Читать книгу Protecting Her Royal Baby - Beth Cornelison - Страница 10

Chapter 4

Three hours later, Hunter returned to the hospital and knocked quietly on Brianna’s door before entering, just in case she was the with the doctor...or nursing. He was no lech, but the idea of her baring her breast, even to feed her son, was fodder for vivid images in his mind’s eye. He could too easily imagine her curves bared for his exploration, their bodies tangling in the sheets. Considering Brianna was a new mother, those tantalizing fantasies left him feeling uneasy and guilty. Was he wrong to feel this attraction to her? She was a beautiful woman, and every time their eyes met, he experienced a sense of connection, a crackling energy and deep stirring in both his body and his soul.

Hearing no response to his knock, he cracked the door open and peeked inside. “Brianna?”

Brianna sat propped up in the bed, the baby in her arms, her gaze latched firmly on her son. His pulse tripped at the sight of her, and he took a moment to simply drink in the poignant image.

She’d gotten cleaned up, as he had, and someone had found her a brush for her hair. It shone in glossy gold waves that framed her face and spilled over her shoulders. Her cheeks had more color now, and her skin had a fresh-scrubbed glow. The love in her expression as she gazed at her son was so pure and peaceful, his breath stilled in his lungs. He’d seen that same expression before...on his sisters-in-law’s faces when they’d rocked his nieces. A mother’s love. Maternal awe and wonder. Raw, unfiltered affection.

Watching her hold her baby, Hunter, too, felt a stir deep inside, but of a harder-edged emotion—a fierce determination to protect Brianna and her child. The clawing need to defend her was tangled with a sense of possessiveness and responsibility. She was his to care for, his to guard and provide for. His.

Except she wasn’t. He shook his head briskly. Somewhere out there, the father of Brianna’s baby was likely waiting for her. A man she’d cared enough for that she’d made love to him, carried his child. A man who had prior claim to her.

Hunter shoved down the stab of jealousy that thought fired inside him and stepped farther into the room.

Brianna raised her head, clearly startled, when he moved to the foot of her bed. “Oh, hi.”

He aimed a thumb at the door. “I knocked, but...”

“Sorry. My head was somewhere else. I didn’t hear you.” She wiggled her fingers in invitation. “Come in. Sit down.”

He didn’t like the idea that she’d been so unaware of her surroundings that he’d made it to her bed before she noticed him. With someone gunning for her, literally, she needed to be more alert, more careful. He made a mental note to talk with her about that.

“What did you find out?” she asked as he took a seat beside her.

“Not much yet. I didn’t find anything in the car that was helpful, but I took down your tag number and brought my laptop with me from my apartment.” He patted the computer bag slung over his shoulder. “We can do an online search for your tag number and see what comes up.”

She nodded. “A police officer stopped by after you left, wanting my statement about the accident. I couldn’t tell him much, obviously.”

A prickle of unease chased down his back. “Did he show you his badge? Was he in uniform?”

She frowned at his question. “Yes to both. And he left a card—” she motioned to her tray table “—and said they’d need a statement from you.”

“Okay. Am I supposed to call him?” Hunter picked up the card and read it. Sergeant Mark Wallace, Lagniappe Police Department.

“I told him you’d be back in a little while. I think he was going to come back up here after he got dinner.”

He nodded, and setting his computer bag aside, he leaned forward for a better look at her son. Benjamin. A curl of warmth rolled through his midsection. To say he was flattered she’d named her son after him would be an understatement. He’d helped her because it was what any decent person in his situation would have done. Maybe committing himself to helping her discover who she was and protecting her from the person responsible for shooting at her car was more than others would do. But something inside him compelled him to look after Brianna.

“Did he nap?” he asked now, gazing down at Benjamin’s bright blue eyes. The baby’s eyes shifted slightly toward him. He remembered his sister-in-law telling him a baby’s distance vision was unfocused early on, but Benjamin looked straight at him, perhaps drawn by the sound of his voice. Holding the baby’s gaze, Hunter felt a stir of emotion deep inside, a softening at his core.

“He did. He’s eaten a little more, too.”

Hunter smiled at Benjamin, even though he knew the baby was still too nearsighted to see it. “Hey, sport. How ya doin’?”

“Would you like to hold him?” Brianna asked.

Hunter shifted his attention to her. “Um, maybe later. Right now, I think we should do some research.” He opened his laptop and logged on to the internet. “The sooner we figure out who you are, the better. My family was going nuts looking for me after just a couple of hours this afternoon. I can imagine yours is especially worried, given your pregnancy and all.”

