by Rebecca York
That could turn out to blow up in her face. But it had seemed like the only way to keep from looking like a nut.
She took her bottom lip between her teeth, wondering what she should have said and done.
It was useless to keep second-guessing herself. She was just going to have to act as normal as possible. Normal for a woman who’d just met a man who interested her. Not normal for a woman who was meeting the father of her child. A man she thought was dead.
Only there was no baby. Not yet. That was in the future.
Could she keep from getting pregnant? That was a leading question.
Did she want to keep from getting pregnant?
In the darkness of the car, she shook her head. If Jack got killed again, she wanted to have his child.
“Stop it,” she almost shouted, then spoke more calmly. “He’s not going to get killed. That’s why you’re here. To stop it from happening.”
She wished she could be sure of that.
The problem wasn’t the guy with the gun. It was whoever had sent him.
At least she was pretty sure they wouldn’t try the same method again. Because they wanted Jack’s death to look like an accident or a random act of violence where he was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. Which meant two different robbery attempts wouldn’t seem like chance.
Or would they?
She gripped the wheel, wishing she could stop her mind from going in circles like a hamster running on an exercise wheel.
She turned into the industrial park where she lived. Not one of the country’s upscale areas, but the low rent was a big inducement for the tenants.
There were no cars in the lot, only a few trucks, and she was suddenly aware of how isolated the location was. Hers was one of a long row of warehouses with varying purposes. Most were rented by businesses that didn’t feel the need for showy premises. The man who owned the space next to hers sold garden furniture there, although his primary job was insurance agent. A few doors down was a carpet company. Next to that was a dealer in pinball machines and other old arcade games. Beyond him was a co-op artists’ studio with stained glass and pottery.
The industrial park was busy during the day. But she was the only tenant who lived here, and usually she was the only person around at night.
She pulled around so that her car was facing outward, toward the strip of trees that bordered the other side of the parking lot. She’d always liked the way it gave a woodsy feel to an area that was otherwise devoid of charm. Tonight she peered into the darkness under the trees and shivered. As she imagined someone standing in the shadows, watching her.
The attack in Ellicott City had been aimed at Jack, but that didn’t necessarily mean she was safe.
She’d played a part in saving Jack tonight. Would the man with the gun report her involvement to the person who had hired him? Or would he want to skip over the news that a woman had slammed a pocketbook into his face?
Maybe she’d just directed the killer’s attention toward herself by getting personally involved, and maybe that meant she was in danger. Perhaps it would be a good idea to get a gun—and learn how to use it.
Lord, what if this time around she was the one who got killed and Jack survived?
As that new idea took hold, she shuddered. Quickly she got out of the car and crossed to the steps that led up to the loading dock. At one side was the door she used when she wasn’t emptying or loading the truck.
The security light didn’t go on, and she remembered that she needed to change the bulb. Better not put that off, she told herself, as she unlocked the door and stepped inside.
In the warehouse, another wave of unfamiliarity hit her. She’d been living here when she met Jack, but after he’d died and she’d found out she was pregnant, she’d started looking for another place to live, because she couldn’t raise a child in a warehouse.
Tonight she was back here. And Jack was going to pick her up here tomorrow. She switched on a light, trying to see the place from his point of view. This part of the building was filled with furniture that she used as needed at display houses. The sideboards, desks, armoires and tables tended to be older pieces that she’d found at garage sales and auctions, and refinished or refurbished. The chairs and sofas were mostly modern, since she wanted them to be comfortable. Along one wall were shelves of knickknacks and other small items that she used to create a homey feel at each property.
At the moment, there was something she needed to check.
She’d told Jack that she could go with him tomorrow to see the new Morgan offices because that was what had happened last time.
Was it still true that she had the day free?
She hurried to the back of the building and stepped through the door that separated her living quarters from the furniture storage.
Inside she’d made herself a cozy little efficiency apartment, if one ignored the industrial cinder-block walls and the high ceiling with the ductwork overhead. Her bed was on one wall, with an Indian spread and pillows that made it look like a couch. Several easy chairs came from her warehouse stock. Her computer was on an old library table. And she’d kept several cabinet pieces that she loved, a Victorian dresser and a chest of drawers. The clothing she needed to hang up was in a vintage armoire. At the end of the bed were open shelves where she stored her decorating books and some of the small items that might go out to various model houses.
The kitchen was along the wall opposite the bed. It had a small sink, an under-counter refrigerator, a two-burner stove and a microwave. The small bathroom was next to it. There was no tub, but a previous tenant had put in a shower.
After booting her computer, she quickly checked her calendar and was relieved to find she actually was free for tomorrow.
She was just checking her email when her cell phone rang. There was no landline in the warehouse, which had worked okay because she did a lot of her business through email.
She tensed, until she saw the caller ID. Jack.
How could she have forgotten that he’d called that evening to make sure she was okay?
Pressing the Receive icon, she raised the phone to her ear.
