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Darby glanced at Connor, then back to the marshal. “Only problem with that is my family, Connor’s family...everyone knows Connor is Savannah’s father. And because of the DNA tests he took, so does Dr. Reed and her staff. They even called me to ask about it. They were puzzled when the tests showed Sam Orlean—” she drew quotation marks with her fingers as she said the name “—was Savannah’s biological father. They wanted to know if I was sure it was Connor who’d fathered my baby. As if I slept around and couldn’t keep track of my lovers.” Her tone held a bitter edge.
“That could work,” Raleigh said from the driver’s seat as he negotiated traffic. “You could tell the doctor you had a one-night stand while on vacation and were too embarrassed to say anything before now.”
Darby’s expression mirrored her outrage. “Pregnant from a one-night stand? Hell, no! I’m not that kind of woman.”
“We’re not saying you are. But if you could tell people that’s how you got pregnant, that’s why Sam Orlean of Dallas is the girl’s father—”
She visibly tensed, her fury palpable. “You mean lie? If I tell people that, I become that woman in the eyes of people I love and respect.”
Connor had heard enough. “Darby...”
Her gaze jerked to him, her green eyes blazing. “Do you hear what they’re asking? Do you have any idea how much it would hurt your parents for me to tell them the little girl they love, the grandchild they believe was a posthumous gift from you, isn’t really yours?”
A sharp ache speared him. The last thing he wanted was to cause his family or Darby any more pain. “I hate this as much as you do, but we have to consider all the options.”
She rounded on him. “Do you hate it? You hurt us all easily enough when you faked your death five years ago! What’s one more stab in the back to a family you already walked away from? The family who grieves for you even today!”
Connor stiffened. “Leaving you, letting my family think I was dead was the hardest thing I’ve ever done! I hated the idea of my parents thinking I’d died, of you going through that kind of heartache and grief. Of my brothers—” He huffed in frustration as a knot of his own grief balled in his chest. “I did it to protect you. All of you! And I’d rather that sacrifice not go to waste by blowing my cover now.”
“I will not lie to the people I love. I cannot hurt them that way!” Darby poked him in the chest, then flopped back against the seat and crossed her arms stubbornly.
“Even if it means protecting the father of your child from men who want to kill him?” Jones asked.
Darby snapped her attention to the marshal, her anger clearly slipping a notch when faced with the brutal reality of the situation. Her mouth opened, as if to reply, then closed again.
Connor turned toward her, tamping his own frustration in order to keep his tone nonconfrontational. This might be his only chance to see Darby, to touch her and explain the choices he’d made, and he refused to spend it arguing. “Honey, forget about me for a minute. Yes, having my cover blown would put me at risk, but more important to me is the danger you and Savannah might be in. And my family. If the Gales find out I’m alive, they might strike at you to get back at me. They know the best way to hurt me is to hurt the people I love.”
A shadow of fear crept into her eyes, and she wet her lips. “Connor, I don’t want you or anyone else to get hurt, but there has to be another way. Your family can keep the secret that you’re alive if—”
“No,” Jones interrupted. “The more people who know, the higher the risk. We have to contain this. We need your word that you’ll cooperate with us, whatever it takes, in order to keep Sam alive and your family safe.”
“And we need that commitment now,” Raleigh added. “We’re at the hospital.”
Connor glanced out the side window, and sure enough, they’d reached St. Mary’s. He glanced up at the brick edifice, and his heart seized. His daughter was inside those walls. The little girl he’d made with Darby. A longing so pure and deep flooded him that he couldn’t breathe for a moment.
Raleigh and Jones were still trying to impress upon Darby the importance of her complete silence, the need for her to agree to whatever lie they invented about Savannah’s parentage.
“I want to see her,” he blurted. Three heads swiveled toward him.
“What?” Darby asked.
He held Darby’s gaze, bittersweet longing swelling in his chest. “I want to see my daughter.”
