“I’m pregnant.”

The air in Riley’s lungs was sucked out of him. “I didn’t see this one coming,” he finally managed to say. “Hell, in the past two years, I haven’t even been able to commit to a phone plan,” he mumbled, a bit louder than he should have.

Tessa lifted her head, met his gaze and laughed. A single burst of pure uncut irony. “Riley, this isn’t your problem.”

Despite the jolt of the news, Riley didn’t have any trouble carrying it to the next step. Tessa had already admitted it had been months since she’d had sex, so that meant the child had been conceived during the doctor’s medical procedure.

“In case you have any doubts about how this will play out, the baby’s mine,” Riley said. Powerful words, life-changing words. Words he thought he’d never hear himself say.

“Our baby,” he corrected.

Mommy Under Cover
Delores Fossen

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Imagine a family tree that includes Texas cowboys, Choctaw and Cherokee Indians, a Louisiana pirate and a Scottish rebel who battled side by side with William Wallace. With ancestors like that, it’s easy to understand why Texas author and former air force captain Delores Fossen feels as if she was genetically predisposed to writing romances. Along the way to fulfilling her DNA destiny, Delores married an air force top gun who just happens to be of Viking descent. With all those romantic bases covered, she doesn’t have to look too far for inspiration.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Agent Riley McDade—A Justice Department bad boy on assignment to bring down a murdering fertility specialist known as the Baby Maker, who was responsible for Riley’s fiancée’s death.

Agent Tessa Abbot—She’s always played by the rules. She’s a dedicated agent who’s trying to climb to the top.

John Abbot—Tessa’s father who’s also a mission director in the Justice Department. Is he so desperate to collar a killer and clear his name that he’s willing to risk Riley’s and his daughter’s lives?

Dr. Barton Fletcher—aka the Baby Maker. He’s already murdered one federal agent who threatened to shut down his illegal medical procedures.

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

Prologue

Assisted Fertility Clinic

Dallas, Texas

“The Baby Maker,” Dr. Barton Fletcher read from the personal memo clipped to the file.

So that’s what people were calling him these days. He chuckled. It made him sound a little like God.

Which in a way, he was.

On occasion he’d created life. And on other occasions, he’d taken life. It all evened out in the end.

He glanced through the Tates’ quarter-inch-thick file that his staff had put together for him. Aston Tate, a reclusive California software guru with an ego purportedly as large as his net worth, and his heiress wife, Isabel. Eccentric tendencies. Situational values and ethics.

In other words, his kind of people.

He’d been lucky finding his kind of people. Or rather, they’d been lucky in finding him—all through word of mouth, of course. He couldn’t advertise certain…aspects of his business. Not that lack of traditional advertisement had hurt. In the three short months the clinic had been open, he’d already assisted eleven couples with his procedure. The Tates would make it an even dozen.

Like the other eleven couples, the Tates were looking for a perfect baby. A baby genetically engineered to their specifications. Blond hair. Blue eyes. Male. Athletic build. Above average intelligence. Well above average. No imperfections of any kind.

In other words, the usual.

The hair and eye color varied from couple to couple, but the rest was a given.

There was something comforting about predictability.

Well, maybe.

Barton Fletcher took another look at the Tates’ file.

The paperwork and requests were indeed predictable and in order, including the attached memo from Isabel Tate that lauded him as the Baby Maker for a couple who desperately wanted the child of their dreams. However, the fact that everything was in order did nothing to rid him of the knot tightening in his gut.

Was something wrong?

The obvious quickly came to mind. Maybe this was some sort of sting operation. The latest attempt by authorities to apprehend him.

That wasn’t going to happen.

Because he was always careful.

Always.

If these clients were indeed working for law enforcement, then he’d just have to deal with the situation as he had before.

Give life…take life. It all evened out in the end.

Chapter One

Washington, D.C.

Agent Tessa Abbot walked into the briefing room of the Justice Department’s Special Investigations Unit, took one look at him and came to a complete standstill.

Her steel-blue gaze riffled over his uncombed hair, down to his three-day-old beard. Possibly four.

Riley had lost count.

And then her gaze kept on riffling. Down to his scruffy black T-shirt, jungle fatigues and combat boots caked with mud. Thankfully the color of the T-shirt camouflaged a multitude of other stains that he didn’t want to identify, but blood was a distinct possibility.

“Why are you here?” Tessa asked.

Riley lifted his hand in a wait-a-second gesture, gulped down the rest of his lukewarm coffee and prayed the caffeine would kick in soon. The all-night cargo flight from Liberia had left him with a wicked case of jet lag and the mother of all headaches.

“This is where I’m supposed to be. I’m your husband.”

And with that, he waited for the excrement to hit the proverbial fan.

He didn’t have to wait long.

“You’re what?” Tessa adjusted her stance, shifting her weight from one fashionable snakeskin leather shoe to the other. Not her usual choice of footwear, which Riley knew for a fact tended toward something flat and more functional.

In her case, functional often included kick-butt, steel-toed boots.

This morning she was obviously dressed for the mission. And those three-inch-plus, mission-directed heels put her close to six feet tall.

Practically eye-to-eye with him.

That eye level allowed him to see her baby blues narrow significantly.

“I’m your husband,” Riley repeated, even though he was dead certain she’d heard him the first time. “Well, your husband for this mission, anyway. After I get cleaned up, we’ll be the undercover team going into the Assisted Fertility Clinic in Dallas.”

Somehow, Riley managed to say that without any emotion. Inside—well, that was a whole different story. There was emotion, all right. Lots of it. And he intended to channel all those still-raw feelings into apprehending Dr. Barton Fletcher, aka the Baby Maker.

“You’re mistaken.” And Tessa didn’t say it with affection, either. No surprise there. This would not be an affection-generating conversation. “I’m teamed with Agent Trapanna for this.”

So the mission commander hadn’t informed her yet. Riley was afraid of that. That meant he’d have to be the messenger. Not his first choice of duties for 0600 hours. Or any other hour for that matter.

“There’s been a change in plans,” Riley explained. “Trapanna came down with some kind of throat infection last night. He’s on antibiotics and bed rest. I heard what happened and volunteered to fill in for him.”

That heard-what-happened part was really glossing over things.

For days Riley had been calling for permission updates on the Baby Maker case. It’d been no accident that he’d learned of Trapanna’s medical condition and within five minutes had arranged a flight out of Liberia. Of course, he’d had to finish a really nasty confrontation with two armed guerrillas before he could get to the airport—hence the possibility of blood on his shirt. Their blood. But he’d made it back to D.C. in time for the mission brief.

Tessa stared at him. And stared. Apparently processing his impromptu situation report. Judging from the way the muscles stirred and jumped in her blush-touched cheeks, she didn’t process it well.

“You volunteered?” she questioned.

Riley settled for a nod.

