by Lyn Stone
But she couldn’t talk about it yet. Didn’t dare dream such a happy accident had happened to her. What would Mitch think if she admitted she had considered the idea of becoming a mother long before she had ever met him? She’d even gone so far as to check into artificial insemination. The only thing that had prevented her going through with it was the fact that she wouldn’t know the donor. She couldn’t let herself hope now. That might jinx it.
They had entered by the front door since the batteries on the garage opener seemed to have died. She watched Mitch punch the code in the alarm system and reset it. “Where do you suppose he is?” she asked.
“Kick? Oh, my guess is he’s still at Charlene’s. “I expect he’ll be home in time to hit the sack here. Workday tomorrow. You anxious to tell him what we’ve got?”
“I dread it. He won’t be happy we kept it from him.”
Mitch smiled at her. “He’ll go nuts, but he’ll get over it. We’ll dig in and get fortified before he gets here.”
“Want something to drink?” he asked, leading the way to the kitchen. Robin followed.
“Water,” she said.
He handed her a bottle and helped himself to a soft drink. “We should have brought home some of those leftovers.”
Robin shook her head as she expelled a deep breath. “I think I ate enough to sustain me for a week. It was the best meal I’ve ever had, bar none. Your mother is a wonderful cook.” She smiled. “A wonderful person, just like the rest of your family. I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed being with them today.”
“We’ll do it again soon. You heard Mama insist,” he said with a smile of pride, “and she’ll be mad as hell if we don’t take her up on it. Maybe next Sunday.”
“Maybe. If I’m still here.”
Though Robin had found herself fascinated and a little overawed by Mitch’s family while she was at the Wintons’, she now felt depressed and downright scared. They frightened her. He frightened her. She found herself wishing too hard for a way of life that was totally foreign to her.
As a child model, educated by private tutors and living at home while attending college, Robin was well aware that she lacked the experience to deal with men in general, and especially one like Mitch. She had never known unconditional love, which seemed to be the cornerstone of his family.
They were even willing to extend that caring to her, a virtual stranger. A murder suspect, for heaven’s sake. What were they thinking? And yet they had welcomed her with open arms, perfectly content to accept her just as she was only because the son of the family smiled down on her.
Mitch himself offered her acceptance, maybe even love if she could believe him, not requiring her to do anything or be anything to earn it. But Robin knew nothing came without a price attached. The cost of letting herself love Mitch would be to relinquish the reclusive lifestyle she’d adopted, her insulation against being used. Could she give up that protection?
Was it wrong to crave more than this afternoon’s taste of what a normal life was like? Could she dare risk feeling loved for herself alone, just once?
If she’d been honest with herself at the time, she might have admitted to knowing that Troy was not the one for her. He was an egotist who was used to getting everything he wanted, and his veneer of charm had been about as deep as a dessert plate.
James had cared. But it had not been love on her part or on his when they were together.
With Mitch it was different. At least her feelings were, and she badly wanted to trust him. More than she had ever wanted anything in her life.
She had surrendered herself to him physically already. No, she had practically thrown herself at him, Robin amended. No way she could deny that her emotions had gotten tangled up in that encounter. So had his, if he was telling the truth.
“Robin? You okay?” he asked.
She nodded, stopped wringing her hands. “Sure. I had a great time at your parents’ house. Thanks for asking me to go.”
Her entire body tensed further at his intense appraisal of her. “You’re not okay. Look, I’m sorry if I upset you with all that about…what could happen. I just wanted you to know everything will be all right no matter what.”
When she would have protested again, he held up both hands in a placating gesture. “Okay. We’ll talk when you’re ready to.” His gaze slid to the refrigerator. “Sure you’re not hungry?”
“No, and stop trying to feed me every time I open my mouth. I’m not that skinny.”
“No, you sure aren’t!” he agreed with a sly smile. “I think I see a little fat right there on your earlobe!” He tweaked it playfully with his forefinger.
Robin stepped away from him. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll say good-night now.” Mitch was too good to be true. She needed to get away from him, to ground herself in reality again.
He glanced at his watch. “At eight-thirty?”
She shrugged. Just being near him set her on edge. Not only did she not know what to do with him, she couldn’t decide what to do with herself. He was building her hopes too fast, too soon.
“Come on, we’ll watch a little television and I’ll fix us a snack later,” he suggested, guiding her toward the living room. “You’re not still mad at me, are you?”
In a way, she was. He had no right to tantalize her with offers of love and hope that she might share in that wonderful family of his for more than one afternoon. No right. She removed her elbow from his hand and hurried ahead of him, claiming a chair instead of the sofa where he might sit beside her.
“Well, I see I’ve got my work cut out for me if I want back on your good side,” he said as he reached for the remote. He clicked on the small set, sat back on the sofa and stretched his long arms out along the back of it. “What’ll it take, Robin?”
“A ticket home,” she replied, forcing her gaze to remain on his. “I can’t deal with this right now. I need to think.”
He pursed his lips as if thinking about that. “This, meaning the investigation? Or is it me you have a problem with?”
