CLUB TIMES

For Members’ Eyes Only

Blinded by the Light!

Is there anything more glorious than the sight of Luke Callaghan? Oops, I touched a sensitive spot there, since Luke Callaghan was temporarily blinded on his adventures in Mezcaya. But now he’s back and he’s better than ever! No, I’m not overcompensating for the time in high school when I put hair removal gel in Luke’s shampoo. Believe me, he retaliated. I’ll just say the words “garden slug” and “daddy longlegs” and that’s enough to relay a bad sleeping bag experience during sophomore year camp-out.

Because we’re among friends, I can say that Daisy Parker is more twitchy than Mrs. Pritchett’s squawking parrot. I haven’t been able to get a peep out of Daisy, though she’s appreciated my superfudge brownies (bribery). When I tell her that confession is good for the soul, she laughs in my face (although it could be my new hair color). If anyone knows Daisy’s big secret, please let me know. I’ve had sleepless nights over this one.

And we must keep baby Lena in our thoughts and prayers. She’s gone through so much in the last year, and now to be kidnapped! I’ve been practicing my kickboxing, so, Mr. FBI Agent, Sean Collins, I am ready to be a part of your squad in Operation: Rescue Lena!

Make the Lone Star Country Club your afternoon delight, morning, noon and night….

About the Author

MERLINE LOVELACE

spent twenty-three years in the air force, pulling tours in Vietnam, at the Pentagon and at bases all over the world. When she hung up her uniform, she decided to try her hand at writing. She’s since had over forty novels published, with more than five million copies of her works in print.

Merline was thrilled to participate in the LONE STAR COUNTRY CLUB series. She served three different tours of duty in Texas, which is where she met her own handsome hero of thirty-plus years. As a result, the Lone Star State will always hold a special place in her heart.

Watch for Merline’s next sizzling, action-packed release. The Captain’s Woman, featuring Teddy Roosevelt and the Rough Riders, is a January 2003 release from MIRA Books.

Texas…Now and Forever
Merline Lovelace

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Welcome to the

Where Texas society reigns supreme—and appearances are everything.

Danger reaches a fever pitch in Mission Creek….

Luke Callaghan: The Lone Star Country Club elite couldn’t spread the news fast enough that one of their own—international millionaire Luke Callaghan—was baby Lena’s flesh-and-blood daddy! But against all odds could this battle-scarred war hero save his tyke from a deadly foe?

Haley Mercado: After receiving a menacing call from her daughter’s kidnapper to do his bidding—or else!—she had no choice but to come out of hiding and enlist the help of her former flame, Luke Callaghan, if she ever wanted to see her baby alive again. But could their love—and his specialized military training—triumph over peril, heartache…and the ultimate betrayal?

Miracle in Mission Creek: The entire town bands together as explosive revelations send shock waves through Mission Creek…and the search for baby Lena reaches a shattering climax. But will it take a miracle to end the bitter feud between the Carsons and the Wainwrights?

For my own handsome hero, and all the days and nights we spent under Texas skies during our assignments in Fort Worth and San Antonio.

Thanks for the memories, my darling.

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

Epilogue

One

A shrill buzz cut through the air-conditioned silence, haunting the small farmhouse just outside Mission Creek, Texas. Like a deer speared by truck headlights, Haley Mercado froze. Her glance sliced to the FBI agent who’d acted as her controller for the past year.

Across the living room Sean Collins met her desperate look. They’d been waiting for this call, she and Sean. So had the small army of agents guarding the safe house where the FBI had stashed Haley until they captured Frank Del Brio.

Frank Del Brio. The smooth, handsome head of the Texas mob who’d once shoved a square-cut, three-carat diamond on Haley’s finger and announced that she was going to marry him. The ruthless thug who’d forced her to flee her home in South Texas and to assume another identity abroad. The vicious killer whose horrific acts had brought Haley out of hiding a year ago and sent her undercover, determined to assist the FBI in bringing Del Brio down.

Frank Del Brio, who’d kidnapped the child she’d placed in safekeeping while she worked undercover, the child who only a few nights ago had been spared in a wild shoot-out that had left her father in ICU and Haley under close protection at this secluded farmhouse.

The phone shrilled again, sending a jolt of desperate hope into her chest. They’ve got him! Please, God! Please let this call be from the FBI command center, advising that they’ve cornered Frank and rescued her baby! Her heart in her throat, she wiped her palms down the front of her jeans and kept her gaze locked on Sean as he reached for the cordless phone.

“Collins here.”

When the FBI operative’s face tightened, Haley’s hope shattered into a thousand knife-edged shards.

“How the hell did you get this number?”

It was Frank, she thought on a wave of sickening certainty. It could only be Frank.

Collins confirmed it in the next breath. “No way I’m putting her on the phone, Del Brio. You can damned well talk to me.”

The mobster’s response sent a tide of angry red surging into the FBI agent’s cheeks. His eyes blazing fire, Sean snarled back.

“Listen to me, you two-bit piece of slime. You hurt that baby and there won’t a patch of dirt anywhere on this earth big enough for you to dig a hole and crawl into.”

Haley flew across the living room. “Let me talk to him.”

“I’m warning you, Del Brio—”

“Let me talk to him!”

The agent relinquished the instrument reluctantly, signaling for Haley to string out the conversation as long as she could. She understood. The communications technicians hooked into the line would need a few moments to trace the call. She understood, too, that the events of the past year were rapidly spiraling to a terrifying conclusion.

“Frank! Frank, are you there?”

“Hello, Daisy.”

The deep, rich baritone made her skin crawl.

“You fooled me with that brassy hair and nose job, babe, but I have to admit I like the new look.”

Haley didn’t bother to comment on the fact that he’d penetrated the cover she’d been using for the past year. The long months she’d spent as Daisy Parker didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was her baby. Only her baby.

“Don’t hurt her, Frank. Please, don’t hurt her.”

She hated to beg, hated hearing the abject pleading in her voice, almost as much as she hated Del Brio for the pain he’d caused her and her family.

“What do you want?” she whispered. “What do I have to do to get Lena back?”

“Two million just might do the trick. In unmarked, nonsequential bills. Nothing bigger than a hundred. I’ll let you know where and when to deliver it.”

His voice dropped to a low caress. Soft and husky, it scraped across Haley’s raw nerves like a rusty nail.

“I’d better not see one cop or one fed, particularly your pal Collins or that bastard Justin Wainwright.”

Haley’s heart squeezed with pain. They’d come so close, so very close. Mission Creek’s sheriff and the FBI had almost—almost—captured Del Brio three nights ago. He’d made his escape, gunning down her father in the process. Taking her baby with him.

“If I even smell their stink when you deliver the ransom,” Frank snarled, “you’ll never see your brat again. You understand me?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Talk to you soon, babe.”

