SERENA

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I STEPPED OUT OF THE brightly lit backroom. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim light. I stopped cold. I thought I had to be dreaming. I actually blinked hard, but he didn’t disappear. Mac was sitting at the bar, a bottle of beer in front of him. He was speaking to Owen who stood next to his barstool. I put my hand over my jackhammering heart. I felt like I was sending out cartoon heart signals.

I imagined Mac was trying to find out when I was expected into work. I just happened to be here early today because I’d chosen to walk with Sheri whose shift started a half hour before mine.

I ducked back to hide behind the beaded curtains. I had the advantage, I’d seen him before he’d seen me. I needed to run now. But I couldn’t move my feet. I just stared at him through the strings of beads. He was wearing a suit, but no tie, as if he’d driven here straight from work. He looked on edge. He was tapping his fingers on the counter.

Georgia, appearing on the small stage to his left, was pointing her large breasts exactly in his direction and spinning the tassels on her pasties for all she was worth.

Sheri came to stand beside me. "That girl is shameless. She’s going to throw her back out for a guy who hasn’t even spared her a glance."

She elbowed me. “Looks like you finally spotted someone who might make you forget your husband.”

“He is my husband,” I said.

“Oh, shit. He’s fucking gorgeous.” Her gaze swung back to me. “Shouldn’t you be getting the heck out of here?”

“I will in a minute,” I said.

“Oh my God,” Sheri squealed as Georgia actually peeled off one of her sequined pasties and tossed it in Mac's direction.

She had a pretty precise aim. The sparkling pastie hit the counter right next to his arm. He and Owen both glanced at it. Owen let out a loud guffaw. Both men turned their gazes briefly toward the stage before returning to their conversation. Sheri laughed as Georgia stomped off the stage.

Tavis, the announcer, was already on the center platform introducing the next performer. "Let’s hear a round of applause for our black haired beauty," he said.

The audience responded with wolf whistles, shouts, and some table pounding.

Mac jerked his head around to stare at the stage. Even from my vantage point I could see the color leave his face. He stood up suddenly and walked toward the stage. Owen said something to him, but he didn’t turn to listen.

He thought the black-haired performer was me. What was he going to do, go up on the stage and yank me down? More than likely, I thought, judging by the expression on his face.

I could smell Lou's cologne before I felt his presence. My nose twitched at the strong scent. He gave my bottom a smack. "Why aren't you out there?"

“I’m not scheduled to start for another half hour.”

“You’re here now, so start now.”

"I’m actually not feeling too well."

"Yeah, I heard about your troubles. You planning on raising that baby all alone?"

I glanced over at Sheri. She mouthed “sorry” and hurried away.

"I don’t even know if I’m pregnant yet. The test is still in the box." He blocked my way out through the back exit behind me. I pushed forward through the beaded curtain and pivoted on my heels then made a sharp turn and headed toward the front door. No way was I going to stay there and wait for Mac to corner me. Time to move on. I’d managed to save a few dollars. Hopefully, that would get me a bus ticket back to town. I was desperate and ready to ask for help from my friends.

"Hey, doll, don’t fucking walk away from me when I’m talking to you," Lou shouted. I picked up my pace which wasn’t easy in high heels that weren’t far off from stilts. He grabbed my arm and swung me around and started backing me toward the wall. A couple of bikers glanced over in our direction, but immediately went back to their drinks.

"You'll need some help that’s all. I want to be there for you." Lou was suddenly oozing concern.

Over his shoulder, I watched Mac approaching, looking like a man who was ready to do murder.

Lou braced his hands on the wall above my head. His cologne was suffocating. "Just worried about you out here alone without family and support."

I ducked out from under his arm hoping that would diffuse Mac’s anger.

Lou whipped around and I took a quick step back, just out of reach of his grasping hand.

“Touch her again and I’ll break your fucking arm,” Mac said.

"Who the fuck are you?"

"I’m her husband, asshole."

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Theo, the bartender, launch himself over the counter. His hands curled into loose fists as he approached.

A movement in the other direction caught my eye. Owen was weaving around clusters of patrons, making swift progress across the room.

I swallowed hard. I’d seen what these two were capable of, watched them work as an efficient team to eject drunk, quarrelsome men.

Lou’s nostrils flared. "This is your ex? The one you’re running from?" His black eyes narrowed. "You’re married to a cop?

I frowned in confusion. "He’s not a cop."

Lou’s lips pulled back into a nasty smile, his teeth almost a fluorescent white in contrast to his tanned skin. "Sure as hell he’s the law. I can smell the righteousness on him."

"Had a few run ins?" Mac asked obviously trying to bait him.

"See? He’s not denying it," Lou said to me.

"What are you some undercover narc? Shit, what kind of asshole doesn’t tell his wife what he does for a living?” He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “Time to move on, man, the girl’s done with you."

The bouncer and the bartender were forming a wall of muscle directly behind Mac. They were just waiting for their orders from Lou.

Mac could take Lou easily, of that I had no doubt, but I didn’t like the odds of three against one. I pointed at the palm of my hand, trying to tell Mac to look behind him, but, though he glanced at me, he didn’t react to my signal.

