Saviour in the Saddle

“I didn’t know about it,” Brandon answered.

“SAPD thinks the ultrasound and lab tests were a ploy to get to you the hospital that afternoon because the appointment wasn’t on the schedule,” Bo explained. “We believe the gunmen called you with the bogus appointments because they’d researched the records of several of the pregnant women, and they knew you were a whiz with computers. They thought you could help them access some files.”

“I know all of that,” she snapped. “It’s in my notes.” She pointed to Brandon. “That doesn’t explain why you weren’t there.”

Brandon lifted his shoulder, trying to shrug. “We’d had an argument about a month earlier, and you told me to get out, that it was over between us. I was out of the state at the time, and I didn’t know you’d been taken hostage until two days after it ended. By then, you were in protective custody at a secret location.”

“He asked for your location,” Bo continued. “But there had already been an attempt on your life, and we thought it best if no one knew where you were.”

And then there had been another breach of security. Another intruder. That had caused Willa to go on the run, leaving the safe house and not telling anyone where she was. It’d taken SAPD all this time to find her.

Without moving her gaze from Brandon’s, she walked closer, her steps slow and deliberate. Until she was very close. So close he could take in her scent. There was some kind of floral fragrance in her hair. Roses, maybe.

She reached out and caught onto his arm. Brandon wasn’t sure what she had in mind, but he didn’t think she was about to launch herself against him for a welcome-home kiss.

No. Her suspicions were getting stronger.

She took his hand and placed it on her stomach. On the baby.

Brandon pulled in his breath before he could stop himself, but he did manage to hold his ground and not move away. He also kept eye contact with her, which was probably stupid.

Willa didn’t say a word. She just stared at him.

The moments crawled by and because Brandon didn’t know what the hell else to do he just stood there.

“Let me guess,” Willa said, her words as slow and deliberate as her steps had been. “We argued about the baby. That’s why we broke up. Because you weren’t ready to be a father.”

Brandon settled for a nod.

“What was I to you—your one-night stand?” she asked. No more of that slow and deliberate tone. She was riled now.

“No,” he answered truthfully. “Willa, you weren’t a one-night stand.”

She studied his eyes. Then she studied him. Her gaze eased down the length of his body. Back up. And then she groaned, turned and sank down on the sofa. She put the gun on the coffee table, something that probably pleased Bo as much as it did him.

They’d made it past step one.

But they had a hell of a long way to go.

“I’ll give you two some time alone,” Bo said, hitching his thumb to the door. “I’ll be in the car. But just don’t take too long.”

And Brandon knew why. This was not going to be a lengthy romantic welcome-home chat. They were in a hurry.

Bo opened the door, and the wind cut through the room again. The notes on the walls stirred, and two of them went flying through the air. One of them landed near Brandon’s boots.

“Take prenatal vitamins,” he read aloud and handed her the note. He eased down into the chair across from her. “Just how bad is your memory?”

“Just how much didn’t you want this baby?” Willa countered.

So, her memory wasn’t up for discussion. He wished she’d taken the baby talk off the table as well.

Brandon knew they had to discuss it, eventually. That was all part of the plan, but he hadn’t counted on having the emotional reaction of touching Willa. And he sure as hell hadn’t counted on this gut need to protect her. He’d planned on doing what SAPD wanted and then walking away.

Especially walking away.

He was good at that.

But he’d been in the room with Willa for less than fifteen minutes, and he was already having doubts about this plan. She deserved the truth.

The whole truth about why he was there.

“Tell me who you are,” she insisted. “Not just your name. I want to know who you really are.”

Brandon nodded and gathered his thoughts. “My full name is Brandon Michael Ruiz. Like you, I was born in San Antonio. I’m thirty-six. Never been married. I spent some time in the army before I came back to Texas and made it my home again.”

She motioned for him to continue.

“I’ve been sheriff of Crockett Creek for eight years.”

“And your bloodline? “

“My dad was—is,” he corrected, “Comanche. My mother was part Irish, part Italian, part German. Guess that makes me a real American, huh? “

Willa ignored his attempt to lighten up the conversation. “How did we meet?”

