Chapter Twenty

Sawyer locked the doors to the Penalty Box. Those who remained were family and friends. Ethan looked around the room; half the tables and chairs were still filled. Despite the loss, he considered himself a lucky man. Some people could count their family and friends on one hand. But there was someone missing: the one person he wanted most by his side.

Yesterday he’d come to the realization that she wasn’t coming back. He was a lawyer. He dealt in facts. Her lack of response to his calls told him what he needed to know. It was time to let go and move on. He’d lost her, but he wasn’t about to lose his baby, too. His mother and Claudia hadn’t let up on him seeking custody. Some of their concerns about Kendall’s ability to raise their child stuck in his head and led to his decision to send his wife a letter of intent. In part he hoped to get a reaction from Kendall. Any response was better than nothing.

“That was a beautiful speech, darling. Your father would have been proud of you,” his mother said from where she sat beside him at the table. Disappointment radiated from her, her eyes red-rimmed, but she tried her best to put a positive spin on it for his sake.

He’d failed his father. Again. It was why he’d choked up during his speech. And why he hadn’t mentioned Kendall or the baby. He’d intended to. She may have been partly responsible for his loss tonight, but she hadn’t done so intentionally. She’d worked her ass off these last few weeks, and she deserved his thanks. But he couldn’t do it. Not after the way his childhood memories had affected him. Mentioning her would have been worse.

He remembered how she challenged him, how she made him laugh, how she made life somehow seem bigger and brighter. How much he loved to watch her when she didn’t know he was, how much he loved to hold her incredible body, kiss her beautiful face, and wake up with her in his arms. And now he’d lost her as surely as he’d lost the election.

He cleared his throat. “I don’t know about that, Mom. Dad always said nothing was worth doing unless you won.”

“You get thoughts like that out of your head right now, son. You should be damn proud of what you accomplished. I loved your father, but all that mattered to him was winning,” Paul McBride said, clueless to Liz’s furious, narrowed-eyed look. “Drove me nuts when we were growing up, and it was pure torture watching what he put you through as a kid. Nothing was ever good enough for him unless you were the best.” He shook his head. “Remember the one year you missed the dean’s list by two percent, Ethan? Never thought we’d hear the end of it.”

“How dare you, Paul? How dare you talk about my husband like that? I thought you were his best friend.”

“Okay, Mom, settle down. Paul didn’t mean anything by it.” Ethan appreciated what Paul was trying to do, but now wasn’t the time or place.

“I was his best friend. But he was a man with faults just like the rest of us. Not the saint you’ve created in your mind since he died. This isn’t about you and Deacon, Liz. It’s about your son. Look at him. Do you want him beating himself up because he thinks he failed his father?”

Well, hell, he wasn’t doing a very good job hiding his emotions if Paul could read him that easily. “What are you talking about? I’m fine,” Ethan protested.

“Yes, Paul, what are you talking about? My son has nothing to be ashamed of. If it wasn’t for his… Kendall, he would’ve won this election. The only thing he’s guilty of is poor judgment and thinking with his…” She cleared her throat. “He let a pretty face distract him.”

“Mom…” Ethan began.

Paul cut him off, jabbing his finger at Liz. “Skylar Davis was the best thing that happened to your son. If you would’ve butted out of their relationship, they would’ve been fine. It’s about time you got on with your own life instead of living through your son, Liz O’Connor.”

“How dare you!” his mother said, and tossed her drink in Paul’s face.

Jesus. Ethan shook off his stunned disbelief to grab some napkins. “What the hell, Mom?” he said, handing them to Paul.

“Thanks, son.” The older man wiped the red wine from his face. “Gage, you saw what she did. Arrest her.”

“Arrest… arrest me?” his mother sputtered. “Are you insane?”

“Seem to remember you threatening to arrest Skye for the same thing.”

“Okay, I don’t know what Sawyer put in these drinks, but you two have obviously had enough. Calm down and act your ages,” Gage said, “or I’ll throw you both in jail.”

