Книга - Security Blanket

Security Blanket
Delores Fossen








Security Blanket

Delores Fossen







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




Table of Contents


Cover Page (#u21a2a03a-a6c3-55ee-b09e-8cc014698b8f)

Title Page (#u3adf833b-e8f6-5fa7-95e4-11a88b78974f)

About The Author (#u99bf71c0-18ed-52aa-bac4-8b1d359cf97b)

Dedication (#u1964962b-37ea-5551-9604-08b639039ecc)

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Imagine a family tree that includes Texas cowboys, Choctaw and Cherokee Indians, a Louisiana pirate and a Scottish rebel who battled side by side with William Wallace. With ancestors like that, it’s easy to understand why Texas author and former Air Force captain Delores Fossen feels as if she was genetically predisposed to writing romances. Along the way to fulfilling her DNA destiny, Delores married an Air Force Top Gun who just happens to be of Viking descent. With all those romantic bases covered, she doesn’t have to look too far for inspiration.


To the Magnolia State Romance Writers. Thanks for everything.




Chapter One


The man was watching her.

Marin Sheppard was sure of it.

He wasn’t staring, exactly. In fact, he hadn’t even looked at her, though he’d been seated directly across from her in the lounge car of the train for the past fifteen minutes. He seemed to focus his attention on the wintry Texas landscape that zipped past the window. But several times Marin had met his gaze in the reflection of the glass.

Yes, he was watching her.

That kicked up her heart rate a couple of notches. A too-familiar nauseating tightness started to knot Marin’s stomach.

Was it starting all over again?

Was he watching her, hoping that she’d lead him to her brother, Dexter? Or was this yet another attempt by her parents to insinuate themselves into her life?

It’d been over eight months since the last time this happened. A former “business associate” of her brother who was riled that he’d paid for a “product” that Dexter hadn’t delivered. The man had followed her around Fort Worth for days. He hadn’t been subtle about it, either, and that had made him seem all the more menacing. And she hadn’t given birth to Noah yet then.

The stakes were so much higher now.

Marin hugged her sleeping son closer to her chest. He smelled like baby shampoo and the rice cereal he’d had for lunch. She brushed a kiss on his forehead and rocked gently. Not so much for him—Noah was sound asleep and might stay that way for the remaining hour of the trip to San Antonio. No, the rocking, the kiss and the snug embrace were more for her benefit, to help steady her nerves.

And it worked.

“Cute kid,” she heard someone say. The man across from her. Who else? There were no other travelers in this particular section of the lounge car.

Marin lifted her gaze. Met his again. But this time it wasn’t through the buffer of the glass, and she clearly saw his eyes, a blend of silver and smoke, framed with indecently long, dark eyelashes.

She studied him a moment, trying to decide if she knew him. He was on the lanky side. Midnight-colored hair. High cheekbones. A classically chiseled male jaw.

The only thing that saved him from being a total pretty boy was the one-inch scar angled across his right eyebrow, thin but noticeable. Not a precise surgeon’s cut, a jagged, angry mark left from an old injury. It conjured images of barroom brawls, tattooed bikers and bashed beer bottles. Not that Marin had firsthand knowledge of such things.

But she would bet that he did.

He wore jeans that fit as if they’d been tailormade for him, a dark blue pullover shirt that hugged his chest and a black leather bomber jacket. And snakeskin boots—specifically diamondback rattlesnake. Pricey and conspicuous footwear.

No, she didn’t know him. Marin was certain she would have remembered him—a realization that bothered her because he was hot, and she was sorry she’d noticed.

He tipped his head toward Noah. “I meant your baby,” he clarified. “Cute kid.”

“Thank you.” She looked away from the man, hoping it was the end of their brief conversation.

It wasn’t.

“He’s what…seven, eight months old?”

“Eight,” she provided.

“He reminds me a little of my nephew,” the man continued. “It must be hard, traveling alone with a baby.”

That brought Marin’s attention racing across the car. What had provoked that remark? She searched his face and his eyes almost frantically, trying to figure out if it was some sort of veiled threat.

He held up his hands, and a nervous laugh sounded from deep within his chest. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to alarm you. It’s just I noticed you’re wearing a medical alert bracelet.”

Marin glanced down at her left wrist. The almond-shaped metal disc was peeking out from the cuff of her sleeve. With its classic caduceus symbol engraved in crimson, it was like his boots—impossible to miss.

“I’m epileptic,” she said.

“Oh.” Concern dripped from the word.

“Don’t worry,” she countered. “I keep my seizures under control with meds. I haven’t had one in over five years.”

She immediately wondered why in the name of heaven she’d volunteered that personal information. Her medical history wasn’t any of his business; it was a sore spot she didn’t want to discuss.

“Is your epilepsy the reason you took the train?” he asked. “I mean, instead of driving?”

Marin frowned at him. “I thought the train would make the trip easier for my son.”

He nodded, apparently satisfied with her answer to his intrusive question. When his attention strayed back in the general direction of her bracelet, Marin followed his gaze. Down to her hand. All the way to her bare ring finger.

Even though her former fiancé, Randall Davidson, had asked her to marry him, he’d never given her an engagement ring. It’d been an empty, bare gesture. A thought that riled her even now. Randall’s betrayal had cut her to the bone.

Shifting Noah into the crook of her arm, she reached down to collect her diaper bag. “I think I’ll go for a little walk and stretch my legs.”

And change seats, she silently added.

Judging from the passengers she’d seen get on and off, the train wasn’t crowded, so moving into coach seating shouldn’t be a problem. In fact, she should have done it sooner.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I made you uncomfortable with my questions.”

His words stopped her because they were sincere. Or at least he sounded that way. Of course, she’d been wrong before. It would take another lifetime or two for her to trust her instincts.

And that was the reason she reached for the bag again.

“Stay, please,” he insisted. “It’ll be easier for me to move.” He got up, headed for the exit and then stopped, turning back around to face her. “I was hitting on you.”

Marin blinked. “You…what?”

“Hitting on you,” he clarified.

Oh.

That took her a few moments to process.

“Really?” Marin asked, sounding far more surprised than she wanted.

He chuckled, something low, husky and male. Something that trickled through her like expensive warm whiskey. “Really.” But then, the lightheartedness faded from his eyes, and his jaw muscles started to stir. “I shouldn’t have done it. Sorry.”

Again, he seemed sincere. So maybe he wasn’t watching her after all. Well, not for surveillance any way. Maybe he was watching her because she was a woman. Odd, that she’d forgotten all about basic human attraction and lust.

“You don’t have to leave,” Marin let him know. Because she suddenly didn’t know what to do with her fidgety hands, she ran her fingers through Noah’s dark blond curls. “Besides, it won’t be long before we’re in San Antonio.”

He nodded, and it had an air of thankfulness to it. “I’m Quinn Bacelli. Most people though just call me Lucky.”

