Billionaire’s Missing Baby Page 10

  “Well, does that mean we’re not allowed to do anything to make it a little less harrowing?”

  “And you think greasy potato chips are going to help?” Theresa raised an eyebrow at him. To her surprise, he winked.

  “You wouldn’t like me when I’m hungry,” he joked in a low growl that frankly did embarrassing things to her insides. She flushed and moved away, hiding her smile.

  “Chocolate?” he offered, pointing to the gas station.

  She shook her head.

  Leaning closer so he could look into her eyes, he told her in a soothing tone, “Starving yourself isn’t going to help when you have to take over the driving, you know.”

  “Me?” Theresa choked, looking at him again as she shook her head. “There’s no way I’m getting behind the wheel of this thing!”

  “What’s everyone’s problem with my car? Honestly!” Adam grumbled.

  She found it impossible not to smile at him. “Twizzlers,” she confessed finally.

  “Good choice,” he grinned. “Back in five.”

  It was more like ten, but when Adam returned with a few bags and handed her one full of Twizzlers without comment, Theresa did her level best to pretend she hadn’t been nervously watching the clock the entire time.

  He smiled at her, and she glared back.

  “We’re on a rescue mission,” he insisted. “Heroes need snacks, right?”

  “Heroes need to be on the road,” she countered.

  “Hey, my brother’s the one who's a bit off kilter, so I’m not used to having someone else play the straight man and making me the crazy guy,” he commented dryly. “Do you think maybe you could be just a little bit less sensible?”

  “Your brother has my kid,” Theresa snapped. “Believe me, this is a hell of a white-knuckle kind of ride.”

  “Fair enough.”

  An awkward silence settled between them as he pulled onto the freeway that would take them on the fastest route to Nevada. Adam wouldn’t look at her, and his fingers tapped on the steering wheel along to nothing as he waited for the mood to shift.

  To help it along, Theresa started talking again. “My mother wasn’t a great parent,” she told him, coughing into her hand.

  Adam looked at her. “You don’t owe me an explanation.”

  “I wasn't explaining,” she shrugged. “I was going to say, she wasn’t great, but it seems like your dad really takes the cake.”

  He laughed, sharp and bitter. “The short version? He’s a frothing at the mouth redneck who thinks he has the bluest blood you’ve ever seen.” The twitching fingers returned to the steering wheel. “It didn’t used to be as bad as it is now, but he’s old, and out of his mind with pain.”

  “So what, now he’s not just a racist, he hates everybody equally?” Theresa scoffed as she popped a Twizzler into her mouth to keep from saying anything sharper.

  “Look, once we have the baby, then we can deal with that whole ugly story,” he said with a shrug. “It’s complicated but, yeah, my dad is old and cranky and he can be mean as hell. But James? I don’t want you thinking he’s some criminal mastermind or anything. He’s not. He’s smart, like me, but he just had nowhere to put it. Dad always wanted me to be the carbon copy version of himself, so he never even noticed that it was James he should have been molding.”

  Theresa stared at him incredulously. “Are you seriously trying to make me feel bad for the guy who kidnapped my kid? Because if that’s where we are, you and I are going to have a really long drive.”

  “God, no, I’m not saying that,” he told her, shaking his head. “But he’s my little brother and I do love him because of that. Really, we don’t have much in common and never have, but I just wanted you to know that.”

  Theresa flinched. She couldn’t think of anything to say to that, so instead she sighed and turned to look out her window for a time.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Okay, I’m just getting too sleepy,” Adam sighed about eighteen hours later. “If you aren’t going to drive, we need to find somewhere to sleep for the night.”

  “We could just go to a rest stop,” Theresa suggested uncomfortably.

  “No way. I want a decent meal and a nice bed to stretch out on,” Adam replied. “Call me a spoiled rich guy if you will, but there are just some things I refuse to sacrifice. Besides, Twizzlers aren’t a replacement for a healthy meal, and you’re still trying to recoup.”

  “It’s been almost a month already,” she pointed out, rolling her eyes. “I’m just fine.”

