My Baby, My Love

by Dani Sinclair

“The doctor said tomorrow morning,” Noah temporized. “If you’re well enough.”

  “I’m well enough right now.” It was only a small lie. She felt weaker than a day-old kitten. A mangled, day-old kitten with a headache. But she could manage. She was used to managing.

  Noah tipped his head to regard her. “My father told me I should never call a lady a liar.”

  “But you’ll make an exception in my case?”

  He ignored her challenge completely. “Morning is only a few hours away,” he stated. “Get a good night’s sleep and then we’ll talk.”

  She thought of the nightmare and controlled another shudder.

  “I’ll make a few arrangements and bring you something to wear,” he finished.

  “What sort of arrangements?”

  “You’re going to need help.”

  She shook her head. The room spun slightly, forcing her eyes closed to combat the sensation. The doctor had said the vertigo would eventually go away. She should have asked him to define “eventually.”

  “I won’t need any help,” she told Noah. She kept her eyes shut to avoid looking up at him. “And if I do, that’s my problem.”

  “And the baby?”

  “Jerome is dead. The baby is my problem as well.”

  She would never allow another man in her life who thought he could tell her what to do or how to do it.

  “I’d like to help.”

  That snapped her eyes open. “Why?”

  His eyes flared with a tumble of emotions. He started to respond and stopped. Sydney realized she was rubbing her temples to try and ease the pounding pain in her head and dropped her hands to the sheet. Noah walked to the window. Silence stretched between them.

  “Sydney, I signed the papers to have my only brother buried yesterday morning,” Noah said suddenly. “There was nothing I could do to help him. Won’t you at least let me try to help you?”

  His words shocked her anew. “You already had Jerome buried?”

  “Yes. We’ll hold a memorial service for him when you’re well enough.”

  “You had no right!”

  Noah turned back to her, sadness etched in the creases about his eyes. His expression was filled with regret and compassion. “I guess not. I’m sorry, Sydney.”

  She couldn’t stand the pain in Noah’s expression. The truth was, he did have rights. Probably more than she had. His remorse disturbed her almost as much as the chaos of her thoughts. Noah wasn’t to blame for anything. He was doing his best to help, yet she was snapping at him like a rabid dog.

  “Why didn’t you wait?” she asked more calmly.

  “The morgue released the body. I had decisions to make—so I made them.”

  His small shrug tugged at her heart. Despite his size and self-assurance, Noah was a vulnerable man.

  “Your concussion had the doctors worried,” he continued. “You kept slipping in and out of consciousness. They didn’t know how soon you’d be able to make decisions.”

  “It’s okay. I understand.” And she did. She would have made the same arrangements if she’d been able to. She settled back against the bed, suddenly exhausted.

  He rested his hand lightly on her arm. “Thank you.”

  “No. I’m the one who should be thanking you. For the plant and…for everything else.” His touch disturbed her.

  Who was she trying to kid? Everything about him disturbed her. He was a kind, caring sort of man.

  He was also Jerome’s brother.

  “Did you know Jerome saved my life?” she asked, wanting to erase some of the hurt he must be feeling.

  “The investigators told me.” A muscle, clenched too tightly, twitched in Noah’s stern jaw. “He must have loved you very much.”

  Oh, God. The truth lay bitterly in her mind. Could Noah read that truth in her eyes? She closed them against his invasive stare.

  “I’d like to take care of you, Sydney. At least make sure you and the baby are settled and have everything you need.”

  She turned away and shoved a hand through her hair. Noah was Jerome’s brother, but he was also a stranger. She’d learned a long time ago that the only one she could depend on was herself. “I appreciate the offer, but—”

  He stopped her words with an outstretched palm. “Please. Just stay here and rest until morning like the doctor ordered. Then I’ll see about getting you sprung. When you’re feeling stronger, you can tell me to go if that’s what you want. In the meantime—”

  “And will you?” Or would he be like Jerome, turning possessive, demanding, insistent that things had to be his way or no way?

