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His Best Friend's Baby
Mallory Kane








His Best Friend’s Baby

Mallory Kane







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




Table of Contents


Cover Page (#uceebaa64-c86b-51f2-afa6-322853c774fc)

Title Page (#u961412bd-5199-5fd2-b7e6-7e0924fbcb89)

About The Author (#u74448bb4-1b4c-596e-aea9-cbd9c80e3364)

Dedication (#u3b84b15a-25b1-5146-921c-c4c1f4850b2b)

Prologue (#ulink_9da8414e-259f-5e40-a20a-e142c89ba8d0)

Chapter One (#ulink_2a3f0fdb-a96f-546e-8e97-1d77f99b58fb)

Chapter Two (#ulink_4123c7d6-0fc6-58d7-ad65-83a9a2d45ca3)

Chapter Three (#ulink_1ba6d8a9-c4dd-5183-a086-89d21ce54b28)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Mallory Kane credits her love of books to her mother, a librarian, who taught her that books are a precious resource and should be treated with loving respect. Her father and grandfather were steeped in the Southern tradition of oral history, and could hold an audience spellbound for hours with their storytelling skills. Mallory aspires to be as good a storyteller as her father.

Mallory lives in Mississippi with her computer-genius husband, their two fascinating cats and, at current count, seven computers. She loves to hear from readers. You can write to her at mallory@mallorykane.com.


For Michael, for the usual reasons.




Prologue (#ulink_b3ceb72b-6e37-5d4d-890f-2314bbd98f62)


The cold rain beat down on the white roses that blanketed Bill Vick’s coffin, turning them yellow and soggy. The canopy flapped and creaked in the wind.

A dozen or so people had braved the weather to attend the graveside service, but Matthew Parker saw only one—Aimee Vick, his best friend’s widow.

From his vantage point, several dozen feet away and partially hidden by trees, Matt could barely see the strands of brown hair that had escaped from beneath her hat to blow across her pale face.

Aimee didn’t notice. She stood stiffly, her arms folded protectively across her tummy, nodding and smiling sadly as people filed by, offering their condolences one more time before they headed home.

Matt pushed his fists deeper into his pockets and hunched his shoulders against the bone-deep chill that shuddered through him. A chill that had nothing to do with the cold April wind or the freezing rain that poured off the brim of his Stetson.

Three days before, he’d done the two most difficult things he’d ever done in his life. He’d brought Bill’s body home to Sundance, Wyoming, and he’d faced Bill’s wife and tried to explain how a weekend adventure had turned into tragedy.

How, in the blink of an eye, she was widowed, and her unborn baby would never know his father.

Her utter shock and disbelief had been agonizing to watch, but he’d stood there, needing to see it. Just as he did now. He needed to share her grief, her pain.

Aimee wiped her cheek with a gloved finger, and bowed her head for an instant.

Matt’s eyes stung. He blinked and looked at his watch. He needed to leave now. His flight back to the tiny border province of Mahjidastan was scheduled to leave in an hour.

For a few seconds, he debated whether he should speak to her. But he quelled the notion as soon as it surfaced. Seeing him would only hurt her more.

He’d known Aimee nearly as long as he’d known Bill, which was most of his life. He’d kidded Bill about not deserving her. She was generous and kind, and forgiving to a fault. She gave everyone the benefit of the doubt, until they proved they didn’t deserve it.

Three days ago, Matt had proven he didn’t deserve her forgiveness. She hadn’t said it, but the look in her eyes had spoken louder than words.

If not for him, Bill would still be alive. He’d be safe at home with his wife, awaiting the birth of their son.

Bill’s death was his fault.




Chapter One (#ulink_2136c16f-26f2-5a3b-806a-549a0745208c)


A year later

THURSDAY 0900 HOURS

Matt Parker stepped outside Irina Castle’s ranch house, the headquarters for Black Hills Search and Rescue in Sundance, Wyoming, and headed for the helipad a few hundred yards to the east. He lifted his head and took a deep breath of crisp, fresh Wyoming air.

The day before, for the first time in a year, he’d set foot on American soil, on Wyoming soil. He was back home, where he belonged. He loved the Black Hills. Even though they’d tried to kill him and his three best friends twenty years ago, he loved them. They sustained him.

He’d done his best to track down any rumors of Americans in the remote mountain province of Mahjidastan, which was located in a disputed border area shared by Afghanistan, Pakistan and China. His objective had been to find Rook Castle, Irina’s husband. But ultimately, he’d failed, as had BHSAR specialist Aaron Gold before him. And now Irina had called off the search.

As he circled the Bell 429 helicopter that was BHSAR Specialist Deke Cunningham’s baby, another fellow specialist, Brock O’Neill, appeared in the doorway of the hangar.

“Parker,” he said as Matt approached. The terse greeting was typical of the ex-Navy SEAL. He held out his hand and cocked his head—the only indication Matt had ever seen that the patch over his left eye bothered him.

Matt shook his hand. “Brock. How’re you doing?”

“Hmph. Watch out. Your buddy’s in a mood.” Brock broke the handshake and headed toward the ranch house.

Matt suppressed a smile as he continued toward the hangar. For Brock, that was a warm greeting.

When he stepped through the open door, Deke was leaning back in his desk chair with his feet propped up, tossing a steel bearing from hand to hand. A small TV was tuned to a morning news show, its sound muted.

“Hey, Deke,” Matt said. “Playing catch with yourself?”

Deke’s feet hit the floor and he set the silver ball on his desk. “That goober I just hired overtightened a bolt and ruined this ball bearing. Brock offered to take him out for me.”

Matt laughed.

“How’re you doing?”

Matt took Deke’s hand. “Been a while. Can’t say I’m glad to see you.”

“I know.”

“Man, I hate this,” Matt said, nodding back toward the ranch house. “The place feels like a funeral home. I didn’t see Irina. How’s she holding up?”

Deke shook his head. “She’s trying to act like she’s fine, but she’s not. She’s in bad shape.” Deke wiped a hand over his face and then pushed his shaggy hair back. “She’s in town this morning, talking to her accountant again.”

“So it’s true?” Matt asked. “All her funds are wiped out?”

Deke nodded. “All her personal funds. Damn Rook for not signing everything over to her when they got married. I’d like to kill him—” Deke stopped and clamped his jaw.

Matt snorted. “Too late. But it’s not like he knew he was going to die.”

“No?” Deke’s brows lowered and his blue eyes turned black. “He spent his whole life stepping in front of bullets for other people. He had to figure one would hit him sooner or later.”

“I don’t get it. She’s his wife—widow. Why doesn’t she get his money?”

“It’s all about the suspicious nature of his death. Just because they don’t have a body—greedy bastards.”

“Hang on a minute,” Matt said as he glanced at the TV. “Turn that up.”

Deke scooped up the remote control and tossed it to him. “What is it?”

“Check out the pink dress. It’s Margo Vick.”

“Bill’s mother? Opening another Vick Resort Hotel?”

“Not this time. That’s FBI Special Agent Aaron Schiff standing next to her.” Matt hit the volume control.

“—I am personally offering a reward for any information leading to the kidnapper.”

Kidnapper. Alarm pierced Matt’s chest as Margo yielded the microphone to the FBI special agent. Among the dark suits, her brightly colored dress drew all eyes to her.

“We plan to hold press conferences on a regular basis, and we’ll update the media as we have more information,” Special Agent Schiff said. “Meanwhile, please let us do our job. Our primary concern is getting Mrs. Vick’s grandson back home safe and sound.”

