The Pregnancy Plot (Brothers In Arms: Retribution Book 2)

by Carol Ericson

  Then he pointed a finger at Kip. “You’d better get her out of here unless you want to see her get locked up for being drunk in public.”

  Jase steered her down the street, opening the umbrella over their heads.

  Nina glanced over her shoulder at both Kip and Chris helping Lou to her feet and Chris draping his jacket over her shoulders. Chris was that kind of guy, just like his brother used to be.

  When they got to the truck, Jase helped her in and then blasted the heat when he started the engine. He rested his hands on the steering wheel and stared straight ahead without putting the truck in gear.

  “Sorry, you know, sorry I did that.”

  She folded her hands across her belly. “How did you know I was pregnant?”

  His hands tightened around the steering wheel. “I don’t know. Little things. You didn’t drink alcohol. Your silhouette when you were all wet after I pulled you from the water. You put your hands on your stomach a lot.”

  “Do I?” She lifted her hands from her stomach and sighed.

  “I was waiting for you to tell me. I figured you’d do it in your own time, or, you know, you don’t owe me any explanations or anything.”

  “But why then?” She watched a droplet of water tremble on the end of a strand of hair and then fall to her thigh. “Why did you have to blurt it out at that moment—in front of Lou, in front of Chris?”

  “I don’t know.” He pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead. “I wanted to stop Lou without physically throwing her against a wall.”

  “Yeah, well, picking her up by the scruff of the neck did a pretty good job of stopping her.”

  “She was still moving and squirming. I knew the minute I let her go she’d resume her assault on you.”

  “Thanks for stepping in, but I wish you hadn’t let the cat out of the bag about my pregnancy.”

  He drummed his thumbs against the steering wheel. “Why didn’t you tell Chris it was Simon’s? It is Simon’s, isn’t it?”

  “Of course he’s Simon’s.”

  “You’re having a boy?” Jase turned toward her, but his gaze shifted over her shoulder to stare into the wet night.

  “Yes, and I didn’t want to tell Chris because I didn’t want to complicate his life even more than it is. He’s so hell-bent on finding Simon and so convinced that he’s going to have some wonderful, brotherly reunion, I didn’t want to dump this on him, too.”

  “Are you ever going to tell him?”

  She patted her cell phone in her purse. “I have his info. I’ll tell him later when everything settles down, and if he wants to be an uncle to the baby, that’s fine. He seems like a decent guy.”

  His eyes locked on to hers. “You’re not trying to keep this pregnancy from Simon, are you?”

  “God, no. I wouldn’t do that. But as you can tell from Chris’s fruitless search, Simon is not an easy guy to find. But if he is stalking me, he needs to get help before I tell him anything.”

  As always when she started talking about Simon, Jase’s face closed down and shutters came down over his eyes. He started the truck. “Why do you think Lou went off like that?”

  “Because she’s unbalanced, and the way she self-medicates with booze and drugs only makes her worse. She needs a good treatment facility. Dad offered many times to pay for it, but she refused.”

  He checked the rearview mirror and pulled onto the street. “I think she could be a danger to you and the baby, Nina, and I think you’re fooling yourself if you think her stunt with the boat and her attack tonight weren’t meant to cause you physical harm.”

  “You’re probably right.” She twisted her fingers together and leaned her head against the cool glass of the window. “I came up here to Break Island to get away from the fear and the tension, and it looks like they followed me.”

  “Do you really think Simon is stalking you?”

  She hadn’t meant to harp on her suspicions, especially since Jase was taking this protectiveness thing to a whole new level.

  “I don’t have any reason to believe he is. When we split up, he left—no begging, no threats—it was as if he couldn’t care less. I don’t know why he would be stalking me, but I can’t think of anyone else who would tamper with my car and lie in wait for me in a parking structure.”

  “What?” He slammed on the brakes in the middle of the road and the truck’s back tires fishtailed.

  She grabbed the dashboard. “For being an overly protective type, you should learn to drive more carefully.”

  “Someone tampered with your car? You didn’t mention that before.”

  “I’m not really sure. I had no proof, but my car had been working just fine before that and it sure seemed like there was a car following me.”

  “When did this happen? Right after Simon left or later?”

  “Not right away. It was later, after I discovered I was pregnant. That’s why I suspected Simon. I figured maybe he found out about the baby and got some weird notion in his head to start following me around—maybe to see if the baby was his.”

  “You never saw him?”

  “Oh, I saw flashes of red hair here and there.” She tugged on her earlobe. “Just like today, only today I matched the hair to a real person. In LA, I was never able to do that. I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know what?” He’d continued driving and Moonstones came into view.

  “I thought the hormones were making me paranoid. At least here on Break Island, Lou really is after me. It’s not all in my head.”

  “Do you believe the feelings you had in LA were all in your head?”

  She planted her hands on her knees and hunched forward. “The feelings I had were real. Whether or not those feelings were based on anything real is another story. Does that make sense?”

  “Yep.”