“Now what the Sam Hill is going on over here?” Nell said when she reached their table.

“Paul said… he said Deacon…” His mother fluttered a hand at Paul and started to cry.

Ethan put his arm around her, picking up more napkins. “It’s okay, Mom.”

“Liz, honey, please don’t cry. I didn’t mean to make you cry,” Paul said, reaching for her hand.

Richard, who’d flown in for the election, made his way to the table. “Lizzie, what’s wrong?” He crouched beside Ethan’s mother. “Now, now, darlin’. Ethan’s young. He’ll run again.”

“It’s not that,” she sniffed, pointing an accusing finger at Paul. “It’s him.”

Richard stood up and crossed his arms. “What did you do now, McBride?”

“Stay out of it, Stevens. This has nothing to do with you.”

“You’re wrong, McBride. This is the woman I’m going to marry, so I—”

“What?” Ethan said at the same time Paul did.

His mother wiped her eyes, staring up at Richard. “What are you talking about? We—”

“Come on, darlin’. I’ll take you home. We need to have ourselves some private time.”

“Now see here, Stevens. You can’t just—” Paul began.

She stood up and kissed Ethan’s cheek. “Drop by the house on your way home, darling,” she said, then let Richard lead her away.

“Are you just going to let her leave?” Paul asked Ethan.

“Yeah, I—”

Paul gave him a look of disgust and pushed back his chair. Gage took his father’s arm. “Dad, I’m taking you home. Ethan, give me a call tomorrow.”

Nell sat down in the chair his mother had vacated. She looked at Ethan and grinned. “Just a matter of time now.”

“You can’t actually think this is a positive development.”

“Yep, I do.” She sat back in the chair. “So, what are you doing to get your wife back?”

“She’s not coming back, Nell. She left me. She doesn’t love me.”

“What the Sam Hill is wrong with you boys? Get off your heinie and go get her. You’ve got a baby on the way.”

“I know we do. And I’ve done what I needed to make sure I’m a part of my child’s life. But Kendall’s made it clear she doesn’t want to be a part of mine.”

She gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “You’ve always gone after what you wanted in the past. Go after her or you won’t be part of your baby’s life.”

“Yes, I will. I’ve informed her that I’m filing for sole custody.”

“Geez Louise, God save me from foolish men,” she said as if it was a prayer, then patted his hand. “It’ll be tough to win her back after you’ve gone and done that, but don’t worry, me and the girls will come up with a plan.”

“Nell, I don’t need your help.”

“It’s okay, we’ve got it covered.” She winked, then said hello to the Reinharts and Adam Blackwell, who’d stopped at the table, before she headed off to join Evelyn and Stella. The way the three women put their heads together made him nervous. He let it go. There was nothing they could do. They were in Christmas, and Kendall was in Texas.

“How are you holding up?” Sam asked, rubbing his shoulder as she took a seat beside him.

“I’m good.”

She gave him a skeptical look.

“I’ll be fine, Sam. I’m going to take some time. Let it all sink in.”

“Come back and work for me,” Jordan said. “You were one of the best ADAs I’ve ever had the pleasure to work with. Never lost a case. Did I tell you that, Adam?”

“A time or ten.” The dark-haired man smiled, then his expression grew serious. “I got the information you wanted on the blackmailer. Name’s Jimmy Moriarty.” Adam handed him a file. The second call Ethan had made the day Kendall left him was to Adam.

“And?”

“He’s a dangerous guy. They’ve got him on two counts of murder, assault with a deadly weapon, and attempted rape. Your wife was lucky.”

“She wasn’t lucky, Adam,” Sam said. “She was smart. She knew how to defend herself, and she did.”

The thought of Kendall with a known murderer and rapist had Ethan’s heart beating double-time in his chest. “What do you mean?” he asked, once he’d calmed himself down.

“Skye put him in the hospital, broke his jaw and ruptured his… well, you know.” Sam wrinkled her nose.

