ALMOST NINE MONTHS PREGNANT AND ON THE RUN...

Staying several moves ahead has kept Troy Weathers alive in the world’s most explosive hot spots. So when this marine learns that Olivia Laughton is being stalked, he immediately takes her and their unborn child on the run. His instincts tell him it will require more than skill to keep them safe—and to prove just how much he wants to stay in their lives.

Olivia has no problem trusting Troy to keep her safe, or following his orders. It’s believing their one night together was more than just a passionate fling that seems riskiest of all. Still, with time running out and an unsuspected enemy closing in, Olivia knows Troy is her best chance at survival...and their baby’s only shot at a promising future.

Troy swept Olivia into his arms. “Get back in the car!”

“Are you all right?” Her eyes were wild. “Tell me you’re all right.”

“Not until you’re in the car.” He shoved her into the backseat and dove in behind her, slamming the door behind him.

She held his face in both her hands. “You scared me half to death.”

“I’ll need to get this suit dry-cleaned for my brother. Other than that, I’m fine.”

Her mouth pressed gently against his. His pulse was still racing. He was breathing hard. The extreme pressure of battle clenched inside him, tying his gut into knots. But the sweetness of her kiss did a lot to ease his tension. Every fight should end with a kiss from a beautiful woman as a reminder of what was really important....

Mummy Midwife
Cassie Miles

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Though born in Chicago and raised in L.A., USA TODAY bestselling author Cassie Miles has lived in Colorado long enough to be considered a semi-native. The first home she owned was a log cabin in the mountains overlooking Elk Creek, with a thirty-mile commute to her work at the Denver Post.

After raising two daughters and cooking tons of macaroni and cheese for her family, Cassie is trying to be more adventurous in her culinary efforts. Ceviche, anyone? She’s discovered that almost anything tastes better with wine. When she’s not plotting Harlequin Intrigue books, Cassie likes to hang out at the Denver Botanical Gardens near her high-rise home.

To Christine Jorgensen and the Monday Think Tank.

And, as always, to Rick.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Olivia Laughton—Eight and a half months pregnant, the midwife is about to become a mommy.

Troy Weathers—The baby’s father wants to marry Olivia but isn’t ready to give up his career as a marine captain in special ops.

Alex Weathers—Troy’s brother is a doctor who works in the E.R. and at a homeless clinic.

Bianca Laughton—Olivia’s sister, a lawyer, is on her way toward partnership in her firm.

Richard and Sharon Laughton—Olivia’s diplomat parents have kept their life-changing secret for years.

Sergeant Blaine Nelson—Troy’s second-in-command is running the show on the investigation into a terrorist cell code named Hatari.

Kruger—A legendary undercover operative who entered the U.S. more than twenty years ago has linked with the Hatari terrorists.

Prince Amir—The powerful Saudi prince is attracted to Bianca.

Matthew Clark—A top executive in an oil company, he is a client of Bianca’s law firm and a man with many secrets.

Jarvis Raines—A former client of Olivia’s, he blames her for the death of his baby.

Carol Raines—The trauma of losing her baby propelled her to help others at the homeless clinic run by Alex.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Epilogue

Excerpt

Prologue

Cold and alone, Olivia Laughton shuffled aimlessly through the dark streets of Denver. A stiff November wind rattled the last of the dead, dry leaves clinging to the branches, and she clutched the broken zipper on the front of her borrowed sweatshirt, a navy blue rag she’d discovered in the hospital lost and found office. She’d left her bloodstained parka behind.

She couldn’t throw away her memories so easily. In horrible detail, she recalled the scene of the car accident in the mountains, the chopper that brought her and the victims into town and the E.R. staff who told her there was nothing more she could do for them. There was always something more. She was a nurse. She should have tried one more procedure. She should have found a way to save them.

A sob crawled up her throat but she was too numb to make a sound. All she could do was keep walking, step after step, mile after mile. If she stood still, the gathering sorrow would rise up and roll over her like an avalanche. Would she still feel pain when she was frozen in a solid block of ice?

Though she hadn’t planned her destination, her surroundings were familiar. Stumbling to a halt, she looked to her right and saw the beige brick bungalow where Alex Weathers lived. Alex was a doctor; he’d hold her hand and tell her that everything was okay. It’s not your fault. That was what he’d say. And she wouldn’t believe him.

Seeing Alex wouldn’t help her. His brother, Troy, was a different story. When she thought of him, she felt a burst of heat in her belly. Troy Weathers would give her what she needed. He’d take her in his arms and make her forget what happened. With Troy, she could purge her memory.

Did she dare approach him? They’d been on only two dates. Once for coffee. Once for lunch. There had been a fiery kiss that left her craving more, and he’d promised that he’d call her the next time he was in Denver. In spite of their nearly combustible chemistry, she didn’t make the mistake of thinking they were headed toward a relationship. They had nothing in common. She was a nurse midwife, a healer. And he was a career marine in special ops, a dangerous man.

Unaware of moving toward the porch light, she found herself standing at the front door. She pressed the buzzer.

Troy opened the door. “Olivia?”

Through the screen door, she stared into his dark brown eyes. “I need you.”

He pulled her inside. The light from a table lamp glared in her eyes, and she blinked until the room came into focus—a typical bachelor pad with mismatched furniture. The lamplight shone on the spine of an open book. Odd. She never would have thought a man of action like Troy would spend his spare time reading.

“Alex isn’t here,” he said. “He’s working a night shift.”

“I don’t want Alex.”

The warmth inside the house penetrated the cold that wrapped around her like a shroud. Her skin prickled as her heart began to pump and her blood began to flow.

“You look like hell,” he said.

She couldn’t say the same about him. He looked damn good. With his wide shoulders and narrow hips, he made the black Mickey Mouse T-shirt he wore seem sexy. Even in his bare feet, he towered over her. His sinewy, tanned forearms were cut to perfection. She wanted his arms around her, wanted to feel him inside her.

Was she really doing this? Showing up on the doorstep of a casual acquaintance and demanding sex? Never before had she done anything so desperate. She was the type of person who took care of others, not the other way around. She prided herself on being able to handle any crisis. Not this time. Never before had she felt so shattered.

Her arms fell loosely to her sides, and the oversize sweatshirt gaped open. Troy stared at her T-shirt.

“That’s blood,” he said.

“Yes.”

“Are you injured?”

“It’s not mine.”

“Do I need to call 911?”

She was puzzled. “Why?”

“Well, if it’s not your blood, there’s somebody else out there who’s in need of first aid.”

“You think I killed someone?”

“Did you?”

If she could have mustered the energy, she would have laughed at the absurdity of his suggestion. “No.”

“What happened?”

He deserved an explanation, and she wanted to give him one. But she couldn’t force herself to tell him. She gasped. Her lungs ached, and her throat was raw. The sobs she’d been holding back threatened to gush from her. She shook her head, and her vision blurred. She felt herself beginning to hyperventilate.

“Hey,” he said. “Pull it together, woman.”

His voice was like a slap in the face. “What?”

“You heard me. If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s to see a woman cry.”

“Don’t worry.” With an effort, she stiffened her spine. “I’m not going to have a breakdown.”

“Good.” He took her hand. His gentle touch contrasted the authority in his voice. “You’re freezing. Come with me.”

She followed him down the hallway, glad to let him take control. In the bathroom, he flicked on the overhead light. The clear shower curtain was decorated with a map of the world, and the countertop was littered with shaving supplies, which Troy hadn’t been using lately. His square jaw was covered with stubble, a rugged contrast to his neat-trimmed black hair.

“You’ve got blood all over,” he said. “It’s on your shirt and your jeans. Even in your hair.”

She glanced into the mirror. A brownish smear matted in the tangles of long blond hair that had escaped her ponytail. Quickly, she looked away. “I’m a mess.”

