Assumed Identity

chapter Two



“Lady? Lady!” Jake caught the woman before her head hit the pavement. Nothing like a scream of terror to make a man feel every inch the monster his nightmares purported him to be. Still, he adjusted the woman in his arms as gently as he could, then laid her on the wet asphalt. “You’re welcome.”

He squatted down beside her, trying to block some of the rain that hit her face, looking her over from head to toe. She was long and lean and pale as milk. The backpack she wore was soaked and stained from her struggles, but he lifted her slightly to pull the squishy pack beneath her neck to cushion her head. He snapped her jeans closed and pulled her raincoat together to cover her body. Thank God the bastard hadn’t completed what he’d started. Didn’t mean he hadn’t done some damage. Jake pushed aside the collar of her blouse. Carefully avoiding the puffy red-and-violet welt across her collar bone, he pressed two fingers to the base of her throat. Her skin was creamy soft, chilled by the rain. But she had a pulse. The scuffed-up raincoat was moving up and down, too, so she was breathing.

She just wasn’t awake.

He sifted his fingers through her wet brown hair, moving the heavy waves from side to side to check her scalp for any contusions that could explain her unresponsive state. Nothing but silky hair. Jake pulled his hand away, feeling a little guilty that his fingers had warmed and lingered, mistakenly thinking the first-aid check had felt like some kind of caress. He knew how to nip that sensation in the bud. Remember the scream. Forget the niceties. He gave her cheek a couple of gentle smacks. “Come on, lady. Open your eyes.”

He heard a moan behind him in the alley and Jake turned, springing to his feet. His gaze zeroed in on the loser with the mask who had the idiot idea he was coming back for round two. Jake almost felt sorry for the guy. The woman’s attacker had the skills of an amateur. He’d probably subdued the woman with an initial blitz attack. But he was out of his league going up against someone who could fight back. Even now, he was already advancing before he had his balance centered over his feet.

And then Mr. Amateur had the bright idea to pull a knife. The thin steel blade gleamed in the next flash of lightning. He choked out a breathy warning. “This isn’t about you.”

Jake glanced down at the woman behind him, lying still and vulnerable at his feet. Decision made. Without taking his eyes off the approaching threat, Jake pulled the hunting knife from his boot, flipping the weapon in his hand to warn the guy he knew how to use it. “It is now.”

That’s right. Mine’s bigger than yours, he taunted silently, watching the eyes go wide behind the stocking mask.

Just then a cat howled across the parking lot, and the attacker’s head jerked toward the interruption. Although the mewling was muted by the rain and thunder, Jake tuned his ears to the sound, as well, wondering if the guy was that easily distracted or if he needed to be on guard against some other threat. A quick glance revealed little except darkness, rain and the empty street beyond the parking lot.

Whatever had spooked the guy was evident in the rapid rise and fall of his shoulders as his breathing quickened. Or maybe he was finally wising up to the idea he wasn’t getting past Jake. With one last heave of breath, the shadowy figure cursed. “You should have minded your own business.”

And with that, he turned tail toward the opposite end of the alley.

The instinct to run after him jolted through Jake’s legs, but he stayed rooted to the spot. The woman was still down, out cold and completely unprotected. He needed to stay here. Besides, what the little creep lacked in skills, he made up for in speed, and Jake would have a hard time catching him.

What could he do when he caught the guy, anyway? It wasn’t like he could arrest the pervert. And though Jake had intimidation down to a science, outside of the bar where he sometimes had to show a rowdy customer the door, he preferred to keep his skills on the down-low. Calling attention to himself with the police or anyone else wasn’t something he could afford to do until he figured out whether he was the law, or running from it. Besides, the unconscious woman had to be his priority.

Once the figure in black had darted around the corner out of sight, Jake risked turning to the woman again. He tucked his knife back into its sheath and knelt down to test the chill on her wet cheeks. He could feel her warm breath, but she didn’t even flinch at his unfamiliar touch.

“Ma’am?” He hadn’t felt any bumps on her head. Did she have internal injuries? Was this shock? A blow to the carotid artery could interrupt blood flow to the brain, and that bruising welt was placed in about the right spot to make that happen.

Jake swore. How the hell did he know things like that?

He tapped her cheek again. “Come on, lady.”

