Expecting Trouble. Delores Fossen

would do something stupid so they could use that to arrest him.

      “I was bait?” she asked.

      “No.” But then he lifted his shoulder. “At least I don’t think so.”

      Jenna prayed that was true. The thought wasn’t something she could handle right now.

      “The baby is Paul Tolivar’s?” Cal asked.

      She nodded. And waited for his reaction. She didn’t get one. He put on his operative’s face again. “Just how much trouble will this cause for you?” she wanted to know.

      “The ISA has a morality clause.” His fingers tightened around a dried apricot, squishing it. “Plus, the regs forbid personal contact during a protective custody situation.”

      That was not what she wanted to hear. “You could be punished.”

      Again, it took him a moment to answer. “Yeah.”

      “Okay.” Jenna took a deep breath, and because she couldn’t stay still, she got up to pace. There was a solution to this. Not necessarily an appetizing solution, but it did exist. “Will my statement that I lied be enough to clear you, or will you need a paternity test?”

      “My director wants a test.” He stood as well, and caught her arm when she started to go past him. His fingers were warm. Surprisingly warm. She could feel his touch all the way through her thick sweater. “But I think that’s the least of your worries right now.”

      “Because of Anthony Salazar.” Jenna nodded. “Yes. He’s definitely a worry. His being here means I’ll need to leave Willow Ridge and go into hiding.”

      “You’re already in hiding,” Cal pointed out. “And he found you. He’ll find you again. He’s very good at what he does. You need more protection than a bookstore security system or a hired bodyguard can give you. I’ll make some calls and see what I can do.”

      Pride almost caused her to decline his offer. But she knew that it wouldn’t protect her baby. And that was the most important thing right now. She had to stay safe because if anything happened to her, it would happen to her precious daughter as well.

      “Thank you,” Jenna whispered. She repeated it to make sure he heard her. “I really am sorry about dragging you into my personal life.”

      “We’ll get it straightened out,” he assured her. But there was a lot of skepticism in his voice.

      And annoyance, which she deserved.

      “Okay, while you make those calls, I’ll arrange to have the paternity test done,” Jenna added.

      Somehow, though, she’d have to keep the results a secret from anyone but Cal and his director.

      Because she didn’t want Holden to learn the truth. Jenna moved away from Cal and started to pace again, mumbling a poem she’d memorized in middle school. She couldn’t help it. A few lines came out before she could stop them.

      “What you must think of me,” she said. “For what it’s worth, Paul and I only had sex once, and we used protection. But I guess something went wrong…on a lot of levels. Honestly, I don’t really even remember sleeping with him.” Jenna mumbled that last part.

      “You don’t remember?” he challenged.

      She shook her head. “One minute we were having dinner, and the next thing I remember was waking up in bed with him. I obviously had too much to drink. Or else he drugged me. Either way, it was my stupid mistake for being there. Then I made things so much worse by telling Holden that you’re my daughter’s father. And here we didn’t even have sex. Heck, we never even kissed on the floor of that cantina.”

      A clear image formed in her mind. Of that floor. Of Cal on top of her to protect her from the explosion. It wasn’t exactly pleasurable. Okay, it was. But it wasn’t supposed to be.

      Not then.

      Not now.

      She’d already done enough damage to Cal’s career without her adding unwanted sexual attraction that could never go beyond the fantasy stage.

      He opened his mouth to say something, but didn’t get past the first syllable. There was a knock at the door, the sudden sound shattering the silence.

      Cal reacted fast. He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a handgun from a shoulder holster. He motioned for her to move out of the path of the door.

      Jenna raced across the room and took a knife from the cutlery drawer. It probably wouldn’t give them much protection, but she didn’t intend to let Cal fight alone. Especially since the battle was hers.

      With his hands gripped around his weapon, he eased toward the door. Every inch of his posture and demeanor was vigilant. Ready. Lethal.

      Cal didn’t use the peephole to look outside, but instead peered out the corner of the window.

      He cursed softly.

      “It’s Holden Carr.”

       Chapter Four

      This was not how Cal had planned his visit.

      It was supposed to be in and out quickly. He was only on a fact-finding mission so he could get out of hot water with the director. Instead, he’d walked right into a vipers’ nest. And one viper was way too close.

      Holden Carr was literally pounding on Jenna’s door.

      Cal glanced back at her. With a butcher knife in a white-knuckled death grip, Jenna was standing guard in front of the nursery. She was pale, trembling and nibbling on her bottom lip. Bam! There were his protective instincts.

      There was no way he could let her face Holden Carr alone. From everything Cal had read about the man, Holden was as dangerous as Paul, his former business partner. And Paul had been ready to commit murder to get his hands on Jenna’s estate.

      “Go to your daughter,” Cal instructed while Holden continued to pound.

      She shook her head. “You might need backup.”

      He lifted his eyebrow. She wasn’t exactly backup material. Jenna Laniere might have been temporarily living in a starter apartment in a quaint Texas cowboy town, but her blue blood and pampered upbringing couldn’t have prepared her for the likes of Holden Carr.

      “I’ll handle this,” Cal let her know, and he left no room for argument.

      She mumbled something, but stepped back into the nursery.

      With his SIG Sauer drawn, Cal stood to the side of the door. It was standard procedure—bad guys often like to shoot through doors. But Holden probably didn’t have that in mind. It was broad daylight and with the door-pounding, he was probably drawing all kinds of attention to himself, but Cal didn’t want to take an unnecessary risk.

      Once he was in place, he reached over. Unlocked the door. And eased it open.

      Cal jammed his gun right in Holden’s face.

      Holden’s dust-gray eyes sliced in the direction of the SIG Sauer. There was just a flash of shock and concern before he buried those reactions in the cool composure of his Nordic pale skin and his Viking-size body. He was decked out in a pricy camel-colored suit that probably cost more than Cal made in a month.

      “I’m Holden Carr and I need to see Jenna,” he announced.

      Cal didn’t lower his gun. In fact, he jabbed it against Holden’s right cheek. “Oh, yeah? About what?”

      “A private matter.”

      “It’s not so private. From what I’ve heard you’re threatening her. It takes a special kind of man to threaten a woman half his size. Of course, you’re no stranger to violence, are you? Did you murder Paul Tolivar?”

      Holden