by Paula Graves
She nodded. “I’m sure he had a dozen places he could stash something he wanted to hide, but he never shared that kind of information with me.”
He came to stand in front of her, capturing her chin with his fingers and giving a little tug to make her look up at him. “I have some thoughts on that, but right now, let’s get you and Little Bit home safely. You two can get a good night’s sleep while I look into some hiding places Matt might have used.”
The thought of returning to her mess of an apartment was almost more than she could bear, but she hid her despair from Luke. She wasn’t about to start leaning on anyone again, no matter how broad and tempting the shoulders.
“I need your address. You’re not staying at your apartment alone tonight,” Luke said.
“Wait—” Panic rose in her gut in greasy waves. No way was she sharing her tiny apartment with Luke Cooper while he played knight in shining armor. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
“You need a bodyguard.” His tone was so reasonable she wanted to punch him. “If not for you, then for Stevie.”
“I can protect him myself.” God, she sounded foolish. Sure, she knew how to use a gun, but she didn’t have one in the house because of Stevie. And while she was physically fit and knew a few self-defense moves that might get her out of trouble if some jerk tried to mug her on the street, she couldn’t outfight two military-trained enforcers armed with Colt .45s.
“It won’t hurt to have backup, right?” Luke crossed to a desk near the entryway and pulled a pen and notepad from one of the drawers. He wrote something, tore out the page and handed it to her. “My cell-phone number. I’ll be a couple of minutes behind you, but call if you need anything.”
“I will.” She gave him her address as she rose, shifting Stevie to her hip. Luke jotted it down on another piece of paper.
“Drive by here on your way out and I’ll see if I can spot anybody tailing you,” Luke suggested as he walked her to the door. “I’ll be right behind you, I promise.”
She slanted a look at him, wondering if he realized just how hollow his promises sounded after what happened between them three years ago. Although he hadn’t really made her any promises that night, had he? There hadn’t been many words at all, just kisses and touches and a raging fire she’d thrown herself into without a second thought.
For him, it might have been nothing more than a few hours of shared grief and release.
But that night with Luke Cooper had changed her world.
“NOTHING UNDER THE NAME Matt Randall, either?” Luke asked the bus-station attendant on the phone, using one of the aliases Matt had used undercover with Marine Corps Intelligence.
“No, sir.”
“Thanks anyway.” Luke rang off and scanned the traffic around him, looking for any sign of a tail. He’d seen no one tailing Abby, but that didn’t mean someone wasn’t watching.
He spotted Abby’s silver Honda a few car lengths ahead and his stomach turned a flip. Even tired, scared and frustrated, Abby Chandler was as beautiful as he’d remembered.
And even more off-limits now than when he first realized he was in love with Matt Chandler’s wife.
Evening traffic was busy. Though he’d called San Diego home for the past seven years, he’d spent much of that time overseas and on assignments out of town. Only life as a civilian had allowed him to really get to know the place. It wasn’t a bad place to live. The zoo was world-famous, Sea World a fun way to spend a lazy Saturday and the place was crawling with military personnel. But now that he was out of the Corps, he found himself thinking of his real home more and more.
He missed the green mountains of Chickasaw County, Alabama, the sparkling waters of Gossamer Lake and his mother’s cooking. Now that his brother Sam was back in Alabama after years away, Luke was the last Cooper in exile.
Even with Eladio Cordero’s threats hanging over him, the call of home was strong these days.
He wondered what Abby would think of Gossamer Ridge, Alabama, with its ten stoplights and one decent grocery store. He squelched that thought ruthlessly, aware how dangerous it was to think of Abby as anything but his old friend’s widow.
He’d made a mistake three years ago, taking advantage of her grief and vulnerability to assuage his own. It didn’t matter that he loved her; Abby had been Matt’s wife. And now, the mother of the only child Matt Chandler would ever have.
And it just might be Luke’s fault that Matt wasn’t there to see his son grow up.
Stevie looked like Abby, from his freckles to his wide, expressive mouth. Not a hint of Matt’s laughing brown eyes or olive complexion. Was it easier for Abby that way, not to have to see Matt in Stevie’s eyes every time she looked at him?
How old was the kid now—two? Two and a half? No more than that; if Abby had been more than three or four months pregnant the night they spent together, he’d have noticed.
His smile faded suddenly.
What if she hadn’t been pregnant that night? He tried to remember how she’d answered his questions about Stevie. Had she ever said, outright, that Matt was Stevie’s father?
A chill washed over him. They hadn’t used protection that night; they were too far gone to think about stopping for something like that. Neither of them had been thinking about pregnancy.
But she’d have told him. Abby wasn’t a secret-keeper like he and Matt had been. She’d been open, sharing her thoughts and feelings with abandon. It had been one of the things about her that had drawn him, that candor.
If their night of comfort sex had left her pregnant, she’d have told him.
When would she have had the chance?
He’d left her still asleep, a hastily jotted note of explanation tucked under her pillow. Sleeping with her—hell, just being around her—had been dangerous. Matt’s sudden death had come too closely on the heels of Cordero’s vow of vengeance. Had Cordero had him killed as part of his vendetta against Luke?
