Chain of Custody (Holding The Line Book 2) Read online

  “It would be great if you could start today. I have to get back to work, so you and Wyatt can get to know each other.”

  Emily’s heart skipped a few beats. Alone with a baby? How hard could that be?

  “Give me your address, and I’ll be over within an hour.”

  He obliged, even though she knew damned well where he lived—that vast house on that vast property. His family owned most of the pecan groves in the area and had a large interest in the packing plant. In other words, the Dillon family was loaded. She’d also discovered Jaycee Lemoin hailed from Paradiso and had been friends with Nash’s younger sister.

  She’d been thrilled to discover that last part. She’d thought maybe Nash was an old boyfriend or current lover or something. Not that it mattered to her.

  When Nash ended the call, Emily darted around the room gathering her purse and a bag of tricks for the baby. She’d taken a drive up to Tucson last night to buy all the latest and greatest toys for Wyatt. She’d come in like a pro.

  She drove her rental out to Nash’s place, and this time she turned into the gates and circled around the driveway to park behind his truck.

  She squeezed the steering wheel with her hands and huffed out a breath. “You can do this, Emily.”

  Pasting a smile on her face, she hitched the bag of goodies over her shoulder and strode up to the front door. Before she had a chance to ring the bell, Nash opened the door, a crying Wyatt clinging to his side.

  The smile froze on her lips before she forced out some words. “Oh, what’s wrong with Wyatt this morning? Is someone in a bad mood?”

  “Yes.” Nash scowled and then his eyes popped open. “Oh, you mean Wyatt. Yeah, I’m not sure what’s going on with him.”

  She jumped back as a Siberian husky nosed his way between Nash’s legs and barked at her.

  “This is Denali. I guess he wants to get in on the action, too. You’re not allergic, are you?” Nash peeled Wyatt from his shirt so that the baby hung in the air between them, his legs dangling just above the dog’s head.

  She should take him. That was what Nash expected. That was what any self-respecting nanny would do.

  “Come here, you little rascal.” She placed her hands beneath Nash’s on either side of the baby, and Nash released him to her.

  She pulled Wyatt against her chest, tucking one arm beneath his bottom. She couldn’t very well hold him out there at arm’s length.

  He wrapped his hand around a strand of hair from her ponytail that had swung over her shoulder and then put it in his mouth. At least he’d stopped crying.

  “Oh, no, you don’t, you little—” she swallowed “—rascal.” She disentangled her hair from his grubby fist.

  “That’s the first time he’s stopped crying in about thirty minutes. You’re a genius.” Nash stepped aside and ushered her into the house. “He’s had his breakfast. I left you instructions on what he eats when, although you’re probably a better judge of that than I am.”

  Emily bounced Wyatt in her arms as she took a turn around what could only be described as a great room, which led into a huge kitchen completely out of her league. She noted the well-placed and discreet cameras in the corners of the room. She also recognized the type—video, no audio.

  Nash may be leaving a new nanny in charge of his friend’s baby, but she had no doubt he’d be keeping an eye on her.

  “You have my cell phone number already, but I left it and the station number on the counter. I’m not too far, and I’ll come home for lunch to check on things.”

  “Okay, sounds good.” She dropped her bag by the couch. “What about Denali?”

  “If you don’t mind losing some of the AC in the house, you can leave that sliding door open so he can go in and out. He likes running around the pecan groves.”

  She wandered to the sliding door that led to a covered patio and a sparkling pool and those rows of trees beyond. “Maybe we’ll go for a walk. Do you have a stroller?”

  “I do.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at a small hallway next to the staircase. “I put all the baby stuff in a room down here.”

  Emily spun around, Wyatt contentedly resting his head on her shoulder, drooling on her blouse. She tapped the list on the granite kitchen island. “I think we’ll be fine.”

  “You are a godsend.” Nash put his hands together and bowed his head. “I’ll be home for lunch. Call me for anything.”

  He grabbed a hat, slung a laptop case over his shoulder and waved his way out the front door.

