My Baby, My Love

“And will you?” Or would he be like Jerome, turning possessive, demanding, insistent that things had to be his way or no way?

Noah’s lips gave a wry twist. “Will I go? Well, maybe not right away, but I’d rather have this battle when you don’t look like a puff of wind could blow you over. If you’ll give me the keys to your apartment…”

Sydney pointed at the nightstand as lethargy settled over her. Sooner or later he was going to learn the truth. Did it really make any difference if he went to the apartment now?

Noah reached into the drawer next to her bed and withdrew her purse. Sydney found her gaze riveted on the dark stains that marred the white leather surface. As he fished out her keys, images flashed before her eyes. Soda and blood. The bank enclosure had run with both.

She slumped back against the pillow. Bile rose in her throat.

“Hey. What is it? Are you feeling sick? Should I call for the nurse?”

“No.” She choked out the word and shut her eyes. “Could you…would you take the purse away with you?”

Her blood, Mrs. Argossy’s or Jerome’s? Did it matter? She never wanted to see that handbag again.

Without a word, he emptied the contents into the open drawer. “I’ll bring you another purse tomorrow. Is there a particular outfit you’d like?” he asked.

Sydney shook her head.

Once again, his hand rested lightly on her shoulder. The gesture offered both friendship and concern.

“Get some rest tonight. I’ll be back in the morning.”

“I’m not your responsibility.” She had to say it even though part of her was selfishly glad he cared. She was so tired of always being strong.

“I know. I’ll be back. Call if you need anything. I left the hotel number under your telephone.”

“Thank you.”

She watched him disappear through the doorway and reaffirmed the decision she’d made when she’d faced the investigators. Jerome was the father of her baby. The man who had saved her life. He’d been Noah’s only family, and in the eyes of the world, Jerome had died a hero.

No one would ever learn what she suspected.

THEY WOKE HER again to give her a sleeping pill. She couldn’t believe they actually did that. Groggily, she accepted the pill, put it in her mouth and swallowed the water. As soon as the nurse left, Sydney spit the pill out. She didn’t need drugs that would make her fuzzy. She needed a clear head in the morning so they’d let her go home. She rolled over and went back to sleep.

It could have been minutes or hours later when she roused from another disturbing cycle of dreams. Her heart was beating much too fast and her breath came in short pants. She struggled to focus on yet another person entering her room. How was she supposed to get any rest when they kept waking her every time she fell asleep?

Darkness shadowed the room. Restlessly, she watched the person close the door to the hallway without a sound. The empty bed next to hers took on a ghostly appearance in the dim light filtering in through the solitary window. Maybe that was why the figure’s approach appeared almost stealthy.

Sydney’s heart began thumping more quickly.

The person was too silent. He’d closed the door. A nurse who’d come to check on her wouldn’t close the door. Instantly, she pictured the bearded orderly.

Slowly, she inched her fingers toward the call light, afraid to let him know she was awake. The impression of danger grew stronger as the person neared the bed. There was something wrong with his face. Her vision shouldn’t be blurry. She hadn’t swallowed the sleeping pill. Yet she couldn’t make out any features.

Her fingers found the call button. Sydney pressed it as the man suddenly rushed forward, knocking the button from her hand.

Sydney screamed. A rubber-glove-encased hand clamped over her mouth, choking off the sound. The other hand circled her throat in a breath-stealing grip.

In that instant, she realized he wore a ski mask over his head.

Desperately, she threw herself to one side. Pain radiated down her arm as her bandaged hand struck the bed rail.

“Where is it?”

The waft of garlic was sickening. She clawed at those short, blunt fingers pressing into her throat. He was incredibly strong. She couldn’t breathe!

She beat at his face while his voice continued to demand. Didn’t he realize she couldn’t answer? If she could just reach his eyes!

Blackness dimmed her vision. Her head swam with vertigo.

Noah had been wrong. Following the doctor’s orders had been a terrible idea. In fact, it was about to get her killed.

CHAPTER TWO

The telephone pulled him out of a restless sleep. Noah glanced at the clock and saw it was only 5:56 in the morning. He sat up, tensing as he reached for the phone. He fully expected the message to be a call to duty. Instead, a prissy feminine voice filled his ear.

“Major Inglewood? This is Jennifer Comsilt. I’m a nursing supervisor at—”

“Sydney?”

“She’s going to be all right,” the professional voice hastened to assure him. “However, she did indicate that she would like me to call you.”

Fully alert, Noah swung his legs over the side of the bed. “She indicated? She didn’t ask?”

“Her…ah…that is, there was an incident early this morning.”

He was reaching for his pants, the receiver tucked under his chin. “What sort of incident, Ms. Comsilt?”

Was she okay? The baby!

Noah sorted through the horrible possibilities running through his head while fear feasted on his stomach. He dressed rapidly, by rote.

“Let me reiterate,” the woman’s voice continued, “Mrs. Inglewood will be fine, but…well, someone entered her room sometime after four o’clock this morning and…that is, they attempted…to strangle her.”

Coldness seeped into his chest. She’d wanted to leave and he’d left her there. “I’m on my way.”

“That isn’t—”

Noah disconnected. The woman had said Sydney was all right but he needed to see for himself.

He dug through his duffel bag and pulled out the only items of clothing he had that might work for her. Bundling them together, he reached for his key card, stuffed his feet into his shoes and was out the door and into the early-morning heat of what would no doubt prove to be another humid summer day in Washington, D.C. His hotel was only a ten-minute drive from the hospital, yet the cab ride seemed interminable.

He kept remembering that Sydney hadn’t wanted to stay. He should have listened to her. How had the attacker gotten inside her room? What had happened to the armed officer stationed outside her door?

Less than twenty minutes after the phone call woke him, Noah was stepping off the elevator onto Sydney’s floor. People milled about the nurses’ station. Coffee and breakfast scents mingled with the normal hospital smells. Carts bearing breakfast trays were being rolled along at the far end of the hall.

A different uniformed police officer now stood, rather than sat, outside the door to Sydney’s room. A second plainclothes officer was positioned at the desk, talking with an agitated nurse. An assortment of other people clustered around. Noah recognized the FBI agent as soon as the man turned in his direction.