The Pregnancy Plot (Brothers In Arms: Retribution Book 2)

by Carol Ericson

  He shoved his hand into his pocket, toying with the corner of the napkin. While Nina had slept, he called Jack with this latest development. Jack had theorized that Tempest had somehow contacted Lou, even if she didn’t know who and what they were.

  If so, Jase’s job had just gotten more serious than protecting Nina from crazy family members, and he’d have to somehow back down from his personal involvement or risk putting her in danger.

  “Text him, Nina. Find out what he knows.”

  She sat down on the edge of a bar stool and texted with her thumbs.

  She stared at her phone for almost a minute and then set it down on the counter and slid off the stool. “Done. Maybe he’ll respond with some information I can actually use instead of some vague warning.”

  Jase massaged his temples. He didn’t like any of this. First Lou and now Chris—two people seemingly unconnected to the threat that Tempest could be posing to Nina—now all somehow related.

  “You’re worried, aren’t you?”

  “Huh?” He dropped his hands. He had to stop telegraphing his emotions to her and put on his poker face. “It’s a text message from a guy you barely know. Maybe he’s referring to the big storm on its way. He seemed spooked by it.”

  She pursed her lips and tapped her toe. “You can’t be serious.”

  “We won’t know what he means until he communicates more. In the meantime, you have your shotgun and you have me.” And his Glock 23 pistol.

  She widened her eyes. “Do you think it’ll come to that? Do you think Simon would come here and try something?”

  Simon again.

  “Why would Simon want to hurt you if he knows you’re carrying his baby?”

  She covered her stomach with both hands. “I don’t know. He changed. If his own brother is warning me against...”

  “Hang on.” Jase sliced a hand through the air. “We don’t know anything yet. Don’t jump to conclusions.”

  Totally wrong conclusions, since a dead man didn’t pose a threat to anyone—neither did a dead woman. Since both Simon and Lou could be ruled out, why did Chris believe Nina’s life was in danger?

  “You’re right.” She tucked her hair behind one ear. “I’m going to order that Chinese food. Any requests?”

  “Anything is fine with me.”

  “Spicy?”

  “The spicier, the better, but—” he made a vague circle in the air in the general direction of her midsection “—can you handle spicy?”

  “Oh, yeah. I think this kid’s going to be born with steam coming out of his ears with the amount of spicy food I’ve been putting away.” She swept her phone from the counter, glanced at the display once and tapped a few buttons.

  After she placed the order, she tipped her chin toward his laptop set up by the window. “Did you get much writing done this afternoon?”

  “Yeah.”

  Writing a report and sending an encrypted email to his boss regarding Chris Kitchens definitely counted as writing.

  “You can try to get in a little more before dinner arrives. I’m going to wash my face and change out of these crumpled clothes.”

  When he heard the click of the door to the back rooms, Jase made a beeline to Nina’s cell phone, which she’d left on the kitchen counter.

  He scrolled through the text messages until he saw Chris’s ominous words. He committed the phone number to memory and then returned to his laptop, where he brought up his email. Then he sent a request to Prospero’s tech unit to track the phone and tagged it as urgent.

  While he was at it, he created a document file on his desktop and called it Book. What else? He typed in a chapter heading and added a few lines—not that he didn’t trust Nina, but natural curiosity might lead her to snoop around his laptop—just in case she got past his password. At least she’d see a file on his desktop and he had something to work on if she kept insisting that he write.

  He kept the laptop powered on in case someone at Prospero got back to him regarding Chris’s cell. Then he retrieved a beer from the fridge.

  “Can you please get me a glass of sparkling water? I’ll set the table.”

  Nina had appeared looking fresh-faced and casual in a pair of black yoga pants and a soft, rose-colored T-shirt that gently hugged the swell of her belly. Her beauty made his heart skip a beat...or two.

  He set down his bottle of beer before it slipped from his hand. “You mean we’re not just eating out of the cartons?”

  “This is not the edge of civilization despite your belief to the contrary.”

  “I’m not accusing Washingtonians of being barbarians. I like eating Chinese out of the carton.”

  She looked up from arranging place mats on the table, her head cocked. “I never would’ve had you pegged as that type.”

  “The type to eat out of a carton?” He laughed. “Is that a type? I thought everyone did that.”

  “You know, the cold-pizza-and-beer-in-the-morning type. The brush-your-teeth-with-your-finger type.”

  “Whoa!” He filled a glass with ice and poured flavored sparkling water over the cubes. “Let’s not get crazy. I always use a toothbrush, but I’ve had a few cold-pizza breakfasts in my day. Did you think I ate pizza on fine china with silverware?”

  She folded a napkin and placed it on one side of the place mat. “You seem cultured to me, not quite comfortable in your flannel shirts and work boots.”

  He stomped his feet. “I’m okay in my work boots, and I detest the ballet.”

  “You’re from Connecticut, aren’t you? Prep school. Ivy League. Lacrosse.”

  He took a gulp of beer. She had him pegged. “I never played lacrosse.”

  “A guy like you, marines, you must’ve gone in as an officer.”

  “I did. Intelligence.”

