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“Darby.” Jillian appeared behind the receptionist, frowning and shaking her head. “I tried to keep him here, but when I mentioned you wanted to meet him, he got agitated, and they left in a big hurry.”
She stiffened. “They? He had...someone with him?”
“Yeah. A big guy. Light brown hair. About fifty. Clean-cut and—”
Darby waved her quiet. “Never mind. How long ago did they leave?”
“They just did. Seconds before you got here. I’m sorry—”
Darby spun back toward the door, leaving her purse, encumbering ballast, on the receptionist’s counter. Heart in her throat, she sped back down the stairs, but this time made her way toward the parking garage. She had to have at least a glimpse of this man whose DNA tests were so confoundingly wrong. Unless...
He initiated contact...
Dahr-by...
She slammed through the heavy door to the parking garage and skidded to a stop on the concrete landing. From the slightly raised vantage point, she could better see over the top of cars on this, the main deck of the garage. She swept a glance down each aisle and spotted three men, an African American, a tall man with light brown hair and a raven-haired man with a beard, sunglasses and baseball cap.
“Mr. Orlean?” she called, her breathless shout drowned out by noise from the street below. She hurried down the steps and chased after the men. “Mr. Orlean?”
She stared at the back of the man in the cap as she ran to catch them. The broad shoulders and confidence in his stride seemed familiar, though his hair was many shades darker than Connor’s.
She closed the gap between them before trying again to get their attention. “Mr. Orlean! Please, wait!”
The man in the cap stiffened, slowed. When he started to turn, the black man beside him glanced over his shoulder and pushed the dark-haired man toward a silver sedan. With the fob in his hand, the tall, older man clicked the locks off and opened the back door of the sedan. With a jerk of his head, he motioned for the man in the cap to get in the car.
They weren’t just ignoring her; they were escaping from her. Puzzled and more than a bit miffed, Darby shouted again, “Wait! Sam Orlean, I need to talk to you!”
When she reached the silver sedan, the black man tried to block her path, but she shoved past him. She grabbed the arm of the man she believed was Sam Orlean as he tried to climb in the backseat. “Wait!”
He froze for a moment, dropped his chin to his chest then, straightening to his full height, he turned.
Mumbling an earthy obscenity, the older man stepped forward as if to intervene, but Orlean raised a hand to stop him.
Winded, Darby gasped for a breath and grabbed the open car door for support, her body shaking as she studied the beard-covered face. The man’s coloring was wrong, his hair too dark. His eyes were hidden behind the sunglasses and shaded by the cap. And yet...
He stood stock-still, except for a slight shudder as he drew a stuttering breath.
The chant in Darby’s brain screamed louder— Connor, Connor, Connor! Reaching up, she snatched away his cap, pulled his sunglasses off.
His jaw tightened, and he looked away, scowling at the cars parked across the aisle.
“Look at me,” she whispered, and when he refused, she screamed, “Look at me, damn it!”
She grabbed his chin and wrenched his head toward her. When he lifted his eyes to hers, they were damp with tears, brimming with regret and apology. Her heart slammed against her ribs. Her knees buckled, and her lungs seized.
She knew those golden-brown eyes. Intimately. They were her daughter’s eyes.
“Connor.” Her voice squeaked as her throat clogged with emotion. Her body shook with unspent adrenaline, and she lifted a hand toward his cheek. He wrapped long, warm fingers around hers, moving her hand off his face and squeezing her hand. Stunned, she grappled with what her heart was telling her, while her brain rejected the truth. A hesitant joy filled her chest like helium, expanding, lifting her hope. But a darker emotion lurked at the edges of her shock. She shoved the darkness aside, not wanting anything to shadow the moment.
Tears filled her eyes as a half laugh, half sob bubbled up from her chest. “You’re alive!”
He gave the slightest of nods, but that tiny confirmation sent a tidal wave of conflicting emotions coursing through her. Relief and elation tangled with disbelief. She surged forward to hug him, to celebrate their reunion. But the older man beside them caught her arm, separating them. “Not here.”
She blinked her confusion, looking to Connor for answers. His expression was grim, full of grief and regret. “I’m sorry.”
His apology released the darkness she’d tried to hold at bay. A chill crept from her scalp to her toes as the first flicker of understanding dawned on her. Anger and resentment elbowed past her other emotions.
He’d left her. On purpose. He’d deceived her, let her think he was dead. He’d said he loved her, but he’d abandoned her.
Just like her father.
