Protecting Their Baby

by Sheri WhiteFeather

  “I take long showers,” Rex said.

  “In the morning or evening?” Lisa asked.

  “Morning.”

  “Then we shouldn’t have a problem sharing. I bathe at night.”

  “With bubble bath and scented candles, I’ll bet.” Rex suspected that she had fancy bottles everywhere.

  “Soaking in the tub relaxes me.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s actually kind of sexy.”

  “Oh.” Lisa angled her head, making her perfectly coiffed bob tilt to one side. “Then thank you, I guess.”

  “Sure.”

  Neither of them said anything after that, and the room seemed to shrink even more. He could actually feel them breathing the same air. She was almost close enough to kiss.

  Dear Reader,

  I would like to thank all of you who take the time to send fan letters to your favorite authors.

  Over the years, I’ve received some very special fan letters. In fact, I received an amazing e-mail today. A reader from England wrote to tell me about a British-based book club that read the 2008 Mills and Boon release of Always Look Twice (my 2005 Silhouette Bombshell). According to the letter, they all believe that “Agent West is the greatest hero in the history of fiction,” and some of the book club members may be working on an Agent West fan site.

  I’m honored and awed that one of my heroes stirred this kind of reaction! It’s great timing, too, because Agent West plays a minor role in Protecting Their Baby. He tends to crop up now and then, reappearing as the FBI guy that he is.

  And speaking of heroes, Rex Sixkiller, the male protagonist in Protecting Their Baby, was inspired by a reader of Cherokee descent who offered to let me borrow the Sixkiller name. I kept the name in the back of my mind, waiting for the right character to embody it.

  That said, I love hearing from my readers. You are the reason I write.

  Best,

  Sheri WhiteFeather

  SHERI WHITEFEATHER

  Protecting Their Baby

  Books by Sheri WhiteFeather

  Silhouette Romantic Suspense

  Mob Mistress #1469

  Killer Passion #1520

  *Imminent Affair #1586

  *Protecting Their Baby #1590

  Silhouette Desire

  Sleeping With Her Rival #1496

  Cherokee Baby #1509

  Cherokee Dad #1523

  The Heart of a Stranger #1527

  Cherokee Stranger #1563

  A Kept Woman #1575

  Steamy Savannah Nights #1597

  Betrayed Birthright #1663

  Apache Nights #1678

  Expecting Thunder’s Baby #1742

  Marriage of Revenge #1751

  The Morning-After Proposal #1756

  Silhouette Bombshell

  Always Look Twice #27

  Never Look Back #84

  SHERI WHITEFEATHER

  is a bestselling author who has won numerous awards, including readers’ and reviewer’s choice honors. She writes a variety of romance novels for Silhouette. She has become known for incorporating Native American elements into her stories. She has two grown children who are tribally enrolled members of the Muscogee Creek Nation.

  Sheri is of Italian-American descent. Her great-grandparents immigrated to the United States from Italy through Ellis Island, originating from Castel di Sangro and Sicily. She lives in California and enjoys ethnic dining, shopping in vintage stores and going to art galleries and museums. Sheri loves to hear from her readers. Visit her Web site at www.SheriWhiteFeather.com.

  To Lisa, my sister’s dance teacher in Oregon—

  here’s to hot guys and red high heels!

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 1

  I’m screwed, Rex Sixkiller thought.

  He should have known that Lisa Gordon was going to spell trouble. He’d pegged her as a good girl from the start. Then again, she had gotten dirty that night.

  Yeah, with the help of extra-dirty martinis.

  He stared at Lisa. She was seated across from him in his L.A. office, and he’d never been so scared in all in his thirty-six years. Yes, him. A decorated Desert Storm veteran, a licensed private investigator and a Warrior Society activist.

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  She responded with a jerky nod. She looked like the good girl she was, with a blond bob and innocent blue eyes. Her long, lean, sinful body was another matter. Of course she was a dance instructor who owned her own studio, so her knockout figure was well earned. She looked the same as the night he’d met her at the bar.

  She twisted her hands on her lap. “I did one of those home tests, and then I saw a doctor to confirm the results.” Another twist. Another nervous reaction.

  He wished they were back at the bar. He could use a stiff belt about now. “So much for the protection, huh?”

  She went clinical. “The doctor said that if a condom is used correctly, the chance of becoming pregnant is less than three percent. If used incorrectly, a twelve percent chance occurs.” Her breath hitched. “Maybe we did something wrong.”

  He shook his head. He never got sloppy with a rubber, not even after a couple of drinks. Besides, Lisa had been tipsy that night, not him. “The condom probably had a defect we weren’t aware of.”

  A baby-making leak, he thought. How else could his little swimmers have gotten through?

  In the silence, an uncomfortable connection passed between them, a reminder of their one-night stand, of sizzling sex and an awkward morning after. In the light of day, it had become apparent they had absolutely nothing in common. He remembered how they’d politely exchanged phone numbers, with no intention of ever calling each other.

