Babyjacked

by Sosie Frost

  “What were you thinking?”

  “Nothing…” I whispered. “And it was wonderful.”

  “How can nothing be wonderful?”

  “No worries. No guilt. No distractions.” When did his arm loop around my back? I rested my hands on his arms, but my fingers drifted in, caressing the hardened skin over his pecs. “Just nothing but that moment. Living right then. Without a care about the past or future.”

  “Like right now?”

  “I can’t stop thinking about the future right now.”

  “Maybe I can help…”

  I didn’t let him finish. I bolted up, standing on tip-toes and rushing to meet his parted lips.

  The amnesia was a curse and a blessing. I couldn’t remember my first kiss, but now I relived it.

  His quick nibble teased me into a furious warmth. My body tensed. My mind swirled.

  My core tightened.

  This was what it was like to be taken, caressed, and kissed with absolute devotion. Just the way a first kiss should have been. A curious, timid graze of the lips. A feast of the senses as I sunk into his spicy scent. The softness. The tenderness.

  The quiet, gasping breath shared when our bodies touched, and the world fell to peace.

  Then pieces.

  What were we doing?

  I pushed away, but Shepard moved first. He cleared the kitchen in a few determined steps and breathed a frustrated profanity.

  He couldn’t look at me.

  That was fine. The shame was already too much.

  “I’m sorry.” His voice deepened. Rough. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “No—”

  “I took advantage of you.”

  Oh God. “Shepard, it was my fault…”

  He interrupted me with a harsh word. “No. Evie. You don’t understand. You don’t remember. I can’t…I can’t do this to you. You’re vulnerable…”

  “I said it was my fault.”

  He didn’t listen. “I should go. I’ll call you if I hear anything tomorrow.”

  “Shepard.”

  He turned, but the absolute disgust staining his expression stole my voice. He swore and kept me away with a ravenous breath.

  “I won’t put you in that position again,” he said. “It’s not fair.”

  “But I kissed you.”

  “And I hope one day you can forgive me for letting that happen.” His jaw clenched. “Even though I know I won’t deserve it.”

  The door closed behind him.

  The baby started to cry.

  I sunk onto the couch, still tasting him, feeling his warmth on my lips.

  Oh, God. I’d kissed him. Another man.

  A man who wasn’t my lost lover.

  He wasn’t the one searching for me, and he wasn’t the man who had helped to create the beautiful baby awake in the nursery.

  What had I done?

  Why was I so worried about remembering my past?

  If I wasn’t careful, I’d destroy my future.

  7

  “Clue…this better be the last time either one of us ends up in a police station.”

  My child pleaded the fifth. I should have too. Something told me we’d be here again. Or…

  That I had already been in one.

  Well, facing the police station with an ingrained hesitance wasn’t mother’s intuition. More like…instinct. And I had a lot of those lately. I just knew when Clue needed to be fed or changed or cuddled. I had an uncanny ability to cook pasta al dente without a timer. And, somehow, I’d learned to juggle.

  But my biggest instinct?

  Staying clear of the police.

  Not the greatest value to instill in my kid.

  Then again, I blamed my past for a mistake committed in the near present. I wasn’t afraid of the detective…I was humiliated by my actions around him.

  Two weeks of radio silence served as penance enough for inappropriate behavior. My time apart from Shepard gave me ample opportunity to read the next chapter of my life—Two-Bit Slut: A Guide To Navigating The Back Alley Streets Of Your Pride.

  The last thing I wanted to do was face Shepard after what I had done, but I couldn’t sit around and wait anymore, hoping to hear news. I had to do something.

  If not for me…then for Clue.

  I cautiously entered the police station and took a breath. No pepper spray in the air. That was good. And I wasn’t tased on the doorknob. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad?

  An older receptionist greeted me and my stroller with a smile, and the grandma instincts kicked in. She leaned over the counter, her excitement palpable.