“Hi,” she said, thinking that she probably sounded a little breathy.
“I wanted to make sure you got home okay. And—you didn’t get my number.”
“Right. I was kind of scattered.”
“Understandable.”
He gave her his home and cell numbers, and she wrote them down, although she already knew them by heart.
“You’re okay?” he asked.
“Still a little spooked.”
“Likewise.” He waited a beat before asking, “What time should I pick you up tomorrow?”
“What’s convenient for you?”
“How about ten? We can do the police station bit, then look at the office spaces, then have some lunch.”
“That sounds good.”
There wasn’t much more to add to the conversation. Well, there was a whole lot more she wanted to say, but she knew none of it was appropriate at this stage in their relationship.
“Do you own a gun?” he suddenly asked.
She drew in a quick breath. She’d been thinking about that.
“No.”
“You should probably get one.”
“I’ve thought about it. Actually, my mom had one at the shop. And when I was a teenager, I took shooting lessons. So I know how to handle one.”
“But you don’t have one now?”
“No.”
“Maybe we should visit a gun shop.”
“Not a bad idea,” she said, thinking it wasn’t a very romantic line of conversation.
“It’s a date.” He laughed. “Well, a weird kind of date.”
“Practical.”
“I should let you go. You need to get some sleep.”
“You, too.”
“See you tomorrow.”
He hung up, and she sat with the phone in her hand, smiling to herself. How many guys would offer to tak
e a woman gun shopping? They were falling quickly into a comfortable relationship. Which gave her a warm feeling, until she thought about the job she had ahead of her. The job of saving his life. And maybe her own.
* * *
JACK REPLACED THE RECEIVER in the cradle and leaned back in the easy chair in his bedroom. He was feeling elated, and at the same time doubts crept into his mind.
It was a long time since he’d been so attracted to a woman, yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something odd about her. She seemed to be open and, at the same time, on guard. And sometimes he had the feeling that she knew what he was going to say before he opened his mouth.
He wished he didn’t want to second-guess everything that was happening between them. He wished he could just relax and enjoy himself with her.
And maybe he should.
Enjoy himself how far?
He’d had a girlfriend before he’d left for Afghanistan. Bonnie Worthington. He’d met her at one of his parents’ parties, and they’d hit it off. Mom and Dad had approved of his seeing her because she was from the right social class. But he hadn’t been sure he wanted to settle down with her for the rest of his life. Which was one of the reasons he’d enlisted and gone to officer-candidate school.
They’d corresponded while he was overseas. And she’d come to see him in the hospital when he’d come home. But he’d realized right away that his injuries spooked her.
Because he knew she wasn’t going to be comfortable with a disfigured man, he’d broken it off.
But her rejection had hurt, even when he’d known he wasn’t totally committed to her.
Ever since then, he’d been cautious about relationships. In fact, he hadn’t met anyone he wanted to spend a lot of time with—until Sara.
And what would she think when she saw his body?
Hating himself for caring about his looks, he pulled off his shoes and socks, then stood up, unbuttoned his shirt and draped it on the back of the chair. Finally he pulled off his jeans and underwear and turned to the full-length mirror on the back of the closet door.
His gaze went to his mangled leg, covered with scars. They’d saved it, and he could walk on the damn thing, but it was never going to look pretty.
There were more scars on his chest and belly. And, of course, his face.
She hadn’t been turned off by those, as far as he could tell. What about the rest?
As he thought about making love with her, his body reacted. With a snort, he turned away from the mirror. No problem with his male equipment.
Of course, she didn’t necessarily have to see him naked for him to make love with her. Yeah, or they could do it in the dark. But he didn’t want to go down that road.
He had just pulled on gym shorts and a T-shirt in preparation for his nightly session in the gym when the phone rang.
His heart leaped inside his chest when he thought it might be Sara calling back. When he saw the caller ID, he pressed his lips together, then answered.
“Are you all right?”
The voice on the other end of the line was his brother, Ted.
“I’m fine. Why do you ask?”
“Because somebody tried to rob you tonight.”
“How do you know that?”
“I have my sources.”
“One of your friends in the police department. Well, tell him I’m fine.”
“You were with that woman, Sara something or other.”
“Sara Carter.”
“The two of you ducked out before you got much of a look at the house.”
“I figure you’ll buy it if you want.”
“If I can get the price down a hundred thousand dollars.”
“Good luck with that.”
“The real-estate agent thinks the buyer might go for it.”
“Okay.” He considered telling Ted that he was hiring Sara to do the office-building job but decided against it. It might lead to an argument, and he wasn’t up for that tonight.
“Take care of yourself,” Ted said.
“I do.”
“I don’t like to think about you getting shot.”
“It came out okay.”
“Sara hit the guy with her purse?”
“Yes.”
Ted laughed. “You’ve got a live one on your hands.”
“I guess so,” he answered, then said, “I’m kind of worn out. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Just making sure everything’s okay.”
