Protecting Their Baby

by Sheri WhiteFeather

  Lisa nodded and smiled. She stood next to Allie, who was tall and trim with straight dark hair that fell to her waist. She wore gypsy clothes and lots of jewelry. On her left hand was an engagement ring.

  She was different than Lisa had pictured. Prettier, softer, more relaxed. No one would ever suspect that her mother was a cold-blooded killer, not if they didn’t already know the truth. Allie had what appeared to be a gentle heart. Lisa felt an emotional kinship toward her, especially when Allie took her hand and gave it an encouraging squeeze.

  By the time Allie held the baby and did it quite naturally, Kyle was doling out pink-banded cigars to the men. Basking in baby success, they tucked them into their pockets.

  Finally Patricia was given to her mother, and the lady cop cradled her perfect daughter.

  “Olivia is coming by,” Kyle said to Lisa and Rex. “She’s flying in from D.C. and will be here around noon. She told us we were having a girl before we were even pregnant. I’ll bet she’ll know if you’re having a boy or a girl.”

  “Who is she?” Lisa asked.

  “Olivia is my sister,” Allie answered. “She’s psychic. She’s not always right. No psychic is. But she’s highly gifted and good at what she does. She works with the police and the FBI. She’s married to a special agent. He was the profiler on our mother’s case, and Joyce was one of the lead detectives.”

  “Maybe she’ll be able to give you a reading about what’s happening to you,” Daniel said, clearly referring to the threats.

  “Maybe,” Rex responded, sounding hopeful. “I haven’t seen Olivia in years.” He turned to Lisa. “She used to date Kyle.”

  “But it was never serious,” Allie added. She looked at Rex. “Funny that you and I only met recently. You’d think our paths would have crossed sooner.” She shifted her gaze to Lisa. “He did the investigative work on my stalking.”

  “Yes, he told me about it. I’m sorry that someone tried to hurt you.”

  “And I’m sorry someone is trying to hurt you.”

  After a beat of silence, Kyle said, “Ian is coming with Olivia. He might be able to help, too.”

  Lisa assumed Ian was the FBI husband.

  Another bout of silence ensued, a reminder that this was supposed to be a happy occasion, not a catch-the-bad-guys gathering.

  The conversation turned to a lighthearted topic, but Lisa couldn’t get the psychic or the profiler out of her mind. Apparently neither could Rex.

  He kept glancing at his watch, anxious for them to arrive.

  Chapter 12

  Olivia and her husband showed up just after noon. For Rex, it was strange to see Olivia married and settled. He’d always considered her a completely independent woman. She still was, he supposed, to some degree. Luckily, Ian, or Agent West as he was known in the FBI realm, complemented his wife.

  He was a Muscogee Creek mixed-blood with mostly Anglo roots. He was originally from Oklahoma and had the oddest gray eyes Rex had ever seen. When the light hit them they turned silver. Olivia was her usual sleek, slim, tight-black-clothes, choppy-haired self.

  Lisa seemed impressed with both of them. Or maybe it was a curious sense of awe, as they were a compelling couple.

  Rex waited until they got some quality time with everyone before he let them know that he needed their help, and they agreed to meet with him and Lisa in the lobby after the baby visit ended.

  So here they were, just the four of them, discussing the troubling events taking place in Rex and Lisa’s lives.

  Ian, the profiler, listened to details about the case and the suspected perpetrators. From the information provided to him, he agreed that the analysis Rex and the LAPD had made of Tim and Maggie seemed accurate.

  “They very well could be Lisa’s biological parents,” he said. “It certainly strengthens their motive, the possessiveness and anger directed toward her.”

  “I don’t know,” his wife put in, making all of them turn in her direction.

  Olivia was an empath, a psychic who had the ability to scan people’s minds, tapping into thoughts and feelings. She also had visions, sometimes clear, sometimes distorted, of past, present and future occurrences.

  “You don’t know what?” Rex asked. “That Maggie and Tim are the perpetrators or that they’re Lisa’s parents.”

