Czytaj książkę: «A Warrior's Mission»
Night picked the lock and snuck into the room where Holly was being held captive…
She lay on a dirty cot, sobbing. At the sight of her anguish, the anger he’d felt at her for denying him knowledge of his son dissipated. He went to her, his steps so silent that she didn’t hear him until he slid down beside her. She cried out and rolled over to fight him.
“Shh, look at me, Holly. Quiet now.”
Her green eyes widened. Then recognition dawned and she nodded. The sadness in her expression was so strong that Night couldn’t help himself—he pulled her into his arms and cradled her against him.
“Are you all right? Did they hurt you?” His words were a mere whisper in the cave of a room.
“I’m okay. I saw our baby.”
A Warrior’s Mission
Rita Herron
MILLS & BOON
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Award-winning author Rita Herron wrote her first book when she was twelve, but didn’t think real people grew up to be writers. Now she writes so she doesn’t have to get a real job. A former kindergarten teacher and workshop leader, she traded her storytelling for kids for romance, and writes romantic comedies and romantic suspense. She lives in Georgia with her own romance hero and three kids. She loves to hear from readers, so please write her at P.O. Box 921225, Norcross, GA 30092-1225, or visit her Web site at www.ritaherron.com.
The Confidential Code
I will protect my country and its citizens.
I will stand in the line of fire between innocents and criminals.
I will back up my fellow agents without questions.
I will trust my instincts.
And most of all…
I WILL KEEP MY MISSION AND MY IDENTITY STRICTLY CONFIDENTIAL
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Holly Langworthy—A mother who will do anything to rescue her kidnapped baby. Will she lose her life and her heart in the process?
Night Walker—This half-breed Colorado Confidential agent is a loner and the father of Holly’s baby. His mission is to save Holly and her son, but once he rescues them, will they welcome him back into their lives?
Schyler Langworthy—An innocent baby caught in the trap of a mad scientist. Will he survive in spite of the research drug he received via his birth mother?
Samuel Langworthy—The former governor of Colorado was against Night’s involvement with Holly, and has been acting suspiciously. Could he possibly have orchestrated his grandson’s kidnapping to help son Joshua’s campaign to keep Holly and Night apart?
Celia Langworthy—Does she hold some clue as to who might have kidnapped Holly’s baby?
Dr. Theodore Grace—Celia’s former husband has been conducting germ experiments on the unsuspecting public. Has he kidnapped Holly’s baby to seek revenge on Samuel for marrying Celia? And just how far will he go in his research with the baby?
Governor Forbes—He’s bitter about losing the election to Joshua Langworthy, but is he bitter enough to get revenge by conspiring in a kidnapping?
Carlton Sanders—The man Holly’s father wanted her to marry. He has political aspirations of his own—did he have a secret motive for romancing Holly?
To Tashya, for putting together a great bible and giving me my start six years ago.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Epilogue
Prologue
Mid-July
“Holly Langworthy’s three-month-old son has been kidnapped from his crib.” Colleen Wellesley leveled her gaze at the group of operatives she’d assembled in the secret meeting room at the Royal Flush, the 6,000-acre cattle and horse ranch where the Colorado Confidential organization based its operation. The surveillance room had videos of the ranch access points and of the ICU offices in Denver, and computers that linked to the Department of Public Safety, the DMV and other government agencies on a limited basis.
Ten years ago, Colleen had founded a private investigation agency, Investigations, Confidential and Undercover, or ICU, which took on typical P.I. work—divorces, missing persons, blackmail and other cases. Six months ago, ICU had been recruited as the newest branch of the Confidential organization, Colorado Confidential. ICU’s office in Denver had become a cover for Confidential activities. The private detective business still operated on a highly selective level, but most of the work now was done for the DPS and the federal government.
Confidential agent Night Walker jerked his head toward his boss in shock.
Holly Langworthy had a child?
The beautiful, chestnut-haired, sexy and pampered daughter of Samuel Langworthy, the former governor? Holly—the woman he had shared one incredible night with before her father had run him off and ordered him never to darken the doors of the Langworthy estate again?
“Everyone, this is my brother, Michael.” Colleen continued. “I’ve asked him to join us today to offer suggestions and observations.”
Night tuned out the introductions. His mind was still reeling from the bombshell Colleen had just dropped about Holly Langworthy. Did Colleen know about his previous relationship with Holly?
How old was the baby?
Fiona Clark and Shawn Jameson, two other Confidential agents, sat across from him, their expressions unreadable.
