Peek-A-Boo Protector

by Rita Herron

  “DNA will have to tell us that, Sam,” John said. “Until then, we can’t make assumptions.”

  Sam laid a hand on the baby seat as if she expected him to tear the little girl from her. “Honey would never steal a child, John. I know her. And Emmie—I should have known. Honey always talked about naming her kids after Dallas Cowboy players. Emmit was one of the famous running backs during the Dallas Cowboys’ glory days.”

  “Look, Sam, I understand she was your best friend, but it’s obvious that Honey was in trouble. She’s been gone over a year now. You have no idea what kind of mess she’s gotten herself into.”

  Sam folded her arms. “I know Honey would have to be desperate to steal a car. That she came to me for help and I wasn’t here for her.”

  John silently cursed. “Sam, you can’t blame yourself for what happened to Honey.”

  “What did happen to her? I saw all that blood,” Sam said, her tone full of terror. “Do you think that man…that he killed her, John?”

  He hesitated, hated to give her hope and then have her disappointed. But he also hated to squash that hope. “I don’t know,” John said. “But at least we know who we’re looking for. I’ll file a missing persons report on Honey, and hopefully someone will come forward with information.”

  She nodded, stroking the baby’s cheek with her finger, tears welling in her eyes. “I hope so, John. Honey wouldn’t want her little girl to grow up without a mother.”

  The pain of Sam’s past reverberated in her voice, and his heart squeezed. Sam had always seemed so strong, tough, a fighter.

  Anger stirred inside his belly. It was just like Honey to create a mess, then expect Sam to clean it up for her. “Honey came here because she knew you’d take care of her, Sam,” John said. “Just like you did when you were younger.”

  Sam’s gaze swung to his, emotions brimming in her eyes, but the old fight returned. “We took care of each other, John. When I first went to the orphanage, Honey was the one who befriended me. Without her I would have been totally lost.”

  He doubted that but he refrained from arguing.

  “We’ll find her, John. I just know she’s alive.” She pressed her hand to her chest. “I’d feel it if she was really gone.”

  He studied her for a long moment, then swallowed. “Okay, we have work to do. How long has it been since you’ve seen or spoken to Honey?”

  Sam twisted the corner of her mouth up in thought. “On the phone? A few months, although she didn’t tell me about her pregnancy. I should have called her more often…”

  “Stop it,” John said. “Honey chose to leave, Sam. We just have to figure out where she was and what happened to make someone want to kill her.”

  “DID YOU GET THE BABY?”

  He paced across the dingy room, sweating. “No, Honey stashed her at some old friend’s house and the bitch got away from me.”

  A litany of curses exploded on the other end of the line. “You have to kill the bitch and get that baby.”

  “She’s got the sheriff on the case now,” he stammered. “Some local yokel who must have known Honey and the Corley woman.”

  “Kill the cop, too, if he gets in the way. I want that brat out of the picture for good along with anyone else who might ask questions.”

  Chapter Five

  “We have to find Honey. Emmie needs her,” Sam said. “Where do we start?”

  John checked the clock. “It’s late, Sam. Why don’t you put the baby to bed for the night? I’ll make a call to file that missing persons report.”

  She nodded. “I bought a baby bed today. I need to put it together.”

  John gave her a wary look. “Tell me where it is and I’ll take care of it.”

  “The baby things are in the car. I haven’t had a chance to bring them in.” She stood and brushed the palms of her hands on her hips. “I can get them.”

  “Sam,” John said, his patience snapping as his gaze fell to those voluptuous hips. He needed air. Bad. “I said I’d do it.”

  She lifted her chin, then paused. “All right. Have you eaten?”

  He shook his head. They should talk about food because he suddenly felt hungry for something else.

  Something he couldn’t have.

  Like a taste of Samantha Corley’s stubborn mouth.

  Oblivious to the torture she was putting him through, she said, “I’ll heat some soup for us. After we get Emmie settled, maybe we can come up with a plan.”

