Covert Conception

by Delores Fossen

  "Absolutely." He kissed her and ran his hand lovingly over her stomach. "Stay safe."

  "You do the same."

  That was it. The only goodbye that time allowed. As it was, Rick would have to hurry to make it to the meeting in time. He glanced over his shoulder and winked at her as he headed out the door.

  That wink was playful and sexy enough, but it didn't make Natalie feel better about what he was doing. Nothing would at this point. Well, nothing except having Rick safely back in her arms.

  While the PI rearmed the security system and locked the door, Natalie went to the window to watch Rick ride away on his motorcycle, headed toward God-knows-what fate.

  * * *

  RICK SLIPPED his hand inside his leather jacket and gripped his gun. The Yellow Rose Bar was too public and too crowded for him to go inside with his weapon drawn. But he wanted to have it handy just in case.

  He only hoped just in case wouldn't become necessary.

  "I'm over here," he heard Carlton say.

  Rick automatically tensed, and his fingers tightened around the gun. He spotted his uncle outside the bar, standing beneath a perky awning painted with huge yellow roses.

  "You can trust me," Carlton added, obviously sensing that Rick wasn't at ease.

  "Trust isn't the issue here. Let's get this finished. Where's Brandon Stevens?"

  Carlton shook his head. "He's hasn't shown up yet."

  Hell. Rick hoped this wasn't a wild-goose chase.

  "How's Natalie?" Carlton asked.

  "Let's not do small talk."

  "It wasn't. I genuinely want to know."

  Rick was still skeptical, but he answered anyway. "She's scared and too stubborn to admit she's scared. And I'm scared for her and the baby."

  Carlton nodded. "The bartender will tell us what we need to know. He wants the person responsible to be arrested so he can clear his own name. He's afraid if he doesn't do that, then the cops will eventually try to pin all of this on him."

  He just stared at his uncle. "Is this an act?"

  "No."

  Rick made a sound to indicate he wasn't sure he believed Carlton, and he scanned the area to see if their informant was going to show. There were plenty of twenty-something guys hanging around, but none of them appeared to be there for a critical meeting.

  His uncle's phone rang, and he reached into his pocket to retrieve it. That's when he noticed that Carlton was armed as well.

  "It's the bartender," Carlton said, passing his phone to Rick. "He wants to talk to you."

  Rick cursed. He hadn't come all this way for a phone call. He wanted to meet the man face to face. "Where are you?" Rick demanded.

  "Nearby. I can see you, but I'm not sure it's safe for me to be there with you."

  Rick glanced around, at the Riverwalk itself and then at the buildings that lined both sides of the narrow river.

  "It's as safe for you as it is for me," Rick pointed out. And because he suddenly felt very threatened, he kept an eye on Carlton. He didn't want to be ambushed.

  "I think I have something that can help us both with our safety issues," Brandon continued. "I know who drugged you. If I give you this person's name, swear to me that you'll do everything within your power to stop what's happening."

  It sounded sort of reasonable, except for one glaring thing. "Why didn't you just go to the police with this?"

  "Because I can't. There's a warrant out there for my arrest. A hit and run. It has nothing to do with what happened to you."

  Rick decided to withhold judgment on that. "So, who drugged me at Ms. Sinclair's party?"

  "Dr. Claude Benjamin."

  Since Benjamin was one of their prime suspects, Rick wasn't surprised. "What kind of proof do you have?"

  "My word."

  "Oh, and with that arrest warrant hanging over your head, your word's not worth much, is it?"

  "It'll have to do because I don't think the doctor wants either of us to live. We're witnesses to his crime, and I think he'd rather see us both dead."

  "How did Benjamin do it?" Rick asked. "How did he drug Natalie Sinclair and me?"

  "He came in through the kitchen while the party was going on, and he gave me a beer. He described you and said I was to give it to you."

  That was possible. "What about Natalie?"

