Brow furrowed, Velma crossed the stone foyer to a set of large mahogany double doors. “Come along, dearie.”
Courtney followed, trying to keep her increasingly unhappy son calm. She rubbed his back in slow, circular motions. Velma snapped closed the curtains on three large windows before flipping on a series of track lights to brighten the wood paneled room.
Dylan clutched at the neck of Courtney’s Louis Vuitton dress, his mouth drooling, his face reddening.
“I know what you want,” she whispered, gently pushing his light brown hair off his forehead. She settled into a large leather sofa and zipped open the diaper bag, pulling out a teething biscuit.
Dylan grabbed the treat in both hands and stuffed it into his mouth, gnawing with gusto. He sagged against her, content for the moment.
“You know your boy well,” Velma remarked with approval.
“He’s my son.”
“And mine.” Jared stood, outlined by the dark wood door frame, a rifle crooked over his bent arm. “The house is secure. I’ve instructed four hands to keep watch. Velma, I could use some of that coffee cake you made yesterday.”
“Go easy, boyo,” she cautioned with a small pat on his arm.
Courtney shivered at the warning. Jared didn’t respond, but firmly closed the doors behind Velma’s retreating figure. The catch clicked into place.
Slowly he faced her, his tall figure and broad shoulders shrinking the large room. Most New York apartments would fit comfortably into a tiny corner of his home.
She squirmed in her seat, feeling at a distinct disadvantage. If Dylan hadn’t been so comfortably settled on her lap, she would have faced Jared standing instead of him looming above her. The weapon didn’t help.
As if reading her mind, he propped the gun in the corner, squatted down in front of her and stared unblinkingly at Dylan. The baby gazed back, still working on his biscuit. Jared thrust a hand through his short dark hair. It shook slightly and a flash of insight struck Courtney. He may have gone all alpha on her, but their son had Jared King spooked.
Cautiously, gently he touched Dylan’s leg, then clasped his tiny hand. The little boy grabbed his finger and squeezed. A small smiled tilted Jared’s lips. A sad sigh escaped him and reluctantly he pulled away.
“Who wants to hurt our son?” he asked with a frown, his focus still glued to Dylan.
Despite some misgivings, Courtney had no choice but to trust Jared. That’s why she’d come. She tugged a sheet of paper from the zippered pocket of the diaper bag and handed it over. “I found this pinned to one of Dylan’s stuffed animals yesterday. Someone was in my apartment. They k-killed...”
Her voice broke as she relayed what little she knew.
He read the note and with each word of her explanation Jared’s eyes grew icier. His jaw muscle pulsed. “Did you call the police?”
She shook her head. “I couldn’t risk their involvement with that note. I had to protect Dylan.”
“I see.” Jared stared at the floor, his gaze thoughtful. “Leaving was your only option.”
His words were a statement of fact, not a question and the vice around her heart eased a bit. Maybe she’d done the right thing after all.
Who else could she trust after everything that had happened? Her entire body shook as her mind rewound yesterday’s horror.
“I left Marilyn. On the floor. Alone. Her family lives in Maine. They don’t even know what happened.”
Courtney pressed the heel of her hand against her eyes to keep back the tears. The guilt tore through her. “I was so afraid they might come back, I went to my father’s house. I thought I’d be safe there, but whoever did this knew I’d hire a car. The note warned me, and I believe them.”
She’d never felt so alone.
On the drive from the airport, each time she’d passed a police car, she’d considered flagging him down, and every time she’d let the vehicle pass her by. “I couldn’t stop looking over my shoulder the entire trip here. I kept imagining every person I encountered was following me.”
She clutched Jared’s arm. “I won’t involve law enforcement. It’s too risky. He knows too much.”
Would Jared agree? Was she being foolish? They’d killed Marilyn in cold blood. She couldn’t bear it if Dylan... A stark shiver skittered through her. No, she was doing the right thing. She had to be.
“Hey there.” Jared touched her knee and squeezed gently. “I understand, more than you know.”
Relieved Jared seemed to see the situation her way, Courtney’s shoulders relaxed, but only slightly. “Good.”
“Courtney, do you think the blackmailer knows who I am? Is he aware Dylan is my son and that you’ve come to me?”
“They can’t know. I didn’t know your name until a week ago.” She bit her lip. She had to tell him everything, but if he turned her away... She let out a long, slow breath. “I only learned where you lived yesterday, but...” Her gut twisted and she pulled the cell phone from her purse. “They ordered me to keep this phone with me at all times. If they can track it, they know exactly where I am.”
Jared didn’t speak for a moment. Courtney held her breath, every muscle in her body taut with apprehension.
“There goes any advantage we might have had.” He shot to his feet and paced, “Okay. Let’s minimize your exposure as a precaution. Where did your plane land?”
“San Antonio.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose. Why hadn’t she thought this through more? “I should have driven, shouldn’t I? I used our real names to board.”
“It’s not easy to get passenger lists unless you’re with law enforcement or a hacker,” Jared said, his voice calm and reassuring. “Most rental company cars have GPS tracking, though.”
She slapped her hand over her mouth. “I didn’t even consider that possibility.”
“Why should you? One of my hands will return the vehicle to the airport, but we should still assume they know you’re here and will contact you.”
Jared settled across from her and leaned forward. “Let’s get down to the real question. Are you asking me to help catch whoever wrote the note or do you want to pay the ransom?”
Panic rose in her gut and she clutched tighter at Dylan. “I’d do anything to protect him.” Courtney avoided his piercing gaze. “The thing is, I could scrape together maybe fifteen percent of it, but I don’t have the kind of money they want.”
“They were very specific in their request. Are you telling me that not only does the ransom amount hold no meaning to you, you don’t have enough to pay?” Jared stilled. “I don’t know much about New York fashion, but that’s a very expensive designer dress you’re wearing and the Waldorf doesn’t come cheap. What kind of game are you playing?”
His narrowed look pinned her to her seat. She averted her gaze.
“It’s not a game.” She twisted the button on Dylan’s clothes, struggling to ignore the suspicious tone in his voice. “I thought my father could give me the money, but his situation has...changed. Last week the bank ran out of patience.”
“So that’s why you’re here.” Jared stiffened and pulled away from her. “You don’t need me. You need my money.”
His tone indicted her, and she couldn’t blame him. Most people would’ve been insulted and deep down the tone stung, but she understood. How many people had come into her life to get what they could? She’d learned a long time ago not to trust so easily. Or let anyone