Jessie turned on the lights and set the groceries on the foot-wide counter of the kitchenette. In this case, the kitchenette consisted of a broken microwave oven, a small fridge, and a counter with a warped top.
Home, sweet home.
A dump, actually. It was a lot like the places she’d lived as a kid. The once-white paint on the walls was now dingy yellow. Shag carpet. A shade of green no one made anymore, or wanted. The shag had been pressed flat and had probably been that way for at least two decades.
She laid her purse aside and took the things from the plastic sack. Some grapes. A small carton of milk. And a box of sugary corn flakes—the only thing in the bunch that she actually wanted to eat. The rest was so she could have some semblance of a balanced meal.
Jessie handled the last item in the bag as if it were a bomb that might explode in her hands. A home pregnancy test. She eyed it and the food again. She didn’t know which she dreaded more.
She read through the instructions for the test and peered at the small vial that was enclosed for a urine sample.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” she mumbled.
It wasn’t exactly the size of receptacle that would make collecting a specimen easy, but she went into the bathroom and made do. When she came back out, she slipped the vial in its little plastic stand and placed it on the scarred night table. She set the timer on her watch for ten minutes. And waited to see if a little blue circle would form in the bottom of the tube.
The first minute crawled by.
Jessie refused to think beyond this test. First, she had to get the results. She’d go from there. Go where exactly, she didn’t know. She was sure there were rules to this game, but she didn’t know them. Heck, she didn’t even know the name of the game.
“Don’t scream,” the voice warned.
She didn’t, because her throat snapped shut. She knew that voice, knew who it was without looking behind her. Jake McClendon.
Jessie instinctively scrambled toward her purse, but it wasn’t on the table where she had left it. Frantically, she looked around. It was gone.
Dangling her purse on his finger, he stepped out from behind the closet door. In his other hand, he had her gun, the one she’d just bought the day before.
“You must have a whole arsenal of these things stashed away,” he calmly remarked, making sure she saw that the gun was now unloaded.
She wished for an arsenal, though it probably wouldn’t have done any good. He no doubt would have found others, as well. The man had the instincts of a cop, even if he didn’t look like one. No tux today, but he wore fashionably tailored navy slacks. Expensive, certainly. And so was the shirt that was almost the same lapis blue as his eyes.
He tossed the gun and purse onto the bed and tipped his head to the vial. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to see the results, too.”
“Actually, I do mind.”
“Tough. I’m staying.”
That didn’t come as a surprise to her. “How did you find me?” Even more important questions were, How much did he know? Did he know who she was? And what did he plan to do with her? He might just decide to kill her on the spot.
“When you left my hotel room without saying goodbye, I sent out my security people to follow you. I’ve had them watching you for the past two days, but I decided it was probably time we had a little talk.”
Resources. The man had resources and money. Jessie had underestimated just how quickly he would be able to use those two things to locate her. “You didn’t trip the alarm.”
“No. The lipstick on the doorknob was a nice touch, though. Most people go for a strand of hair or a piece of thread. Not you. But then, from what I’ve learned about you, you don’t do things the usual way.”
Jessie put some starch in her posture. She would need all the composure she could marshal to get through this. And maybe even then, she wouldn’t be able to talk him out of killing her.
“You can just get out.”
“I don’t think so. You started all of this when you came to me, remember?”
“A mistake. Now get out.”
“Or what? You’ll call the cops, huh?” He sat on the edge of the bed, the rusty springs creaking under his weight. “I think the cops are the last people you want to call. Tell me what you meant by all that junk you spouted in my hotel room. Why did you think I was trying to kill you?”
Jessie considered lying. Maybe she could convince him she was schizophrenic or something. Instead, she decided to say nothing. She eased into the cracked vinyl padded chair across from him.
