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  “Here’s your wheelchair,” the nurse said.

  “No, that’s fine.”

  The woman scowled. “I’m sorry. It’s policy and—”

  “I really can walk. I don’t want to face any newspeople and I don’t want any media attention.”

  Something in her voice must have gotten to the nurse. She chewed on her lip. “I’ll take you out a back way.” She held up a finger. “But in a wheelchair.”

  Britt nodded, grateful for her help.

  The ride was short. The nurse stopped at a door. “This will take you to the front entrance.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

  “Just stay out of rising waters,” the woman replied with a smile.

  Britt nodded and opened the door. She stopped as she saw a group down the hall. Quinn was dressed in dark slacks and a white shirt, and a different tall blonde was hugging him. Had to be Deidre. Evidently she’d forgiven him. Quinn’s sister and her sheriff stood to the side.

  Britt’s eyes were glued to Quinn’s tall lean frame. Her heart pounded against her ribs as she said another silent goodbye to the man who had risked his life to save hers.

  Why were the good ones always taken?

  Chapter Four

  During the next couple of days Britt spent a lot of time filling out papers for her insurance company, getting a new driver’s license and reporting lost credit cards. The company rented her a car until all the paperwork was finalized and approved.

  Every morning she seemed to find a new ache or pain. Her body had taken a beating in the water, but each day she felt better and stronger. Strong enough to face Phil in court.

  She met with her lawyer, Mona Tibbs, and Mona assured her they had nothing to worry about. It was just another at tempt of Phil’s to scare her into returning to him. After talking to Mona, Britt felt optimistic. Returning to Phil wasn’t an option.

  All through the busyness and worry, Britt thought often of Quinn. He lived in Austin, but she didn’t even know his last name. She’d like to send him a thank-you, a gift of some sort. And she had to admit she’d like to see him again. Maybe Phil hadn’t destroyed all her trust in men.

  The temperature hovered in the forties on the day of the hearing. Her mother was coming into Austin to sit with Dillon while Britt was at the hearing. When her doorbell rang, Britt knew who it was, so she ran to let her mother in. She was surprised to see her grandmother, too.

  “I’ve decided to go with you,” her mother informed her. “Mama will stay with Dillon.”

  “There’s no need.” Britt tried to reassure her. “Mona says it will take only a few minutes. Phil doesn’t have a leg to stand on. A judge hardly ever takes a child away from a loving mother.”

  “Still, I’d feel better if you weren’t alone.”

  “Mom…” Britt didn’t get to voice her complaint as Onnie pushed passed her to the small kitchenette.

  “Do you have any beer?” her grandmother asked, opening the refrigerator.

  “What? Beer?” Britt’s thoughts zipped in a completely different direction.

  “Mama, you’re not drinking beer this early in the day,” Carin snapped.

  “It’s not for me. It’s for Enzo.” Onnie stopped snooping in the refrigerator and faced her daughter.

  “Enzo!” Carin’s voice rose a notch.

  Britt closed the front door with a sigh. She didn’t need this today.

  “Yeah. His assisted living facility is not far away. I told him he can catch the bus and come visit.”

  “No, no.” Carin shook her head. “Not today.”

  Onnie placed her hands on her hips. “You may be my daughter but you can’t boss me around.”

  “Please, could we not argue?” Britt asked. “I’m nervous enough.”

  Onnie hugged her. “Don’t worry. That sleazebag is not taking sweet Dillon.” She shot a glance at her daughter. “But we’re visiting Enzo before we go home.”

  “Fine,” Carin replied through tight lips.

  Britt picked up her purse. “I really have to run. The hearing is at two.”

  “I’m ready,” her mother said, and Britt knew there was no way to dissuade her.

  She turned to her grandmother. “Dillon is down for his nap. When he wakes up…”

  “I know the drill, my pretty.” Onnie pinched her cheek and reached for the TV remote control. “We’ll be just dandy. Go stick it to the bastard.”

  THE RIDE TO FAMILY COURT was done mostly in silence. Britt was nervous and she couldn’t shake it. Mona met them outside the courtroom. In her forties, with a blond bob, the lawyer was impeccably dressed in a dark suit and heels. Britt liked her confident attitude.

