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“You haven’t changed a bit, have you, Holden?”
“Sure I have. And to tell you the truth, I’m dying to know what I did to make you seem so…unfriendly now. Why don’t you have dinner with me tonight and we can…talk.”
She narrowed her eyes and stared at him. Why not? If he wanted to wine her and dine her and take her to bed, why not go along with it? Maybe she’d get what she wanted out of the deal. A baby. Of her own, with no man and no strings attached. Lord knew, Holden wouldn’t be the type to demand joint custody. He couldn’t even commit to a steady girlfriend, much less a child. Hell, he might not even remember having fathered her baby after the fact.
“I just might take you up on that.”
He frowned at her, wondering at her tone, she was sure. She’d made the words sound as if they were more threat than promise. “Lucy, what in hell did I do to make you so mad at me after all this time?”
Before she could even begin to formulate an answer, a heart-wrenching scream echoed through the house. Lucinda turned her head sharply. “That came from the nursery!” she said, and a second later she and Holden were running full-tilt.
Holden forgot everything else when he lunged through the nursery door and saw Claudia sitting on the floor sobbing, a sheet of paper clutched in one trembling fist, while the other was pressed to her heart. The sight of her almost floored him. White. Deathly, sickly white. She looked as if something had just sucked every ounce of life from her body. Even her pale blond hair, usually wavy and full, seemed to hang limply around her petite face.
“No!” A fist smashed through the nursery wall, leaving a big hole in the plaster. Matthew swore and jerked his hand free, knuckles dusted white, skinned up and bleeding. “This isn’t happening!”
“My baby…oh, God, my baby,” Claudia wailed.
“The baby,” Lucinda whispered, rushing first to the bassinet just inside the door, and then across the room toward the crib, thoughts of SIDS—sudden infant death syndrome—foremost in her mind. “Is something wrong with the—” She froze at the crib. Then slowly turned wide eyes on Holden. “Where is Bryan?”
Claudia bowed double, her head in her lap, her shoulders shaking with violent sobs. Matthew strode toward the door. “Lock this place up, Holden,” he said, his voice coarse as cherry bark. “Nobody leaves. You hear me? Nobody leaves!”
“Dammit, Matthew, what’s going on here? Where the hell are you going?” Holden demanded, stepping into his cousin’s path.
But Matthew shoved past him, knocking Holden aside so hard his shoulder slammed into the wall. “To get the keys to Dad’s gun cabinet,” Matthew rasped, and hit the hall running.
Holden turned to give chase, then glanced back at Claudia on the floor, not sure who needed his help more right now.
Lucy knelt beside Claudia, nodded at him once to go ahead, then said, “Holden, wait.”
He turned to see that she’d pried that sheet of paper out of Claudia’s hand and was staring at it. “Oh, my God,” she whispered.
“What is it, Lucy?”
Lucinda lifted her stunned gaze to meet Holden’s. “It…it’s a ransom note. My God, Holden, the baby’s been kidnapped!”
He felt the shock as if someone had kicked him in the teeth. Then he shook it off. “I’ve gotta get hold of my cousin before he kills somebody.”
“Go on. I’ll take care of Claudia.” And she was. Even as Holden hesitated, half afraid to leave the petite blonde who looked as if she was on the verge of a breakdown, Lucinda spoke to her, got her to her feet. Anchoring Claudia to her side with a strength that surprised him, she looked up and nodded at Holden once more. “Go on.”
He went.
He hit the bottom of the stairs about the time he heard glass being smashed. He didn’t have to look to know the sound was coming from Ryan’s den, or the gun cabinet that took up most of one wall in that room. People were starting to look alarmed, furrowed brows turning his way. Holden banged into his brother on the way to the den.
“What the hell—”
“Logan. Listen, seal this place off. Don’t let anyone leave, you understand?”
“But—”
“Someone’s taken Bryan. Block every exit—”
“Bryan?” Logan looked stricken, his bronzed skin paling. One hand pushed through his sun-streaked brown hair.
Holden waved a hand in the air, signaling Matthew’s brothers, Zane and Dallas. As they surged toward him with worried frowns, Holden saw Rosita talking to her husband, Ruben, who was one of their most trusted ranch hands and almost as much a part of the family as Rosita was. Holden waved him over, as well. “Have the guys help you, Logan. I have to stop Matthew before he—”
A woman squealed and Holden turned to see Matthew come bursting into the great room with Ryan’s twelve-gauge Remington in his hands. Matthew’s eyes were wild, and he was waving that shotgun around in a way that made Holden hope to God it wasn’t loaded.
“Where is he!” Matthew demanded. “Give him to me now!”
