Running Scared (36 page)

With a cry she felt the earth tremble and she fell forward, feeling him shudder beneath her, his arms opening to catch her and wrap possessively over her, his breathing as torn and shallow as hers.

“Daegan,” she whispered and he dragged her jacket over them, kissing her temple and eyes as her heartbeat finally slowed. “Oh, Daegan.”

“I love you,” he murmured into her ear, and her tears began to flow as he stroked her hair. “No matter what else happens, believe that I love you as I’ve loved no other woman.” His words rang like the knell of doom. A deep wracking sob tore from her throat and he sighed against her hair, then pushed her away from him so that he could stare into her eyes. She saw the shadows of sadness in his gaze, the quiet determination, and her heart shattered.

“You’re going to leave me.”

“I have to.”

“But why?” she cried and he silently cursed himself. He couldn’t tell her that he was Jon’s father, that it was better for her and Jon if he disappeared from their lives and made sure that they were never bothered by the Sullivan family again. “I would stay if I could,” he swore, “but I can’t.” He stroked her cheek with a finger and felt the moistness of her tears. Damning himself silently, he kissed her again. “Come on, we can go back to the house and spend the rest of the day in bed.”

She shook her head. “Not if you’re leaving.”

He couldn’t help cocking an insolent eyebrow. “So now you want to barter?”

“How can you joke about this?” she said, her eyes brimming. “I love you, Daegan O’Rourke. I don’t want to, in fact I curse myself every time I think about it, but I can’t help it. I love you.”

The words seemed to crack in the cold autumn air.

“Jon loves you, too.”

His heart, already bruised, suffered another blow.

“How can you disappoint him?”

“I have to,” was all he said as he handed her her jeans. Sniffling loudly, she dressed, but she was obviously through begging and pleading and having her self-worth dragged through the mud. He watched as her shoulders stiffened and pride straightened her backbone.

Good. She’d need all the strength she could round up.

They dressed and rode back to the house in silence, leaving their hearts and vows of love on the ridge. Daegan mentally kicked himself over and over again for making love to her—not that he wouldn’t do it over again if he had the chance. God, she was beautiful and prideful and loving and more woman than he’d ever met before, but by making love to her, he’d stepped across a line that was too dangerous to even contemplate—emotional commitment which he could never vow.

After taking care of the horses and leaving them with fresh hay and water in the barn, he offered her more coffee, which she drank slowly in Eli McIntyre’s dilapidated little kitchen. Though sadness lingered in her eyes, she managed a half smile. “I can’t imagine anyone wanting to give up all this luxury,” she teased.

“It’s hard.”

“But Montana beckons?”

“It was a mistake to think I needed to move away.”

Her gaze held his. “There must be another reason.” Was it his imagination or did the cup in her fingers tremble slightly?

Time to come up with a lie that will make her hate you so that she never comes looking.
“There is.”

He counted out the seconds in the pulse at her throat. She didn’t move, and quiet despair twisted her features. “Which is?”

“I was running away.”

“Do I want to know from what?”

“Probably not.”

“Oh, God, you have a wife.”

He should have said “yes” and gotten it over with. Instead he said, “Ex-wife.”

“And children?” she barely said.

His throat closed in on itself. “A…a son. About Jon’s age. He, uh, lives with his mother and it’s probably better that way. I wasn’t much of a father.”

Disbelief clouded her eyes. “But you’re so good with Jon.” Her voice failed her. “You lied to me.”

“Yes.”
Oh, lady, if you only knew.
“But you lied, too. About Jon.”

“You were going to leave and not let me know.”

“No, I came by to say good-bye.”

“Even though we made love.”

He reached across the table and took her hand in his. “Believe me, I’ll never regret it.”

Her life, already falling apart, seemed to unravel even further. He read the pain in her eyes. “That’s it? It’s over?” Disbelief warred with disappointment.

It will never be over. Not with you and me.
He felt it in his soul. “It has to be.”

“You
bastard!
You lying, no-good…” Before her anger carried her away, she stopped and stared at him for a heart-splintering second. Standing abruptly, she let out a little sound of protest and dropped her cup, sloshing coffee. “Good-bye, Daegan,” she said, snagging her jacket from the arm of the couch and heading out the door.

“Kate—” If only he could tell her the truth, let her know how he felt, who he really was…

She was already outside, down the steps, plowing through the snow, striding as if she couldn’t get away from him fast enough. Swearing under his breath, he ran to the truck, fired the engine, and took off after her. He caught up with her before she’d reached the end of the lane.