Adam grinned. “What Sam is too polite to say is that your wife ruptured his balls.”

“Jesus.” Ethan winced.

“Yeah,” Adam agreed. “I overnighted the photo and letter he sent you to the NYPD. Once they find him, they’ll add blackmail to his charges.” He must’ve read Ethan’s concern for Kendall’s safety, because he assured him, “Don’t worry, he’s holed up somewhere in New York State. They’re closing in on him. The NYPD is working with a private contractor who has a personal interest in the case. They’re confident he’ll bring Moriarty in. This should be over in the next day or so. You might want to let your wife know there’s a possibility they’ll want her to testify.”

“I will.” Something gnawed at him. “Any idea when the incident with Kendall happened?”

“Sometime in June,” Adam said.

Suddenly things started to click into place. She’d been hiding out in Christmas. And Ethan realized why she’d agreed to marry him. It had nothing to do with appeasing her father. She’d been talking to Vivi in the hospital just before she’d pushed for the marriage. Dammit, she’d been using him as a cover all along.

* * *

Betty Jean propped a jean-clad hip against the black granite countertop, waiting for Skye to finish making the filling for the pumpkin pies. “Let’s put this in the fridge and you have a nap,” the older woman said once Skye shut off the blender.

“It’s just a cold, Betty Jean. I’m fine.”

“We want you to feel better than fine. This is our first Thanksgiving dinner with you at home. Your daddy and I are going to pick up the tofu turkey and the rest of the fixin’s for the meal.”

Skye sneezed into her arm and grabbed a tissue. She blew her nose. “Maybe a nap would do me good.” She hugged Betty Jean. “Don’t forget the pineapple for the sweet potato casserole.”

“I won’t. And I’m going to stop by the apothecary to see if there’s anything you can take for your cold. We shouldn’t be more than an hour or two. Give us a dingle if you need anything,” Betty Jean called out as Skye started up the stairs.

“I will.” Skye smiled. No had ever fussed over her like Betty Jean did. And while she was happy to be with her father and her stepmama-to-be for Thanksgiving, she wasn’t exactly happy about the reason she was there. But she did have a lot to be thankful for this year. She had a baby on the way, an improved relationship with her father, an older woman in her life that she loved, a blog that was doing well, and a new business that Betty Jean assured Skye was going to make her richer than God again.

The money didn’t matter so much as that the clothing line was one more step in Skye’s goal to prove to a judge that she was capable of being a responsible mother. Since the night she received the registered letter from Ethan, looking good on paper had been Skye’s sole focus. She knew she would be a good mother despite what Ethan and Liz thought. She planned to make sure the judge did, too.

Skye wasn’t going to lose custody over her child because of some stupid mistakes she’d made when she was young and… well, stupid. Learning about her mother had been an eye-opener. She wished her father had told her years ago. She could’ve avoided a lot of those mistakes if she hadn’t been so angry at him, rebelling so hard against him. But that was in the past now. Old hurts that Skye hadn’t even realized she’d been carrying around were now healed. She was stronger and more self-assured. Ethan had no idea what he was up against.

She ignored the hollow ache that always accompanied thoughts of him. Yesterday, she’d only experienced that hurtful throb ten times. Today, her goal was eight. She sighed, wondering if it would ever go away as she pulled the drapes across her bedroom window, blocking out the midmorning sunlight.

Crawling into bed, she propped the pillows behind her. “Okay, Meadow,” she said to her baby, who started kicking as soon as Skye lay down, “time to sleep.” Skye began to hum “Wild Horses.” The other day she’d noticed the baby stopped kicking when she sang or hummed the song. She thought it was a coincidence, but it wasn’t. Once again, the baby calmed, and Skye closed her eyes.

She’d barely fallen asleep when a sound jolted her awake. Someone was in the room with her. “Daddy,” she said groggily to the large shadow at the end of her bed. She rubbed her eyes, and panic ricocheted through her. This man, and it had to be a man, was too big to be her father. She closed her eyes, praying she was imagining things, then opened them again. She wasn’t. A low whimper escaped from her before she could stop it. He moved toward her, a light-colored cowboy hat hiding his face.

