“What’s going on with you?” she asked. “Surely my cooking wasn’t that bad?”
It was, but his thoughts were far from the indigestion he’d likely experience later. “Work stuff,” he lied, not wanting to involve Darcy more than needed. Although he’d shared his fears with her, he’d edited how deep he was going into this charade for the sake of his son. If he told her he was trying to find a way to infiltrate the clinic, she’d likely try to help, and he didn’t want to risk her getting hurt. He was dealing with thugs, even if they smiled and seemed neighborly on the outside. In a short time, Darcy had managed to get under his skin and he couldn’t shoulder another fear that he might lose someone he cared about. He smiled and pushed a stray hair from her eyes. “It’s nothing. So, here’s a question for you,” he said, turning the focus away from him for a moment. “Why are you really in Cold Plains? You never really answered the question, and it seems only fair that you tell me what’s going on from your angle when you know what I’m all about.”
She pulled away, a small smile fixed on her lips. “That’s not entirely true,” she said. “Somehow I’m guessing that I don’t know the whole story. You’re a deep-well kind of guy, not a shallow pool.”
Rafe stilled, surprised at how quickly she’d gained insight into his character. Her keen attention to detail both impressed and frightened him. He’d have to be careful around her. A part of him wished he could just pack up, Darcy included, and get the hell out of this place before they both ended up doing the dirt dance. But that wouldn’t help Devin. That wouldn’t solve anything. Agent Bledsoe was counting on him to help behind the scenes and he couldn’t let him down, not when he was working his ass off to bring Samuel Grayson down. He was willing to stand behind anyone dedicated to that single goal. “Finding my son is my sole focus,” he said, which was the truth. “Every night that goes by without finding him is like a knife in my heart. I’m scared that no matter how hard I search, it’ll be too late. He could be dead already.”
Her brows furrowed at the pain that leached from his voice and she caressed his jaw. “Don’t say that,” she murmured. “You have to keep hope alive. Think positive and don’t let doubt enter into your mind—it’ll drag you down. My mom used to tell me that angels listened to our prayers even when we didn’t say them out loud. But you know, you have to help them out. Tell yourself that you will find Devin. That he will be in your arms soon. Those are the prayers that matter and need to be heard.”
He was struck by the fierce nature of her declaration. And by her caring. He leaned in and pressed a soft, firm kiss to her lips. He drew away. How was it possible she became more beautiful with each passing day? Her mouth tipped into a sweetly playful smile and he knew he’d do anything to protect her from Samuel Grayson. She meant so much to him, to his sanity. For the first time since arriving in Cold Plains, he didn’t feel failure nipping at his heels, desperate despair around every corner.
She smoothed the frown that had begun to build and said, “Hey, no more sadness. If it makes you feel better, whatever domestic urge possessed me to attempt cooking dinner has passed. Generally speaking, I only get those urges once in a while. So I think you’re safe for at least a year.”
“Speaking of urges,” he murmured, thinking she’d never looked sexier dressed in sweats and a ratty T-shirt and that he couldn’t wait to get her out of them. “Want to work off that dinner?”
She grinned and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Absolutely. I need my cardio.”
Darcy listened to the slow, even breathing of Rafe beside her and fought the urge to shake him awake so she could confess the secret she was carrying. But even as she reached for him, she pulled back, knowing that nothing good would come of sharing with Rafe. He was an incredibly decent man; why should she burden him with the knowledge that he was sleeping with the daughter of the man responsible for killing the mother of his child? Would he recoil in horror that Grayson’s DNA flowed through her veins? She could barely stand the knowledge herself; how was he supposed to feel about it? She rolled to her back, wondering how she’d come to be in this position. She cared about Rafe. Deeply. It wasn’t supposed to happen that way. She’d thought she could manipulate Rafe into giving her some answers, maybe provide a buffer between herself and that creep, Fargo, but somewhere along the line, she’d handed Rafe her heart, without even realizing it. It felt completely natural to be in his bed, snuggled against his body, eating dinner together and essentially playing house.
