Expecting Thunder's Baby

Expecting Thunder’s Baby

Sheri WhiteFeather

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Coming Next Month

One

Thunder Trueno hadn’t seen Carrie Lipton, his ex-wife, in twenty years. Not that it should matter after all this time. They’d been kids then, high school sweethearts, eighteen-year-olds who’d got married because of the baby.

A baby that had never been. A miscarriage, he thought. His child. Her child. Their child.

He frowned at the brick walkway that led to Carrie’s door. She lived in a condominium that was located in the same desert town where they’d grown up. The Arizona land was vast and plentiful, with scattered ranches and pockets of suburban neighborhoods.

Thunder lived in Los Angeles now. He’d made a life for himself that didn’t include the past. Of course he came back every so often to visit his family, but he’d never contacted his ex-wife.

Not until today.

Still frowning, he rang the bell. He’d called ahead to let her know that he was stopping by, that he wanted to interview her about a case he was working on that involved a missing woman. Thunder co-owned SPEC, a company that offered a variety of personal protection and investigative services. Their conversation had been awkward, to say the least. She’d been shocked to hear from him.

When a man opened the door, Thunder’s scowl deepened. Who the hell was he? Carrie wasn’t married. Nor did she have a live-in lover. Thunder knew because he’d flat-out asked her when they’d spoken, albeit briefly, over the phone. He’d wanted to be prepared, to know what to expect. He didn’t like surprises. Yet here was some guy in her doorway.

He was as tall as Thunder, but with sandy-colored hair, blue eyes and a lanky build. Aside from their height, the two men didn’t look anything alike. Thunder was a full-blood from the White Mountain Apache Nation, with eyes almost as black as his hair. The other man was as Anglo as Anglo could be. He was dressed in business attire, but his tie was undone, an indication that he’d got cozy in Carrie’s condo.

Thunder knew he shouldn’t care. Carrie wasn’t his to care about anymore. Still, he wanted to knock Mr. Cozy straight on his ass.

“Where’s Carrie?” Thunder asked, not bothering to introduce himself.

Cozy didn’t reveal his name, either. But he wasn’t territorial, at least not in a tense way. His response was easy. “She had to run to the market. She’ll be back soon.”

Thunder didn’t say anything. He’d arrived a little early. But the other man didn’t seem to mind. His relaxed demeanor annoyed Thunder even more.

“You must be the ex-husband,” Cozy said. “Carrie told me about you.”

Thunder struggled to keep his attitude in check, to not let his frustration show. “She didn’t mention you.”

Cozy remained unaffected. “We haven’t been going out that long.”

Before Cozy could invite him inside, footsteps sounded on the walkway. Thunder turned around, sensing it was Carrie. The girl who’d panicked when she’d found out she was pregnant. The same girl who’d cried when she’d lost the baby. He wondered if she’d told Cozy about that, too.

Carrie stopped dead in her tracks. Then she just stood there, staring at Thunder, with two plastic grocery bags in her hands. She wore a polka-dot sundress and a pair of white sandals. Her brown hair was long and loose, just as silky as he remembered, with reddish highlights that hadn’t been there before. Her skin was a warm golden shade. Carrie tanned easily—she had some unregistered Cherokee blood. It was the first thing she’d told him on the day they’d met.

Her face had matured, he noticed. And so had her body. Her girlish hips were gone. She was fuller, rounder.

“You look different,” she said to him.

“So do you,” he responded. She’d grown into the sort of woman he would want to pick up in a bar and take home for a one-night stand. As a teenager, she’d been pretty. As an adult, she was sultry. Her lips were shiny and wet, which he could tell was from the cinnamon-colored lipgloss she wore, but the effect hit him straight in the gut.

He moved forward, intending to take the groceries from her. Then he realized what he was doing. This wasn’t his home. Or his wife.

When he stalled and glanced back at Cozy, the guy finally took his cue. “Oh, right. I’ll get those.” He grabbed the bags, and Carrie blinked at the man she was dating.

