Son of a Gun (26 page)

“Now it’s ‘Hugh’?”

“Okay, my adopted father never saw me as his son.”

“Maybe not, but nothing you’ve said proves that to me. Most men treat first sons differently than their younger brothers. One of my psychology professors said that men look for images of themselves in the firstborn. When they see their own faults, they feel compelled to make sure their sons overcome them. They relax more with the sons who are born after that.”

“Nice in theory.”

“Want to hear about my family?”

“Have we run out of every topic under the sun?”

“No, but I think it’s time you know what kind of stock I come from, since you’re into that kind of superficiality. When I was six years old, my mother called me into the living room and announced to me and my father that she needed time to go and find herself.

“I thought we were talking about a game of hide-and-seek until she brought out the luggage and kissed me goodbye and said she didn’t know when she’d be back. I stood at the door screaming for her not to leave me. That’s one of the most vivid memories of my childhood.”

“Did she find herself?”

“No, but she found Jim the barber, Raphael the tennis pro and Simon the hairdresser. I could go on.”

“You met all of these lovers?”

“No, but my father told me about them so that I would be sure to know that my mother was a tramp. Then one day he proved how noble he was by not coming home from work. Not ever coming home again.”

“What happened to him?”

“No one knows. Looking back, I suspect he got tired of being a father the way my mother had gotten tired of being a mother. I began my tour of foster homes.”

“You seem to have done a great job of moving past all of that.”

“I handle it well now—for the most part. At age six, it devastated me. Fortunately, at age eleven I ended up with the smartest and most caring foster mother a girl could ever wish for. She turned my life around and helped me crawl out from under the shell built by the cutting sands of rejection.”

“I’m glad you left your shell.”

“I left that one. Now I’m working on the one that Caudillo buried me under. But I’m making progress. Thanks to the Lamberts—one Lambert in particular.” She snuggled against him, and his will to fight his feelings for her grew weaker. He ached to make love to her, but he wouldn’t. Not until the time was right and Caudillo was out of her life for good. For now, he’d have to be satisfied with holding her close.

He was a long way from making peace with the fact that he was not Carolina and Hugh’s son. But he had Emma in his arms and Caudillo on his radar.

He’d deal with the rest in time.

* * *

IT WAS NINE IN THE MORNING and Damien had just finished going over the day’s work schedule with his crew of wranglers when he got a call from Durk.

“I’m surprised to hear from you this early. I know you haven’t had time to meet with Delaney yet.”

“Actually, we met at eight for coffee.”

“Had Delaney ever heard of Caudillo?”

“Oh, yeah. He says the compound on Enmascarado Island has been raided twice in the past five years. Both times they worked with Caribbean officials. Once, the on-site warehouse was filled with bananas. The second time, it was stacked high with burlap bags of cashew nuts.”

“So he obviously was expecting them. How did Delaney react to my suspicions that someone in the ATF is responsible for the leaks?”

“He was open to the possibility. They’ve currently moved their focus to stopping Caudillo from getting his hands on the weapons in the first place, rather than apprehending him with the goods.”

“That’s obviously not working for them, either.”

“Delaney acknowledged that.”

“What about the kidnappings? Have they investigated those?”

“I know you don’t want to hear this, Damien, but Delaney was skeptical about the kidnapping claim, especially after I’d told him about the marriage license.”

“Emma’s telling the truth.”

“In your opinion. Delaney sees it from a different perspective. He says Caudillo is known worldwide as a playboy, and women flock to him. He has a yacht. He has money. And according to Delaney he’s a sophisticated charmer.”

“That’s pretty much the reaction I expected,” Damien said, “and the reason I didn’t go straight to the CIA or the FBI with this myself.”

“The good news is that Delaney liked your idea pretty much just as you outlined it. Now the challenge is getting clearance to put it into action.”

“I hope they’re careful with the wording of the leak. Caudillo is crafty. You don’t want him figuring out this is a trap.”

“Do you have a wording suggestion?”

“Something like, ‘Unsubstantiated reports indicate that an ATF official in the Nashville office will be charged within the next day or two with unethical behavior that may have led to countless deaths along our southern borders.’”

“That may be too vague,” Durk said.

“I don’t think so. Caudillo will get the message and so will his source, and they’re the only ones we’re targeting.”

“Good point. Let Tague know where we are on this.”

“Will do. Did Delaney give you odds on whether or not his plan would be approved?”

“He says it’s a long shot, so don’t start thinking of it as a done deal. They’ve already extended a lot of manpower and expense on apprehending Caudillo with no positive results.”

“This time could be the charm.” Damien was counting on it.

When the conversation was finished, he made a call to the same security agency he’d used two years ago when Carolina had received a couple of threatening letters. Turned out they had been from a harmless crackpot in Dallas who had opposing political views.