“Get in,” he commanded, rolling down the window. Her face was red, her jaw set, snow collecting in her hair.

“Go to hell.”

“Kate, please—”

“Just leave, Daegan,” she said, reaching the county road and turning into her own lane. “That’s what you’re going to do anyway.”

He couldn’t fault her logic. “Get into the truck.”

She whirled on him then, fury masking her features. “And you get the hell off my land.” Again she strode away from him, her fists knotted in anger, her breath fogging furiously in the air.

She turned again, walking briskly, but he followed her, and when she reached the house, he climbed out of the pickup and barged up the front steps. She tried to bar the door, but he forced his way past her. Knowing he should let her hate him, he stood in the living room of her cozy little house.

“What do you want?” she demanded. “Another romp in the snow?”

The barb stung. “I just want you to know that I didn’t lie about anything I said or did up on the ridge.”

She made a sound of deprecation and walked into the kitchen. “I don’t know why you’re here.”

“Neither do I.” She turned then and he held out his hands. “I should just let it go, Kate. The best thing for both of us is for me to walk out the door, but I don’t want to leave until you understand that, despite everything, I love you and I will always love you.”

Closing her eyes as if to shield herself, she reached for the telephone answering machine and pushed the
PLAY
button. “Don’t do this, Daegan. Don’t tease. Just leave. Now.”

“I will. But just know that I care, Kate. I care a helluva lot.”

Tears ran down her cheeks and she brushed them quickly away. “Okay, you’ve made me cry. Is that what you want?”

“No.”

“Mrs. Summers,” a male voice said and her eyes flew open. “Don McPherson at the school—”

“Oh, no,” she whispered, shaking her head. “Not now, not again.”

“We’re calling all our absentees who don’t have pre-arranged excuses or who haven’t called into the attendance secretary. We assume you’re aware that Jon is on the list.”

Neils VanHorn had never slept with his silent partner, though he’d spent more than one night in bed with other women picturing the perfect, aquiline contours of her face. Fantasies of her long legs wrapped around his torso, her bloodred manicured nails digging into his back, were the one thing that kept him on her payroll, despite the dangers of being caught.

Now, as he pumped quarters into the pay phone at a truck stop on some godforsaken stretch of Idaho highway, he had to admit that she frightened him more than a little. Just like the kid locked in the van, working to slide the cuffs off when he thought Neils wasn’t looking. The kid had such a hollow look in his eyes, like a goddamned zombie. Neils must have scared the piss out of him when he pulled that gun. Grimacing, Neils shot a look at the van across the parking lot. He had played a part in some half-baked investigations before, but kidnapping was a first for him, and it was all a worry. Maybe he should have insisted that Robert pay him more up front. Maybe he should forget about trying to get the woman into bed and just deliver the kid to the old man.

But then her sultry voice came on the line and Neils’s manhood sprung to attention. Just at the sound of her voice. Damn, he had it bad.

“You’ve got the boy,” she said, the excitement in her voice making him go harder.

“That’s right.”

“Where is he?”

“Safe,” Neils replied, enjoying verbally sparring with her. “You know I can’t tell you where he is until we strike a deal. But I’m bringing him your way. Robert wants to see him.”

“Bad idea. I don’t want him here. And I thought we agreed that I’d pay you twice what Robert offered.”

“I know, I know,” Neils admitted, raking his hair back with one hand. Over the phone he could hear soft music—a symphony or something—playing behind her. Classy lady. “But it depends on what you want me to do.”

“A deal is a deal.”

“Is it? I don’t think so. Otherwise I wouldn’t be double-crossing your uncle now.”

Although she was thousands of miles away, he could feel her contempt over the phone line. How he’d love to play with her, whip her into an angry frenzy, then wrestle her to the floor, pinning her beneath him.

“If you don’t go through with your end of the bargain,” she said in measured beats, “I’ll go to Robert and tell him you tried to up the ante by dealing with me.”

He imagined her in schoolmarm glasses, threatening to whip him with a yard-long pointer.
Yeah, baby. Whip me hard.

“I don’t think so,” he said, enjoying the fantasies, loving the fact that he had the upper hand.

“I told you I’d pay double for finding the boy,” she growled. “But I’ll add a bonus, Neils. I’ll pay you twice that if you get rid of him for me.”

