Harlequin Intrigue June 2015 - Box Set 2 of 2: Navy SEAL Newlywed\The Guardian\Security Breach (32 page)

“We will,” Carmen said. “See you tomorrow.”

They left, and Michael shut and locked the door behind them. Abby sank onto the sofa and listened to the sound of their tires gradually fade to silence. She blinked hard, fighting tears, but they spilled over and rolled down her cheeks.

“Hey, what's wrong?” Michael hurried to her side.

“I didn't even get to say goodbye.” She choked back a sob. He took her hand and patted it, but as she continued to sob harder, he pulled her to him. She buried her face against his chest. “I know it's stupid,” she said. “I hardly know her, but I felt responsible for her.”

“Shh. It's okay.” He smoothed his hand down her hair and rocked her against him. “Of course you miss her. It's hard not knowing what's going to happen to her.”

She raised her head to look at him. “You understand.”

“I try.” He kissed her cheek, but she turned and found his lips. She kissed him greedily, hungrily, wanting to blot out the sadness, to forget for a little while about the baby and Mariposa and a stranger who might want her dead.

He responded with the same fervor, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her tight against his chest. The tip of his tongue traced the seam of her lips and she opened to him, tasting the butterscotch candy he liked. They kissed until she was trembling and light-headed, her body humming with awareness of him, but still she wanted more.

She slid her hand beneath his T-shirt and pressed her palm against his stomach, feeling the crisp line of hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his jeans. He kissed his way to her ear and said, his voice low and husky with need, “If you keep that up, I'm not going to be able to stop.”

“I don't want to stop,” she said. “I want to make love to you.” As if to prove her words, she pushed him back against the sofa, her body slanted over his. He dragged one hand up, over her rib cage, and cupped her breast through her thin T-shirt, the tip a hard bead pressed against his palm. He flicked his thumb back and forth across it, sending little shock waves of desire rocketing through her. Her breath came in gasps, and her eyes drifted shut as she surrendered to the onslaught of sensation.

Then his mouth was on her, the combination of heat and moisture and the gentle abrasion of the fabric driving her wild. She let out a soft moan and fumbled to remove the shirt. He sat up and helped her, then shed his own shirt, so they were both naked from the waist up.

“You're so beautiful.” He slid his hands down her sides, as if cradling something precious. “So beautiful.”

She believed he would have said the same thing if her body had been scarred like her face. The words wouldn't have been a lie; she believed when Michael looked at her, he saw more than what was on the surface. He always had; maybe that was why she'd fallen in love with him.

She stood and held out her hand. “Let's move to the bed, where we'll be more comfortable.”

He grasped her hand and let her pull him up and lead him to the bed at the other end of the trailer. She pulled back the covers and he started to follow, then hesitated. “What is it?” she asked.

“Just a second.” He turned and slipped into the bathroom.

She took off her jeans and underwear, so that by the time he returned, she was sitting up in bed, naked.

His gaze took her in, and the wanting in his eyes made her tremble all over again. “What took you so long?” she said.

He held up a condom in a foil packet. “I had to get this from my overnight bag.”

She smiled. “You think of everything.”

“I was a Boy Scout, remember? Their motto is Be Prepared.”

“Something tells me they weren't thinking of situations like this.” She moved over to make room for him.

He stopped to shed his own jeans and her heart beat faster as she stared—while trying to appear not to stare—at his body. He was as gorgeous as her fantasies.

They lay on their sides facing each other, the dimmed reading lights on either side of the bed providing soft illumination. He traced his hand down the curve of her side, then cupped her bottom and drew her close once more. “I feel as if I've been waiting for this moment for a long time,” he said. “Does that seem crazy?”

“No.” She felt the same way. As if her reluctance to go out with other men had been because she hadn't met
him
yet. Maybe those frantic moments on a helicopter over Afghanistan had forged a bond too deep for understanding. She only knew that with him, she lost the shyness and desire to close herself off and hide away. She wanted to open to him, to reveal everything, to be with him, in this moment, as she'd never allowed herself to be before.

“Make love to me,” she whispered, and kissed him lightly on the lips.

He deepened the kiss, and soon they were entwined, arms and legs wrapped around each other, hands and lips stroking, exploring. He pulled away only long enough to roll on the condom, then he drew her close once more and entered her. She wrapped her legs around him, wanting to shout in joy or triumph, but then he began to move and she lost all power of speech or thought. There was only wave after wave of wonderful sensation building within her.

