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By now, Abby realized, she shouldn’t be surprised at discovering another one of her late-husband’s infidelities. Matt had spent a year in the South American country, his intel unit attached to a peacekeeping unit assigned to the struggling democracy after a coup attempt. Matt hadn’t been the type of man to go a year without sex. In fact, danger would have been an aphrodisiac.
After Sanselmo, he’d begun keeping secrets at every level of their relationship. The beginning of the end.
“Sanselmo was hell,” Luke said bluntly. “Lots of bad things went down after the attempted coup. Marines died.”
“I know,” Abby murmured, distracted by Stevie wriggling in her grasp. She turned him in her lap to face Luke.
Luke smiled at Stevie. “Hi, big guy. My name is Luke. I knew your daddy.”
Abby tried not to flinch. “I haven’t told him much about Matt. He’s not old enough to realize something’s missing.”
Stevie touched a small gold pendant in the shape of a hawk that hung from Luke’s neck. “Bird.”
Luke looked down at the sticky fingers tugging his necklace. “That’s right, it’s a big bird.”
Abby smiled. She’d given the pendant to Luke for his birthday almost six years ago. Hawk was Luke’s unit nickname. It had fit—strong, smart and always watching out for the people he cared for.
“I have to have some clue what he was into, Luke.” She stroked Stevie’s hair, shuddering at the memory of the masked man’s threat. “They told me if I go to the cops, Stevie will suffer. I can’t risk it.”
“Sons of bitches.” Luke’s lips thinned to an angry line. “I think I know who they are, Abs—who they work for. But I swear, I don’t know what they want you to find. If I knew, I’d give it to you.”
“Tell me what you do know, then.” She laid her hand on his arm. “This is what you’d call a need-to-know situation.”
He sighed. “In Sanselmo, we were looking into American involvement in a drugs-for-arms black market. Some Sanselmano national guardsmen were trading government-issue arms and ordnance to El Cambio rebels in exchange for cocaine.”
“Is that how they got so close to pulling off the coup?”
Luke nodded. “El Cambio has controlled the coca production in Sanselmo for decades—only game in town. A lot of money up for grabs. Worse, there were American arms found during raids.”
“No way Matt was involved with trading arms for drugs,” Abby said bluntly.
“Maybe not. But his connection to Janis Meeks—”
Abby winced at the mention of the woman’s name. She’d taken a few body blows over the months after Matt’s death, as one story after another came to light.
Other Marine wives had warned her infidelity was common—part of the fog of war—and assured her that what happened overseas during a long tour of duty didn’t have anything to do with Abby or with Matt’s love for her. But she knew better.
Besides, since Sanselmo, she was pretty sure Matt had been cheating on her stateside, too.
“Matt might not have realized what he was facilitating,” Luke continued. “The timing is interesting because the Feds are on the verge of indictments against Voices for Villages. Maybe Matt had something incriminating on Meeks or her organization that’s coming to light now because of the impending charges.”
“Like what?”
“That’s the question.” His gaze on Stevie’s fingers fumbling with his pendant, Luke changed topics. “Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant that night after the funeral?”
“Would it have made a difference?”
His expression reflected guilt and regret. “I guess not.”
She looked away, the memory of that night as vivid in her mind now as it had been the very next morning, when she’d awakened to find Luke had gone, leaving her with nothing but a note on the pillow and a little life growing inside her.
What if she’d put a call in to his unit overseas when she’d gotten the results of the pregnancy test? He couldn’t have left Kaziristan to race to her side and play daddy to a baby he never intended to make. And she’d have never wanted him to feel obligated to be with her just because they made a baby together.
But what about now? Didn’t Luke deserve to know that the little boy she was trying so desperately to protect from her husband’s past was his own flesh and blood?
“I don’t know what to do,” she said aloud.
“Where is your car parked?” Luke asked, the question catching her off balance.
“About a block down the street. We walked from there.”
He frowned. “You don’t drive a dark blue Pontiac G-3?”
She shook her head. “Silver Honda Prelude.”
Luke crossed to the front window. Parting the curtains about an inch, he peered outside, where the sun was making a last dying stand against twilight.
“Is someone out there?” Abby asked.
“Not anymore,” he answered tersely. “But we have to assume they’re around here somewhere, just to be safe.”
The urge to cry returned, but she fended it off. She didn’t have time for tears. “What should I do, Luke?”
