Bringing Benjy Home (Security Ops) (8 page)

Trey leveled a steely look at her. “Yes,” he corrected her grimly, “I will. As soon as possible, as a matter of fact. This charade is over, and we both know it.”

“The only thing I know,” she said in exasperation, “is that you’re as dense as an Arkansas mule and twice as stubborn. I am your best hope for finding Benjy. Why won’t you accept that?”

“If you think that little scene in the motel room proved anything, you’re dead wrong,” he answered. He’d spent too many minutes staring down at that damn drawer, logic warring with involuntary, futile hope. He despised himself for having allowed himself to fall victim, even for a short time, to that immediate, desperate will to believe her. “The police found no evidence that Benjy had been there, and neither did we. I have some contacts to make while I’m in Boston, but there’s no reason for you to hang around until I’m finished, especially since we’ll be heading in opposite directions when we fly out of here.”

Jaida surveyed him impatiently. Never had she met a more obtuse man. “You can fly out—I’m not.”

He closed his eyes briefly in frustration. “All right, we’ll get you a train ticket. A bus,” he said at her shake of negation. “Woman, what the hell do you want? Is it your fee?” A jeering note entered his voice on the final word. He pulled his wallet from his back pocket. Twenty-four hours ago he would never have believed that he would offer to pay off the link fraud, but right now it seemed well worth it to be rid of her.

Eyes narrowed dangerously, Jaida wished she’d ordered some of that cream pie Elaine had offered, for the sheer pleasure of shoving it in Trey’s arrogant face. “Keep your money,” she shot back, leaning across the table toward him. “I don’t want it, and I’m growing tired of you. I’m staying, and I’ll continue the search for Benjy by myself. I promised to help your sister, and I’m not going to be deterred by the fact that her brother is a cretin. You can go flying back to California and dabble in your precious proof and evidence. I, on the other hand, am going to bring that sweet nephew of yours home again.”

“I don’t know what you think you’re going to prove by continuing this damn farce,” he snarled, his face close to hers. “It’s over, Jaida. You lost. He’s not at that damn motel—he never was. So why don’t you just give it up? And you
will
get on that plane, even if I have to forcibly carry you!”

With those words he shoved his plate out of the way and rose.

Elaine found his check and methodically rang it up on the register. “You know,” she told Trey chattily as she leaned over to hand him his change, “you’ve got pretty unusual coloring. That dark hair and those eyes, whooee!” She winked broadly. “I’ll just bet you have to fight women off with a stick.”

Trey’s voice was dry when he replied, “I usually try to be a bit more subtle than that.”

She chuckled. “Yep, it’s not too often a gal sees that combination in a male, and I’ve gone and got lucky enough to see it twice in two days.”

Jaida froze at the woman’s words. She knew what Elaine would say next, and the realization had nothing to do with her abilities. The physical reaction, which had only gotten stronger during her meal, began to make an ominous sense. Her headache picked up in intensity and her vision blurred.

“Course, the specimen yesterday wasn’t a man,” Elaine went on, tabulating Jaida’s bill. “And I just caught a glimpse of him as his mama carried him out the door. I don’t usually take to kids, but that one, I’m telling you, he was a charmer.” She looked at Trey consideringly, ignoring the stillness of his features. “He even had the same chin you do. Well, they say we all have a twin, and mister, yours is only pint-size.” She shook her head over the coincidence, then waited expectantly, Trey turned then and stared at Jaida. The look he gave her was so contemptuous, so filled with loathing, that she shuddered. Then he spun on his heel and walked out the door.

Jaida willed herself to action, reaching into her purse and extracting enough money for the bill.

“Gee, I’m sorry, hon,” Elaine said with a frown. “I don’t know what I said, but he seems real upset.”

Forcing a smile, Jaida reassured her. “Don’t worry, he’s having . . . a bad day.” She gazed in the direction Trey had disappeared, certain that for her the day was about to get worse.

Elaine leaned over and put her hand on Jaida’s shoulder. “Well, you just hang in there. That one is worth putting up with a few moods.”

