A Threat to His Family

by Delores Fossen

  It seemed to take forever for Owen to make his way up the stairs. His legs, and heart, felt heavy, and there was still way too much adrenaline pumping through him. That lightened a little when he spotted Laney. She was exactly where he’d expected to find her, standing guard outside the bedroom door.

  She looked at him, their gazes immediately connecting, and he saw the relief in her eyes when she ran to him. “Addie’s okay,” she said. “They’re all okay. I just checked on them, and Addie’s fallen back asleep.”

  Owen pulled her into his arms and another layer of that heaviness vanished. With all the shots that had been fired, it was somewhat of a miracle they hadn’t been killed.

  “Nettie?” she asked, easing back.

  “Dead.”

  He paused to let her absorb that and everything else that went along with it. The woman who’d made their lives a living hell was gone. Now they had to deal with the aftermath and the nightmares.

  Laney shook her head. “I’m sorry I didn’t see sooner that Nettie was the one. I was looking too hard at Emerson to realize the truth.”

  Owen sighed. Leave it to Laney to apologize for not recognizing a jealous woman hell-bent on covering up her husband’s affair. Because he didn’t want her apology, or for Laney to feel regretful in any way for this, he brushed a kiss on her mouth.

  She definitely didn’t melt against him, didn’t give him one of those smoldering looks. Her reaction was that tears sprang to her eyes. So Owen kissed her again. This time he heard that slight hitch in her throat and thought maybe there was a little melting going on. This time when she pulled back, he definitely saw some.

  Felt some, too.

  Laney gave him a small smile, one he figured took a lot of effort on her part. “I’ll be okay. I’ll just wait out here while you see Addie.”

  A few days ago, he would have taken her up on that offer. But since this was now, tonight, he slipped his arm around her and opened the bedroom door.

  “It’s me,” Owen called out. “You can unlock the bathroom door.”

  Seconds later, he heard someone do just that. He also heard mutterings of relief. Saw relief, too, on Gemma’s and Francine’s faces when Gemma opened the door. The face that he didn’t see was Addie’s. But he soon spotted his little girl asleep on a quilt inside the tub.

  “Don’t go downstairs. Not yet,” Owen instructed the women. “Kellan’s down there, and he’s fine,” he added to Gemma.

  Clearly relieved, Gemma gave him a hard hug and went into the bedroom to look out the door and into the hall. He was betting she would wait right there until Kellan came up for her.

  “The gunman is dead?” Francine whispered and then checked over her shoulder to make sure Addie hadn’t heard. She hadn’t.

  “Arrested.” Owen had to pause again. “Nettie’s dead, though. She’s the one who did this.”

  Owen figured in the next few hours, Francine would learn a lot more about what had gone on. Everyone in Longview Ridge would. But, for now, that was enough information.

  Francine went to the bed and sank onto the foot of it. She didn’t come out and say it, but Owen figured she’d done that to give him some alone time with Addie. He wanted that, but he took Laney’s hand to make sure that “alone time” included her, too.

  Owen sat on the floor next to the tub, easing Laney down with him. He didn’t want to wake Addie, but he had to brush his fingers over her cheek and hair. She stirred a little but settled right back down.

  “I hope she won’t remember any of this,” Laney whispered.

  That was his hope, too, but he would certainly remember it in crystal clear detail. Both the bad and the good. Because plenty of good had come out of this, too—including what had happened between him and Laney just a couple of hours earlier in the room across the hall.

  Owen wanted to hang on to that, but when he looked at Laney, he saw yet another apology in her eyes. Tears, too. This time he didn’t sigh. He huffed and hauled Laney onto his lap.

  “This wasn’t your fault. There’s no reason for you to be sorry.” With that, he kissed her again. This time it wasn’t just to hush her but because he needed to feel her in his arms. Needed his mouth on hers.

  And that was what he got.

  He felt it. Not just the heat, though, but also the feelings that went deeper than just the lust. He felt everything for her that he hadn’t been sure he could ever feel again. Yet, here it was. Here she was, right on his lap and kissing him back.

  This time when he pulled back, he didn’t see a trace of an apology. Thankfully, didn’t see any tears, either, so that meant the kiss had done its job. Now he wanted to carry it one step further.

  “I love you,” Laney blurted before he could say anything. “I know, you’ll probably think it’s too soon, that you’re not ready for it, but I can’t change what I feel for you. For Addie,” she added, glancing at the baby. “I love you both, and even if that sends you running, I wanted you to know.”

  Owen opened his mouth but still didn’t get a chance to say anything.

  “Please don’t run,” she whispered, pressing her forehead to his. “Just give it a chance and see where it goes.”

