Covert Conception

by Delores Fossen

  They'd only made it a few steps before someone fired at them.

  The silenced shot smacked into the wooden frame of the pantry door.

  He lunged to the floor, behind a kitchen island, and dragged Natalie down with him.

  But it was too late.

  There was a second bullet, and Rick knew what had happened from the sound that Natalie made.

  She'd been shot.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Natalie felt the jolt.

  It was followed almost instantly by the fire. Mercy, her right leg burned. And she lost control of her muscles. Because she had no choice, she toppled onto Rick.

  "You've been shot," she heard him say. His voice was so frantic that she didn't recognize it at first. It took even longer for her to realize what he'd said.

  She'd been shot.

  That was the reason her leg was burning. That was the reason for the pain.

  She didn't panic, but she had one horrifying thought. If her injury was serious enough, if she lost enough blood, she could lose the baby.

  Oh, God.

  She could lose the baby.

  Natalie choked back a sob. Until now, until this horrible moment, she hadn't realized just how much she loved and wanted this child.

  And she hadn't realized just how much she loved and wanted Rick.

  She only hoped she got the chance to tell him.

  Rick pulled her over to him, pushed her against the kitchen island and sheltered her with his own body. He didn't stop there. While he kept his gun ready, he reached down and clamped his left hand over her leg.

  There was blood.

  Lots of it.

  Natalie could feel herself going into shock, but she fought it hard. She couldn't lose control. She couldn't lose consciousness. She had to help Rick if they had any hopes of staying alive.

  She dropped the fire poker, moved his hand aside and formed her own compress, pressing her fingers against the wound to slow the bleeding. Rick took advantage of his free hand. He lifted his head, took aim and fired.

  One of the men howled in pain, and she heard him crash to the floor.

  "Good," Natalie snarled.

  She wanted both gunmen dead or at least out of commission so they could call an ambulance for Tanner and her. Then the police could figure out who had hired these goons to come after them.

  Natalie reached up into the drawer and grabbed a dishtowel. While she tried to keep a vigilant watch to make sure that the second gunman didn't circle around and shoot them, she made a makeshift tourniquet.

  Rick was vigilant as well, and he eased out a few inches from the island, probably so he could keep better surveillance of the room.

  It also put him in more danger.

  Natalie was about to pull him back toward her when there was a shot. It slammed into the kitchen island and was quickly followed by another bullet.

  And another.

  Who was doing this?

  And why did they want to kill Rick and her?

  The shots splintered the cabinets and the tile countertop and sent a dangerous spray of debris raining over them. She ducked down and sheltered her eyes.

  Rick didn't though.

  Much to her horror, he reared up and fired.

  He ducked back down just as there was another round of gunfire.

  All aimed at him.

  Six shots. Natalie counted them, even though she had no idea how many bullets their assailant's firearm could hold. Worse, the remaining gunman probably didn't have just one weapon. After all, she'd seen that rifle.

  The shots stopped.

  And Natalie began to fumble around for the fire poker that she'd dropped moments earlier. It wasn't much of a weapon, but it was better than nothing.

  "Enough of this," the gunman snarled. And he said something else that Natalie couldn't distinguish.

  Then, she heard the other voice.

  There was another person in the room.

  God, was it a third gunman?

  Natalie glanced at Rick and met his gaze briefly. "I'll get you out of this. I swear."

  She knew he meant it, but she also knew this might be out of his control. There might be no human way for him to keep them alive.

  "Natalie? Rick?" someone called out. "Let's end this game now."

  Natalie instantly recognized that voice.

  "What do you want?" Rick demanded, apparently recognizing it as well.

  "Simple," Dr. Isabella Henderson calmly said. "I'm here to kill you."

  * * *

  RICK DIDN'T HAVE to ask her motive. He knew. Dr. Benjamin had already spelled it out. Isabella Henderson was a woman with a sterling career ahead of her, and her involvement with the Cyrene Project could cost her everything.