Though he knew in his head all the reasons it was a bad idea, his heart shouted down the rational voice of his conscience. He might never have this chance again, a chance to meet his firstborn, the opportunity to hold her, hug her, tell her he loved her. He took Darby’s hands in his, his pulse thudding unsteadily. “Let me meet Savannah. Please?”
“Uhhh,” Raleigh said, dragging out the syllable to reflect his uncertainty. “Not a good idea.”
Connor ignored the marshal, still holding Darby’s hands and gaze, waiting. If she agreed, he’d move heaven and earth to make time with his daughter happen.
Tears filled her eyes, and she bit her bottom lip when it trembled. Hurt and anger darkened her gaze. “I want to say no. I want to say you gave up the right to see her when you walked out of our lives.”
Connor tensed and squeezed her hands. “I didn’t know you were pregnant.”
She nodded her concession on that point. “That’s why I can’t justify keeping you from her. You’re her father. You have a right to see her.”
Behind him, Jones grunted. “Sam, we can’t—”
“I am.” He shifted on the seat to face Marshal Jones, determination firming his resolve. “I am going to meet my daughter. With or without your help.”
Chapter 4
Clearly sensing a lengthy discussion was in the offing, Marshal Raleigh pulled away from the curb in front of the hospital and circled the block, finding another alley to park in. Jones and Raleigh took some convincing to cooperate with Connor’s insistence on meeting Savannah. But with some brainstorming help from Darby and Connor, they developed a cover to get Connor into Darby’s house without raising any red flags with the Gales.
“Wait. What about Hunter?” Darby asked as they headed back toward the hospital.
“Who’s Hunter?” Raleigh asked.
“My youngest brother,” Connor said.
“Hunter was with me when I got the call from the doctor’s office asking if I could explain why Sam Orlean’s DNA tests showed such a significant parental match.” She glanced from Connor to the marshals. “He knows I was trying to intercept you at Dr. Reed’s office to find out who you were, why the tests showed you were Savannah’s father.”
“All the more reason to go with the one-night-stand story,” Jones said.
Darby shook her head. “He won’t buy it. Hunter knows me better than that. He knows I suspected Sam Orlean was Connor.”
“Then tell him you were too late to catch up with Sam,” Raleigh offered. “Tell him the doctor’s office realized they’d mixed up records and apologized for the confusion.”
She snorted her disagreement. “I can’t lie to Hunter. He’ll see right through me.”
“My brother is trustworthy,” Connor said quietly, turning toward Jones. “Now that Darby knows the truth, maybe it’d be best to tell Hunter about WitSec, as well. He can keep it quiet.”
“Yes!” Darby nodded her agreement. “Let me tell Hunter the truth. He won’t believe that anyone but Connor is Savannah’s father, and he reads me too well for me to lie about any of this.”
In the front seat, Raleigh groaned.
Jones rubbed his face with his hand. “You understand that the more people who know who Sam is, the more risk there is of the wrong people finding out?”
Raleigh pulled to a stop once more at the hospital entrance and turned toward the backseat. “Do I need to circle the block again?”
“Hunter won’t talk.” Connor narrowed a certain gaze on Jones. “We can trust him.”
Jones and Raleigh exchanged a long dark look, as if communicating telepathically.
Darby twisted her hands in her lap, her heart still racing from adrenaline and her brain muddled with the surrealism of the past half hour. Finally, Raleigh sighed and turned back to the front window, while muttering under his breath about hell in a hand basket.
“Okay.” Jones flipped up his palms. His expression said he was far from happy about acquiescing. “But tell Hunter as little as possible until we’ve had a chance to debrief him and impress upon him the urgency of his silence.”
Darby gave a jerky nod and opened the car door. “I understand.”
As she slid out of the backseat, Connor caught her arm. “Darby.” She faced him, waiting for him to continue. Emotions played over his face, clearly telling her how conflicted he was, deciding what he wanted to say, what he could say. As if he were torn between what was in his heart and the masquerade he was playing.
