Chapter Two
“I just saw that you’re leaving a message, so you might as well tell me what it says.” Blaize barely got the words out before a grunt came through the line. It was quickly followed by an apology along with a plea to delete the voicemail without listening to it.
He said he would.
“Here’s what I know so far—I have a baby girl in my custody who I’m about to be forced to take somewhere that won’t be a good place for her right now, and you’re the only parent I can locate.”
“What happened to her mother?” He wasn’t a jerk. He might not have the first clue how his name ended up on the kid’s birth certificate, but he cared what happened on a basic human level.
“There was a car accident.”
“Oh.” He sat with that for a moment. “Hold on. You said that I’m the only parent you can locate. To be clear, the kid isn’t mine. But what happened and how did you get my—”
“The car caught on fire, and the driver hasn’t been positively ID’d as of yet and might not be for days. The car is registered to a woman named Stephanie Cross.”
“And you’re ready to get the little one in your custody out of your hair,” he said.
“Did I say that?” The high-pitched shrill quality to her voice told him the degree to which he’d just messed up.
This was bad. “No. I didn’t. For your information, sir, I’d happily spend all the time necessary with this angel.
However, I’ve already severely broken the rules by bringing her to my home and could end up fired, so there’s that. ”
Blaize let her speak without interruption. “Carys. Is that your name?”
“Yes.”
“You sound like a decent human being going out of your way to protect a child while putting your job on the line.” The fact that she’d broken the rules said she cared more about doing what was right than staying employed.
He applauded her for the move. Integrity like that didn’t come around as often as it should.
“I’d like to think so,” she said, some of the defensiveness eased from her tone.
“Here’s my problem.” He waited a couple of beats. “There’s no possible way that I’m the father.”
“Your name is on the birth certificate, sir.”
“Call me Blaize. My name is Blaize.”
“It won’t make a difference what I call you,” she said. “You’re still the only name I have to work with.”
He issued a sharp sigh. “Is there no other choice? Just me?”
“I can’t find a list of next of kin for the mother, if that’s what you’re asking,” she said. “These things can take time.”
“You can release the baby to me if I agree?” How was that even possible?
“Yes.”
“What’s the mother’s name again?”
“Stephanie Cross.”
Blaize still drew a blank. “How old is this baby?”
“Three months,” she said.
That young? What was he supposed to do with an infant?
Thunder boomed, shaking the house as he walked into the kitchen to get a drink of water. Sitting at the table nursing a cup of coffee was the answer. “Hold on a second, okay?”
“Sure,” Carys said, drawing out the word.
He moved the phone from his ear and caught his grandmother’s attention. “How are you with babies?”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Why do you ask?”
“A friend needs a sitter, possibly overnight, and I don’t have the first clue as to how to take care of a kid.”
She smiled. A tiny spark lit her eyes. “Are you asking for my help?”
“I guess I am.”
“It’s been a long time, but I imagine not too much has changed. They still take bottles and need diaper changes.” She shrugged and widened the smile. “Might be nice to have a baby around, even if only for a short while.”
“I’ll owe you one big time.”
She winked before taking a sip and making a production of setting the cup down. “I’ll take you up on it someday.”
They both knew she wouldn’t. She never asked for anything, and he was beginning to see how much he’d neglected this place and her. Guilt punched him. Regret stabbed him in the chest. He might have reason to hate Cormac, but Blaize should have checked on his own grandmother more.
He was here now. He would do better.
Before he got the phone back to his ear, the loud baby cries overrode the thunder cracking outside.
“Carys?”
“You’ll have to speak up,” she said. “I can barely hear you.”
“Should I come to you, or how should we do this?” He had no idea how any of this worked and couldn’t be more outside his comfort zone.
This baby might not belong to him, but offering a hand was the right thing to do.
Call it residual guilt for not being able to save his own wife.
He’d never felt more helpless during her long illness. This, he could do.
A voice in the back of his head said, You were of no use then, and you’ll be pointless now. Choosing to ignore it and the knot tightening in his chest, he said, “I’m ready to do what I can to help.”
“What? I’m sorry—I can’t hear you.”
He practically had to shout the words a second time.
“Send me your address,” she said. “I’ll come to you.”
He agreed and then ended the call.
Kit clucked her tongue. “Is there something you need to tell me?”
“Funny story.” He poured a cup of coffee and joined her at the table after texting the address to the ranch. “A person I’ve never heard of before put my name down on a birth certificate.”
“What?” Kit’s eyes saucers.
“I know. Strange, isn’t it?” A crack of thunder rumbled in the distance. The storm was intensifying. So much for grilling outside.
“And you’re sure you’ve never met the woman?”
“Not to my knowledge.” He took a sip of coffee. “And I sure as hell didn’t sleep around. Not with everything going on with…”
Blaize clamped his mouth shut.
Kit reached across the table and patted his hand. Her frail, bony fingers were small by comparison. “Of course, you don’t owe me any explanations.” She caught his gaze. “You know that, right?”
He nodded.
“I just wish you would talk about what happened with someone. Doesn’t have to be me.”
Rain battered the roof. A drip sounded behind him.
He bit back a curse as he pushed up to standing. “I’ll keep that in mind. Right now, I need to fix a leak before we need swimsuits to be in this old house.”
She opened her mouth to speak before clamping it shut again. “I’ll get a bucket.”
RAIN POUNDED THE front windshield to the point where the windshield wipers were essentially just decorations.
Carys white-knuckled the steering wheel.
The car ride seemed to upset the baby this time.
Thunder boomed and lightning streaked the sky.
Almost-black clouds rolled across the velvet canopy. No stars were out.
This was a bad omen.