  Noah’s lips gave a wry twist. “Will I go? Well, maybe not right away, but I’d rather have this battle when you don’t look like a puff of wind could blow you over. If you’ll give me the keys to your apartment…”

  Sydney pointed at the nightstand as lethargy settled over her. Sooner or later he was going to learn the truth. Did it really make any difference if he went to the apartment now?

  Noah reached into the drawer next to her bed and withdrew her purse. Sydney found her gaze riveted on the dark stains that marred the white leather surface. As he fished out her keys, images flashed before her eyes. Soda and blood. The bank enclosure had run with both.

  She slumped back against the pillow. Bile rose in her throat.

  “Hey. What is it? Are you feeling sick? Should I call for the nurse?”

  “No.” She choked out the word and shut her eyes. “Could you…would you take the purse away with you?”

  Her blood, Mrs. Argossy’s or Jerome’s? Did it matter? She never wanted to see that handbag again.

  Without a word, he emptied the contents into the open drawer. “I’ll bring you another purse tomorrow. Is there a particular outfit you’d like?” he asked.

  Sydney shook her head.

  Once again, his hand rested lightly on her shoulder. The gesture offered both friendship and concern.

  “Get some rest tonight. I’ll be back in the morning.”

  “I’m not your responsibility.” She had to say it even though part of her was selfishly glad he cared. She was so tired of always being strong.

  “I know. I’ll be back. Call if you need anything. I left the hotel number under your telephone.”

  “Thank you.”

  She watched him disappear through the doorway and reaffirmed the decision she’d made when she’d faced the investigators. Jerome was the father of her baby. The man who had saved her life. He’d been Noah’s only family, and in the eyes of the world, Jerome had died a hero.

  No one would ever learn what she suspected.

  THEY WOKE HER again to give her a sleeping pill. She couldn’t believe they actually did that. Groggily, she accepted the pill, put it in her mouth and swallowed the water. As soon as the nurse left, Sydney spit the pill out. She didn’t need drugs that would make her fuzzy. She needed a clear head in the morning so they’d let her go home. She rolled over and went back to sleep.

  It could have been minutes or hours later when she roused from another disturbing cycle of dreams. Her heart was beating much too fast and her breath came in short pants. She struggled to focus on yet another person entering her room. How was she supposed to get any rest when they kept waking her every time she fell asleep?

  Darkness shadowed the room. Restlessly, she watched the person close the door to the hallway without a sound. The empty bed next to hers took on a ghostly appearance in the dim light filtering in through the solitary window. Maybe that was why the figure’s approach appeared almost stealthy.

  Sydney’s heart began thumping more quickly.

  The person was too silent. He’d closed the door. A nurse who’d come to check on her wouldn’t close the door. Instantly, she pictured the bearded orderly.

  Slowly, she inched her fingers toward the call light, afraid to let him know she was awake. The impression of danger grew stronger as the person neared the bed. There was something wrong with his face. Her vision shouldn’t be
blurry. She hadn’t swallowed the sleeping pill. Yet she couldn’t make out any features.

  Her fingers found the call button. Sydney pressed it as the man suddenly rushed forward, knocking the button from her hand.

  Sydney screamed. A rubber-glove-encased hand clamped over her mouth, choking off the sound. The other hand circled her throat in a breath-stealing grip.

  In that instant, she realized he wore a ski mask over his head.

  Desperately, she threw herself to one side. Pain radiated down her arm as her bandaged hand struck the bed rail.

  “Where is it?”

  The waft of garlic was sickening. She clawed at those short, blunt fingers pressing into her throat. He was incredibly strong. She couldn’t breathe!

  She beat at his face while his voice continued to demand. Didn’t he realize she couldn’t answer? If she could just reach his eyes!

  Blackness dimmed her vision. Her head swam with vertigo.

  Noah had been wrong. Following the doctor’s orders had been a terrible idea. In fact, it was about to get her killed.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The telephone pulled him out of a restless sleep. Noah glanced at the clock and saw it was only 5:56 in the morning. He sat up, tensing as he reached for the phone. He fully expected the message to be a call to duty. Instead, a prissy feminine voice filled his ear.

