buddy, maybe Leenie knew exactly how you felt. It wasn’t as if he’d made a big secret of not wanting anything beyond a brief affair. He had told her he was not the type of guy for a committed relationship. Is it any wonder that when she found out she was pregnant, she didn’t pick up the phone and call him? She probably had serious doubts he’d be thrilled to hear he was a father-to-be.
Okay, so maybe he had to accept part of the blame. Maybe he shouldn’t take all his anger out on her.
The last time Frank had allowed anything to tear him apart inside had been twelve years ago when he’d walked in on his wife in bed with another man. They’d been married for two years and he’d been fool enough to think they were happy. He had been happy. Apparently Rita hadn’t been. She’d decided she wanted more than Frank could give her and zeroed in on her married boss, a guy twice her age. Even now, after all these years, Frank could still remember how it felt seeing their naked bodies writhing on the bed. His bed, the one he’d slept in every night with Rita. And he could almost feel the power in the repeated punches he’d inflicted on Rodney Klyce. He’d beaten the hell out of the guy, but Klyce hadn’t pressed charges. He’d wanted the whole thing kept quite because of his wife. But before Frank had packed his bags and left town, he’d called Mrs. Klyce. A bitter, vengeful thing to have done, but he’d never regretted it. He’d later heard she’d divorced Klyce and taken him for half his net worth. He’d also heard that Rita married Klyce, then divorced him a few years later and moved on to greener pastures. By now she’d probably gone through half a dozen husbands, and he could truthfully say he didn’t give a damn.
He’d been a fool about Rita, a brown-eyed beauty with flaming red hair. She’d made him forget all about his solemn vow to never marry, to never repeat his parents’ mistake. Their battle royale divorce when he was twelve should have proven to him how easily love can turn to hate and that eventually hate evolved into apathy. But learning that lesson a second time—firsthand—had seared it into both his conscious and subconscious. Love affairs were okay. Love was not. After Rita, he’d shut himself off from anything other than lust and sex. He’d thought that was all it had been with Leenie. Even when he’d realized he couldn’t get her out of his mind, couldn’t forget her, he’d halfway convinced himself that what he really couldn’t forget was the fantastic sex.
You don’t love her, he told himself. You aren’t capable of love.
But the fact that he’d gotten her pregnant and she’d given birth to his child bonded them forever, marriage or no marriage. He had a son. A two-month-old son.
Frank cursed under his breath, then pounded his fist against the doorframe. He’d never given fatherhood a thought. When he’d sworn off love and marriage, naturally he’d assumed there wouldn’t be any kids in his future and that had been fine with him. He was forty damn years old. Too old to become a first-time father.
The more he thought about the situation, the more he came to realize why Leenie hadn’t told him about Andrew. If he’d been Leenie, he wouldn’t have called him with the news. He was lousy father material. He needed to talk to her, apologize for acting like a jerk. The woman had been traumatized enough by her baby’s kidnapping and all he’d done was add to that trauma.
Just as he reached out to open the back door, Kate and Moran came outside onto the porch. He could tell by their expressions that the news wasn’t good.
“What’s happened?” Frank asked.
“Nothing new,” Kate said. “But Dante has some information he’s willing to share with you, not as Andrew’s father, but as a Dundee agent who has certain government clearances and is deemed totally trustworthy.”
“Cut the crap and lay it on the line,” Frank told her.
“It’s good news and bad news,” she said.
“We’re fairly certain we know who kidnapped your son,” Special Agent Moran said.
“What?” Frank glared at Moran.
“Not the name of a person, but an organization,” Kate said. “The good news is that the FBI is reasonably certain the woman who stole Andrew isn’t some nutcase who’ll kill him or keep him for herself.”
“And just what makes the Feds so certain?” He looked to Moran for the answer.
“We unearthed information about an infant abduction ring several years ago,” Moran said. “We’re not sure how long it’s been in operation, but we suspect at least ten years. We’re on the verge of setting up a sting operation that will lead us right to the top, to the people making big money by stealing Caucasian babies and selling them to unsuspecting couples who’ll gladly pay a hundred thousand or more for a cuddly blue-eyed, blond-haired baby.”
“Hell. Are you telling me that you think Andrew was stolen by this baby abduction ring?”
“The odds are pretty high that he’ll soon be sold to the highest bidder.”
“Son of a bitch.” Frank glowered at Kate. “And this is the good news?”
“At least there’s a good chance they’ll take care of him because he’s worth a great deal of money to them.”
In desperation Frank said, “What if we run an ad in the paper offering more than a hundred grand for Andrew’s safe return?”
“These people aren’t going to take any chances on getting caught,” Moran said. “Selling these kids to adoptive parents is easy money because it’s safe. The people who adopt these babies aren’t going to ask too many questions about where their baby came from, now are they?”
“How close are you guys to nabbing them?”
“You know I can’t tell you the details.” Moran felt in his coat pocket, then patted his shirt pocket before letting his hand fall to his side. “I quit smoking nearly a year ago, but I can’t kick the habit of reaching for one now and again.”
“How close?” Frank repeated.
“Close.”
“I want in on the sting.”
“You know that’s not possible.”
“Who are these people and where do we find them?” Frank caught the sidelong glances Kate and Moran exchanged. “There’s a good chance Andrew will be the next baby up on the auction block, so why not send me and Kate in as prospective parents?”
“We’ve got federal agents who can do that. Besides, you’re the kidnapped boy’s father. You’re too close to this to—”
Frank grabbed Moran by his lapels and hauled him close so that they were eye-to-eye.
“If it were your kid, what would you do?”
Moran, cool as a cucumber, looked directly at Frank and said, “I’d want to go in myself and get my child and then I’d want to kill every bastard involved in the abduction ring…kill them with my bare hands.”
Frank loosened his hold on Moran’s suit, then released the lapels and took a deep breath. “And some stupid federal agent would stop you.”
Moran’s lips twitched with a hint of a smile. “You know it.”
“How much can