“You have family in town? A wife?”

He jerked his gaze up from his keyboard, and she blinked at him with wide, startled eyes. “No. I’m not married. I meant my brother and parents. I’d gone out for a jog when you wrecked your car.”

She released a deep breath, visibly relieved that he wasn’t married. And wasn’t that interesting?

Hunter glanced at the results of his browser search for Brianna’s car tag number. After scrolling a few pages, he found nothing helpful. A visit to the state’s DMV web page gave him little, as well. A few sites promised to conduct a search of private records for a fee, but he ignored those. Buzzing his lips in frustration, Hunter sat back in the chair. “Well, I’m not getting far here. Have you remembered anything else, no matter how small, that might help us with this puzzle?”

“No. Just this weird sense of danger. Of panic.” She bit her bottom lip and furrowed her brow. “I wouldn’t even know my first name if not for that key ring.”

“What about the other key chain that was on your car keys? The one that said ‘I Heart Cape Cod.’ Cape Cod ring any bells now?”

She closed her eyes for a moment, then sighed. “Nothing.”

“Well, it’s early. The doctor said to give your swelling a chance to recede.”

A knock sounded at the door, and a uniformed officer poked his head in the room. “Excuse me.”

Hunter stood and greeted the policeman. “Are you Sergeant Wallace?”

“I am. Would you be Hunter Mansfield?”

“Yours truly. I understand you need a statement about her accident.” Hunter waved the officer toward the only chair in the room, but Sergeant Wallace declined with a shake of his head.

“This shouldn’t take long. I just need your account of what happened to confirm what Ms. Coleman told us.”

“Ms. Coleman?” Hunter tipped his head. “Is that her name? Brianna Coleman?”

The policeman looked confused for a moment, then arched an eyebrow. “That’s right. You have no memory from before the accident?”

Brianna shook her head. “Nothing. Can you tell us anything? Did you run my license plate? Who is the car registered to? Where do I live?”

Sergeant Wallace flipped open a small notepad and read, “Your tag was registered to Brianna Coleman, home address 443 Cypress Creek Lane, Lagniappe.”

Wallace rattled off a phone number and Social Security number as well, and Hunter pulled a scrap of paper from his computer bag and jotted the information down.

“What did the tag registration say about my marital status? Was there anyone else listed as co-owner or my spouse?” Brianna asked, her expression full of hope.

The sergeant consulted his notes. “Not that I see.” Wallace raised his gaze to Hunter. “Want to tell me what you saw this afternoon? Did you see the car crash happen?”

Hunter flexed the fingers of one hand with the other and gave the officer a recap of what happened from the time Brianna drove toward him to the moment they left in the ambulance.

Her eyes widened as she listened. “Oh, my God. I almost hit you?”

He jerked a small nod, and seeing the guilt that crossed her face, he quickly added, “But you didn’t. That’s what counts.”

“So you didn’t see who might have fired at the car?” Sergeant Wallace asked.

“No.” Hunter rubbed his hands on his jeans. “If you find any more information that will help Brianna locate her family, will you call us? I’m planning to stay with her, help her out for a while. You can call my cell.” He gave the officer that phone number, and Sergeant Wallace jotted it in his notes.

“Will do.” As the police officer took his leave, he added, “Congratulations on the new baby, Ms. Coleman. Hope you’ll feel better soon.”

“Thanks.” Brianna flashed him a muted smile. Clearly she was anxious over the lingering questions about her family, Benjamin’s father and the lurking danger. As he was.

He eyed Brianna after the policeman left. “So...Brianna Coleman. That name ringing bells for you?”

She chewed her bottom lip and stared across the room, her nose wrinkled in thought. “Well, yes and no. It doesn’t feel wrong. It’s...comfortable. But I can’t say it’s bringing anything back or screaming, ‘That’s me!’” Her shoulders dropped, and she frowned. “If that’s my name, why don’t I just know it? It should be organic. Part of my cells. Instinctive.”

Connor shook his head and scooted toward her. “Not necessarily.” He unclipped his cell phone from the case at his hip. “Look, we have a home phone number now. I’ll call it and see if anyone is there. Okay?”

Her eyes rounded. “Yeah.” She sat taller in the bed, watching him anxiously as he dialed. The phone rang four times before an answering machine picked up. A mechanical voice repeated the number he’d dialed and told him to leave a message.

