He wasn’t here to notice the woman.

He was here to get his son. And he could easily roll over, grab Gena Malone by the leg and end this standoff right now. But he wouldn’t do that. He might be lower than a snake’s belly at times, but he wasn’t one to hurt women. Even the woman who’d kept his son hidden from him.

He’d have to figure out a way to get through the woman before he could take Scotty, because it was obvious this woman loved this child. And that meant she wouldn’t let Scotty go without a fight.

“Okay, let’s start over,” he said. “I’m Eli Trudeau. And you are obviously the lovely, mysterious Gena. Since Devon handpicked you to raise my son, you can’t be all bad.”

Her boot put a little more pressure on his solar plexus. “And since he asked me to keep Scotty safe because he didn’t trust you to raise him, you can’t be all good.”

“Ouch, that hurt.” Eli used humor to hide the real hurt her words inflicted. And thought to himself that maybe she was right. “I’ve changed.”

She stared at him.

LENORA WORTH

has written more than thirty novels, most of those for Steeple Hill Books. She also works freelance for a local magazine, where she has written monthly opinion columns, feature articles and social commentaries. She also wrote for five years for the local paper. Married to her high school sweetheart for thirty-three years, Lenora lives in Louisiana and has two grown children and a cat. She loves to read, take long walks and sit in her garden.

Heart of the Night
Lenora Worth

And he said to them, Come away by yourselves to a desolate place and rest a while.

—Mark 6:31

To all the people of Grand Isle, Louisiana.

You are forever in my heart.

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

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

ONE

“I’ve come for my son.”

The man holding a big battered hand over her mouth had a funny but familiar accent. He smelled of snow and wind, as if he’d been out in the night for a long time. His breath was warm as it fanned her ear and caused the hair on the back of her neck to stand up. His big body was broad and solid as he pulled her against him.

Gena tried to wiggle away, but he held her with an iron grip. So she closed her eyes, her heart rate accelerating as she became trapped in her worst nightmare.

She’d been expecting him.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” the man said, his words as soft as silk. “I’ll let you go if you promise not to scream. I don’t want to frighten him.”

Gena didn’t want to scare her son either. So she nodded and waited for Eli Trudeau to release her.

And then she grabbed underneath the massive arm that had been restraining her and with a grunt and a prayer, she tripped Eli and flipped him over and onto the floor in a perfect takedown. He landed hard on his back with her booted foot centered on his belly.

Eli lay stunned for a few seconds, then let out a groan as he shook his head to clear it. “For sure, I should have known Devon would train you in self-defense. But did you have to try and break my back?”

“Did you have to break into my home just to see your son?”

Well, at least she got right to the point. He liked that in a woman. Even the woman who’d been secretly raising his little boy.

He watched her breath coming fast and furious. “Can you let me up?” he asked in a nice way, with a nice smile, hoping she’d fall for it.

She didn’t. “Why should I let you up? And why should I care that your back might be broken?”

Eli stayed still, the pressure of her boot somewhere near his spleen reminding him that he wasn’t dealing with a girly-girl here. Gena Malone meant business. But then, so did he.

He carefully ticked off the facts inside his head, just to calm himself so he wouldn’t do something stupid like grab her and pin her down, tie her up, then rush to his son’s side.

Gena Malone Thornton. Thirty and widowed. Husband was a CHAIM agent who had been killed somewhere in Europe doing his duty for the Christian organization three months after they’d gotten married. Gena now lived in Maine in this cottage by the Atlantic Ocean and worked from home as a Web page designer. She also rented out two nearby cottages to make extra money.

While she dared him to move, Eli noticed how pretty she was. Her hair was curly and thick and dark, just like Scotty’s. He couldn’t be sure, but he’d guess her eyes were a deep blue like her brother’s. She looked healthy—more curvy than slender in her jeans and long sweater. And lethal in the protective mama mode, no doubt.

Cut that out, Eli told himself. He wasn’t here to notice the woman. He was here to get his son. And he could easily roll over, grab her by the leg and end this standoff right now. But he wouldn’t do that. He might be lower than a snake’s belly at times, but he wasn’t one to hurt a woman. Even the woman who’d been raising his son.

But he’d have to figure out a way to get through the woman before he could see Scotty, because it was obvious this woman loved his child. And that meant she wouldn’t let Scotty go without a fight. Eli should know; he’d sat in the broom closet for over an hour, watching her with Scotty. He’d just have to charm his way into getting what he’d come here for, he reckoned.

“Okay, let’s start over,” he said as he lifted his head. “I’m Eli Trudeau. I just happened to be in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by to see my son. And you are obviously the lovely, mysterious Gena. Since Devon handpicked you to raise the boy, you can’t be all bad.”

Her boot put a little more pressure on his stomach. “And since he and I made a promise to each other to keep Scotty safe because he didn’t trust you to raise him, you can’t be all that good.”

“Ouch, that hurt.” Eli used humor to hide the real hurt her words inflicted and thought to himself that maybe she was right. “I’ve changed,” he said, trying to hold up his hands in defense. “Honestly.”

“How did you get in?” she asked, not moving and obviously not convinced. “Because I don’t recall inviting you and because I have a pretty good alarm system.”

“Part of the training,” he shot back. “Your system wasn’t good enough to stop me. What does it matter? I’m here now and we’ve been properly introduced, so could I have a cup of coffee at least? And maybe a sandwich? I’m sure hungry.”

She pressed her boot against bone while she mulled over that request. But she sighed. “I’m going to let you up, because I believe underneath that black heart you have a good soul. But if you try anything, you just might live to regret it.”

“I believe you, chère,” he said. “I won’t cause any trouble. I don’t want to upset the boy.”

She lifted her foot. “Get up very slowly.”

Eli did as she told him, biding his time for now. He stared up at the woman who’d just brought him down with a single swift move, his gaze slamming into hers as she gave him a look that floored him more than any physical moves ever could. It was a look full of anger and fear, a look that told him he might have to rethink taking the child away from the mother.

“Nice to meet you, Gena,” he said, shooting her one of his winning smiles. “Can we talk?”

Gena circled him, her hands on her hips. “That depends. Do you think you can behave like a civilized human being?”

“Never tried that, but I reckon now’s a good time to start, oui?”

She leaned over him, her long hair falling like black ribbons across her blue wool sweater. “I would suggest you be very careful. I have lots of weapons in this house and I know how to use all of them. You might have figured out how to turn off the alarm system, but you won’t be able to figure out how to trick me, understand?”

Eli held up his hands in defeat, even though he was pretty sure she had no weapons. “Okay, I got it. We’ll both make nice…for the boy’s sake.” Then he gave her what he hoped was a sincere stare because he meant what he was saying. “For my son’s sake.”

Gena reached out her hand to him. Eli took it and felt the pull of her strength all the way to his bones, along with what might be called an electric charge of awareness that reminded him of the mists he used to see in the marshes back in Louisiana. But he was so cold and stiff from hiding in that freezing closet that he couldn’t be sure. He hated the cold.

“I’ll make coffee and food,” she said, her eyes never leaving his face as she backed up toward the counter. Then she pointed to one of the high-backed chairs by the table. “Sit. And don’t make me regret this.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Eli said with a salute. “It’s sure gonna be a long night.”

She slammed cabinet doors and opened drawers. “You should have considered that before breaking into my home.”

“I should have considered a whole lot of things,” Eli retorted. “Especially you. Most especially you.”

She turned and nodded. “You got that right, Disciple.” Giving him a look that dismissed him, she added, “So you just sit right there and think this thing through before you make any more stupid mistakes.”

He couldn’t come up with a reply for that one. Finally, he said, “I watched you with the boy earlier.”

She hissed a breath as she went still. “For how long?”

“Long enough. You need a comfortable chair in that closet.” He shrugged. “Make the coffee and then we’ll have a long talk. And I won’t try anything…uh…stupid.”