  “What a handsome little boy you have there.”

  I frowned. Clue was even wearing a bow.

  Did they make baby weaves?

  “I’m looking for Detective Novak.” I whispered his name, like that would erase the shame. “He’s working on my case. Is he in?”

  The secretary gestured for me to follow, but the stroller was far too bulky for the back offices of the station. I parked it near the counter and carried Clue into the office, diaper bag in tow, stuffed with extra wipes, a spare onesie, and a folder stuffed with the key to my future.

  “He must be in the conference room,” the secretary said. “Please, sit. I’ll get him. Can I get you some coffee?”

  “None for me, thanks,” I said. “But she’ll have a cup.”

  Clue gave a rather unfeminine and unfortunately timed grunt. The secretary didn’t find either amusing. She evacuated the room well before Clue made her presence known in a most unflattering and undignified manner.

  And loud.

  This was something not covered in the baby books.

  “Clue, are you serious?” I plopped the diaper bag on the chair and gave her bum a pat. Mistake. That only encouraged her. “I can’t…we’re in the middle of his office…”

  If this was Shepard’s office.

  No pictures lined his walls. Nothing personal on his desk. Not even a coat strung on his coat rack. The office was bare of anything relating to him.

  But folders stacked on his desk. A pin-up board in the corner posted various memos and notes.

  A Jane Doe folder tucked near his computer. The name Evie was scrawled on the outside.

  I glanced over my shoulder. The police station buzzed with activity, but no Shepard Novak with his stunning eyes or tempting lips crossed by the door. I hummed to myself.

  It wouldn’t be illegal for me to peek at my own file…

  Would it?

  …Not if I didn’t get caught.

  I pulled a blanket from the diaper bag and laid it over the chair beside his desk. Clue snuggled in tight. The diaper bag thudded onto Shepard’s desk, and I retrieved both the file and the wipes with the same smooth motion.

  I expected a little awkwardness when I stole paperwork from a cop. This was not the motion that should have felt practiced.

  “Now we’re going to do this quick, right, Clue?” I patted her nose and turned, hiding the files behind the diaper bag. “Let’s just…see what we’ve got.”

  Why was the diaper more interesting?

  My file was…empty. Only a couple pages. A picture. Current address and contact information. Hospital discharge forms.

  This couldn’t be all of it.

  Where was the rest?

  I gave Clue a quick wipe and rolled up the dirty diaper. Nowhere to put it. Uh-oh.

  I tucked it next to her on the blanket. So far, the sight of the woman diapering a baby kept the other police at bay—either a moment of privacy or a declaration of trashiness the likes of which the station had never seen.

  I was okay with either.

  I flipped the folder over.

  He had nothing on me. Hell, I had guessed more about myself in the past week with the few glimpses of memories that had blasted me—a skipped college class, a fuzzy pair of pink slippers.

  A gunshot.

  It’s quick. Loud. The window shattered.

  I ducked to the groun
d, covering Jamal and Kayden. The math books went flying, tossed into the shards of glass. Granna had rented those books from the library across town, and the glass shredded the pages.

  Now she was really mad.

  “Lord take me.” Granna refused to hide on the floor. Couldn’t bend, not with her knees. “Imma whop some behinds for this.”

  “Granna, sit down before you get shot,” I hissed.

  She armed herself with a broom and marched to the window. Her shout echoed into the street.

  “There best be someone here in the morning to clean up this mess! Get your asses gone before I come out there and make an example out of you fools!”

  Damned if one of the men didn’t yell an apology.

  Granna hmphed. She pointed to me and the twin boys cowering by the couch.

  “You three. You do better than this. You hear me?” Granna held my gaze. “You do better.”

  I hadn’t liked the memory, but it didn’t shock me. At least, the shooting hadn’t shocked me at the time.

  At that point in my life, drive-bys were an inconvenience.

