The Return of Connor Mansfield

He froze for a moment, dropped his chin to his chest then, straightening to his full height, he turned.

Mumbling an earthy obscenity, the older man stepped forward as if to intervene, but Orlean raised a hand to stop him.

Winded, Darby gasped for a breath and grabbed the open car door for support, her body shaking as she studied the beard-covered face. The man’s coloring was wrong, his hair too dark. His eyes were hidden behind the sunglasses and shaded by the cap. And yet...

He stood stock-still, except for a slight shudder as he drew a stuttering breath.

The chant in Darby’s brain screamed louder— Connor, Connor, Connor! Reaching up, she snatched away his cap, pulled his sunglasses off.

His jaw tightened, and he looked away, scowling at the cars parked across the aisle.

“Look at me,” she whispered, and when he refused, she screamed, “Look at me, damn it!”

She grabbed his chin and wrenched his head toward her. When he lifted his eyes to hers, they were damp with tears, brimming with regret and apology. Her heart slammed against her ribs. Her knees buckled, and her lungs seized.

She knew those golden-brown eyes. Intimately. They were her daughter’s eyes.

“Connor.” Her voice squeaked as her throat clogged with emotion. Her body shook with unspent adrenaline, and she lifted a hand toward his cheek. He wrapped long, warm fingers around hers, moving her hand off his face and squeezing her hand. Stunned, she grappled with what her heart was telling her, while her brain rejected the truth. A hesitant joy filled her chest like helium, expanding, lifting her hope. But a darker emotion lurked at the edges of her shock. She shoved the darkness aside, not wanting anything to shadow the moment.

Tears filled her eyes as a half laugh, half sob bubbled up from her chest. “You’re alive!”

He gave the slightest of nods, but that tiny confirmation sent a tidal wave of conflicting emotions coursing through her. Relief and elation tangled with disbelief. She surged forward to hug him, to celebrate their reunion. But the older man beside them caught her arm, separating them. “Not here.”

She blinked her confusion, looking to Connor for answers. His expression was grim, full of grief and regret. “I’m sorry.”

His apology released the darkness she’d tried to hold at bay. A chill crept from her scalp to her toes as the first flicker of understanding dawned on her. Anger and resentment elbowed past her other emotions.

He’d left her. On purpose. He’d deceived her, let her think he was dead. He’d said he loved her, but he’d abandoned her.

Just like her father.

Her hand flew up, surprising herself as much as him when she struck his cheek. Hard. “You bastard!”

“That’s enough,” the black man growled. He grabbed her, restraining her arms as he pulled her away from Connor.

Darby fought the captive arms. Furious. Heartbroken. “You lied to me! You said you loved me!” she spat at Connor.

“Get in.” With a hand on Connor’s head, the older man pushed him into the backseat.

“No!” she shouted, desperation rearing its head. She couldn’t lose Connor again. “Wait!”

The older man hitched his head to the black man, whose muscular arms held her like a vise. He hitched his head toward the backseat. “Bring her. We need to contain this.”

Fear clawed inside her as the black man lifted her effortlessly and shoved her in the backseat.

“What the hell?” Connor barked. “Let her go!”

When her abductor pushed into the car behind her, she toppled onto Connor’s lap. He caught her, steadying her as the car engine roared to life. Panic choked her as the sedan pulled sharply out of the parking space and lurched down the garage aisle. She clung to Connor’s arm for balance.

“Let me out! Please!” Tears and terror strangled her. “I have to get back to Savannah. My daughter needs me!”

“Damn it, Jones!” Connor snarled. “This was never part of the plan. What are you doing?”

We need to contain this. An ominous shiver spun through her. Who were these men, and what was Connor involved in? What was she now involved in?

* * *

Connor scowled at Marshal Jones as Raleigh pulled out of the parking garage onto the city street. Forcing Darby into a car against her will was not the best way to start an already difficult conversation. She was understandably confused, terrified.

“You’re safe, Darby,” he said and stroked a hand down her back, trying to calm her. She jerked away from his touch and sent him a dirty look. In her eyes he saw hurt, confusion, fear...but mostly fury. His return from the dead had her royally pissed.

Connor sighed, his heart heavy. Had he really thought that she’d simply fall into his arms and all would be forgiven and forgotten? That she’d still love him after so many years? That the lie of his faked death and subsequent hurt he’d caused could be swept aside merely by returning from the grave?

