“You were warned,” he whispered, his voice carrying clearly to Chloe.

He slid a hypodermic needle out of his pocket and inserted it into the mayor’s IV line, his thumb pushing whatever was in the cylinder into the life-giving fluids.

Chloe realized she’d have to handle this herself and hoped the guard would show up soon. “Hey!” She dashed into the room, knocked the needle away, then hit the IV pump switch marked Off, at the same time thrusting her leg out and hitting the intruder with a dropkick. The blow seemed to glance off as the attacker rose in one lithe movement.

“What did you put in there?”

He swung at her, aiming the needle. “Why don’t you try it and see?”

FAITH AT THE CROSSROADS: Can faith and love sustain two families against a diabolical enemy?

A TIME TO PROTECT–Lois Richer (LIS#13)

THE DANGER WITHIN–Valerie Hansen (LIS#15)

THROUGH THE FIRE–Sharon Mignerey (LIS#17)

IN THE ENEMY’S SIGHTS–Marta Perry (LIS#19)

STRICTLY CONFIDENTIAL–Terri Reed (LIS#21)

HEARTS ON THE LINE–Margaret Daley (LIS#23)

LOIS RICHER

Sneaking a flashlight under the blankets, hiding in a thicket of Caragana bushes where no one could see, pushing books into socks to take to camp—those are just some of the things Lois Richer freely admits to in her pursuit of the written word.

“I’m a bookaholic. I can’t do without stories,” she confesses. “It’s always been that way.”

Her love of language evolved into writing her own stories. Today her passion is to create tales of personal struggle that lead to triumph over life’s rocky road. For Lois, a happy ending is essential.

“In my stories, as in my own life, God has a way of making all things beautiful. Writing a love story is my way of reinforcing my faith in His ultimate goodness toward us—His precious children.”

A Time to Protect
Lois Richer

MILLS & BOON

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Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Lois Richer for her contribution to the FAITH AT THE CROSSROADS series.

I will instruct you and teach you in the way which you should go: I will counsel you with my eye upon you.

—Psalms 32:8

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Brendan Montgomery—The FBI agent was assigned to protect nurse Chloe Tanner from the would-be assassin who’d already made one attempt on the mayor’s life. But protecting his heart from the single mom and her charming kids is his toughest mission yet….

Chloe Tanner—Nothing was more important to this single mom than her kids’ safety, so having the FBI move into the living room was a necessary precaution. But while Brendan’s presence eased their fears, he put Chloe’s senses on high alert….

Maxwell Vance—The mayor of Colorado Springs. Was he shot because of his strong anti-drug stance, or was there something more sinister going on in his city?

Alessandro Donato—Max’s nephew-by-marriage, Alessandro received a call about the mayor’s shooting moments before it was announced on television…but why was an accountant for the European Union notified before the immediate family?

Dear Reader,

Welcome back to Colorado Springs, the town of the fictional Vance and Montgomery families. A Time To Protect is a story of faith. FBI agent Brendan Montgomery is assigned to protect nurse Chloe Tanner against a faceless attacker determined to kill her. Brendan’s faith in God is something Chloe admires, but as she struggles to understand God’s love, she also has to learn how to trust again.

As you read about Chloe’s struggle to regain her faith in God and people, I hope you’ll be challenged to test your own faith, to press deeper into the love God has for you. I wish you much joy, a double portion of love and the peace that comes from knowing God’s perfect love is always there, always waiting to comfort you.

Blessings,

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

Epilogue

Prologue

Brendan Montgomery switched his beeper to vibrate and slid it back inside his shirt pocket. Nothing was going to spoil Manuel DeSantis Vance’s first birthday party—and this large Vance and Montgomery gathering—if he could help it.

Peter Vance’s puffed-out chest needed little explanation. He was as formidable as any father proudly displaying his beloved child. Peter’s wife, Emily, waited on Manuel’s other side, posing for the numerous photographs Yvette Duncan insisted posterity demanded. Posterity was greedy.

Judging by the angle of her camera, Brendan had a hunch Yvette’s lens side-tracked from the birthday boy’s parents to the cake she’d made Manuel. Who could blame her? That intricate train affair must have required hours to create and assemble. By the size of his dark brown eyes, little Manuel obviously appreciated her efforts.