“It’s Aimee’s baby. He’s been kidnapped.” Matt sat on the edge of a folding chair and propped his elbows on his knees, listening as Schiff answered questions from reporters. The cameras pulled back to reveal the front of the Vick mansion, located just outside Casper, Wyoming. Besides Schiff and Margo, several uniformed police officers stood on the marble steps, along with a couple of men in suits.

Matt’s gaze zeroed in on a pale face behind Bill’s mother. It was Aimee, dressed in something dark that blended with the suits and uniforms. Her eyes were huge and strands of hair blew across her face.

“There’s Aimee.” He didn’t take his eyes off her until the camera switched back to Schiff. Then he shot up off the chair and paced, rubbing his thumb across his lower lip.

“There’s something more going on here,” he said as dread pressed on his chest like a weight.

“What—with the kidnapping?”

“About a month ago, my journal disappeared from my room.”

Deke frowned and picked up the ball bearing again. He tossed it back and forth. “You mean on your laptop?”

Matt shook his head. With every passing second, pressure in his chest grew. “I keep notes in a small leather journal just for my use. I write my reports to Irina from my notes. You know, rumors of Americans in the area, anything I can glean about what Novus Ordo or his terrorist friends are up to, lists of expenses.”

“You think it was stolen?”

He nodded.

“Okay. How does this have anything to do with the grandbaby of one of the wealthiest women in Wyoming being kidnapped?”

Matt glanced back at the TV, but there was a commercial on. “Work stuff wasn’t all that was in the journal.”

He turned toward the window, letting his gaze roam over the jagged peaks in the distance. “It’s been a year since Bill died, and I haven’t talked to her.”

Deke didn’t comment.

Matt rubbed his lip. “I just couldn’t face her. So I was trying to compose a letter. A way to—tell her how sorry I am.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Novus knows we’ve been searching for any clue that Rook survived his sniper attack. I’ve been followed ever since I got over there. I’m sure whoever stole my journal was sent by Novus, so now—”

“Now he knows how you feel about Aimee,” Deke supplied. He set the ball bearing down and sat up straight.

“How I feel—?” Matt frowned. “Well, yeah. He knows about her baby and about me being William’s godfather. And now Irina’s stopped looking for Rook. What if Novus thinks she stopped because I found him?”

“And what? You think Novus had Aimee’s baby kidnapped—”

“To get to me.”

Deke blew out a long breath. “Kind of a stretch. Why wouldn’t he have grabbed you before now if he thought you knew something?”

“Think about it. I’ve been in Mahjidastan for the past year, searching for information about the only man on the earth who could identify Novus Ordo. And before me Aaron was there for a year. There hasn’t been a day since Rook disappeared off that boat that a BHSAR specialist hasn’t been looking for him. Suddenly, Irina pulls me out and doesn’t replace me. Novus didn’t have a chance to get his hands on me. I left within four hours of Irina’s phone call.”

Deke gave a short, sharp laugh. “That’s quite a conspiracy theory. But it makes sense—sort of. What now?”

Matt met Deke’s gaze and set his jaw. “If Novus Ordo has taken Aimee Vick’s baby to try and get his hands on me to interrogate me about Rook, I’m going to make it easy for him.”

SO FAR EVERYTHING was working well. Not bad for a plan that had been put together in less than twenty-four hours.

The Vick baby was already in safe hands. The FBI was on the case. And, most important, Parker was acting exactly as predicted. He was inserting himself right into the middle of the kidnapping investigation.

A warm sense of satisfaction spread through him. It was immaterial whether Rook Castle was alive or dead. He had a larger goal. And finally, it was in sight.

He looked at his watch. Almost time. He had a telephone call to make.

THURSDAY 1430 HOURS

AIMEE VICK PACED back and forth across the living room of her mother-in-law’s house. The room was crawling with FBI special agents, uniformed police officers, and technicians trailing spools of wire everywhere.

She looked at the grandfather clock for the hundredth time—or the thousandth. Two-thirty p.m. It had been eight hours. Eight miserable, terrifying hours without her baby.

When she’d woken up this morning and discovered that William was gone, she’d have sworn she couldn’t survive eight hours without her baby. But she was still alive, and still rational—barely.

William Matthew was only seven months old, and she’d never spent a night without him. Hardly even an hour. He was her anchor, her life since her husband’s death.

She didn’t notice that someone else had come in the front door until she heard her name called.

She turned and found herself face-to-face with Matt Parker, her husband’s best friend, her baby’s godfather, and the last man on earth she expected to see.

“Matt,” she croaked. Her voice was hoarse and sounded harsh to her ears.

The last time she’d seen him was a year ago, when he’d brought her husband’s body home. He looked just as stricken as he had that day.

Her first impulse was to run to him and hug him. But she didn’t. Her emotions were already in turmoil, and seeing Matt made things even more confusing.

She should be furious at him. After all, he hadn’t shown up for Bill’s funeral, nor for William Matthew’s christening, even though she’d honored Bill’s request to name him as William’s godfather.

She’d spent a good portion of the past year filled with anger. At Matt for taking Bill skydiving. At Bill for going off and dying. At herself for not putting her foot down and refusing to let him go.

Matt looked down and rubbed the back of his neck. After a few seconds, he raised his head enough to meet her gaze. “Aimee, I’m so sorry about your baby. I’ve talked with Special Agent Schiff. He’s agreed to let me help with the investigation—if you’ll agree.”

Aimee clutched at her abdomen, where the hollow nausea that had been her constant companion ever since Bill died was growing, threatening to cut off her breath.

“How did you get here?” She shook her head. “I mean, it just happened this morning—”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m here. Will you let me help?”

Aimee looked at Special Agent Schiff, who nodded at her reassuringly. “I can’t believe—I haven’t seen you since—”

Matt’s gaze faltered. “I know. I’m sorry, Aimee.”

Aimee started when Margo laid a hand on her shoulder—a heavy hand. “Aimee, dear, why don’t you get a glass of water?”

“Thank you, Margo, but I’m not thirsty.” She tried to step away from her mother-in-law’s grasp, but Margo held on.

“I’d like to speak to Matthew alone for a moment.”

Aimee rubbed her temple, where a headache was gathering. She knew what Margo planned to do. She was going to tell Matt to leave. She could practically see the wheels turning in her mother-in-law’s head. A lot of people in Casper knew that Matt had been with Bill when he died, and Margo didn’t like the Vicks being the subject of gossip.

Appearances. They’d always been her main concern. The magenta suit she wore attested to that. Only Aimee and the owner of Margo’s favorite dress shop knew that her first act upon hearing of her grandson’s kidnapping was to have the suit rushed over in time for the press conference.

“Anything you have to say, you can say in front of me, Margo.” Aimee stiffened her back and met her mother-in-law’s gaze.

“If you’re sure, dear.” Margo turned to Matt. “Aimee is terribly distraught. I’d rather she not be upset further. Perhaps you should leave.”

Matt raised his brows and gazed at Margo steadily. “I have every right to be here. William Matthew is my godson.”

A godson he’d never seen, Aimee thought. To make matters worse, Margo had spent the year since Bill’s death trying to coax Aimee to relinquish control of William’s future to her.

I have the resources and the connections, dear. You don’t.

Grief and fear and anger balled up inside Aimee, until she felt as if she were going to explode. She had to bite her tongue to keep from lashing out at both of them.

Aimee had loved Bill, but the six years of their marriage had been a tug-of-war between him and his mother. Now she was in the same position, standing between Margo and Matt.

“William is my child,” she blurted out. “This is my decision.”

Every eye in the room turned their way.

“Aimee,” Margo said warningly as her fingers tightened on Aimee’s shoulder. “Don’t make a scene.”

Aimee wasn’t sure how she felt about Matt showing up after a year—almost to the day—since Bill’s death, but she didn’t doubt his ability. As a weather expert and survival specialist, rescuing the innocent was his specialty.

