Baby Bootcamp

by Mallory Kane

  “I’m going to read it. Where’s a broom and mop?”

  “In the closet at the top of the stairs,” she said as she headed to the bathroom.

  Once she’d finished her shower and wiped out the tub with wet toilet paper, trying to clean out the last tiny pieces of glass, she came out of the bathroom to find Matt closing the bedroom door.

  “I don’t want to disturb the bed until the sheriff has had a chance to see and photograph it for evidence,” he said.

  Faith nodded, speechless. She was frozen by the sight before her. She’d been too terrified to notice him when he’d rushed into her room to find her covered with glass.

  But now those few moments were crystal clear. He’d had on boxer shorts and a sleeveless undershirt. His tanned skin had gleamed. Then she’d been too frightened to react, but now, although at some point while she was showering he’d pulled on jeans, her brain zinged straight back to the sight of him dressed in nothing but his underwear.

  Despite the fact that she’d been attacked in her bed and should be frightened out of her mind, at this moment her brain was filled with the sight of his muscled thighs, shoulders and biceps. And the dominant impression in her mind was that he’d have jumped in front of the brick or even the shards of glass if he could have.

  She mentally shook her head. She had to get over this notion that Matt Soarez was much, much more than he seemed. She had no concrete reason to doubt that he was anything more than a construction worker, in town for a few days to finish up a job. But there was something wrong with that picture.

  Matt, still searching the floor for bits of glass, spoke without looking up. “You should wear shoes around here for a while, until you’re sure you’ve gotten up all the glass.” He raised his head and his eyes widened.

  She looked down at herself and saw what Matt saw. Minuscule beads of blood had popped out on her shoulders and arms. She swiped a finger across an itchy place on her cheek and looked at it. Sure enough there was a streak of blood staining her fingertip.

  “Damn it, Faith,” he said, with a look in his eyes that she’d never seen in any man’s eyes before. It frightened and thrilled her at the same time. Matt was enraged, but not at her—for her. Some base instinct inside her responded to his primal reaction.

  “I—I cleaned all the glass and put alcohol on the spots,” she stammered.

  He stood the broom against the wall and gently wrapped his fingers around her arm. He examined it closely, then looked up at her from beneath the longest, blackest eyelashes she’d ever seen.

  “Are there worse cuts?” he asked in a quiet even voice that belied the dark expression on his face.

  “No,” she said. “This one,” she said and pointed to a strip bandage at her shoulder, “is the worst.”

  He let go of her arm and spread his palm above her tummy, but stopped short of touching it. “The baby?”

  Faith smiled. “Apparently she slept through the whole thing, although she’s awake now.” Then, following an instinct she didn’t quite understand, she looked up at him. “Would you like to feel her?”

  Matt didn’t move his hands, so Faith laid her hand over his and guided it to her right side. “She kicks me here all the time.”

  She pressed his hand against her tummy. “I keep telling her to turn over, to kick somewhere else—oh! There she goes.”

  Matt met her gaze. His dark eyes were soft and sparkly at the same time. “Wow,” he whispered.

  She nodded. “I know. Wow.”

  Matt studied her face for a long moment, his hand never leaving her side, then he bent his head toward hers.

  Faith’s heartbeat sped up and, reacting to her, the baby’s movements became more restless. She chuckled.

  “Do you think she’d mind if—”

  Faith couldn’t stop smiling. “Rub her. She likes to be rubbed.”

  Matt’s strong fingers moved gently against her side, but she couldn’t by any definition call what he was doing rubbing. It was more of a soft caress. Nevertheless, the baby settled down.

  “She’s stopped moving,” he whispered.

  Faith nodded. “She’s gone back to sleep.”

  “What would happen if—” He stopped, his dark gaze searching hers.

  “If?” she whispered.

  Matt lowered his head and kissed her. More conflicting sensations slid through her. His lips were soft, yet firm. His kiss was tentative but certainly not shy. And he was disturbingly sexy while at the same time achingly gentle.

  Slowly he changed the kiss. He deepened it until Faith thought her legs would give way beneath her. She caught onto his forearms to steady herself as his tongue explored her mouth and played with hers. He tasted like mint toothpaste and sleep.

