Julie Miller - Protecting the Pregnant Witness

But his light green eyes warned her that he wasn’t really here for something to drink. “When the baseball game rush is over, I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“About what?”

“About the murder you witnessed today.”

AT 1:42 A.M., Josie locked the door behind her and turned to face the Shamrock’s parking lot. What she needed after this endless day and longer night was a hug and a hot shower.

What she got was Rafe Delgado.

The springtime air was cool and pleasant, but a shiver rippled down Josie’s spine when his truck door opened and he strode out across the parking lot to meet her. He was still wearing his SWAT uniform, crisp black from head to toe, with only KCPD and his last name embroidered in white on his chest pocket, the badge on his belt and a gun strapped to his thigh to break up his lean, dangerous look.

“Are you on duty?” she asked, pulling her shoulders back, bracing for another impersonal, duty-motivated meeting. “How many times have I told you I can get someone else to walk me to my car when you’re working?”

“And who’s that going to be?” He propped his hands on his hips and scanned the nearly empty lot from side to side. He glanced up at the dark windows on the building’s second floor. “Did Robbie already turn in? He should walk you out.”

“He would if I asked. He’s on the phone with my cousin, Susan, back in Ireland.” She could do a little contemptuous scanning of her own, up and down his tall, rangy build. “Besides, he knew you’d be here like clockwork, so why bother?”

Rafe no longer took her arm when he walked her to her car, but instead fell into step beside her as she headed for her Fiesta. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me you’d gone to see Patrick today?”

Josie bristled at his tone. “It’s his birthday. I always go.”

“I would have gone with you.”

Like having him lurking in the corner, standing watch over her, would have made the day go any better. “You weren’t invited.”

His breath seethed between his teeth. “So now I hear you’re running a trauma unit there?”

Josie stopped in her tracks, cinching the straps of her backpack in tight fists as she tilted her chin to meet his downturned gaze. She stood five foot seven, and he could still make her feel small when he glowered like that. “Not tonight, Rafe. Just get back in your truck and wait for me to drive away.”

“Do you know who that was you tried to save?”

“I was told his name was Kyle Austin. Apparently, he’s part of some wealthy family with good lawyers who got him into the same security facility as Patrick. I guess money can’t save your life, though, can it.”

His clean-shaven face tightened with a stony look. “Austin is the man who was masquerading as the Rich Girl Killer. He’s a stalker. An embezzler. A kidnapper. He tried to kill Charlotte Mayweather and Trip.”

Flinching in surprise, Josie quickly processed the names. Trip was Rafe’s friend, a fellow SWAT cop. He’d been hospitalized for most of a month after nearly dying while rescuing the reclusive Mayweather heiress from her kidnappers. “I thought the name was familiar. But I had no idea who he was. Has Trip recovered from his wounds yet?”

“He’s on vacation with Charlotte right now. He reports back for duty next Monday.” Rafe leaned in ever so slightly. “Just think how dangerous a man has to be to go nose to nose with a cop with Trip’s skills. You don’t want to be messing with a bastard like that.”

Bastard status aside, Josie had a calling. “He was dying.”

“There are people on staff to help—”

“I was there to help.”

“You can’t save everyone, Josie.” She glared up at him. He knew he was at the top of her list of lost causes. “You need to stop trying. You’re going to get hurt.”

Tell me about it. Josie pulled her keys from her backpack and headed toward her car. She was tired, upset, hungry and in no mood to be reminded of that foolish night when she’d mistaken physical intimacy for an emotional connection. She’d opened up her heart that night—and Rafe had closed up his. Lesson learned.

“It’s over and done with, Rafe. Detective Montgomery said he had ruled me out as a suspect in Mr. Austin’s death, so I probably won’t have to talk about it ever again.” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Hint, hint.”

“Back up. When did you talk to Spencer Montgomery?”

He knew the red-haired detective? Josie shrugged as they reached her car. “He came to the bar tonight. He’s investigating Kyle Austin’s death as a homicide.”

“He doesn’t deal with jail-cell murders.” Rafe’s hand on hers stopped her from sticking her key into the lock. “He’s investigating the Rich Girl Killer serial murders and related deaths. Does he think you know something?”

“I don’t know.” For a moment, Josie imagined the warmth seeping from Rafe’s hand into hers was meant to comfort. But she wisely pulled away. “At first he thought I might have had something to do with Austin’s death.”

“Montgomery’s an idiot.”

“No.” Josie remembered the unabashed perusal of those pale green eyes. “I think he’s really smart. I thought he was going to accuse me of slitting Austin’s throat.”

“What?”

“I had to perform an emergency tracheotomy. The medic, he was there—he said I did everything just right.” Memories of all the blood she’d washed from her hands and blouse, and the nerves she’d squashed down so that she could offer the help he’d needed, squeezed like a fist inside her, intensifying the headache and sour stomach she’d been fighting all day. “But that wasn’t it. I mean, he took a statement, like the officer and medic at the jail did. But Detective Montgomery had me brainstorm a list of poisons for him that could cause the anaphylactic shock—that’s um, paralysis of his airways—that killed Mr. Austin.”

“He could get that info online or out of a book.”

“He already did. I saw his notepad. He had a list of poisons already written down.”

Rafe braced one hand against the roof of her car and glanced up into the moonless sky before muttering a curse and swinging his gaze back down to her. “Did he accuse you of anything?”

Josie shook her head. “Not outright. But he sure made me feel guilty about letting Austin die.”

Rafe’s hand moved from the car to her shoulder, his hard expression changing as he gave her a gentle squeeze. “You didn’t let anybody die. Montgomery was out of line.”

Josie swayed on her feet, drawn to the warmth and security of Rafe’s chest. But she didn’t want to open up and be cast aside again. No matter that he claimed the distance he’d maintained these past six months was for her own good, the distance was there. And she was too weary, too wary, to breach it. She twisted away to unlock her car and toss her backpack across the front seat. “So now you’re on my side? You can’t have it both ways, Rafe. You can’t lecture me about taking risks and then think you can be there to pick up the pieces when that risk fails.”

His arms flew out in the air on either side of her, his frustration stamped on every inch of his tall frame. “I don’t know how to talk to you anymore. I’m just trying to take care of you.”

“We’ll be just fine.”

He grabbed the door when she tried to close it. “We?”

Oh, what a mighty slip of the tongue. There was no way to hide the truth from those dark, ever-watchful eyes now. She leaned back in the seat and pulled up the tails of her untucked blouse to reveal the elastic waistband of her maternity jeans hugging the small bump on her belly.

The dome light of the car revealed everything she wanted him to see. “You’re pregnant?”