by Jule McBride
Even as Shane had indulged those simple daydreams, his daddy had been dead. And Shane hadn’t even known it. But now, maybe it was finally time to let the past go….
Lillian’s velvet finger crooked on his cheek; somehow, it seemed to beckon him, calling him back to love again after all these years. He suddenly knew that wild horses could never drag him from this woman and child. Should he tell her everything now? Maybe ask for her help in figuring their way out of this? She really could push you away because of it. And then she and the baby’d be on their own, with no one to protect them. Is that what you want?
“Shane?”
“Hmm?”
“You seem so worried.”
“I’m fine.”
Sighing, she stretched on her toes, and with a gentleness he’d never felt and would never forget, she kissed his cheek. Shifting the baby again, he turned his head and found her lips. He’d shared deeper kisses with her, but this was the most satisfying—with the baby cradled in his arms, and her mouth so warm and soft beneath his own.
She smiled. “There. Did that calm your nerves?”
Not really.
Suddenly, his heart jump-started. His body tensed. Sensing the changes, the baby gave a strangled sob, followed by a deep gasp, then a wail. Shane barely noticed. That green van, he thought. It had been parked outside ever since the baby’s arrival. He’d never seen it on the block before. Maybe that’s what kept bringing him back to this window. Now he saw a glint of light flash from it, maybe from a camera lens or binoculars. Was it another FBI agent? Or someone who worked for Jack Ramsey?
“Here.” Shane gently moved the baby into Lillian’s arms.
Her eyes narrowed with concern. “What?”
“Just take him. I’ll be right back.”
Shane headed down the hallway with long strides, then summoned the elevator. Once inside, he stared at his reflection in the mirrored interior, suddenly wishing he was wearing something other than the robe, or that he’d at least gotten shoes and his gun. But he hadn’t wanted to waste time dressing. And the gun, which he kept out of Lillian’s sight at her request, wasn’t accessible. It was hidden in the guest-room closet, unloaded.
Downstairs, he hit the hallway running.
“You realize you’re wearing a robe outside, sir?” called a desk clerk, as if he were long accustomed to eccentric tenants.
“No, I didn’t realize that,” Shane returned without missing a beat. “Thanks for telling me.” That was the one good thing about New York, he thought, heading through the front door. A man could streak stark naked down an avenue without anyone noticing; sometimes it came in handy.
Leaving the high-rise, Shane rounded Rector Park, then he turned left, circled South End Avenue, and doubled back, approaching the van from the back.
It had New York plates. Since the driver’s window was open, he considered knocking on the metal beside it. But feeling sure the person inside was watching Lillian’s apartment, he decided a surprise approach was best. He’d rather accidentally scare somebody innocent than lose a skirmish with someone watching Lillian and his son.
His son.
As he crept toward the back of the van, Shane’s heart thudded, both from the possibly impending danger and the admission of how he really felt about the baby. Not that Shane’s feelings mattered. Face it, the boy was his—legally. Maybe Shane hadn’t protected his parents. Or his Uncle Silas… But he’d protect Lillian and Little Shane.
Shane took quiet, shallow breaths as he silently flattened his back against the side of the van. The metal, heated by the sun, burned his skin through the robe while the pavement blistered the bottoms of his bare feet. Squinting against the sun’s glare, he inched along the van, toward the open window, until he reached the driver’s side door.
Swiftly, he grabbed the door handle and tugged. Reaching inside, he grabbed the person’s shoulder—realizing too late that brute force wasn’t necessary. The person who tumbled out was slight of build, but wearing a hat in spite of the heat. Shane swiped at the hat.
Red hair cascaded down.
“Ethel,” Shane said with a frustrated sigh. Didn’t she know how close he’d come to possibly hurting her?
Her wide blue eyes blinked owlishly and her blush made Shane suddenly remember he was barefoot and bare-chested. His robe was undone, flapping in the summer breeze and exposing his ridiculously faded pink boxer shorts. “I promise, Ethel,” he muttered, retying the robe. “One day we’ll meet when I’m fully dressed.”
