Just Eight Months Old...

by Tori Carrington

  Bonny let out an excited squeal. Hannah prayed the men hadn’t heard. She peered over the dashboard to see the door closing behind the men’s backs. She sighed a breath of relief—relief that vanished as she realized who the men were.

  “Oh God, Chad,” she whispered, starting the car. The nondescript four-door sedan, the shrewd calculated silence of the men as they entered the building, their standard issue blue suits. All facts coalesced to tell her the real FBI had just entered PlayCo Industries.

  Slipping the seat back, she plucked Bonny up and carefully leaned over to put her in her safety seat. She caught a glimpse of Chad darting out of the lobby, staring at the sedan as he passed.

  In a tight voice Hannah said, “You do realize who—”

  “Here…let me.” He shifted her shaking hands aside and reached for Bonny’s car seat belt. Hannah blinked at him, mesmerized as he made quick work of fastening the baby in properly, almost as if the move were a natural one for him, something he’d been doing routinely. Of course he had done it before. With his infant son. But seeing him do something so fatherlike now with their own daughter made her throat go dry. Finishing, he enveloped Bonny’s small feet in his long, tanned fingers. The baby watched him in mute fascination then blurted, “Dah!”

  Chad stared at Hannah, that thunderstruck expression back on his face. She feigned a cough and handed Bonny back her teething ring.

  “‘Dah’ means dog. Her baby-sitter has one,” she lied. Now was not the time to delve into a profound conversation about the past. No matter how much she wished it was.

  He grimaced. “Dog.”

  “Uh-huh. But enough of that. I want to know if you realize who—”

  “Yes, I realize who just went inside. I can even give you one of their names. Special Agent Randall McKay,” Chad said, tugging his tie loose.

  “What’s the FBI doing here? And how did they get here so quickly?” Hannah asked, not about to believe their visit was coincidental. Not this late at night. Not a half hour after Chad had gone inside.

  “I don’t know, in answer to your first question. The second…” Chad tugged open the top buttons of his shirt. “Since the FBI is obviously involved in the case, they probably left a standing order that they be contacted if anyone showed up asking about Persky and Furgeson.”

  Hannah shifted the car into gear and backed out of the parking spot, heading toward the garage entrance. She spotted the guard stepping from his shack fifty feet away.

  “Let’s hope he lets us out as easily as he let us in,” she whispered. “I swear, Chad, if anything happens, I’ll…”

  The rest of her sentence hung in the air as they pulled level with the guard shack. Her nerves fairly hummed with the tension gripping her. What was happening inside right now? Had the FBI discovered Chad had left? Hannah watched the guard move to Chad’s side of the car.

  “I trust your visit was satisfactory, sir?”

  Chad slanted her a reassuring look. “Quite.” The guard peered at the baby in the back seat, then at Hannah. She stared straight ahead, hoping he wouldn’t notice the anxiety she was sure showed on her face.

  “Have a good—”

  The ringing of the telephone interrupted him while the squeal of tires against concrete came from the depths of the garage. Hannah thought she’d have a coronary right then and there.

  “Excuse me. I’ll be right back,” the guard said.

  “Do you know who’s on the phone, Chad?” Hannah said under her breath as the guard walked toward his shack. “Probably one of the FBI agents you were just impersonating.” She looked at him. “You know, the ones who’ll arrest us if they catch us?”

  Chad seemed totally unaffected as he scanned her face. She had no doubt every freckle probably stood out as they always did when she was anxious.

  “You know, Hannah, I think you’re right,” he said finally. “That’s why I think you should put your pretty little foot on the gas pedal and go.” He paused. “Now.”

  He said the words so softly that Hannah had to replay them in her mind before she understood. She flicked her gaze to where the guard stared at them, then he pushed a button, the telltale sound of an approaching car from the interior of the garage making her heart rate increase. A metal door began closing above the car.

  “Oh God.” With barely a moment’s hesitation, Hannah shifted the car into First. The Alfa Romeo raced forward with the screech of rubber against concrete, dashing from the dim grayness of the garage into the street lamp-lighted night.

