Chapter 5
Jillian glanced over at Zane, handsome and remote in his Levi’s and crisp black button-down shirt as he intently drove her Mini Cooper at top speed toward Portland. He’d sequestered himself yesterday and she hadn’t seen him until breakfast this morning.
He’d been running scared since their second searing kiss.
Not that she blamed him, because the fallout had her pretty freaked, too. A stunning mind/body connection flowed between them … a spiritual and physical bond she’d never experienced with anyone else. Touching Zane, kissing him, somehow felt as necessary to her survival as breathing. And she’d longed for more. Longed for everything.
If he’d decided to take her upstairs that night, she’d have willingly tumbled into his bed.
Then what?
Her undeniable desire for Wolfe bewildered her. She’d never been a one-night woman, and besides, he was the opposite of everything she’d ever thought she wanted.
But she wanted him— all of him. With an all-consuming desire she’d never believed possible.
Maybe her biological clock was ticking. Hell, anytime she got anywhere close to Zane, her hormones went into nuclear meltdown. She sighed. However, her wants and desires had to be sublimated … because she not only had to consider the ramifications to herself, but to both Casey and Zane.
She studied Zane’s handsome, somber profile and set jaw. His attorney had definitely come through for them with expedited results. There’d been no doubt Zane was Casey’s father, so the confirming call from the lab this morning hadn’t seemed to disturb him. Visibly anyway. But she’d bet her entire disco collection her unfazeable FBI agent was fighting some degree of mental turmoil.
They’d dropped Casey off at the center after breakfast and immediately headed inland to talk to the lawyer.
Zane remained quiet and distant during the entire ninety minute drive. Jillian surreptitiously watched the bronzed muscles in his forearms flex beneath his rolled-up shirtsleeves as his strong, long-fingered hands confidently controlled the car. His capable hands exhibited appealing, self-assured masculine grace tempered with innate gentleness.
Her stomach flip-flopped. And those hands knew exactly how to touch her.
Even with the convertible’s open top generating a breeze, heat and suppressed energy emanated from his taut body. The man smoldered. She breathed in his clean, male essence, uniquely his own, and her head swam like she’d chugged half a bottle of rich, potent Kahlua. She wiped suddenly damp palms on her poppy-flowered sundress, fisting her fingers against the urge to reach over and pet him like a big, wild animal.
She distracted herself by humming along to the blues station he’d selected on the radio. She preferred melodic New Age ballads during meditation, but for fun and dancing, nothing beat disco. Her tendency to burst into Bee Gee’s hits drove her brothers to mutter dire threats against her retro boombox.
Serious, self-contained Zane didn’t seem like the disco type either. But his witty, wryly understated sense of humor had surprised and delighted her. And since he liked blues, he might enjoy the “Blues Brothers” movie. She’d have to dig out her DVD one of these evenings after Casey had gone to bed.
Maybe the engaging comedy would divert them from more hazardous activities.
Although the city teemed with traffic, Zane easily negotiated the maze of one-way streets downtown and across the Broadway Bridge to a quirky suburb on the east side of the river. He parked in front of a charming one-story brick building on a tree-lined street. After opening Jillian’s door, he extracted the bag containing Deb’s computer and phone from the trunk.
As they approached the front door, painted Provencal blue, Jillian read the simple bronze plaque engraved with two lines: “McQuade Security” and “M. McQuade, Attorney At Law.”
A woman with long auburn curls and a chubby redheaded baby propped on one hip stood beside the desk in the fern green reception area, which included a short table and chair set stacked with children’s toys and books. The woman glanced up as they entered and smiled. “Special Agent Wolfe, long time no see.”
“Hi, Val. Yeah, I’ve been out-country for a while.” Warily eyeing the child, Zane edged farther away. “I noticed you added something new to the office.”
The receptionist smiled at Jillian and indicated the baby. “Hello, you must be Ms. Ramsay. We’ve onsite daycare, but my little gal Nicole here is cutting teeth, so she’s happier helping me hold down the fort out front.”
