Desert Ice Daddy. Dana Marton

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Desert Ice Daddy - Dana Marton

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neighbor a few years back, along with a picnic basket they’d never used.

      “Good luck. Be careful.” His blue eyes were clear for once, the encouragement in them genuine. He could be nice when he wanted to be.

      “Thanks,” she responded with a tired smile and accepted the Thermos, although Lucinda had already set everyone up with food and drinks. She ran the house like a general. Thank God for her. She had taken good care of Flint all these years, and Taylor was grateful for that.

      She walked to the door behind Akeem, her knees nearly locking, and glanced back before stepping through the door he was holding open for her. She looked to Gary one last time, hoping he would hold up long enough without a drink. “You can call on my cell if anything happens here.”

      Then she walked out into the morning sunshine and found Flint’s gaze on her face, his expression tight with worry. He’d gone a few rounds on the phone last night with Akeem about who should be driving her to the exchange. Akeem had won, but only because he had more experience with Hell’s Porch.

      Flint hadn’t been happy about using someone else’s money either, even if it was from one of his best friends, but with the time limit, he had no choice but to accept.

      “Sure you don’t want me to go with you instead?” Flint being Flint, he couldn’t resist asking one last time, adjusting his Stetson on his head.

      “I’ll be fine with Akeem. Thanks.” She headed for the Navigator, said nothing at the surprise that waited for her in the interior until the doors were closed behind them. “What’s all this?”

      Plasticky-looking, black foot-by-foot squares covered the sides, save the windows.

      “Kevlar.” He started the engine, but didn’t pull out ahead of the pack. They were to lag behind, then take their turn toward Route 109 when nobody was looking.

      Her fingertips were numb from nerves.

      “You bulletproofed the car?” She shouldn’t have been surprised. Akeem had always been a man who paid close attention to detail. The kind of man a woman could come to trust and depend on. Some other woman. After the mess her marriage had turned into, it would be a long time before she completely trusted another man.

      “Mike and the boys worked on it last night.”

      He waited until most of the pickups were rolling down the road, raising a cloud of dust, giving the look of a herd of migrating elephants over the African savannah, then pulled to the end of the line. “Flint told me about Jake Kenner.”

      The name had the power to squeeze her heart. “He hadn’t come back in last night.”

      “And you don’t think he got lost.”

      “Nobody saw him go out, nobody saw him during the search.” Flint had called to tell her that just as Akeem had left with Gary the day before. “He hasn’t been answering his cell phone. What if he went off earlier? Before the search began?”

      “With Christopher?”

      She nodded, sick to her stomach from the thought. “Christopher would go with him. Jake is a trainer. He’d been giving Christopher riding lessons.” That thought alone made her break out in a cold sweat.

      “Flint said he was new to the ranch.”

      “He came a month before I did.” She clenched her teeth, guilt nearly killing her. What kind of mother was she to trust her son to a kidnapper? She should have known, should have paid more attention. Jake had been aloof, but she’d thought only because he was still new and hadn’t adjusted to the rhythm of the ranch yet. He’d been patient with Christopher, doing whatever the little boy’s fancy was, whatever made him happy.

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