Thankfully, he didn’t have to pause to collect his thoughts. “At a restaurant on the Riverwalk in San Antonio. The place was crowded, and we shared a table.”

She stared at him again. “I think you’re probably lying about that. I don’t know why.” She waved him off before he could try to convince her otherwise. “It doesn’t matter. It’s obvious you don’t want to be here so that means the lieutenant brought you to convince me to do something.”

Well, he hadn’t expected her to give him that kind of opening.

“But first, you’re supposed to regain my trust,” she continued. “And SAPD’s theory is the reason I’ll trust you again is that we have a child in common.” She moved closer to the edge of the sofa. “But you and I both know how things really are, don’t we, Brandon?”

Yeah, he thought, maybe they did, so Brandon stuck with the truth. “I gave up the idea of being a father not long after I got out of the military. Let’s just say I didn’t think my gene pool was worth passing along to an innocent baby.”

She made a sound to indicate she was thinking about that. And he could see the doubt creep back into her eyes. “That probably has something to do with the was versus the is when you described your father’s bloodline, but I don’t believe you want to share that secret with me so I won’t push.”

Surprised, Brandon angled his head to the side and studied her. “Have you been taking deception-training classes since you’ve been in hiding?”

The corner of her mouth lifted, but the smile didn’t make it to her eyes. “When I couldn’t remember anything for more than ten minutes, I started relying on other things. Eye contact. Facial signals. My gut instincts,” she added in a mumble.

Brandon tried his hand at it. “The way you said the last part—my gut instincts—does that mean you don’t like what your gut instincts are telling you about me? “

Her glare returned. “Stand up,” she said abruptly. “Excuse me?”

“Stand up. Please.” That last word was clearly an afterthought.

Brandon did stand, all the while wondering where this would lead. And Willa stood up as well. She went to him, hesitating just a second, before she reached up and caught on to the back of his neck. She pulled him down and touched her mouth to his.

It was a peck, hardly qualifying as a kiss, but it lit a very bad fire inside him that shouldn’t be lit. A fire below the belt.

She pulled back and drew her tongue over her bottom lip. Yet something to stoke that blaze that he had to put out.

“Yes,” she said, “I think I remember kissing you.” Willa shook her head, stared up at him.

Brandon decided to do something to convince her to reconsider that I think part. His hand went to her back, and he hauled her to him.

And he kissed her.

Yeah, it was probably stupid, but he didn’t keep it a peck or at some wimp level to be merely a test. No. He wanted this to be a kiss she’d remember. So, he pressed his lips against hers, moving over her mouth. Taking in her taste, along with that incredible scent. He got an even better sample of her when his tongue touched hers.

She jerked away from him and stepped back. Way back. Her breath was gusting now. Brandon realized his was, too. And she propped her hands on her hips and stared at him.

“I’m attracted to you,” she said in the same tone as if confessing to premeditated murder.

The woman certainly knew how to keep him on his toes. “I’m attracted to you,” he echoed.

Her stare turned to another glare. “I hate that I just told you that because it gives you leverage over me. But don’t be fooled.” Willa walked to the foyer table and grabbed her PDA. “I will never put anything I feel for you over the safety of my baby. That means I’m not going to let you talk me into doing anything I could regret.”

Oh, man. Since they kept going back to that, Brandon figured it was time to move on to step two.

At least step two didn’t involve kissing her.

“The baby is my priority, too,” he clarified. “Yeah, I know. I said I’d dismissed fatherhood, but now that I know a baby’s on the way—”

“It’s a girl,” Willa interrupted. “I’m having a daughter.”

It took everything inside him not to react. He nodded. “A daughter,” he repeated.

Brandon eased that information aside and got back to work.

Yes, he still wanted to protect Willa. He was sorry for what she’d been through. But the groundwork had been laid. She’d bought the story, and it was time to move on. However, before he could do that, Willa lifted the PDA and a second later, there was a small burst of light.

She took his picture.

