by Dana Nussio
“That I don’t know,” Troy told him. “Someone’s not being careful enough with the investigation details or sharing something they shouldn’t be with the media.”
“Gives me a lot of faith in local law enforcement, family or not,” Travis said sarcastically.
He took one last look at the crowd building on the ground below and stalked back to the chair he’d vacated. He should have sat, but he paced instead.
“It’s a good guess that she’s still somewhere in the building.” Travis jutted his index finger toward the windows. “She won’t walk out through that. Why didn’t either of you mention what was happening in the parking lot earlier?”
Still leaning on the wall next to the glass, Bryce shrugged. “We doubted that information would help us to get the interview we needed. Did we mention we’re tracking a probable serial killer?”
“You’re willing to do anything to get the information you want, too.”
Troy shook his head. “Not anything. Anyway, we’re just doing our—”
“Jobs?” Travis finished his sentence for him. “Was it your job to come bother Tatiana on her first day at Colton Plastics? Only her second back in the country? She isn’t even accused of a crime, and yet you’re treating her like she’s a murderer. It’s not her fault that her dad is—could be—you know...”
“Come on, Travis,” Bryce said, straightening his tie. “We didn’t mean to upset her, but, like Detective Colton tried to say, we’re just doing our jobs.”
“Well, you’re going to have to do them somewhere else.”
“What do you mean?” Troy asked.
With a sweep of his hand, Travis indicated the conference room, where no work had taken place all morning. “I mean that you’ve disrupted our business enough.”
Bryce held out one hand, palm up. “It wouldn’t have taken so long if she’d just answered our questions instead of trying to avoid them.”
“Tatiana just didn’t know anything. So why don’t you search somewhere else for clues and leave her the hell alone?”
He needed to stop, but he couldn’t do it, even if his cousins had to be wondering whether he was being so protective over Tatiana for Colton Plastics or for himself.
“You know we can’t do that,” Bryce said.
He did. That was the most frustrating part. “You can’t force her to give you information she doesn’t have.”
Troy touched his index finger to his lips. “How can you be so sure that she doesn’t know anything? You’ve said you barely know her.”
“I am.” He straightened his shoulders and glared at them, responding to the first question while skipping the second.
As the detective and the special agent exchanged a skeptical look, Travis refused to listen to his gut, which concurred. He might have been intimately familiar with every curve, dip and taste of Tatiana Davison’s body, but outside of bed they were almost strangers. It didn’t matter if that night of wine and conversation had tricked them into believing differently.
A chime on his phone announcing a new email saved him from having to answer the question. He nabbed the device off the table before the other men had a chance to sneak a peek at the screen. It was from Jan.
T is in her office and indisposed...
His chest tight, Travis scanned the rest of the message before looking up again. Indisposed? What did that mean? He’d worked with Jan a long time and had always appreciated that she never held back details. Was she being vague because she worried that his email might be read by someone else? Travis tilted the phone so that only he could see the screen.
“Is that from Ms. Davison? Will she be returning?” Troy asked.
“Afraid not,” he said in answer to both questions. “She had to go into a meeting and won’t be available for the rest of the day.”
Bryce’s jaw flexed, the first sign that his remarkable cool had been pushed to its limit. “We’ll need to talk to her again.”
“I’m sure she will be happy to set up another appointment with you tomorrow. She said she will be available after office hours.”
Travis was making the story up as he went, but he didn’t care. He needed to see for himself that she was all right. If the only way to do that was to toss an FBI agent and a police detective to the curb, where they would be surrounded by hungry reporters, then so be it.
He crossed to the door and pulled it open, indicating for his cousins to exit ahead of him. Both men tucked their notebooks in their pockets and followed his instructions. Instead of waiting for Jan to guide them from the building as was usual practice, Travis led them to the elevator himself, rode with them and guided them to the security station next to the main entry.
Both men slid into their coats and crossed through the exit gate, next to the metal detectors, where they would have had to show their badges because of the weapons they carried.
Bryce stopped and turned to face him. “We’ll see Miss Davison tomorrow.”
“Just Miss Davison,” Troy added. “Or she can bring legal counsel, if she prefers.”
Travis’s chest squeezed at the thought of even more police officers crowding around her and tossing questions that she couldn’t answer. Or wouldn’t. Still, there was no way he could volunteer to accompany her again without raising more questions about her innocence or their connection.
Bryce and Troy left through the revolving door, neither looking back at him. Several reporters rushed toward them and shoved microphones in their faces, but both men declined to comment.
After taking a last look to ensure Bryce and Troy hadn’t stopped to speak to the media, Travis hurried to the elevator. Both cars were currently on the third floor, so he took the stairs instead. The interview with his cousins would probably make family events even more awkward, as if he didn’t feel maladroit enough around many of them. Mavericks weren’t supposed to fit in, he guessed, and not everyone could have the kind of job his father considered honorable. He couldn’t worry about that now, or even think about all those media trucks in the parking lot. His only concern was about the woman who’d gone from confidently marching into Colton Plastics on the day of her interview to hiding in her own office now. He had to make sure she was okay.
