Baby Trouble. Beth Cornelison

in the dark for several more minutes, and predictably, the boy drifted back to sleep, his nightmare long gone. Nick stood awkwardly, careful not to wake his son, and carried him back to his rocket-ship bed. He tucked the little boy in and kissed his forehead, memorizing Adam’s face in that peaceful moment.

      He was going to defeat his own demons if it killed him. No way was he about to let his paranoia bleed over to his children and damage them. And furthermore, his past wasn’t going to hurt them, either. He knew what he had to do. And he had to do it alone. Leaving no note that Laura could use to track him down, he treaded quietly back down the stairs, this time being sure to reactivate the alarm from the panel in the garage, and headed out into the night.

      * * *

      Laura woke up to Ellie’s fussing amplified through the baby monitor, disoriented at how well rested she felt and that the first light of dawn was peeking in around the curtains. She looked at the clock. Six o’clock? Nick must’ve taken the 2:00 a.m. feeding, bless him. She rolled over to thank him and was startled to see his side of the bed empty. He hadn’t struggled with insomnia for months, now.

      Shrugging, she got up, threw on a bathrobe and headed for her daughter. Ellie was hungry, and nursed for longer than usual. Laura carried her into the bathroom and laid her on a big soft bath towel on the heated floor while Mommy jumped into the shower. She dressed herself and Ellie and headed downstairs in search of Nick.

      He wasn’t in the kitchen watching the financial news and drinking coffee, as was his habit. She strolled through the entire downstairs and didn’t find him. Had he crawled into bed with Adam sometime last night? He did that now and then when Adam had a particularly scary nightmare. The boy had had periodic bouts with them ever since a team of killers had broken into the house after Nick’s rescue in search of her and Nick. Thankfully, the babysitter had gotten them into the mansion’s panic room and locked it down before Adam was hurt or worse. But the incident had left its mark on the little boy.

      She headed upstairs and peeked into Adam’s room. He was sleeping alone. A low-level hum of alarm started in Laura’s gut. She checked the linen closet and Nick’s walk-in closet. No sign of him.

      She pulled out her cell phone and dialed his. Not in service? What was going on? She ran down to the garage to check the cars—they were all in their places. The alarm system was still on, too. Where had he gone? He hated being outdoors. It wasn’t like he’d have gone for a morning stroll.

      Starting at one end of the house, she searched it methodically, checking every place a grown man could possibly hide. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong.

      Memories of Paris flashed through her head with horrifying clarity. How he’d just disappeared. No trace. No evidence. No ransom call. Nothing. He’d just been gone. Please, God. Not again. She couldn’t live through losing him again. Not like that.

      An hour later, she was on the phone to the police and local hospitals. Nada. And then she started calling their friends and associates, the early hour of the morning be damned. No one had seen or heard from him overnight. Panic hovered, vulture-like, waiting to close in on her.

      Adam came downstairs and didn’t help matters one bit by immediately picking up on her stress. The child was far too observant for his own good sometimes. “What’s wrong, Mommy? Where’s Daddy?”

      “I don’t know, honey. But there’s nothing to worry about.”

      Adam frowned. “His heart is hurting again.”

      She turned on the child quickly. “Why do you say that, sweetie?”

      “He was in the towel closet again last night.”

      “When last night?”

      Adam shrugged. “It was dark. I had a bad dream and was coming to sleep with you. I heard him breathing funny in there.”

      “What did he say?” She tried not to sound hysterical but suspected she’d failed when Adam frowned worriedly.

      “He promised he’d keep me safe from the bad man. He pinkie swore.” The little boy started to cry. “The bad man got him, didn’t he?”

      She gathered him into her arms. “Daddy? Are you kidding? He’s big and strong and smart. No bad man has a chance against your daddy.”

      But the bad man had gotten Nick once before. Had history sickeningly repeated itself? Had he been ghosted out of their lives yet again?

       Chapter 4

      “May I help you, sir?” The receptionist at the swanky Boston law firm was predictably beautiful and efficient.

      Nick replied, “I’m here to see William Ward.”

      “Do you have an appointment?”

      “No, and please don’t tell him I’m here. It’s a surprise.” He flashed his most charming smile at her. He wasn’t vain about his looks, but very few women could resist him when he turned the charm all the way up.

      She simpered something about being delighted to help. He waved off her offer to show him the way and strode down the familiar hallways. A feeling akin to déjà vu passed over him. This place was from another existence, another life, familiar and yet entirely strange to him.

      He stepped into Ward’s office and the man glanced up. “Sweet Jesus!” he gasped, falling back in his chair heavily. “Is that really you?”

      Nick closed the door and stepped up to the desk. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, William.”

      “My God. Where have you been? The things they said about you—”

      Nick propped his hip on a corner of William’s expansive desk. “What did my kidnappers say to explain my absence, anyway?”

      “Kidnappers?” The lawyer stared, aghast. “The reports said you had a mental breakdown. Had to be institutionalized. There were doctor’s statements. Psychological evaluations. Pictures. You looked like hell.”

      “Lies. All of it,” Nick said shortly.

      William’s shocked pallor was giving way to a sickly shade of green. “Was our power of attorney over your estate illegal, then? What about your signatures on all those sales documents?”

      “What documents?”

      “The ones signing over your company to the new management group? Were those real?”

      “I never signed anything, to my knowledge.” He hoped. Surely he never would have signed away Spiros Shipping under any circumstances.

      It took William a few seconds to quit spluttering and form words. “Please forgive me for asking, I mean no disrespect. But have you been in a sufficiently … alert … mental condition for all of the past six years to know for certain that you never signed any legal documents?”

      Nick swore under his breath. God only knew what he’d done during the blackout years. “I’m actually not here to talk about my company. And to answer your question, I was kidnapped and imprisoned for five years. It has taken me most of the past year to recover physically from the ordeal.”

      The lawyer devolved into a shockingly uncharacteristic bout of mumbling to himself. Poor guy must really be shaken up. Eventually, William collected himself enough to go into attorney mode. “I’m going to need an affidavit from you describing exactly what happened to you in detail. I don’t have any idea how we’re going to contest the sale of your company. It’s going to cause a massive uproar to try to get it back—”

      Nick interrupted the man sharply. “I don’t want it back. That’s not why I’m here.”

      William stared blankly. “Why are you here, then?”

      “I need you to tell me about the last two years