over custody of Emily, but Julia had no idea what to do now. This might end up in a custody battle, though she seriously doubted that Russell had a burning desire to raise a newborn.
He used the grip he had on her to get her moving, much as he’d done in the bar. “I told you I don’t remember your cousin, so I have no idea what she knew or didn’t know about me. Other than Lissa’s word on her deathbed, what proof do you have the baby is mine?”
“DNA proof,” she snapped.
That stopped him, and even though they were now on the sidewalk where Milo and his henchman would see them if they returned, Russell stared at her. “Impossible.”
She was too scared and angry to be smug. “No. The P.I. who followed you around San Saba took a coffee cup you used, and the lab compared it to Emily’s. There’s a ninety-nine-point-nine percent chance that you’re Emily’s biological father. And I stress the biological part, because anyone, including the likes of you, can father a child.”
He blew out a slow breath, and even though he didn’t dispute her claim, he didn’t jump to announce that he was indeed the birth father. There wasn’t just doubt in his eyes, there was total disbelief.
“Look, I don’t know if you’re trying to scam me, or what,” he said, his voice low and somewhat threatening. “And at this point, I really don’t care, other than to warn you that scamming me isn’t a good idea.”
“Why would I lie about something like this?” she asked, not waiting for an answer. “No one with any common sense would want you to be an innocent newborn’s father. If I had any doubts whatsoever about that, I don’t have them now. I know what you are, and I don’t want you anywhere near Emily or me.”
He stayed in deep thought for several moments. His forehead bunched up. His mouth slightly tightened. “Is the baby here in San Saba?”
Baby Emily was with a temporary nanny in Julia’s hotel room, but she had no intention of revealing that to Russell. It’d been a mistake to bring Emily. But Julia hadn’t known she would be walking into a vipers’ nest.
“She is here,” he insisted. And he cursed, the words even more vicious than before. “The baby is here in San Saba.” He kicked at a piece of broken beer bottle on the sidewalk, and he got her moving again in the direction of the bar—and the parking lot that was on the other side.
“It doesn’t matter where Emily is, you’re not going to see her,” Julia informed him. “You’re a criminal, and I’ll fight you with every breath in my body to stop you from getting anywhere near her.”
Of course, she hadn’t actually counted on becoming a permanent guardian to the child, but at the moment Julia didn’t think there was another option. Not for her, and definitely not for Emily. She could return to her San Antonio estate with Emily and lock them both away from Russell and his cohorts. With her money and connections, she could be sure to keep him away.
She hoped.
He didn’t say a word. Not when they passed the bar. Not when he hauled her into the parking lot and toward her car, which she’d parked directly beneath the lone security light. While they walked across the cracked concrete of the parking lot, he used the remote button on her keys to open the car door. He maneuvered her inside behind the wheel and shoved the key into the ignition.
She considered just driving away as fast as she could, but Julia first wanted to get something crystal clear. “You won’t challenge me for custody. Because no judge would give a baby to a criminal like you.”
The muscles in his jaw stirred. He opened his mouth, but before he could answer, something caught his attention. It caught Julia’s attention, too. It was a slow moving black car creeping past the parking lot. Because of the darkly tinted windows and the poor lighting on the street, Julia couldn’t see the driver, but she got a bad feeling that Milo or the ski-masked guy had returned.
“They’re watching you,” Russell mumbled, more to himself than her. And then he repeated it in the same tone as his profanity.
“What does that mean?” Julia was afraid of the answer.
He scrubbed his hand over his face and groaned. “It means Milo is suspicious.”
She didn’t think it was her imagination that he was carefully choosing his words and having a mental debate about what to say next. An angry mental debate.
“What I’m about to tell you,” he finally said, “you have to keep secret, and if you do tell anyone, you’ll be arrested for obstruction of justice. Got that?”
No. She didn’t get that. Julia shook her head. “What’s going on? “
“I’m not a criminal.” Another pause, and she could see the mental debate continue. “I’m Special Agent Russ Gentry, FBI.”
Julia’s mouth dropped open. “What—”
He reached inside and used the central latch on her door to unlock the passenger’s side. Before she could stop him he got inside.
“You just walked into the middle of a dangerous undercover investigation,” he snarled.
He pressed the control pad on her key chain, and the locks on the doors snapped shut. “You’ll be lucky, damn lucky, if I can get you out of this alive.”
Russ watched the chain of emotions slide across her face. First total, undeniable skepticism. She didn’t believe him. Then, her eyebrows drew together. She eased her gaping mouth shut.
And then reached for her phone.
Russ would have bet a month’s paycheck that she would either do that or try to slap him again. The latter still might happen if she didn’t get the answers she wanted to this paternity issue. Russ wanted those answers, too but right now, both their butts were on the line. God knows who Milo had alerted about this wrinkle in their plan.
“If you tell anyone who I am,” he reminded her, “I’ll arrest you.”
She pushed his pointing finger aside. “And you can’t expect me to blindly accept what you’re saying without confirmation. I’m calling Sentron Securities. The owner will be discrete.”
Maybe. Maybe not. Russ knew of the owner, Burke Dennison. And Sentron seemed to be an above board operation. But he sure as hell didn’t want his cover blown.
He had to establish his identity so he could force Julia to cooperate. He could probably force her anyway, but it would take time and cause a scene. Julia was an heiress, and he couldn’t very well force her into protective custody without someone asking the wrong questions.
“Make your call to Burke Dennison,” Russ conceded, but he shot her another warning glare. “But put it on speaker and be very careful about what you say.”
She pressed some buttons on the cell, waited and stared hard at him.
“Burke, it’s Julia Howell,” she said, to the person who answered. She placed her purse on the console between them. “I need a favor, but this