Jaida started at the woman’s touch, resisting the impulse to jerk away. This woman had been kind to her, a stranger. She picked through the sensations transmitting from the touch, and when Elaine dropped her hand, Jaida smiled wanly at her. “You’ve been very nice,” she said simply. “Thanks for everything. And your bracelet, the one with the blue stones? It’s under the sink in the kitchen. The clasp broke when you were fixing the pipes.” She turned and walked toward the door.

Elaine looked puzzled and then her mouth made a perfect
O
. “Well, I’ll be. Now that you mention it, that was the last time I saw the darn thing. In the kitchen here at the diner . . . .”

She frowned as the door closed behind Jaida. “But how in the heck did she know about that?”

Chapter 5

On the small balcony outside his hotel room, Trey stared broodingly at the lights blanketing the city of Boston. Despite the hour, the sounds of horns and sirens still sliced through the night. Most of the city would be asleep, and he wished wearily that he were, too. Jaida had retired hours ago, while it was still daylight.

Jaida. Just thinking of the woman in the adjoining room had his muscles tensing. The scene following their departure from the diner had not been pleasant. Though she had steadfastly denied it, it was apparent that she’d used her time alone with the waitress to feed her that description of Benjy. There was no other explanation for the woman’s too-casual mention of a child who looked so much like Trey.

He closed his eyes in pain. The physical similarities that existed between him and Benjy mirrored their deeper emotional bond. A curious fluke of genetics had Benjy resembling his mother’s family completely, with no hint of his father. Benjy would undoubtedly grow up to look like his uncle. Certainly he’d inherited the Garrison chin, which would later become a minor nuisance to shave. But Trey had always hoped the boy would take after his mother in all the ways that counted, with her sweet disposition and sense of wonder about the world. He didn’t remember ever being that young and innocent, and had vowed from the first second he’d laid eyes on his nephew to do everything in his power to ensure Benjy retained that quality. He’d promised himself that he’d protect the boy, the same way he’d tried to protect Lauren when they were kids.

And he’d failed Benjy as completely as he had his mother almost thirty years ago.

Trey’s eyes snapped open, and his fists clenched involuntarily. He’d been down that road of guilt often enough in the past, when the nights got too dark, and the solitude too oppressive. He’d been unable to take care of Lauren, but he’d been a boy himself at the time. Now was different; he was different. And nothing on this earth was going to keep him from finding his nephew and bringing him home.

He rubbed a hand over his face. It had been an incredibly long, frustrating two days, and his mind refused to relax. If he’d had his way he’d be halfway back to L.A. by now. But Jaida had thwarted those plans by her obstinate refusal to return to Arkansas. Maybe it was wounded pride—probably it was something more mercenary—but she’d been steadfast in her determination to continue the search. She hadn’t backed down from his fury, and her temper had reflected his own. He’d finally brought her here and booked her a room, in an effort to avoid a charge of homicide. Justifiable, he added mentally, in light of some of the churlish adjectives she’d hurled at him.

He’d checked in with Lauren earlier. The disappointment in his sister’s voice had left Trey with the desire to hit something. He’d soothed her as best he could, unwilling to give her any more false hope. Then he’d asked to talk to Mac. It was the memory of that conversation that kept him sitting out on the hotel balcony, too keyed up to sleep.

There had been no new developments in the investigation on that end, either. Mac had reported on the results of Lauren’s doctor appointment that day. It would still be some time before Lauren would be able to travel.

“When her physician gives us the go-ahead,” Trey had told him grimly, “we have to be prepared to move her immediately.” If Penning had indeed traced Lauren to L.A. and ordered the kidnapping, every day she spent in her home left her in constant danger from her husband. Despite his faith in his partner, and the heavy security surrounding her home, Trey wouldn’t rest easy until Lauren was in a new location.

“I’m way ahead of you,” Mac had answered. “I already have a place in mind. Raine’s folks have a cabin in Black Forest, Colorado. It’s at the foot of the Rockies and pretty isolated. I think it has enough security to satisfy both of us.”

“Sounds perfect,” Trey had agreed. “Make the arrangements, but don’t mention anything to Lauren about it.” Trey knew his sister would be reluctant to leave her home, which was filled with memories of her son. And if Penning did prove to be behind Benjy’s disappearance, Trey doubted his ability to ever make her feel completely safe again.

