Anne Duquette - Pregnant Protector

The older man was introduced as Lara’s father, Edward Nelson, “Call me Ed.” He had to be at least a decade older than his wife, Nick estimated, but the handshake Lara’s father gave him showed no hint of weakness. He noted Lara had inherited her father’s more angular, stubborn chin.

“We always know when you’re coming. I could hear Sadie whining a mile away!” Mr. Nelson said, hugging his daughter, then noticed her lack of uniform. “Saw your squad car. On duty?”

“Actually, I’m on special duty.”

“Then what brings you here?” Mrs. Nelson asked. The older couple had begun leading the younger couple to the kennel office.

“Trouble,” Lara said.

“Damn,” Ed said at the same time that Sandra lifted her eyebrows, accompanied by a curious, “Really? Brief me.”

“You’re retired,” Ed warned his wife—to no avail.

“I think I’ll let the staff handle the rest of my day,” Sandra said. “I wouldn’t want to miss a visit with my youngest. Ed, please tell the others,” she ordered with the easy authority of a woman used to command. “We’ll all meet at the house.”

A SHORT WHILE LATER the four sat in the comfortable living room—informal save for the many photographs, awards, ribbons and official commendations on the shelves and fireplace mantel. At Ed’s invitation, Nick studied the photographs while waiting for mother and daughter to emerge from the kitchen.

“You’ve got quite a family here,” Nick said.

“That I do. Here’s my first dog.” Ed pointed.

A much younger Edward Nelson in military uniform stood proudly beside a military bomb-sniffing dog in a jungle setting.

“Vietnam?” Nick guessed.

“Yes. I smuggled my partner back here,” Ed said. “They destroyed canines in the old days, but I had a buddy who owed me. My dog and I came home together. I’ve been working with dogs since.” He gestured to another photo. “Here’s my wife.”

Sandra Nelson’s photo showed her in her younger days, as well, in police uniform with her first K-9 officer, yet another German shepherd.

“And Kate, the eldest.” Ed indicated a photo with a woman in uniform with her explosives canine. Then, “Lindsey, my middle daughter.” Her picture showed her standing in a ranger’s search-and-rescue uniform, her newest shepherd posed beside her new husband and his own dog. “And here’s Lara.”

Lara’s photo also showed her in uniform, with Sadie beside her.

“Impressive,” Nick said. “The world needs more families like this.”

“I understand you come from a law-enforcement family yourself.”

“More administrative, and only my aunt Magda. She worked as a clerk typist back in the days before computers. That was a long time ago.”

Nick felt a sudden surge of loneliness. Julio was gone, his wife and children were in Mexico. The aunt who’d raised Nick—she’d left Italy with Nick for “a better life” in California and even changed her surname Palameri to Palmer once she’d settled—was dead.

Nick’s grandparents and parents still lived in Italy, along with his three older siblings. His mother, Mara, had been ill after Nick was born and had asked her younger sister to care for Nick. Magda had never married. Although he and Magda had kept in touch with their Italian relatives, Nick had never been close to any of them.

Even as a boy, there was an emotional gulf and a stretch of ocean between them and him. Obviously the Nelson children didn’t have that problem with their elders. The many photos on the wall showed the daughters’ respect for family and pride in their work. They also showed a great deal of courage. The older couple had dedicated their lives to the public. Now the three daughters were doing likewise.

His thoughts were interrupted by the women’s reentrance with drinks—coffee and soda—trailed by the family pack and Sadie. Dogs and people found places in the living room, and Lara and Nick in turn related the events of Julio’s case, ending with the attack on the Mercedes. The expressions on the faces of Lara’s parents were solemn when Lara said, “We need a safe base of operations. Can we stay here?”

Sandra flicked her husband a quick look and received an affirming nod. “We’ll do all we can to help,” she said. “You’ll need your sleep. Gotta keep those reflexes sharp.”

“And you’ll have separate rooms,” Ed added, his gaze on Nick. “Even the Secret Service doesn’t sleep in the president’s bed.”

Lara flushed pink. “Dad!”

Sandra rose to her feet. “Ed, why don’t you go back to the office while I get some sheets for the guest room?” she suggested with a hard stare at her husband. Various dogs followed the couple either to the back door leading outside or down the hall to the linen closet.

Lara didn’t say anything until they were out of ear-shot. “Forgive my father. He’s a very traditional man.”

“It’s his house, and I wasn’t offended.”

Lara excused her father’s behavior, anyway. “Dad was shocked when I moved in with my boyfriend—we didn’t get engaged until later. I don’t casually hop into bed with anyone, and certainly not under my father’s roof,” she said with a frankness Nick appreciated.

His gaze swung again to the photos on the walls. “Perhaps he’d have accepted sons in high-risk jobs more easily than daughters.”

Lara ran her hand through her short blond curls. “I doubt it. Dad always wanted his children, no matter the sex, to have safe jobs. He keeps reminding me how lucky he and Mom were to make it to retirement unscathed. He didn’t scare any of us off, though. In fact, just the opposite. That’s why Jim—my fiancé—and I didn’t wait. No long courtship, no waiting until after the marriage to move in together.”

Nick tactfully said nothing.

“Anyway, don’t worry about my father. He knows I’m here to protect you. That’s enough.” She rose, followed by Sadie and the dachshund. “Come on, I’ll show you the guest room. You can freshen up. Take your time.”

“I will,” Nick replied. “I need to make a few calls.”

“Don’t plan on using the house line,” Lara said immediately.

“But—”

“They’re much easier to trace than cell phones.”

“Right.” Nick shook himself mentally, embarrassed. He’d planned on trying Mexico again from a conventional line, hoping he’d have better luck than earlier.

“Who did you want to call? Your partner’s wife?”

“I haven’t been able to reach Lilia,” he admitted. “And I want to check in with headquarters, too.”

“Ah. Use your cell,” she repeated.

“Got it.” If he didn’t connect on the first call, he knew he’d have no trouble with the second. That call would be to Internal Affairs.

LARA LET NICK UNPACK and settle in as she placed the fresh sheets on the bed. When she finished, she took a chair in the room and absently scratched the ears of the dachshund she now held in her lap. Sadie wandered in, followed by her dam, Shady Lady—aptly named, as she was mostly black as opposed to Sadie’s dominant tan. Nick hung his suit bag in the closet. He was finished, as well.

“You hungry? We missed lunch, thanks to our shooter.”

“I don’t want to put your parents out.”

Lara grinned. “You won’t. I make a mean sandwich.” She set the dachshund back on the floor. “Kitchen’s this way.”

In the kitchen she seated Nick at the small wooden table and opened the bread box. “You want rye or white br—”

Nick’s cell rang.

“I don’t know who that is, but don’t tell anyone where we are,” Lara warned. “It’s an easy guess, but there’s no need to confirm.”

Nick’s sideways glance showed he didn’t need the warning. “Rye.” The phone call took him completely by surprise, and Lara intently listened to the one-sided conversation.