Savior in the Saddle (7 page)

“That’s my baby you’re carrying,” he reminded her. And in doing so, he reminded himself. “I’m not going to let you go through this alone.”

Willa likely had no clue as to what it took for him to say that. She pulled back slightly and, even though she was still blinking away tears, she looked up at him. Her breath broke and she melted against him.

“Nothing bad can happen to this baby,” she muttered through the sobs.

“It won’t.” Though it was a promise that would be hell to keep.

He touched his mouth to her forehead. Just a touch. But he felt the heat spear through him. Brandon definitely didn’t want to feel that heat, but he couldn’t deny it was there.

What the hell was wrong with him?

He wanted to believe the attraction existed because of the baby. Maybe some kind of primal DNA trigger so he’d feel compelled to protect the unborn child.

Brandon silently cursed.

This attraction didn’t have anything to do with the baby. He was attracted to Willa. Plain and simple. And that attraction could cause some big-time problems for both of them.

Thankfully, his phone rang because Brandon was ready for both a distraction and news. After he glanced at his caller ID, he figured he would at least get the latter.

The call was from Sergeant Cash Newsome, a cop in SAPD and someone Brandon had known for years. They’d both been in the army together and had done a tour of duty in the Middle East. Since Cash was also Bo Duggan’s right-hand man, Brandon hoped he would have an update about the lieutenant’s status.

“I heard you ran into Martin Shore,” Cash greeted.

“Literally,” Brandon confirmed. “How’s Bo?”

“It’s good news. He has a non-life-threatening gunshot wound to the shoulder. He’ll be out of commission for a day or two, but he’ll make a full recovery.”

Brandon released the breath he’d been holding. “And what about Martin Shore?”

“Still no sign of him. We haven’t given up,” Cash quickly added. “We’re searching the area, going door to door. We won’t stop looking until we find him.”

They might get lucky, but Brandon had to be realistic. A hired gun that was gutsy enough to attack in a residential neighborhood in broad daylight probably had made arrangements for an escape. Shore was likely already out of the area.

And planning round two.

“Any idea why Shore came after Willa earlier than intel had indicated?” Brandon asked.

“Our best guess is that he had her house under surveillance and saw Bo and you arrive. He probably thought he should go ahead while he still had her in his sights.”

That made sense, and it told him a lot about Shore. The man could and would improvise, and that made him even more dangerous.

“We’ve arranged a safe house for Willa,” Cash continued. “It’s local so you won’t have to be on the road too long with her. I guess it goes without saying that she’ll be in your protective custody.”

Yeah. Without saying. Brandon was too deep into this to turn back now.

“Sergeant Harris McCoy and I will be there in about a half hour, and we’ll take you to the safe house.” Cash paused. “We’d also like Willa to see a therapist who specializes in recovering lost memories.”

Brandon glanced at Willa. Even though she probably hadn’t heard what Cash had just said, she could no doubt sense Brandon’s own hesitation. He was hesitating not because he thought the therapist was a bad idea but because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to convince Willa to trust anyone associated with the police.

Including him.

“I’ll have to get back to you on that last part,” Brandon told Cash.

Willa’s left eyebrow lifted.

“Why?” Cash asked. “Have you talked her into cooperating yet?”

“No.”

“Try harder. Because we’ve just gotten an update on what could be our next hostage situation.”

“And?” Brandon asked when Cash didn’t continue.

“And the news isn’t good.”

Chapter Six

Two days.

The short timeline kept going through Willa’s head, stuck like a broken record, on the entire drive from Austin to the safe house. Two days.

Christmas.

That’s when SAPD thought there’d be another hostage situation at a hospital. Or at least that’s the information Sergeant Cash Newsome had relayed to Brandon while they were waiting in the break room at the Austin P.D. building. The authorities had two days to stop another nightmare from happening. But while the so-called intel had provided a time, SAPD didn’t have a location. Or a motive.

They were counting on Willa to help them.