She typed in something. Paused. And added something else. Notes about him no doubt.

Don’t Trust Brandon Ruiz maybe.

Well, she would have to learn to trust him. At least temporarily.

“You’re going to have to leave this place and come with me,” he told her. Willa started to object, but Brandon talked right over her. “You don’t have a choice. The baby’s safety is at stake, and I won’t let you endanger my child.”

There. That was the gauntlet.

“Your child?” she said, mocking him.

“Oh, no, we’re not going back to that part about my ambivalence toward fatherhood. We’ll do what’s best for this baby. And what’s best is for you not to be here.”

Willa didn’t say a word, not even to demand more information. She was no doubt trying to figure out how she could escape. That attempt would probably come when she tried to excuse herself to go to the bathroom. Or to get something from the kitchen.

But that wasn’t going to happen.

“We’ve received an intelligence report that there’s going to be another hostage situation,” Brandon stated as clearly as he could.

Her bottom lip started to tremble. “Where?” Her voice was all breath.

“We don’t know that. Or when. Or who will be involved. All we have is that it’ll take place at an undisclosed hospital and that the person responsible has hired two computer techs to break into some files.”

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth to stop the trembling. From what he’d been told, Willa didn’t have any actual memories of the hostage situation she’d endured, but she had read reports. Heck, she’d probably memorized them and knew she didn’t want any other person to go through what she had.

“You could put guards at all the hospitals,” Willa suggested.

He shook his head. “Too many of them. We can put them on alert, of course, and warn them of the potential danger, but we’re not even sure this attack will happen at a hospital in the state. It could happen anywhere.”

She waited a moment. Mumbled something. “How can I help?” she finally asked.

Brandon took a deep breath. Even though he still had to be mindful of her attempted escape, step two had been a success. Now, it was time for the grand finale.

Well, part of it anyway.

The last step wouldn’t happen until SAPD was sure this new hostage threat had been squelched.

“We think someone masterminded the situation with the maternity hostages,” he continued.

“But you caught the two gunmen and the man who hired them. I read about it.”

“Yes, his name was Gavin Cunningham, and last week he committed suicide in prison. In his suicide note he indicated he hadn’t worked alone, that someone had helped him set up the entire maternity hostage situation.”

The breath rushed from her mouth. “Who helped him?”

“We’re not sure. That’s where we’re hoping you can fill us in.”

“I get it,” she said almost immediately. “You want me to resume my therapy so I can remember if the gunman who held me said anything about the identity of his boss.”

“Yeah.”

Among other things.

“But I might not remember,” she pointed out. “Or maybe the gunman didn’t say anything to me at all. I could be putting myself out there for no reason.”

“You wouldn’t be just putting yourself out there, Willa.” Brandon tried to keep his voice level and calm. “I’d be with you. You’d be in my protective custody.”

She rolled her eyes. “Let me guess—that wasn’t your idea. It was Lieutenant Duggan’s.”

Brandon evaded that. “Bo Duggan lost his wife during that hostage situation. She died after giving birth to their twins. He’s, well, eager to solve this case once and for all.”

She stayed quiet a moment. Then, she said, “No.”

“No?” Brandon challenged. Well, there went his calm and level voice.

“No,” she insisted. “I won’t go with you into protective custody. And I won’t work directly with Lieutenant Duggan, SAPD or even you.”

She pointed to her laptop. Don’t Trust the Cops was scrolling across the screen in bold white letters on black background.

She had a reason not to trust cops, or anyone else for that matter. But he had to get her past that because she had no choice. Willa had to trust him.

Even if he didn’t deserve that trust.

“I’ll restart my therapy on my own,” she continued.

“I can’t take any memory-activating drugs because they might harm the baby, but maybe hypnosis will work if I try it again. I can do the hypnosis sessions here.”

Brandon shook his head. “No, you can’t.”

That got her back on her feet. “Now, just a darn minute. You might be my baby’s biological father and my former boyfriend, but that doesn’t give you any say in my life.”

He got to his feet as well. “This badge does.”

