Julie Miller - Nine-Month Protector

The man she’d sought comfort from—Mr. McDonough—strode back into the room. Sarah flinched, instinctively backing away from the threat carrying a gun in his hand. But still she watched.

He was older than Teddy, though not yet her father’s age. McDonough was well dressed, well groomed with super-short hair and dark, nearly black eyes she would never forget.

Those cold eyes showed no emotion whatsoever as he unscrewed the suppressor from his gun, holstered the weapon and knelt beside Dawn’s body—and the infant inside her who would now die as well. “There will be no grandchild, dear. Teddy’s been a disappointment to his father for a long time. I can’t have you changing that.”

He wrapped a towel around Dawn’s head and the pillow. Then he pulled out a roll of kitchen plastic from the wet bar and wrapped it around her body from head to toe, lifting and dropping the dead woman as though she were a rag doll instead of someone’s daughter or lover or sister—or mother.

Sarah wanted to curl up into a ball. She wanted to curse his cruelty. She wanted to cry out.

But all she could do was hold herself perfectly still, down on her hands and knees, setting aside the humiliation of her evening and swallowing her shock and horror. She silently watched McDonough wrap the plastic mummy of Dawn’s body in one of the rugs. He called maintenance for a cart and rolled her out the door like so much trash.

Nearly an hour passed before Sarah could move again. Her fingers were numb from their tight grip in the carpeting; her skin was ice-cold. She finally breathed her first decent breath and crawled out of the closet.

What the hell was she supposed to do now?

Hide? Find Teddy? Warn him of McDonough’s treachery? Ask about Dawn? Run for her life before McDonough came back and discovered her here?

She’d been hoping she could just walk away from the nightmarish mistake of her night with Teddy Wolfe. Bury her head in the sand and nurse her ego alone in the privacy of her apartment for a few days.

But all that had changed.

Sarah Cartwright might have trained to be a fourth-grade teacher instead of a woman of adventure, but the blood of law enforcement—of justice and honor and doing the right thing even when it was tough—ran in her veins.

Wanting to put some distance between her and McDonough, she hurried across the casino’s deserted parking lot, praying the dark of night would cover her escape. She climbed into her car and locked herself inside. Glancing in the rearview mirror to make sure no one was following her, she pulled onto the street heading toward home. Then, she finally picked up her cell phone and dialed 9-1-1.

She knew the drill, knew what she had to do.

“Kansas City 9-1-1 Emergency Assistance Center. How may I direct your call?”

Sarah swallowed hard. “I need to report a murder.”

“I JUST NEED YOU TO CHECK on her for me, okay? I know you didn’t sign on for babysitting duty, but it’d be a load off my mind.”

Detective Cooper Bellamy listened to his partner’s request, already pulling a clean T-shirt from his drawer and tucking it into the jeans he’d donned as soon as his phone had rung in the middle of the night. Though he’d be dressed and on the job before this conversation was done, he had to put up some kind of argument when Seth Cartwright had called to tell him he was worried about his twin sister’s safety.

“I’m sure it’s in the fine print somewhere, buddy.” He could almost hear the hitch in Seth’s Dragnet-serious voice as Coop harassed him into a relieved harumph. “I provide intel. Report to the chief. Save your ass. Babysit your sister. I do it all.”

“You’re a god among men, Coop.” Seth could dish it out as well as he could take it.

“I keep tellin’ you that.”

Coop told a lot of jokes. Laughter had always been his antidote for dealing with the crap that life threw at a man. If he didn’t admit to the pain, then he didn’t have to feel it. If no one saw him hurting, then they’d trust that he was strong. They’d find strength in his confidence. Believe in his abilities. He never wanted to look into a loved-one’s eyes and see that worry, that fear—that lack of faith in him again.

He’d never have to look into his partner’s eyes and see any doubt that he’d come through for him.

Coop slipped his holster straps over his shoulders and unlocked the Glock from his bedside table. Trust was everything between cops. Especially when one was working a dangerous undercover assignment, and he was the man assigned to ghost him. Coop was the detective whose job it was to take care of everything else—including checking on wayward family members—so that the inside man didn’t have to risk blowing his cover and could concentrate on getting the evidence and staying alive.

Cooper and Seth had been recruited from the Fourth Precinct to serve on a special vice squad task force. On this assignment, Seth had infiltrated Wolfe International—the corporate front for a mob family putting down roots in Kansas City. Seth had the trust of the Wolfe family in his back pocket.

And Coop had Seth’s.

But if Seth had any inkling that Coop’s teasing flirtations with his pretty, petite sister had a ring of real longing in them, then—partner or not—Coop would be the last person Seth would call on to help.

An appreciative wolf whistle at seeing Sarah Cartwright in a dress for the first time had been enough for Seth to jump his case.

“If you weren’t my partner, my best friend…If my life wasn’t still in your hands for the next few days, I’d lay you flat out.”

Coop raised his hands in surrender. “Hey, I’m just being an observant detective. So what if your twin sister puts on a little lipstick? I still think of her as the left-fielder who ran down that final out in our co-ed softball game against the fire department last summer. Hitting on your sister is a no-no. I get that.”

“That’s nonnegotiable, Coop.”

“Understood.”

Sure. Yeah. His brain understood. He understood even better than Seth himself that he wasn’t the man for Sarah. Not in his wildest dreams could he make something work with a sweet, wholesome girl like her. Not for long. She’d want kids, roots, picket fences…He couldn’t give her that. She deserved a better man. A whole man.

But sometimes the eye…the hormones…other things deep inside him…didn’t always follow the logic.

So he could look. Maybe he could even lust a little. But he couldn’t do anything about it. And he damn straight couldn’t tell his partner what a hottie his sister was.

He had to be her big brother, too.

Coop checked his clip, holstered his gun and hooked his badge over his belt before heading to the front door. On the way out, he picked up his blue KCPD ball cap and pulled it on over his clean-shaven head. “Is she at home?”

“That’s the million-dollar question. I can’t find her. She’s turned off her cell, and all I get at her apartment is the damn answering machine.”

“Sarah’s a big girl, Seth,” Coop tried to reason, climbing into his truck. He started the engine, not particularly thrilled by one obvious possibility. “Maybe she’s on a date.”

“At three in the morning?”

Um, earth to Seth. Big green eyes? Gorgeous smile? Just because Sarah was pint-sized and favored running shoes over stiletto heels didn’t mean any man worth his salt wouldn’t notice her. “You’ve never stayed up late when you were out with a woman you liked?”

“This isn’t about me. You know Sarah and I are cut from different cloth. I’m the evil twin. She’s the reliable one. She doesn’t do wild and crazy and stay out all night.”

Coop shook his head at the self-deprecating comment. He didn’t know whether to remind Seth that he had proven himself one of the good guys time and again, or explain that reliable didn’t necessarily mean stick-in-the-mud. If Sarah wanted to go out and party all night, she had the right. She was on summer vacation, after all. It wasn’t as though she had to get up and teach in the morning.