“Oh, mercy.” She groaned, tossed her mission folder onto the conference table and aimed her index finger at him. “Let’s get something straight. I don’t want you anywhere near this ops, got that?”

As Riley guessed she would do, Tessa reached for the sleek black phone on the wall. Probably so she could call the mission director and complain about the turn of events. Riley didn’t want that to happen.

Not yet anyway.

Some fast talking and lots of luck had gotten him this ops and he wasn’t about to let Tessa Abbot take it away from him.

There was too much at stake.

Riley deposited his empty foam cup onto the table and, in the same motion, caught her arm—a little maneuver that earned him a glare. Man, she was good at it, too. Those steely eyes practically tapered to slits as she shook off his grip.

“If you’ve got a problem with our working together, then say it to me,” Riley insisted. “Not to our boss.”

Without even a second’s hesitation, she gave him an Okay, I will nod. “Oh, I have a problem, all right. A huge one. There’s no way you can be objective about Dr. Barton Fletcher, and you and I both know why.”

Riley didn’t hesitate, either. “I’ll take a wild guess here and assume you’re referring to the fact that Fletcher killed my former partner?”

It wasn’t a wild guess.

That was exactly what this was about.

“Fletcher allegedly killed your former partner,” Tessa amended, using the politically correct term. “Your fiancée.”

“Your friend,” Riley added.

Just in case Tessa had forgotten.

Even though he knew she hadn’t.

He was reasonably sure that no one in SIU had forgotten.

Riley scrubbed his hand over his face. “And there’s nothing ‘allegedly’ about it. Fletcher murdered Colette. The only thing missing is the proof. Proof I intend to find so I can put the SOB on death row where he belongs.”

Now, there was emotion. Riley couldn’t possibly contain it this time. It was like a fist clamped around his heart. Squeezing the life right out of him.

But then, Colette had been the woman he’d loved.

The woman he had planned to spend the rest of his life loving. The woman he’d asked to marry him just hours before that last mission nearly two years ago. And he had allowed his love for Colette and their personal relationship to distract him at the worst possible time. That distraction had given Dr. Barton Fletcher the opportunity to kill her.

“Exactly my point,” Tessa countered. “Fletcher murdered someone close to you. That only proves your inability to be objective about this case.”

“You were close to her, too, Tessa,” Riley quickly pointed out.

She shook her head. “I wasn’t engaged to her. Big difference. I’m talking huge.”

Riley calmly leaned closer. “And do you think my feelings for Colette make me less or more eager to bring Fletcher down?”

Tessa leaned closer, as well, until they were only inches apart. “I think it makes you a huge liability and therefore a dangerous one.”

Okay. So they’d moved on to the pull-no-punches mode. That was his preferred mode of operation anyway. “I could say the same about you. You were just as shaken by Colette’s murder as I was.”

“Yes.” Tessa repeated it and took a deep breath. “But you have a choice about being here.” She jabbed that perfectly manicured index finger against his chest and leaned in. “I. Don’t.”

It was true. On the flight from Liberia, he’d read all about it in the preliminary mission report. Riley had been waiting for nearly two years for Dr. Barton Fletcher to reopen his business.

Two long years.

And the moment it happened, Riley had started the networking that would hopefully give him a shot at getting a coveted appointment with the murdering doctor. However, Tessa beat him to him. Not intentionally. While she’d been working on another case, she’d stumbled onto a contact that had offered to help get her that appointment.

Blind luck, some would say.

But even if it was luck, fate, karma—whatever, Riley intended to use it and any other opportunity that came his way to catch Fletcher.

“What if Fletcher recognizes you, huh?” Tessa asked, obviously trying a different angle.

“He won’t. I’ve never even met the man. I was stuck in a surveillance van during Colette’s last mission.” Riley had to pause a moment before he could finish. “By the time I got to her, Fletcher and his hired assassins were long gone.”

And Colette was dead.

That brought back the flood of memories. The nightmare. He couldn’t make that nightmare go away, ever, but he could try to get some justice for Colette.

“Any other objections?” Riley challenged.

Silence.

Not coupled with a glare, either, which didn’t make it any easier to take. Because he was almost positive he saw some disgust in her eyes. And worse, he saw sympathy, as well.

“Go ahead,” Riley insisted in a rough whisper. “Say it—you blame me for Colette’s death.”

Tessa dodged his gaze and stepped to the side, the sleeve of her precisely fitted indigo-blue silk jacket sliding against his mud-splattered arm. What she didn’t do was say it. No reminder of the fact that during that deadly assignment, he’d violated regulations by not excusing himself from a mission where he’d been intimately involved with his partner.

It had been a mistake.

One he’d regret for the rest of his life.

And one he wouldn’t repeat.

“This isn’t just about Colette,” Tessa said—finally. “I don’t like working with agents who make a habit of bending the rules. And let’s face it, Riley. You don’t just bend the rules, you break them. Often.”

Not exactly the heavy-fisted admonishment she could have hurled at him. But, like her semisympathetic eyes, it pushed a few buttons. Mainly because it questioned his competence. His rogue instincts had saved his butt on several occasions—and he was good at his job.

Damn good.

“You think Dr. Barton Fletcher will play by the rules, Tessa?” Riley shook his head. “I doubt it. In fact, I think he’d prefer being investigated by a yes-sir operative who can’t or won’t think outside the box.”

She mumbled some profanity under her breath. Since he was still close enough to smell her pricey mission-required perfume, Riley had no trouble hearing that profanity—which was mainly directed at him.

So he’d made his point.

If the point he was trying to make was that they could both be smart-asses.

That wasn’t a good thing since they’d have to work together. Plus, to bring Fletcher down, he needed her help and she needed his. A little fact that obviously wouldn’t make either of them happy.

Forcing himself to do some damage control, Riley caught her silk-covered arm again and eased her around to face him.

“Look, we have different approaches to what we do.” He kept his voice level. Or rather, tried to. “That’s not necessarily a bad thing. And even if it were, it’s no longer an issue. We’re partners. Period.”

Judging from Tessa’s Arctic stare, she would have almost certainly challenged that—again—if the door to the meeting room hadn’t swung open. No knock. But Riley hadn’t expected the lanky, ginger-haired guest to announce his presence with a customary knock.

The man was John Abbot, the mission commander for this particular ops, and therefore their boss.

He was also Tessa’s father.

Abbot spared them both a glance, barely, before he flipped open a laptop and dropped down into the high-backed, burgundy-leather chair at the head of the conference table. “Let’s make this quick. I have two other missions launching today—”

“Sir, I’d like to request a different partner,” Tessa interrupted.

“Request denied.” Abbot didn’t even look at her, choosing instead to keep his attention fastened to the laptop screen. “Riley McDade’s the only agent with deep-cover experience who was available on such short notice.”

“Yes. But in my opinion, Riley’s much too close to the case.”

This time John Abbot’s eyes slid in their direction. Eyes that were an exact copy of the woman stewing next to him. Oh, yeah. Abbot could do that glare thing as well as Tessa.