Her climax was the largest wave, washing over her, filling her with light and life, then releasing her, floating. Soaring. He tightened his hold on her and found his own release, crying out her name. “Abby!”

Afterward, they remained entwined, her head pillowed on his arms, her fingers stroking his chest. “I wasn't sure I'd ever feel that wonderful again,” she said.

“I'm glad you don't feel you have to hide anything from me.” He traced the scar on her face with the tip of one finger. With a start, she realized she lay with that side of her face to the light, her hair tucked back behind her ear. Even in sleep, she usually lay so the scar was hidden. But though this position felt a little awkward—exposed—it didn't feel wrong.

She snuggled closer to him. “You've seen me at my worst and didn't run away,” she said. “I guess I really don't have anything to hide.”

“I'll always be here for you,” he said. “I won't let anyone hurt you again.”

* * *

M
ICHAEL
WOKE
EARLY
, long habit preventing him from sleeping much past sunrise. Gray light filled the trailer, and outside a bird was singing a morning chorus. Abby lay curled on her side beside him, her back to him, her face half buried in the covers. He rolled over, trying not to disturb her, and studied her sleeping form. Maybe he should pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming. He'd had similar dreams often enough over the years. Sometimes he'd worried something was wrong with him; who let the memory of one woman with whom he'd never even spoken possess him so?

But it didn't matter why his attraction to Abby had stuck with him all these years, only that she was here with him now. Whether fate or chance had brought them together, he'd be her guardian and her lover. Neither of them would be alone again.

She stirred, as if feeling his gaze on her, and rolled onto her back and smiled up at him. “How long have you been watching me?” she asked.

“Only a few minutes.” He moved closer; her skin was warm from sleep, so soft and smooth.

“Mmm. You're definitely awake.” Smiling, she reached down to stroke him.

He resisted the urge to pull her onto him right away, and kissed her shoulder. “You're definitely nicer to wake up to than my alarm.”

“Give me a second. I'll be right back.” She patted his shoulder and slid out of bed. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling of the trailer, which was only a few feet above his head. He didn't want thoughts of the world outside to intrude on this moment, but of course they did. He wondered how Angelique was doing, and if El Jefe thought she was still with Abby.

She slipped back into bed, smelling of mint toothpaste, her hair combed and the sleep washed from her eyes. “My turn,” he said, and hurried to banish his own morning breath and retrieve another condom from his bag.

When he returned to the bed, she waited with open arms. He pulled her close, savoring the sensation of her breasts pillowed against his chest, the nipples already erect and hard. She draped her thigh over his, pressing close, eager. “What time do you have to report in?” she asked.

“Not for another hour or so,” he said. “We have plenty of time.”

“Time for what?” she teased.

He snugged her more tightly against him. “Time for me to show you more of what you've been missing.”

“Or maybe I'll be the one to show you a thing or two.” She untangled herself from him and sat up, then pushed him back against the pillows and straddled him.

“Oh, you think so.” He caressed her waist.

“I wasn't a biology major for nothing. Hand me that condom,” she said. “Class is in session.”

* * *

T
HEY
FELL
ASLEEP
again and woke to the buzzing of Michael's phone as it vibrated against the bedside table. He rolled over and snatched it up while Abby propped herself on her elbow and watched. She felt warm and relaxed and a little sore, but in a good way. She smiled, remembering how the soreness had come about. Clearly, all she needed was a little more practice with Michael to be in excellent shape.

“Nothing going on here,” he said. “Did you get Angelique placed all right?...I'll tell Abby....She slept fine, as far as I know....Now, how would I know that?” The tips of his ears flushed red and Abby covered her mouth, smothering a giggle. She loved that he could still get flustered like that.

He hung up the phone and rolled onto his back. “That was Carmen. She said Angelique was settling in well when she left her last night. The woman is in her forties and has two teenagers. Angelique will be the only baby with her right now and seemed to really take to the woman.”

“Thanks for letting me know. What did she say that made you blush?”

He turned even redder. “She wanted to know if I kept you up late last night—and if your bed was comfortable.”

“So she knew you were attracted to me?”

“I think the whole team knew. I'm not so good at hiding my feelings.”