“I’ve seen worse,” he said. “Now, here’s what’s going to happen. First, you need to get cleaned up. You’re going to strip and take a shower. Okay? And I’ll bring you something to wear.”

She stumbled toward the toilet, flipped down the seat and sat. The prospect of washing up felt like a monumental undertaking. She stared at the shower curtain map, wishing she were somewhere else, somewhere far away. Was coming here a mistake?

“Come on, Olivia. You’ve got to get out of those clothes.”

“I know.”

“Just relax. Talk to me.” He knelt on the tile floor in front of her and untied the laces on her sneakers. “Tell me what you’re doing in Denver. You live up in the mountains, right?”

“In Dillon.” She had a private practice as a midwife and also worked at the hospitals in Summit County, but she came to Denver twice a month to assist at a clinic for the homeless. That was where she’d met Alex.

“What are you doing in town?” he repeated as he pulled off her right shoe and sock. “You can tell me anything. Where did the blood come from? Was there an accident?”

“Car accident. Then the helicopter came.” She remembered the roar of the rotors, shouts from the crew, the endless scream. “It was loud.”

“Yeah, choppers are like that.” He took off her other shoe and sock. “You went to the hospital.”

She nodded. “E.R.”

“And then what?”

A mental door slammed shut. “I can’t. I don’t want to talk about it.”

His large hand rested on her knee, and he gazed into her eyes. “You might find this hard to believe, but I know where you’re coming from.”

Anger whipped through her. “How can you possibly know?”

“I can see that you’ve been through something bad, really bad.” He stood and hovered over her. “Do you need help with that sweatshirt?”

She growled, “I can undress myself.”

“There’s nothing wrong with asking for help, you know.”

“A nice little chat,” she said bitterly. It would take more than that to heal her.

“It’s a place to start. After you take your shower and get cleaned up, I’ll make you something warm to drink.”

“If I’d wanted tea and sensitivity, I would have come looking for your brother.”

“Fair enough,” Troy said. “What do you want from me?”

She surged to her feet. Reaching up, she held his face with both hands and kissed him. His mouth was hard as stone, but that didn’t stop her. Her tongue traced the line of his lips and she kissed him again.

Though he held back, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body against him. “Make love to me, Troy.”

He tried to push her away, but she clung tighter.

He tried to reason with her, but she wouldn’t listen.

Desperation consumed her. She needed to feel life pulsing inside her. She needed the heat of passion to melt the icy fingers that held her heart in a frozen grip.

Another kiss. Another frantic caress. She could feel him beginning to respond. “Please,” she begged. “Please.”

His arms embraced her. His mouth found hers, and he breathed new life into her lungs.

Tonight, they would make love.

After that, she never expected to see him again.

Chapter One

Eight and a half months later...

Today was a first for Olivia. Triplets, she’d delivered triplets! She rubbed her hand over the swell of her own hugely pregnant belly, glad that there was only one bun in this oven. Three were way too many to handle as a single mom. Her one baby—a boy—was the perfect number, just perfect. Nearly every aspect of her pregnancy was perfect.

After a last peek at the three healthy baby girls in the hospital nursery, she headed down the corridor toward the front exit of St. Agnes Hospital in Summit County. Tired but happy, she stepped outside and inhaled a breath of fresh mountain air.

The last glow of sunset was fading from the August skies, leaving a faint gold outline along the hogback ridge opposite the hospital complex. The summer night was quiet and warm enough that she didn’t really need the cardigan she’d thrown on over her purple scrubs. She set her backpack on the pavement beside a stone bench, stretched her arms over her head and yawned.

It had been a twelve-hour labor with many anxious moments. At one point, Olivia had considered calling for a C-section, but the mom had insisted that she’d get a second wind. And she’d been correct. When the time had come to push, the babies had arrived without complications, other than the juggling act required to handle three newborns at the same time.

Before crossing the parking lot to her SUV, Olivia sat on the bench to check the phone messages that had accumulated on her cell. The first had come at sixteen minutes past four o’clock.

“Hey, pretty lady.” It was Troy. “I’m in Denver, and I want to get together. Call me back.”

Eight and a half months ago, she’d needed him desperately. Now...not so much. She patted her belly and deleted his message.

Erasing the man himself wasn’t so easy. The next phone message at precisely five o’clock was also from him. “Don’t think you’ll get rid of me by not calling back. If necessary, I’ll use military intelligence resources to triangulate your phone signal, pinpoint your exact location and find you.”

“Like a stalker,” she muttered as she pressed Delete.

His third message came only fifteen minutes after the second. And it was brief. “Marry me, Olivia.”

“No way,” she said to the phone. What did it take to get through to this man? This had to be the twentieth time that he’d proposed.

When she was four months pregnant, he’d been back in Denver, and she’d told him the news. He had the right to know that he’d fathered a child and that it was her intention to keep the baby and raise it on her own. At age thirty, her biological clock had been clanging like a fire siren. She wanted this baby with all her heart, and she’d made it crystal clear to Troy that she would not require child support and would allow him all the visitation rights he wanted.

His response had been to drop to one knee and propose. She should have known he’d take responsibility. The man was a career marine, and he was all about honor and duty.

Short-sighted was what she called that attitude. Her grandma always said, “Marry in haste and regret it at leisure.” Olivia had thanked Troy for being considerate, but she’d told him no, absolutely not, no.

Her refusal didn’t stop him from proposing again. And again. And again. Every time she saw him or heard from him, he popped the question. He’d sent a dozen roses on her birthday—a date she hadn’t told him but he’d somehow figured out. In the flowers was a card that said, Marry me, Olivia.

Then he’d started sending baby gifts. A tiny Yankees baseball cap, a hand-crocheted blanket, a teddy bear and a three-wheel jogging stroller that was perfect for the mountains. If they’d been in love, she would have been touched. But they weren’t.

She hit the delete button.

The last message from Troy said, “I’m guessing that you’re busy, probably delivering somebody else’s baby. See you soon.”

That sounded like he was giving up. Though she should have been glad to avoid another awkward encounter, she felt a twinge of disappointment. Even if she wasn’t going to marry the man, she had to admit that his attention made her feel special.

The final message on her cell was from her mother. “Your father and I just arrived at your sister’s house in Denver, and we’re exhausted. The flight from Cairo took forever, and then we had a four-hour briefing in D.C., which was dreadfully boring. We’re very much looking forward to seeing you tomorrow. Call in the morning, dear.”

Olivia groaned. Her globe-hopping diplomat parents had probably rearranged the schedules of kings, sheiks and ambassadors to be here for the birth of their first grandchild. This was a grand event, and they had certain expectations, ranging from the name of the baby to their insistence that she check into a hospital to give birth—a demand that was totally insulting. Olivia was a midwife, after all. An expert when it came to delivering babies. Hadn’t she just handled the birth of triplets? Still, her mom claimed to know better.

She tucked her phone into her oversize purse and rose from the bench. As she stepped off the curb, she caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of her eye. And she heard a sound—a mechanical, clicking noise. A gun being cocked?

Startled, she turned her head and peered into the scraggly stand of pine trees beyond the parking lot lights. No one was there. The lot was deserted. Listening hard, she told herself that she’d imagined the noise. It was only the snap of a twig, nothing to be afraid of.

A group of nurses emerged from the front door of the hospital complex. One of them waved to her and shouted congratulations on the triplets. She waved back as she hurried across the pavement and dived behind the wheel of her SUV.

She locked the doors and sat for a moment, catching her breath. Though she hadn’t actually seen anyone, she still had the sense of being watched. This wasn’t the first time. For the past several days, she’d been on edge. Was paranoia a side effect of raging hormones?

