Running Scared (6 page)

Only too well. The rich, blue-blooded Sullivans abhorred the least suggestion of impropriety even though their family was riddled with dirty little secrets, deception, and hypocrisy.

Her lips trembled though she tried to smile. “Just think how bad it would have been if they’d guessed the truth—that my cousin was the father? That the bastard sired yet another bastard.”

“Stop it!” Daegan whispered harshly. His stomach clenched in pain.

“Okay, that was a low blow.” She stared at her near-empty glass. “I’m sorry. Anyway, Mother and Daddy and I finally agreed about something. We all just wanted the baby to disappear—to make sure that no ripple of scandal disturbed the Sullivan waters, so they concocted some story for their friends—about me going away to Europe on some kind of exotic cruise, I think, then Daddy moved me in with an elderly woman who lived in this dive of an apartment on the Cape. She was a grandma type and talked all the time—drove me nuts. Dad hired some lawyer acquaintance in a small firm to handle the legal part. The guy, a lawyer named Tyrell Clark, owed Daddy a huge favor and promised to keep his mouth shut. The adoption was private, and I never saw my, our son—well, not after the delivery room.”

She paused and smiled sadly. “I know this sounds schmaltzy, but that experience of actually giving birth…” Her gaze touched his briefly, and he remembered her as the younger fun-loving girl he’d first met before years and experience had taught her to become brittle. “It was…the most incredible experience of my life. I can’t…will never be able to describe the feeling.” She managed a small, fleeting grin. Tiny red veins showed in her eyes as she struggled against tears.

“But it was an impossible situation,” she continued, her speech sounding rehearsed, as if she’d repeated it to herself a thousand times over. “It would have ruined my life to keep him, so I gave him away and I thought it was over. There was no reason to tell you. As I said, no one knows you’re the father. Yet.”

He leaned back, his head propped up by the back of the booth. She could be lying. Bibi was a consummate liar, but why contact him now? Fifteen years after the fact. His gut instinct told him she was telling him the God’s honest truth, unburdening herself, but he didn’t yet know why. He kept his face impassive, waiting for her to put all her cards on the table.

She licked her lips, then finished her drink. “Everything was fine…well, as fine as it could be. Then, two months ago, Dad found out he has prostate cancer. It’s not bad enough to kill him—at least not yet, but he kind of went through this whole new religious experience. Like he’s facing his own mortality and realizes there’s more to life than just making money.” Her laugh was bitter. “Hard to believe, isn’t it?”

“Damned hard.” Robert Sullivan was a money-grubbing, self-centered, wealthy son of a bitch who believed that propriety and the Sullivan fortune came before all else in life. Not much better than his younger brother, Frank, Daegan’s father.

She ignored his remark and fished in her purse for another cigarette. “Anyway, Daddy’s decided he wants my son back.”

“What?”

“Isn’t that a hoot?” she said without a flicker of gaiety. She had trouble with her lighter, clicked it several times before a flame shot up and she sucked on her filter tip. “He seems to think blood is thicker than water and all that rot and he…he wants the kid to come home to Boston and take his place where he belongs. Dad’s realized that he’ll never have another grandchild and so he’s determined to find this one.”

“You could have more children—”

She shook her head and her dark hair brushed against her cheeks. “Nope.” She looked away and closed her eyes for a second. “I can’t believe I’m telling you all this.” Biting her lip, she sighed. “Not too long after the baby was born—a few years—I was diagnosed as having endometriosis. That’s—”

“I know what it is.”

“Anyway, after a partial hysterectomy, I’m through having kids and Daddy won’t accept the fact that his blood line will cease to exist. Oh, there’s Frank’s kids—you included—but none of you really count to him, and the thought that Frank’s family will gain control of the Sullivan finances drives Daddy crazy. Uncle Frank and Daddy have the same old rivalry that just won’t end, even now. So Daddy’s focused on—no,
focused
isn’t a strong enough word. It’s more like he’s obsessed with the kid I gave up. He wants my son back in the Sullivan fold.”

“Oh, God.” Daegan couldn’t think of a worse punishment for some unsuspecting child.

