Assumed Identity

Robin breathed one moment of uncomfortable trepidation beneath the imagined scrutiny. In the next breath, she considered unlocking the front door and inviting the stranded woman inside the shop where she’d be warm and safe. Robin moved to the front door, pulled the keys from her pocket. Then the lightning flashed again.

But when Robin blinked her eyes back into focus in the darkness, the young woman was gone.

“Where...?” The woman must have found enough respite to gather her courage and run off in the rain and shadows to her destination again. “Be safe,” Robin whispered again.

She needed to do the same. Robin shook off her apprehension about her books, the stormy weather and those mysterious shadows outside and returned to her office. “I’m back, sweetie.”

She was greeted by a soft suckling sound that gave her hope that a ride in the car would coax Emma into a deep sleep that would last for five or six hours—long enough to get a decent rest herself so she could tackle the problems at work with a fresh eye in the morning. Smiling at her daughter’s resilience, Robin picked her up from the bassinet and strapped her into her carrier. She thanked Emma for her patience with a gentle kiss to her forehead and then slipped a yellow knit cap over her hair and covered her with the blanket. Certain her daughter was warm and secure, Robin pulled the cloth protector over the carrier and closed the round viewing vent over Emma’s face to shield her from the rain.

Before turning out the lights, Robin pulled on her yellow raincoat, slipped the diaper bag over her shoulders and picked up Emma’s carrier. Since she’d put away her pepper spray two months earlier, not wanting to risk any accidental contact with her baby’s delicate skin, Robin pulled a security whistle from the pocket of her slicker and looped the lanyard around her neck. Then they were moving through the familiar hallway and workrooms to the employee entrance from the parking lot beside the restored redbrick building.

With the steel door locked solidly behind her, Robin waited a moment beneath the green-and-white-striped awning above the entrance, assessing her surroundings. Pulses of lightning lit up the clouds in the skies overhead, giving her brief flashes of the rain and night around her.

Although the small lot was well lit, the emptiness between the brick walls of her building and the next one on the opposite side of the lot hitched up her apprehension a bit. Besides the shop’s delivery van, parked near the alley behind the building at the end of the loading dock, the only car left was hers, parked in a circle of light beneath the lamppost nearest the street. Lights were working; doors were locked. Street-level shops were closed and the storm seemed to have driven any tenants who lived on the upper floors of the neighborhood high-rises inside.

Still, the rain hitting the awning over her head and rhythmic rumbles of thunder drowned out any telltale sounds that would alert her to approaching footsteps on the sidewalk or to vehicles passing on the street. She knew that, despite all her precautions, there was an inherent danger to a woman walking to her vehicle alone at night in the city. It required a deep, fortifying breath and the knowledge that she had a child to protect from the elements for Robin to pull her hood up over her chin-length hair, stick the whistle in her mouth and step out into the rain.

With her head slightly bowed against the rain drumming on her slicker, Robin hurried across the lot. Hugging Emma’s carrier in the crook of her elbow, she made sure there was no one hiding beneath or around her car before tapping the remote and unlocking the doors.

As challenging as it had been at first to learn all the buckles and straps and tabs and slots of loading Emma into her car seat, Robin now made quick work of opening the back door and sliding the carrier into place. Once everything had locked and the car seat was secure, she spit the whistle from her mouth and leaned inside to open the vent on Emma’s pink carrier cover, hoping to find a sleeping baby inside.

Instead, blue eyes stared up at her. With her darling face crinkled up with displeasure and looking as if the tears were about to let loose again, Emma swung her tiny fists in the air. “Oh, sweetie. Just give up the fight and go to sleep.”

After wiping her wet fingers on the leg of her jeans, Robin reached beneath the damp material that had kept Emma dry and guided a thumb back to Emma’s mouth, earning what Robin interpreted as a resigned whimper that things were okay. For now. “You’ll be just fine in a minute, sweetie. I promise.” She straightened Emma’s cap, cupped her soft cheek and smiled. “Mommy loves you.”

A flicker of movement reflected off the back window. Startled by the darting shadow, Emma grabbed for her whistle.