  “This shouldn’t take long,” Mona said. “Your ex has to show just cause to remove Dillon from your care, and he simply doesn’t have any grounds.” She touched Britt’s forearm. “Relax.”

  “I’m trying to,” she replied, feeling her face muscles stretch into tight lines of worry. But she knew Phil well enough to know he was up to something. She wouldn’t re lax until this was over.

  Footsteps echoed on the tiled floor. Britt looked up to see Phil strolling toward her, a tall man blocked by Phil’s frame behind him. Blond and green-eyed, Phil was suave, handsome, a man who had once turned her head with his charm and words of love. His attraction and phony words had been exposed for what they really were, and now he just turned her stomach.

  “Good afternoon, Roslyn,” he said in a voice that slid across her nerves with the sharpness of a nail. He always called her by her first name. At first it had been charming. Now it was insulting.

  “There is nothing good about any meeting with you,” she managed to say.

  “Tut-tut. You need to keep that temper in check.”

  Temper? What was he talking about?

  “Phil, I don’t think…”

  That voice! It resonated in Britt’s head with sweet memories as she gaped at the man who stepped forward. No. It couldn’t be.

  But it was.

  Her hero from the creek stood staring at her with the same look of shock she was sure was on her face.

  “Roslyn, this is my lawyer, Quentin Ross.”

  Quentin Ross.

  In the stunned silence no one spoke. The sturdy, efficient clock on the wall ticked away seconds like a time bomb. Voices echoed down the hall. A faint scent of aftershave filled her nostrils. Behind Britt a door opened, the turning of the door handle sounding like cymbals in her ears.

  “The judge will see you now,” a lady said.

  Mona nudged her. “Let’s go inside.”

  “Are you okay?” her mother asked. “You’re as white as a sheet.”

  “I’m fine,” she muttered, but somewhere deep inside her she knew she was never going to be the same again.

  They took seats on the right of the judge’s desk. Britt was glad of the chair for support. Her legs were trembling. She drew a long breath, forcing herself to breathe in and out in a normal rhythm. But there was nothing normal about the fear gripping her throat.

  He was Phil’s lawyer kept running through her mind like a 9-1-1 call. Her hero, the man she’d put on a pedestal, was now supporting Phil to take Dillon from her. How could that be? He had to know Phil in some way. What had she revealed to him in the woods? Had she inadvertently hurt her case?

  She was searching for answers, but didn’t find any. Grip ping her hands together until they were bloodless, she looked around the room. The Texan and American flags hung in one corner. Polished dark wood and brass were all around her. Dark and forbidding—much like the feeling in her heart. She shivered.

  It took a full minute for her shock to dissipate and her strength to kick in. She didn’t care who Phil’s attorney was. Quentin Ross didn’t matter. Keeping her son did. She focused on that, but had to resist looking Quinn’s way. She couldn’t believe how hard that was.

  The judge entered from a side door and took her seat at the big desk. “Good afternoon,” she said, folding her hand
s on the file folders in front of her. “I’m Judge Evelyn Norcutt and we’re here today at the request of Phil Rutherford to modify custody of minor child Dillon Allan Rutherford.” She fingered a piece of paper on the desk. “I received this memo yesterday. Ms. Tibbs, I assume you’ve received it, too.”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “Do you have any objections?”

  “No, Your Honor.”

  “What is it?” Britt whispered.

  “Mr. Rutherford’s original attorney is ill and Mr. Ross is taking over.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me this?” she hissed.

  “I didn’t think it mattered.”

  “It matters when—”

  “Mr. Ross!” The judge’s strong voice broke through her words. “You’re taking a step down by visiting us in family court.”

  Quinn stood, and against her will Britt looked at him. In a dark blue suit, white shirt and a blue-striped tie he looked all-business. No mud, no grime, no mischievous grin, just business behind a brooding expression. She noticed his hair was a medium blond streaked with an even lighter shade. Her guess would be that he spent a lot of time in the sun.

  With Deidre.

  Britt gritted her teeth. Quinn Ross meant nothing to her.