He glanced over his shoulder at the squeal of tires on wet pavement in the distance. Was the little creep really that fast? Or did he have an accomplice waiting for him to make a quick getaway? What had they wanted with this woman? And how many men did they think it took to subdue a skinny slip of a thing like this, anyway?

Lightning flashed in the clouds overhead and a bad feeling crawled across Jake’s skin. The violence surrounding this woman didn’t feel random. An attacker and an accomplice sounded planned.

All the more reason to get her up and out of here.

He glanced down at the sleeping beauty. Despite the scrape along her jaw and the wet hair that clung to her forehead and cheeks, trailing sooty rivulets across her skin, she was stirring something more than concern and worry inside him. Being attracted to an unconscious woman couldn’t be a good thing. With his life in the state of flux it was, it wasn’t a good thing to be attracted to anyone. Angry at the damn hormones and feelings brewing inside him tonight, Jake swiped the water off his own stubbled face.

That’s when he got the idea to cup his hands to catch the rain. While he waited for his palms to fill, Jake thought about what had brought him to this spot in the first place, playing nursemaid to an injured woman.

He’d heard a scream on his late-night walk. He’d heard a lot of screams in his lifetime. He wasn’t sure how or why he knew that, but he knew the sounds of a woman in distress had always gotten under his skin and somehow gotten him into trouble.

For a few seconds, he’d considered ignoring it. Maybe he could report it anonymously when he got back to his apartment. He had too many problems of his own to get involved in somebody else’s trouble. But then he’d heard the whistle. Over and over. He’d heard the panic in that shrill sound piercing the rain and an alarm had gone off inside him.

Maybe he’d been itching for a fight, something to expel the frustrated energy that consumed him. Maybe it was the bar bouncer in him, trained to neutralize any ruckus before it got started. But when he’d cut through the alley behind the buildings to answer that alarm, he’d seen that loser dragging the woman out of sight behind the van—going after her with a baseball bat. Something inside Jake had snapped. The woman was in danger, and something in his DNA that he couldn’t remember had been compelled to save her.

Pity that beating down a man with his bare hands came to him a lot easier than waking a sleeping woman.

With the rainwater overflowing his palms, Jake pulled back and tossed it on her face.

Her eyes instantly shot open and she sputtered. Her hands fisted on the pavement and she shook her head, flinging more water onto his boots. She blinked, focused, caught sight of him and immediately shrank away with a choking huff of fear. Even as he held his hands up in surrender, showing he meant her no harm, she was cowering away from him, scrambling to sit up. He reached out one hand to help her and she scooted away on her bottom, until her back hit the wall of the loading dock.

“Get away from me!” she rasped, her voice tight with fear.

Could be an instinctive reaction to finding a man kneeling over her after fighting off that coward who’d assaulted her. Could be she’d just got a good look at his harsh, beat-up face.

The reaction in those suspicious gray-blue eyes was enough to sour any attraction he might feel.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

But she wasn’t buying it. No way. She pushed her hair out of her eyes to really size him up. If anything, the woman breathed harder, went even paler as she calculated his strength and the size of his fists. She was probably wondering how he’d gotten the scars and if he was as violent a man as he looked.

He knew the military cut of his prematurely gray hair didn’t leave any handsome possibilities to the imagination. The face and bulk and no-nonsense demeanor created an intimidating combination that made his job as a bouncer/bartender an easy gig. They got the job done, too, when it came to keeping his friends few and strangers who asked questions he didn’t want to answer even fewer. The ugly mug was who he was. It had probably served him well in his former life—kept people from messin’ with him.

Although it played hell when he was trying to convince a frightened woman he meant her no harm. “I’m not the man who hurt you.”

She surprised him completely when she jerked her head in a nod. “I know. You’re bigger than he is. He was dressed in black from head to toe. You...startled me. That’s all.”

Startled was putting it kindly. But at least she was thinking rationally. Probably no injury to the head, then. Cautiously, Jake pushed to his feet. Big mistake. Now he was towering over her. She visibly cringed. But six feet two inches of muscle, scars and a broken face wasn’t something he could change. He held his arms out to either side and kicked the ball bat over to her, giving her the option of arming herself against him if it made her feel safer.

Not that he still couldn’t overpower her if he had to.

She knew it, too. Smart woman. With a determined tilt to her chin, she braced her hands on the wall behind her and staggered to her feet, ignoring the bat. “Please. I have a child. I need to get to her.”

Jake shook his head. They were alone in this alley now. “I didn’t see any kid.”