It hadn’t been out of the question. People he cared about automatically became targets.
He’d shipped out that morning for two years in Kaziristan, knowing she’d be hurt by his abandonment, hating every part of what he’d done. But it hadn’t changed his determination to cut himself off from her and everyone he loved.
He’d meant his note to be a cold brush-off. He hadn’t wanted her to try to contact him. If she’d found herself pregnant a few weeks later, he couldn’t blame her for keeping that information to herself.
He almost missed the turn onto Abby’s street. He slowed, made a quick right and reacquired Abby’s silver Honda ahead. She pulled into a parking space in front of the building.
He took an empty spot nearby, hoping the building super wouldn’t have the Mustang towed, and caught up with Abby on the sidewalk in front of the first apartment.
She jumped when he touched her arm. “Sorry,” he said, wondering if he should just go ahead and ask her about Stevie’s paternity. Would she tell him the truth?
Probably not, he realized. If she’d kept it a secret for three years, she wouldn’t spill the beans just because a couple of gunmen had thrown her into Luke’s life again.
He wouldn’t push for now. It was the least he owed her.
“It’s a mess,” she warned him as she set Stevie down on the ground and unlocked the front door of her first-floor apartment.
She wasn’t lying, he realized with dismay a few seconds later, taking in the torn sofa cushions, the books in scattered heaps where the searchers had pulled them from the bookshelf against the wall, the overturned coffee table with the shattered crystal box in shards on the hardwood floor.
“I didn’t stop to clean up,” she explained. “I needed to know if you knew what Matt might be hiding, so I just grabbed Stevie and headed out.”
He picked up a couple of the books and put them back on the shelf. “Is the bedroom as bad?”
“The mattress is ripped open, but I can probably stuff most of the filling back inside and cover it with a sheet—”<
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“You can’t stay here tonight, Abby. This is unlivable.”
She squared her jaw. “I’ll make it work.”
“You don’t have to make it work. Just grab some clothes, some toys for Little Bit and let’s get the hell out of here. We can regroup and figure out what to do next once we’re settled.”
Her brow creased. “Settled where?”
He looked down at Stevie, who was toddling toward the ruins of the broken crystal box. Picking him up to keep him out of the sharp shards, he settled the wriggly little boy on one hip and met her troubled gaze.
“At my place, of course,” he answered.
Chapter Three
Abby stared at him, her mind racing through a checklist of reasons why moving herself and Stevie into Luke Cooper’s house was a very bad idea. Beyond the tangled history between them, which was reason enough, she’d be putting Luke at risk at a time when he was supposed to be helping her find out what Matt had hidden and where. At least one of them needed to be able to get around San Diego without a team of thugs dogging every step.
“That’s just not a good idea,” she said.
“What’s the alternative—book a room in a motel? Do you think motel security is worth a damn?” Luke shifted Stevie on his hip and met her gaze with a look of calm skepticism. Stevie turned his head toward her and gave her an almost identical look. She didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry.
She couldn’t argue with Luke’s logic, however. She couldn’t afford a few unexpected nights at a motel, and she’d probably be in even greater peril holed up with Stevie alone in a place where nobody knew or cared who they were.
“We don’t have to complicate this,” Luke said. “There’s plenty of room for you and Little Bit there.”
Her lips twitched at the nickname he’d apparently settled on for Stevie. “You don’t owe us anything.”
He started to say something, then narrowed his lips to a tight line. After a moment, he said, “I can put you to work, if it’d make you feel better.”
“Cooking and cleaning?”
He arched an eyebrow. “No. I’ve eaten your cooking.”
She made a face, relieved by the lightness of Luke’s tone. Better than the constant strain of the past hour. “I’ve gotten better. You might be surprised.”
He smiled at her. “You always found ways to surprise me, Abs.” His smile faded and he looked down at Stevie, who had rediscovered the hawk pendant and was twirling it around his sticky little fingers. “What do you say, Stevie? Wanna come stay with your uncle Luke for a few days?”
Abby struggled not to react to Luke’s words, but guilt burned in her chest like acid. She should have told him the truth three years ago, when she realized she was carrying his child inside her. At the time, with Luke in a war-torn country continents away, settling on the easy lie hadn’t seemed so wrong, especially given how abruptly and finally he’d left her bed—and life—after their night together.
But now that he was here in front of her, holding his son without even knowing it, she knew she’d been a coward. And Luke’s bad behavior at the time didn’t change the facts.
He had a son. He had a right to know.
When this was over, and everything had settled back down to normal, she’d tell him, she promised herself. She’d tell Luke he was Stevie’s father, and then they’d figure out how to go on with their separate lives from there.
“Okay,” she said finally. “For a couple of days.”
He gave a quick nod, as if to affirm she was doing the right thing. “Can I help you pack?”
“Just keep Stevie occupied,” she said, heading for the bedroom. Inside, she picked through the mess the intruders had left and found a few days’ worth of clothes for her and for Stevie, which she packed in an empty gym bag she found tossed against the wall under the window. She added toothbrushes, vitamins and a few other things Stevie would need into his diaper bag. His favorite book. The stuffed rabbit he didn’t like to sleep without. Blinking back tears, she headed out to the living room.
