Grabbing her purse, Charlize didn’t argue when Riley said he’d drive. He was agreeing to let her be involved in his conversation with Detective Iglesias, and she knew when to pick her battles—or let them go.
“Has your team been able to find out anything?” she asked as she pulled open the front door, the sound of running water in the distance as Aunt Blythe did up the few dishes left from breakfast.
“We need to talk about the baby.”
Shocked, she paused for a second, her hand on the doorknob. Oh, so he was ready to talk now?
The snarky thought was followed by, what had changed? The night before, he couldn’t have made it more obvious that the parenthood topic was abhorrent to him.
To be fair...she’d had ten weeks to think about the possibility. He’d had ten minutes.
And his call the night before...
His choice had been to have the baby...as opposed to not.
“I agree,” she said, pulling open the door. “We do. I’m just not sure at this point what to say. I’m having the baby. It’s yours, too. And we’re still virtual strangers.”
She threw the last remark over her shoulder as she stepped outside—and caught a way-too-sexy look in those dark eyes as he said, “Oh I wouldn’t say strangers. From what I remember we got to know...”
The rest was cut off as a loud crack sounded, followed by a thud and the sound of brick shattering to her right. Something had punctured the wall to the right of her front door.
In shock, staring out toward where the initial bang had come from, she saw a smallish black truck speeding away. Her gaze went to the license plate. The cop she’d spoken to the night before had asked repeatedly if she’d caught any part of the plate.
There was none...
A hand gripped her arm, pulling her back inside the house. It seemed like minutes had passed since she’d taken a step outside. In reality, it had only been a couple of seconds.
“Someone just...” She couldn’t believe it. Was shaking, but not consciously afraid. Just... “Someone just shot at me.”
Riley was already on the phone. Speaking to Iglesias, based on the greeting. So he had a direct line to the man...
Aunt Blythe. Had her aunt heard the noise?
Charlize heard a toilet flush. Surmised her aunt had no idea what was going on. Wasn’t sure what to tell her. She’d been so upset over being scammed...
Plus, the baby on the way...which was going to be a real shock...and probably a disappointment, too. A big one. Charlize was more her mother than her grandmother and aunts after all. They’d tried so hard, had such hope. And she’d let them down...
Which was what she needed to be worrying about right then. Internal sarcasm brought her mind back to the man standing a foot away from her, explaining in greater detail than she’d catalogued, what had just happened. He’d noticed a white driver, male, dark hair.
“Okay, Detective, thank you,” Riley was saying.
Her knees felt a little weak. She waited by the door. Wanting to be gone before her aunt reappeared.
“Change of plans,” Riley said. “Iglesias is coming here.”
She supposed that made sense.
They moved into the living room. She had to sit down. Was feeling a little nauseated. She hadn’t thrown up in years. Not since the one time she’d had too much to drink in college.
There was probably a slug in the wall of her house that would need to be removed. Or on the ground close by.
Footsteps sounded and Aunt Blythe appeared in the archway between the living and dining rooms, a purse over her arm. “Oh! I thought you’d left!”
Did the purse mean her aunt was leaving? Charlize looked toward Riley. Was it safe for Blythe to go?
The truck had sped off. The bullet had clearly been meant for her. And that put her baby in danger, too!
“We’re having our meeting here,” Riley said, walking toward her aunt. “I hope that doesn’t disturb any plans you have...”
“It’s my bridge morning,” she said. “We’re playing at Madge’s today, down on the corner.”
Bridge morning. Every Wednesday. Charlize had completely forgotten. Which showed how much she was off her mark.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to walk down with you,” he said, taking her aunt’s elbow. “I’ve got a couple of more questions regarding the vitamins...”
Charlize was pretty sure he didn’t, that he’d asked everything he’d had to ask, but when he glanced back at her, his brows raised as though asking if she’d be okay, she nodded, handing him her keys to get back in when he returned. “I’m going to use the restroom,” she said, taking her mace out of her purse and showing it to him as she headed to the back of the house. She then sat on top of the toilet, wondering if she was going to puke as she awaited his return.
Loving how he’d stepped right up to help her protect her aunt.
And telling herself not to make too much of it. She and the baby could have been killed. Even if she’d survived, she could have lost her child.
That was where her focus needed to stay.
Not on the man who’d accidentally fathered the life growing inside her.
Riley was great in the moment.
And when the moment was over, he’d be gone.
