Born To Be Wild (6 page)

After signaling one of the uniformed men to keep Micah and Isabel back, Ochoa stopped Whitley and started questioning him.

The man’s expression was outraged. “A stolen kid? I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!”

Micah wanted to shake the whereabouts of his daughter out of the man. Not that he dared, with the uniformed officer now standing between them and the man in question.

“We have a witness, Mr. Whitley,” the detective said. “The witness claims he saw Lucy Falcon yesterday afternoon in a car with plates registered to you.”

“Then he’s lying!”

“Please let us have our daughter back!” Isabel pleaded from where they’d been forced to wait.

Micah put an arm around her. She leaned into him and clung to him for support.

“I was at work yesterday afternoon,” Whitley said. “If you don’t believe me, call my supervisor.”

“Your supervisor was with you every moment?” Ochoa asked.

“Well, no, but—”

“Where’s the other car?” Micah demanded. He let go of Isabel and tried to step closer to Whitley, but the uniformed officer put out an arm to stop him.

“What other car? Do I look like I can afford two cars?”

Ochoa said, “The one with the plates with the numbers one-two-two-five.”

“It’s right there.” Whitley pointed at it, then frowned in obvious surprise. “What the—? Someone stole my plates!”

The car had license plates, Micah realized, but not the ones they’d expected to see.

Whitley went back to his car and opened the passenger door. He rummaged around in the glove compartment and pulled out a piece of paper. Then he stomped back to the detective and shoved it in his face. “My registration. Black Ford. Vanity plate number 1225TW.”

“How do we know you didn’t switch the plates yourself?” Micah asked.

“I haven’t done anything wrong!” the man insisted.

Micah looked past him to the detective, who shrugged, and said, “I believe him, Mr. Wild. Someone must have stolen his license plates to mislead authorities in case someone saw your daughter in the car.”

Isabel cried, “How will we ever find the kidnapper now? You know she’s been taken,” she said to the detective. “What about putting out an Amber Alert?”

Micah knew they normally only put out an alert if they had a description of who took the child, but they had the license plate number…assuming the plate was still on the black car.

The detective pulled out his cell phone. “I was just about to make that call.” He glanced at Whitley, who stood there glowering at them all, then Ochoa said, “Maybe the two of you ought to go home and leave the investigation to me.”

Hell, no. As if he would sit around and do nothing, Micah thought. He nodded to Whitley. “Sorry we bothered you, sir.”

The man’s belligerent expression softened. “Hey, listen. I hope you get your kid back soon.”

“Thank you,” Isabel ground out as she climbed into the truck.

Micah headed the vehicle back toward Isabel’s place where they could take a breather and come up with another way to track down their child.

He thought about Isabel’s saying she didn’t understand why Lucy would get in a car with a stranger. It did sound as though Lucy had been drugged, though she hadn’t been unconscious. Another option was that she hadn’t been feeling well, so she’d accepted a ride with someone she knew and trusted. A dozen possibilities of how Lucy had been taken and how to find her kept whirling through his head. But he refused to take that next step and speculate on
why
she’d been taken.

Isabel looked at him, the despair in her eyes mirroring the terrible questions swirling through his mind. But neither of them dared speak them aloud.

Why?

Why Lucy?

It was the one thing a parent really didn’t want to know.

Chapter Six

Arriving at Isabel’s casita, they left the pickup and went up the walkway in silence. Isabel unlocked the door, swung it open, and stopped dead in the entryway. Micah saw her entire body tense as if something had startled her.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, coming up directly behind her.

Then he saw what she did—an envelope on the tile floor.

Isabel’s hand shook as she covered her mouth. “What if it’s a ransom note? We’re not rich people…what if we can’t come up with enough money?”

“We won’t know what it is until we actually read the note.” A ransom note would be a relief. He could deal with greed.

Micah edged around her and swept it up from the floor by the very corner so as not to destroy possible fingerprints. He pulled the single sheet from the envelope in the same careful manner and let it drop open so they could both see it.

She shook her head and averted her eyes. “You read it.”

Fearing she might collapse on the spot, Micah pulled her into the living room and to a couch. “Sit. We’ll read it together.” Waiting until she was seated next to him, he held up the sheet.

“That’s Lucy’s handwriting!” she gasped.

Micah quickly scanned the note.

Dear Ms. Falcon —

I just wanted you to know I’m okay, that I’m not hurt. Like I was in the bus accident. Please don’t look for me and don’t go to the police again. I’m where I’m supposed to be for now.

Love, Lucy

“Ms. Falcon? Not Mom?” Isabel burst into tears. “
Ms. Falcon?
I don’t believe this. I’ve never given Lucy any reason to want to leave home!”

Though Micah had wondered about the possibility of Lucy running away earlier, he didn’t believe it for a minute now. Not even if Lucy and Isabel had been fighting. He didn’t know a kid who got along with his or her parents all the time, but the way Lucy had worded the note…it had to be some kind of message.

“That’s not what she said,” Micah assured Isabel. “The letter is worded very carefully. My guess is Lucy was forced to write this to throw us off. She’s trying to tell us something.”