The baby clapped little chubby hands and shrieked in delight.
“What a doll!” Jillian stroked the downy copper curls. “How old is she?”
“Not quite six months.”
Zane retreated another step. “We have an appointment with Mia.”
“She’s free.” The woman waved them on. “Go ahead, you definitely don’t want to stand her up.”
Tension emanating from every pore, Zane planted his hand on the small of Jillian’s back and guided her down a hallway.
Was he nervous around the baby, or did it go deeper? Jillian glanced at him and saw an odd, almost hurt expression on his face. Naturally he’d feel hurt. Through no fault of his own, he hadn’t participated in Deb’s pregnancy or Casey’s babyhood. Perhaps seeing the tiny girl had made him regret missing out on Casey’s early years.
Deb had remained adamant against Jillian’s pleas for her to inform the father. Deb hadn’t wanted a relationship with him, had said he wouldn’t be happy about the baby.
The news had shaken Zane, but he’d accepted responsibility. If Deb had told him, Jillian didn’t doubt he’d have done his duty by mother and child.
In his place, she’d feel upset, too. She squeezed his forearm, the sinews beneath his hot skin taut and vibrating. “Are you okay?”
“Sure.” He stopped at the next-to-last door, knocked briefly, and swung it open without waiting for a reply.
“Zane!” A beautiful petite brunette dressed in a chic sleeveless mint sheath launched herself at him. “It’s been five months this time!” Topaz eyes sparkling, she flung her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. “I was beginning to think you’d gotten into trouble. I’d almost decided to sic Dallas on your sexy butt.”
All the stiffness evaporated from Zane’s demeanor. Laughing, he dropped the bag into a chair, returning the embrace with easy affection. “Hi, yourself, gorgeous. And for the love of God, stay away from my butt.”
This was his kick-ass attorney? Ms. Cute-and-Perky apparently not only knew him well enough to get physical without deploying his defense shields, but Zane was also relaxed enough with her to share intimate jokes.
Mixing business with pleasure, was he?
Jealousy drove hot spikes into her. Zane might be letting his libido make his legal decisions, but she had no intention of following his lead.
Casey’s future in the hands of this flighty fairy?
“No freaking way, Wolfe,” Jillian muttered through clenched teeth.
Zane disengaged himself from the embrace. “Come again?”
The other woman grinned, and Jillian suspected she’d caught every word. “Hi. I’m Mia McQuade. Forgive our bad manners, but it’s been a while and I’ve missed this brat.”
“Jillian Ramsay. Sorry to waste your time, but we’ll be leaving now.”
Zane frowned. “What the— Did I miss something?”
Mia’s lips quirked and she pressed them together. “I think your friend is concerned about my qualifications.”
Zane snorted. “Jillian, meet Hurricane Mia, the only woman to ever buzz right under my radar and nail me against the wall. Handcuffed.”
How dare he? Casey’s future was at stake and he wanted to play swap the innuendo with the pixie? “I’m thrilled on your behalf. If you’re done with the kinky stroll down memory lane, I’m outta here.”
He burst into laughter. “Mind in the gutter, much? Mia and I are just friends. She literally kicked my ass, but good. And I’m not the only man she’s taken down. She’s partly responsible for crushing the Montoya Cartel.”
A blush scorched Jillian’s face. “Wow, I read about that operation. I’m impressed. So sorry, Mia, I didn’t mean to be rude. I don’t usually leap to hasty conclusions, but this custody suit has me stressed.”
“No problem.” Mia offered her one of two chocolate leather chairs in front of the teak desk. “People often underestimate me because of my appearance.” She shot Zane an impishly evil smile. “Don’t they, Zane?”
Still laughing, he transferred the bag to the floor and commandeered the chair beside Jillian. “Remind me to tell you how I ended up cuffed to the crapper in the Phoenix airport, gagged with my own tie. Mia annihilated me.”
Jillian’s jaw dropped. She stared at the petite, immaculately groomed woman. “You did that? To Zane?”
