Baby Protector Bear: BBW Bear Shifter Baby Paranormal Romance (Who's the Daddy? Book 4) (4 page)

When he was confident they were alone, he headed for home, pulling into his driveway and switching off his engine. Chrissie pulled her small car up behind him, and he got out and went to meet her.

“OK. It’s going to take me about ten minutes to pack some clothes. Then I have to ask my neighbor to come in and feed my cats.” He opened the rear door and unbuckled the seat belt, pulling Sam’s baby carrier out. “Make yourself at home while you wait. And does this little guy need feeding right now?”

She looked at her watch. “It’s a little early, but since we have a half an hour drive to the safe-house, I think I’ll see if I can feed and change him before we leave. He might have a nap on the way. How do you like the sound of that, Sam?” She stroked his face and he gave her his adorable toothless smile.

Joel experienced that now familiar tug of longing. If only this was him coming home with his mate and their child. If only they weren’t in danger. He looked back down the street to check for danger as he opened the front door and stood back for Chrissie to walk inside. The sooner he packed, and they got out of there, the better. It wouldn’t take much for word to have spread that he was taking on guarding the Krieg baby. His home address was not a secret. It was a stretch that even Krieg could mobilize a hit man so quickly, but it wasn’t impossible.

“Kitchen is through there,” he said and headed for the stairs, taking them two at a time. Two black streaks threaded their way through his legs, nearly tripping him up, but Joel was surprisingly nimble on his feet, despite his size. Probably because he spent most of his time at home dodging the two balls of fluff who lived with him.

“Mags, you have to look after Monty,” he said as the cats followed him into the bedroom and jumped on the bed, their heads looking for a hand to stroke them. “I am in a hurry, and you are going to be looked after by Beth next door. Yes, I know you like her, she spoils you with treats.” He tickled two chins before moving away and pulling out a backpack, into which he packed the necessities. Into another one he packed his clothes, jeans and T-shirts, a sweater, and a spare pair of sneakers. If he needed anything else, he could always double back this way.

Taking one a last look around the room, he smiled. If things worked out right, the next time he was in his house, and in this room, he would have claimed his mate. Stroking his cats one last time, he said, “I think you’d like having someone else living here, then you wouldn’t have to fight over my lap.”

They looked up at him, their green eyes staring into his, and then they leapt off the bed, meowing. “OK, I’ll feed you, and then speak to Beth.” Beth was fifteen and loved cats, but, due to a mildly allergic brother, could not have one of her own. She came over to play with Mags and Monty when she needed a cat fix, and was always willing to look after them while he was away. Which, before he transferred to Homicide, had been often.

Back downstairs, he found Chrissie sitting on the sofa, Sam in her arms, while she fed him the bottle of formula. “Are you ready?” she asked, looking up at him.

Joel wanted to go up to her and stroke her cheek, and then bend and kiss her forehead tenderly, but he refrained. “I just have to feed these two, and let Beth next door know I’m going to be away.”

“Girlfriend?” Chrissie asked.

“She’s fifteen and thinks more of my cats than she does of the old man who lives next door,” he chuckled. “But I’m glad you’re jealous.”

He left the room as she muttered something under her breath, smiling to himself. She was his; she just didn’t like to admit it to herself yet. But she would.

Beth wasn’t in when he went to ask her about the cats, so he left a message and a key with her mom, Marie. “She knows the routine. I’ll pass it on to her.”

“Thanks.” He took out his wallet and handed over a couple of notes. “Can you give her this too?”

“You know she’d pay you to spend time over at your house with your cats,” Marie said.

“I know. But she’s a good kid, and I appreciate her looking after them. I like knowing they are in good hands.”

“Have a good trip,” Marie said. “I know you can’t say where you are going.”

“Thanks. I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone, but I’ll pop back in the next week, whatever happens, to buy some more cat food.”

“Don’t worry if you get tied up. We won’t let them starve.”

“Thanks, Marie. I owe you one.”

“No, you don’t,” Marie said quietly. “You’ve helped us enough.”

He winked. “That scumbag hasn’t hassled you again, I take it.”

