Beth Cornelison – Protecting Her Royal Baby (страница 8)

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.”