Special Assignment: Baby

by Debra Webb

  Court.

  A chunk of ice formed in Sabrina’s stomach. Had someone told him about Ryan? Could he know already? She resisted the impulse to shake her head. That couldn’t be. No one knew Court was Ryan’s father. No one but the doctor, that is.

  “What do you want?” Sabrina asked coldly.

  That gray gaze settled onto hers, and Sabrina’s heart took an extra foolish beat. How could any man look that good? Mile-wide shoulders, lean waist. She shook herself. This was no time to be admiring Court’s many physical assets. He was standing on her porch, only a few feet from where Ryan lay sleeping. She suddenly remembered the monitor she held and quickly tucked it into the back of her waistband. Her heart bumped into high speed.

  “We need to talk, Brin.”

  His voice was low, steady, and too gentle. She didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t want to look at him. “I’d like you to leave, Court,” she said sternly. “You’re not welcome here anymore.”

  Sabrina stood her ground near the steps. She would not give him any remote hope that he might be invited in. To her utter relief he moved across the porch and down the steps, his slow, fluid movements making it difficult for her to breathe. There had always been something about the way he moved. It was more than mere male cockiness…something sensual yet predatory.

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  He slowly rotated his hat in his hands, his gaze seemingly uncertain. Could he be nervous? She almost laughed out loud at that notion. The one thing Court Brody had always been was absolutely certain of himself. And with good reason. He was strong, powerfully built, and more intelligent than any man she had ever known.

  But his heart was hardened with bitterness and resentment. And nothing Sabrina had ever done had changed that.

  “I wish you’d reconsider, Brin.”

  He still called her Brin. No one but Court had ever called her by that nickname past the age of fifteen. Not even her father.

  “Don’t call me that.” She swiped her damp palms against her thighs. “No one calls me that anymore.”

  “I need you to understand how important being a part of the militia is for me.”

  His words stunned her. “You are kidding?” she blurted. “You don’t see through Neely?” She shook her head in disbelief. “I thought you were some big, hotshot FBI agent. What happened, Court? Did you get bored with that, too?” Lord knew the man had a restless streak a mile wide, one that cut straight through that rock in his chest he called a heart.

  He blinked but gave away nothing of his feelings. Just like always, she would never know what he was really feeling.

  “I don’t want to talk about the Bureau or D.C.” He stared at the ground a moment. “I’m trying to put that behind me.” His gaze latched onto hers once more. “I want to start over. Here.”

  If she’d thought he’d stunned her before, she was completely astonished now. “Here?” she parroted. “Now I know you’re joking.”

  A muscle twitched in his chiseled jaw. “Is that so hard to believe?”

  Sabrina laughed dryly. “It’s downright unfathomable.”

  Irritation marred his handsome features. “Be that as it may, I’m back. I don’t think folks around here would understand about my time in the Bureau. I’d rather you didn’t mention it.”

  “I see,” she replied with sudden clarity. “You don’t want Brother Neely to know you were once an actual fed, is that it?”

  “Don’t make this any more difficult than it needs to be, Brin,” he warned. This time there was nothing at all gentle about his tone.

  He stepped nearer…too close. Sabrina held her ground, despite the butterflies taking flight in her stomach.

  “No one else knows but you,” he reminded in a low, lethal tone that sent shivers skittering up her spine. “But I’m not worried ’cause I know you wouldn’t do anything to make trouble for me.”

  He had her there. No matter what he’d done in the past. No matter how badly he had hurt her. Sabrina would never do anything to hurt him—except keep her own secret. But that was to protect Ryan, she rationalized, when she knew damn well it was to protect herself. She couldn’t lose her son. No way.

  She remembered to exhale. “Fine. If that’s the way you want it,” she said tightly.

  Those silvery depths softened then, and he almost smiled. The quirking of his lips was so subtle that had she not been looking at him so intently she would surely have missed the movement. Her pulse fluttered at the absolute beauty of those lips.

  “I owe you,” he murmured, even closer now.