“Make sure you don’t chop off their heads this time, Yvette.”

Former mayor Frank Montgomery had opinions on everything in Colorado Springs. Fancying himself Yvette’s mentor, he’d never been shy about offering her his opinion, especially on all aspects of picture-taking. But since Yvette’s camera happened to be the latest in digital technology and Frank had never owned one, Brendan figured most of his uncle’s free advice was superfluous and probably useless. Still, he wouldn’t be the one to tell him so.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Frank,” Yvette ordered, adjusting the camera. “Just put your arm around your wife. Liza, can you get him to smile?”

After so many years of marriage, Liza knew exactly how to coax Frank’s smile with just a whisper. Satisfied, Yvette motioned for Manuel’s godparents, Dr. Robert Fletcher and his wife Pamela, and their two sons, to line up behind the birthday boy. Then she began snapping.

Brendan judged more than heads would be missing in her photos, digital technology notwithstanding. Before he said something he shouldn’t, he eased his way into the living room. A horde of family members lounged around the room, heads tilted forward, focused on a news report on the big-screen TV.

“Alistair Barclay, the British hotel mogul now infamous for his ties to the La Mano Oscura drug cartel, died today in jail under suspicious circumstances. Barclay was accused of running a branch of the notorious crime syndicate right here in Colorado Springs. The drug cartel originated in Venezuela under the direction of kingpin Baltasar Escalante, whose private plane crashed a year ago while he was attempting to escape the CIA. Residents of Colorado Springs have worked long and hard to free their city from the grip of crime—”

“Hey, guys, this is a party. Let’s lighten up.” Brendan reached out and pressed the mute button among a plethora of groans. “You can listen to the newscast later, but we don’t want to spoil Manuel’s party with talk of drug cartels and death, do we?”

His brother, Quinn, winked and took up his cause. “Yeah, what’s happened with that cake anyway? Are we ever going to eat it? I’m starving.”

“So is somebody else, apparently.” Yvette appeared in the doorway, her flushed face wreathed in a grin. “Manuel already got his thumb onto the railway track and now he’s covered in black icing. His momma told him he had to wait ’til the mayor gets here though, so I guess you’ll just have to do the same, Quinn.”

A good-natured groan went up from the group.

“Maxwell Vance has been late ever since he got elected into office,” Fiona Montgomery said, her eyes dancing with fun. “Maybe one of us should give him a call and remind him we’re waiting. I’m willing to do it.”

“Leave the mayor alone, Mother.” Brendan shared a grin with his brother. “Max already knows your opinion on pretty much everything.”

Both Brendan and Quinn were well aware Fiona’s impatience had nothing to do with eating that cake. She simply couldn’t wait to watch Manuel open his gifts. Their mother was a sucker for any toy that moved and made a lot of noise. He and Quinn had often joked that whichever of them got married and had children first was going to have to curb Fiona of her penchant for shopping in the toy department. So far, neither of them had to worry.

“It may be that the mayor has been delayed by some important meeting.” Alessandro Donato spoke up from his seat in the corner. “This is the time when city councilors and mayors iron out their budgets, yes?”

“But just yesterday I talked to our mayor about that, regarding a story I’m doing on city finances.” Brendan’s cousin Colleen sat cross-legged on the floor, her hair tied back into the eternal ponytail she favored. “Mayor Max said they hadn’t started yet.”

Something about the way Alessandro moved when he heard Colleen’s comment set a nerve in Brendan’s neck to twitching, enough to make him take a second look at the man. Moving up through the ranks of the FBI after his time as a Colorado Springs police officer had only happened because Brendan paid attention to that nerve. Right now it was telling him to keep an eye on the tall, lean fellow named Alessandro, even if he was Lidia Vance’s nephew.

Something about Alessandro didn’t quite fit. Brendan wasn’t sure why he thought that, but it might have had to do with the fact that Alessandro was more European than American and took pains to show it.

Brendan closed his eyes and let his brain click through its mental files until he was reminded of what he did know about this family member.

