Page 28 of The Captive (The Kelley Legacy #5)

J im Kelley was feeling irritable as hell as he killed the engine of the pickup he’d rented at the airport and stared at the pale yellow glow seeping from the floor-to-ceiling windows of his brother’s ranch house.

In the distance, the mountains dominated the horizon, their snow-dusted peaks like majestic castle turrets in the sky.

Normally the sheer beauty of the landscape soothed Jim’s soul.

As a kid he used to prowl the hills and trails of the property, astride his favorite dun-colored mare, Heidi.

Tonight, though, the mountains only served as a reminder of the towering obstacles in his path.

He’d called every contact imaginable on the plane ride here, and hadn’t come up with a single lead regarding Lana’s whereabouts.

Many of the contacts he phoned didn’t even know that Lana was missing.

Apparently Hank had kept the story out of the press for as long as he could, and the news had only broken a couple of days ago.

Jim had encountered more than a dozen reporters milling at the gates of the Bar Lazy K.

They’d surrounded his truck like vultures, eager to scavenge any details they could about Lana’s disappearance or the senator’s misdeeds.

At ten o’clock at night. Christ, didn’t those people have anything better to do?

Jim slowly uncurled his fingers from the steering wheel and got out of the truck.

His boots connected with the dusty earth, kicking up little clouds as he headed for the porch.

He entered the ranch house without knocking, and his ears immediately perked at the sound of muffled voices drifting from the doorway of the great room.

He made a beeline for it, throwing open the heavy doors without a care of what he’d find on the other side.

What he found, though, startled the hell out of him.

His father sat on one edge of the sofa, holding a highball glass filled to the rim with bourbon.

Standing near the bookshelf was Gage Prescott, his dad’s bodyguard, but it wasn’t the sight of Gage that threw Jim for a loop.

It was his brother Cole, who was plopped down on the other end of the couch, a beer in hand.

Cole willingly sitting with their father?

Jim resisted the urge to shake the confusion from his head. Had hell frozen over?

Three heads jerked up at his abrupt entrance.

“Jim?” Hank said in surprise, the sudden shift of his body causing the ice cubes in his glass to clink together like marbles.

Jim didn’t bother with pleasantries. “What the hell have you done?”

Hank flinched as if he’d been shot. A stunned silence descended on the room.

“Your mother told you about Lana,” Hank finally said in a resigned voice.

“She did,” Jim confirmed coldly. “I shouldn’t be sur prised that you didn’t call me yourself. You’ve always let Mom clean up your messes.”

The barb got him another flinch, along with a surprising frown from Cole. “Cool it, Jimmy.” Cole set his beer bottle on the coffee table and slowly got to his feet, squaring the broad shoulders of his six-foot frame.

“You’re defending him?” Jim said in disbelief.

His brother sighed. “Trust me, we’ve all given him a lot of grief over the past couple of months. It’s nothing he hasn’t heard before.”

Jim shook his head, a wave of frustration swelling in his gut. “And he should keep hearing it,” he shot back. “Christ! What are you guys doing, sitting around sipping on beer and bourbon? Lana is out there somewhere! Alone. Scared. Why isn’t this place crawling with Feds?”

“A couple of agents are coming tomorrow morning,” Cole explained in a low voice. “They’re coordinating the exchange.”

Jim went momentarily speechless. “Exchange?” He hissed out a breath, turning to his father. “Mom was right. You’re planning on sacrificing yourself for Lana.”

His father stared at him with remorseful eyes. “Do I have any other choice?”

“Yes,” Jim snapped. “You stay out of it and let the Feds do their thing. Have you offered the kidnappers a ransom?”

“They don’t want one.” Gage spoke from his perch by the bookshelf.

“They want Dad,” Cole answered flatly.

“Why?” Jim ran a hand through his dark hair. “What the hell is going on here?”

The three men exchanged somewhat cryptic looks, and then Cole let out a heavy breath. “You might as well sit down, little brother. This will probably take a while.”

* * *

“I’m not sure I like being on the run,” Lana declared as she stepped out of yet another miniscule bathroom, Deacon’s T-shirt sagging down to her knees.

Deacon glanced up from the brochure he was reading and offered a wry look. “Not quite as exciting as the movies portray, huh?”

“You got that right.”

After three days of non-stop driving, and three nights in motels that only seemed to get more dilapidated, Lana longed for her brother’s house in Maple Cove, for the mouthwatering scent of Hannah’s cooking.