  Adam sighed. “Theresa, what is this really all about?”

  Guiltily, she realized she was over-reacting and she sighed as well. “It’s just… well, motels. They’re not my favorite place.”

  “Understood,” he said with a nod. “It’ll be okay, though. I promise. We just really need to get some sleep.”

  “Okay,” she conceded.

  The motel that Adam selected was nothing like the places her mother used take her and her brother, but it was still a motel. A nice place, with a bunch of potted plants out front and a nice designer couch out in the lobby, and a balcony out back that made the place feel more like a condo.

  Theresa willed her flashbacks down as Adam cast her an apologetic smile. “I didn’t want to pick anything too fancy,” he explained shyly. “I didn’t want you to get the idea I was aiming for anything more than sleep.”

  She blushed hotly and looked down at her hands. “I wouldn’t have thought—” she began.

  The perky blonde woman behind the front desk beamed at them and asked, “Room for two?”

  Adam looked awkwardly into Theresa’s eyes. “Two rooms, I think?” he said, watching her. “Unless…”

  Theresa willed herself not to correct him. She didn’t want to let on just how uncomfortable she was with her surroundings, and she sure as hell didn’t want to tell him that she was afraid to be alone.

  “It’s fine,” she lied. “Two rooms.”

  “Sure,” the receptionist said, and set about selecting a couple of keys. When it came time to sign her name, Theresa hesitated for a moment and looked to Adam again. His nod was almost imperceptible, and she signed her own name just as he did.

  They were led up to their rooms, which turned out to be side by side. Alone in her room, Theresa couldn’t bear the thought of taking a shower, but the knot between her shoulders was doing nothing to help her rest.

  Tomorrow, she thought. Tomorrow, she might get to see her daughter again. Her daughter, who really was her own, and who would be coming home with her, and damn the whole world for ever trying to keep them apart.

  She refused to get stuck in her old memories right now. Not when everything she had ever wanted was about to be hers. Well, almost everything, anyway. She might have been even more pleased if Adam had insisted on one room instead of the two. If lying in a bed with him didn’t kill the awkwardness between them, then her secret hopes of sharing more than just the baby together probably weren’t going to happen.

  She wondered where that thought had snuck out of, but before she had any chance to think about it, she heard a knock at the door.

  She jumped and spun around cautiously. “Yes?”

  “Hey, it’s Adam,” his muffled voice sounded through the door. “Can I, um… would it be okay if I came in?”

  Theresa stared at the door in confusion, wondering briefly if Adam had just been thinking the same thing she had. Heat swirled in her belly, and her chest felt tight as she fumbled to open the door.

  Adam grinned sheepishly. He was still in his jeans and button down, and he had a hand clamped at the back of his neck. “Hey,” he greeted nervously.

  “Hey,” Theresa returned, moving aside so he could come in. Her heart was pounding, but she didn’t want him to know.

  “I wanted to make sure you’re okay,” Adam said as he sat on the sofa and patted the cushion at his side.

  Flushing, Theresa took the hint and sat down. “I was just remembering Louis, my lit
tle brother,” she explained, wringing her hands in her lap. “He was six months old, maybe. Different fathers, you know? He was a rambunctious little guy, and whenever he was upset he sure knew how to cry.” She closed her eyes against the image of Louis crying and the door being forced open. He was in nothing but a soggy diaper, and Theresa herself was only about half the size of what any eight year old child should have been.

  “Yeah?” he prodded, giving her thigh a gentle squeeze.

  “Mama was always yelling, ‘Theresa, can’t you get that damned baby to stay quiet for five minutes!’ But… he just wouldn’t hush that night. The manager called the police, and then—”

  She shuddered and opened her eyes, resting her hand on top of his and giving it a squeeze. “You don’t need to hear this,” she said briskly, mentally reminding herself that she and Adam were not friends. They might be allies on a very strange quest that pitted them against his family, but not once had they agreed it was anything more.