Pain cut through him. His little girl must be terrified, and yet he was certain she was trying to send them a hidden message. Reading the note again, Micah was certain of it. He set it down on the coffee table next to the envelope.

“I should call Detective Ochoa,” Isabel managed, swiping the tears from her cheeks.

“Good idea. He might be able to get fingerprints.” Micah had been very careful not to leave his prints all over the note.

Her hands shaking, Isabel punched in Ochoa’s number, and when he answered, told him about the note.

“I doubt there’ll be prints, but you never know,” Ochoa said over the speakerphone. “And there may be other forensic evidence left on it. I’ll send an officer around to collect it right away.”

When the squad car pulled up in front of the house a few minutes later, Micah let the guy in. The officer wore gloves to lift the note and envelope into an evidence bag.

“I tried to touch it as little as possible,” Micah said.

“Good,” the cop said. “Detective Ochoa will have it run through forensics right away.” He took the evidence bag and left.

Isabel had remained dead silent. She was standing frozen in the middle of the room looking lost and scared.

“I’d feel better if they’d asked for ransom,” she said. “Then at least the motive would be money. This…”

Although Micah knew a ransom wouldn’t necessarily mean whoever took Lucy wouldn’t hurt Lucy anyway, he agreed. This was far worse.

“Who would take Lucy? And why?” Isabel asked, more distraught than ever. Finally voicing the question foremost in both their minds

“Maybe someone who has reason to dislike her family. Someone with a grudge against the Wilds? Or something to do with your news photography—an enemy you somehow made?”

Or was it some pervert who’d taken their daughter to abuse her?

Micah wasn’t putting that one on the table. He didn’t want to believe it. Didn’t even want to
think
about it. He told himself there had to be another reason.

Isabel was sobbing now, as if she feared they’d already lost the battle.

Micah grasped Isabel’s arms. “I am
not
giving up. And you aren’t, either. You’re a fighter.”
How well he remembered
. “Lucy is all right—”

“She has to be.” Her lips trembled with the words.

“She
is
. And you have to be strong for her, so whatever it is you’re feeling, get rid of it now. Let go of what you’re holding back. Let it all out, it’s okay.”

A glittering river rolled down her cheeks.

“Good. More,” he urged. “Scream. Throw something. Punch me, if it’ll make you feel better.”

To his astonishment, Isabel screamed.

And screamed.

And screamed.

And then she hit him. Once. Twice. Again. She hit him with the flat of her hands against his chest and arms over and over, but Micah wouldn’t have flinched even if she’d actually punched him, though he knew exactly how hard she could hit.

This was about more than today or yesterday. This was about more than Lucy being taken.

This was about last year, and the one before that, and the one before that. All the years they’d been apart and Isabel raising Lucy on her own.

It was about what had happened between them twelve years ago. Or rather, what hadn’t happened…

Unable to stand the hurt he’d caused her, Micah took her in his arms, and she clung to him, grabbed his shirt in a tight fist. With her sobbing against his shoulder, he realized a truth he’d tried to bury.

No matter the obstacles they’d both managed to create between them, he’d never stopped loving her throughout all these years. He didn’t know how he’d ever gone on without her.

He hadn’t been living—he’d simply been existing.

But what about her?
Had she done the same? Or…

Pain uncoiled deep inside him, threatened to swallow him whole. He couldn’t tolerate a future with more of the same.

But it would take two to create change.

Would Isabel even consider forgiving him?

…

When every emotion had drained from her, and she didn’t have one tear left to cry, Isabel took a deep, shuddering breath. She was so exhausted she could hardly think. Or move. Not that she could sleep, not when surely there must be
something
she could do to help find Lucy.

Embarrassed that Micah had seen her like this—weak and so needy—she tried to pull away, but he held onto her.

She shook her head. “I’m so exhausted. Maybe a shower…”

“Good start.” He guided her toward the bathroom.

She felt so drained she could hardly move herself. When he got her into the bathroom and let go of her, she just stood there.

“Are you going to be all right?” he asked.

Isabel shook her head. “I don’t know that I’ll ever be all right again.”

“We’re going to get our girl back.”

So he kept saying. She just prayed he was correct. Weak-kneed, she put a hand to the wall for support and gave him a bleak smile. “I-I need to wash away the disappointment.” But she still couldn’t move.

Micah stepped past her into the walk-in glass enclosure, turned on the rain-shower, and adjusted it. “There. It’s perfect now. All you have to do is get your clothes off and step inside.”

“Okay.” But still she couldn’t find it in her to pull off her top or jeans—forget taking the first step toward the shower.

With a soft curse, Micah hooked an arm around her waist and firmly backed her up into the shower fully clothed. When he tried to let go of her, she wouldn’t let him. She pulled him in with her, clung to him as if he were her lifeline. Which, she suddenly realized, he truly was. For now, at least.

He slipped an arm around her and leaned back to look at her. She reached up and touched his wet face with shaking fingers as water poured over them both.

He was so strong. So gentle. So positive they’d get their Lucy back, while her own mind screamed with doubt.

She needed his comfort.