Neils froze. He didn’t like the turn in the conversation. Sure, the kid gave him the creeps, but he didn’t want anything really bad to happen to the boy. Hell, that’d be murder. Not his thing. Christ, wasn’t kidnapping bad enough?

She sighed. “Ah, Neils, so naive.” He couldn’t tell if she was amused or mocking him until she went on. “Don’t be an idiot. Do you really expect me to pay top dollar for you to let that bastard free? Just do yourself and me a favor and kill him.” Her voice oozed with impatience, malice, and blood lust. “Kill him now.”

Kate stared at the clock. Three-thirty and still no word from Jon. She’d called the sheriff, but Swanson wasn’t interested. Not until Jon had been missing for twenty-four hours. The police in town were no more anxious to help her. The school hadn’t seen him. Daegan had gone out searching for Jon but hadn’t found hide nor hair of the boy.

She drummed her fingers on the counter and thought she’d go mad with worry. Outside the snow continued to fall, and as night was approaching, she could only wonder where he was, with whom, doing what? She’d called all his friends once they were home from school, but no one had seen him all day. Daegan had even driven over to the Neider place, but no one was home.

“He’ll be all right,” Daegan said, standing at the window and staring toward the end of the lane.

Kate had wanted to throw him out, to tell the liar to just leave and let her worry about her boy. But the lines of strain on his face, the way he’d called his travel agent and changed his flight, convinced her that he cared, if only a little. And she liked having him around, damn it, even if she did feel a little like a weak woman who was finding her strength from his.

He’d made coffee for her, built a fire, taken Roscoe and Houndog and searched the places where he’d expected a boy to hole up. And now they waited.

The phone rang and she nearly jumped out of her skin. Dashing to the kitchen, she picked up the receiver before the second ring.

“Hello?” she said and met Daegan’s dark gaze. Though he was still in the living room, she could see the worry in his eyes.

“Kate?” Laura’s voice sang over the wires. “Are you all right? You sound breathless.”

“It’s Jon. He’s missing.” She shook her head at Daegan, silently communicating that there was no news about her boy. “I—I can’t tie up the phone too long in case he calls.” Quickly she told her sister what had been going on, only holding back on her involvement with Daegan. To think that while Jon was missing, she was making love in the snow to Daegan…

When she was finished, there was a weighty pause on the other end of the line. “Maybe this isn’t a good time for me to give you my news,” she said.

“What news?”

“About Daegan O’Rourke.”

Kate’s gaze flew to the living room, where Daegan was standing glaring out at the dark sky. Her heart pounded with dread.
Not now, oh, please not now!
“Tell me,” she said, her insides already beginning to shred.

“Okay, but it’s not pretty. It turns out that the Daegan O’Rourke from Montana did grow up in Boston, the son of Mary Ellen O’Rourke and Frank Sullivan. Mary Ellen was Frank’s mistress and he, being already married, didn’t divorce his wife. Instead he kept Mary Ellen as his mistress in a small apartment over some dive of a tavern.”

Kate’s heart twisted for the little boy Daegan had been, but fear curled in her heart. Who was this man? What did he want? Was he the criminal—Jon’s natural father?

“Anyway, Frank Sullivan’s a real bad egg, the worst. Treated Daegan like he didn’t exist.”

“You found all this out through records?”
Oh, God, now what? She loved Daegan, trusted him, believed in him.
A part of her began to wither as quickly as a flower in the desert.

“Nah, I dug around a little bit on my free time. I have a friend who’s a PI who used to work for the police department as a detective. She did some snooping and this is what we came up with.”

Kate swallowed back her dread and listened.

“Anyway this kid—Daegan O’Rourke—was really messed up and tried to shoot his old man once, but the shot went wild and the Sullivans managed to sweep it all under the rug—nothing in the papers, no charges filed.”

“None?”

“That’s right. A while later the legitimate Sullivan offspring got together with their bastard cousin and the fireworks really started.”

Kate leaned against the cupboard for support. Her palms were sweating, her mind racing with images of Daegan teaching Jon to ride a horse, showing him how to box, lying above her ready to make love in the middle of a snowstorm.

As if sensing something was wrong, Daegan gave up his post and walked to the kitchen. He was reaching for the coffeepot when his hand stopped in midair, and as if by silent communication, he divined the tenor of her conversation.