“Right now, we don’t have a clue what Matt might have taken, or where he’d have hidden it. If he took anything at all.” He let the curtain drop and turned to her. “Right?”
She nodded. “I’m sure he had a dozen places he could stash something he wanted to hide, but he never shared that kind of information with me.”
He came to stand in front of her, capturing her chin with his fingers and giving a little tug to make her look up at him. “I have some thoughts on that, but right now, let’s get you and Little Bit home safely. You two can get a good night’s sleep while I look into some hiding places Matt might have used.”
The thought of returning to her mess of an apartment was almost more than she could bear, but she hid her despair from Luke. She wasn’t about to start leaning on anyone again, no matter how broad and tempting the shoulders.
“I need your address. You’re not staying at your apartment alone tonight,” Luke said.
“Wait—” Panic rose in her gut in greasy waves. No way was she sharing her tiny apartment with Luke Cooper while he played knight in shining armor. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
“You need a bodyguard.” His tone was so reasonable she wanted to punch him. “If not for you, then for Stevie.”
“I can protect him myself.” God, she sounded foolish. Sure, she knew how to use a gun, but she didn’t have one in the house because of Stevie. And while she was physically fit and knew a few self-defense moves that might get her out of trouble if some jerk tried to mug her on the street, she couldn’t outfight two military-trained enforcers armed with Colt .45s.
“It won’t hurt to have backup, right?” Luke crossed to a desk near the entryway and pulled a pen and notepad from one of the drawers. He wrote something, tore out the page and handed it to her. “My cell-phone number. I’ll be a couple of minutes behind you, but call if you need anything.”
“I will.” She gave him her address as she rose, shifting Stevie to her hip. Luke jotted it down on another piece of paper.
“Drive by here on your way out and I’ll see if I can spot anybody tailing you,” Luke suggested as he walked her to the door. “I’ll be right behind you, I promise.”
She slanted a look at him, wondering if he realized just how hollow his promises sounded after what happened between them three years ago. Although he hadn’t really made her any promises that night, had he? There hadn’t been many words at all, just kisses and touches and a raging fire she’d thrown herself into without a second thought.
For him, it might have been nothing more than a few hours of shared grief and release.
But that night with Luke Cooper had changed her world.
“NOTHING UNDER THE NAME Matt Randall, either?” Luke asked the bus-station attendant on the phone, using one of the aliases Matt had used undercover with Marine Corps Intelligence.
“No, sir.”
“Thanks anyway.” Luke rang off and scanned the traffic around him, looking for any sign of a tail. He’d seen no one tailing Abby, but that didn’t mean someone wasn’t watching.
He spotted Abby’s silver Honda a few car lengths ahead and his stomach turned a flip. Even tired, scared and frustrated, Abby Chandler was as beautiful as he’d remembered.
And even more off-limits now than when he first realized he was in love with Matt Chandler’s wife.
Evening traffic was busy. Though he’d called San Diego home for the past seven years, he’d spent much of that time overseas and on assignments out of town. Only life as a civilian had allowed him to really get to know the place. It wasn’t a bad place to live. The zoo was world-famous, Sea World a fun way to spend a lazy Saturday and the place was crawling with military personnel. But now that he was out of the Corps, he found himself thinking of his real home more and more.
He missed the green mountains of Chickasaw County, Alabama, the sparkling waters of Gossamer Lake and his mother’s cooking. Now that his brother Sam was back in Alabama after years away, Luke was the last Cooper in exile.
Even with Eladio Cordero’s threats hanging over him, the call of home was strong these days.
He wondered what Abby would think of Gossamer Ridge, Alabama, with its ten stoplights and one decent grocery store. He squelched that thought ruthlessly, aware how dangerous it was to think of Abby as anything but his old friend’s widow.
He’d made a mistake three years ago, taking advantage of her grief and vulnerability to assuage his own. It didn’t matter that he loved her; Abby had been Matt’s wife. And now, the mother of the only child Matt Chandler would ever have.
And it just might be Luke’s fault that Matt wasn’t there to see his son grow up.
Stevie looked like Abby, from his freckles to his wide, expressive mouth. Not a hint of Matt’s laughing brown eyes or olive complexion. Was it easier for Abby that way, not to have to see Matt in Stevie’s eyes every time she looked at him?
How old was the kid now—two? Two and a half? No more than that; if Abby had been more than three or four months pregnant the night they spent together, he’d have noticed.
His smile faded suddenly.
