Saviour in the Saddle. Delores Fossen

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СКАЧАТЬ face, but she couldn’t tell what was going through his mind. His gaze dropped to her stomach. Since she was seven months pregnant and huge, it would have been hard not to miss her baby bulge. Then, his attention landed on the .38 Smith & Wesson she had gripped in her hand at her side.

      “There’s no need for that,” Brandon said, his voice mostly calm. There was still that edge to it. “Neither of us will hurt you.”

      “Forgive me if I don’t believe you,” she fired back.

      “You have reason not to trust us,” Lieutenant Duggan volunteered. “We didn’t do a good job of protecting you while you were in the hospital recovering from your head injury.”

      She nearly laughed. “No. You didn’t. A gunman got into my room just two days after the hostages were rescued, and he tried to shoot and kill me.”

      Willa didn’t exactly have memories of that incident, either. Thank God. The memory loss was good for some things, and she didn’t need that particular nightmare in her head. But she’d read the reports, over and over, and every time she would forget, she would reread them. She needed to remember that the cops hadn’t protected her then. Or now.

      The lieutenant nodded. “That gunman was caught. His name was Danny Monroe, and later that same morning when he tried to kill a police captain and another hostage, he was shot. He died in surgery. You don’t have to worry about him now.”

      “Maybe not him. But that wasn’t the only attempt made on my life,” Willa reminded the lieutenant. “Someone tried to break into the safe house where you had me staying after I got out of the hospital.”

      “You remember that?” Duggan asked.

      “No,” Willa reluctantly admitted. “But I haven’t had any short-term memory problems for the last two months. I remember everything that’s happened during that time, and I remember all the notes I’ve read about the incident.”

      And that was the truth. Almost.

      “We’re not sure who tried to get into the safe house,” the lieutenant admitted, “but it’s still under investigation.”

      “Well, the investigation can continue without my help.” She looked at Brandon who was staring at her. “You said you have proof that you’re my ex-boyfriend?”

      He nodded and shifted his head against the wind when another cold gust slammed into them. “Can we come in, and I’ll show you?”

      “You can show me what you have from out there. And you’d better have more than a going-steady ring or a picture from our high school prom.”

      Even though there was something that made her want to trust, and believe, the man. Willa groaned. Hadn’t the last four months taught her anything?

      Brandon mumbled something she didn’t catch, and he reached into his pocket, prompting her to bring up her gun. Lieutenant Duggan’s hand went to the butt of his own weapon that was tucked in a shoulder holster inside his jacket.

      Brandon held up his hands in a calm-down gesture. “I’m not going for a gun.”

      But he had one. Willa saw it then. It was in a cowboy-style waist holster that rested low on his hips.

      She also spotted the badge clipped to his holster, and she backed up a step.

      “You’re a cop?” she accused.

      Brandon nodded. “Not SAPD though. I’m the sheriff of a small town, Crockett Creek. It’s about a half hour from San Antonio.”

      He was still a lawman. The very people her notes warned her not to trust.

      “You didn’t remember that Brandon Ruiz is a sheriff?” Lieutenant Duggan asked.

      “No,” she snapped. “And I think there’s a reason for that. You’re trying to trick me. You figured if you could convince me that this man, this stranger, is my ex-boyfriend that I would let you in so you could talk me into doing whatever it is that brought you here.”

      Duggan and Brandon exchanged glances, and it was Brandon who continued. “It’s true. We do have things to tell you. Things that could affect your safety—and the baby’s.” He paused, his gaze heading back in that direction again.

      He swallowed hard. And looked away.

      So, he couldn’t even look her in the eye. Or the belly. He was lying.

      “Get off my porch,” Willa demanded. “And stay away from me.”

      “I can’t,” Brandon said. “I have the proof you want.” He took a piece of paper from his pocket.

      Willa already had her hand on the door, ready to slam it shut, but that stopped her. “What is that?”

      “It’s a medical report.” Brandon took his time continuing that explanation. “You had an amniocentesis done after the hostage incident.”

      She had. There were notes about it on her computer. The doctors had been concerned that her injury might have affected the baby, so she’d had the test done to examine the amniotic fluid to make sure all was well.

      “What does that have to do with anything?” Willa asked.

      Brandon’s mouth tightened a little. “We, uh, were able to compare the baby’s DNA we got from the amniocentesis results that were on file at the hospital.”

      Now it was Willa who held up her hand. “Wait just a darn minute. Why were you comparing DNA? I had artificial insemination, and I used an anonymous donor.”

      “No,” Lieutenant Duggan disagreed.

      And that one-word denial was all he said for several heart-stopping moments.

      “We had the nurse tell you that,” the lieutenant explained, “because you were so upset—you were hysterical. The doctors couldn’t sedate you because you were in the first trimester of your pregnancy, and they thought you might lose the baby if we couldn’t calm you down.”

      “So, they lied,” Brandon added.

      Willa moved her hand to her heart to try to steady it. “Lied about what exactly?”

      Brandon’s gaze came to hers. “There was no artificial insemination, Willa. And that baby you’re carrying is mine.”

       Chapter Two

      Brandon waited for Willa Marks to grasp what he’d just told her.

      It didn’t take long. Within seconds, her eyes widened. She went pale, and she inched back farther away from the screen door, no doubt to put some distance between her and them.

      She stood there, looking scared, lost and vulnerable in her maternity jeans and dove-gray sweater that seemed to swallow her. She was petite, barely five-three. Hardly big enough to be fighting off bad guys, but she’d had to do too much of that in the past four months.

      From the corner of his eye, Brandon saw the lieutenant make another sweeping СКАЧАТЬ