  “Your Honor, I’m helping out a friend. I spent a year in family law before switching to defense. I’m more than qualified to handle this case.”

  His deep, confident voice sliced through her as memories of lightning and thunder rumbled in her head.

  “I have no doubt.”

  Friend. She picked up on that one word. He was friends with Phil. She’d been married to Phil for six months and she’d never heard of him.

  The judge pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I’ve gone over the petition Mr. Wallis filed with the court.” She glanced over the top of her glasses at Quinn. “I assume you’re up-to-date.”

  “Yes, Your Honor. I spoke with Herb over the phone about every detail of the case.”

  “Good.” The judge opened a folder and pulled out papers. “Seems Mr. Rutherford is concerned about the amount of time Ms. Rutherford—”

  “It’s Davis,” Britt corrected, before she could stop herself. “I took back my maiden name.”

  The judge looked up with a frown. “Davis, then. Mr. Rutherford is concerned about the amount of time Ms. Davis spends away from their son.”

  “Your Honor.” Mona was on her feet. “I’ve seen the petition and it’s completely misleading, a blatant attempt to discredit Ms. Davis’s abilities as a mother. Ms. Davis is an international flight attendant. It requires her to be gone for long periods.”

  “I’m aware of that, and I’m also aware she has a nine-month-old son.”

  “Ms. Davis’s mother takes very good care of him while Ms. Davis is away.”

  “But Dillon is not being cared for by either of his parents.” The judge flipped through the papers. “A six-month work log of Ms. Davis has also been filed by Mr. Wallis. In June and July she was home only one week each month. That concerns me.”

  “Your Honor.” Britt had to speak. She could feel this spiraling in the wrong direction. “I took the summer flights to make extra money to support my child. It’s not something I do on a regular basis. And when I’m away, I speak with him every morning, and every night before he goes to bed. I love my son and I’m trying to make a better life for him.”

  “But you’re not there for him physically.”

  The truth of that hit her in the chest like a sledgehammer, and she had no words to defend herself.

  “Mr. Ross.” The judge turned her attention to Quinn. “Do you have anything to add?”

  “Yes, Your Honor.” He stood and buttoned his jacket. “With Ms. Davis’s…busy schedule, Mr. Rutherford is concerned about his son being raised…by a grandmother. He’s offering…to be there for the boy full time…morning, night and he’ll come home for lunch. Mr. Rutherford will hire a nanny for when he’s at work. I submit…that at this time Philip Rutherford…is the better parent to raise Dillon Allan.”

  The judge frowned. “Mr. Ross, is there something wrong with your voice?”

  Quinn raised a hand to his neck. “I have a bit of a sore throat.”

  “Thought so. Your usual stellar voice is a little off, but nonetheless effective.”

  “Do something,” Britt whispered to Mona. “Don’t let them take my son.” The fear in her became very real. She felt it with every beat of her heart. Phil’s father was very powerful in Austin, and somehow they had gotten to the judge. That was the only explanation. And they’d hired Quentin Ross to deliver the blow that would rip out Britt’s heart.

  Mona was on her feet once again. “Your Honor, they’re using Ms. Davis’s job as a weapon to take her son. A baby needs to be with his mother.”

  The judge folded her hands on the papers. “I agree, Ms. Tibbs, a baby needs to be with his mother. But Ms. Davis isn’t there. She’s a drop-in mother. A nine-month-old boy needs more. He needs a full-time mother. A full-time parent.”

  “A lot of mothers work.”

  “But they’re there in the morning and at night. As the situation stands I see no recourse but—”

  “No.” Britt jumped to her feet. “You can’t take my son. He’s my life. I’m his mother.”

  “Ms. Davis, I rarely take a child from the mother, but as I said, and Mr. Rutherford’s lawyer has stated, you’re not there for your baby. Until your situation changes I’m granting temporary custody to the father, Phil Rutherford.”

  “No, no, don’t do this. Can’t you see what they’re doing? Don’t, please.” Tears rolled from her eyes and she quickly brushed them away. She felt her mother’s arm around her waist and she leaned on her for support.

