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The Cradle Files
The Cradle Files
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The Cradle Files

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The Cradle Files
Delores Fossen

Months after Lexie Rayburn faked her own disappearance, someone injected her with a drug that robbed her of her memories, and kidnapped her newborn baby.Now, the only hope for locating her daughter rested on the too-broad shoulders of Garrett O'Malley - the one man she swore she'd never set eyes on again. But someone would stop at nothing to ensure Lexie never learned the truth about her baby's disappearance.Still, as the danger escalated, Lexie wondered which posed a greater risk: the killer on their trail or a reunion with her baby's father….

Garrett couldn’t deny Lexie.

He opened his mouth to tell her, but that was as far as he got. He saw the movement out of the corner of his eye. Behind her. To the right of the double French doors that led to his backyard.

“Get down,” Garrett said. He practically whispered it, but it still came through loud and clear like an order.

Lexie tried to follow his gaze, no doubt to see what had triggered his reaction, but he didn’t give her a chance. He slapped off the light switch, plunging them into darkness. In the same motion, he hooked his arm around her waist and shoved her to the floor. It was barely in time.

Because a bullet slammed through one of the French doors, pelting them with a deadly spray of splintered wood and broken glass….

The Cradle Files

Delores Fossen

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Imagine a family tree that includes Texas cowboys, Choctaw and Cherokee Indians, a Louisiana pirate and a Scottish rebel who battled side by side with William Wallace. With ancestors like that, it’s easy to understand why Texas author and former U.S. Air Force captain Delores Fossen feels as if she was genetically predisposed to writing romances. Along the way to fulfilling her DNA destiny, Delores married a U.S. Air Force Top Gun, who just happens to be of Viking descent. With all those romantic bases covered, she doesn’t have to look too far for inspiration.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Sergeant Garrett O’Malley—A bad-boy San Antonio cop with something to prove to himself and his high-achieving family. But his plans and his life take a dangerous turn when Lexie Rayburn, his former lover, returns with news that someone has stolen their newborn baby.

Lexie Rayburn—A ruthless doctor stole her baby minutes after she gave birth, and the doctor’s attempt to kill Lexie has robbed her of vital memories. But she has no trouble remembering the attraction she feels for Garrett. Unfortunately, a relationship with Garrett could cost him his badge and their lives.

Billy Avery—Lexie’s former boss who’s now behind bars awaiting appeal of a felony conviction. Would he have taken Lexie and Garrett’s baby as leverage to prevent Lexie from testifying against him if he’s granted a new trial?

Dr. Linnay Blake—Director of the clinic where the baby was stolen. Dr. Blake could be merely a scapegoat for the real kidnapper, or she could be behind a sinister plot to provide stolen babies to unsuspecting adoptive parents.

Alicia Peralta—The clinic nurse who tries to help Garrett and Lexie find their child. Are Alicia’s motives pure, or is she trying to steer them away from her own criminal activities?

Dr. Andrew Darnell—He’s the obstetrician Lexie believes tried to kill her. Unfortunately, there’s no proof, and with Lexie’s broken memories, the police have little to go on.

Irving Kent—Dr. Darnell’s attorney and the man linked to many suspicious adoptions. Is he responsible for the disappearance of Lexie and Garrett’s child?

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter One

With water snaking down his body, Sergeant Garrett O’Malley headed toward the laundry room in search of a clean towel—something he wished he’d done before his shower. He only made it a step outside the steamy bathroom when he realized he wasn’t alone.

There was a shadowy figure standing at the other end of the dark hall.

Adrenaline knifed through him, and his heartbeat went into overdrive. He made a split-second assessment to make sure it wasn’t a family member. It wasn’t. And he automatically reached for his weapon, which obviously wasn’t there, since he didn’t have on a stitch of clothes.

He cursed.

Because that’s when he noticed the intruder was armed.

“Don’t move,” she said in a hoarse whisper.

She. It was definitely a female. Garrett didn’t hear enough of her voice, though, to recognize it. It was the same for the woman herself. She stayed in the darkness, her face and body hidden.

Well, if this was a robbery, she’d picked a good time for it. He was not only towel-less, he was totally unprepared. Garrett’s mind raced with questions. What did she want, and how the devil had she gotten in?

And did she have plans to kill him?

His cop’s brain immediately went to work, and within seconds he decided this wasn’t a good time for an all-out fight.

Not with her pointing that gun straight at him.

If he couldn’t talk her into surrendering her weapon, his best move would be to make a dive for his bedroom—where he’d left his loaded 9 mm, standard issue Glock on his dresser. Thankfully, his bedroom and that Glock were only about eight feet away, and the door was wide open.

Of course, being buck naked didn’t help.

And the dive onto the hardwood floor would hurt like crazy, but it was better than getting shot. He’d been there, done that, not once but twice, and he didn’t want to repeat the ordeal anytime soon.

“Who are you, and why are you here?” Garrett demanded while he calculated the best moment to disarm her or to begin that dive. If he could somehow distract her, that would help.

But he immediately rethought the idea.

