Putting a cupful of oats in the feed trough, he then left the barn. He walked toward the community center, unsure exactly what he had in mind, but following instincts long honed.
He’d always worked on instinct, found gut reaction far more reliable than anything else. It was part of what made him so good at what he did, part of what kept him alive.
The door to the community building stood open and he walked inside, his gaze focused on the playroom. He heard no sounds, nothing to indicate she was still here. But when he entered the playroom the first thing he saw was the baby in the crib.
She was awake, lying on her back, making little soft sounds of sweetness. He approached the crib, his heart suddenly pounding loud in his ears.
Clad in a pink one-piece sleeper, the little girl eyed him solemnly. He could smell her, a mixture of baby powder and innocence that pierced through the armoraround his heart. She had dark eyes that matched the dark hair on her head.
He hadn’t expected the visceral pull, the utter wonder that swirled inside him as he stared at the baby girl. Such a tiny thing, with perfect, miniature features.
Leaning down, he lightly touched her cheek, a smile curving his lips as she turned her head and worked her mouth as if seeking a bottle. “Hey, little one,” he said softly, irritated that he didn’t even know her name. Damn Colette. There was no getting around it. The baby was a definite complication. Another stake in a game with no rules.
Gently, he picked her up, wanting to hold her close for just a moment, feel her wiggly warmth against his heart. He had no idea what the future held for Colette or this innocent child.
He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of her, imprinting it in his brain. Her little bottom fit perfectly in the palm of his hand and she snuggled against his chest in complete trust.
She didn’t know she’d been born in the midst of chaos, couldn’t know her life was at risk. She only knew the needs of a newborn and trusted those needs would be attended.
Reluctantly he placed her in the crib, smiling as her fist closed around his finger.
“What are you doing in here?” Colette’s voice rang sharply from behind him.
He straightened and turned to see her standing in the doorway, Cody and two other children at her side. “I came to get some things from the closet and saw the baby and nobody else around.”
“We were just outside,” she replied, and moved past him to check on the baby. “Cody, why don’t you and Amy and Grant get out some of the puzzles on the shelf in the closet,” she suggested, then looked at Hank. She waited until the kids were occupied. “Please, get what you need and leave,” she said, her voice slightly haughty.
He scrutinized her face, looking for signs of recognition. How could she not remember him? “She’s a pretty little girl. Do you think she looks like you, or more like her daddy?” he asked, knowing he was baiting but unable to help himself.
Her face flushed pink. “She looks like herself. She looks like Brook.”
His heart seemed to stop for a moment in his chest. “That’s her name? Brook?” He moved closer to her. Damn her for working his emotions like they’d never been worked before.
He studied Colette’s face, noting the high color that pinkened her cheeks. Her blue blouse gave her hazel eyes a tinge of blueness and emphasized a new fullness to her breasts. If he touched her, would she remember?
As he took another step toward her, her brow furrowed in confusion and she stepped backward, as if trying to distance herself from him. Hank realized at that moment her amnesia was real, and he wondered what this development would have on the future and his job. “I’ll just let you get to work,” he said. Turning on his heels, he strode toward the door.
“Mr. Cooper?” Her voice made him pause and he turned to look at her. “Have…have we met before?”
Hank quickly assessed his options, knowing if hetold her yes, she’d want to know the details. It was better she not know. Not remembering those details just might save her life.
He looked at the baby in the crib. “No,” he answered, then, balling his hands into fists, he turned and left.
Colette watched him go, the whisper of fear dancing inside her. Who was Hank Cooper and why did he affect her so strongly? She had the distinct feeling he’d lied, that she did know him from someplace other than this ranch.
When he’d stepped close to her she’d smelled his scent. Masculine yet with a spicy cologne that she knew she’d smelled before. Why would he lie about knowing her? What had he been in her past? And why was he so interested in Brook?
She sank onto a chair next to the crib, her attention torn between her daughter and the three children playing with puzzles on the floor. He’d said he’d come to get something out of the closet, but he hadn’t taken anything with him. Why had he come here? What had he wanted?
On impulse, she picked up Brook, needing to hold her close, assure herself of the baby’s safety. Mixed with the scent of baby powder and milk was the faint lingering odor of Hank Cooper’s cologne.
She stood and walked with Brook to the window. Staring out, she recalled the nightmare that had plagued her the night before. The eyes she’d dreamed of…the angry eyes.
* * *
HE STOODat the pay phone on the side of the bunkhouse, impatiently tapping a finger on the receiver ashe waited for his call to be answered. He stopped the tapping as a familiar gruff voice bellowed a greeting.
“It’s me,” he said. “I’ve got news.”
“It’s about time,” the deep voice growled.
“She’s here and she has some sort of memory loss.”
“I don’t give a damn if she has chicken pox. She’s smart, too damn smart for her own good, and she has the ability to fry me.”
“What do you want me to do?” he asked, although he could have guessed the answer.
“I want her disposed of…permanently.” There was a tense pause. “Hell, man, use your head. A ranch can be a dangerous place. Make it look like an accident. We don’t need any other problems.”
“Okay. I’ll call you when it’s been accomplished.” He hung up the phone, then lit a cigarette. Squinting his eyes against a cloud of smoke, he contemplated what kind of an accident would befall Colette Connor.
