DAIR (15 page)

I’d graduated from conflicted to just missing her by then.

Of course, no one that big ever went down alone, and as numerous dangerous figures became implicated in the crimes, the danger to Francis Baker, as she was known, was overwhelming.
 

It all came to a head just days after she finished testifying.
 
The story went that, while in transit, at a stoplight, a van pulled up beside the car she was being transported in, and six men in ski masks jumped out of said van.
 

She was dragged from the car, and her driver and one of her bodyguards, who were both wounded in the attack, witnessed her being shot at point blank, in the temple.
 
One of her bodyguards was also reportedly killed, a big blond man, they said, though no name was divulged.
 

I was devastated, though I didn’t believe, at first, that any of it was true.
 

It was just too convenient, her disappearing forever only after completing her mission.
   

It’s not like it would be the first time she’d faked her own death.

But weeks turned into months, months to years, with still no word from her, or even
of
her, and I began to believe.
   

EPILOGUE

TWO YEARS AFTER THE TRIAL

I was jogging through the park park, just outside my neighborhood.
 
It was rare outside weather for Vegas.
 
We got about one day of it a year, and I figured I should take advantage.
 

I was stopping to take a drink and tighten a shoelace when I felt something.
 
An odd sensation across the back of my neck that had me looking up and then around, doing nearly a full circle before I spotted what it was that had disrupted my peace of mind.
 

It was Heath, the bastard, striding towards me, his hard eyes on me as though no time had passed.
 

It was a shock to see him, to say the least.
 

A shock and a joy, as he was connected to Iris, and anything connected to her, anything that could give me information, or even closure, was what I had most desired to see these two long, lost years.
 

But that wasn’t the thing that had a weight pressing in on my chest like concrete.
 

On his hip was a small child, a boy.
 

The boy was wrapped around him, head on his shoulder as though Heath was a normal human, instead of a Heath.
 

A human that the boy adored.
 

It was perturbing.
 
All of it.
 

But one thing in particular was the most perturbing of all.

The boy did not look like him.
 
It may have been his child, but he did not favor him.
 

The boy had messy brown hair, and as he drew closer, I saw his warm caramel eyes.
 
In fact, every feature of his face, from his straight little nose, to his tiny clenched jaw, and his pursed little mouth was familiar to me.
   

My heart seized up in the most horrible, wonderful way.
 
My teeth were clenched so hard my jaw ached.

It was indescribable, this feeling of absolute certainty and disbelief.
 

I could not take my eyes off that child, not from a distance and especially not when they got very close.
 

The boy could not take his eyes off me either.
 

His head straightened up from Heath’s shoulder as he studied me nearly as intently as I was studying him.
 

Heath ruffled the boy’s hair and kissed him on the forehead, like he’d done it a million times.
 
They were obviously close.
 

That made my eyes swing to him and glare.
 

Heath glared right back, but when he tilted his head and looked down at the boy, his eyes softened to unrecognizable.
 

He adored this child.
 

“This ‘im, Unca Heaf?” the child asked.
 

“Yeah, sport, it sure is.
 
Can’t you tell?
 
You look just like him.”
 

I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, couldn’t form a coherent thought, my whole astonished self wrapped up in this little person I’d only just set eyes on, only discovered existed an endless minute ago.
 

I tried to clear my throat, to say something, because I had questions I needed answers to, but it all escaped me, powerful emotion moving through me like a Mack truck, all of it rushing up to clog my throat and bring moisture to my eyes.
 

“Dair,” Heath said, his tone changing, cooling, of course, when he was talking to me.
 
“Meet Cameron Alasdair Masters.”
 

I almost fell to my knees right there.
 
What breath I had left was knocked clean out of me.
 

My middle name was Cameron.
   

She’d given him my
full
name, every piece of it.
 

If him looking like a miniature version of myself wasn’t enough to tell me who this child was, certainly the name did.

Little Cameron blinked his big eyes at me once, twice.
 
“Daddy?”
 
His voice was tentative, and it was clearly a question.
 

He knew who I was.
 
He’d been told about me.
 

Even the two year old was more apprised of the situation than I was.
 
He was clearly related to Iris and Heath.
 

I had to clear my throat three times to get my answer out.
 
“Yes,” I told my son emotionally.
 
“I’m your daddy.”
 

He reached out an arm to me, and I wasn’t sure what to do.
 

I shifted closer, even getting into Heath’s personal space to accommodate this little child’s silent request.

Cameron patted my shoulder, giving me a few expectant blinks.
 
“Hugs,” he said, tugging me into both him and Heath, forcing me and the other man into an awkward group hug.
 

Heath didn’t say one word, just let out a little protesting grunt and let the child have his way.
 

Carefully and determinedly, I peeled Cameron off and away from him, clutching him to me.
 
Holding my son for the very first time.

“Hugs,” I finally agreed, squeezing my eyes shut tight as his little arms wrapped snugly around my neck.
 

We stayed like that for a very long time; him burrowed into me, me taking deep breaths as I processed the fact that I was a
father
.

Finally, I looked up at Heath, who watched me back with a gimlet-eyed
Heath
expression.
 

“Is she . . . ?”
 
