Savior in the Saddle (6 page)

“Shore’s on foot,” Brandon reminded her. “He won’t be able to come after us for long.”

Willa held her breath, waiting and trying to brace herself for more bullets. But the shots didn’t continue.

Brandon lifted his head and looked out the window. “He’s gone,” he let her know.

Willa still didn’t move. She lay there and prayed the threat was truly over.

“Drive to the nearest police station,” Brandon told the driver, and he took out his phone.

While Brandon punched in some numbers, he helped her from the floor and moved her onto one of the seats. He dropped down onto the seat directly across from her.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Willa nodded, but she doubted he believed her. For one thing, she was still breathing so fast that she was close to hyperventilating, and she was trembling from head to toe. It might be part of Brandon’s job to be on the business end of gunfire, but until the hostage situation at the maternity hospital, Willa had never known what it was like to face real danger.

Well, now she knew.

And it couldn’t continue.

Somehow, she had to find a safe place for her and her baby. If there was such a thing as a safe place. This was the third attack in four months. Four attacks if she counted being taken hostage at the hospital. Part of her was furious that time after time someone or something had endangered her precious baby. She wanted answers. She wanted justice.

But another part of her only wanted to run and hide.

Willa looked back at the broken glass and damage the bullets had done to the seats. She also looked out at the sidewalk that was zipping by. No sign of Shore, thank God. Maybe they had finally lost him.

She listened while Brandon gave an update to whomever he had called. He also asked about Lieutenant Bo Duggan, and then about Martin Shore. Brandon’s forehead bunched up when he apparently got a response.

“We’re on our way,” Brandon said to the person on the other end of the line, and he snapped his phone shut.

“They got Martin Shore?” she immediately asked.

He shook his head. “But they’re looking. Backup arrived, and there are officers fanning out all over the area.”

The hopeful tone was tinged with doubt. And Willa knew why. From what Brandon had told her, Martin Shore was a professional killer, and he probably knew how to evade the police. He was no doubt on the run so he could regroup.

And come after her again.

“Bo Duggan was shot,” Brandon added, his voice practically a whisper. He closed his eyes a moment but not before she saw the flash of anger mixed with pain. “He’s on the way to the hospital.”

“I’m sorry.” Not that it would probably help, but Willa reached out and touched his arm.

That touch brought his eyes open, and he met her gaze. “So am I. Sorry for the lieutenant and sorry that I didn’t get to you sooner so I could stop this attack.”

Willa didn’t intend to take the blame for this, but it certainly wasn’t Brandon’s fault, either. The problem was she didn’t know where to place the blame.

“You were trying to talk me into leaving with you and Lieutenant Duggan,” she reminded him. She groaned softly. “And I was trying to figure out a way to escape.”

He glanced back at the street and shook his head. “I wish to hell you had gotten out there before Shore arrived.”

So had she. But here they were. Seconds after nearly being killed. Willa wondered if she would ever have peace of mind again, or if she would have to stay on the run for the rest of her life. It was possible that she could never give her precious baby a normal life.

“The police station’s just around the block,” the driver told them.

Willa had to take a deep breath. A police station filled with people she didn’t trust. But she couldn’t very well jump off the bus. Shore could still be out there. And besides, she didn’t even have a house to return to. Other than the meager items in the messenger bag, the only things she had were Brandon and her memory.

Both were somewhat suspect.

“Don’t trust the cops,” Brandon mumbled, repeating what he’d seen on her computer screen and notes.

“Yes. But as you can see, I had my reasons for that distrust.”

“And you still do?” he asked.

It wasn’t a simple question, and there seemed to be a Texas-size amount of emotion behind it.

“I think I can trust you,” she admitted. “Because I believe you truly are my baby’s father.”

Other than his word and the DNA results that could be fake, she had no other reason to believe him. But she did. Willa only hoped that didn’t turn out to be another mistake.

The driver took a left turn and she spotted the police station just ahead.

Brandon put his hands on her shoulders and forced eye contact. “Look, when we get inside, I have no idea where they’ll take us or what SAPD will tell you when they arrive.”