“Wait!” Her frantic shout bounced off the walls. “Don’t hang up! Tell me how she’s—”

The hum of the disconnected line thundered in Haley’s ear. She wanted to scream, to shriek and batter the receiver against the phone. But she’d spent the past year living a dangerous lie. A year undercover, risking her life every day to ferret out the details of the mob that had operated out of Mission Creek. If nothing else, those torturous months had taught her to subdue every natural impulse. To smile when she shook inside with fear. To hide her anguish as she watched another couple love and cherish the baby she’d been forced to give up temporarily for the child’s own safety.

All those months had left their mark on Haley. Instead of shrieking or hurling the cordless phone at the wall, she merely handed it to Sean and listened in stony silence while he barked at the communications techs working the trace.

“Did you pinpoint the location?”

She knew. Even before she saw his mouth twist into a disgusted grimace, she knew. Frank was too smart to trip himself up with a simple phone call.

“Okay. Thanks.”

His jaw tight, Sean punched the off button. Frustration gave a sharp edge to his broad New York accent when he confirmed what she already suspected.

“Del Brio used some kind of electronic scrambler. We couldn’t confirm his location.”

She nodded. That was all she could manage. From the day Lena was kidnapped, Haley had carried both fear and dread around inside her like a stone. It crushed in on her now, so massive and heavy she could hardly breathe.

“He’ll kill her.”

“Listen to me, Daisy—”

The special agent caught himself. He’d insisted they use her alias of Daisy Parker in every communication and every conversation for the past year. Although that cover was now blown, Sean hadn’t quite made the transition back to her real name.

“Listen to me, Haley. Del Brio can’t kill Lena. Not until he gets what he wants. He knows we’ll demand proof she’s still alive before we play his game.”

The iron control she’d exercised for more than a year slipped and came close to shattering at that moment. “It’s not a game!” she snapped furiously. “This is my child’s life we’re talking about!”

“Dammit, I know that.”

Months of unrelenting tension sizzled and spit between them. With a little push Haley could almost have hated Sean Collins, too.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, shagging a hand through his thick, reddish hair. “You know I’ll do whatever it takes to get Lena back. I want Del Brio as much as you do.”

“No,” she countered swiftly, her throat raw. “You couldn’t. It wasn’t your mother Frank murdered, Sean. Your father he tried to destroy. Your trusted friend and advisor he blew away.”

She closed her eyes, aching for her mother. Grieving for the white-haired Texas judge who’d helped her arrange her escape and acted as her life-line all those years she stayed in hiding. Hurting, too, for the father who now lay in ICU, battling for every breath.

Frank Del Brio had wreaked such havoc on her life. Haley knew he wouldn’t hesitate to take the next fatal step. She wrapped her arms around her middle and squeezed tight, wishing with every ounce of her being she could hold in her terror for her child and keep it from spilling into reality.

Eyes closed, she pictured Lena the last time she’d seen her. The one-year-old was such a happy, bubbly child. All smiles and gurgles and bright blue eyes. With her mother’s pointed chin and her father’s black curly hair.

Her father. Oh, God! Her father.

Luke Callaghan.

Swallowing the moan that tried to escape, Haley dug her hands into her sides. She had to tell Luke. Had to confirm what the DNA tests had already substantiated. He was Lena’s father. When she admitted that, she’d have to confess, too, that the blond waitress he knew as Daisy Parker was Lena’s mother.

She cringed at the thought of having to explain to Luke the tangled web of lies and deceit she’d woven to protect herself and Lena, but every instinct told her he was now her only hope. Frank had warned her not to bring the feds when she delivered the ransom. He hadn’t said anything about the baby’s father.

Her mind worked feverishly. Del Brio was ruthless and totally without conscience. He also exercised an extensive network of contacts. He’d known how to reach Haley here, in this supposedly secure haven. He’d probably get word within minutes if she left it and went to Lena’s father. He wouldn’t worry, though. If there was a chink in Del Brio’s armor, it was his arrogance. He wouldn’t doubt his ability to handle the combination of a terrified mother and a blind father.

But could Haley handle it? After all this time, could she face the man who’d fathered her child? The man she’d loved as long as she could remember?

She could.

She had to!

Spinning, she bolted for the front door. Sean followed hard on her heels.

“Where are you going?”

“To find Luke Callaghan.”

“No way! You’re not setting foot outside this safe house.”

“Safe?” Whirling, she leapt to the attack. “What’s safe about it? Frank knows where I am. He got through your command center’s elaborate electronic screens with one call. If he wanted to, he could probably order one of his goons to launch a shoulder-held missile from a mile away and put it through that window right now.”

The fact that they both knew she was right didn’t lessen Sean’s bulldog stance. “We’ve made it this far together, Dai—Haley. Don’t give up on me now.”

“I’m not giving up. I’ve just decided to play the game by Frank’s ground rules.” Icy resolve coated every word. “He wants two million dollars. As you pointed out, he’s not likely to hurt me or my child until I deliver it. And I do intend to deliver it. With Luke Callaghan.”

“Christ! Callaghan’s a good man. A war hero, no less. But he can’t see a red flag waved two inches in front of his face.”

A new ache pierced Haley’s heart, adding another layer to the hurt and guilt and fear she’d carried for so long. Seeing the pain on her face, Sean backpedaled gruffly.

“Look, I’ll admit Callaghan has moved mountains to help us find Lena. Once DNA tests indicated that he was her father, he let us tap his phones. He offered to provide the ransom, when and if it was demanded. He even volunteered the theory that he was the source the kidnappers intended to milk right from the start. With all his millions, it was certainly a distinct possibility.”

More than a possibility. Since Lena had been taken just days before Luke returned to Mission Creek, everyone on the task force initially suspected his vast wealth had sparked the kidnapping.

“Callaghan also worked his own net,” the FBI agent conceded with a touch of grudging admiration. “He has more contacts than any six men I know. And not just in the government. He and those three buddies of his scoured more dives, bribed more drunks and coerced more lowlifes into spilling their guts than our entire task force. But he can’t—”

“No buts,” Haley interjected swiftly, fiercely. “Luke Callaghan is Lena’s father. I can’t let him stand idly on the sidelines now while Frank Del Brio barters her for blood money.”

Reaching for the door, she yanked it open. Sean’s big, beefy hand smacked hard against the wood panel.

“Don’t try to stop me,” Haley hissed. “Don’t even think about trying to stop me. I’ve done everything you asked me to, Sean. All these months I risked my life to provide the information you wanted. I will not risk my child’s.”

“All right!” Conceding defeat, the FBI operative nodded. “Hang loose a minute. I’ll have my people track Callaghan down for you.”

Haley drove away from the farmhouse a few moments later, trailed by a dusty white van and armed with the 9 mm Glock that Sean had instructed one of his agents to hand over.