At this moment, she needed him.

Sliding a hand around his neck, she tugged at him until he dropped his head low enough that she could touch his lips with hers. Watching him, she saw his expression change, his eyes darken, his features harden.

“Isabel—”

“Please,” she whispered.

And then with a groan he was kissing her, and she was kissing him, and for a few blessed minutes her unbearable thoughts switched off, and this moment was all that existed in the world.

He pushed her against the tiled wall, flattening his hands on either side of her head, all the while ravishing her mouth like a man starving for the taste of her. She arched into him, her breasts against his chest, capturing his hard length with the softness hidden by her thighs. She moved against him until he groaned and then ground into her. Suddenly his hands slipped between them, his thumbs finding her nipples through her top and bra. She found him, too, stroking his tantalizing length through his jeans with an urgency that made her head go light.

He slipped a hand down her stomach, pulling down the zipper of her jeans. She was already on fire. Rubbing and stroking her through the fabric between her thighs, he thrust his tongue so far into her mouth, it made her think of the first time she’d gone down on him. She sucked at him and teased his tongue with her teeth, all the while moving her hips against his fingers.

When he plunged his hand into her open jeans, inside her panties, she gasped and cried out. One touch directly to her clit, and her mind and body lit with fireworks. He pressed her and caressed her and made her come and come and come while she stroked him through the rough denim. Her hand was trembling, but she felt his release even as he collapsed against her.

They remained that way, pressed against the wall together, water beating down on them, for what seemed like forever.

Finally, her mind began to clear. The physical sensations had drained all the negative energy that had held her captive. She stirred under Micah, and he levered himself away from the wall.

He brushed his lips against hers and said, “I’ll give you some privacy while I get a change of clothes from the back of the pickup.”

She wanted to say something about what had just happened, but she couldn’t find the words. Truthfully, she didn’t know what to say, because she didn’t know how she felt about it.

She watched him as he slipped from the shower and dripped his way across her bathroom floor. Then she stripped. The boots were the hardest to get off wet, and they were ruined. She threw them in the wastebasket, then got back in the shower and quickly washed every inch of her, including her hair. Though she expected that Micah would rejoin her once he’d fetched his dry clothes, he didn’t come near the bathroom until she left it wrapped in a towel. He’d removed his boots and shirt, but he was still wearing his wet jeans, and carrying a pair of dry ones.

“We should get some grub,” was all he said before closing the bathroom door on her.

Well, what had she expected?

What did she even want? She should be grateful she felt alive again, shouldn’t need anything more from the encounter.

Only, there was a part of her that did want more. A lot more. Not just the sex. But the holding. And the kissing. The needing, and the being needed. The feeling of being one with another person.

With Micah Wild.

The only man she’d ever loved.

…

By the time Micah got out of the bathroom, fully dressed this time except for the boots drying outside, Isabel had pulled food from the refrigerator. Micah smiled to himself. She was finally hungry enough to eat.

She threw the leftover fast food burger she’d ignored the night before into the microwave, not caring that it would turn the roll to mush. His smile faded. She looked…angry?

She had a right to be angry with him…but after what had just happened? Or maybe that’s what had made her angry, the fact that she’d given in to something she hadn’t wanted—him. The thought burned him. He wanted her. Loved her. Had been lost without her. Didn’t she feel
anything
for him any more?

When she removed her burger from the microwave, he traded places with her to heat up a mug of coffee. Caffeine to keep him upright.

What had happened in the shower had been inevitable, Micah thought. And it remained unfinished in his mind. He could take her again, drive the point home that they’d always belonged together, but touching her before they both had a chance to come to grips with their emotions would be a tremendous mistake. The few minutes of contact in the shower had been a stress reliever, nothing more.

Or so he tried to convince himself.

Any further “discussion” between them, whether physical or otherwise, could wait.

Lucy couldn’t.

The cosmos must have been in tune with his thoughts, for even as he brought his coffee to the table, his cell phone rang. Setting down his mug, he checked the caller ID.

“It’s Gramps.”

Isabel kept eating, didn’t say a word, didn’t so much as meet his gaze. Yep. Definitely angry.

Feeling uncomfortable at her silence, Micah answered. “Hey, Gramps, what’s up?”

“I take it you haven’t found Lucy or you woulda called.”

“No, we had a lead, but unfortunately it didn’t pan out.”

“Figures.”

Micah told his grandfather about the switched license plates. And about the strange note from Lucy. The old man grunted at the last.

“I couldn’t just do nothing. So I got the family to agree to meet. You and Isabel have an hour to get to Soledad. We’ll be at the Gecko Saloon.”

“You want to meet at a bar?” Micah sat and piled some potato salad on his plate. “What’s wrong with the ranch house?”

He was picking up a fork when Gramps said, “We got to meet on neutral ground.”

Micah pierced a chunk of potato, started, then let go of the fork. “Wait. I don’t get it. Who is we? You said family.”

“Right. Lucy’s family. The Wilds and the Falcons. I went to the cemetery, had a talk with Hector this morning, asked for his help. And it came to me that we needed to work together to figure out who’s taken away our girl.”