Even more, she wanted to hear a familiar voice, but Deacon repeatedly warned her it could be dangerous if they contacted any member of her family.

Fortunately, they didn’t have much farther to go.

Tomorrow morning they’d make the nine-hour drive to Maple Cove, and by tomorrow night, she’d be with her family. Safe and sound.

And Deacon would be gone.

“Did you know there’s a Steamboat Warehouse near here?” Deacon asked, holding up the tourism pamphlet he’d taken from the motel lobby. “It was built in 1883.”

She bent over to towel-dry her wet hair, peeking out from under the towel to scowl at him. “Gee, that sounds so exciting. Please take me there, Deacon.”

He laughed.

Lana nearly dropped the towel. He’d actually laughed. Ever since the night they’d made love, she’d noticed him making a tiresome effort to remain aloof. He spoke in short sentences, avoided her eyes whenever he could, slept on the floor every night.

And although his detachment annoyed her, it had also given her time to think about the shocking realization she’d reached in the truck the other day.

The whole L -word di lemma. She’d finally decided that she was being silly.

Of course she wasn’t falling for Deacon.

So what if the sex had been out of this world?

So what if she melted just a little each time he smiled or laughed or showed a sliver of emotion?

That didn’t mean she was falling in love with him. It just meant she liked him. Which was totally natural. A woman ought to like the father of her baby, right?

She finished drying her hair, then headed into the bathroom to hang the towel on the rack.

Just as she came out, Deacon was coming in.

Their bodies collided, sending an instant jolt of heat through her.

Her nipples tightened against the material of her shirt, a reaction that Deacon didn’t fail to notice.

“I…was going to hop in the shower,” he said roughly.

She swallowed. “Okay.”

Neither of them made a move to pull back from the chest-to-chest contact. Her breasts swelled, growing heavy with need at the feel of his defined pecs pressed against them.

“Uh…” Deacon trailed off.

Their eyes locked. Awareness sizzled between them like an electric current.

Then he coughed, and painstakingly moved back. “Uh, yeah, a shower.”

Disappointment flooded her belly as he sidestepped her and walked into the bathroom. A moment later, the door quietly closed. She heard the faucet creak and the sound of rushing water met her ears.

With a ragged breath, she stepped away from the door and slid under the ugly checkered bedspread, trying to get comfortable in bed.

Her hands moved to her belly, stroking it gently.

It was probably for the best. Giving in to her attraction to Deacon again wouldn’t lead to anything anyway.

He’d made it glaringly obvious that he wasn’t going to stick around.

He was simply making amends for the ordeal she’d been through, taking her back to her family as a form of reparation.

Her attempts to get him to open up continually failed. Every subtle nudge, every little reminder that there was hope for his future, had gone unnoticed.

Sex wasn’t going to bring him around. It would only complicate things further, add to the tangled knot of confusing emotions already lodged inside her.

At the mere thought of sex, though, hot flames of arousal licked every inch of her suddenly feverish skin.

“Snap out of it,” she muttered to herself.

Right. She had to get a grip. She couldn’t sleep with Deacon again.

It was a bad idea.

A mistake.

But…

But just one more time wouldn’t hurt, right?

* * *

Lana was naked when Deacon walked into the bedroom.

He had to do a double-take to be sure, but yup, naked. She lay on top of the frayed blanket, her pale skin shimmering in the dim lighting of the room. His mouth instantly went dry. His pulse kicked off in a gallop.

He couldn’t tear his eyes from her. Her round breasts, tipped by beaded pink nipples. Her firm thighs and shapely legs, the delicate arch of her feet. His gaze rested on her belly, and his heart did a strange lurch when he noticed the tiny bump. There was a baby in there. His baby.

Christ.

“What are you doing?” he choked out, suddenly wishing he’d taken all his clothes into the bathroom instead of just a pair of black boxers. His body’s reaction was not one she’d fail to notice. His erection hung hot and heavy between his legs, straining against his boxers.

“I’m waiting for you to join me.”

“Lana.” He gulped. “You know this isn’t a good idea.”

“Sure it is.” She shot a pointed look at his groin. “And I think you know it, too.”

How could he argue with that? How could he explain that although his body was raring to go, his brain was screaming for him to get dressed and walk out the door?

A part of him wished he could. Just cut and run, let Lana make it back to her family on her own, so he could leave the country and forget he’d ever met her.