  When the door slammed, Wyatt jerked up his head and his mouth puckered.

  Emily pinched the list between her fingers and collapsed onto the couch with the baby, positioning him to face her on her lap. “You like Uncle Nash? I do, too, but probably for different reasons than you do.”

  Emily bit her bottom lip. She probably shouldn’t be talking to a baby about how she had the hots for his temporary guardian.

  She shook out the list and scanned it. “Food, bottle, diaper. Doesn’t say anything about a nap on here. Do you want to sleep?”

  As she bounced Wyatt on her knees, he brought his hands together and chuckled. The sound brought a smile to her lips. “You are pretty cute, but does that noise mean you’re not interested in a nap? How about some playtime instead?”

  Emily had read that babies this age liked to be on the floor to practice their rolling and crawling. She’d been relieved to discover she didn’t have to carry him around all day when he wasn’t sleeping.

  With the baby hitched on one hip, she shooed Denali outside and shut the sliding door after him. No matter how friendly that dog seemed or how much he liked Wyatt, she’d have a lot of explaining to do if Nash came home to a baby with a dog bite.

  As Denali scampered past the pool out back, Emily dug through the bag she’d brought and shook out a blanket dotted with clouds and unicorns. She spread it on the floor and placed Wyatt on his back in the middle of the square. He kicked his legs and waved his arms.

  She dumped a variety of toys next to him and unfolded a padded arc that had plush cows, pigs and chickens hanging from it. She placed this over Wyatt’s body, and he went nuts. He batted the primary-colored animals and gurgled with glee as they swung above him.

  Leaning her back against the coffee table, she crossed her legs beneath her and watched the baby play. She’d had limited contact with the babies of a few friends back in Chicago but had never even babysat. Her father, a cop, had been too worried about her going to strangers’ homes to watch their kids, so he paid her to clean the house and cook instead.

  Generally, babies didn’t take to her any more than she took to them, but Wyatt seemed to accept her. Maybe he just missed his mama and she was a better match for Jaycee than Nash.

  Jaycee must’ve crossed the border after dropping Wyatt off with Nash. Was she looking for Brett? Maybe she figured those goons who’d paid her a visit at her place in Phoenix would be tracking her and she wanted to put space between her and Wyatt so they’d believe her story.

  What would those guys want with the baby, anyway? Brett must be in some big trouble. If Jaycee really feared for Wyatt’s life, why not just drop him off with Marcus? They could work out the paternity and custody issues later. At least Wyatt would be safe with Marcus.

  Emily’s gaze tracked back to Wyatt, now gnawing on a set of giant plastic keys with his toothless gums. Maybe she should just take off with Wyatt now and bring him to Marcus. Would any judge blame him for kidnapping the baby to keep him safe from whatever threat those guys posed?

  Marcus had explicitly told her not to take Wyatt. He didn’t want to do anything that would prejudice a family court judge against him. And she knew more than anyone that the law followed its own protocols.

  Marcus hadn’t seemed too concerned when she’d reported the visit by the two men. He figured they were looking for Jaycee’s bo
yfriend and that was the end of it. She’d tried to sound the alarm that if those two believed Wyatt was Brett’s son, they’d kidnap him to use as a weapon against Brett, but Marcus hadn’t seen them as a threat.

  Wyatt scooted a few inches and then rocked back and forth in an attempt to roll onto his stomach. She crawled onto the blanket with him and put a toy just out of his reach to the side to encourage him.

  When he finally made the big heave-ho and rolled onto his tummy, she clapped and whistled. His brown eyes got big and round when she whistled, so she puckered up and whistled a tune inches from his face. He patted her lips with his hand, and she didn’t even mind the stickiness this time.

  After more gymnastics on the floor, a bottle and a diaper change, which she managed by holding her breath, Emily wheeled the stroller from the room Nash had pointed out before he left.

  “Let’s take a walk and give that silly dog some company.”

