Soldier's Pregnancy Protocol. Beth Cornelison

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      “O-okay.” Erin flipped on her turn signal and changed lanes, heading for the exit he indicated.

      Alec climbed into the front seat beside her and raised his shirt to pull out the envelope tucked in the waist of his jeans. He heaved a relieved-sounding sigh and closed his eyes.

      Crisis averted. Thanks to Alec’s heroics. Erin exhaled her own relieved sigh, but her hands still trembled. She cast a sideways glance at Alec, and for a moment, she simply savored the sight of his black, windblown hair, the stark bone structure of his brow and jaw, the full cut of his mouth.

      When they’d been hauling boxes last week, she’d been transfixed by his taut, muscular frame, by his intensely blue eyes. But it seemed this man’s face was perhaps the most striking, the most interesting of his features. Without being classically handsome, he had a rugged sort of appeal. A muscle in his jaw jumped as he clenched his teeth and opened his eyes. She followed his lowered gaze to the envelope in his lap.

      She scowled. “That dumb letter must be awfully important.”

      He cut her a sideways glance. “It is to me.”

      Harsh lines bracketed his mouth, his eyes, and spoke of hard living. A thin, pale scar on his cheek evidenced a past injury. Alec Kincaid was clearly no stranger to a dangerous lifestyle.

      Her annoyance cooled when she realized the lengths to which he’d gone to rescue her. He was either the craziest man on the planet or the bravest. She’d wager on the latter.

      “Thank you,” she murmured. “For helping me. Saving me.”

      He didn’t answer. Instead he turned to stare out the side window, his face an emotionless mask. Finally he slanted a hooded look at her and grunted. “Your gratitude may be premature.”

       Chapter 2

      Following Alec’s directions, Erin pulled the SUV behind a self-storage building and cut the engine. She cast him a wary gaze across the front seat. “Now what?”

      Alec scanned the area with predatory eyes. “I’m going to have a little talk with these cretins. I need to find out who they are and who sent them.”

      “Shouldn’t we call the police?” Still shivering from cold and fear, Erin chafed her arms. The action drew Alec’s attention and a dark frown.

      “No police.”

      “What?” Erin blinked her shock. “They broke into my house, held me at knifepoint, kidnapped me, threatened to kill me…. You better believe I’m calling the cops!”

      His expression grew flinty. “No. I’ll handle this.”

      “Why? Are you FBI or something?”

      “Or something.” Alec climbed out of the SUV and opened the back door. He checked the two unconscious men, then used the knife the first man had held at her throat to slice through the seat belt. With amazing ease and his impressive muscles taut, Alec hoisted the unconscious driver over his shoulder and carried him to the side of the self-storage building.

      A funny catch lodged in Erin’s chest as she watched Alec pat the thug down, ostensibly checking for other weapons, then return to the SUV. He’d saved her life. For that, she figured she owed him the benefit of the doubt, even if the notion of not reporting this terrifying incident to the police galled her. She glanced at the letter sitting on the console between the front seats. What was so darned important about that letter that men were willing to kill for it?

      Alec ducked his head in the back seat again and sawed on the strap securing the second man.

      “So what am I supposed to do?” she asked. “Just go back home and pretend nothing happened?”

      Alec’s hands stilled, and he glanced up at her, his mouth set in a grim line.

      Erin wondered if Alec ever smiled, wondered about the life he led that kept his expression so hard and humorless. Wondered how a smile would transform his stony features.

      “Once I get this guy out, I want you to dump this vehicle somewhere, then walk about a mile before you call a cab. Don’t go back to your house. They know you live there, and you’d be an easy mark.”

      Erin pressed a hand to her stomach as anxiety fueled the wave of nausea that swamped her. “And why would they come back for me? I thought it was you and this Daniel LeCroix person’s letter that they were after.”

      He sighed, and the muscles in his jaw jumped. “Because I made a mistake.”

      “A mistake?”

      He grunted and continued his work. “I came back for you. Rescued you from them.”

      She scoffed. “You see that as a mistake?”

      “Now they believe I care whether you live or die. They’ll see you as a way to get to me.”

      Dread settled in her chest like a rock.

      “Do you have a friend or relative you can stay with for a while?”

      A hollow ache plucked at her. Loneliness. Grief. And guilt, her constant companion of late. “No. My parents are dead, and I just moved into town last week.”

      He scowled. “Then go to a hotel. And be careful. Keep your door locked and don’t talk to anyone.”

      “But—” Before she had a chance to voice her complaint, the scuffle of feet drew Alec’s attention to the side of the storage building. The SUV driver had regained consciousness. Hands still bound by the seat belt, the groggy man stumbled to his feet. And ran.

      “Damn!” Alec snatched his gun from his waistband and foisted it toward her. “Watch this guy. If he so much as blinks, shoot him!”

      Spinning away, Alec sprinted after the fleeing driver. Erin gaped at Alec’s retreating back then down at the weapon he’d shoved in her hands. Shoot Mr. Knife? Even if her own life were at stake, she wasn’t sure she could ever pull the trigger, kill another human being.

      Her stomach swirled, and she wished she had some crackers to settle the queasiness. She’d moved to Colorado hoping to build a new life, to escape the turmoil and tragedy that had plagued her the past two years. To heal, to make a fresh start, and to nurture Bradley’s last gift to her. But she’d only been in her new home a week, and already bad luck and danger had found her again. She had to be jinxed.

      Hands shaking, she set the gun on the passenger’s seat, terrified her trembling hands would make the gun fire accidentally.

      Her gaze darted to the letter—the root of this whole fiasco, the source of the danger she was in. She lifted the missive and held it to the sunlight, trying to see what was inside. Useless. The envelope paper was too thick.

      It occurred to her that, like the driver, Knife could rouse, could surprise her, could overpower her. Could steal the letter and escape.

      Then all of Alec’s efforts to hold on to the letter and rescue her would have been in vain. Mind spinning, Erin turned the letter over in her hand. Maybe she couldn’t bring herself СКАЧАТЬ