“Okay, sis. Now you’re really starting to worry me. Just spit it out. Whatever it is, I’m tough—I can take it.”
She took a deep breath and came out with it. “I’m pregnant. Simon and I didn’t plan on it happening, but it did and now I’m dealing with it.” When Mike didn’t say anything she just ploughed ahead. “So yeah. I’m thinking that I’m probably going to give it up for adoption, but I’ve got some time to decide.”
“You’re having a baby,” her brother said, drawing the words out like he was still trying to comprehend them. “With Simon.”
“Yes.” Alisha bit her lip. “And I get you being shocked. I’m still kind of shocked too. I never expected to be a mom and I’m not going to lie and say I’m not scared because I am. Pregnancy’s not easy, especially for someone who spends her time chasing stories. I mean I barely have time to take care of myself these days, let alone an infant, and Lord knows I don’t want to make the same mistakes our mom did by trying to raise a kid by myself and have a career and… I don’t know.”
Mike growled. “I know I’m going to punch Simon in the face the next time I see him.”
“Hey! No.” She scowled. “This isn’t his fault. It just happened.”
“Him getting you pregnant doesn’t just happen, sis.”
“Well, it did.” She took a deep breath and gave her brother a few minutes to cool off before saying, “So, yeah. That’s what’s going on with me.”
“Man.” He sighed through the line. “When I asked you for news, you didn’t disappoint.”
They both cracked up, easing some of the tension between them.
Finally, Mike said, “You know, besides the whole punching thing, Simon is a decent guy, sis. If there’s a possibility that you might decide you want to keep the baby, at least consider letting him help you raise it. Give him a chance.”
“Maybe. I don’t know.” She picked at a hangnail. “I don’t even like kids.”
“Yeah, but it’s different when it’s yours, Alisha.” He waited a beat. “Seriously. That baby’s gonna be awesome.”
She sighed. “Fine—I’ll consider it. Like I said, I’ve got time to decide whether I’ll go the adoption route or try raising the kid myself. If I end up choosing to keep it, I’ll think about letting Simon help me raise the baby. But I’m still worried about my career. I’m mean, I’m hoping this story will be the break I need to get back on track.”
“Well, just think about it anyway,” Mike said. “Listen, I’ve got to go. You stay safe, okay?”
“Will do. You too.”
After she ended the call, Alisha got back to cleaning out the car, the conversation with Mike still running through her head. Namely the part about giving Simon a chance and maybe letting him help raise the baby. She still wasn’t sure she wanted to be a mother—but the idea of giving her child up didn’t feel completely right, either. Maybe if she had help, a partner, she could find a way to be a mother and have a career without having to choose one over the other. With the stakeout ahead of them, it might just be the perfect time to get to know the guy better and see if he might be father material.
Seven
“So, Thomas Warren,” Alisha said from behind the wheel of her car later that night. They were currently parked at the curb across the street from Warren’s house. Simon was in the passenger seat next to her. “He’s owned the auction house for a few years now. From scouring through his files, he seems like a pretty fine, upstanding citizen. His wife died about six months ago. It was very sudden—an undiagnosed heart defect.”
“That’s too bad,” Simon said, glancing over at her, then back out the window beside him. “Poor guy. Did they have kids?”
“Yeah. A baby, around eight months old.” She shifted slightly, trying to find a comfortable spot. She’d hoped to avoid bringing up babies at all tonight, yet here they were. Ugh. They’d only been here about fifteen minutes so far, and since her source hadn’t been able to give her an exact time when things were supposed to go down, it looked like they might be in for a long stakeout. “What’s in the bag?”
She pointed to the white plastic bundle at Simon’s feet and he reached down to grab it.
“Snacks,” he said, holding it out to her. “Beef jerky, trail mix, chips. There’s some bottled water and cans of soda in there too. Help yourself.”
She snorted. “Aw, isn’t that sweet. You packed a lunch.”
“It’s not a lunch,” he said, his tanned cheeks flushing. “It’s snacks.”
