Page 32 of The Billionaire's Son

Trice smiled. “You’re exactly his type. Blond hair, blue eyes, great body. You actually resemble the dead ex.”

“Yeah, apparently the little dude thinks so, too. And, man, if you ask me, that’s just creepy.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

“WHEN WILL MOMMY be home, Daddy?”

Sitting on the pool deck after a long romp in the water, Trey paused towel-drying Jason’s hair. This was the fourth time his son had asked about his mother in the last hour. Each time the question pierced him like a knife straight to the gut.

Jason showed no signs of regaining any memory of Darlene’s death. His son preferred to live in a world where his mother still breathed, and who could blame the kid.

“She’ll be home later, son,” Trey said. “After your nap.”

Jason yawned huge. “I don’t want to take a nap.”

“But you know you have to, right?”

Jase nodded, and Trey began briskly rubbing his head again. His son was exhausted but as usual would never admit it.

“Will Mommy be here when I wake up?” Jason asked from underneath the terrycloth.

Trey lowered the towel. “I can’t promise. She might have to work late.”

A confused look passed over Jason’s sweet young face. “I wish she didn’t have to work.”

“Me, too, buddy. But she wants to. She likes to work.”

“Why?”

“Why do you like to play in the pool?”

“’Cause it’s fun.”

“Well, maybe her work is fun, too.” But how could that possibly be true of police work?

“Come on. Let’s find Maria and get you into bed.”

When Jason was settled into his airplane bed, he looked up and asked, “Is Dr. Donna coming back today?”

“No,” Trey replied. “She’ll be here in the morning. Do you like talking to Dr. Donna?”

Jason yawned again. “She’s okay.”

Trey drew the drapes and moved to the door where he dimmed the overhead light. The frog night light illuminated his son’s bedroom with a soft green glow.

“Sweet dreams, buddy,” Trey said. He closed the door quietly and moved downstairs into his office.

With a vague intention of getting some work done, he sat at his desk. He was days behind on correspondence and reports, but couldn’t yet concentrate on the questionable decisions his father had been making lately. And he needed to pay attention. Allies on the board were worried the old man was seriously damaging Wentworth Industries.

Trey came to his feet and moved to the window. Was it the right thing to let his son continue to believe Kelly Jenkins was his mother? Dr. Carico insisted they should let Jason come to the realization his real mother was gone forever gradually, on his own.

That sounded great, but what if he never did?

Maybe it was time for a second opinion. He respected Donna, but this was his son’s life. He didn’t want to take any chances.

His phone rang. He’d been ignoring texts and calls all day to devote his time exclusively to Jason, but this was the ring tone he he’d programmed for Kelly Jenkins so he’d know when she called.

“Hello, Officer Jenkins,” he said.

“Hi. Listen, I’ve got a problem,” she said. “Is it possible you could send your limo to pick me up at my station at six after all?”

“Of course. I’ll tell Hans. What’s the problem?”

She hesitated before answering. “You haven’t talked to Agent Ballard?”

“I’ve been with Jason all day.”

“Ballard said he’d notify you.”

“Notify me of what?”

When she hesitated again, Trey closed his eyes, certain he was about to receive more bad news.

“What’s going on, Kelly?”

“The kidnappers somehow tracked down where I live and planted a bomb in my car.”

“What?” The word exploded out of his mouth. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. I’ll explain everything when I get there, but the FBI took what’s left of my car for processing, so I need you to send a ride. Okay?”

What’s left of her car? “But you weren’t injured?”

“I wasn’t inside when it blew. How is Jason?”

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