“What? Cat got your tongue?” he asked. “Or do you think I’ll just go away if you don’t talk to me? Think again, Jessie. A woman breaks into my hotel room, holds a gun on me and then accuses me of trying to kill her. Oh yeah, and of getting her pregnant. Hard to do, since I’ve never laid eyes or, for that matter, laid anything else on her.”
“Then, if you know that, why don’t you just leave?”
“I will when I get you to admit all of this was part of a blackmail scheme. You came to my hotel to extort money from me.”
“No.” She looked away, but he lunged off the bed and got right in her face.
“You thought you had everything figured out, didn’t you?” His tone went from angry to abrasive. “You did your homework and found out about my Hodgkin’s Disease. You learned all about Cryogen Labs. And your scheme might have worked if the vials hadn’t been destroyed. That’s the part you didn’t know, the part you couldn’t have known. Cryogen kept that under wraps to avoid negative publicity.”
“Now will you get out?” she asked.
“Not yet. You had your say, and I want mine. Care to guess what I found out when I had you investigated?”
That got her complete attention. She forced her expression to stay calm. Well, she forced it as much as she could, considering that her heart was about to pound right out of her chest. “What?”
“That you’re not really Jessie Briggs.”
Her false composure slipped a considerable notch. She had to escape. But how? She didn’t think he would let her out of his sight this time. Besides, he probably had his thugs waiting outside for her. “Just who am I, then?”
He didn’t say anything for several moments. “You’re nobody. You don’t even exist. Don’t you think that’s odd? In this day and age, there are absolutely no records for a Jessie Briggs who comes even close to matching your description. No driver’s license. No social security number. Nothing. And trust me, if there had been something, my people would have found it.”
She didn’t dare breathe easier yet. She could tell from the gleam in his eye that he had a trump card left to play—and that card might get her killed.
“Care to know what I did next?” he asked, slowly enunciating each word.
“No.”
He ignored that and continued. “I had the fingerprints checked on your gun.”
She slowly met his icy-blue stare. God, this couldn’t be happening. How stupid could she have been to go to this man in the first place? She knew how dangerous McClendon was, knew what he was capable of doing, and yet she’d walked right into his waiting arms. She had all but pulled the trigger for him.
“And? What did you find out?” Jessie waited. Held her breath.
“They belong to a woman named Jessica Barrett. There’s plenty of information on her. A rap sheet, for one thing. Shoplifting. Petty theft. Writing hot checks. She’s twenty-eight. Born in Dallas. And matches your description to a tee. Her last job was as a cocktail waitress at a gentleman’s club, and I use the words gentleman and waitress loosely. My security people say Ray’s Cantina is nothing more than a sleazy strip joint known for its prostitutes and drug pushers.”
His voice lowered to a dangerous level. “Would you like to tell me now that you’re not the lying, scheming con artist that I know you are?”
Jessie tried not to look too relieved. “All right, so you’ve figured me out. The game is over. Now will you please
leave?”
“No. Not until you tell me who put you up to this. Because I’m not buying that you did all of this on your own.” He caught her by the shoulders. “Let me tell you my theory. My political opponent is a man named Abel Markham, the dirtiest SOB who ever wanted to sit in the Texas Legislature. He’s the reason I’m running for office. I don’t want him anywhere near the State Capitol Building, and he knows I can stop him.”
“You’re a real Boy Scout, aren’t you, McClendon.” Jessie figured she had nothing to lose now. She couldn’t possibly rile him any more than he already was.
“No, I’m not. But I don’t go around trying to trash other people’s lives. I think Markham came up with this little scheme because of your most recent place of employment.”
She fired a narrowed glance at him. “What do you mean?”
He mumbled something and shook his head. “A woman named Christy Mendoza worked at Ray’s Cantina, too, and she died at my ranch about eight months ago. It was an accident, but Markham’s always tried to turn it into something else.”
Jessie couldn’t believe he’d laid this in her lap. Too bad she couldn’t question him about it. But it wasn’t the right time. All she wanted was to get out of there.
