by Barb Han
Alyssa cradled her bump. Had she been afraid their child would be abducted like Caroline? It was impossible. Right? The timeline of when she’d found out about the pregnancy was off. But with his father’s death coming so soon after stirring the pot, she did have to consider her daughter’s safety when it came to being an O’Connor.
She followed the sound of the keyboard to the office. It was exactly as she remembered. This was Blake’s space. This room and the workout room he’d built in the garage were his domain. He’d given her carte blanche with everything else, saying she should make the place feel like home to her because as long as she lived there, life couldn’t get any better for him. She could paint the walls pink for all he cared. And she knew in the pit of her stomach she loved him back just as hard. How could they have gone from there to here in a few short years?
Chapter Eleven
“What are you working on?”
Blake blinked up at Alyssa. She stood there in his George Strait shirt and her old yoga pants, and his mind flashed to happier times when she’d show up in his office wearing only the shirt.
The corners of his lips upturned in a grin. He gave himself a mental slap because he didn’t need to be going down that road where they ended up in a tangle in the sheets.
“I’m looking at routes to the doctor’s office tomorrow. I took a look at those—” he motioned toward the divorce papers he’d retrieved from downstairs, which also grounded him in reality “—and found your address.”
“Oh.” She walked over beside him and her lilac and spring flower scent washed over him, stirring places he knew better than to allow. So, he distracted himself by focusing on the map instead of the long strands of hair clinging to the silky skin of her neck.
“This is your place.” He pulled up the street view of the bungalow on the northeastern outskirts of Houston. Then he stood up and offered her a seat.
She sat down and stared blankly as he grabbed a stool and pulled up beside her.
“May I?” She motioned toward the mouse.
“Be my guest.”
She “walked” down the street and then “walked” back through a series of clicks on the road. And then recognition dawned as her eyes widened.
“My mom lives in an apartment a few blocks over. She and my dad lived there together, and she won’t move. I tried to get her to live with me after he died, but she wasn’t having it. Said she felt closer to him in their place despite me telling her she could move all her furniture in and replace mine if it made her more comfortable. She thought my dad hung the moon.”
“So did you as I remember. The close relationship you had with your parents confirmed I was on the right track in wanting to ask you to marry me. I could never see myself falling for someone who didn’t value family. We wouldn’t agree in the long run.” Not that he’d had much of a choice when he met her. He’d fallen fast and hard. They’d dated eighteen months to make sure the relationship wasn’t too good to be true. Truth be told, he’d started thinking about a trip to the jeweler after their second date.
He’d had to slow his horses to give the relationship time to develop. He didn’t need a year and a half to confirm what he already knew, but he thought he might scare her off by proposing on the second date.
When she didn’t respond, he looked over at her. Lips compressed, gaze narrowed, she seemed to be concentrating like she was taking a math test.
“I don’t quite remember it that way.”
“That’s strange.” Had the blow to her head changed her thoughts in some way? Because he was one hundred percent certain she loved and admired her father.
“Something feels off. Like I loved my dad and thought he was great—”
“I wasn’t exaggerating when I say you thought he hung the moon. He was your hero.”
“What you’re saying sounds familiar but way off in the distance.”
“Could you and your father have had a fight that rubbed some of the shine off the way you saw him?”
“It’s possible.” The more she tried to focus, the more she looked like she was struggling to agree.
“Something must have happened. Trust me when I tell you the father-daughter bond was strong. Getting his approval to ask for your hand was probably the most stressful day of my life.” He was only half-joking.
“Funny. What you’re saying sounds familiar but when I think of my dad all I feel is tension. Like my mind is trying to send a warning and I can’t quite grasp what it’s trying to say. All I hear is danger, danger.”
Blake made a mental note of the shocking revelation. This was definitely out of character for the relationship he’d witnessed during their dating and married years. Something was out of whack. The fact that her father became ill and died could be the emotional block. His death had knocked the wind out of her.
There was a special bond between a father and daughter, he thought as he glanced at her belly.
Alyssa bit back a yawn. It was getting late and she had to be exhausted.
“Ready to call it a night?” he asked.
“That’s probably a good idea. I can’t remember the last time I was so tired. Or my back hurt this much. Or my legs literally felt like they could fall off. A bed sounds really good about now.”
“You can take my bed. I’ll sleep in the guest room.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I’m already putting you out enough. I’m not sleeping in your bed too.”
“Well, it’s softer than the one in the guest room and I figured you’d sleep better on it.”
She was quiet for a long moment and something that looked a lot like fear darkened her eyes. Chin out, she seemed too stubborn to let it take hold. He remembered her reaction to him placing a blanket over her on the couch. She’d be too proud to ask for his help or admit she was scared to be alone.
“How about we make a deal?”
“I’m listening.”
“The bed in the master is a king. We place a row of pillows in the middle. You stick to your side and I’ll stick to mine.”