He prowled the small balcony broodingly. He’d dialed his contact with the Bureau after he’d spoken to Mac, but had hung up frustrated. Despite around-the-clock surveillance, there was still no evidence that William Penning even knew of Benjy’s existence, much less arranged his kidnapping. They had picked up one detail, however, which they were pursuing. Penning’s parents were on an extended tour of Europe and were not expected back to the States for another two weeks. At that time Penning was planning to vacation with them at his family’s beach home on the Cape.

He sighed deeply and rubbed at eyes burning from lack of sleep. His mind wouldn’t quit until it came up with his next plan of action, but his options at this point were limited. That would explain the knot in his gut. His place right now was with Lauren, not chasing across the country after some psychic phony.

He needed to get rid of Jaida. The words were a litany running through his mind. He’d indulged his sister’s whim, but as long as Jaida was involved, Lauren would cling to her false hopes and unrealistic expectations.

It was with that thought in mind that he headed determinedly for the door that led to the adjoining room. It opened easily. Jaida had obviously been in such a hurry to get some sleep she hadn’t bothered to lock it. Not that a locked door would have kept him from this confrontation. He didn’t feel any guilt at all about waking her in the middle of the night. She was partially responsible for his own sleeplessness, and if she had been true to her intentions, she’d been asleep a full eight hours already. Which was more than he was likely to get, at this rate.

He stalked silently to her bedside. She lay practically buried under the extra blankets she’d heaped on the bed, despite the rather warm temperature in the room. Her hair shone in the darkness. Unwillingly, he remembered the one time he’d given in to the urge to touch it, to wrap a strand around his finger and stroke its silkiness. He’d had an ulterior motive for weakening her defenses then—was it only yesterday? But he didn’t deny to himself that he’d found pleasure in the action, as well. A man didn’t have to like a woman, or trust her, to find her appealing on another, less discriminating level.

He’d always been an extremely light sleeper. He’d always needed to be. But Jaida slumbered peacefully, unaware of his presence. He sank gingerly to the edge of her bed, watching her. All that was visible beneath the cocoon of blankets was that mass of pale hair and her profile, as pure and delicate as a cameo. He knew well that nature had a way of masking even evil intentions with pleasant disguises. The most beautiful face could hide the soul of a harlot; the kindest demeanor could cover a terrorist. But there was something about sleep and moonlight that lent an air of innocence to this woman.

Deliberately, Trey clicked on the lamp on the bedside table. When Jaida still did not stir, he called her name and shook the bed urgently. “Wake up.”

Frowning, Jaida snuggled down farther under the blankets, shielding her eyes from the lamp’s light.

Trey paused for a moment, then in a louder voice he said, “Come on, Jaida, wake up. I want to talk to you.”

The form under the mound of blankets remained motionless.

He stood abruptly, grasped the blankets and yanked them to the foot of the bed.

The sudden loss of her enveloping warmth roused Jaida as nothing else could. Grumbling sleepily, she rolled over in bed, searching for the blankets without opening her eyes.

If Trey’s action had left Jaida feeling chilled, it had the opposite effect on him. Slow heat bloomed in his belly. She was decently covered in a sleeveless satin gown. But it had crawled up during the night, leaving an alluring portion of her slim legs bare. The gown’s dark purple color glowed against her skin, and her hair streaming over it shone like a precious stone on a bed of velvet.

He wasn’t even aware of moving. Sinking back down on the bed, he reached for her, filling his hand with streamers of her tresses. Then his hand moved, unbidden, as though charting its own journey. It smoothed a path up one silky shoulder and across to her graceful neck. The current that sparked immediately at his touch was becoming familiar. One finger lingered on the pulse beating beneath her jaw. The rhythm of her pulse accelerated sharply.

His gaze drifted to the vee of the gown’s neckline, to the hint of shadowy cleavage. Feeling like a voyeur, he still made no move to retreat. He watched, fascinated, as her lips parted and her breathing became more ragged. Then her eyes slowly opened, and she looked at him fixedly.

