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Expecting Trouble
Delores Fossen
Expecting Trouble
Delores Fossen
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Table of Contents
Cover Page (#uca6f2723-9eb0-5698-bbcd-6c00711a688c)
Title Page (#u51dab53c-3d65-5ed1-a4b8-0f3002b610eb)
About the author (#u2294fc6b-558e-560e-a279-ba45d9c695d9)
Dedication (#u8b216973-b4d1-5f86-a260-26176f5a44cb)
Prologue (#ulink_e9182ad9-5d45-5eee-adde-0f82e62f7d91)
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Imagine a family tree that includes Texas cowboys, Choctaw and Cherokee Indians, a Louisiana pirate and a Scottish rebel who battled side by side with William Wallace. With ancestors like that, it’s easy to understand why Texas author and former air force captain Delores Fossen feels as if she were genetically predisposed to writing romances. Along the way to fulfilling her DNA destiny, Delores married an air force top gun who just happens to be of Viking descent. With all those romantic bases covered, she doesn’t have to look too far for inspiration.
To Tom, thanks for all the support.
Prologue (#ulink_6a71784c-1256-5404-94a2-5f74fd6f55f5)
A deafening blast shook the rickety hotel and stopped Jenna cold.
With her heart in her throat, Jenna raced to the window and looked down at the street below. Or rather what was left of the street, a gaping hole. Someone had set shops on fire. Black coils of smoke rose, smearing the late afternoon sky.
“Ohmygod,” Jenna mumbled.
There was no chance a taxi could get to her now to take her to the airport. And worse were rebel soldiers, at least a dozen of them dressed in dark green uniforms. She’d heard about them on the news and knew they had caused havoc in Monte de Leon. That’s why by now she’d hoped to be out of the hotel, and the small South American country. She hadn’t succeeded because she’d been waiting on a taxi for eight hours.
One of the soldiers looked up at her and took aim with his scoped rifle. Choking back a scream, Jenna dropped to the floor just as the bullet slammed through the window.
She scurried across the threadbare rug and into the bathroom. It smelled of mold, rust and other odors she didn’t want to identify, and Jenna wasn’t surprised to see roaches race across the cracked tile. It was a far cry from the nearby Tolivar estate where she’d spent the past two days. Of course, there’d been insects of a different kind there.
Paul Tolivar.
Staying close to the wall, Jenna pulled off one of her red heels so she could use it as a weapon and climbed into the bathtub to wait for whatever was about to happen.
She didn’t have to wait long.
There was a scraping noise just outside the window. She pulled in her breath and waited. Praying. She hadn’t even made it to the please-get-me-out-of-this part when she heard a crash of glass and the thud of someone landing on the floor.
“I’m Special Agent Cal Rico,” a man called out. “U.S. International Security Agency. I’m here to rescue you.”
A rescue? Or maybe this was a trick by one of the rebels to draw her out. Jenna heard him take a step closer, and that single step caused her pulse to pound in her ears.
“I know you’re here,” he continued, his voice calm. “I pinpointed you with thermal equipment.”
The first thing she saw was her visitor’s handgun. It was lethal-looking. As was his face. Lean, strong. He had an equally strong jaw. Olive skin that hinted at either Hispanic or Italian DNA. Mahogany-brown hair and sizzling steel-blue eyes that were narrowed and focused.
He was over six feet tall and wore all black, with various weapons and equipment strapped onto his chest, waist and thighs. He looked like the answer to her unfinished prayer.
Or a P.S. to her nightmare.
“We need to move now,” he insisted.
Jenna didn’t question that, but she still wasn’t sure what she intended to do. Yes, she was afraid, but she wasn’t stupid. “Can I trust you?”
Amusement leapt through his eyes. His reaction was brief, lasting barely a second before he nodded. And that was apparently all the reassurance he intended to give her. He latched on to her arm and hauled her from the tub. He allowed her just enough time to put back on her shoe before he maneuvered her out of the bathroom and toward the door to her hotel room.
“Extraction in progress, Hollywood,” he whispered into a black thumb-size communicator on the collar of his shirt. “ETA for rendezvous is six minutes.”
Six minutes. Not long at all. Jenna latched on to that info like a lifeline. If this lethal-looking James Bond could deliver what he promised, she’d be safe soon. Of course, with all those rebel soldiers outside, that was a big if.
Cal Rico paused at the door, listening, and eased it open. After a split-second glance down the hall, he got them out of the room and down a flight of stairs that took them to the back entrance on the bottom floor. Again, he looked out, but he must not have liked what he saw. He put his finger to his lips, telling her to stay quiet.
Outside, Jenna could still hear the battery of gunfire and the footsteps of the rebels. They seemed to be moving right past the hotel. She was in the middle of a battle zone.
How much her life had changed in two days. This should have been a weekend trip to Paul’s Monte de Leon estate. A prelude to taking their relationship from friendship to something more. Instead, it’d become a terrifying ordeal she might not survive.
Jenna tried not to let fear take hold of her, but adrenaline was screaming for her to run. To do something. Anything. It was a powerful, overwhelming sensation. Fight or flight. Even if either of those options could get her killed.
Cal Rico touched his fingers to her lips. “Your teeth are chattering,” he mouthed.
No surprise there. She didn’t have a lot of coping mechanisms for dealing with this level of stress. Who did? Well, other than the guy next to her.
“Try doing some math,” he whispered. “Or recite the Gettysburg Address. It’ll help keep you calm.”
Jenna didn’t quite buy that. Still, she tried.
He moved back slightly. But not before she caught his scent. Sweat mixed with deodorant soap and the faint smell of the leather from his combat boots. It was far more pleasant than it should have been.
Stunned and annoyed with her reaction, Jenna cursed herself. Here she was, close to dying, only hours out of a really bad relationship, and her body was already reminding her that Agent Cal Rico smelled pleasant. Heaven help her. She was obviously a candidate for therapy.
“I’ll do everything within my power to get you out of here,” he whispered. “That’s a promise.”
Jenna stared at him, trying to figure out if he was lying. No sign of that. Just pure undiluted confidence. And much to her surprise, she believed him. It was probably a reaction to the testosterone fantasy he was weaving around her. But she latched on to his promise.
“All clear,” he said before they started to move again. They hurried out the door and into the alley that divided the hotel from another building. Cal never even paused. He broke into a run and made sure she kept up with him. He made a beeline for a deserted cantina. They ducked inside, and he pulled her to the floor.
“We’re at the rendezvous point,” he said into his communicator. “How soon before you can pick up Ms. Laniere?” A few seconds passed before he relayed to her, “A half hour.”
That was an eternity with the battle raging only yards away. “We’ll be safe here?” Jenna tried not to make it sound like a question.
“Safe enough, considering.”
“How did you even know I was in that hotel?”
Cal shifted his position so he could keep watch out the window. “Intel report.”
“There was an intelligence report about me?” But she didn’t wait for him to answer. “Who are you? Not your name. I got that. But why are you here?”
He shrugged as if the answer were obvious. “I’m a special agent with International Security Agency—the ISA. I’ve been monitoring you since you arrived in Monte de Leon.”
Still not understanding, she shook her head. “Why?”
“Because of your boyfriend, Paul Tolivar. He is bad news. A criminal under investigation.”