“Good luck with that,” she said to herself. She huffed at that and the so-called safe house as it came into view.

Even if she could completely regain her memory before then, Willa wasn’t convinced she actually knew anything that would help.

Two days.

And God knew how many women and babies would have to go through the same kind of hell that she’d gone through for the past four months.

“You okay?” Brandon asked, bringing the car to a stop in the tiny garage of the safe house.

Willa considered lying but decided it was useless. “No.”

He matched her heavy sigh with one of his own and hit the button on the automatic garage opener. He waited until the garage door was completely shut before they got out of the nondescript dark blue car that SAPD had provided.

There was a single light on in the laundry room situated just off the garage entrance, but there was enough moonlight filtering through the windows that she didn’t have any trouble seeing.

Willa glanced around at the safe house. Well, what there was of it anyway.

It was small, much like her rental place that Shore had blown up on the other side of town. Except this place wasn’t in the suburbs. It was in the country, halfway between San Antonio and Austin, and to get to it they’d used a rural road. Their nearest neighbor was more than a mile away.

She walked through the house, taking inventory. Two sparsely decorated bedrooms, one bath and a living-dining-kitchen combo. Though Brandon and she had already eaten dinner at police headquarters, the fridge had been stocked with plastic-wrapped sandwiches, bottled water and juice.

The cramped quarters and limited food options, however, meant nothing to her. The only thing Willa cared about right now was being as far away from Martin Shore as possible.

She watched as Brandon double-locked the door, and then he took out the codes that Sergeant Cash Newsome had given him so he could arm the security system.

“I suppose the windows and both the front and back doors are connected to the system?” she asked.

He nodded. “They are. There’s also an alarm that runs around the immediate perimeter of the house in case anyone attempts a break-in. It’s supposed to be safe.”

She nodded as well. Then swallowed hard. Because no place might be safe enough to protect them from Martin Shore. Or the people who might be planning another hostage situation.

Brandon turned slowly and faced her. “I don’t want us to sleep here inside the house.”

Willa had thought he was about to tell her to get some rest. Maybe even give her another reassurance that nothing else bad would happen. She hadn’t expected that from him. And her breath stalled in her throat.

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

The question hit her almost as hard as his bomb-shell about not wanting to stay there. She automatically reached for the PDA in her bag. But Willa didn’t need to see his picture or the note she’d written to go along with it.

She remembered.

And what she remembered was that she
thought
she could trust him.

“What’s this about?” she wanted to know.

Brandon scrubbed his hand over his face. “You know I made several calls after I got off the phone with Sergeant Cash Newsome?”

Yes. He’d stepped to the other side of the room for those calls, and he’d whispered so she couldn’t hear. Willa figured he was discussing the therapy appointment that SAPD had made for her. An appointment that was supposed to happen at eight the following morning. Since it was already nine in the evening, that appointment wasn’t far off.

“Cash is an old army buddy, and while I trust him, I wanted someone outside of SAPD,” Brandon explained. “I contacted another old friend who runs a security company.”

“Is that the person who dropped you off the duffel bag?” she asked.

“Yeah.” Brandon had that particular bag slung over his shoulder, but he eased it off and set it on an over-stuffed fabric chair. “I asked him to bring me some supplies that I might need. I also asked him to see if he’s heard anything about a possible leak at SAPD.”

Her breath stalled again. Mercy, she hadn’t braced herself nearly enough for any of this. “What kind of leak?”

“The worst kind for us. A leak in communication. I don’t like the fact that SAPD’s intel told them that Shore wouldn’t attack you until tonight.”

She thought about that a moment, and the conclusion she came to caused her heart rate to spike. “You think someone tipped Shore off?”

Brandon shrugged. “I don’t want to believe it, but I also don’t want to put blind trust in people I don’t really know.”

Neither did she. “You don’t think Bo Duggan could have done this?”

“Not him. But I don’t know how many people in SAPD had access to the information about Shore.” He made a sweeping glance around the room. “Or this place.”

