The Pregnancy Plot (Brothers In Arms: Retribution Book 2) (2 page)

He shuffled through the dry sand and crossed the road to the B and B. The battered wooden gate sagged and he pushed through to the garden in the front. Using the rusty hook, he latched the gate behind him.

This place wouldn’t provide much security if someone wanted to get to Nina. He had to make sure that didn’t happen.

He veered off the overgrown walkway to the front of the B and B, slogging through the knee-high weeds, and cut a path to the corner of the building. He peered around it, taking in a deck with patio furniture stacked in the corner and a fire pit crisscrossed with charred logs.

Squinting, he could almost envision a circle of guests around a roaring fire, toasting marshmallows as the waves lapped at the dock where the boats gently bobbed. Almost.

He hooked his thumb in the front pocket of his jeans and started to turn back...but the unmistakable sound of a shotgun being readied for use stopped him in his tracks.

Chapter Two

His adrenaline pulsed for two beats, as his finger twitched for his weapon. Then he took a deep breath. If one of his enemies had a gun on him, he’d already be dead.

A woman’s voice barked out an order. “Put your hands in the air and turn around...slowly.”

He complied and added a smile to his face for good measure.

Nina Moore held him at bay with an old shotgun that looked as if it had seen its best days during the Civil War. Her dark ponytail hung over one shoulder and she widened her stance as she leveled the barrel of the shotgun right between his eyes.

Crazy pregnant lady.

“Who the hell are you and what are you doing on my property?”

“My name’s Jase Buckley and I heard you needed some help fixing up this place.”

Her eyes narrowed. He couldn’t quite catch their color from here, but they glittered dangerously.

“Who told you that?”

“Maisie—the woman at my motel.” He’d led Maisie on, but she would at least verify that they’d had a conversation about how the owner of Moonstones might need help repairing the place. “I’m new on the island. I came here to do some writing, but I also need to earn some cash.”

“Maisie, huh?” The gun slipped a little and she tapped the toe of her sneaker on the sandy ground. “I can check out your story.”

“Go right ahead.” He waved his hands in the air. “Can I put my arms down now?”

She loosened her grip on the shotgun and pinned it against her side. “I
could
use some help around here, but I fully intend to check you out.”

“I thought Break Island was one of those friendly, small-town places.” He cocked his head. “Didn’t realize you could get shot going up to someone’s front door.”

“You didn’t go up to my front door.” She tipped her chin toward him. “You came around here to the side.”

He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “I was admiring the deck and the fire pit, or at least admiring what it could be.”

She ran her tongue along her lower lip, her shoulders still rigid. “Yeah, I plan to fix that up...eventually.”

He hadn’t expected Nina to be on edge, unless she always greeted strangers with a shotgun. Had someone attempted to contact her already? What did she know about her ex-fiancé’s disappearance?

“I can help you with that.” He cleared his throat as his gaze swept across her lean frame, no baby bump in sight. He’d have to pretend he knew nothing of her pregnancy. “I’ll be on the island for a while, and I need some gainful employment.”

“What do you write?”

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he kicked at a rock on the crumbling path. “I’m a former marine, did a few tours in Afghanistan. Thought I’d write what I know, a fictional account.”

Her eyes widened and her fingers curled around the butt of the shotgun. “Y-you’re military?”

“Retired.” He thought it best to stick as close to the truth as possible, but his military background bothered her—must be memories of her ex-fiancé, Simon Skinner. She
had
ended it with Skinner before he disappeared. Maybe they’d had a bad breakup.

With his hands still stuffed in his pockets, he lifted his shoulders to his ears. “Just thought I had an interesting story to tell, but the book’s not a bestseller yet. Hell, the book isn’t even written yet. That’s why I need to make some money while I figure out if this story will write itself.”

“I do have a soft spot for military men.” She blinked and rested one hand on her stomach. “My...my stepfather was in the navy.”

And her ex-fiancé was a navy SEAL before joining Tempest as an agent...and winding up dead.

“I hope you’ll give this vet a chance.” He swept his arm across her property. “I can help you out here.”

She puffed a breath of air from between her lips as if she’d been holding it. “Maybe. Give me a day or two to check you out, and a couple of references wouldn’t hurt. Can’t pay you much more than minimum wage.”

“I’ll get right on the references. Thanks.” He pointed to the purse she’d dropped on the ground next to her before leveling the gun at his head. “Were you going out?”

“I’m going across the bay to the mainland to pick up some supplies.”

“Can I help you?”