“You,” Robin admitted.
“And you won’t even talk about it?”
“There’s no point,” she said, honestly wishing she could explain. “I don’t want to discuss it because I really don’t know what I can say.” Not yet, anyway. He had put the idea of a child in her head and it wouldn’t leave her alone.
“Let’s try the truth. I made you uncomfortable when I mentioned a possible pregnancy resulting from what we did together. The fact is, it could happen.”
“If it does, it would be my fault entirely. I should have—”
He held up a hand to stop her interruption. “Then I jumped right in there indicating I wouldn’t exactly be traumatized if it did happen. That was clumsy of me. True, but insensitive, and sounded like I was being flip about it, which I wasn’t. I know the impact a child can have on a woman’s life and it’s no small thing, I can tell you. All I was trying to do is reassure you that I do accept my responsibility. More than that, I would welcome accepting it, Robin. I love kids. I would especially love our kid. And I would love you. I already do, I think.” He sighed and rolled his gaze to the ceiling. “Okay, I know. Sorry if that shakes you up. It sure as hell shook me when I realized it.”
Robin realized her mouth had fallen open and snapped it shut. Then she laughed. She couldn’t help it. The whole situation was so ridiculous. And astounding. He looked positively glum.
“It’s not funny,” he muttered defensively, punching the buttons on the remote with his thumb and focusing intently on the nearly silent television. Robin doubted he even saw the screen.
“No, it’s not funny,” she admitted. “It’s just that I cannot imagine how you could think you love someone you’ve only known for a few days. Last night was just sex, Mitch.”
A humorless grin played around his mouth. “For you, maybe.”
Robin leaned forward resting her elbows on her knees, wishing she could make him understand. “I didn’t mean to
insult you. It was wonderful for me and you know it was, but a man your age shouldn’t be naive enough to confuse sex with love.”
“Naive?” His eyes narrowed as he questioned her with a look. Then he asked, “What exactly do you call love, Robin? Maybe respect and admiration? A need to protect? A feeling of possession while being possessed by somebody? All the emotions engaged while hormones go into gear? That feeling that’s something like a strong magnetic force drawing you to another person? Are we on the same page here or reading different books?”
Oh, God, yes! Her eyes closed tightly on the prayer that he was serious. She might have replied, but the phone interrupted.
Mitch looked over at the digital display. “Kick’s cell phone,” he explained, then picked up the receiver. “Yeah, Kick?”
Robin watched as his brow creased and his mouth firmed into a grim expression. He listened for a long time without replying, then said. “Damn, Kick, it’s Sunday for cryin’ out loud. What are you doing at…” His eyes closed tightly and his jaw clenched. “No, don’t come. I’ll bring her down… Yeah, right away.”
“What is it?” Robin demanded. “What’s wrong?”
He bowed his head and rubbed the back of his neck as if it ached. When he looked up at her, she saw a mixture of regret and anger. “Looks like we have a bigger problem than defining love, Robin. The lab results came in Friday afternoon. Kick just got off the phone with Hunford and the D.A.”
“And?” she prompted. She might have known. Just her luck.
“They think there’s enough evidence to get an indictment. I’m supposed to bring you in.”
Robin’s heart nearly stopped. “But…but I didn’t…I’m innocent, Mitch!” She couldn’t go to jail. Not now!
He nodded. “I know that, but we don’t have a choice here. You’ll have to go in. I’ll try to reach Damien again. He’ll suggest the best defense lawyer.” He stood and came to her, offering his hand. “Come on, we’d better go.”
“What about bail?” she asked, walking hand in hand with him to the front door. Robin was thinking about escape. She had enough money to hide anywhere in the world until she knew…
“I’ll be honest with you. Bail’s not likely when it looks like murder one. Maybe a lawyer could argue for manslaughter since you didn’t bring the weapon with you. I just don’t know. You might have to tough it out until I can find the son of a bitch who killed Andrews. And don’t you doubt for a minute that I’ll find him, Robin,” he told her with absolute conviction. “Soon as I can. Trust me.”
Robin slid her arms around his waist and laid her head against his chest, wanting to weep at the moment of false safety his strong arms provided as he held her close. Mitch would prove her innocence. She had to trust him. There was no one else.
She could feel his reluctance to let her go when he took her by the shoulders and set her away from him. “We’d better go now before they send somebody else out to take you in.”
There was nothing she needed to take with her. No excuse for stalling. She sighed and turned away, wiping the moisture from her eyes with her fingers. “What will you do with the disk and the information we printed?”
Mitch hesitated before answering. “I put the printout in Dad’s safe this afternoon. The disk is in with Kick’s music collection by the stereo. I want to let Damien have a look off the record before I surrender it. Like I said, Damien speaks several languages and might be able to translate at least some of it.”
“You’ll have to turn it in, won’t you? Regardless?”
“Yes. I should bring Kick in on this, I guess, and see if I can get him in our corner before this goes any further. After I talk to Damien, maybe he and I can come back out here with Kick and go over what we have.”
“Won’t keeping the disk get you in trouble?”