Playing house?
Whose life was she living? She was no closer to finding answers about her mother, and now she’d gone and fallen in love with a man who was embroiled in his own drama. She ought to leave. Walk away from it all, Rafe included. The very thought, whispered in her mind, caused a painful spasm across her chest.
Well, there you have it,
she noted wryly. She was in love.
Fabulous.
Darcy scooted closer to Rafe and spooned against him, discontent with the knowledge that her life had changed forever and wondrously at home pressed against this man, who, incidentally, was still hiding something from her.
Oh yes, she could sense it. She supposed he was trying to protect her. That was Rafe, looking out for everyone, ever the healer. But he didn’t know her well enough yet to know that she wasn’t easily tucked under someone’s wing, whether it was for her protection or not. Her mother had said it was one of her few faults—a stubborn determination to do things her way, no matter the consequence.
And knowing he wasn’t going to let her in on whatever was troubling him, she’d just have to find out herself.
Whether he liked it or not…she would help him find his son.
Darcy had to chuckle at the irony: she was staking out Officer Ford McCall. She waited until he exited his Escalade—department issue? Seems those $25 bottles of water were paying for more than clean streets—and then when he was safely inside the coffee shop, she quietly slid in the passenger side. How many people actively sought to climb
into
a police car? Not many, which worked in her favor. She scooted down so no one saw her chilling in McCall’s vehicle, and when he opened the door to climb in, he actually jumped and reached for his sidearm when he saw her hiding in his vehicle. “Wait!” she exclaimed, gesturing for him to hold up. “I have a really good explanation for why I’m in your car,” she promised, earning a confused scowl on his part. “Just get in, pretend all is well and we’ll chat. I didn’t want your boss seeing me with you.”
That seemed to make a certain amount of sense, because Ford relaxed his itchy trigger finger and turned the ignition. As he pulled out of the parking lot, his eyes never leaving the road, he said, “Okay, start talking, and just because you’re cute doesn’t mean you aren’t crazy, so you’d better have a really good reason for carjacking me.”
She snorted. “You’re definitely a country boy. This is not a carjacking,” she said, her comment earning a deeper scowl, telling her he wasn’t amused but at least he was curious. And he hadn’t driven straight to the station to lock her up. Talk about taking chances. She went with her gut feeling that Ford wasn’t a Devotee. If she was wrong…she didn’t want to think about it. “Go to the Hanging Tree. We’ll talk there.”
Ford made a U-turn and started to head out of town. “And how do you know about the Hanging Tree? That’s a local thing,” he said, gunning the engine as soon as they were clear of town. “You’re something else, Ms. Craven. I bet the doc’s got his hands full with you.”
You have no idea.
“I’m sorry for
carjacking
you, but I didn’t want to be seen chatting. No offense, but I seem to have caught the radar of your creepy boss and I didn’t want to deal with the fallout. He’s gotten it into his head that I want to knock boots with Samuel Grayson, which I definitely
do not.
The very idea makes me nauseous,” she muttered, more to herself than Ford, but he got the picture.
Ford nodded, and within a few minutes, they were at the Hanging Tree. He made sure they were alone and then gestured for her to climb off the floorboard. “Okay. Spill it. What’s this about?”
“Before I say anything, answer me this. Are you one of those crazy Devotees?”
He cocked his head at her. “And what if I was? Wouldn’t that put you in deep right about now? Secluded place, openly disparaging the Cold Plains way?”
She swallowed and nodded. “Yeah. Right about now, I’m wishing I hadn’t had that last latte. Just answer the question, please.”
Ford regarded her with open scrutiny, and just when she thought she’d royally screwed up, he shook his head slowly. “No. I’m not a Devotee. And I don’t aim to be one, neither. Ever. Folks aren’t right in the head who blindly follow Samuel Grayson.” He didn’t give her a chance to exhale in relief, following with, “What’s your story? Why aren’t you gaga over the man like most other women?”
