hammered through her. What did this stranger want with her—or rather, with her sister? Was he a jilted lover? Or maybe a psychotic fan from one of the bars where she’d performed. Or a bookie. A loan shark. Camryn may have owed him money. Stories of brutality flashed through Kate’s mind, terrifying her.
With steellike strength, her assailant swept her down the short hallway and into the kitchen, where she looked for something to use as a weapon. Not a knife, fork, glass or bottle was anywhere in sight. The wall telephone hung a few feet away. If only she could get to it long enough to dial.
He dropped his hand from her mouth, gripped her shoulders, turned her around and pushed her down into a kitchen chair. Bracing his hands on its carved wooden arms, he leaned in close. “Don’t even think about getting up. You’re not going anywhere until I tell you to.”
His lean, sun-browned face blazed with frightening anger. But it was his eyes that held her riveted—a vibrant, golden green, shocking in the ruggedness of his face. A memory stirred. Sexy green eyes… Her absolute terror pushed the memory beyond her reach.
He straightened to his full, imposing height, his fists on his hips, a threat in every tensed, muscled contour of his body. “Don’t look so stunned to see me. You had to know I’d find you.” His deep, rough voice held a hint of an accent she couldn’t quite place. His thick hair shone in tawny waves, the color of a lion’s mane, with his skin glowing slightly darker. From the sweep of his arrogant forehead to the long, clean line of his jaw, she saw no weakness in his face…only uncompromising strength and hardness. “I wouldn’t have stopped looking, Camryn. Ever.”
“You have the wrong person,” Kate managed to whisper. “I’m not Camryn.”
A harsh laugh tore from him. “And I suppose the baby isn’t Arianne.”
He knew Arianne. Fear engulfed Kate. “What do you want?”
“I want what’s mine.”
His deadly soft answer frightened her all the more. A terrible suspicion dawned. “And what,” she asked haltingly, “do you consider yours?”
Grim humor glinted briefly in his gaze, surprising her. “Don’t worry, chèr’. Not you.” The humor quickly vanished, leaving his expression granite cold. “I meant my daughter.”
The world tilted crazily around Kate. He had to be Mitch. Arianne’s father. The man whom Camryn had called “mean.” And he’d come to take Arianne.
Kate rose from the chair in a horrified daze. “You can’t take her. I won’t let you.”
Anger flushed beneath his tan. “The judge granted us joint custody. Joint! You had no right to run with her.”
She shrank back from his fury, his thunderous words ringing in her head. Joint custody. No right to run with her. Could it be true?
“I’ve spent a fortune to track you down, Camryn. Nice try with the name change, Kate—” he uttered the name with scorn “—but the game is up. I’m taking Arianne.”
“No, no, please,” she whispered, her thoughts in a whirl. What he claimed might be true, or might not be. She knew nothing about him. Not even his last name. She couldn’t let this stranger take the baby—especially not before she’d checked out his story. “Give me time….”
“You’ve had her long enough. It’s my turn now.”
Panic pressed in on her as she realized her own weak legal position. If he was the baby’s father and had been granted custody, she’d have no legal claim on Arianne…or not much of one.
But he’d said that Camryn had the right to joint custody.
And he didn’t know Camryn was dead.
“You can’t just take her like this. She doesn’t know you,” Kate told him, reasoning with a frantic urgency. “She’ll be frightened. She needs me.”
“She’s my daughter, and she doesn’t know me. Whose fault is that?” His eyes blazed; his mouth pulled taut. “I’m taking her. And I’m suing for full custody.”
Kate’s lips parted, but no sound emerged. She shook her head in protest, her vision clouding with a sudden blur. Every maternal instinct in her cried out against handing her sweet baby girl over to this angry stranger. Where would he take her? Why did he want her? Again she remembered Camryn’s claim that he’d been violent. He certainly seemed to be, the way he’d forced his way into her home and manhandled her. She had to think. Think!
She forced words through her clenched throat. “Let me bring her in now for supper. She’ll be hungry.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve packed plenty of provisions for her.”
Her panic escalated. “I’m bringing her in.” She made a move to brush past him.
He caught her by the shoulders. “She’s not there anymore.”
Her eyes widened; her heart slowed. “What do you mean?”
“She’s with…friends. Until I can join them.”
When the news sank in, Kate cried out in pain and beat against his chest with fists to free herself from his grip. “Let me go! I’ve got to stop them. I can’t let them take her like that.”
He caught her fists, forced her arms behind her back and held her against his chest. When her struggles proved fruitless, she closed her eyes and swallowed a hysterical sob. In pained disbelief, she murmured, “You didn’t even let me tell her goodbye.”
“Did you let me tell her goodbye before you ran with her?”
Easing out of his loosened grasp, she refused to feel empathy for him. Camryn obviously had had good reason to run. Violence simmered beneath his surface like a pot about to boil over. She’d felt it in his grip, heard it in his voice, seen it in his gaze. “She isn’t ready to leave home right now. She won’t have any of her clothes or her toys.” At a sudden remembrance, an ache went through her. “She won’t even have her blanket.”
“Her blanket? I have blankets. Plenty of blankets.”
“But you don’t have hers!” she shouted, glaring at him. “You don’t care that she needs it to fall asleep at night, do you.” Her lips trembled. She bit down on them, then added, “She holds it against her cheek and sucks her thumb.” Though she tried to suppress the tears, they seeped from the outside corners of her eyes. She buried her face in her hands and succumbed to quiet sobs.
He shook her and issued a curt order. “That’s enough. Stop the crying.”
She sucked in her breath, sobs and all. Her chin came up, and her bottom lip tightened. The man was heartless. He was tearing a baby away from the only home she’d ever known, without any preparation at all.
“Go get her blanket,” he said.
Stiffly she turned from him, and he followed her to the bedroom she had decorated as a nursery, with yellow walls, bright rainbows and teddy bears. The sight of the nursery now choked her with new tears, but she mastered them. The effort grew more difficult when she found the small patchwork blanket Arianne called her “bankie.”
