Texas Baby Sanctuary Page 5

  The only thing seeming out of place was the feeling that in the entire room there wasn’t one item that looked the least bit like it had been placed there by the hand of a woman. So where was Jenna’s mama?

  First question he wanted to ask.

  Travis offered him a seat and a cup of coffee. “Rosie the housekeeper is making us an early supper. But I thought you might like a beer instead of coffee.”

  Sam shook his head as he shrugged out of his jacket. The shoulder was still tender and Travis caught him wincing.

  “All right, give. What’d you do to the arm?”

  “Long story. Bullet grazed me last night. But it’s healing fine.”

  “You want Doc to come out and take a look?”

  “No. Thanks. But I will take a cup of coffee if you’re still offering.” Sam sat on the leather sofa and glanced around the room. “You’ve really got some place here. Fancy new house. And the Bar-C operation looks prosperous. You even hired a housekeeper instead of just using one of the hands to do the cooking. I’m impressed.”

  Travis handed him a strong, black steaming cup of coffee. “The housekeeper is mainly for Jenna. And the ranch is doing okay. Which you would know if you’d talked to the accountants once in a while. You still own a fifth of the ranch and are welcome to look at the books anytime. But you haven’t had any questions in ten years. What is it you’re really asking, Sam?”

  Yeah, his brother was sure to guess that Sam was gearing up for a question and answer session. Travis had always been able to read him—too well.

  “It’s nothing to do with the ranch or the money,” Sam said quietly. “It’s no trick to see you’ve done a terrific job growing the Bar-C into a world-class operation. And I did contact the accountants a few weeks ago to withdraw some money from my trust. The ranch’s cash flow is probably okay or I would’ve heard about it.”

  “So?” Travis sat on the edge of a chair and leaned against his elbows against his knees.

  “So…how come I don’t know about your daughter? The last time we talked you were considering marrying your old sweetheart from high school, Callie Jones. My guess is you did. Why didn’t you call to let me know you’re a dad and I’m an uncle?”

  The way Travis shrugged a shoulder told Sam a lot, but not enough. “Is Callie Jenna’s mother? And where is she?”

  “Sam, you left us, not the other way around. It hasn’t always been easy reaching you with chatty news items. Callie is Jenna’s mom.” Travis stood again and stretched. “Though I suspect Callie would rather you not spread that around. We were married about ten years ago, had Jenna right away and, by the time our daughter was six months old, Callie was long gone.”

  “Gone where?”

  “Nashville. Following her dream.” Travis turned to the small refrigerator in the bar, opened it and waved a long-necked bottle in Sam’s direction. “Sure I can’t tempt you with one of these?”

  Sam shook his head, but almost relented. He suddenly felt in need of something stronger than coffee after hearing how his brother and niece had been dumped by a girl he remembered as every high school jock’s dream date.

  But Travis didn’t seem ready to talk about himself. He sank low in one of the barrel chairs and took a long slug from the beer bottle.

  Sam knew he would get answers sooner or later. He knew his brother well enough to find out what he needed. But he decided later would be better.

  “Before Grace comes back downstairs, I need to tell you a little about her background. You have the right to know who you’re harboring.”

  Travis’s eyebrows shot up. “Don’t tell me she’s an axe murderer disguised as a mother.”

  Refusing to give up a smile, Sam didn’t dignify the joke with a comment. “She was a federal witness against one of Mexico’s biggest drug lords. Jose Serrano. His gang’s been making inroads into U.S. territory for years. Grace’s testimony convicted him in U.S. court in absentia. If the Marshals can recapture him and put him back in custody, he’ll do three life terms.”

  “I’ve heard about Serrano. Nasty piece of work. Isn’t he the one who’s murdered several federal agents? His operation is supposed to be mostly along the California and Arizona borders.”

  “Don’t count on it. He could be branching out all along the U.S. border. You should know there might be danger if we stay on the ranch.”