If anyone could save her child, Matt could.

“If Special Agent Schiff agrees, I want Matt here. It makes sense for him to be involved. He’s trained in rescue and recov—” Aimee’s throat closed on the word recovery.

“Rescue,” she said as firmly as she could. No crying. She hadn’t cried yet, and she didn’t plan to start now. Crying never helped anything. She was afraid that if she started she wouldn’t be able to stop.

Margo’s dark eyes snapped with irritation as she drew in a sharp breath. Then, with a quick glance around the room, she consciously relaxed her face and nodded.

“Of course,” she said stiffly. “I didn’t mean to imply otherwise.” Her grip on Aimee’s shoulder loosened and turned into an awkward pat.

The shrill ring of a cell phone split the air. Aimee jumped.

It was him. The kidnapper.

She whirled, looking for her purse, and then remembered that the FBI had forwarded her cell to Margo’s house phone. At that instant, the landline rang.

Special Agent Schiff motioned her over to the table, where wires and headphones and computers appeared to be piled haphazardly.

“Mrs. Vick—” Schiff said in a cautionary tone. “Remember what we discussed?”

She was going to have to talk to the man who’d taken her baby. Her stomach turned upside down. As she approached, a computer technician handed two sets of headphones to Schiff. Schiff, in turn, reached past her to hand a set to Matt. Then he donned the remaining set himself.

“Wait to see what he says,” Schiff cautioned her. “Once he starts talking ransom, you insist it be delivered by a family friend—Parker. Don’t let him bully you. Don’t give in to any demands. You are in control, not him. Got it?”

Aimee had never felt less in control in her life. Her baby was in the hands of the monster on the other end of the phone, and she was being forced to bargain for his life. The phone rang again, the piercing noise sending terror slicing through her.

“On my count,” Schiff whispered. “Pick up on three.”

She nodded jerkily. Her throat was too dry to swallow. Her hands were shaking so much she wasn’t sure she could hold on to the phone.

Schiff nodded at the computer tech, glanced at Matt, then held up a finger. “One,” he mouthed to her.

A second finger went up. “Two.”

Aimee bit her lip and reached for the phone. Matt stepped closer.

Schiff held up three fingers. “Three.” He nodded.

She picked up the phone, her other hand pressed to her chest. “Hello?” she croaked.

“Hello, Aimee. Hello, Special Agent Schiff, and whoever else is listening.”

Aimee stiffened at the kidnapper’s menacing tone. At the same time, Matt’s shoulder brushed hers. Coiled tension radiated from his body like heat. He rested a hand lightly on the small of her back. Somehow, his touch gave her courage.

“What have you done with my baby?” she cried. “I have to know if he’s okay.”

“Your baby is perfectly safe for now,” the harsh voice said. “It’s up to you to keep him safe. Let’s talk business.”

“What do you want?” she asked tightly.

“Money, of course,” the man replied. “Are you listening, Schiff? Because I will only say this once. I want a million dollars in hundreds. Don’t give me any problem about the money. I am aware of who your mother-in-law is.” The man’s voice was cold and hard. “I don’t want to hear excuses about needing time to get the cash together. Just do it.”

Aimee felt helpless and lost. She could hardly make sense of what he was saying. She took a deep breath. “Let me talk to my baby,” she begged. “He must be so scared. He needs to hear my voice.”

“Shut up. You’re not giving the orders. I am. Now here’s where the exchange will take place.”

He rattled off some numbers that meant nothing to Aimee. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Matt nod at Schiff.

“Got it?” the man snapped.

Schiff sent her a nod.

“Y-yes,” she said.

“Tomorrow at 1500 hours. Aimee, if you want to see your baby again, you will deliver the money.”

Matt jerked. He shook his head fiercely at Schiff.

“I—I don’t know,” she stammered, her heart stuck in her throat.

“Family friend,” Schiff mouthed.

“Wait. I can’t come alone,” she said as strongly as she could. “I—I’ll need to care for William Matthew. I need to bring a—a family friend—”

“Schiff?” the kidnapper said. “What did I tell you? I will not say it again. Make it happen.”

The line went dead.

“Dammit,” Matt spat.

Aimee’s throat closed and her eyes stung with tears. She swallowed them as the phone dropped from her numb fingers. “What is it? What’s wrong?” she asked.

Schiff didn’t answer her. “Give me those coordinates,” he told the computer tech, who repeated the numbers.

“You said you’re an expert in weather and survival,” Schiff said to Matt. “Know where that is?”

“That latitude and longitude puts it north of Sundance,” Matt muttered. He pulled a small device out of his pocket and pressed buttons. “It’s about halfway up Ragged Top Mountain. Rough terrain. Plus we’ve got a late-winter storm building. Could dump a foot or more of snow before it’s done.”

He turned toward Margo. “Isn’t Ragged Top where your husband’s hunting cabin was? I think Bill and I went up there a few times.”

Margo nodded stiffly. “That’s right. No one’s been there in years. I don’t understand. What did the kidnapper say?”

“He’s demanding that we bring the money to a location on the south side of Ragged Top.”

“South—? That’s—” Margo stopped, frowning. “Oh, dear.” Her face drained of color.

It was only the second time Aimee had ever seen Margo shaken. The first was when she was told her son had died. Maybe her mother-in-law wasn’t as cold and insensitive as she’d always appeared.

“What?” Matt demanded. “It’s what?”

The woman blinked. “Nothing. It’s just—it’s so hard to get up there. Especially this time of year. I’d have thought—I mean how’s he going to keep William safe up there?”

“I’ll tell you how,” Matt said. “He knows the area. I’d bet money on it, judging by the way he rattled off those coordinates. He knows Aimee can’t go by herself.”

Schiff raised his eyebrows. “What about you? Can you do it?”

Matt’s jaw clenched in determination. “Yeah. I can do it. I’ve pulled innocents out of more remote locations than that. But this storm’s coming in fast. By 1500 hours tomorrow, it’ll be right on top of that peak.”

Schiff frowned. “The weather service said it would be moving into this area late tomorrow night.”

“Yeah, that’s what they’re saying.” Matt set his jaw. “I’m going in alone.”

Aimee stiffened. She knew he could do it. That wasn’t the problem. He was a search-and-rescue specialist, trained in the Air Force. There was no one better suited to the job.

But the kidnapper had been very specific.

“Don’t even think about leaving me behind, Matt,” she said. “William Matthew is my baby. He needs me. When you hand over the money, I will be there to take him in my arms.”




Chapter Two (#ulink_1d579988-3ac5-5251-905e-e9647f456c2b)


THURSDAY 1600 HOURS

After coordinating times and plans with Special Agent Schiff, Matt drove straight back to Castle Ranch. He needed to talk to Deke.

At thirty, Deke Cunningham was one of the most decorated Air Force combat rescue officers alive. His skill with a rifle was legendary. The only thing he did better than shoot was fly a helicopter.

Which was exactly why Matt wanted him on alert for the ransom exchange.

When he got to the hangar, Deke wasn’t there. But at the door to his office, Matt saw something he hadn’t noticed before.

The plaque hanging beside Deke’s office door. It had hung in Rook Castle’s office since the day he’d created Black Hills Search and Rescue, Incorporated. It was small and plain, with a simple message.

IN MEMORIAM

Vietnam Veteran and Combat Rescue Officer

Arlis Hanks, 1944-1990. Our pledge—to honor your bravery by rescuing the innocent.

Matt touched the four signatures that were emblazoned into the bronze. Robert Kenneth Castle, Deke Cunningham, Matthew Parker and William BarkerVick.