  Panic trickled through her, slowing her body’s instant fight-or-flight reaction to his proximity. Ryan could wake up any moment and start screaming for his mommy—or worse, he could climb out of the crib and toddle onto the porch. That image opened the floodgates of her anxiety.

  “I’d like you to leave now, Court.” She started to take a step back, but he moved again, stalling her. His hand came up to her face, and those long, tanned fingers smoothed that forever-errant wisp of hair from her cheek. Warmth spread through her so fast that it made her light-headed. How could a mere touch affect her so?

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Brin.” He searched her eyes, looking for forgiveness or maybe just trying to read what he saw there. “I hope you know that.”

  “We’re not talking about the past, remember?” she protested, however shakily.

  He swallowed hard. She watched the slow movement of muscle beneath smooth, tanned skin. “Right.” He studied her face a moment longer, as if committing to memory the changes time and worry had wrought.

  “Goodbye, Court.” This time Sabrina stepped away from him. She needed distance. And a new heart. One that wouldn’t let Court Brody inside.

  “I’ll be back,” he warned, “and then we’ll set things straight.”

  Sabrina watched him stalk back to his truck. He dropped behind the wheel, and then drove away. She didn’t move until he’d disappeared in the direction of town—or more accurately, the militia compound.

  “Don’t come back, Court,” she murmured, her heart sinking. “I can’t survive losing you again.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  STILL TIRED FROM yesterday’s cleaning frenzy, Sabrina smiled for her son and ruffled his silky brown hair. He gurgled and cooed, his gray eyes sparkling as he bounced up and down in anticipation of his mother scooping him up.

  “Sorry, sweetie, Mommy has something she has to do this morning.” She hated to leave him, but she sure couldn’t take him with her to the compound.

  Ryan protested, jerking against the brightly colored sides of his playpen.

  “I don’t like the idea of you going out to that place, Sabrina,” Mrs. Cartwright said softly, her aged voice as heavy with worry as her faded blue eyes. “I’ve heard some pretty disturbing rumors about what they’re doing out there.”

  Sabrina folded her arms over her middle and turned away from the concerned gaze that studied her too closely. She’d known Mrs. Cartwright forever, and she trusted her completely. “I don’t know what else to do. They’ve offered to let me help with home schooling some of the younger children.” She shrugged. “It’s just for a couple of hours a day.”

  The older woman moved to her side and ruffled Ryan’s hair as Sabrina had only moments ago. He babbled his approval at the attention. “But you already work too hard,” Mrs. Cartwright argued. “You don’t need another job.” She shook her head and gazed up at Sabrina. “Especially not at that place and one that doesn’t pay. You should be with your son.”

  A weary sigh slipped past Sabrina’s lips. How could she explain that she didn’t have a choice in the matter? “It’s the only way I have of keeping an eye on Charlie. He won’t listen to anything I say anymore.”

  “He’s a good boy, Sabrina,” Mrs. Cartwright protested. “He’s just missing a father figure in his life. He’ll come around.”

  Sabrina scrubbed a hand over her face and blinked back the tears that stung her eyes. “I know.
But, God, couldn’t he have looked anywhere but to Neely?” She prayed that her elderly friend was right and that Charlie would come around…soon.

  “Lots of folks considerably older than Charlie are following the man.” Mrs. Cartwright sighed, the effort heaving from her thin chest. “Joshua Neely seems to have what they’re looking for, as frightening as that sounds.”

  Instantly, Court sprang to Sabrina’s mind. How could he fall for a guy like Neely? It just didn’t make sense to her, no matter what his excuse. Sabrina had a sneaking suspicion that Court wasn’t being completely honest with her. How could he just up and walk away from the FBI? He had been in love with the whole damned super-agent mystique. He sure hadn’t been in love with her. She suppressed the old hurt that accompanied that thought.

  Her gaze drifted down to Ryan. Having given up on his mommy rescuing him from his red-and-blue prison, he now sat playing with his spongy stacking blocks. Court may have broken her heart, but he had given her the one thing that got her through each day—her son. His birth had coincided with the realization that hard financial times were ahead, not to mention Charlie’s plunge into adolescence and his subsequent rebellious behavior.