She almost gave him a fake name. Old habits. But it was the truth that came out of her mouth. “Marin Sheppard.”

He smiled. It was no doubt a lethal weapon in his arsenal of ways to get women to fall at his feet. Or into his bed. It bothered Marin to realize that she wasn’t immune to it.

Good grief. Hadn’t her time with Randall taught her anything?

“Well, Marin Sheppard,” he said, taking his seat again. “No more hitting on you. Promise.”

Good. She mentally repeated that several times, and then wondered why she felt mildly disappointed.

Noah stirred, sucked at a nonexistent bottle and then gave a pouty whimper when he realized it wasn’t there. His eyelids fluttered open, and he blinked, focused and looked up at Marin with accusing bluegreen eyes that were identical to her own. He made another whimper, probably to let her know that he wasn’t pleased about having his nap interrupted.

Her son shifted and wriggled until he was in a sitting position in her lap, and the new surroundings immediately caught his attention. What was left of his whimpering expression evaporated. He examined his puppy socks, the window, the floor, the ceiling and the rubyred exit sign. Even her garnet heart necklace. Then, his attention landed on the man seated across from him.

Noah grinned at him.

The man grinned back. “Did you have a good nap, buddy?”

Noah babbled a cordial response, something the two males must have understood, because they shared another smile.

Marin looked at Quinn “Lucky” Bacelli. Then, at her son. Their smiles seemed to freeze in place.

There was no warning.

A deafening blast ripped through the car.

One moment Marin was sitting on the seat with her son cradled in her arms, and the next she was flying across the narrow space right at Lucky.

Everything moved fast. So fast. And yet it happened in slow motion, too. It seemed part of some nightmarish dream where everything was tearing apart at the seams.

Debris spewed through the air. The diaper bag, the magazine she’d been reading, the very walls themselves. All of it, along with Noah and her.

Something slammed into her back and the left side of her head. It knocked the breath from her. The pain was instant—searing—and it sliced right through her, blurring her vision.

She and Noah landed in Lucky’s arms, propelled against him. But he softened the fall. He turned, immediately, pushing them down against the seat and crawling over them so he could shelter them with his body. Still, the debris pelted her legs and her head. She felt the sting of the cuts on her skin and reached out for something, anything, to use as protection. Her fingers found the diaper bag, and she used it to block the shards so they wouldn’t hit Noah.

The train’s brakes screamed. Metal scraped against metal. The crackle and scorched smell of sparks flying, shouts of terror, smoke and dust filled the air.

Amid all the chaos, she heard her baby cry.

Noah was terrified, and his shrill piercing wail was a plea for help.

Marin tried to move him so she could see his face, so she could make sure he was all right, but her peripheral vision blurred. It closed in, like thick fog, nearly blinding her.

“Help my son,” she begged. She couldn’t bear his cries. They echoed in her head. Like razorsharp daggers. Cutting right through her.

Sweet heaven, was he hurt?

There was some movement, and she felt Lucky maneuver his hand between them. “He’s okay, I think.”

His qualifier nearly caused Marin to scream right along with her son. “Please, help him.”

Because she had no choice, because the pain was unbearable, Marin dropped her head against the seat. The grayness got darker. Thicker. The pain just kept building. Throbbing. Consuming her.

And her son continued to cry.

That was the worst pain of all—her son crying.

Somehow she had to help him.

She tried to move again, to see his face, but her body no longer responded to what she was begging it to do. It was as if she were spiraling downward into a bottomless dark pit. Her breath was thin, her heartbeat barely a whisper in her ears. And her mouth was filled with the metallic taste of her own blood.

God, was she dying?

The thought broke her heart. She wasn’t scared to die. But her death would leave her son vulnerable. Unprotected.

That couldn’t happen.

“You can’t let them take Noah,” she heard herself whisper. She was desperate now, past desperate, and if necessary she would resort to begging.

“Who can’t take him?” Lucky asked. He sounded so far away, but the warmth of his weight was still on her. She could feel his frantic breath gusting against her face.

“My parents.” Marin wanted to explain that they were toxic people, that she didn’t want them anywhere near her precious son. But there seemed so little breath left in her body, and she needed to tell him something far more important. “If I don’t make it…”

“You will,” he insisted.

Marin wasn’t sure she believed that. “If I don’t make it, get Noah out of here.” She had to take a breath before she could continue. “Protect him.” She coughed as she pulled the smoke and ash into her lungs. “Call Lizette Raines in Fort Worth. She’ll know what to do.”

Marin listened for a promise that he would do just that. And maybe Lucky Bacelli made that promise. Maybe he spoke to her, or maybe it was just her imagination when the softly murmured words filtered through the unbearable pain rifling in her head.

I swear, I’ll protect him.

She wanted to see her son’s face. She wanted to give him one last kiss.

But that didn’t happen.

The grayness overtook her, and Marin felt her world fade to nothing.




Chapter Two


Working frantically, Lucky slung off the debris that was covering Marin Sheppard and her son.

No easy feat.

There was a lot of it, including some shards of glass and splintered metal, and he had to dig them out while trying to keep a firm grip on Noah. Not only was the baby screaming his head off, he wriggled and squirmed, obviously trying to get away from the nightmare.

Unfortunately, they were trapped right in the middle of it.

“You’re okay, buddy,” Lucky said to the baby. He hoped that was true.

Lucky quickly checked, but didn’t see any obvious injuries. Heck, not even a scratch, which almost certainly qualified as a miracle.

As he’d seen Marin do, Lucky brushed a kiss on the boy’s cheek to reassure him. Though it wasn’t much help. Noah might have only been eight months old, but he no doubt knew something was horribly wrong.

This was no simple train derailment. An explosion. An accident, maybe. Perhaps some faulty electrical component caused it. Or an act of terrorism.

The thought sickened him.

Whatever the cause, the explosion had caused a lot of damage. And a fire. Lucky could feel the flames and the heat eating their way toward them. There wasn’t much time. A couple of minutes, maybe less.

And even then, getting out wasn’t guaranteed.

They couldn’t go through the window. There were jagged, thick chunks of glass still locked in place in the metal frame. It wouldn’t be easy to kick out the remaining glass, and it’d cut them to shreds if he tried to go through it with Noah and Marin, especially since she was unconscious. Still, he might have to risk it. Lucky had no idea what he was going to face once he left the car and went into the hall toward the exit.

Maybe there was no exit left.

Maybe there was no other way out.

“Open your eyes, Marin,” he said when he finally made it through the debris to her.

Oh, man.

There wasn’t a drop of color in her face. And the blood. There was way too much of it, and it all seemed to be coming from a wound on the left side of her head. The blood had already seeped into her dark blond hair, staining one side of it crimson red.

“Look at me, Marin!” Lucky demanded.

She didn’t respond.

Lucky shoved his fingers to her neck. It took him several snail-crawling moments to find her pulse. Weak but steady.

Thank God, she was alive.

For now.

