Daddy Devastating

Delores Fossen

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

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

Copyright

Chapter One

San Saba, Texas

Russ Gentry cursed under his breath when the brunette stepped through the doors of the Silver Dollar bar.

Hell.

She’d followed him.

He had spotted her about fifteen minutes earlier on the walk from his hotel to the bar. She had trailed along behind him in her car, inching up the street, as if he were too stupid or blind to notice her or her sleek silver Jaguar. He had decided to ignore her for the time being anyway, because he’d hoped she was lost.

Obviously not.

Now, he had two questions—who was she? And was this about to turn even more dangerous than it already was?

He watched her from over the top of the bottle of Lone Star beer that the bartender had just served him. She was tall—five-nine, or better—and she was clutching a key ring that had a small can of pepper spray hooked onto it. There was a thin, gold-colored purse tucked beneath her arm, but it didn’t have any telltale bulges of a weapon, and her snug blue dress skimmed over her curvy body, so that carrying concealed would have been next to impossible.

Heck, in that dress concealing a paper-thin nicotine patch would have been a challenge. It was a garment obviously meant to keep her cool on a scalding-hot Texas day.

It did the opposite of making him cool.

Under different circumstances, Russ might have taken the time to savor the view, and he might have even made an attempt to hit on her.

But this wasn’t different circumstances.

He’d learned the hard way that even a momentary lapse of concentration could have deadly results. As a reminder of that, he rubbed his fingers over the scar just to the left of his heart. The reminder, however, didn’t help when the woman made eye contact.

With Willie Nelson blaring from the jukebox, she wended her way through the customers seated at the mismatched tables scattered around the room. The neon sign on the wall that advertised tequila flashed an assortment of tawdry colors over her.

Without taking her gaze from him, she stopped only a few inches away. Close enough for Russ to catch her scent. She smelled high priced and looked high maintenance.

“We need to talk,” she said, and slid onto the barstool next to him, her silky dress whispering against the leather seat.

Oh, man. Keeping her here would hardly encourage his informant to make contact. Hell, the only thing her presence would do was create problems for him.

“I’m not interested, darlin’,” Russ grumbled, hoping that his surly attitude would cause her to leave.

It didn’t.

“Well, I’m interested in you,” she said, her voice much louder than Willie’s.

In fact, she was loud enough to attract the few customers who hadn’t already noticed her when she walked in. Of course, with her sex-against-the-bathroom-wall body, Russ figured she’d likely caught the attention of every one of the male patrons.

He eased his beer down onto the bar and turned slightly, so he could look her in the eyes. “Back off,” he warned, under his breath.

“I can’t.”

Okay. He hadn’t expected her to say that or ignore his warning.

Her clothes, the sleek sable-colored hair that tumbled onto her shoulders and even her tone might have screamed that she was confident about what she was doing, or about to do, but just beneath those ice-blue eyes was deeply rooted concern. And fear.

That put Russ on full alert.

“Look,” he whispered. “This is no place for you. Leave.”

She huffed and took the purse from beneath her arm. When she reached inside, Russ caught onto her hand. And got an uneasy thought.

“You can’t be Milo,” he mumbled. Because from what he’d been told about the would-be contact, Milo was a forty-something-year-old male. Of course, his source could have been wrong.

She stiffened slightly, looked more than a little confused, but it lasted just seconds, before she pushed off his grip. “I’m Julia Howell.”

The name sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t press her for more information. If she was Milo, or Milo’s replacement, Russ would find out soon enough. And then he could get this show started. But he didn’t like the bad feeling that was settling in his gut.

She placed her purse next to his beer, but held on to the pepper-spray keychain. “You didn’t introduce yourself, but I know you’re Russell James Gentry.”

Hell.

Russ looked around to make sure no one had heard her use his real name. It was possible. The body-builder bartender seemed to be trying a little too hard not to look their way. Ditto for the middle-aged guy near the door. And the dark haired man in the corner. Unlike the bartender and the one by the door, Russ was positive this dark haired guy had been following him for days, and Russ had let him keep on following him because he had wanted to send Milo a message—that he had nothing to hide.

Which was a lie, of course.

Russ had plenty to hide.

“You’re mistaken,” Russ insisted. “I’m Jimmy Marquez.”

“I’m not mistaken.” She obviously wasn’t picking up on any of his nonverbal cues to stay quiet. “I have proof you’re Russell James Gentry,” she said, and reached for her purse again.

He didn’t have any idea what she had in that gold bag to prove his identity, and he didn’t really care. He had to do something to get her to turn tail and run.

Russ swiveled his bar stool toward her, and in the same motion he slapped his left palm on her thigh. This would get her out of there in record time. He snared her gaze and tried to give her one hell of a nonverbal warning before he ran his hand straight up to her silk panties.

No, make that lace.

But she still didn’t run. She gasped, her eyes narrowed and she drew back her perfectly manicured hand, no doubt ready to slap him into the middle of next week. And she would have, too, if Russ hadn’t snagged her wrist.

When she tried to use her other hand to slug him, he had to give up the panty ploy so he could restrain her.

Russ put his mouth right against her ear. “We’re leaving now. Get up.”

Because her mouth was on his cheek, he felt the word “no” start to form on her peach-tinged lips. Judging from the way the muscles tightened in her arms and legs, she was gearing up for an all-out fight with him.

Gutsy.

But stupid.

He was a good six inches taller than she was, and he had her by at least seventy pounds. Still, he preferred not to have to wrestle her out of there, but he would if it meant saving her lace-pantied butt.

“If you know what’s good for you,” Russ whispered to her, “you’ll do as I say. Or else you can die right here. Your choice, lady.”

But he didn’t give her a choice. He couldn’t. Russ shoved the purse back under her arm, grabbed the pepper-spray keychain and used brute force to wrench her off the barstool. He started in the direction of the door.

Their sudden exit drew some attention, especially from the bartender and the bald guy, but no one made a move to interfere. Thankfully, the bar wasn’t the kind of place where people thought about doing their civic duty and assisting a possible damsel in distress.

Julia Howell squirmed and struggled all the way to the door. “I won’t let you hurt me,” she spat out. “I won’t ever let anyone hurt me again.”

That sounded like the voice of old baggage, but Russ wasn’t interested.

He got her outside, finally. It was dusk, still way too hot for early September, and the sidewalks weren’t exactly empty. No cops, but there were two “working girls” making their way past the bar. They stopped and stared, but Russ shot them a back-off glare. He was good at glares, too, and he wasn’t surprised when the women scurried away, their stilettos tapping against the concrete.

“How did you know my name?” Russ asked. “What so-called proof do you have?”

He didn’t look directly at Julia Howell. Too risky. He kept watch all around them. And he shoved her into the narrow, dark alley that separated the bar from a transmission repair shop that had already closed for the day. He moved away from the sidewalk, about twenty feet, until he was in the dark of the alley.

“I won’t let you hurt me,” she repeated, and tried to knee him in the groin. She missed. Her rock-hard kneecap slammed into his thigh instead, and had him seeing stars and cursing a blue streak.

Tired of the fight and the lack of answers to his simple questions, Russ put her against the brick wall. He wasn’t gentle, either, and he used his body to hold her in place. “Tell me how you know my name.”

Julia didn’t stop struggling, and she continued to ram herself into him. It only took her a few moments to realize that that wasn’t a good idea—her breasts thrusting against his chest. Her sex pounding in the general vicinity of his.

