Taken: A Kept Novella (13 page)

It took time—weeks, actually, for all the details to come out.

Sometime after Anna had fled to Michigan, Dr. Peterson decided to let her and the baby girl he didn’t want, go. So long as he never heard from her again.

But then Anna had called Joelle, knowing she’d not completely agreed with her husband on what to do about Sophie, asking her to consider being tested to see if she could be the match the little girl, suffering with leukemia, needed.

Peterson had overheard the call and knew that what he’d done in his own office—years ago, after his usual hours—was about to come out.

The nurse he’d blackmailed back then into helping him had seemed malleable at the time. No threat whatsoever. She’d helped him retrieve Anna’s eggs under the pretense of implanting an embryo. He’d seen Anna’s kids. They were healthy, good-looking, strong. And Anna’s coloring wasn’t too far off from his own.

No one would ever know. Not even his wife, who would never, ever be able to conceive a child.

Not that she’d find out, if he had a say in it. The news would devastate her.

But Anna could spare her eggs. That was done under the guise of implanting a first embryo that he’d later say hadn’t taken. Once enough time had passed for that, it was time to put the real one in. His and Anna’s.

And it took.

But then had come the test results. Down Syndrome. A less-than-perfect child. He couldn’t let that happen. Not when it had to be Anna’s fault that this child was damaged. No way would he raise it. Or pretend to love it. Or provide for it.

No. The child needed to go.

The news spread throughout his office—how sad it was that after so many years of trying that Dr. and Mrs. Peterson’s baby had Down Syndrome. Of course they’d abort and try again. But so sad. To be only a few months away…

His nurse had decided Anna needed to know.

And he needed to stop her.

That had been the deep, dark step that led him to doing whatever it took to keep it all a secret. To keep his practice. To keep his wife. To keep his freedom.

But one sinister choice led to another. After talking to Anna about not being a match, Joelle had confronted him with the news that she couldn’t be the mother. Peterson, loathe to go as far with her as he’d done with the nurse, had locked her in their basement. With food. With water.

But still. His own wife.

Cam couldn’t fathom it.

She’d escaped the same night Peterson had attacked them, a neighbor chasing a dog through her yard having heard her cries for help.

The body of the private investigator Peterson had hired showed up the next day. He’d been hit in the head with something hard. A tire iron, Peterson finally admitted.

Two people dead. Two more who might have ended up dead. Certainly three if Peterson had found Anna because Anna was the proof of what he’d done. The proof that he’d stolen her eggs and had used them to create his child. If he’d found a way to kill Anna—and not be suspected in her death—no one would ever, ever know what he’d done over five years ago.

But he hadn’t found her. He hadn’t—and now, at long last, Anna could live a normal life again.

Wrong finally
had
been righted.

The maternity test Anna and Sophie took proved they were indeed mother and daughter. That Sophie was Cam’s biological niece after all. His parents’ actual grandchild.

Cam left his parents a voicemail, letting them know.

There was no reply.

Not through the summer while he and Jordan continued to date. Not through the chemo and radiation week leading up to Sophie’s transplant after a stranger had turned out to be an excellent match. Not through her slow but steady recovery.

And not through weeks of Garrett play-threatening—Cam hoped?— to tase him again if Jordan so much as stubbed her toe. Not through Cam listing his house and looking for something new—with Jordan’s input—so he wouldn’t have to walk past that bedroom every day and remember what had happened to them both.

He was ready to start over. To build a life with Jordan. A really nice, long, boring-as-dirt life.

“So. Dude.” Garrett cornered him as Miska and Dillan’s rehearsal dinner ended and people were heading to the church. “When’s your closing again?”

“Tuesday. Are you coming to help me move?”

Garrett spread his hands, looked down at his expensive pants and shirt. “Do I look like I do my own moving?”

“Come on, man. Dillan will be on his honeymoon. Jordan can’t help because you’ll go all
Princess Bride
torture on me if she breaks a nail. And Matt might have moved back, but I do not want any help from him.”

