She stopped and looked up at him. "If we do, they'll want to talk to my mother. She's not up to that right now."
"Yeah." Rick didn't have to add more because he could feel his own hesitancy and knew Natalie was feeling the same. "We can wait until the psychiatric evaluation is finished. But in the meantime, we get Troy out of her house and make sure he doesn't come back."
Natalie nodded. "I hope we can keep Macy in the hospital until we can figure out what to do."
Yes, that was the problem—figuring out what to do and hoping they'd make the right decision. Too much was at stake to fail.
"I'll talk with Dr. Henderson," Rick let Natalie know.
She looked at him. "And she'll likely stonewall us. Especially if she's guilty."
"Possibly. But she might have some clues that will help us nail Dr. Benjamin."
They got in Natalie's car, and Rick began to drive toward the shop. The car was hot from sitting outside in the blazing sun. He could smell the leather seats and his own sweat. But it wasn't that particular scent that filled the car. It was Natalie. She was wearing some kind of light musky perfume. Or maybe that was just her natural scent. Either way, Rick decided to do away with it. He lowered the window for a few seconds to let the outside air rush through the car.
It didn't help.
Her scent was still there.
And his body was well aware of that.
He tried to take her advice and declare a hormonal truce. His body laughed at him. Heck, Rick laughed at himself. The only way to get out of this intact was to hurry up and find the truth. Only then would he be able to distance himself from Natalie. In the meantime, he made a vow to occupy his mind with learning the truth and preparing Natalie for what they were perhaps about to face.
"Macy might have told Carlton that you're pregnant," Rick commented. And he waited for that to sink in.
It didn't take long.
Natalie groaned. "He'll be upset."
That was truly sugar-coating it. Carlton wouldn't just be upset. He'd be downright furious.
Unlike Macy, Carlton had never tried to push the two of them together. Just the opposite. In fact, Carlton had shown outright disdain for Natalie after David's death. His uncle had certainly made it clear that they should abide by the deathbed promise they'd made to David and never have anything else to do with each other.
Sometimes Rick wondered why his uncle was so adamant about keeping that promise. The only thing he'd been able to come up with was that Carlton and David had been very close. Perhaps even closer than either man had been to Rick. Maybe Carlton felt that closeness meant he had to look after David's best interests—forever.
"If you're not up to dealing with Carlton, I can drop you off at home first," Rick offered. And he could also arrange for someone to stay with her. He definitely didn't want her alone until everything had been resolved.
"No. Avoiding Carlton won't change the truth. I'm pregnant. Your uncle will have to learn to deal with it."
She adjusted her slim rose-colored skirt, trying to slide it so that it covered more of her legs. He could hear the silk fabric whisper against her skin. That sound, coupled with her scent, was yet another reminder of Natalie that he didn't need. Best to think of her as a fellow victim rather than the desirable woman that she was.
Now, if only his body would agree with what his brain had decided.
"How do we deal with this pregnancy, Rick?" Her voice was feathery-light. And frustrated.
He got his mind off her skirt and perfume and concentrated on her question. "It's a cliché, but we do it one day at a time. We find out who's responsible, and we make them pay."
She waited a moment. "And then what?"
Rick didn't think that question was about drugging culprits or the confrontation they were about to have with his uncle. "I've always liked kids," he said, hoping it was the right thing to say. This was definitely touchy territory. Natalie was just coming to terms with the baby, and he didn't want to force himself into her life.
Still, he was there. In her life.
"Liking kids and wanting them are two totally different things," she fired back.
Ah. So, that's where this was leading. He got it now.
"I won't walk away from this baby," he assured her. Though he was in that touchy territory again, mainly because it'd be easier for Natalie if he did just walk away.
But he couldn't.
He wouldn't.
Rick didn't need a long, soul-searching session to figure that out. This baby was his, and he was going to take responsibility for the child—even if Natalie had no intentions of letting him do that.
As if sensing the battle going on inside him, she turned and stared at him. There was the sound of silk again, and for just a moment he met her gaze.
"We can share custody or something," he suggested.
"Or something?" she questioned.
Rick didn't have a clue what that or something was, but he was open to any and all suggestions that would allow him to be a part of his child's life.
"First, we'll catch the slime who did this to us," he explained. "Then, we'll concentrate on whatever plans we need to make for the baby." Rick slid his hand over hers. "You're not alone in this, Natalie. I'm right here with you."
"Yes." But she made it sound as if that weren't a good thing.
Rick understood. This camaraderie and closeness was making him feel, well, close. To Natalie. And there was nothing he could do to stop it.
She glanced down at his hand. She didn't say anything. Nor did she move away. Rick did though. He didn't know why he had this burning need to comfort her, but he did. Despite that need, he did the right thing. He moved his hand and reminded himself that she was not his for the taking. Just because she carried his child, that didn't mean it entitled him to anything.
With that depressing but totally accurate thought, Rick pulled into the parking lot of his shop and stopped the car.
"This place is so you," she mumbled, looking up at the sign perched over the front door.
Rick tried to figure out what she meant by that, and he tried to see the shop through her eyes. To Natalie, it probably didn't look like much. Sixteen hundred square feet of wood, limestone and glass. Not a classy place but a place where real bikers would feel at home.
