Hold on to Me by Linda Winfree

downstairs?”
    She left the restroom and took the elevator to the ground floor. She turned in her guest pass and walked out into the hot afternoon sun. Despite all her efforts, the tears fell. Damn it, she hated crying, and she hated having a runny nose. She rummaged in her bag for tissues, trying to smother the sobs that rattled her chest.
    God, what had she been thinking? She should have run as soon as they stepped out on the maternity floor. Or as soon as she’d seen him at that damned chicken farm, filthy and sweaty and still attractive as hell.
    She wanted him. But the wanting went deeper than the physical desire. She wanted him, the man, all of him. She wanted him to love her, and she wanted him to be the father of her children. It was too late for all of that and the futility made her want to scream.
    Instead, she began the slow process of pulling herself back together.
    “Hey, lady, you all right?” An orderly pushing an empty wheelchair back to the main door paused, concern etching deeper lines around his eyes. “Somebody die or something?”
    His bedside manner was atrocious. Laughter bubbled in her throat and she covered her mouth, stifling the sound. “Yes, I guess you could say somebody died.”
    Benjamin Fuller needed her dead so she couldn’t want another man. She still wanted, but Fuller had succeeded in killing the woman inside, the one who planned for a hazy future. She was left with the shell and clear, cold reality.
    Fuller had killed more than her spirit.
    “I’m sorry to hear that.”
    “So am I.” Caitlin dragged in a deep breath of humid air, redolent with the scent of camellia blossoms and coming rain.
    “Anything I can do for you?”
    “No.” She dried her eyes again. “There’s nothing anyone can do. But thank you.”

    In the confusion of having most of his family, including his aunts Ella and Maureen, in Deanne’s room at once, Tick failed to notice immediately that Caitlin didn’t return. Once Chuck’s four older children arrived with their maternal grandmother to see their new brother, three-year-old Charlie burst into tears because the baby was in Uncle Tick’s arms.
    Returning the baby to Chuck, Tick swung Charlie up into his embrace, blowing raspberries on her neck and making her giggle through her tears. He laughed, too, affection thrumming through him. “Come on, Charlie, don’t you want to see your baby?”
    “No.” Her bottom lip jutted again and he grinned. Her pout was a miniature version of the one Tori sported when irritated. He held her close, catching a glimpse of glimmering emotion in Chuck’s eyes as he settled the baby in Deanne’s arms and brushed a soft kiss over her mouth.
    Tick shifted Charlie higher on his arm. Hell, it was too damn easy picturing himself in the same situation, with Caitlin. A holdover from too many nights dreaming of her while he’d been undercover.
    Holding Chuck’s son earlier, he’d watched Caitlin, heat slamming into him as he wondered what it would be like to make love to her again, knowing he might give her a child.
    She hadn’t returned. Frowning, he glanced around at the crowd and passed Charlie off to Tori. “Where’s Cait?”
    She pressed a kiss to Charlie’s chubby cheek, her expression serene. “She went to make a couple of calls. Said she’d wait for you downstairs.”
    Apprehension tickled through him. “When?”
    “I don’t know…five or ten minutes ago. What’s the problem?”
    “No problem. None at all.” He swallowed hard, forcing a cheerfulness he didn’t feel. “Mama? I’m gone.”
    He caught an elevator, worry over Caitlin’s absence churning in his stomach. She was making calls, so why was he getting edgy? It didn’t make sense, but his instincts were screaming.
    Outside, he glanced up at the thunderclouds gathering in the western sky, backlit by the afternoon sun. He couldn’t shake the gut intuition that said Caitlin’s disappearance had more to do with him than with something case