“No.” She picked up the gun in her hands again and made a move toward the house.

She hadn’t been joking about looking into his background first. A woman in her condition should be cautious and he was glad Nina was, unlike some women he knew, but she’d obviously brought her big-city paranoia to the small town.

As she retreated to the house, he scuffed through the sand toward the front gate and left it open behind him. He clambered on top of a pile of rocks and faced the bay, his eyes watering at the sharp, cold breeze stinging his face.

He hadn’t brought the full Bennett charm into play yet—just didn’t seem right with a pregnant woman, even though he wasn’t supposed to know she was expecting—but it looked as if it was going to be harder than he’d imagined getting close to Nina Moore.

And for some strange reason, he’d completely changed his mind about this assignment after meeting his quarry. He couldn’t wait to get close to Nina Moore.

* * *

N
INA
LOCKED
THE
FRONT
door behind her and cursed the weeds as she slogged through them to the sagging gate. Her pulse jumped as she spied Jase on the rocks in front of the property next door. Was he waiting for her?

She’d felt such a connection to him the moment he’d turned and faced her shotgun. He had a quality that reminded her of Simon—not his looks. Simon was a good-looking guy, too, but his red hair and broad features were worlds apart from Jase’s dark intensity. Both men had an air of watchful readiness about them, as if they could spring into action at any moment.

They also both shared a commanding presence, giving her the uneasy feeling that she’d do their bidding even at her own peril. All a man had to do was promise to lead and she’d follow him anywhere.

Must be the pregnancy hormones making her crazy. She shook her head and tossed her ponytail over her shoulder.

She latched the gate and veered left. Her sneakers hit the wood planks leading to the boat dock where Dad’s sixteen-foot boat bobbed in the water. Keeping one eye on Jase still peering at the bay, she started the seventy-horsepower engine. It sputtered and coughed and then rumbled to life. She aimed the boat toward the line of shore she could just make out in the distance.

The salty breeze whipped the ponytail across her face, and she stuck out her tongue to catch the spray just because she felt like it. She glanced over her shoulder at Jase, still on the rocks, his figure getting smaller and smaller although he still loomed large in her mind.

It must be that inner spit and polish that gave military men their bearing, leaving the impression of invincibility. That’s why Simon’s behavior had been so frightening. At first she’d pegged it as post-traumatic stress disorder and had encouraged him to visit a therapist, but he’d have none of that. The same personality traits that gave him supreme control in the face of danger also led him to an impenetrable stubbornness.

She sighed and slightly shifted the course of the boat. If Simon ever wanted to be part of his son’s life, he’d have to get some counseling first.

She shivered and stamped her feet—in a puddle. She looked down, gasping at the pool of water sloshing over her sneakers. The spray hadn’t been that high or wild to flood the boat—not yet anyway, although a storm was on its way down from Alaska.

She skimmed the toe of her wet shoe across the bottom of the boat and more water gushed in. Bending over, she ran her fingers across the fiberglass surface, her tips tripping over the edge of some electrical tape.

“Are you kidding me?” She peeled back the tape, exposing a hole in the fiberglass the size of a quarter and getting bigger as more water gurgled into the boat.

She rose, jerking her head toward the mainland and then toward the island. Faster to go back.

She eased into a turn and started chugging back to Break Island. The boat lurched and listed as it took on more water the faster she went. When the water got ankle-high, she slowed the boat and tried to bail out with a bucket.

When the left stern started to dip, she abandoned the idea of a bailout and eyed the shoreline of the island. Even if she could swim that distance with her clothes dragging her down, the water would be freezing cold. Would her baby feel the cold?

How had this happened? She kicked the side of the boat. When she’d checked out the boat a few days ago, she thought she’d found one thing at Moonstones that still worked.

The boat limped several more yards toward Break Island, and Nina climbed onto the seat cushions and waved her arms above her head. Did she even have a beacon on this thing?

In the distance, across the water, two boats seemed to be charging hard toward her. One had come straight from the boat docks on her side of the island and the other had rounded the bend from the town side of the island. Had they actually seen her or were they just out for a boat ride across the bay?

She flapped her arms to her sides like a giant bird and jumped—bad idea. The water in the belly of the boat sloshed and the outboard motor swung to one side, lifting the other side of the boat out of the water.

She stepped off the seat and shuffled to the leeward side of the boat. A loud crack resounded and the whooshing sound of water pushing through a small opening had her grabbing the bin where Dad had stored life jackets.