Since she’d broken into the home of a cop and was holding him at gunpoint, she probably wasn’t the distractible type. If she knew he was a cop, that was. Maybe this was a random burglary. That didn’t make the situation any less dangerous. In fact, the stakes might escalate if she discovered who he really was. She might try to kill him just so she could eliminate a witness.

She stepped closer, toward the milky-yellow light that spilled out from the bathroom. Her cautious footsteps barely made a sound. But her breathing sure did. It was coming out in rough, hurried gusts.

“I need to talk to you,” she said.

Garrett froze and put his Glock-retrieving plan on hold. Now he recognized that voice, and it set off all kinds of alarms in his head.

Not good alarms, either.

“Lexie?” he asked. “Is that you?”

She froze. For a few moments. And then she inched closer still. She stared at him and squinted, as if trying to peer through the darkness for a good look. Garrett did the same.

Yep. It was Lexie Rayburn all right, though he’d never seen her wear her hair that long or in that particular style. Her straight rust-colored locks fell choppy, loose and disheveled onto her shoulders.

The last time he’d seen her, she’d been cursing a blue streak and had thrown her panties at him. Well, maybe not at him, exactly, but in his general direction.

He was lucky she hadn’t thrown something heavier and more lethal.

That throwing incident was… When? A few months shy of a year ago, when Lexie had walked out of his life. But she hadn’t just walked out. She’d left him with a lot of questions, no answers, and she’d put his badge on the line. Since his badge was the most important thing in his life, that had not sat well with him.

It still didn’t.

Garrett’s jaw tightened.

She moved even closer, and he got a better look at her gun. An RG .22, commonly referred to as a Saturday Night Special. Another surprise. The cheap, no-frills weapon wasn’t her usual choice of firearms, but then neither were the clothes. She wore loose faded jeans, scuffed Doc Martens and a baggy navy-blue flannel shirt that was frayed at the cuffs. It was at least two sizes too big and practically swallowed her.

“Garrett O’Malley?” she asked.

And it was definitely a question. No doubt Lexie’s version of sarcasm.

Oh, this was going to get messy.

He just stared at her.

“Are you Garrett O’Malley?” she pressed.

Riled at her dry-as-dust sarcasm, at the gun and at the woman herself, he opened his arms. “You tell me. You’re not seeing anything you haven’t seen before.”

He’d meant his remark to sting, a reminder that he’d been her one-night stand. Her choice. Not his.

She took his remark as an invitation. Her gaze combed over him, starting at his face. Her marine-blue eyes met his green ones. Briefly. And then she slid that gaze all the way past his bare chest and stomach to his equally bare groin.

Her eyes paused.

Considerably.

For a long time.

Normally, he wouldn’t have been so bothered by the close scrutinization from a lover, former or otherwise, but these obviously weren’t normal circumstances.

“Mind telling me why you’re here and what your plans are for that gun?” he insisted.

She nodded. Not a confident I’m-in-charge-here nod, either. It was shaky. In fact, there was something shaky about her entire demeanor. “I want answers.”

So, this was maybe a payback visit in order to rehash their last encounter. A blast from the past. Lucky him. “I don’t know the questions, but I have a few of my own. For starters, how did you get into my house?” Because he knew for a fact she didn’t have a key.

She tipped her head toward the kitchen. “The patio door. You left it unlocked when you took out the trash after you got home from work.”

Hell’s bells. Not the brightest move he could have made, especially for a cop. He’d made that little faux pas only about fifteen minutes ago, which meant she hadn’t waited too long to confront him. Maybe she’d delayed her entrance until he got in the shower so she could catch him when he wasn’t near his Glock. Or perhaps she’d waited until he was what polite company would call indisposed.

She’d succeeded.

He was as indisposed as he could get. Still, that theory only created more questions.

“Why the gun?” he asked.

She glanced at it and swallowed hard. “I wasn’t sure I could trust you.”

“You can’t.” And that was a sore spot for him. Even now. “But then, I obviously can’t trust you, either. Still, a gun? Judas Priest, Lexie. That’s a little over the top, even for you.”

Her forehead bunched up. “I wanted to make sure you listened to what I had to say.”

“Oh, I’m listening. Pardon the pun, but I’m all ears.” Garrett turned toward his bedroom, but then stopped and looked at her. Actually, he glared. And he knew his glare was a winner. That particular facial expression alone had gotten perps to surrender. “I’m going to get dressed now, and I’d rather you didn’t try to kill me while I do that, okay?”

He didn’t wait for her to respond or concur with his smart-mouth challenge. Figuring that Lexie wouldn’t shoot him in the back, Garrett headed to his bedroom.

“Wait a minute,” she snarled. She hurried after him, but then stopped in the doorway. “Don’t just walk away from me. I’m holding you at gunpoint.”

“Believe me, I’m aware of that. Call me old-fashioned, but I’d rather not have this conversation or try to wrestle that .22 away from you while I’m buck naked. And make no mistake about it—I am going to wrestle that gun away from you if you don’t come to your senses.”

Besides, if this did turn into a wrestling match or even more, Garrett didn’t want his fellow peace officers to show up and find him wearing only his birthday suit and a glare. There had already been enough rumors and career-damaging innuendos as it was. He didn’t want to add this to the record, even if seeing Lexie brought back memories.