  She loaded Wyatt into the stroller and found Denali’s leash hanging from the front doorknob. She yelled his name in the back, and Denali emerged from the trees and scampered across the lawn. She patted her thigh. “C’mon, boy. We’re going for a walk.”

  She hooked up the dog and pushed the stroller onto the porch. She eased it down the steps and aimed it onto the circular driveway.

  The higher elevation down here made it cooler than Phoenix, although once the temperature reached over a hundred, it didn’t make much difference. She crossed the road with baby and dog and steered into the grove of trees, which offered some relief from the blazing sun.

  For over thirty minutes, she circled around the trees, smelling the bark and crushing the leaves in her hand. This didn’t seem much like the desert.

  She checked her phone for the time. “Okay, dog and baby, we need to head home for Nash’s lunchtime visit to make sure we’re all still alive.”

  A little chill snaked up her spine, and she shrugged it off as she walked into the blinding sun.

  She could definitely do this for a few more days until Jaycee returned. Then wherever Jaycee went with Wyatt, she’d follow, even if it took her away from Nash Dillon.

  At the edge of the trees, Emily stopped to adjust Wyatt’s hat to keep the sun from his face. When a vehicle roared down the road, she squinted through her sunglasses. Wyatt hadn’t given her a chance to make some lunch.

  She barreled ahead with the stroller and then tripped to a stop. The engine she’d heard didn’t belong to Nash’s truck. A black sedan idled outside the gates of Nash’s house.

  Emily slowed down and stuck close to the tree line as she approached the car. Her heart slammed against her chest as she recognized the dark tinted windows and the round sticker in the back.

  The thugs from Jaycee’s apartment had tracked Jaycee here to Paradiso—and worse, they had a bead on Wyatt.

  Chapter Four

  As Nash turned onto his street, a black sedan crept up to the intersection and rolled through the stop sign to make a right. A lot of people came this way before they realized the street came to a dead end, and they couldn’t drive through the pecan groves to get to the entrance to the highway. GPS steered them wrong every time, but it wouldn’t kill them to stop at the stop sign on their way out.

  He pulled into his driveway and dropped his stiff shoulders when he saw Emily’s rental car. He knew it was a rental because he’d run the plate. Everything had checked out with Emily O’Brien, but he’d been happy he had Kyle Lewis install some security cameras in the house. He wouldn’t want to have to explain to Jaycee that he’d hired a nanny from the grocery store parking lot and she’d kidnapped Wyatt.

  He’d been impressed with the way Emily played with Wyatt this morning. The kid obviously knew a good nanny when he saw one. He seemed a lot more content with her than he’d been with Nash.

  Had Emily come back from her walk in the time it took him to drive home?

  He cut the engine, and as he stepped out of his truck, the gravel crunched behind him and he pivoted.

  Emily waved from behind the stroller and dropped Denali’s leash. “Hello. You’re back sooner than I expected.”

  Denali trotted up to him, his leash dragging behind him, his tongue lolling out of his mouth in pure joy.

  Nash scratched him behind the ear as he studied Wyatt, kicking his legs out in the stroller, a little hat shading his face.

  Usually silence and a lonely meal greeted him when he came home from work, not this picture of domesticity. He didn’t need the wife and kid, but he should get himself a dog.

  He finally shifted his attention to Emily, her fiery hair in a demure braid over her shoulder. The freckles on her nose were pronounced in her pale face, and she stood behind the stroller stiffly, gripping the handle.

  Nash cocked his head. “Is everything okay? Did you have a good walk?”

  Her smile flashed easily across her face, too easily, and she said, “Great. Our walk was fantastic.”

  “I hope you’re not regretting taking the job. I really need you.” Nash cleared his throat. “Need your help.”

  Emily tossed back her braid. “Not at all. Wyatt and I had a good morning. I just wasn’t expecting you back so soon. I was going to make some lunch.”

  “Don’t bother. That wasn’t in the job description.” He held up the bag of food from Rosita’s. “I brought lunch with me. Do you like Mexican food? Of course you do. You’re from Phoenix.”