“I’m his daughter,” she said, cringing at the sound of the words falling from her mouth. Had she just blithely told Ford McCall when she hadn’t told Rafe? Yeah, there was that, but circumstances were a bit different, she rationalized to herself. She wasn’t sleeping with Ford McCall, nor did she care what he thought of her. She cared about Rafe…a lot.
“Daughter?” Ford repeated, disbelief evident, and she didn’t blame him. Then the realization hit him like a ton of bricks. He snapped his fingers in recognition. “That’s why you looked familiar. Damn, I don’t know why I didn’t see it before. You’re his spitting image.”
“Yes, lucky me, but you can imagine how this complicates things,” she shared. “And the fact that Fargo’s been chasing me down for some presentation to Samuel like I’m some piece of chocolate for him to handpick from the box…it’s gross and I can’t believe people don’t see through his nasty act.”
“Yeah,” he murmured, still digesting her paternity bomb. “So what are you doing here? I mean, what’s your plan?”
“I wanted to see for myself what this guy was all about,” she said, wondering if she should tell Ford everything. It seemed smart to hold a few cards to her chest; besides, one bombshell revelation was plenty for the day, and her purpose hadn’t been for her own gain, it’d been for Rafe’s. “Listen, I need to talk to you about something else. What do you know about Rafe’s missing baby?”
“He told you about that?” Ford asked, surprised.
“Yes,” she said, drawing a deep breath to admit a little more. “Rafe and I are…close.”
Ford whistled low and shook his head. “I see. All right. He’s a good man, from what I can tell. You could’ve gotten mixed up with worse, that’s for damn sure,” he said. She agreed with a briefly held smile but wanted intently for Ford to answer her original question.
Ford shrugged in answer, his disappointment evident. “Not much. I heard he was asking around, asking the ladies if they’d known Abby Michaels was pregnant, but other than that…I haven’t heard anything. I don’t think that baby’s here, to be honest.”
Her hopes fell. “You don’t?”
He shook his head. “No. How would you hide a baby in a town as small as this? Everyone knows everyone else’s business. It’s not so simple to just hide out with a kid that’s not yours.”
“What about this secret infirmary I’ve heard about?”
Ford swore under his breath. “Damn woman, talk like that could get you kicked off the island for good. I hope you haven’t mentioned anything like that anywhere else. You have to be careful what falls from your mouth. Not everyone is friendly, if you know what I mean.”
“I’ve figured that out. And you’re the only one I’ve asked. I took a leap trusting you, but there was something about you that said I could trust you. I’m not wrong, right?”
“No. You can trust me. I don’t run with that crowd. But you need to be careful making assumptions. There are a few people out there working undercover, but it’s not like they’re advertising a club. If asked whose side they’re on, they’ll likely lie for your own good and to protect their investigation. There’s plenty going on that you don’t need to be mixed up in, you know?”
“Thanks for the tip, but I think I can take care of myself.”
“That remains to be seen.” He drew a short breath. “So, what’s the doc think about you doing the Nancy Drew thing? You know this is dangerous stuff. Women have gone missing and that’s a fact. I’m not saying that just to scare you.”
“Like Johanna Tate?”
Like my mother?
“I know.”
“Yeah, Johanna was Samuel’s number-one girlfriend. And if he’s willing to get rid of her, where do you think that puts you? Right in the danger zone.”
“He’s not going to find out about me. It’s not like I’m hoping to have dinner with the man anytime soon. I just want to help Rafe find his son. Tell me about this infirmary.”
“I don’t know enough to tell. Just rumors and whispers. No one’s really ever been there, which is why Samuel perpetuates the belief that it doesn’t exist. But Doc Black is pretty sure it does.”
“Do you think they might be holding his son there?”
Again, he shrugged, and his radio came to life in scratch tones and shrill whistles. He held up his hand to listen. Then he said with regret, “I hate to cut our little meeting short, but I’ve got to respond to that call or else Chief Fargo will have my hide. I’ll give you a ride back to Doc Black’s if you want.”