But he didn’t like the look of that gash on her head. Since she was breathing, there was no reason for him to do CPR, but he tried to revive her by gently tapping her face. It didn’t work, and he knew he couldn’t waste any more time.

Soon, very soon, the train would be engulfed in flames, and their chances of escape would be slim to none. They could be burned alive. He wasn’t about to let that happen to her or the precious cargo in his arms. He’d made a promise to protect Noah, and that was a promise he intended to keep.

Moving Marin could make her injuries worse, but it was a risk he had to take. Placing Noah on her chest and stomach, he scooped them both up in his arms and hugged them tightly against him so that Noah wouldn’t fall. Noah obviously wasn’t pleased about that arrangement because he screamed even louder.

Lucky kicked aside a chunk of the displaced wall, and hurrying, he went through what was left of the doorway that divided the lounge car from the rest of the train. A blast of thick smoke shot right at him. He ducked his head down, held his breath and started running.

The hall through coach seating was an obstacle course. There was wreckage, smoke and at least a dozen other passengers also trying to escape. It was a stampede, and he was caught in the middle with Noah and Marin.

The crowd fought and shoved, all battering against each other. All fighting to get toward the end of the car. And they finally made it. Lucky broke through the emergency exit and launched himself into the fresh air.

Landing hard and probably twisting his ankle in the process, he didn’t stop. He knew all too well that there could be a secondary explosion, one even worse than the first, so he carried Noah and Marin to a clear patch about thirty yards from the train.

The November wind was bitter cold, but his lungs were burning from the exertion. So were the muscles in his arms and legs. He had to fight to hold on to his breath. The air held the sickening smell of things that were never meant to be burned.

He lay Marin and Noah down on the dried winter grass beside him, but Noah obviously intended to be with Lucky. He clamped his chubby little arms around Lucky’s neck and held on, gripping him in a vise.

“You’re okay,” Lucky murmured. And because he didn’t know what else to say, he repeated it.

To protect Noah from the wind and cold, Lucky tucked him inside his leather jacket and zipped it up as far as he could. Noah didn’t protest. But he did lookup at him, questioning him with tearfilled eyes. That look, those tears broke Lucky’s heart. It was a look that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

“Your mom’s going to be all right,” Lucky whispered.

He prayed that was true.

Lucky pulled Marin closer so his body heat would keep her warm, and used his hand and shirt sleeve as a compress. He applied some gentle pressure against her injured head, hoping it would slow the bleeding. She didn’t move when he touched her, not even a twitch.

He heard the first wail of ambulance sirens. Already close. Thankfully, they were just on the outskirts of Austin so the response time would be quick. The fire-fighters wouldn’t be far behind. Lucky knew the drill. They’d set up a triage system, and the passengers with the most severe, but treatable injuries would be seen first. That meant Marin. She’d get the medical attention she needed.

“You’re going to stay alive, Marin,” Lucky ordered. “You hear me? Stay alive. The medics are on the way. Listen to the sirens. Listen! They’re getting closer. They’ll be here in just a few minutes.”

Noah volleyed uncertain glances between Lucky and his mother. He stuck out his quivering bottom lip. For a moment Lucky thought the little boy might burst into tears again, but he didn’t. Maybe the shock and adrenaline caught up with him, because even though his eyes watered, he stuck his thumb in his mouth and snuggled against Lucky.

It wasn’t a sensation Lucky had counted on.

But it was a damn powerful one.

What was left of his breath vanished, and feelings went through him that he’d never experienced. Feelings he couldn’t even identify except for the fact that they brought out every protective instinct in his body.

“What are your injuries?” Lucky heard someone shout. He looked up and saw a pair of medics racing toward him. They weren’t alone. More were running toward some of the other passengers.

“We’re not hurt. But she is,” Lucky said pulling back his hand from Marin’s injured head.

The younger of the two, a dark-haired woman, didn’t take Lucky’s word about not being injured. She began to examine Noah and him. Noah whined and tried to bat herhands away when she checked his pupils. The other medic, a fortysomething Hispanic man, went to work on Marin.

“She’s Code Yellow,” the medic barked to his partner. “Head trauma.”

That started a flurry of activity, and the woman yelled for a stretcher.

Code Yellow. Marin’s condition was urgent, but she was likely to survive.

“I need your name,” the female medic insisted, forcing his attention back to her. “And the child’s.”

Lucky’s stomach clenched.

It was a simple request. And it was standard operating procedure for triage processing. But Lucky knew it was only the beginning of lots of questions. If he answered some of those questions, especially the part about Noah being a near stranger, they’d take the little boy right out of his arms, and the authorities would hold on to him until they could contact the next of kin.

The very thing that Marin didn’t want to happen.

Because her parents and her brother, Dexter, were Noah’s next of kin.

Some choice.

As if he understood what was going on, Noah looked up at him with those big blue-green eyes. There were no questions. No doubts. Not even a whimper.

But there was trust. Complete, unconditional trust.

Noah’s eyelids fluttered down, his thumb went back in his mouth, and he rested his cheek against Lucky’s heart.

Oh, man.

It seemed like some symbolic gesture, but it probably had more to do with the kid’s sheer exhaustion than anything else. Still, Lucky couldn’t push it aside. Nor could he push aside what Marin had asked of him when they’d been trying to stay alive.

If I don’t make it, get Noah out of here. Protect him.

And in that crazy life-or-death moment, Lucky had promised her that he would do just that.

It was a promise he’d keep.

“Sir,” the medic prompted. “I need you to tell me the child’s name.”

It took Lucky a moment to say anything. “I’m Randall Davidson. This is my son, Noah,” he lied. He tipped his head toward Marin. “And she’s my fiancé, Marin Sheppard.”

In order to protect the frightened little boy in his arms, Lucky figured he’d have to continue that particular lie for an hour or two until Marin regained consciousness or until he could call her friend in Fort Worth. Not long at all, considering his promise.

He owed Noah and Marin that much.

And he might owe them a hell of a lot more.




Chapter Three


Marin heard someone say her name.

It was a stranger’s voice.

She wondered if it was real or all part of the relentless nightmare she’d been having. A nightmare of explosions and trains. At least, she thought it might be a train. The only clear image that kept going through her mind was of a pair of snakeskin boots. Everything else was a chaotic blur of sounds and smells and pain. Mostly pain. There were times when it was unbearable.

“Marin?” she heard the strange voice say again.

It was a woman. She sounded real, and Marin thought she might have felt someone gently touch her cheek.

She tried to open her eyes and failed the first time, but then tried again. She was instantly sorry that she’d succeeded. The bright overhead lights stabbed right into her eyes and made her wince.

Marin groaned.

Just like that, with a soft click, the lights went away. “Better?” the woman asked.

Marin managed a nod that hurt, as well.

The dimmed lighting helped, but her head was still throbbing, and it seemed as if she had way too many nerves in that particular part of her body. The pain was also affecting her vision. Everything was out of focus.

