How in hell was he going to introduce the topic of the baby? He had to know, be able to confirm or shrug aside the gossip in the doctor’s office.
The hum of the motor added a cadence to his thoughts as he rehearsed what he wanted to say and intended to ask. He shifted into drive. In front of them, a navy minivan raced out of the parking lot, disregarding speed limits.
John slowly pulled into the center of the lane and merged with the heavy traffic. He didn’t mind the slow progress–it gave him time to sort information. Mary’s focus remained on the window. Two stops later, he’d decided how to approach the donor topic and glanced at her. “Mary, I want to ask–”
She pointed with her index finger to the right. “Look, there’s Bailey’s Pharmacy, exactly where the nurse said it would be.”
He drove into the parking lot. The blue van, visible in his rearview mirror, turned as well. The driver was a woman, shoulder length white hair, large red lips and enormous gold hoop earrings. How had she gotten behind them? Seatbelt snapped free from the latch, he released his cellphone. He absolutely hated field work.
“Why don’t you stay here? You can see me enter and exit. I’ll run in, get the scrip filled and be right out.”
Torn between needing to protect her and getting the license plate number of the vehicle, he surveyed the lot. Half-filled. He’d parked near the pharmacy’s glass entrance. “Fine, in and out. Do you have the cell?”
“Yes.” She sighed as if the question was ridiculous.
Mary hurried into the pharmacy. A few minutes later a narrow-faced bleached blonde reached her bony fingers to tug her red dress free from clinging to her black overcoat, and walked past him.
He waited until she crossed over the threshold of the entrance. Extracting his keys, he got outside the car and glanced at the van’s green license plate. The sun hadn’t burnt off the fog, and the gold star on the tin stood out like a beacon in the grayness. Mary stood at the check-out.
John dialed Debbie.
“I’m driving through hell, what do you want?” Debbie answered.
“Ah, at the turnpike are you?” Debbie hated driving in heavy traffic. He ran toward the entrance of the pharmacy. His gut twisted into knots. Something wasn’t right.
“Damn. Move!” Debbie snarled.
Mary closed her handbag, grabbed the paper sack, and the electric double doors opened. “Debbie, I need you to check out two things, Lance Secreast, gynecologist, and Vermont license plate number three-oh-oh-seven.”
“Hum, the plot thickens. What does he have to do with the case?”
“Not sure. The license plate is on a navy blue minivan, Honda Odyssey. I urgently need the data on the van as a female, Caucasian, forties, is following us.” John looked past Mary and into the store. Where was the blonde?
“Right. Stay out of trouble, Kajiyama.” Click clack and the call ended. He stowed the phone on his belt holder.
John met Mary and wrapped his arm around her waist. They walked to his black BMW. Her muscles tensed under his hand, but he ignored the change and tugged the handle on the passenger side. Her seatbelt on, he shut her door and then climbed behind the driver’s wheel. He glanced at her. “Want some lunch?”
“Devon mentioned a diner at the edge of town called Last Chance. What do you think about trying authentic local cuisine?”
“Fantastic.” His focus remained on the pharmacy.
“Is everything okay?”
“Umm-hum, just cautious.” He started the engine.
* * * *
The impending snow had created a gray pall on the day. Not even the quaint ranch-style restaurant cheered him. No neon signs for Last Chance. A simple wooden shingle swung on chains a few feet from the short staircase leading to the wrap-around porch. A light freezing wind blew the sign, making the links squeak as it moved to and fro in the breeze. Fresh fallen snow had created a frosting on the roof and banister of the porch. Fortunately, the sidewalks had been shoveled. Smokers puffed on cigarettes or cigars as they rocked in chairs, keeping to the right of the door. How could they tolerate the frigid whisks of air?
“The building is adorable. What do you think? Want to try original Vermont fare?” Mary had taken the words from the billboard. Her seatbelt zipped into its holder.
“Let’s get carry out.”
“I’m starving and I need to see people,” she whined.
“Eat and leave. You stay with me the entire time.” Releasing the fastener of his safety belt, he glanced in the mirrors. His gut instinct told him to avoid the place.
