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Though he could barely contain his impatience, he managed to wait until they were out the door, down the porch steps and halfway down the driveway.
“Is there something you forgot to tell me?” he asked, his voice harsh. “I met with Micheline just now. She said you were talking to Leigh.”
“About the pretend baby?” Though she spoke without inflection, pain and anger flashed in her eyes. “And Micheline’s strange scheme to sell him or her to the Coltons?”
“Exactly!” He expelled his breath in a sigh, hoping to release some of his tangled-up emotions. “This is a new low, even for someone like her.”
“I agree.” Her calm voice acted like a balm upon his rage. “Of all the things I’ve had to do while here, this is the absolute worst.”
“Because who would do that? Who would actually sell their own child?” He realized part of the reason this bothered him so much was due to his own circumstances. Micheline had switched him with another baby and actually hoped he would die.
“You do know the baby isn’t real, right?” Fiona asked, touching his arm. “I’m not actually pregnant.”
He blinked. “I know.”
“Do you? Because you sound uncertain.”
Considering, he finally nodded. “Probably because Micheline talked like you really were. In fact, I’m pretty sure her henchwoman Leigh probably told you to lie to me and say you really are pregnant.”
“She did at first, but then she kind of left it open. She even mentioned offering you a cut of whatever they rake in.”
He didn’t bother to hide the disgust that filled him. “More proof that Micheline never really knew me. Because if she had even the slightest clue who I am, she’d know I’d never abandon my child the way she did me.”
“Come here,” she said. “Right now.” And she tugged him into her arms, holding him tight.
Just like that, all the frustration and impotent rage drained away.
“You can do this,” she continued, her arms still wrapped around him. “We can do this. Just think of the end result.”
Micheline behind bars. “You’re right,” he said, raising his head. “I guess I let emotion get the better of me. She’s such a—”
Fiona kissed him then, midsentence, midbreath. Kissed him as if she were dying and he might be her last hope for survival.
After a moment, he relaxed enough to kiss her back. This woman, he thought, even as he drowned in sensation. The scent of her, the feel of her, the taste of her filled him with both yearning and the certainty that she was the one. Even if she didn’t know it yet.
* * *
With Micheline plotting and scheming, Fiona had a suspicion that events might occur along an accelerated timetable. Which meant if she was going to locate these cells or whatever might really be in the basement, she needed to do it quickly. She hadn’t seen Underhill either, so either he’d been dismissed or Micheline had locked him up.
If the inner door remained locked, then she had to locate the key. She decided to stake out the laundry room. Eventually, someone had to go into the basement. She’d watch from there and see. Most likely, whoever had basement duty would have been given the key for their shift, but she also wouldn’t have been surprised to see they stashed it somewhere close to keep things simple. After all, they’d probably figure no one would want to break in to the basement, only out.
Luckily, even though the center had maids who picked up the laundry every week, Fiona had enough clothes to pretend to be doing her own laundry. While she felt quite certain this would be frowned upon, at least she’d have a credible excuse if anyone ca
ught her. She bundled them up and stuffed them in a large tote, hoping this would help keep them hidden from view, and trudged downstairs, through the lobby and past the kitchen to the laundry room.
She’d finished her first load and moved it to the dryer when she heard male voices coming down the hall. Two of them, and it sounded like they were arguing. She moved to the dryer closest to the doorway and bent over to shuffle around her clothes inside it, hoping that way she’d be mostly hidden.
“It’s your turn to sleep down there,” one of the men said. “I had that duty all of last week, and I did it.”
“I really don’t want to,” the other guy replied. “After the lights go out, it’s creepy as hell.”
“Then leave them on.”
“I tried that. It’s still creepy down there.”
“Tough.” A rattle of metal, like a full key chain.
Fiona took a chance and raised up enough to peer around the doorway. Both men had their backs to her now. One big man, with close-shaven hair and broad shoulders. The other held a large key chain and appeared to be trying to extract one of the keys from it.