After a struggle with the seat belt, she started her SUV and drove out of the lot. Maybe she was nervous because she felt vulnerable in her pregnant body. If attacked, how would she defend herself? She couldn’t break into a sprint. Nor could she throw a karate chop. A high-flying kick was out of the question. The only way she could fight back was to sit on her attacker and crush him to death with her massive belly.

The headlights of her SUV cut through the thick forest on the way to her house. Nobody is after me. Why would they be? She wasn’t a woman of mystery. Her life was an open book—a fairly dull book, the kind you read to put yourself to sleep. Nothing terrible is going to happen. Her overactive imagination was simply a reflection of her fears about having this baby. Unnecessary fears. She had everything under control.

The couple with the triplets had been the last clients she intended to see for a while. She’d arranged with another midwife to handle her practice for the next three months. After that, Olivia would ease back into a regular schedule. Handling a newborn and working wouldn’t be easy, but she was better prepared than most new mothers and had great connections for child care.

She’d almost talked herself into a state of calm when she pulled into the wide gravel driveway outside her detached garage. On the other side of her withered attempt at an herb garden was her two-bedroom, ranch-style cabin. Before she turned off the engine, she noticed that the light in her bedroom was on. Had she forgotten to turn it off this morning? It didn’t seem likely. When she’d left the house this morning, it was already daylight. Had she remembered to lock the doors? Was somebody inside, waiting for her?

Her fingers tensed on the steering wheel as she considered driving away and getting help. She’d look like a fool if there was nothing wrong, but it was better to be ridiculous than to take risks.

A black SUV drove up beside her and parked. She didn’t recognize the vehicle. Her first impulse was to throw her car into Reverse and zoom away, but she didn’t have time. The instant the SUV parked, a man got out—a tall man with neat-trimmed black hair and a square jaw. It was Troy.

He strolled up to her driver’s side window, and she lowered it. She was glad to see him. If there was an intruder in her house, she could do worse than having a marine to defend her.

“The light in my bedroom window,” she said. “I’m sure I didn’t leave it on this morning.”

“Stay in the car.” His easygoing grin disappeared. “If there’s trouble, I want you to drive away fast. Call 911.”

She didn’t like being chased away from her own house, but she nodded. “What are you going to do?”

“Take care of the situation.”

“Wait.” She detached the house key from her key chain and handed it to him. “You need this to get inside.”

“Not really.”

“Please don’t kick my door down.”

He pocketed the key, pushed aside his tan windbreaker and drew an automatic weapon from a belt holster. His approach to the house was quick and stealthy, keeping to the shadows. Why was he carrying a gun?

* * *

A PPROACHING THE CABIN , Troy forgot about pleading his case for marriage to Olivia and went into warrior mode. After fourteen years in special ops and military intelligence, he was always on high alert. The world was full of threats. His job was to neutralize the danger.

First, he needed to clear the perimeter around her house. Being careful not to walk in front of windows and present himself as a target, he held his weapon at the ready as he circled the rectangular log cabin with the shake shingle roof.

He’d been to this house only once before, and that was a brief visit. He knew that Olivia had zero security. Any of the windows could be easily opened, and the door locks could be picked by a third-grader with a paper clip.

When he was satisfied that no one was lurking outside the house, he prepared to enter. This was the tricky part. If the intruders waited inside for an ambush, they’d have weapons trained on the door. Troy would have preferred going through a window but the casements were chest-high and climbing through would require both hands. Remembering her wish that he not destroy her property, he used the key, shoved the front door open and stepped back, using the solid log wall as a shield.

No gunfire. No sound from within. He rushed the entrance and went through the house, room by room, closet by closet, turning on lights as he went. The house was all clear. As far as he could tell, she hadn’t been robbed.

On his prior visit, he hadn’t made it as far as the bedroom, and he took a moment to look around. The furniture was traditional but not plain—a reflection of Olivia, who was a mix of sweet homespun and aggressive independence. He ran his fingertips across the front of a wardrobe that was painted with vines and purple columbines. The lamp on her bedside table had shiny crystals dangling from the shade.

If intruders had turned that lamp on, they would have been here after dark. Not that long ago. He hoped there hadn’t been a break-in. More likely, this was a simple case of Olivia leaving the light on and forgetting that she’d done so. Still, he knew better than to dismiss a threat without thoroughly checking it out.

The second bedroom was painted a soft blue, not unlike the color of her eyes. It was the nursery, the room where his baby boy would sleep. Would their son have her eyes? Troy swallowed the lump in his throat that came whenever he thought of the baby. Never in his life had he been the least bit sentimental, and he’d given considerable thought to why he was touched by the idea of having a family.

His age had something to do with these feelings. On his last birthday, Troy turned thirty-six. In most professions, he’d still be considered young, but that wasn’t true for special ops. His vision wasn’t as sharp as it should be for a sniper. His reflexes had slowed by a few milliseconds, enough that it made a difference. He wasn’t at his physical peak, and he realized that it was time for him to step back and take a more supervisory role. Becoming a father and having a family seemed like the natural next step in his life.

He liked the simple, clean furnishings in the nursery: a dark oak crib, matching changing table and rocking chair. Seated in the rocker was the teddy bear he’d sent—fuzzy and brown and dressed in camo fatigues. He wanted to see his son holding the bear, wanted to show him how to play catch and to take him fishing. He wanted to be a real part of his child’s life. Somehow, he had to convince Olivia.

He returned to her SUV where she had prudently stayed behind the steering wheel with the doors locked. With wide eyes, she peered through the driver’s side window.

“There’s nobody inside,” he said. He looked to the next obvious hiding place for an intruder. “Do you usually park in the garage?”

“Not when the weather is nice.”

“Leave your headlights on and hit the automatic door opener.”

Holding his weapon at the ready, he moved to the side of the square structure. The garage door squawked and rumbled as it folded up on itself. The interior held the typical junk that accumulates in a garage as well as ski equipment and a very nice mountain bike with heavy-duty tires.

Troy noticed the outline of a footprint in the dust on the concrete floor. It appeared to be a man-size boot, too large for Olivia. The print could have been made today or last week or a month ago. He checked the side door to the garage. It was open.

“Olivia,” he called to her. “Is this door usually locked?”

“It should be,” she yelled back to him. “But I usually don’t bother.”

None of the boxes or tools in the garage looked like they’d been disturbed. If an intruder had searched in here, he’d been incredibly careful. And why bother being so stealthy in a garage? It didn’t make sense.

Troy decided against mentioning the footprint. Not right now, anyway. He returned to her SUV. “I think we’re okay.”

“Are you sure? Could you tell if anything was stolen?”

“It doesn’t look like it.” Her nervousness seemed out of proportion for a light left on in a window, and it wasn’t like her to panic for no reason. “What’s going on? Have you been threatened before this?”

“Why would I be threatened? I’m just a midwife.”

As she pushed open her car door and climbed out, his gaze focused on her belly. He hadn’t seen her for two months, and she’d swelled up like a watermelon. His fingers itched to touch her roundness. “You look beautiful.”

“Yeah, right.” She lurched past him toward the cabin. “I’m gorgeous if you’re into pre-Columbian fertility goddesses.”

He followed in her wake, watching the sway of her hips under her purple scrubs. Pregnant women didn’t usually excite him, but he had an overpowering urge to caress her and hold her miraculous body against his.

Inside the cabin, she dropped her satchel-size purse on the green plaid sofa and peeled off her light sweater. Her breasts were full and ripe. Troy suppressed a growl. “How are you feeling?”

“I’ll ask the questions,” she said as she turned to the left and strode into the kitchen. Striding didn’t exactly describe the way she moved. She rolled a bit from side to side as though she were walking on the deck of a ship.

She turned on the water and reached for a glass from the cabinet to the right of the sink. “First question. How did you know where to find me?”