Grinning, Garrett clapped him on the shoulder. “Well then. Let me know how the move goes.” He turned and walked away.

Cam watched him go. Maybe marrying into the Foster family wasn’t all he’d thought it would be. Outside of getting Jordan, anyway.

Garrett glanced over his shoulder—and laughed. “Dad and I’ll be there whenever you want. Let us know.”

“Thanks.” Yeah, Garrett as a brother-in-law was going to be… interesting.

The best part about the rehearsal wasn’t that Miska and Dillan were getting married but that Cam got to walk down the aisle with Jordan. Pretty cool how that had worked out.

From his seat on the auditorium’s front row, Cam listened to the wedding coordinator telling the bridesmaids where to stand. Miska’s maid of honor, Tracy, was first with Jordan right behind her, and other bridesmaids following. Garrett was Dillan’s best man with Cam right behind him.

They took their places on the stage while the coordinator stepped back to make sure it looked right. Cam looked past Dillan and Miska—who held hands and talked intimately, a huge smile lighting Miska’s face—to Jordan directly opposite and, like him, two steps down from the bride and groom.

Pretty sweet that he’d have a perfect view of her tomorrow throughout the ceremony.

She smiled at him, and Cam raised his eyebrows.
Marry me
, he mouthed.

What?
she asked.

Marry. Me.

A playful smile curved her lips, even as she rolled her eyes and tapped the bare ring finger on her left hand.

Yeah. Details. But he was working on that. Once Dillan and Miska were back from their honeymoon, he’d ask Jordan for real. Make it official.

They practiced walking off the stage, up the aisle, and out to the church’s foyer.

Jordan slid her hand from where it curled around his bicep down to his hand. “You know,” she said, “you keep randomly asking me to marry you like that, and I’m not gonna believe you when you’re serious.”

“Oh, you’ll believe me.” Cam stepped aside for Miska’s dad to join her for the walk down the aisle. “You’ll know when it’s the real thing.”

“How?”

Because he’d probably be a bit of a mess himself. He knew it.

“Cam?”

See? He was starting to lose it now. What was wrong with him this summer? He cleared his throat. “You sure you want me? An old guy who’s already getting emotional about everything? How bad am I going to be when I hit forty?”

Jordan leaned into him and planted a kiss on his lips.

Cam closed his eyes and cradled her against him.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Garrett called from somewhere beyond them.

They broke apart to laughter from the rest of the bridal party, and Cam sent Garrett the evil eye.

“What? You’re kissing my sister.”

Yes, and Garrett needed to get used to it. Cam kissed her again, then held her close. “What is he going to say when we have kids?”

Jordan laughed as she slipped out of his arms.

They prepared for the walk down the aisle, and Cam tried not to think too far ahead to when it would be their turn.

Why?

Because it was Miska and Dillan’s turn now.

Because Jordan deserved to be loved. Cherished. Honored.

Because they both were worth doing it right.

Dear Reader,

Thank you so much for reading
Taken
and for spending time with me, Cam, and Jordan. If you’ve read
Kept
already, I hope you enjoyed revisiting that world and those characters and getting peeks into Miska and Dillan’s life together. This book was a bit different in style from what I normally write, but I hope to do more full-length novels for
Kept
characters down the road. Just waiting for the right idea to come together. Details, details! Right?

In the meantime, I’ve started a new book series about second chances. Like
Kept,
the Chicago Wind series deals with characters who are facing hurts and tough decisions, all while working to grow as a Christian. In
Homestands
, a professional athlete stumbles across his ex-wife, the son she hid from him, and the rare opportunity to right his wrongs; but a secret from the past threatens attempts to repair their shattered relationship. I thoroughly enjoyed Mike and Meg’s story and hope you love it too. Keep reading for a sneak peek at the first chapter!

I do love hearing from you, reader friend, so feel free to get in touch with me either through my
website
or
my Facebook page
. I’d love to talk with you. And please subscribe to
my newsletter
to find out when more books are coming out.