  And it could send her to jail.

  Rick intended that to happen, one way or another.

  "You honestly think I'm just going to let you try to kill us?" Rick asked the doctor.

  "I don't think you have a choice. I'm well-armed, and so is my assistant. You, on the other hand, have only one weapon, and Natalie is bleeding out. We can just stand here and wait for her to die."

  That put a hard knot in Rick's gut. "Or?" He waited for the compromise he hoped the doctor would offer. Maybe she would let him trade his life for Natalie's.

  "There is no or," she explained. "I don't intend to let either of you walk out of here. In fact, if you'd been here when we arrived like I'd thought you would be, I'd planned a quick shoot-and-kill through the windows. You never would have seen it coming. There can be no proof of the Cyrene Project, and as long as you're alive, you, Natalie, and especially your baby are the ultimate proof."

  Hell. Rick was afraid that's where this conversation was going. "What do you intend to do—kill everyone associated with the Cyrene Project?"

  "Absolutely. Dr. Benjamin has already left the country. As long as he stays away and remains quiet, he won't be a threat to me. But anyone who knows about my involvement dies. I've already taken care of Troy. That leaves you, Natalie and her sister. Her brother doesn't know about the project, so his life will be spared. Once all the rest of you are dead, then everything is in place to make it look as if drug-crazed Macy killed you. Then, I'm free to pursue my new career objectives in Europe."

  There was absolute confidence in the doctor's voice. But Rick was equally confident that he would get Natalie and his baby out of this alive. He glanced at Natalie to reassure her of that, but instead he saw the blood that was spreading across the terrycloth tourniquet. Whatever he was going to do, he had to do it fast. He couldn't risk Natalie losing any more blood.

  "I can help you," Natalie mouthed. Her mouth tightened, probably from the pain. "Just tell me what you need me to do, and I'll do it."

  He was about to tell Natalie to stay low, where the kitchen island would protect her, but he knew wood and tile would be little protection from bullets. Once the doctor and her hired gun started shooting, and they would, they wouldn't stop until they'd succeeded.

  That meant Rick had to take them out first.

  "Create a distraction," he whispered to Natalie. "But keep it safe. No unnecessary chances."

  She waited a moment, obviously processing his plan, but he could also see that her injury was dazing her. He prayed she wasn't about to lose consciousness. She finally nodded and grabbed his cell phone. While keeping a firm grip on the fire poker, she hurled the phone behind them, into the air. In the direction of their attackers.

  Either the doctor or the other man fired.

  Natalie didn't stop there. She snatched objects from the drawer where she'd taken the dishcloth. She tossed napkin rings and an oven mitt. Each item garnered a shot and some vicious profanity from the gunman.

  That was Rick's cue to do what he had to do. He mentally counted to three and rolled to the side. Out in the open. So he could get a clear shot of at least one of them.

  It worked.

  A little too well.

  Because both the doctor and the gunman took dir
ect aim at him.

  He fired, taking out the gunman, and in that instant he knew he wouldn't be able to re-aim and stop the doctor before she stopped him.

  There was a split second where he figured he was about to die. Natalie flashed through his mind. So did their baby. A child he loved but might never get to see.

  He saw Natalie move out of the corner of his eye, and he shouted for her to get back. It was too late. Dr. Henderson's attention and aim were focused on him so she didn't see the fire poker that Natalie launched at her.

  The metal spear collided with the doctor's arm and threw off her aim. For only a moment. But a moment was enough. Rick lifted his weapon and fired.

  His shot went into the doctor's chest.

  He saw her face. Saw the surprise register before she dropped to the floor. She landed beside the other gunman.

  Rick scrambled across the room to retrieve the weapons, just in case. But there was no reason for just in case. He checked for pulses, and both were dead.

  He didn't take any time to ponder what had just happened. He only had one thought—get to Natalie.