“Although the Langworthy family had not made public the fact that they have a grandchild,” Colleen said, “the baby has been living with his mother at the Langworthy estate in Denver since his birth three months ago. Holly’s father, former governor, Samuel Langworthy, has suggested that the kidnapping is connected to the upcoming gubernatorial election.” Colleen continued, “Of course, now that the media has gotten wind of the story, it will be major news.”
Really major news, since the former governor was a millionaire and his son Joshua was firmly entrenched in the upcoming election as a prime candidate. Even more major news as Night mentally counted back the months and realized the baby might very well be his own son.
A son Holly Langworthy had not bothered to tell him existed.
NIGHT STRUGGLED with the idea that he might have a son as he drove at record-breaking speed away from the Royal Flush, located between Fairplay and Garo, toward the Langworthy mansion in Denver. All his life he had been a loner. His father had died when Night was little, leaving his white mother to raise him in a world that hadn’t wanted her Cheyenne half-breed son. She’d eventually taken him to live on one of the reservations, hoping the people there would be more welcoming, but he had felt just as alone in the midst of his native American Indian cousins as he had in his mother’s world.
He had never expected to have a family. Had blamed his father for leaving him, had thought that loving meant only pain. Especially when love involved the mixture of cultures.
But that one night with Holly had lingered in his mind. He had wanted to see her again, to call her, to touch her, yet he’d known a relationship between them would never work. Had she given birth to his son? A son who might need him?
A son who had crossed the lines between the Cheyenne and the white man, just as he had?
The snowcapped peaks of the Colorado mountains became a hazy blur as the facts of the case imprinted themselves in his brain. According to Colleen, Holly was distraught and had been avoiding the press since the kidnapping. The Langworthys had suggested that Governor Todd Houghton and his buddy Senator Franklin Gettys had instigated the kidnapping to distract Joshua Langworthy from his campaign. In turn, Governor Houghton suggested the Langworthys had staged the kidnapping to garner sympathy for Joshua in the election. Either scenario sounded feasible.
Both disgusted Night.
The odd details of the crime had the police perplexed. How had a kidnapper breached the walls of the Langworthy mansion? Langworthy had topnotch security. Night should know—he’d worked security detail at the estate a year ago. Was there someone on the inside who’d been a conspirator?
The other details were odd, too. Traces of Merino sheep wool, eggshells and dirt from the southern part of Colorado had been found at the scene, in baby Langworthy’s nursery. Colleen had sent Fiona to check out Governor Houghton and Senator Gettys’s ex-wife, Helen Gettys. Michael was assigned to check out the Merino sheep ranch partially owned by Gettys. Shawn was staying on with Colleen.
She had assigned Night to watch Holly.
He had a helluva lot more than watching in mind. Holly owed him some answers. And if she’d had anything to do with staging her own baby’s disappearance, if that child was Night’s…
The fury and anguish he felt at the realization that he might have a son he had known nothing about obliterated his ill-spent desire for Holly. Protective instincts unlike anything he’d ever felt before rose to the surface for the infant. The thought of any child, much less his own offspring, missing, being in danger, being used as a pawn in some kind of political game sickened him. The other possibilities that lurked behind the obvious political ones were even more maddening.
But what if the baby wasn’t his? Would he be able to tell by looking into Holly’s eyes?
He barely noticed the Denver lights as he maneuvered through traffic toward the Capitol Hill area, his mind on autopilot as he made his way to the Langworthy estate. He gave his name at the security gate to the fenced-in Victorian mansion, wondering if Langworthy had blackballed his name from the acceptance list, but as Colleen had promised, he got through with no problem. Apparently, the ex-governor wanted ICU’s help badly enough to tolerate him. Emotions breathed like a fireball in his belly as he drove down the long drive to the house.
His hand trembled as he lifted the photograph Colleen had given him of Holly’s son. The Langworthys had released the picture to the public in an attempt to find out who had taken the three-month-old infant from their home in the middle of the night.
In the picture, the chubby little boy was wrapped in a blue blanket, lying in his crib, a cuddly brown teddy bear snuggled beside him. Night studied the infant’s features. The baby had black hair but he couldn’t quite tell the color of his eyes.
Did he have his brown eyes or Holly’s laughing green eyes?
Thinking of Holly sent an ache through his chest. Photographs of her and the man she’d been dating had been plastered all over the news the past few months. Carlton Sanders—a man who worked for Joshua Langworthy, a cultured man Samuel would approve of, a man suited to Holly’s status. Could Carlton Sanders be the father of Holly’s baby? Or was Night the father?