“Where am I?” Marin asked.

Since her words had no sound, she repeated them. It took her four tries to come up with a simple audible three-word question. Quite an accomplishment though, considering her throat was as dry as west Texas dust.

“St. Mary’s,” the woman provided.

Marin stared at her, her gaze moving from the woman’s pinned-up auburn hair to her perky cotton-candy-pink uniform. Her name tag said she was Betty Garcia, RN. That realization caused Marin to glance around the room.

“I’m in a hospital?” Marin licked her lips. They were dry and chapped.

“Yes. You don’t remember being brought here?”

Marin opened her mouth to answer, only to realize that she didn’t have an answer. Until a few seconds ago, she’d thought she was having a nightmare. She definitely didn’t remember being admitted to a hospital.

“Are you real?” Marin asked, just to make sure she wasn’t trapped in the dream.

The woman smiled. “I’m going to assume that’s not some sort of philosophical question. Yes, I’m real. And so are you.” She checked the machine next to the bed. “How do you feel?”

Marin made a quick assessment. “I feel like someone bashed me in the head.”

The woman made a sound of agreement. “Not someone. Something. But you’re better now. You don’t remember the train accident?”

“The accident,” Marin repeated, trying to sort through the images in her head.

“It’s still under investigation,” the nurse continued. She touched Marin’s arm. “But the authorities think there was some kind of electrical malfunction that caused the explosion.”

An explosion. She remembered that.

Didn’t she?

“Thankfully, no one was killed,” the woman went on. She picked up Marin’s wrist and took her pulse. “But over a dozen people were hurt, including you.”

It was the word hurt that made the memories all come flooding back. The call from her grandmother, telling Marin that she was sick and begging her to come home. The train trip from Fort Worth to San Antonio.

The explosion.

God, the explosion.

“Noah!” Marin shouted. “Where’s my son?”

Marin jackknifed to a sitting position, and she would have launched herself out of the bed if Nurse Garcia and the blinding pain hadn’t stopped her.

“Easy now,” the nurse murmured. She released her grip on Marin’s wrist and caught on to her shoulders instead, easing her down onto the mattress.

Marin cooperated, but only because she had no choice. “My son—”

“Is fine. He wasn’t hurt. He didn’t even get a scratch.”

The relief was as overwhelming as the pain. Noah was all right. The explosion that had catapulted them through the air had obviously hurt her enough that she needed to be hospitalized, but her son had escaped unharmed.

Marin considered that a moment.

How had he escaped?

A clear image of Lucky Bacelli came into her head.

The man she’d been certain was following her. He’d promised to get Noah out, and apparently he had.

“I want to see Noah,” Marin insisted. “Could you bring him to me now?”

Nurse Garcia stared at her, and the calm serenity that had been in her coffee-colored eyes quickly faded to concern. “Your son’s not here.”

Marin was sure there was some concern in her own eyes, as well. “But—”

“Do you have any idea how long you’ve been in the hospital?” the nurse interrupted.

Marin opened her mouth, closed it and considered the question. She finally shook her head. “How long?”

“Nearly two days.”

“Days?” Not hours. Marin was sure it’d only been a few hours. Or maybe she was simply hoping it had been. “So where is he? Who’s had my baby all this time?” But the moment she asked, the fear shot through her. “Not my parents. Please don’t tell me he’s with them.”

A very unnerving silence followed, and Nurse Garcia’s forehead bunched up.

That did it.

Marin pushed aside the nurse’s attempts to restrain her and tried to get out of the bed. It wasn’t easy, nowhere close, but she fought through the pain and wooziness and forced herself to stand up.

She didn’t stay vertical long.

Marin’s legs turned boneless, and she had no choice but to slouch back down on the bed.

“There isn’t any reason for you to worry,” the nurse assured her. “Your son is okay.”

Marin gasped for breath so she could speak. “Yes, so you’ve said. But who has him?”

“Your fiancé, of course. His father.”

What breath she’d managed to regain, Marin instantly lost. “His…father?”

Nurse Garcia nodded, smiling. The bunched up forehead was history.

Marin experienced no such calmness. Adrenaline and fear hit her like a heavyweight’s punch.

Noah’s father was dead. He was killed in a boating accident nearly eight months before Noah was even born. There was no way he could be here.

“Your fiancé should be arriving any minute,” the nurse cheerfully added.

Nothing could have kept Marin in the bed. Ignoring the nurse’s protest and the weak muscles in her legs, Marin got up and went in search of her clothes. But even if she had to leave the hospital in her gown, she intended to get out of there and see what was going on.

Nurse Garcia caught on to her arm. Her expression changed, softened. “Everything’s okay. There’s no need for you to panic.”

Oh, yes, there was. Either Randall had returned from the grave or something was terribly wrong. Noah had no father, and she had no fiancé.

There was a knock at the door. One soft rap before it opened. The jeans, the black leather jacket. The boots.

Lucky Bacelli.

Not Randall.

“Where’s Noah?” she demanded.

Lucky ignored her question and strolled closer. “You gave me quite a scare, you know that? I’m glad you’re finally awake.” And with that totally irrelevant observation, he smiled. A secretive little smile that only he and Mona Lisa could have pulled off.

“I want to see Noah,” Marin snapped. “And I want to see him now.”

Another smile caused a dimple to wink in his left cheek. He reached out, touched her right arm and rubbed softly. A gesture no doubt meant to soothe her. It didn’t work. For one thing, it was too intimate. Boy, was it. For another, nothing would soothe her except for holding her son and making sure he was okay.

“The doctor wants to examine you before he allows any other visitors so Noah’s waiting at the nurses’ station,” Lucky explained, his voice a slow, easy drawl. The sound and ease of Texas practically danced off the words. “And I’m sure they’re spoiling him rotten.”

Marin disregarded the last half of his comment. Her son was at the nurses’ station. That’s all she needed to know. She ducked around Lucky and headed toward the door. Marin had no idea where the nurses’ station was, but she’d find it.

Lucky stepped in front of her, blocking her path. “Where are you going, darling?”

That stopped her in her tracks.

Darling?

He said it as if he had a right to.

That was well past being intimate. Then he slid his arm around her waist and leaned in close. Too close. It violated her personal space and then some. Marin slapped her palm on his chest to stop him from violating it further.

“Is there a problem?” Nurse Garcia asked.

“You bet there is,” Marin informed her.

And she would have voiced exactly what that problem was if she’d had the chance.

She hadn’t.

Because in that same moment, Lucky Bacelli curved his hand around her waist and gently pulled her closer to him. He put his mouth right against her ear. “This was the only way,” he whispered.

Marin tried to move away, but he held on. “The only way for what?” she demanded.

“To keep you and Noah safe.” He kept his voice low, practically a murmur.