Why hadn’t she thought of that before? Gripping the edge of the lid, she paused, lifting her head to check on the progress of those two boats. The one from the docks by the B and B was still making a beeline toward her, while the other seemed to have disappeared. Maybe that one never saw her.

She grabbed an orange life jacket and slipped it over her head. She knew how to swim, but the flotation device would keep her afloat until her cavalry came to the rescue in case the cold water made her cramp up or her heavy clothes dragged her down into the murky water of the sound.

The boat rocked and she planted her feet on the deck beneath the water to steady herself, but the little fiberglass boat couldn’t take it. One side of the boat went under and the force flung her into the icy embrace of the bay.

The cold sucked the air from her lungs for a moment, paralyzing her, and then she made a grab for the side of the capsized boat. Her hands clawed against the slippery fiberglass until she found a hold.

The hum of an outboard motor got louder and louder, and she would’ve yelled out to make sure the boat was going to stop but her teeth were chattering so much she couldn’t get a sound past her lips.

She didn’t need to. The other boat’s motor cut out as it drew next to her incapacitated vessel. It floated around to her side, and a strong hand reached for her.

“Oh, my God. Are you all right, Nina?”

Tossing wet strands of hair back from her face, she looked into the dark eyes of Jase Buckley—her savior, or was he?

Chapter Three

His grip tightened around her wrists. “Are you ready? I’m going to haul you up.”

With her teeth chattering, she nodded and braced her feet against the side of the boat.

Jase lifted her into the boat with ease, despite the eight extra pounds she’d packed on during her pregnancy. She glanced over her shoulder at her boat, now heavy with water, and shivered. She could’ve clung to the side, but she might’ve been there awhile if Jase and that other boat hadn’t been on the sound.

“What the hell happened?” Jase shrugged out of his flannel shirt, draped it over her shoulders and tucked it around her body.

“There was a hole in the bottom and it started taking on water.”

“Should we try to tow it back in?” He crouched next to a bin on the deck of the boat and tugged at the padlock securing the lid.

“I’ll call the Harbor Patrol when we get back to shore. They patrol the sound and they’ll bring it in for me.”

“If it hasn’t sunk to the bottom of the sound by then.”

She hunched her shoulders against the chill snaking through her body. “It’s insured if it does. Do you think we can get my purse off the boat? It’s hooked onto the side.”

“I’ll try.” He brought his boat abreast of hers, planted one foot on the ailing boat and snagged the purse. “Got it.”

Safely back in her neighbors’ boat, he handed the purse to her. “When was the last time you took that thing out on the water?”

“It’s been a few years. I haven’t been in it since I’ve been back. I meant to give it the once-over, but there were just so many other things to do.”

“That’s because you need some help.” He aimed the boat toward the shoreline.

Narrowing her eyes, she sniffed through what was probably a very red nose right now. What better way to get her to trust him than by staging a rescue? How long had Jase been snooping around the B and B and her boat dock before she’d discovered him in her yard?

“You look like you’re freezing.”

The wind raked its fingers through Jase’s chocolate-brown hair and infused his face with a ruddy glow. No pinched, red nose for him. He looked like an advertisement for some brisk aftershave.

“I am freezing. This water is not meant for a leisurely dip, especially with that storm from Alaska on its way.” She rubbed the back of her hand across her nose and pressed a palm against the small rise in her belly. Hopefully, the baby was still snug and cozy.

Jase’s eyes dropped to the movement and then shifted to stare at the land rushing toward them.

“Hang on. Not too much longer.”

“You borrowed this boat from the Kleinschmidts next door.”

“I figured they wouldn’t mind if I used it in the commission of a rescue.”

There it was again—pumping himself up as her savior. She crossed her arms, cupping her elbows and blowing out a long breath. She needed to relax. He
was
her savior. Why would Simon send someone out here to do his bidding for him and why would a man like this be interested in doing that bidding?

“You’re my savior because you got here faster than the other guy.”

“The other guy?” His brow crinkled as he nudged the rudder.

“Another boat was headed my way from the other side of the peninsula, the town side. I think he must’ve turned around when he saw you had the situation covered.”

“Really?” He downshifted and the boat chugged to a choppy crawl. “You’d think he would’ve come out anyway to make sure everything was okay.”

“Maybe he didn’t see me at all and continued across the sound.”

“Maybe.” He steered the boat back into the Kleinschmidts’ dock. “Can you reach the county patrol now?”

“Probably.” She dug into her bag and pulled out her phone.

Jase expertly maneuvered the boat into the dock and held out his hand to help her onto dry land. “You make that call while I secure the boat.”

