Assumed Identity

by Julie Miller

  Jake waited for Robin to strap Emma into the stroller at the end of the table, and pull out a set of colorful plastic keys for her to play with before they slipped into opposite sides of the booth. He leaned back, folded his arms over his chest and waited for Robin to start the conversation.

  He had to give the woman credit for getting straight to the point. “I’d like to take you to dinner to thank you for what you did for us. Better yet, I’d like to fix you a meal. I’m guessing you’re not a man who gets much home cooking.”

  Jake patted his stomach. “You don’t think I eat?” So what if most of his meals came from a microwave or were takeout? It didn’t mean he was starving. Or that he wanted to become a charity project for her. “You already said thank you. More than once.”

  She tucked one of those chin-length strands of hair behind her ear and breathed deeply, gearing up to try a different approach. “It doesn’t seem like enough. You didn’t just water my plants while I was on vacation—you saved our lives. I’d like to do something a little more tangible to express our gratitude. I think you’d be insulted if I offered you money—”

  “I would.”

  “—and you don’t strike me as a man who’d appreciate a big bouquet of flowers. Besides, up until thirty minutes ago, I had no idea where I’d have my man deliver it. I thought you’d appreciate something practical. You have to eat. I cook. Pretty well, I think. And I almost always fix more than...”

  Robin stopped mid-sentence with a soft gasp and looked down. She pulled out her cell phone and Jake heard another, almost inaudible, gasp. She was doing it again—that little shake of the head, as though she was dismissing something unpleasant. She closed the phone in her fist and set it down in her lap, out of sight beneath the table.

  “You need to answer that?” Jake asked, before she could resume the argument.

  “I have it on vibrate. It startled me, that’s all.” The pink scrape mark on her jaw stood out as the rest of her skin paled. She picked up Emma’s toy keys and gently cupped the baby’s face.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Jake didn’t buy the smile she gave him when she looked up to meet his assessing gaze. “I was assaulted last night. What do you expect? Of course I’m jumpy.”

  “Don’t give me that. You found out my name, tracked me down, dolled the kid up—all so you could feed me dinner? I’m not buying it.” He reached across the table take hold of the hand she rested there. Jake damned himself for doing it. He damned her for shifting her grip to hold on. “Something’s got you spooked. And whatever you just saw on your phone is part of it.”

  Setting her phone on top of the table, she showed him the message written there. “My assistant, Mark, keeps texting to tell me this woman I talked to before I left the shop has called three more times asking for me.”

  “What woman?”

  “I answered the first time because I thought she was a reporter.”

  “What woman, Robin? What did she say?”

  “It was a prank call. She sounded drunk. I’m assuming she read about me in the paper.”

  “And?” Her long, artistic fingers were like ice to the touch. And Jake couldn’t seem to stop from stroking his thumb against the pulse in her wrist, trying to instill some warmth into her.

  “She said I didn’t deserve her.” She was holding on with both hands now. “She said I should have died last night.”

  Jake concentrated every nerve on his grip to keep the surge of anger from fisting his hand too tightly around hers. “Lousy coward. You don’t believe that, do you?”

  “I don’t care what anyone says about me. But she was so adamant about how terrible a mother I am. I know I’m a single mom, but I do my best. I get tired sometimes, but I can support Emma on my own. She has a good doctor, a safe home...” A deep breath shuddered through her. “I read every book, I took classes—so I’d be ready when my chance to have a child came. I fought so hard to have a baby on my own. I don’t have that many years left when I can have a healthy pregnancy. But none of the relationships I’d been in were right for starting a family. And none of the science I tried took.” She pulled one hand from his and reached over to touch Emma’s cheek. “And then this little miracle fell into my lap. I wanted to adopt her as soon as I met her. It was love at first sight.”

  Even a blind man could see how much Robin adored her daughter and what a fiercely protective mother she was. “This crackpot said you didn’t deserve her? I’m assuming she didn’t give her name?”

  She shook her head. Her gray-blue eyes darkened like a starless night. Her fingers convulsed around his and Jake tightened his grip. “She said I put Emma in harm’s way last night.”