He touched the name bead necklace circling his neck, the one symbol of his heritage he carried with him at all times. Pride filled him at the memory of his mother’s gift. If Holly and he had a child, he wanted to pass that name on to his son, give him beads to symbolize the Walker name.
A dozen lights twinkled around the stately Victorian mansion as he dragged his gaze to the doorway then upward to the window of Holly’s room. Memories bombarded him. The first night he’d come to work security at the mansion. His admiration for Samuel Langworthy and all that the Centennial family had done for Colorado. His instant attraction to Langworthy’s beautiful daughter, Holly.
An attraction he’d known could go nowhere.
She was rich and spoiled, and he’d pegged her flirtations as those of a rebellious princess wanting to defy daddy by taking a walk on the wild side with the hired help—a half breed at that. But her feminine wiles had been nearly irresistible. She had reminded him of the wild horses he had tamed in the past, eliciting forbidden fantasies of taming her as well. Still, he had resisted at first, walked away from her a dozen times. But in a weak moment, he had told her about the legend of Lillian’s Leap. In the romantic story, his ancestors, North and Lily, escaped from danger by jumping off a cliff then landing on a hidden ledge and diving into the river below. Holly’s passion and youthful romanticisms had gotten to him, had been a balm to his jaded soul.
Then she had touched him. Had lifted a slender hand to trail down the side of his face, then lower to his chest, and lower still. And finally, she’d looked into his eyes, begging him to take her. Even then he’d restrained himself, but finally her lips had brushed his, torturing him, hungry and searching. He had lost control and made love to her.
The passion had been hotter than any he’d ever experienced. Holly’s body was a sultry haven in the midst of a world of corruption, her innocence so sweet it was erotic, primal. He’d wanted to taste it forever.
Yet, he’d had to leave. Especially when Holly’s father had discovered them together. That humiliating encounter was etched into his brain with painful clarity. Night was the hired help, a half breed who was fit to protect the former governor’s precious daughter, but not to touch her.
Samuel had thrown him out, his threats to ruin Night if he dirtied the doors of the estate again a staunch reminder of the man’s power and position, and Night’s lack thereof. Night had dealt with people like that before. The incident with Charity Carmichael for one. Her accusations had dogged him and always would.
This time, Night had known Langworthy was right—he and Holly were not meant to be together. She was lightness to his dark, a society heiress who belonged to the prominent Centennial family, while he was an ex-bounty hunter who belonged to himself and his job. So he had left. And, barring the dreams that haunted his nights, dreams of lying with her again, slick hot skin against her writhing form, he had never looked back.
Until now.
A wry chuckle rumbled from deep within his chest, filled with pain, as he opened the car door and inhaled the scent of freshly manicured lawn and money. Of course, even now, he’d returned to the Langworthy mansion as a special agent to investigate a crime, not as Holly’s lover.
Or as her baby’s father.
HOLLY HEARD the explosion in the foyer all the way up the winding staircase to her bedroom. The housekeeper’s low voice, a man’s angry one demanding to see her, her father’s commanding tone ordering the man to leave. Her mother’s soft cry for her father to listen.
“I’m here on official business, looking into the kidnapping of your grandson, Mr. Langworthy,” the man said in a tone so cold that a shiver chased up Holly’s spine. “And I’m not leaving until I speak with your daughter.”
“I was expecting another ICU agent, not you,” her father said.
“All our agents are working the case in one capacity or another. Colleen sent me here.”
Holly’s heart pounded as she realized the source of the familiar voice.
Night Walker had finally returned.
She had been expecting him any day, had known this moment would arrive, that she would have to face him. She had dreaded it with all her being.
He would never understand. Never forgive her.
One trembling hand went to her now flat stomach. The other clutched baby Sky’s stuffed bunny, Bun-Bun, to her chest, the scent of the baby powder and her son’s soft skin that lingered on it bringing a fresh wave of tears to her eyes. She had cried so much already….
But it hadn’t brought her son back. And neither had her father or the police.
Maybe Night would be able to do something.
She reached for the doorknob, ready to face his wrath when the door suddenly opened and Night appeared, her father on his heels, her mother’s fine-boned hand pulling at her father’s sleeve.
Most people thought Celia Langworthy a delicate flower of a woman who did as Holly’s father dictated, but Holly knew differently. Celia was smart and fiercely loving. She would also do anything for Samuel and her children. And her grandson.
“Please, Samuel, we have to do whatever we can to find the baby,” Celia pleaded.
Her father tried to get around Night to block the doorway, but Night overpowered him, his six-four, two-hundred pound body a menacing presence beside her petite mother. Holly drank in Night’s features as he charged into the room. She remembered the way he had looked that evening so long ago when he’d held her naked in his arms. The night he had taken her virginity and they had made a son.
