Chain of Custody (Holding The Line Book 2) Page 2

  He approached the baby, who watched him coming with wide eyes. He crouched before the car seat and niggled his finger against the bottom of Wyatt’s foot. He jerked back as Wyatt kicked out his legs and waved one arm.

  “At least you didn’t turn out to be a severed head.” Nash clapped a hand over his mouth and swore. He probably shouldn’t be talking to babies about severed heads...or swearing in front of them.

  And that was his problem. He had no idea how to talk to babies and no idea how to care for them. He understood why Jaycee had dropped Wyatt off with him—he’d come to that girl’s rescue more times than he cared to count.

  Jaycee and his younger sister had been “BFFs” in high school. Who else would Jaycee turn to in Paradiso? His sister lived in New York now, and his parents had retired to Florida, leaving the care and feeding of the pecan business in his hands. But the care and feeding of a pecan was a lot easier than the care and feeding of a baby.

  “You can do this, Nash. It’s just a few days.” He crawled to the diaper bag Jaycee had left with the baby and dragged the zipper across the top.

  Another note—this one containing instructions—lay on top of an assortment of diapers, wipes, jars of baby food and bottles. Nash shook it out and read the bulleted items.

  He shoved the paper into his back pocket and rubbed his hands together. “Piece of cake.”

  He returned to the baby and unsnapped the harness on his car seat. “Ready to get out of there, buddy?”

  Wyatt reached out both arms and Nash picked him up, holding him in the air and wiggling him back and forth. “You’re a good little dude. We can do this for a few days while we wait for Mom, right?”

  Wyatt gurgled and some white gunk bubbled from his lips.

  Still holding him at arm’s length, Nash hustled into the kitchen and yanked off a length of paper towel from the roll on the counter. He wet it under the faucet and dabbed at Wyatt’s chin and his little outfit with a sheep on it.

  Wyatt grabbed his finger and gave him a toothless grin, moist with drool. Between the baby and the dog...

  Nash spun around and lunged for the back door. He tipped back his head and called out, “Denali!”

  Clay’s husky appeared at the far reaches of the backyard, where the lawn tumbled into a grove of pecan trees.

  “C’mon, boy. Dinnertime.”

  Clay and April had left him in charge of their dog when they traipsed off to get married. He’d agreed readily enough, but that was before he knew he’d have a baby under his care. Was this some kind of test? Some conspiracy to make him responsible?

  Denali scampered out of the trees and raced across the backyard, skirting the pool. When he reached Nash holding Wyatt, he circled Nash’s legs, wagging his tail and sniffing the baby’s feet.

  Wyatt’s face crumpled and his bottom lip quivered.

  “It’s just a dog. Denali’s a good boy.” Nash dipped to show Wyatt the dog, and Denali lashed his tongue right across Wyatt’s face.

  Bad idea.

  The baby wailed, and Denali barked and pranced around on his hind legs.

  So much for his nice, relaxing evening. He strapped Wyatt back into his car seat and put him on the floor of the master bedroom and shut the door while he fed Denali. He’d have to keep the two of them apart. Denali had no more practice with babies than he did.

  He shooed Denali back outside, where he was only too happy to roam, and then retrieved Wyatt from the bedroom.

  He sat on the couch with Wyatt in his lap and pulled things out of the diaper bag, examining each item as if it were an object from an alien planet. They might as well have been.

  Even for a few days, the baby needed baby stuff. Jaycee had reminded him in her note that a room in the guesthouse had been outfitted as a nursery for the last tenants his parents had before moving to Florida. He couldn’t relegate Wyatt to the guesthouse, but he could drag the crib, playpen and high chair over here. He shouldn’t need much more than that. Jaycee had dropped her baby off with a supply of toys and bottles and diapers.

  He eyed the package of diapers he’d pulled out of the bag. Surely, that had to be enough for a little baby.

  After using one of those fresh diapers on the baby, Nash secured Wyatt back in his car seat and trooped over to the guesthouse, swinging the car seat by his side. He settled the baby in the corner of the nursery and surveyed the room, hands on his hips.