  The bastard who’d attacked Robin had put the baby in harm’s way. Did the sliced seat belt and tipped car seat mean that lowlife had been after Emma? Was the attack on Robin collateral damage to the unthinkable crime of kidnapping or hurting her infant daughter? Without thinking, Jake stretched his arm out to touch Emma. But at the last moment, he wised up and settled for returning the slobbery plastic keys to her surprisingly strong grasp. No sense completing a circle that had nothing to do with him—that shouldn’t be his concern.

  He let go of Robin, too. These weren’t his women to protect. He couldn’t be swayed by searching eyes and needy grasps. Curling both hands into fists, Jake tried to think like the tough guys on the IDs in his apartment. He had to think like that ruthless survivalist from his nightmares. “You didn’t recognize the phone number?”

  Robin rubbed her hands together on top of the table, perhaps missing his touch, more likely just feeling chilled again. “She’s only called the shop. I don’t have caller ID there. She didn’t tell me who she was, of course.”

  “How specific was the threat? Did she mention Emma’s name?” So his tone was a little sharper than he intended. That was the whole idea of being a tough guy, right?

  “No. But how does she know I’m not her real mother? Adoptions aren’t public record, and only my attorney and friends know I didn’t give birth to her. She talked to me like I’d done something wrong, like...like I’m the one who put Emma in danger. She sounded like she wanted to take Emma away from me.” He realized that Robin’s suspicions were following his own. “KCPD is focusing on the Rose Red Rapist. I’m trying to figure out who’s doctoring the books at my shop and stealing from me. Maybe there’s someone else out there none of us have thought of whom I need to be worried about.”

  “Why are you telling me?” Ah, hell. There it was—the trust in those pretty eyes. She was looking at him as though he was the go-to man who could save the day for her. He’d lost enough sleep already fighting that whole damsel in distress complex that could do nothing but get him into trouble. “I don’t do relationships, Robin. Of any kind. Don’t bring your troubles to me.”

  “You’re the one who asked. All I did was offer you dinner.” At last, a hint of color dotted her cheeks. Temper. Good. He could deal with anger a lot easier than he could deal with need and trust and trying to be this woman’s hero.

  “My mistake.” Jake slid out of the booth and stood up. “Montgomery!” he shouted at the detective, startling Emma. The little girl dropped her keys and burst into tears. Robin quickly unhooked the baby and lifted her into her arms, cooing comforting words and staring daggers at Jake as the detective looked up from his phone.

  “Making friends, Lonergan?” the detective asked.

  Wiseass. Jake ignored the knot of guilt that twisted in his stomach at making Emma cry. “Did you find out who owned the car I saw last night?”

  “Rental company. It’ll require a little more digging to get the driver’s name.”

  Good. KCPD needed to be working this case. Not him.

  “Ms. Carter has been getting harassing calls she needs to report.” Jake looked back at Robin, absorbing the disappointment that darkened her gaze. “You stay out of my life, lady. Don’t come to me again.”

  * * *

  “COME ON, SWEETIE.” ROBI
N DIDN’T know whether to feel anger or humiliation. Something was pulsing through every muscle as she pushed the stroller out the Shamrock Bar’s front door. “Did that big, scary man make you cry?”

  Robin adjusted the top of the stroller to shade Emma from the late-afternoon sun, and set off at a brisk walk. It had taken a good ten minutes to get Emma calmed down. Singing a soft lullaby, Robin had carried her back and forth through the tables at the Shamrock, while Jake disappeared into the back rooms. She’d reported the disturbing phone call to Detective Montgomery, then gathered her things and strapped Emma into her stroller as the first of the bar’s early customers wandered in.

  Had she really asked so much of Jake Lonergan? Was it beyond him to give a rat’s ass about anyone besides himself?