  “Look out!” Chad shouted.

  Hannah pulled the wheel sharply to the right, barely missing a car on the other side of the road. But her attention wasn’t on the car they had just missed. It was on her rearview mirror and the guard who ran out onto the sidewalk, yelling after them while in the shack the telephone receiver swung back and forth from its black cord. Behind the closing metal security gate, the four-door sedan shrieked to a halt and the driver laid on the horn.

  “Chad, we’re supposed to be tracking fugitives, not becoming ones.”

  He turned to stuff his tie into his duffel bag. He looked at her. Hannah tensed, realizing she hadn’t closed it.

  “Hope you found something interesting,” he said quietly.

  She took a corner a little fast, earning a cry from Bonny.

  “Slow down, Hannah. We don’t want to scare the baby any more than we already have.”

  She eased her foot off the gas pedal, eyeing a squad car stopped at a red light on an adjacent street.

  “Chad, I’m not even going to ask how you knew that agent’s name.” At a slower pace, she zigzagged through the Manhattan traffic, wishing she could camouflage her car in the sea of taxi yellow. Since PlayCo was on Manhattan’s Lower East Side, Hannah headed west where she hoped to zip into the Lincoln Tunnel and on into Jersey.

  In the back seat, Bonny began crying. “She’s hungry,” Hannah said.

  “Hungry?” Chad repeated tightly, as if the concept was foreign to him.

  “Yes, hungry. There’s a bottle in the diaper bag—” She looked at him, realizing what she had almost asked him to do.

  Instead she reached around her seat and groped around for the bag with little Sesame Street characters she had stowed on the floor there. Chad touched her arm, his fingers warm and firm.

  “I can do it. You just concentrate on getting us out of New York safely, okay?”

  Chad unfastened his seat belt and climbed into the back seat. As he fished in the diaper bag for the bottle, he caressed the baby’s downy hair and wiped the tears from her rosy cheeks. Hannah watched him, unsure what to make of his actions. She wanted to reach out to take Bonny, irrationally uneasy with the fact that her daughter had stopped crying and appeared happy.

  She blinked, realizing she was looking at Chad through the rearview mirror and not the road.

  Chad cleared his throat and began giving a now quiet Bonny her bottle.

  Hannah wasn’t sure, but among the confusing emotions filling her heart, one was fear. Not fear of the FBI and the deeper trouble Chad’s little stunt had landed them in. No. The fear gripping her was even more acute. The fear that Chad might want to play a part in their daughter’s life. A daughter he hadn’t even admitted to yet. And what terrified Hannah most was she hoped he would.

  Chad slipped the key into the lock of Room 116 and glanced over his shoulder at Hannah. She hiked a sleeping Bonny up a little higher on her hip. She avoided his gaze, much as she had throughout the entire drive through Jersey. He watched her kiss the top of the baby’s head and felt a little nudge somewhere in the vicinity of his heart.

  Following the incident with the FBI, they’d had little choice but to leave New York and quickly. He didn’t doubt the agents or the guard had noted Hannah’s plate number and had run a search. He turned the key in the lock. By now the FBI likely had her apartment under surveillance, as well as an APB out on her car. And since he’d used his real if old FBI ID, chances were pretty good they were on the l
ookout for him, as well.

  He pulled the key out and grasped the door handle. “Here we are. Home—”

  “Please,” Hannah said. “Please don’t say it, Chad. I couldn’t bear it if you said ‘Home, sweet home.’”

  A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Sorry. Habit I guess.” He pushed the door open. The darkness revealed nothing of the motel room they were to share until he reached in and flicked on the lights.

  “Nice, if you’ve just had a fifth with the boys,” Chad said wryly.

  Hannah followed him into the room as he glanced at his watch.

  “Three in the morning. I didn’t realize it was so late.” He tossed the key to a nearby dresser and tightened his grip on his duffel.

