Her Only Hope

By Maria Rachel Hooley

When trouble calls, you definitely want Ridge Matthews on your side.

The last person OSBI agent Ridge Matthews ever expected to walk into his life was Brecca Nunley, the only woman he couldn’t shake. Now, not only is she back, she’s his next case. It takes a lot to rile him up, but missing kids usually do it, especially when the kid in question is the five-year-old son he never knew he had to begin with. Now Ridge has to find his son and protect the woman he loves from a ruthless killer he put behind bars years ago. Oh yeah, he's also supposed to keep his heart and hands away from Brecca, but some things are destined to fail before they start.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Maria Rachel Hooley
• Release date: Mar 17, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458139092

Maria Rachel Hooley

Maria Rachel Hooley is the author of over forty novels, including When Angels Cry and October Breezes. Her first chapbook of poetry was published by Rose Rock Press in 1999. She is an English teacher who lives in Oklahoma with her three children and husband. She loves reading, and if she could live in a novel, it would be Peter S. Beagle's The Last Unicorn.

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Her Only Hope

by

Maria Rachel Hooley

Her Only Hope

Copyright ©2011 Maria Rachel Hooley

Cover photo ©Nuno Silva & Istockphotos.com

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All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

Chapter One

For five years, Ridge Matthews had been waiting to tell Brecca Nunley she’d been damned impolite to leave without saying goodbye. She hadn’t just vanished from Lawton. She’d left the state of Oklahoma with no forwarding address, with no reason for leaving. Ridge shook his head as he opened her front door. Fitting that he should see her again in the middle of July—that had been when she’d left before. Impolite, hell.

Agent Dwain Coleman sat on a couch next to Brecca, speaking softly. A cascade of auburn silk hung midway down her back, spilling heavily over her curved shoulders. Her tilted her head forward, and she wrapped her arms around her body, probably trying to stop shaking.

Damn. Ridge’s whole body stiffened at the sight of her. Twenty pounds too thin, face swollen from tears, no make-up, and she was still breathtaking. She picked up a water glass from the table and took a sip before setting it back.

Ridge rubbed the bridge of his nose as he edged into the room. Dwain patted her arm but, seeing Ridge, moved away. He still thinks there’s something between us. Damn it to hell, he whispered. As Dwain stood, Ridge motioned for him to sit. Don’t move on my account.

Ridge? Brecca’s shoulders lifted and her back braced at the sound of his voice.

She spoke his name like a whispered expletive, and he heard the dread in her southern honey drawl. When he stepped in front of her, he watched the uneven crimson steal from her cheeks. Her full mouth parted as though she wanted to speak, but no words came.

The red tee-shirt and baggy jeans literally swallowed her slight frame. She’d always been small, but she’d never looked like she needed protecting before now.

Dwain glanced from one face to the other. Neither would look him in the eye. He stood. I’ll see how far they’ve gotten on tapping the lines.

Brecca stood stiffly and latched onto Dwain’s arm. Aren’t you the agent in charge of this investigation? Shouldn’t I be giving the information to you?

No, Brecca, Ridge said quietly. He tried to make eye contact with her, but Brecca peered at the floor. I’m the agent in charge. He touched Dwain’s shoulder, prompting him to leave. Agent Coleman will be assisting me.

She finally looked up, but he almost wished she hadn’t. Tears pooled in her luminous brown eyes, and she chewed her bottom lip. The love that had once existed between them had disappeared.

I’d rather it be him.

Ridge clenched his teeth. I’m not so bad, am I? he asked softly. He touched her hand, and for one precious second their flesh met, her warmth suffused through his skin along with, a remembered tingling. Then she pulled away sharply.

No, she replied, averting her gaze from him. We just have a past. That’s all.

Yeah, he thought. A past that torpedoed our future. I’m here to help, Brecca. He sat down slowly. I want to find Christopher, but you’ve got to trust me.?

Her breathing had dwindled to short, trembling gasps. He forced himself not to remember how well he’d once known her, how his skin had merged with hers during those sunbaked summers....

Heat surged through him with the unwanted memories. Snap out of it, man, Ridge thought. Focus on something else. When did you get back to Oklahoma? he asked, staring at the unpacked boxes scattered around the room.

Brecca sat on the couch, leaving a cushion between the two of them. A few days ago.

He pointed at the boxes. You’ve been living out of cardboard. Where were you before?

Denver. She started shaking and she picked up the half-empty glass and took a drink. She set it back. Can’t we just get on to Christopher? We need to find him.

Her trembling hands picked up a silver picture frame that had been lying on the sofa next to her. She lifted it to her chest. May I? Ridge asked, pointing at the frame.