She knew how to fire the handgun. She’d grown up in this patch of South Texas, on a sprawling acreage just outside Mission Creek. Indulged by her parents and spoiled shamefully by her older brother, Ricky, she’d spent most of her after-school hours in voice lessons, dance classes and giggling with her girlfriends as they checked out the hunks at the pool of the luxurious Lone Star Country Club. Ricky had taken her out to ping tin cans off fence poles often enough for Haley to know one end of a gun from another, though.

Grimly, she locked her hands around the steering wheel and drove through the night. A million stars winked in the inky sky. The moon hung low, dazzling in its silver glow. Haley didn’t even spare it a glance.

As promised, Sean had pinpointed Luke Callaghan’s present location. He was with one of his buddies. At the Saddlebag. The same watering hole where Haley had bumped into him two years ago, with such earth-shattering consequences.

The irony of seeking Luke out at the Saddlebag ate into her soul. He hadn’t recognized her that hot July night two years ago. The London plastic surgeon who’d altered Haley’s face had more than earned his five thousand pounds. Luke wouldn’t recognize her tonight, either. Not just because he’d lost his sight, but because she’d all but crawled into the skin of the fictional Daisy Parker. No one—until Frank—had penetrated her cover.

Although…

Lately, Luke had been asking questions about the blond waitress with the thick-as-road-tar Texas twang. He’d even cornered her once at the Lone Star Country Club. He’d brushed his mouth across hers, as if testing his memory. He’d tested Haley’s nerves, as well. She’d shied away, refusing to admit she knew him.

Now she’d not only admit that she knew him and that she’d had his baby, but she’d grovel at his feet if necessary to gain his help in reclaiming their child.

Her mouth had settled into a determined line when she wheeled into the Saddlebag’s jam-packed parking lot some twenty minutes later and nosed her car into the narrow space between two pickups. The white van parked some yards away. At this point Haley couldn’t say whether the FBI’s watchful vigilance reassured her or added to the stress that crawled across her shoulder blades like a Texas scorpion.

Her throat tight, she climbed out of the car. The Saddlebag hadn’t changed much in two years. The same wooden sign creaked in the breeze above the door. The same dim spotlights cast arcs of light against its gray, weathered siding. The same motel units were strung out behind the bar like plump, feathered hens roosting for the night. With a stab of acute pain, Haley wrenched her gaze from the largest of the ten or so units and headed for the bar.

When she pushed through the front door, the country-western music pouring through the wall-mounted speakers competed with the remembered clack of pool balls. Haley stood beside an arch formed by branding irons, hidden in its shadows. Narrowing her eyes, she peered through the blue haze. Establishments in this part of South Texas didn’t run to separate smoking sections.

Her gaze skimmed the handful of customers at the long curved bar that wrapped clear around to the back of the lounge. She recognized several patrons. She’d waited on them at the country club. Ignoring the sudden, hopeful gleam in one man’s eye and the welcoming wave of another, she turned her attention to the half dozen tables at the rear of the bar.

With a sudden thump of her heart, she spotted two men nursing dew-streaked long-necks at one of the tables. Her glance skimmed past Tyler Murdoch to lock on Luke. His back was to her, but Haley couldn’t mistake the curly black hair cut military short under his summer straw Stetson or the athletic shoulders stretching the seams of his blue denim shirt. Every inch of Luke Callaghan’s powerful, muscular body was imprinted on her memory.

She’d been in love with him for as long as she could remember. The orphaned son of wealthy parents, Luke had grown up on the Callaghan’s lavish estate just north of Mission Creek, cared for by a devoted housekeeper and an absentee uncle not above dipping into his nephew’s trust fund to maintain his free-wheeling lifestyle. Luke and Haley’s brother had been friends since grade school, then roomed together at V.M.I.—Virginia Military Institute—where Luke and Ricky and three other classmates from the local area had formed their own special clique. The Fabulous Five, Haley had secretly labeled them. A band of brothers so tight and close it seemed that nothing could ever shake their friendship.

Ricky Mercado, the brother she adored.

Flynt Carson, scion of one of the old cattle king families that had settled this corner of South Texas.

Spence Harrison, brown-haired, brown-eyed and all male.

Tyler Murdoch, rugged, rough-edged, with an uncanny flair for anything and everything mechanical.

And Luke. Laughing, blue-eyed Luke Callaghan.

Haley had developed severe crushes on each of her brother’s pals at one time or another, but Luke had stolen her heart. She was so young when she’d first tumbled into love with him, just growing into the seductive curves and smoldering Italian looks she’d inherited from her mother. A typical teenage girl, she’d alternated between outrageously blatant attempts to attract Luke’s attention and tongue-tied shyness when she did.

He’d been kind to her, she remembered on a wave of stinging regret for those golden days of her girlhood. Teasing and big-brotherly and kind. If he’d recognized the signs of adolescent fixation, he never let on.

During her college years she’d seen Luke less frequently, but each time she did, she’d fallen a little more in love with him. He and Ricky and the others had joined the marines by then. They made only brief trips home for the holidays or lightning-quick visits en route to some mission or another. To Haley’s chagrin, Luke didn’t spend enough time at home to notice that Ricky’s sister was now all grown up.

If he hadn’t noticed, however, Frank Del Brio certainly had.

Shuddering, Haley recalled how the handsome older man had started hitting on her soon after her graduation from the University of Texas. It shamed her now to admit that his attentions had flattered her at first. Dark-haired, dark-eyed, and six-two of solid muscle, Frank could charm the knickers off a nun if he wanted to. Only after Haley had come to understand how deeply Del Brio was involved in her uncle Carmine’s more dangerous undertakings did she try to break things off.

He’d given her a first taste of his temper then, and of his ruthlessness. Her father was in the family business, too, Frank had reminded Haley with a smile. Not as deep as his brother, Carmine, certainly, but deep enough to make him a target for the feds or for rival mob members if the right hints were dropped in the wrong ears. The threat was still hanging heavy on her mind when Frank slid a diamond ring onto her finger.

Then Ricky and Luke and their friends had volunteered for a highly classified, dangerous mission during the Gulf War. To this day Haley knew only vague details of that mission. Her brother never talked about it. Nor did any of the other four. All she knew was that they’d been dropped behind enemy lines, destroyed a biological weapons manufacturing plant, were captured and spent agonizing months as POWs until their commander, Phillip Westin, mounted a daring rescue raid.

The Fabulous Five came home to a hero’s welcome. Haley would never forget the parade held in their honor one blazing June morning. Or their wild, lakeside celebration that night.

That was the night Haley Mercado died.

Two

More than a decade earlier

“Guys! Hey, guys!”

Waving wildly, Haley shouted to the occupants of the powerful speedboat cutting across Lake Maria.

“Luke! Ricky! Over here, darn it!”

With a disgusted huff that lifted the tendrils of her mink-brown hair, Haley gave it up as hopeless. The long shadows creeping across the lake had reached the dock. They couldn’t see her, and she knew they couldn’t hear her above the engine’s roar.

