The Baby Pursuit

“Okay, we can go.”

“Just what are you looking for?” she demanded, the impatience—Dev thought it must be a family trait—visible in a frown that nicked a line between her eyes. She stared at him without blinking.

For a second he forgot the question and became lost in those verdant depths. He wondered what her passion would be like, if she would be as impatient to get to a climax as she was to get on with the investigation.

He reined in the hunger. A woman, especially this one, had no place in his life. Control was his strength; logic his métier. That’s why he succeeded in cases that other law enforcement officials had given up on. Why he had been sent on this job—to solve a kidnapping, not to fall for the daughter of the house.

“What?” he said, vaguely recalling a question being asked, not sure if it had come from him or her.

She looked away. This time he sensed confusion behind the other emotions she tried to hide.

“Nothing.” She led the way into the hall.

There were four other doors in the east wing. She paused at the first one and looked at him with a question in her eyes. He explored the room, checking it as he had the main suite. One door revealed a nursery.

The small room contained a combination dresser diapering station, a crib, bassinet and a rocker. There was a daybed—for a nanny, he assumed—and chest of drawers along one wall.

“Is this where the child was sleeping?” Dev asked.

She nodded. “Bryan. His name is Bryan. Claudia had put him to bed in here after the christening—” Her voice wobbled on the last word and she stopped speaking abruptly.

Devin sensed her distress and felt a tightening inside, as if what she felt, he did, too. This was a case, he reminded himself. He couldn’t afford to get emotional.

“Okay, let’s move on,” he said, ushering her out. He glanced into the other bedrooms, noting that each had a door that opened to the inner courtyard, an ensuite bath, and the usual compliment of closet space the rich seemed to require.

The next-to-last door was her room. He smiled at the jumble of books, clothes, jewelry and other female “junk” spilling over the dresser, tables and chairs. The room was just what he would expect from a spoiled kid. This knowledge put her back on an even keel where he was concerned, and he relaxed somewhat, his libido easing up.

There were four doors in her room—one to the courtyard, one to a bathroom, another to a walk-in closet. The fourth door led to the room next door.

“Whose room is this?” he asked, annoyed by the connecting door and the possibility of having a lover close by, then was annoyed with himself for thinking of it.

“Yours,” she said, her manner indicating it should have been self-evident.

He couldn’t hide his surprise.

Amusement flashed through her eyes. “I thought this would be convenient since we’ll be working together on the case.”

For a moment he was tempted to kiss the arrogance out of her, maybe throw a little scare into the overconfident debutante for taunting a male she didn’t know. He erased the idea with difficulty.

“I’m here to do a job. You get in my way, and you’re in trouble,” he warned, trying to find the right ground for them, a neutral place without emotion or attraction.

“I’m going to help. I’ve read every book that has been written on kidnappings like this one.” She gestured toward the books littering her desk. There were others on the criminal mind, he noticed.

Stubborn, interfering female. He could see she meant business. Okay, he could handle that. He was a great believer in using whatever came to hand to solve a case. He would give her something to do to keep her out of his hair.

Passing close to her on his way to check the rest of her quarters, he caught a whiff of her scent. He was reminded of the outdoors, of sunlight and the sweet, spicy scent of wildflowers, of wind and the fresh smell of the earth after a summer shower, of nature and the powerful thrust of the stallion she had ridden….

Unbidden, unexpected, the hunger swept over him, as strong as the tornadoes that bore down from the northwest, destroying everything in their path. He fought the battle and won.

This he understood. It was passion, no more, no less. But the undercurrents between them whispered of something else. In the nursery, he’d seen the vulnerable side of her, the love for her nephew, the worry and despair that had shone briefly in the depths of her eyes. His partner’s wife had looked like that after they had buried Stan.

From those two, Dev had learned what a real marriage was supposed to be, the give and take, the sharing of the good and bad, the raising of their kids…

The pain hit him as it always did—rising from his soul, tormenting him. Love, he had discovered early in his life, was a hurtful thing. It lifted the heart on wings of hope, then dashed it to the ground, shattered and struggling.