  He raced back across the room, scooped her up into his arms and hurried outside so he could get her to the hospital. And he began to bargain and pray with the powers that be that Natalie and their baby would be all right.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Natalie considered protesting. For a moment or two she considered telling Rick that she could walk on her own two feet.

  Or rather limp on her own two feet.

  However, she shut up and let him do what he wanted. And what he wanted was to carry her inside her house.

  He eased her from the car, cradling her against him and went up the steps. Yes, it was silly, but there was something hot about Rick carrying her. And no, it wasn't the whole threshold thing. It was the closeness. The intimacy…

  Oh, and the fact that it felt so darn good to be in his arms.

  "Did I hurt you?" he asked.

  Natalie pulled herself from her arm fantasy and tried to figure out what had prompted that. "You're breathing fast," he pointed out.

  "Ah. That. No, I'm not in pain."

  "Because if you are, the doctor gave you a prescription for some pain meds."

  "I'm fine. Really," she added when he stared down at her with a skeptical look.

  "You're not fine. You just spent two days in the hospital because that witch, Isabella Henderson, shot you in the leg."

  "Yes, but it wasn't a serious wound, and I'm all better. Promise." And because he looked like he needed it, she brushed a kiss on his mouth.

  "If that kiss was meant to calm me down, it won't work."

  Probably not. Rick had been on somewhat of a rampage since the shooting. He was blaming himself, of course. "Then, maybe this kiss will work."

  She tried again. This time, it was long and French.

  When she pulled back, she noted that his expression was slightly softer. Slightly.

  "You saved my life," she reminded him. "You saved our baby's life."

  "I let you get shot."

  "No. You did everything in your power to stop it from happening. Big difference."

  He eased her into a chair in her sitting room and probably would have moved away from her if Natalie hadn't caught onto his arm.

  "Let's do an inventory here," she began. "The PI, Mason Tanner, is critical but stable. He'll recover. That's good. It's also good that the police learned that it was Isabella who jammed your cell phone. So, that means there aren't any accomplices lurking around out there. And some final good news—Dr. Benjamin is behind bars for drugging us and for stealing your lab results so the police wouldn't have any proof that we'd been drugged."

  "You're trying to cheer me up."

  She nodded. "Is it working?" Because she was afraid he'd say no, she kissed him again. And because she really wanted that dour look gone from his handsome face, she pulled him in to the chair next to her and snuggled against him.

  "Yeah," he finally admitted. "It's working."

  Natalie smiled. Nudged him with her elbow. And watched him briefly return the smile.

  "Carlton sent those." He pointed to a rather large arrangement of yellow roses. Her favorite. The bouquet was beside the three others that Rick had sent her.

  "I know it won't happen right away, but one day you might be able to forgive Carlton." Natalie waited to see how he would respond to that.

  "Maybe."

  Well, that was a lot better than his previous reaction which had had a hell-no ring to it.

  Actually, a lot of things had the potential to get better. Now that they knew the truth. That Dr. Henderson and her hired guns had been the only people out to kill them. Not Dr. Benjamin. Not Carlton. Not the bartender. Not even Troy. Natalie had feared that Troy had been working for Dr. Henderson or even Dr. Benjamin, but as the police had discovered, the young man was angry over being fired and angrier still about the Cyrene Project, but he had no real intentions of carrying out his threat to kill them.

  "Why have you been able to put all of this behind you?" he asked.

  "I haven't. I'll always remember what happened. I'll always remember how close I came to losing you and the baby."

  His mouth tightened again. "You could have died."

  "You could have died," Natalie countered. "And in those moments when the witch was shooting at us, I realized how important you are to me."

  The tightness eased a bit. So did the expression in his eyes. "You're important to me, too."

  "Whew. For a while there, I thought this was going to be a one-sided confession of my feelings." She paused to gather her thoughts and catch her breath. That stay in the hospital had given her lots of time to think, and she wasn't going to leave it unsaid. "We have a chance to rewrite history, Rick."