“Wasn’t hard. I called the hospital where you usually work and found out you were there. When I pulled into the parking lot and didn’t see your car, I came here.” He paused. “The nurse told me that you were with a mom who was having triplets. How did that work out?”

“Amazing. That word is overused. People say everything is amazing, but this really was. Truly a miracle.” Her grin was pure happiness. “Next question. What are you doing here?”

He was sick and tired of popping the question that was always answered with an emphatic no. “I wanted to see you.”

“Why?”

“Since we’re playing a question game,” he said, “I have one for you. One I’ve never asked before.”

She took another sip of water and eyed him suspiciously. “All right. Shoot.”

“When you found out you were pregnant, what made you decide to keep the baby?”

“Dumb question,” she said. “I love babies and always planned to have a family. Plus, I’m thirty, which is a good age for a healthy pregnancy. And you played a part in my decision.”

“Did I?”

“Of course,” she said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I mean, look at you. You’re physically healthy and fairly intelligent. I’d have to say that you’re an excellent candidate to be a sperm donor.”

“Gee, thanks.”

She crossed the kitchen to the refrigerator and reached for the handle. Her hand dropped to her side. Frozen, she stared at the white refrigerator door where dozens of photographs were attached with magnets.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“There was a photo of me, my sister and our parents on a vacation we took last year. It’s missing.”

“Are you certain?”

She pointed to a vacant space on the refrigerator door. “It was right here. And it’s gone. Someone was in my cabin.”

Chapter Two

After Troy got down on his hands and knees to check around the edges of the cabinets and the floor where a photo might have fallen, he was ready to believe her. An intruder or intruders had entered her cabin and stolen a picture from the fridge. Why bother? A straightforward burglary would have made more sense.

“I want you to look around,” he said. “See if anything else was taken, maybe jewelry or documents.”

“I don’t have any valuable jewelry.”

“A family photo doesn’t have any intrinsic value, either. Just take a look.”

He followed her as she quickly rifled through a small jewelry box in her bedroom. In the living room, she sat at her desk and started sorting through the file drawers.

His thoughts focused on risk assessment. On intelligence missions, he was accustomed to walking into a situation and determining the course of action. He needed to know why her house had been broken into. If he figured out what the bad guys wanted, he’d know how far they’d go to get it.

“Was there anything unusual in that photo?” he asked.

“Not really. We were standing in the backyard at my sister’s house in Denver.”

“Who took the picture?”

“My sister’s boyfriend.”

“Tell me about the background. And the clothing.”

Olivia squinted as she remembered. “It was at a family barbecue last summer. There was a blue spruce behind us. We were all dressed casual. My dad had on a god-awful pair of plaid shorts. He’s tall and has really skinny legs. Like a stork.”

He nodded. Actually, he’d learned a great deal about her parents. The life history of Richard and Sharon Laughton made for interesting reading, especially for someone like Troy who had a high security clearance. “Can you think of any reason someone would steal this particular picture?”

“It was just us. The Laughton family at play.”

The obvious answer was that the photo would be used for identification. Though pregnancy had vastly altered her appearance, she still resembled the woman in the photo.

Troy had only one other clue: the footprint in the garage. Why would the intruder have gone into her garage other than to search? A lightbulb went on in his head. The bad guys were hiding in the garage, setting an ambush. “I know what’s going on.”

“Oh, good.” She swiveled in the chair behind her desk and looked up at him. “Because I can’t find anything missing in my documents. Most of my confidential stuff is on my laptop computer, and I took that with me to the hospital.”

“The intruder or intruders were in your garage, waiting for you to come home.”

Her hand fluttered to her mouth, covering a frightened gasp. “Do you think they were there when I pulled up?”

“It’s possible.” Troy cursed himself for not searching the garage first. He could have ended this before it escalated.

“Why? What do they want?”

“Nothing is missing. So I’m guessing that their intention wasn’t robbery.”

“Then what?”

“They wanted to take...you.”

She looked away from him, shielding her gaze as though she had something to hide. “A kidnap attempt.”

“You don’t seem too surprised.”

“I’ve had a feeling for the past couple of days.” Her hands rested protectively on her belly. “It’s been like someone is watching me. Earlier tonight in the hospital parking lot, I thought I heard a gun being cocked.”

The situation was more intense than he thought. They needed to retreat to a safe location. “You have five minutes to get packed.”

“Kidnapping doesn’t make any sense.”

“Later, we’ll talk. Now, get packed.”

“No. I’m not going to leave my house until I understand.”

He braced his hands on the arms of her chair and leaned close. Being near her was a distraction, for sure. The blue of her eyes contrasted her healthy tan and the pink flush of her cheeks. Was she glowing? Later, he’d take the time to appreciate the miraculous changes in her body. Right now, he needed for her to cooperate.

“The standard reasons for kidnapping,” he said, “are money or leverage. The intruders want to use you and our baby to get something they want.”

“It can’t be for ransom money. My family isn’t superrich.”

“Your mom and dad are in Denver this weekend.”

“How do you know that?” she demanded.

“I’m in intelligence,” he reminded her. “They’re in town, right?”

“Staying with my sister, Bianca. They want me to move in with her until after the baby is born.”

“They want to protect you,” he said.

“From what?”

He held her chin, forcing her to look directly at him. “I know about your parents.”

She blinked, an automatic response from someone who had spent her entire life living with lies. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Richard and Sharon Laughton work for the CIA. They’re spies.”

* * *

T HOUGH IT WAS still hard to believe that she was the target of a kidnapping plot, Olivia couldn’t take chances in her present condition. She had to leave her cabin.

In the bedroom, she threw some of her belongings into a suitcase. Most of her pregnancy clothes didn’t fit anymore, making packing easy. She took everything she could still wear, even the fancy, lavender crepe toga-style gown that she’d bought for a hospital fundraiser.

Troy stood watch, slouching against the doorjamb with his gun in hand. Though his posture was relaxed, she could see the tension coiling through him. At the slightest provocation, he was ready to strike. This was a side of him that she hadn’t seen before—a little bit scary but also reassuring. If he hadn’t shown up at her house when he did, she could have been in real trouble.

“You know,” she said, “my parents aren’t the kind of spies who do what you do. They don’t go on active missions.”

“Sure.” Somehow, he made that one terse word sound like he didn’t believe her.

“They work in embassies. My dad is a paper-pusher, and my mother is a cultural attaché. She hangs out with ballet dancers and artists. She arranges events.”

“Are you done packing?”

She’d already scooped all her bathroom toiletries and hair stuff into a plastic bag that was at the bottom of the suitcase. Tossing in a book from the nightstand, she gave him a nod. “That’s everything.”

“We’re taking my car,” he said.

She objected. “There’s nothing wrong with my car, and I’m going to need it when we’re in Denver.”

“If it becomes necessary to use evasive driving techniques, you’ll be glad I wrecked the rental instead of your car.”

A shudder went through her. “I hope that’s a joke.”

“I’m not laughing.” His eyebrows pinched in a scowl that made his dark eyes even more fierce and intense. “From now on, we do things my way. This is my job, Olivia. I know how to keep you safe. Don’t argue with me every step of the way.”

His macho take-charge attitude would have been irritating if the potential for danger hadn’t been so real. She reminded herself that there had been intruders in her garage, waiting to grab her. For a while, her independent nature was going to have to take a backseat. “I understand.”

“We’ll turn out all the lights,” he said. “I’ll go first. You follow with the suitcase. Take it around to the back of the SUV, and then get in the passenger side. Move as quickly as possible.”

“That’s not real fast.”

“If I tell you to get down, hit the dirt.”

She really hoped that maneuver wouldn’t be necessary. In spite of her pilates and yoga exercises, she was just about as graceful as a hippo when she had to get up and down off the floor.

