Savior in the Saddle

by Delores Fossen

  That seemed like some kind of warning and Willa stared at him. “What do you mean?”

  He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Then, shook his head. He pulled her closer to him and put his mouth right against her ear.

  “Shore was hired to kill you,” Brandon whispered. “That part is the truth. So is the part about another hospital hostage situation.” He paused. “But almost everything else that Bo and I told you is a lie.”

  It took a moment for that to sink in, but when it did, it felt like a punch. She gasped, a sound of outrage, and she tried to pull back, but Brandon held her in place.

  The driver hit his brakes and brought the bus to a stop directly in front of police headquarters. Officers poured out from the building and began to run toward them.

  “What do you mean everything else was a lie?” Willa demanded.

  Brandon looked her straight in the eyes. “I’m not your ex-boyfriend, Willa. Before today, I’d never laid eyes or anything else on you.”

  BRANDON DIDN’T HAVE TIME to soothe that look in Willa’s eyes. It was a mixture of anger, confusion and hurt. He also didn’t have time to try to justify the lies he’d already told her.

  Besides, there was no justification for that.

  After SAPD had come to him and explained what was going on with a possible new hostage incident, Brandon had agreed to help them, but the plan had felt wrong from the very beginning.

  And look where it’d gotten Willa.

  She’d nearly been killed today, and they weren’t out of the woods yet. As long as Shore was alive, the threat would be there.

  “What do you mean you lied to me?” Willa demanded.

  Brandon heard her, barely. That’s because several officers ran onto the bus, and the sounds of their voices and footsteps drowned her out. One was plainclothes, in his late thirties with sandy-brown hair, and the other was younger and in a uniform. Both had their weapons drawn.

  “I’m Sheriff Brandon Ruiz,” he said, showing his badge. He slipped his gun back into his holster. “Any word about Lieutenant Duggan?”

  The older officer shook his head. “Nothing yet.”

  Hell. Bo had to be all right. Brandon barely knew the man, but on the drive from San Antonio, Bo had talked all about his four-month-old twins. He’d also talked about his late wife, who’d died shortly after the maternity hostage incident. If something happened to Bo, those babies would be orphans.

  Willa latched on to his arm when Brandon stood. “What do you mean you li—”

  Brandon stopped that question by pressing his mouth to hers. The kiss was hard, rough and way out of line, but he didn’t want her to say anything in front of the other officers. He wasn’t sure how much SAPD wanted him to explain about Willa and what might end up being a second hostage situation.

  “We’ll talk later,” Brandon whispered and hoped his tone was enough of a warning for Willa to stay quiet.

  He wouldn’t blame her if she refused to cooperate, but he prayed that she would.

  “Are you hurt?” the uniform asked them.

  Brandon took the overnight bag from Willa and pulled her to her feet so he could check her out. She was riled to the core and confused, but she didn’t appear to be injured physically. That was something at least.

  “Do you need to see a doctor?” Brandon asked, and he held his breath hoping that she wasn’t having contractions or anything.

  “No,” she answered through clenched teeth. “I only need to talk to you.” Her gaze drifted to the police building, and she swallowed hard.

  Don’t trust the cops was probably racing through her head right now.

  “SAPD is sending up some officers,” the older cop relayed to Brandon. “They’re already on their way. You can wait inside headquarters until they arrive. Plus, we’ll need to get your statements on the shooting and the explosion.”

  “Ms. Marks will need a safe house right away,” Brandon informed them. “After what she’s been through, she needs to rest.”

  “I can find a place on my own,” Willa insisted right back.

  He didn’t argue with her, for now, but there was no way he could let her go off on her own. God knows how he would be able to convince her of that, though.

  Brandon led her off the bus, and the officers hurried them to the far side of the building to the patrol entrance, probably because they were still concerned about Shore being at large.

  “I’d like to go someplace private,” Willa told the officer the moment they were inside. “Because Sheriff Ruiz and I need to talk. It’s important, and it can’t wait.”