“Poor Zane. At the time, he was an obstacle.” Mia strolled behind the desk and sat. Clear topaz eyes glinted. “I never let anything thwart my goals.”
Jillian’s vision not fogged by envy now, she saw the drive and determination in Mia McQuade’s steady, intelligent gaze. And something more. Understanding older than her years. The type of understanding born from deep pain. This woman wasn’t easily intimidated. Richard and Brooke had hired a shark, but Jillian suspected Mia might know a recipe for shark fin soup. “Persistence is an admirable quality.”
“Yeah, when she’s on your side.” Zane leaned back in his chair. “Did you get all the info I faxed?”
“I did.” Mia pulled a file from the bottom drawer, laid it on the desk. Without warning, her face blanched ghostly pale, then turned greener than her dress. “Excuse me.” She leapt up and rushed into the adjoining room. Judging by the quick glimpse Jillian saw of blush-colored tiles before the door slammed shut, it was a bathroom.
Zane frowned. “Uh oh. Looks like someone else caught the bug from hell.”
While they waited for Mia’s return, Jillian studied the casual, comfortable office. Decorated in pastel pink, chocolate brown, and cream, the room didn’t look at all lawyerly. But the welcoming atmosphere suited its owner, as did the fragrant bouquet of deep pink roses and the Bugs Bunny tissue holder that adorned her desk.
Five minutes later, a shaky Mia emerged from the bathroom. Her cheeks were rosy with hectic color and dewed with fine perspiration. “Sorry, guys.” She tugged a Kleenex from tissue holder to blot her face.
Zane stood. “You’ve caught the flu. We can come back when you’re feeling better.”
Mia laughed. “Oh, I caught something all right, but it wasn’t the flu.”
The outer door flew open and a tall gorgeous hunk with collar-length black hair and striking cobalt eyes rushed in, huge cowboy boots surprisingly silent on the polished wood floor. He held out a frosty can. “Ginger ale, darlin’?” A strong hint of Texas flavored his deep drawl.
“How in the world do you do that?” With a rueful grin, Mia accepted the soda, her hand lingering in a subtle caress on the man’s fingers.
The sizzling awareness arcing between the couple completely laid to rest her earlier suspicions about Mia and Zane. The diminutive attorney only had eyes for the ruggedly handsome cowboy, and vice-versa. The hunk shrugged his shoulders and flashed Mia a secret, intimate smile. “I just know.”
He swiveled, grinning at Zane. “Wolfe!” He swept Zane into a back-thumping hug. “About damned time.”
To Jillian’s surprise, Zane not only didn’t scorn the hug, but also returned the embrace. “Yeah, never a dull moment when playing hide-and-seek with terrorists.” He gestured to her. “Jillian Ramsay, this is Dallas McQuade. My oldest and most obnoxious friend. We met playing college football and baseball, and went on to work many a case together. Dallas used to be DEA. When he hooked up with Kick-Ass here, he went exclusive with his civilian security business.”
“I couldn’t bear to leave her for months at a time,” Dallas said. He grinned. “Besides, it’s my duty to the residents of the fine state of Oregon to keep my wife out of trouble.” He enfolded Jillian’s fingers in his huge, warm hand, his touch gentle. “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”
“Nice to meet you, too, and call me Jillian.” She couldn’t help but mirror his smile. The rough, tough warrior was obviously a pussycat with the ladies, especially his wife. “I take it congratulations are in order?”
“Yep.” Beaming with masculine pride, Dallas slid his arm around Mia.
Zane propped a hip on the desk and crossed his arms. “Did I miss something again?”
“Men!” Mia poked Dallas in the ribs with her elbow and smoothed the front of her dress, revealing her slight baby bump. “I’m pregnant, Zane.”
Zane blanched. “Good Lord, you’re going to unleash your offspring on this unsuspecting world?” He groaned. “With three McQuade sisters and six McQuade nieces, you can bet your last, strung-out nerve it’s a girl. A little wildcat with claws as sharp as her mama’s.”