  They dashed through the rain, and when they stepped inside the B and B, Jase hung up the umbrella on a hook by the front door. “I’m going to get that fire going. You go get into some dry clothes, or better yet, some warm pajamas. Do you want some warm milk? Tea?”

  “I’ll take some tea.” She turned at the hallway that led to the back of the house. “Are you always this bossy, Jase Buckley?”

  “This is nothing.”

  She disappeared into the back, and Jase strode to the fireplace and prodded the charred wood from yesterday’s fire. He hoisted a few more pieces onto the grate and tucked some kindling into the spaces.

  In two minutes, he had the flames dancing across the wood and he stared into the flickers of orange and gold. How could he have been so stupid?

  Straight up, he wouldn’t be able to tell if a woman was pregnant any more than he’d be able to tell what she ate for dinner. He must’ve bluffed his way through that one, because she seemed to believe his line of bull.

  If the boss could’ve seen his performance tonight out on that sidewalk, Coburn would’ve questioned his sanity.

  Nina had been faster on her feet than he’d been, telling Chris that Simon wasn’t the father. All he needed was for Chris Kitchens to be hanging around Nina, bringing up Simon every other minute.

  Man, he felt for the guy. Waiting all this time to track down his brother only months after that brother had died. Once Prospero and the CIA could straighten things out regarding Simon Skinner’s story, they’d have to notify Chris...and Nina.

  Maybe he’d be long gone by then, out of Nina’s life.

  Had she been right about her suspicions in LA? She might believe it was Simon who’d been stalking her, but he knew that couldn’t be true. Prospero had finally confirmed Max Duvall’s story, and even if they never recovered Simon’s body, they had no reason to doubt that Duvall had killed him in self-defense. But if not Simon, who?

  Would her stepsister have gone down to LA to watch Nina
? Stalking didn’t seem to be Lou’s style. She preferred an all-out, in-your-face attack.

  Could the boss be right again? Had Tempest already been following Nina in LA? For what purpose? She knew nothing about Simon’s work.

  “You’re hogging all the warmth.”

  Still crouching in front of the fireplace and a now-blazing fire, he cranked his head around. Nina had wrapped herself in a pink robe that matched her cheeks. She’d dried her hair and it floated around her shoulders like a cloud.

  “The flames can be hypnotic.” He rose to his feet and stretched. “And I didn’t make your tea.”

  “I can make my own tea.”

  “Sit.” He pointed to the chair across from the fireplace. “I’m bossy, remember?”

  “It’s sweet of you to be so concerned, but I’m not going to break.”

  “Sweet?” He scratched his jaw. “That’s the first time that adjective’s ever been used to describe me.”

  “Oh, please.” She settled into the chair and curled her long legs beneath her. “You’re probably great with your nieces and nephews, too.”

  “Nieces and nephews? That’s a laugh. My sister’s the type who would eat her young.” He crossed into the kitchen and started filling the kettle with water.

  “Really? I’m surprised.”

  “You don’t know my sister.”

  “No, I mean I’m surprised you’re not an uncle. I would’ve thought the way you picked up on my pregnancy, you’d been around a pregnant woman before. I just assumed your sister...”

  He swore under his breath. He was getting himself in deeper and deeper here. He had to stop acting so natural around Nina. This wasn’t natural.

  He wasn’t writing a book. He didn’t need to work as a handyman to make money. He hadn’t recognized any signs that she was pregnant. His agency had spied on her.

  “A lot of my buddies have been getting married lately and having kids. Seems like a new baby popped out every other month.”

  He folded his arms and leaned against the counter that separated the kitchen from the sitting room.

  “I suppose these things do run in cycles.” She held her hands out to the fire. “You’re sure you’re not married with five children at home?”

  He forced a laugh and then gratefully turned toward the whistling kettle. “Seven.”

  “Seven what?”

  “Kids.”

  She laughed, but it was a tight, mirthless sound. She doubted him.

  He had to come clean, had to tell her about Simon—at least the part where he was dead. Coburn had wanted to verify Simon’s death and parts of Max Duvall’s story before releasing any information to Simon’s loved ones. Nina still counted as a loved one, since Simon was the father of the baby she was carrying.

  Poor little thing—no daddy from the get-go.

  He poured the hot water over the tea bag and carried the cup to her, still curled up in the oversize chair.

  She thanked him and winked. “You’re not joining me this time?”

  “I discovered I don’t like hot tea.”

  “I have cold beer in the fridge.”

  “After the day I had, I’m going to take you up on that offer.” He returned to the kitchen and peered into the fridge at three bottles lined up on the shelf. “Are these all local breweries?”

  “I have three cases in the storage room and put one of each type in the fridge, just in case. They’re all good.”

  He grabbed a pale ale with an interesting label and used a bottle opener to pop the top. He settled into the love seat closest to hers, just like last night.

  Only everything between them had changed.

  “Don’t you think it would’ve been a better idea to have this baby in your home city with your friends around?”

