Stolen: A Novel of Romantic Suspense (36 page)

And she wanted to look into his eyes as he died.

She thought maybe she’d even want to carve lines into him, to do to him what he’d done to Shay.

That was what she really hated him for. He’d had no reason to hurt Shay. And he’d made her break her promise to Mama. She’d promised. All those years ago.

Take care of Michelline for me, sweetie. And I’ll see you soon …

Mama had broken her promise. But she never broke promises.

She’d go to Phoenix. She’d find him. And then, she’d kill him … kill Shay’s true dragon.

The last thing Shay should have done was have a glass of wine on the flight.

Much less two. Except wine made it easier to think—or
not
think—about what she was doing. Flying to Phoenix. Back to hell. It had been fine, up until the wine hit her system. But now she was tired, so damn tired, and she couldn’t fight the exhaustion dropping down on her.

Shay felt as though her eyelids had gained about five pounds each, sometime during the second glass of wine. Leaning her head against Elliot’s shoulder, she stared out the tiny window at the fluffy white clouds and tried not to think.

Somewhere off behind her, a baby cried.

Squeezing her eyes closed, she whispered, “I don’t want to hear that right before I fall asleep.”

Elliot caught her hand in his. “You okay?”

“Yes.”

But she knew she was lying.

The baby continued to cry. Soft, plaintive little sounds.

Vaguely, she heard a woman’s low voice, then the baby stopped crying. Finally. Sleep rushed up closer.

She squeezed Elliot’s hand tighter. “I don’t want to dream.”

His arm came around her.

She hoped he might chase the dreams away—

The baby cried.…

“Shut that fucking baby up! Shut it up or I fucking will—”

That giggling little voice. “Aww, it’s okay now. You’ll be the princess again …”

Trapped in the dream, Shay flinched. Turning her face toward Elliot, she bit back the moan.

“It’s all your fault!” the dragon shouted. “Your fault … because you had to be the fucking princess.”

The dragon roared … and a baby still cried
.

Shay came awake to hear a baby crying—a real baby, whimpering and sobbing pitifully as his mother tried to console him.

“Are you okay?”

Elliot still held her hand.

She had no idea how long she’d been asleep, but the vague, hazy exhaustion caused by the wine had faded, so it had to have been at least an hour. Swallowing, she rubbed at her eyes and muttered, “Good enough.”

The baby continued to cry, the pitiful sounds getting louder and louder.
Poor thing
, she thought.

“Damn it, that bitch needs to shut the fucking baby up. I’d smack the shit out of it if it were mine,” the guy sitting next to her muttered as he shifted in his seat, jabbing his elbow into her arm.

With those fading screams from her dreams still dancing through her mind, she gave him a cool look. Without thinking, she said, “Yes, because slapping an upset baby is certainly the way to get him to stop crying.”

He stared at her. “It’s annoying as hell having to listen to that on a plane,” he snapped.

“Maybe. But the baby can’t help being miserable a few thousand feet up in the air.” She smiled at him. “I find it annoying as hell to listen to
you
on a plane.
You
can help it, but I don’t see you shutting up.”

He curled his lip at her. “You’re a mouthy—”

Elliot leaned in around her, reaching one arm over and laying it on her hand. “Sir?”

The guy glared at him.

Elliot just stared back.

As the dumbass went silent, Shay grabbed her iPhone and plugged in her earbuds. “Stupid asshole,” she muttered. “Hit a baby—that’s really a good way to make him feel a little less scared. Shit, did you eat lead chips for breakfast or what?”

Elliot laid his palm on her thigh and squeezed.

From the corner of her eye, she saw the passenger going red, sputtering as he tried to say something.

Either he figured it was a waste of time or he didn’t like the way Elliot was eyeing him, because he settled back and folded his arms over his chest, glaring at the back of the seat in front of him.

Behind them, the baby settled down into soft, sad little snuffles.

But the baby’s broken cries continued in her mind. Shay couldn’t silence them there and no matter how loud she blasted her music, she couldn’t block them out.

Do you remember what happened?
Virna’s voice, so soft and gentle.

Stupid bitch. You think you got away with it, don’t you …
Jethro, so angry and full of hate.

Even now, after all that time, she could feel the hard press of hands around her throat. Hear the rasp of his voice.

Her dragon.

Her stepfather.

For so many years, she’d kept his name tucked away and deliberately made herself
not
think of him, although she’d never forgotten. She didn’t want to remember, but she couldn’t forget him as easily as she’d forgotten the earlier years of her life.

