Page 24 of Paternal Instincts
We sobered, remembering too late that we were middle-aged married men. Maybe Ruiz felt the same shame as me, but he didn’t admit it.
“Okay.” I cleared my throat. “So, the Davises’ nanny is a looker. That’s a simple fact. What are the chances she was fired because Nixon’s eye kept straying?”
“High. Especially if his wife’s on bed rest, pregnant, and feeling inadequate. The doctor has probably ordered them to avoid… you know. Nixon’s likely been temporarily cut off.”
“Worth mentioning to Quaid.”
Ruiz agreed and performed as much of a background check as he could on Clementine Prescott. The university student was riding on several scholarships and still lived at home with her parents, which didn’t necessarily disqualify her as a suspect but made it far less plausible. Where would she keep an eight-year-old boy?
Next, Ruiz completed as thorough a profile as he could on Nixon and Imogen Davis. A familial abduction with such a specific ransom note meant digging as deep as we could into the parents as well. Weknew one or both of them had secrets in their backgrounds. The key was figuring out what they were hiding.
***
At long past eleven, Quaid texted, asking if I was still at work.
With Ruiz in his office, I texted back.Are you still at the Davises’?
I didn’t get a response. Typical. Quaid was likely busy. Double-checking the time, I groaned. “No wonder I feel run over. It’s almost midnight.”
“Get used to it. Once that baby is born, you can say goodbye to a solid night’s sleep.”
“I’m prepared.”
Ruiz huffed. “No, you aren’t. Nothing prepares you for the all-nighters you pull during those first few months. It’s sleep deprivation on a level beyond explanation. You have to live it to understand.”
“But worth it, right?”
Ruiz eyed the photograph he kept of his girls on the desk. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
“Are you and Tia done?”
“Seems like.” An unexpected note of regret dampened his words as he leaned back in his seat, gaze still locked on his kids’ picture. “We wanted one more, but…” He sighed. “We’ve been trying for two years with no luck. Getting too old, maybe. Who knows? We’re both creeping up on forty. The girls are getting older. Maybe it’s time to throw in the towel.”
He pivoted to face me and slapped the desk, his melancholic mood dissolving instantly with his grin. “Besides, I’m going to be a godfather soon. Even better. All the fun, none of the sleepless nights.”
“Hey. I told you not to brag about that until I confirmed it,” Quaid said from the doorway, startling us both.
I spun to face my wily husband, alarmed at his disarray. “Hey, hot stuff. You look about as wrecked now as you did when I had you moaning in the supply room.”
His cheeks flamed, and Ruiz cursed under his breath.
Knowing I was about to get an earful from both sides, I quickly detoured back to the original topic. “What is this I hear about godfathers and Ruiz? I thought we were considering Torin. Are we dismissing him outright?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s Torin. Need I say more? He has less than a year of parenting under his belt. He’s not qualified. Costa has two well-mannered girls who have survived the first five years of life. Plus, he tries hard not to swear in front of them. I have more faith in him than in Torin, who I wouldn’t trust with my cat for a weekend.”
The tattooed IT freak puffed up his chest and grinned as he buffed his knuckles on his shirt. “Yep, you heard him. I get all the props.”
“Stop gloating. If Quaid knew about your filthy affinity for redheaded twenty-year-olds, you’d be unfriended so fast, your head would spin.”
Ruiz hitched a brow, an evil smirk filling his face. “Are we going there, Doyle?”
“We are not. You are the godfather. Congratulations, the job is yours.”
“Damn straight.”