“Mac, take me home,” I pleaded.

Mac shot me an annoyed look.

"That’s cute how she’s suddenly concerned about you,” Lou said, hooking his thumbs in his belt, and rocking back on his heels. “Bet she didn’t even call to let you know that she’s pregnant."

Mac swung around so that he was now facing the men behind him. "Are you fucking kidding me? You don’t tell me about this?"

I gasped. Mac knew these men.

Owen lifted his massive shoulders in a guilty shrug. "Fuck, man," he said. "We were working out who got the thankless task of telling you the details."

“Wait? What?” Lou’s voice was unnaturally high. Judging by the color draining from his face, he’d just realized that the men were aligned with Mac.

“I haven’t even taken a pregnancy test yet,” I shouted in frustration. No one paid me any attention.

"How long have you known?” Mac asked Owen. “And what fucking details?"

“A couple of weeks,” Owen said sheepishly and then exchanged a significant glance with Theo.

Theo dipped his head forward, tugged on his beard in obvious hesitation, then dropping his voice said, "It's not yours. She told Owen it's from a one night stand." Despite the confidential tone, his words carried and the impact of them seemed to reverberate through Mac. His big body actually jolted. He swallowed heavily, his Adam’s apple bobbing, then he jerked his head around to look at me, his gray eyes accusing. He looked like a man who’d been slammed in the gut. He wanted this baby to be his.

"I lied,” I blurted out, loud enough for everyone in the small, cozy little circle to hear. “Owen was scolding me, telling me I needed to let my husband know. And you know how I can be when someone pushes too much."

Mac’s hard gaze did not soften, so I kept talking. "There was no one night stand. You are my only stand," I quipped. Tears sprang to my eyes, belying my flippant tone.

“Where the hell is your ring?”

I pulled the ribbon out from under my halter and showed it to him.

His rigid shoulders relaxed some. He dug into his jeans pocket and tossed a pair of keys at Owen. “Take her to the car.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. This was going to end in bloodshed. "I’m not going unless you come too."

"Mr.Vinson and I are just going to have a civil discussion.”

I shook my head. "I'm not going anywhere without you and if Owen carries me out I’m going to scream bloody murder."

I could sense Mac weighing his options, whether it was worth putting up with a little screaming as long as he got to do some damage to Lou.

I moved sideways toward an empty go-go dancing cage. “I’ll climb up on that stage and start stripping.” That threat managed to focus Mac’s anger in a whole other direction.

“The hell you will.”

Owen and Theo both shifted their gazes toward the bar, pretending not to hear our argument.

I reached up and untied my halter and let it drop, catching it in time so I was revealing only the tops of my breasts.

Mac’s eyes flashed with fury. "Stubborn little witch.” He moved toward me. His fingers bit into my arm as he spun me around toward the exit. It was a struggle to keep up with his angry strides. I was nearly running in my razor thin heels while clutching my halter top to my chest. I looked back over my shoulder. Owen and Theo were hanging back. Lou might be a smarmy jerk, but he didn’t deserve having those muscle-bound guys knocking his block off.

I pulled back against Mac’s restraining hold. “Call them off.”

His jaw tightened in annoyance. When he continued to pull me forward, I let go of the halter top in order to pry his fingers off my arm. He took one look at me and stopped in his tracks. I was wearing a strapless, backless, adhesive bra that consisted basically of cups attached by a bit of lace. It didn’t cover that much more than pasties would have. It was the only bra I’d found that worked with the halter top.

Mac yanked up my top to cover me then addressed his men over my shoulder. “Harwood. Walsh. Leave it.”

He fixed me with a look of stern warning as he retied the halter around my neck, double-knotting it for good measure.

I glanced over my shoulder to see if the men were following orders. They were. They trudged toward us, seeming as disappointed as Mac not to get a few punches in, but then they’d had to work for Lou for a couple of weeks. They probably had some grievances of their own to work off.

Once in the parking lot, Owen and Theo piled into Owen’s Mustang.

Mac was driving his black muscle car. I didn’t want to imagine how fast he’d been speeding on the freeway. The first question he asked me after climbing into the driver’s seat was, "Have you been to a doctor?"

I dug in my purse, pulled out the test box and waved it in his direction. "Didn’t you hear me? I haven’t even opened the box.”

“Why not?”

“Avoidance,” I answered.

He shot me an annoyed look as we sped down the road, right passed the motel.

“Can I at least get my clothes?”

He made a grudging u-turn. The red Mustang pulled up alongside us in the parking lot. Mac walked me up to collect my things.

I jostled the lock with my key as he stood impatiently behind me. Once inside, he made no effort to hide his disgust of the place.

When we returned to the car, Mac gave a signal and the Mustang peeled out. I watched it as it sped away.

I sat in silence as we drove down the two lane highway. I stared out the window at the repetitive desert scenery of scrub and Joshua trees and the occasional weatherworn house.

"Why was he so sure you were a cop?"

"Because he’s a sleazy motherfucker who obviously traffics in something illicit. He probably suspects anybody who shows up there sober of carrying a badge."

That was an evasive answer, if I’d ever heard one. “You are. You’re a cop!”

