A Warrior’s Mission

by Rita Herron

  Night picked the lock and snuck into the room where Holly was being held captive…

  She lay on a dirty cot, sobbing. At the sight of her anguish, the anger he’d felt at her for denying him knowledge of his son dissipated. He went to her, his steps so silent that she didn’t hear him until he slid down beside her. She cried out and rolled over to fight him.

  “Shh, look at me, Holly. Quiet now.”

  Her green eyes widened. Then recognition dawned and she nodded. The sadness in her expression was so strong that Night couldn’t help himself—he pulled her into his arms and cradled her against him.

  “Are you all right? Did they hurt you?” His words were a mere whisper in the cave of a room.

  “I’m okay. I saw our baby.”

  A WARRIOR’S MISSION

  RITA HERRON

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Award-winning author Rita Herron wrote her first book when she was twelve, but didn’t think real people grew up to be writers. Now she writes so she doesn’t have to get a real job. A former kindergarten teacher and workshop leader, she traded her storytelling for kids for romance, and writes romantic comedies and romantic suspense. She lives in Georgia with her own romance hero and three kids. She loves to hear from readers, so please write her at P.O. Box 921225, Norcross, GA 30092-1225, or visit her Web site at www.ritaherron.com.

  Books by Rita Herron

  HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE

  486—SEND ME A HERO

  523—HER EYEWITNESS

  556—FORGOTTEN LULLABY

  601—SAVING HIS SON

  660—SILENT SURRENDER†

  689—MEMORIES OF MEGAN†

  710—THE CRADLE MISSION†

  741—A WARRIOR’S MISSION

  HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

  820—HIS-AND-HERS TWINS

  859—HAVE GOWN, NEED GROOM*

  872—HAVE BABY, NEED BEAU*

  883—HAVE HUSBAND, NEED HONEYMOON*

  944—THE RANCHER WORE SUITS

  975—HAVE BOUQUET, NEED BOYFRIEND*

  979—HAVE COWBOY, NEED CUPID*

  * * *

  The Confidential Code

  I will protect my country and its citizens.

  I will stand in the line of fire between innocents and criminals.

  I will back up my fellow agents without questions.

  I will trust my instincts.

  And most of all…

  I WILL KEEP MY MISSION AND MY IDENTITY STRICTLY CONFIDENTIAL

  * * *

  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  Holly Langworthy—A mother who will do anything to rescue her kidnapped baby. Will she lose her life and her heart in the process?

  Night Walker—This half-breed Colorado Confidential agent is a loner and the father of Holly’s baby. His mission is to save Holly and her son, but once he rescues them, will they welcome him back into their lives?

  Schyler Langworthy—An innocent baby caught in the trap of a mad scientist. Will he survive in spite of the research drug he received via his birth mother?

  Samuel Langworthy—The former governor of Colorado was against Night’s involvement with Holly, and has been acting suspiciously. Could he possibly have orchestrated his grandson’s kidnapping to help son Joshua’s campaign to keep Holly and Night apart?

  Celia Langworthy—Does she hold some clue as to who might have kidnapped Holly’s baby?

  Dr. Theodore Grace—Celia’s former husband has been conducting germ experiments on the unsuspecting public. Has he kidnapped Holly’s baby to seek revenge on Samuel for marrying Celia? And just how far will he go in his research with the baby?

  Governor Forbes—He’s bitter about losing the election to Joshua Langworthy, but is he bitter enough to get revenge by conspiring in a kidnapping?

  Carlton Sanders—The man Holly’s father wanted her to marry. He ha political aspirations of his own—did he have a secret motive for romancing Holly?

  To Tashya, for putting together a great bible and giving me my start six years ago.

  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

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  Mid-July

  “Holly Langworthy’s three-month-old son has been kidnapped from his crib.” Colleen Wellesley leveled her gaze at the group of operatives she’d assembled in the secret meeting room at the Royal Flush, the 6,000-acre cattle and horse ranch where the Colorado Confidential organization based its operation. The surveillance room had videos of the ranch access points and of the ICU offices in Denver, and computers that linked to the Department of Public Safety, the DMV and other government agencies on a limited basis.

  Ten years ago, Colleen had founded a private investigation agency, Investigations, Confidential and Undercover, or ICU, which took on typical P.I. work—divorces, missing persons, blackmail and other cases. Six months ago, ICU had been recruited as the newest branch of the Confidential organization, Colorado Confidential. ICU’s office in Denver had become a cover for Confidential activities. The private detective business still operated on a highly selective level, but most of the work now was done for the DPS and the federal government.

  Confidential agent Night Walker jerked his head toward his boss in shock.

  Holly Langworthy had a child?

  The beautiful, chestnut-haired, sexy and pampered daughter of Samuel Langworthy, the former governor? Holly—the woman he had shared one incredible night with before her father had run him off and ordered him never to darken the doors of the Langworthy estate again?

  “Everyone, this is my brother, Michael.” Colleen continued. “I’ve asked him to join us today to offer suggestions and observations.”