Laura continued blithely on, unaware that Kate held Daegan’s stare and noiseless messages were being passed. “O’Rourke and his cousin Stuart got into a huge fight, though no one apparently knows or remembers why. Knives and a crowbar were involved, and Stuart, the heir apparent to the Sullivan fortune, ended up dying on the docks before the police, whom O’Rourke had called, showed up.”

Kate’s blood turned to ice water and she hardly was able to look at the man she’d so recently given her body.

“Who is it?” Daegan demanded.

Laura wasn’t finished. “Once again O’Rourke got off for lack of evidence or something. Again, no charges filed. Then he disappeared. Left Boston for good.”

“How’d you find this out?” Kate asked. “If there was nothing in the papers…?”

“My friend talked to one of the employees in Frank Sullivan’s household. Then he looked up O’Rourke’s mother, Mary Ellen. She wasn’t too happy about it, but admitted that the last time she’d heard from Daegan, he was in some small town in Montana.”

“Oh, God.”

“The guy’s bad news, Kate. I was wrong about him.”

“And why is he interested in Jon?” Kate asked, her blood rushing in her ears, her world tipping precariously.

“I don’t know. I think you’d better ask him.”

“Thanks, Laura, I will,” Kate said.

“So call me when you find Jon,” Laura said, her voice edged in worry. “And let me know what kind of game O’Rourke’s playing.”

“As soon as I find out.” Kate hung up and tried to contain the rage that gnawed at her gut. Daegan had lied to her, lied to Jon, and used them both. Over and over again. As if their feelings were meaningless.

“What do you want from me?” she asked as she advanced on him and looked into eyes as dark as obsidian. “And what have you done to my son?”

“Nothing.”

“Who are you?” she demanded, then let the dam break. Pointing to the phone, she said, “That was my sister, Laura. She told me all about you, how you’re related to some Sullivan family, how you ended up here. I just don’t know why!”

Daegan’s eyes squeezed closed for an instant, and he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

“You lied to me. To Jon!” she accused him, barely able to voice the words.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why, Daegan?”

“Because I’m Jon’s father.”

The room seemed to shrink, his admission bouncing off the ever-closer walls. Kate had trouble catching her breath. She
loved
this man? This liar? This man who had tried to kill his own father and probably did murder his cousin? The stranger who had stalked her and her boy.
Jon’s father!

“You’re not, you couldn’t be…” she whispered but she felt the truth as surely as if he’d driven a stake in her heart.

“I didn’t believe it either. But it’s true.”

“Why would I believe you? First you’re single, then you’re married and divorced with a son, and now you’re Jon’s father.”

“I’m single, never married, and Jon’s my boy.” The words ricocheted through the house as if they were bullets from a rifle.

“I can’t…I don’t…” She wasn’t making any sense, couldn’t think straight. Finally the one question that was important formed in her mind. “Where is he?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where, damn it?” she demanded, nearly hysterical.

“I want to find him as much as you do.”

“So you can take him away from me!” Raw emotion tore through her, and she wanted to hit and scream, to wound him. She flung herself at him, ready to do physical damage, but his arms circled her, strong and protective, and she couldn’t do anything more than sob wretchedly and strike his shoulder with a weak fist.

“I wouldn’t do that,” he said, kissing the top of her head.

“Like hell!” Horrified that she’d fallen into his trap again, she pushed away from him and her fears gave way to fury.

His jaw tightened and he tried to touch her, to lay a calming hand on her shoulder, but she backed quickly away, standing on one side of the table, he on the other. “Who are you, you son of a bitch, and what do you want?”

He raked his hands through his hair, then poured two cups of coffee. “Okay, Kate, I suppose you deserve the truth.”

“I deserved it from the first time I met you.”

He handed her a cup, which she ignored, then walked into the living room to warm the backs of his legs against the fire. As she sat rigidly on the edge of the couch, he explained everything, from the time Bibi had given him the news to yesterday when he’d decided to go back to Boston and have it out with his uncle to protect Kate and Jon.

She wanted to believe him, to think that there was a small streak of nobility in his heart, but she didn’t. Even all the attention he lavished on Jon was for his own ulterior motives. Nothing he did was anything but selfish.

The fact that Daegan had conceived a son with his cousin didn’t bother her nearly as much as the thought that now Jon had two biological parents, one who wanted him desperately, the other who preferred he never show up.

Her ears were still ringing, her head pounding in pain, as she listened to Daegan and wished she could hate him. It would be so much easier to feel nothing but loathing and abhorrence for this man who had taken her love and abused it. Rage was a much safer emotion than despair.