“Sorry,” she murmured guiltily.
You should be. “Ethel, I kept seeing this van out here. I thought it was…” He could hardly tell Ethel he’d suspected she was a member of a dangerous crime consortium. “Uh…some crazy person.” In New York City, such an admission passed for reasonable.
Ethel’s face had turned crimson. “I should have known you’d catch me, Shane! When I called your ex-boss in East Texas, to check you out, he said you were an absolute guru when it came to surveillance. That’s a quote. He said you don’t miss a thing.”
Shane could merely stare. “You called my ex-boss?”
“Sure. I’m your caseworker. It’s my job. I had to check out your work history.”
Shane bit back a sigh at the reminder that this woman still had the power to take away Little Shane; she was due to return for follow-up visits. He kept any trace of real worry from his voice. “What were you doing out here?”
“My job.” She suddenly wrung her hands. “See, Shane, I’ve had some trouble at work. Everybody says I’m a soft touch. But I love to see deserving couples get kids. Anyway, in your case, I was afraid people would say I was too hasty. So, I just wanted to make sure everything was fine.”
“We’re fine,” he managed. And they were. Finding Ethel out here instead of a mobster relieved Shane tremendously. It was proof he was overreacting.
Ethel’s eyes drifted over him. “Well, I can see that. And,” she joked awkwardly. “I do hope to see you in clothes someday.” After another moment of conversation, she got back into the van.
When Shane reached the apartment building, he looked back. The van hadn’t budged. He guessed Ethel still meant to watch their every move. With his luck, she’d notice the FBI surveillance. Or Fin would decide to arrest Lillian.
“Great,” Shane said with a sigh, heading inside. All he needed was another person in this crazy mix to worry about.
SO THAT WAS Delilah’s latest husband. Or Lillian’s.
Seven cars behind the van, a man in a tan Chevy shrugged out of his white linen suit, then raised binoculars to his eyes. He’d figured out a lot in the past twenty-four hours. Delilah had gotten herself the baby she’d always wanted, the redhead was the caseworker, and the new husband looked as if he’d make a worthy adversary.
Shane Holiday was a professional tough guy. A security guard, apparently. Not bad-looking, tall and well-built, with black hair. Attractive if a woman liked the dangerous type, which Delilah obviously did. But Holiday had an unfortunate fatal flaw—he leaped before he looked. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have run outside in that raggedy bathrobe and confronted the caseworker.
But who was Holiday expecting? The man in the car wasn’t sure, but he figured he’d better leave before he was spotted. Besides, he had all the information he needed now. The next step was talking to Delilah. Alone. Without her tough-guy watchdog around. Of course, he needed to give Delilah a good scare first. Just so she’d know he meant business. Seven years ago, she’d taken three million dollars in cold hard cash. And now he wanted it back.
Taking her by surprise would be simple enough. After all, Delilah thought he was dead. In fact, she thought she was the one who had killed him, however accidentally.
Sam Ramsey laid the binoculars beside him on the seat, next to a Glock 9 mm pistol and Panama hat, and stared down at the newspaper picture of his wife, which was on the seat. She was wearing a white dress—the one in which she’d married Shane Holiday.
“Married
her,” Sam Ramsey muttered. Well, I guess that makes you and me both, Shane. “Seems the woman’s got one too many husbands at the moment. Now, what are we going to do about that?”
LILLIAN’S HEART was racing, pumping adrenaline. She cradled the baby more closely against her. “Shane, what’s this all about? Why’s Ethel out there?”
He quickly, calmly, related what the caseworker had said.
Lillian still couldn’t believe it. “I saw the whole thing from the window. Is…is she thinking about trying to take away Little Shane?” Carrying the baby, she followed Shane as he headed for the kitchen. “And who did you think was in the van?” she continued. “I mean, why did you go crazy like that?” She attempted a laugh. “Not that I didn’t enjoy the display of brawn, of course.”
In the kitchen, Shane gulped down a glass of water, then set aside the glass, leaning against the counter. He shrugged. “Sorry. I’m trained as a cop. Sometimes my instincts just go on overdrive.”
