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“No.” He stood, letting her hand go but trapping her shoulders under his grip. He lightened up. “I mean. Can you stay a couple of minutes? I didn’t give you your present.”
“But you threw the party and everything.”
Was it his hopeful imagination that her words were a little breathier when he touched her? Touching was a rare occurrence now that the twins walked themselves up to bed and didn’t need to be carried. Not his imagination. Her chest under the sleeveless summer shirt was rising and falling faster.
One wayward strand of dark red hair that she tried so hard to keep in place was curled in the middle of her forehead. Most of the time she shoved it back in with the rest, but he practically had her hands pinned at her sides. This time, he followed through on a simple pleasure. He took the curl between his fingers and gently tucked it away.
Josh allowed the side of his hand to caress the soft skin of Tracey’s cheek. His fingertips whispered across her lips and her eyes closed. It was time. Now. A conscious decision. No spur-of-the-moment accident.
He leaned down as he tilted her chin up. Their lips connected and his hands wrapped around her, smashing her body into his. They molded together and all the dormant parts of his soul ignited.
Four years since he’d really held a woman in his arms. The last lips he’d tasted had been a sweet goodbye. It had been a long time since he’d thought about passion.
Tracey’s eyes opened when he hesitated for a split second. He didn’t see fear or surprise—only passion waiting for him. He kissed her again, not allowing them time to think or reconsider.
Her lips tasted like the coconut-flavored lip balm she recently began using. But her mouth tasted of the butter-flavored icing from her birthday cake. Lips soft and rich. Her body was toned, yet pliant against him.
Yes, he analyzed it all. Every part of her. He wanted to remember just in case he never got another chance.
Intimacy hadn’t been his since... Since... He couldn’t allow himself to go in that direction. Tracey was in his arms. Tracey’s body was responding to his caresses.
Their lips parted. He wanted to race forward, but they needed a beginning first. He’d worked it all out a hundred times in his head. This was logical. Start with a kiss, let her know he wanted more.
“Okay, that was...surprising for a birthday present.”
No doubt about it, her voice was shaking with breathlessness.
“Sorry, that wasn’t it. I kept the box at the office so the kids couldn’t say anything. It’s in the truck.” He slipped his hands into his jeans pockets to stop them from pointing to one more thing. One step away from her and he wondered if she was breathless or so surprised she didn’t know how to react.
“Josh?”
No.
“It’ll just take a sec.”
Tracey caught up with him and followed him onto the porch. “Maybe I should go home?” She smiled and rubbed his arm like a pal.
“Right.” He slipped his thumbs inside his front pockets. He lifted his chin when he realized it was tucked to his chest.
“It’s just... Well, you’ve been drinking and I don’t want...” Her voice trailed off the same way it did when she was sharing something negative about the twins’ behavior. She didn’t want to disappoint him. Ever.
“Got it.” He marched to her car and forced himself not to yank the door off the hinges.
“Don’t be mad. It’s not that I didn’t—”
“Tracey. I got it.”
And he did. All he knew about Tracey was that she’d been there for him and the kids. Assuming she felt the same when— Dammit, he didn’t know anything about her life outside their small world here.
“I’m going to head out.” Purse over her shoulder, she waved from the front door of her car. “Night.” She waved and gently shut the door behind her.
Change is a mistake. Nah, he’d had this debate with himself for weeks. It was time to move on. He couldn’t be afraid of what might or might not happen.
Tracey’s tires spun a little in the gravel as she pulled away. He hoped like hell that he hadn’t scared her away. From him, maybe. But she wouldn’t leave the twins, right? She was the only mother they’d ever had in their lives.
For a while, he’d thought he admired her for that. But this wasn’t all about the kids. He needed her to say that she felt something for him. Because four years was long enough.
He was ready to love again.
Chapter One (#u036ced62-b3a0-54f6-a888-893161662159)
Nothing. Two weeks since Josh Parker had kissed her, and then avoided her like the plague. Two weeks and she’d barely seen him. Adding insult to injury, he’d even hired a teenager to watch the kids a couple of nights.
Tracey tilted the rearview mirror to get a better view of Jackson and Sage. They were too quiet. Smiling at each other in twin language. It was ice cream Friday and they’d behaved at school, so that had meant sprinkles. And they’d enjoyed every single colored speck.
The intersection was busier than usual. The car in front of her turned and Tracey finally saw the holdup. The hood was up on a small moving van at the stop sign. She was making her way around, pulling to the side, when another car parked next to the van.
“Tracey, we’re hungry,” Sage said.
“I know, sweetheart. I’m doing my best.” She put her Mazda in Reverse trying to turn around in the street. “Can you reach your crackers, Jackson?”
“Yep, yep, yep,” he answered like the dinosaur on the old DVDs he’d been watching. She watched him tug his little backpack between the car seats and snag a cracker, then share a second with Sage.
“Just one, little man. You just had ice cream.”