  After we get her settled?

  He didn’t want any part of the settling, didn’t want to get close or attached to that baby or her.

  She glanced toward the oak desk in the corner. “I’ll see if I can dig up the postcards and letters Honey sent me. Maybe something in them will tell us where she’s been and lead to the person after her.”

  “Good idea.”

  He removed his phone and punched in the number for the station while he headed out to her car. “Deputy Floyd, I want you to file a missing persons report on a woman named Honey Dawson. She lived in town years ago. Her prints were found on Samantha Corley’s door.”

  “I’ll get right on it, Chief. Anything else?”

  John glanced back at the house. “Yeah. Someone tried to run Samantha off the road tonight. I think whomever it was hurt Honey and wants the baby. I’m going to stay here tonight to make sure the guy doesn’t return. Call me if something comes up.”

  “Will do, boss.”

  John hung up, then opened the trunk of the SUV and shook his head at the assortment of baby paraphernalia. “Hell, Sam, what’d you do? Buy out the whole damn store?’

  He reached for a giant box of diapers with a grimace, then a case of canned formula and carted them inside, dumping them in the foyer. More bags contained everything from baby clothes, wipes and rattles to a plastic bathtub, something called a mobile, a baby swing, a fold-up stroller and then the portable crib.

  The scent of homemade soup wafted toward him, and his stomach growled. But first things first. He had to put that damn baby bed together. He hoped to hell the instructions were written in English.

  Sam met him in the foyer and began to sort out the items, carrying the formula to the kitchen while he carted the box with the bed up the steps to her guest room.

  Sam whisked in and began to unload the baby clothes while he tore open the box, pulled out the instructions and started to piece together the bed. The sight of Sam placing tiny baby socks and cuddly sleepers in the drawer made his stomach feel funny.

  This scene felt way too domestic—and cozy—to suit him. Sam was actually humming. Humming, for God’s sake.

  He lowered his head, trying to ignore this soft feminine side of her. Sam had always been a tomboy.

  Hell, the tigress had shot at her attacker earlier and scared the damn man off.

  And right now, she was scaring the hell out of him because he was beginning to actually like being with her.

  No, he wouldn’t let this get personal. He’d protect her and the child until they found out what happened to Honey and if the baby was actually hers.

  Then Sam could do whatever she wanted, and he’d move on with his plans to leave Butterville.

  SAM FROWNED AS SHE STOWED the last of the baby clothes in the drawer.

  She’d never had any experience with men, and she certainly didn’t understand John’s behavior. One minute he’d held her and acted protective, and the next he was growling and practically spitting at the baby furniture.

  She walked over and squatted down, then picked up one of the legs to the crib. “John, why are you being such a bear? I told you that you don’t have to do this. I’m perfectly capable of putting the bed together myself.”

  He glared up at her. “I told you I’d do it and I will.”

  “Then why are you so pissed off?”

  His jaw tightened. “I’m just not comfortable around babies.”

  She frowned. “Well, no one is asking you to play father here. I told you I can take care of mysel
f and Emmie.”

  “That’s right, Sam, you always take care of everyone else,” he muttered. “No one takes care of you because you won’t let them.”

  His anger didn’t make sense. “In the first place, no one has ever taken care of me because no one has ever wanted to,” she snapped back.

  His gaze met hers, and something odd flickered between them, a moment that felt way too sexual. A hungry look flashed in his eyes, a look she’d seen other men use with Honey but not on her.

  A second later it vanished, and she was certain she’d imagined it.

  “I don’t understand you at all, John.”

  He shook his head irritably. “I’m sorry, Sam. I didn’t mean to bark at you. I just don’t like this situation.”

  “Then leave.”

  He grabbed her hand and yanked her down to stare into his eyes. “I’m not leaving you two alone,” he said in a gruff voice. “Not until we find out who’s after the baby.”

