Her Baby's Bodyguard

He smiled. “Your daughter’s a real trouper, Eva.” He wiped his knuckle across her cheek. “She’s almost as brave as her mother.”

“I’m not brave.”

He kissed her forehead. “You are downright awesome.”

She didn’t know what surprised her more, the compliment or the kiss. “Sergeant Norton…”

“Call me Jack,” he said.

No. She shouldn’t think of him as Jack. He had to remain the sergeant, no matter how beautiful his smile was. How was she supposed to remember he was only doing his duty and that his consideration wasn’t personal? How could she keep from liking him?

Dear Reader,

Since the publication of my original EAGLE SQUADRON series in 2003, I have been eager to return to the men I left behind. Like so many of you, I fell in love with this group of Delta Force commandos. Their steady courage under fire, their deep sense of honor and the camaraderie they shared with each other made them natural heroes. Now, with EAGLE SQUADRON: COUNTDOWN, I am thrilled to immerse myself once again in the world of these über alpha males.

My biggest challenge when it came to Sergeant Jack Norton, Eagle Squadron’s medic, was creating a heroine who was strong enough to be his match. So I asked myself, who would be the worst possible woman for a fun-loving, commitment-phobic, gambling man like Jack to fall in love with? How about a defecting scientist with deadly secrets…and an infant daughter?

Being Her Baby’s Bodyguard is the last thing Jack thought he wanted. I hope you enjoy how I convinced him to change his mind!

Sincerely,

Ingrid

Her Baby’s Bodyguard

Ingrid Weaver

INGRID WEAVER

is a USA TODAY bestselling author of more than twenty-five books and has been published by Silhouette Books, Harlequin Books and Berkley/Jove. She is the recipient of a Romance Writers of America RITA® Award for Romantic Suspense and an RT Book Reviews Career Achievement Award. Currently she lives on a farm near Frankford, Ontario, where she grows organic veggies and Darwinian flowers in a neglected garden of tough love. She loves to hear from readers. You can visit her Web site at www.ingridweaver.com.

This book is dedicated to all the fans of

Eagle Squadron who asked for Jack’s story.

He owes you his life.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 1

The crust of ice on the puddle cracked beneath Eva’s boots, signaling her presence as clearly as a gunshot. She risked a glance over her shoulder. The road was still empty, yet how long would that last? The stitch in her side was getting worse. So was the cold. It would likely snow by morning. She clenched her teeth to silence their chattering and increased her pace.

The trees gave way to a cluster of buildings, but there should be no one here who would raise an alarm. The village had been deserted long before the complex had been constructed in the neighboring valley. Eva didn’t know where the original inhabitants had gone—she’d never thought to ask—but they’d been too practical to leave much behind. What hadn’t rotted had been carted away years ago. The sole traffic this road saw now was the monthly supply trucks that lumbered through without stopping. Only the village church had remained more or less intact, and that was because it had been built out of stone.

Katya stirred against her chest, no doubt jostled into wakefulness by Eva’s quickened stride. Without pausing, Eva lowered the zipper on her coat and reached inside to adjust the sling she’d fashioned for the baby. It held Katya securely enough, but the knots were digging into Eva’s neck and the small of her back. “Shh. Almost there, kitten,” she whispered. She rubbed her palm over the baby’s back. “It won’t be long now. I promise.”

Reassured by her touch, Katya burrowed closer to her mother’s warmth. Within seconds, her body relaxed once more into sleep. Eva left her hand where it was, letting her fingers ride the rise and fall of her daughter’s breathing. She needed the contact as much as Katya did.

The moon inched past a break in the clouds, turning Eva’s breath white and spreading silver-blue over the rise where the church stood. Shadows of grave markers tilted among weed stalks that sparkled with frost. A birch tree grew at the edge of the churchyard, its bare branches swaying in the wind. Apart from that, nothing moved.

Was she too early? She’d lost track of time. It seemed as if an eternity had passed since she’d slipped past the guards at the west gate, but it was more likely less than an hour. Eva risked another glance behind her.

