Against the Edge. Kat Martin
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a leave of absence. I have a small inheritance from my grandfather. I can afford to take some time off.”
Those icy eyes were filled with turbulence, his features hard.
“I need to be there,” she pressed, “to make sure he understands what’s happening to him. For God’s sake, Ben, he’s just a little boy!”
Ben tipped his head back and stared up at the cement overhang above them. He seemed to be trying to pull himself together. “All right. We’ll try it your way. But I’m not letting you slow me down. If I need to move fast, I will.”
“Okay, that’s fair enough.”
“I’m gonna need to rent a car.”
“You can use mine. If I need to, I can borrow one from a friend.”
He hesitated a moment more, then nodded. “All right, then I guess that’s it. Let’s go.” He didn’t like it, she could tell, but he was a smart man and her logic was sound. Sam didn’t know him. He wouldn’t trust him. But he trusted Claire.
And she had let him down.
Her heart pinched. She’d failed him and now she had to make it right. Claire just prayed Ben Slocum was a different man than the reckless heartthrob Laura had portrayed him to be.
* * *
Ben found Claire’s car parked in the overnight lot. A nearly new red Honda Accord. Interesting, since Claire Chastain didn’t strike Ben as the red-car type. Those women were fiery-tempered. Impulsive. Passionate. Then again, it was hard to figure the currents running beneath a female’s facade.
As he plucked the keys from her hand, he took another long look at her. In the sunshine, her dark hair had deep red highlights. Mahogany, he’d call it. He wondered what it would look like unbound. Her cheekbones were high, her skin smooth and clear, and there was a tiny cleft in her chin.
He’d been so angry, so worried about the child he never knew he had, he hadn’t looked at Claire Chastain as a woman. A very pretty woman. Now that he did, he wished he hadn’t.
Under different circumstances, it would be fun to discover what lay beneath her cool reserve. To find out if she would be a red-car woman in bed.
Not this time. He had more to think about than his sex drive’or hers. And though he clearly interested her in a number of ways, he wasn’t sure that interest included sex.
If it did, it didn’t matter. He had a son to find. And after that’
For the first time it occurred to him that from this day forward his life would be never be the same. If he didn’t find Sam, he would always think about him, worry about him. Wonder where he was. Wonder if he was alive. If he was happy.
If he did find him, he would have to be a father to the boy. He’d need to make a home for him, see him properly raised. Ben’s life would be completely changed.
“It’s almost seven o’clock,” Claire said as he loaded his canvas duffel and her carry-on into the trunk of her car. “What should we do first?”
“I want to talk to the family Sam was staying with. See what they have to say.”
“The Robersons. They live in Calabasas. It’s a pretty long drive. Shall we call them? Let them know we’re coming?”
He shook his head. “I don’t want them showcasing. I want to see the way they live. And I don’t want to give them time to put up their defenses.”
“All right. Why don’t you let me drive since I know how to get there?”
Ben tossed the keys back to her, rounded the car and settled himself in the passenger seat. As she slid behind the wheel, he tried not to notice the length of pretty thigh exposed when Claire’s yellow skirt slid up.
He leaned back against the headrest. “I could get used to having a female chauffeur.”
Her gaze swung to his. “Was that a joke? Did Ben Slocum just make a joke?”
His mouth edged up. “Not much of one.”
Her features softened. “We’re going to find him,” she said with an amazing amount of determination. “Troy Bridger, or whatever his name really is, thinks he’s gotten away with stealing Sam, but he’s wrong.”
“You’re that sure that’s what happened?”
“I know Sam. Troy used his dog to get Sam to go with him.”
Ben studied her face. The set of her jaw and the steel in her voice made him wonder if he’d been shortsighted when he’d formed his initial opinion of Claire Chastain.
Three
The Robersons were a decent family who earned money by being part of the foster care program. They had two kids of their own and two or three fosters at any given time who were waiting for permanent placements.
Sam had been one of those.
The trouble was that twelve-year-old Kenny Roberson and his ten-year-old sister, Tammy, were spoiled and somewhat selfish. And Kenny was often a bully. Since the Robersons tended to take their kids’ side over the other children in the house, the environment could be stressful.
From the start, Sam had refused to take Kenny’s guff. He’d stood up to the older boy and because he had, he’d had a tough time getting along with the family.
Claire’s gaze fixed on the highway stretching ahead of her. It was dark now, rows of taillights as far as she could see. “I have a feeling you’re as stubborn as Sam. If he’d only waited another couple more weeks...”
Ben’s hard look sliced toward her. “You should have called me. I would have come for him.”
“I didn’t know that. I’m beginning to think some of the things Laura told me were wrong.”
“Some of the things? She hadn’t seen me in years.”
“No, but she sort of kept track of you. That’s how I knew where to find you.”
Ben’s black eyebrows went up. “How’d she do that?”
“She had a Facebook friend in Houston. A woman you slept with.”
“Jesus! Who was it?”
“I don’t know. I told her someone like that wasn’t a reliable source.”
Ben didn’t say more. She thought he was wondering, thinking about the life he’d been leading, wondering what it would be like to have a son.
Claire was wondering what kind of a father he would make.
She continued along with the stop-and-go traffic heading north. It wasn’t five minutes later that she glanced over to see Ben sound asleep in the passenger seat. Watching those thick black lashes resting so peacefully against his cheeks reminded her that he had been awake half the night having sex. A little tremor of awareness slipped through her, which Claire firmly ignored.
Her mouth thinned. That she was thinking about Ben Slocum in any context other than Sam’s father irritated her more than a little. Claire jammed her foot on the gas, then slammed on the brakes as the taillights brightened on the Cadillac in front of her. The Accord jerked to a sudden stop, but Ben Slocum didn’t wake up.
Or at least he pretended not to.
* * *
Ben sat up the minute Claire turned off the engine. The brief nap had at least cured his headache. They were parked at the curb in front of a beige two-story stucco house in a subdivision northwest of L.A. The neighborhood the Robersons lived in looked family friendly.
Ben cracked open his door and so did Claire, and both of them got out. An overturned blue bicycle and a deflated basketball lay in the grass in front of the porch. Ben climbed the stairs and rapped on the door.
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