She pointed to her laptop. Don’t Trust the Cops was scrolling across the screen in bold white letters on black background.
She had a reason not to trust cops, or anyone else for that matter. But he had to get her past that because she had no choice. Willa had to trust him.
Even if he didn’t deserve that trust.
“I’ll restart my therapy on my own,” she continued.
“I can’t take any memory-activating drugs because they might harm the baby, but maybe hypnosis will work if I try it again. I can do the hypnosis sessions here.”
Brandon shook his head. “No, you can’t.”
That got her back on her feet. “Now, just a darn minute. You might be my baby’s biological father and my former boyfriend, but that doesn’t give you any say in my life.”
He got to his feet as well. “This badge does.”
She pulled back her shoulders and looked as if he slapped her. “You’re pulling rank on me?”
“I don’t have a choice, Willa.” He’d practiced this on the drive over, but he didn’t think practice would make it sound any better than it had when he’d first said it. “We didn’t just get intel about another hostage situation. We learned from a deep-cover agent that an assassin has been hired.”
Her shoulders went back even further. “An assassin?”
He nodded and relied on the words he’d rehearsed. “An assassin hired to come after you.”
Oh, man. She didn’t just pale, every drop of color drained from her face. Willa slipped her PDA into the pocket of her sweater, sank back onto the sofa and buried her face in her hands.
Brandon went in for the kill. He had to tell her the final part of this covert briefing. The detail that would put her back in police custody.
And maybe right back in danger.
“That’s how we knew where to find you,” Brandon said, hating the sound of his own voice and the words coming out of his mouth.
Words that were unfortunately true.
“We got your address from the intelligence report that the Justice Department agent had intercepted from the assassin.” Brandon checked his watch, though he already knew time was running out. “If the intel is right, and we think it is, he plans to kill you tonight.”
Chapter Three
Willa was glad she was sitting down.
She didn’t speak—she couldn’t—and she didn’t look at Brandon. Instead, she forced herself to focus on what he’d just told her.
An assassin would come tonight to kill her.
Maybe.
The warning on her screen saver flashed in her head, and it was the reminder she needed to put this in perspective.
“Is it true?” she asked, with her eyes still turned away from Brandon. She wanted to listen for the inflection in his voice.
“It’s true, an assassin plans to kill you. We think because his boss doesn’t want to risk your memory recovering so you can tell the authorities his identity. But I’m going to protect you,” Brandon quickly added. “Because you’ll gather your things and come with me. I’ve already arranged a place for you.”
Her emotions were like a whirlwind inside her, but she thought he might be telling the truth about the assassin. There was some kind of danger anyway. Brandon definitely wasn’t lying about that.
Willa wasn’t naive enough to believe she’d be able to keep out a professional killer. All the security precautions she had already taken wouldn’t be enough, and the last thing she wanted was to go gun to gun with an assassin. The three-hour handgun course was her only training with a firearm, and she was betting the man coming after her would know how to kill with one shot.
She nodded, stood and rubbed her hands on the sides of her jeans. “Give me a minute, please. I need some time to gather my thoughts.”
And her things.
She had an emergency bag already packed and stashed beneath her bed, and she’d practiced climbing out the window. She could cut through the backyard and walk to the train station, which was only four blocks away. That’s one of the reasons she’d chosen this particular house to rent.
Willa headed for her bedroom, but she didn’t get far. Brandon was right behind her. She whirled around, not realizing he was so close, and she knocked right into him. The contact was a reminder of that kiss, and the fact that he was going to be a hard man to shake.
“I can’t let you escape,” he told her.
“Who said I’m trying to escape?” Willa tossed right back.
He gave her a flat look to indicate he knew what she had in mind. Probably did, too. He was a cop, after all.
“Lieutenant Duggan is watching the back of the house, so you wouldn’t get far anyway,” Brandon added. “Now, get your things so we can leave.”
Willa considered arguing with him, but he looked as stubborn as she was. Not a good DNA legacy to pass on to their daughter. A double dose of bullheadedness.
If he was the baby’s father, that is.
She wasn’t convinced he’d told her the truth about that, either.
“I’ll get my things,” she agreed. But that was the only thing she was agreeing to do. She wasn’t going with them, and that meant she had to distract Brandon in some way so she could escape.
“What did you type about me on your PDA?” he asked, following her into the bedroom. There was barely enough space for one person, and she was quickly learning that Brandon had a way of monopolizing not just the room but all the air in it.
“Nothing,” she lied. And she grabbed the packed overnight bag, put it on the bed and tossed in the PDA. The bag already contained a change of clothes, toiletries, meds, cash, a fake ID that had cost her dearly and a flash drive with duplicate files that were on her computer.
She also had a gun in there.
Willa didn’t want to use it, but she would if it came down to protecting her baby.
Because she wanted to buy some time for that escape opportunity, Willa went through the dresser drawer and pretended to look for something to add to the bag. Maybe conversation would help, too. Besides, there was one thing she needed to verify, even though she wasn’t sure a chat with Brandon would give her that proof.
“Are you really my baby’s father?” she asked.
But he didn’t answer. He walked across the room and looked into the drawer to see what she was doing. He likely thought she had a gun and was maybe about to pull it on him. No gun. However, he took the tiny canister of pepper spray from the top of the dresser and cupped it in his hand.
Willa gave him a cynical smile. “You trust me about as much as I trust you. So answer my question. Are you really my baby’s father?”
He looked her straight in the eyes.
And nodded.
“The DNA test is real,” he said. “The child you’re carrying is mine.”
Everything inside her went still. Because that didn’t sound like a lie.
“We were in love?” she pressed.
“No,” he answered just as quickly.
That seemed to be the truth as well. Strange that he wouldn’t have said yes and then used that love confession to convince her to cooperate with him.
“All