Her Stolen Son. Rita Herron

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Her Stolen Son - Rita  Herron

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style="font-size:15px;">      SERENA STARED at the ink on her fingertips, still stunned that she had been arrested, fingerprinted and was locked in a cell.

      Not that it was the first time. But she’d thought her juvenile record was sealed.

      She had to get out. The first chance she had, she’d make a break for it. Then she’d find Petey and get him and run.

      What kind of life would that be for him, Serena? Hiding out, always making up new names, always afraid…

      No, she couldn’t do that to her son.

      Poor little Petey. He’d been through so much the last two years. His father’s murder. Their move to Sanctuary because she’d wanted a nice small town where they could both heal. And they both had started to heal.

      Then her friend from work had encouraged her to start dating. A huge mistake.

      Lyle Rice had been a charmer at first, then turned into a snake. When the arrogant animal had pushed Petey, she had wanted to kill him.

      But she hadn’t, dammit.

      And she couldn’t run either. She’d given up that life when she’d married Parker. She’d vowed to give Petey a more stable life than she’d had….

      Footsteps pounded, the shadow of movement in the hall indicating the sheriff or his deputy had returned. She’d requested her phone call, but the truth was, she didn’t even know the name of a good lawyer to call.

      Of course, the state would give her a public defender, but she’d had one of those before and that had ended with her in a juvenile facility.

      Suddenly the sheriff appeared, along with a broad-shouldered man with hair as black as coal and eyes just as black. He looked powerful, lethal even, with a strong, square jaw and arms that were as big as her legs.

      Definitely an alpha guy who was accustomed to being in control. And judging from his short haircut, muscular physique, that laser-intense look and the tattoo on his arm, he was former military.

      Either that or a hardened criminal.

      Her stomach pitched. Surely, the sheriff wasn’t going to lock him in the cell with her.

      “Ms. Stover,” Sheriff Gray said. “You have a visitor.”

      Serena crossed her arms, confused. Frightened. Wary.

      Who was this man and what did he want with her?

      Remembering her husband’s horror stories about how devious police interrogation tactics could be, she braced herself. She had to be careful.

      He might be here to trap her into giving a confession.

       Chapter Two

      Serena adopted a brave face. “Who are you?”

      “My name is Colt Mason. I’m a detective with GAI, Guardian Angel Investigations.”

      Serena frowned, confused even more. “I don’t understand. Why do you want to talk to me?”

      “It’s about your son, Petey,” Colt said gruffly.

      Serena’s mouth went dry, the room swirled around her, and she reached for the bars to steady herself to keep from passing out. Today had been too much, and if something had happened to Petey…

      The sound of the cell opening registered, the men murmuring something indiscernible in low voices. Colt gripped her arm and led her to the cot by the wall. Her legs buckled, and she sank onto it, then leaned over, the room spinning in a dizzying circle.

      “It’s all right. Take a deep breath, Serena,” Colt said in a low voice. “Then another.”

      His soothing tone brought a flood of tears. Angrily she brushed at them and inhaled, determined to regain control. She had to know what had happened to her son. But when she tried to speak, nausea rose to her throat.

      The sheriff returned, then Colt pressed a cold cloth against the back of her neck.

      Dammit. She needed to be strong. But she’d lost Parker. She couldn’t lose Petey. And that blasted woman had promised to take care of him.

      Clawing for control, she jerked her head up, removed the cloth from her neck and tossed it aside. Colt Mason was staring at her with those intense black eyes again as if he was trying to see into her mind and soul. Maybe even her heart.

      She wouldn’t let anyone there, not ever again.

      Besides, he was probably trying to judge whether she was a killer.

      “Where’s my son?” She clutched his shirt. “Is he hurt?”

      “Petey is fine,” Colt said. “He’s at my office.”

      “What? I thought that social worker took him to a foster home.”

      Colt covered her hands with his and peeled her fingers loose. “She dropped him off at Magnolia Manor, but as soon as the children went inside for lunch, he bolted and ran down to GAI. Apparently you told him that some nice men there helped children.”

      Relief mushroomed inside Serena, and she found herself hanging on to his hands. Caution told her not to trust him, but the fact that she had used those exact words with Petey made her relax slightly.

      “You have fifteen minutes,” Sheriff Gray interjected.

      Colt nodded to the sheriff, and he strode back to the front of the jail.

      “He must be so scared,” she whispered. “Are you sure he’s okay?”

      “I’m certain.” Colt hesitated, an awkward second passing as he released her hands. “Do you feel better now?”

      She nodded, searching his strong face for the truth. This man looked hard, cold, forceful, as if he’d seen the worst in humans and was trying to figure out where she stood on the pendulum, if he should be protecting her son from her. That suspicious look cut through her like a knife. “You scared me to death. When you said GAI, I thought…”

      “That he’d been kidnapped,” Colt said darkly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. Petey is in my office. One of the other agents, Derrick McKinney, is staying with him. His wife, Brianna, works at Magnolia Manor where the social worker took Petey.”

      “So you’ll send him back there?”

      “We have to follow the law, but Brianna is a great lady,” Colt said. “She has a son of her own, and loves those kids. Trust me, she’ll be like a second mother to him.”

      He obviously meant to make her feel better, but rage churned through Serena at the thought of anyone else taking care of her son.

      “Petey should be with me.” She scanned her bleak surroundings. Concrete floor, dingy concrete wall covered in graffiti. Scratchy, faded wool blanket on top of a cot with a mattress so thin the springs bore into her. “And I shouldn’t be here. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

      Colt’s

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