  "The same. He put something in her drink as well and told me to take it to her. He said I didn't have to worry about the security cameras filming me because he would jam the equipment at various times through the evening."

  Well, that explained that, but it didn't explain something that was causing Rick's blood pressure to rise. "And at no point did you think about stopping yourself from participating in a felony?"

  "Of course I thought about it. But this doctor knew about my problems with the law, and he said he'd call the police if I didn't do as I was told."

  And Benjamin no doubt had used that as leverage to get the guy to cooperate.

  "Why didn't the doctor just bring the drinks to us himself?"

  "He said he wasn't supposed to be there at the estate, that he'd had a big disagreement with Natalie's mother and that she would have him thrown out if she spotted him."

  That was probably true, but it also made Rick wonder—had Dr. Benjamin been drugging Macy as well? Someone certainly had and he was the most likely candidate. But why had he drugged her? Maybe to gain her cooperation?

  "I need proof," Rick insisted. "I can't go to the police with just hearsay."

  "I know, and I'm willing to come in and testify, if you can get the police to drop the other charges."

  "You swear to that?"

  "Absolutely. I don't want Dr. Benjamin out on the streets any more than you."

  Rick had no idea how he was going to convince the police to bargain, but he had to try. Maybe he could even get the feds involved so they could offer Brandon Stevens protective custody and immunity until they'd built their case against Benjamin and the Cyrene Project.

  "I'll go to the police first thing in the morning," Rick promised the man. "Give me a number where I can reach you."

  Brandon hesitated, but he finally provided a cell phone number. Rick scribbled it down on the palm of his hand, ended the call and handed Carlton back his cell phone.

  "If you need anything, just let me know," Carlton called out as Rick headed back to his motorcycle.

  Rick didn't acknowledge the offer. Instead, he took out his own phone so he could call Natalie. She was no doubt on pins and needles waiting to hear from him. The problem was—he didn't know if what he'd learned would truly help them. If Brandon was telling the truth, he had the name of the person responsible for drugging them.

  Now, the question was—how was he going to get the police to arrest a prominent doctor solely on the word of a man with an outstanding arrest warrant?

  Hell.

  With that reminder, Rick decided to skip the call to Natalie. First, he'd go to police headquarters and give them the information about Dr. Benjamin. With luck, the doctor would be behind bars before morning. Then, he'd finally have some good news to pass on to Natalie.

  * * *

  "DON'T ANSWER the phone," the PI, Mason Tanner, warned Natalie.

  She stopped in mid-step. Or rather she stopped in mid-run, because she was practically sprinting across the room to get to the phone. It was probably Rick with an update of how the meeting went.

  And she'd finally learn whether he was safe.

  "What's wrong?" she asked.

  Tanner lifted his left hand in a stay-quiet gesture, and he continued to look out the window. "I'm not sure. But something's not right."

  Natalie huffed. "Yes, the phone is ringing, and I'm not answering it."

  He didn't respond. He just stood there, his entire body postured for…something.

  But what?

  "Rick will be worried if I don't answer that," she pointed out.

  "Rick will be worried if I don't keep you safe." He took a gun from his shoulder holster. "St
ep away from the windows. Kill the lights. I think someone might be out there."

  Natalie had been more annoyed than alarmed.

  Until Mason Tanner said that.

  But the stark tone of his voice had her obeying. She stepped back into the corner of the living room, so that she could still keep an eye on Tanner, and she turned off the lights.

  He, in turn, kept an eye on whatever he thought might be outside that window, though he did make a quick check of the security panel.

  Tanner cursed. "Something's wrong with the security system."

  "What?"

  "It's not working. The indication lights and motion detectors are all dead." With that horrifying revelation, he lifted his head, listening.

  Natalie listened, too, but it was difficult to hear much because her heartbeat was pounding in her ears.

  She wished she had a gun, but as far as she knew there wasn't one in the house. So, she made do. She grabbed a fire poker and raised it in front of her in case she had to defend herself.

