She looked at him. “What made them stop? I fell, I think, and hit my head. The next thing I remember was waking up here in the hospital.”
“They were interrupted,” Shane said. “Otherwise I’m sure they would have taken you with them.”
She shivered. “Are you saying they would have kidnapped me?”
“Yes.” He hesitated and she could see he was debating whether or not he should tell her something.
“What?” she asked. “What aren’t you saying?”
He shifted uncomfortably. “You’re going to hear about it anyway because we have roadblocks up all over town. The men who attacked you were interrupted by a little girl who’s only five. They kidnapped her instead and are holding her for ransom.”
Angela couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She wanted to cover her ears and make it all go away. She wanted to pretend that none of this had ever happened—that she’d stayed in Houston and not tried to start over somewhere else.
A child had been taken? “That doesn’t make sense. She wouldn’t know anything about any money. Why would they bother?”
“We suspect it was just a matter of her being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It doesn’t matter why. The point is if they can’t get their fortune from you, they’re going to get it another way.”
“Has the ransom been paid?” she asked.
He shook his head.
“If it isn’t…” But she couldn’t finish the sentence. If it wasn’t, those men would probably abandon the child to come after her.
Shane read her mind. “They could come after you, even if they do get the ransom. Thieves rarely think they have enough. That’s why when you leave the hospital tomorrow, you’re going to be under the protection of one of our officers.”
Three
The next morning Shane headed for Angela’s hospital room. He tried to ignore the report in his hands, much as he tried to ignore the faint sensation of guilt forming a rock in his belly. He had no reason to feel badly about anything. He’d only been doing his job. But the words didn’t sit right, not when he was talking about a young woman who had somehow gotten under his skin. In less than twenty-four hours, Angela Sheppard had turned his life upside down.
He who prided himself on getting the job done right the first time, had been reluctant to investigate her past. He hadn’t wanted to pry into the details of her personal life. The worst part was, he didn’t know if he was avoiding the truth for her sake or his own. He had a bad feeling it was the latter. Thoughts of her had kept him up most of the night. He wanted to tell himself it was just all his questions about the case, but he knew better. His imaginings hadn’t been about solving a crime—instead they’d involved green eyes and a ready smile.
“You’re crazy,” he told himself as he waited for the elevator.
Maybe he was. Not once in his life had he reacted this way to a woman. Not once had he found himself close to being overwhelmed. With Mary, his feelings had grown slowly. He’d made sure he’d known everything about her before risking his heart.
“Look how that turned out,” he grumbled under his breath. He would have sworn there wouldn’t be any surprises, yet Mary had left him and he hadn’t seen it coming. If he’d been that wrong about a woman he’d known for years, imagine how wrong he could be about one he’d known less than two days.
He exited the elevator, turned left and headed toward Angela’s room. He nodded at the police officer on guard duty, then knocked once and pushed open the door.
Angela stood by the window with her back to him. Sometime since his last visit she’d showered and dressed in street clothes. This morning she wore knit leggings and an oversize shirt that fell to mid-thigh. Her hair had been brushed into place and gleamed in the morning light.
She glanced over her shoulder and saw him. For a moment her eyes brightened and her full lips turned up in a welcoming smile. Shane felt a kick low in his gut, followed by a definite sensation of heat. He ignored both.
“You look better,” he said. “Did you sleep?”
She nodded, even as her lips straightened into a sad line. The collar of her shirt framed her heart-shaped face while the hunter green of the fabric nearly matched the color of her eyes. Even with bruises and a bandage by her temple, she was a pretty woman.
“There’s a lot going on in a hospital, even at night,” she said. “So I was awakened several times, but I feel better than I did yesterday. The doctor has already been by and told me I’m free to go.”
“That’s all good news.” He took a step toward her. “So why the long face?”
“I had another interview this morning,” she said. “With someone else from your department.” She shrugged. “It wasn’t anything other than what we’d already gone over, but it still upset me. I can’t help thinking about the little girl who was kidnapped. She’s alone with those horrible men and it’s all my fault. I haven’t remembered that much about my marriage, but I’m afraid of what my late husband might have done. What if Tom was a criminal of some kind? What if—”
He moved across the room until he was in front of her. “Stop it,” he said. “It’s not your fault.” He waved the folder he held. “The reason you were interviewed by someone else is that I spent the morning on the phone with several people, including your lawyer from Texas. You filed for divorce four years ago, but your husband refused to sign the papers. From what you’ve told your lawyer, you and Tom stopped living together about the same time.”
She stared at him as if waiting for more details, but he didn’t have any. Not about her living arrangements with her ex or any other man. Which brought up an interesting question. As if she knew what he was thinking, she pressed her hand against her stomach. If she and her husband had been living apart, who was the father of her child?
“In May of this year, you told your lawyer you wanted to pursue legal action forcing Tom to sign the divorce papers,” he continued. “Your lawyer told me that you were tired of having your life on hold. You’d just earned your teaching credential and wanted to make a fresh start. Less than a week later, Tom was killed in the car accident.”