Retreating to the sleek little two-seater sports car she’d parked at the head of the pier, she groped for the headlight switch. It took several bright flashes, but she finally caught the boaters’s attention. The man at the wheel waved, leaned right and brought the craft into a sharp turn.

Haley drifted back down to the dock to await its arrival. Her brother, Ricky, and his four buddies had been water-skiing all afternoon, slicing through the water with reckless abandon. She could certainly understand their craving to feel the sun and the wind on their skin.

They’d more than earned these hours on the lake, considering the morning they’d just put in. From nine o’clock on, the returning POWs had been on display. After all, folks around here considered them gen-u-ine Texas heroes, not to mention poster ads for the United States Marine Corps. Spit-shined, square-shouldered, and heart-stoppingly handsome in their uniforms, they’d ridden in the parade organized in their honor. Then, of course, they’d had to sit under the hot sun, steaming in their high-collared dress blues, while local dignitaries gave long-winded speeches about South Texas’s own. They’d even signed autographs for the kids who’d swarmed the platform after the speeches.

The minute the crowds had dispersed, however, they’d shed their decorum along with their uniforms and headed for the lake. They’d been here for a good five hours, tossing down beer and celebrating their hard-won freedom. The sun was now a flaming ball hanging low above the hills surrounding Lake Maria. If they didn’t come in and dry off soon, they’d be navigating in the dark. More to the point, they’d miss the lavish barbecue Isadora and Johnny Mercado were throwing at their lakeside cottage to welcome Ricky and his friends home.

Leaning her hips against a piling, Haley peered across the rippling water at the approaching boat. Her heart contracted painfully as she made out the features of the man at the wheel. Luke Callaghan stood wide-legged and strong, his bare chest glistening in the slanting rays of the sun. Leather-tough Tyler Murdoch sat beside him. Although she couldn’t make out the figures in the back of the boat, she knew their faces as well as her own. Too-serious Flynt Carson. Intense, intent Spence Harrison. And Ricky, Haley’s adored older brother.

Thank God they’d all made it back safely, she thought on a wave of bone-deep relief. With their return, at least one of the worries that had kept her sleepless and hollow-eyed these past weeks had been allayed. The other…

The other she’d take care of tonight.

Her stomach clenching, Haley glanced down at the square-cut diamond on her left hand. The enormity of what she planned to do just a few hours from now started nausea churning in her stomach.

Damn Frank Del Brio!

The speedboat’s throaty roar brought her head up. Squinting, she watched as Luke brought the powerful machine skimming toward the dock. With consummate skill, he throttled back mere yards from the pier, reversed thrust on the dual engines and floated the craft up to the pilings. The man sprawled beside Luke grinned up at her as she caught their line.

“Hey, sweet thing.”

“Hey, Tyler.”

The former all-conference wide receiver skimmed an appreciative glance from her shoulders, left bare by the red-checked halter top tied just below her full breasts, to the long legs showing beneath her red linen shorts.

“You’re looking good tonight.”

“Thanks.”

Luke appeared to share his opinion. Haley’s skin prickled as his gaze made a slow pass from her neck to her knees. But when he addressed her, his voice held the same carelessly affectionate tone he always used with his best buddy’s little sister.

“Want to go for a spin?”

“I wish I could,” she said with real longing. The water looked so dark and green and cool, and Luke so sleek and powerful in his wet swimming trunks. Wrenching her gaze from his broad chest and flat belly, Haley searched the back of the boat for her brother.

“Where’s Ricky?”

“We dropped him off at the marina about fifteen minutes ago. He said he had to pick up Melissa and take her to the party your folks are throwing for us.”

“Well, shoot!”

“Is that a problem?”

“No, not really. Melissa called the house a half hour ago, asking where he was. Like a good sister, I drove all the way around the lake to fetch him. Now I’ll have to drive all the way back.”

She glanced across the wide expanse of water. The lights the Mercados had strung in the backyard of their lakeside cottage in preparation for the barbecue winked like lightning bugs in the gathering dusk. Those pinpricks of light punched a fist-size hole in Haley’s heart.

Isadora Mercado had thrown herself into arranging this party. It looked to be one of the biggest events of the year. A joyous celebration. A gathering of all Ricky’s and Luke’s friends beneath a star-filled Texas sky.

Only Isadora’s daughter—and Judge Carl Bridges—knew it would be the last night Haley Mercado would spend with her family. The last hours she’d share with her friends.

The last moments she’d have with Luke.

Her right hand closed over her left with bruising force. The edges of the diamond gouged into the undersides of her fingers. Frank Del Brio was to blame—for everything.

“We were just planning to head across the lake to the party ourselves,” Luke said, cutting into her chaotic thoughts. “Why don’t you come with us? It’ll save you the long drive.”

“No, I… I can’t.”

Haley would go out on these dark waters soon enough. When she did, she wouldn’t come back in.

“Sure you can,” Spence Harrison countered from his seat behind Luke’s. “Haul your butt back here, Tyler, and make room for the lady.”

She shook her head. “I need my car.”

Her sporty little vehicle represented an integral element of the plan she and Judge Bridges had worked out. Haley would slip away from the party once it was in full swing. Drive to a secluded cove on this very lake. Leave the coverup to her bathing suit on the front seat. Go for a late-night swim. Disappear forever.

“You can retrieve the car tomorrow,” sandy-haired Flynt Carson put in. “Better climb in, kid, or you’ll miss the festivities.”

Haley’s glance darted to Luke. The urge to spend just a few more minutes with him pulled at her like talons dug deep into her heart. She’d never see him again after tonight. Never know if the lazy glances he’d sent her way in the past year or so might have developed into something deeper, something that had nothing to do with the brotherly affection he always showed her.

Misinterpreting the reason for her hesitation, Luke cocked a brow. “Are you thinking we’ve downed too much beer to get you safely across the lake? Don’t worry about the open cans littering the back of the boat. We’re big boys. We knew we were getting close to our limit. To avoid temptation, we emptied the last couple of six packs over the side right after we dropped Ricky off. You’re safe with us, Haley.”

Oh, God. If only that were true!

“Here.” Smiling, Luke held up his hand. “I’ll help you in.”

The fierce desire to slip her hand into his sliced through Haley. Frantically her mind raced to revise her carefully laid plans. She’d leave her car here and borrow one of her parents’ when it was time to sneak away from the party. Then, she could take this last boat ride with Ricky’s friends and steal another few moments with Luke.

Her hand eased into his. His grip was strong and sure and wet from the spray as he helped her into the boat. Once she’d found her footing, he held her fingers up to the light. Turning her hand from one side to the other, he studied her ring. The multifaceted diamond caught the last rays of the sun. Brightly colored sparks leapt from her hand.

Luke had seen the ring before, of course. Haley had been wearing it like a brand since the day he and Ricky and the others had returned home. This was the first time he’d examined it up close, however.