She stared at him as if he were an alien. “All right.”
He flew around the car, threw open her door and clasped her hand in his. He held onto her, not wanting to lose any connection. A quick trip up the stairs and they were inside, smelling a bit of heaven as the aroma of pancakes with sweet maple syrup mingled with roasted meat.
He inhaled. “I can’t decide which scent I like best.”
“Umm, I know.” Mary bit her perfect-shaped lip.
A public notice was posted at the end of the short hall. “Find a seat wherever you can, and I’ll be right with you. That must be a motto in Vermont.” John glanced through the area, noting each diner within sight. The building was L-shaped, so part of the dining room was not visible. He didn’t see bearded Waterman, nor the blonde.
“There’s a booth over there.” Mary strode to the left.
“Partially hidden behind a wall and near the restrooms?”
“Might be kind of convenient,” she said and rubbed her lower stomach. “I like the country atmosphere, the mismatched dishes under gingham cloths. The wooden chairs and fake daisies on the tables add ambience. I’m sure the food is so good, you won’t notice the bathrooms.”
She was hungry, so he’d ignore the fact the seating wasn’t a prime spot for dining or for viewing the entrance.
“All right. Lead the way.”
Her cute derriere wiggling, she forged a path to the booth. She slid onto the seat facing the restroom, which placed him toward the entrance and exit. Instead of scooting to the middle of the soft red bench, he stayed near the edge, keeping a partial view of the door in sight. No doubt the blonde would be coming into the restaurant, and he’d be ready when she arrived.
Mary had settled on the low dipping seat, straightened her blouse, and focused on the faded yellow rose-embossed wallpaper. He loved her. Regardless of what her intent had been on the cruise ship, he’d forgive her, and hopefully after the threat to her life had been resolved, they could build a relationship together. A family.
“Hello.” The server’s lacy name badge indicated she was Ida. She held a black round tray in her hand. She slid two glasses of water onto the table without spilling a drop and placed a basket of yeast biscuits dead center. The fresh, delicious aroma made all his qualms about the restroom disappear. However, not having a good visual on the front entrance bothered him. He’d encourage Mary to shove the food down, and they’d be out the door within minutes.
“Here are a couple of menus. Today’s specials are beef brisket, fresh salmon, or if you’re inclined, waffles with authentic maple syrup. What would you like to drink?” Two bread plates clicked as they connected with the crystal. Ida switched the tray to rest under her arm.
“Glass of milk.” Mary shrugged out of her coat. Regardless of his sweatshirt underneath, he planned to leave his jacket on for a little longer. His blood was southern thin.
“Coffee for me.” John glanced into Ida’s sparkling blue eyes. A slight grin indicated she saw something. Was his love for Mary so obvious even a server, a stranger, read his emotions? He had to get off field duty. Some of his skills sucked.
“I’ll give you two a few minutes to decide.” Ida’s voice softened, from business let’s-get-this-done to sweet and motherly.
Mary tore into a biscuit and dropped the two halves on the plate. She smeared butter on top. “She’s nice.”
“Yes.” He couldn’t get the words to exit his mou
th. No number of interrogations or lessons in public speaking would help him during this intimate conversation.
The bread dripped butter as she squeezed it between her lips. Eyes closed, she moaned, a soft, sexy sound. She hadn’t opened her eyelids as she delicately chewed. John could almost hear whimpers coming from down deep in her throat. Finished crunching, she licked her lips. His cock pressed against the cotton of his Dockers, and he knew if she repeated the action, with a louder groan, he’d explode right there in the tiny booth.
“This is good, you should try one.” She took a sip of her water.
He met her gaze.
“Oh.” She coughed into her napkin. “John, I’ve something–”
“Have you decided?” Ida held a steaming carafe and a coffee cup in one hand and a glass of milk in the other. She placed the tumbler in front of Mary and poured the coffee. John briefly glanced at her, the main door, and then at Mary.
“Maybe I should come back in a few minutes?”