Judas Priest. This was about Paul. Who else?
“My ex-boyfriend,” she corrected. “And I wish I’d known he was bad news before I flew down here.”
Maybe it was because she was staring craters into him, but Agent Rico finally looked at her. Their gazes met. And held.
“I don’t suppose someone could have told me he was under investigation?” she demanded.
He was about to shrug again, but she held tight to his shoulder. “We couldn’t risk telling you because you might have told Paul.”
Special Agent Rico might have added more, if there hadn’t been an earsplitting explosion just up the street. It sent an angry spray of dirt and glass right at them. He reacted fast. He shoved her to the floor, and covered her body with his. Protecting her.
They waited. He was on top of her, with his rock-solid abs right against her stomach and one of his legs wedged between hers. Other parts of them were aligned as well.
His chest against her breasts. Squishing them.
The man was solid everywhere. Probably not an ounce of body fat. She’d never really considered that an asset, but she did now. Maybe all that strength would get them out of this alive.
Since they might be there for a while, and since Jenna wanted to get her mind off the gunfire, she forced herself to concentrate on something else.
“I believe Paul might be doing something illegal. He uses cash, never credit cards, and he always steps away from me whenever someone calls him on his cell. I know that’s not really proof of any wrongdoing.”
In fact, the only proof she had was that Paul was a jerk. When she refused to marry him, he’d slapped her and stormed out. Jenna hadn’t waited around to see if he’d return with an apology. She hadn’t even waited when Paul’s driver had refused to take her into town. She’d walked the two miles, leaving everything but her purse behind.
Agent Rico smirked. “Tolivar was under investigation for at least a dozen felonies. The Justice Department thought you could be a witness for their case against him.”
“Me?” She’d said that far louder than she intended. Then she whispered, “But I don’t know anything.” Oh, mercy. She hadn’t thought things would be that bad. “What did Paul want with me? Not a green card. He’s already a U.S. citizen.”
Cal nodded. “The Justice Department believes he wanted your accounting firm so he could use it to launder money.”
“Wait, he can’t have my accounting firm. According to the terms of my father’s will, I’m not allowed to sell or donate even a portion of the firm to anyone that isn’t family.”
He had no quick response, and his hesitation had her head racing with all sorts of bad ideas.
“We believe Paul Tolivar planned to marry you one way or another this evening,” Cal said. “He had a phony marriage license created, in case you turned down his proposal. Intel indicates that after the marriage, he planned to keep you under lock and key so he could control your business and your money.”
A sickening feeling of betrayal came first. Then anger. Not just at Paul, but at herself for believing him and not questioning his motives. Still, something didn’t add up. “If Paul planned to keep me captive, then why didn’t he come after me when I left his estate?”
“He had someone follow you. I doubt he intended to let you leave the country. He contacted the only taxi service in town and told them to stall you.”
So she’d been waiting for a taxi that would never have shown up. And it was probably just a matter of time before Paul came after her.
“I slept with him,” Jenna mumbled. Groaned. She pushed her fists against the sides of her head. “You must think I’m the most gullible woman in the world.”
“No. I think you’re an heiress who was conned.”
Yes. Paul had given her the full-court press after she’d met him at a fund-raiser. Phone calls. Roses. Yellow roses, her favorite. And more. “He told me he was dying of a brain tumor.”
Rico shook his head. “No brain tumor.”
It took Jenna a moment to get her teeth unclenched. “The SOB. I want him arrested. I want—”
“He’s dead.”
She had to fight through her fit of rage to understand what he’d said. “Paul’s dead?”
Cal Rico nodded. “He was murdered about an hour ago. That’s why I’m here—to stop the same thing from happening to you.”
Her heart fell to her knees. “Wh-what?”
“We have reason to believe that Paul left instructions. In the event of his death, he wanted others dead, too. You included. Those rebel soldiers out there are after you. And they have orders to kill you on sight.”
Chapter One (#u4489cfc5-d99b-5bc1-8209-7a37d5776b83)
International Security Agency Regional Headquarters
San Antonio, Texas
One year later
Special Agent Cal Rico checked his watch—again. Only three minutes had passed since the last time he’d looked. It felt longer.
A lot longer.
Of course, waiting outside his director’s door had a way of making each second feel like an eternity.
“Uh-oh,” he heard someone say. Cal saw a team member making his way up the hall toward him. Mark Lynch was nicknamed Hollywood because of his movie-star looks. He was a Justice Department liaison assigned to the regional headquarters. “What’d you screw up, Chief?” Lynch asked.
Chief. Cal had been given his moniker because of his aspirations to become chief director of the International Security Agency. Except they weren’t just aspirations. One day he would be chief. Since that was his one and only goal, it made things simple.
And in his mind, inevitable.
“Who said I screwed up anything?” Cal commented. But he was asking himself the same thing.
Lynch arched his left eyebrow and flashed a Tom Cruise smile. “You’re outside Kowalski’s office, aren’t you?”
Cal had been assigned to the Bravo team of the ISA for well over a year, and this was the first time he’d ever been ordered to see his director. Since he’d just returned from a monthlong assignment in the Middle East and wouldn’t receive new orders within seven duty days, he was bracing himself for bad news.
He’d already called his folks and both of his brothers to make sure all was well on the home front. That meant this had to do with the job. And that made it more personal than anything else could have been.
“If you have a butt left when Kowalski quits chewing it,” Hollywood continued, “then show up at the racquetball court at 1730 hours. I believe you promised me a rematch.”
Cal mumbled something noncommittal. He hated racquetball, but after this meeting he might need a way to work out some frustrations. Pounding Hollywood might just do it.
The door to the director’s office opened, and Cal’s lanky boss motioned for him to enter.
“Have a seat,” Director Scott Kowalski ordered. There was no mistake about it. His tone and demeanor confirmed that it was an order. “Talk to me about Jenna Laniere.”
Cal had geared up to discuss a lot of things with his boss, but she wasn’t anywhere on that list. Though he’d certainly thought, and dreamed, about the leggy blond heiress. “What about her?”
“Tell me what happened when you rescued her in Monte de Leon last year.”
That was a truly ominous-sounding request. Still, Cal tried not to let it unnerve him. “As best as I can recall, I entered the hotel where she’d checked in, found her hiding in the bathroom. I moved her from that location and got her to the rendezvous point. About a half hour later or so, the transport took her away, and I rejoined the Bravo team so we could extract some American hostages that the rebels had taken.”
Kowalski put his elbows on his desk and leaned closer. “It’s that half hour of unaccounted-for time that I’m really interested in.”
Hell.
That couldn’t be good. Had Jenna Laniere filed some kind of complaint all these months later? If so, Cal had her pegged all wrong. She had seemed too happy about being rescued to be concerned that he’d used profanity around her.
“Wait a minute,” Cal mumbled, considering a different scenario. One that involved Paul Tolivar, or rather what was left of Tolivar’s regime. “Is Jenna Laniere safe?”
Translation: had Tolivar’s cronies or former business partners killed her?
The FBI had followed Jenna for weeks after her return to the States. When no one had attempted to eliminate her, they’d backed off from their surveillance.
