Her Stolen Son (15 page)

Ellie's parents joined her with Ellie. “We don't know how to thank you,” Ellie's mother said in a shaky voice. Ellie's father hugged his daughter tighter. “You gave us our daughter back. How can we repay you?”

Serena forced a smile. “Just pray that we find my son.”

All three parents gave her a collective hug and for a moment Serena nearly broke down.

“It's time for us to go,” Colt said after a few minutes.

She wiped her eyes and said goodbye, then lapsed into silence as Colt drove away from the hospital. The traffic and lights of Miami became a blur, the memory of finding those children trapped in that hot building haunting her.

Rice had left the girls. So why hadn't he left Petey there, as well?

She didn't like the answers that came to her.

Colt pulled into a motel off 95 and Serena frowned. “What are you doing?”

“Getting us a room. You haven't slept in days and neither have I. The FBI and police are on the case, the port authorities and airports are on alert, and we both need some rest. We'll start again in a few hours.”

“I can't sleep,” Serena said.

Colt took her hand. “Then you'll lie down or grab a
shower and rest. Maybe by then we'll get another lead. Right now we don't even know where to search.”

Serena knew he was right, but she couldn't stand to sit idly. Her body was too tense, too…exhausted.

Colt parked in front of the motel and she waited inside the car while he secured a room. A minute later, he returned with a key, and drove to the end of the parking lot. Exhausted, she climbed out and went to retrieve her luggage, but he grabbed both their bags and gestured for her to go to the door. For a fraction of a second, she considered arguing over the fact that he'd only rented one room, but she didn't have the energy.

Besides, she didn't want to be alone. Not with her fears and her emotions.

He dumped their bags on the floor, and she opened hers and dragged out a nightshirt then went straight to the shower.

But as she stripped and climbed beneath the water, her emotions overcame her and she finally released more tears of frustration and terror. She wanted to scream and shout and pound the walls. She wanted to find Rice and kill him.

She wanted to hold her son so badly that she felt as if she was going to crack in two. She would never be whole without him.

And she would never stop looking. Not even if she had to travel from country to country combing the streets to find him.

The water turned cold so she towel dried her hair and body and slipped on the satin shirt. When she opened
the door, steam billowed out, and she saw Colt lying on the bed with his arms crossed behind his head.

The TV was on, a special news broadcast airing the story about the rescue of the two girls as their parents rushed them to a waiting FBI car to be driven to a local hotel for the night.

Serena's eyes welled with tears again, then she glanced at Colt and something raw inside her snapped.

He was still fully dressed, but the heat and emotions in his eyes sent a deep longing through her. She wanted to be held tonight. To be stroked and soothed and comforted, and loved.

Even if it was only for a few minutes.

Anything to forget the images of those terrified children locked in that hangar.

Anything to stifle the pain of her son's cries when he'd phoned.

Colt's dark gaze caught hers, then flickered with understanding.

She couldn't put her needs above her son, but right now, she had to do whatever she could to survive the pain so she could regain her strength and find him.

Colt held out a hand and she went to him.

Colt told himself to back off. To tell Serena that they shouldn't make love, but the yearning in her eyes made his protests die in his throat. She had been through an emotional wringer and needed to feel alive.

How many times had he felt that way himself?

Too many to count.

She curled her fingers into his hair, then lowered her mouth to his, and pure hunger heated his blood. She wanted to forget tonight. To drown out the pain and fear eating her alive.

He wanted to give her that reprieve. But not as much as he wanted her for himself.

He had wanted her from the first moment he'd looked into those dazzling troubled eyes. She had secrets, a past she didn't want to share.

But so did he.

She closed her lips over his, and he hungrily consumed her mouth, eagerly pulling her against him. He hadn't been with a woman in ages, hadn't even wanted to. The ones he'd come into contact with on the job
weren't worth the trouble. Besides, most of them had lost their morals to the streets.

Not Serena. She had survived the streets and come out a better person for it.

She was everything a man desired. Beautiful. Smart. Tough.

A woman who treasured her family and fought for it.

She rubbed her body against him, and his sex hardened, straining against the fly of his jeans and begging to be inside her.

He stroked her back, trailed his hand down to cup her bottom and pure raw desire surged through him.

But one last seed of rational thought assaulted him, and he flipped her to her back, then paused above her. “Serena,” he said roughly. “I don't want to take advantage of you.”

“You sound like a broken record,” she said with a predatory gleam in her eyes. “Do you want me or not?”

He shoved her legs apart with his knee and settled himself between her thighs. “Of course I want you, but—”

“Shut up,” she murmured as she traced her tongue over his lips. “Now make love to me.”

He liked a woman who knew what she wanted, asked for what she wanted, a woman who was confident enough to give and take, and Serena was all that and more.

