Assumed Identity (14 page)

Didn’t matter if he’d been played or not. And he might well regret it. But he wasn’t going anywhere now. There were too many strange things happening around this tiny family. He intended to keep them both safe. Or die trying.

At last Jake found the strength to pull his hands from her mussed hair and back some distance between them. “Pack your things. I’ll call Robbie and tell him I won’t be back tonight. I’ll need to make a stop by my place. Then I’m taking you home.”

Chapter Eight

“I love what you’ve done with the place.”

Robin set Emma’s carrier on the small, laminate-topped counter that passed for a kitchen in Jake’s tiny apartment. Other than the weightlifting equipment in one corner, Jake’s apartment looked as old and out of date as the dingy limestone facade outside.

“All the comforts of home,” his tone mocked, “if
comfortable
isn’t the thing you’re going for.” He tossed his key on a tiny table with one chair and walked to the dresser beside the lone closet.

Nice to see he had a sense of humor hidden beneath that stony exterior. Other than a few terse commands about where to turn and park, their short trip from the floral shop had passed in silence, giving her plenty of time to second-guess the wisdom of forming this alliance with Jake Lonergan. It was sad, if not surprising, to see that he lived in such a Spartan abode. There was not one painting to give it color, no photograph to give any hint of what was important to Jake, no knickknack of any kind to give her any clue about her mysterious rescuer. There was certainly no sign of a family or that he ever entertained visitors, given the single chair and the sofa she suspected was there to serve as his bed rather than seating for guests. No wonder he lacked the social skills of other men she knew—he never got any practice socializing.

Is that what was he getting out of his agreement to help her and Emma? The chance to be a little less alone? He certainly didn’t need her money, judging by the large roll of cash he pulled from the dresser. “You don’t believe in banks?” she asked.

“I believe in being prepared.” He stuffed the wad into the front pocket of his jeans.

“What are you preparing for?” she asked. “What do you think is going to happen?”

He’d charged to her rescue more than once, yet hid in the fringes of her life, avoiding contact with the police and almost anyone else. Beyond the striking silver-white hair and scars that she suspected made most people stare in morbid fascination or turn away in fear, he cursed and made cryptic comments. He shied away from holding a harmless baby, yet had no qualms about putting a stranglehold on an attacker. Maybe a few lessons in standard, polite behavior could be her gift to him—teaching him how to make friends, her way of thanking him. She might as well start with lesson number one. “It wouldn’t kill you to answer a question when someone asks it.”

“I don’t know what’s coming next, so I don’t know what to say.”

“‘I don’t know’ is an answer,” she pointed out. “It doesn’t hurt you to just say so. And I won’t feel like you’re avoiding me again.”

His eyes seemed particularly icy when they glanced at her. But he opened the closet door and shifted his attention there.

Robin tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and frowned at his broad back. Maybe friendship wasn’t what he was hoping for, after all. While there’d been little familiarity with the process in that first kiss tonight, she’d been more sure of Jake’s desire for her in those few moments he’d trapped her between the wall and his kiss than she’d been with Brian or any other man she’d been in a long-term relationship with. Besides, the man was a fast learner when he put his mind to it. She could count on one hand the number of times the memory of a kiss had stayed with her, and that greedy, grabby passion-fest tonight topped the list. Jake’s overt masculinity triggered something ultra-feminine, vaguely nurturing and maybe just a little bit reckless inside her. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to soften some of those rough edges and tutor him in the finer points of building a relationship, or if she wanted to throw caution to the wind and hold on for wherever the ride with Jake would take her.

Still, she knew next to nothing about the man. She sensed a horrible conflict inside him, and more secrets than most men had the strength to carry. He was armed and dangerous. Correction, he was dangerous even without being armed.

She shouldn’t want him like she did. The overachiever in her shouldn’t be toying with the idea of taming him, helping him deal with the demons that scarred his face and haunted his ice-blue eyes. She was certain to get burned, likely to fail. She shouldn’t trust him. And yet, she’d placed her and Emma’s lives in his hands. Whatever he wanted in return, whatever he needed, she vowed to give it willingly.