As for Tolivar’s regime, there hadn’t been enough hard evidence for the Monte de Leon or U.S. authorities to arrest Tolivar’s partners or anyone else for his murder. In fact, there hadn’t been any evidence at all except for Justice Department surveillance tapes that couldn’t be used in court since they would give away the identities of several deep-cover operatives. A move that would almost certainly cause the operatives to be executed. The Justice Department wasn’t about to lose key men to further investigate a criminal’s murder. Especially one that’d happened in a foreign country.
“Ms. Laniere’s fine,” Kowalski assured him.
The relief Cal felt was a little stronger than he’d expected. And it was short-lived. Because something had obviously happened. Something that involved her. If Jenna had indeed filed a complaint, there’d be an investigation. It could hurt his career.
The one thing he valued more than anything else.
He would not fail at this. He couldn’t. Bottom line—being an operative wasn’t his job, it was who he was. Without it, he was just the middle son of a highly decorated air force general. The middle son sandwiched between two brothers who’d already proven themselves a dozen times over. Cal had never excelled at anything. In his youth, he’d been average at best and at worst been a screwup—something his father often reminded him of.
His career in the ISA was the one way he could prove to his father, and more importantly to himself, that he was worth something.
“After you rescued Ms. Laniere, the Justice Department questioned her for hours. Days,” Kowalski corrected. “She didn’t tell them anything they could use to build their case against Tolivar’s business partners. In fact, she claims she never heard Tolivar or his partners speak of the rebel group that they’d organized and funded in Monte de Leon. The group he ordered to kill her. She further claimed that she never heard him discuss his illegal activities.”
“And the Justice Department believes she was telling the truth?”
Kowalski made a sound that could have meant anything. “Have you seen or spoken with her in the past year?”
“No.” Cal immediately shook his head, correcting that. “I mean, I tried to call her about a month ago, but she wasn’t at her office in Houston. I left a message on her voice mail, and then her assistant phoned back to let me know that she was on an extended leave of absence and couldn’t be reached.”
The director steepled his fingers and stared at Cal. “Why’d you try to call her?”
Cal leaned slightly forward as well. “This is beginning to sound a little like an interrogation.”
“Because it is. Now back to the question—why did you make that call?”
Oh, man. That unnerving feeling that Cal had been trying to stave off hit him squarely between the eyes. This was not something he wanted to admit to his director. But he wouldn’t lie about it, either.
No matter how uncomfortable it was.
“I was worried about her. Because I read the investigation into Tolivar’s business partners had been reopened. I just wanted to see how things were with her.”
Judging from the way Director Kowalski’s smokegray eyes narrowed, that honest answer didn’t please him. He muttered a four-letter word.
“Mind telling me what this is about?” Cal asked. “Because last I heard it isn’t a crime for a man to call a woman and check on her.”
But in this case, his director might consider it a serious error in judgment.
Since Jenna had a direct association with an international criminal like Paul Tolivar, no one working in the ISA should have considered her a candidate for a friendship. Or anything else.
Kowalski aimed an accusing index finger at Cal. “You know it violates regulations to have intimate or sexual contact with someone in your protective custody. And for those thirty minutes in Monte de Leon, Jenna Laniere was definitely in your protective custody.”
That brought Cal to his feet. “Sexual contact?” Ah, hell. “Is that what she said happened?”
“Are you saying it didn’t?”
“You bet I am. I didn’t touch her.” It took Cal a few moments to get control of his voice so he could speak. “Did she file a complaint or something against me?”
Kowalski motioned for him to take his seat again. “Trust me, Agent Rico, you’ll want to sit down for this part.”
Cal bit back his anger and sank onto the chair. Not easily, but he did it. And he forced himself to remain calm. Well, on the outside, anyway. Inside, there was a storm going on, and he could blame that storm on Jenna.
“As you know, I’m head of the task force assigned to clean up the problems in Monte de Leon,” Kowalski explained. “The kidnapped American civilians. The destruction of American-owned businesses and interests.”
Impatient with what had obviously turned into a briefing, Cal spoke up. “Is any of this connected to Ms. Laniere?”
“Yes. Apparently, she’s still involved with Paul Tolivar’s business partners. That’s why we started keeping an eye on her again.”
That took the edge off some of Cal’s anger and grabbed his interest. “Involved—how?”
Kowalski pushed his hands through the sides of his graying brown hair. “She’s been staying in a small Texas town, Willow Ridge, for the past couple of months. But prior to that while she was still in Houston, one of Tolivar’s partners, Holden Carr, phoned her no less than twenty times. They argued. We’re hoping that during one of their future conversations, Holden might divulge some information. That’s why the Justice Department has been monitoring Ms. Laniere’s calls and e-mails.”
In other words, phone and computer taps. Not exactly standard procedure for someone who wasn’t a suspected criminal. Of course, Hollywood would almost certainly have been aware of that surveillance and monitoring, and it made Cal wonder why the man hadn’t at least mentioned it. Or maybe Hollywood hadn’t remembered that Cal had rescued Jenna.
“What does all of this have to do with alleged sexual misconduct?” Cal insisted.
Kowalski hesitated a moment. Then two. Just enough time to force Cal’s anxiety level sky-high. “It’s come to our attention that Jenna Laniere has a three-month-old daughter.”
Oh, man.
It took Cal a few moments to find his breath, while he came up with a few questions that he was afraid even to ask.
“So what does that have to do with me?” Cal tried to sound nonchalant, but was sure he failed miserably.
“She claims the baby is yours.”
Chapter Two (#u4489cfc5-d99b-5bc1-8209-7a37d5776b83)
Cal finally spotted her.
Wearing brown pants and a cream-colored cable-knit sweater, Jenna came out of a small family-owned grocery store on Main Street. She had a white plastic sack clutched in each hand. But no baby.
One thing was for sure—she didn’t look as if she’d given birth only three months earlier.
But she did look concerned. Her forehead was bunched up, and her gaze darted all around.
Good. She should be concerned about the lie she’d told. It probably wasn’t a healthy thought to want to yell at a woman. But for the entire hour-long drive from regional headquarters to the little town of Willow Ridge, Texas, he’d played around with it.
She claims the baby is yours.
Director Kowalski’s words pounded like fists in Cal’s head. Powerful words, indeed.
Career-ruining words.
That’s why he had to get this situation straightened out so that it couldn’t do any more damage. Before the end of the week, he was due for a performance review, one that would be forwarded straight to the promotion board. If he had any hopes of making deputy director two years early, there couldn’t even be a hint of negativity in that report.
And there wouldn’t be.
That’s what this visit was all about. One way or another, Jenna was going to tell the truth and clear his name. He’d worked too damn hard to let her take that early promotion away from him.
Cal stepped out of his car, ducked his head against the chilly February wind and strolled across the small parking lot toward her. He figured she was on her way to the apartment she’d rented over the town’s lone bookstore. Judging from the direction she took, he was right.
Even though she kept close to the buildings, she was easy to track. Partly because there weren’t many people out and about and partly because of her hair. Those shiny blond locks dipped several inches past her shoulders. Loose and free. The strands seemed to catch every ray of sun.
That hair would probably cause any man to give her a second look. Her body and face would cause a man to stare. Which was exactly what he was doing.
She must have sensed his eyes on her because she whirled around, her gaze snaring him right away.