After a moment, Brecca nodded and offered it to him. Her hands shook so badly the frame slipped, landing safely in Ridge’s open palm. He looked at the photo, first seeing Brecca sitting on a park bench with her long hair swept around her face. Then he focused on the boy, Christopher, in her lap. Her arms lay draped around his neck, and Brecca smiled. With the two of them sitting so close, the resemblance was striking. Chris’s dark hair curled slightly. His large eyes were the same shade of brown as Brecca’s, and despite the child’s age, he still had chubby toddler cheeks. His mouth was open in laughter, and chocolate ringed his mouth, probably from the ice cream bar in his hand.

Ridge looked away from the picture. Brecca’s son was as handsome as she was beautiful. He wondered if he’d ever get to meet the kid. The same dark hair and dark eyes—the same damned smile. Her son looked just like her, as though the father had never existed. He frowned and gripped the picture more tightly. Who the hell was the father?

How long ago was this picture taken? Ridge asked.

A year ago, she said, reaching anxiously for the frame.

Ridge handed it back to her, and when he looked at her, it was as though he saw someone else. The woman in the picture looked healthy and happy; the one before him had dark circles under her eyes and looked dangerously underweight. His dog weighed more than she did.

Ridge frowned. He’d always had problems dealing with women. Comparing them to Terri, his German shepherd, usually got him into trouble, even when he didn’t mean to be insulting. He would have laughed at his stupidity, had it been funny, but there was nothing funny about Brecca anymore. She wasn’t the same woman who’d introduced herself by throwing a left hook across his jaw when Dwain had accidentally pushed him into her as she was getting into her car, which had been parked right next to his.

What was that for? he’d asked, rubbing his jaw as he’d looked at the woman who’d almost knocked his teeth loose. She’d worn a black jacket and a sexy mid-length skirt. She was five-foot-four and curved in all the right places. And one wrong one, he’d thought, staring at her fist. She didn’t look strong enough to throw that kind of punch. I didn’t mean to bump into you. He’d shot Dwain a scathing glance.

Damn, she’d said and touched his face. I thought you were somebody else. I hope I didn’t hurt you.

Ridge had pulled out his badge and flashed it at her. Anybody I should know about, lady?

I’m Brecca Nunley, and no, he’s not...dangerous. He’s my teacher. She unlocked her passenger door and put her bag inside. As she leaned over, he found his gaze traveling every visible inch of her long, shapely legs.

Ridge had leaned against his car and folded his arms across his chest. Your teacher? What are you studying?

She’d stood and nodded as she closed the door. I’m in a self-defense course, and as part of the final, he said he would pretend to attack each of us when we least expect it and we’d have to be able to defend ourselves.

Dwain elbowed Ridge. Yeah, well, that man’s in for one serious world of hurt.

A floorboard creaked as an agent walked down the hall. Ridge shifted his weight on the sofa and forced himself back to the present and Brecca clutching that picture so desperately.

Do you have any idea who might have taken your son?

Brecca nodded, leaning back. A strand of dark hair fell into her eyes, and she pushed it back. Stephen Mallard.

She held her breath, waiting for him to recognize the name, and waiting, too, for the anger. None came. Ridge pulled out a pad and began taking notes.

Brecca stared at Ridge but forced herself to remain as far as possible from him. She still clutched the frame, hiding the photo against her chest. Had he recognized Christopher? Had he guessed the truth? She didn’t think. Ridge seemed too calm to have realized he was the father of a five-year-old. Either that or he didn’t give a damn. He’d never wanted kids. If she’d never known anything else about him, she knew his only commitment was to his career with the Oklahoma State Bureau of Investigation and that he didn’t want any complications. Not then, and not now.

She stared at his muscular chest and arms barely hidden as they were beneath that black jacket. She longed to ease herself into them. That was the only place she’d ever felt safe, yet she knew better than to dwell on that thought. He’ll hate me when he finds out why Stephen has Chris. I have to tell him the truth but not yet.

Ridge stopped writing and regarded her with accusing blue eyes. She thought she had memorized the bluntness of his chin and his wavy dark hair, and maybe she had, but that had been years ago, and he looked stronger now.

Brecca? he repeated.

What? she asked, shaking her head as though coming out of a trance.

Is he Christopher’s father?

She took a deep breath and looked past him, out the window at the furious pink blooms of the mimosa in the front yard.

No.

Ridge frowned and tapped the pen against his pad. Then who is? He stared at her fingers desperately clutching the frame.

It’s not important. The father didn’t have anything to do with kidnapping Chris. Her voice rose slightly.

