Secret Surrogate Read online

  She nodded and tried not to show any emotion. But inside that was an entirely different matter. Oh, mercy. She’d speculated that Isaac Dupont might be up to his lily-white neck in illegal activity, but she hadn’t thought that article would cause him to try to intimidate her.

  If that’s what he’d indeed tried to do.

  Had he hired those men to follow her? To scare her? If so, it’d worked.

  She was scared.

  “I’ll have another look around outside,” Lucas said, coming out of the laundry room. He engaged the lock on the door that blocked off the garage from the rest of the house. “If I see anything suspicious, I’ll let you know.”

  “Thanks.” She stepped back, clearing the way so he could go around her. “And thank you for coming.”

  It was an automatic, polite response. Something drilled into her by her upbringing. A goodbye meant to get him moving out the door.

  It didn’t have quite the intended effect on Lucas.

  He stopped, practically in mid-step, and his gaze slid to hers. Those jaw muscles went to work again, and it seemed as if he’d changed his mind a dozen times about what to say. “This is my job.”

  A short, efficient, arctic comeback. His version of an automatic response. It was his way of letting her know that even though they were enemies—and sweet heaven, they were enemies—he wouldn’t lower himself to shirking his duties because of her.

  “Yes, this is your job,” she acknowledged. “But I don’t think anyone in Fall Creek would have criticized you if you hadn’t come.”

  His teeth came together, and the battle began. Not with just his jaw muscles, but with his composure. His eyes. His entire body. “I don’t intend to discuss this with you.”

  No. But it was always there. An unspoken conversation. And it always would be, since he would never be able to forgive her for what she’d done.

  But then, she wouldn’t be able to forgive herself, either.

  That didn’t make them even.

  She would always owe him. Because of the promise she’d made to a dying woman. Because of the promise she’d made to herself. Kylie would always feel the need to make things right with Lucas.

  “If I could undo everything that happened,” she said to him, “I would.”

  He turned. An agile shift of his body. His gaze rifled to hers, a little maneuver that robbed her of what breath she’d managed to recoup. There it was, in the depths of his saddle-brown eyes. The accusations.

  The pain.

  God, the pain.

  Lucas combed his hostile gaze over her face, hardly more than a split-second glance. Then he took that methodical scrutinization lower, to her body.

  Kylie trembled.

  Waited.

  She didn’t have to wait too long. Lucas actually did a double take when he noticed her stomach.

  Not that it helped, but Kylie adjusted her robe again. Seconds passed slowly, crawling by, until the silence settled uncomfortably around them.

  “Are you…” But he obviously couldn’t even finish the question. Instead, he swallowed hard.

  Since it would be absurd to lie, Kylie had no choice but to admit the obvious. “Yes. I’m pregnant.”

  He fired a few more of those nervy glances around the house. “I didn’t know,” he finally said.

  The words were void of any emotion. He’d done a better job of that than she ever could have. Because down deep, below the words, even deeper than his eerily calm demeanor, she figured this discovery had to be killing him.

  Or maybe he wasn’t affected at all because, perhaps, he truly didn’t care. Maybe she was a nonentity to him. Nothing more than a 911 call on a frosty January night.

  She shook her head, moistened her lips. “Not many people know about the pregnancy.” And because she feared other questions, both those spoken aloud and left unsaid, Kylie went on the offensive. “I doubt those men are still out there. But just in case, I’ll lock all the doors, keep my weapon nearby. I’ll call you if I see anything else suspicious.”

  He nodded, turned and headed for the door. Lucas didn’t even look back, which shot to heck her nonentity theory. She wasn’t a nonentity to him, definitely not, because he still hated her.

  However, as deep and as potent as that hatred was, Kylie knew that Lucas would hate her even more if he learned the truth—

  That the baby she was carrying was his.

  Chapter Two

  Lucas couldn’t get out of Kylie’s house fast enough. It took every ounce of his willpower not to break into a run, and he was certainly thankful when he made it outside onto the porch.

