Close to You

  When he'd started school in Hobart, some of the boys picked on him. Hope had interfered, and what would have been a nice, quiet, new-kid trouncing had grown into a raucous fight involving a furious Hope, who belabored their prejudice and unchristian behavior. Despite a visit to the principal's office to get Hope and Gabriel out of trouble, the Prescotts pronounced themselves pleased with their children—and they meant Gabriel, too.

  Mother Prescott hugged him every night before he went to bed and every morning before he went to school. Father Prescott dragged him out into the shop to learn woodworking because, he said, in a household of women men needed to have their own space. And at the age of five weeks, Caitlin smiled her first baby smile at him.

  That was why, on his second Christmas with the Prescotts, he thanked his new parents by calling them Daddy and Mama.

  For one moment, the Christmas celebration had grown quiet. Daddy smiled at him and nodded. Mama's eyes filled with tears, and she wrapped him in a hug. It was, for Gabriel, a seminal moment, one of two that defined him for the rest of his life.

  The other was the murder of his parents and the destruction of his family.

  He had almost all his siblings back now. Hope and Zack and their kids. Pepper and Dan and their kids.

  But he didn't know where Caitlin was. The loss of their baby gnawed at the fabric of the family's contentment.

  Right now Hope, Pepper, and Zack were flying in from Boston to join Dan and Gabriel, Jason Urbano and Griswald in Austin. The whole family and their friends were determined to see the completion of their sting operation. Everyone wanted to be present when they caught George Oberlin in their trap. They all wanted to make him confess to their parents' murders; they would force themselves to be satisfied with the information about Caitlin.

  Then, with God's help, they would find her.

  This was the culmination of twenty-three years of misery, heartache, and planning. The family was balanced on a knife's edge. They would allow nothing to get in their way. No one to destroy this chance.

  Which was why, when Gabriel heard his computer alarm go off, he read the blinking message and picked up the phone. "Hey, Dan, do we know anything about Ramos Security? Because someone there has been snooping around Senator George Oberlin."

  TWENTY

  First thing in the morning, Brad called Kate into his office. "How do my eyes look?" he asked.

  She looked at them, red-rimmed and bleary "Fine?" she ventured.

  "They look like two piss holes in the snow." He leaned menacingly over his desk. "Don't they?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "That's because that's how they feel. Do you know"—he glared at her—"what a big pain in the ass you are?"

  "I have my suspicions." Was he still mad about the school-funding vote?

  "No. There's no way you can know how much trouble you've put me through." Opening his desk drawer, he pulled out a half-filled bottle of bourbon. "First for the good senator, then for your damned boyfriend."

  One thing at a time. "The good senator?"

  "He wanted you to have this job. You might say he insisted."

  "He insisted." She could scarcely wrap her mind around Brad's words. "Senator George Oberlin insisted I have this job? This job?"

  "Hell, yes! Got a phone call one night, and just like always, I did as I was told. Oberlin has that effect on people." The biting odor of bourbon wafted across the desk as Brad filled a plastic cup.

  "Why? Why did he want you to give me a job?"

  "I don't know." Brad was weaving on his feet. "I'm not on the list of people permitted to ask him personal questions. I'm too far below him on the social scale. I'm on meds for—" Brad caught himself. "Oberlin doesn't confide in me."

  She grew cold. "Have you had to hire other reporters for him?"

  "No, this was a first." Emphatically Brad shook his head.

  Brad was drunk. And maybe more than drunk. Coke? Tranquilizers? She didn't know what Brad's problem was, why he was on meds. She didn't care. He was talking; she was listening. "You didn't report on Oberlin's wife trying to stab me. Is this why? Because you have to do as you're told?"

  "Aren't you clever?" Brad sneered. "A regular Einstein of the reporters' pool. But for someone who sashays around here thinking she knows everything, she sure has a lot of guys managing her from behind the scenes.

  "Who else?" Heat shot through her.

  "Another one of your boyfriends. I shouldn't follow instructions, but what can I do? I'm not going to get beat up for the sake of little Miss Montgomery."