  The officer volleyed glances between Brandon and her, and the man was no doubt wondering what this was all about. Brandon didn’t intend to fill him in, at least not until he’d spoken with the officers from SAPD. Even if those officers had indeed already left their headquarters, they probably wouldn’t arrive for at least another forty-five minutes.

  “Follow me,” the officer finally said. He took them through the maze of squad rooms and stopped outside a break room that had chairs, a sofa and some vending machines. “I hope this’ll do,” the officer commented. “And while you’re talking I’ll see about an update on Lieutenant Duggan.”

  Brandon thanked the man but didn’t say anything else until he was out of earshot. Too bad there was no door so he could give them an extra layer of privacy.

  They were going to need it.

  “Why did you lie?” Willa demanded.

  Since this probably wouldn’t be a short or quiet conversation, Brandon placed her overnight bag on the floor and pulled her to the side of a vending machine. “Because SAPD convinced me that the fastest way to stop another hostage incident was to get you to trust me.”

  Her eyes narrowed, but it didn’t seem to be simply from anger. “And it worked. Well, partly. I was starting to trust you.”

  “You still can,” he promised.

  She looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “You’re a liar.”

  “About some things. It’s true, I’d never met you before today.” It was a risk because she might slap him, but Brandon placed his hand over her stomach. “But I really am your baby’s father.”

  She blinked and then stared at him, examining his eyes. “You expect me to believe that?”

  “It’s the truth.” And he blew out a long breath. It was actually a relief to tell her the truth. “Nearly ten years ago I was in the military and headed to a dangerous assignment in the Middle East. I was engaged at the time, and my then fiancée convinced me to store some semen in case I was injured. When I got back from the assignment, the engagement was over. And I knew I didn’t need what I’d stored, so I signed a donor agreement, and it was sent to a sperm bank.”

  Willa continued to study him and was no doubt trying to decide if he was telling the truth.

  “A sperm bank?” she questioned.

  He nodded. “Obviously it was the one you used for your artificial insemination.”

  “Obviously.” But there was still a lot of skepticism in her voice. “Why should I believe you?”

  “Because it’s true. The DNA test results I gave you are real,” he continued. “And it proves I’m the baby’s biological father.”

  Brandon tried not to show what he was feeling. He didn’t want Willa to mistake it for dishonesty. But that last word, father, had not come easily.

  And probably never would.

  He kept that to himself.

  The staring went on, and on, and finally Willa’s shoulders relaxed. A weary breath left her mouth, and she sagged against the wall.

  Since she looked ready to drop, Brandon held on to her. Or rather he tried. But Willa pushed him away.

  “My sperm donor,” she mumbled. She shook her head. “How did SAPD find you?”

  “Bo Duggan said they’d been looking at all the angles as to how to approach you, so they kept digging into your background. You aren’t close to anyone in your family, so they widened the search. And finally got to your me
dical records. They traced the donor number for your insemination, and that led them to me.”

  “They knew you were a cop?” she asked.

  “Not at first. But I think that ended up being a bonus for them.” It had certainly given the police captain carte blanche to press him into cooperating. “SAPD knew you wouldn’t welcome them with open arms, and they were desperate. They need your cooperation.”

  “They need me to remember,” Willa corrected. “To remember what happened during the hostage situation so I can see if it relates to what might happen in another crisis. But I can’t remember. I’ve tried and I can’t.”

  He lifted his shoulder. “That’s where I was supposed to come in. They want me to coax you into going through more therapy. You’ve already made so much progress. You said yourself that your short-term memory problems were over.”

  “I lied.” She huffed and pushed her hair away from her face.

  Brandon had to do a double take. “What?”

  Willa dodged his gaze. “My memory’s not nearly as bad as it was right after my injury, but sometimes I still forget. That’s why I put your picture on my PDA.” Her gaze snapped back to him and she scowled. “I typed in my PDA that I thought I could trust you. I need to change that.”