But the company had done a great job of covering the ranch with a protective net of agents. Not that his wranglers weren’t crack shots. And they carried guns with them for protection against copperheads and water moccasins.

At this point, there was no reason to suspect Caudillo knew that Emma was at Bent Pine or connected with him in any way. But with things heating up, Damien would leave nothing to chance.

* * *

“YOU HAVE TO WASH UNDER her chin, Damien. Just move her head so that you can. She won’t break.”

“She’s got three chins. Which one do I get under?”

“All of them.”

Giving Belle a bath proved to be more than Damien bargained for. Now he just wanted it over. “Do you think she actually needs a bath? It’s not like she’s been playing in the dirt.”

“No, but she poops and urinates and spits up. And think of all the hands that touch her during the day.”

“But she’s so slippery when she’s wet and soapy. What if she slides from your hands while I’m doing the washing?”

“She won’t. Oops, you missed under her arms.”

“C’mon. I know she hasn’t been sweating. It’s January.”

“I think you’re afraid of Belle, Damien.”

“I am. She wiggles and squirms and kicks, and her head’s not screwed on tight. Every time I hold her, I’m afraid I’ll let something fall I’m supposed to be holding up.”

“She’s fragile but not that fragile.” Emma’s smile gave him a bit of moral support.

“Have you heard anything from the detective who’s searching for Belle’s father?” she asked, switching topics.

“Not since our trip to Fort Worth.”

“I wonder how long children’s services will let Belle stay here if we don’t find her father.”

“Won’t they just leave her until we call and say come get her?”

“Hardly. Not without paperwork. Babies don’t go by the finders-keepers rule, Damien. And they’re not like an unbranded calf. I strongly suspect your mother has been pulling strings to keep her here this long.”

“But Belle’s fine here. It’s not like she’s homeless,” Damien protested.

“Officially, she is. I’m sure there’s some kind of time restriction on how long she can stay with us before she goes into foster care.”

“Now, that makes a lot of sense. Take her away from this home, where she has a houseful of honorary grandmas, great-aunts and uncles, only to have to go searching for another family to take her in.”

“That’s government agencies for you.” Emma lifted Belle from the baby tub of water and held her while Damien unfolded the towel and wrapped it around her dripping body.

Damien’s cell phone rang. He checked the ID, hoping it was Durk with word from Delaney. The number came up as unavailable.

“Hello.”

“I’m calling to talk to my wife. Is Emma there?”

Chapter Fifteen

Damien took the phone and walked out of Emma’s earshot. “Who the hell is this?”

“There’s no need for rudeness. I just have a message for my wife.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“Tell her I miss her and I hope she’s thinking about all the lovely, romantic evenings we spent together. And that I plan to see her soon.”

“You depraved son of a bitch. How dare you call here?”

“How dare you try to steal my wife?”

There was a click and then the line went dead.

Fury raged inside Damien. He didn’t dare let Emma see him like this. She’d know right away that something had gone terribly wrong. He shoved the phone into his pocket and stamped out the back door.

The armed guard watching the back of the house from an inconspicuous spot looked up and nodded. Damien nodded back. He’d up the alert level when he calmed down enough to meet with the man in charge. But talking to Durk couldn’t wait.

“The urgency just ratcheted up a dozen notches,” he said when Durk answered the call.

“What happened?”

“Caudillo knows that Emma is with me.” Damien filled him in. “Get in touch with Delaney. See where we stand.”

“Okay, I’ll get back to you right away and let you know what I find out.”

Damien was talking to the head of the security agency when Durk called back.

“Okay, bro. I filled Delaney in about the call from Caudillo. I think that got his attention and convinced him that Caudillo may be in the States and not on his yacht, which is currently off the coast of South America. He called me back five minutes later. The plan is a go, but the CIA also wants a team in place at the Bent Pine.”

Damien’s stomach muscles unclenched for the first time since Caudillo’s call. “Now you’re talking. When?”

“Everything’s going down immediately, but only if Emma agrees to the CIA’s terms. They’ll send a team out from Dallas to pick her up and hold her under their protection at a safe location until the danger has passed.”

“I can keep her safe.”

“Don’t blow this whole operation because of one simple concession, Damien. If you want Caudillo, take the deal. Delaney doesn’t think he’ll actually show up at the ranch. If he were going to do that, he wouldn’t have signaled his intentions with that phone call. He thinks it far more likely he’ll silence his source and then just move on. After all, Caudillo neutralized a lot of the damage Emma could do to him with that marriage license. Now she’s just an angry wife with no real proof. It’s her word against his.”

“In that case, Delaney shouldn’t have any problem with me taking Emma away from the ranch and keeping her safe.”

“Not going to happen. They don’t want any family members on the ranch, either. You can all stay at my condo in Dallas.”

“Great. Tague can drive the others to Dallas. I’m staying on the Bent Pine. If Caudillo shows up here, I plan to be part of the welcoming party.”