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Kyle swore a vile oath. He had to get Derek out of here. There was no telling what those creatures were doing to his child, no telling what they were doing with all the blood and tissue samples they had taken from him. Were they doing the same to his son? The thought of Derek being poked and prodded made Kyle’s stomach churn.
Mired in a pit of despair, he sank down onto the floor, his head cradled in his hands. He wondered what Mara was doing. No doubt she thought he had kidnapped the baby and run away. Was she looking for them? Kyle slammed his fist on the floor. No doubt she was glad to be rid of him. He had seen the way she looked at Blackwood, seen the way Blackwood looked at her.
Kyle sighed heavily. Even if Mara didn’t give a damn about what happened to him, she loved their son. She would be looking for Derek; he had no doubt of that. To consider anything else would surely drive him over the edge. He just hoped that when she came for the baby, she wouldn’t leave him behind.
Chapter Forty
“If you don’t stop pacing like that, darlin’, you’re gonna wear a hole in my brand-new carpet.”
“I can’t help it,” Mara said irritably. “It’s been over a month. Shouldn’t that hunter have heard something by now?”
“You should know better than most that if a vampire doesn’t want to be found, it’s damned hard to find him. And if Ramsden’s discovered a way to mask his presence”—Logan shrugged—“it’ll take even longer.”
Logan had called Lou McDonald every few days, but the news was always the same. Nothing to report. Roshan and the Cordova men weren’t having any better luck. Between the four of them, they had covered every vampire hangout in the country, questioned every vampire they knew, and that was an impressive number. But no one in the Undead community had seen or heard from Thomas Ramsden in weeks. It was as if the doctor, Kyle, and the baby had vanished from the face of the earth.
Shoulders slumped, Mara sank down on the sofa beside Logan. “If I just knew my baby was all right . . .”
“I know.” He slipped his arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “We’ve been cooped up in this house too long. What do you say we go out for an hour or two? I’ll take you to dinner . . .”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You’ve got to eat something.” She had lost a good twenty pounds in the last month. There were dark shadows under her eyes, hollows in her cheeks. And she was pale, so pale. “You’re wasting away.”
“Logan . . .”
“Dammit, Mara, you’ve got to keep your strength up. That kid of yours will need you to be at your best when we find him.”
She nodded. He was right, of course. This was no time to let herself get mired in depression. She needed to keep her wits about her, to be strong for Derek.
“That’s my girl. Where do you want to go?”
“I don’t care.”
Rising, Logan took Mara by the hand and pulled her to her feet. “Let’s go.”
He took her to Spago in Beverly Hills. It was a lovely place. A patio graced the center of the restaurant, shaded by graceful pepper trees. A bubbling fountain stood next to two imported one-hundred-year-old olive trees. The kitchen could be seen through a colorful glass wall. The dining room was delightful with its stained-glass windows, brightly colored tiles, and flamboyant carpets.
Mara glanced at the menu. Risotto with lobster and sweet shrimp, sweet English pea soup, wild black sea bass, Hong Kong-style steamed salmon, roasted rack and loin of Sonoma lamb, salmon and crème fraîche pizza, ricotta-stuffed agnolotti studded with black truffles. She frowned. She had no idea what agnolotti was, or what crème fraîche might be.
She wasn’t hungry, but knowing she had to eat something, and to please Logan, she ordered the grilled lobster and summer vegetables with spicy herbed butter. Logan ordered a bottle of red wine.
While waiting for her dinner to arrive, Mara glanced around the restaurant. It was one of the few places she had never been and as she looked around, she wondered if any movie stars or celebrities were dining there that night. It was well-known that, at one time or another, most of Hollywood’s rich and famous had dined at Spago, stars like Tom Cruise, Russell Crowe, Jamie Lee Curtis, and Tom Hanks. It was said to have been First Lady Nancy Reagan’s favorite eatery.
Mara sighed when her dinner arrived. It looked wonderful. Too bad it was going to go to waste. She supposed the least she could do was take a bite or two. To her surprise, she ate every bite, and then she ordered everything chocolate on the dessert menu.
Logan grinned at her over the rim of his wineglass. “Not hungry, eh?”
“So, maybe I was, a little.”
“A little?” He snorted softly. “I thought you were going to eat the plates, too.”
“Well, the food was excellent. Don’t you ever miss eating?”
“I thought I did, until you made me try that roast beef,” he said, grimacing. “I’ll stay with what I’m used to.” His gaze lingered on the pulse in her throat. “Do you want anything else?”
“No, I don’t think so.” She was so full, she didn’t think she would ever need to eat again.
Logan paid the check and then, because it was a beautiful night, they decided to go for a walk.
They walked in silence for a time before Mara asked, “Do you think he’s all right?”
“Yeah, I do. I think you’d know if he wasn’t.”
“I miss him so much,” Mara said with a wistful smile. “I never thought it was possible to love anyone so much.”
Logan nodded. He doubted if there was any bond in all the world as strong as that between a mother and a child. He recalled his own mother. He hadn’t thought of her in a long time. She had been a warm gentle woman who had brought nine healthy children into the world, and died all too soon. His father had mourned her until the day he took his last breath.
Logan blew out a sigh, wondering, for the first time in a long time, if his father’s line still survived. He supposed it was highly unlikely after all these years. Still, it was possible. Maybe he’d look into it one of these days.
“Logan, what if it wasn’t Ramsden who took the baby? What if we never find out what happened to Derek? Or to Kyle?” Mara looked up at him through haunted eyes. “I don’t think I can go on living without knowing what happened to my son. Even if . . . if he’s . . . I just have to know.”