“You didn’t...? Emma?” She straightened against the concrete wall and looked beyond the van. “She’s over there. He pulled me from my car.”

Jake glanced behind him. Ah, hell. That explained the wailing he’d heard. It was the kid, crying, not a cat. “Is that your car?”

She nodded. “I need to get...” She took two steps before her right leg buckled and she fell back against the loading dock.

Jake darted forward, catching her by the arms to help her stay on her feet.

“Don’t touch me.” She instinctively reached out to push him away. But just as quickly, her fingers curled into the front of his shirt. He felt the unsteady tug on his skin all the way down to his bones. “Apparently, I need your help. So I’m deciding not to be afraid of you.” She actually pointed a warning finger at him. “Don’t make me regret that.”

At that brave statement, the corner of his mouth hitched up into an admiring grin and Jake adjusted his grip to firmly cup her elbow. “No, ma’am.”

“You know, you’re not as scary when you smile.” As scary. Interesting distinction. The woman was smart and honest. She brushed the water from her face and gifted him with a smile of her own. “Thank you for saving my life, Mr....?”

“Lonergan.”

“Thank you for saving me, Mr. Lonergan.” She tried to adjust the backpack on her shoulders, but winced in pain and nearly doubled over. “Ow—”

“Easy.”

She braced her hand against his chest and fell into him, hanging on as his arm snaked behind her waist to give her the balance she needed. “I do need your help, don’t I.”

The lightning overhead illuminated her face for a split second. Her lips pinched thin against whatever pain or dizziness she was fighting.

While he waited, Jake asked, “What’s your name, brave lady?”

“Robin.” She sucked in an easier breath, and then another. “Robin Carter.” She tilted her gaze to meet his. Her gray-blue eyes squinted against the fall of rain as she focused in on him. “My daughter?”

Jake loosened his grip, expecting her to recoil now that she was getting a close-up look at the violence of his face. Instead, her fingers curled into his wet T-shirt, grabbing some of the skin underneath. The unfamiliar burst of heat that raced to the muscles she clung to reminded him just how long it had been since he’d had a woman in any way, shape or form. All of a sudden, he wanted this one. Badly.

She was wrong not to be afraid of him.

“Let’s go,” he said roughly, squashing those urges and pulling her into step beside him. Jake released her only long enough to grab the baseball bat. Even though her attacker was long gone, there was no sense in giving anyone the opportunity to be armed out here except for him.

He helped her around the van, noting that her balance grew stronger with each step, even though she was still favoring that right leg. She lost her footing once on the slick pavement and her hand flew to the middle of his chest again. Jake tried to concentrate on the accidental pinch of chest hair and not on the needy tugs on his skin that awakened something primal and male deeper inside him. He easily took her weight against his side until her wet tennis shoes found traction again.

“Emma?” She eased her death grip on his soggy T-shirt and kept moving forward, despite a hissing catch of breath.

The woman was a slender rail of shapeless raincoat and stubbornness, although the top of her flattened wet hair reached his chin. His blood boiled to think how much damage that jackass with the baseball bat might have done to her. “How bad are you hurt?” he asked, scanning back and forth as they crossed the empty parking lot for any signs of Mr. Amateur or his accomplice coming back for round three. “He didn’t, um...?”

“I’ll live. And no, he didn’t rape me. He... You stopped him.” So nothing major, although he was guessing a broken leg wouldn’t have slowed her march toward the abandoned car. The crying grew louder as they approached the blue sedan. Jake had to lengthen his stride to keep up with her quickening steps. “Emma? Mommy’s here.”

Another flash of lightning gave Jake a better view of the car. Both of the driver’s side doors were standing open and the high-pitched sobs were coming from the backseat. Robin was steady enough to break into a limping run. “Oh, my God. Emma!”

Jake let her rush ahead, sparing a few moments to make sure the lot and street and sidewalks were empty before he caught up to her. When he looked over her shoulder, he didn’t like what he saw. The car seat was sitting at a wonky angle in the car and the seat belt anchoring it into place had been cut, sawed through with something sharp. Like that amateur’s knife. A piece of pink material lay in a puddle on the ground outside the door. What the hell?

If the kid hadn’t been bawling her lungs out, Jake would have suspected the baby might be missing or had met an uglier fate than her mother. “Hold on.” He grabbed Robin’s arm before she could pick up the kid. “See if you can get her out without messing with things. This seat has been tampered with. The cops will want to see it.”

