Confiscated Conception

For a little while longer, anyway.

“Educate her the hard way, Gerald. Send her running from her estranged husband, and she will run right where we want her.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

Clarence didn’t bother answering that. He had no doubt whatsoever that Rachel would cooperate once the truth sank in about the baby. Simply put, the child was what mattered most to her. Not her super-cop estranged husband that she hadn’t bothered to contact in over a year. Not her warped sense of devotion to be a do-gooder for the sake of society.

The baby was Rachel Dillard’s Achilles’ heel.

And he would use it to break her.

Clarence placed the phone back on the wall, knowing that Gerald would do what he had been told. Hopefully, this time he’d manage it without the mistakes. Of course, Clarence did have a margin for error.

All seven pounds and three ounces of him.

It would be interesting to watch Rachel beg for the child’s life.

Chapter Three

Rachel looked out through the rain-streaked windshield and spotted the picturesque log cabin. It was nestled in a thick grove of moss-strewn oaks, making it difficult to see from the road.

Difficult, but certainly not impossible.

And that explained why Jared parked the car at the back of the cabin where it would be out of sight.

“This place belongs to a friend,” Jared explained as they made a dash for the back porch. “We can use it as long as necessary.”

Rachel wondered if the friend was a man or a woman, but she quickly pushed that question aside. His relationships, personal or otherwise, were no longer any of her business. After all, she and Jared had called it quits months ago. He was a healthy, red-blooded, thirty-two-year-old male, and it was likely—very likely—that he’d been seeing other women.

While the rain pelted them and the lightning slashed across the sky, Jared fished a key out of his pocket and unlocked the door. The place was musky but dry, and a lot larger than it looked from the outside.

Well, sort of.

The combined living and kitchen area was large enough to accommodate two people, but what Rachel didn’t see was a separate bedroom. The double bed tucked away in the corner seemed to be the sum total of the sleeping quarters. Hopefully, they wouldn’t have to spend the night.

“We’ll be safe here until it’s time to meet Aaron Merkens?” she asked.

“We should be.” After Jared entered the code on the wall pad to disarm the security system, he grabbed a towel from the closet near the door and tossed it to her. “I figure you’re the safest woman in America right now. Esterman will do just about anything to keep you alive. You’re his get-out-jail-free card. Or so he thinks.”

Yes. But her supposed safety came at a huge price. Esterman would only want her alive as long as she could be of service to him.

All bets were off after that.

“I asked if we would be safe,” Rachel clarified. She watched as he lifted a laptop from the top shelf of the closet and set it on the pine table. “That plural pronoun included you.”

With an almost amused look on his face, he brushed past her so he could plug the modem line into the phone jack on the wall. She caught his scent. The wet leather of his jacket. Faint traces of soap.

He still used the same shampoo.

It had always reminded her of the sea. And sex. But then a lot of things about Jared still reminded her of sex.

He was so unlike the other guys she’d dated in college. No comparison really. He was basically a grown-up bad boy who’d won his share of fights, some with his fists. The tiny scar on his chin and the other on the edge of his right eyebrow were evidence of that.

Like the rest of him, his hair was a bit untamed, a little too long—with a natural style that fit his personality to a tee. No glossy polish. No pretenses. Just a man who had a unique way of reminding her that she was very glad indeed to be a woman.

Even now, with all the uncertainty of the moment, she still had the same reaction to Jared that she usually did. Much to her disgust, he pretty much stole her breath. God knows how many times that had happened, so she couldn’t blame it on the adrenaline. All he had to do was walk into a room and she melted into a puddle of…something.

Something that Rachel quickly pushed aside.

Those days of lust and great sex were over. They were on the brink of a divorce and their lives were in turmoil. This wasn’t the time for the-way-we-were musings.

“I appreciate the plural pronoun, and the concern for my safety,” Jared commented. “But I seriously doubt Esterman wants to tangle with me.”

Rachel wasn’t so sure. Tangling seemed to be something that didn’t intimidate Clarence Esterman, and that was only one of the reasons why the thought of his going free chilled her to the bone.

She checked the time. It was nearly twelve-thirty. In a half an hour she was supposed to be on the stand to testify about all the incriminating documents and memos she’d observed her boss shredding. Since there were no other witnesses, she was essentially the prosecution’s case. Yet, here she was, in a remote cabin at least thirty miles from the courthouse. The district attorney’s office and dozens of other people were probably in an uproar by now.

“I can build a fire if you want to dry off,” Jared offered.

“No thanks.” Despite the rain, the room was muggy and warm, which wasn’t unusual for a Texas spring afternoon. However, that combined with the spent adrenaline was making her feel woozy. She definitely needed a clear head for the things they were about to face. “I’d rather try to figure out how we’re going to find the baby.”

The sooner that happened, the sooner she could take the stand. And the sooner she’d know if the baby was actually their baby. Rachel didn’t want to think beyond that. One step at a time was all she could handle right now.

He draped his jacket over the back of a chair, the drops of rain sliding off it and spattering onto the hardwood floor. “Like I told you in the car, I’m hoping Aaron Merkens can give us a starting point.”

Yes. That would prevent them from having to take the needle-in-a-haystack approach, but it still wasn’t very reassuring. After all, Sasha Young had been in prison, and Merkens was her friend.

“You think you can trust him?”

“No way in hell.”

She almost wished Jared had hesitated. The fact that he hadn’t meant the meeting that was supposed to take place in seven hours might just be a trap.

Maybe Esterman had known they’d find Merkens and try to get information from him. And if Esterman had known that, then he also could have arranged for the cops to be there to take her back into protective custody.

Talk about the ultimate irony. When it came to her testimony, Esterman and the cops were now on the same side. Both would do just about anything to get her to take the stand. One, however, wanted her to lie.

With his back to her, Jared peeled off his wet shirt and hung it over one of the other chairs to dry. “Remember Mason Tanner, the P.I. I’ve used for some of my cases?”

“Sure.” When she and Jared were still together, Turner came to the house a couple of times. “What about him?”

“He’s helping us out. A lot. I’m having him check out the park where we’re meeting Merkens, and he’ll try to make sure it’s safe. I can’t leave you here by yourself. You’ll have to come with me.”

Rachel hadn’t considered staying behind to be an option, anyway. As difficult as it was to be around Jared, it would have been impossible to do this solo.

“What about this leak in the department you mentioned earlier?” she asked, trying not to look directly at him. It seemed a little too intimate to be so close to him while he was half naked. Instead, she straightened the stack of old magazines in the center of the table.

It didn’t help.