Johnny stood there staring, facing her.
“I haven’t seen you since May first. The day we were supposed to get married,” Charlotte said. She hated her voice for shaking the way it was. “I suppose that’s long enough that you might forget a woman who obviously meant so little to you. But how did you manage to forget your own name?”
He stared at her, and she could see the battle going on inside him. He parted his lips as if to say something, but then closed them again, his sharp eyes looking past her as another couple stepped out onto the balcony. “I’m sorry,” he said, speaking very softly now, clearly not wanting the conversation to be overheard. “You’re mistaken. I don’t know you. I’ve never met you before in my life.”
She had to close her eyes to keep the tears from spilling over. But she managed to nod her head. “Fine. If that’s the way you want to do this.”
She started to turn away, but his hand closed on her shoulder. “Charlotte…”
She went still at his touch. God when he touched her it all came back, the passion, the love. She’d loved him with everything in her. “I thought I would die when you did,” she said, and though the words emerged as if wrenched from the very depths of her, she managed to keep her voice low. “I lay on your grave and cried until someone came and carried me away. I don’t even remember who… But what do you care? You don’t know me.”
“I’m sorry,” he told her. “I’m not who you think I am.” He took his hand away.
“No. You’re not even close to the man I thought you were, are you?” Stiffening her spine, lifting her chin, she walked to the French doors.
“Are you going to be all right?”
She paused with her hand on the door. “That’s really not your concern anymore, is it?”
Then she stepped back into the party. Someone started the countdown to the New Year. By they time they got to seven, she had her coat in her hand and was heading out the door, into the hallway, and poking the elevator button. The doors opened instantly. No lines, no waiting. But why would there be? No one else would be coming or going at midnight on New Year’s Eve. Everyone was with the person they loved, sharing that special moment, that special kiss, beginning the New Year wrapped up in each other’s arms.
Just the way she had thought she would be starting this New Year. With her husband in her arms, kissing as they welcomed the future together.
She couldn’t hold the emotions in check any longer. As she ran through the lobby and into the street outside, the dam burst. Tears flooded so thickly she couldn’t see where she was going as she stumbled along the sidewalk. Her body shook with the force of the storm going on inside her, and her mind raced with questions. Who had really been in Johnny’s car when it went off the road and burst into flames that beautiful spring day? And what the hell was this all about, anyway? Some kind of insurance scam? Was he a con artist, a criminal?
Had he realized that she’d been at the church, wearing her wedding gown when the police had come to tell her that he’d been killed on the way to the wedding? Had that been a part of his plan?
She sobbed so hard she hurt. The pain wrenched through her, from down low in her back, around to her middle, tightening like a steel band. She stopped her flight, grasping her belly with both hands, sucking in a harsh breath.
Oh, God. It wasn’t…it couldn’t be…not now….
“Excuse me, Ma’am?”
Charlotte jerked her head up at the sound of a male voice and found herself staring into the eyes of a stranger, and into the barrel of a gun.
“You need to come with me,” he said. He nodded toward a car that had pulled up to the curb beside her. It was long, sleek, and black, running almost soundlessly, and its rear door was standing open. “Get into the car, Ma’am.”
“Look, take my wallet,” she said, fumbling in her coat pocket for the billfold she’d brought with her. “There’s cash, some credit cards. And here, my watch.”
“Just get into the car.”
Looking up at him again, she dropped the wallet back into her pocket and tried to weigh her options. She could get into the car and hope for a better chance, or she could make a run for it now and hope he was a lousy shot.
The question was, just how fast could a nine-month-pregnant woman, who might have just felt her first contraction, run?
Chapter Two
As it turned out, she didn’t need to decide. There were two dull thuds, and it seemed as if the man’s buttons exploded. Tiny little poofs of fabric. He dropped the gun he’d been pointing at her, a shocked expression on his face as he sank to the sidewalk. Then of course, she saw the blood.
There were squealing tires and roaring motors, and a crash that scared her half to death as a small red car smashed into the back of the long black one, pushing it forward several yards. The red car’s passenger door opened, and Johnny yelled. “Get in. Fast!”
She got in, and he was speeding away before she even got the door closed again.
“Did they hurt you?” he asked.
She closed her eyes, only wanting to blot out the sound of his voice and the insane way he was driving until her mind could wrap itself around all that was happening. Leaning her head back against the soft seat, she grabbed the seat belt with her other hand, pulled it around her. But as she fastened it, her hand brushed hot metal and her eyes flew open.
The gun lay on the seat between them. The extension affixed to its end was one she recognized only from watching old Bond films. A silencer.
“You just killed a man,” she whispered.
“I didn’t have a choice.” He adjusted the mirror, looking into it almost as often as he looked at the road ahead of them.
“Are they following?”
“They were.” He kept driving, though he did slow down to a more reasonable speed. They came to large, open parking lot, and he pulled in, shut the car off, snatched up the handgun, and got out. “Come on, come with me.”
She undid her seat belt and got out too, following a dead man to another car, a dark blue sedan, and she stood near the passenger side door. He pulled out another set of keys, pushed a button to unlock the doors. “Get in.”
“No.”
He stood on the driver’s side, looking over the top of the car at her. “What do you mean, no? They’re looking for us, Charlotte, they’ll catch up any time now. We need to move.”
“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on, and why you’re pretending not to know me.” She blinked. “And why you were kissing that blonde at the party.”
He licked his lips, glancing back down the road. “There will be time to talk about all of that later. Just get in the car and let me get us somewhere safe, before—”
“Tell me your name. You’re real name, Johnny.”
“My name is Michael Drummond,” he told her. “And unless you get into this car right now, very bad men with very large guns are going to show up and start shooting at you.”
She turned her back to him. “I don’t care.”
“Oh, you don’t care,” he repeated. “What about your baby, Charlotte? Do you care about your baby?”
Charlotte spun around to face him. “Yes, I do. Do you?”
Their eyes locked over the hood of the car. He said, “It’s not…it’s been…”
“Eight months, Johnny. It’s been eight months to the day. And yes, it is yours.”
Tires squealed in the distance. “Charlotte for the love of God, get into the car.”
Battling tears yet again, she got into the car. So did he, dropping the handgun on the seat again, where it would be within easy reach. He drove quietly and carefully out the opposite side of the parking lot, and onto an all but deserted street. Charlotte watched behind them, but she didn’t think they were being followed. Johnny drove to the highway, taking side roads and a convoluted route to get there. Once they blended in with the other traffic, though, he seemed to relax a little.