Using the rearview mirror, Marshal Raleigh glanced to the backseat at Jones. “What’s the plan? Where am I going? Back to the hotel?”

Darby lunged toward the front seat, grabbing at Raleigh’s arm. “Take me to St. Mary’s Hospital! My daughter is there. We were about to take her home!”

Jones pulled Darby off Raleigh. “Not yet. We have to talk.”

She wrenched away from Jones with a frown, then wiggled off Connor’s lap. She squeezed onto the seat between him and the car door, pushing him closer to Jones. When Raleigh stopped for a red light, Darby scrabbled with the door handle, trying to escape. Without success.

“Childproof safety locks,” Jones said evenly. “They’re not just for parents anymore.”

Raleigh chuckled, but Darby shot Jones a look that said she didn’t appreciate his dry humor. Then her gaze shifted back to Connor, and he felt the same kick of yearning and awe he’d known every time her green eyes had met his in the past. Except now her gaze was suspicious and hostile.

“Connor, who are these people? What’s going on? H-how are you still alive?”

He gave her a humorless laugh. “Wow. I missed you, too, honey. Thanks for the warm welcome home.”

A fresh wave of anger hardened her face briefly before tears filled her eyes and grief slackened her features. “You jerk. Of course I missed you. I died inside when I thought I’d lost you!”

Compunction punched him in the gut. “I’m sorry, Darby. I just—”

“Sorry?” she shrieked and landed an inert fist on his arm. “We buried you! Your parents had to pick out a headstone for their son. Your brothers carried your casket. I saw them wheel a body bag out of the charred cabin. But it was all a lie!” A tear broke free from her eyelashes, and when he reached up to wipe it from her cheek, she knocked his hand away.

“Honey, I know my leaving hurt you and my family. I’m sorry. I am! Leaving all of you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done! If I’d had any other way—”

“You did! You could have not pretended to die, not devastated us, not lied to us—”

“I did it to protect you. All of you. I loved you, Darby. I didn’t want to hurt you, but the Gales wanted—”

“You abandoned me. You don’t abandon someone you love.” Her voice cracked, and she turned toward the window, biting her bottom lip.

Connor mumbled a curse and rubbed his face.

After pulling the car into an alley with a tall privacy fence on one side and a department store loading dock on the other, Raleigh cut the engine. He caught Connor’s attention via the rearview mirror. “I know you two have a lot of personal stuff to air out, but can we stick a pin in it for now? The more immediate problem is coming to an understanding with Ms. Kent and assuring her silence.”

Darby’s chin snapped up, her eyes widening. “That sounds like a threat. What do you mean assure my silence? Connor, what kind of thugs are you involved with?”

“Not thugs, ma’am,” Jones said, pulling out his badge. “Deputy U.S. Marshals. Sam Orlean is under our protection as part of WitSec, the Witness Security Program.”

“U.S. Marshals?” Darby ignored Jones’s badge and scowled at him. “Since when is it okay for federal agents to kidnap law-abiding citizens?”

* * *

Darby’s stomach swirled sourly, and she held her breath, wondering where she’d found the nerve to so openly challenge these men. The bulges under their jackets were almost assuredly guns. How far would these men go to assure her silence?

The man named Jones looked surprised. “You haven’t been kidnapped. You’re free to go whenever you like.”

Darby scoffed. “Childproof locks ring a bell?”

Jones smiled and sent Connor a side glance. “Feisty.”

“Just one of her many attributes,” he replied.

“Marshal Raleigh,” Jones said, still smiling, “would you be so kind as to unlock Ms. Kent’s door for her?”

“Roger that.” Raleigh pushed a button on the driver’s door, and the rear door locks clicked off.

Darby blinked, startled by the turn of events. Was she really free to go, or would they shoot her in the back if she tried to leave? She glanced from the door to Jones, narrowing her eyes as she decided whether Jones was pulling a trick. She tested the door release, and it popped open. Then she paused. Connor.

She jerked her gaze back to Connor, the man she’d once loved and conceived a child with, and her heart staggered. This wasn’t about a standoff between her and two U.S. Marshals. The important issue was Connor. Who was alive. In Witness Security. And who’d contacted Dr. Reed.

He could well be a tissue match for Savannah’s bone marrow transplant. Connor.