“Thank you,” she said. “I assume you met Thunder.”

He shook his head. “Not officially, no.”

She made the introduction. “Kevin Rivers. Thunder Trueno.”

Cozy—Kevin—shifted the groceries so they could do the proper thing and shake hands. “Thunder Thunder?” he asked.

Apparently, blond, blue-eyed Kevin knew how to speak Spanish. Trueno meant “Thunder.” “My real name is Mark. But no one calls me that.” Not even his parents. They’d given him the nickname.

“Got it,” Kevin said. “I won’t call you Mark, either.”

Thunder assessed the other man’s casual manner. Was he trying to drive Thunder crazy? Trying to prove that his and Carrie’s relationship was secure? That he didn’t perceive her ex-husband as a threat?

Bloody hell.

Thunder wanted to be a threat. He wanted to sweep Carrie back into his bed, even twenty years later.

“We should go inside,” she said.

Carrie led the way, with Kevin on her heels. Thunder went in last, irritated by his attraction to her and checking out the place where she lived.

The two-story condo featured tan carpeting, rattan furniture and prints of watercolors—seascapes—on the walls. A gas fireplace was flanked with white bricks.

Kevin moseyed into the kitchen and put the groceries on the counter. Then he returned to the living room and gave Carrie a kiss on the cheek.

“I should get going,” he said to her. “Will you stop by my motel room later?”

She nodded, and Thunder’s envy flared. The urge to knock Kevin on his ass returned.

The other man looked his way. “It was nice to meet you.”

Yeah, right. Cozy Kevin had got him by the balls. He jerked his chin in response. He didn’t trust himself to say anything.

Carrie walked Kevin to the door. They didn’t linger. A simple goodbye, and he was gone.

Thunder gazed at his ex, and silence engulfed the condo. She fidgeted with her highlighted hair, twisting the ends.

“Quit looking at me like that,” she said.

“Like what?”

“Like I’m still married to you.”

“You should have told me Kevin was going to be here.”

“I don’t owe you an explanation, Thunder.”

“Maybe not. But I asked you over the phone if you were with anyone. You could have been honest.”

“It isn’t serious.”

“Really?” He wanted to step forward, to crowd her, to get as close as he possibly could. “Then what’s the deal with the motel?”

“I have to work later. I manage my parents’ motel now.” She zeroed in on the groceries in the kitchen and went to put them away.

Refusing to drop the subject, he followed her. “That doesn’t explain why Kevin has a room there.”

She opened the fridge and put a bag of apples inside. A jar of mayonnaise went next, followed by some prepackaged lunch meat. “That’s where he stays when he’s in town. He’s a salesman for a pharmaceutical company.”

Thunder raised his eyebrows. “You’re dating a drug dealer?”

“Very funny.” She finished putting away the groceries and removed a red-labeled can from the cabinet. “Do you want coffee?”

He gave her a frustrated nod, then leaned against the counter. “Why did he ask you to stop by his room later?”

She shot him an exasperated look. “We plan on having dinner tonight. During my break.”

He couldn’t help himself. He grilled her as though she were a cheating spouse. “Are you sleeping with him?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but no, I’m not.” She went to the sink to fill the carafe with water. “We’re still getting to know each other.”

“And he’s okay with you putting him off? What a wuss.”

She heaved a sigh. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that some men know how to be friends with a woman.” She looked him square in the eye. “You’ve never grasped that concept.”

He frowned at her. “You and I were friends.”

“No we weren’t. All we had was sex.”

Her words stung, right down to the core. “We had more than that.” He watched her put coffee grounds in the filter. “We had the baby.”

Her hand nearly slipped. “I got pregnant because we were sleeping together. Not because we were friends.”

“Fine. Whatever.” He ignored the emptiness in his chest, the ache that always surfaced when he thought about the loss of their child. He knew the miscarriage had left a hole in her heart, too. He could see the familiar sadness in her eyes. At first they’d been scared spitless about becoming parents, but within a matter of weeks they’d grown romantically accustomed to the idea. “I didn’t come here to dredge up the past.”