“I guess I was the one who was slow on the uptake,” she said. “At least for a while.” She sat up. “And though I'd like to stay in bed with you all day, I guess we'd better get up. What's the plan for the day?”

“I guess you should be seen out and about with the baby. We want to give El Jefe every chance to find you and make his move.”

“It won't be the same as having a real baby to hold, but I'll do my best.”

Fifteen minutes later, they were both dressed and Abby had coffee brewing. “I'm going to go outside and look around,” Michael said. He slid his gun into the holster on his utility belt. “I never heard anything last night, but you never know.”

“We were both a little preoccupied last night,” she said.

“True.”

He opened the door and stepped out into the clear, thin light of early morning. The air still held a touch of the night's chill, and smelled of piñon and cedar. The campsites on either side of Abby's trailer were empty, and trees screened the view from any other site. Her car sat parked beside the picnic table and the empty fire ring, the borrowed Cruiser next to it. Nothing looked out of place.

He turned to survey the trailer and his heartbeat sped up. A folded sheet of paper fluttered against the door, held in place by a piece of blue tape.

He returned to the trailer and retrieved a knife from the drawer in the kitchen. “What is it?” Abby asked. She followed him to the door. “Is something wrong?”

“Someone left you a note.” He slid the blade of the knife beneath the tape, detaching the note from the door. Holding it by the corner, he unfolded it and scanned the brief message.

“What does it say?” Abby stood on tiptoe, trying to see over his shoulder. “Let me see.”

He held the note out to her. “Don't touch it. Just read it.”

She frowned. “I can't. It's in Spanish.”

He'd forgotten for a moment she didn't read the language. “It's from Mariposa. She wants you to meet her. She says she's safe and can take the baby now.”

Chapter Thirteen

Abby stared at the note, wishing she could read the words for herself. “Does this mean she managed to get away from the people who were holding her prisoner?” she asked. “How did she know where to find me?”

“She didn't.” Michael tapped the note with his index finger. “This is a fake. A trick to lure you away to a place where it will be easier to kidnap Angelique and get rid of you.”

Her initial excitement over the note faded. Of course he was right. “Mariposa couldn't have known I was here,” she said.

“Of course not. If she did, why not knock on the door and ask to see her baby right away?”

“I can understand why she wouldn't do that,” Abby said. “If she's in the United States illegally, she wouldn't want to risk running into someone who works for border patrol. I mean, your car is parked out front.”

“Point taken. But I don't believe she wrote this note,” he said.

“Or she wrote it because someone forced her to,” Abby said. Had El Jefe convinced Mariposa it was safe for her to have her child with her again? “I wish I knew why that man wants the baby.”

“Does it matter?” Michael asked. “Even if it's because he's the father and loves her, what kind of life could she have with her mother as a prisoner?”

Abby hugged her arms across her chest, suddenly cold despite the growing warmth from the sun. “What do we do now?” she asked.

“I want to show this note to Graham and the rest of the team,” he said. “Let's bundle up the baby and go over to headquarters.”

Abby went through the motions of arranging the doll in the sling around her body. “This feels weird,” she said.

“It may feel weird, but it looks real,” he said. “That's all that counts. Just keep up the charade while we're outside, in case anyone is watching.”

So she cradled the doll to her and pretended to coo and fuss over it as she walked to the Cruiser and climbed into the passenger seat. Michael started the engine. “Do you really think someone is watching us?” she asked.

“That note tells me they are.” He checked the mirrors, then backed out of his parking spot.

“Then, they know you spent the night in my trailer.”

He glanced at her. “Does that bother you? That other people know we were together?”

“No. But won't they be suspicious? The Cruiser makes it obvious you're with the task force, even if they didn't recognize you before.”

“Just because I'm with the task force doesn't mean I was on duty last night. We're allowed to have personal lives. But just in case whoever is spying on us has doubts...” He shifted the Cruiser into Park and leaned across the seat and kissed her.

She let out a small gasp of surprise, then relaxed into him, reaching up one hand to twine her fingers in his hair as he deepened the kiss, his lips firm against her own, tantalizing and once again awakening desire she'd thought long dormant. When at last he broke contact, she stared up at him, a little breathless. “I'd say that was pretty convincing.”

“I wasn't acting, if you were worried about that,” he said.

