But for some reason, my gaze is then drawn to Sean again. I want to know if he’s the baby’s father, and if so, what kind of relationship does he have with her mother? Just the fact he has a baby that he’s never admitted to is as effective as a bucket of cold water being thrown over me. My attraction I had felt for the man disappears in one fell swoop.
Chapter 6
Sean
I’ve never heard such a racket in my life. It’s hard to believe so much sound could come from such a small body. Now that awful heart-wrenching crying has stopped, my relief is immense. Mollie seems content, lying in my arms, sucking at her bottle, making little gurgles of appreciation. Her eyes are gazing up into mine. It’s impossible to ignore they’re the same brilliant blue colour as my own. Fuck, could it be true?
The rest of the team is silent now, all watching me, eyeing up the now settled baby in my arms, their expressions all questioning―except for Van who seems to be looking at me, almost with contempt. All seem to be enjoying the welcome silence and holding back their comments for now, but it’s time I come clean. I nod toward the baby seat, “There’s a letter there, Ryan. Could you pass it across to Ben?”
The envelope is handed down the table. Ben inclines his head as though asking for permission, and at my nod, opens it. He extracts the two sheets of paper.
Impatient as always, Jon recognises the birth certificate and snatches it away. He lets out a slow whistle and turns to me. “This suggests she’s yours. You’ve never mentioned a baby or pregnant girlfriend. Can I assume you knew nothing of this?” As I shake my head, he looks back down again. “If you didn’t know about the birth and weren’t there to register her, I’m not sure it’s official.”
“I didn’t know of any pregnancy, let alone a birth, I can assure you of that.” I’d immediately known that I couldn’t handle this alone as soon as I’d read and digested the paperwork down in the lobby. It’s why I brought the baby up to the conference room. And if I’m going to need the team to help me sort out this mess, I’m going to have to tell them everything. It’s going to be messy and I’m not going to come out of it well. I throw a glance at Van, noticing she’s watching me intently. For some reason, I know it’s her I’m going to disappoint the most, but what I don’t understand is why that thought upsets me. Realising they’re waiting for me to tell them what I do know, I close my eyes briefly, and then let it out. “I’ve no fucking idea if she’s my baby or not.”
Ben looks searchingly at me, “You can’t say for definite that it isn’t?”
“She,” I correct again, automatically, “And no.” Before they can start reproaching me, I add pointedly, indicating the men around the table, “Nor could any of us.”
It’s that moment when I can see most of my male colleagues shift awkwardly, as they acknowledge there’s truth in my words.
“So, what do you know about this,” Ben pulls the certificate away from Jon and lays it out in front of him, “Danielle Smith?” His eyes question me.
Shaking my head I sigh, “I don’t recognise the name.” As much as I could once Mollie started screaming, I’d been wracking my brains to remember.
After letting out a short breath he continues, “She’s four months old. That would make it around thirteen months or so ago that you did the deed with Ms Smith, if, indeed, you did so.” Again, he consults the form. “She’s listed her occupation as ‘self-employed’. That doesn’t help much. But do you remember anything? Remember forgetting something?” He raises an eyebrow that somehow appears at once to be both quizzical and censoring.
He means going without a condom. Something that would never happen at Club Tiacapan. None of its members, including myself, would ever go in un-gloved. I look around the table, giving them the assurance they expect. “I have never, ever, forgotten to use a condom.” I pause for a moment, seeing their nods. It’s fucking unusual, but accidents can happen, even if you take all the precautions you can. Everyone knows that condoms are only ninety-eight percent effective, and any of us can only hope that we’ll never end up in the unlucky two percent.
“Had one break on me once,” Jon admits.
“Bloody persistent fuckers.” Ryan’s comment breaks the tension in the room, and everyone laughs, especially as he adds, “Knowing Sean, one probably karate chopped its way through the latex.” He’s referring to my martial arts expertise. Or what was my expertise before I was shot.
