Free FOR THE BABY'S SAKE by Beverly Long Page B

looked at Robert and nodded his head at the officer who seemed to be in charge. “Can you...”
    “No problem. I’ll give our boys the CliffsNotes version so that they understand why she’s making a quick exit. Get going.”
    Sawyer nodded, wrapped an arm around her and walked her out of the bar.
    He wished he had a coat, something that he could throw over her, cover up some skin. What in the hell had she been thinking?
    Once inside his car, Sawyer kept his hands firmly wrapped around the steering wheel, afraid that he might just reach out and shake her. Of course, once he touched her, he’d be toast. It would all be over for him. He’d end up kissing and touching her and maybe more if she didn’t have the good sense to stop him.
    It would be wrong. She deserved better than what he had to offer. Which was nothing. Liz Mayfield was young, pretty and someday would make some man a fine wife. They’d have pretty babies, and God willing, she and her husband would see them grow up, go to their first baseball game, drive a car, go to college, have a life.
    He’d thought he’d had it. Then he’d lost it. His baby’s precious body had grown cold in his arms. The nurses, the professionals who were used to saying the words baby and death in the same sentence, let him be. They walked around his rocking chair, careful to keep their voices down, their eyes never quite meeting his.
    Much wiser now, he knew what he had. He had his work, his career. He made important arrests that got scum off the streets. He made a difference every day. That was more than some people had in a lifetime. It had to be enough for him.
    He’d been half out of his mind with worry when he’d gotten the two voice mails from her. He’d listened to the first and realized that she intended to go to Deyston Street and then the second; when he’d heard the panic in her voice and knew she was scared and possibly hurt, his heart had almost stopped.
    It had been a huge relief when he saw her. And then he’d turned stupid. The worry eating at his soul had burst from his mouth, and he’d hurt her. He regretted that. But she needed to understand how big of a mistake she’d made. For her own sake. She didn’t understand how violent, how cruel, how humiliating the street—and those who called the street their home—could be.
    He would take her back to her apartment, and they would talk. He wouldn’t yell, and he wouldn’t accuse. It would be a civil conversation, one adult to another. He’d make her understand that she needed to let the police look for Mary. That she needed to stop seeing OCM’s clients at her apartment. Then he’d leave.
    Sawyer found a spot near the front of Liz’s apartment building. “I’d like to come in,” he said. He was proud that he sounded so calm, so reasonable. See, he could do this.
    “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
    “We should talk. I’d be more comfortable talking in your apartment.” Wow. He should be the shrink.
    He waited until she nodded before he quickly got out of the car. Yep, everything would be fine. They’d have a nice quiet conversation, and he could leave, knowing that she’d be safe.
    He walked around the car and opened Liz’s door. Oh, hell. From this angle, her legs went on forever. She had them crossed, one sexy, small foot, with painted red toenails, dangling over the other. Tanned legs, absolutely silky smooth. Round knees, firm thighs and a...a snake. No way! It couldn’t be! He squatted down next to the open door, and with his index finger, he tapped against the tattoo.
    “What the hell is this? Are you nuts?”
    “Sawyer, it’s just...”
    “It’s not just a tattoo,” he yelled. “You have the most beautiful, incredibly sexy legs.” He pulled his hand back and rubbed his temple, as if he suddenly had a very bad headache. “How could you even think about getting a tattoo? And a snake. Were you drunk on your butt or what?”
    “Stop yelling. My neighbors will call the