She’d obviously learned from the master.

“Everyone in SIU is close to the case,” Abbot snapped. “It was my call to put Riley on the team.” He paused for a heartbeat. “A call he’d better not make me regret.”

And with that gruffly barked reprimand, Abbot motioned for them to sit. It wasn’t a request, either. Riley took the chair on the left; Tessa sat on the other side of the table. Directly across. Probably so she could still glare at him.

Abbot volleyed glances at both of them. Paused. Mumbled something. “Is it necessary for me to remind you two that you’re posing as a happily married couple who desperately want a baby?”

Riley looked at her.

Tessa looked at him.

“No reminder necessary,” Riley assured their boss.

Even though they might have to remind each other.

“Good.” Abbot turned his attention back to the computer screen where he was no doubt scanning the latest intel report. “Judging from what we’ve been able to hear with our monitoring equipment, you can expect to establish your first face-to-face contact with Dr. Fletcher this afternoon at fifteen hundred hours. He’ll probably go over the records we’ve created for you, but beyond that, we’re not sure what’ll be asked of you. Some lab tests, maybe. Perhaps more.”

It was that “more” part that had given Riley a few uncomfortable thoughts. Mainly because he didn’t know what “more” would entail. With Fletcher, it could be just about anything. Still, that wouldn’t stop him.

“I take it there are no pictures in the records you created for us?” Tessa asked. But there was a little too much hope in her tone for it not to set Riley’s teeth on edge. She obviously hadn’t given up on ditching him.

She was wasting her time.

“No pictures,” Abbot confirmed. “The Tates are supposed to be camera-shy recluses because they fear kidnapping attempts. But there are some fake bios in the records and the lab results from the tests Fletcher’s staff ran on you earlier this week. Plus, there are probably some extensive background checks that Fletcher had done.”

Tessa’s eyebrow lifted a fraction, the lift apparently aimed at Riley.

“I’ve studied the mission folder,” Riley volunteered. “I know what I’m supposed to do.”

“I’m sure you do,” Abbot interjected, pausing barely a second. “Neither of you will be able to carry a weapon or a communication device inside the clinic. With Fletcher’s extensive security measures, it’d be too risky. But we’ll have a team in the area monitoring you, and if something goes wrong, they’ll respond as needed.”

In other words, evasive measures. And there was absolutely no guarantee that those evasive measures would be effective, enough, or in time. If their cover didn’t hold, it could turn ugly.

Just as it had the day Colette was murdered.

That reminder was like a sucker punch. Riley quickly shoved it aside to concentrate on the briefing.

“Any indication that Fletcher is suspicious of us?” Tessa asked.

Abbot shook his head. “Just the opposite. From what we can tell, his people have dug no further than the records we provided.”

That was something at least. It meant they weren’t walking into a trap.

“While you’re at the clinic, Fletcher will arrange a time for the second appointment that should happen within the next seventy-two hours,” Abbot went on. “Well, hopefully he’ll do that. For that appointment, Fletcher will take you to an unspecified facility where we believe he’s been performing the medical procedures.”

Not a simple in vitro or insemination for couples having trouble conceiving. Oh, no.

During these medical procedures, Dr. Barton Fletcher would supposedly manipulate the DNA to get the made-to-specs designer babies that rich, self-absorbed couples wanted.

And it was that made-to-specs part that made what he did highly illegal.

If Riley couldn’t pin a murder rap on the doctor, then he’d see how long he could put Fletcher behind bars for performing illegal medical procedures.

“One more thing,” Abbot added. “Riley will be the team leader for this assignment.”

Okay. Riley hadn’t thought there’d be any more surprises today, but obviously he’d been wrong.

Tessa pulled in a hard breath. “But—”

“Riley’s had more experience in deep-cover ops.” There was an unspoken “I won’t budge on this” at the end of Abbot’s comment. “And deep cover is exactly what I want the two of you to maintain once you leave headquarters. Remember, after you arrive for your appointment this afternoon, Fletcher will almost certainly keep you under tight surveillance.”

In other words, continue to play the part of the loving couple. No easy task since they were practically at each other’s throats.

“Questions?” Abbot asked, standing. “Doubts? Concerns? Complaints?”

As if they would actually voice any of that to him. They’d both already fulfilled their complaint quota for the day. Maybe for their entire careers as federal agents.

Tessa and Riley shook their heads.

Abbot closed the laptop, got up and headed for the door. But then he stopped and turned back around. He aimed his attention at Tessa.

“The chief is still considering your promotion. I’ll make my recommendation to him after this mission.”

With that, Abbot made his exit and the door swished closed behind him.

“A promotion?” Riley mumbled. “And it probably hinges on this ops. No pressure there, huh?”

Tessa was already reaching for the mission folder, but her hand stopped in midreach. “And do you think that makes this ops more, or less, important to me?” she countered, throwing his own words right back at him.

Riley couldn’t help it. He had to smile. “Dare I use the P-word? As in personal? Seems to me that you have a problem with agents going into an ops when there’s something personal at stake.”

“This is a mission,” Tessa informed him, sounding very much as if she were trying to convince herself. “And I don’t bring personal issues into a mission.”

He was betting she would this time.

Tessa and he had both been friends with Colette. That made it personal. Added to that, they had to spend the next few days in close, intimate quarters pretending to be a loving, married couple.

And they had to do it with a killer watching their every move.

Oh, yeah.

That was just about as personal—and as dangerous—as things could get.

Chapter Two

Thanks to some road construction, the limo was crawling through the congested Dallas traffic. The stop-and-go snail’s pace didn’t help the tension that had settled in the back of Tessa’s neck. Of course, she couldn’t blame that tension solely on the traffic, the circuitous clandestine flights they’d taken from D.C. or even the mission itself.

No.

That tension had a lot to do with the man in the black cashmere sweater who was seated shoulder-to-shoulder with her.

Her partner.

Her husband.

And the absolute last agent she wanted to be paired with for this mission.

Tessa had planned for a lot of contingencies, but Riley McDade sure wasn’t one of them.

She wanted a quick in and out. No complications. Nothing to extend the length of this ops.

And especially nothing to interfere with its success.

With his renegade tendencies, personal chip on his shoulder and badass attitude, Riley McDade put all those things in question.

“The fictional Aston Tate was born in L.A.,” she heard Riley say. Not to her. He was obviously going over the undercover identity info stored on his PalmPilot. “He’s twenty-nine—just two years younger than me, so I shouldn’t have a problem with that. He collects Civil War memorabilia—I’ll have to fake that part. He’s a huge L.A. Lakers fan—won’t have to fake that. And he’s a jackass.”

Tessa glanced at the PalmPilot he had cradled in his hand. “It says that in the file?”

He shook his head. “No, that’s my opinion. Anybody who’d go to these lengths to have the perfect heir is a jackass. He should be satisfied with what Mother Nature intended him to have. Or not have.”

