Fatal Burn (West Coast 2)

“I already am.”

“You don’t know anything about this guy.”

“I know he’s my baby’s father and that she’s in danger. That’s enough.” She saw another protest forming on her brother’s lips, but whatever he was about to say he kept to himself. Which was great. She was tired, getting cranky, and embarrassed by Mary Beth’s public display. And that didn’t begin to touch on her anger for her other brother. She wanted to strangle Robert.

Travis jogged back to them and offered up a red hooded sweatshirt and a CD case. “It’s all I’ve got with me,” he explained.

“Hopefully it’s enough, but only if we have some clue as to where Dani is or has been,” Shannon said. “Come by my place tomorrow and we’ll figure out a plan.”

“What?” Aaron asked. Shannon sent him a look guaranteed to cut through granite and he bit back anything further.

“I will,” he promised and Shannon, her daughter’s things in hand, climbed into Shea’s rig.

“If you’re going to do this, let’s do it right,” Shea suggested, digging in the back of his truck. He found a couple of clear plastic bags and Shannon placed the items inside them.

She doubted that her daughter was anywhere near the area, but she couldn’t pass up the chance to try and help, even in a small way.

Shea slid behind the wheel, Shannon occupied the middle and Aaron squeezed in beside her, muttering about Mary Beth under his breath as he slammed the door shut. “What gets into her?” he growled.

Shannon just wanted to forget the whole mortifying experience. Though she was far from completely trusting Travis Settler, she’d rather he wasn’t a witness to any more of her family’s private dealings. She didn’t want him to know too much about her. For reasons she didn’t completely understand she thought any knowledge he had of her might be dangerous. He’s not the enemy, her mind insisted, but she wasn’t so sure. She was weary and worried and just wanted to go home.

But she couldn’t help peering into the rearview mirror as Shea drove away from the motel. She caught Settler’s image in the reflective slice of glass and her heart thudded uncomfortably.

Tall, with long, jean-clad legs, some kind of running shoes and a knit shirt stretched across his wide shoulders, Settler stood feet apart, arms crossed over his chest. The dome light of the porch

area in front of his motel room illuminated his head, showing off the streaks of blond in his otherwise light brown hair. It was unkempt, a little shaggy and fell over his forehead. His countenance was hard, etched in worry. Intense blue eyes stared after the truck, and she imagined his gaze found hers in the mirror. Which was just plain silly. There was no way he could see into the darkened interior of the pickup’s cab.

But her last look at him in the reflection burned deep into her mind: broad shoulders, steely jaw, intensity radiating from him in sharp, sexy waves.

As they’d sat at the table in the restaurant she would have had to be blind not to notice the sharp angles and planes in his face, or the way his skin was tan and weathered. She sensed he was tough, and she imagined if he smiled, it would cut a woman to her soul. But he’d been tense. Worried. The one thing on his mind was finding his daughter. Which only made him more attractive to her.

Attractive?

Lord, what was she thinking?

It had to be the pain meds.

Or the shock of meeting the adoptive father of her child.

Or seeing pictures of the child her infant had become.

She couldn’t, wouldn’t find Travis Settler sexy or attractive or any of the above. So he was intent on saving their…his…her child. So he’d helped her that night when someone had beaten her so savagely. So he was handsome and sexy as all get-out. But she had to remember: He was the enemy. He’d admitted to spying on her, to thinking she’d somehow abducted Dani.

If he only knew how she really felt about her child.

She closed her eyes and her mind to any other ludicrous thoughts about him; they had absolutely no place there.

Shea cracked his window and the dash lighter clicked.

Shannon leaned her head against the headrest and felt overwhelmingly weary. Her body ached and her mind was reeling. As the outskirts of Santa Lucia flashed past the windows and the conversation between her two brothers swirled around her in clouds of cigarette smoke, she closed her eyes and silently fought the headache that had been building.

Meeting Travis Settler, talking to him and knowing he was the father of her daughter had been difficult, but harder yet had been viewing the pictures of her child. Even now she was shaking inside. She’d eyed those small images and tried to burn them into her mind, but all the while, as she’d viewed the progression of her daughter from infant to teenager, she’d felt this tremendous pain that was as much like loneliness as anything she could name.

You should have kept her. You should have been able to watch her grow up, be a part of her first Christmas. You should have helped her ride a bicycle and a horse, taught her respect for animals. She should have had her First Communion in St. Theresa’s where you’d had yours. You should have been holding her on your lap for the photographer, not Travis Settler’s wife. Your daughter should have known her uncles and grandparents and most of all you, Shannon Flannery, should have protected her. From this. From whatever horror she is now enduring.

The headache raged and her throat was so thick she could barely swallow. Where was Dani, that little, red-faced, screaming baby Shannon had so reluctantly given away? Was she alive? Waiting for her father or the police to save her? Or had the unthinkable already happened?

Oh, God. Don’t think like that. Do not think like that. She’s alive. Travis will find her and you, damn it, will help him! You owe your daughter that much!