Delores Fossen - The Cradle Files

“Let me start from the beginning.” Lexie paused. “Or at least what I know to be the beginning. I haven’t seen a doctor, but it seems as if I’ve, uh, lost some of my memory.”

His accusing finger dropped slowly back to his side, and even though his mouth didn’t gape, it came close. “You have amnesia?”

She nodded. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

Lexie tried not to huff at his sarcasm. They had too many battles ahead of them without him questioning everything she said. “Maybe is as good of an answer as I can give you right now. That’s why I pawned my necklace and bought the gun. Because I didn’t know if we were friends or enemies.”

“There’s a lot of gray area as far as our relationship is concerned. And some not so gray,” he gruffly added. But the gruffness eased a bit when he continued. “You pawned your necklace—the gold rose with the diamond in the center?”

It was an odd question, but it also seemed important. She nodded. “Was the necklace a gift from you?”

“No. We didn’t exchange gifts. Your father gave it to you. I’m just surprised you’d be willing to part with it.”

She’d parted with it because she hadn’t known its value, and because she’d needed money to survive. However, knowing now that her father had given it to her made her ache at losing something so precious.

Of course, she’d lost something else far more precious.

“Why don’t we get back to your explanation?” Garrett insisted. “Approximately nine and a half months ago, we were together in a hotel room in downtown San Antonio.”

“Having sex,” she provided, latching on to the information as if it were nuggets of gold. Which in a way it was. Everything she could learn might bring her closer to unraveling this puzzle inside her head.

He confirmed that with a nod. “Afterward—”

She held up her hand. “Don’t go there yet. Why was I in a hotel room with you having sex?”

The question earned her a blank stare. Hooking his thumbs into the waist of his jeans, Garrett leaned against the wall. “You honestly don’t remember?”

“If I did, I wouldn’t be asking. I’m not here to relive our past.”

“Right. You’re here because you want to know if I’m the father of your baby.” More skepticism. Lexie totally understood his reaction. But she could also see that he was mentally doing the math. Nine and a half months ago fit with the other pieces of the puzzle.

She nodded. “And because someone tried to kill me.”

His left eyebrow arched. Not exactly a vote of confidence. “Okay, I’ll play. We were in a hotel room because you were in my protective custody. You were a material witness for your former boss, Billy Avery, and you testified against him for racketeering. Well, partly testified. You made it through the first day of questioning, but you left before you could finish.”

“I was Billy Avery’s bodyguard,” she supplied.

He made a sound of agreement. “You remember that part, so your amnesia must be cured.” More cynicism. Perhaps his way of coping. Or better yet, his way of tap-dancing around the other subject.

The baby.

“Not really,” Lexie explained. “I read about it in the newspapers I found on the Internet.” The images of those articles began to race through Lexie’s head. She’d been having a lot of those lately. Unfocused thoughts. Blurry images. Lots and lots of confusion.

She didn’t need the mental clutter now.

She had to focus.

“So, after I testified, we had sex….” Lexie almost had a duh moment and asked why again. But all she had to do was look at Garrett O’Malley and she knew the reason why. The lost memories hadn’t dulled her physical reaction to this man. “Then, it’s my guess something happened to cause me to leave?”

He didn’t answer right away. “I think Avery’s threats maybe got to you. You were scared.”

She suspected he was omitting something important. “Anything else that might have contributed?”

“We argued.” Just that. Tossed at her like a gauntlet. “Now, can we get to the baby part? If you have amnesia, how do you even know you had a child?”

Without loosening her grip on the gun, she caught her bulky shirt and lifted it so he could see the trio of pale, thready stretch marks on her stomach. “I think I remember going into labor three weeks and two days ago. That date is fixed in my head. I believe that’s because the whole time I was in labor, I kept thinking that it would be my baby’s birthday. But everything’s jumbled. So, I could be wrong.” A massive understatement, and it didn’t apply just to her thought process but to her entire life. “Mercy, I know how all of this must sound.”

“No. You don’t. I step out of my shower, go in search of a towel and instead get held at gunpoint by an amnesiac woman who thinks I might be the father of her child. But the problem is, other than a few stretch marks, she’s not even sure she had a baby.”

Oh, Lexie was sure of that. Hard to forget the god-awful pain that had made her feel as if she were being ripped in two. And then, after hours and hours, the pain had stopped. She’d heard that soft, kitten-like cry. Even now, with all the uncertainty, that cry still got to her. That was her baby’s cry, and no one could make her believe differently.

Grumbling something under his breath, Garrett walked closer, and closer, until he was practically looming over her. “Lexie, you need to put down that gun so I can take you to a doctor.”

She frowned. She hadn’t wanted the conversation to move in this direction. And she darn sure hadn’t wanted him that near to her, either. “You mean a shrink? You don’t believe the baby part.”

He made a sound that could have meant anything. Or nothing. “We only had sex once, and we used a condom.”

Yet more unexpected information. She was getting a lot of that tonight. “Then something went wrong.”

She tried to force her brain to remember exactly what. But it was useless. Forcing only seemed to make her memory cloudier.

Frustrated with herself she shook her head. His simultaneous movement registered just a second too late.

Garrett reached out.

Lightning fast.

And just like that, he snatched the gun from her hand.

He didn’t stop there. In a little maneuver that was practically a blur, he came at her. Lexie turned, to try to scramble away from him, but Garrett practically tackled her. The momentum sent them both crashing onto the overly soft bed. He twisted his body to take the majority of the impact. But then he turned. Trapping her. So that she couldn’t move.

Fighting through the initial panic, she took a moment to assess her situation. And it wasn’t a very good assessment. Garrett was on top of her, his body completely covering hers. She was no longer armed.

But he was.

With her gun.

Even if he hadn’t had a weapon in his right hand, his body would have certainly been classified as one. He was all sinew and muscle.

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.