Irina must have given it to Deke. Matt nodded to himself. It was fitting.

He found Deke in Irina’s office, sitting with her, Specialist Rafiq Jackson and Aaron Gold near a bank of windows that framed a view of the desolate, magnificent Black Hills. He nodded at Rafe and Aaron, and acknowledged Deke with a brief glance.

Irina smiled and stood to give him a hug. Rook Castle’s widow was as vibrant and lovely as ever. Her blond hair glowed in the sunlight that streamed in the window. But behind her smile and the sparkle in her blue eyes, Matt saw a shadow of grief.

He couldn’t imagine how difficult it had been for her to give up searching for her husband. She’d seen him shot, and watched him fall into the Mediterranean Sea. Even so, she’d clung to the hope that because his body had never been recovered, he might be alive.

Now, she’d given up. For everyone who knew her, and who’d supported her efforts to find him, that made it official. Rook Castle was dead.

“Irina,” Matt said. “When you called me the other day, I didn’t get a chance to say—”

She held up a hand. “I know. Thank you, Matt.” A small, sad smile lit her face. “It’s been more than two years. It’s time I stopped living in a fantasy world. What’s important now is rescuing Aimee’s baby. All my resources are available to you.”

He studied her face, wondering if Deke had told her about his theory that Novus was behind the kidnapping. He decided not to mention it. “I wanted to see if Deke could help me out.”

“Of course. You two talk here. I need to check with Pam about my schedule. Rafe, Aaron, walk out with me.”

After Irina left, Matt sat and propped his elbows on the table. He intertwined his fingers. “What’s up with Rafiq? Did you talk to him about Novus?”

“He’s listening in on activity around the Afghan/Pakistan/China borders. Chatter’s way up in the region since Irina stopped searching.” Deke rubbed his face. “Nothing concrete, mostly speculation.”

“I’m glad we’ve got Rafe. It’s good to have someone who speaks the language. Has he heard anything about what Novus is up to?”

“Well, you made big news when you left. Sounds like you’re right. The chatter supports the theory that you left because you found Rook.”

“Hmph. So much for my fifteen minutes of fame. I wish the chatter were right.”

Deke didn’t respond.

“What about you?” Matt asked him. “Are you on a case right now?” he asked.

“Nope. No case. Just hanging. I’d love to be out kicking butt somewhere, but I feel like I need to be here. You know?”

“Irina looks pretty good. How’s she holding up?”

Deke shook his head. “It took a lot out of her to make the decision to stop looking for Rook. All this time she’s lived with the image of him being shot, then disappearing into the Mediterranean. It was awful—” Deke’s voice cracked. “I mean, it had to have been.”

Matt didn’t have to imagine. He had his own night-mares. His dreams were haunted by the sight of Bill Vick spinning helplessly as he plummeted to earth, trailed by the parachute that failed to open.

“What about Aimee?” Deke continued.

“Not good. And I’m afraid I made it worse, showing up like that.” Matt stared at his clasped hands. “With her about to break, and the kidnapper’s demands, I’ve got a real situation brewing. Can you be on alert for the ransom drop?”

“Yeah, sure. When is it? Soon, I hope. There’s a doozie of a winter storm heading this way, and my bird’s not fond of snow.”

“I know. I’ve been tracking the front. I think it’s going to blow in earlier than they’re predicting.”

“You should know. I still say you should hire yourself out to the local TV station as a weatherman.” It was an old joke.

“Hair gel and a blue screen? I’ll do that the day you become a rodeo sharpshooter.” Matt couldn’t help but smile. Then he got back to business. “The ransom drop is scheduled for 1500 hours tomorrow. Here are the coordinates the kidnapper gave us.” Matt handed Deke a scrap of paper.

Deke snagged it and stepped over to an area map hanging on the wall. He tapped the point with his finger. “It’s pretty high up, and isolated.”

“Yeah. I’m going to take one of our Hummers. There’s a maintenance road up the south side. It’ll take at least two hours to get up there.”

“I see it. But if you’re right about the storm…Why don’t I fly you up in the bird? It’d be a lot quicker.”

“Because there’s a complication. The kidnapper demanded that Aimee make the drop herself.”

“The Hummer holds two passengers and it’s heated. Coming back, we may have a baby.”

Deke’s brows shot up. “May? You don’t think your kidnapper is going to turn over the kid?”

“That location gives me a bad feeling. How’s he going to handle a seven-month-old, and make sure nobody gets the drop on him?”

“He’d have to have an accomplice.”

“Right. That plus the storm—I don’t like the odds. That’s why I need you to be available. I want primary and secondary rendezvous points in case something happens and we can’t use the Hummer to get out. Maybe even a tertiary.” Matt paused and rubbed his neck. “The location he’s picked is going to receive the brunt of that storm. He’s got to know that. I have a feeling he’s banking on it to cover his tracks.”

“I’ll have the bird ready to go.”

“If you don’t hear from me, head for the first rendezvous point. Be there by 0800. Here are the times and places I’ve got mapped out.”

“Friday 0800 hours? That’s sixteen hours. You’re planning to ride out the storm up there? You could be blown right off that mountain.”

“Thanks for that image. No. I plan to be back down the mountain in the Hummer with Aimee and the baby, safe and sound. The 0800 rendezvous is if we get caught by the storm or something goes wrong. If everything goes as planned, I’ll call you. It’ll probably be after dark.”

“Just make sure you’ve got plenty of flares.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll have flares. Do these times work for you?”

“Times are fine. And I see you’re planning to move up toward the peak, rather than down.”

“Right. I figure if we can’t ride back down in the Hummer, we need to be heading to higher ground. The storm’s coming in from the west. I’d like to try to stay either ahead of it or above it. Plus, your bird’s not going to like dodging trees, so the fewer the better.”

Deke nodded.

They quickly agreed on two alternate times and places, the second twenty-four hours after the first. Plus a third, twenty-four hours after that, in case the storm stalled.

“One last thing,” Matt said. “Take these coordinates. This is a last-resort location. It’s an hour’s walk south from the Vicks’ cabin.”

“The hunting cabin. I forgot about that place. You think you might end up there?”

Matt shrugged. “It’s good shelter. We might need it, if we have to travel that far.”

Deke stuck the piece of paper in his pocket. “No problem. I’ll hang on to these.”

“Thanks, man. I knew I could count on you.” Matt stood.

“You know there’s another way to handle this.”

“Not really.”

“Sure there is. Leave Aimee out of it. You and I go up in the Hummer, get the drop on the kidnapper and get the baby back safe and sound.”

Matt sighed. “That would work—if one of us could pass for a medium-height, slender female. But there’s another consideration. The baby. If everything goes well, which one of us is prepared to bring back a seven-month-old who needs his mother?”

He opened the door. “Have you ever been between a mother and her child? I’m not telling Aimee she has to stay behind.”

NOW CUNNINGHAM was involved.

He knew them all so well. Of course Cunningham would drop everything to help Parker. They were “brothers,” after all.

It tended to get annoying, listening to the stories of their childhood friendship, and their oath to save innocents just as that broken-down Vietnam veteran had saved theirs.

He hadn’t had time to sabotage Parker’s equipment or vehicle. He’d had to trust Kinnard to handle that part of the plan.

His job was to make sure that when Parker needed help, it wasn’t available. There were two ways he could handle that, but only one was a sure thing.

All he needed were some tools and a little private time.

FRIDAY 1430 HOURS

AIMEE BURIED HER NOSE more deeply into the high collar of her down parka. She’d rolled her balaclava up like a watch cap, ready to pull down over her face if she needed it. The vehicle was heated, but she was still cold.