“Daddy hasn’t done anything yet, but he will. I can tell. He’ll hire the most expensive private investigator in the state to find his grandson. In the course of the investigation, I’m sure the investigator will discover that Roy Panaker didn’t exist and therefore couldn’t possibly have fathered my child and they’ll eventually come up with your name.”

“How?”

Her fingers drummed on the table. “Daddy has ways.”

“You mean you’ll tell him.”

“Never!” she said with such vehemence he believed her.

“You’re paranoid, Bibi,” Daegan said, but he knew she was right. Robert Sullivan, senior partner in the law firm of Sullivan, Black, and Tarnopol, was ruthless and dogged and had often been compared to a pit bull. His pockets were deep and filled with judges, politicians, and policemen. Robert Sullivan, Esquire, knew how to get what he wanted, using methods ranging from bribes to threats to beatings.

If Bibi’s story was true, then she was right. Robert would leave no stone unturned in the search for his missing grandson.

His son.
Another mistreated and unwanted Sullivan bastard. Daegan’s jaw clamped hard and he pushed all thoughts of his own upbringing and his own father from his mind.

“You still haven’t explained why you’re telling me all this now.”

She drained her drink. “I’ve got my reasons. First of all, it’s your right to know about your son.”

“Cut the bullshit. If you believed that, you would have told me a long time ago—”

“Okay, I’m telling you because I’m scared. I don’t want this kid in my life, all right? I don’t want to explain to the boy or to my friends or my family that my bastard cousin and I had an affair.”

“It wasn’t an af—”

“Doesn’t matter. We conceived a child, Daegan. Not only is that kid a bastard, like you, my dear, but the product of some kind of incest as well.”

He closed his eyes for a second—to get his bearings.
Incest.
Worse than being born illegitimate and never recognized by your family! No matter what happened, the kid was going to end up scarred for life.

“I can’t afford that skeleton to come strolling out of my closet right now.”

“Why’s that?”

She stared down at her left hand and Daegan noticed her ring and the large diamond that winked in the smoky bar. So the rock was more than just another expensive bauble. “I’m engaged.”

“Not the first time.”

“No, but this time I want it to last, and Kyle, he’s a decent man—a good man who has certain values. It bothers him that I’m divorced, but he handled it and I…well, I even owned up to having a baby out of wedlock. That nearly ended our relationship, but Kyle finally accepted that he couldn’t change the past. However, if Dad gets his way and the boy shows up and it comes out that you’re the father…”

“I get the picture.” His stomach sour, he took a long pull on his beer and wished this were all just a dream—a nightmare.

“It doesn’t help that I lied.”

“Never does.”

Glancing at her watch, she hurried on, “You’ve done a lot of things in your life, I know.”

“You’ve kept up on me?”

“As best I could,” she said and he realized suddenly the full potential of this woman, how strong she really was. A victim no longer, one in charge of her own fate. “Now you’re a rancher out here in the middle of nowhere, but before that you were a rodeo rider, and before that a tracker who took city slickers on trail rides and hunted game in the wilderness.” She pointed a well-manicured nail at his face. “From what I hear, there was even a time when you were a private investigator and you tracked down people. That’s what I want you to do, Daegan,” she said, staring at him. “I want you to find our son before Daddy does.”

“No way! Are you crazy?”

“You have to—we have to!”

“Why? What if we do find him? What then?”

“Hell, I don’t know. But I can’t have the kid coming back and screwing up my life, not now.” She reached across the table in desperation, her fingers twisting into the sleeves of his rawhide jacket. “You hate the family. I know it. You hate your father and mine, so why not thwart them—get even for once? Besides, the kid is yours as much as he is mine.”

“The problem is he belongs to his adoptive parents.”

“Unless the adoption was botched.”

“What good would that do?”

“None. It only helps my father’s case. Oh, God, this is such a mess.” She let go of him and fell back against the tufted naugahyde seat. “But whoever has my baby, and I think I know who that is, was in on the illegal adoption. I know I never signed any paperwork. The woman who ended up with him knows it, too.”

“The
woman?
Not a couple?”

“I don’t think so.”

Daegan glared at her. He’d never really trusted Bibi. After all, her name was Sullivan.

“I’ll pay you,” she said. “If you can find a way to keep Daddy from locating the boy, I’ll see that it’s worth your time.”