  Adam didn’t move away. He simply squeezed her thigh a second time, letting her know he was there for her. “I’m so sorry you had to go through all that,” he said softly. “And I’m sorry you’re having to go through it again. Losing a kid…”

  His astuteness about the whole situation touched her. His quick mind was able to recognize exactly what she was saying; that she had been mothering Louis, and that the thing that was bothering her most about this motel was that she’d been in one when she lost him. Hot tears welled up in her eyes, and she turned away from him to blink them furiously away.

  Adam’s hand came and around her shoulders, and she allowed herself to turn her face into the hollow of his chest. The tears fell, wetting his shirt, but he didn’t seem to care as he held her there.

  “So, now you know my story, too,” she finally sighed.

  “I suppose you don’t know all of mine,” he began slowly. “See, my mom ran away with a man. He was a black man. I was old enough to understand that she’d ran out on us because our dad was so difficult, but James… he was still pretty young. It was left up to me to do most of his raising.” He stopped to laugh ruefully, and she caught the edge of pain in his voice. “Fat lot of good I did.”

  “How old were you?” she gently prodded.

  “Not much older than you were,” Adam shrugged. “Mom left, and Dad took it out on the first person he could find: James. I guess it’s better to be the Devil’s right hand sometimes. Listen to me… Devil,” Adam paused to chuckle. “My dad’s not evil, he’s just confused; misguided. He wasn’t the greatest role model, but I wouldn’t call him evil.”

  Theresa stirred, moving more firmly into place against him. He smiled.

  “I guess it was easier for me to get away with things,” he continued. “Maybe James was right about that. Maybe it was because I look like him, and he looks like her. But James has always had an eye on whatever is mine. He’s always wanted to be the kind of son Dad wanted. Entitled. Imperious, even. After all the scandals he’s had, maybe he thought if I had one it would take some of the heat off of him. But since I never did, he manufactured one on his own with this baby.”

  Theresa sat up and shook her head vehemently. “But a baby is a living thing. How could he do a thing like that?”

  Not willing to completely lose her warmth, Adam leaned forward and caught at her hand. “We can take some comfort in the fact he’s taking care of her, though. At least he hasn’t abandoned her, or done something incredibly vile.”

  “But a baby? A little child!”

  “I’m sorry this is happening to you, Theresa,” he said, letting go of her as she got to her feet and began to pace. “But please, can you promise me that you’ll take care of yourself? You need to be there for her. You’re her mother.”

  “And you’re her father,” Theresa reminded him. They froze in unison, and Theresa realized she’d never actually said those words to him before now. Sure, she kept saying ‘our daughter’ all the time, but this was the first time she’d singled him out in that way. She burst into giddy giggles and Adam looked at her askance before laughing right along with her.

  “Weirdest family reunion in history,” he noted with a grin.

  “Definitely one for the baby book,” Theresa agreed. She’d been joking, but Adam pulled out his phone. She laughed through her tears as he snapped a photo.

  “Oh, hey, what about the god-awful carpet in this place, too?” he teased. “I mean, as long as we’re recording things.”

  “Oh my God, you’re terrible!” she told him, bursting into a fresh bout of nervous giggles as he took various photos and recordings of the tacky hotel room.

  “Shhh! This is for the baby,” he insisted as he took a shot of the cracked mirror.

  “Mom and Dad rescue mission,” she agreed. Then, on a whim, she reached behind his head to throw up bunny ears.

  Adam laughed. “Baby, your mother is secretly still about twelve years old. You’ll get used to it.” She stuck her tongue out and Adam frowned. “Seriously, this kid needs a name. We can’t keep calling her ‘baby.’ What’s your middle name?”

  “What?” Theresa gasped.

  “Were you named after anyone? Your mother? A family member?”

  “No,” she shrugged. “My middle name is Anne. It’s one of those typical middle names, you know? Anne.” She made a face.

  Adam smiled, though. “Perfect, then. Let’s just call her Anne.”

  “Don’t name her after me!” Theresa protested. “I don’t want to be that kind of person!”

  “What kind of person?”

  “Your kind of person.” She made a face at him. “I don’t have any kind of legacy I want passed on, believe me.”