  “And you went to an Ivy League school?”

  “Yale.” Might as well tell the truth where he could.

  She snapped her fingers. “Utensils, please.”

  He yanked open a drawer and collected a couple of forks and knives. “Did you order soup, too?”

  “Hot-and-sour.” She reached across the peninsula for the utensils. “You must have some good stories for your book.”

  “Yep.”

  The doorbell saved him from any other personal revelations. “I’ll get it.”

  He approached the front door from the side and leaned to the right to peek through the peephole. A young, pimply dude shifted from side to side on the porch.

  “We have delivery.” He swung open the door and took the food from the delivery guy while digging in his pocket for cash.

  He turned and almost bumped into Nina.

  “You didn’t have to pay for that. I’ll get half.”

  “I haven’t done enough work around here to earn my keep. Let me get dinner.”

  They popped open the cartons and shoveled the steaming food onto their plates. One spoonful of the soup cleared his sinuses.

  “That baby of yours is in for a treat.”

  “He should have an international palate the way I’ve been eating.”

  “Have you picked out any names yet?”

  “I’ve been thinking about William, Will for short. Do you think everyone will call him Bill or Billy?”

  “Not if he calls himself Will. I trained everyone to call me Jase.”

  As soon as the words left his lips, he stuffed his mouth with food, hoping Nina would let them slide. No such luck.

  “Your name’s not Jase? It’s short for Jason?”

  “Yeah.” He waved his fork in the air. “Too many of those where I grew up.”

  Would she now try to find Jason Buckley on the internet? It still wouldn’t lead her to Jason or Jase Bennett. The lives of Prospero agents were not for public consu
mption in search engines.

  What had she discovered about Simon Skinner? Since both agencies were black ops under the umbrella of the CIA, he had to believe Tempest agents had the same protections, maybe more. Prospero hadn’t been able to uncover anything about Max Duvall when he’d contacted them—not until they’d requested his records from the CIA.

  “Jase suits you better than Jason.”

  For the rest of their dinner, he turned the talk away from his background and his real name to the baby. Nina had her worries about raising this baby on her own, but her excitement and joy about the pregnancy bubbled over despite everything.

  Her happiness flowed into him and filled that hole left by Maggie and her selfishness. He ignored the red flags and soaked in the joy emanating from Nina.

  As they cleaned up, Nina got a phone call from Lou’s mother. She took the call in the back rooms, and Jase flipped open his laptop to check his mail.

  The techies hadn’t let him down. He clicked on the email and scanned the contents. The department had been able to triangulate the location of Chris’s phone—he was still on the island.

  What the hell was this guy’s game? Had he somehow made contact with his brother, Simon, before Simon’s death? Maybe Simon had sent Chris on a quest to track down Nina. Maybe the whole aw-shucks-I-just-wanna-find-my-brother shtick was an act. Was Chris here on Simon’s orders? For what purpose?

  Jack hadn’t gotten back to him yet with a full dossier on Chris Kitchens. He should’ve never let the guy get anywhere near Nina without it. She didn’t owe Kitchens anything.

  “Whew, I’m glad that’s over with.” Nina walked into the room, pressing a hand to her heart. “Inez took Lou’s death pretty hard.”

  “You didn’t expect her to?” He closed out of his email.

  “It’s hard to tell with Inez. She’s going to take care of Lou’s apartment in Portland, and I’m going to ship Lou’s things to her there.”

  “And the funeral?”

  “Once the coroner gets the toxicology report and releases the body, I’m going to send her to Portland—to her mother.” She swiped a tear from her cheek. “Lou was never happy on this island once her father married my mother.”

  “It doesn’t sound like Lou was ever happy.”

  “Some people are like that.”

  “But not you.”

  “I try.” She rubbed her nose. “Why do you say that?”

  “You have a lot going on right now and you still have a great attitude, a great attitude about your pregnancy.”

  “I always wanted children and I thought Simon was the one, but life doesn’t always turn out the way you plan it.”

  “That’s for sure.” He reached across the table and picked up his bottle and her glass. “Do you want more sparkling water? A cup of tea?”

  “More water, please. That food made me thirsty. Are you having another beer?”

  “No.” He cocked his head. “Is that your phone buzzing? Mine’s not set to buzz.”

  She dived for her phone charging on the kitchen counter and touched the display. “It’s another message from Chris.”

  “Does he give any more details about this threat?”

  She looked up from the phone, her tongue darting from her mouth. “He wants to meet me. He must still be on the island.”

  He put on his surprised look—raised eyebrows and open mouth. “I’ll be damned. What does he say?”

  She held the phone in front of her. “Meet me at the wharf in town at ten o’clock. I’ll tell you what I know. Then get me off this island.”

  “Why can’t he tell you in his text or, better yet, call you?”

  “It sounds like he needs a way off Break Island and wants to make sure I provide that way.”

  “I don’t like it, Nina. Tell him I’ll go in your place.”

  “Jase...”

  “Tell him.” He jabbed a finger in the air. “You’re not putting yourself or your baby in jeopardy for this guy.”

