Secrets and Sins:Raphael(49)

A hard twinge twisted low in her stomach, and she gasped, clutching her  abdomen. She remained motionless, inhaling, exhaling. In. Out. In. Out.  The pain ebbed, and she slowly straightened. Okay. Okay. Just a cramp.  Just a cr-

Another spasm, and she bent over, whimpering. The baby. Jesus. What was  wrong? Breathing deep, she shoved away from the counter and ambled down  the hallway to the bathroom. Minutes later, fear trapped her in its icy  grip, thundered through her veins. Blood. Three drops of blood on her  underwear. She was spotting.

No! The denial howled in her ears as she cradled her lower stomach as if  she could hold her baby, protect it. God, no, not the baby. I love it. I  want it. Please don't take my child away from me. Cramping, bleeding.  She could be losing her …

"Stop it, damn it! Get it together. Hospital. Doctor." The words tumbled  from her lips like a to-do list. She rearranged her clothes with  fumbling fingers, stumbled to her room, and located her cell phone on  the dresser. Nearly running from the room, she dialed a number. The  other end rang three times before Rafe's deep voice came over the line  ordering her to leave a message and number.

"Raphael," she said, out of breath, snatching a pair of keys off the  hall table. "I'm headed to the hospital. I've started cramping and  bleeding." A sob rose in her throat, and she swallowed it down. "I'm  taking your car. Please … meet me there. Bye." She disconnected the call,  punched in the security code for the house alarm, reset it, then  snatched open the hall door that led to the garage. The black SUV was  gone, but Raphael's black Dodge Charger was parked in the second spot.  She unlocked the car and pressed the automatic garage opener above the  visor. She cranked the ignition and backed out with inches to spare  between the roof of the car and the garage door. Executing a messy  K-turn, she peeled down the driveway.

And almost slammed into the car blocking the end of the lane.

"Damn." She rolled down the window as the driver's door of the other car opened. "Excuse me I'm in a- Aubrey?"

Aubrey smiled, strolling toward Greer, the light afternoon breeze  blowing her jacket against her slim body, emphasizing the firm mound of  her stomach. "Hi, Greer."

Confused, frowned. "What are you doing here?" Then she shook her head.  "Look, forget it. Can you move your car so I can get out? I need-"

"To turn the car off and get out," Aubrey finished, the smile still in  place even as she lifted a black gun and pointed it in Greer's face.

 …

Raphael hit "send" on the last unanswered email in his inbox. With a  yawn, he lifted his arms above his head, stretched. The nine-thirty  appointment had run longer than he'd expected. After two hours of  constantly assuring their new client that yes, they could promise  state-of-the-art technology for his research lab, and going over their  system detail by ever-loving detail, the paranoid  scientist-turned-business owner had finally left. He glanced at the  clock on his monitor. 11:50.                       
       
           



       

Cool. He only had a couple of phone calls to make and then he could be out of here and return home to Greer.

Return home to Greer.

Damn, that sounded good. Too good. I'm-scared-shitless-to-say-it-out-loud-and-jinx-it good.

Last night-confessing about Yolanda, the baby, and the pain of losing  them-had been cathartic. He'd meant it when he told Greer she and  Yolanda were nothing alike.

Greer was strong, courageous, funny, beautiful. So gifted and talented  it was kind of intimidating. Fiercely loyal and just … good. She was good.

In his life and line of work, he didn't encounter a lot of good. The one  time he hadn't been suspicious and cynical, his heart had been ripped  from his chest. And all these years, though he'd convinced himself he  was over Yolanda's betrayal and the loss of a family he'd desperately  wanted, he hadn't let go of the pain.

But one woman-another socialite, but with a gladiator's spirit-had  forced him to face the part of himself that was bitter and used to it.  In some perverse way, he'd lived with his anger for so long, he didn't  know if he would recognize himself without it. But damn, he longed to.  For her. For them. For their baby.

She scared him. The power she wielded over his heart scared the hell out  of him. He stood on this edge where he had to decide to either remain  on land where his life was safe-he was alone, but safe-or step out and  free-fall, believing the woman who owned his heart wouldn't betray him.