“That’s some rock,” he commented with a grin.

“Yes.” Her response was flat and lacking any emotion. “It is.”

“Funny,” he murmured, searching her face, “I never saw you and Frank Del Brio as a match.”

“Funny,” Haley got out in a strangled voice, “neither did I.”

What a fool she’d been! What a naive, idiotic fool! She’d been so convinced she could turn aside Frank’s increasingly ardent demands. So sure he would understand when she told him she just didn’t feel the same passion he seemed to feel for her.

He’d make her feel it, Frank had insisted. Make her love him. All she had to do was give him a chance. And remember how much he knew about her father’s involvement with the fringes of the mob.

Haley had agreed to the engagement in a desperate attempt to buy time. Now that time was about to run out. With her supposed wedding day rapidly approaching, she’d realized that the only way she could save her father—and save herself—was to disappear. Permanently.

Which she intended to do tonight.

But first she’d spend these few last moments with Luke, she decided fiercely.

“Want to take the wheel?” he offered.

“Of this behemoth?” She forced a smile. “I don’t know if I’ve got the strength to muscle her all the way across the lake.”

“No sweat. I’ll act as your backup.”

Positioning Haley at the wheel, he stationed himself behind her and worked the throttles. Slowly the high-powered speedboat backed away from the dock. Once it was clear, Haley brought its nose around. Luke’s deep drawl sounded just above her ear.

“Ready?”

His warm breath sent shivers rippling along her bare shoulders. “Ready.”

“Okay, let’s open her up.”

He shoved the throttles forward. With the snarl of an oversize jungle cat, the engine revved. The speedboat shot straight ahead. The hull lifted half out of the water, came down with a sharp crack, then rocketed across the surface.

The forward thrust knocked Haley against Luke. Legs spread wide, he grabbed the edge of the windshield to steady himself and to give her added support. With the wheel close against her front and Luke hard against her back, there wasn’t room for Haley to pull away, even if she wanted to.

Spray flew into her face. The wind whipped her hair around like hissing snakes until Luke laughed and caught the flying strands. Holding them in his fist, he rested his hand on her shoulder. Haley forced herself to relax and to lean against him. Keeping the nose of the boat aimed at the lights winking on the far shore, she fought a sliver of pure pain.

How many times had she fantasized about Luke holding her like this? How many nights had she fallen asleep aching for the feel of his warm, hard flesh against hers? How often had she wished he would lock his arms around her and make her forget the rest of the world?

Now, at this minute, she’d come as close to realizing her dream as she ever would. Closing her eyes, she tried to burn the imprint of his body into her memory. Her senses recorded the clean, lake-washed scent of his skin. The way her head fit perfectly into the muscled curve of his shoulder. The bulge of hard masculinity nudging her behind.

“Haley! Watch out for that submerged log!”

Her eyes flew open, locked for a second or two on the glowing lights, then dropped to the water’s surface. Shocked by the sight of a thick weathered branch on the lake dead ahead, she threw the boat into a turn. The right gunwale went down, slicing deep into the dark water. The left rose high into the air. The high-powered speedboat raced on with water sloshing into its deck well and five startled occupants all scrambling for a handhold.

Shoving her aside, Luke dived for the wheel. The movement destroyed Haley’s already shaky balance. She made a frantic grab for the windshield, the seat, anything to anchor her, but her flailing, spray-slick hands found nothing but empty air. With a little cry, she tumbled over the side.

“Haley!”

Luke’s shout was the last sound she heard before she sank into the water. She plunged downward, her movements jerky and uncoordinated until she conquered her momentary panic. She’d spent hours as a toddler dog-paddling in this lake. Many more as a youngster jet-skiing and water-skiing across its vast surface. The lake was her friend.

Her escape.

Tucking her legs, she righted herself and shot toward the surface. Her ascent was as smooth as her descent had been wild and tumultuous. For the first second or two, anyway.

She was still four or five feet below the surface when something scraped along her neck and jerked her to a halt. Fright almost stripped the last of her air from her lungs. Thrashing, twisting, she fought a long tentacle of the submerged tree she’d swerved to avoid. The tip of the branch had slipped right under the neck strap of her halter. Her body’s buoyancy and her own frantic movements kept the damned thing securely lodged.

Her chest burning, Haley tore at the knot tied just under her breasts. Air bubbles were escaping her aching lungs by the time the knot finally gave. Abandoning the scrap of fabric, she scissor-kicked frantically. She burst through the surface a second later. Gasping, choking, she dragged in huge gulps of air.

When she gathered her strength enough to make a quick spin, what she saw almost sucked the air right back out of her lungs.

“Dear God!”

She felt as though she’d been under water for hours, but it must have been only a few seconds. Not long enough for Luke to regain control of the speedboat, which now tipped even more precariously to one side. Water flew up in white sheets as it cut a crazy swath toward the flickering lights.

“Luke! Tyler!” Treading water, Haley screamed a desperate warning. “Flynt, she’s going to flip. Get the heck out of there, guys!”

They were too far away now to hear her shout. Or too busy throwing their weight against the up-raised side. The maneuver might have worked on a sailboat tacking into the wind. On a speedboat with one of its dual engines still churning at full power, it had little effect.

As Haley squinted through the darkening shadows, horrified, the fiberglass hull raised even higher. A second later the entire boat went over and hit with a crack that rifled across the lake like gunfire. Her heart stayed lodged firmly in her throat until she saw dark shapes bob to the surface.

One. Two. Three.

Where was the fourth? Oh, God, where was the fourth!

She kicked, launching into a desperate stroke, but knew she’d never cover the distance that now yawned between her and the men thrown from the speedboat to do any good. They were closer to the far shore than they were to her. The people running down to the pier of her parents’ lakeside cabin would reach the capsized boat long before she could.

Still, she swam doggedly, desperately, until a fourth dark shape broke the surface. Half choking, half sobbing with relief, Haley slowed her stroke until she was again treading water.

They couldn’t see her, she realized, when she shoved her wet hair out of her eyes. The last, dying rays of the sun illuminated the far shore, but shadows were deeper out here. Darker. None of the figures on the far shore could spot her from that distance.

But they’d come looking for her. As soon as they reached Luke and the others and learned Haley had been in the boat, too, they’d come in search of her. Her father. Her brother.

Frank Del Brio.

The heat generated by Haley’s frenetic swim evaporated. Ice crystals seemed to form in her veins. Her arms grew as heavy as the gray granite boulders lining the shore, her heart even heavier.

She’d intended to disappear tonight. Not in such a dramatic manner, perhaps, but… Well, a drowning was a drowning.

She swallowed. Hard. With little finning movements with her hands, she brought her body around. The closest spit of land was a hundred or so yards away. Several miles from the secluded cove where she’d planned to park her car to go for her last swim, but within walking distance of the judge’s isolated fishing cabin.