“Whatever.” She waved him off and stared out the windshield. Alisha had to admit that there was something very attractive about Simon Stone, whether she liked it or not.
“C’mon.” He grabbed two bottles of water from the bag and opened them both, handing her one before holding up his drink. “Let’s toast.”
“To what?” She scrunched her nose. “Being trapped in the car together for hours?”
“Nah.” He seemed to consider his options for a second. “How about the baby?”
Alisha lowered her bottle and took a deep breath. She hadn’t wanted to get into this again so soon, but he had other ideas, apparently. “I don’t know. Not sure we should celebrate that yet, considering I haven’t decided yet what I’m going to do.”
“It’s just a toast.” He reached over and tapped the neck of his bottle against hers. “To the baby. And the future, whatever it may be.”
“Yeah.” She took a drink, glad for the wetness on her parched throat. In an effort to change subjects to something lighter, she asked, “How’s the writing going?”
“It’s going.” He shrugged and screwed the cap back on his water. “Wrestling my muse down onto the page can be tough sometimes. I’ve been working on a new idea for a few weeks now, but it’s going super slow. Probably because the subject doesn’t interest me very much.”
“I get that.” She rested her shoulder against the door beside her, glad for some common ground for them to stand on besides the baby topic. “Sometimes writing the story is a hell of a lot harder than investigating it.”
“Word.” Simon nodded. “It’s like I’ll get this whole scene playing in my head like a movie and I know what I want it to look like, but when it’s on the page, it comes out completely different.”
“Right? I saw this meme on social media with a superhero on one side and some doofus in a cape on the other and it was like, ‘the story in my head vs. the story I write’.”
“God, yes!” Simon laughed, the rich, deep sound sending a shiver of warmth through her. “Every. Damned. Time. I’ll read back through it and be like ‘what idiot wrote this? Oh yeah. I did.’”
“Amen! And at least you have the luxury of being able to take your time with it, keep working on it until you’ve gotten it into shape. Me, I’ve got deadlines to meet and—” her thought was cut off by the arrival of a black SUV pulling up to the curb opposite their vehicle, nearest to the Warren home. Alisha froze, placing her hand on Simon’s arm and nodding toward his window.
“Something’s happening,” she whispered, slowly putting her bottle down into the cup holder between the seats before grabbing her camera to film. Through the darkness, the porchlight on Warren’s house shone like a beacon in the night.
“Is that the same van we saw at the bar the other night?” Simon asked, sliding down in his seat slightly to avoid being seen and also to not block Alisha’s view with her camera.
“Yeah, I think it is. The license plate numbers are different, but they could’ve switched the plates,” she said, tracking four men as they emerged from the van and walked up to the house. “Best get out your notebook, ’cause it’s going down.”
* * *
Simon kept one eye on the guys heading up to Thomas Warren’s house while he fiddled inside his bag for a pen with the other. “Seems kind of weird that they’d show up without masks and stuff if they’re doing something hinky though, right? I mean, anyone could ID them. Maybe it’s just a normal business meeting.”
Alisha shook her head. “Normal, my ass. The reason they’re not wearing masks is because the Andronetto brothers don’t care who sees them.” She pointed past him toward the porch. “That’s Hendrix and Milo right there.” She frowned. “Not sure about the other two, which is weird since I’ve spent the past day looking up the criminal records of all of the Andronettos’ known associates. Those guys look familiar—but not from a mug shot. Still, if they’re hanging out with the Andronetto brothers, then they’re up to no good.”
“Fair point.” He held his notebook closer to the window to try and get some glow from the streetlights above to see what the hell he was doing and squinted at the four figures now standing on Warren’s porch. The other two guys looked vaguely familiar to him also, but he couldn’t place from where exactly.
Hendrix rang the bell and soon the door opened to reveal Warren. He let the quartet in and they walked into the living room. The front blinds were open so Simon and Alisha could see what was happening.
