In Protective Custody

by Beth Cornelison

  Her turquoise eyes blazed. “I’m not leaving as long as Elmer is at risk. I have to be sure he’s safe.”

  The conviction firing her eyes burrowed deep into his core. Her dedication, despite the danger her choice put her in, was remarkable. Rare.

  He sent her a grateful grin. “In that case, let’s find someplace we can get a good night’s sleep.”

  She scoffed and returned a skeptical scowl. “Sleep? You really don’t know newborns, do you?”

  “Uh, no. I—” He blew a slow breath through his teeth. “Look, I’m gonna need at least a catnap. I have to mentally regroup before driving to North Carolina in the morning. Nothing about today has gone the way I planned.”

  Starting with the woman in the passenger’s seat.

  She scoffed. “Tell me about it.”

  The dashboard lights cast Laura’s profile in a blue-white glow that reminded him of the aura that shone around angels in the movies.

  Angelic. The word fit. Her face was a study in understated beauty. A pert nose, a sprinkling of freckles, the subtle curve of her cheeks and a gracefully rounded chin. Even her abundant, wavy blond hair created a halo of gold around her head.

  Her lips broke the mold, though. Far from angelic, her lush, pouty lips had been created for sin. His own mouth watered imagining their taste.

  She turned and caught him staring. “What?”

  “What what?”

  “You were looking at me funny. Is something wrong?” She twisted to check the baby in the backseat then glanced at him again.

  “No, everything’s okay. I just…”

  She cocked her head and narrowed a leery gaze. Though he’d not given her much reason to trust him, her continued distrust and suspicion nettled him. Maybe because he had his own doubts about how he was going to get Laura out of this mess, how he would keep the promise he’d made Emily.

  Emily.

  Max sobered. For his sister’s sake, he had to figure out how to care for his nephew. Alone. Maybe then Laura wouldn’t feel compelled to stay with them.

  He considered himself a quick study. After watching how Laura handled Elmer tonight, he figured he could master the mysteries of baby care in no time. He could fix a bottle, rock Elmer to sleep—gently, no bouncing. He could even change a diaper—the teddy bear picture went in front. No problem. No big deal.

  So why was the prospect still so nerve-racking? He managed eighteen five-year-olds three times a week for Pee Wee football practice. Of course, his players were potty trained….

  “Max? You’re pale. Are you sure everything’s all right? Is it your shoulder?” Laura reached toward him but snatched her hand back before she touched him. Her skittish, touch-me-not body language mirrored a vulnerability that ghosted across her face. The haunting flash of loneliness and caution plucked at him, but he didn’t dwell on it. He had to stay focused on the job at hand.

  Emily had trusted him to protect her son, and that was a mandate he’d fulfill, no matter what.

  Laura should have been tired. She’d worked a long shift at the day care center, been shot at by thugs and driven through the Mississippi backwoods with Max for hours. But her nerves jangled, and her senses were on full alert.

  Her heart did a tap dance when she thought of her name on Max’s lips. Every muscle in her body tensed when she considered sharing close quarters at the hotel with him.

  In the darkness, every sound and movement from the driver’s side of the car seemed amplified. Each time the headlights of another car approached behind them, Max would tense, and her own pulse would scramble. She found herself holding her breath until the car passed them and headed on down the road.

  Any time Max sighed his fatigue or shifted his weight in discomfort, an electric bolt of awareness would zing through her. She couldn’t forget the skill he’d displayed firing his rifle at the men who’d attacked them, couldn’t ignore the power and strength obvious in his muscled shoulders and chest.

  He’d said he was a firefighter, and his impressive build proved he was an athlete, as well. But perhaps his most intimidating feature was his eyes.

  A disconcerting tremble stirred deep in her core whenever she met his coffee brown gaze. While she saw heated determination and a grim assessment of their situation in his eyes, she also found compassion.

  He’d displayed a similar gentleness when he’d brushed her hair from her cheek. Although his concern contradicted the hard-edged and dangerous man she’d first perceived him to be, she couldn’t drop her guard. She couldn’t let his kindness confuse her about what she had to do for Elmer’s sake. Protect the baby.