She whirled around, silent and stealth, a bit shaken—and very intimidating for a woman—while Eli remembered the first time he’d seen his son about an hour ago. His heart had hammered with each breath as he’d sat silent and still inside the tiny broom closet, the words screaming inside his head forcing him to inhale with slow, deliberate calculation. I have a son. I have a son.

When the time was right, he would make his move. Until then…well…Eli was learning patience. And sitting in that closet had given him plenty of time to practice it.

He’d been tired and cold and starving for a good meal when he’d broken in earlier, but he’d been starving for any glimpse of his son even more. So he’d reset the alarm, then waited and watched until he’d heard them arriving through the back door in a gush of freezing fresh air, their happy laughter tearing at his gut like a fish knife as Gena had looked around after her son giggled.

“What’s so funny?” she asked. Eli was amazed at how such a swelling of maternal love filled her eyes each time she looked at Scotty.

“You are, Mommy,” Scotty said, thick dark curls spraying out of control across his forehead. “You were humming.”

“Was I?” Gena asked, turning to hand Scotty his mug of hot chocolate. “I don’t recall. What was I humming?”

Scotty blew on the marshmallow Gena dropped into his hot chocolate, then grabbed an oatmeal cookie from the plate she had set on the small oak breakfast table.

“That song you like—from the Christmas play at church,” Scotty replied just before he slurped his drink.

“What Child Is This?” Eli had recognized the song when he’d heard her humming it.

Gena squinted, then nodded. “I guess I was. It’s one of my all-time favorites.” She sat down beside her son, ran her fingers through his unruly curls, then took a bite of cookie. “I like that particular song because it was playing the night…the night you came into my life.”

Scotty grinned. “I’m a December baby, right?”

“Right you are.” Gena glanced at the magnetic calendar on the refrigerator. “You have a birthday coming up, too, don’t you?”

Scotty bobbed his head. “Four more days. I like having my birthday on Christmas Eve. Me and Jesus get to celebrate together.”

Gena laughed at that innocent comparison, while Eli, alternatively sweating and freezing in the closet, held his eyes tightly shut so he could tamp down the pain. He’d missed his son’s birth.

“Jesus was born in a manger on a very special night. That’s what the hymn I like is all about.”

“He came to save us from our sins,” Scotty said, reciting what he’d obviously learned in Sunday school. Then the very astute little boy asked, wide-eyed and curious, “What did I come to do, Mommy?”

Eli’s breath hissed as he heard his son’s innocent question. Restraining himself, he sent up another prayer for quiet and patience. Lydia Cantrell, soon to be Lydia Malone when she became the wife of his friend and fellow CHAIM associate Devon Malone, had shown Eli how to pray. She’d also shown him how to forgive. He was still working on both.

But hearing his son speak brought out all of Eli’s long-held resentment—resentment toward his grandfather, toward his well-meaning friend Devon and toward God. I should have been here, Eli thought as he watched the woman and the boy. I should have been here. He shifted, his calf muscles screaming as he sat crouched in his hiding spot. The mother had told the child to change for bed, but the boy, his son, hadn’t wanted to go just yet. He watched as they’d gone about their business—normal and loving and cozy. Eli was so tired of watching.

Gena made coffee for the man she had dreaded seeing for close to six years. And yet, she’d known he’d come one day. She’d felt it in her bones all winter long.

“Mommy!”

Gena’s gaze locked with Eli’s as she heard her son cry out. “I have to go to him. He’s always hard to get to sleep.”

Eli nodded, his expression solemn and unyielding. “I’ll wait right here.”

“You won’t—”

“I won’t do anything to upset either of you. I’ll just get some of that good-smelling coffee.” He nodded his head toward the hallway. “Go on now.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, Gena hurried upstairs to Scotty’s room, thinking that when she’d tucked Scotty in earlier, Eli had been hiding here the whole time. He had been right here, watching them. To keep herself from going into hysterics now while Eli’s gaze followed her, she remembered her sweet son and how their nightly ritual had become so special, even if she did have to struggle with Scotty every night.

Rushing into his room, she found him sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“I had a bad dream.”

Gena wished she was just having a bad dream, but this nightmare was very real. “It’s okay. Try to go back to sleep.”

“Can’t I stay up and watch you work?”

“No, and I don’t want to fight with you,” Gena said as she tucked the cover back around him. “It’s bedtime whether you like it or not. Now try to rest.”

Scotty turned to her with a cute pout. “But soon it’ll be winter break, remember?”

“I do remember,” Gena replied, using her best stern mother tone. “But for now, it’s late and we had a big night practicing for the Christmas play. It’s already past your bedtime.” And your father is downstairs probably trying to figure out how to take you from me.

“I don’t wanna,” Scotty said, his arms wrapped against his flannel action figure-inspired pajamas. “I’m not tired.”

“Scotty, you’re going to stay in bed,” Gena retorted, thinking it was mighty hard to resist her son’s boyish charms. For just a fleeting moment, she wondered if Scotty got that from his real father. Eli’s face flashed through her mind, reminding her of the constant worries that never left her thoughts now that he knew about his son. Those worries had tripled over the last hour. What did Eli think about his son, now that he’d seen him? And when would he make his move? Because she was sure he was going to do just that.

Based on what her brother Devon had told her, Eli, known as the Disciple, known to be a hot-headed Cajun, known to break all the rules, would show up here one day to not only see his son, but probably also to take him home to Louisiana. Now he was here; now that could happen. Gena closed her eyes, wondering how she’d react if Eli insisted on taking her son away. Scotty was her child now. He would always be hers. And she’d fight anyone who tried to dispute that. Even the mysterious, handsome man sitting in her kitchen. Especially that man.

“Are you saying a prayer, Mommy?” Scotty asked as he tugged on Gena’s sweater. “Are you asking God to make me sleepy?”

Gena opened her eyes, then shook her head. “No, but that’s not a bad idea. Do you feel sleepy yet?”

“Kinda,” he said as he flopped back and then burrowed underneath the navy blue train-embellished comforter. “Will you read to me?”

“Don’t I always?” Gena replied. She picked up several of his favorite books. “But only a couple of stories. I have to get some work done before I can go to bed myself, because unlike you, I am tired and sleepy.”

She was far from sleepy, but she was very tired of always having to watch her back, of always wondering when the worse would come. Dear God, help me. Help me.

Gena read to him for a few minutes, noticing that he’d finally settled back down. Glancing over at him, she said, “You have droopy eyes, little man.”

Scotty sank back on his pillows. “Christmas will be here soon, won’t it?”

Gena kissed the top of his head. “Sooner, if you go to sleep. Now say your prayers and you’ll wake up in a good mood.”

She sat there, holding Scotty’s hand in hers as she watched the snow falling softly just outside his checkered flannel curtains, her serenity shattered, her loneliness as cold and solid as the winter frost that clutched at her soul. She couldn’t fall apart now. Scotty needed her to be strong. Eli needed her to be strong, too, whether he realized that or not.

Dear God, help me. Help me to prepare for the worst.

Gena’s late husband, Richard, and her brother, Devon, both members of the elite Christian organization known as CHAIM, had taught her to always follow her instincts, to listen, to watch, to wait. To expect the best, but prepare for the worst. And right now, her instincts were shouting at her. She felt uneasy and at odds as she stared out into the snow-blanketed woods. She repeated her prayers as she kissed Scotty’s forehead.

Help me to expect the best, while I prepare for the worst. I know he’s hurting, Lord. Help me to help him. Please don’t let him take my son.

Gena left her son only to find Eli waiting for her as she came back into the kitchen, that same fervent prayer racing through her mind.

“Is he okay?”

The quiet question left her even more confused. “He’s fine. I think he’s just excited about Christmas.”

When Eli didn’t respond, she whirled to find him staring at her, his eyes dark with a sad longing that tugged at her heart.