“Do you read lips?” Simon asked Alisha over his shoulder as he scribbled descriptions down on his pad in shorthand. He’d need those later for writing his scenes.
“No.” She shifted closer to his back, her warmth penetrating the leather jacket he was wearing and sending a burst of heat through his bloodstream before he shoved it aside. Now wasn’t the time for his hormones to spike. He was trying to work here. Never mind the way her perfume—sweet and spicy and pure Alisha—tickled his nose. He had no business thinking about her fragrance. Nope. Not right now, anyway. Her elbow bumped the back of his head as she zoomed her camera in on the window, knocking some much-needed sense into him. “But from the way they’re gesturing, it looks like an argument.”
“About what?” Simon frowned.
“No idea. But from Milo’s angry expression, I’d say it’s not good.”
“Nope.” Simon narrowed his gaze. He’d seen enough heated conflicts as a SEAL to recognize when one was getting out of hand. Sure enough, the next thing he knew, Hendrix had grabbed Warren’s arm and things got physical. Milo wrapped his arms around Warren from behind, trapping him, while another man pulled a hood over his head. Simon’s instincts went on high alert. “This isn’t a fight anymore. It’s an abduction.”
Alisha gasped. “Oh shit! You’re right. They’re trying to drag him outside to the van now. What should we do? Call the police?”
“Let me get my phone,” Simon said, trying to pull the damned thing from his pocket while chaos ensued on the short walk from Warren’s house to the black van waiting at the curb. Warren was struggling mightily, but with four other men holding him tight, it wasn’t doing him much good. Part of Simon wanted to run over and stop the abduction himself—it went against the grain to just sit by when someone needed help—but he knew that jumping in would be foolhardy. It was four against one, and these men were almost certainly armed. Action heroes in movies might be able to work with those odds, but in real life, it was suicide. The front door of the house was standing open, light spilling down onto the front yard like an oil slick.
“Hurry up!” Alisha shouted, scrambling back away from him and opening her window to yell out. “They’re going to get away!”
“I’m trying,” Simon said. He wasn’t usually so clumsy, but tonight he seemed to be all thumbs, dropping his phone and having to find it in the dark. He was usually known for keeping a cool head under pressure, but this was a situation unlike any he’d ever been in before. He didn’t have a plan, or a weapon, or his team at his back. All he had was the great unknown and a pregnant woman carrying his child.
His pulse pounded loudly in his ears as he pushed the emergency call button on his phone, the roar of the van’s engine and squealing tires followed by the acrid stench of burning rubber.
“Nine-one-one. What’s the nature of your emergency, please?” the dispatcher said over the line.
Simon was just about to tell her when sudden recognition knocked him sideways. He knew where he’d seen those other two men before. One of them was his friend Eddie’s partner on the police force. A cop had just abducted a citizen, in cooperation with a pair of crime bosses. Did that mean the other guy who’d been with them was a cop, too? Could Eddie be involved as well? Was that the real reason he’d warned Simon off of this story?
Shit. Just shit.
Then suddenly, a different sound pierced the air just as the red taillights of the SUV disappeared around the corner. A high, plaintive, human wail that made the blood freeze in his veins even as his heart raced faster than a thoroughbred.
Oh God.
“That’s a baby!” Alisha said, scrambling to open her door. “Warren’s baby.”
“Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?” the dispatcher repeated before he ended the call.
Alisha smacked him hard on the arm. “Why’d you hang up? We have to tell the cops what’s going on.”
“No.” He unbuckled his seatbelt and got out, heading straight for the open front door of the house. Alisha caught up to him on the porch.
“What do you mean, no?”
“I mean we can’t go to the cops. They’re dirty.” He gestured in the direction the SUV had gone. “Those other two men with the Andronettos? They’re cops. I recognized one of them. He’s partner with a good friend of mine. And I think I’ve seen the other one hanging out with them before—in uniform. That’s why I didn’t recognize him at first. I’ve never seen him in street clothes before.”