Turning her back to him, she placed the call, and ten minutes later, just as Jase hopped onto the wooden dock, Nina spied the red county patrol boat heading toward her disabled craft.

“Do they need you to tow that back here?”

“No. They’ll secure it to my dock.”

“Good.” He squeezed her shoulders, still trembling beneath the blue flannel of his damp shirt. “Let’s get you inside and get you something hot to drink. Coffee?”

“I don’t drink coffee—anymore.”

“And I only drink it first thing in the morning. Do you have some tea or hot chocolate?”

“I have some chamomile tea, if you like.”

“It’s not for me. It’s for you.” He spun her around and marched behind her, his hands lightly on the back of her shoulders.

“You’re the one missing a shirt. That white T-shirt isn’t enough to protect you against the harsh elements out here.” Although she hadn’t minded the way the thin cotton had molded to his muscles. Simon had been broader and beefier than this man with his lean muscles and patrician features. But Jase didn’t come off any less capable than Simon. In fact, they both possessed a similar air of efficiency and confidence—that is until Simon changed.

Strong fingers dug into the sides of her neck. “You okay? Your back is as stiff as a board.”

“Just cold.” She traipsed up the two steps of the porch, escaping his touch, and fumbled for her keys. She shouldn’t be getting that much pleasure out of Jase’s warm touch while carrying Simon’s baby.

Not that she would ever trust Simon in their child’s life—at least not until he got some help for his anger issues.

What the hell had he been so angry about anyway?

The keys dropped from her shaking hands, and Jase scooped them up in one fluid movement. “Let me.”

He slid the key home and pushed open the door, stepping to the side.

She ducked around him, the condition of the B and B bringing warmth to her cold cheeks. She really hadn’t made much progress. It didn’t help that every afternoon a slow, sneaking lethargy stole over her body.

She waved at the sitting room with its worn wood floors and blackened fireplace. “I still have a lot of work to do.”

“That’s what I’d heard. You change into some dry clothes.” He dangled the keys from one finger. “And I’ll boil some water for tea.”

Snatching the keys from him, she pivoted away from him. And just like that she’d allowed another controlling male into her life.

She called over her shoulder, “Tea bags are in the cupboard to the left of the stove.”

“I can handle it. Get those wet clothes off and change into something comfortable.”

Nina turned, sucked in her lower lip and studied Jase’s handsome face. He seemed a little too interested in getting her out of her clothes.

She dipped her head once and said, “I still have that shotgun.”

His eyes widened above raised hands. “Yes, ma’am.”

Tossing a strand of wet hair over her shoulder, she crossed to her separate living quarters tucked behind the staircase. She’d make it quick and get out of this flannel shirt that had Jase’s fresh, manly scent in every fold.

She didn’t need any more complications in her life right now.

* * *

W
HEN
HE
HEARD
a door close in the back of the house, Jase whistled through his teeth and turned toward the kitchen. That woman had a suspicious mind. Maybe it came from being pregnant...or dating a spy. A spy who had disappeared. That would do it.

A copper teapot perched on a burner, and he grabbed it by the handle and filled it with water from the tap. A couple of mugs dangled from a wooden tree. He plucked them off, reading the words printed on the white one aloud, “Number one runner.”

He figured Nina for the runner, since she looked like someone in good shape, despite the pregnancy, not that a woman couldn’t be pregnant and in good shape, but he hoped she wasn’t out there running marathons. He banged one of the mugs on the counter with a little too much force. Hell, what did he know?

He claimed the plain, red mug with the chip on the handle for himself. Then he swung open the cupboard to the left of the range and took out the box of chamomile tea. He’d rather have a snifter of cognac to warm up, but he didn’t figure Nina would have any booze on hand.

By the time the kettle whistled, Nina had returned, wedging a shoulder against the refrigerator, hugging a shapeless, red sweater around her body.

She wrinkled her nose. “You don’t look too comfortable in the kitchen.”

“Really?” He swung a tea bag in the air, wrapping the string around his finger. “I thought I was doing a bang-up job in here.”

“Find everything okay?” She had scooped her shoulder-length, dark hair back into its ponytail, and the tilt of her head sent it swinging behind her.

“I did.” He held up the runner’s mug. “Is this you?”

Shoving her hands into the pockets of her jeans, she lifted her shoulder to her ears. “I ran cross-country in college.”

“Impressive. Here in Washington?”

“Oregon.”