“Watch it, Feebie,” Dallas growled in mock outrage. “I can still take you down, on or off the field.”
Zane’s easy grin transformed his handsome face to stunning. “Maybe in your dreams, pretty boy.”
Happiness wreathed Jillian’s heart. So, the wary Wolfe was capable of trusting someone enough to drop his guard. This relaxed, good-humored Zane was an entirely different man from the closed-off stoic.
Zane’s skin tingled and he turned to see Jillian’s gaze fixed on him, watching him with affectionate amusement. Her glance caught his, and heated awareness leapt in the violet depths. He swallowed hard.
How did one look from those warm velvet eyes stagger him?
Mia gave Dallas a playful shove. “Okay, enough jaw-flapping, cowboy. Pull up a chair and let’s get to work.”
Dallas dropped a kiss on top of his wife’s head. “I do believe pregnancy has made her extra rowdy.”
Zane arched a deliberate brow. “I didn’t think that was humanly possible.” He again took the chair beside Jillian as Dallas swung one over from against the wall to sit beside him.
“Okay, Mia,” Zane asked. “What’s our plan of attack?”
His pulse stumbled when his friend and attorney’s suddenly somber gaze leveled on him. During the fourteen months since they’d closed the Montoya case, he’d become familiar with that resolute expression. It never boded well.
Mia’s gaze moved to the hopeful woman sitting next to Zane. “I’m very sorry, Jillian, I have to be perfectly honest with you. I’m afraid your case isn’t looking positive.”
Beside him, Jillian stiffened.
“I’ve read all the documentation.” Mia rested folded hands on top of the file. “Casey’s aunt and uncle have a very strong argument.”
Jillian gulped. “But Zane’s his father. With his help, I stand a decent chance of keeping Casey, right?”
“The court looks at the best interests of the child.” Mia frowned. “From the judge’s point of view, Richard is also Casey’s blood relative. He’s a well-respected surgeon, pillar of the community, and has a lot of influence … and powerful friends in high places. He earns more than adequate income to raise Casey and provide for his education, and has excellent health insurance through the hospital. He and his wife have been married ten years and she doesn’t work outside the home. They’ve had contact with the child since birth, and have already been granted regular visitation. They appear to provide an ideal, stable family environment.”
“Casey’s not my son by blood, but he is my son,” Jillian insisted. “I’ve been there since his birth, too. I loved him the moment I saw him.”
Mia’s direct gaze didn’t waver. “Yes, but when the judge compares Richard and Brooke with you, he’ll see a young woman whose modest salary as assistant director at a childcare center is dependent on grants, donations, and the taxpayers passing a school levy every two or three years. You have no spouse, and are not biologically related to the child.” She paused. “Furthermore, the Stuarts are claiming your involvement in the gang diversion program endangers you, and by default, Casey as well. They want to enroll him in an exclusive private school, where the ‘safety and quality of his education won’t be compromised by attending classes mixed in with disadvantaged children.’”
“That’s bullshit,” Zane gritted.
“That’s typical legal maneuvering. Knowing the attorney they’ve hired, it’s going to get really ugly. We’ll fight them with all we’ve got.” Mia set her jaw. “But I’m sorry, Jillian, I have serious doubts we can win.”
All the color drained from Jillian’s face. “I can’t—” She cleared the wobble from her voice. “I can’t lose him. Especially not to Richard and Brooke. They’d be horrible parents!”
Zane had read Jillian’s meticulously documented instances of the Stuart’s stinging verbal attacks on the child … with increasing horror … before he’d faxed them to Mia. He hadn’t met the couple yet, but already despised them. He scowled. “Deb named Jillian as the kid’s guardian in her will, and I’m his biological parent. I’ll testify that Jillian should retain custody. I’ll sign over all my rights and transfer full, permanent custody over to her.”