A week ago, Robin wouldn’t have ventured into this neighborhood, just a few blocks from her shop, beyond the renovation of blighted downtown properties that Brian Elliott and other entrepreneurs were reclaiming. She certainly wouldn’t have come here at night, with Emma in tow. Yet, with Jake walking by her side, she’d felt safe parking out front and carrying Emma into the old apartment building. These feelings about Jake were as irrational as they were deep. Maybe she should indulge the more practical side of her nature and get some answers to back up what her heart and soul were far too ready to believe—that he was a good man with a good heart, and that he would never knowingly hurt her or Emma.

“How long have you lived here?” she asked, trailing her finger across the counter and discovering that what the apartment lacked in personality, it made up for in cleanliness. That was a good sign, right? Or maybe it was a vigilant effort to hide something she should be seeing.

“Since I got the job at the Shamrock Bar.” Jake pulled out a ratty leather satchel and stuffed a clean change of clothing inside. “I wanted a place within walking distance of work.”

“You don’t have a car?”

The bag clunked when he set it on the table, and Robin startled back a step. Whatever was inside was a lot heavier than some spare underwear. “Don’t need one if I’m not going anyplace.”

Surely, with all that cash she’d seen him stuff into the front pocket of his jeans, he could afford some kind of transportation. She tried not to dwell on what Detective Montgomery had said about how not being in the DMV database made Jake particularly hard to track. It had been a relief to learn he had no arrest record. But she still had no explanation for why he made such a concerted effort to hide from the world.

Curiosity had her peeking into the singed leather bag while he pulled a black hoodie from the closet. “What’s in here? All your worldly possessions?”

“Robin, don’t—”

Too late. “Oh, my God. What is all this?”

“I asked you not to look,” he snapped.

Before Jake could zip the bag shut, she saw the cache of weaponry and reached inside. Curiosity instantly changed to fear. Or maybe that was anger.

“Don’t yell at me,” she chided. She picked up something that looked like a small hand grenade. “Why do you have these things?” She glanced over her shoulder to make sure Emma was still asleep in her carrier—as if shielding her daughter from the sight could shield her from the danger. “You can’t have this arsenal around my daughter.”

He plucked the grenade from her hand. “You already know I carry a knife and a gun.”

“But all this? Are you expecting World War Three?” She’d seen boxes of bullets, a variety of knives and something that looked like pieces of a broken rifle. “This is crazy. I mean, is this even legal? Where did you get them? Do you know how to use them all?” Even as she said the words, she was waving the question aside and turning toward Emma. Of course he knew how to use them. That’s why he didn’t want to police to know who he was. That’s why he hid from society. And she’d brought her baby here? “What kind of man are you?”

Jake opened the bag to replace the grenade thingee and stuffed the sweatshirt in beside it. “You’re just now getting curious about who I am? After you sought me out and invited me into your life?”

“No, I’ve been curious all along, but I was respecting your privacy. It seemed so important to you.” Robin picked up the carrier and headed to door. She was feeling anger, all right. Anger at herself for trusting her life to this enigma of a man for even one moment. It was disconcerting, too, to feel this sense of hurt. That could only mean she felt something for Jake, and caring for such a dangerous, difficult man made her a bigger fool yet. “This was a mistake.”

“I thought you wanted a big, bad S.O.B.”

She stopped with her hand on the knob and turned. He’d braced his hands on the tabletop, framing that bag of weapons with his shoulders, drilling her with those icy eyes and looking all kinds of intimidating. All Robin saw was the effort to shut her out. “I thought things had changed between us tonight. To find out you’ve been watching over us all along? That’s...sweet.”

“Sweet?” He sneered as if the word was a foreign concept to him.

“You must care on some level. And that kiss? That was more than— I don’t let just anyone—” She tried to think of the right word to fit the tension simmering between them, and how this mysterious man had already gotten around her emotional defenses. But the words weren’t there. The answers she needed weren’t, either. “I think I have a right to know more about you. But every time I ask a question, you give me some cryptic response or nothing at all. I want to trust you, Jake. I thought I did. But the more I’m with you, the more I feel like an idiot for asking you to be our bodyguard.”

Robin pulled open the door, but in two long strides, Jake was there to reach over her shoulder and shut it again.

“I’m sorry.”

Robin held her breath, trying to ignore the way her skin leaped at the heat of his body standing so close to hers. She was as surprised by his apology as she’d been by his sudden movement across the room.