She groaned in frustration and dropped the back of her head against the wall. Her breathing also revved up. And now that the fight had apparently gone out of her, the panic was starting to set in. Her chest began to pump as if starved for air, and he could see the pulse hammer in her throat. Sweat popped out above her upper lip.

“Calm down,” he warned. “You can’t answer my questions if you’re hyperventilating.”

That earned him a glare, and like him, she was good at them, too. It took her a moment to get her breathing under control so she could speak. “I used facial-recognition software to learn who you are.”

“Excuse me?”

“I found you through facial-recognition software,” she repeated, through gusts of breath. “I know you’re Russell James Gentry.”

Russ stared at her, trying to make sense of this, but her explanation wasn’t helping much. He shifted her keys in his hand so he could grab her purse. There wasn’t much room in the bag, and it was crammed with photos and a cell phone, but he quickly spotted what he was looking for.

Her driver’s license.

It was there tucked behind a clear sleeve attached to the inside of the bag. The name and photo matched what she’d told him, but Russ wasn’t about to take any chances.

While keeping her restrained, he shoved her purse back under her arm and took out his cell from his front jeans pocket. He pressed the first name in his list of contacts, and as expected, Silas Duran answered on the first ring.

Russ didn’t say the man’s name aloud, nor his own, and he didn’t even offer a greeting. He wanted this done quickly and hoped it would be. Silas was a new partner. A replacement. And Russ wasn’t sure how good Silas would be when thrown a monkey wrench.

Like now.

“Julia Elise Howell,” Russ stated. “Run a quick check on her.”

He immediately heard Silas making clicks on a keyboard. He waited, with Julia staring holes in him and with her breath gusting. He wouldn’t be able to contain her for long. Well, he could physically, but that wouldn’t be a smart thing to do in public. Someone might eventually call the cops.

“She’s a San Antonio heiress who manages a charity foundation,” Silas said. “Her father was a well-known real-estate developer. Both parents are dead. She’s single. Twenty-nine. Says here she’s considered a recluse, and that makes sense, because the only pictures that popped up were ones from over a decade ago. She’s worth about fifty million. Why?”

None of that info explained why she had walked into the bar and plopped down next to him. “She’s here. In San Saba. About an inch away from my face.”

“Why?” Silas repeated. “Is she connected to the meeting with Milo?”

“I’m about to ask the same thing. She has a cell phone in her purse, probably in her own name. Check and make sure this really is Julia Howell in front of me.”

A minute or so passed before Silas said, “She’s there. Well, her phone is anyway. Should I send someone to take care of her?”

“Not yet.” Russ slapped his cell shut and crammed it back into his pocket.

Well, at least Julia was who she said she was. That was something at least.

Maybe.

Russ stared at her. “Why and how exactly did you find me?” he asked. “Not the facial-recognition software. I got that part. I want to know how you made the match and why.”

She tipped her head to her left breast, and it took him a moment to realize she was motioning toward her purse and not the body contact between them. “Your picture is in there. A friend owns a security company, and he fed your photo through the software and came up with a match.”

“Impossible.” His records were buried under layers and layers of false information. Of course, his face wasn’t buried. But any info about him was.

“Not impossible. My friend is very good at what he does, and he had access to security cameras all over the state. He ran the facial-recognition software twenty-four/seven, until he finally spotted you at a bank in San Antonio. Then he asked around, offered money.” She hesitantly added, “And one of the bank employees gave us your name.”

Russ wanted to punch the brick wall. He’d covered all bases, or so he thought. Yes, he had gone to the San Antonio bank to take care of some family business, but he hadn’t counted on a chatty employee ratting him out. Nor had he counted on anyone digging this deep to find him.

“Even after we had your name, we couldn’t find out anything about you,” she continued. “Finally, one of the P.I.s who works for my friend spotted your face on a traffic-camera feed and was able to do the match. That’s how I knew you were in San Saba. The P.I. came down here, followed you for several days and found out where you were staying.”

That was a P.I.? Russ had thought it was one of Milo’s men following him and checking him out. That’s why he hadn’t done anything about the tail. Mercy. And now that mistake had come back to bite him in the butt.

“The P.I. wanted to approach you, but I thought it best if I did it myself,” she added. “Because it is such a personal matter.”

Her explanation prompted more profanity and a dozen more questions, but Russ started with a simple one. “Why go through the trouble to look for me?”

“Because of Lissa,” she said, as if the answer were obvious. “Lissa gave me your photograph.”

Russ was sure he looked as pole-axed as he felt.

“Who the hell is Lissa?”

For the first time since they’d started this little wrestling match and confusing conversation, Julia relaxed. At least, she went limp, as if she’d huffed all the breath right out of her. “My first cousin, Lissa McIntyre.” Then her eyes narrowed. “Are you saying you don’t remember her?”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m saying,” Russ answered, honestly.

Her muscles went stiff again, and the remainder of the fear faded from her expression. It was replaced by a healthy dose of anger. “Let me refresh your memory. San Antonio. Last December. You met Lissa at a downtown bar, and after a night of drinking you went into one of those photo booths on the Riverwalk and had your picture taken.”

Russ went through the past months. Yeah, it was possible he’d met a woman in a bar. But he certainly didn’t remember anybody named Lissa, and he absolutely didn’t remember taking a picture in a photo booth.

“Why are you here?” he asked, pressing her further.

“Because Lissa wanted me to find you.” Julia took a deep breath. “She’s dead. She was injured in the hostage standoff at the San Antonio Maternity Hospital two weeks ago. The doctors tried to save her but couldn’t.” Her voice broke, and tears sprang into her blue eyes. “She used her dying breath to ask me to find you.”

He’d heard about the hostage situation, of course, it’d been all over the news. And he was also aware there’d been several deaths. But that had nothing to do with him.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Russ said, because he didn’t know what else to say. This still wasn’t making any sense. “But why the hell would your cousin want you to find me? “

She stared at him. “You don’t remember?”

“Remember what?”

There was some movement at the back end of the alley. A shadow maybe. Maybe something worse. So Russ eased his hand into the slide holster in the back waistband of his jeans.

She snatched the purse from beneath her arm and practically ripped the bag open. “Look, I know Lissa was probably a one-night stand, but you have to remember her.”

Julia pulled out a photo of an attractive brunette and practically stuck it in his face. Russ glanced at it, just a glance, and he turned his attention back to that damn shadow.

Was it Milo?

Or had one of the working girls grown a conscience and called the cops?

Those were the best-case scenarios. But Russ had a feeling this wasn’t a best-case scenario kind of moment. He took out his gun and kept it behind his back.

“Well?” Julia demanded. If she noticed the gun, she didn’t have a reaction—which meant she almost certainly hadn’t seen it. “Do you remember Lissa?”

That was an easy answer. “No. Why should I?”

She made a sound, not of anger but outrage, and grabbed another photo from her purse. Russ glanced at it, too, and saw the baby. A newborn, swaddled in a pink blanket.

He froze.

Oh, this was suddenly getting a lot clearer. Or was it? Was this hot brunette really a black-market baby seller? If so, she certainly didn’t look the part.

“Did Milo send you?” he snarled. “Is this the kid the seller’s offering? Because it’s not supposed to be a girl.”

Julia went still again. Very still. And Russ risked looking at her so he could see what was going on in her eyes.

