And he was all over her.
His right leg was wedged between hers. His chest squashed against her breasts. Their middles aligned perfectly, as if they were about to have sex.
That alignment didn’t bring back any memories.
However, it did remind her that he was a very virile man.
As if she needed anything to remind her of that.
What was wrong with her, anyway? Her brain was messed up. So was her body. Only three and a half weeks ago she’d given birth, and here she was reacting to a man who for all practical purposes was a stranger. Maybe this was a bad case of postdelivery hormones. If so, it was a sick trick to play on her.
Because Garrett was so close, Lexie caught his scent. His ocean-scented deodorant soap. His shampoo. His spearmint toothpaste. And beneath all the toiletry stuff, his own scent was there. All man.
Not that she’d had any doubts about that.
“Well?” he said. Definitely not a question, but more like a challenge. It had a tinge of a Texas drawl and a hefty amount of anger in it.
He didn’t believe her.
For the first time since she’d started this fiasco, Lexie was truly afraid. “What are you going to do to me?”
He blinked, surprised, as if genuinely insulted. “I’m not going to kill you, that’s for sure. If I’d wanted you dead,” he informed her, enunciating each word carefully, “you already would be.”
Because she couldn’t let him think she was weak, Lexie hiked up her chin and met him eye to eye. “I could say the same thing,” she retorted.
Okay, so that was a lie. But maybe Garrett didn’t know that, and right now, she’d do whatever it took, including an attempt at intimidation, to get his cooperation. She had to make him believe her because she needed his help.
He shifted slightly, so that his thigh wasn’t pressed against the V junction of her jeans. “If the condom failed, then I have just one question,” he said. “Where’s the baby?”
It was the only question that mattered.
The memories of the delivery came flooding back. The pain. God, the pain. That tiny cry. And just like that, Lexie found herself blinking back more tears.
So much for her attempt at appearing strong and sturdy.
She was failing at a lot of things tonight.
“I tried to stop it,” she heard herself say. Mercy, her voice was ripe with fatigue and weariness. “But the man was too strong.”
Garrett eased off her. “The man who tried to kill you?”
“No. This man was there when I delivered. With the doctor. The doctor had slightly graying hair. He was tall, with wide shoulders. And he shoved a needle in my arm. It was filled with some kind of drug. I think it was the drug that left me with all these gaps in my memory.”
Garrett stood, staring down at her. “Then how do you know the baby isn’t a drug-induced figment?”
“She isn’t a figment,” Lexie insisted. “She’s real.”
Garrett paused. “She?”
“I didn’t actually see the baby, but I’m positive it was a little girl.”
His expression softened. Briefly. And then the concern returned and settled into his eyes. “Lexie, what happened? What did this man do?”
She wasn’t even sure she could say the words aloud. Just thinking them nearly ripped her heart apart.
“He stole the baby. And we have to find her, Garrett. One way or another, we have to get our daughter back.”
Chapter Three
Garrett felt as if someone had slugged him. Twice.
“Oh, man,” he mumbled. And because he didn’t know what else to say or do, he just stood there and kept mumbling it.
A baby.
Specifically, a three-and-a-half-week-old daughter.
A child he’d conceived with Lexie during the “adrenaline sex” they’d had after she testified against her boss.
Well, maybe.
And maybe all of this was some bizarre encounter with a woman who was no longer sane.
Except Lexie seemed sane. Well, she did if he disregarded half of what she’d said. Oh, and if he didn’t count the fact that she’d broken into his house and held him at gunpoint.
Not exactly the actions of a sane woman.
But if what she’d told him was true, then what she had been through would have tested anyone’s sanity.
Lexie got up from the bed. Not slowly, either. And she immediately started toward him.
“Don’t you even think about trying to get this gun back,” Garrett warned through clenched teeth. “And forget any thoughts about trying to pound me into the floor by using your martial arts training. And definitely don’t do anything else that’ll rile me.”
She blinked. “I have martial arts training?”
He was certain he scowled—because under the circumstances it seemed a semi-trivial question and because he probably shouldn’t have informed her of that particular talent. “Yeah. You do.”
Lexie touched her fingertips to her right temple. “I wish I’d known that sooner.”
“Lucky for me you didn’t, because I obviously have enough to deal with.” And he needed to start dealing. “Honesty time,” he insisted, turning toward her. Unfortunately, because she was already so close, that move put their faces only a couple of inches apart. Breath met breath. “Is all of what you told me true?”
“Yes.” She paused. Nodded. Paused again. “There are some blank spots in my memory, but giving birth isn’t one of them. I swear I had a baby.”
And he was the father.
Okay. He didn’t doubt that last part. If Lexie had indeed had a child, then the timing was perfect for it to be his. Unfortunately, the pregnancy timing was the only thing that was perfect or that made sense.
She pressed her lips together for a moment and gave him a considering stare. “I don’t think I would have left your bed and gone to another man.”
“You wouldn’t have.” In fact, in those days leading up to Billy Avery’s trial, while Lexie had still been in his protective custody, they’d talked about a lot of things, including their sex lives.
Or lack thereof.
Lexie wasn’t a person who slept around. Neither was he, despite the player reputation he had among his fellow officers.
Even though he tried to tamp down all the wild scenarios that started to fly through his head, he wasn’t completely successful. But Garrett forced himself to focus.
First things first.
He ejected the ammunition from her weapon. The unfired bullets landed on the floor. Using his bare foot, he kicked them several feet away from her.
She watched the cartridges scatter, and her gaze flew to his again. “You still think I’m here to shoot you?”
“I don’t want you to have the opportunity to even consider it. Confiscating and disarming a weapon are standard police procedures.”
“If I were a suspect.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know what you are. Or what’s going on. You broke into the home of a cop, which only makes