  “That they’re her parents.” Olivia ran her hand through her hair, spiking the shiny dark layers. Her eyes were heavily lined, enhancing her mystic appearance. “I just don’t feel it. Not in that sense.”

  “Then what do you feel?” Lisa wanted to know. Up until now, she’d been quiet, taking everything in.

  “It’s as if you belonged to them, yet you didn’t. I can’t quite explain it nor do I know what it means. It’s a bit mixed up in my mind.”

  Her husband cocked his head. “Are you feeling anything else?”

  “No.” She divided her gaze between Lisa and Rex. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” Lisa responded. “Maybe it will make sense to us later.”

  “It usually does,” Ian said of his wife’s ability. To Rex he added, “If the DNA tests are negative, then maybe you should research the adoption. There could still be a link.”

  “I agree and I will.” But Rex hoped that he wasn’t running out of time. “How long do you think it’ll be before Maggie and Tim quit making threats and act on them? Do you think they’re waiting to see if Lisa gets frightened enough to have an abortion? Or gets stressed enough to miscarry?”

  “Yes, but I doubt they’ll wait past the first trimester,” the profiler said. “After twelve weeks abortions are more complicated and miscarriages are far less likely.”

  Lisa drew a ragged breath and Rex put his hand on her knee. They were already over halfway through the first trimester.

  “I won’t let them hurt you or the baby.” He repeated what he’d told her so many times before.

  “I know,” she said. But knowing didn’t lessen the fear in her eyes.

  No one spoke for what seemed like a full minute, a long time if you’re just sitting there looking at each other.

  Then Olivia leaned toward Lisa and Rex, and he suspected that she’d just gotten a feeling, only it didn’t seem bad.

  “What’s going on?” Rex asked.

  She smiled a little. “Do you want to know what the baby is?”

  A future-daddy moment punched him warmly in the gut. He glanced at Lisa, and their gazes locked. It was too early for an ultrasound to give them that information.

  “I want to know,” he said to her. “Do you?”

  She nodded and sat more forward in her chair. The lobby was unoccupied, with the exception of the four of them. Five, if you included the life in her womb.

  “It’s a girl,” Olivia said.

  Lisa reacted by cradling the daughter inside her, and Rex said, “Kamama” and got the urge to go back and hold Kyle and Joyce’s baby again.

  The psychic looked at Rex. “Butterfly?”

  He doubted that Olivia spoke Cherokee. She was from the Chiricahua Apache and Lakota Sioux Nations. Mostly likely she’d picked up on the translation from his mind.

  “It’s our nickname for a girl.”

  “That’s sweet. A little flutter bug.”

  “Yeah.” He took Lisa’s hand and held it. She seemed to be feeling better now, less afraid.

  “Olivia has never been wrong with a baby prediction,” Ian said, smiling at his woman.

  “Then maybe we should start buying pink stuff.” Rex thought about the future nursery at Lisa’s house. It was already decorated in pastels; they had a jump start.

  “Not all girls like pink,” Olivia teased, indicating her black garb.

  “Ours will,” Rex assured her. Their daughter was going to be made of sugar and spice and everything nice. That old saying fit.

  More baby talk ensued, making their conversation easy and comfortable.

  But not for long.

  Soon Olivia grabbed Ian’s arm and shuddered. Something was hap
pening in her mind….

  Something awful.

  Ian watched his wife with dreadful concern, and Rex prayed that she wasn’t seeing broken butterflies. By now, Lisa was squeezing his hand as tightly as the psychic was holding on to her husband.

  “They died,” Olivia said suddenly. “In a bombing.”

  “Who?” the profiler asked, before Rex could speak. “Who died?”

  “People connected to Lisa.” Olivia came out of her trance, breathing heavily. “All I saw was the explosion. I couldn’t tell what building it was or what the people looked like.”

  Rex got his voice back. “But you know that they were connected to Lisa?”

  “It happened when she was a baby. You need to find out more.” Olivia turned to her husband. “And you need to help him.”

  “Absolutely,” the special agent responded. Then to Lisa he asked, “How old are you?”

  “Thirty,” she told him.