  Travis looked thoughtful. “What kind of testimony could one single mother possibly provide that would sentence such a powerful bad guy to prison for three life terms?”

  Sam figured his brother was wondering if Grace had been part of the gang—or perhaps Serrano’s lover. The last option was only partly true and Sam wanted to set Travis straight.

  “Serrano kidnapped Grace when she was just nineteen. The kidnapping was a ploy to force her father to stop writing editorials in his San Diego Spanish-language newspaper about Serrano and his operation.”

  Waiting for the rest, Travis set his beer down and narrowed his eyes as he focused on Sam’s face. “Go on.”

  “While he waited for an answer from her father, the damned drug lord decided a beautiful young virgin was just too choice to pass up. He raped her and then forced her to become his lover, using a combination of drugs and physical coercion.”

  “How long did Serrano hold her captive?”

  “Nearly four years.”

  “What? But…”

  “Yeah, he’d threatened to kill her if her father didn’t comply with his demands. But when Grace’s father stood on principle and went to the FBI for help instead of giving in, Serrano retaliated by killing both Grace’s parents and destroying their newspaper offices in a massive explosion.”

  Sam stopped to release a pent-up breath. “Bastard decided he would keep Grace for himself as a sort of consolation prize.”

  “Oh, my God. How’d she ever live through such an ordeal and get away?”

  Sam could hear noises on the stairwell and knew Grace was on her way down with both kids in tow. “Another long story. Suffice to say, Grace Baker is one smart lady. She’s…she’s…” He’d started to say strong or maybe he would’ve said vital, but the words stuck in his throat.

  He couldn’t really say how he felt about Grace—except that he was determined to save her life. And he didn’t want to think much about it for now, either.

  His brother turned his head to the voices coming their way, but swung back to whisper, “I get it. And the baby?”

  Travis’s expression seemed to suggest he thought something more personal was going on between them. Yes, there had been times when Sam had wished both Grace and Mikey belonged to him, but they didn’t. And they never would.

  “Nothing’s going on between me and Grace, Trav. It’s my duty to save both her and her son from Mikey’s father. That’s all.”

  And he swore he would. Or die trying.

  Chapter 6

  Frustrated, Jose Serrano turned his back on his own mother, clenched his fists and stormed into the office.

  Slamming the door shut with such force it could be felt throughout the entire hacienda, Jose glared at his two empleados as they jumped up from their seats.

  “My mother is not pleased,” he grumbled in Spanish. “She’d hoped to hold her grandson for the first time today, and did not care to hear the news that you’d failed.”

  Both men’s eyes grew wide in terror, but neither one had the balls to speak. All right, he knew failing to capture his son alive and well was not entirely their fault. These men were trained in mass chaos. For the most part he only employed murderers and criminals. That type would, of course, have trouble using gentle tactics designed to capture a baby.

  Brains. He needed someone who had enough intelligence to accomplish the job without bloodshed.

  Slumping into his massive desk chair and waving the men out of the room, much to their relief, Jose wondered how his life had grown so out of control. He hated being confined here in Mexico. Even if this house of his confinement was the most luxurious plac
e money could buy. He’d built it a few years back for his mother. But it had never made her particularly happy.

  His mother wanted grandchildren. Most especially she wanted a grandson. Someone to carry on the family name.

  But Jose had been a little too busy building his empire to stop and find a nice woman. A woman pure enough to carry his seed and his name.

  Finding such a woman had been both a pleasant surprise and a blessing he had not counted on. Shifting in his seat as he thought of the beautiful woman who had shared his bed, Jose hated to admit that he missed her.

  She had brains to go along with her phenomenal body. Who would’ve thought that he could find such a gem of a woman in the guise of a nineteen-year-old college student?

  The woman who now called herself Grace Baker would be able to come up with a plan to take a nearly one-year-old child without force.