  One minute, he’d been transformed by Emma’s curious touches and squeals of delight. The next, he’d been loud and crude and pushing them away as fast as he could. His words said he wanted nothing to do with Robin, yet his touch—rough like a cat’s tongue and just as gentle—against her hands and wrist had told a different story. He’d offered comfort and strength, and had hinted at the inexplicable attraction smoldering between them. But he didn’t want dinner. He didn’t want a thank-you. He didn’t want to help and he didn’t want her. The man was completely infuriating and Robin had been a first-class fool to think he wanted to get any further involved with her problems.

  A car slowed down on the street and drifted toward the curb. Instinctively, Robin steered Emma closer to the brick and concrete block buildings and kept walking.

  “You can’t have it both ways, Lonergan,” she muttered. “Either you’re our friend or you’re—”

  The car’s passenger-side window went down, and she realized the car had been keeping pace with her. “Ms. Carter?”

  Huh? She jerked to a halt and glanced over at the driver—a man in his mid to late thirties. No one she knew. She took note that the car was black, not green, before shaking off the discomfiture of a stranger calling her by name and starting on her way again.

  But her reaction had been confirmation enough for the man to park his car and call out to her again. “It is you.”

  For a brief second, she imagined a black stocking mask, a leering glare and a baseball bat. But the driver wore a suit and tie. The skies were sunny and clear, her vision was good and her imagination was simply working overtime. She couldn’t afford to be spooked every time a man spoke to her. She shook her head and urged the stroller forward again. “I don’t know you.”

  He ignored the dismissal and got out of the car. “We’re practically family.”

  Other than a slight stutter in her step, Robin kept walking. Her parents had retired to Arizona and she was an only child. The only family she had in Kansas City was right here in this stroller.

  The man buttoned his suit jacket and followed her onto the sidewalk, falling into step a few paces behind her. “Ms. Carter, you’re going to have to talk to me. Either here or in a courtroom.”

  That stopped her. “A courtroom?” Keeping Emma and the stroller behind her, she turned to face him. Maybe six feet tall. Brown hair, green eyes, clean-shaven. Black suit and white shirt like an executive or an attorney would wear. She knew the type. But she didn’t know him. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage, Mr....?”

  “Houseman. William Houseman. My friends call me Bill.”

  “Are you a reporter, Mr. Houseman?”

  “No.” He reached inside his suit jacket and handed her a business card. Robin was half afraid to take it at first, but she supposed a man who meant her harm wouldn’t so readily identify himself.

  She verified his name on the card. “A banker?”

  “What I do for a living isn’t important. I just want you to have my contact information.”

  This one-way familiarity was getting on her nerves. Robin folded the card in her fist. “How do you know me? And don’t give me that family story again. We’ve never met.”

  Bill Houseman leaned to one side and smiled down at Emma. When he wiggled his finger in Emma’s direction and elicited a chortle, Robin pulled the stroller closer to her body. “Actually, your daughter and I are family.”

  A chill shivered down Robin’s spine despite the sun shining down on her. Was this another threat? “I’m her family. We have to go.”

  “I need only a few minutes of your time.”

  Traffic was picking up as employees in the nearby office buildings got off work. Robin hurried to catch up with a group leaving the business in front of her, but Houseman grabbed her arm. Robin shrugged him off. The people ahead were quickly disappearing into a parking garage. She wasn’t going to catch them and Bill Houseman apparently wasn’t going to leave her alone.

  “Ms. Carter, you and your daughter are in great danger.”

  The matter-of-fact statement stopped her in her tracks. “Is that a threat?”

  “Why? Do you feel threatened?”

  With a strange man following her? She took off again. “What do you think? Do you know something about what happened to me last night?”

  “I think you’ll want to have this conversation in private.” He didn’t slur his words or ramble the way the woman on the phone had. Yet the effect was the same. This man was a stranger—and he knew a lot more about her than any stranger should.

  She’d already passed a couple of buildings, but the intersection up ahead and her shop half a block beyond that seemed miles away. What would be her closest escape route? Going on to her shop? Back to the bar? Straight out into the middle of traffic where he couldn’t follow? With no promising option in sight, Robin spun around, trying a more confrontational tactic to get rid of the man strolling behind her. “Did you read about me in the paper? How did you find me?”

