Adopt-A-Dad. Marion Lennox
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hadn’t seen her yet. They’d stopped at reception and were asking directions. Peggy was smiling and pointing toward her door, and they were turning to look. The security offices had one-way windows, however, so staff could see the reception area without patients and visitors knowing they were being observed.
Which gave Jenny time. She had a whole ten seconds to consider her choices. Fainting? Falling to the floor in hysterics? On second thought—six seconds of second thought—maybe those choices weren’t all that useful.
There was only one option left, she figured. Escape through her boss’s office.
Michael would hate it! Bolting through his office was hardly something a professional secretary was supposed to do.
But she had no choice. She stood up, staggering a little with the weight of advanced pregnancy, and took a leap like a scared and very pregnant rabbit right through Michael’s door.
“GARRETT, this is a waste of time.” Michael Lord swiveled in his leather chair and sighed into the phone. What Garrett was arguing was water under the bridge—twenty-five years of water, in fact, since they’d been abandoned on the hospital steps as babies.
Those years hadn’t been bad, Michael decided. He, his triplet siblings and their big brother, Garrett, had been granted great adoptive parents. They had good lives in their chosen professions, with friends and family all around. The woman who’d deserted her babies so long ago obviously hadn’t wanted anything more to do with them, so why wouldn’t Garrett leave it alone?
She didn’t want them, and they didn’t want her. Simple as that.
“It wouldn’t hurt to search,” Garrett said.
“We’ve had great parents,” Michael said stubbornly. “We don’t need any more family.”
“Sometimes I don’t think you need the family you have,” Garrett snapped. “You sit there in your cold-as-ice apartment without even a dog to—”
“Are we talking about finding our birth mother or are we talking of my private life?” Michael’s voice was as harsh as his brother’s, and it was Garrett’s turn to sigh.
“So you won’t help?”
“I’ve already told you I’m not interested. And anyway, I don’t see how I can.”
“With your resources… Mike, you’ve been a cop. You have Maitland Maternity’s network behind you, and you know Megan will support us. You have contacts everywhere, and money’s hardly a problem. Look, come to dinner on Saturday night and we’ll talk about it.”
“There’s already Camille and Jake’s wedding celebration on Sunday. I don’t need any more family events this weekend.”
“Yeah, and I’ll bet you intend to stick around for the party after the wedding. Just like you did after Lana’s. Look, Mike, this is just us. Shelby’s cooking, and Lana and Dylan will bring the baby.”
Domesticity was closing in. Michael’s resolve firmed. “No way!”
“If you’re not there, you’ll be the only one of the Lord kids who’s not.”
“Tell Dylan to take my place, then. The family’s changing. Now Lana’s married—well, things aren’t the same. We don’t need each other as much.”
Funny how his gut kicked at the thought of it, Michael reflected wryly. There’d always been the four of them— Michael and Lana and Shelby, the triplets, with Garrett watching over them like a hawk. Michael hadn’t thought he minded that Lana was married. Who could, when she was so happy? But…
His gut definitely kicked.
“We’re still family,” Garrett said stubbornly. “We need to talk through our plans to find our birth mother.”
“Your plans. I told you. I’m not doing any—”
Michael stopped in astonishment.
His secretary—calm, unflappable and cheerful Jenny—crashed through the door as if the hounds of hell were after her. She shoved the door closed behind her and leaned against it, as wide-eyed and pale as Michael had ever seen her. She looked terrified.
He wasn’t head of security for nothing. Their birth mother could wait.
“Emergency,” he snapped, and dropped the phone into its cradle before Garrett had time to say another word.
ONLY IT WASN’T an emergency, or not one he could see.
Michael crossed swiftly to the window and stared out. As in Jenny’s office, his interior windows were only transparent one way. He could see Jenny’s reception area, which was empty, and the main foyer beyond.
There were a few visitors milling around reception. Nothing noteworthy there. The receptionists looked calm and unconcerned. Two innocuous men in gray suits were walking toward Jenny’s door.
The way she was acting, you’d think the men were carrying machine guns. Which was crazy.
But Michael was trained to act first and ask questions later. What he saw on Jenny’s face was terror. He’d be a fool to ignore terror, and Michael Lord was no fool.
In one fast motion he tugged Jenny away from the door, pulling her easily against his chest. Then he flicked the switch she’d been leaning against. Smoothly, the security panels slid into place, locking the doors and windows and making the smoky glass an impervious, bulletproof screen.
They’d needed these precautions just once since the hospital was built, and he’d hoped he would never have to use them again, but by the look on Jenny’s face, he needed them now.
“Okay, Jenny.”
“Out the back.” She pulled away, tugging out of his arms. She was breathing way too fast for someone as pregnant as she was. “Michael, I need to go. I must. They’re after me. The back door.”
Yeah, he had a back door, a handy little escape route that led into the rear parking lot, but you didn’t bolt from the enemy before you knew who your enemy was. They were secure enough here.
“If they’re searching for you, then maybe they’ll have someone waiting out the back. Jenny, who are they?”
She shook her head, her face bloodless with shock. Michael’s hold on her tightened, his big hands gripping her shoulders. Heck, she was thin. He’d never really noticed that before. In a detached sort of way—the way he saw most people—he’d noticed her pregnancy but not the frailness of her body beneath it.
With her green eyes huge in her pale face, and her mass of dark brown curls shoved from her face in terror…
She was really quite beautiful, he thought suddenly, holding her against him. Funny how he’d never noticed that until now.
Her terror wasn’t subsiding, though. Once again, Michael turned to stare at the gray-suited visitors. They’d entered Jenny’s office and were inspecting her desk. One reached over and opened her drawer, rifling through her belongings.
Michael’s jaw set in anger. They had no right to be searching the place. He was half inclined to throw open the door and demand to know what they thought they were doing, but Jenny’s terror stopped him. He hit the one-way intercom on his desk so he could hear what they were saying, then turned to Jenny.
“The door’s locked,” he said quietly, trying to allay her shuddering fear. “They can’t hear us, they can’t see us and they can’t get in. There’s no way someone can get in here short of using dynamite.”
“They’ll wait. Gloria must have put them onto me. Now they know. I have to leave—now!”
What on earth was going on? Who the heck was Gloria?
Michael didn’t have a clue. He could only wait until she was calm enough to tell him. He put his arms around her shoulders and drew her against him, restraining her urge