Книга - Miracle at Colts Run Cross

Miracle at Colts Run Cross
Joanna Wayne


A Christmas reunion? When Nick discovers his twin boys have been kidnapped, he vows to do whatever it takes to get them back…even if that means facing his ex-wife and the attraction he thought he buried months ago. Having her ex-husband back in her life was not what Becky Collingsworth asked Santa for this year.Determined to remain aloof, Becky works with Nick to find their sons. But what will she do about the onslaught of emotions she still feels for her irresistible ex?







“Put the boys on the phone, or I call in the FBI right now.”

Nick’s threat was met with silence.



Becky had moved to his side, standing so close she could probably hear the hammering of his heart. She didn’t touch him, but somehow it made him stronger just to have her near.



Nick hadn’t realised until that moment how tightly he’d been holding on to the phone, as if it were a tenuous tether to his sons.



Becky sank onto the couch. Her shudders dissolved into sobs.

Nick could stand it no longer. He crossed the room and dropped to the sofa beside her. He wound an arm around her shoulders, hoping she wouldn’t push him away.



Her head fell to his chest. “Get them back, Nick. Just get them back.”


Joanna Wayne was born and raised in Shreveport, Louisiana and received her undergraduate and graduate degrees from LSU-Shreveport. She moved to New orleans in 1984 and it was there that she attended her first writing class and joined her first professional writing organisation. Her first novel was published in 1994.

Now, dozens of published books later, Joanna has made a name for herself as being on the cutting edge of romantic suspense in both series and single-title novels.



She currently resides in a small community forty miles north of Houston, Texas, with her husband, though she still has many family and emotional ties to Louisiana, she loves living in the Lone Star state. You may write to Joanna at Po Box 265, Montgomery, Texas 77356, USA.







Miracle at Colts

Run Cross


by




Joanna Wayne











www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk/)


To mothers everywhere who know what it means to love a child more than life itself. And to every woman who’s ever found that special man whose love is worth fighting for. Here’s to Christmas, miracles and love.




Chapter One


Becky Ridgely grabbed her denim jacket from the hook and swung out the back door. A light mist made the air seem much cooler than the predicted fifty-degree high for the day. The gust of wind that caught her off guard didn’t help, but she’d had to escape the house or sink even deeper into the blue funk that had a killer grip on her mood.

In a matter of weeks, her divorce from Nick would be final. Their marriage that had begun with a fiery blast of passion and excitement she’d thought would never cool had dissolved into a pile of ashes.

Nonetheless, Nick Ridgely, star receiver for the Dallas Cowboys, was in her living room on the Sunday before Christmas, as large as life on the new big-screen TV and claiming the attention of her entire family. She could understand it of their twin sons. At eight years of age, Nick was David and Derrick’s hero. She’d never take that away from them.

But you’d think the rest of the family could show a little sensitivity for her feelings. But no, even her sister and her mother were glued to the set as if winning were paramount to gaining world peace or at least finding a cure for cancer.

Did no one but her get that this was just a stupid game?

Most definitely Nick didn’t. For more than half of every year, he put everything he had into football. His time. His energy. His enthusiasm. His dedication. She and the boys were saddled with the leftovers. Some women settled for that. She couldn’t, which is why she’d left him and moved back to the family ranch.

Her family liked Nick. Everyone did. And he was a good husband and father in many ways. He didn’t drink too much. He had never done drugs, not even in college when all their friends were trying it.

He disdained the use of steroids and would never use the shortcut to improve performance. He didn’t cheat on her, though several gossip magazines had connected him to Brianna Campbell, slut starlet, since they had been separated.

But his one serious fault was the wedge that had driven them apart. Once preparation for football season started, he shut her out of his life so completely that she could have been invisible. Oh, he pretended to listen to her or the boys at times, but it was surface only.

His always-ready excuse was that his mind was on the upcoming season or game. The message was that it mattered more than they did. She’d lived with the rejection as long as she could tolerate it, and then she left.

“Mom.”

She turned at the panicked voice of her son Derrick. He’d pushed through the back door and was standing on the top step, his face a ghostly white.

She raced to him. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

“Dad’s hurt.”

“He probably just had the breath knocked out of him,” she said.

“No, it’s bad, Mom. Really bad. He’s not moving.”

She put her arm around Derrick’s shoulder as they hurried back to the family room where the earlier cheers had turned deathly silent.

The screen defied her to denounce Derrick’s fears. Nick was on his back, his helmet off and lying at a cockeyed angle beside him. Several trainers leaned over him. A half dozen of his teammates were clustered behind them, concern sketched into their faces.

Becky took a deep breath as reality sank in and panic rocked her equilibrium. “What happened?”

“He went up for the ball and got tackled below the waist,” Bart said.

Before her brother could say more, the network flashed the replay. A cold shudder climbed her spine as she watched Nick get flipped in midair. He slammed to the ground at an angle that seemed to drive his head and the back of his neck into the hard turf.

His eyes were open, but he had yet to move his arms or legs. Players from the other team joined the circle of players that had formed around him. A few had bowed in prayer. They all looked worried.

“Those guys know what it means to take a hit like that,” her brother Langston said. “No player likes to see another one get seriously hurt.”

“Yet they go at each other like raging animals.” The frustration had flown from Becky’s mouth before she could stop it. The stares of her family bore into her, no doubt mistaking her exasperation for a lack of empathy. But they hadn’t lived with Nick’s obsession for pushing his mind and body to the limit week after week.

“I only meant that it’s almost inevitable that players get hurt considering the intensity of the game.”

The family grew silent. The announcer droned on and on about Nick’s not moving as the trainers strapped him to a backboard and attached a C-collar to support his neck.

David scooted close to the TV and put his hand on the corner of the screen. “Come on, Dad. You’ll be all right. You gotta be all right.”

“I got hurt bad the first time I played in a real game,” Derrick said. “I wanted to cry, but I didn’t ’cause the other players make fun of you if you do.”

Becky had never wanted her sons to play football, but had given in to their pleadings this year when they turned eight. Nick had always just expected they’d play and spent half the time he was with them practicing the basic skills of the game. It was yet another bone of contention between them.

They showed the replay again while Nick was taken from the field. All of the announcers were in on the act now, concentrating on the grisly possible outcomes from such an injury.

“The fans would love it if Nick could wave a farewell but he still hasn’t moved his arms or legs.”

“It doesn’t look good. It would be terrible to see the career of a player with Nick Ridgely’s talent end like this.”

“Did you hear that?” Derrick said. “The announcer said Daddy might not ever play football again.”

Becky grabbed the remote and muted the sound. “They don’t know. They’re not doctors. Most likely Daddy has a bad sprain.”

“Your father’s taken lots of blows and he’s never let one get the best of him yet,” her brother Bart said, trying as Becky had to calm the boys.

“We better get up there and check on him,” David said. “He might need us.”

“You have school tomorrow,” Becky said, quickly squashing that idea.

“We can miss,” the boys protested in unison.

“It’s only half a day,” Derrick said. “A bunch of kids won’t even be there. Ellen Michaels left Saturday to go visit her grandmother in Alabama for Christmas.”

“You have practice for the church Christmas pageant right after school lets out. Mrs. Evans is counting on you.”

Becky knew that missing school in the morning wouldn’t be a problem. They would have been out all week had they not lost so many days during hurricane season.

They’d been lucky and hadn’t received anything but strong winds and excessive rain from two separate storms that had come ashore to the west of them, but if the school board erred, it was always on the side of caution.