The longer he hesitated, the more irritated she grew. The Connor she knew had never hedged, never held back from sharing his heart with her. But then, that Connor was dead, wasn’t he? This Connor—or Sam Orlean—had lied about his death, had stayed away for almost five years.
“See you in about an hour,” he said at last, his frown saying he knew how lame he sounded.
“Right.” She snatched her arm from his grip, frustrated, hurt and so angry with him she was shaking.
She hurried back inside the hospital and onto the same elevator car she’d ridden down some forty or so minutes earlier. As the doors closed, she marveled at how the elevator could look the same when her life had changed so completely in such a short time. Connor. Connor was alive!
The air in her lungs stalled, just as it had when she’d recognized the man with the dye-darkened beard and sunglasses in the parking garage. She braced a hand on the wall of the elevator and bent at the waist to catch her breath.
“Are you all right, ma’am?” an orderly on the elevator with her asked.
She peeked up at him and shook her head. “No. Not really.”
They arrived at her floor, the door sliding open with a ding, and she straightened. Flashing a forced smile to the orderly, she stepped off the elevator, waving the hospital employee away when he made a move to help her. “No, thanks.”
“Mommy!” Savannah called to her as she ducked back into her hospital room.
She managed a smile for her daughter and bent to kiss her temple. “Hi, Miss Priss.”
Hunter spun to face her, his phone at his ear, his expression impatient. “Cheese and rice, Darby!” He waved his cell, thumbing the disconnect button. “Why haven’t you answered your phone? I’ve called you at least ten times!”
“Because...” She blew out a deep breath and slapped a hand to her empty shoulder where her purse usually hung. “Crud! I left my purse at the doctor’s office.” Raking a hand through her hair, she dropped her shoulders wearily. “Will you stop by there to let me grab it on our way home?”
He pulled a face. “Uh, yeah. Whatever.” Spreading his hands, he raised his eyebrows and huffed. “Well? What happened? Did you see him?”
Darby cut a side glance to Savannah, then scowled at Hunter. “Ixnay about Onnorcay.”
Hunter looked ready to strangle her. “Just give me a yes or no. Was it him?”
“Did someone die, Mommy?”
Darby faced Savannah, her pulse stumbling. “No, honey. Why?”
“You told somebody on the phone that Connuh was dead.” Savannah wrinkled her nose. “Who’s Connuh?”
“Um...” She fumbled, glancing to Hunter for help. She’d put off telling Savannah about her father until she thought the little girl was old enough to fully understand the concept of death. Then Hunter’s elderly dog had died a few months ago, and she’d had to explain where Bo had gone and why he wouldn’t be back.
But Connor came back.
“Connor is...” She rubbed the spot on her forehead where a killer headache was forming.
“My brother,” Hunter supplied.
Savannah tipped her head in confusion. “But Uncle Gwant is your bwother.” Savannah had just started speech therapy that spring to help her pronounce her Rs, when they’d been handed the challenge of cancer. Rs would have to wait.
Hunter grinned. “A guy can have more than one brother. In fact, I know someone who has seven brothers!”
Savannah’s eyes widened. “That’s a lot of bwothers!” She sank back against her pillow, her face sobering, her tenacious curiosity and keen memory not letting Hunter’s attempt at distraction work. “Did your bwother die like Bo?”
“Um...” Hunter stalled and looked to Darby. “Did he?”
“Priss, why don’t you watch TV while I talk to Uncle Hunter for a minute.” She grabbed the front of his shirt and led him into the tiny bathroom out of Savannah’s earshot.
“What’s going on, Darby?” Hunter asked as she closed the door behind them.
She wiped sweaty palms on the seat of her pants. “Here’s the deal—and you can’t tell anyone about this...”
* * *
While Darby returned to the hospital room to bring Savannah home, Connor and the marshals acquired medical scrubs, a few pieces of medical equipment and a van detailed with Lagniappe Home Health on the side panel. Soon after Darby and Hunter got Savannah home, the faux home health team arrived, and Darby ushered them through her front door. Hiding in plain sight.