  Night tuned out the introductions. His mind was still reeling from the bombshell Colleen had just dropped about Holly Langworthy. Did Colleen know about his previous relationship with Holly?

  How old was the baby?

  Fiona Clark and Shawn Jameson, two other Confidential agents, sat across from him, their expressions unreadable.

  “Although the Langworthy family had not made public the fact that they have a grandchild,” Colleen said, “the baby has been living with his mother at the Langworthy estate in Denver since his birth three months ago. Holly’s father, former governor, Samuel Langworthy, has suggested that the kidnapping is connected to the upcoming gubernatorial election.” Colleen continued, “Of course, now that the media has gotten wind of the story, it will be major news.”

  Really major news, since the former governor was a millionaire and his son Joshua was firmly entrenched in the upcoming election as a prime candidate. Even more major news as Night mentally counted back the months and realized the baby might very well be his own son.

  A son Holly Langworthy had not bothered to tell him existed.

  NIGHT STRUGGLED with the idea that he might have a son as he drove at record-breaking speed away from the Royal Flush, located between Fairplay and Garo, toward the Langworthy mansion in Denver. All his life he had been a loner. His father had died when Night was little, leaving his white mother to raise him in a world that hadn’t wanted her Cheyenne half-breed son. She’d eventually taken hi to live on one of the reservations, hoping the people there would be more welcoming, but he had felt just as alone in the midst of his native American Indian cousins as he had i
n his mother’s world.

  He had never expected to have a family. Had blamed his father for leaving him, had thought that loving meant only pain. Especially when love involved the mixture of cultures.

  But that one night with Holly had lingered in his mind. He had wanted to see her again, to call her, to touch her, yet he’d known a relationship between them would never work. Had she given birth to his son? A son who might need him?

  A son who had crossed the lines between the Cheyenne and the white man, just as he had?

  The snowcapped peaks of the Colorado mountains became a hazy blur as the facts of the case imprinted themselves in his brain. According to Colleen, Holly was distraught and had been avoiding the press since the kidnapping. The Langworthys had suggested that Governor Todd Houghton and his buddy Senator Franklin Gettys had instigated the kidnapping to distract Joshua Langworthy from his campaign. In turn, Governor Houghton suggested the Langworthys had staged the kidnapping to garner sympathy for Joshua in the election. Either scenario sounded feasible.

  Both disgusted Night.

  The odd details of the crime had the police perplexed. How had a kidnapper breached the walls of the Langworthy mansion? Langworthy had topnotch security. Night should know—he’d worked security detail at the estate a year ago. Was there someone on the inside who’d been a conspirator?

  The other details were odd, too. Traces of Merino sheep wool, eggshells and dirt from the southern part of Colorado had been found at the scene, in baby Langworthy’s nursery. Colleen had sent Fiona to check out Governor Houghton and Senator Gettys’s ex-wife, Helen Gettys. Michael was assigned to check out the Merino sheep ranch partially owned by Gettys. Shawn was staying on with Colleen.

  She had assigned Night to watch Holly.

  He had a helluva lot more than watching in mind. Holly owed him some answers. And if she’d had anything to do with staging her own baby’s disappearance, if that child was Night’s…

  The fury and anguish he felt at the realization that he might have a son he had known nothing about obliterated his ill-spent desire for Holly. Protective instincts unlike anything he’d ever felt before rose to the surface for the infant. The thought of any child, much less his own offspring, missing, being in danger, being used as a pawn in some kind of political game sickened him. The other possibilities that lurked behind the obvious political ones were even more maddening.

  But what if the baby wasn’t his? Would he be able to tell by looking into Holly’s eyes?

  He barely noticed the Denver lights as he maneuvered through traffic toward the Capitol Hill area, his mind on autopilot as he made his way to the Langworthy estate. He gave his name at the security gate to the fenced-in Victorian mansion, wondering if Langworthy had blackballed his name from the acceptance list, but as Colleen had promised, he got through with no problem. Apparently, the ex-governor wanted ICU’s help badly enough to tolerate him. Emotions breathed like a fireball in his belly as he drove down the long drive to the house.

  His hand trembled as he lied the photograph Colleen had given him of Holly’s son. The Langworthys had released the picture to the public in an attempt to find out who had taken the three-month-old infant from their home in the middle of the night.

  In the picture, the chubby little boy was wrapped in a blue blanket, lying in his crib, a cuddly brown teddy bear snuggled beside him. Night studied the infant’s features. The baby had black hair but he couldn’t quite tell the color of his eyes.

  Did he have his brown eyes or Holly’s laughing green eyes?

  Thinking of Holly sent an ache through his chest. Photographs of her and the man she’d been dating had been plastered all over the news the past few months. Carlton Sanders—a man who worked for Joshua Langworthy, a cultured man Samuel would approve of, a man suited to Holly’s status. Could Carlton Sanders be the father of Holly’s baby? Or was Night the father?