Judge Carl Bridges. The one man she could trust. The lawyer who’d been both longtime friend to her family and calm advisor to an increasingly desperate Haley. With his cloak of client-attorney privilege, the judge knew how deeply Johnny Mercado had become entangled in his brother Carmine’s deadly web. He also knew that Frank Del Brio’s threats were anything but idle. He suspected the smooth, handsome thug of complicity in several vicious killings. He understood Haley’s wrenching decision to protect her father in the only way she could—by removing herself completely from the equation. If she was gone, Frank would have no reason to threaten her father.

During the past weeks the judge had obtained a forged passport and purchased airline tickets that would send Haley crisscrossing three continents and, hopefully, cover her tracks from even the most determined scrutiny. Everything was ready. Tonight was the night. And, with this bizarre boating accident, she’d never have a better opportunity to make her death look real.

Her heart splintering, Haley threw a last look over her shoulder. In a ragged whisper she said goodbye to her home and to her family.

“I love you, Mom,” she whispered. “You and Daddy both. Keep safe, and keep Ricky safe.”

Dragging off Frank’s engagement ring, she threw it as far as she could. Then she slipped beneath the cool, dark waters once more.

Three

Half-naked and totally exhausted, Haley dragged herself out of the lake. She didn’t look back. She didn’t dare.

Twenty minutes later she stumbled down the path to a small, ramshackle fishing cabin tucked among a stand of scrub pine. No lights showed at the shuttered windows. The judge hadn’t yet arrived at the agreed-upon rendezvous site. But he would. Soon, she guessed.

Once inside the back door Carl Bridges always kept unlocked, she grabbed a blue plaid flannel shirt from the hooks on the wall and hunched on one of the sturdy chairs drawn up to the scarred plank table.

The immensity of what she’d just done—and what she was about to do—almost overwhelmed her. Shaking from head to toe, she wrapped her arms around her middle and rocked back and forth. Lake water dripped from her hair and ran down her legs to puddle on the scrubbed pine floor.

She done it. She’d completed the first phase of her plan. Not the way she and the judge had envisioned it, precisely, but the speedboat accident would certainly make things more realistic. Now she just had to find the courage to take the next step. Could she really put her parents through the agony of believing she’d drowned? Really leave Texas and start a new life, away from everything and everyone she knew?

Away from Frank?

With a little moan, Haley dug her fingers into her sides. She had no choice. Frank would destroy her father. He was that determined. And that vicious.

She’d find a way to let her parents know she was okay, she swore. Later, when she was sure it was safe.

The thought gave her the strength to make it through the wait for Judge Bridges. As an old and trusted friend of the family, he’d been invited to celebrate the boys’ homecoming. He would have been one of the crowd gathered under the flickering lights. One of the witnesses to the accident out on the lake. When Luke and the others made it known Haley had been a passenger in the boat, Carl would guess that she’d altered the schedule.

Sure enough, tires crunched on the dirt-and-gravel road leading to the cabin less than a half hour later. Haley was a bundle of raw nerves, but her rapidly developing self-preservation instinct kept her out of sight as she peered through the bedroom window. She almost wept with relief when Judge Bridges slammed the car door. His prematurely white hair shining like a beacon in the darkness that now blanketed the earth, he rushed to the cabin.

“Haley? Haley, are you here?”

“Yes!” She ran in from the other room. “Yes, I’m here.”

“Thank God!”

His lined face was a study in worry and relief. Opening his arms, he crushed her against his chest. Haley clung to him with everything in her. He was her last link with her family. The last link between the woman she was and the stranger she would soon become.

Finally his hold loosened. He eased her away a few inches. “I thought… We all thought…”

His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. Behind his old-fashioned black-rimmed glasses, his watery blue eyes glistened. Blinking furiously, he glared at her with a combination of anger and admiration.

“Why the dickens did you flip over Luke’s speedboat? That was a dangerous stunt and not part of our plan.”

“I didn’t flip it! Well, I guess I did, but not on purpose. I swerved to avoid a submerged log and lost control.”

“Well, it sure adds a grim authenticity to our plan. They’re searching the whole lake for you, missy.”

“Oh, Judge!” Wracked with guilt, Haley almost abandoned the scheme right then and there. “My parents must be frantic. Maybe I should go home. Maybe I should just marry Frank.”

Her tortured doubts acted like a spur on the judge. The steely resolve that had sustained him through fifteen years at the bar and ten on the bench stiffened his spine.

“No, Haley, you’re doing the right thing. You’ve got to get away. Your parents did everything they could to give you and Ricky a different life. If you go back now, you’ll nullify all their years of sacrifice and worry.”

She knew he was right. Carl Bridges had been both friend and advisor to Johnny and Isadora Mercado for decades. If Haley had at times suspected the hint of sadness in the judge’s eyes when they rested on Isadora went beyond friendship, beyond regret, she never let on. Only after she’d turned to him to help her escape Frank Del Brio had she learned how much of a role he’d played in both her and her brother’s life.

Carl Bridges hadn’t been able to keep his old friend Johnny from sliding into his brother Carmine’s web, but he’d added his voice to Isadora’s when she’d pleaded with Johnny to send Ricky off to a military school to keep him away from Carmine’s thugs. The judge had also encouraged Haley to go up to Austin to attend his alma mater, the University of Texas, to keep her from discovering her father’s growing entanglement with the Texas mob.

The ploy had worked. Until Haley spent two summers working in her father’s office, she’d remained oblivious of the shady operations Carmine Mercado had dragged his brother into. Even after curiosity had led her to dig deeper into the family business than her job as a receptionist warranted, she’d pretended ignorance. She loved her father too much to confront him with the startling bits of information she’d picked up. She bled a bit inside whenever Johnny Mercado tried to bluster and disguise what he’d become from his family, but she kept his secrets tucked in a deep, dark corner of her heart. Now she’d take those secrets to the grave with her.

With a ragged sigh, she buried her doubts in the same watery grave. “You’re right. I’m just…nervous now that it’s really happening.”

“We’ll have to move fast,” the judge warned. “I said I was going to drive around the lake and search for you. We’d better get you away before someone else decides to do the same. Stay here. I’ll get the suitcase from the trunk.”

He was back before Haley could once more start to question what she was doing again. Mere moments later she’d changed into the outfit she’d bought and stashed with the judge in preparation for this night. The baggy tan slacks and loose-fitting top completely disguised her generous curves. Tucking her still-damp, shoulder-length hair up under a pixie-cut wig, she changed her brown eyes to a smoky green with tinted contacts. There wasn’t much she could do about the little bump in her nose she’d inherited from her mother until she made a visit to a plastic surgeon, but the oversize glasses she slipped on would detract attention from it.

The judge was pacing the front room when she emerged. Running a critical eye over her, he nodded. “I hardly recognize you. Ready to go?”

She swallowed the bitter taste of guilt and regret. “Yes.”