Even with the pain and fog in her head and his barely audible voice, she understood what he meant. Lucky had needed to protect Noah from her parents, just as she’d asked him to do. He’d pretended to be Randall Davidson, a dead man. Marin couldn’t remember how Lucky had known Randall’s name. Had she mentioned it? She must have. Thankfully, her parents had never met Randall and knew almost nothing about him. They certainly didn’t know he was dead. She’d kept that from them because if she’d explained his death, she would have also had to endure countless questions about their life together.

Marin stopped struggling to get away from him and wearily dropped her head on his shoulder. He’d lied, but he’d done it all for Noah’s sake. “My parents tried to take him?”

Lucky nodded. “They tried and failed. But I’m pretty sure they’ll be back soon for round two.”

That wasn’t a surprise. With her in a hospital bed, her parents had probably thought they could take over her life before she even regained consciousness. It’d been a miracle that Lucky had been able to stop them, and if he’d had to do that with lies, then it was a small price to pay for her to be able to keep her son from them.

“Thank you,” Marin mouthed.

“Don’t thank me.” Lucky moved back enough to allow their gazes to connect. The gray in his eyes turned stormy. “I don’t think that train accident was really an accident,” he whispered.

Stunned, Marin shookher head. “What do you mean?”

It seemed as if he changed his mind a dozen times about what to say. “Marin, Noah and you were nearly killed because of me.”




Chapter Four


Lucky braced himself for the worst. A slap to the face. A shouted accusation. But Marin just stepped back and stared at him.

“What did you say?” she asked. Lucky wasn’t sure how she managed to speak. The air swooshed out of her body, and the muscles in her jaw turned to steel.

Lucky didn’t repeat his bombshell. Nor did he explain. He glanced over at the nurse. “Could you please give me a few minutes alone with my fiancée?”

Nurse Garcia nodded. “But only if Ms. Sheppard gets back in bed.”

“Of course.” Lucky caught on to Marin to lead her in that direction, but he encountered some resistance. Their eyes met, and in the depth of all that blue and green, he saw the debate going on. He also saw the moment she surrendered.

He knew she expected her cooperation to get her some fast answers. Unfortunately, Lucky didn’t have any answers that she was going to like.

“You have five minutes. I don’t want Ms. Sheppard getting too tired,” the nurse informed them. “I’ll see if I can figure out a way to get Noah in here so you can have a quick kiss and cuddle.”

“Thank you,” Marin told the woman without taking her gaze from Lucky. She didn’t say another word until the nurse was out of the room.

“Start talking,” Marin insisted, her voice low and laced with a warning. “What do you mean you’re responsible for nearly getting us killed? The nurse said it was an accident. Caused by an electrical malfunction.”

That warning was the only thing lethal looking about her. She was pale and trembling. Lucky got her moving toward the bed. He also gave her gown an adjustment so that it actually covered her bare backside. Then, he got on with his explanation.

“The police first believed the explosion was caused by something electrical,” Lucky explained. “But there are significant rumblings that when the Texas Rangers came in, they found an incendiary device.”

But that was more than just rumblings. The sheriff had confirmed it.

Which brought him back to Marin’s question.

“I’m a PI. And a former cop,” he told her. With just those few crumbs of info, he had to pause and figure out how to say the rest. Best not to give Marin too much too soon. She was still weak. But he owed her at least part of the truth. “I’ve been working on a case that involves some criminals in hiding.”

Well, one criminal in particular. That was a detail he’d keep to himself for now.

“I think someone associated with the case I’m investigating might have set that explosive,” Lucky explained. “I believe there are people who don’t want me to learn the truth about a woman who was murdered.”

He waited for her reaction.

Marin paused, taking a deep breath. “I see.”

Those two little words said a lot. They weren’t an accusation. More like reluctant acceptance. He supposed that was good. It meant she might not slap him for enangering her son. Too bad. Lucky might have felt better if she had slapped him.

“The authorities know the explosion might be connected to you?” she asked.

“They know. The train was going through LaMesa Springs when the explosives went off. The sheriff there, Beck Tanner, is spearheading the initial investigation. He’s already questioned me, and I told him about the case I was working on.”

Sheriff Tanner would likely question Marin, too. Before that, Lucky would have to tell her the whole truth about why he was really on that train.

And the whole truth was guaranteed to make her slap him.

Or worse.

Marin looked down at her hands and brushed her fingers over her scraped knuckles. “The explosion wasn’t your fault,” she concluded. “You werejust doing your job. And I put you in awkward position by asking you to protect Noah.” She lifted her head. “I don’t regret that. I can’t.”

Lucky pulled the chair next to her bed closer and sat down so they were at eye level. But they were still a safe distance from each other. Touching her was out. Her weakness and vulnerability clouded his mind.

And touching her would cloud his body.

He didn’t need either.

“Yeah. After I met your parents, I totally understood why you asked me to take care of your little guy,” Lucky continued. “Though at the time I thought I’d only have to keep that promise for an hour or two.”

She nodded. “And then I didn’t regain consciousness right away.”

That was just the first of several complications.

“Like you asked, I tried getting in touch with your friend, Lizette Raines, in Fort Worth. She didn’t answer her home phone, so I finally called someone I knew in the area and asked him to check on her. According to the neighbors, she’s on a short trip to Mexico with her boyfriend.”

Marin groaned softly. “Yes. She met him about two months ago, and I knew things were getting more serious, but she didn’t mention anything about a trip.”

She ran her fingers through the side of her shoulderlength hair and winced when she encountered the injury that had caused her concussion and the coma. In addition to the bandage that covered several stitches, her left temple was bruised—and the purplish stain bled all the way down to her cheekbone. It sickened him to see that on her face, to know what she’d been through.

And to know that it wasn’t over.

This—whatever this was—was just beginning, and Lucky didn’t care much for the bad turn it’d taken on that train.

“I wonder why Lizette didn’t call me,” Marin said. “She has my cell number.”

“Your phone was lost in the explosion so even if she’d tried that number, she wouldn’t have gotten you. Don’t worry. Your friend’s trip sounded legit, and none of your neighbors are concerned.”

Before Lucky could continue, the door flew open, and a couple walked in. Not the nurse with Noah, but two people that Lucky had already met. And they were two people he had quickly learned to detest.

Marin’s parents, Lois and Howard Sheppard.

The unexpected visit brought both him and Marin to their feet. It wasn’t a fluid movement for Marin. She wobbled a bit when she got out of bed, and he slid his arm around her waist so she could keep her balance.

Lucky so wished he’d had time to prepare Marin for this. Of course, there was no preparation for the kind of backstabbing she was about to encounter.

“Mother,” Marin said. Because she was pressed right against him, Lucky felt her muscles tense. She pulled in a long, tight breath.

No frills. That was the short physical description for the petite woman who strolled toward them. A simple maroon dress. Matching heels. Matching purse. Heck, even her lipstick matched. There wasn’t a strand of her graying blond hair out of place. Lois Sheppard looked like the perfect TV mom.