Still, if Nick was seriously hurt, the hospital would be no place for the boys. And if he wasn’t, he’d be too preoccupied with getting back in the game to notice.

“You can call Daddy later when he’s feeling better.”

“But you’re going to go to Dallas, aren’t you, Momma? Daddy’s gonna need somebody there with him.”

“I can fly you up in the Cessna,” Langston said, offering his private jet. He’d done that before when Nick had been hurt, once even all the way to Green Bay.

But that was when she and Nick were at least making a stab at the marriage. Things had become really strained between them since the divorce proceedings had officially begun. She doubted he’d want her there now.

“Thanks,” she said, “but I’m sure Nick’s in good hands.”

“Maybe you should hold off on that decision until after you’ve talked to him,” her mother said.

“Right,” Bart said. “They’ll know a lot more after he’s X-rayed.” The others in the room nodded in agreement.

Becky left the room when the game got back underway. Anxiety had turned to acid in her stomach, and she felt nauseous as she climbed the stairs and went to her private quarters on the second floor of the big house.

Too bad she couldn’t cut off her emotions the way a divorce cut off a marriage, but love had a way of hanging on long after it served any useful purpose. Nick would always be the father of her children, but hopefully one day her love for him would be just a memory.

But she wouldn’t go to Nick, not unless he asked her to, and she was almost certain that wasn’t going to happen. They’d both crossed a line when the divorce papers had been filed. From now on, the only bond between them was their sons.

BECKY CALLED the hospital twice during the hours immediately following Nick’s injury. Once he’d still been in the emergency room. The second time he’d been having X-rays. The only real information she’d received was that he had regained movement in his arms and legs.

Her anxiety level had eased considerably with that bit of news, as had everyone else’s in the family. The boys still wanted to talk to him, but she’d waited until they were getting ready for bed before trying to reach him again.

Hopefully by now the doctors would have finished with the required tests and Nick would feel like talking to them. Regardless, Nick would play down the pain when talking to her and especially when talking to the boys.

That was his way. Say the right things. Keep his true feelings and worries inside him. It was a considerate trait in a father. It was a cop-out for a husband.

And bitterness stunk in a wife. It was time she accepted things the way they were and moved past the resentment.

“Can you connect me to the room of Nick Ridgely?” she asked when the hospital operator answered.

“He’s only taking calls from family members at this time. I’ve been told to tell all other callers that he is resting comfortably and has recovered full movement in his arms and legs.”

Becky had expected that. No doubt the hospital was being bombarded with calls from reporters. “This is his wife.”

“Please wait while I put you through to his room, Mrs. Ridgely.”

A female voice answered, likely a nurse. “Nick Ridgely’s room. If this is a reporter, shame on you for disturbing him.”

“This is Becky Ridgely. I’m calling to check on my husband.”

“Oops, sorry. It’s just that the reporters keep getting through. You don’t know how persistent they can be.”

Actually, she did. “Is Nick able to talk?”

“He can, but the doctor wants him to stay quiet. I can give him a message.”

“I was hoping he could say a word to his sons. They’re really worried about him, and I’m not sure they’ll sleep well unless he tells them he’s okay.”

“He isn’t okay. His arms are burning like crazy.”

This was definitely not a nurse. “To whom am I speaking?”

“Brianna Campbell.”

The name hit like a quick slap to the face. He could have waited until the divorce was final to play hot bachelor. If not for her, then for David and Derrick.

“Do you want to leave a message?”

“Yes, tell Nick he can…” She took a quick breath and swallowed her anger as David returned from the bathroom where he’d been brushing his teeth. “No message.” Saved from sounding like a jealous wench by the timely appearance of her son.

“Okay, I’ll just tell Nick you called, Mrs. Ridgely.”

She heard Nick’s garbled protest in the background.

“Wait. He’s insisting I hand him the phone.”

Nice of him to bother.

“Becky.”

Her name was slurred—no doubt from pain meds. Derrick had joined them as well now, and both boys had climbed into their twin beds.

“The boys are worried about you.”

“Yeah. I knew they would be. I was just waiting to call until I was thinking and talking a bit straighter. Were they watching the game?”

“They always watch your games, Nick.”

“Good boys. I miss them.”

So he always said, but she wasn’t going there with him right now. “How are you?”

“I have the feeling back in my arms and legs. They burned like they were on fire for a bit, but they’re better now. The E.R. doc said that was the neurons firing back up so I figure that’s a good sign.”

“Is there a diagnosis?”

“They think I have a spinal cord contusion. They make it sound serious, but you know doctors. They like complications and two-dollar terms no one else can understand. I’ll be fine.”

He didn’t sound it. He was talking so slowly she could have read the newspaper between sentences. “Do you feel like saying good-night to David and Derrick?”

“Sure. Put them on. I need some cheering up.”

That’s what she thought Brianna was for. She put the boys on speakerphone so they could both talk at once. Nick made light of the injury, like she’d known he would, and started joking with the boys as if this was just a regular Sunday night post-game chat.

He loved his sons. He even loved her in his own way. It just wasn’t enough. She backed from the room as an ache the size of Texas settled in her heart.

MORNING CAME early at Jack’s Bluff Ranch, and the sun was still below the horizon when Becky climbed from her bed. She’d had very little sleep, and her emotions were running on empty. Still she managed a smile as she padded into her sons’ room to get them up and ready for school.

“Okay, sleepyheads, time to rock and roll.”

“Already?” Derrick groaned and buried his head in his pillow.

David rubbed his eyes with his fists and yawned widely as he kicked off his covers. “How come you always say time to rock and roll when we’re just going to school?”

“Tradition. That’s what your grandma used to say to me.”

“Grandma said that?”

“Yes, she did. “Now up and at ’em. She said that, too. And wear something warm. It’s about twenty degrees colder than yesterday.”

“I wish it would snow,” Derrick said as he rummaged through the top drawer of his chest and came up with a red-and-white-striped rugby shirt.

“It never snows in Colts Run Cross,” David said.

“Not never, but rarely,” Becky agreed. But a cold front did occasionally reach this far south. Today the high would only be in the mid-forties with a chance of thundershowers.

“Have you talked to Daddy this morning?” Derrick asked.

“No, and I don’t think we should bother him with phone calls this early. Now get dressed, and I’ll see you at breakfast.”

Juanita was already at work in the kitchen and had been for over a half hour. Becky had heard the family cook drive up. She’d heard every sound since about 3:00 a.m. when she’d woken to a ridiculous nightmare about Nick’s getting hit so hard his helmet had flown off—with his head inside it.

Crazy, but anxiety had always sabotaged her dreams with weird and frightening images. Some people smoked cigarettes or drank or got hives when they were worried. She had nightmares. Over the last ten years, Nick had starred in about ninety-nine percent of them.

Juanita was sliding thick slices of bacon into a large skillet when Becky strode into the kitchen in her pink sweats and fuzzy slippers and poured herself a bracing cup of hot coffee.

The usually jovial Juanita stopped the task and stared soulfully at Becky. “I’m sorry to hear about Nick.”

“Thanks.” She hoped she would let it go at that.

“I brought the newspaper in. Nick’s picture is on the front page.”

The front page and no doubt all the morning newscasts, as well. Nick would be the main topic of conversation at half the breakfast tables in Texas this morning.

“The article said he may be out for the rest of the season,” Juanita said.

“The rest of the season could be only a game or two depending on whether or not Dallas wins its play-off games, but I don’t think anyone knows how long Nick will be on injured reserve.”