That seemed like some kind of warning and Willa stared at him. “What do you mean?”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Then, shook his head. He pulled her closer to him and put his mouth right against her ear.

“Shore was hired to kill you,” Brandon whispered. “That part is the truth. So is the part about another hospital hostage situation.” He paused. “But almost everything else that Bo and I told you is a lie.”

It took a moment for that to sink in, but when it did, it felt like a punch. She gasped, a sound of outrage, and she tried to pull back, but Brandon held her in place.

The driver hit his brakes and brought the bus to a stop directly in front of police headquarters. Officers poured out from the building and began to run toward them.

“What do you mean everything else was a lie?” Willa demanded.

Brandon looked her straight in the eyes. “I’m not your ex-boyfriend, Willa. Before today, I’d never laid eyes or anything else on you.”

BRANDON DIDN’T HAVE TIME to soothe that look in Willa’s eyes. It was a mixture of anger, confusion and hurt. He also didn’t have time to try to justify the lies he’d already told her.

Besides, there was no justification for that.

After SAPD had come to him and explained what was going on with a possible new hostage incident, Brandon had agreed to help them, but the plan had felt wrong from the very beginning.

And look where it’d gotten Willa.

She’d nearly been killed today, and they weren’t out of the woods yet. As long as Shore was alive, the threat would be there.

“What do you mean you lied to me?” Willa demanded.

Brandon heard her, barely. That’s because several officers ran onto the bus, and the sounds of their voices and footsteps drowned her out. One was plainclothes, in his late thirties with sandy-brown hair, and the other was younger and in a uniform. Both had their weapons drawn.

“I’m Sheriff Brandon Ruiz,” he said, showing his badge. He slipped his gun back into his holster. “Any word about Lieutenant Duggan?”

The older officer shook his head. “Nothing yet.”

Hell. Bo had to be all right. Brandon barely knew the man, but on the drive from San Antonio, Bo had talked all about his four-month-old twins. He’d also talked about his late wife, who’d died shortly after the maternity hostage incident. If something happened to Bo, those babies would be orphans.

Willa latched on to his arm when Brandon stood. “What do you mean you li—”

Brandon stopped that question by pressing his mouth to hers. The kiss was hard, rough and way out of line, but he didn’t want her to say anything in front of the other officers. He wasn’t sure how much SAPD wanted him to explain about Willa and what might end up being a second hostage situation.

“We’ll talk later,” Brandon whispered and hoped his tone was enough of a warning for Willa to stay quiet.

He wouldn’t blame her if she refused to cooperate, but he prayed that she would.

“Are you hurt?” the uniform asked them.

Brandon took the overnight bag from Willa and pulled her to her feet so he could check her out. She was riled to the core and confused, but she didn’t appear to be injured physically. That was something at least.

“Do you need to see a doctor?” Brandon asked, and he held his breath hoping that she wasn’t having contractions or anything.

“No,” she answered through clenched teeth. “I only need to talk to you.” Her gaze drifted to the police building, and she swallowed hard.

Don’t trust the cops
was probably racing through her head right now.

“SAPD is sending up some officers,” the older cop relayed to Brandon. “They’re already on their way. You can wait inside headquarters until they arrive. Plus, we’ll need to get your statements on the shooting and the explosion.”

“Ms. Marks will need a safe house right away,” Brandon informed them. “After what she’s been through, she needs to rest.”

“I can find a place on my own,” Willa insisted right back.

He didn’t argue with her, for now, but there was no way he could let her go off on her own. God knows how he would be able to convince her of that, though.

Brandon led her off the bus, and the officers hurried them to the far side of the building to the patrol entrance, probably because they were still concerned about Shore being at large.

“I’d like to go someplace private,” Willa told the officer the moment they were inside. “Because Sheriff Ruiz and I need to talk. It’s important, and it can’t wait.”