“Okay. Let’s get you on your way.”

Taking her elbow, he hustled her out to his car. “Your temporary ID, credit cards and passport are in the dash. I’ll send new ones when…if you decide to go ahead with cosmetic surgery.”

Gulping, Haley retrieved the documents and fingered the embossed passport. She could only guess the favors the crusty jurist had been forced to call in to manufacture her temporary identity.

“I’m sorry I pulled you into this mess, Judge.”

“I’ve made plenty of mistakes in my life, missy. I don’t count helping Isadora’s daughter as one of them.”

“I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

“I don’t expect you to. Now duck down and stay out of sight until I get you to the rental I parked down the road earlier this afternoon. It’s only a few miles.”

The wily judge had thought of everything, even obtaining a nondescript sedan from a rental agency. Judge Bridges had made sure there was no way the car could be traced to him, or to the woman who’d park it at the San Antonio airport later tonight.

The drive to the hidden vehicle seemed to take forever, yet was all too brief. Haley crouched low in the seat, trying desperately to blank her mind to the frantic search she knew was taking place out on the lake. She’d made the wrenching decision to leave. For her father’s sake, she had to follow through with it.

“Here we are.”

Slowing, the judge pulled off onto a narrow track. Branches scraped against the sides of his car as it bumped down the path. When the headlights picked up the gleam of metal, he shoved the gear-shift into park but left the engine running.

The hot Texas night wrapped around them as they made their way to the waiting Ford. Digging the keys out of his pocket, Carl passed them to Haley.

“You’ll need some cash,” he said gruffly. “Here’s two thousand for immediate expenses. I’ll wire more when you get settled.”

“Judge, I—”

Her throat closed, tears burned behind her eyelids. This was it, the moment she’d both dreaded and planned for so meticulously. Her last seconds as Haley Mercado.

No, not as Haley Mercado. Haley was already dead. Lost beneath the dark waters of Lake Maria.

“You’d better get going,” the judge said gruffly, his own voice thick. “It’s a good stretch of road to San Antonio, and you have a plane to catch.”

She couldn’t get a single sound past the ache in her throat. Awkwardly, Carl patted her shoulder.

“Don’t worry. I’ll look after Isadora and Ricky. And I’ll do what I can to extricate your father from the mess he’s gotten himself into over the years. I can still pull a few strings ’round these parts.”

Maybe then she could come home again. Clinging to that hope, Haley threw her arms around his neck and hugged him.

“I hope so, Judge. God, I hope so! Keep me posted, okay?”

“You know I will. Now scoot, girl, before we both start bawling like new-weaned calves.”

She gave him another fierce hug, then slid into the sedan and waited while he backed his own car down the track. Its headlights stabbed into Haley’s eyes. Almost blinded, she turned onto the paved road. She idled the car for a moment, waiting for the black spots to fade, then slowly accelerated. A few moments later a turn in the road took her away from Lake Maria.

In the weeks that followed, Carl Bridges was Haley’s only contact with Texas and the life she’d left behind.

The judge’s assurances that her family was working through their shock and grief sustained her through long days and lonely nights in strange cities. After a circuitous journey across several continents to cover her tracks, she found refuge in the comfy flat Carl had leased for her in London. There she found funds waiting to cover her expenses, including the cosmetic surgeon who altered Haley’s features.

Under the surgeon’s knife, her nose lost the little bump she’d inherited from her mother, and her slanting, doelike eyes became rounded. She considered breast reduction and possibly liposuction to diminish her lush curves, but by then stress had carved off so many pounds that she carried a far more slender, if still subtly rounded, silhouette. Dying her hair a glowing honey-blond, she adopted a sleek, upswept style that gave her an unexpectedly sophisticated look.

With her degree in graphic arts, it didn’t take her long to land a terrific job. She’d just begun to feel comfortable in her new skin when a call from Carl shattered her shaky sense of security. It came mere weeks after her supposed death. She could tell from his terse greeting that he was upset.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, her pulse kicking into overdrive. “Are my parents okay? Ricky’s not hurt, is he?”

“No, no one’s hurt.” His voice took on an odd note. “No one we know, anyway.”

“Tell me, Judge. What’s happened?”

“They found your body.”

“What!”

“Some fishermen out on Lake Maria hooked on to a corpse. It’s badly decomposed, but it matches your height and physical characteristics with uncanny exactness.”

“Frank!” she breathed. “Frank must have planted it.”

“That’s what I’m thinking, too.”

According to Carl, Del Brio had gone beserk when divers found his fiancée’s halter top still tangled in the branches of the submerged tree. In a bitterly ironic twist, he’d insisted the local authorities arrest Luke and the others for taking Haley out on the lake and operating a high-powered speedboat while under the influence. Tests had confirmed a high level of alcohol in the men’s blood, and now the four marines had been charged with reckless endangerment.

“All hell’s broken loose ’round here,” Carl related. “Your father wouldn’t let Isadora view the corpse, but he and Ricky went down to the morgue. They both near about fell apart. Now even Ricky’s out for blood. He’s turned against Luke, blames him for taking you out in the boat when he was drunk.”

“Luke wasn’t drunk! I don’t care what the tests showed. He was completely in control of himself that night.”

“He’s going to have to prove that in court. I don’t know what kind of hold your uncle Carmine and Frank Del Brio have over the county D.A., but the idiot’s upped the charges against Luke and the three others to manslaughter. They’ve been put on administrative leave from the marines and are being held in the county jail without bail until their trial.”

“Oh, no!” Shattered by the unforeseen consequences of her deception, Haley searched desperately for a way to clear the four men. “What about DNA tests? They’d prove the corpse isn’t me.”

“They would if we had a sample of your DNA to use for a comparison. Your mother’s kept your room just as you left it, but she’s had it thoroughly cleaned. We couldn’t find so much as a hair caught in a comb or an old toothbrush to take a sample from.”

How like her mother. Isadora Mercado wouldn’t allow a single mote of dust to settle on her precious daughter’s belongings.

“I’ll catch the next plane home, Judge.”

“Now hold on a minute, missy.”

“I won’t let Luke and the others take the blame for my death!”

“Those boys aren’t going to take the blame. I know more about the law than any six attorneys in this state, including that pea-brained D.A. I’ll step off the bench to represent them and I’ll get them off,” he promised with utter confidence. “I’m only telling you about the fuss because I know you have the Mission Creek Clarion sent to a fake name at a post office box. I didn’t want you to see the headlines and have a spasm.”

“I’m pretty close to a spasm now!”

“Look, if it’ll make you feel any better, go down to a newspaper kiosk tomorrow morning and buy a paper from Berlin or Hong Kong or anyplace but London. Take a picture of yourself holding up the paper and overnight it to me along with those before-and-after photos the plastic surgeon took of you. If worse comes to worst, I’ll produce proof that you’re still alive. I won’t tell anyone where you are, though. You’ll still be safe.”