“Seller?” she repeated. There was a lot of emotion in that one word. Confusion, fear and a boatload of concern. “No. The newborn in the picture is Lissa’s.”

“I don’t understand.” Was she trying to sell her own cousin’s kid?

“Well, you should understand, because you’re the baby’s father.”

What?! It felt as if someone had slugged him in the gut. “Father?” Russ managed to say, though it didn’t have any sound to it.

Ah, hell.

Russ’s stomach dropped to the cracked dirty concrete, but that was the only reaction he managed. There certainly wasn’t time to question Julia about what she’d just said about him being a father.

The movement at the back of the alley grabbed his full attention. Because the shadow moved.

So did Russ.

He shoved the photos back into her purse and gave Julia the keychain with the pepper spray. She might need it. He hooked his left arm around her, pushing her behind him.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. Julia looked around, and no doubt saw the figure dressed in dark clothes and wearing a ski mask.

Russ took aim.

But it was too late.

Another man stepped into the alley from the front sidewalk. He lifted his gun. So did the ski mask wearing man.

They were trapped.

Chapter Two

Julia clamped her teeth over her bottom lip to choke back a scream. What was happening?

“Lower your gun,” the man at the front of the alley warned Russell. “Keep your hands where I can see them and don’t make any sudden moves.”

The man giving the orders was tall and lanky and wore jeans and a scruffy t-shirt—unlike his comrade at the other end of the alley who wasn’t wearing a ski mask. And that frightened Julia even more, because it meant Russell and she could identify him.

And that meant the man might kill them for that reason alone.

Of course, he might have already had killing on his mind before he stepped into that alley.

Julia cursed herself. How could she have gotten herself into this situation again? She didn’t have the answer for that yet, but she wouldn’t just stand around and whimper about this, and she wouldn’t give up without a fight.

She cleared her throat so her voice would have some sound. “What’s going on?” she asked Russell.

Not that she expected him to tell her. So far, he hadn’t volunteered much, and she didn’t trust him any further than she could throw him. Still, Russell had stepped in front of her when the men first appeared, and he appeared to be trying to protect her. For all the good it’d do.

They literally had two guns aimed right at them.

Julia felt the jolt of panic and tried to get it under control before it snowballed. Not easy to do. Everything inside her was telling her to run for her life.

“Keep quiet,” Russell growled. “Stay calm. And slow down your breathing.” He glanced back at her, his coffee-brown eyes narrowed and intense. His gaze slashed from one end of the alley to the other, and he finally lifted his hands in surrender.

“Who are you?” Russell asked the man.

The ski-masked gunman stayed put, but the other one walked closer. He was dressed better than his partner. His crisp khakis and pale blue shirt made him look more like a preppy college professor than a criminal, and there were some threads of gray in his dark hair. But there was no doubt in Julia’s mind that this man was up to no good.

“Who are you?” the preppy guy echoed, aiming his stare at Russell.

“Jimmy Marquez,” Russell replied.

Julia hoped she didn’t look surprised that he’d given them that name—the same one he’d used in the bar when she had first approached him. It wasn’t his real name, she was sure of that. She’d paid Sentron Securities too much money for them to make a mistake like that.

“And who the hell are you?” Russell added, staring at the approaching man.

“Milo.”

She felt the muscles in Russell’s arm relax. Why, she didn’t know.

“Well, it’s about damn time you showed up,” Russell snarled. “You should have been here yesterday. I waited in that bar half the night for you.”

Milo offered no apology, no explanation. He merely lifted his shoulder and tipped his head to the ski-masked guy.

Both men lowered their weapons.

That didn’t make Julia breathe any easier. Something dangerous and probably illegal was likely about to happen, and she had no idea if she could rely on Russell. Thankfully, he kept his gun gripped in his hand.

She held on to the pepper spray.

Lissa had been stupid, or duped, to get involved with a man like Russell Gentry. Julia should have ignored Lissa’s deathbed request that she personally find the father of Lissa’s child. There was no way Julia would hand over the baby to the likes of him, and it didn’t matter that she would be violating Lissa’s dying wish.

“Who’s the woman?” Milo asked, staring holes into Julia.

As much as she distrusted Russell, Julia distrusted this one even more.

“Julia Howell,” Russell said.

Mercy, he’d used her real name. Not that it would matter who she was to these men. But she preferred that criminals not know who she was.

“She’s a friend,” Russell added, “and she was just leaving.” He nudged Julia in the direction of the front of the alley, and that was the only invitation Julia needed to get moving. She turned.

But didn’t get far.

Milo stepped in front of her, calmly reached out and took her purse. Did he intend to rob her? Julia didn’t care. She only wanted out of there. But he blocked her again when she tried to move.

“She’s not carrying a weapon,” Russell said.

But Milo didn’t take his word for it. The man dug through her purse and pulled out the three pictures inside. He glanced at the first two, shoved them back inside, but the third picture he held up.

It was the one of Lissa’s baby.

Julia could feel her pulse thicken and throb. The throbbing got worse, and she tried to snatch the photo from his hand. Milo held on and aimed his stony gaze at Russell.

“Is this one of the babies you’ve acquired?” Milo asked.

Julia started to speak up, to tell them that the child was her cousin’s, but then she remembered something Russell had asked before the goons showed up.

“Is this the kid the seller’s offering?”

Sweet heaven. What was going on here? Were these men involved with black-marketing babies? If so, they weren’t going to get their hands on Emily. She would kill them before she let that happen.

“No. It’s my kid,” Russell said. “Julia came here to tell me that I’m a daddy. Fate can sure be a kick in the butt, huh?”

Milo volleyed glances between the photo and Russell. “This is your child?”

There was skepticism in his tone, but Julia figured Milo had to see the resemblance. Baby Emily had the shape of her daddy’s mouth and his sandy brown hair. Of course, Emily looked sweet and innocent, whereas her father, well, he just looked dangerous. That’d been Julia’s first impression of him anyway, and he wasn’t doing anything to change that.

Russell turned, angling his body, so he could slip his arm around her waist. The corner of his mouth hitched into a cocky smile that only he and a rock star could have managed to pull off, and those dark brown eyes that’d been so intense just a second earlier, softened.

It was an act.

“Yeah, that’s my kid,” Russell said to Milo, but the fake smile was directed at her. “Julia and I have got some things to work out, but the old feelings are still there,” he added, all slow and sexy.

Then he leaned in. Too close. Julia was certain she stiffened and looked stunned. Because she did. But that didn’t stop Russell. He caught onto the back of her neck and hauled her to him.

He kissed her!

She didn’t fight him, though she considered it, but decided to wait and see where this was going. However, she got her pepper spray ready just in case.

He moved his mouth over hers as if this were something they did every day. He was good at the facade. Very good. And for just a split second Julia’s body reacted to the man who was doling out that one, hot kiss.

And, sadly, he was hot, too.

In that split second, she understood the attraction that had no doubt drawn Lissa to him. She hated it, especially since she was feeling it herself. But she understood it. Russell Gentry, with his butt-hugging jeans, cowboy boots and too-long hair, was the kind of man who reminded a woman that she was indeed a woman.

A reminder she never wanted to feel again.

She slapped her hand on his chest, pushed him away and glared at him. But Russell only chuckled.

