“I can’t sleep, Richmond. I...I can’t watch the nightmares...not without losing my mind.” The heart-wrenching plea whispered in the night sliced his chest open, exposing a wound that had never healed. “I need to believe my daughter is alive. She’s my baby...all I have left of her father.”
As he joined her by the window, she slowly turned around. The anguish reflected in her eyes bled into his heart. He hesitantly cupped her face. When she neither recoiled nor pushed him away, he brushed her cheek with his thumb. Her skin was as soft as he remembered.
The realization he still loved her, more than he’d ever loved her, added fuel to the fire smoldering his soul.
“Tell me about Hope’s father.” Of his own fault, another man had replaced him in Amelia’s arms. He needed to know about the dead pilot. “Was he good to you?”
“He...he was stubborn...and totally impossible.” A lone tear streaked down her cheek. “He was a good man...he would have made a great father.”
“For a pilot, Craig sounds like a pretty decent guy.” As Rich recalled the pilot’s full name, possible implications sank into his mind. They had discussed the senator’s case at length. The similarity between the two men should have struck him sooner. “Hope’s father was
Norm Craig
?”
Amelia’s body tensed, bolstering his belief she hadn’t made the connection until now either. “Richmond, it’s...it’s not...”
Fearing she might keel over, he wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her close to his chest. “I know it’s a stretch, but what if Serpent mistook Hope for Senator Craig Norman’s daughter?”
Her beautiful blue eyes widened to the size of glossy pool balls.
“You believe your snake has
my
daughter? Only a lunatic would think Norm Craig is—” She scrunched the front of his undershirt making fists. “This cannot be happening.”
Heavy breathing jerked her shoulders. She should have welcomed the potential lead in her daughter’s case, not go into a frantic frenzy over the possibility. Stumped by her reaction, Rich stroked her back, relishing the warmth and the feel of her body.
“We can’t rule out a connection, Amelia. The senator has refused to involve other agencies. Now that his daughter isn’t the one at risk, he may stop cooperating altogether, especially if I recruit help from outside my office.” Amelia’s expertise and security clearance exceeded his. The military woman, as distressed as she might be, was still his best ally. “You cannot lose it, Amelia. I need your help to find Hope.”
The fan of the fireplace switched off, and the humming ceased. An eerie silence enveloped the living room. Amelia stared at him, searching his face for...for something. Whatever she sought, he desperately wanted to give it to her.
“I haven’t slept in days, Richmond. I’m hovering on the brink of insanity. Under no condition should I be trusted. In your place, I would tie me to a bed, drug me, and wake me up after you found my daughter.”
As right as she might be, he trusted her—more than he trusted himself.
Taking advantage of her vulnerability, he scooped her in his arms. “Then let’s get you some sleep.”
Amidst a gasp of surprise, she clawed at his neck. “What do you think you’re doing, Richmond Morgan?”
“Taking you into my bed.” He carried her through the hallway, nearly dropping her. “Would you stop wriggling?”
“I am
not
sleeping with you. I am
not
that insane.”
Of all the qualities she possessed, her indomitable spirit had been the most enduring. From the look in her eyes, that spirit was very much alive—and angry.
“Glad to know I already saved you from the brink of insanity.” The timing couldn’t have been worse, and yet, holding her had never felt so right. “By morning, you’ll be rested and trustworthy.”
“By morning, you’ll be dead if you don’t give up that plan.”
Threats would not stop him. Not this time. “I was going to use my arms to keep you safe and my snoring to scare the night monsters away. If you prefer, I’ll get the duct tape and the drugs.”
As she glared, he bestowed a tender kiss on her parted lips. They quivered in response.
Chapter Eight
The beeping of a snowplow with its lights flashing around partially closed blinds aroused Richmond from a restless slumber. Snuggled next to him, Amelia twitched and groaned in her sleep. Despite being riddled with exhaustion, her body had refused to shut off.
Like he’d done through the night, he trailed his hand up her bare arm, following the sinuous path of a scar he’d mapped long ago. Her eyelids fluttered, and he could only imagine the anguish plaguing her unconscious mind.