That didn’t steady her heart. Willa slid her hand over her stomach. “So, what should we do?”

Brandon didn’t answer immediately, and his forehead bunched up. “My friend sent me several portable security cameras and a monitor. I want to set the cameras up here, inside, but I want us to sleep in the car in the garage.”

She instantly thought of the grenade that Shore had tossed into her rental. “Shore could try to blow us up again.”

Brandon nodded. “He could. But I’ll keep watch on the monitor. And the cameras are motion-activated and will sound if they’re triggered. If anyone approaches the house, I can drive us out of here.” He reached out, touched her arm and rubbed gently. “This is just a precaution, Willa.”

He added the last part as if he expected her to challenge him, but Willa had no intentions of doing that.

She nodded. “I need to go to the bathroom, but once you have the camera set up, we can go back to the car.”

It wouldn’t be comfortable, but she still might be able to sleep there. Her fatigue was past the bone-weary stage, and she had no choice but to rest.

Willa took her toiletries from her bag so she could brush her teeth and take her prenatal vitamin. She also used the bathroom and hoped she wouldn’t have to make too many treks back into the house because of her pregnancy bladder.

When she came back into the living room, Brandon had lowered all the blinds in the house and was setting up the tiny golf-ball-size camera in the front window. Since it was so small and white, it blended right into the window sill.

“There’s a camera in the kitchen,” he explained, “and the front bedroom. I’ll put the other one just outside the garage door, and then I can monitor all of them with that.” He pointed to a GPS-looking device with four split screens.

“We can take turns watching it,” she suggested.

“No need. The monitor will beep if any of the cameras are triggered by motion. That means you can get some sleep. Think of the baby,” he added before Willa could argue.

“I do, all the time,” she mumbled. “Do you?” She instantly regretted that question. Brandon had only recently found out he was going to be a father, and he probably hadn’t even come to terms with it yet. Added to that, he had the extra worry about keeping them safe.

Willa waved off the question and reached for her bag.

“I think about the baby,” he said, his words soft and slow. He took the bag from her, keeping his attention focused on it and not her.

“It’s okay,” she assured him. “When the danger has passed, I don’t expect anything from you. In fact, I don’t want anything from you.”

That was a semi-truth. Her body wanted him. For sex. How ironic. She hadn’t had as much of a sexual twinge since she’d gotten pregnant; yet near Brandon, in her last trimester no less, she kept feeling that tug deep within her.

“Good.” And that was all he said for several moments. “Honestly, I’m not sure I can give you and this baby what you really need.”

His eyes met hers for just a second, before he looked away and put the monitor in the equipment bag. He hoisted it over his other shoulder and headed for the garage door. Willa grabbed the pillow and cover that had been stacked on the sofa and followed him.

This was good, she assured herself. Brandon didn’t want to be part of her or their baby’s life. That’s exactly the way she’d planned things. Heck, it was the reason she’d no doubt used artificial insemination. Because she hadn’t wanted a man in her life.

So, why did his confession sting?

She barely knew the man and, other than the fact he was almost certainly the biological father of her baby, that was the only thing that connected them.

Well, except for the attraction.

And the danger.

And this entire bizarre connection she felt with him.

Willa huffed. She was talking herself into falling hard for Brandon, and that could be a fatal mistake.

Since the front seats of the car reclined, Willa got in on the passenger’s side and prepared a makeshift bed. Brandon eased the garage door open just a fraction and placed the camera outside. After closing it, he got behind the wheel and started his own preparations. Not for a bed, though, but for security. So that he wouldn’t lose them, he put the keys in the ignition, set up the monitor on the dashboard and placed the bags on the backseat.

Willa turned, leaned over and retrieved the PDA from her bag. What she hadn’t counted on was Brandon moving at the same time. He turned to adjust his holster, and they practically collided.

And then they froze.

Breath met breath, and Willa got an instant reminder of that attraction. It suddenly raced through her. Hot and wild. As if her huge pregnant belly wasn’t a hindrance to anything sexual.