“Julia’s upset that I missed the birth of our little one.” Russell stared at her when he spoke. His tone was all light, but the facade didn’t make it to his eyes. He was giving her a warning to stay quiet. “But she understands how important my work is. She knows I need to make a living. That’s why she’ll head out while we talk business.”

Milo made a grunting sound that could have meant anything, and he didn’t say a word for several moments. Julia felt every one of those moments in her held breath and racing heart.

“I have a better idea,” Milo finally responded, and there was sarcasm in both his tone and body language. “You spend the evening with your girlfriend and baby, and I’ll call you about another meeting.”

“This meeting is important,” Russell snapped. He was staring at Milo now, so she couldn’t see his face, but Julia didn’t need to see his expression to know Russell wasn’t pleased. Whatever this meeting was supposed to be about, it was obvious he didn’t want it postponed.

But she did.

Julia wanted out of there so she could get some answers and then call the police. It was entirely possible that Emily’s father would be arrested before the night was over.

“The meeting can wait,” Milo insisted. He motioned toward the ski-masked guy, who then darted out of sight. Milo turned to leave, as well, but Russell caught onto his arm with this left hand. The gun was still ready in his right.

Russell shook his head. “It can’t wait. I have people already onboard for this deal, and they aren’t into waiting. They want this to go down in the next twenty-four hours, or else they’ll pull out. All that money will be gone, including your sizeable cut.”

Milo looked down at the grip Russell had on his arm, and he didn’t say anything until Russell released it. “I’ll be in touch.” And with that calmly spoken exit line, Milo turned and strolled away.

Russell cursed, stared at her, and then cursed some more. “Lady, you have no idea what you’ve just done.”

Though he was furious and she didn’t know if he would act on that fury or not, Julia still hiked up her chin and met him eye-to-eye. “Oh, I have an idea. I stopped something illegal from happening.”

The stare turned to a glare, and he grabbed her arm. “Come on. Did you leave your silver Jag in the bar parking lot?”

Julia blinked but didn’t ask how he knew about her vehicle. He’d obviously noticed her earlier, when she was following him. Strange, he hadn’t given any indication that he’d known.

“Why do you ask about my car?” she demanded.

“Because we’re going to get in it, that’s why, and then we can have a serious chat about how you just screwed up everything I’ve worked so damn hard to put together.”

She didn’t even have to think about that proposal. “No, we’re not doing that. And I don’t care a rat’s you-know-what about screwing up any of your plans. I’m also not getting in a car with you, but we are going to get some things straight right here, right now.”

But where should she start? There were so many questions. So many concerns and fears. Julia started with the most recent one.

“You told that man, Milo, who I was. Why? Why not just give him a fake name the way you did? Now he knows who I am, and I would have preferred someone like that to not have any personal info about me.”

Russell continued to volley cautious glances at both ends of the alley, but he also huffed to let her know he wasn’t pleased about her not budging. “Milo saw your driver’s license in your purse.”

Of course. It was right there. Russ had looked at it himself, just minutes earlier. That took a little of the fight out of her.

“Unnecessary lies cause unnecessary suspicion,” he added. “Trust me, you don’t want to make a man like Milo more suspicious.”

He glanced at the sidewalk again and eased his gun into the waistband of his jeans. “And you don’t want to hang around in this alley. I’ll walk you to your car, and then I’ll watch you drive out of town. We can have the rest of this conversation over the phone.”

Russell Gentry expected her to leave. And what she wanted was nothing more than to get away from this man and whatever was happening—but not before she had the answers she’d come for.

“Did Lissa know you were a criminal when she slept with you?” she asked angrily.

This was supposed to be a quick trip to turn over custody of Emily, but Julia had no idea what to do now. This might end up in a custody battle, though she seriously doubted that Russell had a burning desire to raise a newborn.

He used the grip he had on her to get her moving, much as he’d done in the bar. “I told you I don’t remember your cousin, so I have no idea what she knew or didn’t know about me. Other than Lissa’s word on her deathbed, what proof do you have the baby is mine?”

“DNA proof,” she snapped.

That stopped him, and even though they were now on the sidewalk where Milo and his henchman would see them if they returned, Russell stared at her. “Impossible.”

She was too scared and angry to be smug. “No. The P.I. who followed you around San Saba took a coffee cup you used, and the lab compared it to Emily’s. There’s a ninety-nine-point-nine percent chance that you’re Emily’s biological father. And I stress the biological part, because anyone, including the likes of you, can father a child.”

He blew out a slow breath, and even though he didn’t dispute her claim, he didn’t jump to announce that he was indeed the birth father. There wasn’t just doubt in his eyes, there was total disbelief.

“Look, I don’t know if you’re trying to scam me, or what,” he said, his voice low and somewhat threatening. “And at this point, I really don’t care, other than to warn you that scamming me isn’t a good idea.”

“Why would I lie about something like this?” she asked, not waiting for an answer. “No one with any common sense would want you to be an innocent newborn’s father. If I had any doubts whatsoever about that, I don’t have them now. I know what you are, and I don’t want you anywhere near Emily or me.”

He stayed in deep thought for several moments. His forehead bunched up. His mouth slightly tightened. “Is the baby here in San Saba?”

Baby Emily was with a temporary nanny in Julia’s hotel room, but she had no intention of revealing that to Russell. It’d been a mistake to bring Emily. But Julia hadn’t known she would be walking into a vipers’ nest.

“She is here,” he insisted. And he cursed, the words even more vicious than before. “The baby is here in San Saba.” He kicked at a piece of broken beer bottle on the sidewalk, and he got her moving again in the direction of the bar—and the parking lot that was on the other side.

“It doesn’t matter where Emily is, you’re not going to see her,” Julia informed him. “You’re a criminal, and I’ll fight you with every breath in my body to stop you from getting anywhere near her.”

Of course, she hadn’t actually counted on becoming a permanent guardian to the child, but at the moment Julia didn’t think there was another option. Not for her, and definitely not for Emily. She could return to her San Antonio estate with Emily and lock them both away from Russell and his cohorts. With her money and connections, she could be sure to keep him away.

She hoped.

He didn’t say a word. Not when they passed the bar. Not when he hauled her into the parking lot and toward her car, which she’d parked directly beneath the lone security light. While they walked across the cracked concrete of the parking lot, he used the remote button on her keys to open the car door. He maneuvered her inside behind the wheel and shoved the key into the ignition.

She considered just driving away as fast as she could, but Julia first wanted to get something crystal clear. “You won’t challenge me for custody. Because no judge would give a baby to a criminal like you.”

The muscles in his jaw stirred. He opened his mouth, but before he could answer, something caught his attention. It caught Julia’s attention, too. It was a slow moving black car creeping past the parking lot. Because of the darkly tinted windows and the poor lighting on the street, Julia couldn’t see the driver, but she got a bad feeling that Milo or the ski-masked guy had returned.

“They’re watching you,” Russell mumbled, more to himself than her. And then he repeated it in the same tone as his profanity.

“What does that mean?” Julia was afraid of the answer.

He scrubbed his hand over his face and groaned. “It means Milo is suspicious.”

She didn’t think it was her imagination that he was carefully choosing his words and having a mental debate about what to say next. An angry mental debate.

“What I’m about to tell you,” he finally said, “you have to keep secret, and if you do tell anyone, you’ll be arrested for obstruction of justice. Got that?”

No. She didn’t get that. Julia shook her head. “What’s going on? “

“I’m not a criminal.” Another pause, and she could see the mental debate continue. “I’m Special Agent Russ Gentry, FBI.”

