The Baby's Defender

West shook himself mentally. He couldn’t allow himself to pursue any what-if scenarios. Cady’s life had been spared—twice. The only conceivable future was one in which Cady and Olivia survived, and even thrived. That’s where he and his Triple Threat team came in. Brennan and Darius and he were forming their personal protection service to help keep people safe. It was their honor to take Cady and Olivia on as their first clients. Failure to protect them was not an option!

Within the hour, West had taken a taxi to his apartment where he put on socks and shoes and retrieved his wallet. Then he went to a drug store. Now, prescription filled and bottled water in hand, he climbed out of another taxi in front of Cady’s house. He stepped up on her porch and knocked on the front door of dark hardwood and vintage leaded-glass. This home she’d inherited was a historical prize, being one of the few remaining residential dwellings in the Philadelphia area designed by the famous architect Frank Heyling Furness in the late 1800s. She’d been offered big money to sell it. However, not only did the terms of the will prohibit her from selling the property, but Cady admitted she had always loved this redbrick Gothic Revival home, as it featured fondly in her memories from visits here during her young childhood.

Darius opened the door, shaking his head. “I figured you’d show up sooner rather than later. We’ve got everything under control here, Sarge. You should have taken a little more R and R.”

“You know I couldn’t do that.”

“I know.” Darius grinned.

West followed his business partner and former army buddy into Cady’s living room. The furnishings in soft browns and greens were thoroughly homey, but also as vintage as the rest of the place. Cady had inherited everything, even the old-fashioned crocheted doilies under the lamps perched on the small tables flanking the long sofa and the easy chair near the front window. The terms of the strange will required her to keep the decor as is for the first year of ownership; then and only then would she be free to update one room per year, within the restraints specified by the historical society. West figured she might not make many changes, unless it was modernizing the old-school kitchen. Cady liked antiques. She currently occupied a genuine Renaissance Revival armchair designed by famous cabinetmaker Daniel Pabst, a detail West knew only because Cady had told him when he and the guys helped her move in.

Her head was bent over a large book in which she was writing. At his entrance, she lifted her pen and frowned up at him. “West, what are you doing—”

“No scolding,” he interrupted her. “My strength is returning in leaps and bounds. This is where I need to be. What are you writing?”

She held up the book. The cover featured a cute cradle in the center with a variety of infant toys around it. “Filling in Olivia’s baby book. She’s developmentally on track with holding her head up, cooing and turning toward sounds. And Brennan is convinced that this afternoon he stimulated the first real, non-gas-related smile out of her. I’m inclined to agree.” She sent a grin in the Kentuckian’s direction, and the man’s chest noticeably expanded.

West laughed. “Careful there, Bren. You’ll pop buttons. Where is Baby-bug, by the way?”

“Napping,” the three responded in harmony.

“We need to talk strategy.” West took a seat at one end of the high-backed sofa. “First off, one of us will be with you at all times, no matter where you go.”

Cady pursed her lips. “Having a perpetual shadow is going to feel totally weird. What about nighttime?”

“Whoever is on duty will bunk here in the living room, but no sleeping allowed. This creeper has apparently discovered how to get into the house regardless of locks and bolts. We need to be alert and waiting. Further, we need to search this house from top to bottom for any means of access that haven’t been considered.”

“Darius and I already did that,” Brennan said.

“Then we’re going to do it again. It’s a priority to figure out how the intruder got inside and put a stop to any future occurrences. But we’ve got another pressing problem.”

He didn’t see any way around leveling with everyone about what the police were thinking. Forewarned was forearmed, after all. Hating every word that spilled from his mouth, he told Cady and his crew about Detective Rooney’s insinuation that Cady had deliberately not drunk the tea because she knew it was poisoned, as well as the detective using a nightmare to explain Cady’s attack in the wee hours of this morning.

“The man has lost it!” Darius bellowed.

“You got that right.” Brennan snorted like an angry bull.

West turned toward Cady to find that she’d gone so pale he reflexively put out an arm to catch her if she fainted. She didn’t, but if she looked any more crushed, she’d be a speck on the floor.

“Why would the police suspect me of imagining a violent attack on myself and trying to kill a man I value and trust?” The words quavered from her lips like leaves fluttering in the wind.

“They don’t know you like we do. Besides, they’re paid to be suspicious. I have no doubt the detective is soon going to look mighty foolish for suspecting you of anything more underhanded than flipping those awesome chocolate chip pancakes of yours.”

She sent him a weak smile, but her eyes shone with moisture. “I can’t believe this nightmare is really happening! I thought I’d left this sort of thing far behind me.”

“What are you talking about?” West drew his brows together.

She shook her head and clamped her lips closed.

Should he press her for an answer? Now, when she seemed so fragile, might not be the time. But maybe he didn’t know her as well as he’d thought.

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