  He immediately pulled in a long, hard breath. Since it was just below freezing and the ice crystals seemed to burn his lungs, it should have cleared his head, as well.

  It didn’t.

  But then, nothing would.

  It didn’t seem…fair.

  There. He’d let the thought fully materialize in his head. Yeah, it was petty. Beyond petty, really. It was spiteful. But it put a rock-hard knot in his gut to know that the woman responsible for the deaths of his wife and unborn child was having a child of her own.

  What’s wrong with this picture? he wanted to shout to the powers that be.

  “Are you okay?” he heard Kylie ask. Definitely not a shout. Practically a whisper.

  Lucas laughed. But it wasn’t from humor. Damn the irony of this. And damn the flashbacks and the nightmarish memories of that day when his world had come crashing down around him.

  “I’m fine,” he lied.

  “Hmm.” She paused. “You know, if I were wearing a BS meter, it’d be going nuts about right now. Because you don’t look fine.”

  He shot her a glance over his shoulder to let her know it wasn’t a good time to push this. But then, it was never a good time to push this particular subject.

  What he should do was just leave. He should get the heck out of there. Off Kylie’s porch. Off her property. Away from her. Miles away. Unfortunately, his legs wouldn’t cooperate. They’d seemingly turned to dust. So he stood there and pretended to do a routine surveillance of the yard and the surrounding woods.

  However, it was anything but routine.

  Seeing Kylie again, especially a pregnant Kylie, was like ripping open all the old wounds. Wounds that would never heal. Even though, until tonight, he would have sworn that he was getting on with his life.

  And he was.

  Well, for the most part.

  He would probably never be able to fully recover from the deaths of his wife and unborn baby. Lucas considered that a moment and took out the probably. No full recovery for him. He wasn’t coming back from that.

  But he had a future now. Heck, in four and a half months he’d even get to experience fatherhood. Finally.

  No thanks to Kylie.

  That thanks belonged to the anonymous surrogate he’d hired through an agency in San Antonio. Only because of her would he get a second chance at having a life.

  Hugging her faded blue bathrobe tightly to her body, Kylie stepped out on the frost-scabbed porch. She kept a safe distance, but somehow it still felt too close.

  “You’re upset because I’m pregnant,” she said.

  Leave it to Kylie to lay it all out there. That was one of the things he’d always admired about her—her frankness. Oh, and her honesty. Unfortunately, he wasn’t in the mood for either tonight.

  “How am I supposed to feel?” Lucas replied. And he actually hoped she had the answer. Because he was having a heck of a time sorting it all out.

  “Confused. Hurt,” she promptly supplied. Her warm breath mixed with the cold air and created a misty haze when she spoke. Against her pale ivory skin, it had an almost otherworldly effect. As if this were all just a dream. He wished to hell it was. “And you’re probably mad at yourself for feeling those things since you’re not a mean-spirited man.”

  Lucas scowled. “You’re sure about that last part? Because I don’t think it’s my imagination that I’m feeling a li
ttle mean-spirited here.”

  The scowl obviously didn’t put her off. The right corner of her mouth temporarily lifted before it eased back down.

  “Lucas, you’re stubborn, inflexible and prone to bouts of misguided stoicism. I blame that last part on your cowboy roots. You can’t help yourself.” Kylie shook her head, sending a lock of her honey-blond hair slipping onto her forehead. “But you don’t have the heart to be mean-spirited.”

  Probably because it was too close to the truth and because he didn’t want this weird intimacy and understanding between them, Lucas decided to end this little personality evaluation. “You have no idea what’s in my heart.”

  “Touché.” Kylie waited a moment while the wind howled around them. She shifted her feet. No shoes. Just a pair of grayed weathered socks that were sagging around her ankles. There was a tiny hole just over her right pinkie. “Still, I’m sorry. Being around me like this can’t be easy for you.”

  No.

  It never would be.

  “The rumor mill in Fall Creek is pretty good,” he said, testing the waters. Why, he didn’t know. Her pregnancy was none of his business.

