A Mommy for Christmas by Maggie Shayne

Author:Maggie Shayne
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: contemporary romance, oklahoma, western romance, christmas romance, singleparent, maggie shayne, texas brands, oklahoma all girl brands
Publisher: Maggie Shayne

Chapter 8

JIM WAS PREPARED to spend the night sitting up, watching the house. It wasn’t like he was going to be able to sleep anyway, with Ang in town up to God only knew what and that slimebag Vinnie more than likely with her. And Colby missing. Damn, he wished he knew where his friend was. He’d tried calling his cell phone again, just as he’d tried every hour or so since Colby had left. But it was no good.

He should be out there. He should be searching for Colby himself. But dammit, he couldn’t leave Tyler and he couldn’t drag his son along. Not while there was any risk at all. So he had to settle for phoning the chief for an update.

“Stay put, Corona,” Chief Wilcox told him. “We’ve got officers combing three counties for Benton. His photo and a the tag number and description of the Blazer are with every law-enforcement agency in the area, and tonight they made TV news, as well.”

“Still—”

“Still nothing. We’ve circulated photos and information on Vinnie and Ang as well. Not for the press, though. We don’t want to tip them off too fast. But trust me, Corona, we’ve got this covered. We’re gonna find Benton one way or another. And you leaving your kid alone and putting yourself at risk isn’t going to change the outcome anyway. So sit tight.”

He nodded, hating that his chief was right. “Okay.”

“You secure there?”

Yeah, as long as I don’t sleep, he thought. Aloud he said, “Yeah, we’re good.” He would see about getting some better locks on this place tomorrow. For now he had every door and window closed and locked. The bedroom where Tyler slept had only one window, and he’d moved a two-hundred-pound hardwood armoire in front of it for added security.

He’d left Tyler’s light on, the bedroom door open. He never moved far enough away to break his line of sight to his son. They’d be all right.

“I’ll talk to you in the morning then,” the chief said.

Jim said good-night and disconnected. Then he kept his lonely vigil over his son for another hour and a half without incident, sitting in a hard-back chair he’d dragged in from the kitchen so he wouldn’t get too comfortable and nod off. The chair was tipped back on two legs, propped by his feet on a coffee table. His side-arm was in his lap. He thought he probably looked like an over-reactive drama king, but he’d rather look like an idiot than risk an unexpected visit from Vinnie Stefano.

Around ten a knock on the door startled him into sitting up straight, feet and chair legs hitting the floor at once. A key scraped in the lock. He came to his feet, gun in his hand, barrel down. His forefinger moved without conscious command, nudging the safety off.

The door swung open and Kara Brand stepped inside. She stopped and eyed him, then his gun, then him again. She’d changed clothes, was dressed more casually now in jeans and a sweater, a warm coat.

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