Daddy Devastating. Delores Fossen
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of justice. Got that?”
No. She didn’t get that. Julia shook her head. “What’s going on? “
“I’m not a criminal.” Another pause, and she could see the mental debate continue. “I’m Special Agent Russ Gentry, FBI.”
Julia’s mouth dropped open. “What—”
He reached inside and used the central latch on her door to unlock the passenger’s side. Before she could stop him he got inside.
“You just walked into the middle of a dangerous undercover investigation,” he snarled.
He pressed the control pad on her key chain, and the locks on the doors snapped shut. “You’ll be lucky, damn lucky, if I can get you out of this alive.”
Russ watched the chain of emotions slide across her face. First total, undeniable skepticism. She didn’t believe him. Then, her eyebrows drew together. She eased her gaping mouth shut.
And then reached for her phone.
Russ would have bet a month’s paycheck that she would either do that or try to slap him again. The latter still might happen if she didn’t get the answers she wanted to this paternity issue. Russ wanted those answers, too but right now, both their butts were on the line. God knows who Milo had alerted about this wrinkle in their plan.
“If you tell anyone who I am,” he reminded her, “I’ll arrest you.”
She pushed his pointing finger aside. “And you can’t expect me to blindly accept what you’re saying without confirmation. I’m calling Sentron Securities. The owner will be discrete.”
Maybe. Maybe not. Russ knew of the owner, Burke Dennison. And Sentron seemed to be an above board operation. But he sure as hell didn’t want his cover blown.
He had to establish his identity so he could force Julia to cooperate. He could probably force her anyway, but it would take time and cause a scene. Julia was an heiress, and he couldn’t very well force her into protective custody without someone asking the wrong questions.
“Make your call to Burke Dennison,” Russ conceded, but he shot her another warning glare. “But put it on speaker and be very careful about what you say.”
She pressed some buttons on the cell, waited and stared hard at him.
“Burke, it’s Julia Howell,” she said, to the person who answered. She placed her purse on the console between them. “I need a favor, but this has to stay between us.”
“Absolutely.” The man’s voice was clear over the speaker. “What is it?”
“Russell Gentry might be a government employee. Could you check?”
“Contact Silas Duran at the FBI,” Russ said, in a loud-enough voice for Burke to hear. “He’ll brief you, then debrief you, and if you give the information you learn about me to anyone but Julia Howell, expect a full-scale investigation that will land your butt and Sentron in scalding hot water. Got that, Dennison?”
There was a pause, or more likely a hesitation from Dennison. “Give me a minute.” Finally, he said “I’ll call you back.”
“Start driving to your hotel,” Russ told Julia. He reached over to turn the key in the ignition. Not the brightest idea, since she batted his hand away and in doing so, his arm grazed her breast.
That earned him a glare. And it would have been better if she’d let out an outraged gasp, rather than that breathy feminine sound similar to the one she’d made after he kissed her.
That kiss had been a stupid idea, too.
Even though Julia Howell was perhaps a liar and a boatload of trouble, she was attractive, and damn it, his body wouldn’t let him forget that. She was making him hot. Well, she and the Texas heat. He could feel the sweat trickling down his back. Julia wasn’t immune to it, either, because she blotted the perspiration from her face.
Since they appeared to be staying put for a while, Russ got started on more damage control. “Who knew that you picked up Lissa’s baby from the San Antonio Maternity Hospital?”
She pulled back her shoulders. “Why?”
Man, she doesn’t give an inch. “Don’t make everything hard. Just answer the question. Who knew?”
Her shoulders went back even more, and she continued to glare at him. “SAPD, of course. And several members of the medical staff.”
Russ groaned. “Reporters?”
“No. I paid a lot of money to keep the details of Lissa’s story quiet. Her death was initially reported, and her name was listed in the newspapers, but I asked everyone to hold off mentioning the baby.”
“And they cooperated? “ he asked, stunned.
“Yes. I told them I didn’t want you to learn you were a father by hearing it on the news. I wanted to tell you in person.”
Well that was something, at least. Half the state didn’t know the truth about the baby, and that meant Russ could slant the info in his favor.
Russ took out his own phone to make another call to FBI headquarters in San Antonio. He asked to speak to a computer tech, and it didn’t take long for Denny Lord to come on the line. “I need you to doctor some files for Julia Elise Howell.” “What?” she snarled.
Russ ignored her. “People will be digging into her background, and I need you to plant information that she recently gave birth to a baby girl. Keep all details vague, as if she tried to keep the pregnancy hush-hush. Doctor a photo if necessary. Oh, and let me know if anyone does any deep searches on her.”
“What was that about?” she demanded, the moment he was off the phone.
“It was about making the story I told in the alley mesh with what Milo’s people will learn about you.” He only hoped it was enough. “By the way, it’s not a good idea for us to be sitting in this parking lot.”
“And I don’t think it’s a good idea to be driving to a hotel with you. I don’t trust you,” Julia snapped.
“I don’t trust you, either, since I think you’re trying to scam me. Or kill me from dehydration. Turn on the AC.”
“If I do that, it’ll only encourage you to stay. I don’t want you to stay. I want you to get out.” She blotted her upper lip again.
“Well, I’m staying until I get some clarification about why you chose me for this …well, whatever the hell it is.”
However, Russ rethought that. Julia had money, so why would she come after him with this ridiculous daddy claim? “But right now the scam is on the back burner. First we deal with the fallout from the meeting in the alley.”
“No. First we deal with your identity.”
“I’m an FBI agent,” Russ repeated, “and you’re messing with an investigation that’s taken me a long time to put together.” And it could all be in the toilet, thanks to a prissy San Antonio heiress and her baby charades.
“Does your investigation have to do with black-market infants?” she asked.
He laughed, but not with humor. The woman had nerve … or something. “I’m not discussing one detail of my investigation with you. You’ve already overheard way too much.”
“Or maybe I’ve overheard the dealings of two criminals meeting in an alley to discuss selling a baby.” She swiveled around and faced him. “Do you have a badge?”
It took him a moment to answer, because when she swiveled, her dress slid up a little, and he got a visual reminder of her great thighs.