Alessandro Donato said he was an accountant for the European Union, claimed he was working on some hush-hush business deal in Colorado Springs. Peter and Travis Vance were his cousins, but on the two occasions Brendan had spoken to them, both men seemed slightly wary of Alessandro, as if they didn’t quite trust him. Yet they barely knew him. So why—

A phone rang. Brendan chuckled when everyone in the room immediately checked their pockets. His grin faded when Alessandro spoke into his. Immediately the other man’s face paled, his body tensed. He murmured one word then listened.

“Hey, something’s happening! Turn up the TV, Brendan.” Everyone was staring at the screen where a reporter stood in front of City Hall.

Brendan raised the volume.

“Mayor Maxwell Vance was apparently on his way to a family event when the shot was fired. Excuse me, I’m getting an update.” The reporter lifted one hand to press the earpiece closer. “I’m now told that there may have been more than one shot fired. At this moment Maxwell Vance is on his way to the hospital. Witnesses say he was bleeding profusely from his head, perhaps also his chest, though that has not been confirmed. We’ll update you as the situation develops.”

Max’s children gathered around their mother as Lidia collapsed. Sons Peter, Travis and Sam began organizing who would be driving which family members to the hospital while Lucia, Jessica, Emily and Tricia decided who would stay home with the kids.

Brendan caught movement from the corner of his eye, saw Alessandro flip his phone closed and tuck it into his pocket. The other man rose and Brendan followed him, blocking his escape.

“You knew, didn’t you?” he asked, only then realizing that Alessandro hadn’t even glanced at the television before leaving.

“Excuse me. I have just received a phone call from a friend telling me about the attack on the mayor.”

“What else did they tell you, Alessandro?” He pinned the man with his coldest look, one he usually reserved for criminals he was interrogating.

“I only know the mayor was shot twice. No one seems to have seen whoever did it. My aunt needs me. I have to go. Excuse me.” Alessandro sidestepped him, made his apology to Yvette, then slipped out of the room.

Brendan watched him go with mounting suspicion. He was hiding something. But what? And why?

The jiggle of his own beeper sidetracked his thoughts. He tugged it out of his pocket. The number displayed was his office. He moved into a nearby bedroom, closed the door and flipped open his own cell phone.

“Montgomery. Yeah, I heard. One shot or two?”

“Two. One to the head. The other just missed his heart.”

So Alessandro’s source had been at the scene? “Sounds professional.”

“You think?” His boss’s voice brimmed with sarcasm. Duncan Dorne never minced words. “I thought we had this town cleaned up and now this happens. I want to know what’s going on, Brendan, and I want to know it yesterday. Take a good look at the scene, see if you can find somebody who knows anything, then get to the hospital. He regains consciousness and you’re the first one in there. Got it? This is top priority.”

“Okay, Duncan. I’m on it.”

Brendan managed to slip away from the house without much of an explanation. His family knew his job demanded his time at all hours—they even expected him to be called away from family functions. But nobody could have expected a hit on the mayor.

The nerve in his neck was really twitching now.

Something in this town was wrong and Brendan had an awful feeling that Maxwell Vance had been right: The folks in Colorado Springs couldn’t afford to become complacent just because they’d ousted one crime syndicate. Brendan knew from hard experience that there were plenty of others just waiting to get a foothold and continue the dirty business of drugs and weapons transport, among other things.

Brendan shifted into third, pulled past a group of joyriding teens and headed for downtown. Whatever was going on, he’d figure it out. He had to.

There was no way he was letting any organized crime syndicate back into his town. Not if he could stop it.

So they’d ordered Alistair’s death, gotten rid of him because he was of no more use—like garbage that needed to be tossed away.

Not a single tear betrayed the inner turmoil or sheer fury that flared inside. But like a steel shaft, revenge penetrated, burning away any inhibitions that might have caused a change in course. Alistair Barclay would be avenged.

The car engine roared, the town disappeared, for now. But not for long. Justice must be done, retribution paid. They thought they were so smart, self-righteous and smug. They thought they were immune, just as he thought it. Little did any of them know they were merely cogs in a wheel of reprisal that would crush them.

Only then would Alistair be avenged.

Maybe, then, this horrible aching pain would subside.