After he’d turned off the lights, they stood inside by the front door for a moment, allowing their eyes to adjust to the dark. Troy moved to the edge of her front window and peered into the front yard.

She asked, “Do you see anything?”

“Visibility isn’t great. I could really use a pair of infrared goggles.” He gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. “There’s no telling what we’ll find around the corner of the garage. But you don’t need to worry. I’ll be in front. Ready?”

“I guess.”

He eased open the door. Immediately, they were moving through her moonlit yard. She followed him, pulling her suitcase, struggling to keep up as he rushed forward.

Her pulse thumped hard. Adrenaline raced through her system. At the driveway, she dragged the suitcase to the back of his SUV, went to the passenger seat and climbed in. Before she’d finished struggling with the seat belt, he had loaded her suitcase and was in the driver’s seat. He started the engine, whipped into Reverse and zipped away from her cabin.

A glance at the speedometer showed her that he was well over the recommended speed limit for this narrow, winding road, but she wasn’t scared. Troy had control of the vehicle. He was fast but safe.

She craned her neck to look over her shoulder. She didn’t see headlights behind them. “Are we safe?”

“I don’t see anyone.”

The narrow road straightened a bit as they drove past a beaver pond. It was less than a mile to a main intersection. “What happens if they catch up to us?”

“They won’t.” He negotiated the rugged road like a grand prix champion. “I think we made our escape fast enough that they didn’t have time to plan another assault. It’s a good thing that you noticed that missing photo.”

“And a really good thing that you were with me.”

He cranked the steering wheel, and the SUV swerved onto a paved road. There was no other traffic in sight.

Breathing hard, she flopped back against the seat. This definitely wasn’t the evening she’d expected after a long day at the hospital. In usual circumstances, she would have thrown together a salad with fresh veggies, had a cup of tea and relaxed. No doubt, her poor feet were swollen. Her sneakers felt as tight as rubber bands.

Absentmindedly, she stroked her tight belly. Inside her, the baby started to kick, possibly in reaction to the rush of adrenaline when she fled the cabin. “Wow, it feels like he’s jumping hurdles.”

“Who’s doing what?”

“The baby. He’s bouncing around.”

Troy kept his eyes on the road, but reached his hand toward her. “May I?”

She appreciated that he asked. So many people walked right up to her and began touching without permission. Gently, she took his hand and placed it over the place where the child—their child—was tap dancing.

Troy reacted, pulling his hand away. “That’s the baby?”

“Oh, yeah. I think he got excited by our escape. I don’t do a lot of running these days.”

“It doesn’t hurt him, does it? I mean, he’s okay, right?”

His concern erased his macho facade. Feeling the baby move had turned this big, bad marine into a cream puff. His reaction was actually kind of cute.

“The baby’s fine,” she assured him. “He’s always active. Sometimes, I think he’s got a ping-pong paddle in there.”

Troy replaced his hand on her belly. As he experienced more kicks, a wide grin spread across his face. “That’s my boy.”

She shared his pride. After all the time and effort she’d spent resisting Troy, she felt closer to him now than ever before. Strange. When they’d made love the first time, it had been because of a personal disaster. Now, it took another potential disaster to bring them together.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“We could continue on into Denver or stop at a hotel on the way. Your choice.”

“Hotel,” she said. “I’m too tired to face my parents tonight.”

“Lucky for us, I already have a suite booked in Keystone.”

“Why would you make reservations?”

“I needed a place to stay after you threw me out. Again.”

Was she really that mean? The answer, of course, was yes. She’d been pushing him away with both hands for eight and a half months, but she wasn’t going to apologize. She had her reasons. “Does this hotel have room service?”

“Count on it.” He gave her tummy a final pat and took his hand away. “Tonight, I’ll pamper you. This is a nice place, and you can have anything you want to eat.”

“Yay, I almost feel good about having my house broken into.”

“As soon as we get there, you need to call your parents and tell them what happened. The photo on the fridge was of all four of you. They might also be targets.”

She knew his analysis of the situation was correct. If someone was after her, the rest of her family could be in danger. Telling them would be difficult, nearly impossible. “Their work isn’t something we talk about. Not ever.”

When she and her sister were growing up, they knew their parents had contacts that went beyond their jobs in the diplomatic corps, and they had learned not to ask too many questions when their parents left town.

“Did your family travel a lot?” he asked.

“When I was little we did. But we were based in Washington, D.C., for years and years. I’d have to say that I had a very average childhood.”

Aware that she was swimming in a sea of denial, Olivia turned her head and stared through the window at the thick pine forest beside the road. No matter how many times she told herself that her early life was as normal as puppy dogs and lollipops, it was a lie.

“You can tell me the truth,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“I have a high security clearance, and I’ve looked into your background thoroughly.”

“I don’t like that. I have a right to my privacy.”

For a few moments, he drove in silence. Then he cleared his throat and spoke again. “When you were a child, you and your mother were abducted and held captive for a week.”

He had flung open a door to her past that she always kept tightly locked. This was her secret, her life. And she didn’t want to look back.

Chapter Three

Troy knew that he’d overstepped his boundaries with Olivia, but he wasn’t going to let the subject drop. Not when her safety had been compromised. She needed to understand that her parents’ profession might be the reason she was targeted for kidnapping. It wasn’t the first time she’d been abducted.

“Stop the car,” she said. “I want out.”

“That’s not going to happen. I won’t let you put yourself and our child in danger.”

“There’s nobody following us. You said so yourself.”

“You need a bodyguard, and I’m here. Deal with it.”

Months ago, when he’d first started researching her past, he’d felt bad about poking around where he hadn’t been invited, but he’d rationalized it by telling himself that it was his right to know everything he could about the mother of his child. Since she’d made it clear that she didn’t want to talk to him, what choice did he have? But he’d gone deeper than he’d originally intended when he’d discovered that she was the daughter of two international spies. He never would have guessed that she had such an exotic background.

His first impression of Olivia had been that she was a practical, down-to-earth woman—a healthy, easygoing mountain gal who didn’t wear makeup and liked being outdoors. When she’d showed up on his brother’s doorstep and demanded sex, he’d revised that opinion to include passionate. That night, she’d made love like there was no tomorrow. He’d never forget the way she rode him with her blond hair flying in wild tangles and her slender body arched above him. Her small, firm breasts had glistened in the light from a bedside lamp. She’d driven him to a height he’d never reached before. It was no wonder that he hadn’t noticed when the condom had slipped.

After that night, he’d wanted to spend more time with her, but she’d shut him down. He’d returned to his assignment in the Middle East and had tried to forget her. Olivia Laughton would be the one who got away—the woman he’d see only in his fantasies.

Her announcement that she was carrying his child changed his plans, and that was when he’d started digging. Her parents intrigued him. By all accounts, they were charming and sophisticated diplomats. To uncover their connection to the CIA, Troy called in favors from high-ranking sources in the intelligence community. He didn’t know specifics about their assignments, but he had learned of an incident in a South American country that changed the careers of Richard and Sharon Laughton. That incident involved their seven-year-old daughter.

He glanced over at her. “I can’t force you to talk to me, but it’s important for us to figure out who’s after you. Anything you can remember might be helpful.”

“You’re right,” she admitted in a small voice. “I hate that you’re right, but you are.”

“You can tell me anything. I won’t be shocked.”

She exhaled a heavy sigh. “Do you think there’s a connection between the kidnapping when I was a child and what’s happening now?”

“I don’t know.”

She turned away from him with her face in shadow. If he could have seen her expression, he’d have had a better idea of what was going on in her head. Either she would decide to trust him with her secrets or she’d keep that door closed. He hoped for the former.

“It wasn’t that bad,” she said. “When you think of being held captive, it seems like a horror story. But it wasn’t.”