Before she could blow it, something hard smacked her across the back, throwing her against the frame of the car with bruising force. She thought the wind had slammed the door against her. But just as it registered that the rain was falling in a straight curtain around her car, she was struck again. This time, lower down. Something hard, narrow and unforgiving cracked against the back of her knees, toppling her to the pavement.

Robin screamed as another blow slammed across her back. Her palms scraped over the wet asphalt as she spread-eagled on her stomach, the wind knocked from her chest. As the pain radiated through her legs, and she struggled to inhale through her bruised lungs, she realized the baby backpack she wore had probably saved her from a crippling or killing blow.

The same backpack also served as an easy handle for her attacker. He latched on to the straps and dragged her several feet away from the car. Terror poured into her veins, thrusting aside the shock that had addled her thoughts. This was it. She was about to become the Rose Red Rapist’s latest victim. She needed to shake off this oxygen-deprived stupor, ignore the pain and fight. She had a child to live for and protect.

Her world spinning, her lungs burning, her legs wobbly as a toddler’s as she pushed up onto her hands and knees, Robin quickly realized three things. Her attacker’s hands weren’t on her anymore. She squinted against the strobing effect of the lightning flashes overhead to see that he had stepped over her prone body and was rifling through the contents of her car. Her attacker was dressed in black from head to toe. There was no face, no hair color to see and identify. And he carried a baseball bat in one gloved hand.

Clarity seeped into her brain with every breath, each one stronger and deeper than the last. Maybe this wasn’t a rape. Maybe he wanted her purse. Or it could be a carjacking. And that meant...Robin staggered to her feet and lurched toward the figure in black. “Get away from my baby!”

She stuck the whistle between her lips and blew. The shrill alarm pierced the air. She blew it again as she lunged for the arm with the bat. Robin got her hands on his wrist as he whirled around. She banged it against the fender of her car, trying to shake the weapon loose.

Despite her assailant’s muffled curse, he quickly regained the upper hand, spinning Robin to one side. With her arms up to struggle with the bat, she left her body exposed and her attacker seized the advantage, ramming his fist into her already sore ribs, doubling her over and robbing her of breath. Robin’s grip on the man loosened and he easily pulled away, raising the bat. He grunted with the effort of his swing as he brought it down toward Robin’s head.

She ducked to the side, saving her life as the bat crashed into the top of her trunk, denting the metal hard enough that the blow must have tingled through her attacker’s arms and hands. He hesitated a moment, flexing his fingers, and Robin slipped away and reached into the car for Emma. “Come on, sweetie.”

Before she could release the latch to remove the carrier from the car seat, she was struck again. She absorbed another blow to the backpack that drove her to the ground.

“Stay down!” her attacker whispered on an angry curse. Yet, almost as soon as he’d issued the order, he was hauling her up to her knees.

“Take my purse. Take my car. Take whatever you want,” she begged, slapping at his gloved hands and struggling to get to her feet. “Just let me get my baby!”

“Shut up.” Huffing and puffing from the exertion of the attack, the man fisted his hand around the straps of Robin’s backpack and dragged her across the parking lot. This was more than getting her out of his way this time. He was hauling her to the alley behind the shop, around the far side of the loading dock, hiding them from any view from the parking lot, much less the street.

With her hood long gone, the rain splashed in her face, reviving her will to fight. “Let go of me!” Robin clawed at his grip. She twisted and kicked. “Please,” she begged. “I just want to save my baby.”

“Shut up!” He dropped her behind the delivery van, glanced up and down the alley as though making sure they were all alone. “I gotta do this.”

Cold, stark terror swept through Robin like the rain soaking into her clothes. She smacked at his hands as he ripped open her jacket and unhooked the belt at her waist. “Stop!”

He popped the buttons on her blouse and unzipped her jeans. The cold rain hit her stomach, soaked into her panties. Robin thrashed and clawed at him. She was in mortal danger, about to become the next victim of the Rose Red Rapist.

And her baby was all alone. Abandoned once more. Helpless, without a mother. Alone at night in the rain.

“Please. I have a child—”

“Quit fightin’ me.” He cuffed her across the face, stunning her. He rose to his feet and straddled her. “You want it this way? Then this is how we’ll do it.” As the man raised the bat, Robin kicked out, aiming for that most vulnerable part of his anatomy.

