Laura Scott - Protecting His Secret Son

Mike doused the lights and stretched out on the bed fully dressed. Since he didn’t have his file on his father’s murder to review, he thought it best to get caught up on rest. Working eighteen-hour days and sleeping less than six hours per night had taken its toll.

He fell asleep almost immediately, only to be woken by a piercing scream. Bolting out of bed, he grabbed his gun from the bedside table and barreled through the connecting door into Shayla’s room, his heart practically thumping out of his chest as he frantically scanned for an intruder.

All he saw was Shayla cuddling Brodie close, whispering reassurances to him. Mike’s heart rate slowed and he lowered his weapon, gulping air as he realized there wasn’t any danger.

“Is there something I can do?” he asked, approaching cautiously.

“Put the gun away,” she whispered harshly. “You’re scaring him!”

He didn’t bother to point out the kid had screamed in terror before he’d come in with his gun. He tucked the weapon into the back of his waistband, then stood awkwardly for a moment. “Are you sure you’re not running from his father?” he asked.

“I’m sure.” Her tone was firm.

“Then why the nightmare?”

Her deep brown eyes narrowed. “Obviously the scene in my brother’s driveway must have scared him more than I realized. Hearing gunfire would frighten any child.”

The boy’s dark hair was a stark contrast to Shayla’s riot of blond curls. He’d noticed earlier, the kid’s brown eyes were identical to hers, though; a fact that niggled at him.

He glanced around the room, then took a step back. “Let me know if you need anything else, okay?”

“I will.” She continued rocking the boy, pressing kisses to the top of his head while rubbing her hand along his back.

Mike didn’t leave, even though he knew he should. Several minutes ticked by before the boy relaxed against her, appearing to fall asleep. Satisfied the crisis was over, Mike turned away. But once again she stopped him.

“Wait, Mike. Will you stay for a few minutes?” Her voice was soft, as if she didn’t want to disturb her son.

“Uh, sure.” Surprised she asked, he pulled out a chair and sat. “What do you need?”

“I need— we need —to talk.” The seriousness of her tone made him frown.

“About what?”

She didn’t answer for a long moment, then finally met his gaze. “Brodie’s father.”

* * *

Shayla knew she couldn’t live with herself if she continued with the charade a moment longer. Gingerly, she eased away from her son so that he was lying on the pillow. He snuggled against it for a moment but didn’t wake up. She pulled the covers up over his shoulders and then slipped off the bed.

She felt terrible about Brodie’s nightmare. She’d hoped her young son hadn’t noticed the gun pointed in their direction by the small black car or that the sharp report he’d heard was from a gun.

But Brodie was smart and she’d failed to protect him from the grim reality of gunfire. Maybe she should demand Mike take her to her Jeep so she could drive back to Nashville. Brodie didn’t deserve to be subjected to terrifying experiences like this.

Then again, what if the danger followed her? What if the person trying to seek revenge on Duncan wouldn’t hesitate to take her and Brodie out to make a point?

“You are running from him,” Mike said, interrupting her thoughts.

“No.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She had no idea how to tell him. “Let’s go into your room, so we don’t wake Brodie.”

“Fine.”

She picked up her cell phone in case the hospital staff called and followed him through the connecting door.

“Who is he?” Mike asked.

She stared at him, realizing that once she told him the truth, her life and Brodie’s would never be the same. She’d noticed Mike didn’t wear a wedding ring, but not all men did. He could still be involved with someone. The knots in her belly tightened painfully but she told herself to grow a spine. She locked her fingers and lifted her chin. “You are.”

His jaw dropped comically, and then anger flashed in his green eyes. “Don’t play games. Brodie is what—four? Going on five?”

“He’s three,” she corrected swiftly. “His birthday is in February. Valentine’s Day to be exact. And yes, he’s big for his age. But I’m not playing games. Why would I? Brodie is your son.”

His face went blank for a moment, then he leaped to his feet. “And you’re just telling me now?”

“Shh, don’t wake him up. And I tried to call you when I found out, remember how that went?” She could tell her tone was defensive and tried to bring it down a notch. “You didn’t give me a chance to tell you.”

“You should have called me again,” he countered, but his voice lacked heat. He stood and paced the length of the room. “I can’t believe it. Mine. Brodie is my son!”

“Our son.” Her phone vibrated in her pocket and she quickly pulled it out. She expected the call to be from the hospital but her brother’s name flashed on the screen. “This is Duncan,” she said in relief.

“Put it on speaker,” Mike demanded.

She frowned and shook her head, fearing her brother wouldn’t talk freely if he knew she wasn’t alone. “Duncan? Where are you? Why didn’t you meet me at the hospital?”

“How’s Dad?” His voice was soft, as if he were someplace he couldn’t talk.

“He’s fine. His surgery is still planned for the day after tomorrow. They want to make sure his blood pressure is stable before they put him under anesthesia.” She could feel Mike’s gaze boring into her and did her best to ignore it. “Where are you? I was worried when you didn’t come back to the house.”

“Yeah, well, I picked up a tail so I thought it was best to stay away.”

“Picked up a tail?” She glared at Mike, knowing he’d likely been the one following her brother. “Tell me where you are and I’ll meet you.”

She held her breath, waiting, hoping, praying. Then finally her brother admitted, “I’m in a motel in Jacksonville. A place called the Rustic Resort. But don’t come here. It’s late and Brodie’s probably asleep. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow.”

“Duncan, listen to me. Someone took a shot at me and Brodie outside your house. We needed protection, so I’m here with Mike Callahan. We’ll pick you up, okay? It’s better if we work together on this.”

“You were shot at? That’s crazy! Listen, I have to go.” Her brother abruptly ended the call.

“Duncan?” Feeling frantic, she hit the redial button on her phone.

The call went straight to voice mail. She dragged her gaze to Mike’s. “He hung up. I don’t understand what’s going on.”

“Where is he?” Mike demanded.

“In Jacksonville.” She hesitated, then added, “I’m worried he’s in trouble. He didn’t say it in so many words, but that’s the sense I get.”

“That’s why I wanted you to put the call on speaker.” The sharp note in his voice ticked her off.

“Well, we don’t always get what we want, do we?”

Tension shimmered between them for a long moment and this time Mike turned away, raking a hand through his hair. “Okay, fine. Let’s go get him.”

“Good idea.” She jumped to her feet. “Let me get Brodie.”

Mike stared at her and she could tell he was thinking about the fact that Brodie was his son. “No need to wake him up. Give me the name of the motel and I’ll head over to get your brother. Better that you and Brodie stay here where it’s safe.”

“No.” She wasn’t in the mood for his drill sergeant persona. “We’re going with you.”

“Not happening,” Mike said firmly.