  He pulled her closer, then stopped and looked down. Her belly was pressed against him. She felt his rapid breathing. Matt looked down and back up, and all the tenderness, all the sexiness was gone and in its place was a look of fear.

  He stepped backward. “I need to check with Sheriff Hale. Find out if he was able to chase down whoever tossed that brick.”

  “The brick,” Faith repeated, belatedly remembering the note attached to it. “What did the note say?”

  Matt looked at her in faint surprise. “I haven’t checked it yet.” He blinked, then let go of her and looked around until he spotted it where he’d placed it on her dresser, half covered with her robe.

  “Have you got gloves?” he asked.

  Faith nodded. “Downstairs.”

  “Good. Let’s go get them.” Matt picked up the brick, still wrapped in the robe, and they headed downstairs to the kitchen.

  Faith gave him a pair of vinyl gloves, and he slid them on before detaching the note from the brick. He carefully unfolded it as Faith stood beside him.

  The sheet of paper was wrinkled and ragged from being tied to the brick, but it was still readable. The message was written in a deliberately childlike hand.

  WATCH YOURSELF, FAITH. STAY AWAY FROM POLITICS. IT’S NOT YOUR TIME TO DIE.

  Chapter Seven

  Matt studied the note and then looked up at Faith. Her eyes were glued to the page and she was frowning.

  “I don’t understand. What are they talking about?” She looked up at him.

  Matt shook his head without commenting. He had an idea what the note was about. He’d bet his salary that it was a warning to her about holding the town hall meeting in her café. He didn’t say anything though, because he didn’t want to influence Faith before she talked to the sheriff.

  At that instant, someone knocked on the door. Faith started. Matt could barely make out the even features of Sheriff Hale through the glass. He’d been expecting him, but he still breathed a sigh of relief as he went to the door and unlocked it.

  “Sheriff, hi,” Matt said.

  “Soarez. Ms. Scott.” Hale tipped his cowboy hat, then turned back to Matt. “I drove around for about twenty minutes, looking for the vehicle you saw. Never did see one like you described.”

  “Thanks for trying,” Matt said.

  “So where’s the brick?”

  Matt led the sheriff to the counter where the note was laid out.

  The sheriff pulled out his reading glasses and read it quickly, then bent over it and studied it more closely. He grabbed a napkin from a stack sitting on the counter and used it to pick up the paper and turn it over. He held it up to the light for a second, then laid it down again.

  “Black ballpoint pen on plain cheap paper, like copy paper. No watermark.” He took off his reading glasses and looked at Faith. “You got any idea what this means? Stay away from politics?”

  Matt waited to see what Faith said. “I—I don’t know,” she said, spreading her hands miserably. She looked at Matt, but he just stared at her steadily. It wasn’t his place to answer for her. He wasn’t in the bedroom when the brick came through the window. She needed to give Sheriff Hale her own description of what happened. It wasn’t easy to stop himself from going to her and putti
ng his arm around her for reassurance, but he couldn’t. He was getting way too caught up in Faith Scott. She wasn’t his mission. He was here to make sure no threat got close to Governor Lockhart and no harm came to the townspeople.

  He waited to see how she was going to answer the sheriff.

  “Maybe it’s about the governor? What if someone’s upset that I’m hosting the town hall meeting?”

  Hale narrowed his eyes. “Are you asking me or telling me?”

  Faith started, and her face turned white. Matt doubted the sheriff had ever snapped at her before.

  “Why don’t you tell me exactly what happened?” Hale went on.

  Faith looked at Matt and back at the sheriff. “I really don’t know. There was a huge crash, and something landed on the bed. It woke me up.” She looked at Matt again, but he didn’t speak. “I—I screamed, and then Matt ran in.”

  “What window did they throw the brick through?”

  “My—my bedroom window. It’s right over the bed.”

  “When I ran in and turned on the light, the brick and a huge shard of glass were just about in the middle of the bed.”

  “And you were here? Sleeping down here?”