  He touched the name bead necklace circling his neck, the one symbol of his heritage he carried with him at all times. Pride filled him at the memory of his mother’s gift. If Holly and he had a child, he wanted to pass that name on to his son, give him beads to symbolize the Walker name.

  A dozen lights twinkled around the stately Victorian mansion as he dragged his gaze to the doorway then upward to the window of Holly’s room. Memories bombarded him. The first night he’d come to work security at the mansion. His admiration for Samuel Langworthy and all that the Centennial family had done for Colorado. His instant attraction to Langworthy’s beautiful daughter, Holly.

  An attraction he’d known could go nowhere.

  She was rich and spoiled, and he’d pegged her flirtations as those of a rebellious princess wanting to defy daddy by taking a walk on the wild side with the hired help—a half breed at that. But her feminine wiles had been nearly irresistible. She had reminded him of the wild horses he had tamed in the past, eliciting forbidden fantasies of taming her as well. Still, he had resisted at first, walked away from her a dozen times. But in a weak moment, he had told her about the legend of Lillian’s Leap. In the romantic story, his ancestors, North and Lily, escaped from danger by jumping off a cliff then landing on a hidden ledge and diving into the river below. Holly’s passion and youthful romanticisms had gotten to him, had been a balm to his jaded soul.

  Then she had touched him. Had lifted a slender hand to trail down the side of his face, then lower to his chest, and lower still. And finally, she’d looked into his eyes, begging him to take her. Even then he’d restrained himself, but finally her lips had brushed his, torturing him, hungry and searching. He had lost control and made love to her.

  The passion had been hotter than any he’d ever experienced. Holly’s body was a sultry haven in the midst of a world of corruption, her innocence so sweet it was erotic, primal. He’d wanted to taste it forever.

  Yet, he’d had to leave. Especially when Holly’s father had discovered them together. That humiliating encounter was etched into his brain with painful clarity. Night was the hired help, a half breed who was fit to protect the former governor’s precious daughter, but not to touch her.

  Samuel had thrown him out, his threats to ruin Night if he dirtied the doors of the estate again a staunch reminder of the man’s power and posion, and Night’s lack thereof. Night had dealt with people like that before. The incident with Charity Carmichael for one. Her accusations had dogged him and always would.

  This time, Night had known Langworthy was right—he and Holly were not meant to be together. She was lightness to his dark, a society heiress who belonged to the prominent Centennial family, while he was an ex-bounty hunter who belonged to himself and his job. So he had left. And, barring the dreams that haunted his nights, dreams of lying with her again, slick hot skin against her writhing form, he had never looked back.

  Until now.

  A wry chuckle rumbled from deep within his chest, filled with pain, as he opened the car door and inhaled the scent of freshly manicured lawn and money. Of course, even now, he’d returned to the Langworthy mansion as a special agent to investigate a crime, not as Holly’s lover.

  Or as her baby’s father.

  HOLLY HEARD the explosion in the foyer all the way up the winding staircase to her bedroom. The housekeeper’s low voice, a man’s angry one demanding to see her, her father’s commanding tone ordering the man to leave. Her mother’s soft cry for her father to listen.

  “I’m here on official business, looking into the kidnapping of your grandson, Mr. Langworthy,” the man said in a tone so cold that a shiver chased up Holly’s spine. “And I’m not leaving until I speak with your daughter.”

  “I was expecting another ICU agent, not you,” her father said.

  “All our agents are working the case in one capacity or another. Colleen sent me here.”

  Holly’s heart pounded as she realized the source of the familiar voice.

  Night Walker had finally returned.

  She had been expecting him any day, had known this moment would a
rrive, that she would have to face him. She had dreaded it with all her being.

  He would never understand. Never forgive her.

  One trembling hand went to her now flat stomach. The other clutched baby Sky’s stuffed bunny, Bun-Bun, to her chest, the scent of the baby powder and her son’s soft skin that lingered on it bringing a fresh wave of tears to her eyes. She had cried so much already….

  But it hadn’t brought her son back. And neither had her father or the police.

  Maybe Night would be able to do something.

  She reached for the doorknob, ready to face his wrath when the door suddenly opened and Night appeared, her father on his heels, her mother’s fine-boned hand pulling at her father’s sleeve.

  Most people thought Celia Langworthy a delicate flower of a woman who did as Holly’s father dictated, but Holly knew differently. Celia was smart and fiercely loving. She would also do anything for Samuel and her children. And her grandson.

  “Please, Samuel, we have to do whatever we can to find the baby,” Celia pleaded.

  Her father tried to get around Night to blockway, but Night overpowered him, his six-four, two-hundred pound body a menacing presence beside her petite mother. Holly drank in Night’s features as he charged into the room. She remembered the way he had looked that evening so long ago when he’d held her naked in his arms. The night he had taken her virginity and they had made a son.

  His classically high cheekbones and dark coloring testified to his Cheyenne heritage. His pitch-black hair still brushed his collar and made her ache to run her hands through it. But his golden brown eyes raked over her without a trace of the desire they had that night. Instead, they pinned her to the spot with accusations.