by Alice Sharpe
Her grandmother sat on the red plaid sofa. Jack Starling sat in the bright blue chair set at a right angle, a wineglass cradled in his hands. They both looked up as Hannah made an abrupt halt.
Jack put down his glass and stood. With his unruly black hair and stormy expression he looked like a slightly disreputable action hero plopped down in the middle of Snow White’s cottage.
Mimi popped off the couch. “Your friend has been telling me stories about your trip to Tierra Montañosa last year. Well, you know, honey, you never talk about it. Anyway, I’ve convinced him to stay for dinner, though heaven knows what we’re going to give him to eat. Hannah, you look bushed. Sit down, dear, I’ll get you a glass of wine.” She scurried toward the kitchen on her mission.
“How did you find out where I live?” Hannah demanded in a low voice.
“I told the clerk inside the store that you forgot something. He told me. Apparently his wife’s mother plays cards with your grandmother. That’s the nice thing about a small town.”
“But why did you come? What do you want now?”
He sat back down in his chair. “I’m just making sure you’re okay.”
“No, you’re not.”
“No, I’m not,” he agreed. “I’m here because you’re hiding something.” He pulled on her hand and she perched on the corner of the sofa, her knees almost touching his. “Why are you so nervous?” he asked.
“Why are you staying for dinner?”
“Your grandmother invited me.”
Mimi reappeared with wine for Hannah. Smiling broadly, the older woman hitched her hands on her waist. “Now, you two catch up on old times while I figure out what we’re going to eat.” She took a few steps, then turned back. “Oh, Jack, did you know a Frenchman down in Costa del Rio?”
“French?”
“Yes. I’m sure he was very dashing. An expatriate.”
“No, I’m sorry. I don’t recall anyone from France.”
“I thought maybe you knew him. I mean, you lived down there for a couple of years, right? Hannah was only down there a few days and you said you spent one evening with her and then—”
“Grandma, what about dinner?” Hannah said softly, doing her best to avert a disaster.
In a scolding voice, Mimi said, “I just thought it would be nice to hear about the baby’s father from someone else. You won’t tell me much about him.”
Hannah must have made a strangled sound in her throat because both her grandmother and Jack glanced at her. “I know we’re not supposed to talk about him,” Mimi said with a defiant tilt to her chin. “I know you said he was a giant mistake, but I just thought—”
“Jack didn’t know him,” Hannah said, praying for some kind of diversion. It was the West Coast, for heaven’s sake. Where was a 6.0 earthquake when you needed one?
“I didn’t know you had a baby,” Jack said.
Mimi, looking perplexed, muttered, “I told you Hannah was in with Aubrielle when you got here.”
“I assumed Aubrielle was another adult.”
Mimi’s defiance was melting into contrition. “I’ll go see to dinner,” she said.
As soon as she was out of the room Jack cleared his throat. “You have a baby.”
Hannah took a gulp of wine and sighed. “Yes.”
“How old?”
“Three months.”
“Three months. Funny, I don’t recall a French expatriate.” His eyebrows raised up his forehead, his eyes narrowed. “Three months. Oh, God, Hannah—is this my…my baby?”
He looked horrified at the thought. Good. She said, “Aubrielle is not your baby.”
“But the timing—”
“No.”
“Is she David’s?”
After a moment, Hannah nodded.
“Why wouldn’t you tell your grandmother that your baby is your boyfriend’s child?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Try me.”
“There were rules at the foundation about dating and David and I broke them. David is gone now, there’s nothing to be gained by bringing all this up. I might even lose my job and I need it.”
“It sounds like a lot of justifying,” Jack said.
“Of course it is. That’s what happens when you mess things up. You do your best to make them better.” She took a deep breath, smoothed her jeans over her thighs and added, “My grandmother didn’t know David well and certainly never knew anything about us being a couple. As you can see, she’s not much for secrets. And then there was David’s family to consider. His parents have about twelve other grandchildren and live thousands of miles away. They know nothing about me. I just decided to tell a select few people Aubrielle’s father was a man I met when I was in South America who is totally out of our lives.”
“Then you were pregnant when we met?”
She looked him in the eye and nodded.
“If she’s three months old, it must have happened—”
“The last night David was alive, yes.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t part of the reason you were grieving so much that you felt bad you’d been about to break up with him?”
“You never had sex with someone you weren’t sure about?” she countered.
“Point taken. He died the next morning on his way to work, right?”
“He was riding his bike. The truck driver said David hit a patch of loose gravel and fell right into the road.”
Jack stared at her for a few dozen jumpy heartbeats and then nodded. “You know, I’ve decided to believe your claim that you had nothing to do with what happened down in Costa del Rio.”
She blinked at the change of subject before saying, “Good. Why?”
“I’m not sure. You’re smart enough and clever enough and maybe even sneaky enough, but you’re not ruthless.”
“That’s true. I’m relieved to hear you say it.”
“But you do know or suspect something. Who are you protecting?”