  And he mentally repeated that to himself.

  It didn’t help.

  He still wanted to know, which made him some kind of sick glutton for punishment.

  Her body language changed. Gone was the semi-cocky demeanor that was part of Kylie’s trademark personality, and her shoulders slumped. “I don’t think the rumor mill knew about the baby.”

  It didn’t, or the word would have certainly made it back to him. He wished it had, and then he wouldn’t have been blindsided by this 911 call. And it was that 911 aspect of this visit that he needed to concentrate on.

  Lucas swept his gaze around the woods. Like the other times, he saw nothing to indicate the hunters, trespassers, or God knows who or what were still around. Maybe he’d scared them off, and if so, that meant his job here was done.

  Almost.

  “Is there someone you can call to stay with you tonight?” Lucas asked. It was procedure. Something he would have asked of any woman who’d just been frightened enough to phone the sheriff’s office.

  “Sure,” she said without hesitation.

  Now, it was his turn to pause. He angled his head, stared at her. “If I were wearing a BS meter, it’d be going nuts about right now. You don’t have anyone to call, do you?”

  Her chin came up, but that little display of bravado didn’t quite make it to her slightly narrowed indigo-blue eyes. “If you mean my baby’s father, no. He’s not in the picture. But despite what you think of me, I’m not totally friendless. I have people who can come over.”

  However, that didn’t mean she would rely on those people. In fact, he was about a hundred percent certain that she’d make no such calls tonight. No. Not the independent, my-way-or-no-way Kylie. Once he was gone, she’d lock the doors, turn out the lights and sit there in the darkness. Holding her gun. All night. Terrified. And completely alone.

  Hell.

  The image of her doing that brought out all kinds of protective instincts in him. After all, she was pregnant. Out in the middle of the woods.

  Where anything could go wrong.

  “This isn’t your problem,” Kylie informed him, as if reading his mind. “I’m a big girl. Trust me, I can take care of myself.”

  “And that’s the reason you made the 911 call,” Lucas commented.

  That earned him another glare. She hiked up her chin again, and she cupped her hands around her mouth. “If anyone is stupid enough to be out there, hear this,” she shouted. “I’m freezing my butt off, and I’m in a really pissy mood. I also have a loaded .357 Magnum that I know how to use. My advice? Go home now!”

  With that, Kylie turned toward him, making sure that he understood that the go home now! suggestion applied to him, as well.

  She swiped that lock of hair from her forehead. An angry, indignant swipe. With trembling fingers. Her bottom lip started to tremble, as well. That shot some holes in the steely resolve she was trying to project. It also tested yet more of his protective instincts.

  Still, that was his cue to end this visit. After all, she’d practically demanded that he leave, and now that he’d checked off all the squares for this official visit, there was no reason for him to stay.

  “I’ll be at my house if you need to get in touch with me,” Lucas advised. Not exactly standard procedure, but it was a courtesy he would have extended to anyone in his jurisdiction. “Since there’s no one at the office, don’t call dispatch or 911. Just ring straight through to the house. I can be here in fifteen minutes.”

  “Thanks.” It had a definite goodbye kind of tone to it. She turned, her bathrobe swishing like a gunslinger’s duster, and went back inside.

  Only after she’d closed the door did Lucas realize that at some point he’d stopped breathing. He slowly released the air from his lungs and forced himself to get moving. No easy feat. He felt raw and drained from their encounter.

  He stayed on the narrow gravel and dirt road that led from her house to the highway. Walking fast. Trying not to think.

  It didn’t work.

  Not that he thought it would.

  The cold darkness closed in around him, smothering him, and with it came the flood of memories. Because he had no choice, he stopped and leaned against a sprawling oak. Thankfully, Kylie’s house was no longer in sight, and that meant she wouldn’t be able to see him if he disgraced himself by completely falling apart.

  And it certainly felt as if that were about to happen.