“Wills are not binding where guardianships are concerned. The court will take Deb’s wishes into account, but again, they’ll make the final decision based on the child’s best interests. While relatives, especially biological parents, usually take precedence, the fact that Zane has never been involved in his son’s life weighs heavily against him.”
“But Deb didn’t even tell Zane about him!” Jillian cried.
“And the judge could bring questions about Zane’s character into play as to why she didn’t.”
Dallas leaned forward. “Knowing Wolfe since college, I can vouch for his character. So will his supervisory agent. If they won’t give Jillian custody, let’s go after it for Zane.”
“The judge will consider Zane’s mitigating circumstances and references. However …” As Mia picked up a pen and tapped the table, uneasiness wormed in Zane’s gut. If the indomitable woman in front of them couldn’t win the case, nobody could.
“Zane is a virtual stranger to Casey,” she continued. “He works long hours and travels frequently. As a single father, he’d have to arrange for secure, dependable childcare. His job is demanding, and worse, life-threatening. If anything happened to Zane, Casey would be back to square one, with his life even more disrupted than before.”
Zane leaned forward. “All right, I’ll take custody, and hire Jillian to care for Casey. His guardian would be his full-time caretaker. Problem solved.”
Mia’s pen beat a rapid tattoo. “We can try. But the judge will view that as a suitable, but temporary solution. What if Jillian gets tired of her position and decides to move on, or marries and has children of her own? The child welfare authorities will look at the long-term consequences of these disruptions to Casey’s life versus the constancy the Stuarts can provide.”
Jillian started to speak and Mia held up her hand. “I know, you have no intention of leaving him. However, again, legally, the best of intentions aren’t enough.”
Jillian blinked rapidly. “You saw the documentation I provided showing that Richard and Brooke are verbally abusive to Casey. Especially Richard. I’ve tried to stop him, both through personal and legal channels, but I can’t get anywhere.”
“I realize verbal abuse is as horrible and damaging as physical abuse.” Dark emotion shadowed Mia’s features as she flashed Zane an empathetic look. Dallas didn’t keep anything from his wife, and Zane knew she’d heard the whole ugly story. He was okay with it, because he also knew she’d zealously protect his privacy. “Believe me, my heart goes out to all three of you. But you have no witnesses, and it’s a case of your word against Richard and Brooke’s.”
Zane gripped the arms of his chair so tightly his knuckles stung. “Dallas and I will collect irrefutable evidence.”
“Damned straight,” Dallas said. “Count me in.”
Mia’s teeth worried her lower lip. “Unfortunately, verbal abuse is nearly impossible to define, or prove, within the court system. It’s even tougher to convince a judge to forego custody on those grounds. Unless they’re physically harming Casey, that won’t be a convincing argument.”
Zane’s throat constricted, as torn and shredded inside as if he’d swallowed razor blades. Continual, relentless criticism sliced open wounds that took far longer to heal than physical blows.
Sometimes they didn’t heal at all.
And the consequences were just as deadly.
Refusing to inflict that painful legacy on another generation, he’d sworn never to marry or have children. Yet now, an innocent little boy faced the unthinkable.
He was all about action. His mission was saving lives … people he didn’t know and wasn’t invested in. But he could do nothing to prevent his biological child’s destruction? His hands fisted. “Mia, you kill in the courtroom. You win ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the time.”
“You know I’ll give it my heart and soul.” She sadly shook her head. “But you need to be prepared for a nasty, protracted battle … with Casey caught squarely in the middle … and be prepared to perhaps eventually lose.”
Jillian made a choking sound and tears began to silently spill down her cheeks.
Zane’s frayed composure slipped another notch. He snatched two tissues from the box on the desk and handed them to her. Her distress escalated his helplessness. Which fed his anger. “Goddammit, there must be something! Some kind of loophole.”
“Well ... there is one alternative.” Mia hesitated. “But knowing you as I do, Zane, you won’t like it.”
“We’re out of options. Let me have it.”
Mia’s implacable whiskey gaze flicked to Jillian for a heartbeat, then moved to hold his captive. “You could marry her.”