The chill didn’t come from the dropping temperatures outside, though. It came from her heart. As often as she told herself that William was safe, that the kidnapper couldn’t afford to hurt him if he wanted his money, her heart remained unconvinced.

Matt’s grim expression didn’t help. He looked worried as he maneuvered the Hummer’s steel snow tracks over the rough terrain. He glanced at her. “You okay?”

“Okay?” she croaked, then pressed her lips together. Control, she reminded herself. It’s all about control. She had to hold herself together, for her baby’s sake.

“If you’re cold, there’s a blanket under your seat.”

She gave a harsh little laugh. “You think I’m worried about being cold?”

“Aimee, I know you’re afraid something’s going to happen to William. But I don’t want you to neglect your own health. You’re highly stressed and exhausted. You could become hypothermic without even realizing it. I need to make sure you’re warm and comfortable.”

“Well, don’t. I don’t need to be comfortable—I don’t want to be. I just want to get up there, get my baby back and get home.”

“That’s what I want, too,” Matt said.

She closed her burning eyes. Control. Control. She repeated it like a mantra.

“Dammit!”

She jumped and her eyes flew open.

“Sorry.” His fingers tightened around the steering wheel. “I can’t believe I let the kidnapper run the show. I should have jumped in and forced him to do it my way. It’s dangerous for you up here.”

“Where should I be? Back at home, all safe and warm? Waiting? No, thank you.”

“Yes. Back at home, all safe and warm. I don’t like putting you in danger. Plus, with you here, I can’t do everything I’d be able to do if I were alone.”

“Sorry I’m cramping your style.”

“That’s not—” he stopped and his jaw muscle worked. He kept his attention on the barely discernable path before them as the incline grew steeper, and the sky turned increasingly dark and gray.

Where they’d started out, near Sundance, spring was in the air, with new shoots of grass and fresh coverings of moss. As they’d climbed higher, the greenery turned brown, and patches of old snow dotted the ground.

Aimee hunched her shoulders in an effort not to shiver. Matt’s hands were white-knuckled on the steering wheel. His face was expressionless, but his jaw was clamped tight. He looked the way he had the last time she’d seen him. The day he’d brought her husband’s body home.

That memory spawned others. Like the argument she and Bill had a few days before that fateful day.

“It’s just a weekend, Aimee. A guy trip. You’re starting to sound a lot like my mother.”

Aimee had yelled back at him. “Well, for once I agree with Margo. You have responsibilities here. Have you forgotten that I’m pregnant? That you’re fighting cancer? Why would you want to waste even a weekend? You need to use your energy to get well. I need you to stay with me.”

At that point Bill had gathered her into his arms and kissed her. “I’ll be with Matt. He’s safe as houses. Safer. He never takes unnecessary chances.”

Then he’d looked down at her and a tender solemnity had come over his face. “Don’t ever forget, Aimee. I trust Matt as much as I trust myself. More, maybe. No matter what happens, you can count on him. Ask him anything. He’ll do it.”

Those last words had been prophetic. Bill had asked Matt for something. Matt had obliged. And Bill had died.

The doctors had said it could have been months before the lymphoma took Bill. Long enough for him to know his child. But he’d stolen those last months from her and his son. And Matt had helped.

Then, when Aimee could have used a friend, Matt had disappeared for a year.

Bill had been wrong. She couldn’t count on Matt.

“Aimee, tell me how it happened.”

She started. “What? How it—?”

“The kidnapping.”

“Didn’t Special Agent Schiff tell you?”

He nodded. “But I’d like to hear what you remember.”

Aimee closed her eyes and folded her arms. “I’ve been over it in my head a hundred times. I should have heard him. I should have woken up.” She shook her head. “How could I have slept while someone came into my house and stole my baby?”

“William wasn’t in your room, was he?”

“No. My doctor said that wasn’t a good idea, for either of us. I shouldn’t have listened to her. I should have kept him right beside me.”

“Aimee.” He put a hand on her knee. “Stop beating yourself up. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

His hand was warm. She could feel it even through her wool slacks and silk long underwear. She looked down.

He jerked away and gripped the steering wheel. “When did you realize he was gone?”

She was still looking at his hand. It was big and solid, with long, blunt-tipped fingers. “The sun was in my eyes, and I knew I’d overslept. William always wakes me up around five-thirty or so. He’s such a sweet baby.” She smiled. “He wakes up happy. I’ll hear him through the monitor, cooing and laughing—” Her voice broke and her throat closed up.

He shot her a glance. “The sun woke you?” he asked gently.

“It was almost six-thirty. When I realized I hadn’t heard him, I panicked. So many things can happen—”

“What did you do?”

“As soon as I realized I’d slept late, I grabbed the monitor. The camera points right at the head of the baby bed. But I couldn’t see him. His bed looked empty.” She took a shaky breath. “I ran across the hall. His bedroom door was open and I knew I’d left it closed. He wasn’t there. He wasn’t anywhere.”

She felt the panic rising in her chest, heard it in her voice. Just like then. Had it only been yesterday morning?

“So I called 9-1-1.”

“Schiff said there was no sign of forced entry. You’re sure it was a stranger?”

Aimee frowned at Matt. “What do you mean?”

He spread his hands in a shrug without taking them off the wheel. “I just mean, is there anything specific you’re thinking of when you say it was a stranger?”

She shook her head. “I just can’t—it can’t be anyone I know.”

“Are you usually a sound sleeper?”

“No. Actually, I’ve been having trouble.” Aimee thought about the past seven months since William Matthew’s birth. All the nights she’d lain awake, worrying that something would happen to him if she went to sleep.

Dear heavens, something had.

“What about the evening before?” Matt drove steadily, watching the road and glancing occasionally into the rearview mirror. “Did you drink anything? Take anything to help you sleep?”

“No,” she answered indignantly. “I would never take a chance like that with William. I gave him his bath and played with him a while, and then made myself some herbal tea and went to sleep.”

Matt nodded and drove in silence for a few minutes.

Thoughts and images chased each other helter-skelter through her brain. What had she done? What had been different about that night?

“I didn’t do anything differently,” she said finally. “My life revolves around his, and his routine is pretty well set. I locked up the house and turned out the lights around nine, just the way I always do. I bathed him at the same time as I do every night. We played the same games we always play, then I put him to bed and went downstairs to the kitchen.”

“So anyone who’d been watching the house could know almost to the minute what time you go to bed?”

Aimee nodded miserably. “Yes. My life is that ordinary. I make the same tea, use the same cup. Probably even the same spoon. I can’t think of anything unusual—” She stopped. There had been one thing different.

“What is it?”

“It’s—it’s nothing. It has to be nothing.” She was really twisted—or really desperate—to even be thinking what she was thinking.

“Tell me.”

“This is awful. I can’t believe I’m even saying it.” She took a deep breath, preparing herself for Matt’s ridicule. “The tea? It’s a new blend. Margo bought it for me at the health food store. They told her it was good for insomnia.”

Matt glanced at her, frowning.

“But Matt, I’ve been drinking it every night for almost a week now.”

“Is it helping you sleep?”

“Yes,” she said. She hadn’t really thought about it, but she had slept better this past week than she had in a long time. “It is. You don’t think—?” Her breath hitched. “No. That’s ridiculous. Margo wouldn’t—Not her own—her only grandchild—” She stopped, horrified at her thoughts. During the first moments after she’d realized William was missing, she’d briefly considered that Margo might have planned it, but she’d dismissed it as impossible. She was his grandmother.

Matt glanced at her.

“No. She couldn’t do that—could she?”

“You tell me.”

“But it’s outrageous. Not even Margo—I mean, yes, she’s been complaining about how hard it is for her to get anything done through the Vick Corporation board since Bill died.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Bill left everything to William, just like his dad left everything to him. Remember when Boss Vick died?”