“Oh my god,” Alisha whispered, scowling. “You’re right. That’s why I couldn’t place them. I knew I hadn’t seen them in mug shots. But when I picture them in uniform… Fuck.”
“Fuck is right,” Simon said, hurrying inside the house with Alisha in tow, then closing the door behind them. “I’m wondering now if that’s why Eddie was trying to steer me away from this story. He told me he’d checked it all out personally and everything was legit. Either he checked it out with his partner, and his partner lied to him—or they’re in on it together, and nothing Eddie told me was true. But we know for sure that those two cops are compromised, and who’s to say there aren’t more?”
Alisha nodded, then headed in the direction of the crying infant. Simon followed her. “Right. Looks like we’ll need to go rogue on this one, then.”
“Go rogue?” He’d done a lot of things during his time as a SEAL, but striking out on his own, against command, never worked out well. Those rules were there for a reason, most of the time. Still, until he uncovered the bad apples in the Seattle PD, they couldn’t trust the authorities. “Fine. Let’s grab the kid and go back to my apartment and figure this mess out.”
Eight
“Dammit,” Alisha whispered under her breath as she followed after Simon. She’d known the Andronetto brothers were up to some shady stuff, but she’d expected smuggling, maybe forgery or theft. Never kidnapping. And with a baby involved too!
She stifled a weird urge to cover her own abdomen with her hand. She was hardly pregnant. The baby inside her was barely the size of a bean. These protective urges surging through her were insane. Must be her hormones out of whack.
“What are you saying?” she hissed as she followed Simon up the stairs. “You want to just take the kid? You’re crazy—that’s kidnapping!”
“We need to get that baby,” he said. “It doesn’t look like there’s anyone else here—if there were, they’d have come to soothe the baby by now. If it really was just Warren and the kid here, then it’ll die on its own.”
Those words chilled her to the bone and Alisha found herself racing up the rest of the stairs. Before she knew it they were standing over a crib against the far wall, staring down at tiny, squalling, red bundle that looked as discombobulated as she felt.
“Hurry up and grab it and get some supplies too,” Simon said, going back to the stairs. “I’ll keep an eye on the door and make sure those goons don’t come back.”
Alisha reached down tentatively, not really sure what the hell she was doing. She’d never
been one of those girls who loved babies and played house with dolls. She’d never even babysat. Mike was her only sibling, and he was two years older than her. But now here she was. Maybe it was fate. She had a bun in the oven and she wasn’t sure what to do about it. If she was even going to consider keeping and raising her baby, then she needed to know what she was getting herself into. She placed a hand on the baby’s chest and cooed, hoping to get it to calm down a bit before she scooped it up into her arms, blanket and all. The baby’s eyes widened slightly as it stared up at her and it quieted. Huh. Okay. There was a mural painted on the wall behind the crib, including the name “Amy” in fancy script. A girl. Named Amy. Right.
“Come on, girly.” Careful not to touch anything she didn’t plan to take with her to avoid leaving prints behind, she snatched a diaper bag off the floor beside the changing table and stuffed it full of diapers and wipes and onesies and a couple of toys. On a whim, she threw in a picture from the dresser of Warren and his wife with the baby at the hospital, shortly after delivery.
“Hurry up!” Simon yelled from the living room. “Someone’s coming. Looks like the same SUV.”
Cursing softly, Alisha finished packing the diaper bag and hurried down the hall only to see the two men—the two cops—who’d been with the Andronetto brothers earlier. Now they were fighting with Simon on the porch.
God, could this night get any more screwed up?
Never a good question to ask, because sure enough, one of the goons noticed Alisha and the baby inside and came after them. She did her best to fight the guy off, but it was hard with only one arm available. As they circled each other at the end of the hall, she searched for some way to distract him so she could make a run for it. Thankfully, the kid was being quiet, but Alisha could feel the little body trembling in her arms. Poor kid was terrified—and Alisha didn’t blame her one bit.
Guarding His Fake Family Page 5