That tension in her neck went up a notch.

Tessa decided it was a good time to sit quietly and stare out the limo window. Maybe that way she wouldn’t have to respond to Riley’s comment, but her silence didn’t do a thing to ease the deep ache in her heart.

“I’m pulling into the parking lot of the clinic now,” Chris Ingram, the limo driver and fellow SIU agent, informed them through the intercom.

It was almost show time. Tessa took a deep breath. Steadying herself. And hating that steadying herself was even necessary. Why had fate chosen her for this assignment anyway? Talk about rubbing salt in a wound.

A baby mission.

One where she had to pretend to be a hopeful parent who desperately wanted to conceive the perfect child. Well, at least she wouldn’t have to fake the desperately-wanted-to-conceive part. All she had to do was open a vein and let her true feelings flow. In that respect, she was the ideal agent for this ops.

Tessa clung to that.

And hoped it was enough to get her through.

Because in another respect, she was as ill-suited for this as Riley was.

Maybe even more.

Both of them had more than enough emotional baggage to sink this mission before it even got off the ground. And for her, it was emotional baggage that she should have gotten rid of years ago. Bottom line: a baby couldn’t change what had happened in her own childhood. It couldn’t change what her father and she had endured because her mother had walked out on them when she was a child. It couldn’t change any of that. But the emotional baggage could definitely interfere with what she needed to do now on this mission.

If she let it interfere, that is.

She wouldn’t.

Riley clicked off the PalmPilot, essentially erasing its memory. A necessary security precaution. “Want to practice your bio?” he asked.

“Not really.” She already had it committed to memory. Isabel Tate. Twenty-nine. Tessa’s own age. No hobbies. No real life—something that Tessa could definitely relate to. Isabel was essentially the reclusive trophy wife of an equally reclusive trophy husband. A marriage of new money and blue blood.

“There’ll be lots of personal contact between us when we’re in there,” Riley commented. “And afterward while we’re at the second appointment.”

“I know. Loving couple and all that. I understand what we have to do, Riley.”

He nodded. Paused. And otherwise continued to grill her with those storm-gray eyes. “You haven’t been in a deep-cover situation like this before.”

That improved her posture. He’d better not be questioning her abilities. Or reminding her that her father had appointed him as team leader.

“Are you trying to make conversation or a point?” she asked.

“Definitely a point. At a minimum, we’ll probably have to kiss while Fletcher has us under surveillance.”

Oh, that.

She’d thought about kisses all right, along with other intimate behavior that might be expected of a happily married couple.

Embraces.

Long, lingering looks.

Caresses.

It wouldn’t be especially comfortable. Or easy. But then, there wasn’t much about this assignment that would be easy. Still, she’d do it. There were a lot worse things than kissing Riley.

With that reminder, she glanced at his mouth. Sensual, she supposed. After another glance, Tessa took out the supposed. Yes, his mouth was sensual, and why the heck she’d noticed it, she didn’t know.

“Well?” Riley prompted when they stepped out of the limo.

“Well, what?” Tessa asked, already worried that her daydreams about his mouth had caused her to miss something important.

He mumbled some profanity and wiped his hand through his stealth black hair that fell several inches down his neck. The swipe and the gusty October wind only mussed it more, but it still managed to look fashionably disheveled. A term that actually described his overall appearance.

“You understand what we might have to do in there, right?” he asked, obviously irritated.

“It’s not an issue,” she assured him, tossing that irritation right back at him. “If the situation dictates a kiss, then kiss away.”

But both knew it might not be limited to just a kiss.

After all, they were about to enter a fertility clinic. Where virtually anything could be expected of them. Anything. And the man who’d be expecting it was the very person who’d created a dark cloud over the Special Investigations Unit. He’d killed one of their own and gotten away with it.

So far.

As long as Fletcher was free, the dark cloud would stay. Over Riley. Over her father. Over the entire department.

And she could do something about that.

She could finally rid her father of the one black mark on his otherwise spotless career record: his failure to close out Colette’s murder.

Maybe then…

“Where are you right now?” she heard Riley whisper. There was yet more annoyance in his voice. He slipped his arm around her waist and eased her closer to him. Not exactly a loving gesture, either. He gave her a nudge.

Tessa glanced at him and was on the verge of asking him what he meant, but those raised questioning eyebrows said it all.

“I’m focused,” she assured him.

He made a sound to indicate he didn’t believe her.

She made a sound to indicate she didn’t care what he thought.

It was going to be a long mission.

They entered the brownstone building and Tessa paused in the doorway. To get her bearings. To observe. To make sure she was indeed focused.

She counted three security cameras in the reception area. Not two, as stated in the intel report. That meant the surveillance team hadn’t known about the recent modifications in the clinic.

Tessa silently cursed.

She’d already had enough surprises on this ops without adding yet another.

“Camera in the corner above the fake Picasso,” Riley muttered.

“I saw it. And I don’t think it’s a fake.”

Definitely not the decor or security measures for a typical fertility clinic. But then, Dr. Barton Fletcher was nowhere in the range of being typical.

There were no other patients. Just a brunette receptionist whose brass nameplate on her practically bare, glass-topped desk identified her as Beatrice Holden. The woman was almost certainly a hired gun. Tessa noticed the faint outline of a shoulder holster beneath her loose mocha-colored jacket.

“The Tates, I presume,” Beatrice concluded, her more than mildly curious gaze raking over them. She hitched her shoulder in the direction of a hall. “Follow me.”

They did. Down the wide corridor that Tessa knew from studying the floor plans would end at the sitting area outside Fletcher’s office. They passed no other visible doors along the way, but there were some concealed ones behind the judge’s paneling that didn’t quite go with the rest of the decor. Likely spots for escape routes.

Or security guards.

The fact she didn’t have a weapon suddenly made Tessa very uncomfortable. Riley must have felt the same way because the muscles tensed in his arm that he had curved around her waist. Because of Colette and his obsession with getting revenge, there was no telling what kind of emotional wringer he was going through at the moment.

As they neared the end of the hall, the doctor stepped out from the sitting area and flashed them a slick smile that sent a chill snaking down her spine.

Tessa hadn’t been sure how she’d react to Barton Fletcher, but she was a firm believer in instincts. In this case her instincts confirmed what everyone already suspected: the man was a killer.

Too bad the justice system required more than her instincts as proof. And too bad that hard evidence was the very thing they lacked. Of course, that was what this mission was all about—gathering evidence to bring a killer to justice.

Like the reception area, the sitting room outside his office was plush. Decorated with original artwork and a Turkish rug that was probably worth six figures.

But that wasn’t all.

On one wall there were framed black-and-white photos. Artistically done. Precisely placed. All of babies. Lots of babies. Some were newborns snuggled into blankets. Others were slightly older with round smiling faces.

Tessa cursed herself when she had to take another deep breath.