  “Looks like a motel up ahead.”

  She jerked when he spoke.

  “Doesn’t look like much, but I’m not picky. I’m exhausted.” He glanced at her. “Will this place do for you?”

  “Yeah. Whatever.”

  He stopped the car in front of the motel office and faced her. She turned to meet his gaze and quickly regretted it. A certain weary sadness darkened his expression and tweaked her soft heart.

  If he were a dog on the side of the road, she’d take him home and feed him—then find a home for him with someone else, before she had the chance to grow attached.

  She sighed. “I really don’t care where we spend the night. I don’t plan to sleep.”

  He nodded slowly. “All right. I’ll get us a room.” The look in his eyes warmed, grew more intense. “But don’t tell me you don’t care. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t care…at least about the baby.”

  She dropped her gaze to her hands, unsettled by the intimate shift in the conversation, in his voice.

  Sure, she cared about the baby. How could she not want to help the sweet newborn? She also cared about saving the rain forest and rooting for the Red Sox in the playoffs. She always championed the underdog. After all, she’d been that underdog once, lost in the foster system. She knew how it felt to have the odds against you.

  But caring was where, by necessity, she drew the line. Any deeper personal commitment or emotional investment ran the risk of breaking her heart. She’d suffered enough rejection, broken promises and painful losses to last her a lifetime, thank you. She wouldn’t wish her years of drifting through the foster system on her worst enemy.

  “Is there someone you should call while I check in?”

  His question brought her gaze up.

  “Someone at home who might be worried about where you are? A husband? A boyfriend? Roommate?”

  Without answering, she turned and stared out the window at the moths and gnats buzzing around the motel’s security light.

  “A neighbor or relative?”

  “No.”

  He grunted. “A cat?”

  Whipping her head around, she gave him an irritated glare. She didn’t need his reminder of how empty her life was. It was necessary. Lonely was better than heartbroken. The succession of foster homes and broken ties she’d endured growing up had taught her that hard lesson. Let no one close enough to break your heart when they left.

  When they left. Not if. They always left her. Alone.

  “No. There’s no one I need to call, okay?”

  She’d hoped her cool tone would push him away. Instead, his expression grew darker, more worried. “There’s no one?”

  She paused. “No. Except the ladies at the day care center. But I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself. I don’t need anyone checking up on me.”

  He made no response for a long time then sighed and rubbed his face. “I guess that’s something we have in common. No one’s waiting at home for me, either.”

  The deep rumble of his voice, the regret in his tone made her stomach tighten. She didn’t want anything in common with this man. And she especially didn’t want to feel any empathy with his isolation. Their concern for the baby was enough. Too much.

  “Except for Emily, of course, and…well—” He leaned his head back on the seat and squeezed his eyes shut. “God, I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose h
er,” he muttered on an exhaled breath.

  “Elmer’s mother?”

  “Yeah.”

  Leave it alone. Don’t go any further with it, or you’ll be sorry. “You’re close to your sister, I guess. I mean, to do all this for her…”

  He furrowed his brow. “Yeah. Since my divorce, Em’s my only family. I took over raising her when our parents died. I’d do anything for her. No matter what.”

  She felt a funny catch in her chest, like a pang of longing or disappointment. Maybe sympathy. She refused to examine the emotion too closely. Instead, she shoved it down, pushed it away. Don’t let this get personal.

  She had a duty to the baby, a duty to ensure Elmer was in the right hands, was protected. First chance she had, she’d get away from Max and take the baby to the police. She’d let the cops sort the mess out and keep Elmer safe.

  Then she could walk away. No looking back.

  Chapter 5

  “I told you before not to expect me to help.” Laura turned her eyes from Max with a wince.

  Max sighed his frustration. He stood in the door of their motel bathroom, a bottle of rubbing alcohol in one hand and his bloody shirt in the other. The wound on his shoulder was worse than he’d thought and in desperate need of cleaning and a bandage. “I can’t do it alone. You have to help.”