  “Tonight I was sleeping upstairs.” Matt held up a hand. “On the couch. So I was right there as soon as it happened.”

  The sheriff held Matt’s gaze for a second, then turned to Faith again. “Ms. Scott, would you excuse Soarez and me? I just want to go over the technical details with him about the vehicle he saw.”

  Faith looked a little suspicious, but she agreed. “I’m pretty tired, and Li’l Bit is fussy.” She rubbed her side and winced. “I’m going to try to get some sleep.” She turned toward the stairs, then stopped. “Oh, no.”

  Matt knew immediately what the problem was. “You take the couch. It’s already made up. Don’t touch the bed. Just close the bedroom door. We may need to get more photos. I’ll sleep down here.”

  It looked for a moment like she was going to object, but then she nodded and headed upstairs.

  Once Matt heard the door at the top of the stairs close, he turned to Sheriff Hale.

  “Well, what do you think?”

  Matt shook his head. “I don’t know. I’d have to assume someone is warning her about associating with the governor.”

  Hale nodded toward the stairs. “Yeah, it does. But if Stockett’s still in town, he won’t have missed that you’re sleeping here.”

  Matt nodded, leaning against the counter. “That’s true. He sure wasn’t happy that I stepped in the other night. But throwing a brick through her window? And that cryptic note? I’d expect something more direct from Stockett. Like ‘you’re mine.’”

  “You’ve got a point. Is Faith afraid of him?”

  “Not really. Not physically. She handled him pretty well. She slammed the cash register drawer on his hand.”

  Hale chuckled. “You didn’t tell me that. Good for her.”

  “What do you know about Stockett?” Matt asked. “Other than he broke Faith’s heart and ran off and left her pregnant.”

  “Word is he got her to loan him a sizable amount of money.”

  Matt nodded. “She took out a five thousand dollar loan against the café.”

  Sheriff Hale shook his head in disgust. “I never liked that SOB.”

  “Even worse, he arranged the loan and got her involved with loan sharks. She now owes ten grand. The muscle came to see her last night.”

  Hale frowned. “Did he hurt her?”

  “Nope. Actually gave her until Sunday. Not that it makes a difference. No money today is the same as no money Sunday.”

  “It doesn’t make sense that the loan shark would use a brick through the window to send a message they already gave her in person.” He ran a hand over his close-cropped hair. “I’m inclined to think you’re right. Someone’s not happy that she’s hosting the town hall meeting.”

  “Right, and as far as my job’s concerned, this is another threat against the governor.”

  “Well,” Sheriff Hale said, “I need to take photos of the scene and get the crime lab in Amarillo to examine that note.”

  “Yeah. Because regardless of who threw the brick, they came way too close. If that shard of glass had landed an inch or two one way or another, Faith could have been hurt badly or killed.”

  BY THE TIME MATT FINISHED helping Sheriff Hale get photos of the crime scene and bag Faith’s bedclothes, shards of glass and all, it was 9:00 a.m. As soon as he made sure that Faith was all right, he headed out to Bellows’s estate.

  Bellows had just come back from physical therapy, so he was tired and out of sorts. He ran a towel across his face, then nodded to the physical therapist. “That’ll be all, thanks.” He looked at Matt. “What is it Soarez? Important, I hope. I’ve got a lot to do to get ready for tomorrow.”

  “Yes, sir,” Matt said. “I need an advance against my salary.”

  Bellows’s blue eyes widened. “An advance,” he repeated. “What kind of advance?”

  Matt swallowed. He’d known this was going to be hard, even if Bellows was in a good mood. He wasn’t, and he looked like he was ready to take it out on Matt.

  “Ten thousand, sir.” He fully expected Bellows to blow up, but all he did was narrow his gaze.

  “Ten thousand. I suppose you have a good reason?”

  “With all due respect, that’s personal, sir.”

  Bellows’s brows raised. “You might want to rethink that answer, son, if you expect to get that kind of money from me!”

  Matt winced. That was what he was afraid of. Bellows was definitely king of his domain. He’d given Matt a well-paying job because Matt had a set of skills Bellows needed. He was a philanthropist, to a point. And Matt knew he was pushing past that point.

