Hold Me (8 page)

They rounded the corner to find Zach Caldwell fully dressed and emptying the contents of her mother’s desk. Jane gasped, yet couldn’t exactly claim to be surprised.

“Dad?” Who was she kidding? She wasn’t related to this person, ID or no ID.

He turned and her heart leapt, her eyes widening at the sight of one of the family rifles pointed at her chest.

Beside her, Cady cursed. “I fucking knew it.”

Zach, or whoever he was, grimaced. “Should’ve shot you both before I tossed the place.”

Jane shivered.

Zach walked closer, gun trained on her. He barked an order at Cady. “Drop it.”

Not
my father.
Not
Zach.

Adrenaline drowned her disappointment as she faced the barrel of the rifle. Would he really shoot her? What was he looking for anyway? The stranger had taken advantage of her. And for what—to inherit some money? What kind of person did that?

Anger swelled despite the danger. “Who the hell are you?”

“Why would I tell you that? Especially now that you’ve made me, dammit, and all I can find that’s worth anything are some ugly candlesticks. I think it’s time for me to leave.”

He jerked the rifle at Jane. “Car keys?”

He held out his hand for them, his other hand steady on the gun, finger on the trigger.

Jane swallowed hard and glanced at Cady, who nodded at her. She sensed him waiting for an opportunity to overtake their captor. “They’re on the hall table, next the phone.”

The man waved Jane and Cady in front of him as he made his way out of the library. “Wallets?”

“In my pocket,” Cady said.

“Take it out. Slowly.”

“Okay.” Cady faced the man, and the rifle swayed closer to Jane.

She watched the stranger with horror and hate as he palmed Cady’s money.

“I cut the phone wire.” The man looked sickeningly pleased with himself.

Jane shook off a chill. Christ, they’d be lucky to get out of this alive. She should have questioned the stranger more thoroughly, made him prove his connection to the family. Her irresponsibility could cost Jane and Cady their lives.

She needed to stall for time, sidetrack him so he wouldn’t kill them.

As if reading her mind, Cady spoke. “That teenager, the one in the grocery store. Carlos.”

The man pointed the rifle at Cady.

“Did he set us up?”

Of course, Jane realized. Carlos had heard them telling the clerk the story about her father.

The stranger shrugged. “He was desperate for a buck. Told him I’d cut him in on whatever I inherited.”

Jane shook her head. How could somebody be so callous as to prey on a grieving family, pretending to be someone’s dead father?

Cady continued. “I saw Carlos that night in the bar with this other guy I knew. Jose. It made me wonder about the connection.”

The stranger gave them a chilling smile. “Best forger in the region, that Jose.”

Cady shifted his eyes toward Jane and she flashed him a look of utter confusion.

“Jose’s the guy who created Harrison DeNeuve, fake driver’s license and all.”

“Oh.”

The stranger swung the rifle back to Jane and took a threatening step toward her.

“Just take the car and go.” Amazed her voice didn’t quiver, she pointed at the keys on the table.

The stranger stared at her, eyes narrow and mean.

Jane closed her eyes, briefly, praying a fervent, silent entreaty to her mother, wherever she was, to save them. An interminable moment passed before Jane heard footsteps and the familiar
click
of the front door closing. She opened her eyes.

The stranger had fled. They were alive.

She collapsed into Cady’s arms. “Oh God, Cady. I was sure he was going to kill us.”

He shushed her, pulling her close. “He won’t get far. I called 911.”

“How?” She looked at him in disbelief.

“He forgot about my cell.” As he spoke, he pulled it from the same pocket that had contained his wallet.

“Hello?” he said into the phone, obviously speaking into an open line. “He’s driving a silver Nissan.”

Jane trembled as Cady talked with the operator, giving him details that might help find the deranged man she had thought was her father. The drive to the main road took ten minutes. He couldn’t go off-road in her car. Chances were, he’d be caught. She padded to the front door and locked it, sliding the deadbolt with a comforting clack. Her hands shook, her heart raced.

The pane of glass to the right of the door shattered, the butt of the stolen rifle coming into view. She screamed and Cady shot toward her, dragging her away from the stranger’s searching arm.

“Give me your cell phone, Cady,” he shouted through the broken window.

He’d remembered, but too late.

“The cops are on their way,” Cady called out, backing against the solid wall, out of the man’s line of sight. He held Jane against his side.

“Shit,” the man hissed.

Footsteps crunched on the gravel and Jane’s car rumbled to life then skidded away, spitting rocks. Moments ticked by, but no other noises punctuated the night.

Jane buried her head against Cady’s bare shoulder, his skin hot from the confrontation despite the cold wind whistling through the hole in the window. “Thank God you decided to come along. If I’d been here with him. Alone... ”

She quaked, thinking of what might have happened.

Cady raised her face to his and kissed her with a fierce possessiveness.

“You’d better get used to me hanging around,” he said, pinning her under his well-built frame.

Her heart-rate skyrocketed. “Why’s that?”

“Guatemala’s not feeling much like home anymore.”

“And where
is
?” Her thudding heart skipped a beat at the implication of his statement, swelling with love. The fire of his kiss had shut out all else except the desire to be held in his arms.

“New Mexico’s looking pretty good right about now.”

Chapter Eight

The welcome sound of police sirens reached Jane in her bedroom where she’d gone to dress. She pulled on pants and a shirt, while Cady stood guard by the front door, talking on his phone with emergency services.

“They got him, Jane,” he called out.

Tension and adrenaline subsided a little with the news of the stranger’s capture. Again, she thanked heaven Cady had been there. Perhaps her mom was watching over her. Jane wished her mom could’ve met him.

The thought drew her eyes to the letter her mother had left her which was propped on Jane’s dressing table, unopened. When Jane’s grief had been so new, she’d avoided opening it. But now, something had shifted. She no longer felt so alone.

With trembling fingers, she tore open the thin envelope and read the note.

Dear Janey,

I wanted to write each of my precious girls before I go, to pass on some last words of advice. You’re probably rolling your eyes about now. I know how you LOVE motherly advice.

Always bring a spare pair of shoes, you never know when you’ll need them (ha, ha).

Face any challenge and never back down (I know you will).

Always keep your word.

Take love where you find it.

Once you’ve found it, hold on tight.

One more thing. I hope you find your dad. And when you do, I know he’ll have a good reason for staying away all these years. Please tell him I never loved anyone else and I missed him every day that he wasn’t there to hold me.

Like I’ll miss you, my dear, beautiful Jane.

Love always, Mom

Acknowledgements

To all my dear friends in Santa Fe and dotted around the globe. Where would I be without your support? Thank you.

Lucianne Rivers
was born and raised in Ireland where she studied acting and appeared on Irish National Television on several occasions. She currently lives in New Mexico with her U.S.-born daughter. When she’s not writing sensual romance, she manages a non-profit organization, and competes at Olympic Style Weightlifting.

www.luciannerivers.com