  He’d have to take apart the crib and reassemble it if he hoped to get it through the bedroom door. The high chair and the stroller he could wheel over and the playpen in the living room looked collapsible.

  On his way to the front of the house, he poked his head in the other bedroom and crossed to the far side of the bed with a spring in his step. A little bassinet with a canopy sat snugly beside the bed. Wyatt could sleep in this, saving him the trouble of moving the crib. That would be comfortable enough for a few days. The people who’d lived here obviously had used it for their baby.

  A few hours later, all the baby accoutrements in place, Nash kicked up his feet on the coffee table and flicked Denali’s ear. “We did it, boy. Wyatt’s fed, changed, had a bottle, sleeping. And it’s only for a few days.”

  * * *

  THREE DAYS LATER, Nash slammed down his phone after another failed attempt to reach Jaycee.

  Wyatt pounded his little fist on the tray of his high chair in solidarity and Denali barked twice.

  “I’m glad we’re all in agreement. Your mama is a flake.” Nash leveled his finger at Wyatt and snatched it back when the baby’s lip trembled. Three days and he knew that sign.

  Nash had considered calling Department of Child Safety, but he didn’t want to get Jaycee into trouble and Wyatt would be better off with him than in the system. He’d called in sick for two days now, and he had to start thinking about making some kind of arrangement for Wyatt’s care if he hoped to get back to work anytime soon. He could check with his housekeeper, but she wouldn’t be here for a few days and he didn’t want to lay this on her.

  He reached behind Wyatt’s neck and undid the Velcro on his bib. “You ready to go for a ride, big guy?”

  Denali waved his tail in the air, tickling Nash’s leg with his long fur.

  “Not you. There’s only so much I can take of the two of you at once.”

  He grabbed the diaper bag with all of Wyatt’s stuff in it and slung it over his shoulder. He hadn’t been out with him yet. He didn’t need any questions from his friends or coworkers, but he had to pick up some essentials in case Jaycee planned to take a few more days of vacation or whatever the hell she was doing right now.

  He secured the base of the car seat in the back seat of his truck and snapped the carrier on top. Wyatt waved his arms and kicked his legs, which indicated excitement and happiness, and Nash eased out a sigh. He didn’t need a crying baby right now.

  He drove into town and pulled into the parking lot of the grocery store. He fished his crumpled list from his front pocket—formula, baby food and diapers led the necessities. He’d buy enough for the week and send Jaycee on her way with the extras.

  Ducking into the back seat, he released the car seat from the base and swung it by his side as he made a beeline for a shopping cart. He secured the car seat to the cart and wheeled it in for a shopping trip like no other.

  Wyatt didn’t like shopping. He fussed the entire time, and after Nash made it through checkout, he rolled the cart out the front door at breakneck speed. He got halfway to the truck before the wailing started.

  He swiveled his head around to make sure nobody thought he was harming Wyatt, but no one seemed to notice the crying baby.

  He stationed the cart by his truck and opened the back door to get Wyatt inside. “Hold on, buddy. Almost there.”

  “Do you need some help?”

  At the sound of the woman’s voice behind him, he jerked up, hitting
his head on the door frame. “Ouch!”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  Nash twisted around and his gaze met a pair of green eyes, slightly turned up at the corners, like an amused cat’s.

  He rubbed the side of his throbbing head. “I’ll live.”

  Wyatt had stopped crying and squirming during the conversation, allowing Nash to snap the car seat into place. He pulled his head out of the truck, taking in the rest of the person who belonged to those eyes.

  The green tank top she wore coaxed a different color from her eyes, which she blinked, as a strand of red hair floated across her cheek. He had the inappropriate urge to brush that flaming lock back from her face.

  Her full lips flattened into a straight line. “You might live, but it still looks like you need help.”

  He gritted his teeth. He’d taken care of this baby for three days with no help from anyone. Why did this woman assume he needed help just because he was a lone man with a baby?