“Matthew!” Holden surged forward, gripping his cousin’s shoulders, just as Uncle Ryan came from another direction to grab his shotgun away from his son. For a man his age, he was still in peak condition, and he didn’t have much trouble.
“What in the world has gotten into you, Matthew?” Ryan asked.
Matthew stared into his father’s eyes for a moment and then his face just collapsed. His body seemed damn close to following suit. He sank against Ryan, who suddenly wore a look of extreme fear as he put his arms around his son and held him hard. Ryan’s eyes met Holden’s over Matthew’s shuddering shoulders, a question in them.
“The baby’s been kidnapped,” Holden explained, only to see Ryan’s eyes fill with even more horror.
“God, no!” Then, shaking his head, he slapped his son’s back. “We’ll pay whatever they ask, son. Give them the whole damned spread and the company along with it. Everything, you hear me, boy? We’ll get Bryan back. I promise you. Whatever they want, they’ll have. Whatever it takes to get my grandson back here safe and sound.”
Ryan Fortune lowered his head. “And then…then, they’ll suffer like they’ve never suffered before. Whoever did this is going to pay, believe me.”
Lily gasped, hurrying forward, clutching Mary Ellen’s arm and pulling her along to Ryan’s side. Holden was certain both women had overheard what he’d said—apparently, at least enough to realize what had happened. A second later Holden’s mother broke away from Lily’s grip to head back into the crowded great room, but Lily kept coming.
Holden stepped away from Matthew when Lucy appeared at the bottom of the stairs and strode purposefully to his side. She didn’t hesitate, just stuck Matthew’s arm with a hypodermic, and even as Matthew jerked his head around to object, it was obvious to Holden he was starting to feel the effect.
Above it all, Holden heard his mother, taking charge. Ordering everyone to remain calm, to sit down, to keep order.
“I assure you all,” Mary Ellen said in her Lauren Bacall voice, “everything is under control. We’ll explain all of this in just a few moments, but for now, I’m afraid I have to ask that no one leave. A crime has been committed. I’ve just spoken with Sheriff Grayhawk. He’s on his way here now, and asks that everyone stay just until he gets here and has a chance to speak with each of you.”
The crowd quieted. People muttered, asked questions, but the panic seemed to ease. No one could see through Mary Ellen Fortune’s facade if she didn’t want them to. No one but Holden. He knew his mother better than anyone. She had to be falling apart inside. And yet she’d already contacted the sheriff and was in complete control. Emotions well hidden. Ever the perfect hostess. Living with his bastard of a father had certainly trained her well, hadn’t it?
He glanced at Lucy Brightwater, and felt a surge of misgiving. He shouldn’t have asked her out. She may look as if she’d changed, but a lady was a lady. And just because she no longer looked like the sensitive, vulnerable, fragile thing she’d been, didn’t mean she wasn’t.
“Your mother has everything under control here,” Lucinda said. “Help me get your cousin upstairs.”
“What about Claudia?” Holden hefted a wilting Matthew into his arms as he asked the question.
“I sedated her, too. She’s sleeping now. God, Holden, who could’ve done this?”
“I don’t know.” Holden looked behind him as he mounted the stairs, staring at the stunned, restless crowd. At his brother and cousins, guarding the doors like bulldogs. At Rosita, one hand on her heart and tears streaming from dark Mexican eyes down over her plump cheeks. She dabbed at them with her apron, while her husband stood near another door, watching her worriedly. Ryan clung to Lily and Lily to Ryan. And Mary Ellen held them all together. She was the rock of this family and always had been.
“You didn’t leave Claudia alone, did you?” Holden asked suddenly.
“Of course not,” Lucinda said. “Vanessa is with her.”
“Good.” He carried his cousin up the stairs. Matthew was still muttering, but semi-conscious now. Lucinda led the way, opened the bedroom door, and preceded Holden into it.
“Holden!” Vanessa was on her feet and flinging her arms around Holden’s neck almost before he could finish lowering Matthew to the bed.
Holden hugged his cousin, and then stepped back to brush away her tears and smooth her hair. “It’s gonna be okay, Vanessa.”
“When I find out who took my nephew, he’s going to be one hurting son of a—”
“That kind of talk isn’t going to help anyone right now,” Holden told her gently.
Vanessa sighed, and pushed a hand through her short, sassy hair. “Maybe not. But I mean it.” She leaned over the bed, smoothing her big brother’s hair. “Is Matthew okay?”
“He’s just sleeping,” Lucinda explained. “I had to sedate him.”
“I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t been here, Lucinda. God, Claudia was so—”
“I’m just glad you happened to walk by the bedroom when you did. I couldn’t have handled her alone.”
