A Valentine from Harlequin

her eyes, and after a few more miles slipped by, he thought she might have fallen asleep. It was good for her to rest. She’d been through so much tonight, God, so much in the past year. Losing him, her father, and then…
    He glanced down at her belly. She was pregnant, carrying his child. He didn’t think she had it in her to lie about something like that. His baby. Due any time now, by the looks of things. The thought of his child being born to a woman who hated him was not a pleasant one.
    And yet, unless he could fix things, put Carl Magenta away for good, it wouldn’t matter who bore the child. It wouldn’t be safe. None of them would be safe, ever.
    He turned at last onto the spiraling dirt road that lead up the small mountain to the cabin that was his only haven. It was where he hid out in between cases. It was where he retreated when he was being hunted like a dog and needed a few days off. It was the only place he felt truly safe, and it was a place he had never shared with another living soul.
    And it was miles and miles from civilization. No phone. No electricity. A hand pump for water, a cold spring for refrigeration, a fireplace for heat, and an outhouse for a bathroom. It was his sanctuary.
    He hadn’t been back up here in six months. It was where he’d come to lick his wounds after leaving Charlotte. Where he had come to try to forget her.
    It hadn’t worked.
    He shut the car off and glanced at her. She was sleeping so soundly he would have felt mean to wake her, still clutching the damn gun. As if she might really use it on him. He knew better. He got out quietly, and left her there to rest. He unlocked the cabin and went inside. His flashlight was hanging from a hook just inside the door, as always, and he used it to find his way around until he got a few lanterns burning.
    He was kneeling in front of the fireplace, touching a match to the kindling there, when he heard her footsteps crossing the porch. The door creaked open, and he rose, and turned to see her standing there.
    “We’ll be safe here,” he said.
    “Speak for yourself, Michael. I think I’m in labor.”

Chapter Four
    “Labor?” Michael had faced down gangs of armed criminals and felt less fear than what jolted through him at that single word. “Are you sure?”
    Charlotte walked forward, one hand at the small of her back, the other carrying the gun he had left in the car with her. “No. I’m not at all sure. I’ve had three…pains, or contractions, or something in the past —” she glanced at her watch “— hour and a half. It might be nothing.”
    “Or it might be labor.”
    She nodded, lowering herself onto the sofa near the crackling fire. Its light painted her face and her hair, and though she was puffy and red-eyed from crying, she was every bit as beautiful as he remembered. More, maybe. Pregnancy agreed with her. He saw her tuck the gun behind the cushion, and decided to let her keep it if it made her feel more secure.
    “What do you want me to do?” he asked.
    She shrugged. “Depends. How far to the nearest hospital?”
    “An hour.”
    She nodded. “And how risky do you think it is for us to go back out tonight?”
    He shook his head slowly. “No way to tell for sure. They wouldn’t be looking at hospitals, at any rate. It’s not like they know you’re this close.”
    “Actually,” she said, making a sheepish face, “they might. I was having the first pain when that guy with the gun came up to me. The ones in the car could have seen it.”
    He went to the kitchen, pumped water from the hand pump, letting most of it run right down the drain, until it ran sparkling clear. Then he rinsed a small teapot, filled it, and brought it to the fireplace. He hung it on a hinged hook, then pushed the hook into the hearth so the pot hung over the flames.
    “I’ll tell you what,” he said. “You just tell me if you feel you need to go to the hospital or not. If you have to go, I’ll make sure it’s safe. That’s my job.”
    She nodded. “I’d like to rest awhile, give it some time. It could be false labor. I’ve had it once already.”
    “Okay.” He nodded, watching her.
    “I’m not expecting anything from you, you know. I mean, you always used protection. This baby isn’t your fault. I won’t hold you responsible.”
    He lowered his head. “Do you really think that’s what I want? To be let off the hook?”
    “Isn’t it?”
    “No, Charlotte.” He sighed. “Hell, I don’t know how to