her child as his. Technically, biologically, it was true. But CJ didn’t know that. And she never wanted him to learn the truth of his parentage. She never wanted him to know that he was one of those O’Hannigans.
“You weren’t bad,” Brendan continued. “You were very brave to protect your mother. You’re a very good kid.”
The boy sniffled again and released a shuddery breath.
“Now you have to be brave again,” Brendan said. “And come out. There might be more bad men and we have to leave before they can be mean to your mother.”
“You—you were mean to Mommy,” CJ said. Her son was too smart to be as easily fooled by Brendan’s charm as she had been. And as if compelled to protect her again, the little boy wriggled out from behind the pipes. But instead of confronting Brendan as he had inside the hospital, he ducked behind Josie’s legs.
Brendan dropped to his haunches as if trying to meet the child’s eyes even though it was so dark. “I shouldn’t have been mean to her,” he said. “And I’m sorry that I was. I thought she was someone else.” His soft tone hardened. “Someone who lied to me, tricked me and then stole from me.”
Josie shuddered at his implacable tone. He had saved her from the gunmen, but he hadn’t forgotten her betrayal. Over the years it had apparently even been exaggerated in his mind, because she had never stolen anything from him. Judging by the anger he barely controlled, it seemed as if he would never forgive her.
“I don’t like it when people lie to me,” Brendan said. “But I would never hurt anyone.”
“Who’s lying now?” she murmured.
“Unless I had to in order to protect someone else,” he clarified. “I will protect you and your mommy.”
“I will p-tect Mommy,” CJ said, obviously unwilling to share her with anyone else. But then, he’d never had to before. He had been the most important person—the only person, really—in her life since the day he was born.
Josie turned and lifted him in her arms. And she finally understood why he’d been so reluctant to come out of his hiding place. He was embarrassed, because his jeans were wet. Her little boy, who’d never had an accident since being potty-trained almost a year ago, had been so scared that he’d had one now. She clutched him close and whispered in his ear. “It’s okay.”
Brendan must have taken her words as acceptance. He slipped his arm around her shoulders. Despite the warmth of his body, she shivered in reaction to his closeness. Then he ushered her and CJ toward the elevator. He must have jammed the doors open, because it waited for them, light spilling from it onto the rooftop.
As she noticed that the armed men were gone, fear clutched at her. Brendan must not have injured them badly enough to stop them. They could be lurking in the shadows, ready to fire again. She covered CJ’s face with her hand and leaned into Brendan, grateful for his size and his strength.
But then as they crossed the roof to the open doors, she noticed blood spattered across the asphalt and then smeared in two thick trails. Brendan had dragged away the bodies. Maybe he’d done it to spare their son from seeing death. Or maybe he’d done it to hide the evidence of the crime.
It hadn’t actually been a crime though. It had been self-defense. And to protect her and their son. If she believed him.
But could she believe him? No matter what his motives were this time, the man was a killer. She didn’t need to see the actual bodies to know that the men were dead. Her instincts were telling her that she shouldn’t trust him. And she damn well shouldn’t trust him with their son.
BRENDAN HELD HIS son. For the first time. But instead of a fragile infant, the boy was wriggly and surprisingly strong as he struggled in his grasp. He had taken him from Josie’s arms, knowing that was the only way to keep her from running. She cared more about their son’s safety than her own.
Maybe she really wasn’t the woman he’d once known. Josie Jessup had been a spoiled princess, obviously uncaring of whom she hurt with her exposés and her actions. She had never run a story on Brendan though—she’d just run.
Brendan wouldn’t let that happen again. So he held his son even though she reached for him, her arms outstretched. And the boy wriggled, trying to escape Brendan’s grasp.
“Come on,” he said to both of them. “We need to move quickly.”
“I—I can run fast,” CJ assured him.
Not fast enough to outrun bullets. Brendan couldn’t be certain that the guy from the sixth floor hadn’t regained consciousness and set up an ambush somewhere. He couldn’t risk going through the hospital, so he pressed the garage express button on the elevator panel. It wouldn’t stop on any other floors now. It would take them directly from the roof to the parking level in the basement.
“I’m sure you can run fast,” Brendan said. “But we all have to stay together from now on to make sure we stay safe from the bad men.”
But the little boy stopped struggling and stared up at him, his blue-green eyes narrowed as if he was trying to see inside Brendan—to see if he was a bad man, too. He hoped like hell the kid couldn’t really see inside his soul.
It was a dark, dark place. It had been even darker when he’d thought Josie had been murdered. He had thought that she’d been killed because of him—because she’d gotten too close, because she’d discovered something that he should have.
From the other stories she’d done, he knew she was a good reporter. Too good. So good that she could have made enemies of her own, though.
At first he hadn’t thought this attack on her had anything to do with him. After all, he hadn’t even known she was alive. And he’d certainly had no idea he had a child.
But maybe one of his enemies had discovered she was alive. She stared up at him with the same intensity of their son, her eyes just a lighter, smokier green. No matter how much her appearance had been altered and what she’d claimed before, she was definitely Josie Jessup. And whoever had discovered she was really alive knew what Brendan hadn’t realized until he heard of her death—that he’d fallen for her. Despite her lies. Despite her betrayal.
He had fallen in love with her, with her energy and her quick wit and her passion. And he’d spent more than three years mourning her. Someone might have wanted to make certain that his mourning never ended.
Josie shook her head, rejecting his protection. “I think we’ll be safer on our own.”
She didn’t trust him. Given his reputation, or at least the reputation of his family, he didn’t necessarily blame her. But then she should have known him better. During those short months they’d spent together before her “death,” he had let her get close. He may not have told her the truth about himself, but he’d shown her that he wasn’t the man others thought he was. He wasn’t his father.
He wasn’t cruel and indifferent. “If I’d left you alone on the roof …”
SHE AND CJ would already be dead. She shuddered in revulsion at the horrible thought. She could not deny that Brendan O’Hannigan had saved their lives. But she was too scared to thank him and too smart to trust him.
Despite her inner voice warning her to be careful, she