“Haven’t seen him since you had a word with him.” Her smile was weak. Marie and Beth had been through a tough time when Marie’s new boyfriend had turned out to be a domineering control freak.

Joel
may
have paid him a visit in one of his many undercover disguises, and left the boyfriend, Al, practically peeing his pants. Sometimes helping people meant bending the rules, but he always tried not to break them. His integrity as a police officer wouldn’t let him.

Giving Marie a quick peck on the cheek, he headed back into his own house. Chrissie was walking around, baby over her shoulder, rubbing his back, and being rewarded by milky burps.

“Everything OK?” Joel asked. “As soon as you’re ready, we can go.”

“I’m ready now.” She moved to the baby carrier and settled a contented-looking Sam inside. “He’s fed and changed. Hopefully he might nap on the way.”

“Let’s go. You can debrief me on the way.” He picked up his backpacks, and slung them over his shoulder. Taking one last look at his house, feeling that familiar pang of loss in knowing he had no idea when he would be home again, he followed Chrissie out to his truck.

Only she was heading for her own little car.

“Really, let’s take my truck,” he said, pointing to the big beast he liked to drive. Yes, it might not easily go unnoticed, but at least if they got rammed, it wouldn’t crumple, unlike Chrissie’s small car.

“Listen, all of Sam’s stuff is packed into my car. The baby carrier fits in it perfectly, and he’s safer in the back seat. We don’t have far to go. It’s an hour’s drive, no more.”

“We could take both.”

She raised her eyebrow at him. “You are such a
wuss
. What’s wrong, scared of being driven around by a girl?”

He smiled. “You can drive me anywhere. But I will hardly fit in the front seat.”

“Then sit in the back.”

He sighed. There was no way he was going to win this, and she was probably right. They would blend in. On a normal suburban street, his truck would look out of place. “If I need a chiropractor after this, you get to pay.”

Maybe his truck might have been a better idea. Watching him fold himself into her car had been amusing; sliding in next to him and realizing just how cozy the space between them was, made her feel other, stronger sensations.

Maybe it was because she hadn’t been with a man for so long, but he seemed to have tipped her hormones into overdrive, and she just wanted to reach over and press her lips against his.

OK, so maybe he secreted some kind of pheromone that lured women into his arms. She had, after all, seen him lean in and kiss the neighbor. How many other women let him kiss them?

How many let him bed them? Lots, she had no doubt. No doubt at all.

“You could drive a little faster,” he said, rudely jerking her out of her daydream.

“Oh.” She looked in her rear view mirror, and saw the snarl of traffic that had impatiently built up behind her as she drove down the street.
Head in the game
, she reminded herself.

“So, you want to tell me everything you know?” he asked, once they were cruising along the highway.

“Not a lot to tell,” she said. “The debriefing, is very … brief.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“OK.” She took a deep breath and tried to focus. This was the bit she hated, recalling the night Sam’s mom had died. “I met Angela a month ago. I was assigned her case; she was about to enter protective custody. You know, the whole change your name, change your appearance thing. Anyway, my boss, Mr. Anderson, the guy you met...”

“Oh, I remember him,
Princess
,” Joel said. He wasn’t teasing her; his expression said he hated the way Mr. Anderson had spoken to her.

“He’s a good man. He’s worked hard to help a lot of vulnerable people.”

“Doesn’t give him the right to speak to you like that.”

“He has nicknames for everyone. It’s his thing.” She sighed. He was good at helping people. So they gave him some leeway with the pet names, always knowing he would have their back whenever he was needed. “She was in a safe-house, but up until that point there had been no threat to her life, so no police protection. Krieg had put her in the hospital with his fists, but she never gave us any reason to believe he would have her killed. She used to brag about him being willing to do anything to get the baby back, but he never made contact, didn’t even try, once they had left. And she liked to brag a lot. A lack of self-worth left her craving attention, I learned to listen to what she said with a filter.”

“And it’s definitely tied to Krieg? The murder?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” Chrissie turned to frown at him before fixing her eyes back on the road.

“Well, is there any other motive?” He shook his head. “Any other person in her past it might have been. Her father? You haven’t mentioned him.”

