Assumed Identity (4 page)

Another flash of lightning gave Jake a better view of the car. Both of the driver’s side doors were standing open and the high-pitched sobs were coming from the backseat. Robin was steady enough to break into a limping run. “Oh, my God. Emma!”

Jake let her rush ahead, sparing a few moments to make sure the lot and street and sidewalks were empty before he caught up to her. When he looked over her shoulder, he didn’t like what he saw. The car seat was sitting at a wonky angle in the car and the seat belt anchoring it into place had been cut, sawed through with something sharp. Like that amateur’s knife. A piece of pink material lay in a puddle on the ground outside the door. What the hell?

If the kid hadn’t been bawling her lungs out, Jake would have suspected the baby might be missing or had met an uglier fate than her mother. “Hold on.” He grabbed Robin’s arm before she could pick up the kid. “See if you can get her out without messing with things. This seat has been tampered with. The cops will want to see it.”

“The cops... Right. I need to call 911.” Through a miraculous bit of dexterity that Jake doubted his thick fingers could emulate, Robin unhooked the baby from the car seat and lifted her into her arms. “Shh, sweetie. Oh, you’re all wet. Shh. You’re okay now. Mommy didn’t mean to leave you. I’m back. I’m here.”

“The kid’s not hurt, is she?”

“I don’t think so. She’s just unhappy.” Robin tugged the soggy blanket up over the baby’s head and rocked her on her shoulder, despite the pain that tightened her face. But the kid kept wailing. Did little kids that age know to be afraid? Had she been startled by the half-assed attempt to remove the car seat? Did she just not like the rain? “I wonder how long she was by herself. How long was I out? What kind of mother am I?”

The right kind, he was guessing. She’d tuned in to the baby’s wailing before he had. “It’s only been a few minutes since I showed up.”

The blanket slipped off the infant’s head, revealing wisps of brown hair and blue eyes, just like her mama’s. Tears spilled over her chubby pink cheeks. Great. He’d been lusting after some baby’s mother. Jake glanced at the hand rubbing the baby’s back. No wedding ring. Didn’t mean there wasn’t a man in the picture.

Hell. What was he doing, thinking he was attracted to Robin Carter, anyway? Jake rolled the baseball bat in his grip down at his side. He didn’t need the complication of a woman in his messed-up life. And he sure as hell didn’t need a baby. Still, he had to admire the lungs on the kid. Seemed about as headstrong as her mother. “Is she okay? Can she hurt herself crying like that?”

“No. Eventually, she’ll cry herself back to sleep. But it breaks your heart to listen to it, doesn’t it?” Robin started pacing back and forth, trying to quiet the baby without success. From what little he knew about kids, mostly from the son of a former coworker who sometimes came to the bar to visit her uncle—the bar’s owner—Jake thought they picked up on the mood of the people around them. And right now, Mama here was in desperate panic mode. “Mommy was so scared, sweetie. Are you all right? The man didn’t hurt you, did he? I’m not leaving you again. It’s going to be okay. Mommy loves you.” If anything, the kid wailed louder. “I can’t seem to...” When Robin turned her pleading eyes to him, Jake realized just how tiny that baby was. Only a few months old. It didn’t even look big enough to crawl yet. “Will you stay with us until the police come, Mr. Lonergan?”

Not one damsel in distress, but two. He was toast. “Yeah. I’ll stay.”

“Thank you.” She extended her hand, expecting the civility of formal gratitude. Instead of shaking hands, though, she grabbed his wrist and bent his arm across his stomach. And then she was pushing the baby into his chest. “Do you mind? Make sure you support her neck.”

“Mind what...? Oh, whoa. Hey...”

“Keep her face covered. I don’t want her to get any wetter than she already is.”

With careful, slow-motion control, she shrugged out of her backpack while Jake stood there in shock, afraid to move. And his nightmares were the only thing that ever scared him. “Lady, I don’t think you want to—”

“Here’s a dry blanket. Relatively dry, anyway.” Robin draped the square of cotton flannel, dotted with pink animals, over his arm and the infant, tucking the ends securely around her. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her daughter’s pink cheek before draping the last corner over the baby’s face. “Got her?”

Did he have a choice?