  Her heart fluttered with that odd feeling again, and for some insane reason, she leaned forward, an ache stirring inside her. She wanted him to kiss her.

  His gaze met hers, then he lifted his hand and slid it to the back of her neck as if to pull her closer, to give her what she wanted.

  But a soft cry shattered the silence and Sam jerked away. Emmie needed her.

  She couldn’t get used to John being around, not when he had another agenda and planned to leave town.

  Besides, he’d made it plain and clear that babies wouldn’t be part of his future.

  And now she’d held Honey’s little girl, she knew a baby would be in her future. If not Emmie, then she would have one of her own or adopt a child.

  And John would not be in the picture.

  JOHN STARED AT THE SLEEPING baby as she snuggled into her new bed, a tight feeling in his chest. Sam covered Emmie with a pink blanket, then tucked that damn Butterbean doll up to her and kissed her gently.

  The fool woman was already getting attached to the child.

  Something he couldn’t allow himself to do. His future didn’t include a wife or kids. At least not one in this town.

  She took a baby monitor from a box and placed it on the dresser, then motioned to him to follow, and they went back down the stairs. She set the speaker for the baby monitor on the kitchen counter. “This way I can hear her if she wakes up.”

  He nodded, watching silently as she dipped them bowls of the steaming soup and placed fresh bread on the table. John had never had dinner with Sam and this homey setting was doing odd things to him, making him want things he’d never wanted before.

  Like spending a night with Sam.

  “It’s not fancy,” Sam said. “But it’s hot.”

  “It looks great,” he said and meant it.

  A small smile curled her mouth, the stress lines relaxing, and he realized he’d never really seen her smile. Sam had always been such a serious girl and student, always on the defensive as if she’d had to fight to survive.

  She had, he thought with a stab of remorse for what her young life must have been like. Her parents murdered before her eyes. Her father’s name tainted by the gossip about him being a dirty cop. Growing up in an orphanage.

  And the kids at school…sometimes they could be cruel. Had been cruel to her and Honey. But Sam had survived and now helped others.

  “While you were upstairs, I dug up the old postcards and letters I received from Honey over the past year,” she said. “There aren’t many, but I thought they might help.”

  He sat down and dug into the soup. “This is great, Sam.”

  She shrugged. “I like to cook.”

  His gaze met hers and he smiled. “I guess you learned how to when you were young, didn’t you?”

  She shrugged again and tore off a piece of bread. “Miss Mazie had an expression—you play the cards you’ve been dealt.”

  “Even if you’ve been dealt a crappy hand?”

  “It’s better than giving up and feeling sorry for yourself.”

  “You’re right. You and Honey never did that, did you?”

  “There’s no point in it.” Sadness tinged her eyes. “Honey acted tough, but she’s a kitten beneath. I always thought she jumped from one guy to the other because she desperately wanted love.”

  And Sam avoided relationships because she was afraid of getting close to anyone? Of losing them?

  He couldn’t go there; it was too personal.

  Sam picked up one of the postcards from the stack on the table and examined it. “When Honey left here, she had such big dreams. She wanted to be a Dallas Cowboy cheerleader.” She sipped her iced tea. “She would have been fantastic, too.”

  “What happened?”

  “I don’t know. In her letters she talked about traveling and the men she met.”

  She paused, as if realizing she was painting her friend in a negative light.

  “What if Honey did escape last night?” John asked. “Is there anyone here in town other than you who she would call or go to for help?”

  Sam tapped the postcard against the table. “Maybe Dwayne Hicks. He always had the hots for Honey.”

  John nodded, faintly remembering the two of them dating. “Didn’t Dwayne leave town with Honey?”

  “Yes,” Sam said. “But he came back a couple of months later.”

  John chewed his bread. “Tomorrow I’ll have a talk with Dwayne and see if he’s heard from Honey. Maybe he knows what’s going on with her.”

  Sam leaned her head on her hand. “I don’t know if they kept in touch, but it’s worth a try.”