She drained the wine from the stemmed glass and set it down. It was time to put this matter to rest. Her voice a little on the stern side, she leaned toward him. “Let’s get this straight. You’re a stranger I spent one amazing night with a year ago. Like you so graphically pointed out this afternoon, it was sex and nothing more. I’m not going to offer excuses, but seeing you again is embarrassing—it wasn’t exactly my most shining hour. Is that blunt enough for you?”
“It’s excellent. If I was capable of being shamed, that would have done it.” He paused a second and added, “An ‘amazing’ night, huh?” the skin crinkling around his eyes as he smiled.
She glared at him.
Mimi yelled from the kitchen, “We’re having stir-fried tofu and veggies.”
“My grandmother thinks she can cook,” Hannah said softly. “She can’t.”
Jack shrugged. “I never turn down a meal.”
When she didn’t smile, he added, “I’d like to see David’s kid and I really am hungry.”
She stood up. He was a danger to her, to her baby, to the future. He needed to go away so she could figure out what if anything to do with her ever-growing suspicions. Maybe in the end he’d be the one to share them with, but not now. What would happen if she convinced him to leave for a week or so with the promise she would poke around a little when she went into the office? Maybe Fran knew something. As the head of HR, she seemed to know something about everyone.
“You’re suddenly a light-year away,” Jack said, coming to stand in front of her.
She pushed her hair back from her forehead. “It’s been a terrible day, Jack. I feel like I’m being stalked by the invisible man and now you’re accusing me of helping a killer. Give me a number where I can call you should something come to mind. For now, I’m going to go wash up for dinner and when I get back, I would really like to find you made your apologies to my grandmother and left. Is that too much to ask?”
“Yeah, it is,” he said. “I already lost a few days with my family. Time is p
assing.”
“The ambush happened almost a year ago. Another week or two won’t matter.”
“It’s not that simple,” he said. “I told you this isn’t just about revenge.”
She stared at him and he stared at her. They were at an impasse. This was crazy, this was her house, well, her grandmother’s house. What made Jack Starling think he could just refuse to leave?
When his gaze strayed past her face to the plate-glass window behind her back, she wondered if he was looking at their reflections. In the next instant, he lunged at her. She gasped at the unexpectedness of it. He wrapped his arms around her and spun her around to the floor where she landed on her back with a crash. He flung his body on top of hers, using his arms to surround her head. She pushed on his solid chest but he held tighter.
A loud popping sound was followed by a distant scream and other unidentifiable sounds that rumbled in Hannah’s brain. Ragged cubes of glass rained down on them like pebbles, bouncing on the furniture, skittering across the hardwood floors.
Jack held her even tighter. She swallowed a scream as her thoughts went to Aubrielle.
Chapter Three
“What in the hell is going on?” Jack demanded. He’d pulled Hannah to her feet, safety glass tumbling from both their clothes.
“I don’t know,” Hannah said, eyes wide with fear.
“Like hell you don’t.”
Mimi entered from the kitchen. “Look at the window!” she cried and Jack and Hannah both turned to look at the gaping hole where the window had been. “Did someone shoot it out?”
“I think it was a brick,” Jack said.
Hannah was trying to shake the glass off her clothes as she moved toward the hallway. He heard the cries of a very small baby coming from farther back in the house.
Mimi intercepted her granddaughter. “You’ll get glass all over her. I’ll go.” She hurried off down the hall and Hannah turned to face him.
“Hannah?” he said. “What’s going on?”
It looked as though she wanted to tell him to mind his own business, but this time the flippancy with which she’d treated the car bomb was gone. In fact, the fear in her eyes yanked at him.
“I don’t have the slightest idea.”
“But it’s something that’s been going on for a while, isn’t it?”
“No,” she said, and looked surprised by the idea. And then a knowing look crept into her eyes. “Maybe,” she admitted. “I’m not sure. Nothing like this, though. Well, the break-in, but nothing of consequence was taken. Did you see someone outside before this happened?”
“I saw a car slow down outside and then speed up. What break-in?”
“You have remarkable reflexes,” she said, still dusting glass off her clothes. “What break-in?”
“It happened before I moved in with Grandma. Someone broke into my old apartment. The police investigated, nothing was taken, that was all there was to it.”
He frowned, trying to make sense of the break-in, the bomb and the broken window and coming up empty. Was it possible the events were related to Tierra Montañosa? Without knowing more about Hannah’s life, how could he make that kind of determination?
He looked around the floor until he found a brick-sized rock under a small table. Crunching glass under his feet, he retrieved the rock, using one of the little doilies that were draped over the arms of the sofa. There was a piece of lined paper tied to the rock with an ordinary-looking length of white string.
“Do you have plastic gloves?” he asked.
She had her head upside down and was shaking out the glass. As she swung her head up and back, her sweater rode up her trim midriff, exposing a creamy strip of skin. With her hair tousled and her clothes askew, she looked as though she’d just gotten out of bed, and once again, his body started a slow burn.
“In the kitchen under the sink,” she said, pulling down on her sweater. “I have to check on Aubrielle.”
With that she disappeared down the hall, the sway of her hips mesmerizing.