Angela sighed. “I believe everything you’re telling me, but I only remember parts of it. I have a sense of having spent a lot of time alone, which makes sense, especially if I filed for divorce four years ago. It also explains why I’m sad about his death, but not destroyed. I had already mourned the death of our relationship.” She focused on his face. “What did you find out about Tom?”
“He wasn’t a criminal. At least not as far as I could find. He’d been involved in a couple of shady deals, but nothing even close to theft or kidnapping. None of his known friends or associates are into that kind of criminal activity, either. From what I could find out, Tom spent his life waiting to strike it rich, but he wasn’t going to rob a bank to make it happen.”
Her gaze searched his. “So Tom wasn’t horrible?”
“He wasn’t evil, if that’s what you’re asking. What happened in the parking lot, to you and to Sara, is not your fault.”
“I wish I could believe you. I wish I knew what those men had meant when they talked about the money.”
“You and me both,” he said. “Which brings me to what we touched on briefly last night. You can’t go back to your motel. Until this is cleared up, you’re going to have to stay under the protection of our department. You’re also going to have to stay in town to help with identification when the men are captured.”
Her good humor asserted itself. She put her hands on her hips and gave him a mock glare. “Do not even think about telling me that department protection means sleeping in jail.”
“Of course not. We have a safe house.” Shane paused. His boss had given him permission to offer it to Angela. Normally someone in her position would go to stay with friends, but as she didn’t have any in the area, they didn’t have many options.
“A female officer will be available to both protect you and keep you company.”
“O
kay. I guess I don’t have another choice in the matter.”
An idea popped into his brain. He’d been ignoring it for the better part of the morning, and he was determined to keep doing so. It didn’t make sense. It was crazy. It was—
“Or you could come stay with me.”
They stared at each other without blinking. He couldn’t say who was more startled—himself or Angela.
“It’s not much. The house, I mean,” he added quickly. “Three bedrooms and a couple of baths. I’ve been remodeling it, but I don’t have a lot of time off, so it’s been slow going. Anyway, there’s a guest room and privacy. I’m rarely there. The neighbors are nice. They wouldn’t be a bother but they’d be around enough to make you feel safe.” He shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. He hadn’t felt this nervous since he’d been sixteen and asked a girl out on his first date.
Her eyes widened slightly, then a smile tugged across her mouth. She pressed her hands together and shivered slightly, as if she’d just been crowned prom queen. “I’d love to stay with you.”
He suddenly felt as if he’d conquered the world, which made no sense. This was the damnedest situation he’d ever been in, but he wasn’t about to complain.
She was crazy, Angela told herself from the front seat of Shane’s black Explorer. Crazy to be pleased and excited at the thought of spending the next couple of days living with a sheriff’s deputy because there were men out in the world who might want to hurt her. Crazy to think she was anything but a mercy case for him. After all she was bruised, pregnant, and still confused about her past. Not exactly a prize. Besides, not by one flicker of his too long lashes had Shane indicated he was the least bit interested in her as anything other than part of his job. So he was the responsible type and he took his work seriously. Being conscientious was a long way from being attracted to someone. She would do well to remember that.
Except she couldn’t help stealing glances at him as they drove down the tree-lined street. His chiseled profile illustrated his strength. Shane was the kind of man a woman instinctively knew she could depend on. It was an unfamiliar feeling for Angela, but one she’d been searching for her whole life. The fact that his khaki uniform emphasized his well-built body was just an added bonus.
To distract herself from her host, she turned her attention to the view from the passenger’s side window. She’d loved Whitehorn from the first moment she’d driven into town and seeing Shane’s neighborhood now only intensified her feelings. The modest homes had been set on good-size lots. There was a sense of privacy but also one of belonging, as if neighbors cared about each other. The houses might be older, but they were well-maintained.
Her distant past was still blurry in places, but she remembered moving a lot as a kid. Most of the time she and her family had lived in rundown apartments. Things might have been a lot better if she and her siblings had lived in a place such as this.
“Here we are,” Shane said, turning into the driveway of a one-story house on the left side of the street. The paint looked fresh, and while most of the plants had gone dormant for the winter, everything was tidy and well kept.
“How lovely,” she said. “I adore the—”
But the words caught in her throat, because as Shane switched off the engine and reached for the door handle, two small children came barreling down the driveway. They were brown-haired, like Shane, and already talking a mile a minute, even though he hadn’t yet opened the door and it was impossible to hear them. Children? As in a family?
If she hadn’t known it to be a physical impossibility, she would have sworn her heart had frozen, becoming a solid chunk of ice in her chest. Which made no sense. Why did it matter to her if Shane had a family? They were practically strangers. But for some reason, it did matter. Very much.
“You’re married,” she said softly. “I should have realized. I’ll be a huge imposition for both you and your wife. I think you should take me to the safe house.”
“I’m not married,” he told her. “These two rug rats belong to my neighbors.”
With that he opened the door and stepped outside. Shane was instantly enveloped in childish hugs and giggles.
