Mommy Midwife

by Cassie Miles

  “They want to protect you,” he said.

  “From what?”

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

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

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

  * * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Are you done packing?”

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

  “We’re taking my car,” he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “That’s not real fast.”

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

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

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

  She asked, “Do you see anything?”

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

  “I guess.”

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

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

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

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

  “I don’t see anyone.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Who’s doing what?”

  “The baby. He’s bouncing around.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

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

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

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

  “Why would you make reservations?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “You can tell me the truth,” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

  Chapter Three

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “I don’t know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “I’m listening.”

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

  “You w
ere a gutsy kid.”

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

  “Where did they take you?”

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

  “And then?”

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

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

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

  “What’s wrong?”

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

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

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

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

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