  Ryan made life bearable. She would protect him from the hurtful games adults played. No one—not even Court—would hurt her son. Sabrina would see to that.

  “I have to get going.” Sabrina bent down and dropped a kiss on her baby’s sweet head. She forced a smile for her elderly friend. “I’ll be back around lunchtime.”

  Mrs. Cartwright followed Sabrina to the door. “Be careful, Sabrina.” She smoothed a hand over the tight bun she’d twisted her gray tresses into. “I worry about you, you know.”

  Taller than most women, Sabrina leaned down and gave Mrs. Cartwright a quick hug. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me, I’m tougher than I look. Just take good care of my little boy.” Besides, Sabrina didn’t add, with her long legs she could probably outrun most of the men she knew—Joshua Neely and his cohorts included.

  Mrs. Cartwright waved goodbye from the door as Sabrina backed away from the house. She drove to the end of the dirt road that served as a driveway to the Cartwright place and then pointed her old truck in the direction of the militia compound. Sabrina glanced at her reflection in the rearview mirror. How long had it been since she had bothered with makeup? Two years, an impatient voice reminded her.

  “You’re pathetic, Korbett,” she accused.

  Not only had she dabbed on a touch of makeup, she’d taken the time to French-braid her hair. A haphazard ponytail was her usual hairdo. Sabrina huffed her disgust. To make matters worse she had scrounged around until she found her best pair of jeans and her one almost-new blouse she saved for wearing to Ryan’s pediatrician appointments.

  She scowled at the road before her. So what was wrong with wanting to look her best? After all, she was going to a job of sorts. There would be other women there who would probably be dressed similarly. Just because she took a little more care than usual today didn’t mean she’d done it for Court.

  “Yeah, right,” she muttered.

  Truly pathetic.

  Sabrina braked to a stop in front of the gate leading to the compound. She kept her gaze straight ahead as the armed guard—Jed Markham, a man she had known her entire life—inspected her truck inside and out. She clenched her teeth at the fury that unfurled inside her. A twelve-foot-high chain-link fence, topped with concertina wire, protected the compound from intruders. Four manned observation towers stood in strategic locations. The place looked like a military base prepared for war. The hard-core followers, like the one circling her old truck now, even wore military garb.

  Jed waved an arm and the gate slowly opened in front of her. “You can pass,” he barked.

  “Didn’t find anything suspicious, huh?” Sabrina asked, baiting him sweetly, with a matching sugary smile. “I guess I hid that bomb better than I thought.”

  Jed simply glared at her as he worked the wad of tobacco in his mouth until he could spit.

  Sabrina rolled her eyes and drove on through the gate. She parked near the meeting hall, which also held the two classrooms, and climbed out into the brisk morning air. Fall was right around the corner. Then winter would be here before she knew it. She dreaded the bad weather to come. If Charlie didn’t come back home to help her—she would not think that way. She would win him back…somehow. She had to make him see that men like Neely were only taking advantage of the good intentions of the people here. She just hoped she wouldn’t be too late.

  “Morning, Sabrina,” Lorie Beecham called out as Sabrina made her way into the classroom. “We’re sure glad to have you. We’ve got two new students this morning.”

  Sabrina surveyed the dozen or so children in the room. How could people bring their innocent children to a place like this? She resisted the urge to shiver. Someone had to stop Neely before something bad happened.

  But who?

  Her thoughts went automatically to Court. She forced his image from her mind. She had to remember that he was a part of this now….

  He was one of them.

  COURT APPRAISED Joshua Neely’s office as he waited for the man to show up for their scheduled meeting. The young man who served as Neely’s personal assistant or secretary of sorts had insisted that Court have a seat and wait since Neely was expected back momentarily. But Court didn’t want to sit. Instead, he paced, surveying Neely’s framed mementos.