  “Major Inglewood? This is Jennifer Comsilt. I’m a nursing supervisor at—”

  “Sydney?”

  “She’s going to be all right,” the professional voice hastened to assure him. “However, she did indicate that she would like me to call you.”

  Fully alert, Noah swung his legs over the side of the bed. “She indicated? She didn’t ask?”

  “Her…ah…that is, there was an incident early this morning.”

  He was reaching for his pants, the receiver tucked under his chin. “What sort of incident, Ms. Comsilt?”

  Was she okay? The baby!

  Noah sorted through the horrible possibilities running through his head while fear feasted on his stomach. He dressed rapidly, by rote.

  “Let me reiterate,” the woman’s voice continued, “Mrs. Inglewood will be fine, but…well, someone entered her room sometime after four o’clock this morning and…that is, they attempted…to strangle her.”

  Coldness seeped into his chest. She’d wanted to leave and he’d left her there. “I’m on my way.”

  “That isn’t—”

  Noah disconnected. The woman had said Sydney was all right but he needed to see for himself.

  He dug through his duffel bag and pulled out the only items of clothing he had that might work for her. Bundling them together, he reached for his key card, stuffed his feet into his shoes and was out the door and into the early-morning heat of what would no doubt prove to be another humid summer day in Washington, D.C. His hotel was only a ten-minute drive from the hospital, yet the cab ride seemed interminable.

  He kept remembering that Sydney hadn’t wanted to stay. He should have listened to her. How had the attacker gotten inside her room? What had happened to the armed officer stationed outside her door?

  Less than twenty minutes after the phone call woke him, Noah was stepping off the elevator onto Sydney’s floor. People milled about the nurses’ station. Coffee and breakfast scents mingled with the normal hospital smells. Carts bearing breakfast trays were being rolled along at the far end of the hall.

  A different uniformed police officer now stood, rather than sat, outside the door to Sydney’s room. A second plainclothes officer was positioned at the desk, talking with an agitated nurse. An assortment of other people clustered around. Noah recognized the FBI agent as soon as the man turned in his direction.

  “Major Inglewood? I’m Agent Wickowski. We met—”

  “I remember. You’re FBI, investigating the bank robbery.”

  “That’s correct. The police called me this morning to tell me what had transpired.”

  “What exactly did transpire, Agent Wickowski?”

  The man hurried to catch up as Noah strode toward Sydney’s door without waiting for an answer. “Major—”

  “How did anyone get past the police officer?”

  A flush crept up his neck. “There was a miscommunication between our office and the police department. Apparently it was…er…necessary to pull the officer last night. The police felt since we’d already taken her statement…”

  Noah eyed him coldly, stopping the words in the man’s throat. “She’s the only eyewitness to what happened.”

  “Yes, but her whereabouts weren’t reported. They didn’t think—”

  “Obviously.”

  The uniformed officer stepped forward to block the door at Noah’s approach.

  “Do I go through him, or around him?” Noah asked mildly.

  The agent inclined his head and the uniformed man stepped away with a tight look. Noah would have welcomed a scuffle, if only to work off some of the tension humming through his body.

  Sydney perched on the edge of the bed, the shapeless hospital gown drooping off one shoulder. Her hair hung in lank strands past her shoulders, surrounding a face pale enough for Halloween. Her china-blue eyes were large as saucers. But she appeared extraordinarily calm for someone who’d just been attacked. Her expression brightened instantly when she saw him.

  “Sorry, Sydney,” he told her without preamble. “Are you okay?”

  She gave a small nod. He noted the new bruises and his jaw set.

  “Want to leave?”

  In answer, she tried to scoot off the bed. He caught her before she pitched forward, tangled in the sheet. “Easy. I’ve got you.”

  His arm came to rest across her chest, supporting the lush curve of one breast. Sydney was a tall, shapely woman. How shapely, he shouldn’t be noticing.

  “Okay?”

  She nodded.

  “You’re not thinking of taking her out of here?” Wickowski demanded.