“Why haven’t they contacted us again?” Vanessa asked suddenly, interrupting his inner tirade of guilt and blame. She clenched her hands at her sides. “I should have looked in on him. I started to, but I let myself be distracted. Maria had returned and I stopped and talked to her. After that, I forgot to check on Bryan. I should have. I meant to…”

When she looked at him, the pain was in her eyes. He knew that feeling and the guilt that went with it.

He looked away, refusing to give in.

“If only I had gone to the nursery—”

“And done what?” he asked harshly. “Surprised the kidnappers and gotten yourself killed?”

Vanessa shook her head, angry with herself for failing her nephew. “I don’t know.”

She swallowed hard against the knot of emotion that filled her throat, the agony in her spirit. “He was so tiny. Claudia was good about sharing him. She let me hold him and rock him. He liked patty-cake. And funny songs. He was our future, the next generation of Fortunes…” Her throat closed and she had to stop for a second. “It’s so difficult, not knowing if he’s alive and well. Or if…if…”

“In ransom cases, it’s in their interests to keep him alive,” he said tersely.

“Help me find him,” she begged, the despair rising. She instinctively knew this man would do his best to find the baby. There was something about him that she trusted.

No, it was more than trust. The moment she had looked into his eyes, had viewed the steadiness in him when he had faced her as the horse reared and pawed the air, she had known there was something between them, something deep and personal and eternal. She said his name. “Devin.”

His hand clenched at his side. “Dev,” he said, his voice dropping to a low roughness that both soothed and thrilled her. “My friends call me Dev.”

She heard the reluctance in his tone. He had been trying to distance himself from her and the feelings between them. She knew that. He didn’t want to be friends with her. He didn’t intend to get that close. She understood all that in an instant, and it didn’t matter…because she knew it wouldn’t work. Whatever this was, it was too strong for denial.

“Hold me,” she said softly. It wasn’t a request or even an order. It was stark need.

He rammed his hands into his pockets. His glare should have withered any expectations she might have, but it didn’t.

“Hold me,” she repeated.

“You’re playing dangerously, just as you did when you pitted that red stallion against a car. If you had fallen—”

She shook her head, cutting off the reprimand, and felt her hair shift around her shoulders as if it, too, sensed the restless need of her spirit. “I’d been watching for you. I saw you turn off the highway. I wanted to be here when you arrived. I wanted to be the first person you met.”

“Why?” He narrowed his eyes menacingly. “Why are you so anxious to keep tabs on me?”

The question was meant to startle and disarm. It did neither. “I want to help with the investigation. The baby, Bryan—” She stopped and took a ragged breath. “He’s so little, only three—no, four—months old now. An innocent baby. He’ll be frightened. How could anyone take him?”

Tears filled her eyes. She stepped forward, reaching for him, needing the strength she sensed he could offer. She sighed wearily as she felt his warmth enclose her like a sweet, welcome embrace although he refused to touch her.

“Money,” he replied, his tone hard. “That’s the usual reason people commit crimes.”

She laid her hands on his chest. She felt small and fragile next to his great strength, although she had never considered herself either. His breath sighed gently on the top of her head as he stared down at her, his stance wary.

“I’m not your father,” he said. “I’m not here for your comfort.”

When she didn’t step back, he put his hands on her shoulders as if he would push her away, then paused, as if he couldn’t bring himself to be cruel.

“There’s compassion in you,” she murmured. Desperation and despair churned in her. “I’m afraid. I know the chances of getting my nephew back alive lessen with each passing day,” she whispered, guilt forcing the words from her. “If I had gone to the nursery, they might have taken me in his place.”

She was glad when he didn’t murmur the usual platitudes that offered scant comfort.

“If he’s alive, I’ll find him,” he said in a deeper, huskier tone. A promise.

She nodded, her eyes never leaving his. “I know. The moment I saw you, outside, when you arrived, I knew—”

She stopped, the explanation dying on her lips. He bent slightly, then pulled back, a stunned expression flashing into his eyes, replaced immediately by one of fierce, angry control. And something more—a darkness that spoke of regret and a bitter knowledge of life that excluded anyone else.