That deep breath sent Riley’s gaze sliding in her direction. “Are you okay?” he whispered. Lovingly whispered. He pressed a husbandly kiss on her cheek.

It was time to open that vein a little.

Not that she could have possibly kept it closed anyway.

Tessa tipped her head toward the photos. “Aren’t they beautiful?” She made sure her voice cracked a little. It wasn’t difficult to do.

Riley nodded, his interest not on the photos but still on her. His stare, along with his slightly tightened grip, was a subtle question. What the heck was wrong with her? But it was also a subtle warning for her to keep her attention on the mission.

“The babies are a few of my many success stories,” Dr. Fletcher volunteered.

Thankfully, the doctor’s voice dragged Tessa back to where she needed to be. She forced aside the old wounds, the old issues, and reminded herself that she couldn’t do anything about the past, but she could do something about the future.

The doctor led them into his office. Fletcher obviously had expensive taste and his workplace wasn’t the only thing that reflected it. His clothes were flawless, along with being pricey. Somehow, the classic conservative Italian suit didn’t clash with the eraser-size diamond stud in his right earlobe.

“Thank you for coming on such short notice,” Fletcher offered.

“We wouldn’t have missed this.” Riley eased onto the sofa across from Fletcher’s desk. Tessa followed and stayed close. “Our future son is our number-one priority.”

“Your future son is important to me, as well.” Fletcher sat at his desk and typed in something on his computer keyboard. “When I meet with potential clients for the first time, I start with the basics. Many couples come to me for enhanced conceptions, but because my time is limited, I’m selective about those I agree to help.”

Tessa didn’t have to fake a surprised reaction to that. Her response was completely natural. A week before at her preliminary screening, Fletcher’s medical technician had told her that once a couple was granted an actual appointment with the doctor, that meant they’d been approved for the procedure. The only thing left to finalize the deal should have been the quarter-million-dollar fee.

Had Fletcher changed his policy about that?

“You are going to help us?” she asked.

Fletcher didn’t respond right away. Nor did he look at them. He kept his gaze fastened to his computer screen. Unfortunately, Tessa couldn’t see what had garnered his attention, but it sent her heart pounding. Mercy. They’d come too close for him to stop things now.

“I always request background checks on potential clients,” Fletcher explained, ignoring her question. “You both obviously value your privacy. It took my assistants days to delve through the layers of cyber security.”

Okay.

That didn’t do much to return her heart rate back to normal. Especially since only hours earlier her father had assured them that Fletcher hadn’t taken much interest in their backgrounds.

Just how far had Fletcher’s “assistants” delved?

And what had they learned?

“Well?” Riley questioned. However, he didn’t just question. He took her by the hand and stood as if preparing to leave. “If you’re not going to help us, Doc, then we’ll have to find someone else who will. Come on, darling.”

Tessa stood, as well, wondering if they would have to fight their way out of here. If Fletcher was on to them, he wouldn’t just let them leave.

She watched Fletcher’s hand carefully. Bracing herself in case he reached for a gun in his desk drawer.

But he didn’t reach for anything. Fletcher motioned for Riley to sit back down. “Of course, I’ll help you, Mr. Tate. The background check was simply a square filler, and now that it’s complete, we can move on to the next square.”

Tessa hoped her sigh of relief wasn’t too audible.

So, they were in.

Whatever in entailed.

The doctor turned back to his computer. “I’ve gone over your wife’s lab results, and the best time for us to begin the procedure is three days from now. How does that fit into your schedule?”

Tessa looked at Riley. They both paused, pretending to think about it. And then both nodded.

“Good,” Fletcher concluded. “On the evening of the twelfth, I’ll send a car for you. You’ll be at the address you listed on your original paperwork?”

“Yes,” Riley and Tessa answered in unison.

It was an estate located in the heart of Dallas, just a few miles away. Their Justice Department agency, the SIU, had rented it for them to use to maintain their cover as the wealthy Tates. According to the latest intel report, Fletcher’s people had already gained access to the exterior of the property by posing as groundskeepers and had installed video-surveillance equipment in the back and side gardens. That meant any time Riley or she walked past a window, they’d need to play the part of the Tates.

“For the next appointment, you’ll be taken to a clinic where I’ll be waiting for you,” Fletcher continued. “I insist the location be kept secret. You’ll tell no one where you’re going. Please don’t let that alarm you. I ask this of all my patients.”

“Why all the security precautions?” Tessa asked, because she thought it was something any normal person would want to know.

The doctor drummed his fingers against his desk and eased his perfectly shaped mouth into another of those oily smiles. “There are those who object to the services I provide.”

A huge understatement, and not really a truthful one, but Tessa only gave him a sympathetic nod.

Fletcher returned the nod. “The clinic will be secure, and I’m certain all of us will be more comfortable in a secure location where we won’t be interrupted.”

Or arrested.

That was no doubt the real reason for keeping the clinic’s location a closely guarded secret. Since those medical procedures were illegal, Fletcher wouldn’t want to risk being caught while actually performing one.

“Before you leave today, we’ll need to do some blood work.” Fletcher then transferred his attention to Riley. “And for you, we’ll need semen. Your wife can accompany you to the private area of the lab to do the collection, but we do need the specimen inside the cup and not elsewhere.”

The doctor chuckled. Tessa and Riley added their own sounds of amusement, as well.

So, this was one of those “loving couple and all that” contingencies.

Riley brought her hand to his mouth and kissed lightly. When their gazes met, there was some mild humor in his eyes. “I’ll go solo for the collection. Having you in there with me would be a little too, uh, tempting.”

Relief washed through her. She was willing to do a lot to make sure this mission succeeded, but she truly hadn’t wanted to witness that.

“Will we be staying overnight at your other facility?” she asked the doctor.

“Absolutely. It might be several days before I can do the final surgical procedure with the modified embryo.”

A procedure that wouldn’t happen.

There was no way she could let things progress to the point where she was having actual surgery. If Riley and she didn’t have the evidence they needed by then, they’d have to come up with some excuse and get out of there. Surgery would basically immobilize her and make her highly vulnerable to just about anything Fletcher wanted to do to her.

Including murder.

“We’ll be able to take a tour of the facility first?” Riley questioned.

“No tours.” There wasn’t a shred of hesitation in Fletcher’s voice. “Again, for security reasons, I don’t even give out the address.”

Okay, that wasn’t the ideal scenario for an undercover ops, but it was what she’d expected. Now, at least, they were within days of identifying the location and getting inside it.

Not a bad start.

Fletcher reached across the desk and handed Riley a single sheet of paper. “That’s our agreement, which I’ll ask you both to sign. It spells out the issues we’ve already discussed.”

It also spelled out the fee. A hundred thousand dollars in advance, and it was to be paid with a cashier’s check to an unnamed representative who would be transporting them to the first clinic.