Glancing down at Mollie, I see the bottle has slipped out of her mouth. As she catches my eye, she smiles up at me. She fucking smiles at me! I feel a tightness in my chest which I can’t describe and certainly don’t understand. Pushing the feeling down, I get back to the business in hand. “I can’t remember fucking anyone called Dannie or Danielle,” I admit to the room then continue, knowing I’m going to have to be completely honest, “But I couldn’t tell you that I didn’t.” I can feel Vanessa’s eyes burning into me. I don’t even have to look in her direction.
And she’s the one who speaks, “You can’t remember the names of the women you’ve made love to?” She sounds incredulous.
“Fucked, darling, fucked. I don’t make love.” I give it to her directly. It’s the truth, and it’s also true I’m probably about as much of a bastard as she considers I am at this very moment. But total disclosure is required if my colleagues are going to be able to help me. I make it worse. “I don’t need to know their names.”
Van’s hand goes over her mouth, and she glances around the room at the others to see if they think as little of my admission as she does. But except for Harry and Nafisa, we’re all Doms, we all play in clubs. What does she think happens? Half the time people use pseudonyms in any event, so what’s the point in asking? The others shift uncomfortably under her gaze, but it’s Ben who takes the lead, ignoring my confession, and thankfully simply concentrating on the main issue.
“First, Sean, you’ll do a DNA test, check whether she’s yours or not. Nafisa, can you sort that out?” Nafisa nods in agreement. DNA tests are something we’ve arranged before, though not exactly under these circumstances. Grade A has connections with a lab who is willing to fast track the results for us. “If Sean does the tests now we should get the results back first thing tomorrow.”
“Should we involve child services?” Harry butts in, his brow creased in concern. “Who’s going to look after the baby?”
“I am!” I snap, indignantly, making the decision on the spur of the moment. “I’m named as the father.”
Ben’s isn’t the only mouth that falls open, but he’s the one that voices what they’re all thinking, “Are you sure, Sean? You don’t even know how to change a fucking nappy.”
Looking into Mollie’s lovely face, now relaxed in sleep once more, I know if there is any chance that she’s mine I won’t be letting anyone else take responsibility for her. And I definitely don’t want to hand her over to the authorities and end up with a possible fight on my hands to get her back if the test comes back as a match. “How hard can it be?” I ask, half to myself.
“Huh!” Harry’s been there, done that and so will know from experience. But surely it can’t be that difficult?
Ben’s drumming his fingers on the table,; he’s frowning, “How do you read this letter, Sean?”
His question causes me to review what I’d read in the reception area, “Probably the same way as you do. Whoever the mother is, she’s in some sort of trouble. Whether Mollie’s mine or not, I can’t ignore it, Ben. It’s a plea for help. And a pretty desperate one at that if she’s left her child with a stranger.” Shifting the baby in my arms so I’m holding her more comfortably, I continue. “I may need to take a leave of absence. The baby’s been left with me, so I’ve got to find this Danielle. No one abandons their child without good reason, even if it turns out to be the case she’s left her with the man who fathered her.” I feel bad asking for more time off when it’s only been a few months since I returned from sick leave.
“We need to find her,” my boss announc
es softly, “She brought us into it when she left the baby at our building, and you’re one of ours.” He effectively lets me know I’ll have the full resources of Grade A at my back. I start, I hadn’t expected that. I’d hoped to be able to call on some of the available expertise, but not that he would pledge such support. Lost for words at the generous gesture, I jerk my chin toward him, simply nodding my thanks as I let him know how much I appreciate his offer. It’s a comforting suggestion and one which takes a weight off my mind.
“Thirteen months ago, you were in Amahad.” Van has, at least momentarily, put aside her condemnations of my sex life, and is looking up last year’s work schedule. Yes, that was the time before last that I went to that Arab country. The last time being six months ago, when I’d received bullets for my pains. “You were there with Harry in place of Jon.” I do notice her voice sounds a little unsteady as she speaks.