“Connor!” Hunter rushed forward as soon as his brother stepped into the foyer, shock and joy reverberating in his voice. “What—? How—?”
As ordered, Darby had given Hunter only the barest of information. Connor was alive. He was in hiding with WitSec. He was in disguise and headed to her house to meet Savannah.
The emotional reunion between the brothers was bittersweet for Darby. Hiding the truth from the rest of Connor’s family gnawed at her. She hated feeling as though she were buying into the lie that hurt and angered her so much, even if she understood Connor’s reasoning for his choice to enter WitSec. And what did she tell Savannah about the man who wanted to meet her?
Connor exchanged a bear hug with Hunter. “It’s a long messy story. One that, I’m afraid, isn’t over yet.”
Hunter stepped back, holding his brother at arm’s length. “What do you mean, it’s not over?”
Connor’s eyes darted back to Darby, and he pulled away from Hunter. “I can explain, but first...”
Marshals Jones and Raleigh lumbered in carrying an oxygen tank and monitoring equipment, part of their cover as health care workers looking after Savannah.
Connor introduced Jones and Raleigh to Hunter, then the two marshals moved into the living room with their load of equipment, leaving Connor to his family reunion. Even having spent forty minutes with him in the marshals’ sedan, having had time for the news to sink in, having conveyed the shocking truth to Hunter, Darby was having trouble wrapping her brain around Connor’s resurrection and return. Seeing him in her house again after almost five years seemed odd. Especially since he’d darkened his hair and sported a beard as part of his cover as Sam Orlean.
Her thoughts were scrambling in too many directions at once to sort them out. Her heart thundered in her chest, and all she could do was stare at the answer to her prayers. As if he felt her attention, Connor turned his head and met her gaze. A tingle of sensation, like receiving a static shock, zipped through her as she stared back at him. She hadn’t forgotten how handsome he was or how her body responded to his rugged good looks, but seeing him again, in the flesh rather than a two-dimensional photo or mistlike memory, was surreal. She felt as if she’d added a sugar high to a caffeine buzz. All her senses were on overdrive, and her emotions were supercharged, tangled and confusing.
“Darby?” The sound of his voice triggered a cascade of moth-balled memories. Her giddy excitement when he’d asked her for their first date. Nights when he’d held her and crooned her name as they made love. Her horror on that foggy morning more than four and a half years ago when she’d seen the charred skeleton of the hunting camp’s cabin.
And the voice of a stranger on the phone just days ago. I’m sorry, Dahr-by.
How could he have abandoned her, deceived her for so many years? Hurt and anger returned with the bite of acid in her gut. She swung at him, reacting before she’d even realized what she was doing. “You left me. Lied to me!”
Her balled fist smacked his chest with all the effect of a pillow hitting a brick wall. His muscled body was still every bit as taut and toned as she’d remembered. She swung again, the fury for the lies and pain she’d suffered because of his deception and desertion surging in her, and he absorbed the blow as if he knew he deserved it.
“Darby, stop. What are you doing?” Hunter wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back. “Calm down, okay? You’ll wake Savannah.”
Another stab of pain slashed through her. Savannah. How many times had she wished Savannah could know her father? And now he was here. To meet his daughter. Yet they couldn’t tell Savannah the truth. It wasn’t fair. How could she draw her daughter into the deceit? And yet, how could she tell her daughter the truth knowing Connor would leave again, return to WitSec with the marshals in a matter of days, hours? Darby knew too well the pain of losing a father, having him blithely walk out of her life.
Her shoulders shook with sobs as she turned and buried her face in Hunter’s shirt. He folded her into a comforting embrace, muttering soothing reassurances.
But no words could calm her. No hug could ease her troubled heart.
Connor was alive, and she had no idea where to start sorting out the tangled web of his lies.