Julia’s mouth dropped open. “What—”

He reached inside and used the central latch on her door to unlock the passenger’s side. Before she could stop him he got inside.

“You just walked into the middle of a dangerous undercover investigation,” he snarled.

He pressed the control pad on her key chain, and the locks on the doors snapped shut. “You’ll be lucky, damn lucky, if I can get you out of this alive.”

Chapter Three

Russ watched the chain of emotions slide across her face. First total, undeniable skepticism. She didn’t believe him. Then, her eyebrows drew together. She eased her gaping mouth shut.

And then reached for her phone.

Russ would have bet a month’s paycheck that she would either do that or try to slap him again. The latter still might happen if she didn’t get the answers she wanted to this paternity issue. Russ wanted those answers, too but right now, both their butts were on the line. God knows who Milo had alerted about this wrinkle in their plan.

“If you tell anyone who I am,” he reminded her, “I’ll arrest you.”

She pushed his pointing finger aside. “And you can’t expect me to blindly accept what you’re saying without confirmation. I’m calling Sentron Securities. The owner will be discrete.”

Maybe. Maybe not. Russ knew of the owner, Burke Dennison. And Sentron seemed to be an above board operation. But he sure as hell didn’t want his cover blown.

He had to establish his identity so he could force Julia to cooperate. He could probably force her anyway, but it would take time and cause a scene. Julia was an heiress, and he couldn’t very well force her into protective custody without someone asking the wrong questions.

“Make your call to Burke Dennison,” Russ conceded, but he shot her another warning glare. “But put it on speaker and be very careful about what you say.”

She pressed some buttons on the cell, waited and stared hard at him.

“Burke, it’s Julia Howell,” she said, to the person who answered. She placed her purse on the console between them. “I need a favor, but this has to stay between us.”

“Absolutely.” The man’s voice was clear over the speaker. “What is it?”

“Russell Gentry might be a government employee. Could you check?”

“Contact Silas Duran at the FBI,” Russ said, in a loud-enough voice for Burke to hear. “He’ll brief you, then debrief you, and if you give the information you learn about me to anyone but Julia Howell, expect a full-scale investigation that will land your butt and Sentron in scalding hot water. Got that, Dennison?”

There was a pause, or more likely a hesitation from Dennison. “Give me a minute.” Finally, he said “I’ll call you back.”

“Start driving to your hotel,” Russ told Julia. He reached over to turn the key in the ignition. Not the brightest idea, since she batted his hand away and in doing so, his arm grazed her breast.

That earned him a glare. And it would have been better if she’d let out an outraged gasp, rather than that breathy feminine sound similar to the one she’d made after he kissed her.

That kiss had been a stupid idea, too.

Even though Julia Howell was perhaps a liar and a boatload of trouble, she was attractive, and damn it, his body wouldn’t let him forget that. She was making him hot. Well, she and the Texas heat. He could feel the sweat trickling down his back. Julia wasn’t immune to it, either, because she blotted the perspiration from her face.

Since they appeared to be staying put for a while, Russ got started on more damage control. “Who knew that you picked up Lissa’s baby from the San Antonio Maternity Hospital?”

She pulled back her shoulders. “Why?”

Man, she doesn’t give an inch. “Don’t make everything hard. Just answer the question. Who knew?”

Her shoulders went back even more, and she continued to glare at him. “SAPD, of course. And several members of the medical staff.”

Russ groaned. “Reporters?”

“No. I paid a lot of money to keep the details of Lissa’s story quiet. Her death was initially reported, and her name was listed in the newspapers, but I asked everyone to hold off mentioning the baby.”

“And they cooperated? “ he asked, stunned.

“Yes. I told them I didn’t want you to learn you were a father by hearing it on the news. I wanted to tell you in person.”

Well that was something, at least. Half the state didn’t know the truth about the baby, and that meant Russ could slant the info in his favor.

Russ took out his own phone to make another call to FBI headquarters in San Antonio. He asked to speak to a computer tech, and it didn’t take long for Denny Lord to come on the line. “I need you to doctor some files for Julia Elise Howell.” “What?” she snarled.

Russ ignored her. “People will be digging into her background, and I need you to plant information that she recently gave birth to a baby girl. Keep all details vague, as if she tried to keep the pregnancy hush-hush. Doctor a photo if necessary. Oh, and let me know if anyone does any deep searches on her.”

“What was that about?” she demanded, the moment he was off the phone.

“It was about making the story I told in the alley mesh with what Milo’s people will learn about you.” He only hoped it was enough. “By the way, it’s not a good idea for us to be sitting in this parking lot.”

“And I don’t think it’s a good idea to be driving to a hotel with you. I don’t trust you,” Julia snapped.

“I don’t trust you, either, since I think you’re trying to scam me. Or kill me from dehydration. Turn on the AC.”

“If I do that, it’ll only encourage you to stay. I don’t want you to stay. I want you to get out.” She blotted her upper lip again.

“Well, I’m staying until I get some clarification about why you chose me for this …well, whatever the hell it is.”

However, Russ rethought that. Julia had money, so why would she come after him with this ridiculous daddy claim? “But right now the scam is on the back burner. First we deal with the fallout from the meeting in the alley.”

“No. First we deal with your identity.”

“I’m an FBI agent,” Russ repeated, “and you’re messing with an investigation that’s taken me a long time to put together.” And it could all be in the toilet, thanks to a prissy San Antonio heiress and her baby charades.

“Does your investigation have to do with black-market infants?” she asked.

He laughed, but not with humor. The woman had nerve … or something. “I’m not discussing one detail of my investigation with you. You’ve already overheard way too much.”

“Or maybe I’ve overheard the dealings of two criminals meeting in an alley to discuss selling a baby.” She swiveled around and faced him. “Do you have a badge?”

It took him a moment to answer, because when she swiveled, her dress slid up a little, and he got a visual reminder of her great thighs.

“Not with me. It’s generally not a good idea to carry a badge while undercover. Bad guys tend to kill you if they find out you’re an FBI agent. Imagine that.” He didn’t bother to tone down the sarcasm.

With a mighty effort, he forced his attention off her thighs.

She tipped her head to the ceiling and groaned softly. Finally she started the car. She turned on the AC, but didn’t put the car into gear. “If you’re lying to me, somehow I will make you pay.”

Russ leaned into the AC vent and let the cold air spill over him. “Ditto, darlin’. Except, there is no if in what you’re saying. It’s a lie. I didn’t sleep with your cousin and I’m not her baby’s father.”

Julia put her face closer to her vent, as well. “The DNA says otherwise.”

Yeah? It did? Well, it did if she was telling the truth about that. Of course, that went back to motive. Why would she lie about something like that? He wasn’t rich, and he had no prospects of getting rich anytime soon.

And then it hit him.

Russ snapped back from the AC vent. “You said something about using my photo for facial recognition software. Where is that picture?”

“In my purse.” She tipped her head toward it.

He couldn’t get to it fast enough. Russ rifled through the gold bag and came up with three photos. One was of the baby, which he’d already seen. The other was a young twenty-something brunette who resembled Julia. Cousin Lissa, no doubt. But it was the final picture that grabbed his attention and sucker-punched him.

Suddenly, all of this became crystal clear.