Still bouncing the baby in her arms, Lillian leaned and dropped a kiss on his forehead. “So, Ethel’s been watching the apartment since she gave us the baby?”
Shane nodded, drawing both her and the baby into his arms.
“And you just had a hunch?” she clarified.
“Yeah. I felt like there was somebody out there watching us. And there was. But it was only Ethel.” Now that Lillian was calmer, he repeated everything Ethel had said again, this time more slowly. “Ethel’s just worried,” he finished. “She’s just doing everything she can to be thorough.”
Lillian managed to nod. Ever since the baby came, she’d been wondering if she should risk telling Shane the truth about her past. He was an ex-detective. And a trustworthy one. He’d know what to do. Maybe he could help her. Of course, there was always the possibility that he’d turn her in…
Leaning against his chest, she gazed down, her eyes roving over the baby—the wisps of dark hair, the small pink bud of his mouth. It had been years since she’d first set her heart on getting a baby, but she’d never have initiated the proceedings if she hadn’t been sure it was safe now. Still, seeing Shane in action had made her past come racing back. What if someone other than Ethel had been out there?
“It was Ethel,” she murmured aloud, drawing in a deep breath to steady herself. No one from her past was outside. Sam Ramsey was dead. His father, Jack Ramsey, would never find her. The only thing Lillian needed to think about was whether or not to tell Shane what had happened to her seven years ago.
With his thumb, Shane traced her silent lips, then delivered a kiss to the spot his thumb had touched. Even that unassuming touch of his mouth made Lillian’s limbs heavy with wanting him. It was pointless to fight it. Especially right now, when she wanted nothing more than all his strength and comfort.
“Still want to make love?” she found herself whispering.
“You know I do.”
Moments later, in the bedroom, they put the baby down, then Lillian shut the blinds and curtains against the light, slowly opened her robe and lifted her pajama top over her head. A second later, Shane pulled her into his embrace. And then they were tumbling together into the still-messed covers, rolling—and rolling fast—toward whatever might come.
CHAPTER TEN
“SHANE, I’VE BEEN TRYING to call you! I forgot to turn on the phone this morning. Where are you?”
Even though the baby was asleep in Shane’s arms, something in Lillian’s voice compelled him to lift his as he rose from the rocker. “I’m in the bedroom, Lil.”
He’d awakened this morning to a note saying she’d run to Big Apple Babies, to sign another paper concerning the adoption, and he’d been worried ever since. Now the front door slammed, footsteps pounded, and Shane fully registered her panic as she neared. His voice rose another notch. “What’s happened?”
“What’s happened is that Jake Lucas got shot!”
“Got shot?” Shane’s body tightened reflexively, going utterly still except for a sudden quiver of his chin and the thickening of his blood. As he carefully laid the baby in the crib, his pale eyes went wary. He turned from Little Shane just as Lillian rushed into the room. Despite the circumstances, Shane’s breath caught as his eyes swept over her, taking in the heightened color of her flushed face, the twining loosened tendrils falling from her French twist, and the spot where the hem of a white sundress touched her long legs. No matter what else was happening, Shane’s whole world stopped every time she entered a room.
“Oh, Shane, I can’t believe it!”
With her frightened exclamation, the world started turning again. Breathlessly, she barreled forward on sheer momentum, and he caught her—cupping her bare shoulders that were still warm from the sunshine outdoors. Even as he registered her soft fragrant muskiness, he was reminding himself not to fly off the handle, the way he had yesterday when he’d confronted Ethel. He kept his voice calm. “Is Jake all right? Did it happen at Big Apple Babies?”
Lillian gulped down air, her head bobbing up and down. “Right outside.”
He wished she’d awakened him. Between their lovemaking, and getting up for the baby’s feedings, Shane had wound up sleeping like the dead. Usually, any change in a silent room roused him. “The shooting occurred right outside?”
“They think it was random.”
“They?”
“The police.”
“And is Jake all right?” Even as he said it, Shane knew the question was ridiculous. His boss had been shot.