“Sure, that summer after we graduated from high school.”

“Right. Bill was all set to go to MIT. He wanted to get his degree in aerospace engineering, then go into the Air Force, like you and Deke and Rook.”

“Yeah. After his dad died, he changed his mind, and decided to go to the University of Wyoming.”

“Right. To stay close to home. Margo convinced him that he had to run the business. Because when he turned twenty-one, the entire Vick Hotel fortune—and responsibility—fell into his lap.”

“Bill controlled everything—”

Aimee nodded. “And Margo controlled Bill,” she said bitterly.

“And now?”

“Now that Bill’s dead, William stands to inherit all of it.”

Matt looked at her questioningly. “What about until he’s twenty-one? Who did Bill name as William’s trustee?”

“Me,” Aimee breathed.

“So you’re the one who votes the controlling interest. That must rankle Mrs. Vick.”

“I go to the board meetings, but I’ve never opposed a single decision. Why would I?”

“But you could.”

Aimee shrugged. “I suppose. You think she did it, don’t you?”

Matt glanced in the rearview mirror. “Think about it. What does she want? What does kidnapping her own grandson right from under his mother’s nose accomplish?”

“Frightening me?” Aimee cast about for any possible explanation. “Making it look like I can’t—”

“Like you can’t take care of your own child. What would she gain if she had custody of William? She’d retain controlling interest in the corporation. But it’s damn hard to get custody away from the mother. She’d have to prove that you’re unfit. That you couldn’t protect your own child in your own home.”

She moaned under her breath. Hearing those words in Matt’s carefully neutral voice made them sound true.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “But it would explain a lot.”

Aimee’s face felt numb. Her mind felt numb. Intellectually, she understood Matt’s reasoning. If he were right, her mother-in-law was setting her up to take William away from her.

His words echoed in her brain, taunting her with their truth.

You couldn’t protect your own child in your own home.




Chapter Three (#ulink_b8450783-2f1a-55da-b28c-7ec4a02d4349)


Aimee was still reeling, still trying to process the idea that Margo could have kidnapped her baby, when she realized that Matt’s demeanor had changed.

Nothing outwardly was different. His hands still held the steering wheel in a tight grip at ten and two. His expression was carefully neutral, if a bit tight.

But tension suddenly crackled in the air, and it definitely came from him.

He’d gone on alert.

“Matt, what’s wrong?” she asked.

“Wrong?” He glanced in the rearview mirror.

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. Something’s wrong. I can tell. Did you see something?”

He didn’t reply.

His sudden transformation fascinated and frightened her. Yesterday, he’d been the consummate soldier on a mission. This morning he’d acted more like a protector. She was his charge, his responsibility.

But now in the blink of an eye, he’d morphed from protector back to predator. He was a hunter, and he’d scented his prey.

She opened her mouth to ask him again when, without warning, he veered off the stark mountain road and stopped.

“What are you doing?” Fear raced through her.

“I’ll be right back,” he said. “If you hear or see anything while I’m gone, lie flat across the seat. The metal should protect you.”

“Protect me? Matt—?”

“Do you understand?” He glared at her, his tone and the grim set of his face brooking no argument.

“Yes,” she retorted.

He walked over to the edge of the graded area and stopped at the line of trees. For a couple of seconds, he surveyed the mountain road in both directions, then reached for his fly.

Aimee gaped. Was he—? He was! On the way to exchange a million dollars for her baby, he’d stopped to take a leak! She didn’t know whether to scream or laugh. Was he so confident? Or so arrogant?

She reached for the door handle, prepared to jump out and yell at him for wasting time while her child was in the hands of kidnappers. At that instant he turned his head imperceptibly to his right, back the way they’d come. And she got it—his sudden transformation. His razor-sharp alertness. Her impression that she was watching a predator.

He’d detected a threat.

Her heart jumped into her throat and she twisted in her seat, looking behind them. But she didn’t see anything. Of course, she wouldn’t. Matt was ex-Air Force Special Forces. His skills and senses were sharper than an ordinary person’s.

She watched as he took a step closer to the trees. The sight was awesome and frightening. The curve of his back and the set of his shoulders made her think of a leopard about to spring. Standing still, he might look like a regular guy, but when he moved—oh my.

Absently, it occurred to her that, although she’d known Matt as long as she’d known her husband, Bill, she had almost no knowledge of his personal life or his background. He might as well be a stranger.

She hunched her shoulders, feeling fragile and human and exposed.

All at once the very air around her went still. Only the occasional snap of a twig or the rustle of bare branches in the wind broke the silence.

The nape of her neck prickled. Her pulse pounded in her ears. She didn’t move, not even turning her head to glance at the spot where Matt had disappeared into the trees.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d sat there, not daring to move, like a rabbit sensing a threat, when she heard it.

The crunch of twigs and rocks.

Someone was coming toward the Hummer from the opposite direction.

Without hesitation, she threw herself down across the seats, avoiding the stick shift.

It was Matt—it had to be. Didn’t it?

She squeezed her eyes shut as the footsteps came closer. Her fingers twitched. If only she had something she could use as a weapon.

Then the driver’s-side door opened.

Panic exploded in her chest and she curled her fingers into claws. Fingernails were better than nothing.

“Aimee.” Matt touched her shoulder. “Good job.”

Relief washed over her. Her scalp tingled. She sat up and tried to hide her trembling nerves. “You sneaked up on me,” she accused.

He slid into the driver’s seat. “Sorry I scared you. I wanted to circle around, make sure we weren’t being watched.”

“I knew you saw someone. Why couldn’t you have just told me? I’d have been a lot less scared.” She blew out a breath between pursed lips. “Who was it? The kidnapper?”

He shook his head and started the engine. “Can’t be sure,” he said shortly.

He was lying. But she’d already figured out that he would tell her just what she needed to know, and then only when she needed to know it—in his opinion.

Once she had William in her arms and they were safe back at home, she’d let him know what she thought about his gestapo tactics. For now, as much as she hated to admit it, his air of command, his complete confidence, and even his predatory edge, made her feel safe.

And feeling safe was dangerous.

Safety was what she longed for. But she’d learned as a child that trusting someone else to keep her safe was a fantasy. As the only child of older parents, she’d grown up with the weight of their health and safety on her shoulders.

When she’d married Bill, he’d promised to keep her safe, but he’d never been able to stand up to his mother. Then he’d promised her she could count on Matt, but he’d trusted Matt with his life, and Matt had let him die.

No. There was only one person she could count on. Herself. She had to stay strong, stay in control. In the year since Bill’s death, maintaining control was the only thing that had kept her going.

Now, at the very time when it was more important than ever to hold on to that control for her baby’s sake, she was tempted to relinquish it to someone else—to Matt—and the urge scared her to death.

She lifted her chin. She was not going to depend on Matt. Her baby trusted her to save him.

She would.

After another fifteen minutes or so of navigating the winding mountain road, Matt pulled over again.

“What is it?” Aimee looked in the passenger-side mirror. “Did you see something again?”

He shook his head. “We’re five miles from the meeting point.” He pointed to the GPS locator on the dashboard. “And twenty minutes from the meeting time. So this is where I get out. I’ll circle around, while you drive the rest of the way alone. You’ve got the case of money. You’ve got the baby seat, formula, diapers and blankets. The GPS locator is programmed for the exact coordinates. It’s a straight shot. Just stay on this road.”

He pulled a folded sheet of paper from a pocket. “Here’s a printout of the route in case something happens to the GPS. You just stay on this road. Now, let’s go over everything one more time.”

