Special Forces Father - By Mallory Kane Page 0,18

moment. It was strange. She’d never liked being held when she was upset. It made her feel claustrophobic. But right now she thought that she could stay here forever, sheltered by Travis’s strong arms. But of course she couldn’t. Her child was missing, and being held in Travis’s arms would not bring her one step closer to getting him back. She pulled away.

He shook his head as she stepped away from him.

“What?”

“You would never let me hold you when you were upset,” he said, echoing her thoughts.

She almost smiled. “Maybe because I was always upset with you.”

“Not always. Not now. You just don’t like feeling out of control, and letting someone give you comfort or support was always an alien concept to you.” He turned and walked over to the couch and sat down, then stood again and dug into the couch cushions. He came up with a red toy car made out of wood.

“So this is what was digging into my back all night,” he said, looking down at it. He spun the wheels with a finger and watched until they slowed to a stop. There was an expression on his face that Kate had never seen before. The chiseled planes of his jaw and cheeks and chin were soft, as were his dark eyes. “I’m surprised I didn’t dream I was back—” He stopped.

Kate stepped over and took the toy from him as casually as she could. She didn’t want to act too interested in what he’d almost said. “Back where?” she asked.

He didn’t answer.

She turned the car over and over in her hands. “This is Max’s favorite toy. He likes to drive it up my arm and across my shoulders and down the other arm and down my leg and onto the floor—” Her throat closed.

“I had a car almost exactly like that when I was little,” Travis said.

She didn’t quite catch what he’d said. “What?”

“Come here and sit down,” he said, sitting on the couch and patting the space beside him.

“I can’t.” She held the toy car to her chest and paced. “He’s out there alone. He doesn’t have any pull-up pants or juice or allergy medicine. What if they’re not taking care of him? What if they haven’t given him any food or taken him to the bathroom? Oh, dear God, I can’t—”

“Come on, Kate. You’ve got to calm down. You’re already exhausted and it’s only been one day. Didn’t you say the trial is what—ten days away? You have got to take care of yourself. It’s not doing you or Max any good for you to worry yourself sick. Sit down here and tell me how it happened. Where was he? Where were you?”

She ignored his hand patting the couch cushion. “He was at day care. It was around four o’clock and I was getting ready to leave to pick him up. Right after I got the call telling me they’d taken him, the day care called. Their fire alarm had gone off and they’d smelled smoke. So they took all the children outside. But when they started back to the classrooms, nobody could find Max.” She spread her hands. “How could they let those people take him?” She turned and flung the wooden car against the wall.

“Hey, hey.” Travis stood and pulled her to the couch. He urged her to sit, then sat beside her. “So the people who took him set off a fire alarm and grabbed him while the day-care workers were trying to keep up with a bunch of kids outside? What did the lady say when she called you?”

“She asked me if I’d picked Max up early.”

“And what was your answer?”

Kate shrugged. “What could I say? I tried to act normal. I said I had picked him up. Travis, they told me they’d kill him.” Why did Travis keep asking her what she’d done? She’d done just exactly what they’d told her to do. She didn’t dare do anything else. “The girl didn’t even ask any questions. She was so relieved that he was all right.” She laughed harshly.

“She believed you?”

“She’d have believed me if I’d told her he was picked up by aliens who were taking him to Disney World. That’s how desperate she was.”

Travis patted her hand. For some reason the inane gesture was comforting. She relaxed a little.

“Tell me about Max. How old is he? Don’t you have some pictures?”

Kate stiffened, any semblance of relaxation swept away by his words. “He’s four. And, sure, I suppose