  “I knew you long before you made the headlines, Ms. Carter.” He called her bluff, smiling as he walked past her. But he stopped and turned in front of the stroller. “That’s a beautiful baby. What did you name her?”

  When he knelt in front of Emma, Robin jerked the stroller back. “Get away from her.”

  He smiled and rose to his feet. “I think she looks like a Hailey.”

  “What did you say?” The blood drained from Robin’s body, leaving her ice cold. That was Emma’s birth name—before the adoption. He did know her daughter. This wasn’t supposed to happen. “She isn’t Hailey anymore. She’s my daughter. If you want to talk to me, call my attorney and make an appointment.”

  With fear flagging every step, Robin pushed the stroller around him.

  He grabbed her arm as she hurried past, tightening his grip when she tried to shake him off. “This can’t wait. I have a favor to ask.”

  “Let go. If you’re who I think you are, you’re not supposed to have any contact with me. I’ll call the police. I know a detective back in the Shamrock Bar. He’s there right now.”

  “Do you really think you ought to be taking your daughter into a bar?” She could smell the cigarette smoke on his breath as he whispered against her ear. “What kind of mother does that? Do you really have this child’s best interests—?”

  “The lady said to let her go.” Jake Lonergan’s deep, menacing voice filled the air, washing over Robin like a protective hug and silencing the accusation in Bill Houseman’s voice.

  Houseman’s grip tightened before he released her and stepped back. “I have business with Ms. Carter.”

  “Not today, you don’t.”

  Robin wasted no time asking why Jake was here. She quickly pulled Emma back and stood beside him.

  Houseman straightened his cuffs beneath his suit jacket. Betraying either nerves or a sudden fastidiousness about his appearance, he adjusted his tie and collar, too. “One way or another, we will have this conversation. Preferably without your Neanderthal friend here. It’s important. A matter of life or death, I’m afraid.”

  “Whose? My baby’s?”

  Jake shifted at the possible threat, standing tall and immovable, his strong arms crossed over
his chest. He’d shed the green apron he’d had on in the bar and looked like some sort of human tank blocking the sidewalk. He’d come to Robin’s rescue. Again.

  “No. But it’s important. In a way, I’m trying to save you, too.”

  “From what?”

  Houseman seemed to consider continuing the conversation for about three seconds. His gaze skipped over Jake and he looked at Robin. “Please give me a call.”

  With a subtle shift in his stance, Jake was suddenly positioned between her and Houseman. He’d even barred Emma from the man’s direct line of sight. Although there seemed to be more that Houseman wanted to say, the man clearly didn’t want to push his luck with Jake there. After a nod to Robin and a ‘Bye, little one’ to Emma, he returned to his car, started the engine and drove away.

  “Thank you.” Robin flattened her palm against Jake’s back and felt him shiver at the unexpected touch. He moved away far too quickly to think she’d done anything more than startle him. Swallowing her pride, she let him put the distance between them that he apparently needed. “I didn’t handle that very well. I couldn’t think. I panicked. I guess I’m still rattled from last night.”

  “Is the kid okay?”

  “Yes. He touched her, but he didn’t hurt her.” Robin stooped down to check on Emma. Straps, secure. Blanket, fine. Blue eyes smiling and content. “I guess he didn’t do anything except...give me his business card.” She wound her fingers around the edge of the stroller as the strength ebbed from her. “I know this name. I didn’t know him, but the last name...I’ve seen it in legal documents.” She let Emma capture her finger in a tiny fist. “He said he was family.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Houseman. Emma’s birth mother—I never met her but...her last name is Houseman.” She held up the crumpled card for Jake to read. “Like him. Is he Emma’s father? Does he want her back? I can’t lose her.”

  Jake didn’t take the card or speculate an answer to her question. Instead, he cupped his hand beneath Robin’s elbow and pulled her to her feet. If she thought he was being polite or showing concern, she was mistaken. He positioned her behind the stroller and gave it a nudge, forcing her to grab on to the handle and get moving before he pushed Emma down the sidewalk without her. “Like I said before—tell the cops about that phone call. This guy, too. And quit wandering off on your own. I won’t always be here to save you.”