“I need to call the police.” Robin pulled her cell phone out of the same bag and hooked the flowered backpack over her uninjured arm. “Do you think it’s okay if we go back inside the shop? I want to get her out of the rain.”

She wanted him to move with the baby? The little thing stretched out, nestled her butt in his palm and turned her face into his chest as if she was settling in for the night. Hell, the thing was so tiny, he barely felt the weight of her lying across his arm. What if he stumbled? Or squeezed his big hand too hard? He was armed and dangerous, for Pete’s sake. “Lady—”

“Robin.” She’d already punched in the number and lifted the phone to her ear. “Call me Robin. And this is Emma.” She touched the infant again and nodded toward the green-and-white awning with the Robin’s Nest Floral Shop logo painted on it. “I must have wrenched my shoulder. I’d feel better if you carried her. Come on.”

Okay. Fine. If Robin was hurt, he could carry the baby. Carefully watching the infant in his left arm, Jake tucked the bat beneath his right elbow and nudged Robin into step ahead of him. “Let’s get you both inside.”

In just a couple of minutes, all the lights were blazing inside Robin’s shop and office, and Jake was more uncomfortable than before, if possible. He’d set the bat behind her office door and was pacing back and forth, from door to barred alley window, waiting for Robin to finish her conversation with the KCPD dispatcher and rescue the baby from him. Emma Carter was just so small and fragile, and he was so big and rough around the edges. He didn’t think it was a far-fetched possibility that he might accidentally snap the soft little thing in two.

Subduing a creep beating up a woman in a back alley, he could handle. But holding a tiny baby? Making civil conversation? Worrying about the stiff way Robin Carter was carrying herself? Trying not to peek while she tucked in her torn blouse and refastened her belt and jeans? Not his best thing.

Making the decision to trust him had sprung from the necessity of the situation. But the unfamiliar expectations that trust engendered made him a little nervous. As soon as she was done making her report, Jake intended to have her lock the door behind him and leave.

“Hey. You’ve got the touch.” Robin ended the call and came over to stroke Emma’s cheek. “I guess she’s decided she’s not afraid of you, either.”

It wasn’t until that moment that Jake realized the kid had stopped crying. He held his breath, afraid to move in case he’d done something wrong. “Is she okay?”

“She’s asleep. Haven’t you been around a baby before?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

Her gaze flashed up to his and Jake looked away. Normally, he didn’t slip like that. But no way was he going to share the blank page of his life.

Apparently, Robin was okay with his lack of an explanation. Or just more concerned about her daughter. She touched the baby’s cheek again and the little thing buzzed a tiny sigh through her pink lips. “I tried everything to get her to sleep tonight. She must feel your warmth and strength. Emma feels safe when you hold her.”

This time, Robin bobbed her head, her gaze chasing his, insisting his eyes lock on to hers. Once they did, he couldn’t look away from their gray-blue beauty and what just might be a hint of longing there. Like she thought it might be a good idea if he held
her,
too.

The last thing Jake needed was a distraction like that. He’d already spent too much time with the Carter girls. The smell of baby powder and flowers filled his nose. The baby’s implicit trust in him was already short-circuiting the perimeter he liked to keep between him and other people. He didn’t need Robin Carter’s more womanly scent clinging to him, too, lingering on his skin and clothes when he got back to his apartment, reminding him of everything that was missing from his life.

A woman and a child were things normal men had. Men cursed as he was couldn’t afford the indulgence.

Best to clear all those warm fuzzies out of his head right now. He handed Emma back to Robin and purposely retreated beyond arm’s length. “She’s just exhausted because it’s so late.”

“When she’s too tired, she usually fusses all the more. I think she likes you.”

“I hope her taste in men improves as she gets older.”

“Don’t.” Robin’s eyes snapped back to his.

“Don’t what?” He could see her bottom lip quivering despite the reprimand in her eyes. She was rethinking her decision about seeking help from such a villainous-looking stranger.

But she pressed those expressive lips together and pushed aside whatever doubt she was feeling. “I don’t know who you are, Mr. Lonergan. But I know who you are tonight. And I won’t have you trash-talking the man who saved me and my daughter.”

Huh? She was lecturing him? Most people scared off a lot easier than this woman did. A harsh glance or gruff word usually nipped any overtures of friendship in the bud. She was a stubborn one. Or crazy.