In other words, Fletcher was at least one step removed from the money trail. Ditto for the final payment. That was to be electronically transferred to a foreign bank account within six hours of the final medical procedure. And it was to be paid whether it was successful or not.

Fletcher handed Riley a pen. “If you agree, please sign at the bottom.”

Riley scrawled his fake signature and passed it to her. Tessa glanced over it. Not that she planned to object to anything and not that there was anything too specific for her to object to. The wording was vague—except for the payment part. Tessa signed it, as well, and placed it on Fletcher’s desk.

“We’re all set to go then,” Fletcher confirmed, returning his attention to her. “Once you two arrive at the clinic, you’ll immediately be prepped and tested for Phase One of Project Ideal Baby. After that, I’ll take you to the actual medical facility where we’ll be doing the remainder of the procedures.”

Tessa didn’t care much for those words, prepped and tested, especially when they were combined with the time frame of immediately.

Obviously, Riley picked up on it, as well. Their gazes met again. In the swirls of all of those shades of gray, she saw the same concerns that were no doubt mirrored in her own eyes. This was not a contingency they’d expected.

“What exactly is Phase One?” Riley asked the doctor.

Fletcher shrugged as if it were unimportant. “A simple artificial insemination.”

Tessa was absolutely sure she blinked.

She hoped that was her only visible reaction.

“Insemination?” she repeated. Not easily, either. “I thought there’d be some sort of egg harvesting?”

Which obviously would take longer than immediately.

In fact, egg harvesting would take weeks or even months. That’d give them more than enough time to search the clinic before having to come up with an excuse as to why they couldn’t have an in vitro, or any other procedure, done.

“Egg harvesting shouldn’t be necessary,” the doctor explained. “The insemination is a much simpler process. No anesthesia required, and it’s no more invasive than a routine gynecological exam.”

Fletcher stood and went to the door. Probably his cue for them to leave.

Tessa stood, as well, but she had no plans to leave just yet. Not until she had some answers. “But why would I even need to be inseminated?”

“To become pregnant, of course. Don’t worry,” Fletcher assured her. Coming from him, of course, it was no assurance at all. “Our goal is for you to conceive as quickly as possible. Then the real work starts. Well, for me, anyway, with the DNA manipulation. Within two weeks, maybe less, there’s at least a fifty percent chance that you’ll already be pregnant with the child of your dreams.”

Wrong.

There was no chance.

But that hasty insemination could jeopardize this entire undercover case.

Mercy.

“I’m probably stating the obvious here, but if my wife becomes pregnant through insemination, how will we get our perfect baby?” Riley asked, his voice sounding considerably sturdier than Tessa suddenly felt.

“I’ll remove the embryo, perform the DNA manipulation and then replace it in utero.”

Even though she wasn’t a doctor, Tessa was somewhat well versed in fertility procedure. And she was pretty certain that the DNA manipulation after conception wasn’t medically possible.

In other words, this was a scam.

Jeez.

That was both good news and bad news. Good, because it meant the doctor wasn’t really doing any DNA manipulation. Bad, because the scam still involved a medical procedure. It meant headquarters might not approve continuation of the mission once they learned she’d have to submit herself to artificial insemination to gain closer access to Fletcher’s facilities.

However, if she stopped things now, it might take another team months to get an appointment with Fletcher.

If at all. And he could end up walking away.

Tessa took another look at the doctor. Her instincts screamed that this man needed to be stopped. Somehow. Even if it was just on fraud charges.

And she was the one who could do it. “Couldn’t we just do this the old-fashioned way, Doctor? And call you once I’m pregnant?”

“Unfortunately, Mrs. Tate, this is a very time-sensitive procedure. Both on the embryo’s part and mine. It works best if you are carefully monitored from the moment of insemination and, hopefully, conception. Otherwise, when you discover you’re pregnant, I may not be available and/or the embryo may already be too old for the procedures.”

Tessa didn’t know how she could argue with that and still appear to be a woman desperate for one of Dr. Fletcher’s babies. “All right,” she said.

Riley’s gaze snapped toward her. “All right?”

“You heard what Dr. Fletcher said,” Tessa reiterated, adding a nervous laugh. She didn’t have to fake the nervous part, either. “The insemination’s necessary, and the end result won’t be…well, an ordinary baby. So, of course, we’ll do it.”

All that was left was to convince headquarters—and Riley—that the success of this mission hinged on her agreeing to this simple procedure.

No easy task.

Especially since the procedure would be performed by a killer.

Chapter Three

Riley stood in the marbled foyer of the estate and waited while Tessa ran the detector wand over every inch of her clothes.

Not once, but twice.

When she finished, she passed the detector his way and Riley did the same.

No telltale soft beeps, which he hoped meant Fletcher hadn’t managed to attach some type of monitoring device to either Tessa or him.

Other than a phony, laughter-punctuated conversation in the limo about the upcoming joys of parenthood, Tessa and he had yet to talk. Really talk. Unfortunately that would have to continue a while longer, even though he had some questions. Well, one question in particular. They also had to give a situation report to their mission commander.

Another potential problem.

The commander had no doubt monitored their limo conversation to ascertain if they were indeed safe, but since neither Tessa nor he had mentioned the insemination, no one back at headquarters had a clue as to what they were up against.

Soon, they would.

And this mission could be terminated.

The possibility sickened him. He desperately wanted to bring Dr. Barton Fletcher to justice, and that wouldn’t happen if the mission stalled. Of course, if it didn’t stall, there was that whole other issue.

A whopper of an issue.

A potential baby. A real one.

Oh, man.

Talk about the ultimate complication. That was something they’d definitely have to get straight.

He damn sure hadn’t signed on to this ops to become a parent.

“Wanna play in the shower?” Tessa asked, making it sound like a carnal invitation to her husband instead of a required security measure for her partner.

“I’d love to.”

Translation? Let’s wash any potential transmitter chips off before we talk.

Tessa took the modified suitcase from beneath the antique table in the foyer and started to shed her clothes. Riley turned his back to her and did the same.

Tossing in an occasional seductive laugh and more of those mumbled sweet nothings, they stripped down to their underwear and put their clothes in the suitcase. After they were in the shower, the rookie SIU agent, Chris Ingram, who was posing as the butler-housekeeper-chauffeur, would whisk the suitcase away so it could be analyzed.

“Are you sure you’re up to this?” Tessa purred. She headed toward the stairs. “I mean, after your, uh, little donation at the clinic?”

“The donation in no way lessened my appetite for you, darling.”

From over her shoulder she gave him a “good one” nod. Probably her idea of placating him.

It wouldn’t work.

He was still riled about that “all right” response she’d given to Fletcher about the insemination. They should have pressed the issue, then and there. They should have found a way around it, then and there. But instead, Tessa had closed down the discussion with her little “all right.”

And this from the woman who just that morning had raked him over the coals about bending rules.

What the heck had she been thinking anyway?

Riley intended to find that out as soon as they finished showering, but a confrontation with her was still minutes away. Minutes to think about how they were going to get out of this one.

