Assumed Identity(47)

The fire in her eyes was coming back as she got defensive of her people. “Why go to all this trouble to cover up an embezzlement? We’re talking about two thousand dollars, not millions.”

“I’ve seen people do worse for less.” Had he?

“The people I know don’t act that way.”

“Then someone you don’t know waited until he could sneak in unnoticed.”

She drifted a step closer. “I thought you were watching.”

Jake braced his hands on his hips and squared off against her. “I thought you’d have enough sense to leave with the others.”

“If you’re going to spy on me, at least do a thorough job.”

“You’re not my responsibility, lady. I don’t owe you anything.”

He raised his voice to match the accusation in hers. The baby cooed in her bassinet, stirring in her sleep.

Robin palmed Jake’s biceps and nudged him out the door. “Could we take this out in the hallway so we don’t wake Emma?” She stepped into the shadows with him, resuming the discussion in a more rational tone as soon as she closed the door. “Are you sure you didn’t see anyone come inside?”

She’d come to him for help, and now she was blaming him? “I left for a few minutes to see if I could find the car that was watching you the other night.”

“Did you see it?”

Jake scraped his palm over his stubbled jaw, stifling a curse. He was to blame. He’d dropped the ball tonight, getting distracted while the real danger was close at hand. “I thought I saw something suspicious, but I can’t be sure. There was a car out front pulling away when I ran back. Still couldn’t make out the driver. A guy in the car I’d been tailing snapped a picture of me and drove off in a hurry.”

“There were two men?”

“Possibly.” Maybe her assistant’s rendezvous hadn’t been about the pictures at all. Maybe it had been a ruse to get him away from the shop so an accomplice could get inside to Robin and Emma. Jake had suspected two people had been involved the night of her assault—the attacker and a getaway driver. Maybe the tag team had been back at work tonight.

“Jake. What are you thinking?”

“That it’s a good thing I came back.” He pulled the knife from his belt and slipped it back into the sheath inside his boot. “I may have scared off the guy before he could get to Emma. I made a lot of noise running through the alley.”

“Why would he want your picture?”

“That was the other guy. He may have been using the flash to blind me.”

When Jake pulled his pant leg down over the top of his boot and straightened, he could see she wasn’t listening to his explanation. She was staring at the weaponry attached to his leg. “Is that a gun?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you know how to use it?”

Too well, perhaps. “Yeah.”

She tilted her eyes up to his. “Are you some kind of cop?”

I honestly don’t know. “Don’t worry. The safety’s on. It’s not going to accidentally go off around Emma. Or you.”

She touched her fingers to the middle of his chest. “That’s not what I asked. Why are you carrying a concealed gun?”

“Because I can in Missouri.”

She drew in a soft gasp that echoed in the hallway. “That’s not an answer.”

The security lights were too dim to tell what emotion darkened her eyes, but he could see them darting back and forth. She was trying to figure him out. Join the crowd, honey. She was trying to resolve the dangerous man he was with the hero she wanted him to be. Allow him to clarify. He leaned in, pressing his chest against her open palm, backing her into the wall without moving a step. He moved into her personal space and watched her pupils dilate with fear. “Don’t mistake me for Prince Charming.”

“I dated Prince Charming. It didn’t work.” Her voice hushed to a throaty whisper. Uh-oh. Backfire. Was she flirting with him? Even worse, was he playing this game with her? Their emotions must be too on edge for him to be thinking straight. “You’ve been watching the shop every night? Most people would think that’s creepy—you, armed and dangerous, spying on me from the shadows.”

“I am creepy.”

“No, you’re not.” She brought up her other hand to rest it against his chest. Only, her hands weren’t resting. They were moving, smoothing out the wrinkles in his shirt, petting him. “Don’t say things like that.”