  “You should have seen a doctor,” she said without looking up from the bottle she held for Elmer.

  “I told you why a doctor was out. They’d call the cops.”

  And he’d promised Emily not to get the cops involved. For good reason.

  Laura gave him a dramatic sigh, still avoiding looking at him. “Listen, I’d help if I could. Really. But the thing is…blood…” Her fingers flexed and tightened around Elmer’s bottle as the baby sucked greedily at his late-night snack. “The sight of blood makes me sick. I’d never get through helping you without throwing up.”

  Max tossed his bloodstained shirt beside the bag of extra clothes he’d bought earlier. “Swell,” he muttered and went back to sit on the edge of the tub. He’d find a way to doctor his wound by himself.

  He took one of the washrags provided by the motel and poured a liberal amount of alcohol on it. The alcohol fumes and the stale odor of cigarettes in the motel room turned his own stomach, and he tried to close his nose to the strong scents. He dabbed at the gash on his shoulder, softening the dried blood so he could brush it away. The alcohol burned, firing a sting worse than the original bullet wound.

  Grimacing, he growled equally scorching curses through his clenched teeth. He managed the awkward process of tending his own injury fairly well until he had to wrap the wound with the bandage. Trying to work the cloth strip tight enough to hold the gauze pad securely, he fumbled and dropped the pad. No dice.

  “Laura.”

  “Yes?”

  “Please?”

  He heard no response, but a moment later, she appeared at the door. Her face looked pale and frightened, the effect heightened by the harsh blue-white glow of the fluorescent lights in the bathroom.

  “I can’t wrap the bandage tight enough without help.”

  Her throat convulsed as she swallowed. With a timid nod, she stepped closer, flinching when she looked at the bloody gauze on his shoulder. “Wh-what do I do?”

  “I’ll hold the end. You wrap, going under my arm then over the wound several times. Okay?”

  She nodded again.

  He watched her face as she lifted the bandage with trembling hands and tugged to tighten the slack. “That’s it. Good. Again.”

  With her help, he had a neatly bound bandage in no time. “There. Done. Thanks.”

  She sat back on her heels, pressing a hand to her stomach. When he began gathering the bloody debris from cleaning the wound, she took one look at the crimson-stained rag, and the color drained from her face. She spun toward the toilet and…

  Guilt pinched him as she retched. “Hey, you okay?”

  She shook her head.

  He gathered her long wavy hair in his fist and held it out of the line of fire. The silky strands tickled the small cuts on his palms left by the shards of his broken window as he’d crawled across the floor. The soft caress teased his imagination with how all that hair would feel draped around him during sex. He groaned, forcing the erotic image aside. Tucking her hair inside the neckline of her blouse to keep it back, he searched for a clean washrag and dampened it with cool water. “Here.”

  She peeked up and accepted the proffered cloth. Sitting back on her haunches, she wiped her mouth and pressed the moist cloth to her throat. “Happens every time.”

  He offered an apologetic grin. “Can I get you a soft drink from the vending machine?”

  She shook her head. “I’m okay. Just embarrassed.”

  “Don’t be. You warned me.” He rose to his feet and gave her another long, sympathetic gaze. “Thanks, Laura. I owe you one. Tell me if I can get you anything, okay?”

  She flashed a quick, shaky smile. When she struggled to her feet, he put a hand under her elbow to help, but she batted his hand away. “No, I’m good.”

  Laura left the bathroom on wobbly legs then stopped at the vanity sink to swish a dab of toothpaste in her mouth.

  It struck Max that the incident said a lot about Laura. Despite knowing how it would affect her, despite what it cost her, she’d helped him when he really needed her. Just like she’d stuck with him out of concern for Elmer, despite the known risk.

  He was forming a picture of a generous and caring woman, one who put others’ needs before her own. He respected that.

  He picked out a fresh shirt from his new clothes, a button-down he could easily slip his arms into, and carried it into the main room.

