The Baby's Bodyguard. Alice Sharpe

not as far as her own bedroom and office, pausing at the door to the nursery.

      Painted pink the day the results of the ultrasound revealed the baby was a girl, the small room was frilly and fluttery and probably silly, but it never ceased to make Hannah smile. Her grandmother, who had wanted to paint it lime-green and canary-yellow, just shook her head.

      But it was the three-month-old baby in the crib that drew Hannah. She crossed the floor without bothering to make her steps quiet, hoping the baby would wake up, needing to see her, touch her, and heaven knows, nurse her.

      Aubrielle’s eyes were open. Hannah lifted the baby to her shoulder, where the infant made some very sweet sounds and Hannah’s heart felt as though it was going to burst.

      She glanced at the nursery door to make sure it was closed, and then she took a deep breath. Whispering into the warm little ear by her lips, she said, “I saw your daddy today.”

      There, she’d said it out loud for the first time. Jack Starling was Aubrielle’s father. One night of sex had created the most wonderful gift in the world.

      “I want you to know I will not allow him to mess things up for you, sweetheart, I promise that,” Hannah continued. “It’s you and me, we’re a family. I’m not going to risk a near stranger demanding half your destiny so don’t worry, it’s okay. It’s our secret.”

      They moved to the rocking chair where Hannah nursed her baby, tears burning behind her nose. She hated lying, she knew she was bad at it, she even knew Jack deserved the truth, but she could not, would not, risk Aubrielle’s safety. Jack was a bodyguard, a man’s man, and what little Hannah knew of his life had nothing to do with being a father. Take his current obsession. With little to go on but a hunch, he was running around accusing innocent people of terrible crimes. He’d entered the country without a passport. Maybe being stuck in the jungle for almost a year had fried his brain.

      She was avoiding thinking about David and Tierra Montañosa and the ambush at Costa del Rio, she knew that. For a second it occurred to her that David couldn’t have been involved—he’d died weeks before the trip—and a mountain of worry lifted from her shoulders. He hadn’t even been to Costa del Rio; he was the foundation pilot in the States. How could he be involved?

       Where had the money come from weeks before the ambush? Why had he told her to keep it a secret?

      And just like that she thought of the original gym bag David had left with her. Where was it? In her home office? No. She’d taken it to work, she remembered that. Then she’d transferred the cash into her briefcase. Was there another paper in the bag? She seemed to remember there was though she also recalled dismissing it. What had she done with the gym bag? Where was it? Had it gone with her to the locker or was it still in the bottom of the file cabinet in the locked drawer?

      It was no use, she couldn’t remember, but that was easily fixed; she could look.

      Closing her eyes, she found Jack’s image front and center, not David’s. Jack’s eyes. His mouth. When he called her cariño, her insides melted. She remembered their one night in vivid detail, images burned on her brain and enhanced by all that came afterward.

      As she rested her head against the wooden spindles of the chair, Hannah’s gaze drifted out the window to the slice of dark sky visible between the even darker branches. She’d positioned the chair just this way so that would be her view, but suddenly it seemed more oppressive than comforting. She couldn’t fight the feeling someone was looking in at them. The lights in the room seemed garish; she felt as though she was on a stage.

      This was melodramatic, but the feeling wouldn’t go away. Who could possibly be out there? Maybe Jack was right, maybe she should have told the police about her feelings, but the thought of going through an investigation while Jack was around frightened her. She wanted him to leave California. If she was still spooked after he was gone, she’d talk to Officer Latimer. He’d seemed approachable.

      Aubrielle soon fell back asleep. Superaware of the window, Hannah adjusted her own clothing before carefully lifting the drowsy baby. She nuzzled Aubrielle’s soft, sweet skin before putting her back in her crib, then made sure the window was locked, the curtains closed tight. She turned off the light as she left the room and looked back. The little pink mushroom-shaped night-light illuminated very little but gave the cozy space a rosy hue. Aubrielle was safe. That’s all that mattered.

      While walking down the hall, Hannah heard a man’s deep voice and thought it was the television until her grandmother’s bright chirp responded. Still spooked from the events of the afternoon, she hurried into the living room. What now?

      Her grandmother sat on the red plaid sofa. Jack Starling sat in the bright blue chair set at a right angle, a wineglass cradled in his hands. They both looked up as Hannah made an abrupt halt.

      Jack put down his glass and stood. With his unruly black hair and stormy expression he looked like a slightly disreputable action hero plopped down in the middle of Snow White’s cottage.

      Mimi popped off the couch. “Your friend has been telling me stories about your trip to Tierra Montañosa last year. Well, you know, honey, you never talk about it. Anyway, I’ve convinced him to stay for dinner, though heaven knows what we’re going to give him to eat. Hannah, you look bushed. Sit down, dear, I’ll get you a glass of wine.” She scurried toward the kitchen on her mission.

      “How did you find out where I live?” Hannah demanded in a low voice.

      “I told the clerk inside the store that you forgot something. He told me. Apparently his wife’s mother plays cards with your grandmother. That’s the nice thing about a small town.”

      “But why did you come? What do you want now?”

      He sat back down in his chair. “I’m just making sure you’re okay.”

      “No, you’re not.”

      “No, I’m not,” he agreed. “I’m here because you’re hiding something.” He pulled on her hand and she perched on the corner of the sofa, her knees almost touching his. “Why are you so nervous?” he asked.

      “Why are you staying for dinner?”

      “Your grandmother invited me.”

      Mimi reappeared with wine for Hannah. Smiling broadly, the older woman hitched her hands on her waist. “Now, you two catch up on old times while I figure out what we’re going to eat.” She took a few steps, then turned back. “Oh, Jack, did you know a Frenchman down in Costa del Rio?”

      “French?”

      “Yes. I’m sure he was very dashing. An expatriate.”

      “No, I’m sorry. I don’t recall anyone from France.”

      “I thought maybe you knew him. I mean, you lived down there for a couple of years, right? Hannah was only down there a few days and you said you spent one evening with her and then—”

      “Grandma, what about dinner?” Hannah said softly, doing her best to avert a disaster.

      In a scolding voice, Mimi said, “I just thought it would be nice to hear about the baby’s father from someone else. You won’t tell me much about him.”

      Hannah must have made a strangled sound in her throat because both her grandmother and Jack glanced at her. “I know we’re not supposed to talk about him,” Mimi said with a defiant tilt to her chin. “I know you said he was a giant mistake, but I just thought—”

      “Jack didn’t know him,” Hannah said, praying for some kind of diversion. It was the West Coast, for heaven’s sake. Where was a 6.0 earthquake when you needed one?

      “I didn’t know you had a baby,” Jack said.

      Mimi, looking perplexed, muttered, “I told you Hannah was in with Aubrielle when you got here.”

      “I assumed Aubrielle was another adult.”

      Mimi’s defiance