“Okay.” There was no hesitation in her answer. He figured he hit the nail on the head about her being afraid.
Since he’d showered after his workout and hadn’t done anything to make him work up a sweat since, he figured he could change into his boxers and grab a few hours of shut-eye. He wasn’t kidding about it getting late. It was just after midnight. Life on a ranch started at 4:00 a.m., but he worked overnight. He would still be working his shift for a few more hours and climbing into bed as the sun was rising.The more he thought about returning to the ranch, the better he liked the idea.
Blake followed Alyssa into the bedroom as a bout of déjà vu struck. They’d walked this path more times than he cared to count under much better circumstances. He ducked into the bathroom and by the time he returned she was settled under the covers, hugging a pillow.
Even for someone his height and weight, a king bed would give enough space between them as long as they both stuck to their sides. Normally, Alyssa curled up around him, her head in the crook of his arm where she fit perfectly.
He didn’t need to look at her swollen belly to realize how much that wouldn’t work now. There were more arguments against falling into old patterns than types of ice cream. So, he climbed under the covers, turned off the light and muttered a good-night.
Minutes later, her steady, even breathing told him she was asleep. Part of him wanted to throw off the covers and get back to the computer to keep searching. The other part—the winning part—figured a few hours of sleep would help reset his mind for tomorrow. He needed to get his perspective back because the whole father-daughter bond comment had him wondering if his daughter would look up to him. Or would she wish someone else had fathered her?
Whoa. The pregnancy news was messing with his head.
If the child proved to be his, he would be the
re every step of the way. He would support her. And he would do whatever it took to have the kind of relationship that would make his father proud.
Blake knew he would never get too old to want to honor his father’s memory.
* * *
THE ALARM BELL was faint but unmistakable. Blake shot up out of bed and snatched his phone from the nightstand. He retrieved his Colt 45 from the closet as he checked his cell.
Intruder.
On one of the cameras he’d set up while Alyssa had been in the shower last night, he saw a hooded figure move through the garage.
Intruder.
A second alarm sounded. There were at least two people breeching the house. He checked the second camera that he’d set up at the front door. Blake moved to the closet and traded his Colt for a shotgun. He hit 911, thinking he was grateful to live so close to his substation. Buying this townhouse had been meant to shorten his commute. Now, he’d have officers here in five minutes.
“Alyssa, wake up. We have intruders.”
She startled awake, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. Her sleepy look tugged at his heart.
“Dispatch, what’s your emergency?”
“This is Officer Blake O’Connor. Two men are breaking into my townhouse. I need immediate assistance.” He tossed the phone onto the bed and then helped Alyssa. Going downstairs was out of the question. The only option was to head up.
“Come on,” he said quietly, looking into huge blue eyes. He needed to secure her in the attic so he could confront the intruders.
Alyssa gave a quick nod. He tucked the shotgun underneath his arm before clasping their hands. The doorway to the attic was in the hallway. He pulled the string, bringing down the ladder. He urged Alyssa to start climbing. She’d refused to go into the attic the entire time she’d lived in the townhouse. She’d fallen through a ceiling when she was six years old after following her father. He’d had no idea she was behind him. When he took a step back, she did too. Only there was no beam behind her, and she went all the way through, breaking her ankle on the landing. Ever since she’d been scared of a repeat.
This time, she climbed without looking back. He dashed into the bedroom to retrieve his cell. Still in his boxers, there was nowhere to stash it. He brought it to the base of the ladder, climbed up enough stairs to hand it to Alyssa. He checked the screen and saw a man in his kitchen and another in his living room.
Hells bells.
Blake stretched his hand up to give over the cell, but Alyssa clamped onto his wrist instead, tugging him up. His plan to surprise the men in the stairwell dissolved the minute he looked up and saw her expression. Sheet-white, he saw that she was trembling with fear.
Instead of folding the ladder and closing her in, he climbed the steps in silence. He brought the bottom half of the stairs with him and leveraged the string to bring up the door.
Because of Alyssa’s fear, he’d put down wood flooring in the attic, figuring he’d surprise her when it was done. She was gone before he’d finished the job but that left only a two-by-two-foot spot in the corner.
Checking the phone, he saw one of the guys was already at the top of the stairs. The other waited at the bottom. The two were used to working together. They didn’t need words, using hand signals to communicate their next steps.
The second intruder now joined the first on the bedroom level, each going in a different direction to check rooms. Alyssa crouched low. Her chin jutted out in defiance. Her arms wrapped around her belly.
Blake studied his phone as intruder number one returned to the hallway. He glanced around and then looked up at the attic door. He seemed to be searching for the string. His face was covered in a hoodie and glasses. They weren’t the shape of reading glasses or sunglasses for that matter. They looked like night-vision goggles. Not exactly military grade. These were smaller and most likely were bought online or at a spy shop. People could get almost anything on the internet these days.
“Pssst.” Intruder number one called to his counterpart.
