A Warrior's Mission. Rita HerronЧитать онлайн книгу.
to see her, her father’s commanding tone ordering the man to leave. Her mother’s soft cry for her father to listen.
“I’m here on official business, looking into the kidnapping of your grandson, Mr. Langworthy,” the man said in a tone so cold that a shiver chased up Holly’s spine. “And I’m not leaving until I speak with your daughter.”
“I was expecting another ICU agent, not you,” her father said.
“All our agents are working the case in one capacity or another. Colleen sent me here.”
Holly’s heart pounded as she realized the source of the familiar voice.
Night Walker had finally returned.
She had been expecting him any day, had known this moment would arrive, that she would have to face him. She had dreaded it with all her being.
He would never understand. Never forgive her.
One trembling hand went to her now flat stomach. The other clutched baby Sky’s stuffed bunny, Bun-Bun, to her chest, the scent of the baby powder and her son’s soft skin that lingered on it bringing a fresh wave of tears to her eyes. She had cried so much already….
But it hadn’t brought her son back. And neither had her father or the police.
Maybe Night would be able to do something.
She reached for the doorknob, ready to face his wrath when the door suddenly opened and Night appeared, her father on his heels, her mother’s fine-boned hand pulling at her father’s sleeve.
Most people thought Celia Langworthy a delicate flower of a woman who did as Holly’s father dictated, but Holly knew differently. Celia was smart and fiercely loving. She would also do anything for Samuel and her children. And her grandson.
“Please, Samuel, we have to do whatever we can to find the baby,” Celia pleaded.
Her father tried to get around Night to block the doorway, but Night overpowered him, his six-four, two-hundred pound body a menacing presence beside her petite mother. Holly drank in Night’s features as he charged into the room. She remembered the way he had looked that evening so long ago when he’d held her naked in his arms. The night he had taken her virginity and they had made a son.
His classically high cheekbones and dark coloring testified to his Cheyenne heritage. His pitch-black hair still brushed his collar and made her ache to run her hands through it. But his golden brown eyes raked over her without a trace of the desire they had that night. Instead, they pinned her to the spot with accusations.
The first time she’d seen Night Walker, she had been infatuated with the mysterious, enigmatic Native American. He was soulful, intense, a creature of the shadows. A loner who had found his place in the world, a solitary place he allowed no one to enter.
What a fool she’d been, certain that their passion was all that mattered. That she could breach those forbidden walls and touch the man within.
But she had grown up fast when he’d disappeared from her life. Even more quickly with her subsequent pregnancy.
“I’m here about the kidnapping,” he said without preamble. “ICU sent me.”
Samuel cleared his throat. “I don’t want you working on this case.”
“That’s not up to you, sir.” Night faced her father, the two men going eye for eye as if wild animals ready for battle.
Holly clutched her arms around her stomach, her insides quivering. Her father had been acting strangely ever since Sky had been kidnapped. She was sure he was keeping things from her. Maybe to protect her. Maybe not. Whichever, she didn’t give a flip about who he wanted on the case. She was tired of being out of the loop, protected, depending on others.
She wanted her baby found.
“Daddy, let me talk to him.”
“Yes,” Celia said, dragging her husband out the door. “Maybe he can help.”
“Then let’s go to my office,” her father said.
“No. I want to speak to Holly in private,” Night demanded.
Holly’s father shook his head. “Absolutely not.”
Emotions clouded Holly’s eyes. “Please, Daddy. I’ll be all right.”
Her father exchanged a charged look with Night, then relented, his body rigid. Night waited until her parents’ footsteps receded before he stalked toward her. Anger rolled off him in waves.
She stepped backward, her legs nearly buckling. Had he guessed the baby was his? “Night…”
“Show me the nursery.”
His sharp order took her off guard. She’d been certain he was going to ask her. Maybe he expected her to speak up….
His hand seized her arm and she winced, then he propelled her through the door and dragged her down the hall.
“Is it this way? Downstairs by the servants’ quarters so the nanny could hear him?”
His insult rankled. He assumed she was so spoiled she’d turn her baby over to a nanny? “No, it’s right here, beside my room.” She halted and jerked her arm free from his grip. “The adjoining bathroom made it easy to slip through and feed him during the night. I didn’t want him to wake up alone.”
His eyes softened just a fraction, but his tight mouth didn’t falter. Again, she thought he might ask about Sky’s parentage, but he didn’t. Maybe her father was right, maybe he didn’t want to know.
“He’s been missing a week?”
“Yes.” She ached just thinking of the empty days and nights since she’d last held him. The hours she’d spent pacing and worrying, wondering who had stolen her son and what horrible things might have happened to him.
What had she done with her time before she’d had a baby? She couldn’t bear to think about going on now, doing mindless paperwork for her father’s investments.
“But you didn’t hear anyone come into the nursery and take him?”
Guilt assailed her as she shook her head. She should have heard something. She should have known he was in trouble. She should have been able to save her son.
“How did someone get past the security on the mansion?”
“I…don’t know.”
He gave her a suspicious look, as if he’d heard the rumors about the Langworthys staging the kidnapping to get sympathy for Joshua and believed them. Then he stepped inside the room, hesitating a second as his gaze scanned the simple decor. The native American border with mountains and bear and buffalo circling the room, the adobe color accented with navy and dark red and greens. Colors that had reminded her of Night and his heritage.
He stalked toward the crib, his trained gaze seemingly scrutinizing every feature.
“Tell me what happened the night he was kidnapped.”
Oh, God, did she have to relive it all again? “I’ve already told the police.”
“I read the report. I want to hear it from you.”
She swallowed, clasping her hands together, trying to block out the worst of the memory as she recited the details. If it helped, she’d tell her story a thousand times. Everything except the evening with Carlton Sanders. “I…I had been out.”
“With Sanders?” His gaze shot to hers with more accusations. Then she realized what he thought, that Carlton was her baby’s father.
She refused to talk about Carlton with Night. Especially with Night. “When I got home, I checked on the baby. He stirred, and I gave him a bottle.”
He simply stared at her, so she cleared her throat and continued. “I put him back down, tucked the covers around