Another Woman's Baby. Joanna Wayne

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      It seemed strange to be sitting across the table from the man she’d seen as sinister and frightening up until an hour ago. Now she was buying into his story even though she’d still seen no real proof of who he was.

      “I’d like to see your badge,” she said, not that she’d know the difference if it was a fake.

      “I’ll do you one better, I’ll give you a number at the bureau. But in the meantime, I’ll need to pick up some clothes over at my condo. As big as this place is, I’m sure you have lots of extra bedrooms.”

      “You can’t stay here.”

      “It’s the best solution.”

      “Not for me.”

      “You have a short memory, Megan.” He glanced at the kitchen clock. “A little over an hour ago, you were fighting for your life. The man ran off, but he’s still out there somewhere waiting for his chance to attack again. I’m not planning to leave you alone—not for a second.”

      “I’ll decide that after I have proof you are who you say you are.”

      He wiped his mouth with the flowered cotton napkin. “Are you always this suspicious?”

      “I work in the world of big business. I learned long ago not to trust anything but verifiable facts.”

      “Good. I’m not a particularly trusting man myself. Now, why don’t you call your doctor and then we’ll make a little trip to my condo to pack my suitcase.”

      “You won’t need much for one night.”

      He shook his head. “You still don’t get it, do you? I will be with you every second of the day and night from now until the man who tried to kill you is apprehended.”

      “That won’t be necessary. I’ve had enough of the good life. I’m driving back to New Orleans first thing in the morning.” She wasn’t sure when she’d made that decision, but right now she couldn’t wait to leave Pelican’s Roost.

      “No. You’re staying here.”

      She stood and glared at him across the table. “FBI or not, Bart Cromwell, you will not tell me what to do and where to live. I’m a citizen, not a criminal.”

      “Okay.” He spread his hands on the table. “I’m not telling you. I’m suggesting that you stay in Orange Beach.”

      “Why? To make it easier for some lunatic to drown me?”

      “You’re out here in an isolated setting. It’s much easier for me to protect you. Besides, this is a small town. We have a much better chance of finding your would-be killer before he has a chance to strike again.”

      “Why would this man have killed Ben and Jackie, and why would he want to kill me?”

      “We don’t know. We only suspect that the explosion was rigged and thought the man might follow up by killing their unborn child.”

      “You don’t know more or you’re not saying more?”

      “I’ve told you what I can.”

      This couldn’t have anything to do with Jackie. It had to involve Ben. He’d seemed such a nice guy, not that she knew him all that well. Now that she thought about it, she wasn’t sure Jackie knew him all that well either. She’d fallen in love with him on a vacation to some island in the Caribbean. They eloped a few months later. She’d never heard her mention Ben’s family.

      “So you think the man is not after me but after the baby?”

      “We think it’s possible. That’s why I’m here.”

      Her heart plunged to her stomach. This madman, whoever he was, planned to kill the baby. The ultimate pay-back to Ben for whatever sin he’d committed in this man’s eyes. He’d kill not only Ben, but his wife and his unborn child.

      She was exhausted, so tired she could barely stand, and yet something pushed and hardened inside her, a protective surge that was so strong it nullified the fear. Her fingers clutched the back of the chair and she faced Bart. “Tell me what I have to do.”

      “Does that mean you’re willing to stay in Orange Beach?”

      “It means I’ll sleep on the sand in a hurricane if that’s what it takes to stop this lunatic and protect the baby.”

      “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

      “We need to go to your condo and pick up your things. I want to see your badge and I want to talk to your supervisor. But if this checks out, you just got yourself a partner.”

      December 9

      MEGAN WOKE to the smells of frying bacon, freshly brewed coffee and salty air. She stretched, then groaned as the ache in her arms and legs clamored for attention. She moved slower this time and ran her hand along her stomach.

      “Good morning, little one. I smell food. I’m assuming that means our guest is cooking. He’s the same dark stranger I told you about, but I checked all his credentials last night. Apparently he’s a real FBI agent and he’s here to protect us. The cooking is a bonus. So even though someone roughed us up a little last evening, you don’t need to worry about a thing, not until you get ready to come kicking into the world. I hear that’s a bumpy ride.”

      She, on the other hand, had a few things to worry about. She’d talked to the doctor last night, told him partial truths, and he’d said she was probably fine as long as she didn’t have any bleeding or contractions. Still, she was glad she had an appointment scheduled for this afternoon.

      And somehow she’d have to deal with living with a man in the house. She was about to slide her feet over the side of the bed when she heard footsteps coming up the stairs. So she pulled the sheet up to her neck and waited for Bart to appear. When he stopped at her door, he had a wicker breakfast tray in hand.

      “Don’t tell me that’s for me,” she said.

      “I figured you deserved it after last night.”

      “Are you going to join me?”

      “Do you want company?”

      “Why not? I think we need to talk about how I’m going to explain your living here for a few days.”

      “I have that all worked out.”

      He narrowed his eyes and his mouth stretched to the left side. She had the feeling he was about to hit her with something she wasn’t going to like, and she didn’t want bad news to spoil her appetite again. The baby needed nourishment. “Have your breakfast before it gets cold. The plans can wait until after we eat.”

      She picked up a piece of bacon and nibbled on the end of it as he went downstairs to fix a tray for himself. The bacon was crunchy, just the way she liked it. She washed it down with coffee. For the first three months of the pregnancy, she hadn’t been able to drink coffee without getting nauseous, but now it tasted better than ever. Still, she limited herself to one cup a day. Too much caffeine СКАЧАТЬ