His classically high cheekbones and dark coloring testified to his Cheyenne heritage. His pitch-black hair still brushed his collar and made her ache to run her hands through it. But his golden brown eyes raked over her without a trace of the desire they had that night. Instead, they pinned her to the spot with accusations.
The first time she’d seen Night Walker, she had been infatuated with the mysterious, enigmatic Native American. He was soulful, intense, a creature of the shadows. A loner who had found his place in the world, a solitary place he allowed no one to enter.
What a fool she’d been, certain that their passion was all that mattered. That she could breach those forbidden walls and touch the man within.
But she had grown up fast when he’d disappeared from her life. Even more quickly with her subsequent pregnancy.
“I’m here about the kidnapping,” he said without preamble. “ICU sent me.”
Samuel cleared his throat. “I don’t want you working on this case.”
“That’s not up to you, sir.” Night faced her father, the two men going eye for eye as if wild animals ready for battle.
Holly clutched her arms around her stomach, her insides quivering. Her father had been acting strangely ever since Sky had been kidnapped. She was sure he was keeping things from her. Maybe to protect her. Maybe not. Whichever, she didn’t give a flip about who he wanted on the case. She was tired of being out of the loop, protected, depending on others.
She wanted her baby found.
“Daddy, let me talk to him.”
“Yes,” Celia said, dragging her husband out the door. “Maybe he can help.”
“Then let’s go to my office,” her father said.
“No. I want to speak to Holly in private,” Night demanded.
Holly’s father shook his head. “Absolutely not.”
Emotions clouded Holly’s eyes. “Please, Daddy. I’ll be all right.”
Her father exchanged a charged look with Night, then relented, his body rigid. Night waited until her parents’ footsteps receded before he stalked toward her. Anger rolled off him in waves.
She stepped backward, her legs nearly buckling. Had he guessed the baby was his? “Night…”
“Show me the nursery.”
His sharp order took her off guard. She’d been certain he was going to ask her. Maybe he expected her to speak up….
His hand seized her arm and she winced, then he propelled her through the door and dragged her down the hall.
“Is it this way? Downstairs by the servants’ quarters so the nanny could hear him?”
His insult rankled. He assumed she was so spoiled she’d turn her baby over to a nanny? “No, it’s right here, beside my room.” She halted and jerked her arm free from his grip. “The adjoining bathroom made it easy to slip through and feed him during the night. I didn’t want him to wake up alone.”
His eyes softened just a fraction, but his tight mouth didn’t falter. Again, she thought he might ask about Sky’s parentage, but he didn’t. Maybe her father was right, maybe he didn’t want to know.
“He’s been missing a week?”
“Yes.” She ached just thinking of the empty days and nights since she’d last held him. The hours she’d spent pacing and worrying, wondering who had stolen her son and what horrible things might have happened to him.
What had she done with her time before she’d had a baby? She couldn’t bear to think about going on now, doing mindless paperwork for her father’s investments.
“But you didn’t hear anyone come into the nursery and take him?”
Guilt assailed her as she shook her head. She should have heard something. She should have known he was in trouble. She should have been able to save her son.
“How did someone get past the security on the mansion?”
“I…don’t know.”
He gave her a suspicious look, as if he’d heard the rumors about the Langworthys staging the kidnapping to get sympathy for Joshua and believed them. Then he stepped inside the room, hesitating a second as his gaze scanned the simple decor. The native American border with mountains and bear and buffalo circling the room, the adobe color accented with navy and dark red and greens. Colors that had reminded her of Night and his heritage.
He stalked toward the crib, his trained gaze seemingly scrutinizing every feature.
“Tell me what happened the night he was kidnapped.”
Oh, God, did she have to relive it all again? “I’ve already told the police.”
“I read the report. I want to hear it from you.”
She swallowed, clasping her hands together, trying to block out the worst of the memory as she recited the details. If it helped, she’d tell her story a thousand times. Everything except the evening with Carlton Sanders. “I…I had been out.”
“With Sanders?” His gaze shot to hers with more accusations. Then she realized what he thought, that Carlton was her baby’s father.
She refused to talk about Carlton with Night. Especially with Night. “When I got home, I checked on the baby. He stirred, and I gave him a bottle.”
He simply stared at her, so she cleared her throat and continued. “I put him back down, tucked the covers around him, then went to bed.” There was more, but she couldn’t admit it. Not and watch his face twist with more disdain. He’d already decided she’d jumped straight from his bed to another man’s, when, God help her, the truth was she had never been with or wanted any man except Night.