  She texted Chris back and held the phone cupped in her hand, waiting for a response.

  Jase’s muscles tensed, his breath short.

  Nina’s phone buzzed and she shook her head. “He said he doesn’t trust you. He doesn’t trust anyone. It has to be me.”

  “I’m coming with you, and don’t even ask him if that’s okay.”

  Her thumbs danced across her phone’s screen, and again she waited for the answering buzz. Even so, she jumped when it sounded off. She blew out a breath.

  “He wants us to take a boat to the town harbor. He’ll tell me what’s going on when we’re on the way to the mainland.”

  “We still have the arrangement with the Kleinschmidts. We can use their boat.”

  She glanced at her display again. “We have just over an hour.”

  He traced a line down the side of her arm. “Are you sure you want to do this? He can find his own way back to the mainland.”

  “I have to know. I have to know if Simon is out there and what he wants from me.” She held the phone to her chest with both hands. “I told you, I sensed he was stalking me in LA. I just want to find out what he hopes to gain by this behavior.”

  Spreading his hands, he said, “It might not be about Simon at all. It might have something to do with Lou. Maybe you were right about her death—maybe Kip Chandler had something to do with it.”

  “That’s just it, Jase. They all headed back to the same motel together, so Chris may have heard something, or seen something with Lou and Kip, that I need to know. Something that may not mean a lot to the police, but would mean a heck of a lot to me.” She placed her hand over his, still on her arm. “I have to meet Chris to find out.”

  Her skin against his felt soft and warm but electrifying. Did she feel it, too? He looked into her blue eyes and caught an answering spark.

  Jerking his head to the side, he broke the connection. This was wrong on so many levels he couldn’t even begin to count them. “We’ll come prepared.”

  She paused for two beats, and when she responded, her voice had a hoarse edge. “I can’t exactly bring my shotgun.”

  She felt it, too, this thing between them, and she didn’t even know who he was. It was all a lie.

  He turned from her and grabbed his backpack, which was hanging over the back of the chair at the desk. He reached for his weapon. “I don’t want to freak you out, but I’m bringing this.”

  When he faced her holding his Glock pistol, barrel down, her eyebrows shot up.

  “Why do you have that?”

  “I’m a former marine. I have a conceal-and-carry permit. It’s all legal.”

  “None of that answers the question I asked.”

  He parked the gun next to his laptop. “Sure it does. I’m an ex-marine. Carrying is second nature to me.”

  “Okay, so you’ll be the one with the gun this time. Just don’t shoot anybody.” She formed her fingers into a gun and pulled the trigger. “I’m going to change into something warmer.”

  Jase snagged his own jacket from the hook by the front door and shoved his weapon into the pocket. He’d leave the pocket zipped—until they got to the town wharf. He didn’t know what to expect from Chris Kitchens, but he wasn’t going to take any chances—not with Nina’s life and not with Will’s.

  His child had been a boy, too, until Maggie carelessly ended his life. He hadn’t even gotten used to the idea of being a father before it was all over in the blink of an eye. He hadn’t been able to protect his son, but he sure as hell could protect Nina’s.

  She came from the back wearing jeans, a bulky green sweater and deck shoes. She pointed to his jacket. “Do you want something waterproof? The water’s getting choppy out there and it still might rain.”

  He glanced down at his down jacket in his hands. �
�This isn’t waterproof?”

  “That may be waterproof for Connecticut rain, but not for a storm on the water in the sound.” She flung open the door of the closet in the foyer and pulled out a black full-length slicker. “Bruce wasn’t as tall as you, but this will cover most of what needs to be covered.”

  He pulled on the coat, which hung just past his knees and rode up his wrists, but it was roomy enough. “This’ll do.”

  “Let’s go see about that boat.”

  “I’ll go see about the boat. You wait here. Have some hot tea.”

  “Anyone ever tell you that you are bossy, Buckley?”

  “All the time.”

  He prepped the boat for departure and returned to find Nina rinsing out a cup in the sink.

  “I took your advice and had some tea. Now I’m unstoppable.”

  “You’re not unstoppable, so don’t even think about doing anything dumb.”

  She wedged a hand on her hip. “What exactly do you think I’m going to do, take Chris down?”

  “I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  “Do you think it would be better if I showed up alone?”

  “Absolutely not. Didn’t we already discuss this? I’m not going to allow you to put yourself in danger. I’m not going to allow you to put Will in danger.”

  By the way Nina’s mouth hung open, he realized he’d stepped over the line—way over the line.

  “Hold on there, Papa Bear. I didn’t mean I’d actually show up by myself. You’d be there, just hidden away.”

  The heat clawed up his chest, disguised by the double layer of clothing he’d piled on.

  “Sorry I overreacted. Maybe it’s my imagination working overtime, but I don’t trust Chris Kitchens as far as I can drop-kick him.” If Jack would get back to him on Kitchens’s background, he might be going into this meeting a little less twitchy.

  She tilted her head, and her ponytail swung over her shoulder. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m not going to do anything to harm my baby. In fact, I’m doing this to protect him. If Chris has information about some threat to me, I want to know about it.”