Special Forces Father - By Mallory Kane Page 0,38

tempted to take a handful of tranquilizers and climb into bed. She was so tempted to sleep until all this was over and Max was home again. The realization that she could even consider putting her child’s safety into someone else’s hands while she withdrew from the world surprised and terrified her. She paced back and forth from the front door to the far wall of the living room and back again, wringing her hands as more tears coursed down her cheeks.

Her carefully constructed life was falling apart. She’d worked hard to make this house into a home for herself and Max. The two of them were a family. They’d been happy and contented and safe, until the kidnapper had snatched her little boy—her world—away from her. She paced, unaware of the time, her mind so scattered with fear and helplessness that she couldn’t compose a rational thought.

Then, on one of her turns away from the front door, she heard it swing open. She whirled without thinking, her reaction an instinctive one, responding to the sound and nothing more.

Travis stepped inside. He was in sweatpants and a T-shirt and running shoes, and he was soaking wet. He stood on the tile floor just inside the door and wiped his face with a small towel, then rubbed it across his dripping, tousled hair.

“Travis,” Kate whispered and flung herself into his arms.

“Hey—” Travis said, staggering backward. He caught himself and held his hands up and out. “I’m wet. Kate, what’s the matter?” he asked, grasping her upper arms and setting her away enough so that he could look into her eyes.

“I woke up and didn’t know where you were,” she said.

“I couldn’t sleep, so I went out for a run—well, actually it was a short walk, around the block. I was sure I’d be back before you woke up,” he finished with a shrug.

Kate stared into his eyes and saw herself as he saw her. Immediately, she shook off the sleepy haze. What was the matter with her? She remembered the classic definition of insanity. Performing the same actions over and over and expecting different results.

How many times was she going to fall apart when he left? Granted, he hadn’t been gone at all—this time. But she had enough anguish, enough heartache, just dealing with Max being abducted. There was no way she could survive getting sucked into missing Travis again.

“Sorry,” she said coolly, not wanting to tell him the whole truth. “I woke up dreaming about Max.” She shrugged. “I got upset.” She did her best to hold Travis’s gaze when his eyes narrowed. She knew that look. He knew she wasn’t telling him the whole truth.

After a moment, he nodded. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

She made a dismissive gesture. “I’m okay.”

He looked down at his wet clothes. “I’m dripping all over the floor. I’m going to take a shower, if that’s okay.”

Kate nodded.

Travis stood there for another second or two, then headed for Max’s bedroom, where he’d stowed his duffel bag.

“Travis?” she called.

“Yeah?” he said, stopping at the door.

“Where’s the phone?”

“Oh.” He fished in the pocket of his sweatpants. “Here. I took it with me, in a plastic bag so it wouldn’t get wet. I didn’t want you to have to answer it alone.”

She took the baggie with the phone inside it and stared at it as he headed into the hall bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Didn’t want you to have to answer it alone. Kate grimaced as his words replayed in her head. “Don’t be nice to me,” she muttered.

She was still holding the phone, encased in its plastic bag, when it rang. She jumped, almost dropping it, and her heart leaped into her throat. It had to be the kidnapper. She glanced down the hall, but the bathroom door was still closed and she could hear the shower running. The phone rang for the third time. One more ring and it might go to voice mail. She couldn’t take that chance. The kidnapper had warned her that she’d better be the one answering the phone the next time he called.

She flipped the phone open. The display said Private Number. She pressed the answer button. “Hello?” she said.

“This is Dawson Delancey. Is this Dr. Chalmet?”

Kate felt light-headed with relief. “Y-yes,” she said breathlessly.

“I’m Travis’s cousin. We’ve met a couple times in connection with cases.”

“Yes, Mr. Delancey.”

“Call me Dawson, please. May I speak to Travis?”

“He’s—in the shower,” she told him.

“Okay. I’d told him I’d call last night to find