She pulled back her shoulders and looked as if he slapped her. “You’re pulling rank on me?”

“I don’t have a choice, Willa.” He’d practiced this on the drive over, but he didn’t think practice would make it sound any better than it had when he’d first said it. “We didn’t just get intel about another hostage situation. We learned from a deep-cover agent that an assassin has been hired.”

Her shoulders went back even further. “An assassin?”

He nodded and relied on the words he’d rehearsed. “An assassin hired to come after you.”

Oh, man. She didn’t just pale, every drop of color drained from her face. Willa slipped her PDA into the pocket of her sweater, sank back onto the sofa and buried her face in her hands.

Brandon went in for the kill. He had to tell her the final part of this covert briefing. The detail that would put her back in police custody.

And maybe right back in danger.

“That’s how we knew where to find you,” Brandon said, hating the sound of his own voice and the words coming out of his mouth.

Words that were unfortunately true.

“We got your address from the intelligence report that the Justice Department agent had intercepted from the assassin.” Brandon checked his watch, though he already knew time was running out. “If the intel is right, and we think it is, he plans to kill you tonight.”

Chapter Three

Willa was glad she was sitting down.

She didn’t speak—she couldn’t—and she didn’t look at Brandon. Instead, she forced herself to focus on what he’d just told her.

An assassin would come tonight to kill her.

Maybe.

The warning on her screen saver flashed in her head, and it was the reminder she needed to put this in perspective.

“Is it true?” she asked, with her eyes still turned away from Brandon. She wanted to listen for the inflection in his voice.

“It’s true, an assassin plans to kill you. We think because his boss doesn’t want to risk your memory recovering so you can tell the authorities his identity. But I’m going to protect you,” Brandon quickly added. “Because you’ll gather your things and come with me. I’ve already arranged a place for you.”

Her emotions were like a whirlwind inside her, but she thought he might be telling the truth about the assassin. There was some kind of danger anyway. Brandon definitely wasn’t lying about that.

Willa wasn’t naive enough to believe she’d be able to keep out a professional killer. All the security precautions she had already taken wouldn’t be enough, and the last thing she wanted was to go gun to gun with an assassin. The three-hour handgun course was her only training with a firearm, and she was betting the man coming after her would know how to kill with one shot.

She nodded, stood and rubbed her hands on the sides of her jeans. “Give me a minute, please. I need some time to gather my thoughts.”

And her things.

She had an emergency bag already packed and stashed beneath her bed, and she’d practiced climbing out the window. She could cut through the backyard and walk to the train station, which was only four blocks away. That’s one of the reasons she’d chosen this particular house to rent.

Willa headed for her bedroom, but she didn’t get far. Brandon was right behind her. She whirled around, not realizing he was so close, and she knocked right into him. The contact was a reminder of that kiss, and the fact that he was going to be a hard man to shake.

“I can’t let you escape,” he told her.

“Who said I’m trying to escape?” Willa tossed right back.

He gave her a flat look to indicate he knew what she had in mind. Probably did, too. He was a cop, after all.

“Lieutenant Duggan is watching the back of the house, so you wouldn’t get far anyway,” Brandon added. “Now, get your things so we can leave.”

Willa considered arguing with him, but he looked as stubborn as she was. Not a good DNA legacy to pass on to their daughter. A double dose of bullheadedness.

If he was the baby’s father, that is.

She wasn’t convinced he’d told her the truth about that, either.

“I’ll get my things,” she agreed. But that was the only thing she was agreeing to do. She wasn’t going with them, and that meant she had to distract Brandon in some way so she could escape.

“What did you type about me on your PDA?” he asked, following her into the bedroom. There was barely enough space for one person, and she was quickly learning that Brandon had a way of monopolizing not just the room but all the air in it.

“Nothing,” she lied. And she grabbed the packed overnight bag, put it on the bed and tossed in the PDA. The bag already contained a change of clothes, toiletries, meds, cash, a fake ID that had cost her dearly and a flash drive with duplicate files that were on her computer.

She also had a gun in there.

