His Child. Delores Fossen
“You need Emmett.”
“And how about his wife?” McClendon tossed the jacket onto the sofa and shoved a hand through his short coffee-colored hair. “Do I need her, too? She thinks a campaign contribution obligates me to sleep with her.”
“So? Consider it stud service.” The corner of Douglas’s mouth hitched. “You knew there’d be things about this campaign you wouldn’t like.”
“I don’t like any part of it.” McClendon shrugged and undid the top buttons of his shirt. “I want to be in the Texas Legislature. That doesn’t mean I want to sleep my way there.”
McClendon moved to the fireplace, just beneath the mirror, where Jessie could easily see his face. A face that reflected none of the evil inside him. Deeply tanned skin. Sharp angled cheekbones, a legacy from his Comanche grandmother—something the press often mentioned. His brows slanted downward, making his expression a natural frown. His mouth was rigid. But not stern. Under different circumstances she might have considered him good-looking. Even handsome.
But it wasn’t different circumstances.
McClendon was the enemy, in every sense of the word.
He was taller than she’d expected. Over six feet. Lean. Built like the cowboy he was underneath the polished elegance of the tux. A real wolf in sheep’s clothing.
“You’ll just have to accept this stud status of yours,” Douglas continued, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Women want to heal your wounds because you’re a widower. It’s a chick thing.” He glanced down at his watch. “We need to get back before we’re missed.”
It seemed as if he was about to answer, but then McClendon went still. Perfectly still. And much to Jessie’s horror, he looked straight in the mirror. She tried not to move a muscle, even though he would probably see her reflection if he glanced at the curtains.
“Go ahead back to the party,” he finally said. “I’ll be down soon. I just need to make a few calls.”
Jessie allowed herself a quiet breath of relief. So, he hadn’t seen her. She wouldn’t have to reveal her hand while the other man was still in the room.
Before Douglas Harland even issued a “don’t be long” and closed the door behind him, McClendon went to the bar and poured himself a drink. He took the shot in one gulp, then slapped down the glass. In the same motion, he tipped his head toward the curtain. “Mind telling me what you’re doing behind there?”
Jessie went board stiff. There had been nothing in his body language to indicate he’d noticed her.
“Well?” he snarled. “I’m waiting.”
She stepped out, using her forearm to push the curtain aside so she wouldn’t have to lower the gun. For a moment she just stood there and sized him up. Jessie swallowed hard. In a hand-to-hand battle, she would lose. Big time. It wasn’t just his size; it was his street-wise expression. He’d won his share of fights. More, no doubt, than she had.
“How did you know I was here?” Jessie asked.
“Lucky guess,” he said, sardonically enough for her to understand that he had indeed seen her in the mirror. “What do you plan to do with that gun?”
Jessie glanced at it and then him. “It’s my insurance. To make sure you listen to what I have to say.”
“Then, by all means go on—say it. Then get the hell out of here before my brother-in-law comes back to check on me.”
Yes, him. Jessie hadn’t considered that he might come back anytime soon. But she should have. She should have anticipated all the contingencies. She cursed the fog in her head. Because of it, she was already a step behind him.
There seemed to be nothing wrong with McClendon’s thought processes, however. His laser-blue eyes were clear and trained right on her. He seemed ready to strike.
“I want some answers.” She fought back a sudden wave of dizziness. Effects of the fatigue, maybe. And maybe something else. Jessie prayed she could stay strong long enough to finish this.
“So do I. I’d say I’m entitled to some, since you’re holding a gun on me. For starters, do I even know you?”
“I have reason to believe you do.”
“You want money, is that it?” he asked.
A soft burst of air left her mouth. Almost a laugh, but it was lathered with sarcasm. “Money doesn’t solve everything. Why did you have them come after me like that? Why me?”
“Why did I have them come after you? I don’t know what you’re talking about, lady. I’ve never seen you before.”
“You didn’t have to see me to give the order for them to pick me up and take me to that warehouse.”
“Them?” He leaned against the bar and folded his arms over his chest. “Exactly who are you talking about?”
How dare he pull this act with her. “You know. You darn well know!”
“I don’t know, and you’ve got about five seconds to start explaining, before I call the cops.”
She waved the pistol, in case he’d forgotten that she was in charge here. For a man being held at gunpoint, he didn’t seem threatened or even nervous. She, on the other hand, was shaking, and her stomach was clenched tight. “There will be some explanations, and they’ll come from you. Why?”
“Why what?”
Jessie gave a frustrated groan. “Why me? Why did you have them do this to me? Why did you tell them to use me like that?”
“If you’ll tell me what you think I had them do to you, then maybe I can help you clear this up.”
“Why did you give the order for them to kill me and do those other things? Why would you want this to happen?” She shook her head in disgust. “What you had them do was sick.”
“Back up some. Who wants to kill you?”
Jessie frowned. “You!”
“Not me. Who?”
“Your hired help, then. Three men and a woman. I never saw their faces, but they chloroformed me and took me to that warehouse. They held me for, uh—what’s the date?”
He didn’t look as if he intended to answer her. He just stood there, the picture of intimidation. “It’s July sixteenth,” he finally said.
“July?” How could that be? Jessie pressed her fingertips against her temple, and her bottom lip started to tremble. She’d seen the date on the newspaper, of course, but it hadn’t registered until now. Suddenly, it all became much clearer. “Three months. They took me back in April.”
He shrugged. “And what exactly do you think these people did to you during these three months?”
“Things. And now I think I might be…” But the word stuck like wet clay in her throat.
“What? Lady, will you just spit this out so I can get you out of here?” he demanded. “What might you be?”
“Pregnant.” It left her mouth on a gasp. The room started to whirl in a black circle. Jessie leaned against the balcony door and let it support her.
“Pregnant,” he spat out, in the same way he did the profanity he uttered next. “This sounds like a personal problem to me. Why would you hold me at gunpoint just to tell me you’re pregnant?”
“Because—” She grabbed the drapes, but it didn’t stop her from sinking to her knees. The plush carpet broke her fall, some. “It’s your baby.”
LIKE HELL IT WAS.
Jake was one-hundred percent sure of that. He hadn’t been with a woman, any woman, in nearly a year. She was obviously some kind of strung-out nut. A stalker maybe.