The entire way down the block, Riley kept his back between the street and Blythe Kent’s back. He could see ahead of them, and to both sides. He had the older woman covered.
He filled the time by asking Blythe if she remembered a young attorney at the seminar, a new investor just like her. And experienced an odd swell of pride as Blythe responded exuberantly about the person who’d been so kind to her, sitting with her on a break, bringing up the RevitaYou website on his phone and explaining the numbers to her. Writing them down on a napkin. And knew a huge spark of guilt, too. If not for Brody’s kindness, the older woman might not have been swindled out of a portion of her life’s savings.
As soon as Blythe was safely in the house down the street, he hightailed it back to Charlize, coming in the door to an empty living room. A shard of fear shot through him.
“Charlize?” he called. And heard what sounded like a choking sound coming from farther back in the house.
Heading quickly in the direction he’d seen her headed as he left, he heard the sound again—coming from a closed door farther down the hallway. He was reaching for the door handle when he heard the toilet flush. His hand dropped, but he didn’t retreat. Perhaps he should have.
But a memory came to him, so clear it could have been recent...him as a teen, holding a toddler on each hip, hearing his mother puking her guts out...
Water was running behind the door, then came the sound of an electric toothbrush. And he knew.
“A cold washcloth to the face helps,” he said to the closed door and then made his way to the kitchen, where he opened cupboards until he found a box of saltines. Taking an open container of crackers and a glass of water with him, he made it to the living room at the same time she did.
“I’m sorry,” he said, handing her the water and crackers. She took them, put them on the end table as she sat in an armchair perpendicular to the couch.
“Is it happening a lot?” He had to ask.
“I’m sorry you had to hear that,” she said, not meeting his gaze. “And no, that was a first. I’m sure brought on by having a bullet fly by me.” She seemed to be trying to make light of both the violent morning sickness, and the attempt on her life, too.
He couldn’t do the same.
“Crackers help. If you can get them down before you get sick, a lot of times they can ease the nausea.”
She looked at him then, kind of frowning, but seeming interested, too. He liked the look. Too much.
“For a guy who’s been single all his life and who is adamant about the fact that marriage and children have been forever off the table, you sure know a lot about pregnancy. You got something you need to tell me, Riley?”
Like what? She thought he’d lied to her? He shook his head. But couldn’t really blame her for wondering if everything he’d told her had been one big pick-up line.
And couldn’t blame her for wanting to talk about something other than the shot that had been taken at her.
“My mom was sick every single afternoon for weeks when she was pregnant with Sadie and Vikki,” he confided. That baby she was carrying was going to have aunts. A somewhat confusing slew of them. And an uncle, too.
And maybe Iglesias would get there, allowing him to procrastinate that eventuality a little bit more.
Maybe the man would get there and find out who wanted Charlize out of the way. The fact that the hit hadn’t been professional was his only consolation at the moment. If the guy had been any good at all, he wouldn’t have missed.
Unless the shot had just been another warning...
“You have twin sisters?” she asked. He’d told her he and his siblings had a firm together, but that had been it. Mostly he’d talked about his career with the FBI that night. Talked about things he never told anyone. He still wasn’t sure why.
“Two sets of them, actually,” he told her, and then glanced at her stomach. “I hope I didn’t pass on the trait...”
With a hand on her stomach, she glanced down, and then back over at him. Their eyes met, but he couldn’t come up with anything to say. Neither could she apparently, as she eventually reached for a cracker and asked, “You have two sets of twin sisters?”
He nodded. Had long ago grown used to people’s initial reactions when he was out with his siblings—he’d had a ton of practice during the years he’d been at home, helping to raise them. And later, too, when he’d step in for his folks or leave the office if he wasn’t out on a case to pick them up from school or some practice or another.
“Both sets are fraternal,” he added. “They all look different. No problem telling them apart.”
“And you remember your mom getting sick?”
He nodded.
“How old were you?”
Her interest was as focused, as compelling, as he’d remembered. And he found himself opening his mouth to answer, where, for anyone else, he’d have prevaricated, distracted, or even just shrugged.
The conversation itself was a distraction from the possible danger that awaited her outside her front door. They were going to have to deal with that.
“Thirteen for Pippa and Kiely. The morning sickness was really in the morning then, and not that often. At least not that I knew. I was fifteen when she had the other two... She told me about the crackers and water, and cold washcloth. With a toddler on each hip, I always had them ready after that first time.”