But the man was quicker. The bat switched its target, swinging into her calf and deflecting her blow.

But the bruising strike didn’t stop her. Ignoring the pain, Robin rolled into the man’s legs, knocking him back against the side of the van. With one swift, jerky movement she got to her feet and limped around the bumper of the van toward freedom.

“Emma?” Robin gasped the word on a determined breath.

But bruised and battered, she was no match for the stronger man. She never saw the bat this time. She only knew the stinging blow that caught her at the juncture of her shoulder and neck, spinning the world out of focus and knocking her to the asphalt.

This time, he grabbed her by the ankle and dragged her back to his killing place. He flipped her onto her back and stood over her. The stocking mask he wore obscured his face, but she had no doubt about the hateful displeasure in his voice. “Is this the way you want it?”

Robin got up onto her elbows and tried to scoot away. “I won’t leave my baby.”

But he followed. Shaking his head, he closed the distance between them. Her back hit the concrete wall of the loading dock and she knew there was nowhere left to run.

“This ends now.” The bat swung up again and Robin braced for the blow.

But it never came.

A white-haired ghost materialized from the rain with a guttural roar. Strong hands closed around the bat, wrenching the weapon from her attacker’s grip.

The bat skittered away into the darkness as the ghost lifted her attacker off his feet. Her mysterious rescuer wrapped a meaty forearm around her assailant’s neck and carried him off into the shadows. The attacker’s body went limp and her savior tossed him aside into the alley.

Robin grabbed hold of the wall behind her to push herself to her feet. But her knees buckled and her world blurred as the ghost’s craggy, disfigured face came into view in the light above the loading dock. He was real. Big. Frightening. He growled something her stopped-up ears couldn’t make out and lunged for her.

Icy blue eyes and her own scream were the last things Robin remembered as her world faded to black.

Chapter Two

“Lady? Lady!” Jake caught the woman before her head hit the pavement. Nothing like a scream of terror to make a man feel every inch the monster his nightmares purported him to be. Still, he adjusted the woman in his arms as gently as he could, then laid her on the wet asphalt. “You’re welcome.”

He squatted down beside her, trying to block some of the rain that hit her face, looking her over from head to toe. She was long and lean and pale as milk. The backpack she wore was soaked and stained from her struggles, but he lifted her slightly to pull the squishy pack beneath her neck to cushion her head. He snapped her jeans closed and pulled her raincoat together to cover her body. Thank God the bastard hadn’t completed what he’d started. Didn’t mean he hadn’t done some damage. Jake pushed aside the collar of her blouse. Carefully avoiding the puffy red-and-violet welt across her collar bone, he pressed two fingers to the base of her throat. Her skin was creamy soft, chilled by the rain. But she had a pulse. The scuffed-up raincoat was moving up and down, too, so she was breathing.

She just wasn’t awake.

He sifted his fingers through her wet brown hair, moving the heavy waves from side to side to check her scalp for any contusions that could explain her unresponsive state. Nothing but silky hair. Jake pulled his hand away, feeling a little guilty that his fingers had warmed and lingered, mistakenly thinking the first-aid check had felt like some kind of caress. He knew how to nip that sensation in the bud. Remember the scream. Forget the niceties. He gave her cheek a couple of gentle smacks. “Come on, lady. Open your eyes.”

He heard a moan behind him in the alley and Jake turned, springing to his feet. His gaze zeroed in on the loser with the mask who had the idiot idea he was coming back for round two. Jake almost felt sorry for the guy. The woman’s attacker had the skills of an amateur. He’d probably subdued the woman with an initial blitz attack. But he was out of his league going up against someone who could fight back. Even now, he was already advancing before he had his balance centered over his feet.

And then Mr. Amateur had the bright idea to pull a knife. The thin steel blade gleamed in the next flash of lightning. He choked out a breathy warning. “This isn’t about you.”

Jake glanced down at the woman behind him, lying still and vulnerable at his feet. Decision made. Without taking his eyes off the approaching threat, Jake pulled the hunting knife from his boot, flipping the weapon in his hand to warn the guy he knew how to use it. “It is now.”