Chapter One

Chole Tanner checked the mayor’s vital signs once more, noted them on the chart, then walked out of the room to collect a new IV drip bag from her cart in the hall, intending to exchange it for the nearly empty one. A hand reached around her, fingers clamped over her wrist.

“You’re not a nurse. What are you doing?”

A man appeared in front of her and he was not the middle-aged guard named Sid who’d been seated by the door of the mayor’s room. This man was tall, at least six feet, with the kind of hair she privately labeled “beach boy”—mussed, light brown with golden streaks that reflected the light and made him look as if he’d just left his surfboard and the sand behind.

Mostly it was his green eyes that fascinated her, frozen bits of emerald that echoed the frost in his voice. “I asked you a question.”

A reporter trying to get a story? She glared at him.

“This is an intensive care unit, sir. You are not authorized to be here. I’ll have to ask you to leave.” She stood her ground, her fingers still gripping the bag of fluid, his hand still clasping her wrist. “Now.”

“I’m not going anywhere and you’ll have a tough time throwing me out, honey.” He grinned, a slow easy smirk that annoyed her intensely.

“You think so?” Chloe assessed him. Look for the weak spot. In two seconds she’d brought down her other hand in a crack across his wrist and broken his grip. A quick twist of her foot against his knee and he was on the floor.

“Now, if you don’t mind,” she said quietly, staring at him spread-eagled on the hard white tile, “I have a job to do and the mayor needs new fluids. So please leave or I’ll have you removed.”

She thought he’d be embarrassed. Most men would be. But this one rose to his feet lithely, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Hey, you’re good!” He dusted off his pants with a chuckle. “But that doesn’t explain what you’re doing here. Who are you, anyway?”

“Chloe Tanner, nurse.” She pointed to her name tag, but realized it wasn’t attached because she was wearing scrubs. “A patient was sick on me and I didn’t have time to do much more than pull these on.” She waited for him to leave. “Visitors are not allowed in Intensive Care. Not today.”

“I know.” He pulled out his badge, showed her his ID. “Brendan Montgomery. FBI. Can you tell me how the mayor is?”

“No, I can’t.” She hung on to his badge when he would have pulled it away and gave it a thorough scrutiny. Sid’s police presence in the ward had made her edgy. “Nice badge, I suppose. But it doesn’t say you have any authorization to be on this floor, Mr. Montgomery. We were specifically warned by the police not to allow anyone up here who isn’t on their list. I’ve memorized that list—you’re not there.”

“Anything wrong?” Sid had risen, laid one hand on his holster.

“Everything’s fine, Sid. You weren’t expecting anyone else, were you? FBI, maybe?” Chloe saw his negative response and handed back the badge. “I didn’t think so. You, sir, will have to leave. For information about the patient talk to the doctors or the front office. Now if you don’t mind?”

“Oh, but I do mind, Miss Tanner.” He stood in front of her—tall, muscular, disturbing. A tiny smile flicked up one corner of his lips. “I certainly do mind.” One hand stretched out, then retracted as if he were afraid she’d grab it again. “What color do you call your hair?”

“My hair?” Without thinking, she touched the top of her head, felt the ponytail still securely tied. “Auburn, but I can’t imagine why it matters. And it’s Mrs. Tanner.”

“Mrs.?” He frowned as if he’d come upon something smelly and distasteful. “Tanner. For some reason that sounds familiar. What does your husband do?”

“Not visit his family,” she muttered without thinking.

“Sorry?” That quizzical look covered his suntanned face again.

Chloe regrouped.

“I’m sorry, too, Mr. Montgomery. I’m divorced, so I no longer know nor care what my ex-husband does.” She couldn’t believe she’d told him that. To regain her composure she bent over and retrieved the IV bag. “Much as I’d like to continue this discussion, I have other patients to see to, and an IV to change.”

She turned her back on him, made the transfer and walked back out to the hall with the empty bag, slightly relieved that the mayor’s guard was there. If anything happened that she couldn’t handle, at least Sid had a gun.

Her nemesis waited outside the room, watching.

“Look, buddy, I don’t care if you’re the president, you’re not permitted to be here until someone tells me differently. You’ll have to leave. Now.”

“I’m not leaving. I’m checking into what happened to the mayor. It’s my job. You can call the administrator and you’ll find I have clearance to come and go as necessary, which means that it’s okay for me to be here.”

