When Twilight Comes - By B. J. Daniels Page 0,2

a loud meow.

Jenna hurried to the baby monitor and shut it off.

Fred blinked at her with huge golden eyes.

“Lexi,” she whispered as she knelt over the bed. “Wake up, sweetie.”

Lexi’s lashes fluttered, then suddenly flew open. Her dark eyes widened in surprise. “Mommy? Daddy wouldn’t let me see you.” Her lower lip pushed out into a pout. “He said you had gone away.”

Jenna hushed her. “It’s you and me who are going away, sweetie. But it’s a secret. We have to be very quiet, okay?”

Lexi nodded and threw back the covers as she sat up. She was wearing the little yellow ducks pj’s Jenna had bought her. The same ones she’d been wearing last night, when Lorenzo had broken into her apartment and taken Lexi.

“I need you to be very quiet,” Jenna told her daughter. “We don’t want to wake up Daddy.”

Lexi nodded and put a chubby finger to her lips. “Shh.”

Jenna picked up her daughter, hugging her tightly as she breathed in the sweet smell. Lexi felt solid in her arms. Safe. At least for the moment.

“Come on,” Jenna whispered. “Remember, we have to be really quiet, okay?”

Lexi nodded, clutching her rag doll. “Is Daddy coming with us?” she asked in a small voice.

Jenna looked at her daughter’s face. “No.” She saw the instant relief and her heart broke. “Did Daddy hurt you?”

The child shook her head, her lower lip pushed out again. “He yelled and made me cry.”

Jenna hugged her. “Well, he won’t make you cry again.” She stepped to the door of her daughter’s bedroom and started to open it.

“Fred!” Lexi cried. “I can’t leave Fred.”

Jenna groaned inwardly. She’d never been a big fan of cats. Lorenzo had bought the kitten for Lexi, knowing Jenna wasn’t allowed to have a cat in the apartment where she’d been living with Lexi since the divorce.

“Alexandria will have to come over to the house to see her cat,” Lorenzo had said.

Which meant Jenna would have to come as well, since Lorenzo only had supervised visitation. He’d gotten the cat to force Jenna back to the estate—a place she had grown to abhor.

Now she stepped back into the room and, with her free hand, picked up Fred from the bed. He complained loudly as she hooked him into the crook of her arm.

She waited until he settled down before she opened the bedroom door and glanced down the hall. Empty. She could still hear the classical music.

She crept along the back hall, then down the stairs. She was almost to the back door when she heard an approaching car coming up the service road. Was it possible Lorenzo had called for a delivery this late at night?

Moving to the window, Jenna peered out as headlights flashed. The whine of an engine rose, then died as the car pulled in directly behind hers.

No! Whoever it was had blocked her car in.

The police? Or some private patrol?

But as she peered through the blinds, she saw that it was one of Lorenzo’s “associates” who climbed out.

Franco Benito. He looked toward the house, making her step back and let the blind knock against the window frame.

She moved quickly down the hallway, stepping into the laundry room and partially closing the door. Motioning to Lexi to be quiet, she held both her daughter and the cat as the back door opened. Franco closed the door a little more forcefully than usual. She pressed herself and Lexi against the wall as the man stormed past. She caught only a glimpse of him, but he looked angry. Probably because Lorenzo had made him come to the service entry. Why had he done that?

She breathed a sigh of relief as Franco’s heavy footfalls fell silent.

How was she going to get away now, though? He’d blocked her in. And what if he mentioned her car to Lorenzo? Lorenzo would know she was in the house—and he would know exactly what she’d come for.

LORENZO DANTE FINISHED his drink and poured himself another as he tried to calm down. He glanced at the clock on the mantel, checking it against his watch.

Nine fifty-seven. Franco was twenty-seven minutes late. He hated people who weren’t punctual. People who made him wait.

He gripped the glass, anger seething inside him as he looked around the country estate, reminded of all he had accomplished—and how little respect he’d garnered. He deserved to be treated better than this. Because Franco was taking his place in the organization, did he think he didn’t have to treat him with respect?