He lowered the pad, but before he responded, Frank walked past them and began working on the telephone. Instead of facing Frank, Brecca focused on the phone as though willing it to ring.

It is important, Brecca, Ridge insisted, frowning. He’s related to Chris, and that makes him important. Let me rule out the suspects, okay?

Brecca picked up the glass and took a sip. No, he’s not important. It was a short-lived relationship, Ridge. It started great and ended when I found out I was pregnant, she lied. The father didn’t care about Chris, then and I haven’t seen him since we parted. She pulled at the neck of her tee-shirt, refusing to budge.

Fine, he muttered. But it wasn’t fine. He was wondering what kind of man could abandon a pregnant woman—and not just any woman, but Brecca. He took a deep breath. We’ll talk about Mallard for now. Ridge scooted a little farther away from Brecca as though he sensed she needed the space. Why do you think he’s responsible? How do you know him? Ridge sat up straighter with each passing second. Were you...intimate with him?

That’s none of your business. She closed her eyes and leaned back. She clenched her hands into fists and tried to ignore the heat filling her cheeks.

It’s a standard question, not one meant to pry. He averted his eyes.

Finally she said, I dated him for almost a year before he proposed. After I accepted, I found out he hated Chris. She gripped the frame even harder as though someone was threatening to take it away. I soon realized he might hurt Chris, so I broke off the relationship two months ago. Stephen was furious, and I was scared. He started to get violent and drunk. And he’s using me and my son to get to you, Ridge. She trembled so badly her voice shook.

Without realizing it, Ridge reached out to her, gently massaging her hand. Did he hit you or Chris? He forced calm into his voice and tried to ignore the rage building moment by moment.

He came at me once. That’s why we left. Now Chris is missing and it’s my fault. Tears spilled down her face, making her seem that much weaker.

No, it’s not, Brecca. He reached out and touched her shoulder, but she brushed him away and stood. As she started to the window, Ridge followed. It’s not your fault. Everybody feels guilty when something like this happens, but the only person to blame is the perp.

Brecca was stone silent. He was only one step from her when he saw her knees buckle. Her body fell forward. He swept her into his arms as Dwain and Frank rushed toward them. I’ve got her, he said. The others backed up, still eyeing him. The moment he held her, a familiar perfume filled his senses.

He thought of the pillow she’d slept on. It still lay on his bed, and sometimes, just before he drifted to sleep, he thought he smelled her perfume. Sometimes he dreamed she’d come home in the middle of the night, slipped into bed, and made love to him until the sun slipped in around the curtains. Then his alarm went off, and he woke to empty sheets.

He clutched her tightly. She seemed weightless. What the hell had happened to her? Where was the fighter? And who was this Stephen Mallard?

He looked at Dwain. Has she been sick or anything?

Dwain rolled his eyes. Yeah, Ridge. I think it’s the ‘anything’ about her son being missing. Did you ask her how long she’s been running from this guy? Dwain stood next to him with his hands on his hips, his fingers threaded through his belt loops.

No, Ridge replied in a guilty voice. Her head lay against his chest, and the ashen tint of her skin made him even more nervous. I didn’t get that far.

Two months. She’s been running from him for two months. She left Colorado to get away from him. Dwain patted Ridge’s back lightly. Get past the fact she dumped on you, man. Her life’s coming unraveled, and she’s fraying at the edges. He looked in the kitchen. How’s it coming? he yelled.

We’ve got a slight problem with the phone, a male voice responded.

We’ve got more than that. Dwain eyed the two of them. I’m coming. Dwain started toward the kitchen.

Run a background check on a Stephen Mallard and tell me what you find, Ridge said.

Just as soon as we get the lines tapped, Dwain agreed as he passed through the doorway.

Ridge sat on the couch and kept holding her as he stared into her pale face. How long since she had slept? How long since she’d eaten? It scared the hell out of him to see her like this. Damn, he was better with dogs.

Chapter Two

As Ridge cushioned Brecca’s body against his, he had never felt so much like things were out of his control. How the hell could he protect her? Instinctively, his arms gathered her closer, trying anyway. He lowered his head and brushed his lips across her forehead. Then he stiffened and pulled away. Damn. What was he doing? This woman had left him once without bothering to say goodbye. Did he need an encore?

Dwain hovered in the doorway, watching the two of them. Ridge turned toward him. Go get something for her to eat. There’s a McDonald’s just around the corner.

Dwain nodded. Okay. I’ll be back. He left quickly.

Brecca? Ridge said as he skimmed his forefinger across her cheek, tracing her rose-petal skin. Her hand snapped up, knocking his away as she started to bolt from the