  “Actually, I live in Phoenix now, but I’m originally from the Midwest. I’m still getting used to some of those hot salsas.” She waved her hand in front of her face as if cooling her puckered lips.

  He dragged his gaze away from her mouth and pointed to Wyatt. “I guess our conversation bored him. We put him to sleep.”

  “Good.” She ducked her head into the stroller to remove Wyatt’s hat. “What I mean is, he hasn’t slept all morning, not even on the walk, so he does need a nap.”

  Nash made a move toward the porch. “I’ll let you get him to bed, and I’ll set up lunch.”

  He held the door wide for Emily to pass through with the stroller. “We can leave that on the porch.”

  She shook her head so fiercely, her braid whipped back and forth. “No, I don’t want to leave it out in the heat.”

  She skimmed past him, and his hand shot out to pluck a leaf from her hair. When she swiveled her head around, he cupped the leaf in his hand. “Looks like you took a stroll through the pecan groves.”

  “Are they all yours?”

  He closed the door behind them and removed his hat. “They belong to my family. We used to ship them to a processing and packing plant in Texas until some partners convinced us to build one here. A lot of people in Paradiso resent that plant.”

  “Why should they? It must’ve brought jobs and a level of prosperity that a lot of these small towns down here must envy.” She folded back the canopy on the stroller and slid her hands beneath Wyatt’s sleeping form.

  “It turned sleepy Paradiso into a real town, and a lot of the locals don’t like it. Brings more of everything—more people, more traffic, more crime.”

  She put a finger to her lips and floated into Wyatt’s makeshift nursery with Wyatt fast asleep against her chest.

  Nash swung the bag of food onto the counter and got two plates from the cupboard and silverware from the drawer. He set them on the kitchen table next to the sliding doors to the back. He never used the dining room, had never used it once since moving in here after Mom and Dad took off for Florida.

  He lifted the containers of food from the bag and placed them on the table.

  He jumped as Emily came up behind him. He really wasn’t used to having someone else in the house.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” She lifted her nose in the air and sniffed. “Smells good.”

  “Chicken burritos.” He held up a small container of salsa. “And
you can add your own heat.”

  “Do you like it hot?” Her cheeks sported two spots of color to rival the red of the salsa. “Spicy?”

  He raised his eyebrows. So, he wasn’t the only one who felt the pull between the two of them. “I do. I grew up in Paradiso, just about spitting distance to the border. Do you want some lemonade? Iced tea?”

  “Some lemonade would be great.” She pulled out a chair and sat down in front of one of the plates. “You mentioned crime before. Does Paradiso have a lot of crime? I wouldn’t think so.”

  He emerged from the fridge clutching a plastic bottle of lemonade. “It’s not fresh or anything.”

  “I grew up in the Midwest, remember? I don’t think I saw a real lemon until I was a teenager.” She shook out some chips onto her plate and dipped a corner into the salsa. “Crime?”

  He poured the lemonade over ice in two glasses. Was she worried about her safety here in Paradiso in the home of a Border Patrol agent? “We get some crime here—mostly tweekers stealing stuff. Most of the crime happens on the border. We had a case last month...”

  “What was the case?” She held her chip suspended in the air and a drop of salsa fell to the table.

  “You’re eating. I’ll tell you later.”

  “My dad was a cop, homicide detective. I’m accustomed to inappropriate mealtime conversation.”

  He cut his burrito in half, choosing his words carefully. “We found a body without a head at the border, and then that head showed up on a fellow agent’s porch. Then we found a headless body not far from the pecan groves and the second head showed up on another porch.”

  Emily put a hand to her heart. “Gruesome. I’m assuming those murders and decapitations were part of the drug trade.”

  “They were. Las Moscas.”

  “I’ve heard of them. Brutal.” She crunched the chip between her teeth and dabbed the spot of salsa from the table with her napkin.

  “Your father’s a homicide detective? What department?”

  “Retired.” She waved her fork in the air. “A couple of different departments. You know what?”