“Yes, thank you, Ida,” he replied, shifted the coffee to the right, and folded his hands on the dark green checkered cloth.
Having finished the biscuit half, Mary took a drink of the milk and wiped her mouth with the soft paper. She played with the toggle on her purse.
A server refreshed the coffee for the people in the next booth.
Was Mary ready to announce the undisclosed? A secret he was afraid he already knew. “You were saying?”
He added a smile, a reassuring grin to let her know whatever the announcement, she was safe with him.
* * * *
Mary cleared her throat. The time was right to tell him the truth. She’d unconsciously tricked him, and now he was going to be a father. Just say it. Let the conception announcement become the bandage, and with one swift zip, the fear of pain, of the unknown, would be over. But what if he thought she’d used him to get with child? She hadn’t, maybe in her subconscious, but not outright. Conrad frightening her in the hallway had scared her into thinking she’d never be able to act on the donor list. At dinner she’d drunk wine, which sealed her acceptance that conception was a thing of the past.
John, unlike any other man she’d ever been attracted to, didn’t meet her dating criteria. He had dark hair, brown eyes and golden skin. His high intellect and determination scared her. She closed her eyes. Their children would be undeniably beautiful!
He waited, not saying anything, not distracted by the pungent coffee filtering into the air between them. His penetrating stare made her throat shut.
She gasped for breath, dreading the outcome. “Did I tell you my mother, Laurie, was a member of a circus act before she met my father?”
He shook his head and a glint of amusement rippled across his eyes. “No.”
“She was a knife thrower, with The Cutting Edge, and exceedingly good.” She swallowed. “Family business. I still have some distant cousins tossing the blade. My mother always claimed that she scared the sperm out of my father, which was the reason she couldn’t have another child.” Mary winked. “They argued a lot. The older they got and the longer they were together, the friendly disagreements became more frequent.”
“You were an only child because of procreation problems?” Apparently unable to resist the scent of the coffee, he wove a finger through the loop on the mug and took a sip.
“Yes. Last year I discovered I had reproduction issues.” She licked her lips. “I was under fertility management when my boyfriend robbed the bank.”
John let go of the cup. The jerky movement spilled coffee on the table. “Sorry. Clumsy.”
He quickly cleaned the hot liquid, using a napkin. “So your visit today was because you found out you’re pregnant.”
Her heart beat faster than the drip coffee maker a few feet away. The gallon of water she’d drunk so she could pee in a cup at the doctor’s office suddenly pressed against her bladder. Crap, her show and tell wasn’t going well. He probably thought she got pregnant by her loser ex. “Yes, I’m four weeks pregnant.”
His fists tightened on the napkin. “The bartender?”
Abort. Abort conversation right now. “Why would you say such a thing?”
For the first time since she’d known John Kajiyama, his face flushed red, and his eyes narrowed to slits. “Because of the sperm donor list. I wasn’t a candidate.”
Her worst fears were spread out on the table. “Excuse me. I need to use the facilities.”
“Mary,” he said, a beseeching quality to his tone.
She bent and picked up her fallen coat, stuffing it on the seat. With shaking hands, she tossed the shoulder strap of her purse over her arm and hurried to the women’s restroom.
Chapter 23
John hit the table with his fist. Ceramic dishes rattled and his spoon clinked as it smashed against the wooden floorboards. He held onto the cup. Uncomfortable with the couple staring at him from the next booth, he bent to pick up the fallen silverware. A flash of red appeared in the corner of his vision, an older woman with bright white-blond hair.
He came upright in time to see the women’s restroom door close. Damn. A quick glance around the restaurant didn’t prove someone had left a black coat on a chair. He ran to the entrance, stepped out. The navy van was parked near the street. The vehicles were covered with snow. Damn, what kind of protector was he?
Pivoting, he returned inside. Ida held the tray under her arm and chatted with a couple of bearded men at a table. “Ida, did you see a woman, blond hair, black overcoat and red dress?
“Yep, her and your wife just walked out the side door.” Ida pointed her bright crimson fingernail toward the restrooms.