I think back. Ah, yes, that’s right. At that point in time Jon wanted as little to do as possible with the old Emir and his sons. It was when the world still thought the younger son, Sheikh Nijad, guilty of a terrible crime, and seeing it as a betrayal of his previous close friendship with the man, Jon had steered as clear of Amahad as he could.
“You were there for just over three weeks. It’s the right time frame,” Van continues.
“Unless the baby was premature or late,” I say. Nothing is ever simple. I learned long ago it’s best to never assume anything. “But thanks for reminding me, Van. That seems the place to start.” I try to bring to mind exactly what I did there.
Harry’s thinking along the same lines, “Our duties were fairly light, Sean. We had most of the evenings free when the Palace security took over. You were out a lot at the clubs, and at the casino. Do you remember meeting anyone in particular?”
A different girl each time. And no, I couldn’t remember any of their names. A simple shake of my head lets me escape without having to spell out my indiscretions with words.
As my colleagues digest my admission, I think about the country I’d been working in. Amahad, a small Arabic state, is a country of two halves. The north, being the coastal area and home to the capital Al Qur’ah, is being developed as a tourist destination with all the associated attractions. The south of the country is mostly deserted, inhabited by the nomadic tribes who seem to live in a different era. Being situated in the modern northern half, Harry’s right, I’d made good use of the tourist facilities while I’d been there.
Ben’s pen taps rhythmically on the table and his brow creases. After a few seconds, he turns to his partner. “Well, let’s see what we can do to trace her from here first. We have a name and address on the birth certificate. Sean’s going to have his hands full,” he pauses to give a grin and his glance at Mollie leaves none of us in any doubt as to what he’s alluding to, “So Jon, can you get someone to head out to…” he checks the certificate, “Watford and check it out?” There’s a round of smirks at the thought of me trying to cope with the baby, but Jon dips his head as he agrees to help.
“Do you think it’s going to be that simple?” I frown, having doubts about that. It didn’t sound like she wanted to be found, so why leave the birth certificate with an address in plain view? “I don’t even know if it was her who dropped the baby off this morning. It could have been a friend, relative. Heck, she could have paid a stranger to do it.”
“Let’s take the obvious steps first, Sean. Get the DNA test done, and we’ll meet again in the morning and see what we’ve got so far. Despite what it says on this piece of paper, the baby might not be yours. And although we’re reading it as though she’s in danger, it could be we’re overreacting. There might be a simple answer. This Danielle might be running from an ex, for example. She could be right under our noses.”
Or more likely, in my opinion, she might not.
Chapter 7
Vanessa
While Ben is announcing we’ll reconvene again the next day, I start getting my stuff together ready to leave the conference room. My mind races with everything I’ve just heard, and what I’ve learned about Sean today leaves me very confused. My attraction to Sean had lurked in the background since the day I’d first met him but now has taken a nose dive with the realisation that if he ever looked at me, it would probably only result in a one night stand. The fact that he can’t remember―or even bothered to find out in the first place―the names of the multitudes of women he’s slept with has shaken me. And particularly that he could well have fathered a child he knew nothing about. His casual approach to sex is very far from my own.
What approach to sex? My traitorous mind asks me. I haven’t seen any action in the last two years! Shit! I pause, my hand hovering halfway to picking up my tablet. In all honesty, am I so unlike him? I’ve never had much more than one night stands in any event. Okay, so the difference was that these were preceded by the dating ritual, a dance between partners trying to assess compatibility over dinner or a drink in the pub, before taking the decision to jump into bed. But whether it had been days or weeks before taking that final step to slide under the sheets together, nothing earth shattering had come of any of the rather limited number of liaisons that I’d had. Something had been missing, that spark, that excitement, that experience I’ve only read about, two heaving, sweaty bodies coming together, shouting and screaming a release of such intense satisfaction to both partners that they were left sated, unable to do anything but sleep. Until round two.