I couldn’t even finish the question.

“She’s alive and well, in protective custody until all of the things she needs protection from are taken care of, which shouldn’t be too much longer.
 
I’ve eliminated all but a few as of now.”

“She never even told me she was pregnant,” I said slowly, trying to keep my voice calm.
 

The shock was ebbing and some righteous anger was flowing right back in to take its place.
 

“She couldn’t.
 
She didn’t have the opportunity.
 
And she was trying to spare you the pain of thinking you’d lost them both, instead of just her.”
 

My voice was less calm as I shot back, “Over
two years
without a word.
 
How could she keep this from me for so long?
 
How could she keep
everything
from me?
 
I thought she was—”

Heath had not one iota of understanding or empathy in either his face or his words.
 
Just the opposite.
 
But that was Heath for you.
 
In this particular situation, it had an almost calming effect on me, strange as that was.

“You’re a fool,” he said, voice low.
 
“If she’d come to you earlier, she never could have stayed, not for any length of time.
 
And besides that, you know she’d never put you in danger.
 
For some reason I can’t
fathom
, she loves you.”

That had something painful and wonderful blooming deep in my chest.
 
In spite of everything, the time lost, the grief spent, the uncertainty and the confusion, I loved her still.
 
Even if it was coming from Heath, it was so good to hear that she was alive and well and might still love me back.
 

“Now, or soon, it will be safe for her to come to you, if you want that.
 
You haven’t moved on, so I assume you still want her?”

I didn’t hesitate, I’d had years to put things in perspective, but I could only nod.
 
I wasn’t capable of discussing my feelings with Heath.
 
That would be as pointless as explaining poetry to a fish.
 
Well, in this case, more like a shark.
 

He pulled a folded piece of paper out of his back pocket and thrust it at me.
 

I took it, shooting him a questioning look, unable to unfold it with only one hand.
 

“That’s a list of the things you’ll need for him.
 
If I were you, I’d head to the store right away.
 
Welcome to parenthood.
 
Hopefully you don’t suck at it, because you’re on your own for a month or so.”
 

“You-you’re leaving him with me?”

“What, you don’t want him?
 
I’m happy to take him back with me.”

“No, no, no, I didn’t mean that.
 
I want him.
 
I was just startled.”
 

Heath was ignoring me by then, his eyes on Cameron, his whole face transformed to give my son a loving smile.
   

“Remember what I told you, sport?”

“Grown-ups always come back,” Cameron said instantly, like he’d been taught to memorize it.

“That’s right.
 
We do.
 
So I’ll be back, and your mommy will be back.
 
And this time, you’ll all get to live together as a family.
 
Won’t that be awesome?”

“Awesome!” Cameron responded instantly.

After one last kiss on the top of Cameron’s head, Heath left.
 

I carried my child the entire way home.
 
I was sure he could have walked some of it, but I didn’t care.
 
I wasn’t letting him go.

We were nearly to the house when my son said, his little voice faulting, “Mommy misses you—daddy—she misses you
so much!”
 

I blinked rapidly, but that didn’t stop the tears from filling my eyes.
 
“I miss her too, son.
So much.”
 

“I misses you, too,” he added, his cute little bottom lip jutting out.

That gutted me like nothing else.
 
“I missed you, too.
 
Like you wouldn’t believe.
 
But we’ll never be apart again.
 
You’re staying with me for good.”

“You pwomise?”
 

“I promise.”

I headed straight to Target with the list and Cameron in tow.
 
It was an ordeal, but eventually I found everything I needed, and then spent two hours in the toy department.
 

Going from living by myself to having a toddler in the house was an adjustment, but a welcome one.
 
He was good company.
 

I showed him the flowers I’d had planted, years ago, in every possible piece of dirt on the property.
 
“Do you know your mommy’s first name?” I asked him.
 

“Mommy?” he guessed.
 

I smiled and patted his head.
 
“That’s her name to you, but her name to me is Iris.
 
Do you know what all these flowers are called?”
 

He looked around.
 
They were everywhere.
 
He shook his head.
 

“Iris.”
 

His cute little brow wrinkled.
 
“Are you saying my mommy’s a fwower?”
 

“No, but she’s named after a flower, and these are her favorites.
 
You think she’ll be happy when she sees how many we have at our house?”
 

With wide eyes, he nodded.
 

About three weeks after Cameron arrived, I started watching for her.
 
I couldn’t help myself.
 
The idea that she could show up at literally any moment consumed me.
 

I put in a daily order for bouquets of Iris, vase after vase, until they filled every spare table space in the house.
 

Cameron eagerly helped me find just the right spaces for them all, nearly as anxious to see his mother again as I was.

Of course she came in the night.
 
Always the element of surprise with my Iris.

Cameron slept a few doors down.
 
I’d been taking time off writing to play catchup with him, and we’d been working on transforming that room for him.
 
So far, I’d filled it with kids furniture, had it painted green, and plastered the walls with an assortment of peel-able stickers of all of his favorite characters, from Thomas to The Cookie Monster.
 

I’d read him eight stories before he finally conked out.
 
I had high hopes that I had a future author on my hands.
 
It always started with the devouring of books.