The Agent's Redemption (Special Agents At The Altar 4)

by Lisa Childs

  “So this is a pity request?” Jared teased.

  Reyes snorted. “What’s your deal, Bell? Why is it so hard for you to accept that I actually want you to stand up with me?”

  Had that been his problem with Becca? That he hadn’t been able to believe that she could have actually cared about him? He hadn’t just been an only child; he’d been an only child of parents who’d given him little time or attention.

  His doctorate was in criminal psychology; while he was no criminal, he knew his childhood had affected him—had made it difficult for him to form or accept attachments. But he had a son now. He needed to change. And maybe this was a way to start. He was honored that Dalton would want him to stand up with him. They hadn’t known each other long, but then they’d been through a lot recently. “Sure.”

  “Bring a date, too,” Dalton advised.

  “Date? What are you talking about?” He shouldn’t even be thinking about attending a wedding—not with a murderer on the loose. But this killer had been on the loose a long time, and Jared had already given up too much in his pursuit of him. He’d given up Becca.

  He’d thought he was acting in her best interests. That he needed to let her go so that she could move on—go back to med school, go back to her life. Instead, she had created a life—their son.

  “I saw on the news that you went to visit Lexi Drummond’s sister,” Dalton said. “Bring her.”

  If her anonymous caller was to be believed, she was already being watched; she was already in danger. The last place he should bring her would be a wedding.

  * * *

  REBECCA HAD REFUSED to stay locked inside her house in protective custody. She wasn’t even certain she was in danger. For a threat, it had been vague. So, with a sheriff’s deputy following her, she had brought Alex to school and she’d gone to work.

  Maybe it wasn’t just that she hadn’t wanted to be confined inside her house like a prisoner but that she hadn’t wanted to be in her house now that Jared had been in it. She’d kept replaying that morning—him and their son waking her up with coffee.

  And questions...

  Maybe that was another reason she’d brought Alex to school and gone on to work. She hadn’t wanted to keep answering his questions about Jared—or not answering them. His questions had made her realize how little she really knew about a man she’d thought she’d loved.

  Had Jared been right six years ago? Had she only imagined herself in love with him so she wouldn’t have to deal with the terrible loss of her sister?

  Six years had passed now. She’d dealt with that loss—because she’d had no choice and because Jared had given her a wonderful gift. Alex had filled most of the hole that Lexi had left. But nobody had filled the hole Jared had left. She’d tried; she’d dated. But she’d felt about no other man the way she’d felt about Jared.

  That she still felt about him. She’d wanted his kiss the night before. And this morning she’d wanted him to crawl into the bed with her—like their son had. She wanted to be close to him—as close as they’d once been.

  She expelled a shaky breath and grasped the handle of the exam room door. She had to focus on her job—had to focus on the people she could help since Jared refused to accept her help. Sure, he’d said he would interview Harris again. But she suspected he was only humoring her. He didn’t believe that Lexi’s fiancé had killed her, so why would he believe that the man had killed her friend?

  “Good afternoon,” she greeted her next patient as she stepped inside the room.

  “Good afternoon, Ms. Drummond,” the man greeted her before she’d even given him her name.

  And the clinic was so informal that the badge on her coat had only her first name. She lifted her gaze from the laptop in her hands to the man perched on the exam table. And her breath shuddered out in revulsion.

  She had seen this man just the day before—staring in her son’s bedroom window. “What are you doing here?” she asked Kyle Smith.

  According to the clinic laptop, he’d checked in at the desk with the complaint of stomach cramps. He wasn’t doubled over or flinching, though. He looked perfectly healthy to her and perfectly evil, wearing a wide, self-satisfied grin.

  “I didn’t get the chance to talk to you yesterday,” he said, “what with Special Agent Bell calling the local authorities to report us for trespassing.”

  Unfortunately, he hadn’t spent the night in jail since he’d been on the news later that evening—at the scene where Amy Wilcox’s body had been discovered.

  “You were trespassing,” she said. “And you’re trespassing now.”

  He shook his head but not a blond hair moved on his head, as if lacquered down or as artificial as his orange-looking tan. “The clinic is open to the public.”

  “To patients,” she said. “Not reporters. You need to leave.”

  “I came here for treatment,” he said. “You can’t turn me away. Haven’t you taken an oath to do no harm?”

  She wanted to harm the man for the scare he’d given her son and her. “I’m a physician’s assistant,” she said. “Not a doctor. I’ve taken no such oath.” She opened the door and called out, “Security.”

  The clinic had none, but she suspected that the sheriff’s deputy was still hovering around on Jared’s orders.

  Kyle Smith jumped down from the exam table, but instead of walking out, he came closer and shoved a mike in her face. “So FBI special agent Jared Bell spent the night at your house,” he said. “Are the two of you back together?”

  She gasped at his audacity and his knowledge. He must have been the reporter who had discovered their relationship six years ago. The press had given Jared a real hard time about being unprofessional. She had wondered then if Jared had broken off their relationship to save face and his career. Her heart beating fast with fear, she backed away from Kyle Smith—into the hall. How had he known that Jared had spent last night at her house? Was he the one watching her? Was he the danger to her?