“You need to understand that looking after this unit is my job and I’m not going to let anyone who’s not supposed to be here on my ward. I’m calling security.” Chloe strode to the desk, called and asked about her stubborn visitor. A ripple of frustration washed over her. He was who he said he was. And he was allowed to be on her floor, guarding her patient. “Thanks,” she mumbled into the phone. She felt like a fool.

She was tired and grumpy because someone had called in sick and the ward was shorthanded again, but most of all she was embarrassed that she’d harassed him—and she’d knocked down an FBI agent! Why hadn’t he told her the truth to begin with?

Not that Chloe needed the answer to that. After all, she’d already dealt with a father who’d lied, a cheating husband to whom truth was whatever was convenient and now a supervisor who didn’t know reality from his own fiction. She could handle this guy with one hand tied behind her back.

“Everything check out? Did I make your list?” He loomed over the counter, his smile just itching to break free. The ice had melted and he was a gorgeous sight.

“You’ve been added.” Chloe sucked in a breath and ordered her blood pressure down. “You can stay. You can look around. But you cannot touch anything. Understand?” She ignored him, smiled at Sid and returned to the mayor’s bed once more before moving on to her next patient. When she’d completed her rounds, she returned to the desk. He was still there.

“How is Max doing?”

Chloe found herself repeating the official version.

“Mayor Vance is currently unresponsive. He has a bullet fragment lodged in his brain which the surgeons feel would be detrimental to remove at this time. The other gunshot passed completely through his body missing his heart by centimeters. At the moment, the mayor’s condition is listed as stable but critical. He has not regained consciousness since the incident.” She raised one eyebrow. “Anything else?”

“I guess not. If he hasn’t spoken then that’s no help.”

He frowned, making her think of a little boy who couldn’t grasp what he’d done wrong.

“Why so hostile, Mrs. Tanner?” he asked. “I’m just trying to do my job.”

“As am I, Agent Montgomery.” She dropped the chart back into its holder and studied him. “What is it you hoped to find here anyway?”

“Information that would lead me to the perpetrator of this crime.”

The grim tightness of his voice suggested the mayor’s shooting had been committed against him personally. Chloe admired his dedication to justice but this was taking it to the extreme. She raised one eyebrow.

“We don’t have any bad guys hiding here, so I think you can go home and get some sleep.” Since she’d moved to Colorado Springs, Chloe had heard a lot about Montgomery and the Vance families and their close-knit ties. Perhaps that’s why this man felt he had to stand guard over the mayor. Maybe he was some kind of close family friend—which would make his job much tougher. A trickle of sympathy spurted up.

“Hey, Chloe, I’m back.” Theresa, her co-worker, raised an arm as she walked through the elevator door. “Ooh. I see you’ve had company while I’ve been away.” She offered the FBI agent a fawning smile. “You can take your break now if you want, Chloe. I’ll look after your friend.”

“That’s kind of you.” Brendan Montgomery smiled at the woman, but never budged from his position. “Your sacrifice is unnecessary though. I have a few more questions for Mrs. Tanner. You were the nurse on duty when he was admitted, correct?”

“Yes,” she admitted grudgingly, searching for an excuse to get away from Theresa’s curious stare without being too obvious.

“Then I’d like to ask a few more questions, if you don’t mind.”

“You’ll have to ask while I have my break.” Loathe to face the barrage of questions that would follow, Chloe strode to the elevator. Once inside she stepped as far away from him as the space allowed. “I don’t know anything more and I really need to relax for a few minutes. Please, just leave me alone.”

“Hey!” Brendan Montgomery held up both hands. “I’m not stalking you. I just thought we could have some coffee while I ask you some questions.”

“Ask away. But I’m telling you, I don’t know anything.”

“You might have seen something without recognizing what it was,” he said as the elevator opened.

“If I did, I’m too tired to remember it.” Chloe stepped out toward the cafeteria. She knew he was following but pretended she didn’t. She needed to think about Christmas, figure out a way to handle her son’s request to go skiing with his friends for the holidays.

“You’re going to eat all that?” a voice over her shoulder asked.