She exhaled a ragged breath, shifting her gaze from one man to another. And closed the car door. “I... All right. You have my attention.”

Chapter 3

Connor divided a look between Jones and Raleigh. “Do you want to do the honors?”

Jones waved a hand in deferral. “Go ahead. We’ll jump in as needed.”

Darby sighed impatiently. “Someone talk.”

Turning on the seat to better face her, Connor scooped Darby’s hand in his. For a moment, he thought she might yank it back, but she hesitated, eyeing him with a combination of suspicion and concern. “Do you remember right before I...left—”

Her eyebrow rose as if taking issue with his euphemism. You abandoned me.

Connor’s chest wrenched. Knowing how hard Darby had taken his disappearance—no, his faked death—poured acid guilt on his conscience. He’d known she’d be heartbroken. They’d been in love, planning to marry. But he truly hadn’t realized how bitter, how hurt she’d be.

He puffed out a breath and plunged on. “You remember that I testified in the federal trial against William Gale, right?”

She nodded, holding his gaze.

“Well, what I didn’t tell you at the time was that the Gales have ties to organized crime. In fact, they head up a branch of organized crime that operates in Lagniappe.”

She sat straighter, her eyes widening and her face paling. “Organized crime? But—”

“I didn’t know about their criminal connections when I went to work for them. And I didn’t learn about the criminal activity for a long time. They’re quite good at hiding their illegal sidelines.”

Darby held up a hand. “Wait. I’m sensing this is too big to cover in one hurried conversation parked in a back alley.” She flipped her wrist and checked her watch. “I’ve already been gone too long. Savannah is leaving the hospital today. She was almost ready to go when I bolted out of her room to follow my hunch about you.”

Connor frowned. “Who’s with her now?”

“Hunter. But I have to get back. I—” She leaned toward the front seat, grabbing Raleigh’s arm. “Take me to St. Mary’s Hospital. Now!” She sighed and added, “Please.”

Raleigh turned on the seat to face his partner. “She’s right about one thing. We need to get her back to the hospital before her absence causes concern with the family or hospital staff.”

Jones tapped fingers to his lips as he thought. “Okay.” While Raleigh started the engine again, Jones narrowed a serious look at Darby. “Here’s the deal. Witness security only works if the subject breaks all ties with his former life. No one can know Sam is still alive.”

“But his family—”

“No. No one. Do you understand?”

Darby hesitated, nodded, then knitted her brow in consternation. “Wait, how is Connor supposed to be Savannah’s donor if no one can know he’s alive?”

“Connor can’t. Connor is dead. But Sam Orlean can.” Jones paused and leaned toward Darby to emphasize his point. “As long as his cover remains intact.”

Darby glanced at Connor, then back to the marshal. “Only problem with that is my family, Connor’s family...everyone knows Connor is Savannah’s father. And because of the DNA tests he took, so does Dr. Reed and her staff. They even called me to ask about it. They were puzzled when the tests showed Sam Orlean—” she drew quotation marks with her fingers as she said the name “—was Savannah’s biological father. They wanted to know if I was sure it was Connor who’d fathered my baby. As if I slept around and couldn’t keep track of my lovers.” Her tone held a bitter edge.

“That could work,” Raleigh said from the driver’s seat as he negotiated traffic. “You could tell the doctor you had a one-night stand while on vacation and were too embarrassed to say anything before now.”

Darby’s expression mirrored her outrage. “Pregnant from a one-night stand? Hell, no! I’m not that kind of woman.”

“We’re not saying you are. But if you could tell people that’s how you got pregnant, that’s why Sam Orlean of Dallas is the girl’s father—”

She visibly tensed, her fury palpable. “You mean lie? If I tell people that, I become that woman in the eyes of people I love and respect.”

Connor had heard enough. “Darby...”

Her gaze jerked to him, her green eyes blazing. “Do you hear what they’re asking? Do you have any idea how much it would hurt your parents for me to tell them the little girl they love, the grandchild they believe was a posthumous gift from you, isn’t really yours?”

A sharp ache speared him. The last thing he wanted was to cause his family or Darby any more pain. “I hate this as much as you do, but we have to consider all the options.”

She rounded on him. “Do you hate it? You hurt us all easily enough when you faked your death five years ago! What’s one more stab in the back to a family you already walked away from? The family who grieves for you even today!”