She hurried toward Marin and practically elbowed Lucky out of the way so she could hug her daughter. When Lois pulled back, her eyes were shiny with tears.

“It’s so good to see you, sweetheart,” Lois said, her voice weepy and soft.

Marin stepped back out of her mother’s embrace.

The simple gesture improved Lois’s posture. “Marin, that’s no way to act. Honestly, you’d think you have no manners. Aren’t you even going to say hello to your father?”

“Hello,” Marin echoed.

And judging from Marin’s near growling tone, she didn’t like her dad any better than Lucky did. Unlike Lois, Howard had a slick oily veneer that reminded Lucky of con artists and dishonest used car salesmen. Of course, his opinion probably had something to do with this whole backstabbing mission.

“Mother, why are you and Dad here?”

Lois shrugged as if the answer were obvious. “Because we love you. Because we’re concerned about you. You’re coming back to the ranch with us so you can have time to recuperate from your injuries. You know you’re not well enough or strong enough to be on your own. You never have been. Clearly, leaving home was a mistake.”

Lucky pulled Marin tighter into the crook of his arm.

“I’m not going with you,” she informed her mother.

Lucky wanted to cheer her backbone, but he already knew the outcome of this little encounter.

There’d be no cheering today.

“Yes, you are,” Lois disagreed. “I’m sorry, but I can’t give you a choice about that. You and Noah are too important to us. And because we love you both so much, we’ve filed papers.”

Lucky felt Marin’s muscles stiffen even more. “What kind of papers?” Marin enunciated each syllable.

Lucky didn’t wait for Lois Sheppard to provide the explanation. “Your folks are trying to use your hospital stay and your epilepsy to get custody of Noah.” He turned his attention to Lois and made sure he smirked. “Guess what—not gonna happen.”

The woman’s maroon-red mouth tightened into a temporary bud. “I don’t think you’ll have much of a say in that, Randall.”

“Lucky,” he corrected. Because by damn he might have to play the part of Marin’s slimeball ex, but Lucky refused to use the man’s name. It’d been a godsend that neither of Marin’s parents had ever met said slimeball. If they had, the charade of Lucky pretending to be him would have been over before it even started.

“I don’t care what you call yourself,” Howard interceded. “You’re an unfit father. You weren’t even there for the birth of your own son. You left Marin alone to fend for herself.”

Lucky shoved his thumb to his chest. “Well, I’m here now.”

“Are you?” Howard challenged.

“What the hell does that mean?” Lucky challenged right back.

Howard didn’t answer right away, and the silence intensified with his glare. “It means I don’t think you love my daughter. I think this so-called relationship between you two is a sham to convince Lois and me that we don’t need to intervene in Marin’s life.”

Since that was the truth, Lucky knew it was time for some damage control. Later, he’d figure out if Howard really knew something or if this was a bluff.

Lucky pulled Marin closer to him. Body against body. Marin must have felt the same need for damage control because she came up on her toes and kissed him, a familiar peck of reassurance. Something a real couple would have shared.

That brief lip-lock speared through him, causing Lucky to remind himself that this really was a sham.

“What papers have they filed?” Marin asked him.

Lucky didn’t take his gaze from Howard. “Your parents convinced a judge to review your competency as a parent. A crooked judge is my guess, because we have to go to your parents’ ranch for an interview with a psychologist.”

Lucky expected Marin to lose it then and there. Maybe a tirade or some profanity. He wouldn’t have blamed her if she had. But her reaction was almost completely void of emotion.

“Mother, Dad, you’ re leaving now,” Marin said. And she stepped out of Lucky’s arms and sat back down on the bed. A moment passed before she looked at her mother again. “I’m tired. I need my rest. Nurse’s orders.”

Lois took a step closer, and even though she wasn’t smiling, there was a certain victory shout in her stance. “If you don’t return to the ranch and do this interview with the psychologist, the judge will intervene. Noah will be taken from you and placed in our custody.”

And with that threat, Lois and Howard finally did what Marin had asked. They turned and walked out the door.

All that cool and calmness that Marin had displayed went south in a hurry. She began to shake, and for a moment Lucky thought she might be going into shock or on the verge of having a seizure.

Instead, she wrapped her arms around herself. “What do I have to do to make this go away?”

Since there was no easy way to put it, Lucky just laid it out there for her. “We’ll have to go to the ranch because as your legal next of kin, your parents managed to get an emergency hearing in front of a judge who’s also their friend. They persuaded this judge that you need to be medically monitored—by them, under their roof. And the judge signed a temporary order. Once we’re at the ranch, we’ll have the interview where we’ll need to convince a psychologist that we’re a happy couple fit to raise Noah. If we do that, the psychologist will pass that on to the judge, and there won’t be another hearing. The temporary order will expire, and you’ll keep sole custody of Noah.”

Marin slowly lifted her eyes and looked at him. She didn’t exactly voice a question, but there were plenty of nonverbal ones.

“The interview could be as early as tomorrow afternoon,” Lucky added. “If the doctor releases you from the hospital today. That means we wouldn’t have to keep up the charade for long. Then, after visiting with your grandmother, you can go home.”

Well, maybe.

That was one of those gray areas that Lucky hadn’t quite figured out. Marin might never be able go home. It might not be safe.

“And what happens if we come clean and tell everyone that you’re not Noah’s father?” she asked. But Marin immediately waved that off. “Then my parents will use that against me. They might even want a paternity test. They’ll brand us as liars. And if the judge knows we lied about that, he’ll assume we’re lying about my ability to be a good parent.”

The Sheppards might even try to file criminal charges against him for preventing them from taking Noah. The couple certainly had a lot of misplaced love, and they were aiming all of it at Marin and Noah.

“I’ll fight it,” Marin said, sounding not nearly as strong as her words. “I’ll hire a lawyer and fight it.”

“I’ve already talked to one,” he assured her. “I called a friend of a friend, and she says to cooperate for now. Your mother and Howard might have this judge firmly in their pockets, and he’s the one who arranged for the interview with the psychologist. I’ve requested a change of venue, and he denied it. The only way we could have gotten a delay is if you hadn’t come out of the coma.”

“Great. Just great.” She paused a moment. “So you’re saying we should go to the ranch and do as my parents say?”

“I don’t think we have a choice.”

Her chin came up. “Yes, I do. There’s no reason to drag you into this. And you shouldn’t have to be subjected to staying with my parents. You have no idea the emotional hell they’ll put you through, especially since they believe we’re a couple. A couple they want to see driven apart.”

Lucky didn’t doubt that. But there was another problem. “Marin, your parents aren’t going to just give up. It took some fast talking for me to stop an immediate transfer of custody. Your mother was here early yesterday morning. She came prepared to take Noah then and there.”

Marin groaned and buried her face in her hands. “Oh, God.”

Lucky groaned right along with her. There were a lot of things wrong with their plan. For one thing, it wasn’t legal. But what Marin’s parents were trying to do wasn’t right, either. So maybe two wrongs did make a right.