Thanks to the security checks she kept up with, she kept track of him. She didn’t stalk him, but she knew
when he’d been released and where he lived, that he was still in Phoenix, working at a store. She knew just enough to make sure he was staying very, very far away from her.

In the depths of her mind, she could still hear him rasping in her ear as he dragged her out of the house.

Not yet, little cunt. You don’t get off that easy. Not yet
.

One hand closed into a fist.

You can’t get away. You won’t forget again, damn it. You stupid cunt—

Unconsciously, she reached up and rubbed her throat, remembering the brutal, hard press of his hands.

Elliot rubbed his hand up and down her thigh. Slowly. Soothingly. But the images continued to flash. Voices echoed in her ears. The echoes of laughter. A girl … it had been a girl’s laugh she heard.

Swallowing, she bent down and grabbed her laptop, flipping it open, almost desperate to purge those images from her mind.

TWENTY

T
HE HEAT WAS A SHOCK AFTER THE FRIGID TEMPERATURES
of Alaska and Michigan.

Shedding her coat, Shay stuffed it in the trunk of the car, giving the task a lot more attention than it required. The absolute last thing she wanted to do was look around.

Phoenix, Arizona.

Sky Harbor wasn’t a place that really stood out in her memory and she knew the entire area was likely to have changed, but she didn’t want to look around and she didn’t want to be here.

The stark beauty of the desert was one that called to many, but it wouldn’t call to her. She was so desperate to leave already; if she thought she could outrun the screams in her mind, if she hadn’t determined to find some answers, she would have taken off for the terminal and been on the first outbound plane she could find. Where it was going didn’t matter. As long as it wasn’t
here
.

You go ahead and run away now, you fucking whore …

Elliot skimmed his hand through her hair and then, lightly, oh, so lightly, touched the back of her neck. She
leaned back into his touch and sighed, forcing herself to stare up at the sky. It was almost painfully blue.

“It’s five o’clock. And it’s not dark yet. Seems so weird.”

“Give it an hour. It will be dark and you’ll feel like you’re home.”

“Fat chance. It’s hot.” She grimaced and glanced down at her boots and sweater. “I practically need shorts.”

Somebody bustled by in a hoodie and jacket, with the hood pulled up, and Shay laughed. “I guess cold is all relative. I’m burning up and that woman looks like she’s freezing.”

“They haven’t spent their winters living in subzero temperatures.” He tossed his parka in the back of the car before turning around, crossing his arms over his chest. She wanted to be there, right up against his chest where she could listen to his heart beating and forget about everything and everyone else in the world.

“You have any idea where we’re going?”

Shay swallowed, her throat aching as if she’d just been forced to swallow an iron ball the size of a fist. Bruised … battered … broken. That’s how she felt. Bruised, battered, and broken. “Yes,” she said quietly. “I know where we need to go. For now at least.”

Elliot waited patiently.

She really, really loved his patience. Usually.

Under the warm light of the sun, though, as she shivered and tried to accept what her brain was telling her, she wished that he wouldn’t always be so patient. If he would push, if he would nudge, if he would do anything but let her think her way through this …

“I dream. And I remember things I’ve forgotten. Lately, I remember more …” She swallowed and lowered her head, staring down at the black toes of her
boots. “But some things, I never forgot. Not the way I’d like to forget them.”

“Shay?”

Unable to linger another second, she grabbed the door’s handle, jerking it open. In a rush, she clambered into the driver’s seat and gripped the steering wheel. “I want to find out more about my mother, Elliot.”

Find out about her … and if there were others besides me … and the baby in that house
.

The baby.

A child who Shay was more and more convinced was her brother.

A child that Shay was more and more convinced had died that last night … the night the police came and took her away.

But what had happened to him?

A blood-drenched scream
.

“Somebody finally shut that baby up …”

A hand touching her cheek
.

“Do you remember what happened that night?”

This time Shay had an answer.

I don’t want to
.

Frowning, she read the last line over and over. “Connect them? Connect
who
?”

Damn it, this wasn’t what she’d expected to see. She was looking for a response to the emails she’d been sending—such as the hand. It wasn’t a
real
hand. It was a doll’s hand, but it still looked pretty damn lifelike and Shay should have been freaked
out
. But here she was
talking about the search for answers and connections? Who in the hell did she think she
was
?