  Unfortunately he no longer could count on her council—or on the blessed relief of her body at the day’s end. Her supreme treachery still grated on his nerves and he would probably kill her for it in the end. The word could not go out that a snitch could turn Jose Serrano in and live. It wouldn’t be good for morale.

  But first he wanted his son to come home. And he wanted that word out on the streets almost as much as he wanted Grace to suffer. Jose Serrano was a man’s man. He could father a son.

  Staring blankly at the blinking computer screen in front of him, he tried not to think of his current business problems. He needed to come up with a new plan to find Grace and the baby and then capture them alive. That gringo lawman, who’d spirited them out of Fort Stockton, was a smart man. A man to match wits against.

  But Jose was just as smart. If only he wasn’t currently embroiled in ugly skirmishes with several rival gangs along the border. None of those rival estúpidos would’ve had the nerve to challenge the Serrano gang’s superiority and firepower had it not been for his own embarrassment of having to flee the U.S. from a jail cell.

  The men he had left in charge of his business interests in California were losing control. And he would have to do something soon to remedy that situation.

  But first he needed to locate Grace and his son. There was one man he could approach for help. The man who had helped him in the past and had given his men the means to follow Grace before.

  Jose’s gut feeling was that the lawman who had snatched her just as his men arrived would again be the key to finding them. That lawman thought like Jose. Clever. He would conceal them in a place where no one would think to look.

  If he was trying to hide someone, Jose imagined he might bring her into Mexico. The last place anyone would look. But no, this lawman was americano. He would not cross borders where he could not count on friendly assistance from other lawmen.

  So where else would someone clever go? Back to Los Angeles? Perhaps. Back to the scene of Grace’s betrayal.

  No, shaking his head, Jose didn’t think that fit the man, either.

  But at last he had a spark of an idea. He picked up the phone and placed a call.

  The man he wanted answered after the first ring. “I need your services again.”

  “Very well. But we will renegotiate terms. You must realize my position is precarious and I need more funds to make it worth my while.”

  Jose had figured something like this would be coming. But after all, the man’s greed was what had allowed Jose to turn him to his own purposes in the beginning. And greed would keep this two-faced man working and silent, for now.

  “Double your last fee,” Jose told him. “But you only receive half as down payment. You will find the other half in your bank account when my son is safe in my home.”

  The man sought to argue terms but he was smart enough to hear the determination—and the implied threat—in Jose’s tone. Negotiations ended before they truly began.

  “What do you need now?”

  “That Marshal,” Jose said in a steady voice. “The one who’s gone rogue in order to keep my son and his mother from their rightful destiny with me. I want his background. I want to know everything there is to know about this gringo.”

  “I can supply his file.”

  “Not enough. I want more. I want it all.” Jose knew that somewhere in the lawman’s background he would find the one thing that would give him a clue to where such a man would go to feel safe.

  Because there was nowhere he would truly be out of Jose Serrano’s reach. Nowhere at all.

  Chapter 7

  Grace slipped a sleepy Mikey into his car seat in the back of the pickup. It had been a long day and, though the baby had been thrilled to find a playmate in Jenna, he was now exhausted and cranky.

  Grace felt drained, too.

  Sam stood a few feet away talking softly to his brother. The rain had stopped and the temperature was dropping. An icy haze surrounded the two men and each word exited on a puffy breath.

  She caught a little of what they were saying, even from this distance.

  “You want me to send a few men to guard the old homestead while you’re there?” Travis reached out a hand to grab his brother’s shoulder.

  Sam shook his head and eased back. “Naw. I can keep them safe. Your men have their own jobs to do. This one is mine. Besides, I don’t think Serrano will find us here. That’s why we came.”

  “Don’t get too complacent, bubba. Like I said, Serrano is a nasty piece of work. Remember that. I intend to be a lot more watchful and keep checking backgrounds on anyone who enters the ranch.”

  Grace missed a few of the sentences that passed between the brothers while she quietly closed Mikey into the truck’s backseat trying not to wake him, and then opened the front passenger door. As she climbed up into the seat, she turned her head for a moment and listened again.