Lillian drew in a deep quavering breath, then slowly exhaled. More calmly, she said, “I think so. They took him to Saint Vincent’s Hospital. It’s only a couple blocks from the agency.”
“How many shots were fired?”
“One, I think. It hit him in the shoulder, or maybe the arm. I saw it.”
Shane drew in a sharp breath at that piece of information. His eyes scanned her again, this time to reassure himself she was unharmed. “You saw it?”
The pulse was ticking rapidly in her throat. “I was on the sidewalk, about twenty feet from Jake.”
She’d been that close? Shane’s arms tightened around her back. She was still in shock, too, he thought, as he freed one hand so he could make a call. Turning over the bedside phone, he flicked on the ringer. No wonder she couldn’t get through. At least he’d disabled the FBI phone tap, so he could keep his and Lillian’s conversations private. Shane punched in the number for the hospital while his mind shifted through the scant facts Lillian had just given him about Jake. As the phone rang, he kept a strong arm braced around Lillian and his eyes fixed on hers.
“Oh, Shane,” she said simply.
“Thank God you’re all right,” he murmured in a soft understated drawl, shoving the phone receiver between his shoulder and jaw, so he could use both arms to hold her again. She squeezed back, her quick tight hug saying she relied on him now, and bringing back all the love they’d shared last night.
How could he have let this happen? he wondered, stroking her hair. It hardly mattered that Jake had insisted Shane take time off to be with Lillian and the baby. Protecting people at Big Apple Babies was Shane’s job. He should have been there. Now he had to find out who would shoot Jake. And why. Was this really an act of random violence?
“This is Shane Holiday, chief of security for Big Apple Babies,” he said when someone finally answered the phone. “I just got word a man named Jake Lucas has been shot. Can you give me more information?”
He was put on hold. Leaning back slightly, he peered into Lillian’s eyes, then used a gentle, probing thumb to pull down the skin beneath them, checking the dilation of her pupils. Good. She was calming down. “Now, start from the beginning and tell me everything.”
Lillian took a shaky breath. “Wait—” She disengaged herself from him, long enough to go to the crib. Securing the baby in the protective curve of her arm, she rocked him as she leaned against Shane again. “I’d already signed the papers,” she continued, “and I’d stepped out for a muff
in at that little café—you know, the one across the street. I was going to come home after that, but then I decided to go back inside Big Apple Babies and introduce myself to your brother. I mean, I know he’s coming over later this week, but since we hadn’t even met…” Her voice trailed off. “Anyway, I was right under the agency’s sign when it happened. Jake and a man whose name I don’t know, a heavyset guy who looks like Lou Grant from The Mary Tyler Moore Show—”
“James Sanger.”
“James Sanger,” she repeated. “Well, James and Jake were coming into the building, carrying cups of coffee. They’d just crossed the street and they weren’t but twenty feet from me.” She was trying to be brave, but her voice broke. “Oh, Shane—”
“It’s okay, baby,” he whispered, tightening his arms around her. Slowly, lovingly, he brushed his mouth back and forth across the top of her head. While her skin smelled of musk, the scent of her hair was harder to name—it was just something fresh and sweet—and under Shane’s lips the strands felt excruciatingly soft.
She made a soft, barely audible sound—half sigh, half whimper—that made his chest constrict. “I’m so sorry you were there,” he murmured. Leaning, he found her lips, offering the gentlest pressure of his mouth as reassurance.
“Shane, I was scared,” she confessed. “More than anything, I wanted to be home with you and the baby.”
“I know.” Ducking his head, he kissed the baby’s forehead, then smoothed a loose strand of Lillian’s hair, tucking it behind her ear. Had his relief over finding Ethel in the van made him overlook precautions? Should he have gone after Lillian this morning? He’d started to when he saw the note, but he hadn’t wanted to take the baby outside. Damn. It was bad enough Jake had been injured. But what if something had happened to Lillian? He shoved the phone receiver more firmly under his jaw. “You say you were only twenty feet away from Jake, Lillian?”