  “Thinking, no. I am taking her out of here.”

  “Look, Major—”

  “No, Wickowski, you look. She was almost killed. I assume the guy wasn’t caught?”

  His ruddy cheeks grew ruddier.

  Sydney laid a hand against Noah’s chest. “Please.” Her voice was low and hoarse. “Fight later. I’d like to leave now.”

  “Right away,” he agreed.

  “I could hold her as a material witness,” Wickowski threatened.

  “You can try.” Noah met the agent’s anger with his own. They’d nearly let her be killed!

  Wickowski looked away first.

  More people crowded into the room, blocking their path to the door. A rotund, pinch-faced woman with faded red hair stepped forward importantly. “Major Inglewood, I’m Jennifer Comsilt. We spoke on the telephone. This is Dr. Messinger.”

  Jennifer Comsilt pushed at a prim pair of glasses sitting on her nose while the doctor fussed with a stethoscope hanging around his neck. Noah dismissed them with a glance.

  “I’d like to use the bathroom,” Sydney whispered.

  “You want to help her, Ms. Comsilt?”

  “Oh.” The supervisor gazed frantically past him as if looking for someone else. “Er…ah, yes. Of course.” Obviously, she wasn’t used to making personal contact with the patients.

  “I can manage,” Sydney told him.

  He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I don’t doubt it for a minute, but I think getting dressed will be easier with some help, don’t you? Here.” He thrust the bundle of clothing into Mrs. Comsilt’s free hand. “These won’t be a great fit, but they’re the best I could come up with on such short notice.”

  “Not mine?” Sydney asked in a whispery voice.

  “Mine, I’m afraid. I didn’t get to your place last night.”

  She paused, surveying him from head to toe. A spark of amusement glinted in her eyes. “Should be a great fit.”

  Noah found himself smiling wryly. “The jogging shorts have a drawstring,” he off
ered.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Don’t worry. The T-shirt will probably cover them completely.”

  “No doubt.”

  Her easy acceptance surprised him. He expected Sydney to be weak and needy. Her unexpected grit kept amazing him.

  Messinger stepped forward. “Just a moment. Mrs. Inglewood suffered a trauma to her throat this morning.” Messinger’s grating voice had a nasal whine. “While I don’t believe any permanent harm was done, I’d like a specialist to have a look at her.”

  “I’ll see to it. We’re leaving in five minutes. You want to get the release forms?”

  “Mr. Inglewood, this hospital cannot be responsible—”

  “Save it, Doctor. I am not in the mood. We’ll need the release papers right away or we’re leaving without signing them.”

  “Major Inglewood,” the agent tried to cut in.

  Noah spun toward the man. “Wickowski, my brother is dead. My sister-in-law just came too close to joining him for my peace of mind. She’s…”

  “We’ll keep someone at her door.”

  “…getting out of here right now. You’ve got her statement. Two days’ worth, as a matter of fact.”

  “I realize that. But in an investigation like this one, questions come up. The FBI—”

  “Doesn’t have to talk to her here in the hospital. Cut her some slack, Wickowski. I’m taking her someplace safe.”

  “Police protection—”

  “Isn’t very reliable, wouldn’t you say?”

  The doctor interrupted. “Mrs. Inglewood is pregnant!” he protested.

  The last thing Noah needed was a reminder of the child growing inside his brother’s wife. He’d thought about little else since he learned that fact. The ramifications were staggering. He leveled his coldest gaze on the man.

  “I am aware of that, Doctor,” he said with such quiet steel that anyone who knew him would have beaten a hasty retreat. “And I’m going to see that she lives to deliver that child. Three minutes, Doctor.”

  The bathroom door opened. While no doubt the drawstring on the shorts had been cinched around her narrow waist as tightly as possible, the material hung in ridiculous fashion against long, shapely legs. The baggy T-shirt draped over the full swell of her generous breasts, making it all too obvious Sydney wasn’t wearing a bra beneath the thin cotton. Noah decided he’d deck the first man who ogled her.