Betrayals of the Heart (7 page)

That got her attention. Private Investigator? The hairs prickled at the base of her neck.

“I just finished my last case and am heading back home. You and Michael can come with me.”

“Why? Why would you do that? Why would you want to? You don’t even know me.” Something felt off. Could it just be a coincidence?

“It’s the least I can do.” He paused as if contemplating his next words carefully. “It’s my turn to be honest. I saw you two at the airport. Knew your flight was cancelled and that you were in a real big hurry to leave. So much so, that you were willing to risk Michael’s life in that blasted storm.”

She drew in a deep breath and swallowed hard. So his weaseling the car out from under her had been planned?

“I couldn’t let you brave the storm alone.”

“My knight in shining armor?” Sarcasm laced every broken word. How dare he butt into her business.

“I deserve that. And a lot more.” He let his hands fall to his side, almost as if he was admitting defeat. Almost as if, he knew that sometimes brute strength and determination weren’t enough to save the world. The act and look on his face tore deep into her soul. She eyed the scars on his neck and again wondered how they got there and why an eerie sadness lingered all around him at times. Maybe he had his own reasons for helping them.

“I just don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”

“I’m not just anyone.” His strong jaw worked overtime as he searched her face. “You have to think about Michael. It will be close to impossible to stay hidden with him in tow. What kind of life is that for a child? Your child?”

He really knew how to get right to the point. Michael was all she cared about. The reason she ran in the first place. The only reason she’d fought to live.

Breaking eye contact, she watched her son as he played at their feet and forced back the sobs working their way upward. So young and yet already so broken by what his father had put him through. She owed him a new life. One where he could be a kid and grow up in some sort of normalcy.

Makayla turned to stare back at this remarkable man promising her security and hope. “You understand it could cost you your life?”

“I do.”

“And you understand there are no perks that come along with you helping me?”

“I do.”

“And I can leave at any time?”

“You can.”

In one last desperate attempt to find another way out, she scanned the lobby. Nothing. Not one single alternative. She unclenched her fists, straightened her shoulders and nodded. “All right then. We need to go. Now.”

***

Steven stood at the car rental counter of the Carson City Airport waiting impatiently, fists clinched tightly by his sides.

“Can I help you, sir?” He barely heard the words come out of the heavyset woman’s mouth as he stared. Normally, he wouldn’t hesitate to give her an earful for her blatant disregard for her health, life, and total disrespect for the true reason people eat. He had no sympathy for others. Not for the sick, who in his mind brought it on themselves. Not for the old, who should have planned better when they were younger. And especially not for the opposite sex, who he considered put on this earth for one purpose only—to serve men.

“Were you working last night?” His tone dry, he skirted his eyes around the area behind her trying to find someone more appropriate to assist him.

“Yes, sir. Sure was.” She smiled, stepping closer to the counter.

He moved back as though he might catch her disease.

“Have…did you see this woman and boy last night?”

The woman, now aware of his distaste, reached for the photo for further examination. When he hesitated to release it, she cocked her head to the side and gave him a look that would have made a normal man’s skin crawl for cover. But Steven wasn’t ordinary.

“Can’t tell if I’ve seen her if I can’t see the photo.” Her tone continued to be polite, but her attitude faded to a do-only-what-she-must.

“Yes, of course.” He let the photo fall into her palm and took another step backward.

Her attention dropped from him to the woman in the picture. Tapping her finger against her plump cheek, she studied every inch, drawing out the moment as long as she could. She’d seen Makayla. He could see it on every inch of her face.

“Why, you know, I think she does look familiar.”

Steven’s hopes soared, but only for a brief moment.

“Why you looking for her?” Now her eyes were icy, full of distrust and caution.

Her telling him what he needed to know didn’t look promising. Money usually did the trick for most people, but he doubted that was the answer here. Especially since he’d blown his chance to win her over with his charming good looks and charismatic personality. Offering money now would only fuel the fire.

“My son is sick, needs his medicine. My wife left in such a hurry she left it behind. I’m sure she has no idea.” He smiled inwardly. Lying was his specialty.

“Sick?”

“Yes. He has asthma and needs an inhaler. I must find them.” For some reason, she didn’t believe him. He felt his blood pressure rising. “Look, she was supposed to fly out last night to New York City, but the flight was canceled due to the weather. The last time I spoke with her she said she was going to try and rent a car.” He felt as if steam would spray from his nostrils at any moment.

“I see.” He watched as she lifted her brows over the rim of her thick bifocal reading glasses.

“Her cell was low on battery. For all I know she might still be here in the airport.” He ran his fingers through his hair, hoping to portray a flustered husband searching for his beloved family.

“She was here, but the boy with her last night was anything but sick. He was jumping off of everything he could climb. I never heard him wheeze once.”

“It’s not always apparent to the untrained eye.” He ignored her inference that she knew he was lying. Finally, the answer he’d been looking for. She was right here only hours before.

“Oh, and she wasn’t alone.” He’d swear the woman said this with great pleasure.

Steven’s heart lodged in his throat, fury spiraling upward from his gut to his brain. If her mother had dared join her, there would be two caskets instead of one.

“Excuse me?” He breathed through clinched teeth. “What did you say?”

The lady smiled. She had him now. Right where she wanted. That’s all the information he was getting out of her. Before he could utter an expletive, she turned her back and walked through the doorway, pulling the heavy metal door closed behind her. The dead bolt clanked as she locked it and he felt his face redden.