  And now here she was, six weeks later, pregnant with his child.

  “Are you planning to keep it?” he asked, even though he already knew the answer. Why else would she approach the father? A practical stranger? An abortion would be simpler without him.

  “Yes, I’m going to have this baby.” To emphasize her point, she placed a protective hand over her still-flat stomach. Then she said, “But I did consider adoption.”

  He leaned forward in his chair. He was seated behind his desk, and she was on the other side of the wooden barrier. “You did?”

  She nodded. “I’m adopted, and I have an amazing family. But I’m ready to be a mom. I think I’ll be good at it.”

  Rex didn’t have an amazing family. He’d watched his parents bitch and bicker. Sometimes they used to direct their frustration at him—the product of an unplanned pregnancy and forced marriage. They should have gotten divorced, but they were still together, miserable as ever. Rex had decided long ago that he would never get married, and it was a vow he intended to keep.

  Not that Lisa expected him to marry her, but he still feared that he was on the verge of losing his freedom. Rex worked hard, but he played hard, too. He had no idea how a child was supposed to fit into his lifestyle.

  “I understand if you want a paternity test after the baby is born,” she said. “But just so you know, I haven’t been with anyone in almost a year, except for you.”

  “I believe you.” He didn’t doubt that the baby was his. He’d been a P.I. long enough to rely on his instincts, and Lisa was as honest as Abe Lincoln’s reputation. He would have preferred to pin it on another guy, but
he couldn’t.

  “I appreciate that you trust me.”

  He shrugged, waited a beat, and then said, “I don’t think I’m going to be a very good father. But I’ll do the best I can,” he added quickly.

  What else could he say? He couldn’t very well tell her to buzz off and leave him alone. He was a bit more honorable than that.

  A bit…

  Lisa seemed to be analyzing his bad-dad remark and debating if she should comment on it. Luckily, she skipped it, saying instead, “I think it’s important for a child to have two committed parents, but I would have raised this baby alone if I had to. If you’d…”

  Refused to accept responsibility, he thought. If only he could, if only he had it in him to walk away. “If we’re going to share a kid, then we’ll have to work on getting to know each other.”

  “Yes, we will.”

  She started wringing her hands, much in the way she’d done earlier. Apparently she was nervous about getting to know him. Clearly, he wasn’t her usual type. Clearly, she’d misbehaved that night.

  Dirty martinis and dirty sex.

  And on her thirtieth birthday, no less. Rex considered the tiny life in her womb and winced accordingly. Was this the Creator’s idea of a joke? A gift for her big three-oh?

  Once again, silence stumbled between them. They were off to a hell of start with this getting-to-know-each-other thing. She wasn’t his usual type, either.

  Still, on that fateful night, they’d flirted shamelessly. They’d even fed each other shelled peanuts and kissed on the dance floor.

  By the time the bar closed, they’d been desperate for more. He’d invited her back to his condo, and she’d readily accepted. Of course she hadn’t been totally irresponsible. She’d gotten his name and address from his ID and given it to her girlfriends, just in case he was an ax murderer and she was never heard from again.

  He’d promised her friends that he would be good to her. Now he wondered if those same friends knew about the baby and if they blamed themselves for letting the birthday girl go home with a stranger.

  Not that they could have stopped her. She was an adult, capable of making up her own mind.

  Her own intoxicated mind.

  Damn, he thought. Did that even count?

  “I should go.” Lisa cut into the quiet, preparing to leave. “I have some errands to run.”

  Rex glanced up from his desk. “I’ll walk you out.” Somehow it seemed like the right thing to do, even if allowing her to make a hasty retreat would’ve been easier.

  “I parked down the street and around the corner.”

  “No problem.” Parking spots in this area were difficult to come by. She was lucky she’d found one relatively close.

  He opened the office door for her, and they walked side by side. She smoothed her blouse, a pretty white garment tucked into a slim black skirt. She looked sleek and professional. He wondered how long it would take for her to develop a bump and if people were going to refer to him as the “baby daddy.” Wasn’t that the phrase of the day? The thing to say?

  The spring weather was warm and bright, and the city was active and noisy. As he and Lisa rounded the corner and headed down a small side street, she pointed out her car.

  She drove a vintage Mustang, but he wasn’t surprised by her vehicle of choice. While they’d chatted at the bar, she’d told him that her grandfather restored old cars.

  “I’ll probably get something newer when the baby comes,” she said. “Maybe an SUV.”

  A kid car, Rex thought. Already she was turning into a soccer mom.

  “But there’s still time.” She managed a smile. “I’ve got a ways to go.”

  Would he be even more scared by then? Or would it get easier? “A friend of mine is going to be a dad soon. His kid is due sometime this month. He’s married, though.” A point that made their situations nothing alike. “He teaches close-quarter combat, and his wife is a homicide detective.”

  “Wow.” Lisa stood beside her car. “That’s going to be one tough little baby.”

  “Tough and sweet. They’re having a girl.”