She found Stevie sitting quietly in the wooden rocking chair near the corner, watching Luke sweep up the broken crystal box. Luke looked up as Abby entered, a faint frown on his face. “Matt gave you this, didn’t he?”
She followed his gaze to the gold wildcat set into the cut crystal of the box’s top. “For our wedding.” Matt’s nickname had been Wildcat, and at the time he’d given her the box, she’d thought the gesture wildly romantic, as if he were giving himself to her symbolically.
She hadn’t realized that the box was almost all of himself he intended to give to her or any other woman. His first love was intrigue, and he’d have sacrificed anyone and anything for that beguiling temptress.
She took the piece of crystal from Luke’s hand. It was warm, but only from the heat of Luke’s fingers. She dropped it in the trash can by the kitchen nook and retrieved Stevie from the rocker, settling him on one hip. With the gym bag in her other hand, she looked back at Luke. “Let’s go.”
He caught up with her at the door, taking the bag from her hand. “He loved you, the best he knew how,” he murmured as he opened the apartment door for her.
She knew he was right. Matt had loved her in his own way. She’d loved him, as well. For all his faults, he’d been a hard man not to love.
It just hadn’t been enough.
THEY LEFT ABBY’S CAR at her apartment and took his Mustang, transferring Stevie’s car seat before they left. As Luke navigated through light traffic on the way back to University City, he found himself glancing in the rearview mirror now and then to check on the sleepy little boy, who’d fussed a bit when Abby had told him they were going on a trip.
“He’s past his bedtime,” Abby murmured. “He’ll probably be asleep by the time we get there.”
Luke looked at her. “You look pretty worn-out yourself.”
Her lips curved. “Gee, thanks.”
“I’ll call my supervisor tonight and tell him I’m working from home the rest of the week.” It was one of the perks of his job, directing his own schedule, for the most part. Now that the case in Rancho Santa Fe was over, he just had some paperwork to fill out and some loose ends to tie up, most of which he could do over the phone or by e-mail.
“What are you doing now?” she asked, stifling a yawn. “Jobwise, I mean.”
“Security work. Protective detail, investigations. That sort of thing.”
Her chuckle was low and warm, like cello music. He felt a rush of pure male heat flood his veins in response. “So, basically the same kind of work you did in the corps.”
“Basically,” he agreed, proud of how steady his voice emerged, despite the tremors going off low in his abdomen. He tried to concentrate on her question rather than his libido. “Compared to the corps, my job’s a day at the beach. Sometimes literally.” He grinned. “What about you? Where are you working these days?”
“I freelance with a couple of local school systems that don’t have full-time speech therapists. A few nonprofits that need temporary translation services. Some private tutoring.” She turned to look over her shoulder at Stevie. “I do some consulting work for Homeland Security, too. Linguistics stuff relating to wiretaps, that sort of thing. I’m looking to branch out, though. Bring in a little more money so we can afford a real house.”
MSI might be interested in her services, he thought. For a moment, his first thought was to mention her to Dave Malkin to see if he could find her some more freelance work.
But he quickly quashed the notion. The last thing Abby and her son needed was to have Luke in their lives, even hanging around the periphery.
He was dangerous to know.
“Luke, what if we don’t find what Matt took?” A tremble in Abby’s voice belied her calm expression. “What if these people are wrong and he didn’t take anything from them to begin with?”
“We’re going to sort it out, I promise.” He wasn’t yet sure how, but the one thing he knew, as surely as he
knew his own name, was that he wasn’t going to let anyone hurt Abby or her son. He’d spent the past three years wishing he could have done things differently with Abby Chandler, and this was all the chance he could expect to make up for his mistakes.
He had no intention of letting her down this time.
He made the turn down his street and scanned the area, looking for anything that seemed out of place. He recognized all the vehicles parked within a block of his bungalow and didn’t see any strange people walking the streets. He lowered the car window as he made a pass down his street once without stopping. He could hear the muted sound of music coming from within a couple of the houses, and here and there dogs barking, but nothing seemed out of sorts.
“Didn’t we just pass your house?” Abby asked.
“Yeah. I wanted to drive around once, just to make sure everything’s calm.” He circled the block, moving neither too fast nor too slow, and kept his ears open. A block over, a beagle was baying frantically at something in the backyard of a small yellow stucco house located directly behind Luke’s own backyard.
Might be a squirrel or an opossum driving him nuts.
Or not.
Luke pulled up the short drive to his garage and reached across to press the door opener. The whir of the door’s machinery seemed deafening to his ears, though he knew from testing the security system that the sound of the garage door opening wasn’t nearly as audible in the house.
But if someone had managed to bypass his silent alarm and made it inside his house, would the faint noise of the garage door opening give them warning that he was on his way?
“Is something wrong?” Abby asked softly.
He met her worried gaze, not surprised that she was able to read his body language so well. She’d always seemed to know what he was thinking and feeling more clearly than he had known himself. “I’m cautious,” he admitted.
“Why don’t you have a security system?”
“I do,” he said with a smile. “It’s a silent one. You tripped it, by the way.”