“Uncle Shane, Uncle Shane, I have a new truck,” the oldest of the two, a boy of about five or six, said. “Belinda wants to play with it, but I won’t let her, ‘cuz trucks aren’t for girls, right?”
“Me truck,” his younger sister said mutinously, then shoved her thumb in her mouth.
Angela opened the passenger side door of the Explorer and slid to the ground. As she circled around the front of the vehicle, she heard Shane patiently explaining that girls could play with trucks if they wanted to.
The boy shook his head violently. “No! Girls play with dolls.”
“I’m trying to tell him about equality of the sexes, but he’s not taking the information well,” a low female voice said.
Angela glanced up and saw a stunning brunette walking toward them. She was everything Angela had never been—tall, slender yet curvy, and incredibly beautiful. Huge brown eyes filled a perfect face. She wore jeans that emphasized long legs that stretched nearly to her shoulders. Her waist was impossibly tiny, yet she was full-breasted enough to be a centerfold.
“Hey, Nancy,” Shane said, rising to his feet. He took a step toward the woman and gave her a quick hug. “Why isn’t this one in school?” he asked, ruffling the boy’s hair.
“Teacher conferences. So they’re running me ragged, instead. I think we’re going to the movies later.” She winked. “I know how you love cartoons. Want to come?”
Angela swallowed hard, but the sensation of inadequacy stayed firmly lodged in her throat. She felt short, plump and very pregnant.
“Thanks, but I have to work.” He glanced over his shoulder and gave Angela a reassuring smile. “In the meantime, I have company. Angela Sheppard, this is my neighbor, Nancy Durning. This tough guy is J.J. and that pint-size princess is Belinda.”
“Welcome,” Nancy said as she smiled, but Angela saw the speculative gaze in the other woman’s eyes. No doubt she was wondering how Angela knew Shane and about the exact nature of their relationship.
“I need to get Angela settled,” Shane said, moving toward the rear of the Explorer. Once there he opened the hatch and removed her luggage.
J.J. raced over to him and tugged on his free arm. “Come with us, Uncle Shane. Please?”
Shane put down the suitcase, then crouched in front of the boy. “I can’t, partner. I have to work. But I tell you what. Next week I promise we’ll have a guys night out. Just the two of us. Pizza and soda and all the video games you can play.” He glanced at Nancy. “Is that all right with you?”
“Absolutely. You can even keep him out until seven-thirty.”
J.J.’s brown eyes widened. “Wow. That’s late.” He grinned and gave Shane a thumbs-up. “No girls, right?”
“Right.”
Shane winked at Nancy, then bent and tickled Belinda. “You be good, princess.”
She took her thumb out of her mouth long enough to give him an angelic smile, then she followed her mother and brother across the driveway to their own house.
Shane motioned for Angela to lead the way to the front door of his place. She did, then paused on the wide porch.
“It’s nice to be friendly with your neighbors,” she said with a warmth she didn’t feel. Women as statuesque as Nancy Durning had always intimidated her. In her head she knew that at four months, her pregnancy wasn’t showing all that much, but standing next to the suburban bombshell, she’d felt like a short mutant with a basketball-size belly—about as enticing as two-day-old fish.
“Nancy and her husband, Jerry, are good people. Before I head back to the station, I’ll drop by and explain about your situation. Nancy is home most of the time and she’ll be able to watch out for you. Also, she knows everyone, so if strangers start checking out the area, she’ll alert me right away. There will be an unmarked patrol car watching out for the kidnapper, bu
t someone familiar with the area is a good backup.”
He was only trying to help, Angela reminded herself. And her inadequacies were her own problem. She straightened her shoulders and resolved to put the feelings behind her.
Shane fished in his pants’ pockets for a key, then opened the front door. He paused to let her go in first.
The house was bright and tidy, with cream-colored walls and heavy masculine furniture. In the front room, an oversize sofa faced a huge television, surrounded by complex electronics. Several remote control devices had been lined up on the oak coffee table.
“I’ll show you how to use them,” he said, following her gaze. “It’s not as complicated as it looks.”
“Oh, I doubt that,” she said with a laugh, then trailed after him through the dining room and into the kitchen.
Evidence of his remodeling was clear here with new appliances and gleaming custom-painted cabinets. The room was as tidy as the living room, but also not decorated. There were no pictures on the walls or plants or other little touches that turned a house into a home. The only splashes of color in the white-on-white kitchen were the handmade pictures posted on the refrigerator. Obviously both J.J. and Belinda enjoyed making art for their uncle Shane.
She crossed the floor to study the pictures. “I love these,” she said, fingering a drawing of a vivid purple four-legged creature that might have been a horse. “You were great with those kids. It’s obvious that J.J. and Belinda adore you. You’re a natural father.”
When Shane didn’t answer, she turned to look at him. His expression was blank. “I don’t do kids.”
“Could have fooled me. Do you come from a large family?”
“No.” He hesitated. “My folks died when I was nine. I grew up in about a dozen different foster homes. I don’t do kids or commitments. All I know is moving on.”
Montana Mavericks Christmas Page 3