The Billionaire's Son. Sharon Hartley

happened?”

      Trey told the story of how Jason somehow escaped his abductors and glued himself to a woman jogging through the park. “I think it’s because Kelly Jenkins physically resembles Darlene and was jogging. Remember, Darlene used to take him on runs.”

      “You’re sure that’s the whole story?” Brian asked.

      “The Miami Police corroborate her version, and they interviewed bystanders,” Trey replied. “Why?”

      “Like I said, bizarre. Where is this woman now?”

      “Upstairs with Jason. She’ll join us for lunch when he falls asleep.”

      “So you’ve allowed this stranger into your home? Is that wise?”

      “I didn’t have much choice without sending Jason into full-out hysterics. I couldn’t do that to him.”

      “I’d like to talk to her with you present,” Brian said. “See if she tells the story the same way twice.” He removed his glasses and tapped them on his cheek. “I’d also like to run a background check on her.”

      “She’s a police officer. As soon I feed her, she’ll be out of our lives.”

      “Maybe.”

      Trey shrugged. “Whatever you think. What’s that?” Trey nodded to the document in Brian’s lap.

      “Part of the reason for my caution. This is a demand letter from Darlene’s father—or rather Darlene’s father’s new attorney.” Brian handed Trey the paper over the desk.

      “My ex-wife didn’t have a father.”

      “Oh, she had one. He just wasn’t in her life following conception. One Jeff Lawson just got out of prison, found out who the bundle of joy he never laid eyes on married, and thinks—like his daughter before him—why not dip into the deep Wentworth pot for a little extra spending money.”

      “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Trey stared at the letter in outrage. Lawson’s attorney, a sole practitioner, had a post office box for an address.

      “Don’t worry about it. I had to tell you, but it’s nothing but a nuisance, a bottom-feeder lawyer making some noise. I’ll deal with it.”

      Trey sat back and closed his eyes. “Yeah, please handle it. Right now I’ve got to focus on Jason.”

      “Carico is good. She’ll get Jase straightened out.”

      “I hope so,” Trey said. The phone rang, and Trey checked caller ID, surprised to see his father’s private number. Was he actually taking time to check on Jason?

      “Excuse me,” Trey told Brian. “It’s my father.”

      Brian stood. “I’ll check on lunch.”

      “Hi, Dad,” Trey said into the phone.

      “Trey. I got your message. Excellent news.”

      “Yes, it is.”

      “I trust you’ll make certain Jason is better protected from now on.”

      Trey didn’t respond. His dad never missed an opportunity to get in a dig. This one was a low blow, but better not to react.

      “I hope you haven’t forgotten the Alzheimer’s benefit,” his father continued.

      “What did you say?”

      “You’re scheduled to appear at The Turf Club tonight.”

      Trey closed his eyes. No way could he attend a formal party now. The idea sickened him. How typical that his father expected him to go.

      “Sorry, Dad. Under the circumstances, I won’t be able to make it. I’ll send regrets and a large check.”

      After a long silence, his father cleared his throat. “Hundreds of very expensive tickets were sold based on your appearance. The Wentworth name is all over this event.”

      “Dad—”

      “Don’t let the family down, Trey. Jason is fine. He’ll likely sleep the night through.”

      “How do you know Jason is fine?”

      “He’s home, isn’t he? Just put in a brief appearance, shake a few hands and down a few glasses of champagne. It’s your job, son. I expect you to attend.”

      And with that his father disconnected.

      Trey smothered a curse and replaced the receiver. What made him think this time his father would demonstrate some normal human emotion?

      So he was going to The Turf Club tonight. Putting on a cheerful smile and glad-handing strangers was impossible. How would he get through the evening? He didn’t want to go, but this was the unholy deal he’d made with his father, the only sure way to protect his mother. A deal that had never chafed worse than right now.

      What if Jason were still missing? Would his father still expect him to put on a tux and promote Wentworth Industries?

      What the hell. He’d make it quick. He wouldn’t sleep tonight anyway without a sedative, and he didn’t want to take one. Jason might wake up and need him.

      * * *

      WHEN CERTAIN JASON was asleep, Kelly slipped her hand from under his limp fingers and tiptoed toward the door where she flipped off the overhead light. A small nightlight in the shape of a green frog glowed dimly, and a bit of sun filtered in through the windows, so the room wouldn’t be totally black if he awoke.

      As she eased the door shut, Kelly wondered if Jason was afraid of the dark.

      Carrying a pile of thick towels, Maria waited in the hallway and offered a shy smile. “Is Jasonito asleep?” she asked.

      “For now,” Kelly said, wincing at Maria’s discolored face. “You were with him when he was taken, right?”

      Maria’s smile disappeared. “Yes. We were at the park. I tried to stop them, but they—” She raised her hand to her swollen eye. “I could not protect him. That must be why he is mad at me.”

      “I don’t think he’s mad at you,” Kelly soothed. “He’s just a mixed-up kid right now.”

      Maria glanced at the door. “He is sweet boy.”

      “Yeah, he is,” Kelly said. Although damned heavy.

      “Thank God he is home safe. Thank you for rescuing him.”

      “Just doing my job,” Kelly said.

      At those words, Maria roused herself. “Let me show you to your room.”

      Following Maria down the hall, Kelly thought of her own mother, something that didn’t happen often lately. Was it the way the housekeeper moved? Kelly’s mom had worked as a maid for most of her life. When she was sober enough to hold a job, that is. But never in a grand house like this, Kelly thought bitterly. Usually fleabag motels—where she’d turn the occasional trick if the opportunity arose.

      They entered a large bedroom where again the theme was mostly white, although the furnishings, including a desk, provided pleasing splashes of dark brown. A wooden frame without a curtain surrounded a huge bed overflowing with plump, carefully arranged pillows. Arching white orchids perched on bedside tables. Kelly’s gaze was drawn beyond the flowers to windows on either side of the bed and a spectacular view of blue-green water in the distance. The Atlantic Ocean.

      Maria placed the towels on the bed and stepped to a closet where she slid open doors and withdrew a—of course—white terry cloth robe. Maria handed Kelly the robe, and motioned toward a door that Kelly guessed led to the bathroom. “After you shower, please come downstairs. Lunch will be waiting.”

      “Thanks,” Kelly said.

      Maria moved to one of the side tables, opened a door and withdrew