Two men left the moving van and waved at her to back up. She was awfully close to the other van, but she trusted their directions. Right up until she felt her car hit. She hadn’t been going fast enough for damage, but the guy seemed to get pretty steamed and stomped toward her door.
Great what a way to begin her weekend.
The men split to either side of her car, where one gave her the signal to roll down her window. She lowered it enough to allow him to hear her, then she unbuckled and leaned to the glove compartment for her insurance card.
“Sorry about that, but your friend—” Tracey looked up and froze.
Now in a ski mask, the man next to her window shouted, pulling on the door handle, tapping on the window with the butt of a handgun before pushing the barrel inside. “Open the door!”
She hit the horn repeatedly and put the car back into gear, willing to smash it to bits in order to get away. But it was wedged in tight. Once she’d backed up, they’d quickly used two vehicles to block her, parking in front and behind, pinning her car between the three.
Would they really shoot her to carjack an old junker of a Mazda?
“You can have the car. If you want money, it’ll take a little while, but I can get that, too. You don’t have to do this.” She kept careful control of her voice. “Just let me unsnap the twins and take them with me.”
“Get out! Now!” A second gunman shouted through the glass at the passenger door.
Where were all the cars now? Why had she lowered the window an inch to answer this man’s question? What if they didn’t let her get the kids out? Her mind was racing with questions.
They shouted at her, banging on the windows. The twins knew something was wrong and began to cry. Tracey gripped the steering wheel with one hand and blared the horn with the other. Someone had to hear them. Someone would come by and see what was happening.
“Lady, you get out of the car or I’ll blow you away through the window.” Gunman One pointed the gun at her head.
“You don’t want these kids. Their dad’s the head of the Texas Rangers in this area.”
With a gun stuck in her face, Tracey didn’t know how she was speaking—especially with any intelligence. Her hands were locked, determined to stay where they were. That’s when she had the horrible feeling it wasn’t a random carjacking.
“You’re wrong, sweetheart. That’s exactly why we want them,” Gunman Two said.
“Shut up, Mack!” Gunman One screamed, hitting the top of the car. “You!” he yelled at her again. “Stop blabbing and get your butt out here before I blow your brains all over those kids.”
One of the drivers got out of his box truck with a bent pole. Not a pole. It looked like it had a climbing spike on the end.
“No!” She leaned toward the middle, attempting to block what she knew was coming.
The new guy swung, hitting the window, and it shattered into pebble-size glass rocks. The kids screamed louder. She tried to climbing into the backseat. The locks popped open and three doors flew wide.
Gunman One latched on to her ankles and yanked. Her chin bounced against the top of the seat. Jarring pain jolted across her face. Before she could grab anything or brace herself, her body tumbled out of the car. Twisted, her side and shoulder took most of the fall to the street.
She prayed someone would drive by and see what was happening. She looked everywhere for help. Wasn’t there anyone who could intervene or call the police? Her small purse was still strapped across her chest, hidden at her hip. Her cell phone was still inside so maybe she could—
Gunman One flipped open a knife and sliced the strap, nicking her neck in the process. “We wouldn’t want you to call Daddy too soon. You got that tape, Mack?” He jerked her to her feet, hitting the side of her head with his elbow. “You just had to play the hero.”
“Here ya go, Mack.” Gunman Two, already in the car, tossed him duct tape.
Gunman One smashed her face into the backseat window, winding the tape around her wrists. Both of the children were screaming her name. They knew something wasn’t right. Both were trapped in their car seats, clawing at the straps then stretching their arms toward her.
“It’s okay, guys. No one’s going to hurt you.” She tried to calm them through the glass. “Please don’t do this. Jackson has diabetes. He’s on a restricted diet and his insulin level has to be closely—”
Gunman One rolled her to her back and shoved her along the metal edge of the Mazda to the trunk.
Oh my God. They knew. She could tell by his reactions. She was right. It wasn’t a carjacking. This was a planned kidnapping of Josh Parker’s twins. Gunman One knocked her to the ground. The other men cut the seat belts holding the kids, took them from the car in their car seats, grabbing their tiny backpacks at the last minute.
How could men in ski masks be assaulting her in broad daylight and no one else see them?
“Please take me. I won’t give you any trouble. I swear I won’t. I...I can look after Jackson. Make sure he doesn’t go into shock.”
Gunman One pulled her hands. “You won’t do, sister. It’s gotta be somebody he loves.”
“Let him have crackers. Okay? He has to eat every three or four hours. Something,” she pleaded. “Sage, watch your brother!”
When this had all started, Tracey hadn’t paid attention to what the man coming to her window had looked like. An average guy that she couldn’t swear was youngish or even in his thirties. They were all decked out in college gear. She searched this man’s eyes that were bright and excited behind the green ski mask, memorizing everything about their brown darkness.