“This kind of plan smacks of the dirty dealings that Markham’s so fond of,” he continued. “What did he want you to do? Go to the press with this idiotic notion that I’d gotten you pregnant?”
“Abel Markham doesn’t travel in the same circles I do.” But it was something to think about. Had her questions about Christy put a man like Markham on her trail?
“No, but he could have found you,” Jake insisted. “He could have chosen you as the person to try to ruin me. Know what I think happened next? You went along with it, except at the last minute you got greedy and decided you could cut yourself in for some bigger bucks. So you came to me with that insemination story, hoping you could blackmail me. Because even if your story is a pack of lies, the media would have a field day with it. And it is a pack of lies, isn’t it, Jessie?”
“Yes,” she said softly.
“There was no kidnapping. No insemination. No plan to kill you. Just a dirty congressional candidate and a money-grubbing con artist who thought she’d found the goose that laid the golden egg.” His grip tightened on her shoulders. “Am I right? Tell me I’m right!”
“You’re right. Now please go. I’m leaving town and won’t bother you again.”
The shrill beeping pulsed through the room. Jessie gasped before she remembered what it was. The timer on her watch. She quickly pushed the small button to stop it.
“Well?” he prompted, when she didn’t move. “Why don’t we look at the results of the test together?”
“Why would you even care? You already know this was a con.”
“Let’s just call it idle curiosity.” He picked up the box and quickly read through the instructions on the back. “It says if it’s positive that a little blue circle will appear in the bottom of the tube.” He caught her arm and pulled her out of the chair. “Let’s have a look, shall we?”
Jake nudged her toward the night table. Jessie eyed the vial as if it were a deadly rattler. And she prayed. Because it was the only thing left to do. There was a chance. A slim chance.
“A real moment of reckoning, huh, sweetheart?” he asked. He snared her gaze for a long, cold moment, and together they turned and looked at the vial.
Jessie flattened her hand over her stomach and squeezed her eyes shut. There was no need to say anything because it was there. There. In the tube.
The blue ring.
A groan clawed its way past her throat. “Oh God,” she mumbled. “Oh God.”
Chapter Three
Jake frowned and looked at the watery blue ring that had appeared in bottom of the tube. According to the directions, that meant the test was positive. Positive, as in the rabbit died.
So the woman really was pregnant. He hadn’t counted on that, but it meant nothing to him.
Or did it?
The baby wasn’t his, that was for sure, but it didn’t mean someone hadn’t tried to use her to get to him. Well, maybe. Maybe this really was a scheme she’d come up with on her own. No kidnappers. No being held hostage for three months. Just her plot to get him to pay up. Or Markham’s plot to ruin him.
Except, she did look surprised by that little ring. Stunned, really. And maybe just a little scared. There was something in those gray eyes of hers that made him want to comfort her.
He resisted. Of course.
It would be stupid to comfort her.
“I don’t know why you look so shocked,” he said, when she sank back onto the chair. “Just two days ago you broke into my suite and told me you were pregnant. Now you’re acting like this is some big surprise.”
“It is.” Her voice was hardly more than a whisper. “Seeing the proof. It’s true. My God, it’s true. There’s really a baby.”
She put her arms on the table and leaned forward to cushion her face on them. She reminded Jake of a schoolgirl who was being punished. He only hoped she didn’t start to cry. The tears would be fake, no doubt, but he didn’t want to handle even fake crying right now.
He had to admit Jessie did seem genuinely upset, though. Maybe because he had discovered her lie. Yes, that was it. Or maybe because the pregnancy was unplanned, and that created a lot of personal problems for her. Without the blackmail money, her resources no doubt were limited, and she was probably trying to figure out a way to pay for her slip-up.
“Guess you’ll have to call the father and let him know about that little blue ring,” he calmly suggested.
Jessie raised her head slowly and gave him a look that could have frozen molten lava. “Don’t you have somewhere else to go?”