  While she stood there, waiting, bracing herself for the worst, Natalie considered her options.

  She could try to call 911, but she'd left her cell phone in the bathroom. The house phone was on the table, on the other side of the room. She considered getting it and trying to call Rick. Or the police. However, that table was directly in front of a window. Where Tanner had warned her not to go. Besides, it probably wasn't even working. If someone had managed to tamper with the security system, then they would have no doubt cut the phone line as well. So, that left her with no immediate way to contact Rick and no defense other than Mason Tanner and a fire poker.

  Then, she heard the sound.

  Not her heartbeat; it was a swish.

  Like someone roughly blowing out a candle.

  A second later, she heard another sound. It came from Tanner. A sort of grunt. And she watched in horror as he collapsed onto the floor.

  "Oh, God." She started to go to him, but another sound stopped her.

  Footsteps.

  Natalie followed their sound and quickly spotted the source. There were two men in the sunroom on the other side of the foyer.

  Two armed men.

  Even in the darkness she could see their weapons. One of them carried a rifle. One of them had no doubt shot Tanner, probably with a gun rigged with a silencer. That's why there'd only been the swish of sound and not a heavy blast. And it likely meant they'd used the silencer so they wouldn't alert any of her neighbors.

  Of course, it also meant they'd probably come there to murder her.

  Natalie ducked back into the corner of the room. And she prayed. First, that Tanner was all right. But she also prayed that Rick didn't walk in on this. If he did, those two men would likely kill him on the spot.

  She listened to those footsteps. They moved toward Tanner, and she heard the two men mumble something. They didn't fire another shot. They didn't begin an interrogation or toss out any remarks.

  Did that mean Tanner was already dead?

  Her breath turned heavy and thick, and she fought to keep control so that she wouldn't hyperventilate. It wasn't easy to do with her heart racing out of control and the adrenaline surging through her. This was a fight-or-flight situation, but in a fight with two gunmen, she'd lose.

  And so would her unborn baby.

  Still, she had to do something. Not just for her sake. But for Tanner's. If by some miracle he was still alive, he would need medical attention.

  Natalie knew if she didn't run, Tanner and she would likely die. So, she forced herself to react. To move. Trying to stay as quiet as possible, she sidestepped around the room. Keeping in the shadows. Trying not to panic.

  One step at a time, she reminded herself. One step at a time.

  If she made it out of there, she could perhaps get to her bathroom upstairs so she could retrieve her cell phone. Or maybe she could go to Kitt's office. It was downstairs, making it more accessible to her, but she had no idea if her sister had a cell phone in there or not.

  "One step at a time," she mouthed.

  She kept her attention nailed to the foyer. There was movement out there, and whispered voices, but she couldn't see what was happening. Natalie kept moving, and she made it all the way to the arched doorway that led to the back hall.

  Just as a bullet slammed into the wall right next to her head.

  * * *

  RICK PARKED his Harley behind Natalie's car and climbed off. He also cursed. He wouldn't be delivering any good news tonight.

  The police were checking into Brandon Stevens' allegations. That was it—they were checking into it. They'd given Rick no timeline for it, and they'd also given him no hope that this would lead to Dr. Benjamin's arrest.

  Still, he wouldn't give up. He couldn't. There was too much at stake.

  He went up the steps and was a little surprised that Natalie or Mason Tanner didn't automatically open the door. He figured the PI would be keeping watch. But he checked the time. It was late. It was possible Natalie had already gone to her room and that the PI was in another part of the house.

  Rick reached for the doorbell.

  And stopped.

  He immediately rethought that part about Natalie having gone to her room. She wouldn't have. She would have been waiting for him to return, and she would have done that downstairs.

  So where was she?

  He leaned over and peered through the window. Everything seemed okay. Nothing out of place.

  Well, nothing except for the fact that the lights were off and there was no sign of Natalie.

  Using just the knuckle of his left index finger, he rapped once on the window. It was faint, but it was also a test. To see if it would cause the PI to check it out.