  That made my nightmares laced with the melody of Turkey in the Straw a lot more embarrassing. Though I’d prefer to worry about another rogue ice cream truck over drive-by shootings and gang violence. Especially since both situations ended with me in the ER getting stitches, but only the truck got me a sweet treat.

  And a baby.

  I dropped the folder and reached for a new diaper.

  Too late.

  Clue wasn’t done. The kid turned into a leaking faucet when stripped of her diaper. Did I need a nanny or a plumber? Her bladder had a sick sense of humor.

  “No, no, no!” I yanked the folder away from the evidence. “Ew. Oh, Clue.”

  Shepard didn’t have hot leads anymore. Just damp ones. I pressed the diaper against Clue and hoped for the best.

  Maybe a fine instead of jail time?

  “Evie? What the hell are you doing?”

  I flinched. Shepard waited in the doorway, watching as Clue sprinklered his office with more cuteness than he wanted at work.

  I hid the tampered, non-Pampered evidence behind my back. “I can explain.”

  He crossed to his desk took the folder from me. His grimaced as he accidentally grabbed the wet end.

  “The only mystery here is why Clue is pissing all over my desk.”

  “I wanted to ask you for a favor.”

  “Ask or extort?” He dumped the folder into the trash. The few documents inside were salvageable though he pinned them to the bottom of the board to dry. “You have a unique way of asking for help.”

  “Last time that happened, you laughed.”

  “It’s funny when it happens to you.”

  Yeah. And we saw where all that fun had led.

  I wrapped up the second dirty diaper. Now I had two. He groaned and held out his garbage can.

  “I haven’t even had lunch yet,” he said. “You leave a swath of destruction in your wake, Evie. I shouldn’t investigate you for answers, I should track your debris trail until I find the truth.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “I’m glad you’re on board. I have an idea.”

  The flyers weren’t pretty, but I had ten of them printed. Shepard took them with a frown, and I finished dressing my baby as he read the poster.

  “Do you know me?” He practically spat the words. “What is this, Evie?”

  “You know…everyone puts up Have You Seen Me posters, right? For like, lost pets? Or Reward If Found pictures with a picture of their bike or shoes.”

  “Their shoes?”

  “I want to put these posters up. Someone out there must recognize my face. I was already out where the accident happened. Evie Street? I didn’t see anything familiar there—just a bunch of businesses and banks, but if we post some more flyers, people will call with information.”

  “You aren’t serious.”

  “I need the police report from the incident. I want to know exactly how the accident happened. Maybe there’s something we missed. A place we could hit for more information.”

  “Evie—”

  “I’m not saying you aren’t doing a good job.”

  I dared to meet his eyes. Mistake. Those blues were hauntingly sharp and absolutely raging with a quiet disapproval.

  I hated that.

  I only wanted his smile. His kind words.

  His kiss.

  All the more reason to be grateful for his scowl.

  “I’m just trying to help the investigation,” I said. “It’s been five weeks. I can’t wait much longer.”

  Shepard crinkled the flyer into a ball and tossed it into the garbage.

  “Hey!” I dove for it. “What the hell?”

  “Are you insane?” He ripped the other flyers out of my hand and pitched them into the pail too. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

  “Yeah! I’m trying to figure out who I am.”

  “Grab the kid. Go home. Wait for me to break this case.”

  My spine stiffened, and my hand slapped on my hip a little too aggressively. I considered that another instinct. A bad one.

  “Any minute now, right, detective?”

  “Hard to start an investigation with no name, addresses, dates, phone numbers, or memories to go on, Evie.”

  “That’s why I’m posting the flyers.”

  “And you think that’s going to help?”

  “I think I have to do something.”

  “Your something is going home with the baby and keeping both of you safe and happy.”

  “I have amnesia. I’m not an invalid. I can multi-task.”

  I reached for the posters again. Shepard grabbed my hand instead.

  And the heat poured from him into me, liquefying my courage, resolve, confidence.