Her hand flew up, surprising herself as much as him when she struck his cheek. Hard. “You bastard!”
“That’s enough,” the black man growled. He grabbed her, restraining her arms as he pulled her away from Connor.
Darby fought the captive arms. Furious. Heartbroken. “You lied to me! You said you loved me!” she spat at Connor.
“Get in.” With a hand on Connor’s head, the older man pushed him into the backseat.
“No!” she shouted, desperation rearing its head. She couldn’t lose Connor again. “Wait!”
The older man hitched his head to the black man, whose muscular arms held her like a vise. He hitched his head toward the backseat. “Bring her. We need to contain this.”
Fear clawed inside her as the black man lifted her effortlessly and shoved her in the backseat.
“What the hell?” Connor barked. “Let her go!”
When her abductor pushed into the car behind her, she toppled onto Connor’s lap. He caught her, steadying her as the car engine roared to life. Panic choked her as the sedan pulled sharply out of the parking space and lurched down the garage aisle. She clung to Connor’s arm for balance.
“Let me out! Please!” Tears and terror strangled her. “I have to get back to Savannah. My daughter needs me!”
“Damn it, Jones!” Connor snarled. “This was never part of the plan. What are you doing?”
We need to contain this. An ominous shiver spun through her. Who were these men, and what was Connor involved in? What was she now involved in?
* * *
Connor scowled at Marshal Jones as Raleigh pulled out of the parking garage onto the city street. Forcing Darby into a car against her will was not the best way to start an already difficult conversation. She was understandably confused, terrified.
“You’re safe, Darby,” he said and stroked a hand down her back, trying to calm her. She jerked away from his touch and sent him a dirty look. In her eyes he saw hurt, confusion, fear...but mostly fury. His return from the dead had her royally pissed.
Connor sighed, his heart heavy. Had he really thought that she’d simply fall into his arms and all would be forgiven and forgotten? That she’d still love him after so many years? That the lie of his faked death and subsequent hurt he’d caused could be swept aside merely by returning from the grave?
Using the rearview mirror, Marshal Raleigh glanced to the backseat at Jones. “What’s the plan? Where am I going? Back to the hotel?”
Darby lunged toward the front seat, grabbing at Raleigh’s arm. “Take me to St. Mary’s Hospital! My daughter is there. We were about to take her home!”
Jones pulled Darby off Raleigh. “Not yet. We have to talk.”
She wrenched away from Jones with a frown, then wiggled off Connor’s lap. She squeezed onto the seat between him and the car door, pushing him closer to Jones. When Raleigh stopped for a red light, Darby scrabbled with the door handle, trying to escape. Without success.
“Childproof safety locks,” Jones said evenly. “They’re not just for parents anymore.”
Raleigh chuckled, but Darby shot Jones a look that said she didn’t appreciate his dry humor. Then her gaze shifted back to Connor, and he felt the same kick of yearning and awe he’d known every time her green eyes had met his in the past. Except now her gaze was suspicious and hostile.
“Connor, who are these people? What’s going on? H-how are you still alive?”
He gave her a humorless laugh. “Wow. I missed you, too, honey. Thanks for the warm welcome home.”
A fresh wave of anger hardened her face briefly before tears filled her eyes and grief slackened her features. “You jerk. Of course I missed you. I died inside when I thought I’d lost you!”
Compunction punched him in the gut. “I’m sorry, Darby. I just—”
“Sorry?” she shrieked and landed an inert fist on his arm. “We buried you! Your parents had to pick out a headstone for their son. Your brothers carried your casket. I saw them wheel a body bag out of the charred cabin. But it was all a lie!” A tear broke free from her eyelashes, and when he reached up to wipe it from her cheek, she knocked his hand away.
“Honey, I know my leaving hurt you and my family. I’m sorry. I am! Leaving all of you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done! If I’d had any other way—”
“You did! You could have not pretended to die, not devastated us, not lied to us—”
“I did it to protect you. All of you. I loved you, Darby. I didn’t want to hurt you, but the Gales wanted—”
“You abandoned me. You don’t abandon someone you love.” Her voice cracked, and she turned toward the window, biting her bottom lip.
Connor mumbled a curse and rubbed his face.
After pulling the car into an alley with a tall privacy fence on one side and a department store loading dock on the other, Raleigh cut the engine. He caught Connor’s attention via the rearview mirror. “I know you two have a lot of personal stuff to air out, but can we stick a pin in it for now? The more immediate problem is coming to an understanding with Ms. Kent and assuring her silence.”
