Jacqueline Diamond - The Baby's Bodyguard

Fear for the baby’s safety stabbed through Casey, followed by the jolt of her rear end hitting the ground. Ahead, scurrying noises marked the prowler’s flight into the woods.

He’d escaped. This time, he’d physically assaulted her and put her pregnancy at risk.

Although she’d avoided any real harm, hot fury dispelled Casey’s shivers. She was going to catch this creep, no matter what it took. And no matter who she had to call on for assistance.

* * *

AS JACK SQUEEZED ALONG the aisle, a travel bag slung over his shoulder and his laptop tucked beneath one arm, the flight attendant favored him with a warm smile and her umpteenth once-over. Marianne had the healthy tan of a surfer, a bubbly personality and an obvious interest in getting better acquainted.

They’d found several occasions for idle conversation during the flight from Hawaii, where he’d changed planes after arriving from Malaysia. Marianne had made a discreet inquiry regarding the absence of a wedding ring and responded to his explanation about his pending divorce by slipping her phone number onto his tray.

As he returned her cheerful farewell, Jack felt the card inside his pocket. He ought to call her before she headed out of L.A. again on the Honolulu run.

His partner in the Men At Arms Security Agency had insisted he take a day or two off to recuperate from a month of fourteen-hour days spent setting up a security system for a textile company. He wouldn’t mind spending his break with a willing companion.

Jack didn’t want to bring her to his Palms-area home, though. During the past eight months, he’d discovered that having a guest around only made the place seem emptier. Besides, it struck him as disloyal to Casey to take a woman to the house they’d once shared, even though she was the one who’d chosen to leave.

As he headed for the baggage claim, his cell phone rang. Seven-fifteen on a Friday evening and somebody couldn’t wait, Jack reflected wryly. Moving out of the stream of foot traffic, he flipped it open. “Arnett.”

“Jack! It’s me.” The hint of a Tennessee accent carried him out of his surroundings and into a warm zone he’d discovered the day he met Casey.

“How’re you doing?” Somehow, he managed a casual manner that gave no hint of the hot summer storm she aroused.

“I’m standing here dripping wet and my butt’s sore.”

The tantalizing image speeded his heart rate. He imagined his shapely wife with a T-shirt plastered against her lovely breasts, writhing eagerly against him as his hands cupped her bottom.

Put a lid on it, Arnett. She left you. Besides, she probably wants to know why you haven’t signed those divorce papers yet. “I take it you didn’t call to turn me on, right?”

“Jack!”

“So what’s up?” He dodged a luggage cart that threatened to take a piece of his ankle with it.

“We’ve got a stalker,” Casey said.

The word snapped him out of his sensuous frame of mind. “What do you mean? Are you all right?” Suddenly her description of her physical state took on ominous overtones.

“Some tenants have seen a prowler a few times, possibly one of the women’s ex-husband. He showed up again tonight.”

“He attacked you?” Jack’s gut response was to go after the guy. Having grown up in foster homes, he’d seen his share of men bullying women and it enraged him. During his years at the LAPD, he’d had to work hard to rein in his anger when dealing with domestic abuse.

And this was Casey. Maddening, alluring, a little bossy and sexy enough to melt him with one flash of her blue eyes. He’d kill anyone who hurt her.

“He squirted me with the hose and knocked me down. I didn’t even get a picture of him,” she grumbled.

“A picture?”

“I had my camera aimed right at him,” she said.

“But you can describe him to the police, can’t you?” Jack pressed.

“Well, no,” she admitted. “It’s dark.”

He knew Casey liked to handle situations her own way but he was having trouble putting the pieces together. “Walk me through this. Did you see the prowler or not?”

“I heard him poking around behind Gail’s place,” she replied impatiently. “So I tried to take his picture.”

“You went out alone at night, unarmed, to confront a stalker?” He barely suppressed a groan. “Did he say anything?”

“What would he say? ‘Hey, that’s not my good side, wait till I turn around’?” she demanded.

Jack gritted his teeth. He didn’t want to argue, he wanted to get the facts straight. “You heard someone or something rummaging but you didn’t actually see it. So for all you know it could have been a bear.”

“A bear shot me with a hose?”

She had a point. Nevertheless, he realized, he should take nothing for granted. “You aren’t standing out there soaking wet hoping he’ll show up again, are you?”

“I’m not stupid!” Casey flared. “Gail heard the commotion and came out. She checked me over…I mean, she’s a nurse…you know, to make sure I wasn’t hurt.”

“I assume you’d know if you were hurt.” Judging by her outspokenness, Casey’s physical condition sounded just fine. “Where are you?”

“At home. Gail left a few minutes ago. Now listen. The cops still haven’t arrived. I’ll be lucky if they get here by midnight.” Given the time difference, that was three hours away, he noted. “I wondered if you could refer me to a security agency in Nashville. I’m not sure who to call.”

He supposed he or his partner, Mike, could dig up a name, but he knew how much companies charged. “It won’t be cheap. I’ll help with the cost, of course.”