“That’s not important right now.” He held her face in his hands and looked into her eyes. “Robin, don’t say anything when we get to the precinct, okay? Don’t answer any questions. If they pressure you, tell them you’re waiting for your lawyer. I’ll have somebody down there within a couple of hours. Somebody good.”
“I have an attorney in New York,” she told him.
“No. You need the best defense lawyer you can get, not one who takes care of contracts and investments. Damien will advise us on this. He has a law degree himself, though he doesn’t practice criminal law. He’ll probably be glad to give us some help investigating, though, and being former FBI can’t hurt. You hang tight and try not to worry.”
He closed his eyes and grimaced. “But it won’t be pleasant, Robin. They’ll do a body search. Put you in a cell.”
Mitch needed as much reassurance as she did, Robin realized. She forced a smile. “I’ll be fine.” But would she?
He raked a strand of her hair off her brow and kissed her forehead, his lips cool and gentle.
“Well, we’d better get on with it before I lose my nerve.” She patted his chest, letting her hands linger a few seconds longer than necessary. “Let’s do it. Should you use handcuffs?”
His pained expression grew worse. “God, no!” Then he hesitated, his jaw clenching before he added, “But they might when we get there. To take you to booking. God, I hate this!”
“It’s all right, Mitch. I’m a tough cookie and I promise not to crumble.” And she wouldn’t, she promised herself. She would be strong and she would be cooperative. The police would have no reason to mistreat her if she went willingly and did everything they instructed her to do without protest. Then Mitch would know she was all right and would be free to concentrate on what he promised to do. He would do it, too. She knew he would.
Robin followed him out the front door and waited as he locked up, taking one last look at the house. Though it wasn’t a place she would ever like to live, she certainly had spent the most incredible night of her life here.
He held her hand as they walked toward Kick’s truck, which Mitch had left parked in the driveway. With the outdoor lights off, neither of them noticed the dark van parked beyond the truck until the door of it swung open.
Robin’s first thought was that the police had been sitting out here waiting, not willing to risk her running away.
Without warning, Mitch shoved her sideways onto the lawn and followed with his body. She fell to the grass even as she heard the shot. Mitch landed on top of her, dead weight, knocking the breath from her before she could gather a scream.
Frantically she tried to move him. He didn’t budge. Sticky blood covered her hands. Mitch’s blood. Oh, God!
Scuffling feet approached. Two people, she thought.
They dragged Mitch off her and tossed him aside. She could barely see their outlines as she scrambled away from them.
Suddenly they seemed to be everywhere, holding her, grappling with her as she struggled.
The men dragged her toward the van. She screamed, kicked and fought for all she was worth, knowing if they took her away, she could not get help for Mitch. He might be bleeding to death right here on Kick’s lawn.
Marshaling all her strength, Robin broke free of one man and kicked the other as hard as she could.
One drew back his fist and in her last instant of awareness, Robin tried unsuccessfully to duck.
Chapter 13
When Robin woke, she figured she hadn’t been out for long. The vehicle she was in was still moving. Someone had bound her hands with duct tape and blindfolded her with a cloth.
Gas fumes filled her nose. The surface she rested on was carpeted and there was room to bounce around when the van hit bumps. She was in the luggage space behind the back seat.
Not that it mattered much. No way could she escape even if no one was watching her. She wriggled her wrists, but the tape held fast, almost cutting off the circulation.
This had to do with the disk and the information it contained. She had no doubt of that. These were probably the very people who had killed James.
Robin held still and tried not to panic. Okay. Mitch c
ould still be alive. If he didn’t show up at the police station with her in a while, someone would come out there to Kick’s house to get her. Probably Kick himself.
He would get help for Mitch. And if Mitch regained consciousness soon enough, someone might even try to rescue her. But what if he stayed unconscious until it was too late to tell what had really happened? What if no one found him before he bled to death? Somehow she had to get free to call an ambulance.
Keep your head, she warned herself. Don’t lose it now. Mitch’s life might rest on her finding a way out of this. Her own life certainly did. And maybe another little life no one knew about yet. But she couldn’t allow herself to think about that or she would panic.
She used the next quarter hour or so to get her wits back and to determine that her jaw probably wasn’t broken. All too soon the van stopped. Robin had no idea what to expect next. They might plan to dump her body in the river or something. Unless Mitch recovered and related what had happened, the police might think she had shot him, then disappeared. He had been taking her in for murder.
Maybe these goons had seen to it that Mitch was dead before they left him there. That thought was unbearable, so she promptly dismissed it. She had to believe he was still alive.
The back of the van opened and someone grabbed her legs and hauled her out. When they stood her up, she felt smooth pebbles under her bare feet. She had lost her shoes. Hopefully there on Kick’s lawn where they would be found.
Two large hands grasped her elbows and half-dragged, half-led her across an expanse of a pebble-paved walkway. She heard a door open and they entered a building. The air was warmer. A house, she decided, because it smelled like a house; furniture polish, a spicy cinnamon air freshener or potpourri. There was a faint scent of cooked onions, too, which indicated there was probably a kitchen nearby.