“I’m sure the boys are upset.”

“They talked to him last night, and he assured them he was fine. So I’d appreciate if you didn’t mention the article in the paper. They need to go to school and concentrate on their studies.”

“Kids at school will talk,” Juanita said. “Maybe it would be best if you show them the article and prepare them.”

Becky sighed. “You’re right. I should have thought of that myself.”

Juanita had been with them so long that she seemed like an extension of the family. She fit right in with the Collingsworth clan, none of whom had ever strayed far from Colts Run Cross.

And if Juanita had been helpful before, she’d been a godsend since Becky’s mother, Lenora, had started filling in as CEO for Becky’s grandfather, Jeremiah, after his stroke. Thankfully he was back in the office a few days a week now, and Lenora was completing some projects she’d started and easing her way out of the job that would eventually go to Langston. As Jeremiah said, he had oil in his blood.

Jack’s Bluff was the second largest ranch in Texas. Becky’s brothers Bart and Matt managed the ranch, and both had their own houses on the spread where they lived with their wives.

Her youngest brother, Zach, had recently surprised them all by falling madly in love with a new neighbor, marrying and also taking his first real job. He was now a deputy, in training for the county’s new special crimes unit. He and his wife, Kali, lived on her horse ranch.

And though her oldest brother Langston lived with his family in Houston, close to Collingsworth Oil where he served as president for the company, he had a weekend cabin on the ranch.

Her younger sister, Jaime, who’d never married or apparently given any thought to settling down or taking a serious job, lived in the big house with Becky and the boys, along with Becky’s mother, Lenora, and Jeremiah, their grandfather. Jeremiah was currently recovering from a lingering case of the flu that hadn’t been deterred by this year’s flu shot.

Commune might have been a better term for the conglomeration of inhabitants. Becky hadn’t planned to stay forever when she’d left Nick and returned to the ranch, but the ranch had a way of reclaiming its own.

The boys missed their father, but they were happy here. More important, they were safe from the kinds of problems that plagued kids growing up in the city.

Becky took her coffee and walked to the den. Almost impulsively, she reached for the remote and flipped on the TV. She was caught off guard as a picture of Nick with David and Derrick flashed across the screen.

Anger rose in her throat. How dare they put her boys’ pictures on TV without her permission? Both she and Nick had always been determined to keep them out of the limelight.

“Nick Ridgely’s estranged wife Becky is one of the Collingsworths of Collingsworth Oil and Jack’s Bluff Ranch. His twin sons Derrick and David live on the ranch with their mother. There’s been no word from them on Nick’s potentially career-ending injury.”

She heard the back door open and Bart’s voice as he called to Juanita about the terrific odors coming from the kitchen. Becky switched off the TV quickly and joined them in the kitchen. It would be nice to make it through breakfast without a mention of Nick, but she knew that was too much to hope for.

The next best thing was to head her family off at the pass and keep them from upsetting Derrick and David with new doubts about their father’s condition. Nick had left things on a positive note, and she planned to keep them there.

The phone rang, and she inwardly grimaced. Where there’s a way, there would be a reporter with questions. And once they started, there would be no letup. Whether she liked it or not, she and her family, especially her sons, were about to be caught in the brutal glare of the public eye.

BULL STARED in the mirror as he yanked on his jeans. “Hell of a looker you are to be living like this,” he muttered to himself. Without bothering to zip his pants, he padded barefoot across the littered floor of the tiny bedroom and down the short hall to the bathroom.

After he finished in the john, he stumbled sleepily to the kitchen, pushed last night’s leftovers out of his way and started a pot of coffee. This was a piss-poor way to live but still better than that crummy halfway house he’d been stuck in until last week.

And the price was right. Free, unless you counted the food he donated to the roaches and rats that homesteaded here. The cabin had been in his family for years, but he was only passing through until he came up with a plan to get enough money to start over in Mexico.

His parole officer expected him to get a job. Yeah, right. Everyone was just jumping for joy at the chance to hire a man fresh out of prison for stabbing a pregnant woman while in the throes of road rage. No matter that she deserved it.

He stamped his feet to get his blood moving and fight the chill. The cabin was without any heat except what he could get from turning on the oven, and he didn’t have the propane to waste on that. The only reason he had electricity was because he’d worked for the power company in his earlier life just long enough to learn how to connect to the current and steal the watts he needed.

Once the coffee was brewing, he started the daily search for the remote. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear the rats hid it every night while he was sleeping. This time it turned up under the blanket he’d huddled under to watch the late show last night.

The TV came to life just as the local station broke in with a news flash. He turned up the volume to get the full story. It was all about Nick Ridgely. Apparently he’d gotten seriously injured in Sunday’s game. Like who gave a damn about Nick Ridgely?

They showed a picture of him with his sons. Cute kids. But then they would be. Nick was married to Becky Collingsworth. He still had sordid dreams about her in those short little skirts and sweaters that showed off her perky breasts.

But the bitch had never given him the time of day. The announcer referred to her as Nick’s estranged wife. Apparently she’d dumped him. Or maybe he’d dumped her. Either way they were both fixed for life, lived like Texas royalty with money to burn while he lived in this dump. The little money he’d stashed away before prison was nearly gone.

No cash. No job. Nothing but a parole officer who kept him pinned down like a tiger in a cage.

Bull’s muscles tightened as perverted possibilities skittered through his mind. He went back to the kitchen for coffee, took a long sip and cursed himself silently for even considering doing something that could land him right back in prison.

Still the thoughts persisted and started taking definite shape as the image of Nick Ridgely’s twin sons seared into his mind.




Chapter Two


“Too bad about your dad.”

“Yeah, man. Tough.”

Derrick joined the boys entering the school after recess. “I talked to him last night. He’ll be back and better than ever.”

“That’s not what they said on TV this morning.”

David pushed into the line beside them. “Yeah, but they don’t know. My mother said they’re just making news.”

“Well, my daddy said neck injuries are the worst kind. Anyway, I’m sorry he got hurt,”

“Me, too,” Butch Kelly added. “I’d be scared to death if it was my dad.”

“It’s not like he’s crippled or anything,” David said. “He just took a hit.”

Janie Thomas squeezed in beside Derrick. “They put your picture on TV, too. My big sister thinks you’re cute.”

“Yeah, David, you’re cute,” Derrick mocked, making his voice sound like a girl.

“You look just like me, you clown. If I’m cute, you are, too.”

David followed Derrick to their lockers. They were side by side because they were assigned in alphabetical order. He shrugged out of his jacket and took off the Dallas Cowboys cap his dad had gotten signed by all his teammates. Derrick had one, too. His was white. David’s was blue. He wore it everywhere he went.

“Are you worried about Daddy?” Derrick asked.

“I am now,” David admitted. “Do you think he might really be hurt too bad to ever play again?”

“I don’t know. I think we should ask Uncle Langston to fly us to Dallas to check on him.”

“Momma said we couldn’t go.”

“She said we couldn’t miss school, but he could fly us up there at noon, and we could be home by bedtime, like he did when he took us to watch Daddy play the Giants back in October.”

David shrugged. “Yeah. Maybe, but I bet Momma’s still going to say no.”

“We ought to call Uncle Langston. He might talk her into it.”

“We’d miss practicing for the pageant.”

“So what?” Derrick scoffed. “How much practice does it take to be a shepherd?”

“I’m the little drummer boy.”

“Big deal. You just follow the music. I say we call him. The worse thing he can do is say no.”

“The office won’t let us use the phone unless it’s an emergency.”