Until we meet again,

Sally Bradley

PS: Don’t forget to keep reading for a peek at
Homestands!

When baseball star Mike Connor stumbles across his ex-wife six years after their divorce, he’s stunned to find that she's the mother of a kindergartner who wears his jersey. And shares his last name.

The last thing Meg Connor wants is to be around Mike. After all, he was the one who hurt and abandoned her. But she can’t deny him—or their son—time together to build a relationship, which means Mike is around too often, reminding her of why she fell in love with him so long ago. If only she could forget their past… The painful and the good.

Between their guilt and closely held hurts, Meg and Mike struggle against each other, their feelings, and God as they fight their own desires for the future, a future that might never happen when the past that tore them apart collides with their present.

The end came, as it nearly always did, when his thoughts were elsewhere, his focus on other things. When life seemed okay, if not good.

This time he was staring at the years-old picture he held of himself with Meg when he realized that someone had, several seconds ago, sat down beside him on the bed.

And that it could only be Sara.

It was too late to hide the picture.

But he did anyway.

Sara drew her eyes slowly to his, her lips pressed together. “This isn’t working, is it?”

“I just found it. I was packing and—”

“Mike Connor.” She laughed and eased to her feet with the same calm reaction she gave all of his jokes. “Who do you think you’re lying to here?”

“No one. I’m not lying.”

“Well, you’re definitely not lying to me.” She turned in front of the bathroom doorway and watched him.

He tried not to squirm.

Her crossed arms said control, not self-preservation. She pursed her lips. “I’ve seen this coming for a while, you know.”

He played dumb. “Seen what coming?”

“The end of us.”

“Sara.” He forced all the emotion and love he could into her name. “I told you. I was packing and I found it.”

“Why is it even here, Mike? You brought everything in this place six weeks ago when you came down for spring training. If this were your house, then maybe—maybe—I could see you stumbling across it.”

He glanced around, his gaze finally landing on the black Samsonite peeking from the bottom of the open closet. “It must have already been in a suitcase.”

“Right.” She leaned against the doorjamb, sending him a sad smile. “You’re not over her.”

“Come on.” He laughed. “Don’t tell me you never think about past relationships.”

“How often are we talking, Mike? Why do I get the feeling that every relationship you’ve had has ended this way? I know what I’m talking about—you’re not over her. You need to see her.”

“No. Nope.” His pulse sped just a bit at the idea. He hadn’t seen Meg in over six years. Six long years in which every relationship fizzled under the memory of what he’d thrown away.

But Sara was right about one thing—the two of them had been over for a while. Back in February he’d been eager to leave her in freezing Chicago and hightail it to sunny Arizona. Nothing but the team and baseball—until a week ago when she’d come down to stay with him over spring break. He rubbed his eyes, suddenly worn out and longing for sleep.

“Do you realize you’re still sitting on the bed? That your hand is still on her picture? You haven’t even bothered getting up to persuade me to stay.”

Wow. He studied the pattern of the carpet. No rebuttal came to mind.

But the thought of going back to his massive home and finding it empty of everything Sara was depressing. He forced himself to stand, his knees creaking, and walked across the bedroom to her.

She stayed where she was, her eyes on him.

He pulled her into his arms, and she let him, even though her arms stayed folded in front of her.

They really were done.

His throat tightened. There was so much he should say, but his voice would betray him. And what was he really emotional about this time? Was he sorry to see Sara go? Or just sorry that he’d be alone?

Again.

Sara sighed as she moved out of his arms and stepped around him.

He turned, watched her walk to the nightstand.

Her straight brown hair hung down her back in a thick, soft ponytail. She loved her hair, and he’d lied and told her he thought it was beautiful too.

But it was always dark, honey-blonde hair he loved. Meg’s long, wavy hair.

Sara pulled something from her planner and palmed it.

“What?” he asked. “You’ve got an ex-husband you’re going to show me?”