“So I’m afraid I underestimated this investigator Robert hired—VanHorn. He probably snatched Jon and it’s my fault,” Daegan admitted. “I must’ve led him here. I should never have stayed as long as I did, it wasn’t part of the plan, but then I met you and…Oh, hell, I got caught up in something I had no right to.”

Her heart constricted. “So—where is Jon?”

“If Neils has him, and since he hasn’t come home that’s a real possibility, then he’s on his way back to Boston, to Robert.”

Kate was off the couch in a second. “Then what are we waiting for? We should call the FBI and go—”

She saw the sheriff’s car rolling through the powdered snow covering her drive. Her heart leaped. Maybe Daegan had been wrong. Maybe the police had found Jon…But a lone deputy slid from the interior and slogged his way to the front porch.

Kate was already at the door.

“Ms. Summers?”

“Yes.”

He was tall and dark skinned with a black moustache and a grim expression. “Deputy Brown,” he said in a short introduction.

Her hopes plummeted and she was suddenly scared. More scared than she’d ever been in her life. Had Jon been hurt…or worse. “Have you found my son?”

“Not yet, but an anonymous tip came into the office. Someone claims to have seen your son with Daegan O’Rourke. He moved into the—”

“I know who he is,” Kate said, stepping away from the door, allowing the deputy to enter and motioning to Daegan, whose every muscle was tense. His eyes collided with that of the law. “He’s here now.”

“Someone called in and said they’d seen you with the boy early this morning, Mr. O’Rourke. A little before eight, driving west.”

“A lie.”

“You were—?”

“At home, feeding the stock. I got over here just after eight, I think, and been here ever since.”

“That…that’s true,” Kate added.

The deputy rubbed the back of his neck. “Anyone see what time you left your place?”

“No.”

Kate’s heart was hammering. The deputy couldn’t be serious…or could he? Hadn’t she, herself, accused Daegan of knowing where Jon was?

“Maybe you’d like to come down and make a statement,” Deputy Brown suggested. “Just so we can clear this up.”

“I don’t think, I mean Daegan’s been here with me…” she protested, wondering why she was protecting a man who had no heart, no soul. A man who would use her as well as his own son. For all she knew, he could’ve been sent by Robert Sullivan, and this Neils VanHorn character was just a figment of his imagination.

But she didn’t believe it.

Daegan was too passionate, too caring. He loved Jon. He loved her…or did he?

“I’m just doin’ my job,” the deputy reminded her. “You’re the one who reported that your boy was missing.” He turned his attention back to O’Rourke. “Now, just for the record, you’re saying you haven’t seen the boy today.”

“That’s right,” Daegan said through tight, flat lips.

“And you’ve got a ranch in Montana, but originally hailed from Boston, right?”

Daegan hesitated a heartbeat. “Yep.”

“And a long time ago you were the primary suspect in an unsolved murder case, the victim being your cousin Stuart Sullivan?”

A tic developed at the corner of Daegan’s jaw. “You’d have to ask the Boston police about that.”

For the first time Deputy Brown smiled. “We have,” he said in a voice that was oily as contaminated water. “I think you’d better come with me…”

Jon strained against the metal handcuffs, tears stinging his eyes at the pain caused by the harsh manacles digging into his raw skin. If only he could collapse his fingers a millimeter more, roll his thumb into his palm a bit tighter. Getting out of these cuffs was the first step to surprising the slimy man named VanHorn—Jon had gotten a glimpse of the name on his credit card when he’d pulled it out at a gas pump—and escaping.

“Hey, take it easy,” VanHorn called to the back of the van, his beady eyes flashing in the rearview mirror. “Who do you think you are—Houdini?” He snickered, as if he’d just cracked a hysterically funny joke. Asshole.

Jon stopped pulling on the cuffs and gritted his teeth. What a fool he’d been, falling into the smarmy guy’s trap. Ever since the man had closed him into the van, Jon had been watching and waiting, poised for escape. But in two days and nights trapped in the van and chained to the bed in a cheap motel room, his chance never came. VanHorn was always careful to lock him up to the metal grating in the back of the van. Even when they stopped to take a piss, the creep stood behind Jon, gun pointed at his back to keep him from bolting. Jon figured the man would slip up soon, as he’d been driving over forty-eight hours without sleep. VanHorn’s once-clean shaven jaw was mottled with blond stubble and his eyes were starting to sag.