He stood paralyzed. His chest rose and fell, tight knots working their way through his muscles. This wasn’t happening. Not to him. No one dared treat him this way. At least not without serious consequences.

He wanted to stick around and make this rude woman’s day a living nightmare, but his head throbbed. There were more pending problems.

A living, breathing person jeopardized their entire existence to help his Makayla? Not possible. It had to be a stranger. No one within miles around would help her. They all knew what he’d do to them, to their friends, loved ones. So who? What sucker did she find looming around the airport late at night? What sob story had she spun to make them feel sorry enough for her to aid in her escape?

And then the horrid truth struck him like a runaway locomotive. It had to be a man. The tramp must have used her womanly attributes to pull them in. What other favors had she offered in return?

The mere idea drove him lucid.

Control belonged to him. She belonged to him. This was totally unacceptable.

He stormed from the counter, barely missing an elderly couple as they struggled with their luggage. There was no apology, not even a second glance given.

Crazy
. His entire existence had gone crazy. Anger blurred his vision and sent his thoughts into a frenzy of chaotic hallucinations.

Makayla with another man. Him touching her, kissing her. No, it just wasn’t possible.

No one got the best of him.

Ever.

Present Day

Florida

Where was he?

Pain pounded against Makayla’s skull as she reflected on Nicholas’ favorite hiding spots in the past. In a reflex action, she flipped on the lights and took in the familiar surroundings of their living room. The little dark nook behind the recliner in the far corner of the room was usually where she found him, grinning that goofy little grin of his. But not this time.

Stay calm. Just stay calm and think. He’s only hiding.

“Nick, honey, where are you?” She strained through the unnerving silence to hear her son’s response.

Not a snicker.

Not a giggle.

Nothing.

This wouldn’t be the first time Nicholas hid from her when she hadn’t given him her full attention.
It’s just a coincidence
, she told herself. Nicholas was safe. He was just upset with her for taking the phone call and making him wait.

“Okay, Nicholas, you win. Mommy can’t find you.” She’d flung every closet door open in the house. And each time the empty space enveloped her, a piece of her ceased to exist. Claiming him the winner was their key phrase, which meant the games were over. No more hiding.

So where the heck was he? She swallowed back the nausea as a dizzy feeling of fear swarmed her and threatened to bring her down.

“Mom, what’s wrong?”

Makayla turned to see her older son, Michael, standing in the front doorway, his backpack slung loosely over one shoulder. That’s when her knees buckled beneath her.

He looked so much like his father it stole her breath away. Michael towered over her at the age of fifteen. His build, his eyes, his mannerisms could have been duplicated on a copy machine. There was no denying he was Steven’s son. But there was one major difference. A difference that assured her each and every day she’d done the right thing.

Michael was a caring human being. He loved people. All people, no matter their size or shape, no matter their race or color. He was growing into a fine young man. A man she would be proud to call her son. A man who would have no idea about the true identity of his real father.

Makayla stood in front of him, forcing the tears back. She had no idea how to tell him, what to tell him.

“Mom, what’s wrong with you? You’re scaring me. Do I need to call a doctor?”

She shook her head and lifted her gaze to meet his, swallowing hard. Fear, matching her own, stared back at her. All the pain, the torture she suffered years ago, lay hidden in the depths of his eyes. When she told him the truth, he’d never be the same.

“No. No doctor.” The words slipped through her lips as she pulled her emotions together. She didn’t want him to know. Didn’t want him to feel her torment, her sense of hopelessness.

“Mom, I’m calling Dad!” He reached for the phone she still gripped within her fingers like a lifeline. But she snatched it back from him and tucked it behind her.

“What’s with you?” His voice cracked with frustration. “Mom. You’re really starting to freak me out. Just tell me what’s got you so upset.”

“Nicholas. I can’t find Nicholas.” A tiny part of her felt like Nicholas was still hiding. No need to worry Ryan if it was a false alarm. The idea Steven would take Nicholas didn’t make sense. He was Ryan’s son. Why take him?

“Nicholas is missing?” Michael’s features calmed as he assessed the situation. “He’s just hiding from you. Again.”

“I know. But he’s never continued the game after I’ve said he’s the winner.” Boy, she sounded so pathetic. Telling Michael about the phone call, the real reason for her worries wasn’t an option, so the pathetic act would have to do for now.

Michael left Makayla’s side, sitting his backpack on the floor before calling for Nicholas. “Nick, where are you? I’m gonna teach you a lesson you won’t forget, you little rugrat. You need to learn when enough is enough. Mom’s lost her mind.”

When she heard the tone of her son’s voice, the threat coating each and every word, her control snapped back. It was Steven’s voice. But it was coming from her fifteen year old son’s mouth. She’d hoped this time away from his real father would make a difference.

“No. Michael. No!” She hurried to follow after the sound of his heavy footsteps. He was barreling through the house, slamming doors and searching almost as if he too were desperate. But why?

“Nicholas, this is your last warning.”

“Michael, you stop this. Now.” Standing behind him, she was afraid to reach out and touch him. Even his body language had transformed. He stood with his fist clenched, chest and shoulders raised and feet planted ready for an attack.

“But he has to learn some discipline.”

“He’s only a little boy.” These familiar words had not been said for over ten years. And Makayla cringed at the sound they made coming from her lips. Again the frightened child within her pleaded for her son’s forgiveness, for his safety. But this time it was the child himself, who she’d shielded from the blows of an angry father with her own body, who she now found herself pleading with.