No, Carrie thought. He’d got in touch with her because he wanted to interview her about a case he was working on. She wasn’t surprised that he did high-profile security and investigative work. She’d been a homebody, a nester, but he’d always dreamed of bigger and better things, of saving the world, of making a difference. After the divorce, he’d enlisted in the Army, where he’d become an intelligence officer. She’d heard that he’d been a mercenary too, that after he left the Army, he’d taken high-risk jobs. People were always telling her things about Thunder. But that happened when you lived in a small town, where everyone seemed to know your past. Not that she hadn’t been curious about him. He hadn’t been an easy man to forget.

She poured the coffee and tried not think about their youth, about him splaying his hands across her tummy and asking her what they should name the baby.

They’d chosen Tracy for a girl and Trevor for a boy.

Carrie handed him his coffee. He accepted the steaming brew, watching her with an intense expression in those deep, dark eyes. He’d aged strong and hard, with unrelenting features. He was bigger, broader, more muscular, burgeoning into the warrior he was destined to become.

He’d been planning on enlisting in the Army before she’d got pregnant, before he’d been honor-bound to marry her. And afterward he’d expected her to be his military wife, to sit on an Army base somewhere and wait for him to return from Lord only knew where. She’d refused, and he’d remained as restless as an alley cat, scratching his way through a young, troubled marriage.

But even so, he’d wanted the baby. He’d wanted to be a father. The memory hurt more than she cared to admit. She was supposed to be over him. Twenty years was a long time. Their child would have been a young adult today.

“What’s that?” he asked.

She blinked, then realized she’d just splashed a vanilla-flavored creamer into her cup. She held up the container, showing it to him. “Do you want some?”

“No.” He angled his head. “You always had a sweet tooth.”

“Yeah, but now everything goes straight to my hips.”

He checked her out, slowly and steadily. “I like how you look.”

Uh-oh. A case of self-consciousness crept over her, so she stirred her drink, trying to seem unaffected. “I wasn’t fishing for a compliment.”

“And I wasn’t taking the unintended bait.”

“Okay, then.” She clanked her spoon. He was still checking her out, like the predator he’d always been. Even as a teenager, he’d had a blatant way of looking at her, of making her feel sexual. A tactic that had worked in his favor, especially on the night she’d given him her virginity. For Carrie, first-time sex had been painful, but he’d held her afterward, promising it would get better.

And it had. Every time he’d touched her, she’d fallen deeper in love. Foolish girl that she was. But in the end, she’d filed the divorce papers. Dissolving the marriage had been her choice, her heartbreak, her salvation. After they’d lost the baby, everything had fallen apart, including her emotions, her fear of staying with a man who was much too eager to conquer the world.

Carrie took a deep breath, and Thunder ran his hand through his hair. It was shorter than it had been when they were young, but not as close-cropped as she’d expected. He didn’t wear a military cut.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

She nodded. She knew he meant the interview. He’d told her over the phone that he wanted to question her about Julia Alcott, a woman who used to work at her family’s motel.

They sat at the kitchen table, with the afternoon sun shining through a window.

“When’s the last time you saw Julia?” he asked.

“It’s been ten years. That’s how long ago she worked for my parents.”

“Did you know her very well?”

“We had a lunch together a few times. We weren’t overly close, but I liked her. She was easy to talk to, mature for her age. She’s younger than I am. She was only eighteen at the time.”

“And you were twenty-eight then.”

“Yes.” Carrie lifted her coffee and took a sip. He knew exactly how old she was. She and Thunder were the same age. “Are you investigating her kidnapping?” She’d read about Julia’s abduction in the paper and had watched the news updates on TV, worrying about the other woman. “I heard that she was safe. That a private citizen found her two days after she was reported missing.”

“I’m investigating her whereabouts now.”

“Now? That was six months ago. Was she kidnapped again?”

