It was already past five-thirty and the temperature had plunged since she’d first gone inside nearly an hour earlier. She’d had one of the last appointments of the day. Not accidental, but by design. The winter sun was already low in the sky and Mia hoped the duskiness would prevent her from being easily seen.
The wind slammed into her face, cutting her breath, but she kept up the fast pace until she made it to her car. During the past year, she’d learned to hurry, to stay out of plain sight, to go out as little as possible. It was second nature now.
She strapped Tanner’s carrier into the rear-facing brackets mounted in the backseat and then slipped in behind the steering wheel. She started to turn on the engine, but the sound stopped her.
There was a sharp rap on the passenger’s side window.
Mia’s gaze whipped toward the sound and she saw a man staring at her. But this wasn’t just any ordinary man.
Oh, God. He’d found her.
Choking back a gasp, Mia grabbed for the lock, but it was already too late. Logan McGrath pulled open the passenger’s door and calmly got inside her car as if he had every right to do just that.
He was dressed all in black. Black pants, black pullover shirt and black leather coat. His hair was midnight black, as well, and slightly shorter than it’d been when she had seen him six weeks earlier. Maybe it was all that black attire that made his eyes stand out. They were glacier blue. Cold, hard. Demanding.
She remembered that he’d been hurt the night she had given birth to Tanner. He’d used a cane and could barely walk. But he didn’t seem at a disadvantage now. She couldn’t say the same for herself. He outsized her and no doubt had years of martial arts training. Still, she had something he didn’t.
A maternal instinct to protect her son.
Mia forced herself not to panic. She thrust her hand in the diaper bag and located her cell phone. She was about to call 911 when Logan McGrath caught her wrist and took the phone from her. He also took her keys with the pepper spray and the diaper bag, shoving all the items on the floor next to him.
When he moved, his leather coat shifted, just a little. Enough for her to get a glimpse of the shoulder holster and gun tucked beneath it. But then, he probably didn’t go many places without that firearm.
Mia lifted her chin and put some steel in her expression. There was no way she was going to let this man take control of the situation.
“Get out!” she ordered.
“Soon. I came to pick up my bathrobe. You took it with you when you left Fall Creek.”
So, he obviously knew who she was. Not that he would likely forget delivering a baby on his brother’s front porch. He was also obviously good with the sarcasm. Calm and cool under pressure.
Unlike her.
Her heart was beating so fast she thought it might leap out of her chest. Mia couldn’t let him see that fear, though. For her baby’s sake, she had to get this man out of her car. Somehow. And then she had to get far away from him so he could never find her again.
“I’ll mail you the robe,” she informed him. “Write down your address and then get out of my car.”
The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. It didn’t soften the rock-hard expression on his square jaw or high cheekbones. But that expression did soften when he glanced back at the infant seat.
Mia’s heart dropped to her knees. God, this couldn’t be happening. She’d been so stupid to go his brother’s house that day. Now, that stupidity might cost her everything.
She couldn’t physically fight him off, though she would try if it came down to it. However, maybe she could defuse this awful situation with some lies.
“I’m grateful to you for delivering my baby,” she said, hoping that it sounded sincere. Because she was sincere about that. The rest, however, was pure fabrication. “I went to your brother’s house because I was driving through Fall Creek and realized I was in labor. I saw the MD sign on his mailbox and stopped.”
He turned in the seat, slowly, so that he was facing her and aimed those ice-blue eyes at her. “How do you think I found you, Mia Crandall?”
She froze. Gave it some thought. And her mouth went bone dry. Because she couldn’t speak, she shook her head.
Logan McGrath calmly reached over, locked the doors, retrieved her keys and started the engine. He turned on the heater and waited until the warm air blew over them before he continued.
“I had DNA tests run on the blood you left on the porch,” he explained.
Of course he had.
Logan McGrath was a man who thought like a criminal. Too bad she hadn’t wiped up after herself, but then she hadn’t exactly had the time or energy for that chore. Mia had barely been able to get Tanner and herself to the car so she could get to the hospital in San Antonio. During that entire drive she’d been terrified that McGrath would follow her. His injury had probably prevented that from that happening, it was highly likely that he hadn’t been able to drive.
“I’m sure you know that your DNA is on file because of your former job as a counselor in a state women’s shelter,” he continued. “Once I had your name, I found an address for you here in San Antonio. You’d moved, of course. So, I took a different approach to locate you.”
And Mia thought she might know what that approach was. “You hacked or bribed your way into the appointments of pediatric clinics all over the city because you knew that I’d be taking my baby in for a six weeks’ checkup.”
He nodded. “Hacked is not quite the right word. I had police assistance to help me put all the pieces together.” He lifted his hands, palms up in an exaggerated gesture. “And here we are.”
“Not for long.” Because she needed something to do, Mia clutched the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white. “Look, if you want money because you delivered my baby—”
“You know what I want, and it’s not money. It’s not my robe, either. I want answers.”
Mia glared at him. “No. No answers. Get out of my car and out of my life.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
He leaned closer, violating her personal space. He smelled dangerous. And very virile, which she was sorry she’d noticed.
“Let me help you with those answers,” Logan continued, his Texas drawl easy but somehow dark. “I already know a lot about you, Mia Frances Crandall. Born and raised in Dallas, you’ve had a tough life. When you were fifteen, two drug-crazed teen burglars broke into your home, murdered your parents and left you for dead.”
Mia automatically touched her fingers to her throat, to the scar that was still there. It was faint and barely visible now. Unlike the invisible wounds beneath.
Those scars would never fade.
“I don’t have time for a trip down memory lane,” she grumbled. She forced back the brutal images of that night in