“Yes,” she whispered, knowing whatever they felt toward each other was right, her and this dark knight with eyes like the morning sky.

He sucked in a harsh breath.

She realized with something akin to shock that she wanted him to kiss her, to act on the impulse he had subdued. Instinctively she arched against him and felt the shudder that tore through his big, strong body.

She barely heard his low curse as he backed against the door frame, taking part of her weight as she was thrown off balance. Her own breath became ragged and filled with an urgent need she’d never before known.

A roaring filled her ears. A Texas tornado, she realized vaguely. It was coming toward them…

“What the hell is going on?” a male voice said savagely.

Two

“Matthew,” Vanessa murmured, reluctantly turning from the warmth. Coldness rushed in when Dev released his grip on her shoulders. However, her heart was touched at the haggard appearance of her oldest brother and she suppressed her own needs and fears. “Have you heard anything?”

Matthew brushed her question aside with the usual Fortune impatience. “I need to talk to the FBI agent. Where is he?”

Vanessa gestured toward Dev with her free hand. “This is Devin Kincaid.”

“You know him?” Matthew demanded.

She saw the puzzled suspicion in her brother’s eyes as he stared at them. She stepped away from the solid comfort of Dev’s warmth.

“Yes,” she said simply, and realized there was no need for further explanation. In her heart, she knew this man well. She’d acknowledged that from the first contact. A moment ago, touching him, it had been like coming home.

“We met earlier,” Dev said, covering for her. “You must be the baby’s father.”

“Yes. Have you found anything?”

“Not yet.”

The brother cursed and stalked restlessly to the window that opened on the courtyard.

“It must have been an inside job,” Vanessa told them.

When the men looked at her, she realized there was a similarity between them. They both had blue eyes and brown hair, Matthew’s hair being somewhat darker. His features were more refined, aristocratic while Dev’s were rugged.

She thought Dev’s nose had been broken at one time. He sported a thin scar along his chin. His eyes were watchful, his stance wary, alert to danger. There was goodness in him. Caring. A sense of responsibility toward others. Again she was reminded of Matthew and his manner at times.

Matthew had chosen medicine after watching their mother die of cancer. The FBI agent had chosen police work, another field that demanded patience and a protective, nurturing personality for those with idealistic traits. She wondered what forces had influenced his life and knew she wouldn’t rest until she found out.

“Why do you think that?” Dev asked.

She sensed his reluctance to accept anything at face value. “There were too many people around, too many friends and neighbors who know the entire family, for a stranger to walk in, then out, with a child.”

“On the other hand, every bedroom has a door leading into the courtyard,” he pointed out.

“And from the courtyard, it’s easy to get outside,” Matthew added. “There’s an exit through the original wall at the end of each wing, plus the old stable doors.”

“If someone left the nursery with the baby, they could easily slip into any of the bedrooms if need be—” she conceded, pointing toward her door and the adjoining room assigned to Dev. “From there, it would take only a second to slip down the steps into the courtyard, around the corner and out through the gate.”

“If everyone’s attention was toward the great room balcony where Dad was proposing a toast, it would have been an easy feat,” Matthew finished. “Especially since the trellis partially blocks the view.”

Vanessa could read nothing in Dev’s face as he listened to their theory of the kidnapping. The familiar frustration welled up in her. She wanted to do something…now.

“I’d like to tour the entire compound today. I want to know who lives where—ranch hands, family, everyone.”

“Yes,” she said, reining in the impatience in the face of Dev’s calm questioning. His quiet, impassive manner was a facade that covered a man of deep feeling. She had sensed that in him when he’d responded to her despair.

Or was she overreacting to the situation? Her emotions had been on a seesaw since the disappearance.

The unfamiliar sense of helplessness, of being jerked around at the whim of someone who wanted to harm her family, swept over her. She turned instinctively to Dev, wanting the succor of his warmth around her once more. She paused when Matthew sighed, then clenched his hand into a fist.

“Someone called,” he said. “I was in the doctor’s lounge at the hospital. She said the baby was fine and that she was taking good care of him. Then she hung up.”

“Oh, my God,” Vanessa whispered. “We didn’t think of putting a tap on that line.”

