Alice Sharpe - A Baby Between Them

Why was it such a big deal to her? It had never made sense to him and it didn’t make sense now. Unless she had a record of some kind, unless she was on the run….

He took a step toward her and took her shoulders in his hands, resisting the habit of pulling her into a full embrace. She’d always fit against him perfectly. She was exactly the right height, exactly the right shape, her body a perfect match for his. Even with the baby growing inside her. His baby.

“Why do I want to trust you so much?” she said softly.

“Because somewhere in your heart you know you can.”

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This book is dedicated to my very dear friend

and fellow writer Elisabeth Naughton, with much love.

Alice Sharpe met her husband-to-be on a cold, foggy beach in Northern California. One year later they were married. Their union has survived the rearing of two children, a handful of earthquakes registering over 6.5, numerous cats and a few special dogs, the latest of which is a yellow Lab named Annie Rose. Alice and her husband now live in a small rural town in Oregon, where she devotes the majority of her time to pursuing her second love, writing.

Alice loves to hear from readers. You can write her at P.O. Box 755, Brownsville, OR 97327. SASE for reply is appreciated.

Simon Task—This lawman has known and loved Ella Baxter for a long time, but he’s recently had to admit love isn’t always enough. Less than a week after leaving her, she disappears. Now he’s either on a fool’s errand or the rescue mission of his—and Ella’s—life.

Eleanor (Ella) Baxter—She’s always been secretive about her past. An auto accident leaves that past a secret from her. The trick becomes surviving events set in motion by an unseen hand. All she’s sure of is her determination to reunite with her father and her growing feelings for the “stranger” who comes to her rescue.

Carl Baxter—Ella’s husband or maybe her ex-husband. He seems to be caring for her after the accident, but there’s no denying his very touch leaves Ella cold. What is he after and how far will he go to get it?

“Chopper”—This big, menacing man wields his knife with deadly accuracy. There is nothing he won’t do to get what he wants.

Kyle Starling—Ella’s father is a wanted murderer and thief who disappeared from her life many years before. Now he’s instigated a deadly chain for Ella to follow—if she can stay alive long enough.

Jack—This larger-than-life man appears out of nowhere. He’s a good man to have on your side in a fight. Just what—or who—is he fighting for?

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

A blob of color off to the left caught Simon Task’s attention as he sped out of a town whose name he’d already forgotten.

He immediately pulled off the highway, the truck spraying gravel as he braked to a stop. Swiveling in his seat, he looked back. There it was, a pink-and-orange plastic ladybug, the kind that attached to the top of an automobile antenna. What was it doing buried in a wrecking yard?

His imagination got the worst of him as he waited for a break in the traffic before making a U-turn into the parking lot. He pulled up next to the shell of a rusty van with a shattered windshield.

It had to be a coincidence. There had to be more than one of those silly ladybugs in the world.

His mission, or quest or whatever you wanted to call it, had begun twelve hours earlier when he’d driven by Ella’s house at three o’clock in the morning. Since their big fight and their subsequent breakup a few days before, he’d avoided her street, but last night had been a busy one. By the time his shift had ended, he’d been tired enough to take the old shortcut. It wasn’t as though she’d be awake to see him drive past.

Much to his surprise, her house had been visible the moment he’d turned the corner, blazing with lights both inside and out. He’d pulled up to the curb in front and sat there until curiosity and uneasiness forced him out of the squad car and up the path to her door.

Wouldn’t it be the ultimate irony if the instincts and skills honed on the police force, a job she’d begged him over and over again to quit, now provided the very abilities she depended on to rescue her?

Or was he reading this all wrong?

Wrenching his thoughts back to the present, he caught sight of the small snow globe on the passenger seat and picked it up, twisting his wrist, sending glittery “snow” falling over an otter “floating” on a sea of blue acrylic. On the night he’d found the lights on, he’d gone looking to see if her car was in the garage. No car. Instead, there was the snow globe, all alone where the car should have been, so out of place it caught his eye.

He was here because of this damn snow globe.

But was he in the right place?

He set it back down and got out of the truck, striding toward the fence with determination etched on the lean planes of his face. With his thirty-seventh birthday well behind him, he was a man accustomed to knowing what was going on or moving heaven and earth to find out. First things first.

Rounding a stack of tires, he could finally see through the chain-link fence and what he saw almost froze him in place. The antenna supporting the ladybug mascot was attached to a silver late-model sedan, or what was left of one, the same kind of car Ella drove. The hood was buckled inward and up, all but obscuring the windshield. The passenger compartment was partly crushed, shattered headlights and sprung doors attesting to the power of the impact that had put it here in the first place.

Had the driver walked away from this accident? More to the point—had Ella walked away or was she lying in a morgue somewhere? He swallowed hard.

Make sure it’s her car. Bending at the knees, he perched on his heels as he tried to decipher the bent license plate three feet away. Every letter and number he could make out matched up to Ella’s.

“You interested in that car?” a deep voice asked. Simon rose to a standing position as a man popped up from behind a dented SUV, a crowbar in one big hand, two hubcaps tucked under his opposite arm. With a shrill clang, he dropped everything on the rusty hood of yet another wreck and lumbered over to the fence, giving Simon the once-over.

He was fifty or so, pasty and short of breath, a layer of sweat glistening on his brow despite the cool May day. Simon started to reach for his badge but thought better of it. Finding Ella was personal, not official. He said, “It’s in pretty bad shape,” bracing himself to hear the worst.