  "Are you talking about Teague Ramos? Teague gave you instructions?" Kate's eyes narrowed into slits. If Brad had been anything but blasted, he would have been afraid—of her.

  But right now, he hadn't the sense God gave a garter snake. "Teague wants you assigned to something that will keep you busy and out of trouble." Brad took a good, long drink. "So I'm sending you to interview elementary school teachers about the school-funding bill and how it will impact their jobs."

  "That's a good piece." She knew she sounded genial. Too bad she couldn't stop clenching her hands into fists.

  "What trouble can you get in at a grade school?"

  "You are so right. What trouble can I get into doing my job?" Teague had said he was going to trust her. He had said he wasn't going to check up on her. He had lied—although she supposed he hadn't realized Brad was mouthy when inebriated.

  She was so mad, she was almost hyperventilating. "I should speak to at least three teachers."

  "At least." Brad couldn't have made his indifference more clear.

  "Probably one in Austin, one in New Braunfels, and one . . . somewhere rural." She hesitated. "Shall we say Hobart, Texas?"

  "Sure. If there's a Hobart, Texas, then you go interview a teacher there. Don't come back until you're ready. I am, believe it or not, a busy man, and I've got more important things to do than babysit every reporter who works for me." Brad fluttered his fingers at her." 'Bye."

  She stood, betrayed and stripped of her pride. "Hobart it is. Thanks, Brad. You've been a big help."

  "How's Oberlin today?" Teague asked as he entered the main security office.

  "Not as twitchy as yesterday," Gemma replied, her gaze fixed to the monitors. "Although he's starting to ask around for Kate. Look." She pointed. "He just spoke to Linda Nguyen, who about took his head off."

  "That girl better be careful." Big Bob leaned back in his chair with his eyes closed. "It seems our boy is pretty good at removing heads himself."

  "Or at least bashing them in." Rolf sat before the computer. He assessed Teague with a glance. "You look like hell, Teague."

  "I'm okay." Teague passed off his various injuries as minor, but he knew if they hadn't rescued him, the thugs would have overwhelmed him and he'd have had internal bleeding and major broken bones . . . if he had been lucky enough to survive. Obviously Oberlin hadn't ordered his death, or he'd be in the morgue with a bullet hole in his chest. But he'd wanted to give Teague a warning, or make him suffer for poaching, or both. Or maybe mess him up enough so that Kate wouldn't love him anymore . . . that hadn't worked too well.

  "Yeah, he's okay," Big Bob said. "No one cares about him, anyway. How's Kate?" "She's fine, thank you."

  "She fights good for a girl." Big Bob pulled on one of Gemma's curls.

  Teague chuckled softly. His sweet girl Kate had rushed right into a fight, swinging her shoe and her briefcase and blasting two professional hit men. Sure, they'd obviously had instructions not to hurt her, but she'd still done damage.

  "The guys who beat you up . . . they're in jail, charged with assault and battery. The police say the men don't know who hired them. All it took was a voice on the phone and a valid Visa card." Gemma looked grim. "Which, by the way, is billed to an address in Mexico."

  "Figures," Teague said. Last night Kate had been more than willing to press him to the mattress and kiss him tenderly, caress each of his bruises, hold him down and have sex with the care of a woman in
love.

  In fact, she'd said . . . it was in the middle of that fight, in the middle of a sentence, and she seemed unaware . . . but she had said she loved him.

  Well, not exactly. She had said, I let love sweep me off my feet and out of any good sense I ever learned.

  He hadn't responded, but that didn't mean he hadn't noticed. That was why he had reclined on the bed and fought every primitive conquering instinct to let her make sweet love to him. It had been a strain, but my God, the rewards had been worth it.

  "Boss?" Rolf gestured him over. "I've got something for you."

  Breaking free of his reverie, Teague hustled over. "On Oberlin?"

  "He is one interesting piece of shit." Rolf fixed his Nordic blue eyes on Teague. "May I point out, it took some major hacking to get this."

  "May I point out, that's why I pay you the big bucks." Pulling up a chair, Teague eased himself down. Cracked ribs were a bitch.

  "May I point out you may have to bust me out of jail because I had to hack into federal computers."