He sat like stone, his onyx eyes following her as she silently made him a sandwich. She didn’t know why she was making him a sandwich. It just seemed like the right thing to do. Then she almost giggled. The man who’d come thousands of miles to break into her house and take her son had requested a sandwich. Maybe she was entertaining an angel unaware.

Then again, maybe not.

“I hate this cold,” Eli said to break the static of the silence. He could hear her breathing, could hear the knife slicing across the bread and meat as she fixed things pretty on the plate. She was probably thinking about how to fix things pretty by jabbing that same knife in his heart.

“I like the cold,” she said as she sat the plate in front of him, then brought him a fresh cup of coffee. “It makes me feel safe.”

Eli grunted a retort as he inhaled the first bite of the big sandwich. The bread was hearty and homemade, the roast beef fresh and thinly sliced. But the cold only reminded him of his time in Ireland. Cold and damp, dark and desolate. He’d been in exile away from everything and everyone, an exile in his physical being and a deep, dark exile in his own mind. And that whole time, his son had been in exile, too, here in this remote little fishing village in Maine.

“I can hear the ocean hitting the rocks,” he said between chews. “This water is different from my ocean.” That eternal pounding echoed the pounding of his heart as it crashed against his chest.

“I’ve never been to Louisiana,” she replied as she finally sat down across from him with her own cup of coffee. “And why are we making small talk?”

He took a long drink, the hot liquid burning his throat while her eyes burned him with an intense heat. But he made sure his next words were as soft and sweet as the marshmallows she’d left open on the table. “Oh, we’ve got plenty of time to talk about why I’m here, darlin’. ’Cause I’m not leaving until we have an understanding.”

She slammed her cup down so hard that coffee sloshed out on the table. “What kind of understanding?”

Eli polished off the last of the food, then leaned forward, his hands on the table, his smile patient and calm. “Like I told you earlier, chère—I’ve come for my son. And I’m not leaving here without him.”

TWO

“Why are you doing this, Eli? Why didn’t you just ring the doorbell like a normal human being?”

Shadows colored his face as his voice went low and grainy. “Haven’t you heard? I’m not like other people.”

Gena hid the mortal fear beating like a ship’s broken sail inside her heart. “What were you planning to do? Just grab him up in the middle of the night? Kidnap a little boy who doesn’t even know you exist?”

His eyes went as black as a moonless night. “I should have done that, because your brother and you plotted the same thing when he was born. You didn’t give me a say in the matter back then, so why should I be so kind and understanding now?”

Gena held to the warmth of her coffee cup, listening as the wind picked up outside. The tick-tock of the old grandfather clock in the hallway seemed to echo a warning through the still house, while the lights on the Christmas tree in the living room sparkled and twinkled right on cue. “Eli, we did what we had to do to protect Scotty. We didn’t know how you’d react. You were in bad shape.”

His expression grew stony as he kept his eyes on her. “Let’s recap. Devon held up our mission in South America because he was worried about me, worried that I couldn’t finish the job after I went out on my own. But the mission went bad when we were compromised and a young girl was killed. I only wanted to be home in time for my child’s birth, but someone wanted me dead.” He stopped, his hand going flat on the table. “That someone—my own grandfather—came after my wife and my unborn child to punish me. I went berserk and tried to find them, but I was too late.”

Gena watched as he lowered his head and swallowed. “I was too late.” The pain etched on his face spoke of just exactly how far off the deep end he’d gone. But when he looked back up at her, he wore a mask of calm. “Because of that, I got sent to a retreat—to rest and regroup—as my superiors put it. Trapped in a desolate place while my pregnant wife lay in a coma. She died, Gena, but not before the baby was delivered. Devon decided to take the baby. My baby. I should have been told the truth. I should have had the chance to decide for myself.”

Gena blinked back the tears forming in her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Eli. I know how it feels to lose someone you love.”

“I’m sure you do. But do you know how it feels to be deceived and tricked by everyone you trusted?”

Gena shook her head. “Devon thought he was helping you by protecting your son.”

He leaned forward. “I should have been the one protecting the boy. That’s why I’m here now. I’m so afraid someone will come after him again.” He sank back in his chair. “The way they did my wife.”

Gena trembled at that thought. “Have you heard something? Tell me, Eli.”

He shrugged. “It’s just a feeling, chère.”

Gena’s pulse burned a beat through her temple. “You can’t just come in here and say that. What do you know?”

“More than I knew back then,” he retorted. “I know I have a son and now I’m going to take care of him, no matter what CHAIM thinks.”

Figuring he was just trying to scare her, Gena reminded herself that she’d been the one watching over Scotty for a long time now. “And what would you have done back then, if you’d known? I think I can answer that. You went out on a vigilante mission and no one could locate you. And by the time they’d found you, it was too late. You were in no shape to do anything, and if you’d known, you would have come back—”

“Back to my wife and my child,” he finished. “You don’t know what I went through.”

“I think I do,” she said, compassion softening her words. “I lost my husband to CHAIM, remember?” She could talk of pain and longing, but she wouldn’t give him any more ammunition to use against her. “That kind of pain paralyzes a person. You almost went mad with grief and anger. Devon wanted to protect you and Scotty. Maybe his motives weren’t pure and maybe his reasoning was out of whack, but his heart was on your side. He agonized over his decision, but he was trying to help.”

Eli slammed his hand down hard against the table. “You and Devon have no idea what agony is. No idea at all.”

Gena didn’t know how to reach him. Since the cold night her brother had called her all those years ago asking her to take in Scotty, she’d heard all about the Cajun from Louisiana. She knew the Disciple was the most dangerous of the whole CHAIM team, knew he hadn’t joined CHAIM so much as a true believer, but as someone who only wanted to measure up to his absent father’s heroic status. He’d only wanted to prove to his bitter grandfather that he was worthy. But Eli’s heart had never been centered on the true cause of CHAIM, to help and protect Christians in danger through amnesty, intervention and ministry. Eli lived for the danger, but from what she’d heard, he sure didn’t seem to live to serve Christ.

“Eli,” she said, hoping to make him understand, “you’ve come so far. You survived a near-breakdown, a gunshot wound from your grandfather and…Lydia told me you’ve been studying your Bible and trying to find God’s love in your life. So why are you doing this?”

He sat like a giant statue, his face chiseled in rock, his eyes shining with the hardness of unearthed coal. “I want my son with me. I never had the luxury of a father growing up. I want him with me, no matter what.”

Gena cupped her hands together as if in prayer. “Do you hear yourself? No matter what? What does that mean, exactly? That you’ll do whatever it takes to just pull him away from me, without any consideration for his feelings or mine? Did you even bother to think this through? Does Devon know you’re here?”

“Devon has no right to stop me.” He leaned back, frustration coloring his tanned skin as he raked a hand over his dark shaggy hair. “And let me see if I can answer your questions to your satisfaction. Number one—I’ve had plenty of time to consider everyone’s feelings in this situation, including my own. Number two—I’ve had nothing else to think about since the night my grandfather died and I got shot—the night your brother informed me that I had a son. And number three—Dev does not know I’m here. That man is busy planning his wedding to Lydia. Why bother him with all the details of my torment and my shame?”

Gena put her hands on the table. “I need to call him.”

Eli had her hands in his before she could get out of the chair and to the phone. “Do not call your brother. This is between me and you. Here, right now. That’s why I left without telling him.”

“You didn’t tell him because you know what he would have said.”

“You’re right there, belle. I don’t have to take orders from Devon Malone.” He held her hands in his with an iron grip, but it wasn’t a cruel hold. More like a plea for her to stop. “I’m not going to do anything to hurt you or the boy. I just wanted to…see him.” His hands went soft over hers. “I just wanted to see him and make sure he was safe.”