“The cops... Right. I need to call 911.” Through a miraculous bit of dexterity that Jake doubted his thick fingers could emulate, Robin unhooked the baby from the car seat and lifted her into her arms. “Shh, sweetie. Oh, you’re all wet. Shh. You’re okay now. Mommy didn’t mean to leave you. I’m back. I’m here.”

“The kid’s not hurt, is she?”

“I don’t think so. She’s just unhappy.” Robin tugged the soggy blanket up over the baby’s head and rocked her on her shoulder, despite the pain that tightened her face. But the kid kept wailing. Did little kids that age know to be afraid? Had she been startled by the half-assed attempt to remove the car seat? Did she just not like the rain? “I wonder how long she was by herself. How long was I out? What kind of mother am I?”

The right kind, he was guessing. She’d tuned in to the baby’s wailing before he had. “It’s only been a few minutes since I showed up.”

The blanket slipped off the infant’s head, revealing wisps of brown hair and blue eyes, just like her mama’s. Tears spilled over her chubby pink cheeks. Great. He’d been lusting after some baby’s mother. Jake glanced at the hand rubbing the baby’s back. No wedding ring. Didn’t mean there wasn’t a man in the picture.

Hell. What was he doing, thinking he was attracted to Robin Carter, anyway? Jake rolled the baseball bat in his grip down at his side. He didn’t need the complication of a woman in his messed-up life. And he sure as hell didn’t need a baby. Still, he had to admire the lungs on the kid. Seemed about as headstrong as her mother. “Is she okay? Can she hurt herself crying like that?”

“No. Eventually, she’ll cry herself back to sleep. But it breaks your heart to listen to it, doesn’t it?” Robin started pacing back and forth, trying to quiet the baby without success. From what little he knew about kids, mostly from the son of a former coworker who sometimes came to the bar to visit her uncle—the bar’s owner—Jake thought they picked up on the mood of the people around them. And right now, Mama here was in desperate panic mode. “Mommy was so scared, sweetie. Are you all right? The man didn’t hurt you, did he? I’m not leaving you again. It’s going to be okay. Mommy loves you.” If anything, the kid wailed louder. “I can’t seem to...” When Robin turned her pleading eyes to him, Jake realized just how tiny that baby was. Only a few months old. It didn’t even look big enough to crawl yet. “Will you stay with us until the police come, Mr. Lonergan?”

Not one damsel in distress, but two. He was toast. “Yeah. I’ll stay.”

“Thank you.” She extended her hand, expecting the civility of formal gratitude. Instead of shaking hands, though, she grabbed his wrist and bent his arm across his stomach. And then she was pushing the baby into his chest. “Do you mind? Make sure you support her neck.”

“Mind what...? Oh, whoa. Hey...”

“Keep her face covered. I don’t want her to get any wetter than she already is.”

With careful, slow-motion control, she shrugged out of her backpack while Jake stood there in shock, afraid to move. And his nightmares were the only thing that ever scared him. “Lady, I don’t think you want to—”

“Here’s a dry blanket. Relatively dry, anyway.” Robin draped the square of cotton flannel, dotted with pink animals, over his arm and the infant, tucking the ends securely around her. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her daughter’s pink cheek before draping the last corner over the baby’s face. “Got her?”

Did he have a choice?

“I need to call the police.” Robin pulled her cell phone out of the same bag and hooked the flowered backpack over her uninjured arm. “Do you think it’s okay if we go back inside the shop? I want to get her out of the rain.”

She wanted him to move with the baby? The little thing stretched out, nestled her butt in his palm and turned her face into his chest as if she was settling in for the night. Hell, the thing was so tiny, he barely felt the weight of her lying across his arm. What if he stumbled? Or squeezed his big hand too hard? He was armed and dangerous, for Pete’s sake. “Lady—”

“Robin.” She’d already punched in the number and lifted the phone to her ear. “Call me Robin. And this is Emma.” She touched the infant again and nodded toward the green-and-white awning with the Robin’s Nest Floral Shop logo painted on it. “I must have wrenched my shoulder. I’d feel better if you carried her. Come on.”

Okay. Fine. If Robin was hurt, he could carry the baby. Carefully watching the infant in his left arm, Jake tucked the bat beneath his right elbow and nudged Robin into step ahead of him. “Let’s get you both inside.”