That’s right. Mine’s bigger than yours, he taunted silently, watching the eyes go wide behind the stocking mask.

Just then a cat howled across the parking lot, and the attacker’s head jerked toward the interruption. Although the mewling was muted by the rain and thunder, Jake tuned his ears to the sound, as well, wondering if the guy was that easily distracted or if he needed to be on guard against some other threat. A quick glance revealed little except darkness, rain and the empty street beyond the parking lot.

Whatever had spooked the guy was evident in the rapid rise and fall of his shoulders as his breathing quickened. Or maybe he was finally wising up to the idea he wasn’t getting past Jake. With one last heave of breath, the shadowy figure cursed. “You should have minded your own business.”

And with that, he turned tail toward the opposite end of the alley.

The instinct to run after him jolted through Jake’s legs, but he stayed rooted to the spot. The woman was still down, out cold and completely unprotected. He needed to stay here. Besides, what the little creep lacked in skills, he made up for in speed, and Jake would have a hard time catching him.

What could he do when he caught the guy, anyway? It wasn’t like he could arrest the pervert. And though Jake had intimidation down to a science, outside of the bar where he sometimes had to show a rowdy customer the door, he preferred to keep his skills on the down-low. Calling attention to himself with the police or anyone else wasn’t something he could afford to do until he figured out whether he was the law, or running from it. Besides, the unconscious woman had to be his priority.

Once the figure in black had darted around the corner out of sight, Jake risked turning to the woman again. He tucked his knife back into its sheath and knelt down to test the chill on her wet cheeks. He could feel her warm breath, but she didn’t even flinch at his unfamiliar touch.

“Ma’am?” He hadn’t felt any bumps on her head. Did she have internal injuries? Was this shock? A blow to the carotid artery could interrupt blood flow to the brain, and that bruising welt was placed in about the right spot to make that happen.

Jake swore. How the hell did he know things like that?

He tapped her cheek again. “Come on, lady.”

He glanced over his shoulder at the squeal of tires on wet pavement in the distance. Was the little creep really that fast? Or did he have an accomplice waiting for him to make a quick getaway? What had they wanted with this woman? And how many men did they think it took to subdue a skinny slip of a thing like this, anyway?

Lightning flashed in the clouds overhead and a bad feeling crawled across Jake’s skin. The violence surrounding this woman didn’t feel random. An attacker and an accomplice sounded planned.

All the more reason to get her up and out of here.

He glanced down at the sleeping beauty. Despite the scrape along her jaw and the wet hair that clung to her forehead and cheeks, trailing sooty rivulets across her skin, she was stirring something more than concern and worry inside him. Being attracted to an unconscious woman couldn’t be a good thing. With his life in the state of flux it was, it wasn’t a good thing to be attracted to anyone. Angry at the damn hormones and feelings brewing inside him tonight, Jake swiped the water off his own stubbled face.

That’s when he got the idea to cup his hands to catch the rain. While he waited for his palms to fill, Jake thought about what had brought him to this spot in the first place, playing nursemaid to an injured woman.

He’d heard a scream on his late-night walk. He’d heard a lot of screams in his lifetime. He wasn’t sure how or why he knew that, but he knew the sounds of a woman in distress had always gotten under his skin and somehow gotten him into trouble.

For a few seconds, he’d considered ignoring it. Maybe he could report it anonymously when he got back to his apartment. He had too many problems of his own to get involved in somebody else’s trouble. But then he’d heard the whistle. Over and over. He’d heard the panic in that shrill sound piercing the rain and an alarm had gone off inside him.

Maybe he’d been itching for a fight, something to expel the frustrated energy that consumed him. Maybe it was the bar bouncer in him, trained to neutralize any ruckus before it got started. But when he’d cut through the alley behind the buildings to answer that alarm, he’d seen that loser dragging the woman out of sight behind the van—going after her with a baseball bat. Something inside Jake had snapped. The woman was in danger, and something in his DNA that he couldn’t remember had been compelled to save her.

Pity that beating down a man with his bare hands came to him a lot easier than waking a sleeping woman.