He said nothing, not wanting to interrupt her fragile narrative. There were more vehicles on the road to Keystone, both coming and going. He kept careful watch in the rearview mirror to make sure they weren’t being tailed.

“Our family was stationed in a South American country,” she said. “I don’t even remember which one. I was only seven, and life was kind of a blur, living in one place after another. My sister was four and she was with the nanny all the time. I had more freedom. Our residence was a square with a patio and garden in the middle, which was where I spent most of my time. We had servants, and I played with their kids. Though I wasn’t aware of learning the language, I spoke Spanish as often as English.”

As she continued, her voice became more sure and steady. They were only a few minutes away from their destination, and he decided to prolong their trip so she’d keep talking. He cranked the steering wheel, and the rented SUV made a sharp left.

“Where are we going?” she asked. “This isn’t the way to Keystone.”

“I’m doubling back to make sure we aren’t being followed.”

Her slender hand rested atop her belly. “You know, I’ve never talked about this before. It doesn’t even seem like it happened to me. The memory is more like a movie I saw or something I read in a book.”

Hoping to get her back to the story, he prompted, “Did you have your own room at the residence?”

“I sure did. And a canopy bed with a pink duvet and lots of flounces. The room where my parents slept was huge with a giant walk-in closet. I loved to watch my mother getting all dressed up for special events. The night when the incident took place, she wore a dark blue

V-neck dress with long sleeves and shoulder pads. Remember shoulder pads? My mom always wore them. It was that power dressing thing.”

She was loosening up, and he encouraged her. “I’ve seen photos of your mother. She’s an attractive woman.”

“Beautiful and classy. My sister looks a lot like her. Me? Not really. We all have blond hair, that’s about it.”

He thought Olivia was beautiful, and he’d told her a million times. But that wasn’t the point right now. “When you were a child, did you know what your parents did?”

“They worked at the embassy. That’s all I knew. That’s typical, isn’t it? Most kids don’t have a clue what their parents actually do for a living.”

“Most kids don’t have spies for parents.”

“And they don’t get abducted,” she said. “Okay, now I’ve started this story, I want to get through it.”

“I’m listening.”

“My mom was all dressed up. Since my dad was already at the party, I went to the front of the house with her to wait for the limo that would take her to the party. A big, shiny car pulled up. A strange man got out and talked to her in a low voice. He might have had a gun, probably did, but I didn’t see the weapon. All I knew was that when he grabbed her arm, he was taking my mother away from me. And I knew in my heart that I couldn’t let her go. If I did, I was afraid I’d never see her again. I jumped into the car with her and held on to her with all my strength.”

“You were a gutsy kid.”

“Not at all. I was scared out of my head. I heard the men talking in Spanish, trying to figure out how to get rid of me and I yelled at them that I wouldn’t leave my mother. They ended up with both of us. Two for the price of one.”

“Where did they take you?”

“I curled up on my mom’s lap. We put on blindfolds. She pretended it was a game but I knew better. We drove for a long time. When we got out, we were in a fabulous house—a palace, really. They took us up a marble staircase to the third floor. The doors were locked, but we had plenty of space with a bedroom, a sitting room and a bathroom.”

“And then?”

“Nothing,” she said. “We stayed there for a week. We were well fed and mostly left alone. Then they put on the blindfolds and took us home.”

Troy reminded himself that she was telling this story from the perspective of a seven-year-old. Her mother had been there to protect and reassure her child, and he suspected that Olivia’s mom had gone through hell during that week. “Tell me about a typical day when you were being held captive.”

“I don’t think I can remember much detail, but I’ll give it a try. First, we’d get up and do some exercises, touching our toes and reaching for the sky. And then, we’d wash up. I had to help my mom because she had a bruise. On her cheek. A huge, dark bruise. Oh, my God.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I had completely forgotten about the bruise. It was terrible. How could I forget?”

Memory was a funny thing. She hadn’t wanted to think of the abduction as a trauma, and she’d suppressed negative thoughts. “How did she get the bruise?”

“Late at night, one of the men came into our room,” she said. “He was loud and angry and he smelled bad. His face was red like a devil. And he slapped Mom so hard that she fell on the tile floor.”

She inhaled a sharp gasp before continuing. “I ran to the man. I kicked and I hit and I shoved. I did everything I could to keep him from hurting my mom. And he went away. Mom held me, told me she wasn’t really hurt, and we had to be quiet.”

His heart ached for the brave little girl who had tried to take care of her mother. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“Mom told me to run and hide in the bathroom whenever anybody came into the room, and that’s what I did. I stood on the other side of the door and listened really hard. They never hit her again. If they had, I don’t know what I would have done.” She shook her head. “After a week, we went home.”

“Were you ever given an explanation? Did your parents ever talk to you about what happened?”

“Never. We accepted that a bad thing had happened, and we moved on. Literally, we moved. We went to Washington, D.C., for my parents’ next assignment.”

Because of the kidnapping, their cover story had been compromised. He knew that the Laughton family never returned to South America. Her father had gone on short assignments in Europe and the Middle East. But it wasn’t until both of their children graduated from high school and went to college that Richard and Sharon returned to regular work in foreign embassies.

Troy respected her parents for making the safety of their children a top priority. It was going to be difficult to tell them that their daughter was almost, once again, the victim of a kidnapping. Still, they needed to know. The intruder at Olivia’s cabin had taken a photo of the entire family.

* * *

T HE LODGE - STYLE hotel where he had reservations was four stories tall, and their suite on the top floor had deluxe amenities. After the bellman left her suitcase and his duffel, Troy inspected their space with an eye to security, prowling through the spacious sitting room with its cream-colored leather furniture, the bedroom, bathroom and the tiled area with the hot tub. He positioned a chair in front of the door so anybody breaking in would make a lot of noise, then he stepped onto the balcony that looked toward the moonlit slope. In a few months, the groomed mountainside would be filled with skiers and snowboarders.

Olivia stepped outside and stood beside him at the metal railing. “Are we safe?”

“A determined kidnapper could climb from one balcony to another and get up here. But I think we’re okay.” He lifted his face to the cool night breeze. “Nice place.”

“Very nice.”

“When I’m deployed, the conditions are usually awful. I like to treat myself to good hotels.”

“With room service,” she reminded him.

“Hungry?”

“You can order for me, as long as it’s fish, rice, a veggie and maybe a little something sweet.”

“A healthy meal for mom and baby.” He looked down at her bulging midsection, glad that she was taking good care of their unborn son. “Before you get comfortable, you should call your parents.”

“I don’t know what to say to them.”

She strolled inside, gingerly lowered herself onto the leather sofa and stretched her legs out. Her feet were already bare. She must have kicked off her sneakers as soon as she’d entered the room. In her purple scrubs, her shape reminded him of a ripe eggplant—a comparison he knew he shouldn’t mention. They were just beginning to connect, and he didn’t want to do anything that would jeopardize his chance to get close to her.

There was one thing all women loved. “Foot rub?” he asked.

“Yes, please.”

He sat on the sofa and lifted her feet onto his lap. Her toes were a little puffy. When he took her heel in his hand and gently kneaded her instep, she responded by wriggling herself into a comfy position against the sofa pillows and closing her eyes. Her fingers laced on top of her belly.

As he stroked and rubbed, he studied her face. Seldom had he had the chance to observe her at rest. She was lovely. Though she had dark circles below her eyes, her lightly tanned complexion was flawless—not exactly glowing, but close. Tendrils of blond hair curled alongside her high cheekbones.

“That feels so good.” Her lips parted as she made a low, sensual hum. “I don’t want you to stop, but I do want you to call room service.”

“You have a call of your own to make,” he reminded her.

“Mom and Dad.” She sighed. “My father is going to love you. The way you poked around the suite when we came in was exactly what he would do.”

Checking the security was a natural instinct for anyone in the intelligence community. “Your dad and I have a few things in common.”

