Surrogate Escape. Jenna KernanЧитать онлайн книгу.
word from Protective Services?” asked Tinnin.
“Not yet, but they usually make us the temporary guardians. That gives them time to secure placement, if the mother isn’t found.”
“She’s not getting that baby even if she is found.” Jake’s outrage crept into his voice. “Because I’m placing her under arrest.”
Lori’s eyes rolled up, and the breath she let out was audible.
He glanced at the baby, sleeping peacefully, her tiny eyelashes fanning her pink cheeks. She’d be placed and adopted, he realized. Why did that eventuality make his chest ache? He met Lori’s gaze and saw she also looked troubled. They’d found her, and somehow that gave him a personal stake in what happened to this baby girl.
“When?” said Tinnin, referring to the arrival of a Protective Services representative.
“I’m not sure,” said Lori. “They have an office in Globe and one in Flagstaff. Depends on what other business they have.”
“I’ll stay,” said Jake.
Lori’s brow wrinkled. “It might not even be today.”
Jake set his jaw but said nothing.
Tinnin cast him an odd look.
“It’s a lock-in area,” Lori said to Jake, offering her upturned hands with her explanation. “No one but the parents get near one of our babies.”
“I’m still staying.”
It was clear from the placement of one hand on her hip that Lori did not appreciate his intrusion into her territory.
Jake and Lori squared off.
Tinnin turned to hobble toward the door, pausing to look back at Jake. “Suit yourself, Redhorse. You’re off duty. But try to get a few hours sleep.”
The door closed behind him, and the chief wobbled past the viewing window and out of sight.
Lori returned her attention to Jake.
“Mask,” she said, pointing to the mask he now held at his side.
He tied the top string around his head, then looked down at the newborn he’d found in his truck. She was very pale, but beautiful. He’d never thought babies were beautiful before. His chest ached again, and he itched to hold her. He reached out with one finger to stroke the infant’s cheek.
“Don’t touch the babies. You’re not clean.” Her crisp tone let him know that this was very definitely her dominion, and she did not appreciate him inserting himself here.
He wished he could keep the baby. Jake frowned. Of all the stupid ideas in his life, that fleeting thought was second only to the idea that he could control himself in the bed of his new pickup with Lori Mott back on that long-ago summer night when they were both sixteen. He never had been able to control himself around Lori. Still couldn’t. She riled him up. It was one of her special talents—making him crazy for her without seeming to do anything at all. He’d been young and dumb. They both had been. Everyone was mad at Lori for trying to snare him. He didn’t know if that were true. He did know that the idea of getting married so young had scared him. He was afraid they’d have a kid and then another until maybe he’d end up robbing a store out of sheer desperation, just like his father. During his junior year, he had carried the scholarship offers around with him, but he had known he wouldn’t use them. He had believed that he’d never get a four-year degree or come back to wear the uniform. Instead, he had thought that he’d marry Lori and live on the rez in public housing and work for the lumber mill or with the tribe’s cattle. His mother and her mother wouldn’t speak to one another. Still didn’t. And his mother had said she would not attend the wedding.
But he had been the one who had driven them out to the reservoir and afterward let Lori take the fall for what they had both done. It was his fault as much as Lori’s. That made him most angry of all.
Ty had told him that her older sister had tried to pin a baby on him because of his reputation, but he’d been smart enough to never sleep with Jocelyn. Ty said Joceyln had slept with so many boys in high school no one knew whose kid it was. Had Lori done the same to him?
Jake blinked, but his vision remained blurry. He rubbed his burning eyes and swayed. When had he last slept?
* * *
WHEN LORI CAUGHT Jake weaving with fatigue, she convinced him to sit down at the nurses’ station. It was a mistake, because in pressing him into a stool, she felt first the taut muscles that offered resistance, and then the warmth of his skin. Now her palms prickled. But she tore herself away from temptation and brought him something to eat and drink—yogurt, applesauce and orange juice, everything served in tiny clear plastic cups.
“Aren’t you tired?” he asked.
“I only came on duty at six a.m.”
“I called before six,” he said and blinked wearily at her.
“I was early.”
“Better than being late.” He grinned.
Was that a reference to when she had missed a period and had told him using those very words? She narrowed her eyes on him as her attraction warred with bitter memories.
“Go home, Jake. I can take it from here.”
He shook his head, reminding her of a hound. His eyelids drooped, making him look sexy as hell. Her stomach muscles squeezed, and she clamped her jaw against the tingling arousal threading through her body. Not this man.
Being seen with Jake Redhorse would only start tongues wagging and again make her a target for mockery. She acknowledged that not acting on the intense jolt of desire that grew with each moment she spent in his company was not the same as not feeling that desire. Lori accepted that her attraction for Jake Redhorse might be ever-present, a condition from which she would never recover. Just like when faced with the common-cold virus, avoidance was the best option.
The longer he hung around, the more difficulty she would have not succumbing to those come-hither stares and his sexy, lazy smile. It tore her up like shards of glass.
His mouth quirked, and she realized she’d been staring, remembering their night together. Had it really been that good?
“Go home, Jake. Seriously.”
“Naw,” he said at last, pushing his hat far back on his head and yawning. “I’ll stay till you hear from Protective Services. I want to be sure she’s staying on the rez.”
She didn’t say that there was a possibility they might take the baby to a different placement. She gnawed on her cuticle.
“I know that look,” he said. “You’re worried about something.”
She lowered her hand from her mouth, flicking the bit of ragged cuticle on her thumbnail with her index finger.
“We’ve never taken custody of a baby like this one.”
“You mean white?”
She nodded. “We keep and place all Apache infants within our tribe, but she has no protection under ICWA.”
He nodded, obviously familiar with the Indian Child Welfare Act, the legislation that sought to keep Indian children in Indian homes in response to the horrific number of indigenous children who had once been adopted away.
“She might be Indian, a member of the Turquoise Canyon tribe.”
Lori made a face. “It’s possible. Hard to say without knowing the identity of her parents.”
He nodded. “Working on that. Until then, I’ll stay here to keep an eye on little Fortune.”
“Fortune?”
He shrugged. “That’s what you called her. Said she was fortunate.”
“She’s not a