  “No,” he said. This time he saw the flash of surprise and hurt in her eyes, and that was why he continued—quickly, “I don’t need to give it a chance. Don’t need to see where it’s going, because it’s going exactly where I want.”

  Laney blinked, shifted back enough so she could study his face. She smiled a little. “To bed?”

  “Absolutely. The bed...and other places.”

  Her smile widened and she kissed him. It went on a lot longer and became a lot deeper than Owen had planned because he hadn’t finished what he’d wanted to say. That was why he broke away.

  “Other places like my house,” he said. “That I hope you can think of as your house, too.”

  Laney’s smile faded. “You’re asking me to move in with you?”

  “I’m asking for a whole lot more than that. I’m in love with you, Laney.”

  She froze, her eyes widening, and for one heart-stopping moment, he thought she was going to say that she didn’t believe him. But then she threw herself back into his arms and gave him an amazing kiss. One that told him that this was exactly what she wanted, too.

  Now it was Owen who smiled. For a few seconds anyway, but the movement in the tub had both of them looking at Addie. She was no longer asleep. She sat up, looked at them. And grinned.

  “Da-da,” she said, reaching for him.

  Laney and he reached over and pulled her from the tub. Holding both Laney and his daughter, Owen knew that he had exactly what he wanted in his arms.

  * * *

  Look for more books in USA TODAY

  bestselling author Delores Fossen’s

  Longview Ridge Ranch miniseries

  later this year.

  And don’t miss the previous title in the

  Longview Ridge Ranch series, Safety Breach, available now from Harlequin Intrigue!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Tactical Force by Elle James.

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  Tactical Force

  by Elle James

  Chapter One

  A
nne Bellamy finished editing the document her boss had given her just before he’d left for the gym at exactly four thirty that afternoon. She’d stayed two hours past the end of the usual day in the office of the national security advisor located in the West Wing of the White House to clean up, fact-check and finish the job. The last one out of the office, she gathered her purse and checked her cell phone.

  A text message had come through during the time she’d logged off her computer and collected her purse.

  Unknown caller.

  Curious as to who had her phone number and was texting her so late in the evening, Anne brought up her text messages and frowned down at the cryptic message.

  TRINITY LIVES.

  Her heart skipped several beats before settling into the swift pace of one who was running for her life. Anne hadn’t heard anything about Trinity since the man who’d recruited her to spy on government officials had been murdered.

  Her gut clenched and she felt like she might throw up as she returned the text.

  Sorry, you must have the wrong number.

  She waited, her breath caught in her throat, her pulse hammering against her eardrums.

  John Halverson died because he’d got too close.

  Anne gasped and glanced around her office, wondering if anyone was watching or could see the texts she was receiving. Wondering if she was doing the right thing, or revealing herself to the wrong persons, she responded to the text again.

  Halverson is dead.

  Again, Anne waited, afraid of the response, but afraid not to reply.

  Halverson was on the right track.

  Anne’s heart squeezed hard in her chest. John Halverson had been a good man, with a heart as big as they came. He cared about his country and what was happening to tear it apart.

  When he’d come to her, he’d caught her at a vulnerable point in her career. A point at which she’d considered leaving the political nightmare to take a position as a secretary or receptionist for a doctor’s office. Anything to get out of the demoralizing, disheartening work she did with men and women who didn’t always have the best interests of the nation at heart, whose careers and post-government jobs in media and lobbying meant more to them than the country’s future.

  Anne had kept her head down and her thoughts to herself since Halverson’s death, afraid that whoever had murdered the man would come after her. If they knew her association with Halverson, and her involvement in uncovering the graft and corruption inside the office of the National Security Council, she’d be the next target.

  She knew Trinity had a firm foothold in the government, and they weren’t afraid to pounce on those who dared to cross them or squeal on their activities. The problem was that they were so well entrenched you couldn’t tell a friend from a terrorist.

  She stared at her phone screen. Was someone trying to warn her? Or flush her out into the open?

  Either way, someone knew her secret. She could be the next casualty, courtesy of Trinity.

  Anne quickly keyed in her message, not feeling terribly confident she was putting an end to the communication.

  I don’t know what you’re talking about. Leave me alone.

  A moment later came a response.

  Can’t. They’re planning an attack. A lot of people could be hurt. I need your help to stop it.

  Anne pressed a hand to her breast to still her pounding heart.

  No. No. No.

  She wasn’t the kind of person who could easily lie or pretend. Anne had always been an open book. Anyone could read any emotion on her face. She’d argued this with Halverson, but he’d insisted she could help him. She was in a strategic position, one that touched on a number of key players in politics.

  If Trinity had sleeper cells in those positions, she could spot them before anyone else. Theoretically.

  Anne hated that Halverson had paid the ultimate price. At the same time, she no longer had to report things she saw or heard, which meant she didn’t have to worry that she was being watched or targeted.

