Assumed Identity(39)

“Not today, you don’t.”

Robin wasted no time asking why Jake was here. She quickly pulled Emma back and stood beside him.

Houseman straightened his cuffs beneath his suit jacket. Betraying either nerves or a sudden fastidiousness about his appearance, he adjusted his tie and collar, too. “One way or another, we will have this conversation. Preferably without your Neanderthal friend here. It’s important. A matter of life or death, I’m afraid.”

“Whose? My baby’s?”

Jake shifted at the possible threat, standing tall and immovable, his strong arms crossed over his chest. He’d shed the green apron he’d had on in the bar and looked like some sort of human tank blocking the sidewalk. He’d come to Robin’s rescue. Again.

“No. But it’s important. In a way, I’m trying to save you, too.”

“From what?”

Houseman seemed to consider continuing the conversation for about three seconds. His gaze skipped over Jake and he looked at Robin. “Please give me a call.”

With a subtle shift in his stance, Jake was suddenly positioned between her and Houseman. He’d even barred Emma from the man’s direct line of sight. Although there seemed to be more that Houseman wanted to say, the man clearly didn’t want to push his luck with Jake there. After a nod to Robin and a ‘Bye, little one’ to Emma, he returned to his car, started the engine and drove away.

“Thank you.” Robin flattened her palm against Jake’s back and felt him shiver at the unexpected touch. He moved away far too quickly to think she’d done anything more than startle him. Swallowing her pride, she let him put the distance between them that he apparently needed. “I didn’t handle that very well. I couldn’t think. I panicked. I guess I’m still rattled from last night.”

“Is the kid okay?”

“Yes. He touched her, but he didn’t hurt her.” Robin stooped down to check on Emma. Straps, secure. Blanket, fine. Blue eyes smiling and content. “I guess he didn’t do anything except...give me his business card.” She wound her fingers around the edge of the stroller as the strength ebbed from her. “I know this name. I didn’t know him, but the last name...I’ve seen it in legal documents.” She let Emma capture her finger in a tiny fist. “He said he was family.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Houseman. Emma’s birth mother—I never met her but...her last name is Houseman.” She held up the crumpled card for Jake to read. “Like him. Is he Emma’s father? Does he want her back? I can’t lose her.”

Jake didn’t take the card or speculate an answer to her question. Instead, he cupped his hand beneath Robin’s elbow and pulled her to her feet. If she thought he was being polite or showing concern, she was mistaken. He positioned her behind the stroller and gave it a nudge, forcing her to grab on to the handle and get moving before he pushed Emma down the sidewalk without her. “Like I said before—tell the cops about that phone call. This guy, too. And quit wandering off on your own. I won’t always be here to save you.”

Gratitude and irritation warred inside her. “Then why did you? If I’m such a burden, if we’re such an intrusion on your life, why did you come all the way down the block and get rid of Mr. Houseman for me?”

“It’s my job to keep trouble away from the bar.”

“Like men who accost women on the street?”

“Like you, lady.” He scanned the sidewalk and street as they walked, and Robin realized that she, too, was learning to check inside every car and doorway for anyone who might be watching or waiting for them as they walked past. “I’ll take you to the corner, and watch you down to your shop. But then you are no longer my responsibility, understand? We’re done.”

Again.





Chapter Seven



“What are you doing in here, boss lady?”

Startled by the interruption, Robin crumpled the sick note she’d been rereading and stuffed it into the pocket of her apron. She looked up from the stool where she sat in the shop’s refrigerated stockroom to see Mark Riggins standing in the open doorway.

I’m taking your baby.



Mark was unrolling the sleeves of his shirt and buttoning the cuffs at the wrist. “It’s quittin’ time.”

Gathering her wits and taking note of the late hour, Robin set the last handful of gerbera daisies she’d been counting back into their vase on the bottom shelf and entered the number on her clipboard before getting up.