“A runner’s paradise—even more impressive.” He poured the bubbling water over the tea bags in the cups, and the rising steam gave a much-needed homey touch to the dilapidated kitchen.

She joined him at the counter to take her mug, her shoulder brushing against his, the fuzzy softness of her sweater tickling his arm through his T-shirt. Her pale, stiff fingers curled around the handle of the mug.

What she really needed was a warm bath, but if he suggested that, she’d probably haul out that shotgun again.

“Does that fireplace in the other room work?”

“Yes, and I even have a cord of wood that my neighbor delivered—the same neighbor who owns that boat you borrowed.” She tapped his mug with her fingernail. “Do you want some sugar or milk for that?”

Since he never drank tea, he didn’t have a clue. “I, uh, take it black.”

She wrapped her hands around the cup, closed her eyes and sniffed the steam floating up from the mug. Her long lashes created dark crescents on her cheeks, and her full lips curved into a slight smile.

He caught his breath at the simple beauty of her expression and then shook his head. Put him in the presence of a pregnant woman and his thoughts went haywire. Nina wasn’t Maggie, and the baby she was carrying was Simon Skinner’s, not his.

“Let’s get this fire started.” And he didn’t mean the one that had been doing a slow burn in his belly ever since he locked his gaze onto Nina Moore.

She skirted past him, her pale cheeks sporting two red spots, as if she could read his mind.

He followed her into the great room, which must’ve functioned as a sitting room and gathering place for guests—when there were guests.

She gestured toward the big stone fireplace that took up half the wall. “I’ve already used it once, so I know it works, unlike the boat.”

“Speaking of the boat.” He swept aside the curtain at the front window and peered outside. “Looks like they’re bringing it in, so at least they saved it from sinking.”

“I’ll look at it later.” Nina collapsed into a recliner, facing the fireplace and folding her hands around her cup.

She looked as if she needed warming up, and even though he had a few impure thoughts about how he could do that, he placed his mug on the table beside her and crouched in front of the fireplace and got to work.

“Did I ever say thank you?”

“For?” He cupped his hand around the orange flicker as it raced across the edge of the newspaper crumpled beneath the logs.

“For rescuing me out there on the bay. Even though I wasn’t in imminent danger of drowning, the water was freezing cold and...”

He held his breath. Would she mention her pregnancy now?

She coughed. “And I could’ve been floating out there for a while before another boat came along.”

He let out his breath and prodded a log into place before rising to his feet and retrieving his tasteless tea.

He eased into a love seat at right angles to Nina’s chair and the fire, crackling to life. “There was that other boat. They were probably on their way to save you when they saw me. I’m glad I could get to you faster.”

She stretched her long legs in front of her, crossing her legs at the ankles. She’d gotten rid of her sodden sneakers, her feet now encased in a pair of soft red socks that matched her sweater. Her coloring played well against the red, her blue eyes a contrast to her dark hair, giving her an exotic look.

Simon Skinner had been a redhead. The baby could be an interesting combination of Mom and Dad.

Then the truth punched him in the gut. If her ex-fiancé and the father of her baby was dead, she had a right to know. They had only Max Duvall’s word for that now, but once they received confirmation, he’d convince Jack Coburn that they had to tell Nina.

He didn’t like it when people kept the truth from him, and he wouldn’t be a party to doing that to someone else.

Of course, he was in the wrong line of work for those sentiments.

The fire danced higher, creating a wall of warmth, and Nina held her hands out toward it, wiggling her fingers.

“Are you warming up?”

“Slowly but surely.” She pointed to his cup, still brimming with pale gold liquid. “You’re not drinking your tea.”

“I’m not the one who wound up treading water in the sound for ten minutes.”

“True, but you did give up your flannel and had to cross the bay in nothing but a flimsy T-shirt.” Her gaze flicked over his chest, and he resisted the urge to flex.

That glance alone did more to heat him up than ten cups of chamomile could.

She snapped her fingers as if to break the spell between them. “I hung up your shirt in the bathroom, but maybe it would dry faster in front of this fire.”

She scooted forward on her chair and he held up his hand. “I’ll get it. Tell me where.”

“Down the hall past the staircase, through the door and the bathroom’s the first room on your right. Those quarters are separate from the rest of the B and B.”

He pushed up from the chair, taking his cup with him. He made a detour to the kitchen and placed it in the sink.

Nina called from the other room. “You could’ve asked for something stronger.”

“I hate drinking alone.”

She turned in her seat as he came out of the kitchen and she cocked her head. “How’d you know I wouldn’t join you? You didn’t ask.”