The sign that she was staring at wasn't classy, either, but Rick did consider it a classic. It was a 1940s scarlet neon sign that simply said Rick's Place. He'd found it six years earlier at an architectural salvage store and had bought it on the spot. That sign had become the inspiration and the cornerstone for his business.
"Did you just insult me?" Rick had to ask.
Her eyes widened. "No. Of course not."
"Well, you did say the place was so me."
"It is. But I meant that in a good way. It's functional, but you've added some interesting elements that reflect your personality. Like the rustic pine door and the vintage sign. Nostalgic but manly."
"Thanks." He thought about that a moment. Frowned. "I think."
She chuckled, reached over and rubbed the frown line that had formed on his forehead. "Don't look for hidden meanings. It was a compliment. You found your niche in the world, and that's a good thing."
"You found yours," he pointed out.
"Yes." And she paused, stared at the sign. "But I was getting to the point in my life where I was asking—is this all there is? Get up, go to work, business trips, phone calls. The same thing day in and day out. Routine punctuated with just enough excitement to keep me from tossing it all in."
Rick could certainly relate. "Well, there's nothing routine about what we're facing now."
"No, and that's why this is so weird. I mean, when I first learned I was pregnant, I panicked. I thought this has to be the worst that's ever happened. I panicked again at the thought of just holding a baby. But now…" She stopped, drew back her hand and shook her head. "Sorry. Apparently pregnancy hormones also make me babble like an idiot."
"It didn't
sound idiotic to me. You're just adjusting. That's what people do, Natalie. They get hit with something they think they can never handle, and they handle it because they don't have a choice."
She frowned. "That sounds suspiciously like a pep talk."
"Guilty." Because he had that moronic need to touch her again, he gripped the steering wheel instead.
"I've missed talking to you," she said. "And don't look at me. Don't even say anything. Because I shouldn't be saying this. But you were my friend, and I lost you the day David died."
Rick had to look at her. Yep, and he had to touch her, too. He caught onto her chin and turned it in his direction. That's when he spotted that tear in her eye. She was blinking frantically to keep it from falling. She failed. It fell anyway, and Rick leaned over and kissed it away.
He didn't linger with that cheek kiss, and he didn't stay close because he knew they were sitting on a keg of emotional dynamite. If he kissed her now, really kissed her the way he wanted to, it would violate his own personal rules. He wouldn't take advantage of her vulnerability.
"Don't remember anything I just said," she mumbled. "Swear it."
"Consider it sworn. I won't remember anything. The drunken-babe rule applies here."
She stared at him. "Excuse me?"
"It's a rule that decent guys follow. I'll just pretend you're a drunk attractive woman whom I've met in a bar. Anything said under the influence of alcohol—or in your case, pregnancy hormones—will not be added to my long-term memory." He snapped his fingers. "It'll be gone in five seconds. Promise. Because I'm a decent guy."
She smiled, but it faded and became a heavy sigh. "We should go in and face Carlton."
Rick nodded. It was a good suggestion and a lot safer than what they'd just experienced.
"Is Carlton even here?" she asked, obviously determined to change the subject.
Rick pointed to a black Mustang. "That's his car, but I don't see him. He has a key so he's probably inside. Waiting. And in case you missed it—that's your cue to go home so you won't have to put yourself through this."
Any remnant of tears and vulnerability faded. "You're not going to face him alone. I'm doing this with you," Natalie insisted, getting out of the car.
Rick did the same, after making sure she noticed that he gave her an eye roll, and they made their way to the side entrance that led directly to his office. He stopped though when Natalie's cell phone rang.
"It's Kitt," Natalie said, glancing down at the name on the screen.
Rick listened as Natalie filled her sister in on what they'd learned from Dr. Benjamin. That explanation was followed by a short silence, and then Natalie ended the call and looked at him.
"The bartender's name is Brandon Stevens," Natalie relayed to him. "The caterer says he doesn't know anything about him. He hired the guy on the spot when the regular bartender didn't show up to do the party."
So, that made the man a suspect. It didn't, however, make him guilty of anything.
"Kitt's going to keep digging," Natalie added.
Rick knew she would, and he welcomed the help. While Kitt was on the path of Brandon Stevens, Natalie and he could concentrate on the two doctors involved.
And the inevitable confrontation with his uncle.
He tested the door. It was unlocked. Rick instinctively latched onto Natalie's arm and moved her behind him before he opened the door. He also slipped his hand into his jacket just in case it wasn't Carlton inside.
And just in case he needed to reach for his gun.
Natalie didn't huff or sigh. The incident with the SUV had no doubt changed all of that. From now on, they had to err on the side of caution.
"Carlton?" Rick called out.
He eased open the door and was greeted by the cool air of a working air conditioner. Rick made a mental note to thank his employees for taking care of that for him. He walked through his office, keeping Natalie safely behind him.
"I'm over here," Carlton answered.
Without leaving his office doorway, Rick glanced around the work bay and spotted Carlton. He was examining a custom Harley that was in the final stages of being rebuilt.