Hmm, I can honestly say that my half dozen attempts had been little more than awkward fumbling between friends, going through expected motions with predictable, but ultimately disappointing results for both parties. It will get better in time. We have to get to know each other first. How often have I heard that, or words to that effect? But I think half a dozen times was the most I gave it with anyone before giving up and, for the most part, making the mutual decision to continue with a friendship and the admission to an incompatibility in bed. I’ve got a lot of male friends.
Except for my one try at a proper relationship with that bastard, Simon. Usually I try not to remember the one time I did go back for seconds and a whole lot more. It was the idea of the companionship and everything else I'd believed was on offer that was the attraction. And even though no bells pealed in heaven when we were in bed together, the engagement ring on my finger had made me overlook any deficiencies in that area. And look how badly that had ended. Total fucking disaster. I shake my head as if I can physically force thoughts of him right out of it, but it’s hard. The baby held in the arms of the man sitting opposite me is bringing it all back.
I’d always imagined that Sean would be different. Just one look at his confident face suggests he’s a man who’d pride himself on satisfying his lover in any way they could want to be gratified. And how often have I yearned to put my suspicions to the test, especially after learning about his lifestyle? No man I’ve ever been with has had a clue what I wanted them to do in bed or has picked up on my subtle hints. It seemed impolite to instruct them to touch me in a certain way or was too embarrassing to express my darkest desires. The knowledge I’ve gained from reading about the life style has made me wonder, what if I could direct and control a man in bed?
Until today, the man holding the baby in front of me, the man who openly admits he’s happy to either top or bottom, had played a starring role in my fantasies. But now my dreams are shattered. Because of the very thing he’s holding in his arms. A baby.
“Vanessa, are you with us?”
Embarrassed I discover I’ve been lost in my thoughts and have missed that my boss hasn’t quite concluded the meeting.
“Sorry, Ben?” Again, I feel my face flushing. Shit! Not only am I ignoring what’s going on around me, but I'm also thinking of sex in a business meeting. Dragging my mind out of the gutter I give him my attention.
The slight smirk on his face suggests Ben suspects I’m consumed by the revelations about Sean’s sex life. Could he possibly know I had had a crush on the
man? Christ! I hope not!
“Vanessa, if needs be, I’m going to want you to work on this case with Sean. I appreciate it’s the first time for you out in the field, but your investigatory skills might come in handy, as he seems to have lost track of a woman. I take it you’ll be okay with that? Nafisa can take up the rest of your workload, and we’ve a new chap coming in next week to help as well. That should free all your time.”
I think my heart might have stopped momentarily. My God! I hadn’t expected that today. An opportunity to work outside the office? But the smile that started at my lips doesn’t complete its journey to my eyes as reality hits. He wants me to work with Sean? Well, finding a woman doesn’t seem to be a very risky mission, so perhaps he sees this as a gentle way to ease me in. But to see Sean daily, now that I’ve heard his secrets and his attitude to women? To be in close contact now that I know he’s not looking for ‘the one’, but lots of ones? To help him sift through all the women he’s slept with to find the baby’s mother? Shit! I’ve just been handed the proverbial poisoned chalice. And on top of all that, he could well be a father!
It would be foolish to pretend I’ve recovered from what happened two years ago. Just the sight of an infant being pushed in a pram in the street causes me to have palpitations as all the bad memories come rushing back. If the baby is his, will he keep her around? I won’t be able to cope.
Wondering if I can protest, when everyone is waiting for me to jump with excitement as they all know I’ve worked hard for this for two years, I force myself to think rationally. With any luck my first assignment as an operative might not even get off the ground. Danielle might very well be found by our paperwork search today. So, before my lack of response can be misinterpreted, or quite possibly, correctly construed, I hurry to speak, “What if it doesn’t come to anything and we find Ms Smith quickly?”
Identity Crisis (Blood Brothers #4) Page 5