  Laura sat on the bed with Elmer. Her color was back, and she seemed steadier.

  Max propped against a stack of pillows at the head of one double bed while Laura played with Elmer on the other. He couldn’t help staring. Her face glowed with an inner joy as she tickled and cooed at the baby. His own skin shivered with imagined pleasure watching her slim fingers trace circles on Elmer’s chest and legs. The baby’s gaze riveted on her face with a curious fascination, much the way Max’s did.

  His nephew had good taste. Laura was easy on the eyes.

  And she had a natural ability with Elmer. Sure, she’d said she worked at a day care center, but her skill went beyond knowing how to burp him after his bottle or her lightning-fast diaper changes. It was in the glow.

  Jennifer had had that glow. Once. His ex-wife’s face had shone with excitement, love and desire when she’d talked about motherhood—the babies she’d wanted, the nursery she’d planned, the dreams she’d cherished. Jennifer would have been a wonderful mother.

  If not for him.

  Max swung his legs off the bed with a groan and started pacing. He hadn’t wanted to dig up the past, but it had been inevitable. The irony that he was now responsible for a baby hadn’t escaped him. In fact, the paradox wrestled inside him, reviving the pain of three years he’d rather not remember.

  “I thought you were going to sleep,” Laura said.

  “So did I.” As he stalked past her bed for the third time, he cast a quick glance at Laura. The warmth that had filled her face while she played with the baby was gone. The instant she looked at him, her expression became closed, guarded. Her continued wariness and touch-me-not manner rankled.

  “I’m sure Elmer will be back to sleep in just a little while.” She picked the baby up and put him on her shoulder. “Newborns don’t usually stay up for long stretches.”

  “Elmer’s not what’s keeping me awake.” He dragged a hand over his face. “It’s this whole insane mess. Anthony Rialto is a maniac. He sent gun-toting goons after me, for God’s sake!”

  Laura shot him a peculiar expression he couldn’t interpret.

  “What’s that look for?”

  “If I remember correctly, you had your own guns and returned fire.” She gave the Glock on the nightstand a meaning
ful glance.

  He huffed. “That’s different.”

  “How?”

  Propping his hands on his hips, he stopped pacing and faced her. “I was defending myself and protecting the baby. And you!”

  She stared at the bedspread, a serious, thoughtful knit in her brow. “Who were they? What am I involved in?”

  Fair questions. He sighed and started pacing again. How much should he tell her?

  The less Laura knew about the Rialtos, the better. For her own safety. Firsthand knowledge of a drug smuggler’s activity was not good for one’s health. If she did leave him and go to the cops spouting her eyewitness account of Rialto’s strong-arm tactics, she’d set herself up as the egomaniac’s next target.

  “Max, on your answering machine, in your driveway, that man said the baby belonged with him. Why? Who is he?”

  Max latched on to her last question, a way to give her at least part of the truth. “The man was Anthony Rialto. He’s my sister’s father-in-law. They want custody of Elmer, but Emily gave him to me. She wants me to have him, to protect him. You saw the kind of people they are, how they use violence to get their way. I promised Emily to keep her son away from those goons.”

  “If you have Emily’s permission, a legal right to have Elmer, than why not call the police on these guys?”

  Max scrubbed a hand over his face as he stalked the small room with restless energy gnawing at him. “It’s not as black and white as that. It’s not just about legal rights, and involving the police will make things even more complicated.”

  If Laura dragged the police into this scenario, the cops could easily put Elmer in protective custody where the Rialtos could find him, use their paid contacts inside the police department and stake their claim to the baby. The courts would get involved. It’d be a nightmare.

  He’d promised not to let Elmer out of his sight for a minute. Anything could happen. As Emily said, the Rialtos could even take Elmer out of the country.

  When he raised his head to meet her gaze, her blue-green eyes drilled into him. For a moment, he simply lost himself in the sharp intelligence, the depth of emotion reflected in their vivid color. A man could drown in those eyes. He fought the magnetic pull of her bright gaze and dragged his thoughts back to the problem at hand.