“It’s you,” she said, squinting to see him in the harsh late afternoon sun. She sounded a little wary and surprised.
However, Cal’s reactions were solely in the latter category.
First, there were her eyes. That shock of color. So green. So clear. He hadn’t gotten a good look at her eyes when he rescued her in that dimly lit hotel, but he did now. And they were memorable. As was her face. She wore almost no makeup. Just a touch of peachy color on her mouth. She looked natural and sensual at the same time. But the most startling reaction of all was that he wasn’t as angry at her as he had been five minutes before.
Well, until he forced himself to hang on to that particular feeling awhile longer.
“We have to talk,” Cal insisted. And he wasn’t about to let her say no. He took one of her grocery sacks so he could hook his arm through hers.
She looked down at the grip he had on her before she lifted her eyes to meet his. “This is about Paul Tolivar’s business partner, isn’t it? Is Holden Carr the one who’s having me followed?”
That stopped Cal in his tracks. There was a mountain of concern in her voice and expression. Much to his shock, he wasn’t immune to that concern.
He didn’t like this feeling. The sudden need to protect her. This sure as heck wasn’t an ISA-directed mission.
He repeated that to himself. “Someone is following you?” he asked.
She gave a surreptitious glance around, and since their arms were already linked, she maneuvered him into an alley that divided two shops.
“I spotted this man on my walk to the grocery store. He stayed in the shadows so I wasn’t able to get a good look at him.” Her words raced out, practically bleeding together. “Maybe he’s following me, maybe he’s not. And there’s a reporter. Gwen Mitchell. She introduced herself a couple of minutes ago in the produce aisle.”
Cal made note of the name. Once he was done with this little chat, he’d run a background check on this Gwen Mitchell to see if she was legit. “What does she want?”
Jenna dismissed his question with a shrug, though tension was practically radiating from her. The muscles in her arm were tight and knotted. “She claims she’s doing some kind of investigative report on Paul and the rebel situation in Monte de Leon.”
That in itself wasn’t alarming. There were probably lots of reporters doing similar stories because of the renewed investigation. “You don’t believe her?”
“I don’t know. Since the incident in Monte de Leon, I’ve been paranoid. Shadows don’t look like shadows anymore. Hang-up calls seem sinister. Strangers in the grocery line look like rebel soldiers with orders to kill me.” She shook her head. “And I’m sorry for dumping all of this on you. I know I’m not making any sense.”
Unfortunately, she was making perfect sense. Cal had never met Paul’s business partner, the infamous Holden Carr, but from what he’d learned about the man, Holden wasn’t the sort to give up easily. Maybe he wanted to continue his late partner’s quest to get Jenna’s accounting firm and trust fund. Jenna’s firm certainly wasn’t the only one enticing to a potential money launderer, but Holden was familiar with it, and it had all the right foreign outlets to give him a quick turnover for the illegal cash.
Or maybe this was good news, and those shadows were Justice Department agents. Except Director Kowalski hadn’t mentioned anything about her being followed. It was one thing to monitor calls and e-mails, but tailing a person required just cause and a lot of manpower. Since Jenna wasn’t a suspect in a crime, there shouldn’t have been sufficient cause for close surveillance.
And that brought them right back to Holden Carr.
“You’ve heard from Holden recently?” he asked. A lie detector of sorts since he knew from the director’s briefing that she’d been in contact with the man in the past twenty-four hours.
“Oh, I’ve heard from him all right. Lucky me, huh? He’s called a bunch of times, and right after I got back from Monte de Leon, he visited my office in Houston. And get this—he says he’s always been in love with me, that he wants to be part of my life. Right. He’s in love with my estate and accounting firm, and what he really wants is to be part of my death so he can inherit it.” She paused. “Please tell me he’ll be arrested soon.”
“Soon.” But Cal had no idea if that was even true.
“Good. Because as long as he’s a free man, I’m not safe. That’s why I left Houston. I thought maybe if I came here, Holden wouldn’t be able to find me. That he’d stop harassing me. Then yesterday afternoon he called me again, on my new cell phone.” She moistened her lips. And looked away. “He threatened me.”
That didn’t surprise Cal. Holden wouldn’t hesitate to resort to intimidation to get what he wanted. Still, that was a problem for the back burner. He had something more pressing.
“Holden didn’t make an overt threat,” Jenna continued before Cal could speak. “He implied it. It scared me enough to decide that I need professional security. A bodyguard or something. But I don’t know anyone I can trust. I don’t know if the bodyguard I call might really be working for Holden.”
Unfortunately, that was a real possibility. If Holden knew where she was, then he would also know how to get to her.
She paused and blew out a long breath. “Okay, that’s enough about me and my problems. Why are you here?” She conjured a halfhearted smile. “Gosh, that’s a déjà vu kind of question, isn’t it? I remember asking you something similar when you were rescuing me in Monte de Leon. Is that why you’re here now—to rescue me?”
“No.” But why the heck did he suddenly feel as if he wanted to do just that?
From that still panicked look in her eyes, it wasn’t a good time to bring up his anger, but Cal wasn’t about to let her off the hook, either.
“Why did you lie about who your baby’s father is?” he demanded.
Jenna blinked, and then her eyes widened. “How did you know?”
“Well, it wasn’t a lucky guess, that’s for sure. This morning my director called me into his office to demand an explanation as to why I slept with someone in my protective custody.”
“Ohmygod.” Jenna leaned against the wall and pulled in several hard breaths. “I had no idea. How did your director even find out I’d had a baby?”
Because she already had a lot to absorb, Cal skipped right over the Justice Department eavesdropping on her, and gave her a summary of what Director Kowalski had relayed to him. “You told Holden Carr that the baby was mine.”
Jenna nodded, and with her breath now gusting hard and fast, she studied his expression. It was as icy as the Antarctic. “This could get you into trouble, couldn’t it?”
“It’s already gotten me into trouble. Deep trouble. And it could get worse.”
He would have added more, especially the part about Director Kowalski demanding DNA proof that Cal wasn’t the baby’s father. But he caught some movement from the corner of his eye. A thin-faced man in a dark blue two-door car. He drove slowly past them.
“That’s the guy,” Jenna whispered, tugging on the sleeve of Cal’s leather jacket. “He’s the one who followed me to the grocery store.”
The words had hardly left her mouth when the man gunned the engine and sped away. But not before Cal made eye contact with him.
Oh, hell.
Cal recognized him from the intel surveillance photos.
He cursed, dropped the grocery bag and slipped his hand inside his jacket in case he had to draw his gun. “How long did you say he’s been following you?”
Jenna shook her head and looked to be on the verge of panicking. “I think just today. Why? Do you know him? Is he a friend of yours?”
There was way too much hope in her voice.
“Not a friend,” Cal assured her. “But I know of him.” He left it at that. “Where’s your baby?”
“In the apartment. My landlord’s daughter is watching her. Why?”
Cal didn’t answer that. “Come on. We’ll finish this conversation there.”
And once they had finished the discussion about the paternity of her child, he’d move on to some security measures he wanted her to take. Maybe the Justice Department could even provide her with protection or a safe house. He’d call Hollywood and Director Kowalski and put in a request.
