forced a short laugh. “Said the spider to the fly?”
The humor on his face faded. He focused on the road, his expression hard and grim.
A pang of regret for the lost joviality left a pit in her stomach. She twisted in her seat to check on Elmer.
Protect the baby, the voice in her head chanted again.
“Tell me something.” She pinned a hard stare on Max. “If you’re a firefighter as you claim, what’s with all the guns? Last time I checked, a firefighter didn’t need to own a small arsenal or know how to shoot in order to do his job.”
Max lifted a black eyebrow, and his returned glance asked, Are you serious? “How long have you lived in Louisiana?”
“Only a couple of years. Why?”
“Ever heard the state called the Sportsman’s Paradise?”
“Of course.”
He gave a quick nod. “Well, that’s a hunting rifle. My dad taught me to hunt and shoot when I was twelve. Like his dad taught him, and his grandfather taught his dad, et cetera. It’s tradition around here.”
Laura thought of the hunting trophies she’d seen in his living room. Okay, that explained the rifles, but…
“What about that gun?” She nodded toward the weapon resting in his lap. “Surely you don’t take handguns hunting.”
“Home protection. I bought it for my wife, for the nights I was at the fire station and she was home alone.” A flicker of pain crossed his face. “She left it with me when we divorced.”
“Oh.” Laura shifted in her seat. Knowing the whys behind Max’s gun ownership didn’t make her any more comfortable being around the things. Her attention shifted to something else Max had said. She checked the ring finger of his left hand.
Bare.
If he was divorced…
A fresh prickle of doubt and concern tickled her neck, and she sat straighter in the seat. “Was your divorce recent?”
“Hmm? No, it’s been a few years.” He furrowed his expressive black eyebrows again. “Why?”
“I just assumed…because of the baby…”
He grimaced and dragged a hand down his face. “Oh…right. I—”
Max heaved a tired sigh, mumbled something about weaving tangled webs, and stared out the windshield.
The suspicion prickling Laura’s neck bit harder with every minute of his silence. “Max, whose baby is—?”
“He’s my nephew.” The haunted, dark-eyed glance he sent her twisted inside her. “My sister’s in the hospital. She might…” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “She might die. She asked me to protect her son from the men who just shot at us.”
Laura narrowed her eyes warily. “You lied to me earlier. When you said you’re his father.”
“Well, in a way, I am. A father figure at least. His real dad’s out of the picture, and—”
“Semantics! You still misled me. You let me believe he was yours!”
Returning his attention to the road, he blew out a harsh puff of air. “I saw no reason to explain. As soon as we got to my house, you were supposed to take your car and leave. The end. Goodbye. No sticky explanations.”
“I knew something was fishy.” She crossed her arms over her chest and pursed her mouth. “I’m still not convinced I should trust you.”
His head whipped toward her, and pain riddled his eyes for an instant before he hardened his expression and tensed his jaw. “Elmer is my nephew. And until Emily gets out of the hospital, I’m his guardian. His protector. That’s the plain and simple truth.”
“What about the message on your answering machine? That guy thinks the baby belongs with him.”
“Elmer’s mother wants me to have him. That’s all you need to know.” He held her gaze, his own challenging her to believe him, penetrating to her core and stirring a restlessness in her.
Protect the baby.
She twisted toward the backseat to check on the newborn again. Elmer. How could anyone have named a baby so sweet and innocent something as awkward as Elmer?
Turning back around, she leaned her head against the seat and closed her eyes. What should she do? Did she dare believe Max? He’d lied to her twice. So how did she trust him now?
Fatigue permeated her to the bone. She longed for the calm and seclusion of her apartment. Even the microwave dinner she’d planned for supper held a certain appeal at this point.
She had decisions to make, but exhaustion numbed her mind too much to think straight.
Her only certainty was she had to do what was best for Elmer. No matter what. Her day care training, her personal experience with foster homes demanded she find out where this baby really belonged, where he would be safe, where he would be loved.
A groan from the driver’s seat called her attention to the ruggedly handsome man behind the wheel. He winced and rolled his injured shoulder.
“You need a doctor.”
“Naw. I’m all right. It’s just stiff.”
“You should go to a hospital and let someone—”
“No! It’s not serious.” He set his jaw in a stubborn glower. “Besides, a doctor would have to report a gunshot wound to the police. I can’t get the police involved.”
Another uneasy prick jabbed her. “Why not? Those men shot at us!”
He hesitated, checked his mirrors again and sighed. “Long story. But…I have to keep the baby with me. The police might take him and—” He sent her a sharp look and shook his head. “Forget it. Just trust me on this, okay?”
She grunted, and he scowled.
“Well, someone needs to clean the wound before it gets infected, and I can’t do it.” She sighed. “Blood makes me sick.”
Taking one hand from the steering wheel, he peeled back his shirt to examine his wound. “It’s really only a scratch. I’ll live.” He paused. “But thanks for your concern.”
The smile he gave her shone from his eyes and warmed his face. His crooked grin removed the hard, worried edge that had darkened his face from the moment she’d met him.
But handsome as he was, his desire to avoid the police, even with the dangerous men after them, baffled her. Bothered her. If Elmer was in some kind of danger, why wouldn’t Max involve the police?
And if the baby was at risk, how could she justify walking away? The baby’s safety was her utmost concern. Max had admitted he wasn’t the baby’s real