Tears pricked at Gena’s eyes. She could see the love Eli had for Scotty there in the shadows around his dark eyes. She knew that same fierce love inside her heart. And she had no right to Scotty, no legal right. Eli could take him by force, or he could just take him. Period. How could she fight that? Worse, how could she fight the pain and torment this man had felt for the last few years? For all of his life.

“I won’t call Devon yet,” she finally said, the heat from his hands making her too aware of him. “But I can’t let you take Scotty away from me. I can’t. I love him so much. Please think about this. You can sleep on the couch tonight, and we’ll talk again in the morning. But understand I’ll be guarding him all night long.”

She watched as his soul went into war. Gena could see it all there like a storm cloud on his face, the pain, the shame, the anger and then as the deep slashes of fatigue caught up with him, the resolve. “You don’t have to guard the boy from me, catin. I am not a thief in the night. I’m just a father who wants to…know his son.”

“I understand that and I want that for you,” she said, a shudder of deep relief sliding down her spine. “If you’d like to stay here in Captive Cove for a while, I can let you have one of the other cottages. There’s a small one right next door. It’s yours for as long as you want.”

“How about for a lifetime?” he said, the words a harsh whisper.

Gena didn’t know how to respond to that question. This man was so different from anyone she’d ever met. He was like the night, dark and mysterious and dangerous. His clipped Cajun accent and the way he spoke the English language with such a colloquial French twist, made her heart do funny little things. Lydia had warned her about Eli. Not about the dangers inside the man, but about the vulnerable darkness that he tried so hard to hide. It was there now in his eyes, in his expression, in the way he sat staring at her like a caged, wounded animal.

And she had always had a soft spot for hurt creatures of any kind. “Eli, you can stay and get to know your son, but on my terms. All right?”

“Do I have any other choice?” he said, getting up to stalk to the sink. “Captive Cove! Now that is a fitting name for this place if ever there was one.” Then he turned and came to tower over her. “But you need to understand one thing yourself. I’m only doing this your way for the boy’s sake. Got that?”

She bobbed her head. “We can agree on that, at least.”

He lifted a hand in the air. “Just give me the key to the cottage. I don’t want to stay in here.” He shrugged. “If he wakes up and finds me here, he’ll have questions. Questions that should have been answered years ago.”

Gena felt that jab toward her life here with Scotty hitting her with ice-pick precision. He resented her, but he had to tolerate her in order to see his son. She didn’t know why that should hurt so much, but it did.

“I’ll get the key,” she said. “You’ll find everything you need in the cottage—linens, some food staples, coffee and wood for a fire. We can get the rest when this storm clears up. Until then, you’re welcome to have your meals here. And we’ll explain things to Scotty after he’s had time to get to know you.”

He pulled his gaze away from her to stare out the window. “When will this weather clear?”

“I’m not sure. The weatherman predicted a lot of snow. It could be tomorrow or days from now.”

He rolled his eyes, indignant with this confinement. Eli Trudeau was not a man to be locked away or shut inside. He looked like he belonged out in nature, walking, hunting, stalking, staring at the moon. He had a heart of the night.

Gena prayed she could bring some light into his battered soul.

Eli pushed his head back against the soft pillows on the old four-poster bed, then closed his eyes, memories of Leah moving like wind through his tired mind. He could see her there walking along the bayou behind their little house, her long blond hair falling away from her face, her hand on her already-protruding belly as she smiled down at the child she carried. But that vision was quickly replaced by the one he couldn’t keep out of his mind, the one he could only imagine because he hadn’t been there—the sight of his beautiful wife lying in a sterile hospital room hooked up to wires and tubes so that their child could stay alive long enough to be born.

Eli jerked his head up, wiping his eyes as if to get rid of the horror of that image. Staring into the crackling fire across the room, he thought, Do you know how much I loved you, chérie? Do you know that I would have fought all of them just to be by your side?

Too late now for that. But not too late for a chance to be a father to his son. And so he waited, hearing the clock strike midnight, hearing the gentle falling of snow all around the little house and the falling of the last burned log in the grate, hearing the ocean crashing madly against the shore. He waited and watched and listened as if he were on the most dangerous mission of his life. And maybe he was. He just had a bad feeling, a very bad feeling about things.

He wouldn’t sleep. He knew that. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a good night’s sleep. Eli found no peace in his dreams or in his waking hours.

He’d traveled thousands of miles just to find his son, but his soul had traveled a long and rocky road just to find a little redemption. He’s seen that redemption tonight, shining like a beacon in his son’s dark eyes.

“Scotty,” he said out loud. “What kind of name is that?” He tested it. “Scotty Trudeau.”

Did they even let him go by the name Trudeau? Probably not. Scotty Malone? “Scotty,” he said again into the darkness of the neat, comfortable room. The name echoed like a child’s giggle against the walls.

Outside the wind howled and laughed, mocking Eli’s attempts to wrap his mind around fatherhood. It was bitter cold, but he felt a hot sweat moving over his body like a fever. He gripped the patterned quilt on the bed, wondering if he was going back into that dark place inside his own head again.

“Can’t go there,” he reminded himself. “They’d force me to go back to Ireland.” And he was not going back there, ever. How the Shepherd lived there was beyond Eli’s comprehension, but at least his friend and fellow CHAIM agent had been kind when Eli had tried every trick in the book to break out of the ancient stronghold that had held him captive for months. “Retreat? More like a padded, emerald-green prison.”

Pushing that time and those memories out of his mind, Eli tried to pray. He’d promised Lydia he would pray each time he got an urge to do something stupid—like leave New Orleans and come all the way up the coast in the middle of winter to see his son and make sure he was safe and sound. But his prayers were more of a haphazard merging of words. Help. Hurt. Anger. Pain. Scotty. Scotty. Leah. Gena. Help me. Help them. Lord, help us all.

Gena. She hated him. He had felt that hatred like clouds of swamp mosquitoes whirling around them earlier when she’d handed him the keys to this cozy cottage. And how could he blame her? She might hate him, but she surely loved his son. Her son.

His son.

“What now?” he asked himself. “How are you going to get out of this one?”

His cell phone rang. Not many had his number, so he figured this was urgent. When he saw Lydia’s number flashing, he let out a sigh, then answered. “Chère, you are for sure like an old mother hen.”

“Only because I love you,” Lydia Cantrell said in her drawling Georgia accent. “Eli, Kissie called. She said you took off without saying goodbye, and she doesn’t know where you went. Please tell me you didn’t—”

“I didn’t do anything crazy,” he said, knowing what she was asking. And because he couldn’t lie to Lydia, he said, “I’m in Maine, ma petite. I’ve seen the boy.”

She whispered a soft prayer. “Oh, Eli. Why didn’t you let us know you were going? You didn’t scare Scotty, did you? You didn’t do anything you’ll regret, right?”

“I told you, it’s cool. Everything is okay, except this infernal cold and snow. I hate cold and snow.”

But Lydia was beyond listening to his complaints and well into her interrogation mode. The woman would have made a great CHAIM agent. “You didn’t try to take him from Gena, did you?”

Skipping the part about disarming the alarm system and waiting in the broom closet, he said, “I thought about it, but Gena put me on my back and pinned me down until I cried ‘uncle.’”

“Good for her. You know, she’s trained in self-defense.”

“You don’t say? It’s all right now, though. We talked pretty for a while and now I’m as cozy as a kitten in my little cottage by the sea.” He shivered as he said that, his gaze hitting the dying embers of the fire.

“I hope so. Devon doesn’t know I’m calling you, but I’ll have to tell him. And I want to tell him you’re being a gentleman. You promised me if you ever went to Maine, you’d only go to visit Scotty.”

“I’ve been known to break my promises, oui?”

“You won’t break this one,” Lydia said in her smug, proud Lydia way. “I know you won’t.”

“You know me so well then?”

“I think I do. You want to make your son proud. You can do this, Eli. I’m praying you will.”

“You might want to save those prayers, catin. I’m not doing so good right now.” He pinched his nose. “I want my son.”