“No.” He hadn't been acting last night, either. The connection between them had been very real—and a little unnerving, if she was being completely honest with herself. She wasn't sure she was ready to jump into a relationship, especially with a man whose life was so complicated. She'd gotten through the years since her return from the war by keeping her life simple—no ties, no long-term commitments, no lasting obligations to anyone but herself. It was a shallow way to live, but a safe one. Michael was luring her into something much deeper—and scarier.

At ranger headquarters, they found Simon hunched over a computer in the front room. He frowned at the doll Abby unwrapped from the sling. “What are you two up to?” he asked.

“Someone left a suspicious note on Abby's door last night,” Michael said. “Where's the G man?”

“I'm here.” Graham emerged from his office. He looked tired, as if he hadn't slept well. Was he worried about her or Angelique? Abby wondered. Or did some new development in the case trouble him?

“This was taped to the door of Abby's trailer this morning.” Michael handed Graham the note.

The captain took a pair of reading glasses from his front pocket and slipped them on, then studied the torn scrap of paper. “Do you know who left it?” He looked at Abby. “Did you hear anyone? See anyone?”

“No, sir,” Michael answered, brisk and military.

“No,” Abby echoed, and looked away, focused on rearranging the blankets around the baby doll, as if doing so was an urgent task she could put off no longer. She marveled at Michael's ability to keep his expression neutral, revealing nothing. For much of the time last night, the two of them had been so focused on each other there could have been a drag race on the road outside her campsite and she wouldn't have noticed.

“Weren't Lance and Randall watching the place all night?” Michael asked.

“They were,” Graham said. “If they'd seen anything suspicious, they would have called it in.” He laid the note on the table. “We'll dust this for prints, though I doubt we'll come up with anything.”

“We got a match off that bucket that was left behind at the camp,” Simon said.

“Who is it?” Michael asked.

“The woman's prints didn't pull up anything, but the man's belong to Raul Meredes.” Simon turned to Michael. “Ever hear of him?”

Michael shook his head. “No. Who is he?”

“He has ties to the Milenio cartel out of Guadalajara,” Graham said. “He was the chief suspect in the murder of a sheriff's deputy on the Texas border, but they couldn't make the charges stick.”

“He's been operating on both sides of the border for years,” Simon said. “Smuggling drugs and people.”

“I don't think he wrote this note.” Carmen leaned over Graham's shoulder and read the note. “The writing looks feminine to me.”

“It does to me, too,” Abby said. “But El Jefe—Meredes—could have forced her to write it. Or another woman might have written it.”

“I don't suppose you saw any sign of a blonde American woman in the group at those trailers,” Graham said.

“You mean Lauren Starling?” Michael asked. “So she's still missing.”

“The Denver police are reluctant to call it a missing person. Apparently, she has a history of erratic behavior, and she pulled a disappearing act like this before. But the family is starting to make noise, so they've asked us to take a closer look—not that we have anything to go on. The car is clean—no note, map or anything indicating her intentions.”

“I don't think she was at the camp,” Abby said. “Everyone I saw had dark hair and looked Latino.”

“Just thought I'd ask.” Graham turned his attention back to the note. “What do we do about this?”

“It's a fake,” Michael said. “Someone is trying to lure Abby and the baby into danger.”

“The baby is safe,” Carmen said. “Whatever we decide to do won't endanger her.”

“We aren't going to do anything,” Michael said. “It's too dangerous.”

Abby froze in the act of tucking a blanket more securely around the doll. The voice was Michael's, but it could have been her father, telling her she couldn't join the army, or men in her unit protesting that she wasn't capable of leading a patrol, family members saying she couldn't go away to college, or she shouldn't study biology, or do research in remote areas. All her life, people had been telling her what she couldn't do or what she wasn't capable of.
Female
or
beautiful
or
wounded
had been labels they used against her that only made her want to dig in her heels and prove them wrong.

“We've had another new development, which may or may not be related,” Graham said.

Abby stopped fussing with the blanket and turned to face the captain once more. He hadn't agreed with Michael. In fact, he'd changed the subject.

“What new development?” Michael arched one eyebrow and waited.

“Richard Prentice has blocked a park service road that crosses his land,” Graham said. “It's a public road that predates the park. It's the shortest route—the only route, really—to some rare petroglyphs in the canyon. A group from the University of Denver has been studying them off and on for the past two years. This morning, they found barricades blocking the road. Prentice's lawyers filed an injunction yesterday and a judge ordered the road closed, pending a hearing.”

