we’re having sex or you might not be leaving at all. You’ll be dead. And so will I.”
That was the only warning she got before the pretense went into full swing. He kneed her legs apart, yanking off her green scrub pants. He didn’t touch her panties, thank goodness, and he threw the covers over them.
He fumbled between them, pretending to unzip his jeans before the fake thrusting started.
“If necessary?” he said, repeating her response to his question of Did you come here to kill me? “If you’re not here for revenge, then why did you come?”
Revenge, yes, she wanted that. And justice. But more than those things, she just wanted answers.
It was impossible to think with everything going on. The sex was fake, but it was still a man’s body shoving against her. And then there was the fear. Obviously, this man knew her. Knew she was as phony as the sex they were having. So, why hadn’t he shouted out for the guard?
Why hadn’t he killed her?
After all, he had her gun and his.
“I’m looking for my baby,” she said. Her mouth trembled. And she felt her heart breaking all over again.
He stopped moving, met her gaze. For a few seconds, anyway. Then, he let out a loud groan, the sound of a man who’d just reached a climax, and he collapsed against her.
“You had a child,” he said. Not a question exactly but more like something a person would say when trying to piece things together.
She nodded. Bad idea. It caused her mouth to brush against his neck, and because his sex was still aligned with hers, she felt a stirring.
Yes, this was pretend, but his body was obviously having a hard time remembering that.
“I gave birth to a baby girl nearly a year ago.” Eleven months. Six days. Heck, she knew the hours and minutes.
“Nearly a year ago,” he repeated. “She was your fiancé’s baby?”
Again, not a question that she’d expected. Rosalie nodded and tried to tamp down the massive lump in her throat. Her eyes burned with tears that she couldn’t cry. Tears wouldn’t help her baby now.
“Sadie...that’s what I named my daughter. She was born eight and a half months after my fiancé was murdered.”
The memories of that day came. Of his shooting. That horrible flood of images that just didn’t stop. So senseless. Her fiancé, Special Agent Eli Wells, had died because of a botched investigation, and Rosalie had wanted to die right along with him.
And then she’d learned she was pregnant.
The baby had saved her. Because she’d put all her love and emotions into surviving, into the pregnancy, so she could have the child of the man she’d loved.
“Someone stole Sadie from the hospital just a few hours after she was born,” Rosalie added, “and I’ve been looking for her ever since.”
His breath was thicker now, practically gusting. “She wouldn’t be here. They only bring newborns here, and they’ve only used this place for a couple of months.”
Yes, she knew that from the guard’s ramblings before he’d actually dozed off from the meds that she had slipped him. “I thought there would be records on the computer in a locked room of the house.”
“There are. But only for the babies being held at this location. You’re sure the black market ring took your daughter?”
“No.” And it hurt to admit that. She wasn’t sure of anything, but she’d exhausted her leads and had gone with this different angle. “A criminal informant said there might be information here.”
There was a lot more to it than that, but Rosalie didn’t want to rehash everything it’d taken to bring her to this point. All the lies, the payoffs and the bogus identity she’d had to create.
“Why haven’t you killed me?” she came out and asked. “And how do you know who I am?”
Again, he took his time, looking down at her as if trying to figure out what was going on. Rosalie was doing the same thing to him.
“What criminal informant did you use?” he asked, obviously dodging the questions.
Of all the things that were up in the air here, that didn’t seem very important. “A guy from San Antonio. Lefty Markham.”
He groaned, cursed and rolled off her and to his side. But he immediately pulled her against him. Face-to-face. Like a couple having some pillow talk after a round of sex.
“He’s your stepbrother’s CI,” he whispered. “Why the hell didn’t you bring Seth in on this?”
Seth Calder, not just her stepbrother but also an FBI agent. So, not only did this man know who she was, but he also knew details about her life that he shouldn’t know.
“Because Seth’s checking out another lead over in El Paso. The CI said the baby-holding area here at the ranch wouldn’t be here much longer.”
“It won’t be. The plan is to move tomorrow.”
Oh, mercy. So soon. “I need to see those records. Please help me. Please.”
Yes, she was begging but she would resort to a lot more than that to learn where her baby had been taken.
“I’m Austin Duran,” he said.
His voice was so soft, barely audible, but it slammed through her as if he’d yelled it.
“Oh, God,” she said a lot louder than a whisper.
“Yeah.” He moved away from her so they were no longer touching.
The name was as familiar to her as her own. But not in a good way. It was a name she’d cursed. A bogeyman who’d robbed her of her hopes and dreams.
The man who’d killed Eli.
Not in the eyes of the law, though, and it certainly hadn’t been labeled murder. But Rosalie knew that Austin Duran was the FBI agent who had botched the investigation that’d led to Eli’s murder.
“Yeah,” he repeated. There was a lot of emotion hanging on that one word. The pain. The memories.
Everything Rosalie was feeling.
“You thought I’d come here to kill you,” she mumbled. “You thought I was avenging Eli’s death.”
He didn’t confirm that. Didn’t need to.
“I didn’t get a good look at your face.” And that’s why she hadn’t instantly recognized him. Strange that she hadn’t sensed that he had been so close, because she’d spent all these months hating him.
And Rosalie would use that hate.
In fact, it could be better than a gun.
“You’re