“I got a machine,” he told her, and her expression deflated. When the beep sounded, Hunter said, “Hi, my name is Hunter Mansfield, and I’m looking for the family of Brianna Coleman. Brianna is safe but needs to be in contact with her relatives. If anyone gets this message, please call me.” He left his number in case she didn’t have caller ID.

“No one answered,” she said and sighed. “Maybe I have no family.”

“We don’t know that. They could be in the shower. Or, more likely, out looking for you.” He returned his phone to the holder at his hip and rubbed the beard stubble on his chin. “Later on, I’ll drive by your house and knock on the front door. We will find your family, Brianna. Have faith.”

She flashed her a half smile and nodded. “Aye, Captain.”

An idea came to Hunter, and he flipped a page on the notepad he’d used to take down her information from Sergeant Wallace. He extended it and the pen toward her. “Let’s try something. Take these.”

She glanced down at Ben. “Okay, but you’ll have to hold him.”

He set the notepad down and held his arms out to receive the baby. Ben gave a disgruntled whine but soon settled in Hunter’s arms.

She lifted the pen and paper. “What do you want me to do with these?”

“Sign your name.”

She puckered her brow. “But...”

“You know your name now. So write it. Like you’re signing a document. Don’t think too hard about it. Just write.”

She bent her head over the pad and slowly wrote out her name. “There.” She held the pad out to him.

“Do it again. Faster.” Hunter gave Ben’s swaddled bottom a soft pat when he gurgled.

“Why?”

“An experiment. Just work with me.”

She sighed and wrote her name again. Then blinked. “Hmm.”

“What?”

“I...did that without really thinking about it. I was still thinking about how silly your experiment sounded.”

He flashed her a cocky grin. “Not so silly now, huh?”

Lifting one eyebrow, she wrote her name again, even faster. And again. “I’ll be darned.”

“Did it feel natural? Like muscle memory?”

She raised her head, and her face lit with wonder. “It did.” Taking a deep breath, she wrote her name again and again, filling the page with her loopy signature. She chuckled. “I know this. It feels right.”

“Some people learn better by hearing, others by sight, others by doing. It makes sense to me that maybe your memories will come back more with certain triggers than others. I learned that in high school. My grades were suffering, and my parents hired me a tutor. Turns out my teachers’ style of issuing reading assignments didn’t match my auditory learning style. I needed to hear it explained to me to make it stick.” Hunter walked around to the bassinet and set Ben down in the small bed. “I have something else we can try.”

Returning to the bedside chair, Hunter tapped on his laptop keys. He pulled up a satellite ground-level-view website and typed in the address Sergeant Wallace had given them. The picture of a small gray-siding-and-redbrick house with a neat yard came up. He moved the laptop so that Brianna could see the image.

“According to the address Wallace gave us, this is your house. Do you recognize it? Does it feel right?”

Brianna squinted at the screen, studying it. The eagerness and expectation in her eyes was heartbreaking, especially when that hope faded and moisture filled her eyes. “No. I don’t feel any tugs of recognition. Damn it!”

Hunter closed the top of the laptop, set it aside and moved to sit on the edge of her bed. “It was just an idea. Maybe seeing it for real will be different. Maybe seeing the inside, your furnishings and pictures, will be the trigger you need. And time.”

She nodded slowly, touching the bandage on her forehead. “Time for the swelling to recede.”

“Exactly.” He took her hand in his and kissed her fingers. “To me, the fact that your signature felt natural is a good sign. I bet you get all of your memories back real soon.”

She nibbled her bottom lip again. “Maybe. I... Hunter, what if the reason I can’t remember is because I’m blocking a bad event? I can’t get past the fact that there are bullet holes in the back of the car I was driving. The one thing I did sense or know after the accident was that I was in danger. What does that say?”

His grip on her hand tightened. “I haven’t forgotten that. I don’t know what it means, but I do know this—whoever shot at you isn’t going to get a second chance. I’ll make sure of that.”

* * ** * *

Hunter spent a long, restless night in the chair next to Brianna. Though the chair folded out into a bed of sorts, the contraption was the epitome of discomfort, and every noise from the hall woke him. His brain was wired to be on guard, to listen for intruders, to be alert to changes in his environment, even while resting. He’d served one tour in Afghanistan during his five years with the Army Reserves and learned the meaning of the term combat nap. That past spring, he’d helped guard his niece’s hospital room when men connected to organized crime had threatened his brother Connor and his family. Because of that experience, he considered himself qualified to guard Brianna and Ben.