Years ago, her surrender to his empty threats would have thrilled him. He would have slowly removed her khaki camisole and matching boxers and smothered the skin he exposed with tender, loving care.
Not tonight. Not under those circumstances.
Phoenix...
She’d always been tough, physically and mentally. For her, it’d been a matter of pride as much of survival. Her strength and resilience had been among the many qualities he admired about her, but her vulnerability had proven to be just as endearing. It appealed to his protective side, his softer side—a side he’d ignored for nearly two decades. For both their sakes, he needed to bring her daughter back, to redeem himself for the mistakes of the past.
“Richmond?” Vestige of sleep lingered in her voice, lending a husky overtone to his name. “There’s something I haven’t told you about Hope, something you need to know.”
“You don’t owe me any explanation, Amelia.” Overcome with regrets, he stroked her cheek with his thumb. “I’m glad you met Craig and had a daughter. You deserved to be happy.”
“It’s not that simple.” Tears brimmed in her eyes. “After Hope was born, I—”
The alarm clock rang, cutting her off.
“You’ll see her again, Amelia. I promise.” He grazed her forehead with his lips. “Now go take a long shower while I cook you breakfast.”
***
The early morning briefing with his deputies went as smoothly as Rich had expected. Bringing Amelia onboard the investigation didn’t elicit any objections, and his deputies didn’t flinch when he explained the possible connection between the two cases. Rich was proud of his team.
“Gil, you check Serpent’s address. Take the colonel with you. I’m going back to Snowy Tip.”
From the corner of the room where she’d retreated upon entering, Amelia nodded.
During breakfast, Rich had reasoned it might be safer for his pregnant deputy to stay behind a desk than to pay a visit to a potential kidnapper and Amelia had conceded she might be more objective looking into the senator’s side of the case.
From behind her desk, Eve leapt to her feet. “What about
me
?”
Pleased with his deputy’s reaction, Rich ushered her in his office and closed the door behind them.
Palms over her belly, Eve glared. “It better be your way of keeping the colonel away from Snowy Tip, because if you sent her with Gil as an excuse to keep me here digging into phone records, searching for Norman’s indiscretions, or waiting for that elusive list of employees and volunteers, I may just quit.”
Battling two stubborn women was worse than dismantling a terrorist cell—and twice as dangerous.
“You can’t quit, Eve, you’ll lose your maternity benefits. Besides, I need you to access the military database while the colonel is gone.”
“You want me to do what?” The glow in her eyes subsided. “Do you know how risky that is? Or illegal? Why don’t you just ask her? You seem to be on friendly terms.”
“It’s complicated.” Last night had blurred the distinction between colleagues and lovers.
More than one, not quite the other.
He’d shaved while Amelia was under the shower—and cut himself fantasizing about the path of her shampoo and soap. At the sight of the blood running down his face, he inwardly chided himself for being a lunatic, only to recall her forceful indignation.
Only a lunatic would think Norm Craig is.
Those had been her words, which she’d abruptly ended.
“On one occasion last night, the colonel used present tense when talking about her daughter’s father.”
“On
one
occasion?” Eve’s dubious looks resembled Amelia’s, and she served him an extra long one. “You do realize it may have been a simple slip of the tongue.”
“Amelia doesn’t slip, Eve. I want you to verify her whereabouts after she graduated from West Point. I also want to know everything there is to know about Hope’s father.”
“Tell me you’re not thinking he might still be alive?”
“Right now, I’m not sure what to think.” He patted her shoulder. “I’m counting on you. I’ll be in the mountains reminding River I need that elusive list.”
Despite his suspicions to the contrary, Rich needed to ascertain Amelia’s teenager wasn’t lost in the mountains.
As he grabbed his winter coat, his cell phone rang. “Sheriff Morgan.”
“Good morning, Sheriff. This is Verna.” The secretary’s voice sounded friendlier on the phone than in person. “The senator would like to see you in one hour. It’s important. Please don’t be late.”
An hour at the speed limit wasn’t enough time to drive to Norman’s office. The politician’s definition of
important
had better match Rich’s.
***
“Are you awake?”
The rhetorical question irked Quest, and she was already peeved. Her keeper stood at the foot of the bed on which she lay bound at the wrists and ankles.