That still didn’t mean this would be easy.

For two days, he’d have to pretend to be Noah’s father and Marin’s loving fiancé. The first was a piece of cake. It was that second one that was giving him the most trouble.

Lucky blamed it on the blazing attraction between them.

Before he’d held Marin in his arms, before that brief kiss, he’d only lusted after her in his heart. Now, he was lusting after her in all kinds of ways. And he couldn’t do anything about it.

Because Marin might become a critical witness when he busted his investigation wide open. She might be the key to finally getting justice. He couldn’t compromise that—it was the most important thing in his life.

He couldn’t get involved with Marin. He could only live a temporary lie.

“Okay,” Marin mumbled. She cleared her throat. “So, you have to do the interview, whenever that’ll be, but you don’t have to stay at the ranch in Willow Ridge. You can drop Noah and me off and then say you have an urgent business appointment or something, that you’ll return in time for the interview.”

Lucky just stared at her, wondering how she was going to handle what he had to say.

“You’re already having second thoughts?” Marin concluded.

“No. That interview has to happen. You have to keep custody of Noah.”

Now it was Marin’s turn to stay silent for several moments. “And you’d do this for me?” Marin asked. Her gaze met his again, and there was no cowering look in her eyes. Just some steel and attitude. “Why?”

She wasn’t requesting information. She was demanding it.

This would have been a good time to tell another half truth. Especially since—much to his disgust—he was getting good at them.

But another lie would stick in his throat.

“I’m looking for your brother, Dexter,” he confessed.

Her eyes immediately darkened, and he saw the pulse pound on her throat. “You followed me on the train?”

Lucky nodded. “I followed you.”

“Why?” she repeated, though this one had even more steel than the original one.

“Because I thought you might lead me to him.”

She tipped her eyes to the ceiling and groaned. “I was right about you. You’re one of those men. The ones who’ve followed me and tried to scare me.”

He reached out to her, but Marin batted his hands away. “Scaring you was never my intention. I just need to find your brother.”

“What do you want from Dexter?” she snapped.

Lucky was betting this answer wasn’t so obvious. “The truth?”

She sliced at him with a scalpel-sharp glare. “That would be nice for a change.”

He debated if Marin was strong enough to hear this. Probably not. But there was no turning back now. He toyed with how he should say it. But there was only one way to deliver news like this. Quick and dirty.

He’d tell her the truth even if it made Marin hate him.




Chapter Five


Marin stared at Lucky, holding her breath.

Even though she’d only known him for a short period of time, she was already familiar with his body language.

Whatever he had to say wouldn’t be good.

“What do you want from my brother?” she repeated.

Lucky stood and looked down at her. He met her gaze head-on. “I want him dead.”

Everything inside her stilled. It wasn’t difficult to process that frightening remark since she’d been through this before. For the past year, she’d had to deal with other men who had wanted to find Dexter, too. And like Lucky they probably had wanted him dead, as well. But this cut even deeper to the bone because Lucky had saved her son. He’d saved her.

And she trusted him.

Correction, she had trusted him. Right now, she just felt betrayed.

Marin tried to keep her voice and body calm, which was hard to do with her emotions in shreds. She silently cursed the pain that pounded through her head and made it hard to think. “Then, you already have what you want. Dexter is dead.”

Lucky lifted his left shoulder. “I’m not so sure about that.”

The other men hadn’t been sure, either. But then neither had her own family. “If Dexter were alive, he would have contacted me by now. He wouldn’t have let me believe he was dead.”

At least she hoped that was true. But Marin couldn’t be certain, especially considering the dangerous circumstances surrounding his disappearance.

“Let’s just say that I know a different side of your brother,” Lucky insisted. “The man I know would do anything—and I mean anything—to save himself. And in this case, making everyone think he’s dead is about the only thing that could save him from the investors who poured millions of dollars into research that didn’t pay off for them because Dexter didn’t deliver what he promised he would.”

She couldn’t disagree with that. Marin had examined and reexamined every detail she could find about the night Dexter had disappeared.

Lucky had no doubt done the same.

“What do you know about the night my brother died?” she asked.

His eyes said “too much.” “Your brother was a chemical engineer working on a privately funded project. He was supposed to be testing antidotes for chemical agents, specifically a hybrid nerve agent that might be used in a combat situation against ground troops. The investors believed they could sell this antidote to the Department of Defense for a large sum of money. But something went wrong. The Justice Department got some info that Dexter was selling secrets, and they were about to launch a full-scale investigation.”

Yes, she knew all of that—after the fact. Before that night, however, Marin hadn’t known exactly what Dexter’s research project entailed. Even now, she doubted that she knew the entire truth. Maybe no one did. But something had indeed gone wrong with the project, and the Justice Department investigation hadn’t happened as planned because there had been an explosion in the research facility.

There was also evidence of some kind of attack that night, and a security guard who was actually an undercover Justice Department agent had been killed. The body had been found in the rubble of the facility.

Unlike Dexter’s.

No one had been able to locate his body or those of the two women who’d been in the facility that night. But Marin believed Dexter had indeed been killed in the attack, which might have been orchestrated by someone who wanted to get their hands on her brother’s research project.

Since the project was missing, as well, Marin was convinced that the culprit had succeeded.

“Your brother is a criminal,” Lucky informed her.

Even though she was in pain and exhausted, Lucky’s words gave her a boost of anger and adrenaline that she needed. But then, defending her brother had always been a strong knee-jerk reaction.

“There were never any charges brought against Dexter,” Marin reminded him.

“Because the authorities think he’s dead.”

“No. Because there’s no evidence to indicate he’s done anything wrong.”

“There’s evidence,” Lucky insisted. “I just haven’t found it. Yet. But before his disappearance, Dexter was working on more than a chemical antidote. A chemical weapon. He was playing both sides of the fence, and three days ago a key component of that weapon surfaced for sale on the black market.”

Now, that she didn’t know. But perhaps her parents did. According to the phone conversations she’d had with her grandmother, the federal authorities had kept her parents informed about the investigation, and they’d visited the ranch often.

“That’s still not proof Dexter’s alive,” Marin insisted, certain that her voice no longer sounded so convinced of Dexter’s innocence.

Lucky lifted his hands, palms up. “Who else would be trying to sell that component?”

“The person who stole it.”

He didn’t toss his hands in the air again, but he looked as if he wanted to do just that. “Other than some blood found at the scene, there’s no proof that Dexter is dead. None. He would have hung on to that weapon and waited until the right time to sell it. Three days ago was apparently the right time for him because it appeared.”

Marin took a moment to rein in her emotions. Despite his sometimes selfish behavior, she loved her brother and didn’t want to believe he was capable of doing something like this. She’d grieved for him, and she missed him. Would Dexter have put the family and her through all that pain just to cover himself?

Maybe.

And if so, then maybe Lucky was telling the truth. “Assuming you’re right, then what does this case have to do with you?”