Even with six kilometers of pine forest and a ridge of limestone between her and the complex, the glow of its perimeter lights was visible against the sky. She had once liked the security the floodlights provided. Against the empty blackness of the surrounding, tree-shrouded slopes, it had been comforting. Eventually she’d grown to understand that the security measures had been for control, not protection. Burian enjoyed demonstrating his power over all within his range.

Not me. And not my daughter.

She sucked more air into her aching lungs, fastened her coat and headed for the stone church.

This was it. The point of no return. If there was a bridge through the valley she’d just crossed instead of a puddle-strewn road, it would be burning. Shouldn’t she be feeling some sadness or at the very least regret? She was leaving her home, her country, turning her back on everything familiar.

But then, the complex had never felt like home. It had been where she worked, that was all. A place for her mind, not her heart. How long had it been since she’d allowed herself to yearn for more? For Katya’s sake, she did now. Home should be sunshine and apple trees, the smell of bread cooling on a windowsill, the liquid, joyous trill of Grandma’s canaries and the soft warmth of her mother’s arms….

The road blurred. Eva blinked against the wind to clear her vision and stepped into the churchyard. The home of her memories was long gone, but she would make a new one. Just her and Katya. When she got to America, maybe she would look for a place with apple trees. They would be beautiful in the spring. She could lift Katya up to sniff the blossoms—

A shadow detached itself from one of the grave markers as Eva passed. It happened so swiftly that she had no chance to react. Before any sound could leave her throat, a man stepped behind her and clamped his large, gloved hand over her mouth.

Panic overrode her logic. If she’d stopped to think, she would have realized who would know she was coming. But she was tired and scared and struggled anyway. Wrapping her arms around Katya, she kicked backward until her boot connected with the man’s shin.

“Whoa, relax, Dr. Petrova.” He eased the pressure on her mouth. “We’re here to help you.”

It was a man’s voice, pitched low, closer to a whisper than to speech. He knew her name. And he was speaking English. That last fact penetrated her fear. She stilled.

“Our code word is eagle,” he said. His tone was gentle, at odds with the strength in his grip. A trace of the American South flavored his words. “They told you that, didn’t they?”

Another shard of panic dropped away. She nodded against his glove, then reached for his arm. Despite the thick coat he wore, it felt like steel. She tugged anyway.

“Sorry about startling you, but we couldn’t let you scream.” He lifted his hand from her mouth. “Are you all right?” She nodded.

“Hate to ask, Dr. Petrova, because it seems pretty obvious to me who you are, but the brass are sticklers for details. Can you give me your code word?”

Her first attempt came out as a gasp. She had to swallow a few times before her voice worked. “Hatchling. My word is hatchling.”

“Check. I’ve got her, guys.”

Though he hadn’t raised his voice, more shadows emerged from among the gravestones. No, not shadows but men. They were dressed in the kind of drab, shapeless winter coats the locals wore, and each held a rifle to his shoulder. They moved in silence in spite of the brittle weed stalks that covered the churchyard. None looked her way. Their attention was focused on the road and the forest at the edge of the village.

Help had really come. Oh, God. After so many weeks of waiting and worrying, it was truly happening. The wave of relief was almost as strong as her earlier panic had been. Eva realized she was trembling.

“Any problems getting here?”

She locked her knees to keep them steady and shook her head.

“Do you have the disk?”

She dipped her chin in a quick affirmative.

“You might as well give it to me for safekeeping, Dr. Petrova.”

She turned to face him. Like the other men, he held a gun, but he had the barrel pointed toward the ground. He was tall—the top of her head barely reached his chin. A thick wool cap was pulled low over his ears, and the moon was behind him, so she couldn’t see much of his features except for the outline of his jaw. It was square and tautly set. As were his shoulders. Although his black coat looked bulky, he didn’t. Even motionless, he exuded an impression of lean strength. He stood with the readiness of a runner waiting for the starting pistol. Or a wolf stalking a deer.