“Our daddy might be hurt bad,” Derrick said. “That’s an emergency.”

“You’re right. Let’s go call Uncle Langston now. Maybe he’ll check us out early, and we won’t have to do math.”

“I like that plan. I hate multiplication. It’s stupid to do all that work when you can just punch it in the calculator and get the answer right away.”

The boys went straight to the office. The good news was that Mrs. Gravits, who worked behind the desk, let them use the phone to call their uncle. The bad news was that Langston wasn’t in.

They left a message with his secretary saying they really needed to fly to Dallas today.

BECKY DROVE up to the church ten minutes before the scheduled time for practice to end. Several mothers were already waiting, parked in the back lot nearest the educational building. Her friend Mary Jo McFee waved from her car. Becky waved back.

Normally she would have walked over and spent the ten minutes of waiting time chatting, but she knew that conversation today with anyone would mean answering questions about Nick, and she wasn’t up to that.

As it was, the phone at the big house had rung almost constantly since breakfast, and Matt had wranglers guarding the gate to keep the media vultures off ranch property. A couple of photographers had almost gotten to the house before they were turned back.

Becky leaned back and tried to relax before she faced her energetic sons who’d no doubt have new questions of their own about their father. Five minutes later, a couple of girls came out of the church. Mary Jo’s daughter was one of them.

A couple of boys came next, and less than a minute later, the rest of the kids came pouring out the door. Some ran to waiting cars; the ones who lived nearby started walking away in small groups.

Two boys climbed on the low retaining wall between the church and the parking lot. A couple of girls pulled books from their book bags and started reading. But there was no sign of David and Derrick.

Becky waited as a steady group of cars arrived to pick up the waiting children. Her cell phone rang just as the last kid left in a black pickup truck.

She checked the ID and decided not to answer when she didn’t recognize the caller. Probably yet another reporter, though she had no idea how they kept getting her cell phone number.

She dropped the phone into the compartment between the front seats, her impatience growing thin. Any other day, her sons would have been the first ones out.

The slight irritation turned to mild apprehension when Rachel Evans, the church’s part-time youth coordinator, stepped out the door and started walking toward the only other car in the parking lot. Rachel was in charge of the practice and never left until all the children had been picked up.

Rachel noticed Becky and changed direction, walking toward her white Mercedes. Becky lowered her window.

“I’m sorry to hear about Nick,” Rachel said. “I guess the boys were too upset to come for practice, not that I blame them.”

Becky’s apprehension swelled. “Weren’t they here?”

“No. Some of the boys said they were flying to Dallas to see their father.”

“There must be some mistake. The boys were supposed to be here. Why did their friends think they were going to Dallas?”

“They said that their uncle Langston had picked them up and was taking them in his private jet. In fact, Eddie Mason said he saw them getting into their uncle’s car.”

Langston would never pick up the boys at school without letting her know, much less fly them to Dallas. But maybe he’d tried to get in touch with her and kept getting a busy signal. Maybe he’d left a message and she hadn’t gotten it. Maybe…

Rachel was staring at her, probably thinking she was a very incompetent mother not to know where her sons were. “I’ll give Langston a call.”

Rachel nodded. “I’m sure you’ll find this is all just some kind of miscommunication. It frequently happens when everyone is stressed.”

Becky nodded as Rachel walked away, no doubt in a hurry to pick up her own toddler daughter from day care. Becky’s pulse rate was climbing steadily as she picked up her phone and punched in Langston’s private number. She’d about given up hope of his answering when she heard his hello.

“Where are you, Langston?”

“In the office. Why? What’s up?”

“It’s the boys. Are they with you?”

“No, why would you think they were?”

“I’m at the church to pick them up from pageant practice, but they’re not here.”

“Maybe they caught a ride home with someone else.”

“No, I just talked to Rachel Evans. She said they never showed up.”

“Maybe they forgot about practice and got on the school bus.”

“If they had, they would have been home before I left to pick them up. Rachel Evans said that some of the boys at practice mentioned that you were flying David and Derrick to Dallas.”

“No. I had a message from David asking me to fly them up there, but I only got it about twenty minutes ago. I was in a meeting all day.”

The apprehension took full hold now, and Becky started shaking so hard she could barely hold on to the phone. “If you didn’t pick them up, who did?”

“Not mother. She’s still here at the office. Did you talk to Bart and Matt—or even Zach?”

“No, but they never pick up the boys unless I ask them to. I’m scared, Langston.”

“Try to stay calm, Becky. I’m sure they’re fine and this is all a harmless mix-up. Call the ranch. See if they’re there.”

“And if they’re not?”

“Then call Zach. Have him meet you at the church, and don’t do anything until he gets there. In the meantime, let me know if you hear anything.”

Hot tears welled in the back of Becky’s eyes, but she willed them to stay there.

Becky called the big house first, just in case the boys had caught a ride back to the ranch. Juanita was the only one there, and just as Becky had feared, the boys weren’t home. She hung up quickly and then punched in Zach’s number. He was a deputy now, he’d know what to do. He didn’t pick up, but she left a frantic message for him to return her call at once.

Her phone rang again, the jangle of it crackling along her frazzled nerves. This time it was Nick. He was the last person she wanted to talk to now. Still, she took the call.

“Becky, it’s Nick,” he said, identifying himself as if she wouldn’t recognize his voice after a decade of marriage. “Where are the boys?”

She heard the panic in his voice and knew he’d heard. “Did Langston call you?”

“I haven’t talked to Langston, but this is very important, Becky. Do you know where the boys are? Are they with you?”

Her blood turned to ice. “What’s going on, Nick?”

“Are the boys with you?” he asked again with new urgency in his voice.

“No. I’m at the church. I came to pick them up after their practice for the Christmas pageant, but they’re not here. They never showed up.”

Nick let loose with a string of muttered curses. “Are you by yourself?”

“Yes, but if you have anything to say, just…”

“I got a phone call a few minutes ago. It was from a man claiming he has the boys with him.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. All he said was that he’d call back and that I’d best be ready to deal. I think they’ve been abducted.”

No. Her sons couldn’t be kidnapped. This couldn’t be happening. She couldn’t think, couldn’t function. Couldn’t breathe.

“We have to find them, Nick.”

“We will. Just don’t fall apart on me, Becky. We can’t make any mistakes.”

But she was falling apart, more with every agonizing heartbeat. “They’ll be afraid. He might…” God, she couldn’t let her mind go there or she’d never get through this. “We have to get them back at once. If it takes every penny either of us has, I don’t care. I just want David and Derrick back.”

“I’m leaving the hospital now. I’ll meet you at Jack’s Bluff as soon as I can get there.”

“Langston can fly up and get you.”

“I can get a chartered flight even quicker. Now go home and stay there in case the man calls you.”

She swallowed hard. “I’ll call Zach.”

“I don’t want the sheriff’s department in on this, Becky. Not them or any other law enforcement agency, at least until after we talk.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Nick. Zach can put out an AMBER Alert and have everyone in the state looking for this madman. And for the record, you don’t get to call all the shots, even if it is your fault they’re missing.”

“Don’t start with the blame, Becky, not now.” His voice broke. He was hurting and probably as scared as she was.

But this was his fault. He was the one in the news, his name and face all over the TV and every newspaper in the state. And it was him the abductor had called for a ransom.

“The caller said that if we go to the cops, he’ll…”

Nick stopped, leaving the sentence unfinished, though the meaning was crystal clear even in Becky’s traumatized mind. Nausea hit with a vengeance. She dropped the phone, stepped out of the car and threw up in the parking lot. Weak and unnerved, she finally leaned against the car and gulped in a steadying breath of brisk air.