  They’d made two stops before checking into the motel. The first was at a rest area in northern Jersey where Hannah had called a frantic Elliott Blackstone to let him know where they were heading. Afterward, they traded off on the driving so Hannah could feed and change Bonny, a normal, commonplace action for her, but he’d been unable to take his eyes off them while she did it. He didn’t know why he hadn’t seen it before, but Hannah had all the makings of a great mom. She was patient, attentive, knew exactly how to coax a smile from Bonny, and used the right amount of gravity in her voice for a reprimand. And there was no doubting she loved her daughter very much.

  The second stop they made was in Atlantic City at the casino listed on the matchbook they found at Persky’s house. Yes, the night shift bartender told them after Chad made him twenty dollars richer, the woman named Rita Minelli worked the morning shift as a waitress. Nothing they said or did after that, however, could coax further information from the guy. They were forced to wait until morning to talk to the waitress with the unclear connection to Eric Persky.

  Chad ran his fingers along his stubble-covered chin as Hannah cuddled the baby closer then murmured something into her tiny, pink ear.

  It was hard to believe that only a few hours ago he’d been hungry for her to answer a truckload of questions, to tune him in on a situation that was too fuzzy. But every time he’d gazed at Bonny, or saw the way Hannah nervously twisted her hands in her lap, he hadn’t dared ask a single one.

  Admit it, Hogan, you’re afraid of what she’ll say.

  “Which one do you want?” He shut the door then yanked closed the curtains to the street-level room.

  “What?” Hannah swiveled toward him a little too quickly. If not for the baby in her arms, she would have ended up flush against him. She drew in a quick breath.

  Chad caught her so she wouldn’t topple over. The skin of her arms was remarkably warm under his fingers, her muscles tense. He gazed down at her, fascinated by the flashes of color on her cheeks, the movement of her tongue as she ran it over her lips. God, what he wouldn’t give to kiss her right now. An urge that made absolutely no sense considering all that was happening, yet somehow made perfect sense.

  Was it unbearably hot in the room, or was it him?

  He cleared his throat. “The beds…which do you want?”

  Hannah quickly turned away, disappointing him.

  “Either is fine.” She eyed the two full-size beds and the narrow space separating them. She lay the baby on one, propping pillows on either side of her before placing the diaper bag on a nearby bureau. She fished out a bottle of juice and put it on the bedside table.

  He still had trouble wrapping his mind around it. Not only was Hannah a mother, but he was a father. A role he never thought he’d play again. He watched her rub the backs of her fingers against Bonny’s cheek and wished he could open his mouth to ask some of those questions he needed answered. But the desire to cross the room and feel the incredible softness of his daughter’s skin drowned those questions out.

  “I’m going to take a shower,” Hannah said quietly.

  Chad’s gaze flicked from her to the sleeping baby.

  “She should pretty much sleep through the night.” She looked decidedly anxious. “Don’t worry. I won’t be long.”

  With that she darted into the bathroom and closed the door behind herself.

  Chad stood cemented to the middle of the floor. Bonny’s gentle breathing seemed to fill the room, emphasizing that they were alone together for the first time.

  Alone.

  Slowly, as if afraid he’d awaken her, he moved closer to the bed. Each step fed him another detail. Her round cheeks were flushed from the heat. Her curly red hair stuck up in some spots, and was plastered to her head in others. Her tiny, perfect bow-shaped lips started moving and he realized she was mimicking feeding time, perhaps dreaming of it. Suddenly her face scrunched up, much as it had when she’d protested Hannah’s trying to feed her pureed carrots at the rest area, then she turned her head. A damp, pudgy thumb seemed to seek her mouth on its own accord and the sucking movements began anew.

  Chad found himself grinning like a dumbfounded new father. Bonny might be eight months old but he’d just learned about her existence, so in effect that was what he was. A new dad. Without knowing he was going to do it, he reached out and ran a callused fingertip over the amazingly small knuckles of her hand, then gently tugged her thumb from her mouth. Her face scrunched up again, then just as quickly relaxed.

  His mind filled with all the things he didn’t know about her. When did she first smile? Sit up? Utter her first word? Did she have a full head of hair when she was born, or was she bald as a cue ball?

  So many details he didn’t know, both large and small.