“I’m not used to people expecting something from me.” He pulled his hand away from the door, reducing that feeling of being trapped. “You’re not an idiot. You’re a desperate woman, and I’m the kind of man who can cope with
desperate
. And you know it. If my word’s worth anything, I promise you and Emma will be safe with me.” His big fingers hovered in her peripheral vision, hesitating for a moment before touching her hair. It was almost a shy movement, infinitely gentle as he tucked the short brown waves behind her ear. “I need you to be safe. I’ve already got enough guilt on my conscience....” At his expectant pause, Robin tipped her chin to look up into those beautiful, striking blue eyes. “How do I get you to trust me?”

Her heart went out to his plea. Okay. She was willing to try this again. She reached up and cupped her hand against his clenched jaw. “Give me a straight answer?”

She could see he had to think about it. “May I?” With her nod of permission, he lifted the baby carrier from her arm and set it back on the counter. He gazed down at the sleeping infant, and for one endless moment, his hand floated over Emma, as if he wanted to touch her, too, but was afraid to. Instead, he curled his fingers into a fist and turned back to Robin. “What do you want to know?”

Robin hugged her arms around her waist, stopping herself from going to him and showing him that Emma wouldn’t break beneath a caress as gentle as the way he’d stroked her own hair. “What’s your aversion to common civility and human kindness?”

Jake shook his head. “I can protect you, Robin. The kid, too. But this is how I work. I’m not a nice guy.”

“If you weren’t a nice guy, you wouldn’t be so good with my baby.”

He shrugged off the compliment and held out his hand. “Give me your keys. Tomorrow morning we’ll need to switch your rental to a truck or SUV that I don’t have to crawl out of, and that has a thicker chassis to offer us better protection.”

She didn’t try to mask her frustrated sigh. “You’re doing it again. You didn’t answer my question. What kind of mother trusts her family to a man who’s armed to the teeth and won’t answer a simple question?”

“What you’re asking isn’t simple.”

“Then I’ll give you another chance.” Robin crossed to him, demanding the truth, any truth, that seemed so hard for him to give. “Why should I give you the keys to my car? Detective Montgomery said you don’t have a driver’s license.”

“Just because I don’t own a car doesn’t mean I don’t know how to drive.” Robin didn’t budge an inch at the flippant reply. After a brief stare-down, Jake muttered a curse and circled around the table to unzip his bag and pull out a small plastic card from one of the inside pockets. “Here.”

She took the card he handed across the table. A driver’s license. State of Missouri. Current. So why had it been so hard for him to give a straight answer? And then she read the tiny print more carefully. “This says Ken Edscorn.” She looked up at the inscrutable mask on his face. “Did you used to live in St. Louis? Did you change your name?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” He pulled another license from the bag and handed it to her. Now she was even more confused. “Otto Lundgren?”

He reached for the licenses, but Robin turned her back on him to study the cards more carefully. “This is you.” The same face as the man behind her, with longer, darker hair and no scar at the temple, stared back at her. “These are both you. I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I.”

She spun around. “What kind of answer...?” Jake held up a placating hand and she bit her tongue, giving him a chance to explain.

“There are six different IDs in this bag. Jake isn’t even one of them. It’s a name I picked because I thought it went with Lonergan.” He paused, pressed his mouth into a grim line, then exhaled a quick breath. “And it’s easy to remember.”

“Easy to remember?”

“I, um...” he touched the scar in his scalp “...have gaps in my memory.”

She pulled her gaze from the ridge of scar tissue that bespoke some injury to his brain. “Gaps?”

“One big gap. I’m missing a whole lifetime.” He nodded toward the cards in her hand. “I don’t know if I’m Ken, Otto or someone else.” He dropped his hand on top of the black leather bag. “But I know how to use these things. Better than any man should. I know how to keep someone safe.”

“You have amnesia?”

“I was shot in the head. Two years ago I woke up in a Texas hospital in some no-name border town with this bag and no memory of the man I used to be.”

“Oh, Jake. How awful.” She hurried back to the table and lay her hand over his. When he turned his hand to capture hers, she squeezed him just as tightly. She stroked her thumb across his knuckles, offering him what comfort she could. “Why are you hiding away from the world? Why aren’t you out beating the bushes, trying locate your family or friends? Somebody has to be missing you.”