“More than a few,” she said. “You’re a lot like him.”

“I doubt that.” Troy had seen photos and had read dossiers on the career of Richard Laughton. He was the kind of spy who looked good in a tux and worked in a high-class political arena. “From what I can tell, your father is slick and sophisticated. That’s not me.”

“And what’s your style?”

“Down and dirty,” he said.

“But you’re both spies. I know that military intelligence is different from the CIA, but you’re still gathering information. You’re still tracking down the bad guys.” As he continued to rub her feet, she kept humming. “What are you working on right now?”

He was making a transition in his work, preparing for the next phase of his career. “Let’s just say that it involves a terrorist cell.”

“In the United States?”

“That’s right.”

She wiggled her toes. “Unfortunately, I have to use the bathroom. Can we do more foot rubbing later?”

“As much as you want.”

She pulled her feet away from him, sat upright on the sofa and confronted him directly. “I knew from the first time we met you that you were involved in dangerous work.”

“Like any soldier,” he said with a shrug.

“Like my father.”

He met her gaze. Though she was obviously tired, her blue eyes glowed with an inner strength that reminded him of the seven-year-old girl who had fought to protect her mother. Her childhood trauma formed a basis of fear for the adult woman. “You blamed your father when you and your mom were kidnapped.”

“It wasn’t his fault,” she said, quickly defending him.

If she was thinking rationally, she had to know that her father hadn’t done anything that he thought would bring danger to his family. After the incident in South America, he’d gone to great lengths to protect them, bringing his wife and daughters to Washington, D.C., to live. Those were the facts.

But reality was always colored by emotion. He imagined that when Olivia thought of kidnapping, she remembered the feelings she’d had as a little girl. At some level, she would hold her father responsible.

“I promise you,” he said, “that my work will never endanger you or our child.”

She jabbed her forefinger at the center of his chest. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Her sudden hostility ticked him off. He hadn’t yet told her about the changes that were coming up in his career, and he couldn’t expect her to know what he was giving up. Nevertheless, she ought to know him well enough to understand that he was, above all, responsible. “What are you getting at?”

“Has it occurred to you that the intruders at my cabin might not be enemies of my parents? They might be someone connected to your terrorist cell.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he had acknowledged and dismissed that possibility. “They wouldn’t know about you. You’re not my wife.”

“Over the past couple of months, you’ve sent me a lot of baby presents, emails and flowers. It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out our relationship.”

She was right. The attempted kidnapping could be because of his work. It might be his fault that she was in danger.

Chapter Four

After he’d ordered room service and Olivia had retreated to the bedroom to contact her parents, Troy used his secure cell phone to place a call to Gunnery Sergeant Blaine Nelson, who had recently taken Troy’s place as the leader for their seven-man special ops team.

Nelson answered his phone with a yawn. It was two hours later at Camp Lejeune on the North Carolina coast but still too early for Nelson to be asleep. Troy wasted no time with pleasantries. “I have a situation.”

“Where the hell are you?”

“Wake up, Gunny. I need intel on the whereabouts of the terrorist cell, and I need it now.”

“Yes, sir, Captain Weathers, sir.”

Troy couldn’t help grinning at the overly formal form of address. “What are you trying to tell me, Nelson?”

“That you’re being a pain in the butt, sir.”

“Duly noted,” Troy said. “Give me an update.”

“Nothing’s changed since this morning when you left. We can’t pinpoint locations, but chatter indicates that they’re planning their attack in New York City.”

“I want you to trace any possible connection to Colorado. There’s been a threat.”

“No joke? Fill me in.” Nelson was now fully alert. He and Troy had worked together for eight years. They were more than associates, more than friends. They were as close as brothers. “What’s the nature of this threat?”

“Somebody’s after Olivia,” he said. “She’s had the feeling that she’s being watched. About an hour ago, an intruder broke into her cabin. It could be a kidnap attempt.”

“Do you think the guys we’ve been tracking are behind it?”

“I don’t know.”

Their code name for this terrorist group was Hatari, the Swahili word for danger, and they were based in Rwanda. Troy and his team had been responsible for capturing two of their leaders while they were investigating a totally unrelated issue in Africa. If the cell in the U.S. planned to grab Olivia, it could be meant as payback for Troy.

“You said they were tailing her,” Nelson said thoughtfully. “That doesn’t sound like Hatari.”

Troy agreed. The M.O. for these terrorists was anything but subtle. In their home country, they were responsible for wiping out villages, poisoning wells, burning fields and decimating entire families. They went in with guns blazing, operating under the premise that more firepower was better. If they wanted to threaten him using Olivia, they would have killed her.

But Colorado wasn’t their homeland. And the U.S. cell of Hatari was operating under a different set of priorities. They had hooked up with a man whose alias was Kruger—the name he’d used when he’d disappeared off the radar twenty-two years ago. Kruger was under such deep cover that he was nearly transparent. Though he’d lived in the United States, his current identity was unknown. He had no fingerprints on file. There were no existing photographs of him.

“Kruger could be running the show,” Troy said. “He might be inclined to pull a kidnapping and use Olivia to force my hand.”

“Wish we knew more about him. He’s a ghost, an old-school kind of spook.”

Similar to Olivia’s dad and mom. “I’ve got to go. Look into the Colorado angle and keep me posted.”

“Yes, sir.” Nelson yawned again.

“Missing your beauty sleep? It’s a little early for you to be hitting the sheets.”

“It would be...if I was sleeping alone.”

Troy grinned. “Carry on, Gunny.”

When Olivia made the call to her parents, it might be smart for him to talk to them, as well. Kruger was something of a legend in CIA circles, and her mom and dad had been part of that inner circle for years. They might have useful advice.

He crossed the sitting room and tapped on the closed bedroom door. “Is it okay for me to come in?”

“Sure thing.”

He pushed open the door and stopped dead in his tracks. She’d changed from her hospital scrubs to a long, cream-colored, cotton nightgown with lace and satin ribbons around a neckline that was low enough to showcase her full breasts. The light fabric draped gently over her rounded body. Her golden hair cascaded around her shoulders. She looked like a goddess.

“I thought I’d get changed,” she said, “before I made the phone call.”

Struck dumb by the abundance of her beauty, he could only stare and nod. This was his woman. She was carrying his child.

She frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Not a thing.” He swallowed hard. “You’re stunning.”

“No need to worry,” she joked. “I promise not to knock you over with my giant belly.”

“I like the bulge. I like the whole package.”

“It’s a pretty nightgown. It was a gift from one of my baby showers. I’ve had four. I guess that’s a benefit of being a midwife. Most of the people I know have recently given birth.” She swept across the room, majestic as the QEII. At the desk near the window, she picked up her cell phone. “I should probably make this call.”

“When you’re done, I’d like to speak with your dad.”

“Why?”

If circumstances had been different, he would have met her father before he’d asked for her hand in marriage. “The terrorist cell my team is investigating has a CIA crossover. Your dad might have intel I can use.”

“Let me get this straight. You want to talk to my dad about spy stuff?”

“He’s a source.”

“I hadn’t planned for you to meet my family.” She lowered herself into a padded chair beside the desk. “Certainly not like this.”

Though he’d prefer to keep his phone conversation with her father on the level of an intelligence briefing, they couldn’t ignore the personal. He and Richard Laughton had more in common than their occupations. “How much have you told them about me?”

Avoiding his gaze, she stared at the phone in her hand. “They know that you proposed and that I turned you down.”

“Did you give them a reason?”

“I tried.” She shook her head. “I told them pretty much the same thing I told you. You’re a great guy, but we don’t have a relationship. And I’m not interested in being married to someone who’s always traveling and putting himself in danger on a regular basis.”

“What if my career was different?”

She shot him a questioning glance. “Different in what way?”