Chloe glanced down, saw a carton of chocolate milk, three sandwiches, two apples, a cellophane-wrapped bowl of pudding and a piece of pie. Cheeks burning, she returned most of it then walked toward the cashier.

“I’m paying.” A twenty-dollar bill pushed past her shoulder and before she could object the cashier had made change.

She opened her mouth to argue, caught a gleam of interest on the cashier’s face and offered a simple “Thank you.” Chloe chose a table far away from the few staff who dotted the area, sat down and began to unwrap her sandwich. Night shift wasn’t bad, except that she always got so hungry, and she missed saying good-night to the kids.

Brendan Montgomery flopped down across from her. A moment later his hand thwacked the table. “Hey, do you know Madison Tanner?”

“She’s my daughter.” She frowned. “How do you know Maddy?”

“Soccer,” he announced with a grin. “I’m the new coach, started last week. But I didn’t see you at the last practice.”

“I was working. The sitter took her.” She frowned, troubled by his information. “Is something wrong with their former coach?”

“No. Buddy Jeffers is still on our side, but his work at the high school is taking a toll. He mentioned he needed help or he’d have to quit. My mother volunteered me to team coach with him.”

“Your mother?” Chloe frowned. He sure didn’t look like a mama’s boy. “I don’t believe I know her.” The flicker of a smile that tiptoed across his lips puzzled her.

“Ever hear of the Stagecoach Café, Mrs. Tanner?”

His mother was a waitress? Chloe frowned, then remembered. “You said your name was Montgomery,” she said aloud, thinking. “Fiona Montgomery owns the Stagecoach—”

He nodded. “My mother.”

“Oh.” She had to clamp her lips closed to stop her thoughts about Mrs. Montgomery from becoming public.

“I see you understand how I came to be a soccer coach.” Brendan chuckled, his whole face alive with amusement.

“I’m sorry.” Chloe felt herself blush. “It’s just that she is a little—”

“Overpowering?” He nodded. “No kidding. What did she hit you up for?”

“Nothing, really.” Chloe wished she hadn’t said a word.

“Tell the truth. I can take it.” He raised one eyebrow meaningfully. “I know my mother is like a steamroller. You won’t hurt my feelings.”

Chloe took one look at his face and knew he’d pry it out of her somehow.

“The blood drive last spring,” she told him. “She needed someone to put up posters. She was rather…emphatic that I help out. I came home after work to find two hundred posters on my porch, with very explicit directions.”

“That’s my mom.” He nodded, then shrugged. “I can’t cure her, so I just love her. Be glad she didn’t find out you have kids.”

“Why?” Chloe swallowed the last of her sandwich and sipped her chocolate milk. “Doesn’t she like them?”

“Oh, yeah, she likes them just fine. But she likes their toys a lot more.” He shook his head at her puzzled frown. “Never mind. It would take too long to explain my mother. Anyway I wanted to ask you about the mayor.”

“I already told you—”

He held up one hand. “I got the official line. I’m not after that.”

“Then what?” She finished the rest of her lunch, rose and carried the tray and contents to the nearest garbage. She had ten minutes more but decided not to linger. That would only mean answering more of his questions and she didn’t like to tell strangers anything. She’d learned not to trust long ago.

“Mrs. Tanner?” Brendan Montgomery followed her to the elevator.

“It’s Chloe. I don’t have any more information about the mayor than his medical condition. And I told you about that.”

“Anyone visit him?”

The lurch of the elevator sent them upwards. Chloe thought a moment.

“His wife and children. And a cousin or something from Europe. They left around nine-thirty to go home for a rest, but I’m sure they’ll be back tomorrow morning. There’s nothing they can do while he’s unconscious and with the surgery he’s just had…” She let it trail away.

“Yes, of course. I knew about Lidia and her family.” He matched his pace to hers. “Anyone else?”

“No—oh, yes. The deputy mayor. Mr. Frost, isn’t it? He was here for a while, but he just stood on the sidelines. Never spoke to Mrs. Vance, either, except to offer his regrets. At least, that’s all I heard.”

“So no one else stopped by?” He sounded disappointed.

Chloe didn’t understand what more he wanted. She was a nurse. She was paid to care for the patients, not to ask the names of whoever stopped by.