He was still in the middle of his own personal but silent gripe session when he glanced at Tessa on the steps just ahead of him. Specifically he glanced at her underwear. Sturdy cotton. White, at that. No provocative lace or silk. No barely there swatches. No padded, push-up anything. Just a plain white bra and a pair of panties.

Hell.

And what was he doing noticing that?

Riley cursed.

Obviously he’d let the gripe session cloud his mind. This was an ops, he firmly reminded himself. And the woman he was gawking at was his partner.

He quickly got his mind on something else.

They walked through the master suite and into the bathroom. Their weapons and other assorted communications equipment were there; all the items they might need over the next few days. Agent Ingram had even hung some of their clothes and had placed their luggage in the adjoining dressing room.

Tessa turned on the shower full-blast and, without removing her underwear—something Riley was truly grateful for—stepped inside the steamy spray. Since there was a showerhead in each corner, and since the space was large enough to accommodate an NBA team, Riley got in, too, to save some time.

He kept his attention focused elsewhere—on the ornate mosaic tiles, on the beveled glass of the shower door they’d left open.

On anything but Tessa.

He was pretty sure she was doing the same thing. Well, she was until she shifted to her right and bumped into him. How that happened, he didn’t know. After all, it wasn’t as if they ran short of space. But it happened. Her slick, wet, right butt cheek swished against the front of his slick wet boxers.

Man, she couldn’t have touched him in a worse place. That particular part of him was having a tough time accepting that showering with an attractive woman wasn’t anything less than foreplay.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

“Me, too,” he mumbled back.

She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Why are you sorry?” she whispered, her nearly silent words muffled even more by the shower.

“Believe me, you don’t want to know.”

He watched that register. Frowning, then scowling, and finally shrugging, she turned off the water. Tessa stepped out and snagged a couple of thick, white, terry-cloth robes from a nearby rack. She tossed him one.

“Start explaining,” Riley demanded before he even caught the robe.

Thankfully she didn’t ask for clarification. Riley was dead certain Tessa knew exactly what he meant. Well, hopefully she did. He didn’t intend to discuss their shower and his reaction to it. Nope. It was time to settle some business.

“If I’d refused the insemination outright, Fletcher would have canceled everything.” As if she’d declared war on it, Tessa latched onto her shoulder-length blond hair and squeezed it. Hard. The water snaked down her nearly naked shoulders and arms before she put on the bathrobe. Finally. “And you know it as well as I do.”

“I don’t know any such thing. But what I do know is that it didn’t solve anything by you agreeing to a procedure you can’t have.”

She picked up a comb from the vanity and raked it through the tangles in her hair. “I’ll figure a way around it.”

“And if you can’t?”

“I’ll figure out a way, okay?” But this time her words weren’t quite so calm or so quietly spoken.

“Oh, yeah. That’s really convincing.” Riley caught onto her arm and whirled her back around to face him. “Once we’re inside that facility, Tessa, you might not be able to refuse it. Hear me? If you do, Fletcher might get suspicious and try to kill you.”

Which couldn’t happen. It couldn’t. He refused to lose another partner. Just the thought of it turned his stomach.

“So, what are you saying? You want to call off the mission?” Tessa asked. That was obviously a rhetorical question since she didn’t give him a chance to answer. “You want to let Fletcher walk because of a contingency that may or may not arise?”

“No. But I don’t want you to get pregnant, either.”

She paused. Mumbled something indistinguishable under her breath. And combed her hair again. “There really is little chance of that happening.”

Just because she said it with such certainty, that didn’t convince Riley. “If you’re thinking about using some form of birth control, it’s too risky. Lab tests would detect—”

“Trust me. It’s not an issue.”

He was about to say something along the lines of I beg to differ, but there was something in her tone that stopped him cold.

“This isn’t about birth control, is it?” he asked cautiously.

“No.” And that was all she said for several long moments. Tessa slowly put the comb back on the vanity, aligning it with the soaps and other bottles of cosmetics. “If you must know, I had endometriosis when I was a teenager. It’s a problem with tissue growing where it shouldn’t. I had surgery. But the damage had already been done.”

Since he had no idea what to say to that, he just stood there and listened.

“I have slim-to-none odds of getting pregnant even under ideal circumstances,” she continued. Not easily though. Her bottom lip trembled. Just a little. And her voice wavered slightly. It was more than enough for him to realize this was no well-healed wound. “So Fletcher’s procedure poses no risk whatsoever. For once, Murphy’s Law is on our side.”

Ah, hell.

Riley thought about reaching for her. Maybe even a touch to her arm. Some kind of human contact to let her know he was here for her. It’d make him feel better, that was for sure, but he didn’t think it’d do a thing to help Tessa.

“That’s the nerve I hit,” he mumbled.

Her gaze lifted, meeting his. “Excuse me?”

“In the limo when I was talking about people screwing around with Mother Nature to get a baby. Or not get one. I hit a nerve.”

She dismissed that with a shrug.

Riley knew better.

There was no way to dismiss the pain in her eyes.

“It’s old baggage,” she mumbled. “A dream about recreating a childhood, my childhood, with the child of my own. A dream where mothers don’t leave one day and never come back.” Suddenly looking disgusted with herself, she cleared her throat. “The kind of dream that sends people into therapy.”

Oh, yeah. Definitely wounds.

“The bottom line is, the only thing I’ve ever wanted more than being an SIU agent is a baby, and I can’t have one. So, there. You know all my deep, dark secrets.” She flexed her eyebrows. “Guess that means I’ll kill you now.”

Her attempt at humor didn’t diffuse anything.

Riley disregarded his veto about touching her and slipped his arm around her. Before she could protest, or before he could change his mind, he hauled her to him. Right against him.

“Don’t,” Tessa said, already trying to break out of his grip.

Riley held on. “This isn’t sexual, Tessa.”

She pulled back and faced him. “It’d be safer if it were,” she countered.

That was one hundred percent true.

Riley still didn’t let go.

“Does your father know about your infertility?” he asked.

“Of course.”

Okay. It took him a moment to get his teeth unclenched. “And he let you come on this mission anyway?”

This time she did step away from him. But Tessa didn’t just put some distance between them, she stared at him with accusing eyes. “Don’t blame him.” She hitched her thumb against her chest. “I lied to you this morning. I did have a choice. But I wanted to do this. For Colette.”

“And for him,” Riley added.

Her mouth tightened. “Maybe.”

“There’s no maybe about it. You don’t want dear old dad to have an unsolved case on his docket. Don’t get me wrong. It’s admirable, especially since clearing that case will mean getting Colette’s murderer.”

Still, this went above and beyond duty to father, to country. This was a side to Tessa Abbot that he wouldn’t have thought existed.

A side that made him feel…

Riley refused to let the rest of that thought enter his head. There was no place for personal feelings here. Live and learn. He’d already made that mistake once.