“Let me guess,” Russ said. Though he wondered how he could speak with his jaw suddenly so tight. “Lissa called her baby’s daddy ‘RJ’?”

She shrugged. “Yes. So?”

Russ started to groan, curse and hit his fist against the console, but he knew none of those things would undo what had apparently happened nine months ago.

“RJ, as in Russell James,” Julia interjected. “As in you.”

“As in Robert Jason Gentry.” Those words had been even harder to speak than the others, and despite all the anger and frustration, he couldn’t help but feel the pain, too. It’d been months, and it was still there. Fresh and raw.

Russ figured it always would be.

“Who’s Robert Jason?” Julia asked, suddenly looking as dumbfounded as Russ felt.

He reached in his pocket and took out his wallet so he could extract the only photo he carried. It wasn’t standard procedure to carry personal photos while in a deep cover situation, but Russ hadn’t had the heart to take it out. He did now, and passed it to Julia.

She studied it, but Russ already knew every little detail. It’d been taken nearly two years ago, on a rare fishing trip they’d managed to schedule.

It was the last time he’d seen RJ.

“You have a twin brother,” Julia mumbled.

“Identical twin.” Which explained the match in the DNA. Identical twins didn’t have the same fingerprints, but the standard DNA test couldn’t distinguish one from the other.

She shook her head. “But your brother didn’t come up during Sentron’s search.”

“He wouldn’t have. RJ is … was black ops for the CIA. It would have taken more than Sentron or a traffic camera to find anything on him. All of his real records were sealed years ago.”

Her gaze slashed to his. “Was?”

“Was,” Russ repeated. And he repeated it again to give himself time to clear the lump in his throat. “He was killed on assignment nine months ago, probably just days after he met your cousin. He’s the reason I was in San Antonio at that bank. I was the beneficiary of his estate, and I had some paperwork to sign.”

“He’s dead,” Julia mumbled. But she continued to volley glances between the photo and him. “And you really are who you said you are—Russell Gentry?”

“Russ,” he said, automatically making the correction. Russell had been his dad’s name, and he wasn’t comfortable calling himself that.

The answer had no sooner left his mouth when her cell rang, and in the dimly lit car, he saw Sentron Securities flash on her caller ID screen.

Russ merely motioned for her to answer it.

“Burke,” she said, placing the call on speaker. “You have something for me?”

“Julia, he’s telling you the truth. Russell Gentry is an FBI agent.”

She pulled in a hard breath. “Thank you, Burke.”

“I’m sorry about this, Julia. We dug as deep as we could go, and we didn’t find his FBI records.”

Russ cut off what sounded like just the beginning of an apologetic explanation. “Silas Duran will clear up loose ends with you,” Russ informed the security specialist, and he reached over, took her phone and clicked it off.

“I’m sorry—” Julia began.

But he cut her off, too. “Sorry won’t help. The only thing that will help is damage control, and that’s about to get started.”

Julia nodded and handed him back the picture.

“What can I do?”

“For now, you can go back to your hotel, take the baby and return to San Antonio. Did you fly or drive here?”

“I drove. Emily’s only two weeks old. She’s too young to fly.”

Well, in some ways that made it easier. No trip to and from the airport, but that meant she had to go about a hundred and fifty miles to get home safely.

“You have some kind of security system, I assume?” he asked.

Another nod, but her eyes widened with alarm. “You think Emily could be in danger? “

She shoved the car in gear and darted out of the parking lot. The tires squealed and kicked up bits of rock that spattered against the car. She didn’t stop there. She grabbed her cell and made another call.

“I need to speak to the nanny. Don’t worry. I won’t mention you,” she explained. “Zoey,” she said, when the nanny answered. “I need you to make sure the door is locked. Don’t let anyone in until I get there.”

Julia ended the call, but she continued to mumble to herself.

Russ actually welcomed this high level of concern. It might get her to cooperate. “The baby’s probably not in danger … probably,” he emphasized. “But I don’t want to take any chances.” He carefully placed the photo back in his wallet and put it in his pocket. “After all, she’s my niece.”

Russ mentally repeated that. He was an uncle.

Later, he’d come to terms with that and the fact that RJ had fathered a child he’d never seen, never even known about. But that had to wait.

“I have a security system,” Julia explained. “Supposedly, it’s the best money can buy. And I can hire bodyguards. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep Emily safe.”

Russ nodded. “I’ll arrange to have an agent or a cop follow you home. And once I’ve wrapped up things down here, I’ll contact you.”

She had a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel. “Milo can’t hurt her.”

She was taking his warning very seriously, but there was no reason for Milo to go after Emily.

Because she looked ready to lose it, Russ reached over and skimmed his hand down her arm. Why, he didn’t know. After everything she’d just learned about him, his touch probably wasn’t very comforting.

“How badly did I mess up your investigation?” Julia asked. She stopped when the light turned red and drummed her fingers impatiently until it turned green. She gunned the engine.

“I can salvage it,” he assured her.

But Russ wasn’t certain of that at all. Still, he had no choice but to try.

Julia pulled to a quick stop in the parking lot of the Wainwright Hotel. Even though it had three floors, it was a fairly small building and only had about two dozen rooms. He’d already guessed that that was where she’d be staying, since it was the nicest hotel in a town that was seriously lacking nice things. The outskirts of the town were okay—more family oriented; and more likely than not, if you were in downtown San Saba, you were looking for trouble.

“Let me call my partner, Silas Duran,” he told her. “He can make the arrangements for a security escort, and I can wait with you until everything is in place, so you can leave.”

“You trust this Silas?” she asked.

Russ nearly gave her an automatic yes—but stopped. He settled for a nod.

Silas was a fellow agent and probably well trained. But Russ didn’t like that Silas had only been on this case for a couple of days. He also didn’t like that Silas might have pulled strings to get the assignment. That’s the way it seemed to Russ, anyway. But that was a problem for him to mull over when he had more time.

She opened her door and looked at him. She nibbled lightly on her bottom lip, caught it between her teeth for several seconds. “I suppose you want to see Emily?”

He did. But the timing was all wrong.

Or was it?

Russ didn’t know how long it would take to get this investigation back on track, and he couldn’t leave San Saba until Milo put him in touch with the head honcho—the slimeball only identified as Z. Russ wanted to find Z and lock him away for a long, long time for what he’d done. If it took him weeks or longer to do that, it would be weeks before he first got to see his niece.

“Yeah,” Russ heard himself say. “I’d like to see her. I won’t stay long.”

He had to pay an uncle’s tribute to his dead brother’s child and give Julia a promise that he would be back as soon as he could.

Since Julia was obviously too anxious to stay put any longer, Russ took out his phone and called Silas while they made their way into the hotel. He also kept watch around them, and breathed a little easier, once they made it into the lobby.

“Russ,” Silas answered, “I was just about to call you.”

Oh, no. Even though he’d only been working with Silas a short time, he knew that tone, and this wasn’t good news.

“Where are you now?” Silas asked.

“With Julia Howell.” Ahead of him, Julia made it to the elevator and jabbed the up button. “She’s about to leave for her estate, but I need to request a security detail for her.”

“We have a problem. She can’t leave,” Silas said.

Russ hoped he’d misunderstood. “What do you mean?”

“I mean she can’t leave. If she does, this investigation is over, and you get to start it from scratch.”

Because he might lose signal in the elevator, Russ clamped onto Julia’s arm to stop her from stepping into it.