“No, you won’t.” Casey had refused to accept alimony, a fact that made it even harder to explain why Jack hadn’t signed the papers yet. Fortunately, she wasn’t asking about those right now. “I’m the one who owns this property. I’ll see to it.”

Once his wife made up her mind, you either caved in or took matters into your own hands. “I’ll need to do some research.”

“When can you get back to me?”

“Is tomorrow soon enough?”

“That would be great.” She hesitated, and for a moment Jack hoped she had something to tell him.

Maybe she regretted their split the way he did. Maybe she’d decided she loved him enough that she didn’t need children to make their family complete. Maybe the separation and loneliness had given her time to think.

Jack would have done almost anything to win his wife back. But every time he looked at a child, the misery of the past nearly overwhelmed him. At eleven, with his father in prison for robbery and his mother dead of cancer, he’d gone from a home in turmoil to a series of foster placements where he’d been at best an outsider and at worst a nuisance.

The memories remained raw and the wounds barely scabbed over. The one thing he couldn’t do, even for Casey, was relive them by having a child.

She broke the silence at last. “The sooner we catch this slob, the better. Several of my tenants are elderly and I don’t want them to have to worry about this.”

Jack tried not to register disappointment that she had nothing further to say. It almost made him angry, though, that Casey cared more about her tenants than her husband.

Well, she’d just handed him a golden opportunity to give their marriage one more try. To nab the prowler, he planned to dispatch the best-qualified security agent at his disposal. Himself.

“I’ll take care of it.” To forestall any protests, he added, “I’ll be in touch tomorrow.”

“I really appreciate it. Thanks, Jack.”

“No problem.” After a brisk goodbye, he clicked off.

Although he’d have preferred to get right back on a plane, Jack knew he needed to swing by his house, catch up on the mail and repack. Guiltily, he remembered the African violet he’d bought to make the place seem homier. It must have perished weeks ago, completely forgotten.

Nobody in her right mind would consider a guy like him a suitable father. Surely a little in-person persuasion would make Casey see reason. And if not, well, at least Jack would have tried. In the process, he’d take care of that prowler, too.

Readjusting the bag on his shoulder, he dropped the flight attendant’s card into a trash bin with a silent apology. Then, rejoining the stream of pedestrians, he made his way toward the ticket counter.

When Casey strolled into Ledbetter’s Garage on Saturday, she found that Royce had dived inside the truck he was repairing. All she could see of her former high-school boyfriend was his jean-clad rear end, somewhat expanded since his football days, sticking into the air in all its glory.

“Nice view,” she commented.

The clanking noises he’d been making halted abruptly. A moment later, an oil-smeared face emerged.

“Well, hi.” Royce grinned flirtatiously, not at all daunted by his greasy condition. “Your car’s ready to go. Tuned up, oil changed, brakes checked.”

“Great.” Although it galled Casey to have someone else work on her car, she couldn’t perform the maintenance due to her expanded waistline. “What do I owe you?”

“Let’s call it even.” He shook his head, which set his light-brown ponytail waggling.

“Let’s not.” Casey might be short on funds, but she didn’t want to owe Royce any favors. She hadn’t fallen in love with him in high school and it certainly wasn’t going to happen now. “I prefer to pay my debts up front.”

Since her condition had become obvious, Royce had mentioned several times how much he loved kids. Too bad she couldn’t picture waking up beside him every morning. Or, to be honest, any morning.

“Whatever.” The mechanic ambled into his office, where an oil-smudged computer blinked below a bikini pinup calendar. Posters of football heroes covered the other walls. “A hundred and twenty-three eighty-eight, if you insist. How’s your camera?”

She’d told him earlier that she planned to stop by Lanihan’s Department Store to find out whether the gush of water had damaged it. “It’s fine. Apparently the case protected it.”

“You mean you got the guy? You know who it is?”

“Uh, no,” Casey admitted. “There’s this big blur where his face ought to be.”

“Too bad. At least you have your camera back for the party tonight, though.” Accepting her credit card, Royce swiped it through a machine.

“You bet.”

Two of her tenants, Enid Purdue and Rita Rogers, were throwing her a shower. Half a dozen friends and neighbors planned to attend the event, which, due to the small size of the cabins, would take place at Casey’s house.

She hadn’t realized she’d mentioned it to Royce earlier when she dropped off the car, but she must have. Or else word had spread. Nothing stayed private for long in Richfield Crossing.

“So this stalker or whatever he is, you think you scared him off ?” Royce asked as he waited for the computer to finish processing her bill.

“I doubt it. Seeing a pregnant lady take a tumble isn’t likely to intimidate him.”

“I heard the police came out.” He certainly had been paying attention.

“Larry Malloy wouldn’t scare a cockroach. And he isn’t likely to find one, either, even if it’s six feet tall.” Although the town’s young, part-time police officer had arrived half an hour after she’d called Jack, he’d taken only a cursory glance around the property. She doubted she’d ever see an arrest unless her attacker marched into the police station and confessed to the chief.