She would find out who took the twins, and whatever it took, she’d get them back. And heaven help Nick Ridgely if he got in her way.

NICK SHIFTED again, trying to find a way to get comfortable in the four-man helicopter he’d hired to fly him directly to the ranch’s helipad. Pain shot through his neck and shoulders with each vibration, but no matter how bad it got, he wouldn’t go back on the pain meds. He needed his mind perfectly clear to deal with the situation.

Becky had been quick to hurl the blame at him for the twins’ abduction. He couldn’t fault her for that. She’d always been determined to protect David and Derrick from the notoriety his career had brought him. She wanted them to have a normal life with solid values. She wanted them safe from the kind of sick person who had them now.

According to the attending physician who’d protested his leaving the hospital, his career could be over. Strapped with the fears of the moment, even that seemed inconsequential.

The pilot landed the helicopter approximately one hundred yards from the big house. Nick grabbed his quickly packed duffel bag, thanked the pilot and jumped out. He walked quickly, breaking into a jog as he neared the house.

He’d come by helicopter before. Then the boys had been watching, and the minute the chopper landed they’d raced to greet him. Their absence now sucked the breath from his lungs. By the time he reached the house, Bart and Matt were standing on the porch, their faces more drawn than he’d ever seen them.

He hoped Becky had kept this from the police, but he knew she wouldn’t keep it from her family. Nor would he have wanted that. The Collingsworth brothers, the fearsome four as he’d called them when he’d first started dating Becky, were a powerful squad, and he’d be glad to have them on his side.

He put out his hand to shake Matt’s as he stepped on the wide front porch, and then his gaze settled on Becky. She was standing just inside the door, her silhouette backlit by the huge, rustic chandelier that dominated the foyer. She looked far more fragile than the last time he’d seen her, the day she’d told him she was through with being his wife.

He ached to take her in his arms, needed that closeness now more than he’d ever needed it before. Her words of blame shot through his mind, and he held back. Rejection from her might annihilate the tenuous hold he had on his own emotions.

“Glad you made it so quickly,” Matt said, his voice level and his handshake firm, though the drawn look to his face and the jut of his jaw were clear indicators of his apprehension.

Bart clapped Nick’s shoulder. “Have you heard any more from the abductor?”

“Not a word.”

“The family’s waiting inside,” Matt said. “We should join them.”

Nick nodded. Becky had left the door by the time they entered. He followed Bart and Matt into the huge den. The family Collingsworth had gathered en masse—except for Langston’s daughter, Gina, and the ill Jeremiah—filling the comfortable sofas and chairs.

Becky was standing near the hearth, and the heat from the blaze in the fireplace flushed her face. Her arms were pulled tight across her chest as if she were holding herself together. She looked at him questioningly, and his stomach rolled with a million unfamiliar emotions.

“He hasn’t called back,” he said, answering her unspoken question.

She started to shake, and he went to her, steadying her in the crook of his arm until she regrouped and pulled away.

Zach stood. It was the first time Nick had seen him in his khaki deputy’s uniform, and he was struck with the added maturity the attire provided.

Zach propped a booted foot on the hearth. “We need an action plan.”

“I made a fresh pot of coffee,” Bart’s wife, Jaclyn, said. “I’ll get it.”

Langston’s wife, Trish, handed their six-month-old son, Randy, off to his dad. “I’ll help.”

“This is what I’ve pieced together so far,” Zach said. “Eddie Mason said that he saw the boys get into a car right after school let out, apparently when they were walking to the church.”

“Has anyone talked to Eddie?” Langston asked.

“Not yet. At this point I’m following Nick’s instructions to hold off, but I think it’s imperative that we get a description of the car.”

“I agree,” Matt’s wife, Shelly, said. “That information could be critical. So is speed in getting the search under way. That’s one thing I definitely learned while with the CIA.”

Nick’s cell phone rang. The room grew deathly quiet. He checked the caller ID. Unavailable. His hands were clammy as he punched the button to take the call.

“Just listen. No questions.”

His gut hardened to a painful knot. There was no mistaking the abductor’s voice.




Chapter Three


“Here’s the deal. Five million in small denominations, unmarked, and a flight into Mexico on the Collings-worth’s private jet.”

All doable, though it surprised Nick for the man to mention the private jet. It made him wonder if the man could live in Colts Run Cross. “Before I agree to anything, I want to talk to my sons.”

“No can do.”

Nick’s body flexed involuntarily. “Why not?”

“They’re not with me at the moment.”

Dread kicked inside him, but it had fury for company. “Either I talk to the boys and know they’re safe, or there will be no deal of any kind.”

“You’re not calling the plays, Ridgely.”

“Put the boys on the phone, or I call in the FBI right now.” It was a bluff at this point, but he certainly hadn’t ruled out that option. His threat was met with silence, a match for the still, breathless tension that surrounded him.

“Screw yourself.” The man’s voice reverberated with anger.

Nick waited. Angry or not, if the boys were alive and safe, the guy wouldn’t blow this deal by refusing to let him talk to them—not if he was sane. And heaven help them if he wasn’t. There would be no way of predicting the behavior of a crazy man.

Becky had moved to his side, standing so close she could probably hear the hammering of his heart. She didn’t touch him, but somehow it made him stronger just to have her near.

“I’ll call you back in a half hour.” He broke the connection before Nick could respond.

Nick hadn’t realized until that moment how tightly he’d been holding on to the phone, as if it were a tenuous tether to his sons. He walked to the window and stared out at the wintry view of bare branches mixed with the green needles of the towering pines, keenly aware that everyone in the room was watching and judging his actions.

Before his marriage had hit the rocks, he’d considered himself as an integral part of the close-knit Collingsworth clan. On the last few visits, the tensions between him and Becky had left him feeling as if he were hovering on the outer rim.

Today all he felt was relief that he was among people who loved his sons and whom he knew would put their lives on the line in a second to save them. Still, he was the father. The final responsibility rested with him.

Trish and Jaclyn returned with the coffee. He waited until they’d served it before he delivered the abductor’s message—word for word—or as close as he could remember them. No one interrupted, not even Becky, though she seemed to grow more distraught at every syllable he uttered.

She dropped to the sofa next to her mother. Lenora reached over and took her daughter’s hands, cradling them in hers.

“I’m really uneasy with a no-cops policy,” Langston said. “There’s a lot of knowledge about situations like this that we’re not tapping into. I could call Aidan Jefferies. This is out of his jurisdiction, but he’s a hell of a homicide detective, and I know he’s had experience with abductions as well.”

“I think we should let the sheriff’s department handle this,” Zach said. “We can put out an AMBER Alert, question anyone who may have seen the boys get into the abductor’s car and start investigating any child molesters presently living in the area.”

Nick’s insides coated in acid at the mention of child molesters, though he’d already thought the same. But his gut feeling led him in another direction. “It seems likely that the abduction was a spur-of-the-moment decision spawned by the media attention yesterday, maybe someone desperate for cash.”

“That makes sense,” Bart agreed. “The man probably saw the boys’ picture on TV.”

“No sane person would let a picture of Nick and the twins lead them to kidnapping,” Matt said.

Nick shoved his hands into his pockets. “That’s my concern and the reason I hate to blow off his demand that we not bring in the authorities. The guy could be a mental case tottering on the edge.”