“Dexter pissed off the wrong people, Marin,” Lucky explained. “And I’m one of those people.”

That didn’t sound like something a PI would say about one of his cases. It sounded personal. “What do you mean?”

His jaw muscles stirred. He eased back down into the chair and scrubbed his hands over his face. “My sister was fresh out of her doctoral program at the University of Texas, and her first and only real job was working for Dexter.”

Marin sucked in her breath. This was starting to move in a direction that she didn’t want to go. “Not Brenna Martel?” Brenna had been a colleague, one of the women who went missing and was presumed dead. But Brenna hadn’t just been Dexter’s business associate. She’d been his lover.

“No. Not Brenna. His lab assistant, Kinley Ford.” He waited a moment. “My dad died right after Kinley was born, my mom remarried shortly thereafter, and Kinley took our stepdad’s surname.”

That’s why Marin hadn’t immediately made the connection between Lucky and the woman. She hadn’t met Kinley Ford, but since her brother’s disappearance, she had seen a photo of the young chemical engineer who’d assisted Dexter on his last project.

Kinley Ford had her brother’s eyes.

And those storm-gray eyes were drilling into her, waiting for her to answer.

“The police believe your sister was killed that night,” Marin whispered. “And unlike Dexter, there’s evidence to point to that.”

He nodded. And swallowed hard. “The cops think Brenna was killed, too. They found blood from all three of them. Just a trace from Dexter. More than a pint from Brenna. Triple that from my sister. There’s no way she could have lived with that much blood loss.”

“But the police didn’t find the bodies of either woman,” she pointed out.

Lucky shrugged. “Dexter probably hid them somewhere before he gave up and set the explosives to blow up the research lab. There was evidence that someone had tried to clean up the crime scene.”

Yes, she’d read that, as well, and along with the fact that there’d been no lethal quantities of her brother’s blood found, she could understand why some people believed he was still alive.

And guilty.

Though Lucky hadn’t convinced her that Dexter was alive, he had convinced her of something—the pain he was feeling over the loss of his sister. She understood that loss because she’d grieved for Dexter. “I’m sorry Kinley was killed.”

“Yeah. So am I.” She heard the pain. It was raw and still so close to the surface that she could practically feel it. “Your brother murdered her.”

Marin didn’t want to believe that, either. But she couldn’t totally dismiss it. However, if Dexter was responsible, then it must have been an accident.

“You followed me because you thought I’d lead you to Dexter,” she concluded.

He nodded. “I’ve been monitoring you for months. When I learned you were going to the ranch to see your grandmother, I figured Dexter would do the same.”

A chill went through her. “You’ve been monitoring me? What the heck does that mean?”

He didn’t get a chance to answer.

There was a tap at the door a split second before it opened. Marin didn’t want the interruption. She wanted to finish this conversation with Lucky. But then, she saw that it wasn’t her parents returning for round two. It was Nurse Garcia, and she had Noah in her arms.

The anger and frustration didn’t exactly evaporate, but Marin did push aside those particular emotions along with her questions so that she could stand and go to her son. Just seeing him flooded her heart with love.

“Stay put. I’ll bring this little guy to you,” Nurse Garcia insisted. “I told the doctor you were awake and anxious for this visit. He was going to be tied up with another patient for an hour or so, but he agreed to let you see your son before the examination.”

Noah smiled when he spotted Marin, and he began to pump his arms and legs. He babbled some excited indistinguishable sounds. Marin reached for him, and he went right into her arms. Nurse Garcia excused herself and left.

Marin didn’t even try to blink her tears away. It was a miracle that she was holding her son, and an even greater miracle that he hadn’t been hurt.

Noah tolerated the embrace for several seconds before he got bored. He leaned back and reached for the bandage on her head. Marin shifted him in her arms, and her son’s attention landed on Lucky.

Noah immediately reached for him.

Her son had given her a warm reception, but it was mild compared to the one he gave Lucky. Noah squealed with delight and laughed when Lucky stood to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“I told you that your mom was okay, buddy,” Lucky said to Noah.

When Noah’s reach got more insistent and he began to fuss, Marin handed her son over to a man who was feeling more and more like her enemy.

“Sorry about that,” Lucky mumbled, gathering Noah in his arms. “I’ve hardly let him out of my sight since the explosion. I guess he’s gotten used to me.”

“I guess.” And she didn’t bother to sound pleased about it.

“I wasn’t sure what to feed him so I called a doctor friend and got some suggestions for formula and food. He said to go with rice cereal. I hope that was okay.”

“Fine,” she managed to say. “I guess you didn’t have any trouble getting him to sleep?”

“Not really. But he’s got a good set of lungs on him when he wants a bottle. Don’t you, buddy?” Lucky grinned at Noah, the expression making him a little more endearing than she wanted at the moment.

Marin watched as Noah playfully batted at Lucky. Her son was at ease in this man’s arms. More than at ease. The two looked like father and son. And they weren’t. Lucky was simply a temporary stand-in.

Now, it was time to deal with reality.

The replacement father act had to be over soon, because she and Lucky obviously weren’t on the same path. He not only hated her brother, he wanted revenge for his sister’s death, and he’d been willing to use her to get to Dexter.

“Earlier you said you’d monitored me,” she reminded him. “How?”

His grin evaporated, and even though he kept his attention on Noah, his expression became somber. “I rented the condo connected to yours.”

The chill inside her got significantly colder. “You watched me? You listened in on my conversations?”

He nodded. “The walls between the condos are thin. It’s not hard to overhear, if you’re listening. And I was. I wanted to know if you were in contact with Dexter.”

She silently cursed. “So you know I didn’t. Still, you invaded my privacy.”

“I did,” Lucky readily admitted. “Because I had to do it. Whether you want to believe it or not, your brother’s a dangerous man.”

Marin groaned softly, looked at her son and blinked back more tears. “First, you save my son. You save me. And then you tell me that you’ve not only been spying on me, you want to kill my brother if by some miracle he’s still alive.”

“I don’t want to kill him. I want him arrested so he can stand trial, be convicted and then get the death penalty.”

“Oh, is that all?” The sarcasm dripped from her voice.

With Noah still gripped lovingly in his arms, Lucky stood back up. There was emotion in his eyes. But even though she owed this man a lot, she had just as much reason to despise him.

Marin hoped like the devil that she was keeping her temper in check because of her headache and Noah. Not because she was feeling anything like attraction for Lucky Bacelli.

But just looking at him gave her a little tug deep within her belly. She didn’t want that tug to mean anything. She wanted it to go away. It was a primal reminder that no matter what he wanted from her brother, she was still hotly attracted to him.

“I’m not the only person after Dexter,” Lucky continued. “Have you met Grady Duran?”

Oh, yes. And unlike what she was feeling for Lucky, there was no ambivalence when it came to Duran. She loathed Duran as much as she was afraid of him. Judging from their brief, heated encounters he thought she was a liar.





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