Carol Ericson - Catch, Release

“I’m impervious to flattery.”

“Since when?” She tipped her chin at the floor where he’d scattered the contents of her bag. “Then get my wallet. I have a picture of my son.”

He wished she’d stop saying that—it sounded so permanent. He slammed the plastic bottle on the credenza. Swooping down, he scooped up the wallet and flipped to the plastic inserts.

A teenaged Deb smiled at him, leaning over a chair, her arms around a grizzled African-American man—Robert, the man who’d taken her in after she’d run away from foster care. He flipped to the next picture and froze.

A towheaded toddler grinned while clutching the handlebars of a red tricycle. He flicked the edge of the picture. The kid didn’t even look like her. “This doesn’t prove anything.”

“Why would I carry a picture of a boy in my wallet? You know I don’t have any family, no nephews.”

“Doesn’t prove anything. Some wallets come with pictures already inserted. Is he even yours?”

“Look at the next picture.”

He swallowed as he stared at Deb wearing a hospital gown and cradling a baby. She looked...happy. “Congratulations. I’m sorry for doubting you. It looks like you really do have a child, but there’s nothing here to convince me Zendaris has him.”

“Well, at least you admitted I’m his mother. Zendaris has him. I’m telling the truth, Loki.”

“Stop—” he dropped the wallet on the bed next to her “—calling me that.”

“But I don’t know your real name. You never told me your real name.” She sniffled and her nose reddened.

She was sucking him in again. How was she playing the victim when she hadn’t wasted any time replacing him in her bed? Hell, she could’ve had a boyfriend when they’d hooked up.

If she’d lied about that, how did he know any of this story was true? The picture proved Deb had given birth, but for all he knew the boy could be safe with his father.

“Where is his father?”

She waved her hands. “Out of the picture.”

His pulse leapt. At least that was a plus. “I’m sorry if any of this is true, Deb. But if Zendaris has your son, you need to contact Prospero.”

Her shoulders sagged. “If I contact Prospero, Zendaris will kill him. You know he tried to do the same thing to one of my team members. He tried to kidnap Cade’s son, but Cade was able to protect his son.”

The tears ran unabated down her cheeks, and they were just about enough to convince Beau that her story was true. Nobody could fake the anguish he read in her face. And Deb Sinclair didn’t cry.

He secured his weapon and hers and sank onto the bed next to her. Reaching behind her back, he released her wrists.

She put her hands in her lap and rubbed the red creases on her skin, but the crying continued.

Slipping an arm around her shoulder, he pulled her flush against his side. Her head dropped to the hollow of his shoulder.

It felt good. He felt good.

“I’m sorry.” She rubbed her nose. “I don’t think I’ve cried since the day they snatched him. What’s the use of tears?”

She’d discovered early in life that tears didn’t solve anything. At least her crying seemed to soften Loki’s position.

And she hadn’t even had to tell him Bobby was his son.

When she’d heard his voice growl in her ear, hope and fear immediately began to war in her brain. Hope that Loki could help her, especially once she told him Zendaris had his son, too, and fear that he wouldn’t believe her and drag her back to Prospero.

If he did that, Bobby would die.

Now was not the time to tell him he had a son. How could she prove to him that Bobby was his anyway? The timing alone wouldn’t work. They’d had a one-night stand, and as incredible as it had been for her, he’d had no idea if she’d had a boyfriend or even a husband at that time. Just as she’d had no idea if he’d had a girlfriend or wife. Might even have one now.

He squeezed her closer. “Tell me what happened. How’d Zendaris get Bobby and what does he want? Not someone to rob jewelry stores for him?”

Deb smothered a hiccup with her hand. “One of his thugs impersonated Robert and kidnapped Bobby from daycare. After Robert’s death, I stupidly left him on the approved guardian list. When the man claiming to be Robert came to the daycare with ID, they released my son to him.”

She crossed her arms across her stomach. Whenever she went back to that day, she got physically ill.

“How long ago was this?”

“Almost a week ago.”

“You didn’t do a very good job of playing it cool. That’s exactly when Prospero pegged your unusual behavior. A little more digging and it was enough for them to call me in.”

“I couldn’t tell Prospero, couldn’t tell Jack. Zendaris warned me that if I called in the police or Prospero, he’d kill Bobby.” She ended on a sob despite her efforts to stop the waterworks.

“How did he contact you?”

“He left me a note at the daycare.” She pointed to the wallet. “May I?”

Loki may have offered her a shoulder to lean on, but his lean muscles were still coiled as if on high alert. She didn’t want to give him any reason to shoot her.

He nodded and she reached for the wallet. She plucked a folded piece of paper from the billfold and smoothed it out on her thigh. “The pretend Robert left this when he took Bobby.”

Leaning over, he read it aloud. “‘We have your son. If you call the police or notify Prospero, he’s dead.’”

He cursed and jumped up from the bed. “And you knew right away it was Zendaris?”

“Of course. Who else? He’d been trying to get to us through our families for years.”

He stopped suddenly and spun around. “How did Robert die?”

“He had a heart attack.”

“Are you sure? Heart attacks can be induced.”

“Robert had already had one heart attack. His death wasn’t completely unexpected.”

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he paced in front of the window. “What did they do next? How did they contact you?”

“They sent me another note with instructions to come to Boston, dress a certain way and stand on a busy street corner. While I was waiting, someone bumped into me and slipped a phone in my pocket. Zendaris, or whoever, called me on that phone and told me the plan for the jewelry store robbery.”

“Where’s the phone now?”

“In the pocket of the coat I dropped by the door.”

He picked up the crumpled black coat and shoved his hand in the pocket.

She jumped up, waving her hands. “Don’t make any calls on it. It’s a special phone.”

“Have you looked at this thing yet?” He turned it over and brought it close to his face. “How do you know it’s not bugged with a mic or a camera or a GPS?”

She covered her mouth with her hands. That had flashed across her mind before, but she hadn’t found the opportunity to examine the phone. If it had been recording everything she said, she’d just killed Bobby.

In two steps, she was at Loki’s side. “I didn’t even look. I didn’t even think. If Prospero could see me now, they’d fire me for incompetence.”

“I think they’d excuse you under the circumstances.” He squinted at the back of the phone and rubbed his thumb across it. “I don’t see anything that would indicate a camera or a mic, but a GPS is a strong possibility. Did Zendaris tell you what he wanted you to do with the jewelry?”

“No. I don’t even understand why he wanted me to hit that store.”

“Control.”

Deb swallowed and knotted her fingers in front of her as she stepped back from Loki. “I sort of figured that.”

“He wants to see how far you’ll go to save your son.” He slammed the phone against his palm. “What does he really want from you?”