“Get a grip,” he mumbled as he shook off most of the glass. Leaving the cloth and rock on top of the television, he moved into the kitchen, where the smell of burned vegetables greeted him. The pan had been taken off the heat but the glob inside it looked pretty horrendous. He’d eaten worse, though.
He found the plastic gloves where Hannah said they were.
Hannah and her grandmother were both back in the living room when he returned. “She went right back to sleep,” Hannah said, pausing to look up from her task. She’d found a broom and a dustpan and was working on sweeping up the glass. A vacuum cleaner sat off to the side, awaiting its turn.
It took him a second to realize she was talking about her baby. He said, “Oh. Good.”
As the cold night blew right into the room through the gaping hole, Jack took time to go outside to Hannah’s grandfather’s shop where Mimi assured him he’d find a roll of plastic and a staple gun. It was killing him not to investigate the note first, but he guessed with a baby in the house, certain protocols had to be observed.
At last things were secure. Hannah insisted on unwrapping the note herself, announcing she was certain she was the intended recipient. As the plastic gloves were two sizes too small for his hands, he didn’t object. He and Mimi crowded around the table where Hannah had settled with the rock.
The paper turned out to be ordinary notebook paper, words cut from a magazine and glued on. It was the message that was startling.
“The bomb wasn’t the work of kids. Stop what you’re doing—or else.”
Swiveling to look at Hannah, Jack and Mimi both said, “What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” Hannah said. “Absolutely nothing.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice reflecting the strain of the past hour.
“First the car, then this,” Mimi said.
“This could have hurt someone,” Hannah said. “It could have hurt Aubrielle. Why? I haven’t done anything to anyone.”
“Someone thinks you have,” Jack said.
“Who?”
There was no answer to that and the three of them stared at the note a while longer until Jack added, “How did this person know you think the car bomb was the work of kids?”
“Because that’s what the police told Hannah in the middle of a public parking lot,” Mimi said with a dismissive note in her voice. “Everyone in Allota knows what everyone else knows, more or less.” Pushing herself to her feet, she added, “Listen, you two, I’m starving and my lovely stir-fry is now beyond redemption. We’ll all think better if we eat something. I’m going into town to pick up some Chinese at Shanghai Lo.” She grabbed her keys and handbag off a hook. “Everybody like beef and broccoli? Maybe some wonton soup?”
Jack said, “Fine.” Hannah didn’t seem to hear her grandmother.
Once the older woman was gone, Hannah rubbed her forehead and began pacing the living room. She finally faced Jack. “I have to take a shower and get the rest of the glass out of my hair before the baby wakes up again. Would you mind listening for her? Then you can be on your way.”
He’d rather get into the shower with Hannah. “Sure, I can listen for her.”
Forehead creasing, she said, “Don’t pick her up, though, just bang on the bathroom door.”
“I won’t touch her,” he said with a dry edge to his voice.
When he heard the water running, he did his best not to let his imagination run away with him. He’d taken one shower with Hannah, one very long, languid shower in the middle of a tropical night. He’d lifted her against the aqua tile and she’d wrapped her legs around him. Water had drummed on their heads; he could still see beads of it rolling down her throat and across her breasts. The heat burning between them had rivaled the one hundred percent humidity outside. That particular memory had been his constant companion the first few weeks of captivity.
He heard little mewling sounds and took a deep breath, letting useless
memories float away. Time to go see if David’s kid was awake or if he was hearing things.
The only room with a light on turned out to be the pinkest place he’d ever seen. He was almost afraid to enter, but he heard the sound again. Switching on a lamp, he all but tiptoed across the carpet and looked down into the crib.
The baby was so tiny! He stared at her for several moments, transfixed at her absolute vulnerability. He could even see the blue veins under her skin. Her head was covered with a brown fuzz.
She didn’t seem to be actually awake; she was just jerking and making little sounds, screwing her face up and then smiling at nothing, bubbles on her lips. It was the closest he’d ever been to a baby.
David’s baby. Damn.
He’d known David in the Marines. David had been a helicopter pilot, he’d been a sniper, and for a while they’d flown a few missions together. Eventually they lost touch but by then, Jack had seen tendencies in David he hadn’t much liked. A certain disdain for the truth, a predilection for shortcuts that sometimes ended up costing other men dearly, an every-man-for-himself kind of mentality that included money under the table when the opportunity arose.
In a way, maybe it was better David had died. Jack could no more imagine the David he knew being a decent father than he could imagine it of himself. Then again, as he’d recently learned, if a man lived long enough, he had a chance to redeem himself.
Had David done that? With Hannah, he’d earned the trust of a pretty remarkable woman, so maybe he had.
“Is she awake?” Hannah asked from the doorway.
Startled, he turned with a guilty smile. He’d been about to run a finger along Aubrielle’s cheek, curious to know if she was as soft as she looked.
“I think she’s waking up,” he said, and backed away from the crib as though the baby was a ticking bomb about to detonate. Hannah glided past him on the way to her child, the scent of flowers lingering in her wake. She’d changed into black slacks and a black sweater that offset her porcelain skin. Her reddish hair was wet and unexpectedly wavy. She looked fresh and sexy. He had to remind himself to take a breath.