"You do good work," Carlton commented, tipping his head toward the Harley.
Small talk. Rick knew it wouldn't do much to reduce his stress levels. He stepped inside the work bay, and Natalie joined him.
Carlton straightened back up and spared Natalie a glance before fastening his attention on Rick. "Macy called and told me what happened."
His uncle's comment sounded grim and ominous, but it didn't really explain anything.
"You saw my mother?" Natalie asked.
Carlton shook his head. "No. She borrowed a cell phone from a nurse and called me from the hospital."
Rick ignored his uncle's obvious disapproval of Natalie and took the direct approach so he could quickly end this conversation. "And what exactly did Macy tell you?"
Carlton stuffed his hands into the pockets of his perfectly tailored khakis. The gesture was relaxed enough, but there was nothing relaxed about Carlton's expression.
Rick stared into the man's eyes, so genetically similar to his own, and waited for him to finish. The resemblance didn't stop there. People often mistook Carlton for Rick's older brother. They were the same height, same build, same coloring.
"Macy said that Natalie is pregnant with your baby," Carlton finally responded.
That was apparently it, the extent of Macy's explanation—which was obviously only the beginning of the story. Rick was about to gear up to add more info, but his uncle spoke before Rick could.
"How the hell could you do this?" Carlton snapped, and that snap was directed at Natalie.
It might as well have been aimed at Rick because it riled him to the core.
"Hey, wait a minute," Rick said at the exact moment that Natalie said, "This wasn't our fault."
But Carlton ignored both of them and continued with his voice raised. "Have you two forgotten about the promise you made to David?"
"No." Rick walked closer to his uncle. "But before you make any more accusations, hear us out. Someone drugged us. We had sex. Now, Natalie's pregnant."
That immediately reduced the anger in Carlton's expression and voice. "You're serious?"
"Oh, yeah."
Carlton hesitated a moment, volleying glances between Natalie and Rick. Finally, he cursed. "This has to do with the damn Cyrene Project, doesn't it?"
Natalie groaned. "You obviously know about that."
"I do. And I didn't approve of it when your parents agreed to participate, and I don't approve now."
"Welcome to the club," Rick mumbled, but he couldn't help but wonder if Carlton's disapproval was because of the project itself or because his mother's involvement in the project was what had caused her to sever her relationship with Carlton.
"Is Dr. Benjamin responsible for this, too?" Carlton demanded.
"Maybe. Or maybe it's the other doctor who started this idiotic project. Dr. Isabella Henderson. Then, there's Troy, Macy's assistant. According to Dr. Benjamin, Troy might be a wacko nut job who wants to hurt us because he's opposed to the Cyrene Project."
Carlton scrubbed his hand over his face. "It could be any or all of them. You're not dealing with rational people, Rick. You're dealing with people who think they have a right to play God."
"Yeah. I figured that out." Because it no longer seemed necessary, Rick eased his hand away from his gun. "It doesn't change what happened to Natalie and me."
"No." Carlton shook his head. It was a gesture of both sympathy and disgust. "So, what will you do about this baby?"
"Give birth to it," Natalie supplied.
"Love it. Raise it," Rick added.
Carlton's jaw muscles stirred against each other. "The baby never should have been conceived. It's part of the very project that's ruined lives."
Anger spiked through Rick, and he didn't even try to keep his temper in check. "I won't let you talk about my child that way."
Rick had to fight hard to keep from slugging his own uncle. He pointed to the door. "It would be a really good time for you to leave."
Carlton looked as if Rick had struck him. "You can't mean that."
"Oh, but I do." In fact, Rick had never been more certain of anything.
Carlton cursed again and shot Natalie one more nasty glare before he stormed toward the door and slammed it behind him.
"Well, that was pleasant," Rick grumbled. Why had he come here with Natalie? Oh, yeah. Because he was an idiot. He should have insisted that she go home because he knew in his heart what his uncle's reaction would be. "I'm sorry you had to witness that."
"You don't have to apologize for anything Carlton says. Besides, he's just shocked."
"Still, that gives him no reason to talk about our baby that way."
Natalie touched his arm. Rubbed gently. It was obviously an attempt to calm him. It didn't work.
"It must be hard for Carlton," Natalie continued. "He hates me because of what happened to David."
"He has no right to hate you. I was there that night when David walked in on us. I kissed you—voluntarily. And I'm tired of Carlton aiming the blame at you."
"We're on the same side again," Natalie pointed out, frowning.
Yes. And it might stay that way for a while.
She paced a moment and stopped in front of him. "How do we get past what happened with David?" she asked. "How do we ever come to terms with it?"
"I don't know. You'd think with what we went through that there'd be nothing left between us."
"You'd think," Natalie agreed.
Rick was about to do something stupid—like elaborate on that, but he decided there was nothing he could say that would make things better. They weren't going to come to terms with this.
"It's a shame we can't just apply Carlton's philosophy and hate each other."
He looked at her at the exact moment she looked at him. The air between them changed. Or something. Rick didn't want to explore that something. In fact, he knew he should just step away. After all, Natalie and he were alone, and along with that air-changing thing, the expression on her face—her beautiful face—was causing him to think things he should never think.
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