His Child. Delores Fossen

And waited to see if a little blue circle would form in the bottom of the tube.

      The first minute crawled by.

      Jessie refused to think beyond this test. First, she had to get the results. She’d go from there. Go where exactly, she didn’t know. She was sure there were rules to this game, but she didn’t know them. Heck, she didn’t even know the name of the game.

      “Don’t scream,” the voice warned.

      She didn’t, because her throat snapped shut. She knew that voice, knew who it was without looking behind her. Jake McClendon.

      Jessie instinctively scrambled toward her purse, but it wasn’t on the table where she had left it. Frantically, she looked around. It was gone.

      Dangling her purse on his finger, he stepped out from behind the closet door. In his other hand, he had her gun, the one she’d just bought the day before.

      “You must have a whole arsenal of these things stashed away,” he calmly remarked, making sure she saw that the gun was now unloaded.

      She wished for an arsenal, though it probably wouldn’t have done any good. He no doubt would have found others, as well. The man had the instincts of a cop, even if he didn’t look like one. No tux today, but he wore fashionably tailored navy slacks. Expensive, certainly. And so was the shirt that was almost the same lapis blue as his eyes.

      He tossed the gun and purse onto the bed and tipped his head to the vial. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to see the results, too.”

      “Actually, I do mind.”

      “Tough. I’m staying.”

      That didn’t come as a surprise to her. “How did you find me?” Even more important questions were, How much did he know? Did he know who she was? And what did he plan to do with her? He might just decide to kill her on the spot.

      “When you left my hotel room without saying goodbye, I sent out my security people to follow you. I’ve had them watching you for the past two days, but I decided it was probably time we had a little talk.”

      Resources. The man had resources and money. Jessie had underestimated just how quickly he would be able to use those two things to locate her. “You didn’t trip the alarm.”

      “No. The lipstick on the doorknob was a nice touch, though. Most people go for a strand of hair or a piece of thread. Not you. But then, from what I’ve learned about you, you don’t do things the usual way.”

      Jessie put some starch in her posture. She would need all the composure she could marshal to get through this. And maybe even then, she wouldn’t be able to talk him out of killing her.

      “You can just get out.”

      “I don’t think so. You started all of this when you came to me, remember?”

      “A mistake. Now get out.”

      “Or what? You’ll call the cops, huh?” He sat on the edge of the bed, the rusty springs creaking under his weight. “I think the cops are the last people you want to call. Tell me what you meant by all that junk you spouted in my hotel room. Why did you think I was trying to kill you?”

      Jessie considered lying. Maybe she could convince him she was schizophrenic or something. Instead, she decided to say nothing. She eased into the cracked vinyl padded chair across from him.

      “What? Cat got your tongue?” he asked. “Or do you think I’ll just go away if you don’t talk to me? Think again, Jessie. A woman breaks into my hotel room, holds a gun on me and then accuses me of trying to kill her. Oh yeah, and of getting her pregnant. Hard to do, since I’ve never laid eyes or, for that matter, laid anything else on her.”

      “Then, if you know that, why don’t you just leave?”

      “I will when I get you to admit all of this was part of a blackmail scheme. You came to my hotel to extort money from me.”

      “No.” She looked away, but he lunged off the bed and got right in her face.

      “You thought you had everything figured out, didn’t you?” His tone went from angry to abrasive. “You did your homework and found out about my Hodgkin’s Disease. You learned all about Cryogen Labs. And your scheme might have worked if the vials hadn’t been destroyed. That’s the part you didn’t know, the part you couldn’t have known. Cryogen kept that under wraps to avoid negative publicity.”

      “Now will you get out?” she asked.

      “Not yet. You had your say, and I want mine. Care to guess what I found out when I had you investigated?”

      That got her complete attention. She forced her expression to stay calm. Well, she forced it as much as she could, considering that her heart was about to pound right out of her chest. “What?”

      “That you’re not really Jessie Briggs.”

      Her false composure slipped a considerable notch. She had to escape. But how? She didn’t think he would let her out of his sight this time. Besides, he probably had his thugs waiting outside for her. “Just who am I, then?”

      He didn’t say anything for several moments. “You’re nobody. You don’t even exist. Don’t you think that’s odd? In this day and age, there are absolutely no records for a Jessie Briggs who comes even close to matching your description. No driver’s license. No social security number. Nothing. And trust me, if there had been something, my people would have found it.”

      She didn’t dare breathe easier yet. She could tell from the gleam in his eye that he had a trump card left to play—and that card might get her killed.

      “Care to know what I did next?” he asked, slowly enunciating each word.

      “No.”

      He ignored that and continued. “I had the fingerprints checked on your gun.”

      She slowly met his icy-blue stare. God, this couldn’t be happening. How stupid could she have been to go to this man in the first place? She knew how dangerous McClendon was, knew what he was capable of doing, and yet she’d walked right into his waiting arms. She had all but pulled the trigger for him.

      “And? What did you find out?” Jessie waited. Held her breath.

      “They belong to a woman named Jessica Barrett. There’s plenty of information on her. A rap sheet, for one thing. Shoplifting. Petty theft. Writing hot checks. She’s twenty-eight. Born in Dallas. And matches your description to a tee. Her last job was as a cocktail waitress at a gentleman’s club, and I use the words gentleman and waitress loosely. My security people say Ray’s Cantina is nothing more than a sleazy strip joint known for its prostitutes and drug pushers.”

      His voice lowered to a dangerous level. “Would you like to tell me now that you’re not the lying, scheming con artist that I know you are?”

      Jessie tried not to look too relieved. “All right, so you’ve figured me out. The game is over. Now will you please leave?”

      “No. Not until you tell me who put you up to this. Because I’m not buying that you did all of this on your own.” He caught her by the shoulders. “Let me tell you my theory. My political opponent is a man named Abel Markham, the dirtiest SOB who ever wanted to sit in the Texas Legislature. He’s the reason I’m running for office. I don’t want him anywhere near the State Capitol Building, and he knows I can stop him.”

      “You’re a real Boy Scout, aren’t you, McClendon.” Jessie figured she had nothing to lose now. She couldn’t possibly rile him any more than he already was.

      “No, I’m not. But I don’t go around trying to trash other people’s lives. I think Markham came up with this little scheme because of your most recent place of employment.”

      She fired a narrowed glance at him. “What do you mean?”

      He mumbled something and shook his head. “A woman named