Jack hung up, thinking that he didn’t need a babysitter. But his family had been hovering around him ever since he’d come home. He could understand why they were being protective, but he didn’t have to like it.
Of course, he wasn’t sure exactly why Ted was being so solicitous. Maybe he wanted to report to Mom and Dad that he’d called. Or maybe he had his own reasons for checking up on his brother.
Sometimes he thought that Ted resented his coming back to the company. He’d had the future of Morgan Enterprises all to himself until Jack had stepped back into the picture with a leg that was never going to work quite right.
He headed for the basement recreation room he’d turned into a gym for the physical therapy that he rarely skipped. As he strapped on ankle weights and sat down on the edge of the padded table, he was still thinking about Ted.
He and his brother had never gotten along as kids. They were too close in age, and the rivalry between them had never subsided.
Jack was eighteen months older, which had given him somewhat of an advantage.
They’d both been on the high-school football team, but Jack had been the captain. They’d both gotten into top colleges, Jack to Harvard and Ted to Yale.
He did his leg curls, two sets of fifteen reps, rested for a few minutes and did them again. As always, he felt the strain in his left leg, but he knew he was getting stronger.
At least physically. But what about mental strength? Was he using Morgan Enterprises as a shelter? So that he didn’t have to make any big decisions about his future?
Ironically, one of the reasons he had gone into the army was to get away from Ted and the family. The Morgan brothers had both been expected to join the family business. Ted had liked the idea. Jack had wanted to strike off on his own. He’d been an excellent officer, and he’d seen himself rising through the ranks to maybe general. Ambitious, but the goal had been achievable until that roadside bomb had ended his chances.
There were wounded guys who stayed in the service. Jack had always felt sorry for them. They had a limited future, and he wasn’t interested in being promoted because the brass felt sorry for him.
Finished with the leg curls, he took off the weights and slipped a black band around his ankles. This was one of the exercises he hated most, but he did it anyway. Starting at one end of the recreation room, he began walking sideways, stretching out the band and bringing it back to the almost-slack position as he walked. He made himself do three laps back and forth, then lay down for some leg raises.
He switched his thoughts to Sara as he sat down at the leg press. Things just might be looking up. If the woman he’d met today turned out to be what she seemed.
And if he had the guts to let her see his mangled body.
Chapter Six
Jack Morgan’s nemesis paced the room, anger flaring even three hours after news of failure had come and gone.
War hero Jack Morgan should have died in a robbery on the street outside a restaurant in Ellicott City. Instead he was at home, probably tucked into bed.
Or down in the basement gym where he was trying to get his mangled body into a semblance of normality. And worked off his frustrations. Undoubtedly he had plenty of those. He hadn’t had a woman since he’d gotten home. And God knew how long before that, considering that little prude he’d been dating, Bonnie Worthington.
The war hero had reason to be worried about his body image, but he could always go down to Baltimore and find a hooker who wouldn’t say a word about his deformities, if h
e paid her enough.
Now there was a new wrinkle. A blonde named Sara Carter whom Jack had met by chance a few hours earlier.
Since they’d been together in Ellicott City, he must have asked her to dinner with him. Which was a serious break in Jack’s pattern of eating alone and sleeping alone.
So who was this Sara Carter person? If she kept seeing Jack, she needed to be investigated.
Apparently she’d saved the bastard’s life by slamming her purse into the head of the attacker.
Too bad she’d reacted so quickly. Maybe she had to be eliminated before she caused any more trouble.
Meanwhile the plan to eradicate Jack had to get back on track, because time was of the essence.
* * *
SARA WOKE UP WITH A START. She was in her little apartment at the back of the warehouse. For a moment she lay very still with her heart pounding, looking around.
She was still here.
The night before she’d lain awake for a long time, wondering if everything would disappear if she went to sleep. Finally, fatigue took over, and she closed her eyes, dreaming of being in a car sliding down an endless hill in the snow.
But she was awake now, and she was still at the warehouse.
It must be real. And she’d better hustle because she had an appointment with Jack this morning.
Eyeing the jar of instant coffee on the counter, she told herself it was okay to have some. She wasn’t pregnant, and she didn’t have to worry about what would be good for the baby.
Anxious to look her best, she took a quick shower and dressed carefully in a subdued paisley dress and dark heels. It was different from the outfit she’d worn the last time she’d lived through this particular day.
But that was then. This was now.
Was Jack really going to show up? And what would happen when he did? Last time he’d complimented her on the cozy living area she’d fixed up in the warehouse. Maybe this time he’d hate it.
When the buzzer at the front door of the warehouse sounded, she took one more look at herself in the full-length mirror propped against the wall beside the bathroom door. Her outfit was dressier than what she usually wore to work. Last time she’d worn her usual jeans and a knit top. This time she knew Jack wasn’t the only Morgan she was going to see today. At least, that was her assumption.