  “Your son is his,” the reporter continued. “Alex Drummond’s birth certificate confirms it. You listed his father as Jared Bell.” His snide grin widened. “Does Special Agent Bell know yet that he’s a father?”

  “A woman is dead,” she reminded him. “Why does my personal life hold any interest for you?”

  “You’re the story,” he said. “It started with your sister and you and Agent Bell.”

  The murders had started with Lexi. But Rebecca had nothing to do with them. “Leave me alone!”

  Finally, the deputy rushed down the hall, his hand on his gun. “Ms. Drummond, are you okay?”

  She shook her head. “No, please show Mr. Smith off the premises.”

  “I’ll be back,” he told her—again with that wide grin—as the deputy escorted him out.

  She was still shaking as she headed toward the front desk. Hadn’t the intake nurse recognized the reporter? Why had she let him back?

  Before she could ask, Sylvia called out to her. “You have a call, Rebecca, on line three.”

  Jared. Maybe the deputy had already called him about the reporter. She stepped into a private office off the reception area and picked up the phone. “Hello?”

  Her breath, still coming fast from her confrontation with the reporter, echoed in the phone. But no one spoke to her. “Hello?” she said again. Maybe Sylvia had told her the wrong line. She was reaching for another button when that raspy whisper spoke to her.

  “Becca...”

  She shivered. “What do you want?”

  “For you to be careful,” the voice ominously replied. “You’re in danger.”

  Chapter Eight

  After a sleepless night, Jared should have been exhausted—so exhausted that he should have been back at his apartment in Chicago, in his bed. But determination kept him going. He’d made promises. And this was one promise he wouldn’t break. Unlike his promise to find a killer.

  He’d promised his son he would return. And he stood outside Becca’s house agai
n, waiting for her to open the door. He’d already rung the bell twice. He was reaching for the button again when she finally opened the door. But she blocked the entrance—as much as she could with her slender frame.

  She wore some kind of long T-shirt-looking dress that clung to every curve. And her hair was long and loose around her shoulders. The setting sun caught in the blond tresses, making them shine and shimmer.

  His breath caught and his pulse quickened at her beauty. And his attraction to her. He should be angry with her. He should be resentful. He had a right to know that she was pregnant with his baby—that she’d had his child. But she’d kept that secret for six years.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” she told him, her voice terse with irritation and frustration.

  She was angry with him? Was she mad that he’d left her and Alex that morning? He’d thought she understood that he was working a case—that he was trying to find Amy Wilcox’s and her sister’s killer. And all those other women...

  “Why not?” he asked. Maybe she wanted him working the case instead of spending time with her.

  Or maybe Alex didn’t want to see him. Heat flushed Jared’s face with embarrassment over the present he held under his arm. He’d been a fool to think that any toy could make up for the six years he’d missed of the little boy’s life.

  Her face reddened as she replied, “Kyle Smith knows you spent last night here. He showed up at the clinic today and wanted to interview me about it. Then I got that call after he left...”

  The sheriff’s deputy had already told him about the reporter showing up and about the call she’d received. It had already been traced back to a burner cell. He hadn’t known, though, why Smith had showed up to harass her.

  Jared cursed, then flinched as the little blond-haired boy squeezed between his mother and the doorjamb. “I—I shouldn’t have said that,” he told Alex. Some father he would make, teaching his son words no child should hear.

  The little boy shrugged off the incident. “Mom swears sometimes, too.”

  Becca’s face flushed a brighter shade of red. “Alex, I do not.”

  He jerked his head in a nod. “You do,” he insisted. “Especially when you’re driving.”

  “I—I...” she sputtered and then laughed. “Okay, maybe I do. Sometimes...”

  “She does,” Alex said. Then he reached out.

  Jared thought he was reaching for the present and held it out. But the little boy grabbed his hand instead and tugged him over the threshold.

  Becca still stood in the doorway, so Jared collided with her soft frame. His body pressed against hers. They were so close but not close enough. His skin heated and muscles tensed as desire overwhelmed him. Did she feel it, too?

  He stared down into her beautiful face. Her bright blue eyes widened, and her breath escaped in a gasp. But then Alex tugged harder on his hand and pulled him through the door and into the living room.

  Becca remained in the open doorway. Maybe looking for Kyle Smith...to see if he lurked outside as he must have the night before. How else had the man known Jared had spent the night? And why hadn’t Jared, during his vigil, noticed the reporter lurking around?

  He needed to improve his protection duty skills—especially with Becca being in danger.

  “Did you catch the bad guy?” Alex asked.

  A pang of regret struck his heart—for so many reasons. He shook his head. “Not yet.”

  Alex’s little hand squeezed his. “You will,” the little boy assured him.

  And another pang struck Jared’s heart. How could his son have more confidence in him than Jared had in himself? Of course he’d vowed to others and to himself that he would catch the killer—even if it took the rest of his life. But he heartily hoped that it didn’t take that long—that he would find him soon—before the man had the chance to abduct and murder another bride. So he vowed again, “I will.”

  Becca made a noise that drew his attention. He expected it to have been a snort of derision but she sniffled instead, as if fighting back tears.