  He found himself smoothing her curly hair back, recognizing that there were some other, greater things he didn’t have to know. He just felt them. Like the fact that he’d recognized straight off that she was his daughter. Not because of the math. Not because she looked like Joshua—she couldn’t have differed more from his fair-haired son if she’d tried. No. He’d taken one look into her wide blue eyes and just knew.

  He heard a soft sigh, then recognized it as his own. Those same blue eyes opened now. Not slowly or groggily. It seemed as if one moment she was deep asleep, the next she was gazing up at him, completely alert.

  “Hi there, sweet pea,” he murmured with a smile.

  She didn’t move, didn’t make a sound, merely gazed at him in open curiosity. His heart gave a small lurch. She reached a hand up, index finger crookedly extended as if wanting to touch his face. He tunneled his own finger into her fist and she gripped it. The warmth that swept through his body was nearly overwhelming in its intensity as he sat down on the mattress next to her.

  Immediately she began crying.

  Panic waded in Chad’s stomach. “What is it?” He grabbed for the bottle on the nightstand. “Are you thirsty?”

  She turned her head away when he tried to coax the nipple into her mouth.

  “Okay.” He put the bottle back down.

  What should he do? Joshua—

  He rubbed his face. Joshua had been only two months old when he’d lost him. He could probably count on one hand the times he’d been left alone with him. And then the majority of those times was when he’d returned home late and had snuck in for a few minutes to watch his son sleep.

  The differences in the situations struck him as ironic. He’d missed out on Joshua’s future. He hadn’t been involved in Bonny’s past, as short as it was.

  Wet. Maybe she was wet. That he knew how to check for.

  “Do you need to be changed? Is that it?” Hesitantly he rested the back of his hand against her rounded belly then tucked his finger into the waist of her diaper. Dry as a bone.

  “Okay, so you’re not wet.”

  All at once he felt completely, utterly helpless.

  Pick her up, a small voice in his mind told him.

  He swallowed hard. It’d been a long time since he’d held a baby. A mixture of fear of not knowing the right thing to do and anxiety that he might somehow harm her combined to make him little more than a jumbled mess.

  “Oh, for crying out loud, Hogan, you’re a big bad bounty hunter. How diffi
cult can picking up a baby be?”

  He reached out and tucked his fingers under her arms and gently lifted her until she sat in the cradle of his arms.

  The sensation of her chubby baby body against his nearly knocked him over. She not only instantly stopped crying, she seemed intent on taking complete advantage of her new position and stuck her finger straight into his ear.

  He chuckled and took her hand. “Remind me to teach you the basics when it comes to manners, little one.”

  The sentence was out before he could catch it. It seemed to convey that he would be around in the future, play a role in her life. He glanced toward the closed bathroom door. Until he and Hannah had a long talk, that future was foggy indeed.

  A drool-covered finger poked at his eyeball. He groaned and caught her other hand. Bonny seemed to find this remarkably amusing and gave a baby giggle that made his smile widen.

  “Let’s see…what can I do to amuse you before you do something that leaves a mark?”

  The thing was, he suspected she’d already made an indelible mark on his heart.

  The sound of the shower reminded Hannah of the familiar hum of washers washing at Nash’s Wet and Dry, Chad’s uncle’s Laundromat. Chad and she had lived in an apartment above that Laundromat for almost a year. She climbed into the tub and closed her eyes, giving herself over to the spray of water and the rush of images that crowded her mind.

  It was all too easy to recall the old but clean speckled linoleum floor of the cleaners, the eclectic mix of customers who treated the place as a regular hangout. Then there was Chad’s uncle Nash, a gregarious ex-Marine who wore white T-shirts and rolled-up jeans summer and winter, the tattoo of an anchor always visible on his right bicep. She smiled. To this day she didn’t know if the big sweet bear of a man had really had trouble operating his old cash register or whether he just liked to keep her in the store for a few minutes before she headed upstairs. Not that she’d minded. After she lost her father and had a falling out with Victor Marconi, and before Bonny, Nash—and Chad—were the closest things to family she’d had.