Nash’s body jerked, and he pulled away from her.
“I—I agree.” She put a hand to her hot cheek. “Bad idea.”
“Shh.” He rose to his feet and turned toward the sliding door that led to their room.
“What is it?” She touched his back, straining her ears for Wyatt’s cry.
Nash lunged forward and charged through the door.
With the adrenaline rushing through her system, Emily stumbled after him. She tripped over the sliding door track and screamed as she saw Nash tackle a man hovering over Wyatt’s crib.
Nash threw himself on top of the man’s skinny frame, shoving his forearm against the man’s throat. The intruder bucked and thrashed beneath him, choking out words and foaming at the mouth.
Nash punched the man’s face and blood spurted from his beak-like nose. With one knee pressed into the squirming man’s midsection, he turned around and ground out, “He was trying to kidnap Wyatt.”
Emily yanked her purse from the chair and whipped out her weapon. “Do not make another move or you’re dead.”
The would-be kidnapper gasped, “Stop. Stop. I’m Wyatt’s father.”
Chapter Eleven
Nash cranked his head back to stare into the man’s face, the high cheekbones prominent, his bug-eyes wild. “You’re not Marcus Lanier.”
“I’m Brett Fillmore.” He held his hands in front of his face. “No more, man. I can prove it. My wallet’s in my back pocket.”
Emily, her gun clutched in her hand, approached from the side. She leaned over the man, and her gaze scanned his face. “It’s him. It’s Brett Fillmore.”
Brett blinked. “How do you know who I am? Who the hell are you?”
Nash reached for the man’s pocket anyway and patted him down after snatching his wallet and throwing it at Emily’s feet. Shoving his fingers into Brett’s front pocket, Nash pulled out a knife. “I’ll take this.”
“Hey, a guy needs protection.”
Nash pushed to his feet, using Brett’s body for leverage. “You’re sure he’s Brett Fillmore? You saw him before?”
“I did.” Emily swept the wallet from the floor and flipped it open, glancing inside and then showing Nash Brett Fillmore’s driver’s license. “He was in Jaycee’s apartment when I was surveilling it—before she left for the border.”
Brett used his elbows to prop himself up. “You were spying on us? On Jaycee?”
Nash narrowed his eyes. “I don’t care if he’s Santa Claus and Mother Teresa rolled into one. He was trying to kidnap Wyatt.”
“You can’t kidnap your own son.” Brett wiped his arm across his bloody nose. “Can someone help me here?”
Emily responded by leveling her gun at Brett’s head. Nash knew there was a reason why he liked this woman.
Her nostrils flared. “How’d you find us here?”
“I know you think Jaycee’s a bad mom for leaving Wyatt like that, but she had a good reason and she had every intention of keeping tabs on him.” With his eyes on the gun pointed at his head, Brett inched up a little farther to lean against the crib, where Wyatt had awoken and was now crying.
Brett pointed to the car seat in the corner. “Jaycee had put a GPS tracker on the bottom of Wyatt’s car seat. Wh-when she didn’t show up at our meeting place, I tracked the car seat. I thought maybe I’d find her, too, but when I saw you two instead of Jaycee, I made my move. Can you blame me?”
Nash growled deep in his throat. “Yeah, I can blame you. If you were meeting Jaycee and you knew she was tracking Wyatt, you must’ve realized who I was.”
“Yeah, the great Nash Dillon.” Brett hacked up some blood, spit it in his palm and wiped it on the thigh of his jeans. “I told Jaycee it was a bad idea to leave Wyatt with the cops, but she wouldn’t listen.”
“Why would that be a bad idea if you’re so concerned with the safety of your son?” Emily sounded like she was interrogating a suspect, but she did ease off on her aim.
“Because of this.” Brett waved a bony hand around the room. “Because you’re not just gonna let me have Wyatt, are you? You’re gonna play by the rules. I warned Jaycee that her old friend would turn on her in a minute if he thought she was breaking the law.”
Emily said, “We don’t even know if you’re the father.”
Brett hit the back of his head against the crib. “Can someone shut him up?”
“Your concern for Wyatt is touching.” Nash held up his hands. “I’m going to wash my hands and see to Wyatt. Don’t take your gun off him.”
“Don’t worry. I’m on it.”
As Nash washed his hands, Brett blabbed on about cops and Jaycee and his son but never once mentioned Jaycee’s murder. Did he know?
When Nash returned to the room, he tossed two towels at Brett, a wet one and a dry one. Then he picked up a sniffling Wyatt and rocked him in his arms. “It’s okay, buddy.”
“Finally.” Brett wiped the blood from his face and hands and held the towel against his nose.
Emily threw Nash a side glance and he dipped his chin.
She cleared her throat. “Do you know where Jaycee is?”
Brett peered at her over the blood-streaked towel. “No. We were supposed to meet in Mexico, and she never showed up. I tried contacting her on her burner phone, but she never responded. That’s when I launched the app and the code she gave me for tracking Wyatt. When I saw him here in Tombstone, I made a move.”
Emily lowered her gun. “I hate to tell you this, Brett, but Jaycee is dead.”
“What? No.” Brett shook his shaggy head back and forth. “She can’t be. She was supposed to meet me in Mexico. We were going to come for Wyatt together.”
“I’m sorry. It’s true.” Nash patted Wyatt’s back as the baby wriggled in his arms. It was as if Jaycee’s son had understood what he said.
“Oh, God.” Brett buried his face in the towel and