“And you never heard a sound? No footsteps, door opening, the baby didn’t cry?”
She shook her head. “I was exhausted, I hadn’t been sleeping much, I don’t know how…why he didn’t cry.” Her voice broke off and she looked away, unable to keep the emotions at bay or tell him about the sedative she’d taken. The one she had refused, but the one she suspected their maid, Antonia, had slipped into her tea to calm her from the ordeal with her father and the man he’d wanted her to marry.
Night studied her for a long moment as if he was trying to strip her defenses and read her mind, uncover her secrets. Then he slowly dropped his gaze back to the crib. He ran his strong hands over the edge of the baby bed, stroking the blanket as if it held a connection to him or might offer him answers as to who had taken Schyler. His jaw was a solid rock, his cheekbones so defined her heart squeezed. Her son would share that same profile one day.
“The baby’s name is Schyler?” His voice sounded more hoarse than normal, strains of his Native heritage filtering through.
She nodded, her heart breaking. “North Schyler Langworthy.”
A muscle twitched in his jaw. The flare of anguish that deepened his brown eyes to black sucked the air from her lungs.
Now, he knew the baby was his.
He remembered telling her that romantic story about his ancestors.
How could he even think she’d been with another man after that incredible evening?
“I’m sorry, Night…I—” her voice broke, the pain of the last week, of her father’s humiliating accusations the evening Night had walked out of her life resurfacing. Her father had never let her forget the depth of her sins for taking Night to her bed. Especially when he had discovered she was pregnant. And Night had never looked back. She had needed him….
“Did you ever plan to tell me I had a son?”
“I…wanted to,” Holly said, knowing her excuse would sound weak to his ears. But she had to try to make him understand. “You left and you never called, you never came back. I didn’t know how to contact you.”
“You didn’t try.” Steely rage underscored his softly spoken words.
She shook her head violently. In spite of her father’s fury, she had tried to find Night. “I did look for you, but you just disappeared, and then I…I was ashamed that I’d seduced you. You’d told me all along that you didn’t want me, that you would never be tied down, that you were like a wild wolf, free forever.” Her words rushed out, the contempt in his expression seemingly mounting with every word she spoke. “I didn’t think you’d want to be trapped into marrying me. And I was afraid you’d think I got pregnant on purpose.”
He squared his shoulders, fisting his hands by his sides as if fighting for control. “You were going to marry Sanders and let him raise my baby as his? Were you seeing him before the night we were together?”
“No.” Holly felt the color drain from her face. He couldn’t know the truth.
“Did Sanders kidnap the baby? Is he working for your father?”
“What?”
“Did your family arrange this kidnapping to get publicity for Joshua’s campaign?” He pinned her with a look that burned straight through to her soul. “Did you help them or did Sanders? Are you hiding our baby somewhere until after your brother is elected governor?”
She staggered backward at the depth of his distrust. “No,” she whispered. “Heavens, no. I swear it.” Defenses she hadn’t known she possessed flourished, then anger followed. “How can you suggest such a horrible thing? You have no idea the hell I’ve been through. You walked out of here the night we were together and left me alone to deal with everything, my father, the pregnancy. You never once looked back or tried to contact me. What was I supposed to think?”
“I had no idea you were pregnant because you didn’t bother to tell me,” he ground out. “Your family kept it a secret until the baby was kidnapped.”
“They were trying to avoid a media frenzy,” Holly argued. “And Daddy wanted to protect me. It’s not like you actually cared. I didn’t think you wanted me, much less a baby.”
“I do want my son,” he said, his words cold and clipped, leaving no doubt in her mind that he didn’t want her. “And make no mistake, Holly, when I find our baby, he will know his father. And his heritage.”
He gave her one last look of disgust, then turned and stalked down the stairs, his booted feet clacking on the marble foyer just before the door slammed behind him.
Holly leaned over the crib, tears overflowing.
Another reason she hadn’t contacted him—her father had warned her that Night might try to take the baby from her, that the laws might even give him custody, let him carry their son to live on one of the reservations. She’d even wondered if Night might have discovered she’d had his baby and kidnapped him himself. And when her worst fears had overwhelmed her this past week, when she’d pictured her helpless infant at the mercy of a crazy person or a killer, she’d actually hoped that Night might have taken him. At least then she would know her son was safe.
But Night obviously hadn’t.
Her world spun, crumbling around her.
Where was her precious little boy? Was he still alive? She looked up through the window at the inky sky.
Was he out there somewhere, alone and scared, crying for his mother?
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