“Eli, don’t talk like that. Think about how you’d confuse Scotty. You can’t do that. He’s a little boy. He doesn’t understand. You have to take this slow.”

“He doesn’t know his father.”

“It’s hard, I know,” she said, “but…you have to be very careful. You have to give Gena time to accept that you’re there. And you have to be gentle with Scotty, okay?”

“I’m not a gentle man. And I’m not a gentleman.”

“But you can be, you big brute. You can be. Will you try, for me?”

Eli got up to pace around the bedroom. “Ah, now, don’t go laying that on me, Lydia. You know you are one of the few to sway my cold, hard heart.”

“Then consider this my way of swaying,” she said. “Do I need to call Devon and put him on you?”

“Non. I can’t take his lectures tonight.”

“Okay, then. We have an understanding. You are going to be a good father, Eli. No, make that a great father. I have faith in that. But first, you have to learn what being a father is all about.”

Eli swallowed back the pride of hearing that from such a true Christian woman. “Why do you fight for me, Lydia?”

“Because you fought for me once, remember?”

“More like, I fought against you, trying to save your life.”

“You did save my life and now it’s my turn to save yours. I’m going to say prayers for you right now. Oh, and you’d better be here for our wedding in February.”

“That is one promise I will keep. Sweet dreams, mon amie,” Eli said. “Tell Devon he is a lucky man.”

“He’s a blessed man,” Lydia countered. “There’s a difference.”

Eli hung up with a smile, thinking she always had to have the last word.

“And I’m a blessed man, too, for knowing you,” he said. But it would sure be hard living up to Lydia’s sweet expectations.

Eli went to the big window next to the bed and opened the heavy curtain. He could see a single light burning upstairs in the big cottage where his son was sleeping. He wondered what it would be like to live there with Scotty, to watch his son laugh and cry, to play catch in the backyard, to go fishing out in that deep water. What would it be like to be a real father to Scotty?

“Only one way to find out,” Eli said, smiling for the first time in a long time.

At least he knew Scotty was safe here tonight. That meant a lot to him even if he did resent his son being here. But what about tomorrow or the next day?

As he watched the house, a massive cloud moved over the water and turned the night a dark, moonless gray, causing shadows to dance against the tall trees and craggy rocks. A shudder clutched his spine like spider webs, sticky and unbreakable, trapping him with a new kind of fear. A little prickle of awareness and apprehension caused the hairs on his neck to stand up. He went from fatigued and worn out to wide awake and on full alert.

What if Eli’s worries came to pass? What if Scotty wasn’t safe here? What then?

THREE

“Look out your kitchen window.”

Eli stood in the small den, watching the house across the snow-covered yard. When Gena appeared looking wary and surprised at the window a few feet away, he waved to her. “Is the boy up yet?”

“He has a name,” she said, her voice low. “You can’t keep calling him the boy, you know.”

“Is my son up yet?” Eli retorted, his voice gravelly. He had not slept well, but then he never slept well.

“He’s getting dressed for school.”

“I’ll take him. Give me directions.”

“No, you will not take him. You’re a stranger to him, Eli. Just give me some time to figure out how to handle this.”

Eli let out a sigh, his eyes scanning the yard. In the light of a crisp white morning, this place looked serene and peaceful, as if it’d been purposely set up for a Christmas card. But it hadn’t seemed that way late in the wee hours when he’d seen every shadow and shape as something sinister and dangerous. He didn’t like this antsy feeling that had brought him here, but he was glad he’d followed his instincts.

“I’m coming over,” he said, disconnecting and moving away from the window before she could respond. He did turn in time to see the frustration on her face.

Let her be frustrated. He wanted to get to know his son, but more importantly, he wanted to protect his son. Because he hadn’t been there when his wife and child had needed him the most. That reality ate at him day and night, always. But he was here now.

Closing his eyes to the dark, swirling memories, Eli took another swig of coffee and wished he had some strong Louisiana coffee instead. This brew would have to suffice for now. He grabbed his coat and headed out across the crunchy snow, noticing the vulnerability of this quiet cove. A sheer drop of cliffs off into a frigid ocean on one side and a copse of trees that blocked the view to the road on the other. Not good, not good at all. He felt an urgent need to get his son out of here, but he reminded himself Scotty had been safe here for six years.

But that didn’t matter in Eli’s eyes. He’d heard some rumblings when he’d been down in New Orleans recovering from being shot. Since the news of his grandfather’s involvement in a South American drug cartel had come to light this summer, he’d felt deep in his bones that more trouble was on the way. His instincts had never let him down before, not even after Leah had disappeared six years ago and he’d gone off the deep end. Not even after CHAIM officials had forced him to go into confinement in Ireland for a few years to cool off and get his head straight, and not after he’d left and come home only to find out someone wanted him dead. That someone had been his own estranged grandfather. His instincts had been right on all those accounts, starting with the bad feeling he’d gotten when the team had first hit the ground in South America all those years ago. And things had gone very wrong down there. Eli had the distinct feeling that the situation still wasn’t all cleaned up and tidied.

The Peacemaker would have seen to that.

Even though the Peacemaker was dead and buried and his South American crime group dissolved, the man had probably left henchmen everywhere to carry on his dirty deeds. And if the Peacemaker’s cohorts had any inkling that he had a great-grandson…well, Eli didn’t want to think about that. What if someone, somewhere, was just biding time, waiting to make a move on him or his child?

Maybe Dev was right, he thought as he knocked on the front door. As long as Eli had been out of the picture and tucked away in that retreat in Ireland, Scotty had been relatively safe. But once Eli had reappeared on the CHAIM radar last summer, he’d also set himself up for retribution from past enemies because he’d never been one to win friends and influence people. And now that meant his son could become a target. Somehow, he’d have to make Gena see that Scotty was better off with him.

But when she opened the door hard enough to shake the bright red ribbon on the fragrant evergreen wreath, a brooding frown on her pretty oval face, Eli got the impression that Gena wouldn’t listen to any worries he might have.

Gena was fully prepared to slam the door back in Eli’s too-good-looking-for-his-own-good face, but knowing her son was about to come barreling down the stairs, she didn’t do that. This was Scotty’s father, after all. And in spite of her sleepless night, Scotty and Eli both deserved a chance to get to know each other.

“What did you tell him?” Eli said as he muscled past her, then pivoted to glare at her. “I mean, about his father? Does he even ask?”

Gena glanced upstairs, then motioned toward the kitchen. “I never lied to him, if that’s what you’re asking. I have always told him that his father had to go away and that he might not be able to come back.” She looked down at the floor. “He held out hope, I think, that one day he would see his father.”

Eli thumped his fingers on the newel post. “Well, guess what, catin, I’m here now. Time to confess all.”

Gena’s heart did a little pulsing jump. “Eli, please?”

Before she could plead her case, Scotty called out, “I’m hungry, Mom. Did you make pancakes?”

Gena stopped in the entryway, her gaze locking with Eli’s. “Not now,” she whispered.

Then Scotty appeared at the top of the stairs, backpack in hand, his hair rumpled as usual. “Who’s that?”

Gena watched as Scotty sized up the big man standing near the stairs and she also watched Eli’s face transform from a scowling mask of restraint and resolve to a genuine smile of curiosity and awe. And she saw a sudden solid terror in those usually fearless eyes, too.

“This is—”

“I’m Eli Trudeau,” Eli said, lifting a hand toward Scotty, his voice verging on shaky. “I’m a…friend…your Uncle Devon knows me.”

Scotty dropped his backpack and raced down the stairs. “Did you know he’s marrying Miss Lydia? I love Miss Lydia. She sends me things—books, CDs, candy. She’s so funny. Have you heard her accent? She talks slow ’cause she’s from Georgia. I’m gonna be in their wedding.”