She tore at the buttons on his shirt, and he stripped her nightshirt, his heart hammering as he feasted on her
bare breasts, two beautiful golden globes with nipples that stiffened at his perusal, teasing him and inviting him to suckle them into his mouth.

He deepened the kiss, ravaging her sweet taste. Adrenaline, heat and passion ignited between them in a fiery pitch. She stroked his bare chest, moaning as he licked his way down her throat to her breasts, and bit at one turgid nipple.

Arching below him, she offered herself to him with such a throaty moan that he didn't think he'd last much longer.

Smiling as she realized his excitement, she rubbed her crotch against him and licked his ear, and he feasted on her naked body with his eyes. Beauty didn't begin to describe her.

She had scars, too. A jagged one on her thigh that looked like a knife wound, another just below her left breast. For a moment, he saw the vulnerability in her eyes, but he simply lowered his head and kissed the scars, knowing they'd made her the person she was just as his own had shaped him.

Eagerly, she tugged at his jeans, and he stood and shucked them off, grabbing a condom from his pocket before he sank back onto the mattress and allowed her to push his boxers off. Together they rolled on the condom, his bulging erection throbbing painfully in her hands.

Their gazes locked. Raw heat swirled in her expression. Her breathing was erratic. His was choppy, filled with tension as he fought to maintain control and make their lovemaking last.

Naked they lay together, stroking, rubbing, kissing, petting, teasing, entwined, his hard body against her soft, his need pulsing between her thighs, until he could stand it no longer. He rose above her, braced himself on his hands and stroked the silky skin of her inner thighs with his shaft.

She closed her eyes and released a moan that moved him deep within his heart. She wanted him. He wanted to be inside her. To pleasure her and make her his.

Hell, he was falling in love with her.

The idea sent a streak of terror through him, but she gripped his hips and pulled him toward her, and he thrust inside her. The first feel of her heat enclosing him, sucking at his length, milking him with her femininity, made his body quake.

She wrapped her legs around him as he inched from her sweetness, then slid back inside, pounding deeper. A low groan erupted from deep within her and she clung to him, her whisper of need begging for fulfillment.

He pumped harder and faster, thrusting deeper each time, stroking her inner chamber with his fullness, building a rhythm that quickly spiraled out of control, leaving them both panting and sweating and shouting as her orgasm rocked through her. At her outburst, he finally allowed himself to taste the sweet bliss of his own release.

And when he came inside her, and she nuzzled her head into his chest, clinging to him, his chest clenched with love and fear.

He knew she'd been seeking comfort tonight. That
when she had her son back, she'd move on and he would have to as, well.

But he didn't know how the hell he was going to let her go.

 

S
ERENA'S BODY QUIVERED
in the aftermath of their lovemaking and she huddled in Colt's arms, savoring his masculine scent and the strength of his big hard body. For just a moment, she allowed herself to forget the nightmare that had become her life.

But Petey's little voice interrupted, his cries for her echoing in her head. She'd had a lousy childhood and had wanted to protect him from anything bad. But she'd failed.

Colt traced a finger over a scar on her shoulder, and she tensed, remembering the foster father who had given her that wound. The physical ones had healed but the mental ones remained, rising to haunt her in the darkness.

She thought Parker had understood, yet they had never really talked about it because she'd kept that part of her hidden, afraid he'd see her differently if he knew the truth. That he'd see her as unlovable and would realize why her parents hadn't wanted her.

“Thank you, Colt,” she whispered.

He cupped her face between his hands. “You don't have to thank me. I wanted you, Serena. Maybe it's wrong but I still do.”

Serena shook her head in denial. “You wouldn't say that if you knew the real me.”

Colt started to say something, but his cell phone
buzzed, and he reached for it and connected the call. “Colt Mason.” A pause. “Yes.” Another pause, then Colt sat up and grabbed his clothes off the floor. “Hang on, I'll be right there.”

Ending the call, he vaulted off the bed to dress.

“What is it, Colt?” Serena asked.

“That was Dasha. She was scared. She's in Miami and has information about the kidnapping ring. She wants us to meet her at the docks.”

Serena's heart careened into double time. “Oh, God. She might know where Petey is.” She jumped off the bed and scrambled to find her jeans and shirt.

Within seconds, they were both dressed and rushing out the door. Colt tucked his gun inside his pants, unlocked the rental car, and they raced toward the docks. The late night crowd was still out partying on the main drag, but as they left the center of town, traffic thinned and the waterway stretched before them.

Houseboats, sailboats and speedboats popped into view and at the far end, a series of storage buildings butted up to the docks. The ocean rippled, waves crashing the shore, the sound of a motor puttering in the distance breaking the silence.