Winds kicked up, shaking the sedan. Debris flew across the road in the form of branches and trash. An actual trash can slammed into the hood of her sedan, then bounced off. We’re not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy.
The thought of a tornado ripping through the streets was enough to fry her last nerve. She was closer to the ranch than her home, so it made the most sense to keep going. Winds howled louder than the baby’s cries.
This was not good. So not good.
I choose to be strong. She repeated the mantra that had gotten her through a few very rough years when she was younger, including surviving an overbearing father after her mother died.
She glanced in the rearview mirror at the red-faced baby. “I understand what you’re about to go through better than you realize, Rue. You aren’t the only one who lost a mother before you could remember anything about her.”
Carys didn’t wish death on anyone. For Rue’s sake, she hoped the driver wasn’t Stephanie Cross. The odds were most definitely against it being the case, but she could hold on to the thought until proven otherwise.
Holding on to the steering wheel for dear life as winds pushed the vehicle around, she navigated onto the farm road leading to the ranch. Gravel spewed behind her tires as she pushed the vehicle to go faster.
Branches flew in front of the windshield. Being out here was dangerous. She should have asked Blaize to meet her at her home instead. What had she been thinking? You weren’t. You were in emergency mode.
Carys repeated the mantra moments before slamming on the brakes. She careened sideways, narrowly missing a tree trunk.
Her first instinct was to hop out of the driver’s side and comfort the child.
The baby’s loud cries said her lungs were still working as Carys slipped into the back seat.
Rain pelted her face and torso. Her button-down shirt needed to be wrung out by the time she slammed the door shut behind her.
Her second instinct was to lock the doors as the tiny hairs on the back of her neck pricked.
She glanced around, searching for signs of someone being out here. The feeling they weren’t alone nearly overwhelmed her. A second later, she could have sworn a shadow passed by on the passenger side of the car.
An involutory shiver rocked her body as icy fingers gripped her spine. I choose to be strong.
Blowing out a calming breath, she refocused on the baby. The buckles on the car seat were not the easiest to navigate. She noticed how shaky her own hands were as she tried to unclick the chest clip holding the straps in place.
“I’m sorry that I’m so bad at this, little Rue,” she said, mustering as soothing a voice as she possibly could while under duress. “It’ll be okay.”
How many times had she wished her own father would have said those words to her while growing up?
Instead, he’d overprotected her to the point of stifling her.
He’d become obsessed with keeping her safe, which meant never letting her out of the house except for school and school-related activities.
She’d joined pretty much every club in high school just to have an excuse to leave the house.
He’d denied sleepover requests. What if the girl has a brother who’d abuse you in the middle of the night or a father who has bad intentions?
The closer college came, the more he bore down on her, making any kind of life impossible. By her senior year of high school, she’d had it.
I’m moving to campus, she’d said. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me. It was the first time in her life that she’d stood up for herself and gone against him. Pushing back against the person who raised you—no matter how hard they’d made your life—was the hardest thing to do.
Then I’m not responsible for you had been his comeback.
True to his words, he cut her off financially.
They’d had a huge dustup over the move, not because she was mad about the money.
She could—and did!—take out loans to get through her four years of school.
She’d worked double shifts and crashed on a friend’s couch after the required first year of dorm living to save money.
Her father couldn’t handle her independence. He threw every name in the book at her when she dug her heels in. He’d accused her of being a harlot—the nicer-sounding word for slut—even though she’d never had sex, let alone a boyfriend.
The fight, the horrible words he’d called her, caused her to lose her father more than the decision to leave did. Because she wanted nothing to do with him after the way he talked to her.
The wall that had come up between them had become impenetrable and strong as steel. She’d contacted him before graduation, humbled herself, and asked him to be there.
He never responded to her text, never showed.
Fine. She decided not to lose sleep over it. Her stubborn streak, it turned out, came from her father.
The car seat’s chest clip finally opened. Thank the stars for small miracles.
Carys gently wrapped her hands around the little girl and lifted. The crying nearly broke Carys’s heart.
“I’m here, little one,” she soothed, bringing the baby toward her until the little girl was against Carys’s chest. She looked down at the pitiful creature who was so upset.
It struck her that Rue had a binky earlier.
“Do you need your binky?” She managed to find it in the seat.
The second the rubber tip touched the baby’s cheek, she rooted for the comfort item.
It was then Carys realized the kid might be hungry.
At least the binky quieted the cries. A sense of satisfaction replaced the deep-seeded failure from moments ago.
Carys didn’t want kids. Barely in her mid-twenties, she hardly wanted a boyfriend. Though, after the last one, she needed a minute to regroup. Jack had too many of her father’s tendencies. After two months of dating, he wanted the password to her cell phone so he could check texts for her.
Like she needed a gatekeeper for her messages. His jealous streak turned ugly fast, and she couldn’t move on quick enough. Weeks after the breakup, if you could even call it that since they’d never had a conversation about being in a relationship, he still showed up in the parking lot with flowers.
Then there was Leonard. He’d been older, which she’d assumed meant wiser. At almost forty, he’d been surprisingly less emotionally mature than some of the teens she worked with since taking the CPS job.
Suddenly, something or someone dashed across the headlights. Panic gripped Carys as a male figure came toward her side of the vehicle, moving directly at her.
She reached for anything she could use as a weapon and double-checked that she’d locked the doors.
With nothing to defend herself with, she and Rue would be at the mercy of anyone who got inside the vehicle with them.
Carys recited a silent protection prayer she’d learned in religious school as a kid and hoped like hell it would be enough to keep them safe. And then she remembered where she was and what she had. She fumbled her phone, then managed to tap the most recent call.
The second Blaize answered, she said, “Help!”