a Greyhound bus station. Will felt bad for him, knowing what that kind of instability did to a kid.
Well, at least Zack had Samantha now. And as unconventional as her methods were, she’d obviously go to any extreme to keep the boy safe.
But Will still couldn’t help worrying about her and the kid. “Is it just me, or isn’t it a little strange that first you have the burglary at the computer company where the father works, then the father’s disappearance, then the son’s kidnapping? And where do the kidnappers take the kid? To a rest home in Wolf Point, Montana.”
She wiped her hands on the apron around her waist and looked over at him. “Like I said, it’s complicated.”
“Right.” And none of his business. “What can I do to help with dinner?”
He followed her sudden glance to the doorway. Zack was peering around the door frame, looking as sweet and innocent as any child Will had ever seen. Except, it was obvious the kid had been eavesdropping, hovering there long enough to hear most—if not all—of their conversation.
He checked to make sure he still had his watch. And his wallet.
“We were just talking about the men who abducted you,” she said, no doubt assuming, as he did, that Zack had been listening for some time. “Do you have any ideas why they did that?”
Zack shrugged.
“Not a clue, huh?” she persisted. “What about your dad? Any ideas where he might be?”
He shook his head and looked away. “Is dinner almost ready?”
She eyed the boy but didn’t push it. “Just about. Why don’t you help Will set the table.” She glanced in Will’s direction for consent.
Will realized he was hungry. Whatever she’d cooked up smelled wonderful. “Just point us to the dishes.”
They ate a surprisingly delicious casserole at the kitchen table. He was a little in awe of her ability to throw something this good together so quickly and with only a few ingredients. The woman did seem to have some burgeoning spousal talents. It was her other talents that concerned him.
Zack ate without a word, nodding or shaking his head when Samantha tried to draw him into a conversation. Finally she gave up.
After dinner and dishes, Will went into the living room while she put the boy to bed.
Leaving the bedroom door ajar, she joined him in front of the fire. He’d been staring into the flames when she approached. He found himself still very aware of her. And very curious. More curious than he should have been, considering she didn’t fit into his plans.
“How did you get into a profession like this?” he asked, still wishing she did anything else.
She warmed her hands in front of the fire, her gaze on the flames. The light played on her face. She really was beautiful in an innocent, wholesome sort of way. The irony of it didn’t escape him.
“My father and uncle and some of my cousins are cops, some others are private investigators.” She shrugged. “It was that or become a mortician.”
He knew she was joking, but a mortician sounded good to him right now. He watched her glance toward Zack’s bedroom, and saw the worry in the little furrow between her brows, in the slope of her strong shoulders, in the depths of her bottomless blue-green gaze. He warned himself to stay out of it.
He’d interfered enough just getting into her Firebird, refusing to get out and asking a lot of questions. Samantha knew what she was doing. She did this sort of thing all the time, right? And the kid, well, she’d find the boy’s father. Or get Zack to one of his mothers.
Tomorrow, as soon as they found a car rental agency, airport or bus station, Will would be returning to his well-planned, safe and simple life. And his quest for a bride. He doubted his path would ever cross Samantha’s again, and wondered why it had even once, let alone twice.
His gaze fell on her face, and he felt that same strong pull he had at the party. What was it about this woman that tugged at him like a hangman’s noose?
Before he could stop himself, he took her shoulders in his hands and pulled her to him. This time the kiss was all his idea. And a bad one at that. Her lips parted, and she leaned into him as if drawn by a force of her own. He drew her closer, tasting her, teasing her tongue with his, feasting on her luscious inviting mouth, taking but wanting more. So much more.
She pulled back first, her eyes dark with desire. And quiet despair. She didn’t have to say a word. They both knew how impossible this was.
He reminded himself that his birthday was only days away. Just the thought of his self-imposed deadline to find a prospective mate made him grit his teeth. He should be out looking. Not kissing this shamus/child-napper.
“We should get some sleep,” she said. “We leave early in the morning.”
“I’ll take the couch,” he said hoarsely. There was only one other bedroom aside from the one Zack was in.
She didn’t put up an argument. Probably decided to let him have a little control over his life. How thoughtful. She got him some bedding and then bid him good-night, disappearing into the second bedroom but leaving the door ajar.
He stood before the fire for a long time, staring into the flames, feeling anxious and wide-awake, the kiss still coursing through him like high-voltage electricity, giving him a buzz, making him jittery.
After a while, the fire burned down and his heart rate slowed. The fire inside him cooled. He returned to his usual sensible self again, and went to look in on Zack.
The little boy was out, a slight smile on his cherub face. The kid was cute. He had his arm around his backpack as if everything he cared about was inside. Will wondered if that was true. What had this boy’s life been like? And how had he become such an adept thief at such a young age?
Will smiled wryly, remembering his own childhood. He wondered if he didn’t have more in common with Zackarias Lucien O’Brien than anyone would have suspected.
He left the bedroom door partially open and glanced into the other bedroom. Samantha was curled in a fetal position, the covers kicked off. He stepped in and quietly pulled the quilt up over her slim frame. In slumber, she had Zack’s childlike angelic sweetness about her.
Unless you noticed the barrel of her pistol sticking out from under her pillow.
Chapter Four
Samantha woke just before daybreak, the dream so real she jumped out of bed, her heart pounding, and rushed in to check on Zack.
Curled in the middle of the double bed, he looked even smaller and more vulnerable than usual. She felt her breath catch at the sight of his tiny sleeping form. So young. So alone. So scared.
She knew how he felt. Since the night of the party, her life had been thrown into spin cycle. Lucas missing, suspected of a burglary at the computer company where he’d worked. The police looking for him. Zack kidnapped. And her house ransacked.
She thought about the kidnappers and what Will had said about them taking the boy to the rest home. It didn’t make any sense. Unless you knew Lucas.
So why hadn’t he called again? She’d been so sure he would. From the moment Cassie had contacted her, Samantha had believed Lucas was behind Zack’s so-called kidnapping, just as Cassie had. She’d