  "Don't worry, man." Teague clapped his hand on Rolf's shoulder. "I'll be there every visiting day."

  "That's all right then." Rolf pointed to his computer screen. "A woman in Houston—Gloria Cunningham— spoke to the police and the FBI about the good senator, practiclly accusing him of embezzlement and murder. She's from Hobart, Texas, same place Oberlin is from. The FBI got riled up. Apparently the Feds have been unhappy about a courthouse fire that happened quite a few years ago. Took out a bunch of official documents. That led them to listen to Mrs. Cunningham very seriously. Now they're investigating other matters in Hobart. Crimes that have been too easily solved by the local cops—and unexplained deaths. They sent a couple of agents out to visit Oberlin, and the agents' report was not good." Rolf turned away from the screen. "They seem to think Oberlin fits the profile of a possible serial killer."

  "Yeah." Teague pushed back. A serial killer. Last night for the first time he'd said the words to Kate. Today the FBI concurred.

  "He doesn't kill for fun, you understand, just the people who get in his way," Rolf said. "With a face like you're wearing, I'd say you're in his way."

  "I know," Teague said. "I don't want to get out of his way, though. If I did, there'd be nothing between him and Kate." And she thought she . . . she said she loved Teague. Not that he wouldn't protect anyone with equal fervor, but something special had happened when she'd said that.

  Love.

  First Big Bob and the other guys had said she had him hog-tied. Then her words: I let love sweep me off my feet and out of any good sense I ever learned.

  If Teague were smart, he'd put that comment out of his mind and never think of it again. If he was the ruthless jerk he used to be, he'd exploit her affection until she'd given him everything he wanted, then he'd ease her out of his life.

  But he had these stirrings . . . emotional stirrings . . . he couldn't identify them, but from what people had said and what he'd seen in the movies, he was afraid the emotional stirrings might be—

  "Where is she?" Gemma asked.

  "Someplace safe." He hoped. He hoped Brad managed to follow directions and keep her busy today.

  Really, Teague had done Kate a favor by getting her out of the capitol building. The cold front had blown through. It was a beautiful autumn day. There had to be news stories all over Austin that she could cover. Plus, she'd be safe. Teague really needed for her to be safe.

  She loved him. Fool that she was, she loved him. And he—

  "What are you going to do with this?" Rolf indicated the FBI report.

  "Go to them with the information I have," Teague said. "Get protection for Kate."

  "And yourself," Big Bob added.

  "And me. I hesitated to turn this over to the Austin police. Oberlin's got too much power. But if the FBI's already investigating him, they'll take my input seriously." Teague's cell phone rang. "We'll get this situation cleared up before Kate does something stupid."

  "Yeah, like sleep with you," Gemma said.

  Pulling the phone out of his pocket, he glanced at the number.

  Mrs. Montgomery. Kate's mother.

  Apprehension flew through his mind. Was she going to tell him that he was right, that he wasn't worthy to touch her daughter? Was she going to demand to know the truth, the whole truth, about his background?

  Did she have information that would help him discover the truth about Oberlin's obsession with Kate?

  He flipped the phone open.

  Mrs. Montgomery's rich, sweet, Texas-flavored voice greeted him. "Teague, how good to talk to you again."

  He knew she hadn't called him to exchange pleasantries. "Are you all right?" Oberlin hadn't sent someone to hurt her, had he? "Are you alone?"

  "Yes. Yes, I'm fine. No one's here." Her voice changed, became strained. "Can you come over? Now?"

  "I'm on my way." Briefly, he told his crew, then headed out the door.

  He met Juanita coming in. Her mechanical wheelchair whirred, but her greeting died on her lips when he cupped her chin and looked down into her brown eyes.

  He had told Kate he believed in Fate. Here was the evidence of its existence. Juanita was here, right now, the living reminder of what could happen when he listened to his own reckless soul.

  "What's wrong, querido?" she whispered.

  "Nothing." He rubbed his thumb across her cheek. "Yet."

  As he drove, unease plagued him.

  Kate hadn't called and checked in.