“You had a child on each hip?”
He nodded. Feeling inept all over again as he remembered some of the other times he hadn’t known what to do. Like the time he’d been seventeen, driving the family’s huge SUV with four car seats, and Sadie, who’d been two, had suddenly started spewing vomit all over herself. It was the first time she’d thrown up like that and it had been hellacious. She’d been crying, which made Pippa cry, while the other two just leaned forward in the chairs, watching him. He’d pulled into an alcove and called his mom, practically in tears himself.
He must have puking on his mind...
“I was two when you were fifteen,” she said slowly. “I could have been one of those toddlers.”
He shook his head. “Believe me, they’re all grown up now and a pain in my ass most days.” He told it like it was.
“These are the siblings you work with,” she said, munching on a cracker.
He nodded. “And there’s Griffin. My folks adopted him.”
“And you’re all in business together.” She seemed to be stuck on that for some reason.
“The other five have full-time jobs,” he said.
“You say you aren’t a family man...”
“I’m not,” he quickly inserted. He hadn’t lied to her, and couldn’t start, either. Especially not now that they were going to have to figure out how he’d take responsibility for the child she carried, do his part, without being a father. If nothing else, he was just too damned old, like a dog learning new tricks. Except for him it would be a dog having to go back through puppy training. He’d done it all. And had no desire to go through it another time.
He was remembering, again, how long it had been since he’d changed a diaper, when she said, “It sounds to me like you’re not only a family man, but you’re the head of an incredible group of siblings to whom you’ve devoted your life...”
He shook his head. She had it all wrong. His life had been devoted to the FBI for more than twenty years. He’d only built Colton PI after his folks had died and...
He was saved from trying to explain—to ensure that she saw him as he truly was—by the knock on the door.
Iglesias had arrived.
Gathering up the crackers and water, Charlize carried them into the kitchen as Riley answered the door. She needed a second to get her head out of fantasyland and back into gear. No point in romanticizing about the ex–FBI agent who’d fathered her child.
He’d walked out on her—not kindly. And actions spoke a whole lot louder than words.
Still, as she walked back into the living room, holding out a hand to the tall, muscular detective who’d just arrived, she couldn’t help picturing a younger Riley with a two-year-old on each hip.
Couldn’t help feeling a tad bit of love for that picture.
Or for the way Riley met her gaze as she came back into the room, as though asking if she felt okay. She nodded, just in case the question had been there, between them, and felt another twinge of...not hate...at his slight nod back as they took seats—her back in her chair, and the two men on either end of the couch.
Iglesias pulled out a notebook, jotting things as they both told him about the hit and run the day before, naming who, from the GRPD they’d spoken to.
“My understanding was that Gomez was taking on the case,” Riley finished.
Iglesias shrugged. “I’ll talk to him, request the case. Makes sense that I take this on.”
“Good.” Riley nodded. “Sadie said you were the one...”
Charlize had no reason to feel more confident in the man, just because of Riley’s approval, but she felt more like she was in good hands, just the same.
“Sadie’s a character,” Iglesias said. “I was surprised to hear that she’s marrying Tate Greer. Can’t say I’ve ever liked the man. Just something about him seems kind of off. He’s a little too perfect. Too shiny.”
Riley’s frown made Charlize more curious than an outsider should have been. “I’m not sure I do, either,” he said.
As Iglesias went outside, got an evidence kit from his car and took the bullet out of the wall of her home, after taking photos, Charlize excused herself to the kitchen and another dose of crackers.
Feeling nothing like herself.
Nothing in her life was normal. Her aunt had lost her savings, her life was in danger and she’d just found out she was pregnant. All within a day.
She almost slid down to the floor under the weight of it all.
At a time when, considering the child who was dependent upon her, she had to be stronger than she’d ever been before.
She couldn’t afford to feel needy. To be tempted by the chance to rely on someone else.
It was Riley Colton’s fault. Whenever he was around, she wasn’t herself.
He made her weak.
And so, as soon as this RevitaYou business was settled, he had to go.
Her baby was counting on her.
But...wouldn’t it be...nice...if her baby could grow up with the same loving care Riley Colton had been bestowing on his sisters all his life?
Forget nice...it would be a miracle.
And she no longer believed in those.
Because of him.
No way was she going to give him the chance to lead her child into thinking she or he was loved, just to have him walk out on them.
No way in hell.