  The adrenaline and the nausea crashed through him. As if the events of that day were happening now, at this moment, and not three years ago. However, three years wasn’t nearly enough time to diminish all the brutal details that’d stayed with him. Heck, a million years wouldn’t make him forget.

  Deputy Kylie Monroe had been on patrol that day when the call came in. A robbery at the convenience store on the edge of town. She’d responded and gone in pursuit of two unidentified armed suspects who were on foot. Even though Kylie had called for backup, she hadn’t waited. Instead, she’d begun a dangerous, unauthorized foot chase through the streets of Fall Creek.

  That had set off a deadly chain of events.

  One of the robbery suspects must have panicked because he stopped and fired at Kylie. He missed. Well, he missed Kylie, anyway. Instead, he’d hit Lucas’s pregnant wife, Marissa, who at that moment had stepped out of the grocery store.

  The one shot had been fatal.

  In the blink of an eye, Kylie had lost her best friend. And Lucas had lost his wife and the baby she had been carrying. Marissa had been only two months pregnant, barely enough time for him to come to terms with the concept of fatherhood. And it’d been snatched away.

  Everything had been snatched away.

  He’d known that the moment he had rounded the corner and had seen his wife lying on the sidewalk. Kylie, kneeling next to her. Marissa, nearly lifeless and bleeding, whispering the last words she’d ever say. Not to him. But to Kylie. Marissa hadn’t been able to say anything to him because she’d died before he could get to her.

  Another irony.

  Marissa, the woman he loved, hadn’t even been able to say goodbye to him. Yet, the person responsible for her death—Kylie—had been the beneficiary of those final precious seconds of Marissa’s life. Her last breath. Her final words. Lucas hadn’t heard those words firsthand, but in the minutes following Marissa’s death, while Kylie still had his wife’s blood on her hands, Kylie had repeated them like a mantra.

  Don’t let my death kill Lucas, Marissa had told Kylie. Look after him. Help him heal. Make sure he’s happy.

  Make sure he’s happy.

  Right.

  As if that could ever happen. Marissa had used her last breath to ask the impossible. Even if Kylie had ever had a desire to fulfill her best friend’s dying wish, he wouldn’t have let her try. There was no way he wanted Kylie Monroe to have
any part in his healing.

  Lucas couldn’t bear the pain any longer, so he forced himself to think of his future. His baby. Being a father wasn’t a cure-all. It wouldn’t rid him of the gaping hole in his heart. But it would get him moving in the right direction. And he couldn’t wait for that to begin. Four and a half months, and he’d be able to hold his child.

  The sound snapped him out his daydream, and Lucas automatically aimed his weapon and turned in the direction of the noise he’d heard.

  A soft rustle of leaves, not made by a stir of wind, either. No. This was much more substantial. As if someone were walking through the woods. But not walking in just any direction.

  Directly toward Kylie’s house.

  That gave him another hefty shot of adrenaline. Not that he needed it. His body had already shifted into combat mode.

  Lucas stepped back into the dense underbrush and trees. He started retracing his steps, following the road. Quietly, so that he wouldn’t be detected and so that he could listen.

  He didn’t like what he heard.

  Definitely footsteps.

  Probably not just one set, either. At least two. Both heavy enough to belong to men. Big men.

  And that brought him back to the two possible suspects that Kylie had spotted in the woods.

  The trespassing duo had apparently returned for round two. But what did they want? Was this simply a case of trespassing, or was it something more?

  Did it have to do with that controversial article she’d written? If so, if they’d been sent there to intimidate her, it could turn ugly. Because he knew that Kylie wouldn’t intimidate easily. Even pregnant, she would make a formidable foe.

  Lucas eased deeper into the woods as he approached the house. No sign of the men, but the porch light was off again. Maybe because Kylie had also heard them and wanted the shelter of the darkness. If so, that meant she was probably terrified. Worse, she didn’t know he was still outside, still keeping watch.

  He stopped at a clearing and tried to pick through the sounds and the scents to determine what he was up against. There was a rattle of motion, the sound of a scuffle. Not good. So, he hurried forward, still searching.