  “Half the people I know who pass on their legacy don’t deserve to,” he pointed out. “And none of those people will admit it, which makes you better than all of them.”

  “What? That’s ridiculous,” she laughed.

  “Hey, I don’t make the rules.” He held up his hands in surrender. “If the baby was a boy we could be arguing over whether to name her after me. But you? Nope.”

  “What rules?” she smirked.

  “The rules. You know. Rules of the chosen one; the chosen one never thinks they are deserving, and that’s how you know they are.”

  “Me. I’m the chosen one?”

  “Yep. Hard childhood, orphan, whole tragic backstory… that means it’s you.” Adam was grinning, perfect dimples and perfect teeth all on display. Theresa felt the tightness in her chest ease slightly before grinning back at him.

  “If my kid grows up some fantasy nerd, I’m blaming it on you and your nerd genes,” she promised. He laughed.

  Chapter Eighteen

  George sidled up to the bar. It was the redhead again today. He grinned. She was new here at the club. Last time, she'd thought to get a little too mouthy with him. This time, her eyes merely widened in acknowledgement and she dashed behind the bar without another word before bringing out their best brandy.

  “Thanks, sweetheart,” he said. “Good to know my reputation is still worth something here.”

  “Oh, I…” The girl’s pale, freckled face flushed, which made him smile even wider. “I just… You know. I'm new, and well, sorry about last time.”

  “No problem, honey. You just make sure we’re all good with the boss from now on and everybody stays happy, right?”

  She smiled and ducked down, exactly the way he liked it. He flicked his wrist, making a show of checking his watch, though he didn’t need to, really. Juan was already five minutes late. This had better be good.

  It was. Juan showed up without a word. The mousy little redhead barely acknowledged him, but when George signaled her, she brought the strongest tequila they had and then looked to Juan for approval. He nodded, and she scurried off again. Stupid girl. Juan’s mouth turned up a little, and he shook his head.

  “Jesus, what did you do to her?” he asked.

  George grinned. “I don’t like it when they make me pour my o
wn drinks,” he replied. “Swanky place like this, they ought to be serving us on silver. Why you running late?”

  “It’s about the Costanza kid.”

  “Is it about the Costanza kid’s money?” George clarified. Juan grinned. George leaned forward. “Where’s he got it stashed?”

  “An actual kid,” Juan clarified, taking a swig of his drink.

  George leaned back, startled. “Costanza’s got no kid. He’s got his head so far up his own ass I’m surprised he can get it up, let alone reproduce.”

  “Not his kid,” Juan beamed, slapping a tabloid newspaper down. There was a pretty, dark-skinned woman on the cover, looking kind of harassed, with a splashy headline that screamed about an illegitimate love child. “Apparently his brother had a secret baby, and now the little bastard’s up and kidnapped it or something, I don’t know. Some private dick came looking, said it had something to do with an inheritance. That’s your money, right there in that kid.”

  George whistled, staring at the tabloid. The older Costanza, as far as he knew, was squeaky clean. But if he were, as the younger had so often suggested, Daddy’s favorite, twice as rich as little brother and carrying secrets of his own, there could be a lot of money in it for them.

  “Where’s the kid now?” George asked, distractedly.

  “Oh, who knows. The detective chasing it down is tight as a drum. But as far as I know? Costanza’s hiding out. Wherever he’s laying low, that’s where the kid is, too.”

  “Detectives don’t know how to find their own mothers,” George scoffed. “How fast can we find the little punk?”

  “Costanza’s in the wind.” Juan waved a hand, making George frown. Then he grinned. “But the baby, though? That’s a whole different thing.”

  George smiled wide, leaned forward, and placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Talk to me, buddy,” he said, going for jovial, while grinning like a shark.

  ***

  “I’m taking a real chance on you, Maggie,” Geraldo said as he handed her the key to the small apartment. “I don’t like renting to folks who can’t prove they’re going to be able to pay, you know? Bad for business. Tough enough running a legitimate apartment building in Reno without taking chances. You better make me glad I changed my mind.”