  Rick probably had an opinion or comment about that, but he didn't get to voice it. Because the stupid phone rang. She groaned at the interruption and answered it with intentions of making it the shortest call in history.

  "Hello," Natalie snarled, making sure it didn't sound friendly.

  "It's me—Kitt," her sister said with some hesitation. "I just wanted to let you know that I'm getting Mom settled into a nursing home. The place is like a five-star resort—she'll even have room service. And the doctors say she won't be here long. They're expecting a full recovery. But judging from your hello, I'm guessing that you don't want to talk. Still, take the time to answer one quick question—are you all right?"

  "I'm fine. And I really, really mean that. Rick is here," Natalie added.

  "Oh." Kitt made a naughty sound of approval. "Does that mean it's a bad time for me to have a long, sisterly marathon conversation?"

  Natalie didn't even have to think about it. "Yes. It's a bad time for that."

  "But you're wounded. You couldn't possibly want to do anything down and dirty with Rick."

  "Don't bet on it. Goodbye, Kitt. I'll call you later." She put the phone on the table and turned to Rick.

  He met her with a kiss.

  A deep, hot kiss.

  "Marry me," he said.

  Her throat snapped shut, and the blood rushed to her head. "Wh-what?"

  She'd expected more sex. Definitely more sex. She even hoped for a few dates so they could settle more comfortably into shared parenthood.

  But marriage?

  Okay, she hadn't expected it, but she'd thought about it. Too much. In fact, she'd had girlie daydreams about it while in the hospital. A fairy-tale wedding complete with a white dress and all the trimmings.

  But there was a problem with those particular daydreams.

  "Are you asking me because I'm pregnant?" she wanted to know.

  "I'm asking because I want to be your husband."

  Natalie let her heart flutter a bit before she shook her head. "Why?"

  He ran his hand over her stomach. "We have a chance to rewrite history," he said using her own words. "We can do this, Natalie. You, me, and our own little Harley."

  Th
at caused a different kind of flutter. Not a good one, either. "Harley?"

  "Not meant to be taken literally, though it would be a suitable name for a boy or a girl. Picture it—a Harley-riding PhD. Beauty and brains. Or for a boy—brawn and brains."

  Well, that wasn't a bad thing to picture at all. Natalie smiled, but it quickly faded. "Rick, we can have, uh, Harley and not be married."

  He pushed up her dress. Kissed her bandage. And then kissed her bare stomach.

  Natalie knew that was meant to be a gentle gesture, but his warm, gusting breath gave her other ideas. Ideas she put on hold. First things first. There was a marriage proposal on the table.

  "It's a pity proposal," she informed him.

  "You think so?" He began to toy with the elastic on her panties. "Well, it wasn't. I don't do pity orgasms, pity kisses or pity proposals."

  "Then, what kind of proposal was it?" she asked.

  He toyed some more with her panties and let his breath brush right against the V-junction of her thighs.

  "You're trying to distract me," she challenged.

  "Yes," he readily admitted. "Because I want you to agree to marry me, and if necessary, I'll get you to say yes while in the throes of oral sex. And before you suggest old-fashioned sex—don't. You're in no shape for that. Yet. Next week, maybe."

  Natalie was about to tell him that he was distracting her again, but Rick pulled the ultimate distraction.

  "I love you," he said. "That's why I want to marry you. Little Harley is just a bonus. A great bonus. But a bonus nonetheless. You're the prize, Natalie. You're the one I want to grow old with. You're the one I want to have sex with, next week."

  And because he was obviously serious about her saying yes, he kissed her through her ultra-thin panties. Yes, it was a distraction. A rather nice distraction, but Natalie didn't give in to it.

  She caught onto Rick's chin and lifted it so they'd make eye contact. Unfortunately, she had tears in her eyes so she had a little trouble seeing him.

  "I love you, too, Rick."

  Relief relaxed the muscles in his face. "Hallelujah. Now, we have a reason to celebrate." And to seal the deal, he kissed her mouth.