“How will the abductor know if you talk to the cops?” Jaime asked. “I mean as long as they don’t come roaring out here in squad cars or show up at the door in uniform.”

“If we bring in law enforcement, the kidnapping could get leaked to the media,” Nick said. “I don’t think we can risk that—at least not yet.”

Lenora leaned forward. “But surely it wouldn’t hurt for Zach to do some unofficial investigating.”

Nick was amazed at how well his mother-in-law was holding up under this. He knew how much she loved David and Derrick, yet she had a quiet strength about her that he envied. Thank God she was here for Becky since his wife didn’t seem to want any comfort or reassurance from him.

“I could fly under the radar,” Zach answered, “but we’ve got to agree on what we’re doing here.”

“I say pay him off, get the boys back and then we hunt the bastard down,” Matt said.

“I’d like to see the FBI brought in,” Langston countered. “I have connections. I can make a call right now and have someone come out here from the agency. But Nick and Becky are the ones with the deciding votes. I know I’d make the decisions if it was Gina or little Randy here.” He kissed the top of his son’s head.

“Where is Gina now?” Jaclyn asked. “Does she know about the abduction?”

“Not yet,” Trish said. “She’s spending the night in Houston with a girlfriend from her high school who’s hosting a Christmas party tonight.”

“With a protection service secretly watching her and the house she’s in,” Langston said. “I’m taking no chances until this crazed abductor is apprehended.”

“I curse myself a hundred times an hour for not thinking to do that,” Nick said.

Jaime walked over and placed a hand on Nick’s arm. “Don’t blame yourself for this. How could you possibly have foreseen something so bizarre?”

Jaime was Zach’s twin sister. She was the party girl, but Nick had always suspected she had a lot more depth to her than she let on.

“Would you all just stop talking?” Becky said. Her voice broke, and her whole body began to shake. “My boys are missing, and I want them back. I want them home and in their beds. I want…” Her ranting and shudders dissolved into sobs.

Nick could stand it no longer. He crossed the room and dropped to the sofa beside her. He wound an arm around her shoulders, hoping she wouldn’t push him away.

Her head fell to his chest. “Get them back, Nick. Just get them back.”

“I will.” It was a promise he’d keep or die trying.

Lenora got up from her seat on the other side of Becky. “I think we should give Nick and Becky some time alone.”

“Sure,” Zach said, “but remember that every second counts in a kidnapping.”

Nick had never been more aware of anything in his life.

BECKY FELT as if she were suspended in time, stuck in the horrifying moment when Nick had first told her the boys had been abducted. She pulled away from Nick and tried desperately to regain a semblance of control as the others filed from the room. “I can’t stand doing nothing, Nick. I need to know that someone is out there looking for David and Derrick.”

“The abductor was adamant that we not go to the police.”

“And in the meantime, what about my sons? What’s happening to them?”

“The kidnapper wants money, Becky. He’s made that clear almost from the second he took them. There’s no reason for him to hurt them as long as we cooperate.”

“Since when do you know so much about kidnappers? Since when do you know about anything except football?”

“Please don’t do this, Becky. It won’t help us to tear each other down.”

His gaze sought out hers, and she turned away, unable to deal with his pain when hers was so intense.

“I know I’m not all that good with reading people,” he said, “but I’m convinced this was a spur-of-the-moment decision with the kidnapper. My guess is he’s desperate for money. And desperate men commit irrational acts when pushed against the wall. That’s why I don’t want to push. I just want to give him the money and bring the boys home.”

“And you really think you can pull this off without David and Derrick getting hurt?”

“I think working without the cops is our best chance of doing that.”

Nick’s face was drawn into hard lines that made him look much older than his thirty-two years. It was odd that she’d never thought of him as aging, though she was keenly aware of it in herself. He was constantly in training, keeping up his speed, agility and strength with the rigorous exercise routine that had kept him at the top of his game.

His boyish good looks and charm had come to him naturally and required nothing but his presence to make them work. But even those were lost tonight in the torment that haunted his eyes.

“If he puts the boys on the phone, I want to talk to them,” she said.

“I don’t know how much time he’ll give us with them.”

“Then put the phone on speaker.”

“He’ll be able to tell and will probably think I have a cop listening in.”

She knew he was right, and yet the frustration started swelling in her chest again until it felt like her heart might burst from the pressure. “Are you certain you don’t know the abductor, Nick, or at least have some idea who he is?”

“Of course not. Why would you think that?”

Actually, she had no idea where that idea had come from, but now that she’d voiced it, it wasn’t all that farfetched. The man had contacted Nick on his cell phone. He’d had to get that number from somewhere.

And he’d known where the boys went to school. She was certain the morning newscast hadn’t mentioned that and was pretty sure that none of the others would have given out that type of information.

“Was the voice disguised?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Did you get any feel for the man’s age?”

“No. He’s not a kid, but beyond that, it’s impossible to say. He tries to sound tough, but his tone wavers at times. So does the timbre, as if he’s getting overly excited or nervous and doesn’t want me to know it. That’s another reason I think he really just wants to get the money and get out. If we convince him we’ll cooperate with him fully, I think this could be over in a matter of hours.”

She ached to believe he was right. “Okay, Nick. I’ll agree to holding off on calling the police or the FBI until he calls again. But if we don’t talk to the boys, or if he’s hurt them in any way, the deal is off.”

“That’s all I’m asking, Becky.”

His cell phone rang again. She tensed, and the quick intake of breath was choking. He shook his head, a signal that it wasn’t the kidnapper. The disappointment laid a crushing weight on her chest.

“I can’t talk now. I’ll have to call you back later.”

Probably Brianna. Becky dropped to the sofa and lowered her head, cradling it in her hands as a new wave of vertigo left her too off balance to stand.

Just keep David and Derrick safe, she prayed silently. If she was granted that, she’d never complain about anything again.

DAVID SUCKED the ketchup from a greasy French fry before stuffing it into his mouth. He chewed and swallowed. Momma didn’t like for him to talk with his mouth full. “I don’t think you really are my daddy’s friend,” he said, as he dipped the next fry.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong. I talked to your daddy when I was outside unloading the two-by-fours from the top of my car. He’s real eager to see you boys.”

Derrick wiped a dab of mayonnaise from his chin and sat his half-eaten cheeseburger in the middle of the paper wrapper he’d spread out in front of him. “Then how come you didn’t take us to Uncle Langston like you said you were going to do?”

“I told you, there was a little misunderstanding, but you’ll get to see your daddy soon enough, as long as he cooperates.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” David drew a circle in his ketchup with his last fry. He always ate his fries first. Then he ate the meat off the burger. He hated buns.

“It means your Dad and I are working out a deal. He comes up with cash. You go home.”

The fry slipped from David’s finger and plopped into the puddle of ketchup. “Have we been kidnapped?”

“No, no. Nothing like that. This is just a business deal, and you’re the collateral.”

“How much cash are you trying to get from Daddy?”

“Just a little pocket money. Five million. Do you think you’re worth that?”

David choked and had to spit out the fry he was eating. His allowance was only a dollar a week, and when he’d asked for that super skateboard with all the fancy stuff on it the last time they went to Houston, Momma had said it was too expensive. And that didn’t cost even a hundred dollars.

He didn’t figure anybody had five million dollars except the Queen of England and maybe that woman who wrote the Harry Potter books. He and Derrick were in big trouble. He looked at his twin brother and could tell he was thinking the same thing.

Derrick jumped up from the rickety chair. “I’m getting out of here right now.” He sprinted across the room, heading for the back door.