Wouldn't leave him.

He inhaled a deep breath. Held it. Then expelled it in a long, low rush.

He was going to be a father.

He was going to have a baby with a woman whose goodness he trusted. A woman he … loved.

Holy shit.

A weight lifted from his chest. One he hadn't even realized had been  caving him in year after year. He'd been withholding that admission to  himself-steeped himself in denial-out of fear. But he was letting go of  the past.

And grabbing on like a motherfucker to the future.

"I'm surprised to see you still here."

Rafe glanced up from his computer and smirked at Chay, who leaned against the jamb of his office door.

"I won't be for long."

Chay snorted, entered the room, and dropped down in the chair in front  of his desk. The same chair Greer had occupied a week ago when she'd  come to him for help. Damn, had it only been a week? So much had  happened in that time. He'd found out he was going to be a father,  aborted a kidnapping, ducked a bullet-well, bullets-found a dead body,  and had fallen in love.

Yeah, he'd been pretty busy.

"So, how's Greer doing?"

"As well as she can be, I guess." He sighed, rubbed a hand over his jaw  and as the bristles scraped his palm, realized he hadn't shaved that  morning. "She's hanging in there. Hurting but she'll be okay."

Chay nodded. "Good." Then, "I like her." And then, "You do, too. More than like her."

"Yeah." He smiled. "Yeah."

"Oh, shit." Chay groaned, sprawling in his chair, his head falling back  against the headrest. "Gabe. Mal. Now you. I'm the lone survivor.  Because of you, you selfish douche. We were supposed to be holding out  together."

"Sorry." Not.

Chay cocked his head to the side. "So you're finally accepting that the baby is yours, huh?"

"Truthfully, I didn't believe she was lying to me for very long," Rafe  admitted. "It was thinking she would cut bait and leave with the kid  that had me angry and resistant."

Chay nodded, understanding clear in his eyes and small smile. "I get it.  But she's not a Yolanda. It was clear as hell to me and took some time  for you to see. I'm real glad you finally did."

"Know-it-alls suck ass," Rafe growled and his friend laughed. A real laugh.

"So what are you still doing here?" Chay asked, dipping his head toward the computer. "Why aren't you home with Greer?"

"I'm headed out. I had to check a few emails, return some calls, and  transfer some files since I'll probably continue working from home a  couple more days."

He glanced at his monitor and frowned. A new email popped up in his  in-box. A message from Leah. In the subject line was "Adam Morgan file."  He frowned, clicked the box. The mail contained Adam/Tag's criminal  record, which he already had, and some more notes about his past that  she'd managed to dig up between yesterday morning and this morning. The  woman was good. Adam Morgan hadn't always lived in Delaware and New  Jersey. He'd actually been born in Boston, had attended school here  through the tenth grade before leaving for parts unknown. Rafe grunted.  Leah's source must really like her because he or she had uncovered a  juvenile record for Aaron Chandler, one of Morgan's aliases, and  apparently his real name. He had family here-or he did back then. Wonder  if they've been notified. He scrolled down …                        
       
           



       

"Hey, Rafe." Sara rapped on the opened door and entered, his cell phone  in her hand. "This has been going off in your jacket pocket the last  couple of minutes. I'm not your coatrack, you know," she drawled,  setting it on his desk.

"Noted." He picked up the phone. Two missed calls. Two voicemails.  "Snarl all you want, darling, I know you miss me," he teased, bringing  up the messages. He returned to studying the file as he navigated the  voicemail.

Mother, Melissa Chandler. Father, unknown. Sister, Aubrey Chandler.

Aubrey Chandler? The woman Gavin was cheating with Aubrey Chandler?

"Hey, Rafe," Mal's low voice came through the phone. "I was getting  ready to head over to your house but was unexpectedly called into court.  I may be tied up until late afternoon. I called Gabe, and he has a  meeting with his agent at 9:30, but said he'll go to your house as soon  as it's finished. When you get this message, text and let me know."