Another tickle of fear fought with her logic. She breathed deeply a few times, forcing herself to think. Regardless of how gently this man had been speaking to her, she couldn’t afford to trust him entirely. Too much was at stake. She lifted her chin, regretting her earlier display of weakness. “Thank you, but the disk is quite safe where it is.” She kept her voice at a whisper, hoping he wouldn’t detect the tremor in it. “I’ll turn it over to the appropriate authorities once I am in American jurisdiction. No offense meant.”

It was hard to tell for certain with his face in a shadow, but he appeared to smile. “None taken,” he replied. “They did say you were smart.”

By this time, the other men had withdrawn to the edge of the road. From the woods on the far side of the church came the rumble of an engine. Eva jerked in alarm.

“It’s okay, ma’am.” The man gripped her elbow and steered her toward the noise. “That would be our ride.”

A truck pulled onto the road. It was the same size as the supply trucks that went to the complex, but there the resemblance ended. Except for short metal panels that formed the sides, the rear part of the truck was covered with canvas. The rest of it was so rusty that there was nothing to reflect the moonlight except the windshield. It looked like a relic from a past war, held together with bits of wire and luck, not an uncommon sight in this region of the Caucasus.

Eva looked around. These men had probably chosen the truck so it wouldn’t attract attention, but they didn’t expect to make it all the way to the coast of the Black Sea in that, did they? “I was told we’d be going by helicopter.”

“It’ll be at our rendezvous point. This area is too hot to risk a landing, and we figured you would already have had enough of a stroll for one night.” He guided her closer to the truck. “By the way, are you wearing a pack under your coat?”

Her hand automatically went to the bulge where Katya nestled. “I was instructed to bring no luggage, and I brought none.”

“Uh-huh. That doesn’t mean much. I’ve known a lot of ladies who see fit to pack a purse as big as a suitcase for a trip to the corner store. Is that what you have there?”

“I understand what’s at stake better than anyone, and I made sure to raise no suspicions. I was very careful with my preparations. It will likely be more than twenty-four hours before anyone realizes I have left the complex, Mr.…?”

“Norton. Sergeant Jack Norton.”

Sergeant. Of course. She should have guessed the American government would send military people, but her contact had given only the barest details of the extraction plan.

Then again, she hadn’t told her contact all the details, either.

One of the other men jumped to the truck’s tailgate and pulled back a corner of the canvas tarp. A cloud of exhaust obscured Eva’s view for a moment. When it cleared, she could see a faint, green light glowed from inside where a large man knelt in front of what appeared to be electronic equipment.

Still gripping her elbow, the sergeant tilted his head to regard her as they walked. “Nah, it’s too big for a purse. Pardon the personal question, ma’am, but are you pregnant?”

“No, Sergeant Norton.”

“Because if you are, you should let us know. The trip out could get rough. We want to be prepared if there could be any medical complications.”

“I am not pregnant, I assure you. I’m in perfect health and don’t expect you to make any allowances for me.”

“Okay, great. So what are you hiding under that coat?”

She’d known they would find out sooner or later. Katya would need to be fed in another few hours. Eva had hoped to be safely on her way out of the country before that happened, but she could see that the soldier wasn’t going to let this go. She splayed her fingers over the curve of Katya’s back. “My daughter.”

They were less than two meters from the back of the truck. He stopped dead and pulled her to a halt beside him. “Whoa. I couldn’t have heard you right.”

“You did. It shouldn’t make any difference. She’s almost three months old, so she’ll be no trouble.”

“You brought a baby?”

“Surely you don’t expect I would leave her behind.”

Because he was turned toward the moonlight, she could make out more of his features. His mouth was bracketed by twin lines that would probably crinkle into dimples when he smiled. Actually, he looked like a man to whom smiling came naturally. Laugh lines softened the corners of his eyes, but there was no trace of humor in his expression now. His lips were pressed thin and his eyes narrowed. A muscle twitched in the hollow of one cheek. “Dr. Petrova—”

“Shouldn’t we be getting on the truck?”

For a large man, and one who spoke so gently, he could move surprisingly fast. He hitched the strap of his rifle over his shoulder, reached for the front of her coat and lowered the zipper.