“I need to check on Emily,” she insisted.

Russ pulled her to the side so he could continue this conversation, a discussion that he was positive he wasn’t going to like.

“Explain,” Russ told Silas.

“Milo just called his contact to set up another meeting for tomorrow afternoon. We can choose the exact time and the location.”

Russ relaxed a little. Maybe the investigation hadn’t been ruined. Maybe he could rescue that baby after all. “Well, that’s good. The meeting’s critical.” And it was critical they control the location so they could set up security.

“No, it’s not good.” Silas said, cursing. A first. He had never heard Silas use even mild profanity before.

Russ listened to Silas’s news. Yep, it was bad all right. And a few moments later, he was doing his own cursing. “Can we change Milo’s mind?” Russ asked.

“No. Believe me, I tried, but he was adamant. We can take extra precautions. We can even bring in a few more agents. So the question is, do you think you can talk Julia Howell into cooperating?”

Russ looked over her at and saw the nerves right there at the surface. He could possibly convince her to do what Milo wanted. Possibly. But even if they controlled the security and the meeting place, it didn’t mean something wouldn’t go wrong. Julia could ultimately be in more danger than she already was. If that was possible.

Milo would dig to find out who she was, and then he’d wonder why an heiress worth fifty million would get involved with a lowlife like Jimmy Marquez. By doctoring her records, they could make it work.

Well, maybe … if they could convince Milo that Julia had a thing for slumming or bad boys.

“The stakes are too high to fail,” Silas reminded him.

Yeah. And that was the real bottom line.

One way or another, even if he had to resort to begging, even if he had to put her in more danger, Russ had to bring Julia deeper into this.

Because a baby’s life depended on it.

Chapter Four

The moment Russ ended his call, Julia got them into the elevator. Everything inside her was starting to spin. Her breathing was too fast. Her thoughts were going a mile a minute.

She tried to make herself slow down, so she could think this through, but the only thing that kept going through her mind was the importance of keeping Emily safe. Later, she’d berate herself for coming here to San Saba before she had thoroughly assessed the dangers. Julia had been in such a hurry to carry out Lissa’s dying wish that she hadn’t considered that some dying wishes just couldn’t be fulfilled.

This was obviously one of them.

She had to grab Emily and leave the minute Russ had a security escort in place.

When the elevator door finally opened, Julia rushed out. She fished her keycard from her purse and slid it into the lock as soon as she reached the door. Then she hesitated—looked back at Russ, who was right on her heels.

“What?” he asked. After a moment of studying her face, he cocked his eyebrow. “Trust me, I’m having second thoughts about being here with you, too. But unless you got a time machine in that purse, we can’t go back to the bar and undo what happened.”

True, but Julia still didn’t open the door. “Just how much are things messed up?”

“They’re messed up,” he answered. Now it was his turn to hesitate. “But I swear I’ll do everything humanly possible to keep Emily safe.”

Julia nodded. That was something at least. “You should know, I don’t handle danger well. Old wounds.” She added “Literally.” Out of breath, she knew she had to get control of herself.

He touched his fingers to his chest. “Does this mean you’re about to have a panic attack or something?”

“No,” she snapped.

That wasn’t exactly the truth. She might have one. It wouldn’t be the first.

“I’m not sure what it means. I just thought you should know that alley meetings and having guns pointed at me aren’t things I can handle.”

“You already have,” he reminded her.

“Things I can’t handle again,” she said. “Or after the fact. I usually don’t break during the heat of the moment, but afterward, all bets are off.”

Russ stared at her, and that stare reminded her of how close they were. Not as close as in the alley of course, but still close enough. He was a disturbingly attractive man, and the sooner she got him out of her life the better.

He huffed, cursed under his breath and reached out to touch her arm, as he had earlier. A sort of gentle rub, with just the tips of his fingers. It had worked then. A small miracle. But she was too close to the edge for it to work now. Still, she didn’t move away from him.

“When I was seventeen I was attacked.” Her words rushed out with her breath, and she felt her heart pounding. Her chest began to hurt. And she had no idea why she was telling him any of this. “A date went wrong. My parents had warned me that the guy was bad news. I didn’t listen. I thought I knew more than they did. And when the guy tried to rape me, and he couldn’t, uh, perform, he stabbed me three times and left me to die in the trunk of my car.”

The tears came, and she cursed, used the profanity to quell the building anger. She wasn’t that naïve girl anymore. It wasn’t worth crying or panicking over now. She’d been rescued twelve years ago, and was still alive.

“Shhh,” Russ said, his voice so calm. He put his arm around her and eased her closer. Not quite a hug, but almost. “Want to show me your scars, and I’ll show you mine? “

She went stiff and eased back a little so she could make eye contact. But he was busy lifting his chest-hugging black T-shirt. She got a good look at his toned and tanned chest, his tight abs and the scar just to the left of his heart.

“I know a little bit about being left for dead … and staying alive.” He lowered his T-shirt. “So do you. That’s good, Julia. Because I need you to be a survivor.”

She smeared the tears off her face and narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”

He opened his mouth as if he were about to answer, but then he shook his head. “Let me meet my niece first, and then we’ll talk.”

She just continued to stare at him so, he reached around her and opened the door. Or rather, he tried to do that. The nanny had obviously put on the safety latch and chain.

“It’s me,” Julia called to Zoey.

“Julia, thank God you’re here. You scared me with that phone call.” Zoey opened the door, but she stopped when she spotted Russ. Probably because Russ looked … well, dangerous.

And was.

“Everything’s okay,” Julia said, trying to assure the woman. “I might have overreacted.” She hoped she had, anyway. Julia motioned toward Russ and shut the door. “This is Russ Gentry, Emily’s uncle.”

Zoey’s dark brown eyes widened, and she looked him over from head to toe. “What happened to the birth father?”

“My brother was killed,” Russ replied, as he double-locked the door.

“Oh.” The young woman probably didn’t realize that her mouth had dropped open. She stayed that way for several moments. “Well, I’m sorry. And I’m sorry for Emily. She’s barely two weeks old and already an orphan.”

Yes. She was. The poor thing. Julia would soon have to figure out what to do about that orphan status. She’d need to contact her attorney and see what the process was to become Emily’s permanent legal guardian.

Julia thought of her old baggage. The old wounds. They were the reason she’d given up the idea of having children of her own. She hadn’t wanted to bring a child into her world of panic attacks, nightmares and fear. A “recluse,” the press called her. Well, while that might be good enough for her, she couldn’t raise a child in a vacuum.

The idea caused her to take a deep breath.

“Emily’s still asleep,” Zoey explained, stepping to the side. “She hasn’t woken up since you gave her the bottle before you went out to talk with Mr. Gentry.”

That wasn’t a surprise. Emily slept a lot, and when she wasn’t sleeping she was eating, fussing and requiring a diaper change. Still, with all that work involved, Julia hadn’t expected to find the baby to be so enthralling. She had tried not to let herself get attached, but there was nothing to hold her back now.

“This way,” Julia told Russ, and she led him through the small living area, in the direction of one of the bedrooms in their three-room suite. Julia had had the crib moved into her own room so she could stay up nights with Emily. Zoey was using the other.

The door was already open, and the lamp was on, so she had no trouble gazing fondly at Emily in the crib. Julia automatically smiled—and she was glad for that reason to smile. With the incident in the alley, she needed something to bring her back to normal, and Emily had a unique way of doing that.