  It wasn't time yet. She wouldn't call before noon, but the more he thought about it, the more he worried about fixing her schedule with Brad. If Kate found out, she could possibly . . . would definitely be pissed.

  She might be mad enough to do something foolish.

  Goddamn it, Teague, you little bastard, you can't take that kid to a gang fight. Don't be so goddamned stupid. You're a goddamned stupid half-breed gringo and if you get knifed, no one will care. I sure as hell won't. But that kid is only fourteen. If something happens to her, her father will kill you. Look what he did to me. He's a lousy brother and a lousy father, but he doesn't let anyone hurt me and if someone hurts that kid, it's going to be him. You'd better not take her! You'd better not!

  Damn it, Madre, if she wants to tag along, she can. She'll be okay. I won't let anything happen to her.

  Once more, Teague might have done something with the best of intentions . . . and ruined another life.

  The Mrs. Montgomery who let him in was not the same Mrs. Montgomery he had met previously. She wore brown slacks with a blue silk shirt that tied in a bow at the neck. Her upsweep of brunette hair looked regal. She didn't flinch at the sight of his face. She gestured toward the living room as he entered. "Come on in. Can I get you something to drink?" She said the right things, but her face looked drawn.

  She wasn't simply Kate's mother anymore, she was a frightened woman, and he responded as he always responded to a woman in need. Taking her hand, he led her to the couch. "Let's sit down and you can tell me what you're worried about."

  She sat with him, her stricken eyes fixed on him. On his bruises and his stitches. "Are you . . . may I ask what happened to you?"

  "I ran into a few guys who didn't like my face." It hurt to smile, but he gave it a try. "Your daughter took one of them out with the heel of her shoe."

  "Oh, dear." Mrs. Montgomery didn't smile back. "Is this because . . . do you think this is related to the matter you discussed with me before?"

  "I would almost guarantee it is. Do you know something that will help us figure out what's happening?"

  "I know you thought I knew something about the adoption that I didn't tell you, but it's not true. Or wasn't. Her gaze shifted away from his. "All those years ago, almost as soon as we signed the papers, Skeeter said something funny was going on. I. . . I guess I knew he was right, but Kate was my baby. Caitlin. We changed her name, but that was what her family named her. Caitlin. I don't think that was a bad change, do you?"


  "Not at all. She probably would have picked Kate as a nickname, anyway," he said in a soothing tone.

  "That's what I thought." A little of the color came back into Mrs. Montgomery's face. "From the first moment I saw her picture, I wanted her. When I held her . . . I loved her so much, and she needed me. She was so unhappy. Do you know the first thing she said to me was 'Mama'?"

  "I'll bet all babies love you."

  "Not like Kate. She was special—and I was afraid. Afraid to come back and find out Skeeter was right. That something funny was going on. That's why we stayed away from the States for two years. Finally, my grandmother turned one hundred, and we had to come back for the big celebration. And Skeeter . . . I knew Skeeter was going to insist we go back to the adoption agency, and he did." She squirmed under Teague's gaze. "It was gone. I'm not lying. Gone! No trace of it existed. Skeeter checked the records—the adoption agency had never been there."

  Teague's watchfulness became bone-cracking tension. "What did you do?"

  "We checked . . . we checked to see that Kate's adoption had been filed correctly with the state."

  "And it had been."

  "Yes. I begged Skeeter, begged him not to look further. He loved Kate, too, you know, and he had a job overseas. We left. We never looked for him again."

  "Him?" Teague hated this whole story. He just knew it was going to have a bad ending.

  "The man—the minister—who gave her to us. Pastor Wright. Blond man, very tall and handsome." Mrs. Montgomery lifted her tear-filled brown eyes to Teague. "I was watching television this afternoon, and I saw Senator Oberlin interviewed about, um, school funding. He looks like . . . he looks like Pastor Wright, the man who ran the church adoption." She swallowed. "He is the man who ran the church adoption."

  Teague forgot his company manners. "Shit."

  "Yes." She started to cry. "Senator George Oberlin gave us Kate."

  Teague took out his cell phone and checked the time. Why hadn't Kate called? It wasn't noon, but . . . Brad had screwed this up, hadn't he?