“Did you recognize the voice?” Dev demanded. “If you have any idea at all, speak up. Nothing and no one is too vague to be discounted.”

Matthew shook his head. “The voice was a whisper. I could barely hear her—”

“How do you know it was a woman?” Dev asked.

Vanessa found herself staring at Matthew with the same intent look that Dev turned on him. She saw surprise, then doubt, rush through her brother’s eyes.

“I don’t know,” he said slowly. “I just thought…it seemed to me…” He shook his head. “It could have been a man.”

“No,” Dev said. “A person’s instincts are usually right. Something tipped you off, something too subtle to be recalled consciously.”

Matthew continued to look troubled. “Instincts have been wrong before.”

“So has reasoning,” Dev said dryly.

Vanessa gazed from one man to the other. “We know one female who wants to hurt us.” She didn’t say the name aloud.

“That bitch,” Matthew said, echoing her feelings.

“If you’re thinking of your stepmother Sophia,” Dev said, “why would she want to reassure you about the child?”

“So we would pay the ransom,” Vanessa told him. “If Bryan is…” She couldn’t say it.

“Dead,” Matthew said hoarsely. “If he’s dead.”

“But he’s not,” Vanessa said quickly, unable to stand his agony. “That’s why they’re keeping us waiting. They think we’ll pay more if they string us along so we’ll be more anxious.”

“Would you?”

Vanessa frowned as Dev prodded and questioned, casting doubts on their reasoning. She and Matthew had discussed the case a thousand times. “My father will pay whatever it takes.”

“Other than the original note for fifty million dollars and the one call, you’ve heard nothing?”

“That’s right,” Matthew answered.

“Where were you when the alleged kidnapping took place?” he asked Matthew.

Vanessa couldn’t believe the implication behind the question. “Matthew didn’t take his own child,” she declared hotly.

Dev continued to watch Matthew with his impassive gaze.

“I was… After the christening, I stayed close to my wife. We were outside—”

“You were near the fountain,” Vanessa added. “You and Holden were talking. Claudia and Lucinda were close by.”

The blue gaze swung to her. “Where were you?”

“I was on my way into the house and saw Maria standing under the trellis. I stopped and welcomed her back. We talked for several minutes. She seemed embarrassed at seeing me. She wouldn’t look at me. I think she was worried about facing her mother after leaving the way she did and staying gone so long.”

Matthew frowned, his gaze on the middle distance. “I remember now. We christened Bryan with water from the fountain. Rosita said the spring that feeds the fountain is the life source of the Fortune clan—”

Vanessa stepped forward and laid a comforting hand on her brother’s arm when he stopped abruptly.

“I think I could kill whoever did this with my bare hands,” he said after a few seconds.

Vanessa had never seen her brother’s eyes so filled with murderous intent. While her other brothers, Zane and Dallas, had often threatened bodily harm to her and her twin Victoria, who had tormented them about their dates, Matthew had always been the quieter brother, the kinder, gentler one, while they were growing up. He had comforted her and her sister when their mother had died, although he had been seventeen at the time, only five years older than the girls.

She was also aware that Devin Kincaid took in every word, every nuance of emotion that was taking place. For a second she resented his cool detachment. But he had a job to do, and she understood that. She wanted to help him.

“I have the guest list from the christening,” she told him, adopting his business-like manner. “Do you want it?”

“Sheriff Grayhawk gave me a copy. He also gave me a list of everyone who works here at the house. I want to talk to those people first. Do you know who was on the premises?”

“Yes. With so many guests, everyone worked that day.”

Dev nodded, then dismissed Matthew. “You’ll leave numbers where you can be reached at all times?”

Matthew handed over his card after scribbling his cell phone and hospital numbers on the back. After he left the room, Vanessa went to her desk. She picked up the list she had been working on earlier.

“I want to know where everyone that you noticed was around the time of the kidnapping,” Dev said.

“I’ve already done that.” At his glance, she smiled grimly. “I do know something about criminal investigations.”

“Huh,” was his succinct comment.