The guy with the dirty denim jacket grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back until Derrick yelped in pain.

David ran over and kicked the man in his shins. The guy let go of Derrick and grabbed David. “You kick me again, and I’ll take a belt to you, you hear me, boy? You won’t have an inch of flesh that’s not bruised.”

“Then don’t you hurt my brother.”

Surprisingly the guy laughed. “So you two stick together, eh.” Then he stopped smiling and his face turned red. “Let’s get one thing straight. I don’t want to hurt either one of you, but you try anything funny and I’ll lock you in the bathroom and leave you there until this deal is done, do you understand?”

“Sure, I understand,” Derrick said. “You’re a criminal.”

“Right, so don’t even think of trying to escape. Besides, even if you did escape, you’d be so lost no one would ever find you but the snakes and buzzards.”

“You hurt us and my daddy and uncles will kill you,” David said. He was trying hard to act like he wasn’t afraid, but he was plenty scared. Not for him but for his brother. Derrick didn’t like to listen to anybody, and he might do something stupid.

“I’m treating you good, now aren’t I?” the man said. “I bought you hamburgers and fries just like you said you wanted.”

“Yeah, but you told us we were coming here to meet Uncle Langston so he could fly us to Dallas.”

“I lied. Now I’m going to let you talk to your dad, but you have to tell him how good I’m treating you. And that’s all you say. Tell him you’re fine and that you want to come home. That way he’ll close the deal, and this will all be over.”

David nodded. He wanted to talk to Daddy. He wanted that real bad. He didn’t like being kidnapped, and he didn’t like this cabin. He didn’t even want to go to visit his dad at the hospital now. He just wanted to go back to Jack’s Bluff. But if he made this man mad, he might never get back.

The man took the cell phone from his pocket and started punching the buttons, whistling the same tune he’d been whistling when he’d picked them up in the car. David put his arm around Derrick’s shoulders. He’d do what the man said for now, but he’d find a way out of this. Fast. He wasn’t missing Christmas.

THIRTY MINUTES later, there was still no return call. Nick paced the floor, the pain from his injury shooting up his back and settling like smoldering embers in his shoulders and neck. He welcomed the pain. It was familiar and deserved. He’d willingly taken the risks that playing ball in the NFL carried with it.

His boys didn’t deserve this mess they were in and neither did Becky. She might have turned against him, but she’d always been a terrific mother. She was the mainstay for both his sons—steady, constant, yet filled with a love of life.

The same Becky he’d fallen so madly in love with from the first day he’d spotted her jogging across the campus in a pair of tight blue running shorts and showing off the best pair of legs he’d ever seen. He’d asked her out for beers and pizza that very night. To his utter amazement, she’d said yes.

The phone vibrated in his clammy hand an instant before its piercing ring shattered the ominous silence surrounding them. No ID information. His muscles tensed as he took the call.

“Nice that you’re so available these days, Nick. Who’d have ever thought you could call a famous Dallas Cowboys receiver and get him on the first ring?”

His grip tightened on the phone. “Are my boys with you?”

“Still don’t like talking to people like me, though, do you, Nick Ridgely? Your sons are standing next to me. You can have thirty seconds with each boy.”

“Their mother wants to speak to them as well.”

“Thirty seconds. You guys divvy it up any way you like. Maybe Brianna Campbell can take a turn, too.”

Go to hell! The words hammered against Nick’s skull, but never left his mouth. The rotten piece of scum held all the power, and he couldn’t risk riling him.

“Daddy.”

His heart stopped beating for excruciating moments and then slammed into his chest. “Hi, Derrick. Good to hear your voice.”

Becky was at his side in an instant, her eyes begging him for reassurance. He nodded but held on to the phone.

“David and I got kidnapped. Momma’s gonna be mad ’cause we got in the car with a stranger, but we thought he was Uncle Langston’s friend.”

“Mom’s not mad, son. Are you okay? Has he hurt you?”

“Not really. He didn’t buy the kind of hamburgers we like, though, and he doesn’t have much of a TV. It gets lines in it all the time.”

A sorry TV. Nick swallowed hard as relief rushed through him. If that was their biggest complaint, he’d called this right. The guy wasn’t a child molester. Now Nick just had to get the bastard the money and get the boys back before the situation worsened.

“Momma wants to say hello.”

Tears filled Becky’s eyes as she reached for the phone. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

Nick could only hear her side of the conversation, but he could hear the relief in her voice when she realized as he had that their sons were apparently unhurt.

“Daddy and I are taking care of everything. You’ll be back with us soon.” There was a short pause, and then she whispered I love you and was apparently handed off to David.

“No, David, I’m not mad. I just want you home with me. Daddy’s fine. He’s here at the ranch. You’ll see both of us soon. Are you warm? Did you get enough to eat? Okay, you can talk to Daddy. I love you.”

She handed Nick the phone. His time was almost up with the boys, but now that he knew they were safe, it was the abductor he wanted to talk to. The quicker they made the exchange of his sons for money, the less likely they’d have complications.

“Satisfied?” the man asked after letting Nick have only a sentence or two with David.

“For now, but I mean what I said that you’d best not hurt them.”

“Yeah, big guy. I’m doing my part. Now it’s time for you to do yours.”

“I’m ready.”

“I’ll give you twenty-four hours to get the cash together. Let’s see, that will make it at 4:00 p.m. tomorrow.”

“I won’t need that long.”

“Let’s leave it at that for now. And have the plane ready.”

“Where do you want to meet?”

“I’ll call you in the morning with the details. And, remember, no cops or you’ll be very, very sorry.”

“I’m doing this your way, but if you hurt my sons, I swear I’ll track you down, tear your heart out and feed it to the livestock.”

“Just get the money and the plane.”

Nick held on to the phone after the connection was broken, staring into the flames and the crackling logs in the big stone fireplace. His boys were safe, but he wouldn’t breathe easy until they were back on the ranch.

He told Becky what the abductor had said. She cringed even though there was basically nothing new in the kidnapper’s demands.

“And that’s all?” she asked. “We just hand over the money and he releases the boys?”

“Apparently.”

“Then we don’t need twenty-four hours. The bank knows I’m good for the funds even if I don’t have that much in totally liquid assets. If that’s not good enough, my brothers and mother will sign any documents the bank requires.”

“I told him we’d have the ransom sooner, but I’ll get the money,” Nick said, his tone more adamant than he’d intended.

“This isn’t about you, Nick, and I couldn’t care less about some silly pride thing you seem to have going. I just want David and Derrick home—and safe.”

“Don’t you think that’s what I want?”

She shrugged and walked away, stopping to stand near the blazing fire. She warmed her hands before turning to meet his gaze.

“I don’t know what you want anymore, Nick. Maybe I never did.”

“No, I guess maybe you didn’t.”

And that summed up their ten years of marriage. Nothing could compare with the torment of the abduction, but still knowing he was losing Becky cut straight to the heart. He might deserve this, but he didn’t see how.

Bart stepped into the den. “Mother gave Juanita the week off so that she didn’t have to explain to her about the kidnapping, but the ladies made sandwiches and warmed soup. Can I get you some?”

“I can’t eat,” Becky said, “but we’ve finished up in here. Tell mother I’m going to my room for a while—and that I really need to be alone.”

“Sure.”

Being alone was the last thing Nick needed. And oddly, the soup sounded good. “I’ll join you. I just need a minute to wash up.”

“You’re holding your neck at a funny angle,” Bart said. “You must still be in a lot of pain from that hit you took yesterday.”

