The Ransom

She turned to face Clay. “Mr. Forbes said I can put full confidence in what you tell me. That you know the right things to do.”

She saw a flicker in Clay’s eyes. “I’ll do what I can to help. But you need someone here to give you expert advice.”

“You’re the reason I’ve gotten this far without falling apart, Clay.” She wrapped her arms around her waist. “Mr. Forbes agrees with you that Devin should stay in Tibet.”

“It’s the best thing for Matthew.”

“Which is what you’ve kept in mind this whole time.” She rubbed her fingers across her throat. “If you hadn’t told me to count his pills, I wouldn’t know the kidnappers took any of them. I wouldn’t have the hope they intend to keep Matthew healthy.”

“It was a guess on my part.”

“A good one. Everything Forbes told me, I had already heard from you. He’s an expert and you know how he thinks.” At that instant she realized what it had been that reached so deeply inside her when Clay spoke to her earlier with soothing softness. Forbes’s voice had sounded much the same. Calm. Comforting. A voice that had taken an edge off her fear by instilling hope.

Her gaze returned to Clay. Seeing him yesterday had been a stark reminder of the vow she had made after her marriage crumbled to never again place her hopes, her needs, her wants in the hands of another man. But it wasn’t her heart at stake now, it was her son’s life. Forbes had told her she could put her faith in Clay. That, coupled with a deep, intuitive certainty told her that depending on him was the right thing to do.

Her mind made up, Kathryn retraced her steps across the room. “You’re the best person to fill Forbes’s shoes.”

Clay shook his head. He hadn’t been the best man for anything since he wound up in a pool of his own blood while his parents got dragged away. “You can’t depend on my guesswork.”

“Whatever you tell me won’t be guesswork,” she countered quietly, watching a muscle work in his jaw. “Because you learned from an expert.”

“I wasn’t sitting in a damn classroom.” Clay scrubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “Forbes and I moved from one roach-infested hut to another while we followed rumored sightings of the rebels holding my parents. Inside, I felt as unsteady as you do right now. I picked up things from Forbes, but I can’t guarantee I know what he would do.”

“You know how he thinks, Clay,” she countered. “And if you’re not sure, you can call him. You know Mr. Forbes, you trust him. I don’t want someone who neither of us knows guessing what I need to do to keep my son alive.”

She moved forward until only inches separated them. The familiar salty clean scent of his skin slid into her lungs. She remembered the swirling fire that scent had once ignited inside her. Remembered, too, the passion that had fueled the man when he’d gone after something he wanted, whether it be the job at the state department, the breaking of a wild bronc—even her for a short time. That same passion would drive him to do everything in his power to help her bring Matthew home alive.

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