  Ian gazed at Rex with his odd gray eyes. “We’ll start with white supremacist bombings from thirty years ago.”

  That sounded logical, but whether it was accurate remained to be seen. Lisa looked as if she didn’t know what to think, and Rex understood. Olivia’s vision created yet another puzzle.

  Rex and Ian agreed to get started right away, and later that night, after extensive hours of research, clouds brewed in the sky, bringing unexpected weather to an already complicated day.

  While rain slashed against the windows, Rex climbed into bed with Lisa. He got under the covers but didn’t turn out the light. He suspected that she would want to talk for a while.

  She did, asking him, “Did you come across anything that seems pertinent?”

  “At this point, it’s tough to tell. We’ve got a lot of material to analyze.”

  Although the special agent was an unofficial investigator on the case, his FBI resources were likely to speed up the process.

  “You look tired, Rex.”

  “I am.” So was the profiler. He’d left about twenty minutes ago. “But I’m not too tired to stay up with you.”

  “I’ve been trying to sleep, but I can’t.” She angled her body more toward his, adjusting the straps on her nightgown. “I keep thinking about everything. Do you think it’s possible that Tim and Maggie are responsible for the bombing? That they killed people who were close to me?” Before he could answer, she added, “Maybe it was my birth parents who died. Maybe the bombing made me an orphan and that’s why Tim and Maggie have been following me around.”

  “What for? Out of guilt?”

  “Yes. And in their twisted minds, they became my surrogate family. That would explain Olivia’s comment about me belonging to them, yet not belonging to them.” She clutched the top of the blanket, reacting, it seemed, to the weather. Rain was still hitting the windows. “Olivia doesn’t think Tim and Maggie are my parents and neither do I.”

  “Olivia said she was mixed up about that part of the reading,” he reminded her.

  “I know, but I’m not. I’m certain that my birth parents were good people.”

  “I’m glad you feel that way, but it could still turn out to be Maggie and Tim.” He skimmed the side of her jaw, tracing the angles of her face. Every time he was this close to her, her features became more and more familiar. “Either way, we should know by tomorrow or the next day. The results should be in by then.”

  “It’s going to be a long wait.”

  “Try not to think about it.” He lowered his hand to her stomach. “Just relax and take care of our daughter.”

  “You believe that it’s a girl?”

  He nodded. “Don’t you?”

  “Yes. But I also believe that she isn’t Maggie and Tim’s grandchild.”

  He wasn’t going to argue with her, but he wasn’t going to agree with what she hoped was or wasn’t true. He gestured to the window and changed the subject. “In Cherokee mythology, there are two kinds of Thunder Beings. Those who live close to the earth and those who bring blessings of rain to the people.”

  She managed a smile. “Then it looks as if we’re being blessed.”

  “We are.” And he was grateful that he’d taken her mind off Maggie and Tim. He leaned over to kiss her, and she nuzzled closer.

  Mouth to mouth, they connected. He lowered the blanket and lifted the hem of her nightgown, slipping his hand between her legs. She wasn’t wearing panties.

  She sighed, and he did his best to please her. He used his fingers, rubbing her most intimate place and making her moist. She slid the top of her nightgown down and pressed against him, her breasts to his chest.

  He kept touching her, and she got wetter and wetter.

  After she came, he brought his fingers to her lips and offered her a taste. She obligated him naughtily.

  He watched her, and soon she tugged at his sweatpants until he had no choice but to remove them. Her nightgown came off, too.

  Naked, they embraced, filled with the want of each other. Tumbling over the bed, she ended up on her hands and knees, and he got behind her.

  Would he ever stop wanting her? He didn’t think so, and being this hungry for her scared him.

  But not enough to stop. He penetrated her, hotly, deeply, taking what he needed.

  Rex slid his hands around her waist and wondered if this would be their position of choice later, after her tummy swelled.

  She arched her body, inviting him to thrust harder. Somehow they managed to turn their heads enough to kiss, only it was a rough, almost biting motion. He would’ve let her draw blood if it suited her. By now, she was guiding one of his hands lower, down her stomach and between her legs, so he could rub her again.

