Still, he’d try. Hard.
Because, after all, this was Lexie. He wasn’t ready to go a second round with her. The sooner he could get her out of his life, the better.
“Other than the veiled threats he made to you during the trial, I haven’t heard anything from Billy Avery,” he tried to assure her, while he calculated how he was going to subdue her so he could confiscate that gun. “In fact, he’s been a model prisoner. Probably because he’s hoping to have the murder and racketeering verdicts overturned on appeal.” With that, Garrett paused. Rethought. “He threatened you so you wouldn’t testify against him if he was granted a new trial?”
Lexie shook her head and left the doorway. She stepped warily into the room, her gaze darting around as if she expected someone to jump out from the corners. “I haven’t spoken to Billy Avery.”
Garrett believed her, especially since prison authorities would have alerted someone in the SAPD if Lexie had phoned or shown up at the prison. But believing her on that specific point didn’t help clear up everything else.
“Look, I could stand here and try to guess what’s wrong,” he stated, “but wouldn’t it be easier if you just told me what this is all about?”
She looked at him as if trying to decide what to say. Or what not to say. Finally, she nodded. Then nodded again. “Someone tried to kill me.”
Whoa. That got his attention. “Who?”
But he was already fairly sure of the answer. If someone had tried to kill her, then Billy Avery or one of his associates was likely behind it. That was the reason the cops and the feds had wanted Lexie in the Witness Protection Program. A program she’d declined by simply leaving and not telling anyone, including Garrett, her whereabouts.
He hadn’t thought for a minute that she was dead, either. She was too resourceful for that. So over the past months he had come to accept that she’d disappeared because of him. Their little encounter had nearly cost the state a guilty verdict for Billy Avery, and it’d nearly cost Garrett his badge. The flack hadn’t stopped there. His brother and sister, both fellow cops, had had their own sterling careers tarnished by standing up for him.
No. Garrett wouldn’t forget the mess Lexie had made of his life and the trouble she’d caused for his family.
“I don’t know who tried to kill me,” she said. “But that’s not the reason I came here.” Lexie plowed the fingers of her left hand through her hair and scooped it away from her face. It didn’t help. The loose strands simply fell back into place. “I need to ask you something, something personal, and I want the truth.”
Garrett waited. And waited. But she didn’t finish her request for information. She just stood there, tears threatening and her bottom lip trembling. He forced himself to stay put. Comforting could lead to holding.
Or shooting.
Neither was going to happen, not tonight. Not ever.
“You need to know what?” he pressed. “I’m not a mind reader, Lexie.”
Without breaking eye contact, and without lowering her gun, she sat down on the foot of his bed. The mattress creaked softly.
She pulled in a long, weary breath, released it. “Are you the father of my baby?”
Chapter Two
“Am I what?” Garrett O’Malley demanded.
But he didn’t just demand it. His hands went to his hips, and he pinned his Celtic-green gaze on her. With that stare, he questioned her integrity. Her presence.
And her sanity.
Lexie was right there with him. She, too, was questioning a lot of things, her sanity included. It was probably a huge mistake to come here like this, but she hadn’t had a choice. She needed answers, and Sergeant Garrett O’Malley was the person most likely to have them.
Not exactly a comforting thought.
It was obvious that he hated her. Why, she didn’t know. But from the few things she’d learned, he probably had good reason to. It was possible she had reasons to hate him as well.
“I asked if you’re the father of my baby,” Lexie clarified, though she was certain he’d heard her.
Hearing and grasping, however, were two different things. She’d basically just delivered a bombshell and was giving Garrett O’Malley mere seconds to absorb it. Heck, she’d had days and hadn’t fully managed to, and what she had managed to understand, she didn’t like.
She was in a lot of trouble.
But then, perhaps, so was Garrett.
She’d save that news for later. First, there was the issue of paternity.
“Well?” she prompted.
Lexie saw the moment that her bombshell actually registered. His eyes widened. Every muscle in his body seemed to turn to iron.
“Oh, man.” He groaned and stepped back, his chest pumping as if he were suddenly starved for air. “Was that an honest-to-goodness question?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” And she tried to brace herself for an equally honest answer. He held her life, her heart and her future in his hands, and he didn’t even know it.
Yet.
He opened his mouth. Closed it. Only to open it again so he could curse. “Why are you doing this?”
She ignored his question. “Did we sleep together?”
“No.” He said it without a shred of hesitation.
Lexie’s heart sank to her knees. Oh, mercy. Had she gotten this all wrong?
Garrett let that unhesitant no bristle between them while he stared daggers at her. His mouth tightened into a semi-sneer. “But we did have sex,” he clarified. “You left before either of us could get any sleep.”
The relief flooded through her. Why, she didn’t know. Other than the fact O’Malley was a cop, he didn’t seem like the best choice for fatherhood or a likely candidate to help keep her alive. From what she’d read about him, he had a penchant for attracting trouble. That penchant apparently included attracting her, as well.
“So, we weren’t in love or anything like that?” she questioned.
“No.” He practically spat out the word. More profanity followed. “If you want to put a label on it, we were in brief, temporary lust.”
Yes. She could see that. Garrett O’Malley was, well, hot by anyone’s standards.
Especially hers.
Even with the fatigue and the relentless haze in her brain, she couldn’t deny that. He was lean and lethal, just over six feet tall, with a body and face that had probably garnered him many invitations to women’s beds. Not exactly the knight in shining armor type with those jeans that clung to every part of him.
Heck, he wasn’t even the cop type.
With that sopping wet, a-little-too-long, bronze-colored hair, hint of desperado stubble and bad boy demeanor, he would have been more at home on a Harley.
Or in a police lineup.
“Lust,” Lexie mumbled. She’d counted