Desert Ice Daddy. Dana Marton
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“The money—”
“Don’t worry about the money.” He dismissed that with a shrug, as if two million dollars was nothing to lose sleep over.
“I’m the father. I’ll be driving. He’s my son. I’ll damn well be there.” Gary had apparently figured out what was going on, and for a moment he even managed to look together and almost heroic. Then a sly look came over his face. “How much money?”
Akeem said nothing, wouldn’t even look at him.
“Two million,” she said because she knew that ignoring him would make him start yelling once again. “We are paying the ransom.” The idea of having that much money and handing it over to someone was still bewildering, but she would have handed over the Gross National Product—if she could get her hands on it—to save her son.
She couldn’t quite believe that Akeem had that kind of cash lying around and was willing to give it to her, but whether swallowing all her pride and accepting it from him or having to beg, steal and borrow—or sell her internal organs to scientific research—she knew she would have that money come morning.
But she had to deal with Gary first. He was the wild card, unpredictable, with a way of always making things more difficult than they had to be. But she would make sure he didn’t mess this up.
“If we go to the police with this, those people will—” She couldn’t bring herself to repeat the threats. She couldn’t even think of them. She firmly fixed a picture of a positive outcome in her mind. That would be the only thing she would allow herself to focus on. “So don’t say anything to anyone. Okay?”
Gary harrumphed, a sullen expression on his face. He didn’t like her taking over like this, as she had known he wouldn’t. He very much insisted on wearing the pants in the family, whether competently or not, and making all decisions. But for once, she couldn’t afford to humor him.
Akeem stepped to the door and held it open. “Let’s get going then. We have plenty to do to get ready. I’ll take Gary home.”
She was so surprised she could hardly move. Instead, she watched them for a second or two.
“I think I…” What she thought was that allowing the two men to leave together was a really bad idea, but she couldn’t say that without getting Gary angry and possibly offending Akeem. She didn’t want to offend Akeem. It was such a relief to have him around, and he was being so incredibly nice. So she looked for an excuse to keep them apart.
But Akeem said “I’m here to help” in that mild voice of his that was full of calm strength and had always worked miracles with even the wildest horses.
Worked on her, too, even now. She let go of trying to control every detail of the situation and reluctantly nodded.
For a moment it looked like Gary might object, but one look from Akeem actually had him complying with only a few muttered curses, miracle of miracles.
He only tossed in one objection, and that only when he was halfway across the yard. “I ain’t leavin’ without my pickup.”
“Yes, you are,” Akeem said in that voice again. “One of Flint’s men will drive it over to your place later.”
Gary’s face was turning red. But even drunk, he seemed to know enough not to pick a fight with Akeem. Or so she hoped. She didn’t breathe easier and believe that he was actually going until he got into Akeem’s car and slammed the door shut. And still she didn’t fully trust them not to do anything stupid on the way. She knew Gary’s temper well.
But she was too worried about Christopher to worry any longer about the men.
The white Navigator was just disappearing behind the paddocks as her phone rang again.
HE HATED LEAVING TAYLOR, but if getting her ex out of her face would help her, then that was what he would do, although he would have been happy not to go within a mile of the man. Akeem drove faster than necessary, eager to be rid of Gary.
“So you gonna pay the money for my boy?” Gary had been watching him the whole trip, asking questions between giving directions.
“Yes.”
“And what do you expect from my wife in exchange?” he asked just as Akeem pulled into the driveway of what once had been an elegant country house and was now falling into disrepair.
Anger boiled close to the surface. He held it in check, as he normally held all emotion. Because he needed to prove to himself that he wasn’t like his grandfather. Because a wild desert warrior would be no use to Taylor. To win her, he had to become what his friends and business associates thought he already was—a true Texas gentleman. “She’s my best friend’s sister.”
“That all? You sure you’re not boinkin’ her?” Gary gave a grating laugh.
The gentleman veneer was wearing awfully thin. He’d shown admirable self-restraint during the drive, but now Akeem’s arm shot out, his wrist catching the man’s neck at his Adam’s apple and pressing him against his seat. He was glad that Taylor couldn’t see him now.
“Maybe it’d be best if we didn’t discuss Taylor.” He held on to that razor edge of control. Because he wanted to do so much more to Gary than restrain him for the moment.
Like hell Taylor’s divorce had been as amicable as she’d been telling everyone. Like hell they’d just grown apart. The bastard was a drunk and he was a violent drunk at that. And if Akeem allowed himself to think what might have happened to make Taylor pick up Christopher and leave…
But he couldn’t think of that, because more than anything he wanted to help Taylor now and he couldn’t do that from jail.
So he didn’t push harder, and he didn’t drag the bastard out of the car to—He drew a deep breath and held his anger in check.
“You’ll be at the ranch tomorrow morning at six. You’ll be sober.” He congratulated himself on how reasonable his voice sounded. “You’ll stay at the house, keeping vigil with the cops so Taylor can ride out with the search teams. She’ll be frantic. She’ll say that she can’t sit still at the house anymore. And if you tell anyone about the ransom—” He paused, took a moment to get a firmer hold on his famous calm. “It’d be better for the both of us if you didn’t.”
Gary’s face was turning a pale purple, his watery blue eyes bulging, his lips forming a barely audible “Yes.”
With effort, Akeem relaxed his hand, watched the guy scamper out of the car, then he backed down the driveway without looking at that sorry excuse for a man again.
He was dialing his phone as soon as he was back on the highway, calling the bank, telling them to have his money ready within the hour. The next call went to Mike, his security manager.
“I’m going to need a handgun,” he said. He had hunting rifles at home, but for this trip to the desert, he had different needs altogether.
“Yes, sir. I’ll have one cleaned, checked and ready for whenever you stop in.” Mike