He obviously didn’t take her seriously. She stifled the urge to argue with him about it. He would, given time, she vowed. Devin Kincaid, tough FBI agent, would take her very seriously before they were through with each other.

“Let’s go over your lists,” he said, his tone patient, polite. Sergeant Joe Friday, on the job.

Cruz Perez was angry. Vanessa could identify with the feeling. She wasn’t very happy, either.

“Who the hell does he think he is?” he demanded.

“The FBI,” she snapped, in no mood to put up with his temper as well as her own irritation at being excluded from the questioning. Dev had set up office in her father’s study and allowed no one in while he questioned witnesses. She had been relegated to the role of gofer as he finished with one person and wanted the next brought to him. She had no idea what questions he asked that took so long with each person. And no one would tell her.

“That’s my mother in there,” Cruz snarled. Cruz was the horse trainer at the ranch. His mother was the housekeeper.

As if she didn’t know. Personally Vanessa had been shocked when Dev had handed her the list of people he wanted to question when he’d arrived back at the ranch first thing that morning. She’d also been miffed that he hadn’t taken advantage of their offer of a room. Surely that would have speeded things along.

“If he thinks he can connect her or anyone in my family to the kidnapping, he can think again.”

Cruz glared at her, his dark good looks dangerous and exciting as his anger erupted. However, since she had known him all her life—he was four years her senior—she wasn’t at all worried or impressed.

“No one thinks that—”

The door opened. “Thank you, Mrs. Perez,” Dev said in his even tone. His gaze went from the housekeeper, who had been on the ranch since before Vanessa was born, to slide over Vanessa and on to Cruz.

“I’ll send lunch in,” Rosita promised warmly.

“That would be kind of you.” Dev spoke to Cruz. “Cruz Perez? Please come in. Thank you for coming.”

The door closed in Vanessa’s face. For the fourth time that morning.

Dev had first talked to her father at length and without her presence, then Ruben Perez, Rosita’s husband and the ranch foreman, then Rosita, and now Cruz. She was nearing the screaming point—

“Come,” Rosita said, her dark eyes filling with amusement. “He wants to have lunch with you.”

Vanessa’s chin dropped in surprise. “He does?”

“You know he does,” Rosita said wisely.

She led the way to the kitchen where two women busied themselves between the huge stove and wall of double ovens. The smell of baking bread filled the air as usual on Friday morning. By Monday, the fresh loaves would be gone and new ones would be baked to get them through the week.

The kitchen had been the twins’ favorite place after the death of their mother. Rosita had taught them to cook everything from crown roast to homemade tortillas. She had also taught them that grief could be bearable when shared.

“Whole or half?” Rosita asked, referring to the loaf of bread she was slicing.

“Half,” Vanessa said.

While Rosita prepared a whole sandwich for Dev and a half one for her, Vanessa arranged their dishes on a tray, including the salads and cups of tortilla soup for each of them. She wasn’t sure if she should allow herself to be mollified at being included during lunch or if she should give him the silent treatment for not letting her take part in the questioning.

She sighed heavily.

Rosita poured tall glasses of iced tea. “Next time you have hot tea, I will read the leaves for you.”

“Do you think you’ll see anything?” As a child, Vanessa had always wanted to know the future.

The housekeeper had finally told her she was a very mysterious person and nothing could be seen in her future, except that it would be fun and filled with adventure.

But that had been Victoria’s future. Her twin, a pediatric nurse, was the one off on an adventure, teaching health and helping children on some tiny island republic off the coast of South America. Vanessa liked things closer to home.

Carefully carrying the tray back to the study, Vanessa had a sudden yearning to see her twin and confide all the hopes and misgivings of her heart. Only Victoria would understand completely…

“Come in,” Dev called when she tapped the door with the toe of her shoe.

“I can’t open the door,” she muttered, and heard the note of complaint in her tone. Right. How to win friends and influence your enemies: be a grouch.

The heavy portal opened. She entered the study. “Clear the desk,” she ordered.

He stacked his papers neatly to one side. She balanced the tray on the corner of the desk and spread the feast on the open space. She pulled the chair to the side and took her place. Dev took his position behind the desk.