  “He couldn’t be the baby’s father, could he?” John asked.

  Sam shook her head. “No, the timing is off. He came back here months before she would have been pregnant with Emmie.”

  “We need to find out who the baby’s father is,” John said. “He might be the one who followed Honey here and tried to kill her.”

  SAM PUT HER SPOON DOWN, unable to eat any more. Honey had to be alive. She wouldn’t, couldn’t believe that she was gone.

  John scowled. “But that’s only one scenario, Sam. For all we know, Honey got involved with a bunch of thugs or another lover she left behind was pissed and wanted to hurt her. Or maybe she owed someone money.”

  “Honey wasn’t bad,” Sam said, her claws coming out. “She just wanted affection.”

  John narrowed his eyes and Sam tensed. He had no idea what life had been like for her and Honey.

  “I’m not going to argue with you over Honey’s virtues,” John said. “So stop being defensive, Sam. I’m just trying to find her, and to do that I have to consider every possibility.”

  Sam sighed and gave him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. Not knowing where she is, if she’s all right, it’s just so…hard, John.”

  John leaned over and placed his hand over hers. His warmth immediately seeped through her, making her feel tingly inside. And safe again.

  “Just trust me and let me find the truth.”

  His gruff tone soothed her nerves. She’d never been close to a man before, but she did trust him. “All right. I’ll look through the postcards and letters after I clean the dishes and see if there’s someone she met who might know something.”

  “Good idea,” John said. “I’ll call the local hotels and inns and see if there are any strangers in town. And tomorrow I’ll have my men search any abandoned cabins or houses around the area.”

  Sam clenched his hand. “These hills have so many hiding holes.”

  “I know, but it’s a start. I promise, Sam, we’ll do everything we can to find Honey.”

  Sam nodded. She wouldn’t allow herself to think that Honey was dead.

  But Honey was likely injured, had lost blood, and she might be lying in a ditch somewhere or in the woods, bleeding and cold and in serious condition.

  She prayed they found her alive so they could bring her safely home to her baby daughter.

  Chapter Six

  John phoned the station
headquarters to alert them that he wanted a team ready for the morning to search the foothills of the mountains. Sam retreated upstairs carrying the postcards Honey had sent her.

  Worry assaulted him. He hoped Sam was right. That Honey wasn’t a baby snatcher or a criminal. That she’d stolen that car in desperation to escape a man from hurting her child as Sam suggested, not because she was on some wild attempt to get attention and escape a kidnapping charge.

  Another possibility—she’d wanted to keep the child from her own father, not because he posed a danger to her or the little girl, but because she wanted to hurt him or was ready to throw him away as she had the other men in her life….

  The clock struck midnight, and he couldn’t do any more tonight, so he stretched out on Sam’s sofa and tried to sleep. But upstairs he heard Sam moving around and the shower kicked on.

  He cursed and closed his eyes, trying to banish the images bombarding him. Images of Sam undressing, her bare breasts perky and high, her hips flaring enticingly, her soft skin glistening beneath the spray of the warm water.

  Dammit. He pressed his hand over his forehead, trying to gain control. He couldn’t believe he was fantasizing about Samantha Corley’s sexy body. Not tough, tenacious, tigress Sam.

  Not soft, sultry, caring, warm, wonderful Sam.

  He rolled over and punched the pillow in disgust. This case was getting to him.

  All the more reason he had to solve it quickly and get the hell out of Butterville before he completely lost his sanity and fell for the blasted woman.

  No, that would never happen. He wouldn’t allow any woman to destroy his future or keep him in this town.

  SAM SHOWERED AND PULLED ON a warm flannel gown, then gathered Honey’s correspondence and sorted them by chronological order from when she’d received them so she could follow Honey’s journey across the States.

  Too wired to sleep, she was unnerved by the thought of John being downstairs in her house. She had to distract herself so she wouldn’t give in to temptation and go back downstairs to be near him.