Aimee nodded shakily. “Please. I feel like I’m in some weird dream—like all of this is a nightmare and I’m going to wake up tomorrow morning holding William.”

“With any luck, that’s exactly what’ll happen.”

His words were kind, his voice gentle. Aimee had to clench her jaw to keep from crying. Time stretched out before her like an endless road. It would be hours before she’d be back home with William, safe and sound. Many hours and many opportunities for something to go wrong.

“Hey, Aimee,” Matt said. He lifted a hand toward her cheek, then checked the movement. “It’s going to be okay.”

She lifted her chin. “Don’t do that. Don’t spout meaningless promises to me. I need to know what I’m up against. What if the kidnapper doesn’t bring William? What if my baby’s cold, or hungry—?” She bit her cheek. Control, she reminded herself.

“Whoa. You can’t worry about any of that. And remember, being scared is normal. You’re very brave.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m the bravest woman on the planet, driving up this remote mountain to rescue my baby from a kidnapper.” Tears stung her eyes and a lump lodged in her throat.

She was so not brave.

“Matt. I’m so scared.” She touched his sleeve, and then squeezed the material in her fist.

A tender look softened his sculpted features. “Listen to me. You are the bravest woman on the planet. And—” He paused for a second. “Bill was the luckiest man in the universe. Aimee, I—”

“Don’t—” She stiffened and held up her hands. “Please. Don’t start. I have to think about William. I can’t afford to get all emotional about what happened to Bill.”

Matt’s expression closed down. He nodded. “Yeah. Best to hate me for one thing at a time,” he said flatly.

She caught what appeared to be sadness in his dark eyes before he averted his gaze. His words and the look surprised her. It wasn’t like Matt to feel sorry for himself.

He shrugged it off and climbed out of the Hummer, pulling a daypack out with him. Then he leaned his forearms on the driver’s-side door. “I put on the emergency brake. Don’t forget to release it before you head out.”

“I’ve ridden ATVs in these hills all my life. I can handle this Hummer.”

He nodded matter-of-factly. “I’ve got my route planned out. Going straight up, it’ll take me about fifteen to twenty minutes to reach the rendezvous point. If you drive no faster than fifteen miles per hour, we should arrive at about the same time, since this maintenance road snakes back and forth, and the terrain is getting rougher. Just stay on it. Don’t get lost.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Aimee, I can’t stress too strongly how dangerous this man could be. If anything—anything—goes wrong, you have to turn the Hummer around and head down the mountain as fast as you can. With or without William. Understand?”

“No. I don’t understand. There’s no way I’m going anywhere without my baby.”

“Listen to me. I have to know that you’ll do as I say. I promise you, you won’t have to deal with him. I’m going to ambush him. I don’t expect anything to go wrong, but if something does, I have to know you’ll follow my orders. Do what I say. I can’t do my job—I can’t rescue William—if I have to worry about you. Your baby will be safe. I swear.”

Aimee frowned, studying his face. There was something else—something he wasn’t telling her. He wouldn’t meet her gaze. Instead, he stared down at his clasped hands.

Suddenly she understood. “You don’t think he’s bringing William, do you?”

His head ducked lower for an instant. Then he straightened.

“Do you?” Aimee grabbed his hand before he could remove it from the car door. She held on until he bent down again. His dark eyes finally met hers—solemn, guarded.

“Oh—” Her heart cracked wide open and all her careful efforts at control spilled out. She shook her head slowly, back and forth, back and forth. “No, please, Matt. Tell me my baby’s okay.”

He reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. “Aimee, I swear to God, if I have to die to make it happen, William will be back in your arms today, safe and sound.”

THE MAN WAS LIGHTER on his feet than Matt had expected, given his size and the bulky daypack strapped to his back. His clothes and pack were a winter camouflage pattern that blended perfectly into the patchy snow and barren trees as he moved.

And he moved well, silently as a woodland animal, alert to everything around him. An assault rifle—military grade—was hooked over one shoulder.

Matt could tell he was ex-military. Maybe even ex-Special Forces. That explained this location, the timing and the man’s obvious comfort in his surroundings. Not many people knew how to glide silently through rough terrain, leaving almost no trail.

Matt would bet money that he was also a survivalist. He had to have trekked every inch of this mountain, or he wouldn’t have chosen it.

But was he here alone?

Matt had no doubt that he’d seen sunlight glinting off metal in the Hummer’s rearview mirror as the vehicle had snaked back and forth up the maintenance road. That was why he’d stopped, to try and catch a glimpse of whoever was tailing them. But he hadn’t spotted anything.

Whoever was back there was good. Probably as good as the man in front of him. Impressively close to having Matt’s own skills.

The question in Matt’s mind was—were there two guys following him? This man could have followed them up the road and then cut through just as Matt had and beaten him to the ransom drop point.

But it was also possible that he had an accomplice, and the accomplice had followed them while this guy waited up here.

Matt couldn’t afford to let down his guard, so until he knew otherwise, he assumed the kidnapper had an accomplice.

Matt had to watch his back.

He’d planned out as much of his strategy as he could. He, too, was dressed in winter camo and carried a small daypack. Besides binoculars, he was equipped with a compact MAC-10 machine pistol he didn’t plan on using, a mini-tranquilizer gun and a few flexicuffs.

His intent was to surprise the kidnapper and immobilize him with the tranq gun. Once he had him restrained, he could definitely make it worth his while to reveal the baby’s location.

He crouched, hidden by scrubby bushes, and observed the kidnapper through his high-powered binoculars. The man was positioning himself for greatest cover and widest angle of sight.

For a couple of seconds, Matt held his breath, listening for the Hummer’s engine, but he didn’t hear anything. It was nerve-racking, waiting up here, knowing Aimee was about to drive straight into the lion’s den. All this would be so much easier if he didn’t have to worry about her being hurt.

Matt shifted, examining the area around the kidnapper. He searched for signs of another person—someone whose job it was to take care of the baby. He used a careful mental grid layout he’d developed in the Air Force.

The controlled search made it impossible to miss a person, much less a vehicle, but all Matt saw was a set of tracks made by a one-man snowmobile. He saw no trace of the vehicle itself. The kidnapper had done a damn good job of hiding his vehicle and covering his tracks.

Matt’s respect for him went up a notch, and his fear for Aimee’s baby went up three. The suspicion that had planted itself in his brain from the first moment he’d seen the TV news, rooted itself more deeply, undermining his confidence.

If this man were simply a kidnapper, out to make a quick million, and if he’d come to make a good-faith exchange, then why didn’t he have the baby?

Matt continued his grid search until he’d covered every square inch of visible land surface. He saw nothing that indicated anyone but the kidnapper had been—or was—in the area. He pocketed the binoculars.

Damn. He would hate to be right about this one.

Although the kidnapper seemed to be all about money, and Aimee’s revelations about Margo’s need to control the Vick Corporation made Margo a prime suspect, Matt didn’t believe it.

A silent vibration started near his left knee. His cell phone. Grimacing, he shifted enough to pull it out of the cargo pocket of his camo pants. Keeping one eye on the kidnapper, he glanced at the screen.

It was a text message from Deke. He focused on the letters.

GOT PSNGR LIST OF YR FLIGHT. HAFIZ AL HAMAR, AFGH NATL, ON IT. SEE PHOTO. DC.

It only took a couple of seconds for the photo to come through. Matt cursed silently when he saw it. He’d seen that man before. He’d run into him several times in Mahjidastan.

Still watching the kidnapper, Matt keyed in a quick message back to Deke and, making sure the sound was off on his phone, hit SEND.