“Some, but don’t talk about it. I figure if I ignore it, it will give up and go away.” He didn’t believe that for a second, but still he’d leave the pain meds in his duffel bag. He was in the middle of the biggest game of his life, and he had to be completely alert.

DERRICK LAY in the twin bed and stared into the blackness. It was so dark he couldn’t even see David though he was just a few feet away. There was a window, but the weird guy who’d brought them here had nailed boards over it so they couldn’t escape while he was sleeping.

This was all Derrick’s fault. He should have known Uncle Langston wouldn’t send someone to get them who looked like this guy. But then he didn’t look so different from some of the cowboys who worked at the ranch. Some of them had tattoos, too, and they were good wranglers and nice people. Uncle Nick and Uncle Matt said so.

Only the guy hadn’t mentioned Uncle Langston until Derrick did. He just stopped the car and called them by name. Then Derrick had asked him if he was there to take them to the hangar where Uncle Langston kept his jet. He said yes and told them to get in. Derrick had hopped in first.

All his fault, so he had to come up with a plan to get them out of here before this crazy guy started twisting their arms behind their backs again. Grown men weren’t supposed to hurt kids.

Christmas was Friday. Their pageant was Christmas Eve. He had to come up with an escape plan fast.

He was smart for a third grader. He made A’s, well except in math. He figured math didn’t really matter if you were going to be a football player. He’d never once seen his dad working multiplication problems.

They could blindside the kidnapper and knock him out with a skillet. He’d seen that once on a TV show. Or sneak into his room while he was asleep and tie him up with the sheets. Only he and David were locked in the bedroom, and if they tried to break the door down he’d hear them.

But they could…

He closed his eyes and then opened them suddenly as the plan appeared like magic in his mind. He climbed out of the bed in the dark and felt his way to David’s bed, sliding his hands across the covers until his fingers brushed his brother’s arm.

“David.” He kept his voice low but shook him awake. “We don’t have to worry about Daddy getting five million dollars. I know how we can escape.”




Chapter Four


As it turned out, getting five million dollars in cash on short notice was more of a problem than any of them had anticipated. Nick had the funds but not in liquid assets. Converting it to cash would incur time that they didn’t have.

Finally, it had been Langston who’d arranged the transaction through the business account of Collingsworth Oil. Becky wasn’t sure how Langston had explained his need for so much money in small denominations, but apparently he had, or else the bank didn’t ask questions of their larger business accounts.

Becky and Nick were on their way into Houston to pick up the money from one of the main branches now. Nick was still in obvious pain from Sunday’s injury, so Becky was at the wheel and fighting the noonday traffic. Nick was holding his head at a weird angle and massaging the back of his neck.

“Do you have something to take for the pain?” she asked.

“Back at the ranch, but I’m not taking anything that affects my judgment.”

Becky took the freeway exit to the downtown area. The city was decorated for the holidays with huge wreaths on the fronts of buildings and storefronts and holiday displays in all the shop windows. The light changed to red, and she stopped near the corner where a Salvation Army worker was standing by her kettle and ringing a large red bell.

The spirit of the season came crashing down on Becky like blankets of gloom. Ever since the boys were old enough to tear wrapping paper from a present, Christmas had been her favorite time of year. She loved the carols and decorations, the boys’ excitement and the traditions.

They always decorated the tree before dinner on Christmas Eve. The entire family took part, but David and Derrick had more fun than anyone even though they spent as much time sneaking fudge from the kitchen as they did hanging ornaments.

Then, as far back as Becky could remember, they’d had hot tamales and Texas chili on Christmas Eve before leaving for the community Christmas pageant at their church. It was the highlight of the evening with even the eggnog, hot chocolate and desserts that followed taking a backseat.

“Derrick has a speaking part in the Christmas pageant, and David plays his drum.” She didn’t know why she’d blurted that out except that the thought of Christmas without them was unbearable.

“They’ll be there for it,” Nick said. “The boys will be back with us by tonight.”

She wanted desperately to believe that, but the cold, hard knots of doubt wouldn’t let go. The light changed again, and she sped through the intersection, eager to get the money in hand.

“I’d like to be here for the pageant,” Nick said. “And for Christmas morning, too.”

The old resentment surged. “Don’t you have a big game in Chicago on Saturday?” Even when he hadn’t been cleared to dress out, he’d always traveled with the team.

“I’ll miss the game,” he said.

“Are you feeling guilty, Nick?”

“I just think it’s important that I be here for Christmas this year. Can we just leave it at that?”

She spotted the bank ahead and determinedly forced her bitterness aside. She parked the car in a lot across the street from the bank. Nick paid the attendant while she grabbed the large valises they’d bought for the money and locked the car door. When they left the bank, an armed guard in street clothes would walk them to the car.

“I’ll take those,” Nick said, joining her and slipping the bags from her arm.

He slung the strap over his left shoulder and linked his right arm with hers. An incredible feeling of déjà vu swept over her. Walking arm in arm with Nick, the valise over his shoulder, a feeling of urgency burned inside both of them.

Like the night they’d rushed to the hospital for the twins to be born. Her water had broken and she’d been propelled into labor with strong contractions that came much faster than normal. Nick had flown into action, trying to be tough but clearly as frightened as she was. But he’d stayed with her every second.

The image of him holding both the boys in his arms minutes after they were born pushed its way into her mind. His smile. His wet eyes. The tenderness when he’d kissed her and thanked her for giving him the world. She shivered as the memories took hold.

Nick let his hand slip down to encase hers. “It’s going to be okay, baby. This is all going to be okay.”

But who was Nick to promise a happy ending?

DAVID WAS CURLED UP in a smelly old chair with stains all over it. He looked like he was asleep, but Derrick saw his eyes move every now and then and figured he was just faking it, probably thinking about Derrick’s stupid plan.

It had sounded great in the dark. The kidnapper couldn’t watch them every second. He had to go to the bathroom and when he did, they’d raise one of the windows, kick out the screen and make a run for it.

They were fast. Derrick had won the relay race at school field day last year, and David had come in second. The kidnapper wouldn’t have a chance to catch them if they had a head start. Sure, they might get lost in the woods, but Derrick wasn’t worried about that. Uncle Matt had taken them camping lots of times and taught them all about survival. They’d find their way back to the road and wave down a passing car. Super easy.

Problem was that while they were locked in the bedroom last night, the kidnapper had nailed wood over the rest of the windows. That had made Derrick really mad, but he wasn’t giving up. He just needed a better plan. He’d seen all the Home Alone movies a bunch of times. If that kid could take care of himself, so could Derrick and David.

In fact he and David could do it better. There were two of them and only one jerky kidnapper. That’s why he wasn’t really all that afraid. He’d let them out of the bedroom this morning, but the house was sealed tight. The kidnapper had the key to the front door and the back door was nailed shut.

The guy was lying on the lumpy old sofa now, whistling that same weird tune he was always whistling and watching a movie on the old TV that kept fading in and out. It looked like it could be a hundred years old, except their neighbor Billy Mack had told him they didn’t have television back then.

Derrick waited for the commercial. The guy always hollered for him to shut up if he talked during the show. An advertisement for Dodge trucks popped up on the screen.

“How come you live out here all by yourself?”

“’Cause I’m not filthy rich like your parents.”

“You could get a job and make some money.”

“Don’t get smart with me, kid.”

“I wasn’t.”





Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Получить полную версию книги.


Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/joanna-wayne/miracle-at-colts-run-cross-42515149/) на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.