Darby’s chin snapped up, her eyes widening. “That sounds like a threat. What do you mean assure my silence? Connor, what kind of thugs are you involved with?”
“Not thugs, ma’am,” Jones said, pulling out his badge. “Deputy U.S. Marshals. Sam Orlean is under our protection as part of WitSec, the Witness Security Program.”
“U.S. Marshals?” Darby ignored Jones’s badge and scowled at him. “Since when is it okay for federal agents to kidnap law-abiding citizens?”
* * *
Darby’s stomach swirled sourly, and she held her breath, wondering where she’d found the nerve to so openly challenge these men. The bulges under their jackets were almost assuredly guns. How far would these men go to assure her silence?
The man named Jones looked surprised. “You haven’t been kidnapped. You’re free to go whenever you like.”
Darby scoffed. “Childproof locks ring a bell?”
Jones smiled and sent Connor a side glance. “Feisty.”
“Just one of her many attributes,” he replied.
“Marshal Raleigh,” Jones said, still smiling, “would you be so kind as to unlock Ms. Kent’s door for her?”
“Roger that.” Raleigh pushed a button on the driver’s door, and the rear door locks clicked off.
Darby blinked, startled by the turn of events. Was she really free to go, or would they shoot her in the back if she tried to leave? She glanced from the door to Jones, narrowing her eyes as she decided whether Jones was pulling a trick. She tested the door release, and it popped open. Then she paused. Connor.
She jerked her gaze back to Connor, the man she’d once loved and conceived a child with, and her heart staggered. This wasn’t about a standoff between her and two U.S. Marshals. The important issue was Connor. Who was alive. In Witness Security. And who’d contacted Dr. Reed.
He could well be a tissue match for Savannah’s bone marrow transplant. Connor.
She exhaled a ragged breath, shifting her gaze from one man to another. And closed the car door. “I... All right. You have my attention.”
Chapter 3
Connor divided a look between Jones and Raleigh. “Do you want to do the honors?”
Jones waved a hand in deferral. “Go ahead. We’ll jump in as needed.”
Darby sighed impatiently. “Someone talk.”
Turning on the seat to better face her, Connor scooped Darby’s hand in his. For a moment, he thought she might yank it back, but she hesitated, eyeing him with a combination of suspicion and concern. “Do you remember right before I...left—”
Her eyebrow rose as if taking issue with his euphemism. You abandoned me.
Connor’s chest wrenched. Knowing how hard Darby had taken his disappearance—no, his faked death—poured acid guilt on his conscience. He’d known she’d be heartbroken. They’d been in love, planning to marry. But he truly hadn’t realized how bitter, how hurt she’d be.
He puffed out a breath and plunged on. “You remember that I testified in the federal trial against William Gale, right?”
She nodded, holding his gaze.
“Well, what I didn’t tell you at the time was that the Gales have ties to organized crime. In fact, they head up a branch of organized crime that operates in Lagniappe.”
She sat straighter, her eyes widening and her face paling. “Organized crime? But—”
“I didn’t know about their criminal connections when I went to work for them. And I didn’t learn about the criminal activity for a long time. They’re quite good at hiding their illegal sidelines.”
Darby held up a hand. “Wait. I’m sensing this is too big to cover in one hurried conversation parked in a back alley.” She flipped her wrist and checked her watch. “I’ve already been gone too long. Savannah is leaving the hospital today. She was almost ready to go when I bolted out of her room to follow my hunch about you.”
Connor frowned. “Who’s with her now?”
“Hunter. But I have to get back. I—” She leaned toward the front seat, grabbing Raleigh’s arm. “Take me to St. Mary’s Hospital. Now!” She sighed and added, “Please.”
Raleigh turned on the seat to face his partner. “She’s right about one thing. We need to get her back to the hospital before her absence causes concern with the family or hospital staff.”
Jones tapped fingers to his lips as he thought. “Okay.” While Raleigh started the engine again, Jones narrowed a serious look at Darby. “Here’s the deal. Witness security only works if the subject breaks all ties with his former life. No one can know Sam is still alive.”
“But his family—”
“No. No one. Do you understand?”
Darby hesitated, nodded, then knitted her brow in consternation. “Wait, how is Connor supposed to be Savannah’s donor if no one can know he’s alive?”
“Connor can’t. Connor is dead. But Sam Orlean can.” Jones paused and leaned toward Darby to emphasize his point. “As long as his cover remains intact.”