Cal tried to get her moving, but Jenna held her ground. “Tell me—who’s that man?”
Okay, so that wasn’t panic in her eyes. It was determination. She wasn’t about to drop this. Not even for a couple of minutes until they could reach her apartment.
“Anthony Salazar,” Cal let her know. “That’s his real name, anyway. He often uses an alias.”
She stared at him. “He works for Holden Carr?”
“He usually just works for the person who’ll pay him the most.” Cal hadn’t intended to pause, but he had to so he could clear his throat. “He’s a hired assassin, Jenna.”
Chapter Three (#u4489cfc5-d99b-5bc1-8209-7a37d5776b83)
Jenna was glad the exterior wall of the cafГ© was there to support her, or her legs might have given way.
First, there was Cal’s out-of-the-blue visit to deal with.
Then the news that he knew about the lie she’d told.
And now this.
“An assassin?” she repeated.
Somehow she managed to say aloud the two little words that had sent her world spinning out of control—again. She’d had a lot of that lately and was more than ready for it to stop.
Cal cursed under his breath. He picked up the grocery bag he’d dropped and then slipped his arm around her waist.
Jenna thought of her baby. Of Sophie. She couldn’t let that assassin get anywhere near her daughter.
She started to break into a run, but Cal maneuvered her off the sidewalk and behind the café. They walked quickly into the alley that ran the entire length of Main Street. So they’d be out of sight.
“You didn’t know that guy was here?” she asked as they hurried.
“No.”
That meant Cal had come to confront her about naming him as Sophie’s father. That alone was a powerful reason for a visit. She owed him an explanation.
And a Texas-size apology.
But for now, all Jenna wanted to do was get inside her apartment and make sure that hired gun, Anthony Salazar, was nowhere near her baby. And to think he might have been following her on her entire walk to the grocery store. Or even longer. He could have taken out a gun and fired at any time, and there wouldn’t have been a thing she could do to stop it.
He could have hurt Sophie.
Maybe because she was shaking now, Cal tightened his grip around her, pulling her deeper into the warmth of his arm, while increasing the pace until they were jogging.
“I didn’t name you as my baby’s father to hurt your career,” she assured him. “I didn’t think anyone other than Holden would hear what I was saying.”
A deep sound of disapproval rumbled in Cal’s throat. He didn’t offer anything else until they reached the bookstore. Her apartment was at the back and up the flight of stairs on the second floor.
“You have a security system?” he asked as they hurried up the steps.
“Yes.”
She unlocked the door—both locks—tossed the groceries and her purse on the table in the entry and bolted across the room. The sixteen-year-old sitter, Manda, was on the sofa reading a magazine. Jenna raced past her to the bedroom and saw Sophie sleeping in her crib. Exactly where she’d left her just a half hour earlier at the start of her afternoon nap.
“Is something wrong?” Manda asked, standing.
Jenna didn’t answer that. “Did anyone come by or call?”
Manda shook her head, obviously concerned. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” Jenna lied. “I just had a bad case of baby separation. I had to get back and make sure Sophie was all right. And she is. She’s sleeping like…well, a baby.”
Still looking concerned, Manda nodded, and her gaze landed on Cal.
“He’s an old friend,” Jenna explained. She purposely didn’t say Cal’s name. Best not to give too much information until she knew what was going on. Besides, she’d already caused Cal enough trouble.
Jenna took the twenty-dollar bill from her pocket and handed it to Manda. “But I was barely here thirty minutes,” the teen protested. “Five bucks an hour, remember?”
“Consider the rest a tip.” Jenna put her hand on Manda’s back to get her moving. She needed some privacy so she could find out what was going on.
“Why didn’t the alarm go off when we came in?” he wanted to know as soon as Manda walked out with her magazine tucked beneath her arm. It wasn’t a question, exactly. More like the start of a cross-examination.
“It’s connected to the bookstore.” She shut the door and locked it. “The owner turns it on when she closes for the evening.”
That didn’t please him. His disapproving gaze fired around the apartment, but it didn’t have to too far. It was one large twenty-by-twenty-five-foot room with an adjoining bath and a tiny nursery. The kitchenette and dining area were on one side, and the living room with its sofa bed was on the other. It wasn’t exactly quaint and cozy with the vaulted, exposed beam ceiling, but it was a far cry from her massive family home near Houston.
“Why this place?” he asked after he’d finished his assessment.
“It has fewer shadows,” she said, not wanting to explain about her sudden fear of bogeymen, assassins and rebel fighters.
She could still hear the bullets.
She’d always be able to hear them.
Cal nodded and eased the grocery bag onto the tiletopped table.
“You want a drink or something?” Jenna motioned to the fridge.
“No, thanks.” There was an unspoken warning at the end of that. That was her cue to start explaining this whole baby-daddy issue.
She was feeling light-headed and was still shivering, so Jenna snagged the trail mix from her grocery bag and went to the sofa so she could sit down.
“First of all, I didn’t know what I said about the baby would even get back to you. To anyone.” She popped a cashew into her mouth and offered him some from the bag. He shook his head. “Yesterday, when Holden called, I’d just returned from Sophie’s three-month checkup with the pediatrician. Right away, he started yelling, saying that he knew that I’d had a child.”
“How did he know?”
“That’s the million-dollar question.” But then, Jenna rethought that. “Or maybe not. I stopped by my house on the outskirts of Houston to pick up some things before I went to the appointment. Holden probably had someone watching the place and then followed me. I was careful. You know, always checking the rearview mirror and the parking lot at the clinic. But he could have had that Salazar guy following me the whole time.”
In hindsight, she should have anticipated Holden would do something like this. In fact, she should have known he would. He was as tenacious as he was ruthless.
“So Holden confronted you about the baby?” Cal asked.
“Oh, yes. Complete with yelling obscenities. And that was just the prelude. No more facade of being in love with me. He demanded to know if Paul was Sophie’s father. If so, he said he would challenge me for custody.”
“Custody?” Cal didn’t hide his surprise very well.
“Apparently, Paul had some kind of provision in his will that would make Holden the legal guardian to any child that Paul might have—if I’m proven unfit, which Holden says he can do with his connections. After he threatened me with that, I stalled him, trying to think of what I should say, and your message was still in my head. It made the leap from my brain to my mouth before I could stop it, and I just blurted out your name.”
Cal walked closer and slid onto the chair across from her. Close enough for her to see all the scorching blue in his eyes. And close enough to see the emotion and the anger, too. “My message?”
She swallowed hard. “The one you left on my voice mail at my office about a month ago. My assistant sent it to me, and I’d recently listened to it.”
A lot. In fact, she’d memorized it.
She’d found his voice comforting, and that’s why she’d replayed it. Night after night. When she couldn’t sleep. When the nightmares got the best of her. But his voice wasn’t comforting now, of course. Coupled with his riled glare, there wasn’t much comforting about him or this visit.
Well, except that he’d put his arm around her when he thought she was cold.
A special kind of special agent.
He still looked the part, even though he wasn’t in battle gear today. He wore jeans, a dark blue buttondown shirt that was almost the same color as his eyes and a black leather jacket.
“Anyway, after I realized it was stupid to give Holden your name,” she continued, “I thought about calling him back and making something up. But I figured that’d only make him more suspicious.”