Morning came early, as it did in a hospital, the maternity nurse waking Brianna to feed Ben at four forty-five. She gave him a groggy glance as Ben was settled in her arms, and Hunter took his cue.

“I’m going to rustle up some coffee. Is the cafeteria open?” he asked the nurse.

“It will be at five.”

Brianna sent him an appreciative smile. Her hair was mussed from sleep, and as she raked the gold wisps back with her fingers, Hunter’s pulse kicked. Brianna Coleman was the sexiest thing he’d seen in a long time, and she managed to be sexy without trying. Her natural, early-morning rumpled state charmed him. The glow that shone from her eyes and her smile as she greeted her son and settled him in her arms was more striking than any makeup she could ever put on.

Hunter swallowed hard. It was dangerous to have such strong feelings for her when they didn’t know yet whether Ben’s father was still in the picture. She could be married, damn it!

He gave his head a little shake as he shuffled out of the room. For probably the hundredth time in the past few weeks, he wished he could call Darby Kent, whose friendship and advice had always been spot-on. As much as he admired his older brothers and valued their input on business matters, Darby, with her female point of view and common sense, had always been the one he turned to for advice concerning matters of the heart. She would be able to put his fascination and obligation to Brianna in perspective. But Darby and her daughter, Hunter’s niece, had recently joined his brother Connor in Witness Security. He’d likely never talk to Darby or Connor ever again, and he felt the loss to his marrow.

With the morning staff making rounds, Hunter figured Brianna was safe enough until he came back with his breakfast. Just in case, though, he’d stopped at the nurses’ station and asked them to keep a watch out for strangers entering Brianna’s room.

That done, Hunter walked down the stairs and exited the hospital to get a breath of fresh air. The dark autumn morning still held a chilly nip, though he knew the Louisiana sun would quickly warm things up after daybreak. He started around the perimeter of the parking lot at a slow jog to work the kinks out of his muscles and get his blood pumping. Immediately his brain began to click through the same questions that had plagued him since the car accident.

How was he supposed to help Brianna figure out the source of the danger to her? Now that he had her name, home phone number and address, he could be more thorough with his quest for information. He could call the courthouse and see if there was a marriage certificate on file for her. He could stop by her house and see if anyone was home, if her purse was there. He heaved a deep sigh, feeling better for having an action plan for the day. He finished the circuit of the parking lot and reentered the hospital, heading straight for the cafeteria, which was just opening.

He bought himself a large coffee and an egg-and-bacon breakfast sandwich to take upstairs. It was still too early to call Grant or his parents and check in with them. He needed to let someone know he’d be taking the day off from work, though he’d make an effort to stop by the construction sites he was managing later in the day. Working for the family business had its perks, and a flexible schedule was one of the better benefits. He couldn’t ignore his responsibilities as site manager for Mansfield Construction, but his father and Grant would always cover for him when he needed personal time off. In fact, Grant, the accountant and business manager for the office, enjoyed having an excuse to get out of the office and be at the work sites every now and then.

When he got back to Brianna’s room with his breakfast, Brianna was still nursing Ben, with a baby blanket draped over her shoulder and the baby. The television played quietly from the mount on the wall, and her food sat uneaten on her tray table. She glanced up at him as he walked in, and her expression was an odd combination of concern and joy.

“I have a cat,” she said without preamble.

“Excuse me?”

“I was sitting here with Ben, thinking about what mornings would be like from here on, taking care of Ben and getting ready for work, whatever that job may be, and I had this overwhelming feeling that I was neglecting something important. Then it just came to me. I have a cat that I always feed in the morning. Sorsha. She’s black with long hair and a white spot on her tummy. She’s always right there in my face when I wake up every morning, demanding pats and ear scratches along with her breakfast. She’s like my furry child, my first baby. I can’t believe I would forget her!”

Hunter grinned as he took his seat. “Any more unbelievable than that you’d forget your own name?”

She pulled her mouth into a slant. “Touché.”

“Still, you remembered something about yourself, your life, your home. That’s progress.”

She gave him a small smile. “Yeah. I guess. The thing is, she needs to be fed. What if there is no one else there to feed her? Hunter, will you—”

“Yes.”

She flashed him a lopsided grin.

“I’m already planning to stop by your house later today, with your permission, and check it out, see if anyone besides the cat is home. I’ll feed Sorsha while I’m there.”