Connor stiffened. “Leaving you, letting my family think I was dead was the hardest thing I’ve ever done! I hated the idea of my parents thinking I’d died, of you going through that kind of heartache and grief. Of my brothers—” He huffed in frustration as a knot of his own grief balled in his chest. “I did it to protect you. All of you! And I’d rather that sacrifice not go to waste by blowing my cover now.”

“I will not lie to the people I love. I cannot hurt them that way!” Darby poked him in the chest, then flopped back against the seat and crossed her arms stubbornly.

“Even if it means protecting the father of your child from men who want to kill him?” Jones asked.

Darby snapped her attention to the marshal, her anger clearly slipping a notch when faced with the brutal reality of the situation. Her mouth opened, as if to reply, then closed again.

Connor turned toward her, tamping his own frustration in order to keep his tone nonconfrontational. This might be his only chance to see Darby, to touch her and explain the choices he’d made, and he refused to spend it arguing. “Honey, forget about me for a minute. Yes, having my cover blown would put me at risk, but more important to me is the danger you and Savannah might be in. And my family. If the Gales find out I’m alive, they might strike at you to get back at me. They know the best way to hurt me is to hurt the people I love.”

A shadow of fear crept into her eyes, and she wet her lips. “Connor, I don’t want you or anyone else to get hurt, but there has to be another way. Your family can keep the secret that you’re alive if—”

“No,” Jones interrupted. “The more people who know, the higher the risk. We have to contain this. We need your word that you’ll cooperate with us, whatever it takes, in order to keep Sam alive and your family safe.”

“And we need that commitment now,” Raleigh added. “We’re at the hospital.”

Connor glanced out the side window, and sure enough, they’d reached St. Mary’s. He glanced up at the brick edifice, and his heart seized. His daughter was inside those walls. The little girl he’d made with Darby. A longing so pure and deep flooded him that he couldn’t breathe for a moment.

Raleigh and Jones were still trying to impress upon Darby the importance of her complete silence, the need for her to agree to whatever lie they invented about Savannah’s parentage.

“I want to see her,” he blurted. Three heads swiveled toward him.

“What?” Darby asked.

He held Darby’s gaze, bittersweet longing swelling in his chest. “I want to see my daughter.”

Though he knew in his head all the reasons it was a bad idea, his heart shouted down the rational voice of his conscience. He might never have this chance again, a chance to meet his firstborn, the opportunity to hold her, hug her, tell her he loved her. He took Darby’s hands in his, his pulse thudding unsteadily. “Let me meet Savannah. Please?”

“Uhhh,” Raleigh said, dragging out the syllable to reflect his uncertainty. “Not a good idea.”

Connor ignored the marshal, still holding Darby’s hands and gaze, waiting. If she agreed, he’d move heaven and earth to make time with his daughter happen.

Tears filled her eyes, and she bit her bottom lip when it trembled. Hurt and anger darkened her gaze. “I want to say no. I want to say you gave up the right to see her when you walked out of our lives.”

Connor tensed and squeezed her hands. “I didn’t know you were pregnant.”

She nodded her concession on that point. “That’s why I can’t justify keeping you from her. You’re her father. You have a right to see her.”

Behind him, Jones grunted. “Sam, we can’t—”

“I am.” He shifted on the seat to face Marshal Jones, determination firming his resolve. “I am going to meet my daughter. With or without your help.”

Chapter 4

Clearly sensing a lengthy discussion was in the offing, Marshal Raleigh pulled away from the curb in front of the hospital and circled the block, finding another alley to park in. Jones and Raleigh took some convincing to cooperate with Connor’s insistence on meeting Savannah. But with some brainstorming help from Darby and Connor, they developed a cover to get Connor into Darby’s house without raising any red flags with the Gales.

“Wait. What about Hunter?” Darby asked as they headed back toward the hospital.

“Who’s Hunter?” Raleigh asked.

“My youngest brother,” Connor said.

“Hunter was with me when I got the call from the doctor’s office asking if I could explain why Sam Orlean’s DNA tests showed such a significant parental match.” She glanced from Connor to the marshals. “He knows I was trying to intercept you at Dr. Reed’s office to find out who you were, why the tests showed you were Savannah’s father.”

“All the more reason to go with the one-night-stand story,” Jones said.