Gena watched Eli’s face light up. Wow, the man could be a real lady-killer if he worked at it. Shaking that notion right out of her head, she concentrated instead on trying to decide how to explain Eli’s presence to her son. “Scotty, aren’t you forgetting your manners? Can’t you say hello at least.”

“Hello,” Scotty said, looking sheepish and shy. Then, “Do you know Miss Lydia?”

Eli bent down to eye level with Scotty, then reached out to give him a robust handshake. “Nice to finally meet you, Scotty,” he said, with emphasis on the finally. “I sure do know Miss Lydia. She is the nicest, kindest, most caring person I’ve ever met.”

Gena could tell Eli actually meant those words and that gave her a sense of hope for his bruised soul.

“She’s fun, is all I know,” Scotty said with a shrug. “Are you from Georgia? ’Cause you sound funny like Miss Lydia.”

Eli stood as Scotty rushed by, headed for the kitchen. Then he called, “I’m from Louisiana. Way down south.”

Gena inclined her head. “Better hurry if you want pancakes.”

Eli nodded, then held her arm, his head down as he spoke in a soft whisper. “He’s so…incredible.”

“I know,” she said, tears piercing her eyes. “That’s why I need you to give me some time.”

Eli put his hands in the pocket of his jeans, then lifted his chin toward the kitchen. “I’ve got lots of time. All the time in the world. And I plan on using it to get to know my son.” He stood still for a minute, his gaze moving over her face, then back toward the other room. “But not right now. I can’t…not right now.”

Then he turned and rushed out the front door. For a minute, Gena couldn’t move. She felt trapped between the duty of protecting her son and a mother’s love. And she felt trapped by the brilliant shards of happiness and longing she’d seen in Eli’s eyes right before the panic and the doubt had taken over. Thinking she should go after him, she started for the door.

Then Scotty called out to her. “Mom, I can’t find the syrup.” The phone rang, its shrill tone reminding her that she had a job to do and a son to take care of. No time to feel sorry for the man who’d come here to mess with her life.

Gena stared at the door, then turned to go and help her son, grabbing the cordless phone as she moved through the house.

Eli stood out on the craggy rocks, facing the brisk wind coming in off the gray, churning waters of the Atlantic. He was cold, a gentle shiver moving up and down his body. But the shiver wasn’t from the frigid air hitting his wet face. It was from a dark fear battering his soul.

Wiping at his eyes, he whispered to the wind. “I’m not good enough for that boy, Lord. Not nearly good enough to even lay claim to him.”

He closed his eyes, reliving those precious moments when his son had come down the stairs. Eli’s heart had pounded with pride and awe even while it pumped with trepidation.

“Help me,” he whispered, his words disappearing as the wind carried them out to sea.

Lydia had told him to turn to God when he was afraid or when he thought he might want to seek revenge or retribution. But there was no retribution here. No way to make up for the losses that boy and he had suffered. Scotty would never know his mother’s beautiful smile even though he had the same smile. He’d never hear her pretty Southern drawl. He’d never be able to hug her close and call her “Mommy.” And Eli would never have her in his arms again. Never. But he had his son now. If he could face the tremendous responsibility of that.

“Help me.”

That was the only prayer his trembling lips could form. So he just stood there, frozen and unyielding, staring out at that harsh, brutal water, tears falling like melting snowflakes down his face.

Until he felt a hand on his arm.

“Eli, come inside and let me make you some coffee.”

He jerked away, then turned to stare at Gena. Her dark hair lifted around her face, her eyes were wide with worry. She clutched his arm, her expression full of a sympathy that just about did him in.

“I’m afraid,” he admitted. “I’m so afraid of him.”

Gena moved closer. “He’s just a little boy. But it is scary, being a parent. It’s the kind of love that holds your heart so tightly…well…it’s just hard to imagine life without your child.”

He turned to her then, understanding piercing the cold wall of his heart. “I came here not knowing, not thinking about that. But now I get it. Fools rush in—”

“Where angels fear to tread,” Gena finished.

He touched her hand on his arm, his fingers covering hers. “I’m sorry. So sorry.”

Then he saw the tears forming in her eyes. “It’s okay. You have a right to know your child. I only ask that you be patient with us. And we’ll try to do the same with you.”

He faced the ocean again. “I’m normally not a patient man.”

“I can tell,” she said, her smile indulgent. “Your son has inherited that particular trait, I think.”

That made him smile. “I pray he hasn’t inherited my other bad traits.”

“Time will tell, won’t it?”

She shivered as the wind picked up.

“Let’s get you inside,” he said, turning to take her by the hand.

She nodded, following him back up the slope to the house. “I have scrapbooks—it’s a hobby of mine. You’re welcome to look at them. They show our life—from the time Devon brought him to me until now.”

Eli swallowed back the lump in his throat. “I’d like that.”

“C’mon in, then. I’ll brew some fresh coffee and I have some homemade cinnamon rolls. You can take as long as you need.”

Eli followed her up onto the tiny back porch. He needed a lifetime. But for now, he’d take all the precious moments he could get.

It took a few days, but Eli fell into a routine. He didn’t sleep much, but he got up with the sunrise each day to stare over at the cottage across from his own, waiting and sipping coffee until he saw the kitchen light flick on. Then he’d head over to have breakfast with Gena and Scotty, sitting silent and watchful as he absorbed their endearing daily rituals.

After they took Scotty to school, Gena would go about her computer work while Eli would go back to his cottage to look over yet another frilly scrapbook full of pictures of Scotty and Gena.

And what a pretty picture those two made.

Gena decorated each page with cute little captions and colorful cutouts. There were a lot of firsts in those decorative little story boards—first birthday, first Christmas, first tooth, first snowman, first hockey practice. He had missed a lot in the last few years, but these clever picture books told the story of his son’s life. Gena loved Scotty, that was for sure.

And so did Eli.

Now as he trudged through the snow to the cottage, he did a visual surveillance—this, too, had become part of his daily routine. So far, nothing seemed amiss even though Eli still woke in the night with a sense of dread in his soul. But he did notice an SUV parked at the cottage across the way on the other side of Gena’s house. She’d told him a couple was coming to stay through Christmas. Eli wondered who they were and why they’d chosen such a cold, isolated place to have a vacation. Maybe they wanted some alone time.

He didn’t have time to ponder that. His thoughts went back to his son. How did you protect someone when you didn’t know what you were trying to protect him or her from?

He couldn’t answer his own question. The minute he entered the back door, Scotty bombarded him with fast-paced conversation.

“It’s the last day of school, then we get out for the Christmas break,” Scotty told Eli in between bites of fluffy pancakes. “Hey, want to help me build a snowman when I get home today, Mr. Eli?”

“I think I’d like that,” Eli said, wondering how Gena kept up with this little bundle of energy. He always had another adventure to share. “I’ve never built a snowman before.”

“Honest?” Scotty gave him a look of disbelief. “Why not?”

“Well, we don’t get much snow down in Louisiana.”

“I’m learning my states,” Scotty said, moving on to another subject. “But where’s Lous-anna?”

“It’s Louisiana,” Gena corrected from her spot in front of the stove.

Eli gave Scotty an indulgent smile. He’d been careful not to give out information unless the kid asked. “It’s near Texas and the southern part is right on the Gulf of Mexico. That’s where I grew up.”

“That’s big water,” Scotty said with a bob of his head.

Eli watched as the kid’s hair bounced and bobbed, too. “It is big water, very big. I go shrimpin’ in the Gulf a lot whenever I’m home.”

“You don’t stay home much?”

Eli shook his head. “No, not much. I’ve been away a long time now. But I might go back soon.”

“Maybe one day I can come and visit you,” Scotty said on a pragmatic note. “In the summer.”

Gena shot Eli a warning look tinged with fear. Although she seemed to trust him more and more each day, Eli wasn’t fooled. She was still afraid he’d steal her son away in the middle of the night.