* * *
At the loud knock outside her office door, Tatiana lifted her head from her hands and patted her damp hair again. She hadn’t bothered to fix her makeup a second time. This morning had been a chorus of humiliations, and she still had more rounds to sing.
“Come in.”
She hoped it would be Jan stopping by to check on her again, but Travis pushed open the door instead and poked his head inside.
“They’re gone.”
She let out her breath in tiny spurts. “Thanks.”
“They won’t stay gone.”
“I know.”
“Are you all right?”
The worry creasing his forehead as he scanned her face, her hair, and her hands shamed her even more. Whether she had a good reason or not, she’d run out of that meeting. Another shining moment on a glistening first day on the job. Now in addition to worrying about the PR nightmare she’d brought to Colton Plastics, he probably questioned her professionalism, too.
“I’m fine.” She was nauseated again from the mint toothpaste she’d used to brush away the evidence of vomiting, but she didn’t mention that. “I thought Jan would have passed that along already.”
“She did. I wanted to check for myself.”
He continued to watch her until she couldn’t sit still in her chair. She’d looked for a moment earlier to tell him her news. He probably thought his day couldn’t get much worse. It was about to.
“Sorry for running out of the interview.”
“Can’t blame you for that. It was getting intense in there.”
She folded her arms, hating that he would think she couldn’t handle a he
ated discussion, but that only sent sharp pains through her tender breasts. More reminders of the bombshell she had yet to drop.
“I was feeling, well, ill.”
Concern etched his features. “So, that’s why Jan said you were ‘indisposed.’”
“I’d hoped she’d missed that.” Great. Someone had overheard her while she was facedown in the porcelain throne. Her facilities weren’t as private as she’d thought.
“You do look a little pale,” he said, watching her again. “Even more so than earlier.”
He’d noticed it during their meeting while she’d still believed she was keeping it together?
“Do you need to go home early?”
“On my first day?” She shook her head, though it sounded like an amazing idea. “Some example I’d be setting to the staff.”
“We wouldn’t want them to catch anything, either. You did just arrive from overseas.”
He didn’t have to explain that one. Anyone who’d lived through the recent pandemic that affected so many would never take world travel lightly again.
“No, I’m fine. Really. It’s just, well...”
As she let her words fall away, Travis nodded.
“It probably wouldn’t be a good time to leave the building, anyway.”
She’d glanced down at her folded hands, but at his comment, her chin jerked up. “Why is that?”
His gaze shot to her office windows, through which he probably could see into his own office on the opposite side of the courtyard.
“Right. Neither of us have a view of the parking lot.” He tilted his head to the side. “Didn’t Jan tell you?”
“We didn’t exactly have time for a heart-to-heart.”
“About the media. They’re staked out down there.”
She became light-headed as she leaped to her feet too quickly. Travis didn’t appear to miss that she held onto her desk to steady herself before rushing past him and out the door. “Can you see them from the conference room?”
She didn’t wait for him to answer, continuing down the hall instead. Once inside, she jogged straight to the window. They were there. The vans. The camera operators and reporters milling around and jockeying for the best positions. It was just like last time. Worse.
“Are they all here for me? How did they even find me?”
“I don’t—”
Tatiana jerked her head to look back at him. “Did you make an announcement in the local paper’s business section?”
He shook his head. “Not yet.”
“Well, don’t,” she spat.
“Guess that’s not going to make a difference now.”
“Who tipped them off that I would even be here?” Her cheeks heated, and sweat made her silk blouse cling to her skin.
“No one seems to know the answer to that.”
“It’s not supposed to be like this.” Her head was spinning, and she couldn’t make it stop. “I thought the circus would go away when Dad was released. I was going to get a fresh start here. But it’s happening again.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll figure—”
“No, it’s worse,” she said, trampling his words. “Those reporters won’t leave me alone. The story’s going to be everywhere. People love to read about serial killers. We don’t even have time to develop a good media strategy. They’re already here.”
Tatiana hadn’t heard his approach, but suddenly his hands were on her shoulders, applying gentle pressure. She knew better than to trust anyone, especially now, but she was tempted to sink back against him.
“It’ll be fine,” he said. “We’ll figure out something.”
Only it wouldn’t, and they couldn’t. She shifted her shoulders until he lifted away his hands and took a step back with a mumbled “sorry.”
She shook her head to wave off his apology and stared out at the media frenzy on the parking lot below.
“My dad’s status as a fugitive and possibly a serial killer isn’t the only problem affecting us.”
“There’s more?”