  “A girl would be nice. Or a boy,” she added, referring to the baby she’d made with Rex. “I don’t have a preference.”

  Neither did he, other than wishing the condom hadn’t failed. Uncomfortable, he shifted his feet. She fell silent, too, and they went back into awkward mode.

  How long would it take for them to have a relaxed conversation? To feel normal around each other?

  “I’ll call you after my next doctor appointment,” she said. “Just to let you know how things are going.”

  “Sure. Okay.” He supposed it was a place to start, even if he wasn’t prepared for any of it.

  She unlocked her car and opened the door. But as she turned to climb behind the wheel, she froze in her tracks.

  And let out a blood-curdling scream.

  On the front seat of her car was a doll that resembled a newborn, only its rounded little body was mangled, with broken limbs and unblinking eyes staring into nothingness. In the center of its tiny chest, where its heart would be, was a knife.

  Equally horrified, Rex reached for Lisa, pulling her away from the gruesome sight and into his arms.

  While he held her, while she burst into fear-drenched tears, he called the police, reporting what appeared to be the mock murder of their unborn child.

  Lisa couldn’t seem to let go of Rex. Nor could she stop crying. Who would do something so sick? So cruel?

  Finally, she got the strength to step back and wipe her tears. But she couldn’t stop from staring at Rex, and in between her shivers, she fixated on his eyes.

  The doll had brown eyes, too, and a tuft of dark hair. Was that how their baby was going to look?

  “I don’t understand.” Her voice echoed in her head, the sound thick and hoarse. “Why is this happening?”

  “I don’t know,” came the concerned reply. “But I won’t let anyone hurt you or the baby.”

  Would he be able to protect her? He couldn’t be with her every moment of the day. They barely knew each other. Still, she wanted to believe him, to take his promise at face value.

  “You’re awfully pale,” he said, as they waited for the police.

  “Sometimes I faint.” She clenched her middle. “But it’s normal early on.”

  Rex seemed ready to catch her if she fell. He was certainly more stable than she was.

  “Do you need to sit down?” he asked.

  “I should be okay.” She removed a small bottle of water from her purse and took a sip. “This may help.”

  “You’re not going to pass out?”

  She shook her head. A moment later, she feared that she’d spoken too soon. She got dizzy. “I think maybe…”

  Rex moved in to grab her. She didn’t lose consciousness, but she clung to him for support, her senses on alert. He smelled fresh and clean, like a walk in the woods. It was his cologne. She remembered it from before. Thank goodness she still found his fragrance appealing. Since the pregnancy, some previously pleasant scents roiled her stomach.

  Everything about him was appealing: the width of his shoulders, his height, his stunning cheekbones, the short, sleek thickness of his straight dark hair.

  Before she got too attached, she took a deep breath and severed their contact, standing on her own again.

  On the night of her birthday, she’d taken an uncharacteristic risk by going home with him, and now she was carrying his child.

  A child someone had threatened to kill.

  Anxious for the police to arrive, she glanced toward her Mustang. She didn’t wonder how the door had been unlocked and then relocked. A wire hanger or a slim jim or whatever those devices were called would’ve done the trick. Vintage cars were easy to access.

  Lisa took another sip of water. Rex was watching her, and his concerned scrutiny made her self-conscious. He reached out to smooth a strand of hair away from her cheek, where it stuck to the slight dampness of
her skin. She suspected that she had mascara streaks running down her face, too.

  The police finally showed up. One of them, a stout detective named Bell, eyed Rex.

  “Don’t I know you?” the detective asked.

  Rex nodded. “You worked on a case that involved some friends of mine. Daniel Deer Runner and Allie Whirlwind.”

  “Oh, that’s right. You and Deer Runner are part of the same Warrior Society.” Bell gathered information while his partner processed the crime scene. “So, what’s going on here? What’s the significance of the doll?”

  Rex responded, “Lisa is pregnant.”

  The detective opened his notepad. “Are you the father?”

  “Yes. She just told me about it today.” The P.I. explained his whereabouts, being in his office with Lisa, then walking her to her car.

  Bell tapped his pen. “Do all of you Society guys have women who are being threatened?”

  “She isn’t my woman,” came the candid response. “It was just one night.”

  “I see.”

  Bell glanced at Lisa, but didn’t say anything to her. While he interviewed Rex, she wondered what the Warrior Society reference meant. Did Rex belong to a club or organization? And what was the deal about their women being threatened? She didn’t like the sound of that.

  She stole a glance at the doll. The other detective was taking pictures of it.

  Soon Bell left Rex to his own devices and interviewed Lisa. He spoke gently, as if trying to put her at ease. Did he think she might break? That she was as fragile as her appearance? Now she wished that she hadn’t cried.

  When he asked her who she thought could have done this, she was at a loss. She didn’t have any enemies, at least not that she knew of. The questions continued, but she wasn’t much help.

  “Maybe somebody saw something,” Lisa said, even though the side street was mostly back lots and alleyways.