The officer volleyed glances between Brandon and her, and the man was no doubt wondering what this was all about. Brandon didn’t intend to fill him in, at least not until he’d spoken with the officers from SAPD. Even if those officers had indeed already left their headquarters, they probably wouldn’t arrive for at least another forty-five minutes.

“Follow me,” the officer finally said. He took them through the maze of squad rooms and stopped outside a break room that had chairs, a sofa and some vending machines. “I hope this’ll do,” the officer commented. “And while you’re talking I’ll see about an update on Lieutenant Duggan.”

Brandon thanked the man but didn’t say anything else until he was out of earshot. Too bad there was no door so he could give them an extra layer of privacy.

They were going to need it.

“Why did you lie?” Willa demanded.

Since this probably wouldn’t be a short or quiet conversation, Brandon placed her overnight bag on the floor and pulled her to the side of a vending machine. “Because SAPD convinced me that the fastest way to stop another hostage incident was to get you to trust me.”

Her eyes narrowed, but it didn’t seem to be simply from anger. “And it worked. Well, partly. I
was
starting to trust you.”

“You still can,” he promised.

She looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “You’re a liar.”

“About some things. It’s true, I’d never met you before today.” It was a risk because she might slap him, but Brandon placed his hand over her stomach. “But I really am your baby’s father.”

She blinked and then stared at him, examining his eyes. “You expect me to believe that?”

“It’s the truth.” And he blew out a long breath. It was actually a relief to tell her the truth. “Nearly ten years ago I was in the military and headed to a dangerous assignment in the Middle East. I was engaged at the time, and my then fiancée convinced me to store some semen in case I was injured. When I got back from the assignment, the engagement was over. And I knew I didn’t need what I’d stored, so I signed a donor agreement, and it was sent to a sperm bank.”

Willa continued to study him and was no doubt trying to decide if he was telling the truth.

“A sperm bank?” she questioned.

He nodded. “Obviously it was the one you used for your artificial insemination.”

“Obviously.” But there was still a lot of skepticism in her voice. “Why should I believe you?”

“Because it’s true. The DNA test results I gave you are real,” he continued. “And it proves I’m the baby’s biological father.”

Brandon tried not to show what he was feeling. He didn’t want Willa to mistake it for dishonesty. But that last word,
father,
had not come easily.

And probably never would.

He kept that to himself.

The staring went on, and on, and finally Willa’s shoulders relaxed. A weary breath left her mouth, and she sagged against the wall.

Since she looked ready to drop, Brandon held on to her. Or rather he tried. But Willa pushed him away.

“My sperm donor,” she mumbled. She shook her head. “How did SAPD find you?”

“Bo Duggan said they’d been looking at all the angles as to how to approach you, so they kept digging into your background. You aren’t close to anyone in your family, so they widened the search. And finally got to your medical records. They traced the donor number for your insemination, and that led them to me.”

“They knew you were a cop?” she asked.

“Not at first. But I think that ended up being a bonus for them.” It had certainly given the police captain carte blanche to press him into cooperating. “SAPD knew you wouldn’t welcome them with open arms, and they were desperate. They need your cooperation.”

“They need me to remember,” Willa corrected. “To remember what happened during the hostage situation so I can see if it relates to what might happen in another crisis. But I can’t remember. I’ve tried and I can’t.”

He lifted his shoulder. “That’s where I was supposed to come in. They want me to coax you into going through more therapy. You’ve already made so much progress. You said yourself that your short-term memory problems were over.”

“I lied.” She huffed and pushed her hair away from her face.

Brandon had to do a double take. “What?”

Willa dodged his gaze. “My memory’s not nearly as bad as it was right after my injury, but sometimes I still forget. That’s why I put your picture on my PDA.” Her gaze snapped back to him and she scowled. “I typed in my PDA that I thought I could trust you. I need to change that.”

“No. You don’t.”

Her scowl melted away, and tears sprang to her eyes. That’s when Brandon noticed that she was still trembling. From the attack, no doubt.

Even though it was a risk on many levels, he pulled her to him. Willa fought him, struggling to break the embrace, but Brandon held on.