“She never knew who her father was. I’m thinking Krieg, because who else is going to break in, kill Angela and then take the baby?” Chrissie asked, trying not to sound defensive.

“I’m looking at all angles,” Joel said.

“Krieg beat Angela up. More than once, both while she was pregnant and after Sam was born. He used her, brainwashed her into being his drug mule. But once she had Sam, she wanted a normal life. She didn’t want Sam to experience the life Krieg imposed on them. When she tried to leave, that was when she wound up in hospital, and we got her to safety.”

“Only it wasn’t safe.”

“No. She stayed in mostly, followed the rules, dyed her hair, used a different name. No one visited, it was just her and her mom.” Chrissie thought back to the day they moved in, she had gone over to help, Angela had been so excited to be starting again. Unpacking all the new stuff they’d bought for the baby. She was so thrilled with her new wardrobe, she had completely made herself over, even talked about getting a proper job.

“Spill.”

She looked at him sharply. “Spill what?”

“Your expression changed. Something just occurred to you. So tell me.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Tell me anyway. Sometimes it’s the nothing that becomes
the thing
.”

Chrissie went back over it again, and Joel didn’t push her. “OK. So Angela’s mom didn’t have much money. Waitress by day, occasional prostitute at night.”

“But…”

“But when I visited a couple of days later, Angela had on an expensive pair of shoes.”

“Shoes?” he asked.

“Yes. I know it sounds odd. But the shoes would have cost more than the money she had been given to buy new baby stuff, and new clothes. They were a designer label.”

“And you know designer shoes?” Joel asked.

“My sister lives in them,” she answered, glancing down at her own feet, which were encased in sensible, plain shoes.

“Recap. They moved into the safe-house, mom didn’t have much money, Angela spent her allowance on baby stuff, and some clothes. Then she has designer shoes. Lottery?” He looked at her, and she pulled a face. “What? It would explain the shoes. Because otherwise you are starting to sound as if someone did contact her. Krieg?”

“I don’t think designer shoes were his thing.” She went over what Angela had told her about Krieg; he had been brought up on the streets, and there was no way he was going to go out and buy expensive designer shoes.

“You really think there was a mole?” Joel asked, switching tack. “I’ve been in the force for enough years to know they don’t come along often, and then only for a very strong personal or financial reason.”

“Which rules out Mr. Anderson. Loving wife, big fat pension. Unless he wanted to buy a luxury yacht and sail around the world, it wasn’t him. Your chief?”

“Not known him long, but as straight as they come.” He thought for a minute. “Anyone else know the case? Who they were, where they were?”

“People knew I was working the case, so I may have been followed. But really, it sounds so farfetched. People I work with help other people.”

“Until they stop.”

“You are cynical.”

“I prefer realist.”

“No.” She shook her head and felt his eyes burning into her, and her cheeks flushed. “It must have been Krieg.”

“That what you believe, or want to believe?” he asked.

She ignored his question. It made her sound as if she wanted it to be Krieg, because that made her world safe, it left it standing on firm ground, not teetering on the edge of a precipice where things could topple off with one small push. But her childhood had taught her a small push comes when you least expect it.

“What if Krieg told her he was willing to make her happy?” Joel mused. “If she were blinded by her need to be with him, then she might have gone along with it. Maybe going to the authorities was Angela’s way of getting his attention. And shoes were the way she wanted him to prove he was ready to change for her.”

“You think Angela would have put herself and Sam in danger? For shoes?” Chrissie didn’t want to believe Angela would do something like that. Not for shoes. But maybe for love.

“People do the strangest damn things for the person of their dreams. And before you say it, Krieg might not, thankfully, be the man of your dreams, but Angela had a connection to him, through Sam. As a vulnerable woman, she would want her family to be together. Her, Sam and Krieg. I expect she would have listened if he offered her a life with him.”

“You think women are weak?” she asked, disappointed in him.

His voice dropped and he looked out of the window as he said, “Not all women. But we’re a product of our lives. If Angela had a crappy childhood, no father figure, then maybe she wanted her son to grow up with both parents, whatever the cost, which is why she put up with him beating her up. It took a lot of guts for her to leave him, but he knew her weakness.”