  Until now. Until the text warning her about Trinity.

  Shooting a glance around the office and the four corners of the room, she wondered if anyone had a webcam recording her every move. She’d gotten good at discovering small audio and video recording devices stashed in telephone receiver units, lights, ceiling tiles, potted plants and office furniture.

  She made a habit of scouring the room at least once a day. She’d found a small audio device once, early on, when Halverson had still been alive. They’d met at a bookstore in Arlington, where Halverson had identified the device and told her about others she should be on the lookout for.

  Since Halverson’s death, she’d continued looking over her shoulder. As time passed, she’d become lax. No one appeared to be following her or watching her.

  How wrong had she been? And why had this person come to her now?

  Instead of answering the previous text, she shoved her phone into her purse and left her office. Her heart hammered against her ribs and her breathing came in shallow pants. She was overreacting. That was all there was to it.

  But who had given out her phone number? And how did they know she’d once been involved with Halverson? She’d kept that part of her life as clandestine as possible. Trying to ensure her trysts with Halverson were in as out-of-the-way a venue as she could, she’d usually met him in a public library, where running into people she worked with was highly unlikely. It wasn’t a bar, and it wasn’t a coffee shop. She’d thought it was the best cover of all. How many terrorists did she know who made good use of a public library?

  She’d never been to Halverson’s mansion, and she’d always worn a disguise when she’d met with him at the library, never driving her own car, but taking public transportation.

  Once out in the open, she inhaled fresh night air. Anne had been so busy working she hadn’t realized it had rained earlier. The ground was still wet, and light reflected off the standing puddles. Her phone vibrated inside her purse, causing her heart to skip a beat. She ignored it and strode toward the Metro station, wishing she’d left while there was still some daylight chasing away the shadows. Though night had settled in, people still moved around the city. Men and women dressed in business suits, dress shoes and trench coats hurried home from office buildings, after a long day at work. Still, the number of people headed toward the train station was significantly less than during the regular rush hours.

  Anne wished she’d worn her tennis shoes to work rather than the tight, medium-heeled pumps that had been pinching her feet since five o’clock that morning.

  Again, the phone vibrated in her purse. She could feel the movement where her purse rested against her side. Ignoring the insistent pulsation, she moved quickly, determined to make the next Metro train headed toward Arlington, where she lived in a modest apartment.

  Footsteps sounded behind her.

  Anne shot a glance over her shoulder. A man wearing a black jacket and jeans strode behind her, less than half a block away. He also wore a dark baseball cap, shading his face and eyes from the streetlights he passed beneath.

  Alarm bells rang in Anne’s head. She increased her pace.

  The man behind her sped up, as well.

  Still a couple of blocks away from the train station, Anne realized the streets had become deserted. The people she’d passed earlier must have hopped into taxis or found their cars in the paid parking lots.

  Alone and on the street with a man following too closely behind her, Anne couldn’t move fast enough. Then she remembered there was a restaurant at the corner of the next street, which now became her new, short-range goal. Clutching her purse to her side, she sprinted for the door, her feet moving as fast as they could in heels. She didn’t slow to see if the man following her was running, too. She only knew she had to get to that restaurant.

  When she reached the resta
urant door, she almost sobbed. It was closed—the lights were turned out and no one moved inside. A quick glance behind her assured her the man had kept up. Whether he’d had to run or not wasn’t important. He was still there. Striding toward her, his feet eating the distance between them.

  Anne’s gaze darted around her, searching for a pub, a convenience store or pharmacy. Anything that stayed open late and had people inside. The block consisted of still more office buildings, closed for the night. She had no choice but to continue on toward the train station and pray she reached it before him.

  Starting out with a purposeful stride, she walked fast toward the Metro stop, watching the reflections in the glass windows of the office buildings beside her for the image of the man tailing her. When he appeared in the reflection, Anne shot forward, running all out.

  Her breath came in ragged gasps, and her pulse pounded so hard against her eardrums she could barely hear. Rounding a corner, she spied a pub, its sign lit up over the door. With the Metro station still too far to make, she set her sights on the pub and raced toward the door.

  Just as she was reaching out, a hand descended on her shoulder and jerked her back. Oh, sweet heaven, he’d caught her. She braced herself for the fight of her life.

  At that moment, the pub door opened, and a group of men exited, laughing and talking to each other.

  The hand on Anne’s shoulder fell away.

  With renewed hope, Anne dove through the men and into the pub. Once inside, she went straight to the bar.

  “What can I get you?”

  “Someone tried to grab me outside the bar,” she gushed, her breathing catching in her throat.

  The bartender leaned toward her. “You okay?” He glanced past her to a large man standing near the exit.

  The man, probably a bouncer, came forward.