“It gets real hot in Louisiana in the summer,” Eli replied, ever careful with his choice of answers. “But you’d be welcome at my door anytime, for sure.”

“I could help you catch shrimp.”

Eli nodded. “My maman used to say ‘Les petites mains fait bien avec les petits ouvrages.’ Little hands do well with little tasks.”

Scotty giggled. “You talk funny.”

Gena placed another batch of pancakes on the table, then sat down. “Eli is Cajun, Scotty, so he’s speaking French. His ancestors left Nova Scotia, Canada, and went all the way to Louisiana many years ago.”

“From one big ocean to another one,” Eli said, his eyes meeting Gena’s. “But that’s a long story.”

“Cool,” Scotty said, draining his milk. “I know where Canada is. We’re near there.”

“For sure,” Eli replied. “One day, I’ll tell you all about my Cajun ancestors. People get the wrong impression about us, so I like to set the record straight.” He gave Gena a long hard look on that note, hoping she’d try to change her impressions of him. Not that he was making it easy on her. But he had tried to back off and play nice.

Scotty looked confused. “Whatcha talking about?”

“I like to tell people about my culture—the good and bad of it,” Eli explained. “It’s not all about wrestling ’gators and talking funny, although I do both.” He winked, then grinned. “Never met a ’gator I couldn’t wrestle.”

Scotty’s dark eye grew wide. “Have you wrestled a really big one?”

“Not more than six feet or so.”

Scotty’s gaze filled with wonder. “Wow.”

Gena put her hand under her chin and gave him a skeptical look. “I didn’t peg you for being so open, Eli. Or so modest.” Her sarcasm was cute and he was getting used to this friendly banter even if it was mostly for his son’s benefit.

He leaned close, pasting on his best charming smile. “Well, maybe you had me pegged all wrong, oui?”

Scotty looked from his mother to Eli. “How’d you guys meet?”

“By accident,” Eli said, seamless and simple.

“How long you gonna stay?”

Eli gave Gena a determined stare. “Well, now, that depends on a whole lot of things.”

Scotty sat still for a minute. “What do you do, Mr. Eli? For work?”

Gena’s head came up and the gloves came off as she stared daggers of warning at him. She’d made it clear in their conversations that she did not want her son involved in CHAIM in any way. And Eli couldn’t blame her.

“I do all kinds of things to make a living,” Eli said, careful to choose the right words. “I travel a lot and help people in trouble.”

“Are we in trouble? I mean you’ve stayed with us longer than most of our other visitors.”

Gena stood and took Scotty’s empty plate. “No, we’re not in trouble, but you will be if you’re late for school. Go brush your teeth and get your coat.”

Scotty got up but stopped in front of Eli. “Are you riding to school with us again?”

“I just might,” Eli said. “If it’s okay with your mom.” He’d already insisted it be okay. He’d made it his business to help get Scotty to school and home each day since that first morning. His fear of trouble had easily overcome his fear of being a father. Or at least, he kept telling himself that.

Gena shrugged. “You’ve been with us every day this week and today is the last day. Why break tradition?”

Eli gave her an appreciative nod, hoping that would cover his real motives.

Scotty pumped his fist. “Will you be here when I get home? To help me with the snowman, remember?”

Eli swallowed, glanced across at Gena. “I’ll be right here.”

Then he watched as Scotty left the room. “Mon petit garçon,” he said, shaking his head. “My little boy.”

Gena turned away to stare out the big window behind the sink. Eli could see the ocean churning off in the distance beyond her. He felt that same intense churning inside his stomach.

“What are we going to do, Eli? We can’t just stay here in limbo forever.”

He got up and came to her, his hand tentative on her arm. “I won’t do anything…to upset him. I understand that now. I can’t do anything to hurt him. I wouldn’t.”

She turned, her eyes misty and big and searching. “You’ve been great these last few days, but are you sure about that?”

Like ice in the sun, his bitter heart melted just a fraction more. “Very sure. I’m not so cold and uncaring that I’d hurt a child…or his mother either, for that matter.” He looked down at his boots. “And I told you, I’m sorry about…scaring you that first night. I haven’t exactly been trained in the social graces and, funny, there’s nothing in the rule books about how to handle finding out you’re a father.”

“Good, because I can’t let you stay here and get close to him if it means he’ll be hurt or confused in any way. And I can’t—I won’t—let you take him away from me. That would hurt me. That would destroy me.”

“Then we have a big problem,” he said as he backed away. “I have a legal right to him, but you are his true mother and I can’t do that—separate a child from his mother. We’re at an impasse, chère.”

“Yes, we are, but we’ll talk about it later.” She whirled past him. “I have to take him to school and then I have to make sure our young couple got settled in yesterday.”

“You’re not taking him to school without me,” Eli reminded her, grabbing his coat. Even though he and Gena had reached a truce, he wasn’t letting them out of his sight again. Protecting both of them had become his new mission and that meant watching over them for as long as Gena would allow him to do so.

Because he just couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.

FOUR

After watching Gena drop Scotty off at the door and noting a teacher was right there to escort the younger children straight into the building, Eli turned to her. “Is this school secure?”

She kept her gaze on the road. “We’ve had this conversation already. I told you Devon made sure of that. Besides, they have a resource officer on duty during school hours and at all after-school events.”

Eli didn’t know why he felt so uneasy this morning. Probably just his lack of sleep and the memories that kept creeping up on him in the dark of night. “Maybe I need to make sure of that myself, just in case.”

Gena stopped at a traffic light, then glanced over at him. The brilliant white of the morning snow reflected all around them. “Is there something you’re not telling me? You’ve been jumpy and on high alert since you arrived at my door and even though I know that comes with the territory, you’re making me nervous.”

He looked out over the snow-covered cottages. Should he tell her? He’d never been one for sharing a lot of information and he really didn’t trust anyone. Ever.

But this woman had raised his son and after spending time with her, Eli could tell she was honest and hardworking and she took good care of Scotty. Maybe he needed to bend the rules for her. So she’d understand. “I’m worried about his safety,” he admitted. “I had a long stay in New Orleans with Kissie after I was released from the hospital. You know her—the Woman at the Well.”

“Devon speaks highly of her. What did she tell you?”

“We had some information come through. Might be nothing, might be something.”

She hit the steering wheel with her palms. “And you waited almost a week to mention this? You’d better tell me everything, and I mean everything.”

He touched a hand to the dash. “After you get me home. I hate snow and ice.”

Gena’s hands were shaking so hard, she couldn’t unlock the door. “So this is the real reason you came all the way up here. You’re worried about Scotty, right?”

Eli grabbed the keys from her, then jammed them into the lock. Pushing her in out of the cold, he turned and handed her the keys, then reset the alarm. “That’s part of it, true. After the dust settled on my grandfather’s criminal deeds, Kissie and Devon assured me that everything was all right, but they couldn’t get verification on some of his associates. People who were involved with my grandfather were making inquiries about things they didn’t need to know, and that’s all we could find out—not the who or the why. I need facts and I like details. Not being one to wait around, I wanted to see for myself that Scotty was truly safe.” He shrugged off his coat. “And I’ve been watching all week to make sure. So far, things seem okay, but I just can’t seem to shake this feeling. I don’t like taking other people’s word for things, you understand?”

“I’m beginning to understand a lot,” she retorted, as she stalked up the hall. “You came here to see Scotty and you’ve also been casing my house, haven’t you? I suppose you’ve tested every lock, checked and rechecked the security and memorized every way off this peninsula just to be sure. But you need to tell me the whole story. I have a right to know. You’ve just been twiddling your thumbs, sitting around when—” She froze as she came to her desk tucked into an alcove just off the kitchen.

Eli saw her halt, heard her intake of breath, and the hair on the back of his neck stood straight up. “What is it?”

“My laptop is on.” She dropped her tote bag and hurried to the tidy desk. “And my papers have been rearranged.”