Because Cal wasn’t saying anything and because she suddenly didn’t know what to do with her hands, Jenna offered him the trail mix again, and this time he reached into the bag and took out a few pieces.
“I’ve done everything to keep my pregnancy and delivery quiet. Everything,” Jenna said, aware that her nerves were causing her to babble. It was either that, humming or reciting something, and she didn’t want to launch into a neurotic rendition of the Preamble to the Constitution. “I don’t have any family, and none of my friends know. No one here in Willow Ridge really knows who I am, either.”
She didn’t think it was her imagination that he was hesitant to say anything. Under the guise of eating trail mix, Cal sat there, letting her babble linger between them.
Since she had to know what was going on in his head, Jenna just went for the direct approach. “How did your director find out that I’d told Holden about my baby?”
His jaw muscles began to stir against each other. “The Justice Department has kept tabs on you.”
“Tabs?” She took a moment to consider that. “That’s an interesting word. What does it mean exactly?”
More jaw muscles moved. “It means they were keeping track of you in case Holden decided to divulge anything incriminating they could use in their case against him.”
So it was true. Her fears weren’t all in her head. The authorities thought Holden might be a danger as well.
Or maybe they didn’t.
Maybe they were just hoping Holden would do something stupid so they could use that to arrest him.
“I was bait?” she asked.
“No.” But then he lifted his shoulder. “At least I don’t think so.”
Jenna prayed that was true. The thought wasn’t something she could handle right now.
“The baby is Paul Tolivar’s?” Cal asked.
She nodded. And waited for his reaction. She didn’t get one. He put on his operative’s face again. “Just how much trouble will this cause for you?” she wanted to know.
“The ISA has a morality clause.” His fingers tightened around a dried apricot, squishing it. “Plus, the regs forbid personal contact during a protective custody situation.”
That was not what she wanted to hear. “You could be punished.”
Again, it took him a moment to answer. “Yeah.”
“Okay.” Jenna took a deep breath, and because she couldn’t stay still, she got up to pace. There was a solution to this. Not necessarily an appetizing solution, but it did exist. “Will my statement that I lied be enough to clear you, or will you need a paternity test?”
“My director wants a test.” He stood as well, and caught her arm when she started to go past him. His fingers were warm. Surprisingly warm. She could feel his touch all the way through her thick sweater. “But I think that’s the least of your worries right now.”
“Because of Anthony Salazar.” Jenna nodded. “Yes. He’s definitely a worry. His being here means I’ll need to leave Willow Ridge and go into hiding.”
“You’re already in hiding,” Cal pointed out. “And he found you. He’ll find you again. He’s very good at what he does. You need more protection than a bookstore security system or a hired bodyguard can give you. I’ll make some calls and see what I can do.”
Pride almost caused her to decline his offer. But she knew that it wouldn’t protect her baby. And that was the most important thing right now. She had to stay safe because if anything happened to her, it would happen to her precious daughter as well.
“Thank you,” Jenna whispered. She repeated it to make sure he heard her. “I really am sorry about dragging you into my personal life.”
“We’ll get it straightened out,” he assured her. But there was a lot of skepticism in his voice.
And annoyance, which she deserved.
“Okay, while you make those calls, I’ll arrange to have the paternity test done,” Jenna added.
Somehow, though, she’d have to keep the results a secret from anyone but Cal and his director.
Because she didn’t want Holden to learn the truth. Jenna moved away from Cal and started to pace again, mumbling a poem she’d memorized in middle school. She couldn’t help it. A few lines came out before she could stop them.
“What you must think of me,” she said. “For what it’s worth, Paul and I only had sex once, and we used protection. But I guess something went wrong…on a lot of levels. Honestly, I don’t really even remember sleeping with him.” Jenna mumbled that last part.
“You don’t remember?” he challenged.
She shook her head. “One minute we were having dinner, and the next thing I remember was waking up in bed with him. I obviously had too much to drink. Or else he drugged me. Either way, it was my stupid mistake for being there. Then I made things so much worse by telling Holden that you’re my daughter’s father. And here we didn’t even have sex. Heck, we never even kissed on the floor of that cantina.”
A clear image formed in her mind. Of that floor. Of Cal on top of her to protect her from the explosion. It wasn’t exactly pleasurable. Okay, it was. But it wasn’t supposed to be.
Not then.
Not now.
She’d already done enough damage to Cal’s career without her adding unwanted sexual attraction that could never go beyond the fantasy stage.
He opened his mouth to say something, but didn’t get past the first syllable. There was a knock at the door, the sudden sound shattering the silence.
Cal reacted fast. He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a handgun from a shoulder holster. He motioned for her to move out of the path of the door.
Jenna raced across the room and took a knife from the cutlery drawer. It probably wouldn’t give them much protection, but she didn’t intend to let Cal fight alone. Especially since the battle was hers.
With his hands gripped around his weapon, he eased toward the door. Every inch of his posture and demeanor was vigilant. Ready. Lethal.
Cal didn’t use the peephole to look outside, but instead peered out the corner of the window.
He cursed softly.
“It’s Holden Carr.”
Chapter Four (#ulink_6a71784c-1256-5404-94a2-5f74fd6f55f5)
This was not how Cal had planned his visit.
It was supposed to be in and out quickly. He was only on a fact-finding mission so he could get out of hot water with the director. Instead, he’d walked right into a vipers’ nest. And one viper was way too close.
Holden Carr was literally pounding on Jenna’s door.
Cal glanced back at her. With a butcher knife in a white-knuckled death grip, Jenna was standing guard in front of the nursery. She was pale, trembling and nibbling on her bottom lip. Bam! There were his protective instincts.
There was no way he could let her face Holden Carr alone. From everything Cal had read about the man, Holden was as dangerous as Paul, his former business partner. And Paul had been ready to commit murder to get his hands on Jenna’s estate.
“Go to your daughter,” Cal instructed while Holden continued to pound.
She shook her head. “You might need backup.”
He lifted his eyebrow. She wasn’t exactly backup material. Jenna Laniere might have been temporarily living in a starter apartment in a quaint Texas cowboy town, but her blue blood and pampered upbringing couldn’t have prepared her for the likes of Holden Carr.
“I’ll handle this,” Cal let her know, and he left no room for argument.
She mumbled something, but stepped back into the nursery.
With his SIG Sauer drawn, Cal stood to the side of the door. It was standard procedure—bad guys often like to shoot through doors. But Holden probably didn’t have that in mind. It was broad daylight and with the door-pounding, he was probably drawing all kinds of attention to himself, but Cal didn’t want to take an unnecessary risk.
Once he was in place, he reached over. Unlocked the door. And eased it open.
Cal jammed his gun right in Holden’s face.
Holden’s dust-gray eyes sliced in the direction of the SIG Sauer. There was just a flash of shock and concern before he buried those reactions in the cool composure of his Nordic pale skin and his Viking-size body. He was decked out in a pricy camel-colored suit that probably cost more than Cal made in a month.
“I’m Holden Carr and I need to see Jenna,” he announced.
Cal didn’t lower his gun. In fact, he jabbed it against Holden’s right cheek. “Oh, yeah? About what?”
“A private matter.”