  “No. You don’t.”

  Her scowl melted away, and tears sprang to her eyes. That’s when Brandon noticed that she was still trembling. From the attack, no doubt.

  Even though it was a risk on many levels, he pulled her to him. Willa fought him, struggling to break the embrace, but Brandon held on.

  “That’s my baby you’re carrying,” he reminded her. And in doing so, he reminded himself. “I’m not going to let you go through this alone.”

  Willa likely had no clue as to what it took for him to say that. She pulled back slightly and, even though she was still blinking away tears, she looked up at him. Her breath broke and she melted against him.

  “Nothing bad can happen to this baby,” she muttered through the sobs.

  “It won’t.” Though it was a promise that would be hell to keep.

  He touched his mouth to her forehead. Just a touch. But he felt the heat spear through him. Brandon definitely didn’t want to feel that heat, but he couldn’t deny it was there.

  What the hell was wrong with him?

  He wanted to believe the attraction existed because of the baby. Maybe some kind of primal DNA trigger so he’d feel compelled to protect the unborn child.

  Brandon silently cursed.

  This attraction didn’t have anything to do with the baby. He was attracted to Willa. Plain and simple. And that attraction could cause some big-time problems for both of them.

  Thankfully, his phone rang because Brandon was ready for both a distraction and news. After he glanced at his caller ID, he figured he would at least get the latter.

  The call was from Sergeant Cash Newsome, a cop in SAPD and someone Brandon had known for years. They’d both been in the army together and had done a tour of duty in the Middle East. Since Cash was also Bo Duggan’s right-hand man, Brandon hoped he would have an update about the lieutenant’s status.

  “I heard you ran into Martin Shore,” Cash greeted.

  “Literally,” Brandon confirmed. “How’s Bo?”

  “It’s good news. He has a non-life-threatening gunshot wound to the shoulder. He’ll be out of commission for a day or two, but he’ll make a full recovery.”

  Brandon released the breath he’d been holding. “And what about Martin Shore?”

  “Still no sign of him. We haven’t given up,” Cash quickly added. “We’re searching the area, going door to door. We won’t stop looking until we find him.”

  They might get lucky, but Brandon had to be realistic. A hired gun that was gutsy enough to attack in a residential neighborhood in broad daylight probably had made arrangements for an escape. Shore was likely already out of the area.

  And planning round two.

  “Any idea why Shore came after Willa earlier than intel had indicated?” Brandon asked.

  “Our best guess is that he had her house under surveillance and saw Bo and you arrive. He probably thought he should go ahead while he still had her in his sights.”

  That made sense, and it told him a lot about Shore. The man could and would improvise, and that made him even more dangerous.

  “We’ve arranged a safe house for Willa,” Cash continued. “It’s local so you won’t have to be on the road too long with her. I guess it goes without saying that she’ll be in your protective custody.”

  Yeah. Without saying. Brandon was too deep into this to turn back now.

  “Sergeant Harris McCoy and I will be there in about a half hour, and we’ll take you to the safe house.” Cash paused. “We’d also like Willa to see a therapist who specializes in recovering lost memories.”

  Brandon glanced at Willa. Even though she probably hadn’t heard what Cash had just said, she could no doubt sense Brandon’s own hesitation. He was hesitating not because he thought the therapist was a bad idea but because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to convince Willa to trust anyone associated with the police.

  Including him.

  “I’ll have to get back to you on that last part,” Brandon told Cash.

  Willa’s left eyebrow lifted.

  “Why?” Cash asked. “Have you talked her into cooperating yet?”

  “No.”

  “Try harder. Because we’ve just gotten an update on what could be our next hostage situation.”

  “And?” Brandon asked when Cash didn’t continue.

  “And the news isn’t good.”

  Chapter Six

  Two days.

