The Bodyguard's Baby. Debra Webb
costs. Even if after getting Robby settled some place safe it meant going back to her brother, Laura would do it to lead any threat away from her child.
She would never let anyone harm her son.
Never.
But how would Doc know what had happened to her? Would Mrs. Leeton be able to take care of Robby if Laura never returned? Unsettled by the thought, Laura snapped from her disturbing contemplation, and realized that they were already headed out of town.
To Jackson.
Desperation crowded her throat.
She needed to go back to Mrs. Leeton’s house first.
To her son. She couldn’t leave without making some sort of arrangements.
There was no other option at the moment.
“We have to go back,” she said quickly.
“Forget it.” Nick’s focus remained steady on the road. A muscle flexed in his square jaw, the only visible indication of his own tension.
Laura frantically groped for some reasonable explanation he would find acceptable for turning around. Nothing came. A new kind of fear mushroomed inside her. She had to think of something.
Now!
“My baby!” she blurted when the Please Come Again sign loomed closer. “I have to get my baby.”
Nick threw a suspicious glance in her direction. “What baby?” he asked, sarcasm dripping from his tone.
“My…I have…a son,” she admitted, defeat sucking the heart from her chest. How would she ever protect her baby?
Nick’s expression shifted from suspicious to incredulous. “I’m not falling for any of your tricks, Laura.”
Trembling with the crazy mixture of emotions flooding her body, Laura swiped at the tears she had only just noticed were slipping down her cheeks. Dammit, why did she have to cry? She was supposed to be tough—had to be tough. “Please take me back, Nick. I have to get my son,” she pleaded, any hope of appearing even remotely tough dashed.
Something, some emotion, flitted across his handsome face so fast Laura couldn’t quite read it. She fought to ignore what looked entirely too much like hurt that remained. She knew just how much Nick had suffered because of her. He had almost died. She winced inwardly at the memory. But she couldn’t permit herself to feel any sympathy for him. He certainly harbored none for her. She had to stay focused on keeping her son safe. Robby was all that really mattered. And she could never allow Nick to suspect the truth about her child.
Laura didn’t even want to imagine what Nick would do if he found out he had a son.
A child she had kept from him for almost two years.
NICK PARKED the rented sedan on the street in front of the small white frame house Laura identified as belonging to a Mrs. Leeton. Emotions churned in his gut. What was it to him if Laura Proctor had gotten herself pregnant since he had last seen her? Or, hell, maybe even shortly before he had met her.
Nothing.
Less than nothing, he reiterated for good measure.
She had simply been an assignment back then, and Nick’s sole motivation for taking her back to her brother now was to clear up his record. Laura Proctor represented a black mark on his otherwise perfect record, and he was about to wipe it clean. If he had kept his head on straight back then he wouldn’t have screwed up the assignment in the first place. And he sure as hell wouldn’t have allowed himself to believe the woman almost virginal. What a joke.
On him.
Nick reached for the door handle, but Laura grabbed his arm. He stared for a long moment at the small, pale hand clutching at him before he met her fearful gaze. “What?” he growled.
“Please don’t do this, Nick,” she begged. “Please just walk away. Pretend you never saw me.” She moistened her full, lush lips and blinked back the tears shining in her eyes. “Please, just let us go.”
“Save your breath, Laura.” A muscle jumped in his jaw, keeping time with the pounding in his skull. Don’t even think about feeling sorry for her, man, he reminded himself. You let your guard down once and it almost cost you your life. “Nothing you can say will change my mind,” he added, the recall of Laura’s betrayal making his tone harsh.
Her desperate grip tightened on the sleeve of his jacket. “You don’t understand. He’ll kill me, and maybe even my son.” She squeezed her eyes shut, her breath hitched as it slipped past her pink lips. “Oh, God, what am I going to do?”
Nick tamped down the surge of protectiveness that surfaced where Laura was concerned. His chest tightened with an emotion he refused to label. He focused his attention on the street and dredged up the memory of waking up alone and barely alive in the hospital. “Who will kill you, Laura? The guy you watched put a bullet in me before you ran away?” He turned back to her then, the look of pain in her eyes giving him perverse pleasure. “Just how far were you willing to go to cause your brother trouble? Was it all just some kind of game to you?”
Her eyes closed again, fresh tears trickled down those soft cheeks. She was good. She looked the picture of innocence and sweetness. He almost laughed at that. Obviously the hotshot she had been involved with two years ago, or someone since had left her with an unexpected gift. Maybe it had been the guy who had put the bullet in Nick. Laura Proctor would have a hell of a time promoting that innocent act with an illegitimate baby on her hip. Well, that wasn’t his problem, even if the thought did make some prehistoric territorial male gene rage inside him.
“Are we going in, or do we head straight for Jackson?” he demanded impatiently, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel for effect.
Laura brushed her cheek with the back of her hand. “I want to get my son first,” she murmured, defeat sagging her slim shoulders.
“Well, let’s do it then,” he shot back, trying his level best not to think about Laura having sex with another man, much less having the man’s child. Damn, he shouldn’t care.
But, somehow, he still did.
Nick called himself every kind of fool as he emerged from the car, years of training overriding his distraction as he surveyed their surroundings. Vine was a short, dead-end street dotted with half a dozen small frame houses. A dog barked at one of the houses on the far end of the quiet street. Two driveways had vehicles parked in them, indicating someone could be home. Either Mrs. Leeton didn’t own a car or she wasn’t home, he noted after another scan of the house before them. Nick reached beneath his jacket and adjusted the weapon at the small of his back. There was no way of knowing what to expect next out of Laura or the people with whom she associated.
Laura scrambled out of the car and into the vee created by his body and the open car door. It took Nick a full five seconds to check his body’s reaction at her nearness. Laura’s gaze collided with his, the startled expression in her eyes giving away her own physical reaction. Nick breathed a crude, four-letter word. Laura shrank from him as if he had slapped her. He didn’t want to feel any of this, he only wanted to do what had to be done. But his male equipment obviously had other ideas.
“I know you’ll never believe me, but it didn’t happen the way you think,” Laura said softly, defeatedly. She looked so vulnerable in that worn denim jacket that was at least two sizes too big, the overlong sleeves rolled up so that her small hands just barely peeked out. But the faded denim encasing her tiny waist and slender hips was breath-stealingly snug, as was the dirt-streaked T-shirt that snuggled against her breasts.
Nick swallowed hard and lifted his gaze to the face he had never wanted to see again, yet prayed with all his heart he would find just around the next corner. For months after her disappearance his heart rate had accelerated at the sight of any woman on the street with hair the color of spun gold and whose walk or build reminded him of Laura. Each time, hoping he had found her, his disappointment had proven devastating. And now she stood