  Even though he didn’t understand why she was so emotional, he wanted to comfort her. But when he had tried to comfort her six years ago, he hadn’t been able to stop at just comfort. He’d taken advantage of her vulnerability and given in to that overwhelming desire he had for her. While he hadn’t given her real comfort, he’d given her a child.

  An amazing child...

  “I told my friends at school that my daddy is an FBI agent,” Alex said.

  “You did?” Becca asked the question.

  Jared was too stunned to speak. His son had been bragging about him? He didn’t even know him. Becca had obviously never talked about him to their son.

  Alex nodded, but his mouth pulled down into a little frown. “But they didn’t believe me. They think I made it up—that I made you up.”

  Jared squeezed the little boy’s hand and offered assurance now. “I’m real.”

  Alex shook his head. “They said that I don’t have a dad ’cause I never talked about him before and ’cause he’s never been around.”

  And that ache returned to Jared’s heart—that hollow feeling he’d had all day since he’d had to leave his son and stay away from him. From them.

  Becca sniffled again before speaking in a voice heavy with guilt and emotion. “That wasn’t your fault. That wasn’t your father’s fault, either.”

  “I told them that,” Alex said. “I told them he was busy catching bad guys.”

  Becca released a breath that sounded like relief. Her son wasn’t blaming her. But then she turned to Jared, and her gaze searched his face. Over the years he’d gotten good at hiding his emotions. So she might not see his resentment, but it was there—simmering inside him.

  He wasn’t as forgiving as the little boy. She should have let him know when she’d found out she was pregnant. She should have let him be a part of his son’s life. He wasn’t sure she was going to let him be a part of it even now that he knew Alex was his.

  They hadn’t discussed that. They hadn’t discussed anything. And maybe she’d only said that about Kyle Smith knowing he’d spent the night in order to get rid of him before they could have the discussion they needed to have.

  The little boy shrugged off his friends’ reactions to his news and turned his attention to the brightly wrapped package Jared was holding. “Who did you bring the present for?” he asked. “Me or Mommy?”

  “You, of course,” Becca answered for him.

  She expected no presents from Jared. After he’d failed to find her sister’s killer or even her body, she probably expected nothing from him—especially after how he’d rejected her feelings for him.

  “It is for you,” Jared said as he handed the box over to the boy.

  “But it’s not my birthday,” Alex said.

  Jared had no idea when his son’s birthday was. How far along had Becca been when he’d told her it was better that they have no further contact? After the way he’d treated her, he had no right to his resentment.

  “And Christmas is a couple months away,” Alex said.

  “I owe you some presents,” Jared said—for all those birthdays and Christmases he’d missed. “Go ahead and open it.”

  Instead of tearing off the paper, as Jared suspected most kids his age would have, Alex studied the package. He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head as if he could see inside the box. Then he weighed it in his hands. “I don’t think you brought me a gun...”

  “Alex!” Becca exclaimed with a gasp. Then she glanced at Jared as if worried that he actually might have bought the child a gun.

  He knew very little about kids, but he knew better than to arm one. “It’s not a gun,” he told them both.

  “A car?” Alex asked.

  He should have bought him a toy car. Didn’t all little boys love cars? He hadn’t been all that interested in cars at that age, though. Of course he’d always been a little odd. So he had no idea if he’d bought his son something he would like. />
  “Just open it,” Becca encouraged the boy.

  Alex sighed but settled onto the floor with the present. Then he proceeded to remove each piece of tape—slowly and methodically.

  “He does this with every present at Christmas,” Becca said. “It takes two days for him to finally open them all.”

  And the resentment fired back up, making Jared remark, “I wouldn’t know.”

  But he should have known. He should have been there every Christmas, watching his son take days to open all his presents. He should have been there for birthdays and T-ball games. Did Alex play T-ball? Or soccer? Or was he as unathletic as his father had been?

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured, her voice low and soft and close to his ear since she’d leaned toward him.

  He felt her breath and her warmth and inhaled her sweet, summery scent. She smelled like flowers and sunshine. And her closeness heated him.

  Jared leaned toward her—tempted to kiss her and not to comfort her. Or to punish her. He wanted to kiss her, simply because he wanted her.

  But Alex uttered a soft gasp.

  Jared turned his attention to his son. The little boy stared down at the box he’d finally unwrapped. He should have brought him a car. What had he been thinking?

  “I can take it back,” he offered. “And get you something else, something you’d like...”

  “Like?” Alex looked up at him and blinked his long lashes quickly as if fighting back tears.

  Oh, God, he’d really screwed up.

  Then Alex stood up and launched himself at Jared, wrapping his arms around his waist to squeeze him tight. “I love it!”

  And Jared’s heart shifted in his chest as emotion—as love—overwhelmed him. A day ago he hadn’t known the child existed; now he couldn’t imagine a world without him in it. He patted the little boy’s back and head. “I’m so glad.”

  And not just that he’d bought the right thing. But he was so glad he had a son. He’d never thought about being a father before. But now that he was one...

  He was glad.

  “What is it?” Becca asked curiously.