Page 63 of Ransom for His Secret Son

Because there was almost certainly some sadness, too.

He was having these moments with his sons, but Miranda wasn’t. She wasn’t here to enjoy what she’d spent her last months alive desperately trying to have.

Remi stole a glance at Brody. He was standing on the other side of the crib, watching the babies, too, but his face was unreadable. That was probably for the best.

Because Remi wasn’t sure that right now she wanted to know what he was thinking. Still, she wasn’t able to shut out the possibilities of what might be going through his head. Going through hers as well.

What had happened between them last night was just sex. At least, that was what it was supposed to be. And maybe it was, for him. But not for her.

She’d fallen for him.

Hard.

As in, head over heels in love with him. Her feelings for him had just crept up on her until they’d swamped her, until she’d been incapable of and unwilling to try to shove them aside.

She had tried to tell herself that it was just old feelings rekindling under the pressure of this nightmare they were living through. But the truth was she loved him. And she had no idea if he could ever return that love or if they even had a chance at a future together.

Remi blew out a long breath, once again trying to push the thoughts away. Brody’s world was too complicated right now, and he didn’t need the added pressure that his old nemesis was now starry-eyed in love with him.

No. He didn’t need that at all.

“You might want to come up with another name,” she whispered.

“Daniel,” he answered so quickly that she knew he must have been giving it some thought. “It was on Miranda’s list.”

Then, that made it perfect, and the name did seem to suit the baby.

“You weren’t to blame, you know,” Brody said, his voice so low that it hardly had any sound. “For Miranda’s death, for her not telling me about the cancer. None of that was your fault. I aimed the blame at you because I was hurting,” he went on. “And I was wrong. Very wrong. I’m sorry, Remi.”

Remi’s breath caught, and she couldn’t speak. She’d wanted to hear those words for such a long time. Had wanted this kind of…forgiveness.

“Thank you,” she finally managed to say.

She turned, ready to step away from the crib, when Brody’s phone buzzed. The sound cut through the silence, making her pulse jump, especially when she saw Unknown Caller on the screen.

Brody frowned and answered as he moved to the other side of the room. “Sheriff Walker.”

Remi didn’t follow him. Not until she saw every muscle in Brody’s face go tight.

“It’s Tarrant,” Brody mouthed to her.

That sent Remi’s pulse slamming into overdrive. Her first instinct was to run to the nearest window, to make sure Tarrant wasn’t out there, lurking in the dark, ready to strike. But then logic caught up with her. There were deputies outside, a team watching the house. If Tarrant had been that bold, the deputies already would have alerted them.

Instead, she hurried to Brody. He shifted when she pulled up next to him, and he lowered the phone, positioning it between them so she could hear.

“What do you want, Tarrant?” Brody’s voice was low, tight, dangerous.

Tarrant made a sound as if giving that some thought. “A chance at freedom.”

Brody didn’t miss a beat. “Then, turn yourself in. That can be very freeing, to finally get the justice you deserve.”

A dry laugh rasped through the phone. “Now, see, that’s not exactly what I had in mind.”

Remi’s chest squeezed. Tarrant was playing with them. She could hear it in his voice, the smug confidence of a man who had the upper hand.

And then he dropped the hammer.

“I have Maria, the nanny,” Tarrant said as casually as if they were discussing the weather. “I have a gun to her head as we speak.”