In just a couple of minutes, all the lights were blazing inside Robin’s shop and office, and Jake was more uncomfortable than before, if possible. He’d set the bat behind her office door and was pacing back and forth, from door to barred alley window, waiting for Robin to finish her conversation with the KCPD dispatcher and rescue the baby from him. Emma Carter was just so small and fragile, and he was so big and rough around the edges. He didn’t think it was a far-fetched possibility that he might accidentally snap the soft little thing in two.

Subduing a creep beating up a woman in a back alley, he could handle. But holding a tiny baby? Making civil conversation? Worrying about the stiff way Robin Carter was carrying herself? Trying not to peek while she tucked in her torn blouse and refastened her belt and jeans? Not his best thing.

Making the decision to trust him had sprung from the necessity of the situation. But the unfamiliar expectations that trust engendered made him a little nervous. As soon as she was done making her report, Jake intended to have her lock the door behind him and leave.

“Hey. You’ve got the touch.” Robin ended the call and came over to stroke Emma’s cheek. “I guess she’s decided she’s not afraid of you, either.”

It wasn’t until that moment that Jake realized the kid had stopped crying. He held his breath, afraid to move in case he’d done something wrong. “Is she okay?”

“She’s asleep. Haven’t you been around a baby before?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

Her gaze flashed up to his and Jake looked away. Normally, he didn’t slip like that. But no way was he going to share the blank page of his life.

Apparently, Robin was okay with his lack of an explanation. Or just more concerned about her daughter. She touched the baby’s cheek again and the little thing buzzed a tiny sigh through her pink lips. “I tried everything to get her to sleep tonight. She must feel your warmth and strength. Emma feels safe when you hold her.”

This time, Robin bobbed her head, her gaze chasing his, insisting his eyes lock on to hers. Once they did, he couldn’t look away from their gray-blue beauty and what just might be a hint of longing there. Like she thought it might be a good idea if he held her, too.

The last thing Jake needed was a distraction like that. He’d already spent too much time with the Carter girls. The smell of baby powder and flowers filled his nose. The baby’s implicit trust in him was already short-circuiting the perimeter he liked to keep between him and other people. He didn’t need Robin Carter’s more womanly scent clinging to him, too, lingering on his skin and clothes when he got back to his apartment, reminding him of everything that was missing from his life.

A woman and a child were things normal men had. Men cursed as he was couldn’t afford the indulgence.

Best to clear all those warm fuzzies out of his head right now. He handed Emma back to Robin and purposely retreated beyond arm’s length. “She’s just exhausted because it’s so late.”

“When she’s too tired, she usually fusses all the more. I think she likes you.”

“I hope her taste in men improves as she gets older.”

“Don’t.” Robin’s eyes snapped back to his.

“Don’t what?” He could see her bottom lip quivering despite the reprimand in her eyes. She was rethinking her decision about seeking help from such a villainous-looking stranger.

But she pressed those expressive lips together and pushed aside whatever doubt she was feeling. “I don’t know who you are, Mr. Lonergan. But I know who you are tonight. And I won’t have you trash-talking the man who saved me and my daughter.”

Huh? She was lecturing him? Most people scared off a lot easier than this woman did. A harsh glance or gruff word usually nipped any overtures of friendship in the bud. She was a stubborn one. Or crazy.

He watched how gently Robin carried the sleeping infant to the white bassinet in the corner and unsnapped the fuzzy yellow sleeper she was wearing. She undressed the baby, diapered her, put on a clean sleeping outfit and cap without the kid making another peep. “I don’t see any marks on her. She may just have been in the way of whatever that man wanted.”

“Thugs with knives and baseball bats don’t steal car seats.”

“He had a knife, too?” She gave him a sharp glance, then winced at the sudden movement.

“He pulled it on me. Used it to slice through that seat belt, too, I’m guessing. You’re lucky he didn’t cut you.”

The color in her cheeks was fading again. “So why hurt Emma if he wanted to rape me?”

“I’m guessing he just wanted her out of the way. She’d be dead if that was what he wanted.”

Robin’s weary sigh made him regret the harsh honesty. She covered Emma with the flannel blanket before looking at him. “You’re not much for giving a girl hope, are you?”

Nah. He wasn’t much of one for hope of any kind.