Willa didn’t want to use it, but she would if it came down to protecting her baby.

Because she wanted to buy some time for that escape opportunity, Willa went through the dresser drawer and pretended to look for something to add to the bag. Maybe conversation would help, too. Besides, there was one thing she needed to verify, even though she wasn’t sure a chat with Brandon would give her that proof.

“Are you really my baby’s father?” she asked.

But he didn’t answer. He walked across the room and looked into the drawer to see what she was doing. He likely thought she had a gun and was maybe about to pull it on him. No gun. However, he took the tiny canister of pepper spray from the top of the dresser and cupped it in his hand.

Willa gave him a cynical smile. “You trust me about as much as I trust you. So answer my question. Are you really my baby’s father?”

He looked her straight in the eyes.

And nodded.

“The DNA test is real,” he said. “The child you’re carrying is mine.”

Everything inside her went still. Because that didn’t sound like a lie.

“We were in love?” she pressed.

“No,” he answered just as quickly.

That seemed to be the truth as well. Strange that he wouldn’t have said yes and then used that love confession to convince her to cooperate with him.

“All right.” For show, she took out several pairs of panties and shoved them into the bag. “So, we weren’t in love, and I wasn’t your one-night stand. What was I to you?”

“The same thing you are to me now.” He didn’t wait for her to respond to that puzzling answer. “Finish packing.”

She added a bra to the bag and stuffed in a flannel nightgown. Willa lifted the bag and put the strap over her like a messenger’s bag even though it was a tight fit over her belly. “I have to get some things from the bathroom. Prenatal vitamins,” she added, knowing he wouldn’t refuse to let her get those.

The bathroom window was small, but she knew she could squeeze through it. She’d have to hurry and hope that Lieutenant Duggan wasn’t keeping watch on that particular side of the house. All she needed was two minutes, and she could be out of there. Away from the assassin, and away from the cops—including, perhaps, her baby’s father.

And that gave her an idea.

With Brandon right on her heels, she went into the bathroom and took out a cotton swab from the medicine cabinet. It obviously wasn’t sterile, but she thought it would give her a clean enough sample. After all, labs got DNA from toothbrushes and baby bottles. Once she had his DNA extracted, she could have it compared to the baby’s amniotic fluid. Willa didn’t have the fluid itself, but she had her baby’s DNA profile in an online storage file that she could retrieve from any computer.

Of course, a comparison would take days. Maybe longer. Still, she would eventually know one way or another.

Her gut was already telling her the test was unnecessary, that Brandon was indeed her baby’s father. But her brain wanted to know why her gut trusted this man when it was clear that he wasn’t volunteering the whole truth.

“Open your mouth please.” She added the please hoping it would get him to cooperate.

He did. Brandon swabbed the inside of his left cheek and handed it back to her. “It’ll be a match,” he promised.

“We’ll see.”

He glanced at the swab. “You’ll want to put that in a plastic bag.” And he pulled a small evidence baggie from his jacket pocket.

Willa eyed him and the bag with suspicion, and instead of using his bag that might be contaminated with his DNA or something else, she headed to the kitchen and got a plastic sandwich bag. She sealed up the swab, put it in the overnight case and snapped her fingers.

“Prenatal vitamins,” she said as if remembering them. “I wouldn’t want to forget those.”

She took slow steps, trying to get the timing of this just right. She needed to get to the bathroom just ahead of Brandon so she could slam the door. Lock it.

And escape.

“I also have to use the bathroom,” she lied when she was a few steps away. “As in, actually use the bathroom. I don’t want an audience for that.”

She went inside and pushed the door so it would close.

Brandon caught it.

“I don’t want an audience,” she restated.

“And I don’t want you trying to escape. Don’t worry. I’ll close my eyes. But this door is staying partly open.”

Great. Just great. She hadn’t wanted to do this, but she was obviously going to have to give him a hit of the pepper spray. She reached into her bag to retrieve it, but he caught her wrist.

Then he grabbed the bag.

“I’ll hold this for you. It can’t be good for a pregnant woman to carry around this much weight.”