He swerved onto the shoulder of the highway. The tires kicked up dust as he brought the car to a stop. He popped open the console between the seats then emptied out the maps and CDs stuffed inside. He used a key to pry up the bottom of the compartment. My hands were shaking as I took the thin leather wallet from him. James McAllister was a federal agent.

He returned his credentials to the console and replaced the false bottom then crammed in the maps and CDs.

He swung the car back onto the highway. “Your father came to us. He was my entry into the company. My shady history, the gun smuggling—all invented. If you are operating a corrupt company the last thing you want is some squeaky clean new hire sniffing out your malfeasance.”

He failed to mention that the part of his bio which hadn’t been invented was his exemplary military career. I recalled my frantic internet search, and the image of him in uniform being awarded a medal.

I glanced at his hard, handsome profile. "Someone found out that my father was an informant, and killed him?" I put a question-mark inflection on my statement.

"Yes."

Every notion I’d had about Mac was flipped on its head. He'd been stuck babysitting me rather than devoting all his energy to completing his investigation. And I’d just made it hellish for him. It had been wrong of my father to ask him to be responsible for me. My father had been the guilty one, Mac hadn’t owed him anything.

“You should have told me. I would have cooperated.”

"Fuck, really? I don’t think you have a cooperative bone in your body. If you’d gone running to Ryan and spilled this all, what then?"

“But you still didn’t tell me after we started sleeping together. You didn’t trust me even then.”

“Do you want to talk about trust?” His gray eyes accused me. “Look how easily you left me. Didn’t fucking look back, babe.”

He sounded wounded. I looked at him and wondered how I’d ever thought he could be a villain.

He caught me staring at him, and then lowered his gaze to the expanse of my legs showing. It didn’t help that the short skirt rode up even more when I sat. I yanked hard on the hem managing to pull it down my thighs a couple of measly inches. I wondered if all federal agents held such conservative views. His reaction to me flashing my skimpy bra in the bar was understandable, but he hadn’t approved of something as innocuous as my pink hair either. For a conservative male he sure held a different attitude in bed. He preferred me without a stitch of clothing and with the lights undimmed. I blushed thinking of him spreading me wide and feasting his gaze on my exposed pussy.

“Do you have a real wife waiting for you somewhere? I’ve heard about cops indulging in drugs and womanizing while undercover. You know, all in the spirit of going deep undercover and catching the bad guy.”

He slid me a wry look. “I have one wife and I’m looking at her.”

“Did you miss the confetti I left in your drawer? I know you staged a fake ceremony.”

“And yet, you’re using my name. You still have my ring.”

“Figured it would be the surname you’d least expect.” It suddenly seemed an inadequate explanation. And I had no excuse for keeping the ring. I folded my arms across my chest and stared unseeing at the scenery. "Why did you bother coming for me? You clearly had enough men guarding me."

"Because this situation has become too much of a distraction for me. I need to keep my focus on my real job."

I was still nothing more than an inconvenience to him. I tried to reconcile this cold, dismissive response with the way he’d reacted to hearing that I was pregnant. It occurred to me suddenly that he would have felt responsible if my distrust of him had caused me to act out and start sleeping with strangers.

He turned off the desolate highway and into the first mall we passed. He parked in front of a small family restaurant.

“Not going in with that dress on,” Mac said. “Pull some pants on.”

I reached into my bag and grabbed a pair of leggings. I could feel his heated stare as I wriggled into them then pulled on a sweatshirt to hide the provocative halter top.

The second we were seated at the table he said, “Go take the test. And no fucking around. No climbing out the window.”

I frowned and grabbed my purse.

Instead of stalls, there was a single bathroom. Thankful for the privacy, I locked the door, opened the package, and then contemplated the white plastic stick in my hand. As far as I was concerned the test would just confirm what I already considered a fact.

Pregnancy would complicate our fake-marriage split just a little. Now that was an understatement. No doubt, even after Mac found his ideal mate, he would remain in my life for the child’s sake. He was a man you could depend on. Hadn’t he protected me even though the threat I faced was all due to my father’s illegal actions?

Feeling a little dizzy, I set the test down, turned on the cold tap, and splashed water on my face. Bending over was a mistake. My head reeled and my knees buckled. I grabbed for the sink and knocked the stick into the streaming water. I watched it bob beneath the force of the water as I continued to grip the sink. I waited until the wave of dizziness passed before plucking the stick out of the sink. A minus sign was already appearing in the tiny window. A serendipitous accident, I thought. Mac deserved his freedom, freedom from his conscience. He didn’t deserve to be tied to me for life because of my father’s terrible decisions.

A loud bang on the bathroom door made my heart leap into my throat. I checked my face in the mirror. A guilty flush was moving up my throat.

“It’s negative,” I shouted through the door.

“Let me see it,” he demanded.

I used a paper towel to wipe off the telltale drops of water. After all, you were just supposed to pee on the tip, not the entire unit. Mac knocked again, harder this time. I stood behind the door so that he wouldn’t see my guilty blush and cracked open the door then thrust the stick out for him to see.

I had no idea how he took the news. I only heard his retreating steps.