“Take it easy, I’m not going to hurt you,” he said in a deep, gravelly voice.

Skye jolted upright. “Help!”

“For chrissakes,” the man muttered and lunged for her, covering her mouth with his large hand. “Stop screaming. I told you I’m not—Jesus,” he cursed when Skye slammed the heel of her palm into his nose. He let go of her to cover the blood spurting from his nostrils. “I think you broke my nose,” he said, sounding more shocked than angry.

“I’ll break more than that if you don’t get out of here,” she threatened, scrambling to the other side of the bed. Quicker than she expected, he recovered and came after her. Raising her arms in a defensive position, she bent her leg at the knee and pointed her toes.

He crossed his muscled arms and cocked his head. “What are you doing?”

“I’m trained in capoeira,” she said, referring to the form of martial arts she’d studied from a master when she’d lived in Brazil. “You’d better leave. I don’t want to hurt you.”

She saw a flash of white under the brim of his Stetson. “Learn that while you were smoking yopo with the Yanomami, did you?”

“How did you know that?” she asked, lowering her arms. There was no way she could take this man down. And she didn’t want to risk hurting the baby. But if she distracted him, she might be able to reach the panic button on the wall behind the nightstand.

“I know everything about you, Sugar Plum.” He reached in his back pocket, the movement drawing her attention to the gun tucked in the waistband of his jeans. Gun! He had a gun! She dove sideways across the bed, her arm outstretched in an effort to reach the button on the wall.

He grabbed her ankles. “I should’ve known this wouldn’t be easy,” he said, and swore when she got a foot loose and kicked him. Dragging her across the bed, he lifted her onto her feet and wrapped his arms around her, locking hers to her sides at the same time he trapped her legs with one of his. It was like being restrained by bands of steel.

“Now, I’m going to say this nice and slow so you understand me. I don’t want to accidentally hurt you or your baby.”

Her head whipped up, and she cracked him on the bottom of his jaw, his teeth clinking together with the force of the blow. “How do you know about my baby?”

She wasn’t sure, but she thought he might have said “bleeping Nell”—only he used the real word; the “bleeping” was her choice. “What Nell? Are you talking about my Nell? Christmas’s Nell?”

“I didn’t say Nell. I have a court order to take you back to Christmas. Which I was going to show you when you tried to push the panic button.”

She tried to tilt her head to look up at him, but he reared back. “Oh no, you don’t. Now get dressed. This is already taking longer than I have time for.”

“I’m not getting dressed, and I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Fine by me if you want me to deliver you to your husband in your pj’s.”

“ ‘Husband’? Ethan put you up to this?”

“Court order, Sugar Plum. You took your husband’s baby out of state.” She sneezed, and because her arms were locked at her sides… “For chrissakes,” he cursed and let her go. He grabbed the tissue box off the nightstand and handed it to her, taking one to wipe his arm. “Be a good girl and get dressed. We have a plane to catch.”

She glanced at her stretchy pink pajama top and the matching bottoms that rode low on her hips to reveal her baby bump. “I’m not getting dressed. You’ll have to take me as I am.” With her plan to stay on the law’s good side, she didn’t want to ignore a court order. She didn’t think Ethan had any rights until the baby was born, but she wasn’t a hundred percent certain. Her attire alone should draw someone’s attention at a crowded airport, and if a policeman happened to stop them, and the court order was invalid, he could arrest the man.

“Suits me,” he said, and before she realized what he was going to do, he zip-tied her hands together.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” She shook her bound hands at him.

“Soon as you promise to behave, I’ll take them off you.”

She went to grab his gun from the waistband of his jeans, but he whipped it out of her reach.

“Jesus, you’re a pain in the ass. Maybe I should do Ethan a favor and leave you here,” he muttered, lifting her into his arms and heading for the spiral staircase.