“Not at the moment.” He scraped his thumbnail over a strip of loose varnish on the nightstand. For some reason, he couldn’t stop looking at the test tube. Such a little thing to deliver what was, apparently, a bombshell. He hadn’t remembered his late wife, Anne, taking such a test. But of course, her pregnancy had been closely monitored by doctors right from the beginning.
For all the good it had done.
That’s why this scheme bothered him so much. If Abel Markham had put this together, he certainly knew the right buttons to push. A pregnancy. A child. Nothing could have stirred up old wounds as much as this did. It had been nearly four years to the day since Anne died trying to give birth to their child. To their son. Four years of hell. Four years of blaming himself.
Yes, somebody knew exactly which buttons to push. If it wasn’t Markham, then it was this woman. Either way, Jake wouldn’t let them get away with it.
“Tell me about the baby’s father,” he insisted, forcing himself away from the memories of Anne and his son. “Was he in on this scheme, too?”
He hadn’t thought the lava-freezing look could get worse, but it did. Significantly worse. She glared at him. Her jaw tightened, and her voice got louder with each word. “Yes, I think he’s in on it up to his proverbial eyeballs. He’s a bottom-feeding, pompous, smart-mouth jerk. My greatest wish is that at this very minute a bolt of lightning will come streaking down on him and fry him to a crispy critter.”
“Careful. One might think you’re talking about me.”
She opened her mouth as if to add more to her name-calling litany, but then wearily shook her head. “Just go away.”
“I will, after you look me in the eye and answer two questions. What’s the name of the baby’s father, and is Abel Markham the one who hired you?”
She slowly met his gaze again. “You don’t want answers, McClendon. What you want is for me to lie. You want me to deny everything, so you can go home to your nice big ranch and put all of this behind you. Well, I can’t do that.”
“Because you think I’ll call the cops. I won’t. All I want is the truth.”
“You mean the truth according to Jake McClendon.”
“The truth. Is Markham behind this?”
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“I don’t know.” She repeated it, but then her tone changed. No longer confrontational. No easily flung insults. Jessie stared at the floor and ran her fingers over her temple. “Maybe. Maybe that’s why they said your name, so I would suspect you. I hadn’t considered that until now.”
He groaned. “Now we’re back to kidnapping and vials?”
“Look, why don’t you just go—”
“Not until you tell me who got you pregnant.”
“All right, I’ll tell you.” Jessie grabbed his arm and shoved him into the tiny bathroom. She jabbed a finger at the filmy mirror and his reflection. “That’s him. That’s the father of this baby. Now I know you don’t want that to be true. Believe me, neither do I, but I can’t change things. I can’t go back three months and stop myself from being kidnapped. I can’t stop them from violating me and using me as some pawn in their sick game.”
The burst of emotion left as quickly as it came. She sagged against the wall. “Will you please just go?”
“Not yet.” He roughly cupped her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Give me one good reason why I should believe anything you’ve said. I know who you are, remember? I know you worked at some sleazy joint where you probably turned tricks on the side or danced naked on tables for money.”
Her mouth dropped open. “I was a cocktail waitress. Look at me, for heaven’s sake. Do I look like a hooker or exotic dancer?” Jake did look at her. She was still sickly pale, and it seemed as if she’d cut her hair with a dull weed whacker. Far from sexy. Still, there was something appealing about her. The mouth, he figured. It was full and sensuous. That mouth would attract some men. And her eyes. When she wasn’t ready to spit bullets at him, her eyes mellowed to a soft platinum color.
His gaze traveled downward. Voluptuous, she wasn’t. Not by anybody’s standards. Her breasts were small, well-shaped, and because she obviously wasn’t wearing a bra, he could see her nipples pressed against the stretchy fabric of her top. After feeling his body clench, he decided it wasn’t good to look at her breasts. Jessie Barrett might be a natural-born liar, and pregnant, but for reasons he didn’t want to explore, his body seemed to respond to her.
His Child Page 3