He stepped to the window next to where she stood and looked out, as if searching for the answers she’d yet to give.
“I won’t let them get near you again.”
His crossed arms and tight jaw told her he meant it.
Then he drew his eyebrows together, and twin vertical lines appeared on his forehead. “Wait. Are you talking about us as in Colton Plastics or as in—”
“Us,” she finished for him.
His shook his head. “There’s no reason for them to find out about that night. It’s no one’s business, anyway. And we agreed there wouldn’t be—”
“The baby’s going to be tough to hide,” she blurted.
His hands dropped to his sides. “Baby?”
Automatically, she rested her hand across her tummy and covered it with the other one, shielding the embryo nestled inside her. Then she lifted her chin and met his gaze. “I’m pregnant. And the child is yours.”
Chapter 4
“A baby?” Why couldn’t he stop repeating that question? He’d heard what she’d said, but the words seemed to be suspended in the air around them. Tatiana was having his child? With steps that he hoped looked steadier than they felt, he moved to the conference table and sank into a chair.
“Yeah. It came as a surprise to me, too,” she said.
“So, this was the ‘other matter’ you were trying to tell me about when the SWAT team showed up.” At her nod, Travis continued, “How long have you known?”
She slumped into the seat next to his and peeked at her watch. “About two hours and eleven minutes now.”
“You just took a test this morning?”
“Right before the meeting in your office. Happy first day at Colton Plastics to me.”
Now the subtle differences he’d noticed in her earlier made sense. She’d just been hit with some heavy news. It explained her upset stomach as well. Morning sickness.
“Wait. If you took just one test, then you can’t be sure that it’s accurate, right? You’re an engineer. You know about inconclusive results. Maybe a false positive?”
“The box said ninety-nine percent accuracy from the day of the missed—” She looked up from her gripped hands. “Anyway, the two pink lines were pretty clear. It’s still in my purse. I didn’t want to leave it for the custodial staff to find. Do you want me to get it for you?”
“That won’t be necessary.” He cleared his throat. Could that moment have been more awkward? “It’s been over six weeks since we, uh—since you interviewed here. And you’re just finding out now? I don’t know a lot about those things, but isn’t that a little late to start being concerned? I hate to have to ask, but are you sure that I’m...?”
She lifted her chin and met his gaze, annoyance simmering in her eyes.
“You’re the father, all right. I haven’t, uh, celebrated with anyone else in—” she paused, shrugging “—more than a year. As for finding out about the pregnancy late, I have irregular periods, and with the stress of moving back to the US, I wasn’t paying close attention to my cycles. In case you’re getting ready to ask, yes, I have been taking the Pill, just like I said, and, if you recall, you didn’t have a condom. Guess this would fall in that nine percent contraceptive failure rate.”
He hated to admit he’d had that question about her birth control pills, too. “Thanks. Sorry, I had to ask. We don’t know each other that well and—”
“You need to know what I want from you, the hotshot young co-CEO at a growing company. I hold that same title now, by the way. The answer is nothing. We don’t need anyone.”
We? This conversation was going south faster than even the interview with police had, but he couldn’t help asking one more thing. “So, you are planning to continue the pregnancy?”
She pushed back her shoulders
and glared at him, signaling he’d gone too far.
“Absolutely.” She stopped, blinking, and then shook her head. “I haven’t had much time to think about it, but, yes, I am having this baby. I will be keeping my child as well.”
“Sorry.” That was all he seemed to be able to say today. She had every right to be angry she had to answer these questions. One grilling for the day was enough. “I just didn’t want to assume anything. I know it’s your choice.”
“And I thought you had a right to know that you will have a child living in Grave Gulch. If you need proof that the baby’s yours, I’ll be happy to have a prenatal DNA test.”
“That won’t be necessary,” he said again.
Her lashes fluttered, as if his words had surprised her as much as they had him. His dad would tell him he was crazy for not demanding that test as a legal precaution in case she later changed her mind and demanded financial support. That would be something else upon which he and Frank disagreed, since he intended to provide it, either way.
His gut told him that everything Tatiana had said was true, anyway. Her reflexive movement—covering her abdomen with her crossed arms again—bothered him even more. She seemed to be protecting her child from everyone. Especially from him.
She popped up from the seat and started pacing in front of the windows, which luckily had a protective film that wouldn’t allow reporters to shoot photos of her from outside.
“I wouldn’t want those test results, either,” she said. “First, it doesn’t look great that you slept with someone who’d just been named an executive of the company you founded. Then, you find out her father might be a serial killer. And, to put a cherry on top of that sundae, she announces she’s pregnant with your baby.”
Tatiana turned back to him, but the earlier defiance in both her features and posture, along with the ruddiness of her skin, appeared to have drained from her.
“It might be too much for you to know for certain that a child with a possible serial killer’s blood flowing through his veins is yours.”
