Finding Her Dad

But then, Sierra wouldn’t exist if he hadn’t. Or she wouldn’t be Sierra—she’d be someone else, with a different father. And he suspected she was a remarkable girl. So maybe it wasn’t so bad, what he’d done. He felt weirdly…protective. As if he hadn’t liked the notion that he could have been responsible for her failing to be born. Jon heard himself make a sound that might have been a laugh, but came closer to the sharp exhalation of air a man made after a fist to the gut.

“Sierra has a birth certificate?” he said finally.

“Yes, of course. She had to produce it to get a driver’s permit.”

“She’s driving?” He didn’t know why that shocked him.

“With me. She didn’t get into driver’s ed last semester, so she’s taking it this fall. That’s the only reason she doesn’t have a license.”

“How’s she doing behind the wheel?”

Lucy’s chuckle tripped down his backbone like dancing fingers. It was closer to a giggle—young, yet just husky enough to remind him she was a woman. “Not well. She scares me to death. She’s, um, not as coordinated as she could be. She always looks down when she moves her foot to the brake or the gas. I can’t seem to break her of it.”

He grinned, even though he was wincing, too. “You’re a brave woman.”

“Not brave enough to let her out on the highway yet.” There was a tiny silence, and her laughter was gone. “Especially after what happened to her mom.”

After a moment he said, “She’s brave, too, to be willing to drive so soon after her mom was killed behind the wheel.”

“That’s probably part of the reason she’s so stiff driving. She wants the independence, but…”

But. He got that. Warring impulses. Sierra Lind, he thought, was indeed courageous. He was more than a little surprised to realize a part of him half hoped she was his child.

“Poor kid,” he said softly.

“Yes.” Stoutly Lucy said, “I can drive Sierra to Seattle tomorrow afternoon. She can show her ID and the newspaper clippings. It would be awkward if the two of you went together, especially if it turns out you’re not her father.”

He supposed it would, but found that he was a little disappointed. He would have liked to see both woman and girl again.

Jon frowned when it crossed his mind that Lucy might be married. But wouldn’t she or Sierra have referred to the husband if there was one? There wasn’t a live-in boyfriend, or she couldn’t have gotten licensed as a foster parent. Did she have other foster kids, or had she known Sierra and gotten licensed specifically to take her? He wanted to ask his questions, but knew the timing wasn’t right. If Sierra was his daughter, he’d be getting to know Lucy, too. If she wasn’t…

Determination firmed in him. He would find out whether Lucy was single, and if she was, he’d ask her out.

He was both thoughtful and irritatingly aroused when he said good-night and ended the call.

CHAPTER THREE

WHEN HIS CELL PHONE RANG, Jon was in the middle of a conference with two commanding officers of the SWAT team, who were requesting new-and-improved weaponry and body armor. After glancing at the screen on his phone, he said, “I need to take this,” and stood, walking to the window to answer the call. “Brenner.”

“This is Lucy Malone. I just wanted to let you know that Sierra and I have done our part.”

“Good,” he said. “Did you have to take the day off work?”

“I got someone to cover for me.”

He realized he didn’t know what she did for a living. If he hadn’t had two men waiting right behind him, he might have asked. “All right. I’ll be in touch.”

Ending the call, he walked to the table. “Let me look at the budget. I don’t know if I can okay your whole shopping list, but I’ll do what I can. Now I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me.”

Lieutenant Stevens looked faintly surprised at the abrupt dismissal, but said only “Good enough.”

Stevens, Jon thought, was an ambitious man, but also fair with his officers, smart and diplomatic. He was Jon’s choice to take over his own current position if he won the election. He was less sure he believed Sergeant Clem Hansen had what it took to be in charge of the team as Stevens’s replacement.