“No, but she and her mother, Miriam, left town right after the rescue. Miriam is a compulsive gambler. The loan sharks she owed money to took Julia hostage, trying to threaten Miriam into paying her debts. But Miriam didn’t tell the police that she knew who’d abducted her daughter. Instead, she and Julia split in the middle of the night a few days after Dylan stumbled on Julia in an abandoned trailer near his ranch. He was the private citizen who found her.”

“Dylan is involved?” Thunder’s younger brother had been a wild child, a boy who was forever getting in trouble.

“He’s not an official investigator. He just happened to find her in the trailer. He’s been investigating this for months, and he got an anonymous tip that the kidnappers hired an assassin to find them.”

Carrie tried to picture Dylan, to envision what he would look like today. He was nine years old the last time she’d seen him, a scrappy kid who did reckless tricks on his horse and had just got into Golden Gloves boxing, which was supposed to provide a positive outlet for his pent-up energy. “Have the police arrested the kidnappers?”

“The FBI is involved, but there isn’t enough evidence to arrest the kidnappers, let alone convict them, and the identity of the assassin is unknown. We’re trying to find Julia and her mother before the killer does, before he silences them.” Thunder blew out a rough breath. “The authorities need their testimony.”

Carrie sat back in her chair. Her life was simple, so ordinary, and Julia Alcott’s world was turned upside down. “Do you think Julia and her mother know that there is an assassin after them?”

“No, but they’re certainly aware of how vicious the loan sharks are. They’re running scared just the same.” He made a troubled face. “The assassin wasn’t hired until after Dylan figured out who the kidnappers were. That’s why he’s trying so hard to locate Julia and Miriam, to bring them to safety.”

“Your brother feels responsible for their lives?”

“Yes.” Thunder drank his coffee, squinting into the sunlight that zigzagged across the table. “Tell me everything you remember about Julia. Even if it seems insignificant.”

“She worked in housekeeping.” Carrie paused, trying to recall details, to step back in time, to envision eighteen-year-old Julia. “She was meticulous, especially for someone so young. She’d just graduated from high school.”

“How long was she at the motel?”

“For about a year.”

“Did you ever see her after she quit?”

“No, but I heard that she started working as a waitress.”

He continued the interview, zeroing in on personal questions. “What did you talk about on the occasions that you had lunch with her?”

“Girl stuff, I guess.”

“Men?”

“Sometimes we talked about her boyfriend. I don’t remember his name, but she was upset when he broke up with her.”

“His name is Dan Myers. I’ve already spoken with him. He’s married now, with two little kids. He seems content.”

“Good for him.” Carrie tried not to sound cynical, but Thunder was the last person with whom she wanted to discuss marriage and babies. “I told her that she was better off waiting until she was older to find the right guy. That eighteen was too young to be in a serious relationship.”

He clenched his jaw, making a tight expression. “What were you? The voice of experience?”

“Yes, I was.” She gazed at him over the rim of her cup. “I’ve learned to choose my men wisely.”

His voice turned flip. “And I’ve learned to bang my way through as many blondes as I can find.” A smart-aleck smile tilted one corner of his lips. “Brunettes and redheads, too.”

She wanted to push him right out the window, but she wasn’t about to let him get the best of her. “You’ve been sleeping around? The man who doesn’t know how to be friends with a woman? Gee, what a surprise.”

He didn’t respond, and her pulse stumbled. The smile was gone, and his eyes remained as dark and dangerous as his soul. She hated remembering how much she’d loved him, how much he’d influenced every aspect of her life. “Can we get back to Julia?” she asked.

“Totally.” Those menacing eyes bore straight into hers. “That’s why I’m here.” He shifted his weight, creaking the chair. “Did she have friends, know anyone out of state?”

“You mean someone she might try to get reacquainted with now?” Carrie shook her head. “She never mentioned anyone.”

“What about her goals? Did she ever talk about what she wanted out of life? Was she interested in college?”

“I don’t remember. But I know that she liked this area. That she felt comfortable here. She didn’t seem interested in moving.”

“Why?”