“What if I wasn’t in the field?”

“But you love your work.” She rose to her feet and stalked toward him. “Please don’t tell me that you’ve resigned from special ops.”

He gave her a weak grin. “Surprise.”

“No way. I won’t let you quit doing something you love because of me and the baby. That’s the worst way to start a relationship. You’d blame me for ruining your life.”

He hadn’t been expecting her to turn handsprings, but he didn’t think she’d be outright hostile. Damn it, this was his decision. His life. “You know, Olivia, not everything is about you.”

A knock at the front door to their suite interrupted any further explanation. A voice called out, “Room service.”

Before he left the bedroom, Troy drew his gun. “I’ll deal with this. You stay here and make your phone call.”

He went to the door and cautiously eased it open. The same bellman who’d carried their suitcases to the suite stood outside with a cart. While Troy watched and kept his weapon hidden behind his back, the young man wheeled into the room and unloaded the plates onto a round table.

Hoping to pick up information, Troy commented, “This must be off-season for the lodge. Are many people staying here?”

“There’s a lot more when the ski slopes are open, but you’d be surprised. We get golfers, hikers, mountain bike riders and people who are up here for river rafting.”

There wasn’t a clever way to ask if the bellman had seen possible Hatari terrorists or a spy named Kruger from the last century. “Mostly families?”

“That’s right. And we’ve got a wedding party coming in tomorrow for the weekend.”

Troy gave him a generous tip before he locked the door and shoved a chair in front of it. If he’d been in the field, he never would have tasted food that hadn’t been prepared in his sight, but he had no reason to believe Olivia’s intruders had followed them to the hotel. He would have noticed a tail.

She emerged from the bedroom. “I talked to my sister and warned her about a possible threat. After she told me I was nuts, she reminded me that her house has an excellent alarm system. They’ll be safe.”

He held out his hand for the phone. “Can I talk to your father?”

“Mom and Dad are asleep. They were exhausted after the flight from Cairo, and my sister didn’t want to wake them.”

“I guess I’ll have to wait.” He was a patient man, almost to a fault. Patience and persistence were useful traits in his business, but Olivia was straining his reserves. She had a real talent for driving him to the edge and making him want to jump.

He went to the table and lifted the lids off their separate dinners. Pan-fried trout for her. A T-bone steak for him.

As she took her place, she gazed across the table with a guarded expression. “You said the decision to change your career wasn’t about me.”

“Correct.” He sliced into his steak, cut off a chunk and stuffed it into his mouth so he wouldn’t have to talk. The consequences of his decision were still painful, and he knew better than to look toward her for understanding.

“I’m listening,” she said.

He shrugged. “It’s time for a change.”

“Is this a military thing? Some kind of requirement?”

“The T-bone’s great. How’s the fish?”

“Delicious.” She poured water from a carafe into her glass and took a sip. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”

“I thought pregnant women were always eating for two.”

“Oh, I’ve done plenty of that. I’ve packed on thirty-three pounds, probably more than that. I quit weighing myself two days ago.” She picked up her fork. “And you’re changing the subject. I want to know about your career.”

Telling her about the career change was one of the reasons he’d come to Colorado. He was looking at a change in his life that might affect the way she felt about him. From the first time he’d proposed, she had made it crystal clear that she didn’t want to be married to a man whose occupation was full of danger and uncertainty. Now that he knew more about her family history, he had a greater understanding of that fear. But he still wouldn’t have quit if he hadn’t been ready to make the change. As it turned out, the timing was right for him to settle into a different phase of life.

He wanted a home.

He wanted to be a father—a real father, not a part-time visitor.

All he had to do was convince Olivia. It was a risky proposition. If he told her and she still rejected him, he’d know that her reason for avoiding a relationship with him wasn’t just his job. She’d be saying no because she didn’t like him.

“I’m thirty-six years old,” he said. “For somebody who does my kind of work, that’s over-the-hill. My reflexes aren’t as fast. My aim isn’t as sharp as it used to be.”

“It sounds like you’re being too hard on yourself.”

Since he was coming clean, he might as well let her know everything. He left the table and went to his duffel. From a front pocket, he removed a case, took out a pair of silver-rimmed eyeglasses and stuck them on his nose. Wearing them was an admission of declining vision, but it was nice to be able to see the food on the plate. “Right now, I just need them for up close. My long-range vision is okay.”

“I like the glasses,” she said. “They make you look smart.”

He winced. “And it’s well-known that a high IQ strikes terror in the hearts of bad guys.”

“Is that what you want? To strike terror?”

He shook his head. “I’m still in better shape than ninety percent of the guys out there. That’s not my point. I need to be the best, the fastest, the sharpest. Otherwise, I could be putting my men in danger.”

“This must be hard for you,” she said. “Will you miss the action?”

He thought for a moment before responding. “In spite of what you might think, I’m not an adrenaline junkie. I don’t get a thrill from putting my life on the line. My proudest accomplishment as a leader is that I’ve never lost a man, not a single one in fourteen years. I’m happy to quit while I’m still ahead.”

When he looked across the table and met her gaze, he noticed a glow that he’d never seen before. Approval? She smiled gently. “What will you do now?”

“I could continue to go along with my men in a supervisory position, staying behind the lines and giving orders. Or I could opt for a training position at Camp Lejeune. I’d rather be a trainer.”

“A desk job?”

“Hell, no. I couldn’t handle that. I’ll have some time on the training courses and some in the classroom.”

As her smile grew brighter, her blue eyes glimmered. Definite approval. He felt like he’d won the lottery. Her voice was warm. “You’ll be a good teacher.”

“Why do you think so? Is it the glasses?”

“You’ve got the patience for it.” She lifted a forkful of green veggies to her mouth. “You’ve been able to put up with me for all these months. And I can be pretty stubborn.”

“Like a mule.”

“But you never gave up,” she said. “Even though I said no, you asked again and again and again and—”

“You liked it,” he interrupted. “On some level, you liked that I sent flowers for your birthday. You always thanked me.”

“Just being polite.”

He knew it was more than that, but he didn’t push. This dinner was going well. The food was good, and conversation was beginning to come more easily. She talked about what she wanted to do after the baby was born, and they discovered a common interest in rock climbing. He mentioned his interest in historical books and biographies, especially those of presidents and statesmen.

“Do you like politics?” she asked.

“It’s not the politics,” he said. “It’s the strategy that goes into decision making. What do you read?”

“Fiction, all kinds except espionage for obvious reasons. I’ve been into vampires for a while, but that’s not the best kind of book to be reading while I’m sitting with a mom in labor. It’s a little too gory.” She leaned back in her chair, rested her hands on her bulge and grinned. “This is nice.”

“We haven’t spent a lot of time like this...just talking.”

“Well, we only had two quickie dates before I showed up on your doorstep and pounced.”

Things would have been different if they’d gone through a regular courtship. He doubted the outcome would have been the same. From the first time they’d met, there had been physical chemistry, but there had also been logistical obstacles with his international assignments and her mountain lifestyle. There might have been a couple more dates, but they didn’t really have a lot in common—not until she’d pounced.

Her cell phone rang, and she picked it up. A frown pulled at the corners of her mouth. “My sister.”

“Answer it.”

She talked for half a minute. Her frown deepened.

Thrusting the phone toward him, she said, “It’s my dad.”

Reluctantly, Troy took the call. His relationship with Olivia had progressed more in the past forty-five minutes than it had in eight months. They were enjoying each other’s company, growing accustomed to each other.

He was pretty sure that talking to Richard Laughton would change the situation.

Chapter Five

Olivia glared at the closed bedroom door where Troy had retreated for his conversation with her father. Apparently, he needed privacy to discuss how the two of them would handle the potential threat to her life. Heaven forbid that she be consulted.

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