Better stick to the tough words and keeping his distance to remind himself that spending these few minutes with Robin and Emma Carter was a one-time thing. He could save her from being raped or worse. But he couldn’t do the whole you’re-my-hero domestic bliss thing. “So what were you two doing out so late in this part of town?”

Robin opened a cabinet behind her desk and pulled out a thin baby towel that she tossed across the room to him. Apparently, he’d finally made his desire to keep some distance between them clear. He dried his face and arms while she pulled out a second towel to dab at her own pale skin. “I own this shop. Emma usually doesn’t fall asleep for the night until around eleven or twelve. I thought I’d take advantage of her schedule and catch up on some work.”

“Well, don’t do it again.”

“No. I won’t.” She towel-dried her hair, scrunching it into sable-colored waves that framed her face. “I shouldn’t have let work take over like that. I was worried something was wrong and I wanted to fix...” She stopped that excuse on a purposeful sigh. “I know better. With the Rose Red Rapist still around... Do you think that was him?”

Jake shrugged. Even amongst criminals there was a hierarchy of what was acceptable and what was not. A lowlife who preyed on a woman with a small baby in tow was pretty low on the list—at least in Jake’s book.

Maybe she hadn’t gotten the distance message, after all. She circled the desk and plucked the damp towel from his hands. “Did you get a look at his face? All I saw was the mask...and the baseball bat. When he dragged me behind the van, I thought...” She hugged the wadded-up towels to her chest and that full bottom lip quivered again. Jake’s human impulse was to reach out and offer some kind of comfort. But his survival instincts curled his fingers into a fist down at his side, instead. “All I could think of was that I had to stay alive for Emma’s sake.”

“Yeah.” He wasn’t real comfortable making small talk and keeping her company until the police arrived on the scene—even though he knew several of the officers and detectives in this precinct because they frequented the Shamrock Bar where he worked most nights. He was even less comfortable with the unfamiliar desire to pull those slender shoulders against his chest and shield her from the fear that lingered in her eyes.

No connections. No commitments. No caring.

Those were the three Cs he’d lived by for the past two years. They were the only way he could guarantee that the nightmares from his forgotten life couldn’t come back and destroy anyone else before he had the chance to remember the truth—good or bad—and to deal with it.

“Mr. Lonergan?” He realized she was still waiting for him to answer her question. “Did you see him?”

“I didn’t see his face.” She carried the towels to a hamper beside the bassinet and dropped them inside. “But he was short for a man—not much taller than you. And he could run like the devil.”

“Would you have tried to capture him if you weren’t worried about me?”

Jake considered the honest answer. True, he couldn’t have run the guy down. But he could have pulled the gun from his ankle holster and shot him—probably hit his mark, too. Even in the dark. In the rain. Although he hadn’t shot a man in the two years he could remember, Jake had the strongest feeling that he was able to make a shot like that. How else could a man handle a knife the way he could, and know so much about weaponry and choke holds and throwing a punch?

But there was honest, and then there was too much honesty. He suspected that informing Robin Carter he carried both a gun and a hunting knife, and that he possessed the skills to use them better than most, wouldn’t give her the reassurance she was looking for right now. He shook his head. “One good deed for the night’s all I got in me.”

“I asked you not to say things like that.”

“Look, lady—”

“Robin,” she corrected him. “I also asked you to call me Robin.”

He blew out a long sigh, conceding to her will—for the few moments longer he intended to be a part of her life. “Robin. You don’t really know me. You shouldn’t automatically trust me.”

“I trusted you because I had to. You haven’t disappointed me yet.”

Oh, hell. That sounded like some sort of relationship had been forged between them.

Jake was relieved as much as he was on edge when he heard the sirens in the distance outside. He nodded toward the back door where they’d come in. “You stay here with the kid. I’ll wait outside and show the police in.”

It was one thing to serve a cop a drink. It was something else to stand there and answer his questions, maybe come under scrutiny himself for wandering the streets so late at night. And being armed the way he was bound to raise a few suspicions.

Jake surmised the distance and direction of the approaching flashing lights. He paused for one shameless moment to admire the apple-shaped curve of Robin Carter’s backside, emphasized by the clinging hug of her wet jeans, as she bent over the bassinet, tending to her sleeping baby again.

The cops were close enough. She’d be safe.

“Thank you again, Mr. Lonergan. By the way, you never told me your first name...”

He never heard the end of her sentence. By the time she straightened from the bassinet, he was gone.