“Because she and her mom moved a lot when she was little. And because she leased a horse at Brentwood Stables. She skimped and saved to afford that luxury. She enjoyed riding, being out in nature.”

“That’s what all of her old co-workers have said so far. But she hasn’t had a horse for the past few years.” He frowned a little. “As far as I can tell, she gave up the horse to help Miriam. Her mom was behind on her bills.”

“Because of her gambling?”

He creaked his chair again. “Yes.”

Curious, Carrie thought about Thunder’s brother, about his being a horse trainer. “Did Dylan know Julia before the kidnapping? Before he’d rescued her?”

“No. He’s done a few clinics at Brentwood Stables, but not while Julia was boarding there.”

“Why isn’t Dylan interviewing me?” she asked.

“Because he’s traveling, checking out the places where Julia and Miriam used to live.” Thunder paused. “I’d like to interview your parents, too.”

“They’re out of town.”

“For how long?”

“Until Sunday.”

“That’s fine. I’ll be around until then.” He finished his coffee. “Where’d your parents go?”

“Las Vegas.” To play the slot machines, she thought. To try their luck at blackjack. Only her folks didn’t have a gambling problem. They weren’t like Julia’s mother. “I’m taking a vacation when they get back.”

He stood up, towering over the table, over her. “Where are you going?”

“Nowhere.” She got to her feet, troubled by his questions, by the way he was prying into her life. “I’m just going to get some things done around the house.”

“Sounds boring.”

Carrie shrugged. At times her life was dull. But it was safe, too. She didn’t take chances. Her first and only risk had been marrying Thunder.

And she’d learned her lesson.

She looked at her ex-husband, at his take-charge posture, at his break-a-woman’s-heart demeanor.

She’d learned it well.

Two

Afew days later, Carrie manned the front desk at the Lipton Lodge Motel while Thunder interviewed her parents in the backroom office. They’d been holed up for what seemed like hours.

Edgy, she glanced at her watch. The interview had been only forty-five minutes, but that was long enough. She doubted that they were talking about Julia Alcott the entire time. Carrie’s parents hadn’t known her that well. Of course after Julia had been kidnapped, Daisy and Paul Lipton had been glued to the TV, worrying and wondering about the young woman who used to work for them. Carrie had been fretful, too. Things like that weren’t supposed to happen in Cactus Wren County.

She glanced out the floor-to-ceiling windows, her mind wandering. Cactus Wren had been named after the state bird, a little creature that built a variety of nests, living in one and using the others as decoys.

Ironically, Carrie knew all about phony shelters, about keeping herself safe, at least in an emotional sense. She was notorious for dating men like Kevin, for using them as decoys. Only her relationship with Kevin had just blown up in her face.

Why?

Because Kevin didn’t challenge her. He didn’t ignite her blood. He didn’t make her long for more.

But Thunder did, damn him. So she’d confided in Kevin, admitting how Thunder affected her, even after all these years.

And what did Kevin do?

He’d remained true to character, letting her go without a fight. Of course he’d offered to stay friends with her, to lend an ear if she ever needed to talk. But that didn’t ease her frustration or make her any less angry at Thunder. Just like that, he’d spun back into her life, creating chaos like the human tornado he was.

And despite her better judgment, she wanted to have a knockdown, drag-out affair with her former spouse, then boot him straight out of her bed.

Only knowing Thunder, he wouldn’t give a damn. He wouldn’t care if she cleansed her soul with sex, as long as he was getting his rocks off, too.

No, she thought. She wouldn’t sleep with him.

The office door opened and voices emerged. Carrie turned around and saw her parents with Thunder. The familiarity made her ache.

Daisy and Paul had loved Thunder like a son.

Carrie’s mom had her arm looped through his. She was a medium-boned, slightly plump, pretty brunette who wore stylish clothes and chattered incessantly. Carrie’s dad stood tall and trim and quiet. His dark, thinning hair was laced with gray, and the desert sun had bronzed his skin. Although he was one-quarter Cherokee, he didn’t have a CDIB card, a Certificate of Degree of Indian Blood, to prove it.