Saviour in the Saddle

Her emotions were like a whirlwind inside her, but she thought he might be telling the truth about the assassin. There was some kind of danger anyway. Brandon definitely wasn’t lying about that.

Willa wasn’t naive enough to believe she’d be able to keep out a professional killer. All the security precautions she had already taken wouldn’t be enough, and the last thing she wanted was to go gun to gun with an assassin. The three-hour handgun course was her only training with a firearm, and she was betting the man coming after her would know how to kill with one shot.

She nodded, stood and rubbed her hands on the sides of her jeans. “Give me a minute, please. I need some time to gather my thoughts.”

And her things.

She had an emergency bag already packed and stashed beneath her bed, and she’d practiced climbing out the window. She could cut through the backyard and walk to the train station, which was only four blocks away. That’s one of the reasons she’d chosen this particular house to rent.

Willa headed for her bedroom, but she didn’t get far. Brandon was right behind her. She whirled around, not realizing he was so close, and she knocked right into him. The contact was a reminder of that kiss, and the fact that he was going to be a hard man to shake.

“I can’t let you escape,” he told her.

“Who said I’m trying to escape?” Willa tossed right back.

He gave her a flat look to indicate he knew what she had in mind. Probably did, too. He was a cop, after all.

“Lieutenant Duggan is watching the back of the house, so you wouldn’t get far anyway,” Brandon added. “Now, get your things so we can leave.”

Willa considered arguing with him, but he looked as stubborn as she was. Not a good DNA legacy to pass on to their daughter. A double dose of bullheadedness.

If he was the baby’s father, that is.

She wasn’t convinced he’d told her the truth about that, either.

“I’ll get my things,” she agreed. But that was the only thing she was agreeing to do. She wasn’t going with them, and that meant she had to distract Brandon in some way so she could escape.

“What did you type about me on your PDA?” he asked, following her into the bedroom. There was barely enough space for one person, and she was quickly learning that Brandon had a way of monopolizing not just the room but all the air in it.

“Nothing,” she lied. And she grabbed the packed overnight bag, put it on the bed and tossed in the PDA. The bag already contained a change of clothes, toiletries, meds, cash, a fake ID that had cost her dearly and a flash drive with duplicate files that were on her computer.

She also had a gun in there.

Willa didn’t want to use it, but she would if it came down to protecting her baby.

Because she wanted to buy some time for that escape opportunity, Willa went through the dresser drawer and pretended to look for something to add to the bag. Maybe conversation would help, too. Besides, there was one thing she needed to verify, even though she wasn’t sure a chat with Brandon would give her that proof.

“Are you really my baby’s father?” she asked.

But he didn’t answer. He walked across the room and looked into the drawer to see what she was doing. He likely thought she had a gun and was maybe about to pull it on him. No gun. However, he took the tiny canister of pepper spray from the top of the dresser and cupped it in his hand.

Willa gave him a cynical smile. “You trust me about as much as I trust you. So answer my question. Are you really my baby’s father?”

He looked her straight in the eyes.

And nodded.

“The DNA test is real,” he said. “The child you’re carrying is mine.”

Everything inside her went still. Because that didn’t sound like a lie.

“We were in love?” she pressed.

“No,” he answered just as quickly.

That seemed to be the truth as well. Strange that he wouldn’t have said yes and then used that love confession to convince her to cooperate with him.

“All right.” For show, she took out several pairs of panties and shoved them into the bag. “So, we weren’t in love, and I wasn’t your one-night stand. What was I to you?”

“The same thing you are to me now.” He didn’t wait for her to respond to that puzzling answer. “Finish packing.”

She added a bra to the bag and stuffed in a flannel nightgown. Willa lifted the bag and put the strap over her like a messenger’s bag even though it was a tight fit over her belly. “I have to get some things from the bathroom. Prenatal vitamins,” she added, knowing he wouldn’t refuse to let her get those.

The bathroom window was small, but she knew she could squeeze through it. She’d have to hurry and hope that Lieutenant Duggan wasn’t keeping watch on that particular side of the house. All she needed was two minutes, and she could be out of there. Away from the assassin, and away from the cops—including, perhaps, her baby’s father.

And that gave her an idea.

With Brandon right on her heels, she went into the bathroom and took out a cotton swab from the medicine cabinet. It obviously wasn’t sterile, but she thought it would give her a clean enough sample. After all, labs got DNA from toothbrushes and baby bottles. Once she had his DNA extracted, she could have it compared to the baby’s amniotic fluid. Willa didn’t have the fluid itself, but she had her baby’s DNA profile in an online storage file that she could retrieve from any computer.

Of course, a comparison would take days. Maybe longer. Still, she would eventually know one way or another.

Her gut was already telling her the test was unnecessary, that Brandon was indeed her baby’s father. But her brain wanted to know why her gut trusted this man when it was clear that he wasn’t volunteering the whole truth.

“Open your mouth please.” She added the please hoping it would get him to cooperate.

He did. Brandon swabbed the inside of his left cheek and handed it back to her. “It’ll be a match,” he promised.

“We’ll see.”

He glanced at the swab. “You’ll want to put that in a plastic bag.” And he pulled a small evidence baggie from his jacket pocket.

Willa eyed him and the bag with suspicion, and instead of using his bag that might be contaminated with his DNA or something else, she headed to the kitchen and got a plastic sandwich bag. She sealed up the swab, put it in the overnight case and snapped her fingers.

“Prenatal vitamins,” she said as if remembering them. “I wouldn’t want to forget those.”

She took slow steps, trying to get the timing of this just right. She needed to get to the bathroom just ahead of Brandon so she could slam the door. Lock it.

And escape.

“I also have to use the bathroom,” she lied when she was a few steps away. “As in, actually use the bathroom. I don’t want an audience for that.”

She went inside and pushed the door so it would close.

Brandon caught it.

“I don’t want an audience,” she restated.

“And I don’t want you trying to escape. Don’t worry. I’ll close my eyes. But this door is staying partly open.”