Darby shook her head. “He won’t buy it. Hunter knows me better than that. He knows I suspected Sam Orlean was Connor.”

“Then tell him you were too late to catch up with Sam,” Raleigh offered. “Tell him the doctor’s office realized they’d mixed up records and apologized for the confusion.”

She snorted her disagreement. “I can’t lie to Hunter. He’ll see right through me.”

“My brother is trustworthy,” Connor said quietly, turning toward Jones. “Now that Darby knows the truth, maybe it’d be best to tell Hunter about WitSec, as well. He can keep it quiet.”

“Yes!” Darby nodded her agreement. “Let me tell Hunter the truth. He won’t believe that anyone but Connor is Savannah’s father, and he reads me too well for me to lie about any of this.”

In the front seat, Raleigh groaned.

Jones rubbed his face with his hand. “You understand that the more people who know who Sam is, the more risk there is of the wrong people finding out?”

Raleigh pulled to a stop once more at the hospital entrance and turned toward the backseat. “Do I need to circle the block again?”

“Hunter won’t talk.” Connor narrowed a certain gaze on Jones. “We can trust him.”

Jones and Raleigh exchanged a long dark look, as if communicating telepathically.

Darby twisted her hands in her lap, her heart still racing from adrenaline and her brain muddled with the surrealism of the past half hour. Finally, Raleigh sighed and turned back to the front window, while muttering under his breath about hell in a hand basket.

“Okay.” Jones flipped up his palms. His expression said he was far from happy about acquiescing. “But tell Hunter as little as possible until we’ve had a chance to debrief him and impress upon him the urgency of his silence.”

Darby gave a jerky nod and opened the car door. “I understand.”

As she slid out of the backseat, Connor caught her arm. “Darby.” She faced him, waiting for him to continue. Emotions played over his face, clearly telling her how conflicted he was, deciding what he wanted to say, what he could say. As if he were torn between what was in his heart and the masquerade he was playing.

The longer he hesitated, the more irritated she grew. The Connor she knew had never hedged, never held back from sharing his heart with her. But then, that Connor was dead, wasn’t he? This Connor—or Sam Orlean—had lied about his death, had stayed away for almost five years.

“See you in about an hour,” he said at last, his frown saying he knew how lame he sounded.

“Right.” She snatched her arm from his grip, frustrated, hurt and so angry with him she was shaking.

She hurried back inside the hospital and onto the same elevator car she’d ridden down some forty or so minutes earlier. As the doors closed, she marveled at how the elevator could look the same when her life had changed so completely in such a short time. Connor. Connor was alive!

The air in her lungs stalled, just as it had when she’d recognized the man with the dye-darkened beard and sunglasses in the parking garage. She braced a hand on the wall of the elevator and bent at the waist to catch her breath.

“Are you all right, ma’am?” an orderly on the elevator with her asked.

She peeked up at him and shook her head. “No. Not really.”

They arrived at her floor, the door sliding open with a ding, and she straightened. Flashing a forced smile to the orderly, she stepped off the elevator, waving the hospital employee away when he made a move to help her. “No, thanks.”

“Mommy!” Savannah called to her as she ducked back into her hospital room.

She managed a smile for her daughter and bent to kiss her temple. “Hi, Miss Priss.”

Hunter spun to face her, his phone at his ear, his expression impatient. “Cheese and rice, Darby!” He waved his cell, thumbing the disconnect button. “Why haven’t you answered your phone? I’ve called you at least ten times!”

“Because...” She blew out a deep breath and slapped a hand to her empty shoulder where her purse usually hung. “Crud! I left my purse at the doctor’s office.” Raking a hand through her hair, she dropped her shoulders wearily. “Will you stop by there to let me grab it on our way home?”

He pulled a face. “Uh, yeah. Whatever.” Spreading his hands, he raised his eyebrows and huffed. “Well? What happened? Did you see him?”

Darby cut a side glance to Savannah, then scowled at Hunter. “Ixnay about Onnorcay.”

Hunter looked ready to strangle her. “Just give me a yes or no. Was it him?”

“Did someone die, Mommy?”

Darby faced Savannah, her pulse stumbling. “No, honey. Why?”

“You told somebody on the phone that Connuh was dead.” Savannah wrinkled her nose. “Who’s Connuh?”