That is not the start of a good day.
“Have you ever seen someone sleep with her eyes wide open?”
“You’re one mouthy brat. Your little stunt hurt the boys.” The creep raked his right hand through his short hair. “It cost me another grand each to buy their silence.”
She glanced around the room. The boys as he’d called them were nowhere in sight.
“You paid an extra two thousand bucks for one cheesy head and two tennis balls? You should ask for a refund.”
“You think that’s funny?” The hatred and resentment she saw in his eyes were more frightening than the fists he made. “Do you get that from daddy? The seedy son of a gun.”
“My father is dead.” The frequent allusions about her father grated on her nerves. Except for her mother, no one knew much about him. “He’s been dead a long time.”
“Is that so?” He sat on the edge of the mattress, smirking.
“Stay away.” Pushing both heels against the bare mattress, she recoiled away from him. Only then did she realize he’d taken off her ski boots while she was unconscious.
Someone is going to pay for this.
“I’m not after you, young lady.”
The large bruise on her face disagreed with the statement. “Really?”
“It’s your father I want to destroy.”
So the man was seeking revenge for something her father had done. “My father is in Arlington Cemetery. Want me to give you his row number?”
“That attitude of yours will get you in trouble one day.”
Like I can get in any more trouble than I am right now.
“Who are you?”
“My friends call me Sly.”
Quest didn’t know any Sly and she wasn’t his friend, nor did she want to be. “Is Sly short for Slimy?”
“You keep insulting me, I won’t loosen your bonds.”
Under no circumstance did she want him to check her restraints. She was making too much headway with the knots to be caught. “What do you want from me, Slimy?”
“I read your biography on the Internet. It says your late father is Norm Craig, and that your mother met him in Europe.”
“So?” Her coach had requested a biography from every athlete. Despite knowing her mother would object, Quest had mentioned her father’s name. Now she had the sinking feeling she’d missed a great occasion to stay under the radar.
“Do you know he’s not dead?”
“What?” Grampy had often told her she had the best poker face he’d ever seen. She hoped it wasn’t an empty compliment. “You’re wrong.”
“I visited Arlington Cemetery. He’s not buried there.” The smug look on his face emulated a drunken knucklehead. “I’ll give it to you, switching his name around was very ingenious.”
Confused by what she thought she read, Quest tried to recapture the movement of his lips. “Switching...name?”
“I’m sure Senator Craig Norman wasn’t too impressed to see his name on the Internet.”
Slimy couldn’t be stupid enough to think Craig Norman stood for Norm Craig. Her mother despised politicians; she would never sleep with one. That had to be the most preposterous idea Quest had come across in a long time.
“You think my dad is Senator Norman? Are you out of your mind?” If this was a blind fishing expedition, Slimy was about to go on a diet. “My dad is dead. If he could hear you, he’d be rolling in his grave, laughing his guts out.”
His chest rose, only to abruptly fall flat. The breath he took had burst out too sharply for Quest’s taste. If he became too annoyed, it could spell disaster for her.
She tried to modulate her voice to sound less belligerent. “What did that senator do to you anyway?”
“Now you’re curious about him, are you? Maybe next time we chat, I’ll show you a picture of him with your mother taken in Germany.”
If Slimy based his assumption on a picture, he was fit for the loony bin, which made him unpredictable at best.
“I see you lost your tongue. Pity.”
He walked to the door and turned the ceiling light off. The light coming from the room behind the doorway turned his body into a shadowy figure. If he spoke to her, the words vanished into thin air. He closed the door behind him, plunging her into darkness.
Quest fought the blind panic that always threatened to engulf her when faced with total darkness. Ever so slowly her eyes adjusted to the dark. Faint light filtered through the shutters obscuring the only window in the room. To her relief, the ominous shadows in the room took earthly forms.
It has to be mistaken identity.
While this was the only logical explanation, proving she wasn’t that senator’s daughter might sign her death warrant instead of ensuring her release. Unlike the two guys who’d kidnapped her, Slimy didn’t wear a mask. Either he didn’t care if she identified him later or he intended to get rid of her.
As long as he believes me to be valuable, I may remain relatively safe.