  Greedy girl.

  He continued to move inside her, and the lust-driven rhythm intensified.

  Desperate man.

  They climaxed together in a state of mindless arousal, the slick-sweated heat of their joining as powerful as the Thunder Beings who’d brought the rain.

  The sun shone the next day, and Lisa wondered if last night had been a dream. Only she knew it wasn’t.

  Rex and Ian were working at her house once again, taking over the living room and continuing the bombing research. She hoped they figured it out. If not, it would only be one more thing to worry about.

  She sat at the dining table, sipping mint tea and eating peach cobbler. Thank goodness it was afternoon. Mornings were still rough on her, as the pregnancy sickness had yet to pass.

  The doorbell rang, and she hopped up. Maybe it was Olivia. Ian’s wife was supposed to stop by later.

  “I’ll get it,” she said, and breezed past the men.

  She flung open the door and found Cathy, her former employee, on the other side. The Snow White girl flashed a let-bygones-be-bygones smile. As always, she had a headband in her hair, and in her arms was the cutest, fluffiest little pup.

  They came inside, and Cathy said, “This is Barker,” and extended the Chipoo like a peace offering.

  “Oh, he’s an angel.” Lisa took him and brought him up to her face. He wiggled and gave her a wet kiss, right on the tip of her nose.

  Cathy noticed Rex, and he caught sight of her, too. He raised his eyebrows at Lisa in an “I told you so” manner, indicating his prediction that Cathy would return with her feelings intact.

  He greeted the brunette and introduced Ian as Special Agent West. Cathy made an “Oh” with her mouth, impressed that the FBI was there.

  The women went to the kitchen with Barker in tow, and Lisa got her guest some cobbler and tea.

  “Things must be heating up,” Cathy said.

  “They are. It’s been crazy.” While they ate, Barker curled up on Lisa’s lap. “I’m so glad you’re here. I haven’t filled your position at the studio yet. You can have your job back if you want it.”

  “Oh, that’s great. I was hoping I could come back. Nelson isn’t mad anymore, either. He agreed that we should try to support you through this.”

  “Thank you. I’m so sorry for the way
we treated you guys.”

  Cathy waved her fork. “You’ve already apologized enough. Are there any leads? Do you know who’s been threatening you?”

  “Yes, but we don’t have enough proof.”

  “That sucks. Is it anyone I know?”

  “No.” And even if it were, Lisa wouldn’t have named names. “I just want it to end.”

  “If there’s anything you need, just let me know.”

  Lisa smiled. “Maybe I could keep Barker.”

  The pup’s mistress shook her head, but she was smiling, too. “Anything but that. He’s my baby.”

  And Lisa’s baby was in her tummy. Her daughter. Her butterfly.

  Cathy stayed for about an hour, saying goodbye to Rex and the special agent on her way out.

  Afterward, Lisa lingered in the living room, watching them work. Between their laptops, the fax machine they’d set up and the calls they were making, she assumed that they were collecting vital information.

  Rather than poke her nose into it, she asked, “Is anyone hungry? I’d be glad to fix lunch.” Besides needing a balanced meal herself, she was anxious for something to do. The studio was closed today. She had nothing but time on her hands.

  Ian answered first. “Sure. That sounds great.”

  “Me, too,” Rex added.

  “Are enchiladas all right?” she asked.

  “Fine,” said Ian, without glancing up.

  “Same here,” responded an equally preoccupied Rex.

  Retreating to her task, Lisa cleared the cobbler dishes from the table and got cracking on lunch.

  While the beef and onions browned, she grated cheese and got the ingredients ready for Spanish rice.

  Halfway through the preparation, the doorbell sounded and she assumed it was Olivia, maybe even Allie and Daniel, too. Not a problem, she thought. There would be plenty of food for all of them. Lisa was making a big pan of enchiladas. She tended to cook more than enough, but she enjoyed leftovers.

  Since she had her hands full, she didn’t rush to answer the summons. Instead she let Rex get the door.

  A minute or so later when he entered the kitchen alone with a serious expression, she was confused.