  He patted Wyatt’s chubby thigh. “He’s good now.”

  “Maybe he is, but he’s facing the wrong way.”

  “What?” Nash’s eyebrows shot up. “Facing the wrong way?”

  “He’s under a year old, right?”

  His heart racing, Nash flicked a glance at Wyatt and back to the woman’s face. Even in his current panicked state, he noticed the sprinkling of freckles across her nose. How old was Wyatt? He didn’t have a clue. He must be under one if this woman assumed he was.

  “Y-yes, under one.”

  “Well—” she reached past him, brushing her arm against his and releasing the car seat “—he needs to be facing backward.”

  She unlatched the base of the car seat, twirled it around and snapped it back in place, Wyatt now pointing to the rear of the truck.

  “Oh, yeah, right.” Nash’s cheeks warmed. Why hadn’t Jaycee put that detail in her instructions? Probably because she’d intended to come back before he had a reason to take Wyatt out in the truck.

  Where the hell was she?

  The stranger put her finger to her lips. “I won’t tell your wife you messed up.”

  “I don’t have a wife.” Nash blurted out the words before they registered in his brain. He didn’t owe this woman an explanation, but for some reason he didn’t want her to think he was married.

  “Oh.” Her reddish gold eyebrows formed a V over her nose. “I—I just assumed... Uncle? That would explain the car seat gaffe.”

  Nash’s jaw tightened.

  “I’m so sorry.” She put a hand to her chest. “I don’t mean to pry. I have a thing for babies. I’m a nanny.”

  Chapter Three

  Emily held her breath for a split second as Nash Dillon’s impossibly blue eyes widened.

  She continued in a rush. “I specialize in babies. So, when I saw you struggling and then noticed you had the car seat facing the wrong way, my natural instincts took over.”

  “A nanny?”

  Nash’s gaze flicked over her, head to toe, and she hoped the calf-length floral skirt, the modest tank top and the flat sandals suggested responsible nanny type.

  Nash glanced at the baby in the car seat, now facing the correct way, which Emily knew about from being a cop in another life.

  She wiggled her fingers at little Wyatt, and he gurgled back at her through the disgusting drool on his chin.

  Nash’s blue eyes lit up like someone had goosed him—not like she wouldn’t want to try that. “Are you working here in Paradiso?”

  Emily turned down the corners of her mouth. “I’m currently unemployed. I live in Phoenix and took a trip down to Tucson to visit a friend who’s in grad school there and decided to take in Tombstone and a few other sights before heading back home and looking for a new position.”

  The handsome Border Patrol agent studied her face. Then he uttered the words she’d been holding out for. “I might need some help for a few days, if you don’t mind working on your vacation.”

  “I’m always interested in helping out with babies.” Had she laid it on too thick? Did people actually say things like that? Crazy people.

  “I’d of course need some references, and your name would be a start.”

  “Of course. I wouldn’t work for anyone who didn’t do a thorough check.” She pulled a newly minted business card from the side pocket of the purse strapped across her body. “Emily O’Brien.”

  Whenever she used a fake ID, she went with a good Irish name to match her mother’s side of the family and her own red hair. Best to stay as close to the truth as possible.

  She held out the card pinched between two fingers. When he reached for it, she pulled it back. “And you are?”

  “I’m sorry. I’m Nash Dillon. I’m a Border Patrol agent.”

  She tilted her head. “You said you didn’t have a wife. Is the baby yours?”

  “Actually, no. I’m watching him for a friend, but I expected her back sooner and I’m afraid three days of being on my own with a baby is wearing on me.”

  At least he’d lasted three days. She was not sure she could do it for one day, but she had a fat paycheck waiting for her on the other end of this.

  “Oh.” She wrinkled her nose. “Your friend didn’t abandon her baby, did she?”

  “Nothing like that. She dropped him off with me. We’re old friends. We go way back. Happy to help.”