  “Sir, the Talk of the Town Café’s owner, Faith Scott, needs it.”

  “For what? I don’t know Faith, but I knew her grandmother. Eliza left that place to her granddaughter, free and clear. What has she done to get herself into debt like that? And why do you care? More importantly, why should I care?”

  Before Matt could answer, Bellows spoke again. “And for God’s sake, sit down. You’re making me a nervous wreck pacing like that.”

  Matt hadn’t realized he’d been walking back and forth. He must be more nervous than he realized. He sat in the straight-backed chair. “Do you remember me mentioning Rory Stockett, sir?”

  “Stockett? Right, Stockett. I asked around. He’s generally thought of as a pretty slimy character.”

  Matt nodded. “He convinced Faith to take out a loan for five thousand dollars.”

  “So the girl hasn’t got any better sense than to trust a snake? That’s her problem, isn’t it?” Bellows eyed Matt narrowly. “Come on, Sergeant. You’re not getting tangled up with her, are you? Isn’t she pregnant?”

  “Yes, sir, she is, and no, sir. I’m not.”

  Matt endured Bart Bellows’s intense scrutiny. “Stockett gave her a ring—a fake—and told her as soon as he could get his trucking business started they’d get married. That’s what he wanted the money for—supposedly.”

  Bellows sat back in his wheelchair. “I did some looking into Rory Stockett, using a few connections I’ve got in various lines of work,” he said, an ironic tone creeping into his voice.

  Matt could imagine that Bellows’s influence extended from the highest government contacts to the lowest fringes of the criminal community.

  “He’s well-known for his shady dealings and general sliminess.” Bellows paused for a second to take a deep breath.

  “It’s pretty certain that he works for a major loan shark, although knowing the gentleman, I’m surprised he’d put up with Stockett. He also gambles, and he seems to specialize in separating gullible females from their money. I suppose he got Eliza’s granddaughter mixed up with loan sharks?”

  “Last night a man came to see her. Let’s just say he wasn’t an accountant. He told her if she didn’t pay up her café would bur
n down. And then early this morning a brick was thrown through her window, burying a six-inch shard of glass in the mattress not four inches from her thigh.”

  Bellows rolled his wheelchair behind his desk. “She’s all right?”

  “Yes, sir. No thanks to whoever threw that brick. There was a note attached to it. The note said, ‘Watch yourself, Faith. Stay away from politics. It’s not your time to die.’ And the word politics was underlined twice.”

  “Hmm. That’s pretty close to the wording on the note the governor received,” Bellows said, rubbing his beard. “It’s obviously another threat. You understand that my priority is the governor’s safety, don’t you? And therefore your priority is also the governor’s safety?”

  “I do, sir. Without question.”

  “What did Bernie say about it?” Bellows asked.

  “He thinks the same thing I do. Whoever threw that brick was warning Faith not to hold the town hall meeting there.”

  Bellows pulled a folder from a desk drawer and opened it. He flipped through the few sheets of paper in it. Matt was certain it was his records. He was also certain that Bellows didn’t really need to look at the pages to remind himself of what was on them. Bellows closed the folder and checked his watch.

  “I have an appointment in a few minutes. Here’s what I can do. I’ll give you ten grand for your girlfriend, but it’ll come out of your sisters’ scholarship fund.”

  Matt was surprised and dismayed. He’d been so grateful to Bellows for providing his twin baby sisters the opportunity to go to college. He’d known he’d never be able to pay those fees himself. Now he was sacrificing a sizable chunk of their college money to help a young woman whom he didn’t really know. It sounded pretty dumb laid out like that.

  “Well, son?”

  Matt swallowed. “Sir, my family means everything to me. I’ve made that clear. But Faith Scott is in danger, and I can’t turn my back on her. If it is the loan sharks that are threatening her, then ten thousand dollars is not too much to pay to keep her and her baby safe. I’ll get the money for my sisters some other way. I can save it or work a second job.”

  Bellows had already turned and unlocked a small safe in the wall behind him. He counted out one hundred hundreds and laid the stack on his desk within Matt’s reach.