Jack Norton had seen his share of trouble during his years with Eagle Squadron. He’d faced fanatics with bombs strapped to their bodies and enemy soldiers who were loaded up with enough weapons to fill an arsenal. He never took anything for granted. It was when a man felt safe that he usually bought it.

So he should have known this mission was going too smoothly.

It was a baby, all right. She was trussed up in a jury-rigged cloth carrier that held her across the woman’s midriff like a combination apron and hammock. A lacy, knitted cap covered the baby’s head. One tiny fist, wrapped in a mitten that trailed shiny ribbons, rested against her mouth. Luckily, her eyes were closed, which meant she was asleep, but how long that would last was anyone’s guess.

Actually, it was up to Murphy, the guy who wrote the law about anything that could go wrong, would….

Jack looked more closely. The kid wasn’t the only cargo the woman was hauling. Two lumpy cloth sacks dangled from strings on either side of the kiddy carrier. So, she hadn’t lied—technically the sacks weren’t luggage. The coat was large and knee-length, and she’d obviously made use of every square inch of space she had under there. It was a wonder she had been able to walk one klick like that let alone six.

Jack tapped the largest sack. “What’s in these?”

“Diapers and baby clothes,” Eva replied. She spoke fluent English with only a hint of an accent, which was to be expected. According to army intelligence, she’d spent the first few years of her life with her mother’s family in upstate New York. She’d been nearly four when her Russian father had gained custody.

Eva brushed his hand away and zipped her coat closed. Not all the way, though. He could see that she’d left a gap at the top for air. “I don’t want her to get cold,” she continued. “She might wake up.”

“Right. We sure wouldn’t want that.” His mind filled with crying-baby scenarios, none of them good. They were in hostile territory on a mission his government would disavow any knowledge of if it went wrong. Discretion was essential. That’s why the major had made the team plan for every contingency.

Having an infant along wasn’t one of them.

Eva stepped closer and poked her index finger at Jack’s chest. “I made a bargain with the American government, Sergeant Norton. Safety and asylum in exchange for my cooperation. I expect you to honor it.”

He snapped his gaze to her face. Could she think they would leave her here?

One look in her eyes told him that she wasn’t thinking at all. She was terrified. That’s why she had concealed the kid and why she’d refused to part with the disk. Those shivers he’d felt through her arm probably weren’t all due to the cold. She didn’t trust him. His reaction to her excess cargo wasn’t helping matters.

She’d taken him by surprise, that’s all. But damn, a baby? Even when he wasn’t on a mission, he kept as far away from those as he could.

Jack took her hand from his chest and gave it a squeeze. “You’ve got me confused with the politicians, Dr. Petrova. I’m a soldier. We take our honor seriously.”

She didn’t relax. Instead, her expression tightened further. It made her look more like the photograph that intel had provided.

Like the rest of the team, Jack had committed that picture to memory during their briefing. The shot had been more than ten years old, taken when she’d been awarded a doctoral degree in chemistry from Moscow University when she’d been nineteen. In it she’d looked far too serious for her age, as if she’d been trying to prove something. She’d stared unsmiling at the camera, a regular ice princess with her pale blue eyes and platinum hair. Her high cheekbones and delicate jaw hadn’t changed since then, though her lips seemed fuller. He wondered briefly whether she still wore her hair long, yet nothing showed from under the thick cap that she wore.

But as he’d just discovered, winter clothes were good for hiding all sorts of things.

“The major sent the word, Norton. We’re moving out.”

He shifted his attention to the truck. Tyler Matheson stood in the center of the back opening, one hand on the canvas and the other on his weapon. He would be covering the rear as they moved. Tyler was Eagle Squadron’s new ordnance specialist and was proving to be the best marksman the team had ever had in spite of his rookie status. Jack acknowledged Tyler’s warning with a nod. “Be right there, junior.”