Blake settled the butt of his gun in the crook of his shoulder. He pointed the business end of the barrel at the door as he stood over it. Anyone who opened the door was going to be surprised. Since intruder number one didn’t have a weapon in hand and Blake, as an officer, was responsible for every bullet he fired, he waited, barely daring to breathe.
He didn’t so much as shift his weight because right now he had the advantage of surprise. As the second intruder joined the first, the distant wail of sirens pierced the air. The intruders froze. They locked on to each other and listened.
“Dammit,” one of them said. Blake looked at Alyssa to see her reaction to the sound of the voice.
The look on her face told him everything he needed to know. The men who, at the very least, were sitting on her at the trailer were inside his home.
The sirens pierced the air, getting closer. Blake held tight to the shotgun for a few more tense moments, the kind that raised blood pressure and made his heart pound against his ribs.
The sirens must’ve spooked them, because out of nowhere, they took off running toward the stairs. Both had weapons tucked in the waistband of their jeans. Good way to get their butts shot off.
It took every inch of resolve for Blake to stay put. He wouldn’t risk giving away Alyssa’s position or the fact she was staying with him. Though someone must have tipped them off. Either that, or they found him through investigating her.
“They’re gone.” Since he’d never hung up with Dispatch, he put the phone to his ear. “There were a pair of intruders inside my townhouse. They heard something...sirens maybe. Either way, they took off running. They’re heading out my front door where I believe they have some type of vehicle waiting.” He moved the phone from his mouth. “Wait here, okay?”
Alyssa nodded. She had a death grip on a wood beam.
He opened the door and descended the ladder, jumping when he reached the halfway-down point. He sprang into action, bolting toward the master bedroom to get the best view of the front of his home.
Just as he got to the window, a pair of squad cars roared into the parking lot. The officers screeched to a stop, encircling the perps.
“That’s them,” he said into the phone to Dispatch.
Through the window, he heard one of the officers through a megaphone say, “Stop right there and put your hands where I can see ’em.”
The perps looked at each other. A quick mental debate must’ve started and ended because when the third cruiser came squealing around the corner, they put their hands up in the air.
“They have weapons. Each has a gun tucked in the waistband of their jeans,” he told Dispatch.
Through the speaker, he could hear her relaying the message.
“Keep those hands up high,” one of the officers stated, his voice loud, authoritative, and high-pitched to gain attention and let the perps know he wasn’t making a soft request. This was an order. It was a pitch only cops seemed to know.
One of the officers exited his vehicle, followed by a second. The third kept his weapon directed at the perps. “You on the left. Take two steps in the opposite direction of your friend here.” The officer’s door was open, and he was wedged in between the door and his vehicle as the pair of officers each took a perp. “On your knees. Keep your hands high.”
The perps did. Each officer subdued one of the perps. Once the situation was secure, Blake returned to Alyssa to help her down the stairs. She climbed down.
“Did they get them?” Her face was still pale and sweat beaded on her forehead and upper lip.
“Yes.”
“It was him. Gruff. I recognized his voice.” She was trembling.
“Are you one hundred percent certain?”
“Yes. Absolutely.”
With the guy in custody, maybe they’d finally get some answers.
Chapter Tw
elve
“Where are they now?” Alyssa’s glance toward the master bedroom had Blake wondering if seeing the perps would be good for her stress levels. He was concerned for her. He was concerned about the baby. He’d basically developed a new ability to be concerned about everything that could possibly happen since learning his ex-wife was pregnant.
Blake linked their fingers and led her to the window, figuring she needed to see with her own eyes the men responsible for making her life a living hell recently were headed behind bars. In the dark, the perps wouldn’t be able to see them, and yet she still backed away from the window once she saw the scene unfolding in the parking lot.
“I recognized the voice.” She studied them. “They basically look like how I pictured them in my mind. I thought Gruff would be stocky and probably look almost as pregnant as I am. Nasal, to me, was going to be the tall, skinny one. This guy isn’t quite as tall as I imagined but he’s skinny.”
The two were, in fact, as she’d described them. He had other problems on his hands. His front door had been broken into. There was no way he wanted to leave his home and personal items unprotected and he figured he’d get about as much sleep as a bear in summer at this point.
“How did you know they were here? I don’t remember having cameras set up when we lived together?” she asked.
“I spent the better half of my teenage years tracking poachers when I wasn’t in school or riding fences.” Most people didn’t realize how much of cattle ranching was keeping the herd safe on the property. Fences kept strays from wandering and needed repair on a near-constant basis considering the sheer amount of land his family owned. They owned mineral rights too, and that was where the real family fortune resided. “To make a long story short, I set up cameras at the two main entrances of the house while you were in the shower earlier and the alarm on my phone alerted me.”
Since his front door was open, he needed to get downstairs before the neighbors started wandering in. Hell, the neighbors, stray dogs or anything else the wind might blow in.