“Fuck! Ida, call the police. Kidnapping.” His heart hurt and his breathing had stopped, so he prayed he could run. His legs carried him forward. He whipped his Glock from the hard leather of his shoulder holster and threw open the creaky wood door leading outside.
Mary struggled with the woman. She dug her fingers into the attacker’s coat and repeatedly kicked her heel against the kidnapper’s shin.
John ran forward. “Let go of her.”
The woman let go of Mary’s arm and twisted, so only her side was visible.
“Mary, run!” John’s shooting average was decent, not sharpshooter perfect. Regardless, he’d take the kidnapper down. But the woman still held Mary. Their frosty breaths clouded the air. The click of his safety being disengaged vibrated off the metal of the cars.
“John!” Mary screamed. She hadn’t moved.
“Go.”
“She can’t, there’s a .38 pointed directly in line with her stomach. Our little jewel thief moves one inch, and bang.” The aggressor made a slicing motion in the air. Her voice was deep, and an Adam’s apple moved as she spoke. Without a wig and breasts, the attacker would match Waterman’s mug shot.
“Where’s the diamonds, bitch?” Waterman asked.
“I’ll take you to them, just don’t hurt me.” Mary met John’s gaze, then nodded toward the ground.
“We’ll work out a deal, Waterman, if you let her go.” John centered on the kidnapper’s shoulder, holding steady.
Mary jerked, glanced at John, and then fell backward. Supported by a fender, she didn’t hit the ground.
Waterman bent. John let off a shot and hit the cross-dresser exactly where he’d aimed. Waterman dropped the gun and screamed like a banshee. Arms outstretched, he scuttled toward his vehicle.
Heart racing, John rushed forward.
A knife sliced through the air, sticking into Waterman’s forearm like a hunk of meat being cleaved.
Mary’s hand dropped, and then she fell to the snow-blanketed pavement.
* * * *
John flipped on the desk lamp in an attempt to fight off the gloom of darkness. Late afternoon, the day before Thanksgiving, the Atlantic Coast Investigation Florida offices were vacant. The other agents and staff had left early to travel, or welcome loved ones into their homes.
Loved ones! The regular beat of his heart
suddenly stopped as if a mini-death had occurred. Mary was the one he loved. Upon release from the emergency room, she’d insisted on returning to Bushard’s guest house.
The next day John had escorted her to South Carolina. No soft endearments were spoken. After her collapse he was afraid of her fragility, so he didn’t bring up the subject of the baby or, regrettably, his love for her. She’d slept on the plane and her grandfather had met her at the airport. Her sad eyes had held a glint of hope. They had to talk.
Two days had passed before John crashed on his sofa in Fort Myers, and slept for a solid sixteen hours. He’d dreamed of her. Not of her being attacked by the two men, or in a hospital room, but of her walking into his apartment. She’d greet him with a kiss and say she’d missed him and they’d snuggle like lovers.
He had been a fool to imagine such a romantic scenario. She’d misled him about the diamonds and used him to obtain what her heart desired. The ER doctor had warned her to rest. Was she taking care of their baby?
John shook his moroseness aside, left the cold empty office, and drove to his equally barren home. For the tenth time, he reviewed the cruise ship’s security footage, watching for her reaction to each public encounter, paying particular attention to when they were together. Her eyes expressed her thoughts, in contradiction to her body language.
She fell into his cabin and into his arms. At the time, he couldn’t get past her floral scented soft skin and perfect perky nipples. Today he looked beyond the obvious, noted her surprise and exhaustion. She’d hit the cruise ship running and hadn’t stopped her trot until a few days ago.
Relieved of any responsibility for the theft, she’d been released. He’d see her again at the trials, but currently she was worry free. Her grandfather had been cordial. He’d given her a hug, but he seemed cold and distant. John considered calling, but why hadn’t she contacted him? Since his outburst at the restaurant in Cage, Vermont, they’d exchanged a few simple words and no promises of tomorrow. Where was she now? In her home in Keefe, with her friends surrounding her?
Jewel Hiest Page 19