  She extended her card again, and he plucked it from her fingers. Was he in love with Jaycee? The woman had a certain appeal, if a guy liked the soft, helpless type. Billionaire tycoon Marcus Lanier obviously did, as did Brett Fillmore, low-life druggie.

  “I’m staying at the Paradiso Inn. Call me once you do your due diligence and I pass muster—if you’re still interested.” She tapped the card still in his hand. “My website’s on there, which includes testimonials and references. Please feel free to call any one of them.”

  She’d been busy during her downtime when Nash had been holed up with the baby. But she knew he’d have to leave the house at some point and the tracker she’d attached to his truck told her exactly where he’d gone.

  He held up the card. “Thanks, Emily. I’ll be in touch.”

  She ducked into the truck and pinched Wyatt’s foot, avoiding that whole mess on his face. “Hope to see you again, little guy. What’s his name?”

  “Wyatt.”

  She patted the baby’s soft head. “Be a good boy, Wyatt.”

  Nash closed the door of the truck and thrust out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Emily. I think you just might be a lifesaver.”

  First time anyone had called her that. She placed her hand in his, letting it rest there limply. She didn’t want him to see her as any kind of aggressive threat.

  “I hope I can help, Agent Dillon.”

  “Call me Nash.”

  “Well, enjoy that little bundle of joy, Nash. I look forward to hearing from you.” She floated back to her rental car and slid behind the wheel, letting out a long breath. First contact successful.

  She slumped in her seat and tapped her phone to call Marcus’s private cell. He picked up on the first ring.

  “What do you have for me?”

  “Looks like I have an in. The guy Jaycee dumped the baby with needs a nanny because of course he does.”

  “So what? You’re not a nanny. You’re a fired cop who’s trying to get your PI business off the ground.”

  Emily rolled her eyes. Nobody said you had to be brilliant to make a billion bucks. “Oh, but I am a nanny. I set up a fake ID and profile for myself. A quick background check on me, and he’s going to believe I’m Mary freakin’ Poppins.”

  Marcus snorted over the phone. “Don’t screw it up, Emily, and where’s Jaycee? Why’d she drop off Wyatt?”

  “I lost her when she crossed the border. The GPS went out of range, but I
thought it more important to stay with Wyatt.”

  “It is.”

  “Do you still want me to just watch Wyatt? I mean, if I take him and bring him to you, that’s kidnapping and you’ll be charged.”

  Marcus drew a quick breath. “I never said anything about taking Wyatt. You just watch him to make sure he’s okay. I’m still working with my attorneys on this end to make a move for custody.”

  “And when Jaycee comes back to collect him?”

  “I hired you to follow Wyatt.” Marcus cleared his throat. “Who’s this guy who has the baby?”

  “He’s...” Emily squeezed her eyes closed. “Just some guy. An old friend of Jaycee’s.”

  For some reason, she didn’t want to expose Nash Dillon to Marcus Lanier’s wrath or even attention. Maybe it was the light in his blue eyes or the way the sun glinted off his sandy-blond hair. Maybe it was because she wanted to protect that handsome face from some serious damage if Marcus thought Nash was standing between him and his son.

  Marcus’s voice roughened. “I expect a more thorough report on the guy than that when you’re through with this job. I’m going to transfer another five thousand dollars into your account. I don’t think being a nanny for a few days pays much.”

  He ended the call before she could thank him. She stashed her phone in a cup holder and took a long drink from her soda. Talking to Marcus always left a bad taste in her mouth.

  As far as she knew, he’d made his money on the up-and-up, but she’d heard rumors of some shady connections. And he didn’t like law enforcement. That was another reason she’d been vague about Nash’s identity. Marcus would probably blow a gasket if he found out a Border Patrol agent had possession of Wyatt.

  She pulled out of the grocery store parking lot and headed back to her motel and her laptop. She had a whole lot more research to do on babies before she could convince Nash of her expertise—when in reality, she didn’t even like babies.

  The following day, Nash Dillon must’ve done his background checks because he called her cell practically at sunrise. All her fake references had come through like champions.