  This wasn’t fair.

  Why did it have to be him?

  Why was he the one on my case? The only person kind enough to help me. To take care of me. To watch over me.

  I wished he wasn’t so damn attractive.

  I washed he hadn’t gotten so damn close.

  And I wished I hadn’t replayed that kiss—that mistake—over and over in my mind.

  “Do you know how dangerous this is?” Shepard whispered.

  My heart twisted itself into a knot. I glanced at his hand, wrapped so perfectly around my wrist.

  Yeah. I had a good idea of just how dangerous it was.

  “This poster?” He gave a frustrated grunt. “You’re posting your name. Your number. Your condition. Anyone could find you.”

  “That’s the point. If they know me—”

  “It won’t matter if they know you. Anyone could take advantage of the fact that you have amnesia. They could come to find you. Rob you. Or…” He glanced at the baby. “Or worse. This is stupid. You aren’t putting these up.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “You aren’t listening.”

  “No. You aren’t.” I held Clue a bit closer and groaned. “I can’t just sit around and wait for someone to come to me. I should go to them. It’s been too long, and the more time we waste—”

  “You think I’m just pissing this time away?” Shepard gestured around his office. “I’m doing my job, Evie. And you should be doing yours.”

  “Which is?”

  “Resting.”

  “You try resting with a month-old baby. Tell me how it goes.”

  “I understand that, Evie. But I’m working. You should too. Go home and take care of the baby.”

  “This is someone else’s baby too! And he deserves to know where she is!”

  That did it.

  Clue didn’t like the shootout, and she tagged me out of the match.

  Her fists balled, and she gave an unhappy wail as her momma lost her temper. I soothed her with a pat to her back and little bounce.

  “Great. Now she’s upset.” I softened my tone and sang the words. “I can’t believe you aren’t helping.”

  Shepard’s voice
lowered. “Don’t start. You know damn well this has nothing to do with a poster.”

  I tensed. “Don’t get her upset.”

  Or me.

  “Evie, we have to talk about what happened—”

  Clue cried harder. I frowned at him, slicing through my anger with a fake smile and false falsetto. “Softy-wofty, Shepard. Don’t upset the baby-waby.”

  “Seriously?”

  “We don’t have to talksy-walksy about what happened.”

  “Yes—yesie, wesie.” He awkwardly attempted the baby-talk. “I kissed you.”

  Oh, he didn’t have to be chivalrous for my mistake. “No. I kissed you.”

  “Don’t. No.” He pointed at me. “Evie, I took advantage of you—”

  “Tone.”

  “I…tooksy-wooksy advantage of you. And I’m sorry.”

  “You didn’t.”

  He whispered the words with a forced grin. “I never should’ve put you in that position. It was my fault.”

  “What position?”

  “I knew you were vulnerable…wonerable.”

  “I wasn’t. I was tired. I came onto you.” I bounced Clue. “And that’s my faultsy-waltzy.”

  “It’s not,” he said.

  “I flirted with you.”

  “Only because I flirted with you.”

  This got us nowhere. The humiliation and shame couldn’t battle for supremacy over my disgrace.

  “Don’t you get it?” I danced with the baby, delighting her with a few bumps and swoops. “I kissed you. My family is out there, but I kissed you. I can’t do this. I can’t just sit anymore. Clue deserves more than a mom who is slutty-wutty.”

  “You aren’t slutty-wutty!”

  “Tell that to her father.” Now I was shaking. “This was my mistake. My fault. I have to fix this. I need to find them. I have to do something.”

  “And these itsy-bitsy baby-waby posters are the way?” Shepard held his arms out. “So they can robby-bobby you or worse?”

  “I don’t need your permission.” I juggled Clue to one arm and shoved her blanket in the diaper bag before casting it over my shoulder. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “What I should’ve done before.” I sang the words like Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. She liked that. “Hang these in the grocery store.”