Tyler hopped to the ground with the agility of the cowboy he used to be, then moved around the truck to the driver’s door to exchange a few words with Kurt Lang. Sergeant Lang would be doing the driving on this mission, as he usually did whenever something on wheels was involved. The man had an affinity for machines, which would have been spooky if it hadn’t kept proving so useful. Specialist Vic Gonzales would be riding shotgun beside Kurt once he finished his forward sweep of the area. They would pick him up on the way. Like Tyler, though, Gonzales would only open fire as a last resort. They were counting on intelligence to steer them away from trouble. To that end, Duncan Colbert, headphones clamped to his shaved head, knelt in front of the communication equipment he’d set up on the truck bed.

Quick and clean, that’s how Eagle Squadron liked to operate. They were usually long gone before anyone realized they’d been there. The five members of the team who were taking part in this mission had run through the plan until they could have done it in their sleep. Every man knew his role in it, including Jack. As Eagle Squadron’s medic, he’d been put in charge of their passenger.

Make that passengers.

Jack was confident the other guys would do their jobs. It was up to him to play the hand he’d been dealt.

He firmed his grip on Eva and led her forward. “We’ll try to keep you and your daughter comfortable,” he said. “But it’s going to be bumpy.”

“Neither I nor my child will break, Sergeant Norton.”

She was using a tone that would go with the ice princess picture, he thought. It was probably an attempt to distract him from the trembling in her fingers. “This will go easier if you remember we’re on your side, Dr. Petrova. We’re the good guys.”

“You’re soldiers.”

“Same thing.”

“You’re only as good as the orders you follow.”

What kind of men had she been around to have gained such a low opinion of them? “My orders are to get you and what you’re carrying safely to American jurisdiction,” Jack said. “I interpret that to mean everything you’re carrying, not just the disk, so you’ve got nothing to worry about.” He stopped at the back of the truck, took one look at the height of the tailgate and then leaned over to scoop Eva into his arms.

She gasped. “Sergeant!”

She was lighter than he’d expected, even with her extras. Instead of simply lifting her into the back and getting in after her, he carried her with him as he climbed inside.

Duncan looked up when the truck dipped with their weight. The moment he saw the bulge beneath Eva’s coat, he pulled off his headphones. “Ma’am, are you pregnant?”

Jack spoke before she could answer. “Nope. Not anymore. Ma’am, this is Duncan Colbert.”

She acknowledged the introduction with as much dignity as she could, considering her position.

Duncan frowned and looked at Jack. “What’s that mean, not anymore?”

“Dr. Petrova brought her kid along.” Jack picked his way through the loose bark that littered the rusty floor. Apparently, the truck he’d acquired had been last used for hauling firewood. He set Eva on her feet where the cargo bed met the truck cab. “Stay here, ma’am. It should be the most sheltered spot.”

“I need no special treatment.”

“Well, with Lang and Gonzales up front, the cab’s going to be crowded, and you probably don’t want to get too close to Matheson when he’s armed, so this is the only spot left.” He stuffed his gloves into his pocket and put down his gun so he could peel off his coat and spread it in front of her. “You can sit on this.”

“Thank you, but as I said, I need no special—”

“There might be spiders in the bark.”

She hesitated for less than a second before she sank to the cushion Jack’s coat provided and wrapped her arms around her baby. Her lips trembled. She pressed them together and inhaled hard through her nose.

Jack amended his assessment of her mental state, adding exhausted to terrified. He had a crazy urge to sit beside her and pull her, baby and all, into his arms. She’d felt good there. But that would probably bring out the ice princess again. He took one of her hands and guided it toward a loop of strapping that hung from the truck’s short side wall. “You might want to hold on to that once we start moving.”

She nodded and threaded her fingers through the loop.

Tyler returned and climbed into the truck, pulled up the tailgate and dropped the canvas into place. He spoke without turning around. “I heard you talking through the canvas, doc. It sounded like you said she brought a kid. Tell me I heard wrong.”

“Sorry, junior, you heard right. We have a baby on board.” Jack glanced from Tyler to Duncan. “Hey, either of you wouldn’t happen to have one of those signs to stick on the windshield, would you?”