Нора Робертс - Hideaway

“Better. That’s a long drive with a toddler.”

“And speaking of babies. Eight pounds even?”

Grinning, he hefted his beer. “On the nose, and from all accounts, Hailey had an easier time of it than my Angus. Four hours and there’s Grace the amazing. The baby’s a beauty, Hailey looked like a Madonna, I swear. Leo looked like a wreck. A really happy wreck. They’re already home.”

“Birthing center, midwife, easy delivery.” Now Cate lifted her margarita. “Here’s to all that.”

“It’s hard to believe, even when things go that smooth, they send you on your way that quick. My ladies are going to see them for a bit tomorrow, and the two new grandmothers are right there to help out.”

“Here’s to babies, each and every one.” She tapped her glass to his. “I’d love to go see them, maybe in a couple days, once they’re more settled.”

“You can go with me.”

“Let me know when, Uncle Dil.”

He grinned again at that; she settled back.

“One day, I like to imagine we can sit out here like this—or sit anywhere for that matter—enjoying an adult beverage and some excellent salsa, and only talk about happy things.”

“But not tonight. Sparks.”

“Yeah, Sparks. Red told Grandpa and me what he thought, and what you seem to think.”

“The guy gets stabbed in prison and only needs a few stitches? That doesn’t work for me. It seems to me if somebody’s going to stab somebody, they’d do a better job of it.”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way, but if you were nervous, or in a hurry—”

While butterflies fluttered behind him, Dillon tapped a finger on the table.

“First, you take the time to make the shank—and if you’re caught with it, that’s solitary. Second, you’re so nervous and rushed you just happen to jab it into the perfect place? The place that causes little damage. Bleeds good, but that’s about it.

“Bullshit.”

Bullshit, horseshit. Either way, Cate saw he and Red had the same confidence.

“Wouldn’t they fingerprint it?”

“Why do you figure he said he grabbed it, kept his hand on it? Smeared his hand and blood all over it? He’s not stupid, Cate. He’s no genius, but he’s not stupid. He’s calculating. I’ve thought about him a lot over the years.”

“Have you?”

He met her eyes. “It was a turn for me, that night, Caitlyn. What you’d call a seminal moment for me, I guess. Up till then … I knew the world wasn’t all rainbows, not with what happened to my father. But I’d never been close to violence, or fear. Watching you, watching my mom and Gram do what they did, your dad, Hugh. It all left a pretty big impression on me, so yeah, I’ve thought about Sparks over the years. And Denby, your mother. I feel like I know them on some level.”

“Maybe you’re right, you and Red. Maybe he’s behind all this somehow, and for some reason. If he is, wouldn’t my mother be his prime target?”

“She’d be harder to get to with a billion or so in security.” He shrugged, drank. “But yeah.”

“I don’t feel anything for her, or about her. I haven’t been able to work up a good rage in that area for a long time. But I wouldn’t want her murdered.”

“I’m a lot more concerned about you.”

“I left my grandfather and Red this morning discussing tightening security here, adding to it. And since I can see you have other ideas, tell me what they are before I start dinner. Then we can close this door for a while.”

“You could come stay on the ranch.”

“I can’t leave Grandpa, that’s number one. Then there’s my work.”

“Figured that. So I spend my nights here. I need to be on the ranch early every morning, but Red’s going to stay. He more than halfway does anyway, so he’ll just put in the other half while I stay here.”

Cate shifted, crossed her legs, then sipped at her margarita. “Do you think your ladies need a man to look after them? And I need one to look after me?”

A man could navigate a minefield if he knew where to step. And where not to.

“I figure my ladies can handle just about anything that comes. And you’d do a good job with that yourself. And yeah, everybody needs somebody, or ought to, who’ll look after them.”

“That’s a damn good answer to a tricky question. And I won’t lie. I’ll probably sleep better at night with you here. Not just for me, but for Grandpa, Consuela.”

“Then it’s done. I’ve got one more thought before we close the door.”

“All right.”

“I don’t see Hugh or Lily or your dad in this. They were set to pay the ransom. Nothing they did affected the outcome. If we’re wrong, and it’s Dupont behind all this, that changes. But it’s not, because she’d have gone after your family first. And your nanny from back then.”

Her heart jumped. “Oh God. Nina. I never thought of her.”

“Red did. She’s fine. You and the nanny are the ones who turned things on your mother. She’d have made moves there, and she’d have the means to do it.”

“You do know her.”

“As well as I can. It’s a lot harder for Sparks to get to someone in Ireland, even to find her at this point. And for what? She cared enough about you, was afraid enough of your mother to keep her mouth shut about the affair. They set her up as a dupe, but you screwed that up for them, then Dupont finished it off.”

“I’ll feel better when I talk to her myself. I’ll call her tomorrow. You don’t mention yourself, your family?”

“I think we’re low on possibilities, but that’s why I want Red there, why we’re hiring a couple of retired cops he knows to work on the ranch for the season.”

“You cover your bases, Dillon.”

“I take care of what’s mine.” He looked into her eyes in that way that always hit her heart. Right into them, right into her. “You have to know you’re what’s mine.”

Nerves, sudden, intense, pushed her to her feet. “I need to cook.”

She hurried inside, added oil to the skillet. As she gathered ingredients, she mumbled curses—self-directed—in Italian.

And felt the nerves ease off a little with movement, purpose. “You’re going to let me get away with that.”

He topped off her margarita from the pitcher she’d set on the island. “I know how and where to push when something or someone’s being stubborn. You’re not being stubborn, so I can wait.”

“I’m trying to think what I did in this life to deserve you.”

“Now, that’s being stupid. I’m getting another beer.”

“It’s not.” Rubbing her hematite bracelet, she turned to him while the oil heated. “It’s not. And I’m not being stubborn. I need you to…” She pushed a hand in the air in his direction. “Keep your distance while I get through this next part.”

Fascinated, he watched her, then poured the beer. “Seriously?”

“Yes. God, this is a lot of talk.” She pushed at her hair, wished she’d tied it back out of the way. “I thought we’d get all that other business out of the way, eat, then have a lot of sex.”

He lifted the beer, drank. “I said it before. The perfect woman.”

“I’m not. So many parts of me are still a mess, and probably always will be. I used to have panic attacks, nightmares. I rarely do now, or in years now, but I know what they feel like, and I just came close to the panic attack.”

“Because I’m telling you I’m in love with you? If you didn’t already know that, I go back to stupid.”

“Not stupid,” she muttered, and added the chicken to the hot oil to sear it. “I didn’t want you to.”

“Love you or tell you?”

“Either, right now. Foutre. Merde .”

“That’s French this time, right? I think I get the picture.”