Colt pulled into the parking lot, and Serena searched the darkness, the dimly lit boat ramps, the storage area, looking for signs of Dasha or Rice.

“Stay alert,” Colt warned as they climbed out. “This could be a setup.”

Serena nodded. He didn't have to tell her the dangers of the street. Not that they would stop her from going after her son. Nothing would.

Together they walked up the dock, glancing from one boat to the next. Partiers on a houseboat were drinking and dancing to loud music, two fishermen burned a low light as they coasted out to sea, and a shrimp boat glowed in the distance.

Across the inlet was another set of docks. Colt spotted a lone figure staggering in the dark near a storage container. “Over there. It's Dasha. She's hurt.”

Colt pointed toward the lower ramp and ran toward it. Serena followed, staying close behind him as they jogged toward the figure. The scent of salt water blended with the strong odor of fish and shrimp, the balmy heat of the night making her feel clammy all over.

She shoved her hair from her face, squinting through the darkness as she spotted Dasha stagger between two buildings. A shot rang out, pinging above their heads, and Colt drew his gun.

“Stay down!”

Serena crouched lower and veered into the alley. Colt halted at the corner, firing back at the shooter, and she ran on, her stomach knotting when she saw Dasha collapse onto the ground.

She hurried to Dasha, knelt and touched the woman's shoulder. “Dasha?”

Dasha groaned, and Serena turned her body over, gasping at the sight of blood seeping through her fingers where she held them over her abdomen.

“Dasha, it's Serena. Who shot you?”

“A man, works for Rice,” Dasha whispered hoarsely. “I followed him…wanted to find your son. But he found out I talked to you…” Her voice broke, perspiration
beading on her face and neck. “One of his men brought me here to Rice.”

Serena ripped off the bottom portion of her T-shirt, folded it up and pressed it on Dasha's wound. “Keep pressure on it. I'll call an ambulance.”

Dasha caught her hand before she could move. “Wait. Don't go.”

“I'm just going to get help.”

“No, first, your son…he's here…”

“Where? Is he all right?”

Dasha moaned, her pallor pasty white, then lifted a bloody finger and gestured toward the right. “He's in the boat on the end. Rice…was going to leave with him tonight. You have to hurry…”

Serena gripped Dasha's hand. “Thanks.”

“Just go get your son,” Dasha whispered.

Serena nodded, then stood and glanced to the side in search of Colt. More shots echoed in the night, and she prayed Colt didn't get hit as she ran toward the boat.

She paused before she boarded, scanning the upper level for Rice or one of his cronies, but saw no one. She hesitated, contemplating going back for Colt, but another gunshot blasted the air, and she jumped onto the deck. For all she knew, the man who'd shot Dasha was trying to fend them off so Rice could escape.

She didn't intend to let that happen.

Frantic, she searched the main deck, then tiptoed down the stairs, listening for any sound to indicate Rice was on board setting a trap. But only the sound of the water lapping against the boat danced around her.

She glanced around the main cabin, but it was empty.
Then a noise penetrated the quiet. A small tapping sound.

Her heart began to race. It was coming from one of the smaller cabins down the hall.

She hurried toward the noise, cautiously checking the first two cabins, but found them empty. Then another sound broke the silence.

A soft cry.

Petey?

Dear God. Her heart sputtered as she rushed to the cabin and jiggled the door. Dammit, it was locked.

“Petey?”

A muffled sound followed, then more thumping and the sound of a whistle.

“Hang on, honey. Let me find something to open the door.” Adrenaline surged through her, and she raced back to the main cabin in search of a key. She rummaged through the drawers, the desk, then checked the wall for a key ring but didn't find one.

Rice must have taken it with him.

Memories of her street life resurfaced, and she rushed to the desk drawer and searched for a paper clip. She found one in the top drawer, bent it to use as a tool, then ran back to the locked door and jammed it in the lock.

Inside, the crying and pounding grew louder.

“I'm coming, honey, hang on.” Two more tries, and the lock clicked. Breathing deeply, she shoved open the door and spotted her son curled on the tiny bed in the corner with his hands and feet tied, his mouth gagged. Somehow he'd managed to slip the end of the whistle beneath the gag just enough to blow it.

Pure rage mingled with relief, and she rushed to him. Fear darkened Petey's eyes, but she saw his relief, as well, and lowered herself on the bed beside him.

Her hands shook as she untied his hands and feet, and removed the gag. Tears streaked his little face, and he looked tired and frightened, but he seemed unharmed.

“Mommy!” Petey cried. “I knew you'd find me.”

Emotions clogged her throat as he threw his arms around her neck. Serena wrapped her arms around him and held him, tears flowing as she rocked him against her.

But they couldn't stay here long. Rice would come back.

And when he did, he would kill her to get to Petey.