Jon was still mulling over the problem ten minutes later when he drove out of the multilevel county parking garage. SWAT members had to make tough decisions. He wanted someone with a cool head and a good sense of public perception to be leading them. The men respected Hansen, but he made Jon uneasy. For one thing, he seemed to enjoy being deliberately crude in front of female officers. Stevens had called him on it, and he’d excused himself by saying they should be treated the same as the men. If they weren’t tough enough, they didn’t belong on the job. Plainly, he didn’t think they did. There were no women on the team; the sheer physicality of the requirements had so far kept the few women who’d applied from qualifying. But if Hansen felt contempt for women in general, it would affect his decisions as commanding officer.

Thinking about Clem Hansen led Jon into consideration of some of the other personnel shifts he had in mind. He’d passed Boeing Field on I-5 before he let himself think about why he was taking a couple of hours in the middle of the day to drive into Seattle. His fingers flexed on the steering wheel and he realized he had a ball of tension lodged in his belly.

He was opening a can of worms here. Once he’d pried the lid off, they’d start wriggling out. Once he heard the words Sierra Lind is your daughter, he’d have to face the fact that the news would spread. He could ask Sierra to keep their relationship quiet for now—but if he did that she’d think he was ashamed of her.

It would help if she wasn’t into that Goth look. She’d present better to voters if he could get her to take out the eyebrow and nose piercings. Her hair…well, hell. His mouth curved in a reluctant smile. At least the color was cheerful.

And the truth was, she wasn’t really the problem. He was. Choices he’d made long before he had ever considered running for electoral office. Maybe that would make a good addition to high-school life-skills classes. Always keep in mind that your behavior now may disqualify you in future from public office. Do you want to close that door?

His campaign manager wasn’t going to be happy when he told her. Edie Cook wouldn’t appreciate being kept in the dark this long.

Tough. There was always the chance he’d learn today that, in fact, he was not Sierra Lind’s biological father. He’d be off the hook. He wouldn’t have to confess the sins of the past to anyone.

Jon drew a ragged breath that did nothing to ease his tension. He parked outside the modern building not far from the University of Washington campus and got out, locked and went in without letting himself dawdle.

The woman he’d spoken to on the phone was willing to see him immediately. Afraid he’d sue?

Miranda Foley was an attractive woman in her fifties, at a guess. She was pleasant and poised as she led him into her large, elegantly furnished office. He took a seat on the other side of her desk and handed over his driver’s license.

She scrutinized it for a moment, then gave it back. “This is an unfortunate situation. Are you quite certain you want an answer? You were guaranteed anonymity, and I’m very willing to be the bad guy here.”

Temptation showed its ugly face, but he didn’t let himself forget his mantra. Personal responsibility. Sierra deserved better of her father.

“I take it Sierra is my daughter,” he said quietly.

Miranda’s gaze dropped to the single piece of paper that lay squared in the center of her otherwise bare desktop. “Yes.”

He sat still for a moment, absorbing the news. The ball lodged in his gut didn’t unknot…but neither did whatever reaction he’d braced himself for happen. It seemed he’d already achieved acceptance.

“She explained how she found you,” Miranda said. “If word gets out, women’s access to donor sperm could be severely curtailed. I imagine there are a great many men who would live in fear that they’ll be tracked down as you’ve been.” She hesitated. “I’m a little surprised at how calmly you’re taking this.”

He was momentarily amused. If only she knew what was churning inside him.

“The circumstances are somewhat unusual,” he pointed out. “I doubt Sierra would have ever set out to find me if her mother hadn’t been killed, or even if she’d had other family who cared. It was finding herself completely alone that apparently inspired her…quest.”

“Yes, so I gathered.” She sighed. “You do intend to acknowledge her, then?”

“Yes.” He stood. “May I have a copy of that?” He nodded at the paper on her desk.

“This is for you.” She handed it to him.

He thanked her and walked out. He’d gone numb again, he realized. Or something. He found himself sitting in the driver’s seat of his car with no recollection of getting there, and he was a cop. He was always aware of his surroundings. Jon groaned and pressed the heels of his hands against his eye sockets. The pressure grounded him. He heard himself breathing hard. Maybe he wasn’t numb after all.

I’m a dad. Break out the cigars.