“It’s not so private. From what I’ve heard you’re threatening her. It takes a special kind of man to threaten a woman half his size. Of course, you’re no stranger to violence, are you? Did you murder Paul Tolivar?”
Holden couldn’t quite bury his anger fast enough. It rippled through his jaw muscles and his eyes. “Who the hell are you?”
“Cal Rico. I’m Jenna’s…friend.” But he let his tone indicate that he was the man who wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger if Holden tried to barge his way in. “Anything you have to say to Jenna, you can say to me. I’ll make sure she gets the message.”
“The message is she can’t hide from me forever.” Holden enunciated each word. “I know she had a baby. A little girl named Sophie Elizabeth. Born three months ago. That means the child is Paul’s.”
It didn’t surprise Cal that Holden knew all of this, but what else did he know? “Paul, the man you murdered,” Cal challenged.
There was another flash of anger. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I didn’t murder him. His housekeeper did. She was secretly working for a rebel faction who had issues with some of Paul’s businesses.”
“Right. The housekeeper.” Cal made sure he sounded skeptical. He’d already heard the theory of the runaway housekeeper known only as Mary. “I don’t suppose she confessed.”
Holden had to get his teeth apart before he could respond. “She fled the estate after she killed him. No one’s been able to find her.”
“Convenient. Now, mind telling me how you came by this information about Jenna’s child?”
“Yes. I mind.”
Cal hadn’t expected him to volunteer that, since it almost certainly involved illegal activity. “Hmmm. I smell a wire tap. That kind of illegal activity can get you arrested. Your dual citizenship won’t do a thing to protect you, either. If you hightail it back to Monte de Leon, you can be extradited.”
Though that wasn’t likely. Still, Cal made a note to discover the source of that possible tap.
Holden looked past him, and because they were so close, Cal saw the man’s eyes light up. Cal didn’t have to guess why. Holden was aiming his attention in the direction of the nursery door and had probably spotted Jenna. He tried to come inside, but Cal blocked the door with his foot.
“She’ll have to talk to me sooner or later,” Holden insisted. “Call off your guard dog,” he yelled at Jenna.
“What do you want?” Jenna asked. Cal silently groaned when he heard her walking closer. She really didn’t take orders very well.
“I want you to carry out Paul’s wishes. In his will, he named me guardian of his children. He didn’t have any children at the time he wrote that, but he does now.”
“You only want my daughter so you can control me,” Jenna tossed out.
Holden didn’t deny it. “I’ve petitioned the court for custody,” he said.
Jenna stopped right next to Cal, and she reached across his body to open the door wider. “No judge would give you custody.”
“Maybe not in this country, but in Monte de Leon, the law will be on Paul’s side. Even in death he’s still a powerful man with powerful friends.”
“Sophie’s an American,” Jenna pointed out. “Born right here in Texas.”
“And you think that’ll stop Paul’s wishes from being carried out? It won’t. If the Monte de Leon court deems you unfit—and that can easily happen with the right judge—then the court will petition for the child to be brought to her father’s estate.”
“Sophie is not Paul’s child.” She looked Holden right in the eye when she told that lie.
But Holden only smiled. “I’ve seen pictures of her. She looks just like him. Dark brown hair. Blue eyes.”
Pictures meant he had surveillance along with taps. This was not looking good.
Cal could hear Jenna’s breath speed up. Fear had a smell, and she was throwing off that scent, along with motherly protection vibes. But that wouldn’t do anything to convince this SOB that he didn’t have a right to claim her child.
From the corner of his eye, Cal spotted a movement. There was a tall redheaded woman with a camera. She was about forty yards away across the street and was clicking pictures of this encounter. Gwen Mitchell no doubt. And she wasn’t the only woman there. He also spotted a slender blonde making her way up the steps to Jenna’s apartment.
“That’s Helena Carr,” Jenna provided.
Holden’s sister and business partner. Great. Now there was an added snake to deal with, and it was all playing out in front of a photographer with questionable motives. Cal could already hear himself having to explain why he was in small-town America with his standard-issue SIG Sauer smashed against a civilian’s face.
“This meeting is over,” Cal insisted. He lowered his gun, but he kept it aimed at Holden’s right kneecap.
“It’ll be over when Jenna admits that her daughter is Paul’s,” Holden countered.
“We just want the truth.” That from Helena, who was a feminine version of her brother without the Vikingwide shoulders. Her stare was different, too. Nonthreatening. Almost serene. “After all, we know she slept with Paul, and the timing is perfect to have produced Sophie.”
Cal hoped he didn’t regret this later, but there was one simple way to diffuse this. “I have dark brown hair, blue eyes. Just like Sophie’s.” He hoped, since he hadn’t actually seen the little girl.
Helena blinked and gave him an accusing stare. Holden cursed. “Are you saying you’re the father?” he asked.
“No,” Jenna started to say. But Cal made sure his voice drowned her out.
“Yes,” Cal snarled. “I’m Sophie’s father.”
“Impossible,” Holden snarled back.
Cal gave him a cocky snort. “There is nothing impossible about it. I’m a man. Jenna’s a woman. Sometimes men and women have sex, and that results in a pregnancy.”
And just in case Jenna was going to say something to contradict him, Cal gave her a quick glance. She was staring at him as if he’d lost his mind.
“You won’t mind taking a DNA test,” Holden insisted.
“Tell you what. You send the request for a DNA sample through your foreign judge and let it trickle its way through our American judicial system. Then I’ll get back to you with an answer.”
Of course, the answer would be no.
Still, that wouldn’t stop Holden from trying. If he controlled Jenna’s child, then he would ultimately have access to a vast money-laundering enterprise. Then he could fully operate his own family business and the one he’d inherited from Paul.
“This isn’t over.” Holden aimed the threat at Jenna as he stalked away.
Cal was about to shut the door and call his director so he could start some damage control, but Helena eased her hand onto the side to stop it from closing.
“I’m sorry about this.” Helena sounded sincere. Or else she’d rehearsed it enough to fake sincerity. Maybe this was the brother-sister version of good cop/bad cop. “I just want the truth so I can make sure Paul’s child inherits what she deserves.”
Jenna didn’t even address that. “Can you stop your brother?”
Cal carefully noted Helena’s reaction. She glanced over her shoulder. First, at her brother who was getting inside their high-end car. Then at the photographer.
“Could I step inside for just a moment?” That sincerity thing was there again.
But Cal wasn’t buying it.
Jenna apparently did. With the butcher knife still clutched in her hand, she stepped back so Helena could enter.
“That reporter out there might have some way to eavesdrop on us,” Helena explained. “She has equipment and cameras with her.”
Maybe. But Cal hadn’t seen anything to suggest long-range eavesdropping equipment. Still, it was an unnecessary risk to keep talking in plain view. Lipreading was a possibility. Plus, anything said here could ultimately put Jenna in more danger and get him in deeper trouble with the director. Not that her paternity claims were exactly newsworthy, but he didn’t want to see his and Jenna’s names and photos splashed in a newspaper.
“Well?” Cal prompted when Helena continued to look around and didn’t say anything else.
“Where do I start?” She seemed to be waiting for an invitation to sit down, but Cal didn’t offer. Helena sighed. “My brother is determined to carry out Paul’s wishes. They’ve been friends since childhood when our parents moved to Monte de Leon to start businesses there. Holden was devastated when Paul was killed.”