“I will, but will you? If Frank finds out you helped me escape, he’ll kill you.”

The judge huffed. “I’m an ornery Texan, missy, and tough as shoe leather. What’s more, I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve Frank Del Brio never thought of. You just send those pictures and don’t worry about Luke and the boys.”

The sensational trial dragged on for months.

Haley followed its progress in the Mission Creek Clarion. The local paper remained sympathetic to the war heroes, but the Corpus Christi and Dallas dailies played up every scandal from the defendants’ past.

Old feuds were resurrected, including the longstanding battle between Flynt Carson’s great-grandfather and his former ranching partner, J. P. Wainwright. Tyler Murdoch’s youthful brushes with the law after his mother abandoned him made for juicy copy. Spence Harrison’s pre-law degree came into play as he assisted Carl Bridges in his own defense.

The tabloids may have had a field day with Flynt and Tyler and Spence, but they went for Luke’s jugular. They seemed determined to paint him as rich and shamelessly indulged by the absentee uncle who’d acted as his guardian. Several papers ran disgusting, tell-all interviews with women Luke dated both before and after he’d joined the marines. Instead of a healthy young bachelor with normal appetites, he came across as an oversexed playboy who’d plied his best friend’s sister with beer and coaxed her out on the lake so he and his buddies could take turns with her.

Despite the sensationalism, or maybe because of it, Judge Bridges made good on his promise to Haley. He got the four men acquitted.

The trial left its mark on all four defendants, though. They soon separated from the marines. Flynt took over management of the vast Carson ranching interests. Infuriated by the spurious charges brought against him, Spence went on to law school, spent his time in the trenches as a prosecutor, then campaigned for and won the D.A.’s job. Tyler disappeared into some shadowy, quasi-military organization. And Luke seemed determined to live up to the reputation as a playboy he’d gained during the trial.

Haley’s heart pinched every time she read another story about the jet-setting millionaire. Invariably, he was photographed with some toothpick-thin supermodel or overendowed starlet hanging all over him. Once, she read that he was in London, attending the opening of a new musical he’d backed. She’d been tempted, so very tempted, to pay the outrageous sum the scalpers were asking for the sold-out performance to search the audience for a glimpse of Luke. But she didn’t. She’d wreaked enough havoc on his life. She refused to take even the remotest chance that she might cause more.

That fierce resolve kept her in London for almost a decade.

Waves of homesickness attacked often during those years, especially at night. Determined to immerse herself in her new identity, Haley refused to give in to the despair that seeped into her heart whenever she thought of her family and friends.

Gradually the cosmopolitan city took her to its generous bosom. She grew to love the pigeons and the parks and the bright lights of Piccadilly Circus. She even acclimated to the cold, foggy winters. Slowly she began to feel safe in her new identity. Carefully she built a small, intimate circle of friends.

She’d just returned from dinner with those friends when another call from Carl Bridges plunged her back into danger…and into Luke Callaghan’s arms.

The call came on a muggy July evening. The phone was jangling in that distinctive European way when Haley unlocked the front door.

“Your mother’s been beaten,” the judge informed her with the closest thing to panic she’d ever heard from him. “Brutally beaten. The doctors…”

His voice wavered, cracked.

“The doctors aren’t sure she’s going to make it.”

Haley caught a flight home that same night.

Four

The desperate need to reach her mother’s bedside dominated Haley’s every thought during the long flight from London to JFK, then on to Dallas and, finally, Corpus Christi. Exhausted but coiled tight as new barbed wire, she stepped off the jet to the rippling palms and ninety-nine percent humidity of the Texas Gulf. Too tense to even notice the sweltering heat, she rushed through the airport to the rental car desk.

Years of living under an assumed identity had honed her self-preservation instinct to a fine edge. Her altered features should give her anonymity, but just to be sure, she made a brief stop at a costume shop before leaving Corpus Christi. Improvising hastily, she explained that she’d been invited to a party that night, thrown by officers from the nearby naval air station. She left the shop with a nun’s habit and wimple tucked under her arm. The convent of the Sisters of Good Hope was located just a few miles north of Mission Creek. Since the sisters made frequent visits to area hospitals, Haley would hide under their mantle until she determined just what the heck had happened to her mother.

The moist air of the coast followed her out of the city as she headed west on Highway 44. Soon the marshy flatlands of the coastal plains gave way to rolling hills cut by dry arroyos and dotted with mesquite, cacti and creosote. With the wind whipping her hair, Haley breathed in the hot, dusty air for almost an hour. At Freer, she turned left onto Highway 16 and headed home.

Home.

Her chest squeezed tighter with each familiar landmark. As much as she’d grown to love London’s lights and glitter and sophisticated aura, Texas was home. In her heart, it would always be home.

She pulled off the road some miles north of Mission Creek to exchange her slacks and sleeveless turquoise silk sweater for the dove-gray habit. The long-sleeved dress raised an immediate sweat in the hundred-degree heat. Haley had to struggle with the wimple and short, shoulder-length veil, but finally got them right. The little makeup she’d had on when she’d answered Carl’s call had long since worn off. Inability to sleep during the long flight had added a hint of grayness to her olive-hued skin. Satisfied that she more than looked the part, Haley slid back into the rental car and turned the air-conditioning up full-blast.

She kept her head averted when she passed Lake Maria. The memory of that awful night almost a decade ago still seared her soul. Mission Creek’s historic downtown called her hungry gaze, however. The old granite courthouse looked exactly the same. So did the bank, founded in 1869 and still serving the local community. She flicked quick glances at Jocelyne’s fancy French restaurant and the Tex-Mex favorite, Coyote Harry’s. Her taste buds tingled at the remembered fire of Harry’s Sunday special—huevos rancheros topped with mounds of French fries, all drenched in his award-winning chili. As hungry as she was, she had no thought of stopping. Her one goal, her one driving need, was to get to the Mission Creek hospital.

Luckily she arrived post-afternoon visiting hours and pre-supper. The staff was busy getting ready to feed the patients, and the visitors had all departed. Haley took the elevator to the second floor and picked the most harried candy-striper to ask directions.

“Excuse me.”

The aide flicked her a quick glance. “Can I help you, Sister?”

“Yes, please. Which is Isadora Mercado’s room?”

“Three-eighteen. Around the corner, at the end of the hall.”

“Thank you.”

Tucking her hands inside her loose sleeves in imitation of the nuns who’d taught her during her Catholic grade-school days, Haley glided around the corner. Halfway down a long corridor that smelled strongly of pine-scented antiseptic, she stumbled to a halt.

A heavyset man lolled in a chair at the far end of the hall, his nose buried in the paper. Haley guessed instantly he was one of the mob’s goons. He had the disgruntled air of a man who’d rather be out shaking down pimps and two-bit dealers than spending empty hours in a hard, straight-backed chair.

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