“I can’t promise that.”

“I know, oh, how well I know.” She rolled her eyes and sighed loudly. “You know, Daegan, your latent sense of morality is a real pain in the ass.”

He frowned and weighed her offer over in his mind. If he’d really fathered a kid, then he damned well wanted to know about it, to find the boy, to let him know—what? That his natural mother and father had gotten drunk, slept together, and he was the unwanted result?

Bibi was suddenly impatient. “Just find him, okay? I’ll make it worth your while to beat Dad to the punch. Here.” She dug in her purse, pulled out her wallet, and found an envelope that had yellowed with age. Looking quickly over her shoulder, she fingered through the packet and retrieved a torn scrap of paper. “Here’s the name and address of the attorney who handled the adoption.”

“You know him?”

“I made it my business to know of him, but he won’t be much help. Problem is about three months after I gave my baby up, Tyrell Clark croaked. He had tremendous gambling debts to pay off and back taxes due, and the stress probably was too much for his heart. I’ve got the name and address of the law firm that ended up with most of his clients, if that helps you much, and a list of some of his employees, but that’s about it.”

“More than I’d expect.”

“And there’s something else.”

He hated to ask. “What?”

“I, um, hired some fly-by-night private investigator to check out Clark. I…I just had to know something about my kid, and so this guy, his name was Fred Marquette, he, um, he thinks that Clark was paid a lot of money to get rid of the baby and that he just pocketed the cash and gave the baby to a secretary of his, a woman by the name of Kate Summers. At least that was her name then. She could have remarried. I’ve got a few pictures of her and some information—well, it’s all fifteen years old but she was single at the time. Her husband and kid were killed less than a year before.”

He contemplated the woman sitting across from him, baring her soul, talking as if this was the kind of thing that happened every day. “I can’t believe you went to the trouble of hiring a detective.”

She skewered him with a look that told him he’d underestimated her all these years. “I had a baby, okay? I was young and scared, but I wasn’t stupid enough not to think that I might change my mind and want to see him someday.” Sliding the picture, the scrap of paper with Clark’s ancient address, and the envelope across the table, she said, “I don’t know a lot about the Summers woman, just that she had to realize the adoption was shady. Fred Marquette seemed to think she was Clark’s lover. He had a reputation as a ladies man.

“Maybe she did it for the money. I snooped around my dad’s office and found a fifteen-year-old canceled check to Tyrell for legal research services or some such crap. The check was for eighty thousand dollars. Expensive research.”

Daegan let out a long, low whistle.

“Please, Daegan, say you’ll help me. It’s worth twenty-five thousand to me. And if you can come up with a way to keep Dad from finding our son, then I’ll pay you more.”

“I suppose you’ll give me that in writing?” he drawled.

“This is no time for jokes.” She checked her watch and swore softly. “I’ve got to catch a plane.” Standing, she wrapped the fur more tightly around her waist. “I would think, considering your background, you’d only be too anxious to find your boy.”

“If he’s mine.” He picked up the picture and studied the faded snapshot as if it held the secrets of the universe. And maybe it did. The photographs had yellowed, but caught a profile of a woman, little more than a girl, with even, well-defined features and brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. Oval face, high cheeks, large eyes fringed by thick lashes. Dashing across a street in sun-bleached jeans, backpack, and sweatshirt, she could have been a college coed for her look of carefree independence. Instead she was the adoptive mother of his son. A woman who had walked on the wrong side of the law and been paid well to do so. But she was also a woman who’d wanted a baby. His baby.

“Oh, he’s yours all right. I’ll call.” Swinging the strap of her purse over her shoulder, she swept out of the bar as quickly as she’d breezed in. Daegan frowned as the doors closed behind her. He was left with the hint of her perfume, a packet of fifteen-year-old information, the knowledge that he could be a father, and the feeling that he was being set up. Big time.

Again he looked at the photos.
Who are you, Kate Summers, and how’re you connected to the Sullivans?
She was pretty in that fresh-scrubbed all-American girl way that usually didn’t do anything for him. A good cover for a woman so cold she would be willing to adopt a child without the proper paperwork. Had she been desperate for a baby? For money? Or just an opportunist?