  “I said temporary, Ms. Davis. I’ll review this case in four months. That will give you time to sort out your life.” She turned to the laptop on her left and typed in information. “You are to hand over the boy to Mr. Rutherford at ten in the morning and—”

  “No,” Britt said with force. “I refuse to hand over my child to a drug addict. You’re endangering his life. What kind of judge are you?”

  “Sit down, Ms. Davis.”

  Britt stared at the judge, anger in every bone of her body. If the judge thought she would back down, she was in for a shock. Britt had nothing left to lose. “Isn’t this supposed to be about the best interest of the child? Well, you’ve just blown that to hell with your bigoted attitude.”

  “Ms. Tibbs, get your client under control or I will hold her in contempt.”

  “Let me handle this, Britt,” Mona whispered. “You don’t need to go to jail. Sit down, please.”

  Her mother tugged her back into her chair.

  “Thank you,” the judge said. “As I was saying, all child support will stop. Sundays, from eight in the morning until five in the afternoon, will be Ms. Davis’s time to see Dillon, and every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon from one to six, if her schedule permits. Mr. Rutherford, I expressly do not want you there during those times, and order no contact between you and Ms. Davis. Mr. Ross’s office will oversee the visits.”

  “My client will not be allowed any time alone with her child?” Mona asked rather tartly.

  “With her connection to the airlines, she’s a flight risk. For now, someone will always be with her.”

  Britt gritted her teeth at the injustice.

  “I object to this, Your Honor. Ms. Davis is a loving mother and I resent you using her job as a means to remove her child from her. I resent it as a woman and as a lawyer.”

  “Resent away. You have that right.”

  “I’ll file an appeal.”

  “Go ahead, but my ruling stands. This court is adjourned.”

  Just like that they had taken her child. Her precious baby.

  Britt was numb and empty and couldn’t focus on what to do next. There was no next. Phil would raise Dillon for the next four months. He’d won.

  They had taken her child. It was
her worst nightmare come true.

  Her mother hugged her. “Baby, I’m so sorry, but we’ll get through this.”

  “I don’t know how,” she murmured, looking down at her broken nails from her time in the creek. A choked sob left her throat and she raised her head. Her eyes collided with Quinn’s. His blue eyes were somber, almost apologetic. She immediately looked away and grabbed her coat. She would not let him see her cry.

  Picking up her purse, she walked from the room, her mother beside her.

  Phil waited at the door, a smirk on his face. “I’ll be at your apartment at ten in the morning for Dillon.”

  She couldn’t speak; pain and anger locked her vocal cords. Without a word, she pushed by him. He grabbed her arm and she jerked away.

  “Don’t touch me.”

  “Leave my daughter alone,” Carin said. “Haven’t you hurt her enough?”

  Ignoring her mother, Phil looked straight at Britt. “You know how to stop this.”

  Yes, she did, but she’d rather die first. And that’s what she was doing, dying inside. She walked away without giving him any satisfaction.

  And she refused to even spare Quentin Ross a glance.

  QUINN WATCHED THIS EXCHANGE with a knot in his gut. He felt as if he had been sucker punched by the heavyweight champion of the world. Or maybe by a devious, cunning, so-called friend.

  “What did you mean by that?”

  Instead of answering, Phil slapped Quinn on the back. “You did great today, old friend.”

  He wasn’t Phil’s friend. They’d been classmates in law school. Through that connection, Quinn had gotten an internship in Philip Sr.’s prestigious law firm. He was deeply grateful, but he didn’t want to continue to pay that debt for the rest of his life.

  Quinn placed papers in his briefcase and snapped it shut. “Why did you call me to handle this case at the last minute?”

  “Because you’re the best. And since Herb was indisposed, I knew you were the one who could stick it to Roslyn in a big way. Dad’s going to be so excited to hear Dillon will be living with me.”

  “I didn’t accept as a favor to your father.” Who was he kidding? It was the only reason. Quinn’s law career was his life, and Philip Sr. could ruin it with just a couple of calls. It wasn’t easy admitting that, and Quinn felt lower than the dust lingering beneath the rug on the floor. “I did it because I thought your ex was a lousy mother and a tramp, like you and Herb painted her.”