RECOG AL HAMAR FR MAHJID. TRACE HIM? MP

A sick certainty burned in the pit of his gut. Novus Ordo had engineered William’s kidnapping to get his hands on Matt, to interrogate him about whether Rook was alive. And that meant he wanted Matt alive. But Matt was sure Novus wouldn’t blink at killing anyone who got in his way.

Matt had made a huge mistake by bringing Aimee up here. He should have come alone, or brought Deke or another BHSAR specialist.

If he was right about Novus, and he was becoming more and more sure about that by the hour, she and her baby were disposable pawns in an international terrorist’s effort to protect his identity.

The kidnapper was on the move again. Matt pocketed his phone and cleared his mind. He needed focus and hair-trigger response. If he failed to return William Matthew to his mother’s arms, he’d have plenty of time for regrets and unbearable sorrow later. His mission was to get the drop on the kidnapper and rescue Aimee’s baby. He didn’t allow the thought that William wasn’t here to enter his head. He had to operate as if he were.

He crouched in a position from which he could spring in a fraction of a second, and let his senses feed him information. They were as clear as the mountain air. The smell of evergreen and the coming snow teased his nostrils. The tingling in his hands and face signaled the dropping temperature.

And the quickly darkening sky telegraphed the approach of the winter storm—early, just as he’d predicted.

The only sound Matt heard was the rustling of bare tree branches and evergreen needles in the rising wind.

The kidnapper raised his head, as if sniffing a scent on the breeze. He appeared calm and relaxed, and yet poised to react with swift reflexes.

Damn, the man was good.

A discordant hum rose in the distance. The Hummer. Aimee was almost here. The kidnapper swung the rifle from his shoulder and settled into a comfortable, balanced stance—observant and attentive—ready for anything.

Matt shifted, feeling the weight of the MAC-10 in its holster. He could get to it if necessary, but he didn’t plan on using it. He held the tranq gun and the flexicuffs were looped through his belt.

The Hummer’s engine grew louder, its steady roar filling the air around them. The engine’s noise blocked Matt’s keen hearing, but it also covered any noise he might make when he sneaked up on the kidnapper.

After an automatic glance around, Matt crept forward, until he was less than twenty feet behind the man. With his tactical-grade, compression-fit long underwear, he had far greater agility than the bulkily dressed kidnapper. He could rush him, sink a tranq dart in his neck and cuff him within seconds.

The Hummer crested the rise, and Matt’s pulse kicked into high gear. He could barely make out Aimee’s silhouette through the vehicle’s tinted windows. As he watched, she slowed down, then rolled to a stop.

Stay in the vehicle. Make him come to you. He silently recited the instructions he’d given her.

He’d retrofitted a loudspeaker for her to use for any necessary communications. He’d warned her not to exit the vehicle until the kidnapper produced the baby. And, as he’d reminded her not twenty minutes before, at the first sign of trouble, she was to turn the Hummer around and get out of there.

Those were her instructions. But Matt had other plans. He had no intention of letting the kidnapper within twenty yards of her.

She inched the Hummer closer. The kidnapper shifted to the balls of his feet, holding the rifle loosely yet competently, like a pro. Another point in his favor and more cause for concern on Matt’s part.

Matt made his move. He rose from his crouch and crept around the edge of the clearing, keeping the scrub bushes between him and the other man. Once he got into position, it would take him less than thirty seconds to get behind him, slip out from the trees at the last second, then grab and tranquilize him. In a situation like this, thirty seconds was a hell of a long time.

He’d choreographed every step ahead of time. He’d had plenty of experience with stealth from rescue missions he’d conducted in the Air Force and afterwards while working for Black Hills Search and Rescue. He knew how to approach an enemy and extract an innocent without detection. Given this guy’s obvious expertise, he was glad to have the noise of the Hummer’s engine as added cover.

He positioned himself directly behind the kidnapper. Staying low, he inched silently forward.

Then without warning, something hit him from behind.

With no more than a fifth of a second wasted on startle response, Matt whirled. He rammed his fist and shoulder into the attacker’s body. As his knuckles encountered flesh and bone, he followed through, putting his whole weight behind the blow. But it wasn’t enough. His attacker was quicker.

Matt went down—hard.

The man grabbed a handful of his hair and slammed his face into the frozen ground.

The blow dazed him. But the cold pressure of a gun barrel pressed to the side of his neck brought him back instantaneously. Adrenaline sheared his breath and cleared his brain. He jerked just as a quiet pop echoed in his ear. Something sharp scratched his neck.

A pop. Not a bullet. A tranquilizer dart.

Damn! Even as the thoughts rushed through his brain, he torpedoed his elbow backward. With a breathy grunt, the man fell away and his tranq gun went flying.

Before he hit the ground, Matt whirled and grabbed his collar. With a renewed burst of energy, and using muscles he hadn’t used in months, Matt heaved the man’s bulk around, between himself and the kidnapper.

Pocketing his own tranquilizer gun, Mat slid the MAC-10 from its holster and buried its barrel into the flesh of his attacker’s neck. He was tempted to rip off the man’s ski mask, but to do that, he’d have to let go of the man or the gun.

“You nearly got me with your tranq dart, but believe me, this is not a tranq gun,” he growled, scanning the area in front of him in case the kidnapper had heard them. “It’s the real thing. And it will take your head clean off if you don’t tell me who you are.”

His answer was a blood-chilling string of curses, some English, some Arabic. Dammit, the kidnapper had to have heard him.

“Are you Al Hamar?”

The man’s head jerked in surprise.

“So—you are. Did Novus Ordo send you?” Matt whispered, digging the muzzle of the MAC-10 deeper into his flesh.

His prisoner shook his head, but Matt saw the truth in the man’s black eyes. “Tell me what you know about the kidnapping—”

The crack of exploding gunpowder hit his ears a fraction of a second before the bullet whistled past his head.

Matt ducked.

Al Hamar used Matt’s own elbow trick to knock the wind out of him, then leapfrogged across three or four feet of ground, diving for his own weapon. The kidnapper shot again.

Matt aimed the machine pistol at Al Hamar. But something was wrong. He couldn’t clear his vision. He bent his head and squeezed his eyes shut for an instant. Just as he did, a second bullet grazed his ear.

He swallowed a pained cry and his hand flew to his ear. It came away bloody. His bloodstained fingers trembled as he stared at the proof of how close the bullet had come. If he hadn’t paused to clear his vision, it would have split his skull.

A high-pitched scream, barely distinguishable above the roar of the Hummer’s engine, sent his heart slamming into his chest. It was Aimee. She gunned the engine and the vehicle shot forward, toward the kidnapper.

Aimee, no! What was she doing? Turn around. Get out of here.

The kidnapper aimed at the Hummer’s windshield.

At the same time, Matt saw Al Hamar whirl around, brandishing a semiautomatic pistol.

Matt ducked down and rubbed his eyes. The scratch on his neck had absorbed some of the tranquilizer. Enough to blur his vision. He cursed silently and gave his head a quick shake.

The kidnapper yelled something that Matt didn’t catch, then several bullets thunked into a tree to Matt’s left. He was shooting at Al Hamar again.

So, they weren’t working together.

Al Hamar yelped and toppled forward.

When Matt looked back at the kidnapper, the high-powered gun was aimed at his head. From that distance, the man couldn’t miss. But before Matt could react and dive, he swung back toward the Hummer.

Why hadn’t he shot him? He might not get as good a chance again.

Rising to a crouch, Matt took a precious split second to make sure his head was as clear as possible, then sprinted toward the Hummer, spraying bullets on the ground in front of the kidnapper. He couldn’t kill the man. He needed him alive—at least long enough to find out where William was being held.

As he crouched behind a stand of bushes, he heard the hitch in the engine noise that signaled shifting gears.




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