  Floor-to-ceiling bookcases lined one wall. Law books filled most of the shelves. According to the intelligence Court had on Neely, the man held a degree in political science as well as law. The office furnishings were an odd blend of typical middle-management style and more elegant oak pieces probably donated by enamored followers. The only disturbing elements were the newspaper clippings of high profile cases between other militia groups and the federal authorities, framed and hanging on nearly every available inch of wall space. Then there were the banners proclaiming Neely’s position on the law of the land. True Freedom Lies in the Heart of the Sons and Daughters of this Great Land. We Shall End the Oppression.

  Court caught himself before he shook his head. Between the rally and a mostly sleepless night in the barracks with a group of particularly fervent followers, he was edgy this morning. Two weeks of hanging out at the Watering Hole, a hangout where one or more militia members could always be found, had finally paid off yesterday. Court moved back to the desk and dropped into one of the available chairs. The undertones in Neely’s speech at the rally and the intense reaction of those present had seriously unsettled Court. This wasn’t the first group of this nature he had investigated, but this one was certainly the most enthusiastic. Yet, it was something more that had him so uneasy. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

  There was nothing wrong with enthusiasm, but it was the man who garnered the reactions that disturbed him, he decided. Court couldn’t quite label his suspicions just yet, but a bad scenario was forming in his mind.

  Anybody around when that scenario reached fruition would likely be caught in the fallout.

  The taste of Sabrina, sweet and warm, abruptly filled his mind, startling Court. The kiss he’d stolen from her had haunted what little sleep he’d managed last night. He had purposely forgotten how pretty she was. Even as a kid, all arms and legs with a honey-brown ponytail that hung to her waist, Sabrina had been too appealing for her own good. She and Court had grown up together on the Double K, and she’d spent most of her days following him around. By age twelve she’d had herself a serious case of hero worship. Only a year older, Court hadn’t minded. Even now the sound of her laughter, the memory of the way those dark chocolate eyes twinkled made him want to smile…made him regret.

  Court snapped himself from that pointless line of thinking. That was a different life and he wanted no part of that past. Without success, he tried to blink away the image of how she’d looked when she found him at her door. Flushed, her skin glistening with perspiration from the work sh
e’d obviously been doing in the barn. Though she was still tall and thin, there was something different about Sabrina. Court frowned, trying to pinpoint the subtle change. She was softer somehow, but every bit as lean and strong as before. Sabrina Korbett was only a couple of inches shy of his height of six foot two. He smiled at the thought that he’d never known her to be afraid of anyone or anything. Not even when she should have been…afraid of him, that is.

  Court passed a hand over his face and swore at his inability to keep his mind off the woman he’d spent half a lifetime trying to forget.

  “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long, Court.”

  Court pushed to his feet as Joshua Neely, followed by his first lieutenant, entered the office. “No problem, Joshua.” He accepted the man’s hand and shook it. “I’ve been reading.” Court gestured to the framed newspaper articles.

  Neely nodded, his expression grave. “A sad history of the oppression. I fear it will take extreme measures, perhaps even terrorist-type activities to ever make the government understand that we will no longer lie down and allow them to march over us.” He indicated the man at his right. “Have you met Thad Ferguson?”

  Court extended his hand in Ferguson’s direction. “Raymond introduced us last night.”

  Ferguson squeezed Court’s hand in blatant challenge but said nothing. Court smiled and returned the gesture twofold, then released the other man’s hand and turned back to Neely. Court felt Ferguson’s glare on him for several more tense seconds. If the man wanted a pissing contest, Court was ready to oblige.

  “Please, make yourselves comfortable, gentlemen.” Seemingly oblivious to the tension between the two men, Neely settled into the high-backed swivel chair behind his desk. “We need to get to know one another a little better.”

  Adrenaline stung as it flowed swiftly through Court’s veins, putting him on alert. Forcing his tense muscles to relax, he settled back into his chair. “What would you like to know that you don’t already?” No point in beating around the bush. Neely had questions. Court could only hope that his cover remained intact.