The tiny scar woven into his right eyebrow would be his downfall. He raised the butt of the gun in the air. She closed her eyes, anticipating the blow. The impact hurt, stunning her. Vision blurred, she watched them carry the twins, running to the back of the moving van. Her legs collapsed from the pain, and she hit the concrete without warning.
I’m so sorry, Josh.
Chapter Two (#u036ced62-b3a0-54f6-a888-893161662159)
How were you supposed to tell someone you’d allowed their kids to be kidnapped? Tracey would have a doctorate in nutrition soon, but none of the courses she’d taken prepared her to face Josh. Or the future.
When someone found Tracey unconscious on the sidewalk and the paramedics revived her, she’d cried out his name. She could never articulate why she was calling to him. Once fully awake and by the time anyone would listen, the twins had been missing for almost an hour. Tracey hadn’t been able to explain to Josh what had happened. The police did that.
“He’s going to hate me,” she mumbled.
“I don’t think he will. I’ve dealt with a lot of kidnappings. This isn’t your fault. Major Parker will realize that faster than most.” Special Agent George Lanning had answered her with an intelligent response.
The problem was...
“Intelligence has nothing to do with emotional, gut-wrenching pain. I lost his kids. He’ll never trust me again and I don’t blame him.”
After she awoke in the hospital, she’d only been allowed to talk with one police officer, her nurse and a doctor. The door had been left open a couple of inches. She’d recognized rangers passing by, even heard them asking about her. But the officer had refused her any visitors. At least until this FBI agent showed up.
Two hours later she was sitting in a car on her way to the Parker home to face Josh for the first time. Where else was she supposed to go? She’d refused to return to her apartment as they’d suggested. “How bad is my face?”
“As in? What context do you mean?”
She flipped down the passenger mirror to see for herself. “Well, I don’t think makeup—even if I had any—would help this.” She gently touched her cheekbone that felt ten times bigger than it should. “I don’t want to look like...”
“Tracey. Four men yanked you from a car and hit you so hard they gave you a concussion. They kidnapped Jackson and Sage. No matter what you think you could have done differently, those men would still have the Parker twins.”
She wiped another tear falling down her cheek. Agent Lanning might be correct. But nothing anyone said would ever make her feel okay about what had happened.
Nothing.
The road to the house was lined with extra cars and the yard—where they needed to park—filled with men standing around. The police escort in front of them flipped on the squad car lights with a siren burst to get people out of the way. Tracey covered her ears.
Everything hurt. Her head pounded in spite of the pain medication the doctor had given her. But she was prepared to jump out of the car as soon as it slowed down. First she needed to beg for Josh’s forgiveness. And then find out what the authorities had discovered.
“You really took a wallop,” he said. “You should probably get some rest as soon as possible.”
She had rested at the hospital, where so much had been thrown at her. Part of the argument for her going home was to sleep and meet with a forensic artist as soon as one arrived. She’d refused, telling Agent Lanning it was useless to draw a face hidden with a ski mask. Then they’d finally agreed to take her directly to Josh.
The sea of people parted and the agent parked next to cars nearer to the front porch. She didn’t wait for the engine to stop running. She jumped out, needing to explain while she still had the courage.
Moving quickly across the fading grass of the lawn, she slowed as friends stared at her running inside. She completely froze in the entryway, looking for the straight dark hair that should have towered over most of the heads in the living room. But Josh wasn’t towering anywhere. She pushed forward and someone grabbed her arm. A ranger waved him off.
Everyone directly involved in Josh’s life knew who she was. The ranger who had spotted her was Bryce Johnson. He put his hand at her back and pushed the crowd of men out of her way.
“You doing okay?” he asked, guiding her through probably every ranger who worked in or near Waco. “Need anything? Maybe some water?”
She nodded. There was already a knot in her throat preventing her from speaking. She’d assumed a lot of people would be here, but why so many? “Why aren’t you guys out looking for the twins?”
Everyone turned their attention to a man near the window seat. But she focused on the twins’ dad. Josh looked the way he did the day Gwen had died. From day one, neither of Josh or Gwen had felt like employers. They were her friends. She wanted to be there for him again, but didn’t know if he’d let her. He glanced at her, and then covered his eyes as though he were afraid to look at her.
The guy in the suit near the window jerked his head to the side and they left. All of them. Except for a woman and Josh, both seated at the opposite end of the breakfast table. They were joined by Agent Lanning, who pulled out a chair and gestured for Tracey to sit.
It was a typical waiting-on-a-ransom-demand scene from a movie. The three professionals looked the parts of FBI agents. The woman sat at something electronic that looked as if it monitored phone calls. Agent Lanning moved to the back door and turned politely to face the window. The other man, who they both seemed to defer to, uncrossed his arms and tapped Josh on the shoulder.
Josh’s head was bent, almost protected between his arms resting on the table. He hadn’t acknowledged the fact that nearly everyone had left. He hadn’t acknowledged anything.
“I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry doesn’t seem like enough,” she began.