  Sam was saying, “Serrano may want Grace dead. That isn’t clear. But there’s no question from what happened back in Fort Stockton that his main goal is capturing his son alive.”

  His son. Jose’s son. Grace slumped into the seat, closed the door and leaned her head against the window.

  All her embarrassment came rushing back along with the chill north winds. She felt like such an idiot. How could she have given in to a drug lord?

  Even having been a rather naive college girl when she’d been taken, she should never have believed anything an animal like Jose said. Men like him lied for a living. He was a mean-spirited criminal who’d kidnapped, abused and raped her. What would ever make her believe otherwise?

  Above the guilty thoughts and solid regrets, Grace could hear Sam bidding good-night to his brother. She shoved her thoughts back to where they belonged. Somewhere so deep they couldn’t reach her conscious mind. She’d worked hard to stop caring what other people said about her during the trial. Now she didn’t have the energy left to be a good mother to her son and still fight the hurt of shameful words, too.

  Oh, Dad, I’m sorry that I was weak. Maybe if I’d stayed strong…

  “You two okay and ready to go?” Sam slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine.

  “We’re set.”

  “Travis said he’d bring Jenna out for a visit as soon as we settle in. Hope that’s all right.”

  “It’s fine. I really liked your brother and his little girl. I feel sorry for them without a woman in their lives, and I appreciate getting a chance to hide out on their ranch.”

  Sam put the truck in gear. “The ranch belongs to the whole family. But yeah, Trav is a good guy.”

  Hesitating at the end of the circle driveway, Sam turned to her. “You look tired. This should only take about fifteen minutes. Rest. Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll get us there in one piece.”

  Suddenly she realized why her feelings for Sam kept running hot and cold. For the whole time she’d known him she’d gone from wanting to be his friend to wishing to become his lover, and then to being sure he was the enemy.

  Now she knew why. He was too black and white. Too much like her father had been.

  Go
d, she was such an emotional wreck. The physical scars had healed long ago but the scars on her psyche were as deep as ever. Seeing Sam with his family had brought it all back.

  And that’s why she and Mikey would be better off on their own. Sam wouldn’t get hurt if she was a thousand miles away, and she could bury her old traumas and make herself believe she was like any other normal single mother.

  Yeah, right. What normal single mother was running from Mexico’s biggest drug lord? Mikey would never know his father, not if she could help it. But he also would never know his grandparents. And maybe that was all her fault.

  * * *

  “I’d bet there’s a crib in the attic. Let me get a flashlight and I’ll check.” Sam turned from the second-floor bedroom and disappeared down the hall.

  Grace could barely keep her eyes open and Mikey was dead to the world, softly snoring on the wide bed in what used to be Sam’s parents’ old room. She sank down on the edge of the bed and forced her eyes to stay open.

  This was a fascinating old farmhouse. And tomorrow she would go exploring the many different levels and rooms. But for tonight all she wanted to do was sleep. A deep, dreamless sleep where she wasn’t being chased by a criminal and hadn’t made the many mistakes of her past.

  Trying to trick her brain into dwelling on anything else while waiting for Sam, she turned her thoughts to the man instead of on herself. Ever since his old family home had come into view out of the truck’s windshield, he’d been acting a little odd. There’d been a strange look, something not quite right, in his eyes as he found the key over the door jamb and came inside.

  Everything about the house had looked delightful to her. Cozy. Warm. Someone had made up the beds and even left a fire going in the downstairs fireplace. Knickknacks and kids’ trophies adorned nearly every surface. Dim lighting made the rooms glow, like a real home should. Grace loved it immediately. She couldn’t believe any family would walk away from this wonderful house.

  But something about this place, or more likely about his childhood, had obviously left him conflicted. Maybe the good guy in the white hat she’d thought she’d known for the past six months was really a wounded soul deep down—the same as her. The idea was something to think about.