“Don’t you dare question my ability to do this mission,” she snarled. Gone was the wavery voice and the uncertainty in her eyes. Now, this was a look he was familiar with. Agent Tessa Abbot, the gung-ho, pain-in-the-ass operative who put duty above all else.

The facade might have worked, too, if only moments earlier she hadn’t given him a glimpse of her heart.

“No questions or doubts, Tessa. Because it’s my guess you have enough of those for both of us.”

Tessa would have almost certainly denied that if the phone on the vanity hadn’t rung. She reached over and jabbed the speaker button. Her father’s image appeared on the small screen attached to the phone.

“Is this a good time to talk?” John Abbot asked.

“It’s safe,” Tessa told him. She paused only long enough to take in a breath. Probably so she could give the briefing her own personal slant. “We have a rendezvous time with our suspect. Per his instructions, in three days we’ll be taken to a clinic and then to another medical facility. Both are unspecified locations. By then, we’re anticipating you’ll have a way for us to transmit any information we might find.”

“There’ll be off-site video and audio-feed capabilities. That’s as much as we can risk with Fletcher’s security. And we’ll have a secondary team follow you to the locations for surveillance and backup.” Abbot paused. “We’re not sure if this is a problem yet, but Fletcher might have dug a little deeper in your records than we originally thought.”

That was not what Riley wanted to hear. “Are our covers intact?”

“Yes. From all indications, they are.”

But it wasn’t a hundred percent. Of course, in their business, nothing was.

“There are also some indications that Fletcher is setting up some thermal infrared equipment so he can scan the estate,” Abbot added.

Definitely not good. Visual eavesdropping. And a royal pain because there’d be few breaks from deep cover. In other words, it would require Tessa and he to touch. A lot. Or, at least, they’d have to be close enough to each other so they could pretend to touch.

Yet one more concern to add to Riley’s growing list of concerns.

“Until we’ve heard any indication to the contrary,” Abbot went on, “things will proceed as planned. Let me emphasize—your mission is to locate and retrieve evidence. According to Fletcher’s profile, he’ll probably keep detailed records in his personal computer or on surveillance tapes.”

“You don’t think he’ll still have the tape of Colette’s murder, do you?” Tessa asked.

“No. At least not at the clinic where he’ll be taking you. Elsewhere, perhaps. But it’s possible Fletcher will mention Colette, and there’ll be either a computer record or tape of that. He’s an arrogant man who likes to boast about his…accomplishments. That arrogance will almost certainly help us bring him down.”

Riley could only hope. And if Fletcher’s arrogance wasn’t his Achilles’ heel, then he’d find another way to get that evidence.

“Once you’ve completed the assignment,” Abbot continued, “and we have the two of you out of the facility, then the FBI will move in and make the actual arrest.”

Riley would have preferred to cuff the doctor himself, but he didn’t mind passing that honor along to his fellow law enforcement officers. As long as they nailed Fletcher, it would be a successful mission.

Too bad there was an if that threatened the success.

Riley waited a couple of seconds to see if Tessa would complete the briefing, but it soon became apparent she’d decided to leave out a critical detail.

“Do you plan to mention that part about Phase One of Project Ideal Baby?” Riley asked her. “Or should I?”

That earned him another of her lethal glares. However, her glare relaxed significantly when she turned back to the screen to face her father.

“Our suspect indicated that he’d be performing a routine, nonanesthetized procedure on me when we arrive at the first location.”

Man, talk about breezing right over the problem. “What Tessa’s trying to sugarcoat is that the doctor wants to inseminate her before he takes us to the second location.”

If her jaw tightened any more, she’d probably chip her pearly whites. “And what Riley and you both know is that there is no chance of my becoming pregnant. Without the insemination, we won’t be able to get inside Fletcher’s organization or gather evidence about the murders. In other words, our mission will fail.”

“I don’t want that any more than you do,” Riley firmly reminded her. “But your father needs to know what you’re up against. It’s still a medical procedure. And even though I suspect Fletcher’s whole operation is a scam, you have no idea what he might do to you, all under the guise of inseminating you. You’ll be at his mercy, and believe me, I don’t think you’ll care for Fletcher’s brand of mercy.”

“Is the operation a scam?” Abbot questioned.

Tessa nodded.

So, she’d picked up on the inconsistencies, as well. No surprise there. She was smart and probably better versed in fertility issues than he was.

“Evade the insemination if possible,” her father instructed. There wasn’t any change in his tone to indicate he was even slightly concerned about his daughter’s well-being. “If the suspect insists that it be done, then it’s your call as to whether or not to continue the mission.”

Your call. Translation? You’re a serious wuss if you wimp out because of an almost-nil risk. Even if “almost nil” amounted to something significant because Fletcher would be able to do pretty much anything to her under the guise of a simple insemination.

Tessa wouldn’t wimp out.

That full-steam-ahead, push-for-success mentality would have normally pleased Riley. But there wasn’t much that was normal or pleasing about this. That said, it wouldn’t stop him from doing this job, either.

So, the number-one solution was to avoid the insemination.

Somehow.

Even if it meant calling Fletcher and renegotiating the whole deal. Maybe he could convince the doctor that Tessa had a phobia about such things. After all, the Tates were supposed to be neurotic and self-absorbed, so he’d try to get some mileage out of that.

“Contact me with your situation report at 0800 tomorrow,” Abbot concluded, and the screen went blank.

“How did you know Fletcher was running a scam?” she asked Riley when she clicked off the phone.

“Lucky guess.” He waited a moment. “But yours probably wasn’t a guess, huh?”

“Not really. Fletcher’s procedure of flushing and then replanting an embryo is possible, though illegal in this country and most others. But the technology to genetically manipulate a human embryo doesn’t exist. So I doubt he’d bother with the former when he can’t do the latter.”

Riley nodded. That was his theory, too. “So, basically he just uses insemination to impregnate his clients and pretends to do his DNA manipulation thing. The women walk out of his facility with a lot less money than they had when they entered, and they’re pregnant with babies they could have conceived the old-fashioned way.”

He winced at his choice of words, but Tessa merely dodged his gaze and resumed combing her hair. “By the time the couples realize they don’t have the perfect child,” she said, “it’ll be too late. Fletcher will have closed up his operation and skipped town.”

Or else the couples would be so attached to the kids that perfection no longer mattered.

Riley kept that part to himself. And he didn’t get to renew the insemination argument, either, because there was a knock at the bathroom door.

“We have a visitor,” Agent Ingram relayed through the closed door. “It’s Dr. Fletcher. He’s here.”

Adrenaline slammed through Riley. Not good adrenaline, either. “What does he want?”

“He says there are some questions about your records and he needs to see you right away.”

Great. Just great.

“Oh, and he’s not alone,” the agent added. “There are two men with him and both are carrying concealed weapons.”

Riley cursed

So did Tessa.

And they both reached for their guns.

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