The dark-blue stare was slightly unfocused, as if she were still not quite alert. “It wasn’t your fault,” she mumbled, her voice raspy. “You were only a boy—you couldn’t help it. Too young.” A shudder racked her then, as though she were overtaken with a chill. “Much too young . . . to take care of Lauren.”

He froze for a second as her words washed over him, an instant replay of his earlier thoughts. Then he snatched his hand away and sprang up.

Their gazes clashed for long, charged seconds, before Jaida shuddered again and turned away. Seeing the blankets in a heap at the foot of the bed, she leaned over and caught the edge of one, hauling it up to wrap around herself.

He couldn’t think, couldn’t move. “Woman, who the hell are you?” he muttered finally, staring keenly at her. “
What
are you?”

Jaida refused to look at him. He’d awakened her from as sound a sleep as she’d ever known, and she was as shaken as he by the response he’d evoked. She’d never slept with someone beside her, had never been awakened by a touch. It was decidedly disconcerting to learn that her unconscious was as psychic as her alert mind. She was dazed and dismayed by the realization. And the fact that she’d found out now, with this man, was even more alarming.

“What do you want? It’s still dark outside.”

“It’s only 3:00 a.m.,” he affirmed. She was huddled in the center of the bed, shrouded in that blanket, her head lowered. He had the uncanny notion that she was hiding from him. “I wanted to talk to you.”

She pushed her hair over one shoulder, still refusing to look at him. “It couldn’t wait until morning?”

Her question hung in the air between them. Yes, he fervently wished he had waited until morning. He wished he hadn’t seen her, half bare and erotically arousing in this bed. He wished he hadn’t touched that pale tangle of hair again, or noticed the slim lines of her body. But most of all, he wished he hadn’t awakened her, hadn’t heard that strange husky rasp, so unlike her usual melodic drawl, repeat an echo from his mind.

There would come a time in the morning, after he’d slept, when a rational explanation for this scene would no doubt become apparent to him. But right now, arriving on the heels of his heightened awareness of her, it was downright spooky.

When he said nothing else, she raised her head and turned cautiously in his direction. “Trey?” she said, her voice tentative. “What’s the real reason you didn’t tell Lauren we were coming to Boston?”

He was silent for so long that she feared he wouldn’t answer her at all. His voice was low, reluctant, when he finally spoke. “Lauren had married a wealthy lawyer, and they were living here when I found her. Her husband, a man by the name of William Penning, controlled her, abused her. He treated her the way he would a piece of property. His jealousy ruined their marriage. I arranged for her to get away from him, and I believed he didn’t know where she was.”

“Or of Benjy’s existence,” Jaida murmured.

He looked sharply at her. “Or of Benjy’s existence,” he agreed.

“Do you think he found her? Did he arrange the kidnapping?”

“I don’t have any reason to believe that,” he said deliberately.

She didn’t need his words to tell her that he’d never trusted her, not when he’d asked for her help, and most certainly not now, despite what had passed between them. Something had happened to Trey Garrison, made him close out the world, eyeing it with suspicion. Only a very select few were allowed inside that barricade he’d erected around his emotions. She’d sensed that since she’d met him. But instead of finding it maddening now, she was curiously empathetic to the events that must have built those inner walls, brick by brick.

The feeling was frightening. She didn’t want to know Trey any better, didn’t want to like him or to understand him. He was getting too close to her, having too strong an effect on her to be ignored. If she had any choice in the matter he wouldn’t have to urge her to return home—she’d hightail it back to her safe Arkansas Valley in no time.

She’d run home and hide, just as she had before.

The voice inside jeered at her. That was what she’d done when life had become too complicated to handle. But that time had been nothing like this. She hadn’t run from one man then; he’d fled the crowds under the bright lights, the people who’d come to hear her sing and who thought they owned a part of her because they’d paid the price of the ticket.

But she wasn’t running this time. She had to bring that baby home to his mother. She raised a fatalistic gaze to the man staring at her unrelentingly from across the room. He looked no more eager than she to continue this odd relationship of theirs.

A sudden thought struck her. “When you found out that the Glenview Motel was close to Boston you must have suspected Penning right away.”

“He’s always been a suspect,” Trey acknowledged. “He’s being watched.”