With the rainwater overflowing his palms, Jake pulled back and tossed it on her face.

Her eyes instantly shot open and she sputtered. Her hands fisted on the pavement and she shook her head, flinging more water onto his boots. She blinked, focused, caught sight of him and immediately shrank away with a choking huff of fear. Even as he held his hands up in surrender, showing he meant her no harm, she was cowering away from him, scrambling to sit up. He reached out one hand to help her and she scooted away on her bottom, until her back hit the wall of the loading dock.

“Get away from me!” she rasped, her voice tight with fear.

Could be an instinctive reaction to finding a man kneeling over her after fighting off that coward who’d assaulted her. Could be she’d just got a good look at his harsh, beat-up face.

The reaction in those suspicious gray-blue eyes was enough to sour any attraction he might feel.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

But she wasn’t buying it. No way. She pushed her hair out of her eyes to really size him up. If anything, the woman breathed harder, went even paler as she calculated his strength and the size of his fists. She was probably wondering how he’d gotten the scars and if he was as violent a man as he looked.

He knew the military cut of his prematurely gray hair didn’t leave any handsome possibilities to the imagination. The face and bulk and no-nonsense demeanor created an intimidating combination that made his job as a bouncer/bartender an easy gig. They got the job done, too, when it came to keeping his friends few and strangers who asked questions he didn’t want to answer even fewer. The ugly mug was who he was. It had probably served him well in his former life—kept people from messin’ with him.

Although it played hell when he was trying to convince a frightened woman he meant her no harm. “I’m not the man who hurt you.”

She surprised him completely when she jerked her head in a nod. “I know. You’re bigger than he is. He was dressed in black from head to toe. You...startled me. That’s all.”

Startled was putting it kindly. But at least she was thinking rationally. Probably no injury to the head, then. Cautiously, Jake pushed to his feet. Big mistake. Now he was towering over her. She visibly cringed. But six feet two inches of muscle, scars and a broken face wasn’t something he could change. He held his arms out to either side and kicked the ball bat over to her, giving her the option of arming herself against him if it made her feel safer.

Not that he still couldn’t overpower her if he had to.

She knew it, too. Smart woman. With a determined tilt to her chin, she braced her hands on the wall behind her and staggered to her feet, ignoring the bat. “Please. I have a child. I need to get to her.”

Jake shook his head. They were alone in this alley now. “I didn’t see any kid.”

“You didn’t...? Emma?” She straightened against the concrete wall and looked beyond the van. “She’s over there. He pulled me from my car.”

Jake glanced behind him. Ah, hell. That explained the wailing he’d heard. It was the kid, crying, not a cat. “Is that your car?”

She nodded. “I need to get...” She took two steps before her right leg buckled and she fell back against the loading dock.

Jake darted forward, catching her by the arms to help her stay on her feet.

“Don’t touch me.” She instinctively reached out to push him away. But just as quickly, her fingers curled into the front of his shirt. He felt the unsteady tug on his skin all the way down to his bones. “Apparently, I need your help. So I’m deciding not to be afraid of you.” She actually pointed a warning finger at him. “Don’t make me regret that.”

At that brave statement, the corner of his mouth hitched up into an admiring grin and Jake adjusted his grip to firmly cup her elbow. “No, ma’am.”

“You know, you’re not as scary when you smile.” As scary. Interesting distinction. The woman was smart and honest. She brushed the water from her face and gifted him with a smile of her own. “Thank you for saving my life, Mr....?”

“Lonergan.”

“Thank you for saving me, Mr. Lonergan.” She tried to adjust the backpack on her shoulders, but winced in pain and nearly doubled over. “Ow—”

“Easy.”

She braced her hand against his chest and fell into him, hanging on as his arm snaked behind her waist to give her the balance she needed. “I do need your help, don’t I.”

The lightning overhead illuminated her face for a split second. Her lips pinched thin against whatever pain or dizziness she was fighting.

While he waited, Jake asked, “What’s your name, brave lady?”

“Robin.” She sucked in an easier breath, and then another. “Robin Carter.” She tilted her gaze to meet his. Her gray-blue eyes squinted against the fall of rain as she focused in on him. “My daughter?”