With Russ right next to her, she tiptoed closer and stared down at the baby. She was so precious, with her light brown curls and pink cheeks.

“Her eyes are brown,” Julia whispered to him. Like Russ’s eyes, and no doubt, his twin brother’s. Now that they were side-by-side, Julia could see the resemblance even more. Emily definitely had the Gentry DNA.

“Despite the circumstances of her birth, she’s very healthy.” Julia gave the pink blanket an adjustment that it didn’t really need. She just needed to touch the baby. “She weighed seven pounds, three ounces when she was born, but she’s already gained nearly a pound.”

When Russ didn’t say anything, she looked at him. But he didn’t seem to notice that she was even in the room. His attention was focused on Emily.

“She’s beautiful,” he whispered. He touched Emily’s hand lightly, and she closed her fingers over his thumb. He sucked in his breath. “She’s like a tiny angel.”

There was so much emotion in his voice, Julia had to do a double take to make sure Russ Gentry had spoken those words.

He had.

This was the man who had stared down gunmen in the alley?

He was turning into a marshmallow right before her eyes.

“Oh, man,” he mumbled. The smile started in the corner of his mouth and spread until it was a full grin. “I didn’t expect this.”

Julia didn’t need clarification. She’d had the same reaction when she first saw the child.

“The love,” he said. “It’s instant. I mean, it’s like my blood knows that she’s my niece.”

She understood that, too, but she suddenly became very uncomfortable.

She thought Russ would do a quick peek and head back to the sitting room so they could have that talk he’d mentioned. But this was no quick peek.

He drew back his hand so he could scrub it over his face. He groaned softly. “Okay. I can deal with this. I can make it work.”

“Make what work?” Julia asked.

He tipped his head to Emily. “I was due to move to a supervisor’s job in the next year anyway, but this will just speed things up. I’ll get out of undercover work when I’m done with this case.”

“What do you mean?” Julia said that a little louder than expected.

He shrugged, as if the answer was obvious. “A desk job in the San Antonio office will give me regular work hours. And it’ll be safer. I can have a more normal life. And I can finally get a haircut,” he added, shoving the strands of hair away from his face.

Julia put all those things together. Oh, no! He couldn’t mean that. “Are you saying you want to raise Emily?”

He gave another shrug. “Of course. She’s RJ’s daughter. My niece. I’m her next of kin. Who else would be raising her?”

“Me,” Julia blurted out.

That erased any trace of Russ’s goofy smile. “You’re her cousin. I’m her uncle, and her father was my identical twin brother. That’s a closer bloodline than you have with her. Besides, if Lissa had wanted you to raise her, she would have said so.”

It felt as if someone were squeezing a fist around Julia’s heart.

“Lissa said that because she thought Emily’s father was alive. And because she probably thought I didn’t want children. She was wrong. Besides, need I remind you that you’re in the middle of a dangerous investigation?”

“An investigation that’ll end soon.” He stared at her. “You want to raise her yourself?”

Julia managed an indignant nod. “Well, I am the natural choice.”

That was far from the truth, but Julia wasn’t speaking with her head. This was a heart thing.

“Why? Because you’re a woman? Because you’re rich?” he asked, challenging her. “I can feed her a bottle and buy her clothes just as well as you can.”

Since this was obviously about to turn into a nasty argument, Julia gave Emily’s blanket another adjustment and caught onto Russ’s arm so she could lead him out of the room.

Zoey was there, apparently waiting for an update, but it would have to wait. “Could you excuse us?” Julia asked her, then waited until Zoey was in her room before she continued.

“What makes you think you’d be a good father?” Julia demanded.

“Maybe the same thing that makes you think you’d be a good mother,” he countered. “I love Emily. It doesn’t matter that I just saw her for the first time, I love her.”

“And I don’t suppose it matters that the dangerous elements of your job could follow you from undercover work to a desk?”

“The FBI makes it a priority to protect the families of their agents.”

She was about to launch into the next wave of the argument, but he lifted his hand in a stop-right-there gesture. “Look, this isn’t a good time to go at each other about custody. We can work that out later.”

“Can we?” she snapped.

“We can,” he calmly assured her. Russ glanced around the room, and his attention landed on the minibar. Next to it was the small microwave she’d had brought in so she could heat up Emily’s formula.

“Do you have any hard liquor?” Russ asked.

Julia was still in a fit of temper, and that trivial-sounding question didn’t help. “Help yourself.”

“It’s not for me. It’s for you.” He went to the bar, selected a bottle of bourbon and poured some into a glass. He brought it back to her and motioned for her to sit on the sofa.

Because Julia’s legs were still wobbly, she did. She also took the drink and had a sip, despite the fact that she hated bourbon. As expected, it watered her eyes.

Russ eased down on the sofa next to her. Not on the other side. But practically hip-to-hip with her. So close that she could see the trouble brewing in his eyes.

“This drink is to help pave the way for what you need to tell me,” she said.

He nodded and combed his gaze over her. “I’m physically attracted to you. That’ll be a problem—”

“What?” The remark was such a surprise that it took her a moment to continue. “This is what you needed to tell me?”

“No. It’s just FYI. I keep thinking about your lace panties. I keep thinking about kissing you. That’ll be a problem because I’m a guy, and in my mind, that attraction will get all screwed up, and I’ll have this overwhelming need to protect you. I can’t have that now, because there’s someone else I have to think about.”

Julia had another sip of the bourbon and was disgusted that she needed it. “Am I supposed to understand that?”

“Yeah. Because I’m pretty sure you’re attracted to me, too.”

She tried to deny it. Tried hard. But the lie wouldn’t make it past her throat. “I won’t get involved with you.” No lie there. It was the truth. Julia didn’t get involved with anyone—ever.

“Good.” He didn’t seem insulted. More like relieved. “Because I need to ask you to do something, and I don’t want sex, lace panties or attraction to have any part in your answer.”

She stared at him. “You’re not making sense.”

“I will, soon.” He took the drink from her and finished it. “Milo, the gunman from the alley, contacted my partner to set up another meeting.”

“Good.” She nodded. “You said the meeting was important.”

“It’s more than important. And Milo won’t go through with it unless I bring you with me.”

Julia felt her heart skip a very big beat. “W-what?”

“Normally, I wouldn’t have even considered it, but the stakes are astronomical. Besides, if I don’t bring you, Milo will be even more suspicious. He might panic and do something stupid. Something that could set things back worse than they already are.”

Oh, God. Julia wished she’d finished that drink after all. Her heart started racing. She could feel the adrenaline flash through her. The anxiety hit her like a ton of bricks. She was racing toward a full-blown panic attack.

“Just take a deep breath,” Russ said, as if knew exactly what she was experiencing. He caught onto her chin. “Don’t make me put my hand up your dress again.”

“What?” She pushed him away from her.

“That’s right. Get mad. Slap me if it’ll help. Hell, kiss me. Do whatever you need to do to stop that response. It’s old garbage, and you’re stronger than you think, Julia. I watched you in that alley, and if I thought for one minute that you couldn’t handle this, I wouldn’t be asking.”

She blinked. No one had ever accused her of being strong. And much to her surprise, it worked. She felt her heart rate ease back to normal.

“That’s good,” Russ mumbled. “And for the record, I’ve never threatened to put my hand up a woman’s dress before. Well, not unless it involved mutual foreplay.”

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