Delores Fossen - Expecting Trouble

“I want you to carry out Paul’s wishes. In his will, he named me guardian of his children. He didn’t have any children at the time he wrote that, but he does now.”

“You only want my daughter so you can control me,” Jenna tossed out.

Holden didn’t deny it. “I’ve petitioned the court for custody,” he said.

Jenna stopped right next to Cal, and she reached across his body to open the door wider. “No judge would give you custody.”

“Maybe not in this country, but in Monte de Leon, the law will be on Paul’s side. Even in death he’s still a powerful man with powerful friends.”

“Sophie’s an American,” Jenna pointed out. “Born right here in Texas.”

“And you think that’ll stop Paul’s wishes from being carried out? It won’t. If the Monte de Leon court deems you unfit—and that can easily happen with the right judge—then the court will petition for the child to be brought to her father’s estate.”

“Sophie is not Paul’s child.” She looked Holden right in the eye when she told that lie.

But Holden only smiled. “I’ve seen pictures of her. She looks just like him. Dark brown hair. Blue eyes.”

Pictures meant he had surveillance along with taps. This was not looking good.

Cal could hear Jenna’s breath speed up. Fear had a smell, and she was throwing off that scent, along with motherly protection vibes. But that wouldn’t do anything to convince this SOB that he didn’t have a right to claim her child.

From the corner of his eye, Cal spotted a movement. There was a tall redheaded woman with a camera. She was about forty yards away across the street and was clicking pictures of this encounter. Gwen Mitchell no doubt. And she wasn’t the only woman there. He also spotted a slender blonde making her way up the steps to Jenna’s apartment.

“That’s Helena Carr,” Jenna provided.

Holden’s sister and business partner. Great. Now there was an added snake to deal with, and it was all playing out in front of a photographer with questionable motives. Cal could already hear himself having to explain why he was in small-town America with his standard-issue SIG Sauer smashed against a civilian’s face.

“This meeting is over,” Cal insisted. He lowered his gun, but he kept it aimed at Holden’s right kneecap.

“It’ll be over when Jenna admits that her daughter is Paul’s,” Holden countered.

“We just want the truth.” That from Helena, who was a feminine version of her brother without the Vikingwide shoulders. Her stare was different, too. Nonthreatening. Almost serene. “After all, we know she slept with Paul, and the timing is perfect to have produced Sophie.”

Cal hoped he didn’t regret this later, but there was one simple way to diffuse this. “I have dark brown hair, blue eyes. Just like Sophie’s.” He hoped, since he hadn’t actually seen the little girl.

Helena blinked and gave him an accusing stare. Holden cursed. “Are you saying you’re the father?” he asked.

“No,” Jenna started to say. But Cal made sure his voice drowned her out.

“Yes,” Cal snarled. “I’m Sophie’s father.”

“Impossible,” Holden snarled back.

Cal gave him a cocky snort. “There is nothing impossible about it. I’m a man. Jenna’s a woman. Sometimes men and women have sex, and that results in a pregnancy.”

And just in case Jenna was going to say something to contradict him, Cal gave her a quick glance. She was staring at him as if he’d lost his mind.

“You won’t mind taking a DNA test,” Holden insisted.

“Tell you what. You send the request for a DNA sample through your foreign judge and let it trickle its way through our American judicial system. Then I’ll get back to you with an answer.”

Of course, the answer would be no.

Still, that wouldn’t stop Holden from trying. If he controlled Jenna’s child, then he would ultimately have access to a vast money-laundering enterprise. Then he could fully operate his own family business and the one he’d inherited from Paul.

“This isn’t over.” Holden aimed the threat at Jenna as he stalked away.

Cal was about to shut the door and call his director so he could start some damage control, but Helena eased her hand onto the side to stop it from closing.

“I’m sorry about this.” Helena sounded sincere. Or else she’d rehearsed it enough to fake sincerity. Maybe this was the brother-sister version of good cop/bad cop. “I just want the truth so I can make sure Paul’s child inherits what she deserves.”

Jenna didn’t even address that. “Can you stop your brother?”

Cal carefully noted Helena’s reaction. She glanced over her shoulder. First, at her brother who was getting inside their high-end car. Then at the photographer.

“Could I step inside for just a moment?” That sincerity thing was there again.

But Cal wasn’t buying it.

Jenna apparently did. With the butcher knife still clutched in her hand, she stepped back so Helena could enter.

“That reporter out there might have some way to eavesdrop on us,” Helena explained. “She has equipment and cameras with her.”

Maybe. But Cal hadn’t seen anything to suggest long-range eavesdropping equipment. Still, it was an unnecessary risk to keep talking in plain view. Lipreading was a possibility. Plus, anything said here could ultimately put Jenna in more danger and get him in deeper trouble with the director. Not that her paternity claims were exactly newsworthy, but he didn’t want to see his and Jenna’s names and photos splashed in a newspaper.

“Well?” Cal prompted when Helena continued to look around and didn’t say anything else.

“Where do I start?” She seemed to be waiting for an invitation to sit down, but Cal didn’t offer. Helena sighed. “My brother is determined to carry out Paul’s wishes. They’ve been friends since childhood when our parents moved to Monte de Leon to start businesses there. Holden was devastated when Paul was killed.”

Cal shrugged. “Paul isn’t the father of Jenna’s child, so there’s no wish to carry out.”

The last word had hardly left his mouth when he heard a soft whimpering cry sound coming from the nursery.

“Sophie,” Jenna mumbled.

“Go to her,” Cal advised. “I’ll finish up here.”

Jenna hesitated. But not for long—the baby’s cries were getting louder.

“I do need to talk to Jenna,” Helena continued. She opened her purse and rummaged through it. “Do you have a pen? I want to leave my cell number so she can contact me.”

That was actually a good idea. He might be able to get approval to trace Helena’s calls and obtain a record of her past ones.

Cal didn’t have a pen with him, and he looked around before spotting one and a notepad on the kitchen countertop. He got it and glanced into the nursery while he was on that side of the room. Jenna was leaning over the crib changing Sophie’s diaper.

“Someone was following Jenna.” Cal walked back to Helena and handed her the pen and notepad.

She dodged his gaze, took the pen and wrote down her number. “You mean that reporter across the street? She approached us when we drove up and said she was doing an article about Paul. She said she recognized Holden from newspaper pictures.”

Cal shook his head. “Not her. Someone else. A man.” He watched for a reaction.

Helena shrugged and handed him the notepad. “You think I know something about it?”

“Do you? The man’s name is Anthony Salazar.”

Her eyes widened. “Salazar,” she repeated on a rise of breath. “You’ve seen him here in Willow Ridge?”

“I’ve seen him,” Cal confirmed. “Now, mind telling me how you know him?”

Her breath became even more rapid, and she glanced around to make sure it was safe to talk. “Anthony Salazar is evil,” she said in a whisper.