He watched how gently Robin carried the sleeping infant to the white bassinet in the corner and unsnapped the fuzzy yellow sleeper she was wearing. She undressed the baby, diapered her, put on a clean sleeping outfit and cap without the kid making another peep. “I don’t see any marks on her. She may just have been in the way of whatever that man wanted.”

“Thugs with knives and baseball bats don’t steal car seats.”

“He had a knife, too?” She gave him a sharp glance, then winced at the sudden movement.

“He pulled it on me. Used it to slice through that seat belt, too, I’m guessing. You’re lucky he didn’t cut you.”

The color in her cheeks was fading again. “So why hurt Emma if he wanted to rape me?”

“I’m guessing he just wanted her out of the way. She’d be dead if that was what he wanted.”

Robin’s weary sigh made him regret the harsh honesty. She covered Emma with the flannel blanket before looking at him. “You’re not much for giving a girl hope, are you?”

Nah. He wasn’t much of one for hope of any kind.

Better stick to the tough words and keeping his distance to remind himself that spending these few minutes with Robin and Emma Carter was a one-time thing. He could save her from being raped or worse. But he couldn’t do the whole you’re-my-hero domestic bliss thing. “So what were you two doing out so late in this part of town?”

Robin opened a cabinet behind her desk and pulled out a thin baby towel that she tossed across the room to him. Apparently, he’d finally made his desire to keep some distance between them clear. He dried his face and arms while she pulled out a second towel to dab at her own pale skin. “I own this shop. Emma usually doesn’t fall asleep for the night until around eleven or twelve. I thought I’d take advantage of her schedule and catch up on some work.”

“Well, don’t do it again.”

“No. I won’t.” She towel-dried her hair, scrunching it into sable-colored waves that framed her face. “I shouldn’t have let work take over like that. I was worried something was wrong and I wanted to fix...” She stopped that excuse on a purposeful sigh. “I know better. With the Rose Red Rapist still around... Do you think that was him?”

Jake shrugged. Even amongst criminals there was a hierarchy of what was acceptable and what was not. A lowlife who preyed on a woman with a small baby in tow was pretty low on the list—at least in Jake’s book.

Maybe she hadn’t gotten the distance message, after all. She circled the desk and plucked the damp towel from his hands. “Did you get a look at his face? All I saw was the mask...and the baseball bat. When he dragged me behind the van, I thought...” She hugged the wadded-up towels to her chest and that full bottom lip quivered again. Jake’s human impulse was to reach out and offer some kind of comfort. But his survival instincts curled his fingers into a fist down at his side, instead. “All I could think of was that I had to stay alive for Emma’s sake.”

“Yeah.” He wasn’t real comfortable making small talk and keeping her company until the police arrived on the scene—even though he knew several of the officers and detectives in this precinct because they frequented the Shamrock Bar where he worked most nights. He was even less comfortable with the unfamiliar desire to pull those slender shoulders against his chest and shield her from the fear that lingered in her eyes.

No connections. No commitments. No caring.

Those were the three Cs he’d lived by for the past two years. They were the only way he could guarantee that the nightmares from his forgotten life couldn’t come back and destroy anyone else before he had the chance to remember the truth—good or bad—and to deal with it.

“Mr. Lonergan?” He realized she was still waiting for him to answer her question. “Did you see him?”

“I didn’t see his face.” She carried the towels to a hamper beside the bassinet and dropped them inside. “But he was short for a man—not much taller than you. And he could run like the devil.”

“Would you have tried to capture him if you weren’t worried about me?”

Jake considered the honest answer. True, he couldn’t have run the guy down. But he could have pulled the gun from his ankle holster and shot him—probably hit his mark, too. Even in the dark. In the rain. Although he hadn’t shot a man in the two years he
could
remember, Jake had the strongest feeling that he was able to make a shot like that. How else could a man handle a knife the way he could, and know so much about weaponry and choke holds and throwing a punch?

But there was honest, and then there was too much honesty. He suspected that informing Robin Carter he carried both a gun and a hunting knife, and that he possessed the skills to use them better than most, wouldn’t give her the reassurance she was looking for right now. He shook his head. “One good deed for the night’s all I got in me.”