Eli looked at the efficient little desk. He’d walked by it enough to know something wasn’t quite right. Gena was tidy to the point of being obsessive and she always closed her laptop whenever she wasn’t using it. He’d seen her do that several times.

“Are you sure you didn’t leave it open before we left?”

She stood staring at it, then breathed a sigh of relief. “You know, I think I might have. Remember, I had that couple coming to check in? They’re renting the other cabin through Christmas.”

“But that was last night, right?”

She nodded, touched a hand to the papers on her desk. “But the man called this morning and had some questions about their bill. I pulled up the account, then looked through the papers on my desk to give him a local restaurant number.” She whirled, shaking her head. “Then Scotty couldn’t find one of his school books, so I rushed to help him. I guess I left everything in a mess as we hurried out the door.”

Eli remembered that much at least. She’d called to Scotty that they were going to be late. He tried to let it go at that. But…he’d never been one to accept things on a surface level. Because by his way of thinking, things were never what they seemed.

“What did your guest—Bennett’s the name, right—what did Mr. Bennett ask you?”

“He just asked about an extra charge on their deposit. I explained about the linen service. Then he asked me about where to get a good Maine breakfast. I told him about the café up the road. We made small talk about the weather, then he hung up.”

“Are you sure?”

She gave him a puzzled look. “Yes, pretty sure. You don’t think—?”

“I need to know for certain,” he said, turning at the door. “I’m gonna walk the perimeters of your property. See what’s what.”

Gena halted him with her hand on his arm. “Eli, are you being completely honest with me? You can’t come here and do this. I mean, you can’t just put yourself in charge like some guardian or bodyguard, based on a bad feeling. I don’t mind you wanting to see Scotty, but if you know something…” She inhaled a deep breath. “I couldn’t bear it if something happens to him.”

Eli saw the fear in her eyes and hated it. He’d known that same fear and he lived it over and over in his nightmares. He hadn’t been able to save Leah and he hadn’t been around to help Gena raise Scotty. Maybe he was just imagining things and scaring her unnecessarily because he needed to prove something to himself. Turning back to face her, he said, “Look, I’m just a paranoid kind of guy. I’ve been trained to be that way. So don’t let me worry you. I always take extra precautions. Even more now that—”

Understanding dawned in her eyes. “Now that you’ve lost your wife and never knew your son?”

“Isn’t that reason enough?” he asked, hoping she’d see the sincerity in his eyes. “I’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”

He opened the door and felt the arctic blast of winter hitting him in the face and he knew in his heart he’d walk the whole earth if need to be. To protect his son.

And Gena, too.

Gena fidgeted around her desk, searching for any signs of sabotage or espionage. She didn’t like this. Since the day Devon had brought Scotty to her, she’d had to watch her back. Caution had become second nature to her, but only because she always knew that one day he’d show up. Eli Trudeau was not the kind of man to ignore his own flesh and blood, especially when that flesh and blood had been taken from him without his consent.

But that was the least of her worries today. Eli was here now and as much as she feared the worst, she knew he’d do what was best for Scotty. He was that kind of man.

No, today her caution and concern centered on the other dangers out there, dangers that Eli might have stirred by showing up here. What was Eli hiding? Did he know something horrible that he refused to tell her? Or was he truly just being overprotective?

She went to the window to look for him. He wasn’t in the front yard. Hurrying to the back of the house, she looked out toward the sea and saw him standing on one of the craggy bluffs, staring out at the constantly crashing ocean. That seemed to be part of his daily routine now.

Gena immediately put on her coat and rushed out the back door toward him. “Eli?”

He turned when he heard her voice. “I talked to Devon,” he said, a frown marring his face. “He ripped me up one side and down another for being here in the first place, but he’s going to check into things for us.”

She inched closer, pulling the fur of her coat collar up around her face. “What kind of things?”

“We’ll start with your computer. Since he’s set up to monitor all your files anyway, he’ll do a complete scan to see if it’s been compromised.”

“He does that routinely. How can that help?”

“Well, now, he’ll do an extra check just for good measure. Devon knows ways to find out things no one would think to look for and it’ll be much more discreet for him to do it from a long-distance location.” He glanced toward where the car he’d seen earlier was still parked at the other cottage. “Looks like your boarders are settled in and back from breakfast.”

Gena glanced around. “I hadn’t even noticed. I left them a key at the door. They weren’t sure when they’d get here.”

“Well, they must have come in the middle of the night.” He gave her a direct stare. “We’ll need to do a more in-depth background check on them, too.”

Gena couldn’t believe this. “They’re just a young couple from New York.”

“And they drove up to Maine because?”

“That’s their business.”

“Criminals come in all shapes and sizes, Gena.”

She couldn’t read his expression. “Is there more here?”

He shook his head. “Not for now. We’ll just have to watch and wait.”

“Easy for you to say. It’s close to Christmas, Eli, and tomorrow is Scotty’s birthday and the Christmas play at the church. How can I relax when I’m so worried?”

He turned to her, his skin flushed from the cold, his dark hair swirling around his face and neck. He had the blackest eyes, unreadable and bottomless, sometimes cold and calculating, sometimes warm and liquid. “Let’s keep things cool for Scotty’s sake, okay? You’ll get your postcard-perfect Christmas.” He turned toward the house.

“I don’t want a perfect Christmas. I want a safe one. I want my son safe. Can you promise me that?”

He stopped, looking at her with such intensity that Gena took a step back. “That’s why I’m here. We can agree on that, at least.”

It was Christmas Eve. Scotty’s birthday—or rather, the day Gena celebrated his birthday.

Eli trudged across the snow toward the warmth of Gena’s cottage, his gaze encompassing the yard and woods as a frigid dusk settled over the land. The snowman Scotty and he had built stood fat and formidable, wearing a black muffler and an old battered baseball cap. Noting the young couple’s car was gone from next door, he wondered when he’d hear anything back from Kissie on their background. On the surface, Craig and Marcy Bennett looked as all-American and squeaky clean as a toothpaste ad. They took long walks along the bluffs, holding hands and cooing sweet nothings in each other’s ears and they waved to Eli in passing. Mostly they kept to themselves. Perfectly normal activities for a young married couple in love.

Too perfect. Too normal. Eli didn’t like the perfection of it all.

“You’re scowling,” Gena said as he opened the door and entered the kitchen, rubbing his hands together as the heat hit him.

“I hate snow and cold,” he retorted to hide his concerns.

“We all get that, Eli,” she replied with a wry smile. “Can’t you fake it for Scotty’s sake at least?” She pointed to the cake she’d baked earlier. “It’s a celebration. But first we’re off to the Christmas Eve play at church.”

Eli took in the “Happy Birthday, Scotty” lettering on the big cake. “I thought I’d skip the play.”

“You have to go, Mr. Eli,” Scotty said from his spot at the arched doorway. “I’m playing a sheep.”

Eli looked from Gena to his son. “I didn’t see you there, petit peu.”

Gena shot Eli a daring glance. “We’d like you to go to church with us tonight.”

Eli knew a feminine command when he heard one. And how could he refuse either of them? “Okay, then. I guess that particular problem is settled. I’ll be on my best behavior, sitting in the very front pew.”

Scotty giggled. “You’ll see me up close in my sheep costume. Mama made it and it tickles our noses.”

Eli touched a finger to Scotty’s nose, giving it his own tickle. “Do you get to go ‘Baahhh’?”

Another giggle. “Nope. I just stand there, watching over Baby Jesus.”

“And you sing songs to praise Him,” Gena reminded him.

“That’s right.” Scotty rushed to the table. “Wow, chocolate cake. My favorite.” Turning to Eli, he held up his fingers. “I’m six today.”

“Hard to imagine,” Eli said, sinking down in a chair as his legs became weak. This kind of love could do that to a man: bring him to his knees. “You’re growing up right before my eyes.”

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