“Why is he closing the road now, after all this time?” Michael asked.

“Because he can,” Simon said.

“Or because he's doing something he doesn't want anyone getting close enough to see,” Lance said.

“Something like what?” Abby asked.

Graham frowned. Maybe he was weighing the wisdom of discussing a task force case with a civilian. Abby wished she'd kept her mouth shut. Now he might send her from the room. “Abby is part of this now,” Carmen said. “And she knows how to keep what we say confidential.”

“Of course,” she agreed, and sent Carmen a grateful look.

Graham nodded. “Sensors we planted on the public road to measure traffic into the park indicate an increase in the number of vehicles turning onto Prentice's ranch,” he said. “More than we can credit to a few college students on their way to the petroglyphs, or Prentice and his various workers and visitors.”

“Who do you think is going in and out of there?” Michael asked.

“We've been doing frequent drive-bys, but we haven't seen much,” Randall said.

“Prentice complains loudly and long—to the press, to government officials and to anyone else who will listen—that we're harassing him,” Simon said.

“We've tried taking a look from the air, but we haven't spotted anything suspicious—yet,” Graham said.

“Do you think whatever is going on there has anything to do with Mariposa and Raul Meredes and the illegal workers we saw in the trailers?” Abby asked.

“We just don't know,” Graham said.

“But those trailers and people had to go somewhere when they left that wash,” Simon said. “Prentice's ranch makes a convenient place for them to disappear quickly. We can't find anyone who saw them after they left you two that morning, and once they hit the park road, the tracks disappeared.”

“If I go to this meeting with Mariposa or Meredes or whoever, you can find out more,” Abby said. “You might learn something really useful that would help crack the case.”

“No!” Michael's protest drowned out whatever Graham had been about to say. Even a stern look from his boss didn't make him back down. “We shouldn't endanger a civilian,” he added.

“This is what we wanted all along, isn't it?” Abby asked. “To lure him into the open so that you can capture him.”

“It's too risky,” Michael said. “Our original plan was to lure him here, where we have more control over everything. If you move into his territory, the control shifts to him.”

Was he so worried about control over the outcome of this plan—or control over her? She tried to tell herself Michael wasn't like that, but her past experiences with the men in her life told her otherwise. After all, how well did she really know this man? He'd first made a claim on her because he'd saved her life. In the golden afterglow of lovemaking, had she misinterpreted an unhealthy obsession for love?

She forced herself to look directly at him, to try to read the true emotion in his dark eyes. But she found only stubbornness. “I'm not helpless,” she said. “I've been in dangerous situations before. Much more dangerous. I'm trained to look after myself.”

“You don't have an army behind you this time,” he said. “Don't confuse foolishness with bravery.”

The words stung like a slap. “You don't have a right to tell me what to do!” she protested.

“Abby's right.” Graham stepped between them. “This could be the break we've been looking for. If we can get to Meredes, he could lead us to the person behind this whole operation.”

“We might find a link between him and Prentice,” Simon said.

“This might help save Mariposa and a lot of other innocent people,” Abby said. “How could I not do it?”

“We'll set up the meeting for a neutral place,” Graham said. “And we'll have plenty of our people watching, on guard if Meredes tries to pull anything.”

“If you try to take him there, he's liable to use Abby as a hostage,” Michael said.

“If we can't get to him without endangering her, we'll follow him after he leaves,” Graham said.

“I want to do this,” Abby said. “I want to help these people.”

“I still don't think—”

But she didn't get to hear what he did or didn't think. Graham's phone rang, the old-fashioned clanging silencing them all. “Captain Ellison,” he answered. He stood up straighter, shoulders tensed, expression alert. “Where?...How many?...We'll be right there.”

He ended the call. “That was Randall. He and Marco think they've found the trailers from the camp, or at least some of them.”

“Where?” Simon was the first to speak.

“Are there any people in them?” Carmen asked.

Graham turned to the map on the wall behind him. He studied it for a moment, then pointed to a spot on the edge of the parkland. “There's a wash through here. The trailers are there.”

Michael joined Graham in front of the map. “That's on the very edge of Richard Prentice's ranch,” he said, pointing to the white area marked Private Property on the map.

“And they almost certainly crossed Prentice's land on that road he closed in order to get there,” Simon said.

“How did Randall and Marco get there?” Carmen asked.