The Sheriff And The Impostor Bride. Elizabeth Bevarly

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СКАЧАТЬ ignored her sarcasm. “All I can tell you is that I’m fine, and yes, I’ve seen a doctor—more than one, in fact—and everything is going perfectly according to schedule.” After a clear hesitation, and with obvious reluctance, she added, “All I can tell you about the baby’s father is that he comes from a very prominent Oklahoma family with a lot of money, a lot of power and a lot of influence, and...” There was another sigh, this one long and melancholy, followed by a softly uttered, “And...oh, Rachel. I think his family wants to take the baby away from me.”

      Rachel actually removed the receiver from her ear long enough to gape at it. Then she replaced it and exclaimed, “They want to what?”

      “There’s some guy following me,” Sabrina continued in a rush. “I don’t know who he is or what he wants, but he’s giving me the creeps. I think he might be working for Ja...for the baby’s father’s family, but whatever he’s up to, it’s no good.”

      “How do you know? Maybe he wants to help you.”

      “Trust me, honey. This guy isn’t the helpful kind. He makes my skin crawl.” After a brief hesitation, she added, “Someone broke into my apartment, Rachel, and tried to run me off the road. I think it’s a safe bet that he was responsible for both. He’s dangerous. And I won’t risk having you and Daddy exposed to him.”

      “What?”

      “Oh, I shouldn’t have told you that,” Sabrina said. “Look, I’m fine now. I’m safe. But I think I should keep moving.”

      “And I think you need to be with your family,” Rachel countered. Shoot, Sabrina was going to give her a heart attack with all this woman-in-jeopardy stuff. “Sabrina, just tell me where you are, where you’re going,” Rachel pleaded. “I can meet you somewhere. It’ll be okay with two of us. Even better, if I call Daddy, too. For heaven’s sake, you’re seven months pregnant! You need somebody with you!”

      “No.” Sabrina’s tone of voice punctuated her adamant stance. “I’m fine. I knew the minute I hung up the phone the other night that it was wrong for me to call you in Oklahoma City. I was just feeling scared and alone, but I’m over it now. There’s no reason to pull you into this, too. I’m on my own now. It’ll be better that way. Go home, Rachel. Where it’s safe. I’ll call you when I can.”

      “But, Sabrina—” She stopped when another tinny-sounding departure announcement rang out in the background on the other end of the line. But the sound was muffled before Rachel could hear what it was, and she knew Sabrina had deliberately covered the mouthpiece of the phone.

      When her sister came back on the line, it was to say quickly, “I have to go. Listen, just promise me you’ll get out of there. And that you’ll be careful.”

      “I’ll be careful?” she repeated. “I’m not the one who’s pregnant and on the run here—you are. You be careful. I can take care of myself.”

      Sabrina actually laughed at that. “Oh, yeah. Right. That’s a good one, Rachel.”

      Rachel made a face at the phone. “Just tell me one last—”

      “I have to go,” Sabrina repeated. “I love you, Rachel. Tell Daddy I love him, too. I’ll call you at your apartment when I can.”

      And then the buzz of a disconnected line hummed in Rachel’s ear.

      She stood there for a long time with the phone still pressed urgently to the side of her head, somehow feeling a little closer to her sister by doing so. Then an electronic female voice told her very politely that if she wished to make another call, to please hang up and try again. With a sigh, Rachel dropped the receiver back into its cradle, feeling worse now than she had when she’d first arrived at the rented mobile home in Wallace Canyon.

      “Well, shoot,” she muttered out loud. For good measure, she kicked the side of the kitchen counter with the toe of her heavy hiking boot.

      There was no reason for her to stay here any longer. Sabrina had made it clear that she wasn’t coming back, and whoever was following her was doubtless long gone from here, too. Rachel might as well just do as her sister had told her and go back home to Oklahoma City, where she could wait for Sabrina’s next call. If there was a next call.

      But something about going home rankled. Rachel didn’t like feeling helpless, especially where her sister was concerned. There had been a time in the twins’ lives when they’d been inseparable. Where one had gone, the other had followed, as if they’d been joined physically, as well as spiritually and emotionally. And although the leader had always been Sabrina—except, of course, for when the trail had led to trouble—Rachel had followed not out of obligation, but out of trust, out of love.

      Sabrina had bailed her out of more tricky situations than Rachel could shake a stick at, and she’d never had the opportunity to return the favor. She owed her sister—big time. Now that Sabrina was the one in need of bailing out, the least Rachel could do was try to figure out some way to help. And sitting in her apartment back in Oklahoma City waiting for the phone to ring just wasn’t going to cut it.

      She leaned back against the wall, crossed her arms over the big, baggy, forest green sweater that hung nearly down to her denim-clad knees, cupped her chin resolutely in her palm, and wondered how on earth she was going to help Sabrina out when she didn’t even know where her sister was headed. For long moments, she pondered her dilemma, until a brisk rap of a fist on the front door roused her from her thoughts.

      Rachel snapped her head up at the intrusive sound, and riveted her gaze on the frosted glass of the aluminum door barely ten feet opposite her. Beyond it, she saw the silhouette of a big cowboy hat and little else. Something drew tight in her belly, and all her senses went on alert. She straightened, inhaled a few deep, fortifying breaths, and crossed to greet her—or rather, Sabrina’s—visitor.

      She gripped the doorknob carefully, inhaled again, then twisted and pushed slowly. But a gust of brutal winter wind snatched the door from her hand and sent it crashing outward, giving neither Rachel, nor her guest, a chance to ease slowly into things.

      “Whoa,” the cowboy hat said in response to the clatter of metal slapping against metal.

      “Wow,” Rachel gasped at the same time. Not because the wind had surprised her so, but because the cowboy hat tipped backward, and she got a good look at what was underneath.

      More brown. But not ugly, dead-looking brown this time. Warm, animated, bittersweet chocolate brown, in the form of laughing eyes that gazed upon her with more than a little interest.

      “Ma’am,” the owner of those eyes said as he lifted two gloved fingers to the brim of his hat. “You okay?”

      Rachel’s mouth fell open, but no sound emerged. Instead, pretty much oblivious to the cold wind that bit through her sweater and tangled with her hair, she could only stare at the man on the other side of the door. Stare down at him, at that, because after knocking, he had retreated to the ground below the two metal stairs that extended from the side entrance of the mobile home.

      His sunken position, however, did absolutely nothing to diminish him. He was easily six feet. And although his big, sheepskin coat hid the particulars of his physique, Rachel got the definite impression of solidity and strength. He was slim, sure, but no doubt every muscle he had, he made count.

      Automatically, her gaze fell to the fourth finger of his left hand. It was a bartender’s gesture she always performed, СКАЧАТЬ