“That’s exactly what you should do,” she said, head bowed as she focused on removing the zip ties. “Whatever he’s paying you, I’ll pay you more.”

“Sorry, Sugar Plum. I don’t think you can afford me. You’re blog’s doing well, but not that well.”

“What? How?” She jerked upright, knocking off his champagne-colored cowboy hat. She gasped. “Superman.”

* * *

“Why couldn’t you stay asleep until we got there?” he grumbled, as they drove into Christmas.

Yes, her genius plan had backfired. How was she supposed to know that the Man of Steel had a private plane tucked away in its own private hangar, and he knew how to fly the darn thing? If he hadn’t kidnapped her, she might have thought that was kind of hot. If she wasn’t still in love with her husband—yes, it was pathetic but true—she might have thought Chance McBride was one of the most gorgeous men she’d ever seen. He was all hard muscle and chiseled good looks. He’d also hurt her best friend.

“You broke Vivi’s heart, you know.”

“For the twentieth time, I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“Well… You’re in love with her.” She gaped at him. “I can’t believe I missed that. She’s Lois Lane to your Superman.”

He growled low in his throat and gave her a menacing stare. She snorted. “You don’t scare me. But don’t worry, your secret’s safe. I’m not letting you break her heart again. And you did protect her.”

“Pain in the ass,” he muttered, patting down his pockets.

“Looking for something?” She smirked and held up his phone. He shouldn’t have removed the zip ties. And while she might not have been able to get help at the airport, that didn’t mean she was facing down Ethan and his family and friends without backup. She imagined that since he lost the election because of her, she was persona non grata in Christmas.

Chance took the phone from her, but his mouth quirked beneath his dark blond scruff.

As they pulled into Gage’s driveway, Skye’s heart started to race. There were several vehicles parked on the street, Ethan’s Escalade among them. Along with the nerves, she felt a small spark of excitement and realized there was part of her that was anxious to see him. It’d been weeks since they’d talked, weeks since he held her in his arms and kissed her. She’d missed him desperately, but her pride and her anger had kept her from reaching out to him. Her fear that he didn’t love her anymore or that what she thought was love had simply been lust.

Maybe this was a good idea after all. She could convince him to drop the custody suit. Tell him how sorry she was he’d lost the election because of her. And just maybe he’d realize how much he loved her. How much he’d missed her.

She pulled the visor down. Okay, so this was not the way she wanted him to see her for the first time in weeks. She looked like crap. No makeup, her nose was as red as Rudolph’s, and her hair looked like she’d stuck her finger in a light socket. She pushed up the visor and whacked Chance.

He rubbed his arm. “What was that for?”

“You could’ve warned me everyone was going to be here.”

“Feeling shy, Sugar Plum?” He grinned as he opened the driver’s-side door.

“Oh, shut up and stop calling me that,” she muttered. “Come get me. I’m not walking barefoot in the snow.”

“Barefoot and pregnant,” he said as he once again lifted her into his arms, “it suits you, Sweet Cheeks. But might have been a good idea to put on a bra.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “You are such a jerk. My best friend is better off without you.”

“Yeah, she is,” he said quietly as he walked up Gage’s front steps.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. If you hadn’t kidnapped me and scared me half to death, I’d probably like you.”

He gave a low, gruff laugh. “If you didn’t beat the shit out of me, and you weren’t such a pain in the ass, I’d probably like you, too,” he said as he walked through Gage and Maddie’s house.

Conversation and laughter at the dining room table abruptly ended as he set her on her feet. Everyone stared at her. Ethan sat beside Claudia at the far end of the table. They’d been smiling at one another, each of them holding the end of a wish bone, but as their eyes moved to her, their smiles faded. Skye’s cheeks heated, her embarrassment magnified tenfold at the sight of them together, happy and beautiful. And then her temper flared.

“Gage, arrest them. Superman kidnapped me on his orders.” She stabbed a finger in Ethan’s direction. “And if you won’t, I’m calling the… FBI. The CIA. Homeland Security!”