“Thank you.” Her smile brightened, and his body temperature rose a couple of degrees. Damn, but she was beautiful.

“Now—” Hunter frowned at the untouched breakfast “—you need to eat.”

Brianna grinned at him. “I will. Soon. But my hands are a little full here, and Ben’s breakfast comes first.”

He opened the sack with his breakfast sandwich. “But your food’s getting cold.”

“I imagine in the coming years, I’ll eat a lot of cold meals.” She bent her head to peek under the blanket. “Isn’t that right, Ben?”

Hunter unwrapped his food, feeling a bit guilty eating while his food was hot, then nodded toward the television, where a car dealer was raving about his crazy prices. “So what are we watching?”

“Local news. I was thinking if my family reported me missing, there might be a story about it.”

“Good thinking.”

“Yeah, but so far all they’ve shown are national news stories.” Brianna picked up a piece of her toast and took a bite.

On the TV, the commercials ended, and a serious-faced newscaster reported on a dip in the stock market.

“Has the doctor been by this morning? Has anyone told you yet when you can get out of here and go home?”

“No on the doctor, but my nurse thinks they’ll let me go home tomorrow morning if I don’t show any complications.” She twisted her mouth in consternation. “I hate to say it, but...I’m a little nervous about going home, taking care of Ben by myself. Especially when we don’t know who shot at me or why.”

“You won’t be going home alone. I told you, I’m going to help you. I’ll protect you until we know the danger to you is past. Until we find your family. I’m not going to abandon you, Bri.”

She scowled at him. “I can’t ask you to do that. I’m not your responsibility.”

“Maybe not. But I’m volunteering. I can’t in good conscience leave you with a new baby, a concussion and some unknown threat out there.”

“Hunter,” she said on a groan and peeked under the blanket at Ben again, “I don’t feel right imposing on you.”

“And I don’t feel right turning my back on you when you’re alone.” He paused. “If you don’t want my help, I guess I can’t force my way into your life, but...”

She slanted a look at him. “I do want your help. I appreciate it. So much. I just feel guilty taking over your life this way.”

“Well, stop feeling guilty. I’m happy to help.” Hunter sat back in the chair and took another bite of his sandwich. “When I go by your house today, I can find your purse or phone or pictures that might—”

Brianna’s gasp cut him off.

“Turn it up!” Gaping at the TV, she waved a hand at the remote control beside him.

“What?” He set his breakfast in his lap and grabbed the remote.

“Turn the volume up!”

He did and together they watched a news report about a coup attempt against the ruling monarch of Meridan, a small European island nation Hunter had never heard of.

Hunter frowned, puzzled why the story was so important to Brianna. “What’s wrong? Why—”

She waved a hand, shushing him, and her face grew paler as the news report continued.

“Mourning citizens took to the streets, shocked by reports that King Mikhail had been assassinated,” the reporter said. “Prince Cristoff, heir to the throne, has not been seen in public for several days, and rumors have circulated that the prince has also been assassinated.”

Hunter turned to watch Brianna’s odd reaction to the news story rather than the television. “Brianna?”

She gave him another hushing wave of her hand as the screen filled with file footage of a well-dressed man with dark hair waving to a crowd before climbing into the back of a limousine.

The reporter’s face filled the screen again. “Palace officials deny the rumor of the crown prince’s death but won’t comment on Cristoff Hamill’s whereabouts.”

Brianna’s expression leeched of color as she turned to Hunter. “I know him.”

“What?” He wrinkled his brow and glanced back at the television. “Who? The reporter?”

She blinked, her expression stunned. “No. Cristoff.”

A startled chuckle escaped Hunter before he could stop it. “The prince guy?” He aimed a finger at the TV. “That’s in Europe somewhere. What makes you think you know the prince?”

“It’s just a feeling...a flicker of something. An image. A memory. I...”

For the first time, Hunter began to doubt Brianna. How could she remember some obscure prince from a tiny European country? It wasn’t as if this Cristoff guy was often in the news the way Prince William of Great Britain was. But the recognition that filled Brianna’s face seemed so real.

A tickle of unease started at the base of Hunter’s neck. “Brianna, I don’t know. Maybe you know someone who looks like him.”

She drew a slow, deep breath and gawked at the television. “No, it’s him. I’m sure of it. But I don’t just know him, Hunter.” She faced him, her eyes wide. “Prince Cristoff is Ben’s father.”