  “I have friends here—a different type of friend, people who knew my parents, women who cooked for my dad during Mom’s illness—the type of friend that will be here for me when the time comes.”

  “You don’t have those kinds of friends in LA?”

  “I have good friends there, friends to lunch with, meet at coffeehouses, attend concerts with, but not the kind to watch a baby in a pinch or know how to put together a crib or who know a home remedy for colic.” She blew on her tea and sipped it. “Those people are here, and I need those people around me now.”

  “I’m sorry...sorry Simon’s not in the picture.”

  “I’m not.” She uncurled her legs and wiggled her toes. “Not the way he was acting. I didn’t need another unhinged person in my life—Lou is more than enough.”

  “That’s for sure.” He whistled between his teeth. “I couldn’t believe it when I saw her take a flying leap at you. I still think you could’ve taken her down, pregnant or not, if she hadn’t surprised you.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I’m not going to get into a brawl with my stepsister in the middle of the street.”

  “It makes sense that you kicked Simon out so quickly after what you’ve had to deal with in your own family.”

  She sucked in some tea and then choked on it. “I didn’t kick Simon out all that quickly. I encouraged him to get help. I called a psychologist friend of mine. I called the Department of Veterans Affairs.”

  “What was he doing? What was he saying?”

  “He’d come home from an assignment—” she circled her finger in the air “—he traveled a lot. Worked for the government but couldn’t talk about his job much. When he’d get home, he’d lock all the doors and draw the blinds. Sometimes he’d sit for days in front of the TV with a gun in his hand.”

  “You didn’t feel threatened?”

  “Not then. His anger and paranoia weren’t addressed at me. He kept saying we weren’t safe, that if they found out about him, they’d come and get him.”

  “Did he ever identify who they were?” He rubbed the stubble on his chin. This account sounded similar to the types of things Max Duvall had been claiming.

  “He never got into it, wouldn’t answer me.” Hugging herself, she continued. “Then the ranting started alternating with the violence. He’d punch holes in the wall or kick a piece of furniture to pieces.”

  “That must’ve been scary, even if it wasn’t aimed at you.”

  “That’s the thing.” She clasped her hands between her knees. “The last time he was home, he started going on and on about how I was next, how they wouldn’t leave me alone, either.”

  Did Simon Skinner’s ranting hold more truth than paranoia? “And that was the final straw?”

  “It freaked me out. I still had no idea who he was talking about. Maybe he was talking about himself. I’d been bugging him for weeks to get help, but he refused. When I gave him an ultimatum—get help or leave—he left.”

  “Would you have made good on your threat?”

  “I’d like to think so, but the final punch to the gut was his warning to me never to look him up or contact him again.”

  “You respected his wishes?”

  “About not contacting him?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Up until the time I found out I was pregnant. Then I did everything in my power to find him to tell him, even though I wasn’t sure what kind of role he’d play in the baby’s life.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “Not a whole lot made sense at that time, but I sort of have a theory about how it all went down.”

  “I’m listening.”

  He wasn’t kidding. Jase had scooted to the edge of the deep chair, bracing his forearms against his knees and hunching forward. He’d been absorbing every detail of her story from the beginning. How was this guy even still single?

  “I think Simon found out I was looking for him and why. He knew I wouldn’t let him be a f
ather to the baby unless he checked into a treatment facility or went to the VA. Not being ready for that or even believing he needed that, he decided to stalk me instead. Until yesterday when I spotted Chris Kitchens, I figured Simon had given up when I came out here. It’s kind of hard to hide on a small island like this.”

  Jase had covered his face with his hands, digging the tips of his fingers into his thick brown hair.

  “What? Do you think that’s far-fetched?”

  He parted his fingers and peered at her through the spaces. “I don’t know, Nina. I think you should try to put Simon out of your mind right now. Concentrate on staying relaxed and happy. That’s what you’re here for, right? And I’m here to write and help you get this place in working order.”

  She rolled her shoulders back and slumped in the chair. “You’re right. Simon’s going to come back or he’s not. Maybe Chris will have better luck.”

  Jase sat back and wrapped his long fingers around his sweating bottle. He tipped the rest of the contents down his throat. “That’s good stuff.”

  “Do you want another?”

  “I’m tired enough as it is. I worked all morning on the fence, fetched you, your groceries and a total stranger who turned your world upside down, fought off a wild Tasmanian devil and let a huge cat out of the bag. I’m ready to hit the sack.”

  She raised her arms above her head and yawned. “When you put it that way, but you need to promise me something, Jase Buckley.”

  “Anything.” He rose from the chair, beer bottle in hand, and then swooped down to sweep up her cup.

  “You need to promise me you’ll do some writing tomorrow.” She pushed up from the chair and hugged the robe around her body. “I feel so guilty. You came to Break Island to write and you’ve been entangled in my family drama.”

  As he turned toward the kitchen, he shrugged. “Family drama’s good for my writing.”

  She paused at the hallway leading back to her living area. “Thanks, Jase, for being there, for everything.”