  The short timeline kept going through Willa’s head, stuck like a broken record, on the entire drive from Austin to the safe house. Two days.

  Christmas.

  That’s when SAPD thought there’d be another hostage situation at a hospital. Or at least that’s the information Sergeant Cash Newsome had relayed to Brandon while they were waiting in the break room at the Austin P.D. building. The authorities had two days to stop another nightmare from happening. But while the so-called intel had provided a time, SAPD didn’t have a location. Or a motive.

  They were counting on Willa to help them.

  “Good luck with that,” she said to herself. She huffed at that and the so-called safe house as it came into view.

  Even if she could completely regain her memory before then, Willa wasn’t convinced she actually knew anything that would help.

  Two days.

  And God knew how many women and babies would have to go through the same kind of hell that she’d gone through for the past four months.

  “You okay?” Brandon asked, bringing the car to a stop in the tiny garage of the safe house.

  Willa considered lying but decided it was useless. “No.”

  He matched her heavy sigh with one of his own and hit the button on the automatic garage opener. He waited until the garage door was completely shut before they got out of the nondescript dark blue car that SAPD had provided.

  There was a single light on in the laundry room situated just off the garage entrance, but there was enough moonlight filtering through the windows that she didn’t have any trouble seeing.

  Willa glanced around at the safe house. Well, what there was of it anyway.

  It was small, much like her rental place that Shore had blown up on the other side of town. Except this place wasn’t in the suburbs. It was in the country, halfway between San Antonio and Austin, and to get to it they’d used a rural road. Their nearest neighbor was more than a mile away.

  She walked through the house, taking inventory. Two sparsely decorated bedrooms, one bath and a living-dining-kitchen combo. Though Brandon and she had already eaten dinner at police headquarters, the fridge had been stocked with plastic-wrapped sandwiches, bottled water and juice.

  The cramped quarters and limited food options, however, meant nothing to her. The only thin
g Willa cared about right now was being as far away from Martin Shore as possible.

  She watched as Brandon double-locked the door, and then he took out the codes that Sergeant Cash Newsome had given him so he could arm the security system.

  “I suppose the windows and both the front and back doors are connected to the system?” she asked.

  He nodded. “They are. There’s also an alarm that runs around the immediate perimeter of the house in case anyone attempts a break-in. It’s supposed to be safe.”

  She nodded as well. Then swallowed hard. Because no place might be safe enough to protect them from Martin Shore. Or the people who might be planning another hostage situation.

  Brandon turned slowly and faced her. “I don’t want us to sleep here inside the house.”

  Willa had thought he was about to tell her to get some rest. Maybe even give her another reassurance that nothing else bad would happen. She hadn’t expected that from him. And her breath stalled in her throat.

  “Do you trust me?” he asked.

  The question hit her almost as hard as his bomb-shell about not wanting to stay there. She automatically reached for the PDA in her bag. But Willa didn’t need to see his picture or the note she’d written to go along with it.

  She remembered.

  And what she remembered was that she thought she could trust him.

  “What’s this about?” she wanted to know.

  Brandon scrubbed his hand over his face. “You know I made several calls after I got off the phone with Sergeant Cash Newsome?”

  Yes. He’d stepped to the other side of the room for those calls, and he’d whispered so she couldn’t hear. Willa figured he was discussing the therapy appointment that SAPD had made for her. An appointment that was supposed to happen at eight the following morning. Since it was already nine in the evening, that appointment wasn’t far off.

  “Cash is an old army buddy, and while I trust him, I wanted someone outside of SAPD,” Brandon explained. “I contacted another old friend who runs a security company.”

  “Is that the person who dropped you off the duffel bag?” she asked.

  “Yeah.” Brandon had that particular bag slung over his shoulder, but he eased it off and set it on an over-stuffed fabric chair. “I asked him to bring me some supplies that I might need. I also asked him to see if he’s heard anything about a possible leak at SAPD.”