  Nothing.

  And that nothing sent a shot of fear and dread through him. Hell.

  Something was wrong.

  Rick tested the front door—it was locked. So, while he drew his gun, he leapt from the porch and started to run. He raced around to the back of the house, intending to go in through the sunroom, but along the way, he spotted something he hadn't wanted to see.

  An open window to Kitt's office.

  Since the floodlights were still working, he could see that the shrubs beneath the window had been trampled and the screen was lying on the ground. Someone had used this window to gain entry to the house.

  He made a split-second glance inside to make sure that someone wasn't in the room. Like the foyer, it was empty and dark so Rick climbed inside, waited a couple of seconds for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, and then he began his search for Natalie. She had to be all right.

  She just had to be.

  Keeping his footsteps as light as possible, he made his way through Kitt's equipment-cluttered office, checking the corners and the shadows to make sure no one was lurking there. He couldn't risk being ambushed. He had to stay alive and well so he could get to Natalie.

  When he made it to the hall outside the office, he heard the sound of voices. Not shouts. But a whispered conversation between at least two people.

  Two men.

  Was one of them Dr. Benjamin?

  Had the doctor come to finish what he'd started?

  Rick didn't go toward those voices. Instead, he headed in the opposite direction and followed the hall into the kitchen and the adjacent butler's pantry. They were both empty as well.

  Where the heck was Natalie?

  The question had no sooner formed in his head than he sensed the movement in the room. He froze and listened. Waiting. For whatever, or whomever, he was about to encounter.

  There were no more whispered voices, just the faint rush of the A/C and the hum of the refrigerator. But beneath those sounds, he was certain he heard something else.

  Someone breathing.

  It was strange, but he thought he might recognize that breathing.

  "Natalie?" he whispered.

  The breathing stopped, and for a few heart-stopping moments, all he heard was silence.


  "Rick?"

  It was Natalie. He was sure of it.

  He spun in the direction of Natalie's voice and spotted her peering out from the doorway of the dining room. Even though the only illumination came from the light over the stove, he could see her. She looked terrified, but she was alive.

  Thank God.

  She had a fire poker in her right hand, and she put her finger to her lips to indicate that he should stay quiet. He did. But he made his way toward her. He wanted more than anything to take her into his arms. To hold her. To reassure himself that she was real and safe. But even a hug was a luxury they couldn't risk. Obviously, something had gone horribly wrong.

  "There are two gunmen in the house," she whispered. "They shot Tanner."

  Oh, man. That news hit him hard, mainly because he knew if they'd shot Tanner, then Natalie had likely come close to being shot herself.

  "Do you know where they are?" Rick mouthed.

  "I think in the front hall."

  In other words, too close. But then, just the fact they were in the house meant they were too close.

  He caught onto her arm and led her toward the massive pantry just off the kitchen. It wouldn't give them much protection if those gunmen started firing, but it would give him a chance to use his cell phone to call 911.

  "Are you okay?" he asked her as he took out his phone. He also kept a firm grip on his gun.

  She nodded. "I was scared you'd walk in on this and they'd shoot you."

  He mentally groaned. Leave it to Natalie to be more concerned about him than she was herself. But thank God she'd somehow managed to evade those gunmen. Now, it was up to him to continue evading them so Natalie and he could escape. Once he had her out of harm's way, then he could figure out who these SOBs were.

  He punched in 911, cringing at the tiny beeps his phone made with each number. He put the phone to his ear—and immediately realized his cell phone had been jammed.

  That sent his stomach to his knees. Because he didn't think it was a coincidence. No way. It meant someone had planned this and planned it well. They also had access to some sophisticated jamming equipment.

  "We're getting out of here," he let Natalie know.

  He only hoped it wasn't too late.

  He glanced out the pantry door. The kitchen was still empty. No voices, either. So, he caught onto Natalie's arm to get her moving.