What if she hadn’t been pregnant that night? He tried to remember how she’d answered his questions about Stevie. Had she ever said, outright, that Matt was Stevie’s father?
A chill washed over him. They hadn’t used protection that night; they were too far gone to think about stopping for something like that. Neither of them had been thinking about pregnancy.
But she’d have told him. Abby wasn’t a secret-keeper like he and Matt had been. She’d been open, sharing her thoughts and feelings with abandon. It had been one of the things about her that had drawn him, that candor.
If their night of comfort sex had left her pregnant, she’d have told him.
When would she have had the chance?
He’d left her still asleep, a hastily jotted note of explanation tucked under her pillow. Sleeping with her—hell, just being around her—had been dangerous. Matt’s sudden death had come too closely on the heels of Cordero’s vow of vengeance. Had Cordero had him killed as part of his vendetta against Luke?
It hadn’t been out of the question. People he cared about automatically became targets.
He’d shipped out that morning for two years in Kaziristan, knowing she’d be hurt by his abandonment, hating every part of what he’d done. But it hadn’t changed his determination to cut himself off from her and everyone he loved.
He’d meant his note to be a cold brush-off. He hadn’t wanted her to try to contact him. If she’d found herself pregnant a few weeks later, he couldn’t blame her for keeping that information to herself.
He almost missed the turn onto Abby’s street. He slowed, made a quick right and reacquired Abby’s silver Honda ahead. She pulled into a parking space in front of the building.
He took an empty spot nearby, hoping the building super wouldn’t have the Mustang towed, and caught up with Abby on the sidewalk in front of the first apartment.
She jumped when he touched her arm. “Sorry,” he said, wondering if he should just go ahead and ask her about Stevie’s paternity. Would she tell him the truth?
Probably not, he realized. If she’d kept it a secret for three years, she wouldn’t spill the beans just because a couple of gunmen had thrown her into Luke’s life again.
He wouldn’t push for now. It was the least he owed her.
“It’s a mess,” she warned him as she set Stevie down on the ground and unlocked the front door of her first-floor apartment.
She wasn’t lying, he realized with dismay a few seconds later, taking in the torn sofa cushions, the books in scattered heaps where the searchers had pulled them from the bookshelf against the wall, the overturned coffee table with the shattered crystal box in shards on the hardwood floor.
“I didn’t stop to clean up,” she explained. “I needed to know if you knew what Matt might be hiding, so I just grabbed Stevie and headed out.”
He picked up a couple of the books and put them back on the shelf. “Is the bedroom as bad?”
“The mattress is ripped open, but I can probably stuff most of the filling back inside and cover it with a sheet—”
“You can’t stay here tonight, Abby. This is unlivable.”
She squared her jaw. “I’ll make it work.”
“You don’t have to make it work. Just grab some clothes, some toys for Little Bit and let’s get the hell out of here. We can regroup and figure out what to do next once we’re settled.”
Her brow creased. “Settled where?”
He looked down at Stevie, who was toddling toward the ruins of the broken crystal box. Picking him up to keep him out of the sharp shards, he settled the wriggly little boy on one hip and met her troubled gaze.
“At my place, of course,” he answered.
Chapter Three
Abby stared at him, her mind racing through a checklist of reasons why moving herself and Stevie into Luke Cooper’s house was a very bad idea. Beyond the tangled history between them, which was reason enough, she’d be putting Luke at risk at a time when he was supposed to be helping her find out what Matt had hidden and where. At least one of them needed to be able to get around San Diego without a team of thugs dogging every step.
“That’s just not a good idea,” she said.
“What’s the alternative—book a room in a motel? Do you think motel security is worth a damn?” Luke shifted Stevie on his hip and met her gaze with a look of calm skepticism. Stevie turned his head toward her and gave her an almost identical look. She didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry.
She couldn’t argue with Luke’s logic, however. She couldn’t afford a few unexpected nights at a motel, and she’d probably be in even greater peril holed up with Stevie alone in a place where nobody knew or cared who they were.
“We don’t have to complicate this,” Luke said. “There’s plenty of room for you and Little Bit there.”
Her lips twitched at the nickname he’d apparently settled on for Stevie. “You don’t owe us anything.”
He started to say something, then narrowed his lips to a tight line. After a moment, he said, “I can put you to work, if it’d make you feel better.”
“Cooking and cleaning?”
He arched an eyebrow. “No. I’ve eaten your cooking.”