Frowning, Holden looked at Lucy, then looked again. Her dark hair was tousled, and there was a scratch beading with red droplets across one cheek. He quickly rounded the bed that stood between them. He hadn’t got a glimpse of the scratch until now. He’d been behind her up the stairs, and before that his cousin’s dead weight in his arms had blocked his view. Only as he neared her now did he notice how messed up she was. Then he saw the lamp that was smashed to bits on the floor behind her, and the table lying on its side.
“My God, what happened?” He palmed her cheek, tipped her face up for a closer look.
“She got a little hysterical. It’s a perfectly normal reaction and I should have expected it.”
“You’re bleeding.” Holden snagged a tissue from the decorative box on the nearby dresser, and dabbed the blood away, very gently.
Lucinda rolled her eyes in a mimicry of sarcasm. “Which of us is the doctor, again?”
He offered her a small, shaky smile, and continued dabbing. “Right now, I am. Are you hurt anywhere else?”
She lowered her eyes, shook her head.
Holden thought maybe she was lying, but he didn’t press the issue. She was tougher than she looked, reminding him yet again of his mother, the way she’d jumped in and handled things without batting an eye. That calm, deliberate action. That core of strength that didn’t show until a crisis hit.
He liked her, he realized slowly. But then, he always had. She looked up, meeting his eyes, briskly taking the tissue from his hand. “We’d better get back downstairs.”
God, she was as shaken by Bryan’s abduction as he was. It showed in her eyes.
“No. We’ll stay here. Keep an eye on Matthew and Claudia.”
“But the sheriff…”
“Will know where to find us when he’s ready to talk to us.” He turned toward Vanessa, who was eyeing him oddly. “Go on down and let the family know where we are. And maybe bring Lucy up a drink if you get a chance.” His gaze went back to Lucy’s face. It was pale, and she looked shaky. “Brandy. Okay?”
“Sure, Holden.”
An hour later Lucinda sat in a large, cozy chair, as instructed. Holden dragged a footstool closer and, lifting her feet, propped them on it. She smiled at him for just a moment. Then closed her eyes, shook her head. “I shouldn’t be sleepy at a time like this.”
“It’s the aftermath of chaos. You’re emotionally drained. I feel the same way.”
“It’s like being in limbo. I keep thinking we should be doing something…”
“I know.”
“And I can’t remember the last time I got a full night’s sleep.”
“Me neither,” Holden said. He glanced at the big double bed where Claudia and Matthew were out cold, side by side. “I don’t imagine they’ll be getting too much, either. Until Bryan’s home where he belongs.”
“I’ll leave a prescription. They’re going to need something.”
“Claudia might take it. Matthew won’t.”
“You’re probably right.” Lucinda closed her eyes and let her head rest against the back of the chair.
Holden’s voice came from close by, and she realized he’d pulled his harder, less comfortable chair closer to hers. “So what’s been keeping you up nights, Doc?”
She didn’t open her eyes. “Babies tend to come at odd hours. And Braxton-Hicks is almost always nocturnal.”
“Braxton who?”
“False labor,” she said with a slight smile.
“Ah. Right. So it’s your patients keeping you awake nights, then.”
“Among other things.” She took a deep breath, sighed softly.
“Matthew mentioned something about a clinic you want to build.” Holden stopped, waiting for her to fill him in if she wanted to.
She saw no reason not to fill the tense hours of waiting with conversation, so she told him.
“The lower income women need a clinic,” she said. “Particularly the Mexican and Native American communities. There’s just nothing for them. I see them all the time. They wait until they’re too ill to wait any longer before they come in. Girls in their ninth month of pregnancy, coming in for their first obstetrical exam. Or worse, waiting until they’re in labor.” She shook her head slightly against the cushion that pillowed it. “It’s got to change.”
“And you’re going to be the one to change it.”
She nodded. “Just as soon as I can dig up a million dollars in funding, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
He was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “Why you?”
Lucinda shrugged, not even sure if his eyes were open to see it. “They’re my people. I’m fortunate, so I have an obligation to give something back.”
“That makes some noble kind of sense, I suppose.”
“Glad you think so.” She didn’t like talking about herself or her clinic to someone like him. It felt too much like hinting around for a donation, so she quickly changed the subject. “What’s been keeping you awake nights, Holden Fortune? Too many visits to the salad bar at the babe buffet?”
When he didn’t answer, she opened her eyes to see him staring at her, one eyebrow cocked. “‘Babe buffet’?”
“Sure. I’ve heard you have a different course every night and still haven’t managed to sample every dish in Texas.”
“Sheesh. My reputation is that bad, huh?”
“Worse,” she said.
“Well, it’ll probably surprise you to know I’m thinking about settling down. Getting married, even.”