Cal shrugged. “Paul isn’t the father of Jenna’s child, so there’s no wish to carry out.”
The last word had hardly left his mouth when he heard a soft whimpering cry sound coming from the nursery.
“Sophie,” Jenna mumbled.
“Go to her,” Cal advised. “I’ll finish up here.”
Jenna hesitated. But not for long—the baby’s cries were getting louder.
“I do need to talk to Jenna,” Helena continued. She opened her purse and rummaged through it. “Do you have a pen? I want to leave my cell number so she can contact me.”
That was actually a good idea. He might be able to get approval to trace Helena’s calls and obtain a record of her past ones.
Cal didn’t have a pen with him, and he looked around before spotting one and a notepad on the kitchen countertop. He got it and glanced into the nursery while he was on that side of the room. Jenna was leaning over the crib changing Sophie’s diaper.
“Someone was following Jenna.” Cal walked back to Helena and handed her the pen and notepad.
She dodged his gaze, took the pen and wrote down her number. “You mean that reporter across the street? She approached us when we drove up and said she was doing an article about Paul. She said she recognized Holden from newspaper pictures.”
Cal shook his head. “Not her. Someone else. A man.” He watched for a reaction.
Helena shrugged and handed him the notepad. “You think I know something about it?”
“Do you? The man’s name is Anthony Salazar.”
Her eyes widened. “Salazar,” she repeated on a rise of breath. “You’ve seen him here in Willow Ridge?”
“I’ve seen him,” Cal confirmed. “Now, mind telling me how you know him?”
Her breath became even more rapid, and she glanced around to make sure it was safe to talk. “Anthony Salazar is evil,” she said in a whisper.
He caught her arm when she turned to leave. “And you know this how?”
She opened her mouth but stopped. “Are you wearing a wire?” she demanded.
“No, and I’m not going to strip down to prove it. But you are going to give me answers.”
Her chin came up. Since he had hold of her arm, he could feel that she was trembling. “You’re trying to make me say something incriminating.”
Yeah. But for now, Cal would settle for the truth. “What’s your connection to Salazar? Does he work for your brother? For you?”
She reached behind her and opened the door. “He worked for Paul.”
He hadn’t expected that answer. “Paul’s dead.”
“But his estate isn’t.”
“What does that mean?” Cal asked cautiously.
“Yesterday was the first anniversary of Paul’s death. Early this morning his attorney delivered e-mails of instruction to people named in his will. I saw the list. Salazar got one.”
Cal paused a moment to give that some thought. “Are you saying Paul reached out from the grave and hired this man to do something to Jenna?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Helena turned and delivered the rest from over her shoulder as she started down the steps. “Neither Holden nor I can call off Salazar. No one can.”
Chapter Five (#ulink_6a71784c-1256-5404-94a2-5f74fd6f55f5)
After Jenna changed Sophie’s diaper, she gently rocked her until her daughter’s whimpers and cries faded. It took just a few seconds before her baby was calm, cooing and smiling at her. It was like magic, and even though it warmed her heart to see her baby so happy, Jenna only wished she could be soothed so easily.
Not much of a chance of that with Holden, his sister and that assassin lurking around. She kept mumbling the poem “The Raven,” and hoped the mechanical exercise would keep her calm.
She heard Cal shut and lock the door, and Jenna wanted to be out there while he was talking to Helena. After all, this was her fight, not Cal’s. But she also didn’t want Holden or Helena anywhere near her baby.
With Helena gone, Jenna went into the kitchen so she could fix Sophie a bottle. Cal glanced at her, but he had his phone already pressed to his ear, so he didn’t say anything to her.
“Hollywood, I need a big favor,” Cal said to the person on the other end of the phone line. “The subjects are Holden Carr, Jenna Laniere and Anthony Salazar.” He paused. “Yes, the Holden and Jenna from Monte de Leon. I need to know how he found out where she’s living. Look for wiretaps first and then dig into her employees. I want to know about any connection with anyone who could have given him this info or photos of Jenna Laniere’s baby.”
Well, that was a start. Hopefully Cal’s contacts would give them an answer soon. It wouldn’t, however, solve her problem with Salazar.
She and Sophie needed protection.
And she needed to clear up the paternity issue with Cal’s director. And amid all that, she had to make arrangements to move. The apartment was no longer safe now that Holden and Helena Carr knew where she was. Packing wouldn’t take long—for the past year, she’d literally been living out of a suitcase, anyway.
With Sophie nestled in the crook of her arm, Jenna warmed the formula, tested a drop on her wrist to make sure it wasn’t too hot, and carried both baby and bottle to the sofa so she could feed her. Sophie wasn’t smiling any longer. She was hungry and was making more of those whimpering demands. Jenna kissed her cheek and started to feed her.
Once it was quiet, it was impossible to shut out what Cal was saying. He was still giving someone instructions about checking on the reporter and where to look for Holden Carr’s leak, and Cal wanted the person to learn more about some e-mails that might have recently been sent out by Paul’s attorney.
She didn’t know anything about e-mails, but a leak in communication could mean someone might have betrayed her. There was just one problem with that. Before the trip to the pediatrician, no one including her own household staff and employees had known where she was.
Now everyone seemed to know.
Cal ended his call and scrubbed his hand over his face. He was obviously frustrated. So was Jenna. But she had to figure out a way to get Cal out of the picture. He didn’t deserve this, and once she was at a safe location, she could get the DNA test for Sophie.
“So, this is Sophie,” he commented, walking closer. “She’s so little for someone who’s caused a lot of big waves.”
“I’m the one who caused the waves,” Jenna corrected.
Cal shrugged it off, but she doubted he was doing that on the inside. “She seems to like that bottle.”
“I couldn’t breast-feed her. I got mastitis—that’s an infection—right after she was born. By the time it’d run its course and I was off the antibiotics, Sophie decided the bottle was for her.” Jenna cringed a little, wondering why she’d shared something so personal with a man who was doing everything he could to get her out of his life.
Cal walked even closer, and Sophie responded to the sound of his footsteps by turning her head in his direction. She tracked him with her wide blue-green eyes and fastened her gaze on him when he sat on the sofa next to them. Even with the bottle in her mouth, she smiled at him.
Much to Jenna’s surprise, Cal smiled back.
It was a great smile, too, and made him look even hotter than he already was. That smile was a lethal weapon in his arsenal.
“She looks like you,” Cal said. “Your face. Your eyes.”
“Paul’s coloring, though,” she added softly. “But when I look at her, I don’t see him. I never have. I loved her unconditionally from the first moment I realized I was pregnant.” Sheez. More personal stuff.
Why couldn’t she stop babbling?
“Helena left you her cell number,” Cal said, dropping the notepad onto the coffee table, switching the subject. “She said you’re to call her.”
Jenna glanced at it and noticed that it had a local area code. “What does she want?”
“Honestly? I don’t know. All I know is I don’t trust her or Holden.” Sophie kicked at him, and he brushed his fingers over her bare toes. He smiled again. But the smile quickly faded. “Helena said that early this morning Salazar received an e-mail from Paul’s estate. It might have something to do with why he’s here.”
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