“It’s a restricted area,” she told him again. “The general public isn’t allowed up here.” The elevator doors opened. She stepped out, stopped. “Look!” She pointed at a small figure in jeans and a flannel shirt standing in the door of the mayor’s room. The police guard was missing.

“You know I did see someone with a shirt like that earlier. I just can’t remember—hey!” The figure stepped into the room. “What are you doing? She’s not supposed to go in there,” she told Brendan over one shoulder.

Chloe raced down the hall, mentally preparing to take on the intruder to protect her patient while realizing that somewhere along the way she’d accepted Brendan’s unvoiced suspicion that someone who wasn’t supposed to be here would visit the mayor.

The question was—why did the FBI think that?

Chapter Two

Chloe Tanner sprinted like a greyhound at the track, long legs eating up the distance down the gleaming hallway tile with effortless ease.

Brendan followed, his gaze fixed on the nurse as she closed in on the interloper. When she spun the person around he almost choked. “Colleen?”

“You know this person?”

Chloe had released her hold, yet Brendan knew that Colleen didn’t have a chance of evading the nurse. He’d already made a mental note that Chloe’s reaction times signaled some kind of martial arts training. Earlier she’d taken him down without blinking and he didn’t cave easily. So she was well-trained—black belt probably.

Some women carried pepper spray or even a gun for protection. Some learned basic methods of self-defense. But Chloe’s quickness, the speed with which she reacted, signaled more than routine training. Had Madison mentioned her mother’s dedication to some sport?

His mind clicked into the familiar police mode and Brendan found himself wondering about the ex-husband. Maybe Chloe had to defend herself and her children against him. A burst of gall in his stomach told him how much he hated that thought.

“Do you know her?” Chloe repeated, her voice threaded with steel.

“I know her. She’s my cousin and a reporter for the Colorado Springs Sentinel.” Brendan turned his attention back to the feisty blond cousin he’d never been able to keep in check all through their wild and wooly childhood. “What are you doing here, Colleen?”

“Reporting on the mayor’s shooting, of course. It’s what I do, remember, Bren?” Colleen’s blue eyes dared him to comment on her job.

“Well, what I do is look after the patients,” the nurse explained, her voice soft enough not to disturb any patient, but firm enough to make it clear she meant business. “When they are in this hospital there is a certain expectation of privacy which we try to provide for our patients. In this particular ward there are restrictions which are clearly posted. We do not allow reporters to wander into Intensive Care with tape recorders to talk to our patients. Even if they could speak.”

Brendan felt his jaw drop as Chloe slid the recorder out of Colleen’s hands, removed the tape and handed it back.

“You can’t do that! I had some other stuff on there—”

“I’m very sorry, Miss Montgomery, but I’m just doing my job.”

Brendan couldn’t detect a hint of remorse on Chloe Tanner’s gorgeous face. Her eyes—wide open, guileless and blue—stared back at his cousin, the thick lashes a perfect frame for those giant irises. Even with that gorgeous mane of shimmering auburn scraped back off her face, Chloe Tanner was a beautiful woman. In fact, her hairstyle only emphasized the clear alabaster tone of her skin and offered an enchanting view of her haunting cheekbones and full lips.

“You will have to leave now, Miss Montgomery. You do not have a visitor’s pass and you are not permitted to be here.” Chloe stood in the doorway of the mayor’s room, slim, defiant, the blue of her eyes a different tone than Colleen’s lighter ones, but every bit as determined.

Brendan braced himself for the argument his cousin would mount, then realized something was wrong. “Just a minute, Colleen. There’s supposed to be a guard here.”

“Oh, Sid was all doubled over when I came. Needed a break, you know? I guess he caught something. I said I’d watch the door for him.”

“He’s not allowed to leave. The mayor is to have round-the-clock protection. In case they try again.” Furious as this security breakdown, Brendan pulled out his phone, asked for another guard. A moment later Sid returned looking whiter than the floor as he staggered to his chair. “Hold on, Sid. I’ve got someone else coming to replace you.”

“I shouldn’t have left, but—oh,” he groaned and grabbed his stomach.

Moments later a uniformed officer hurried through the door to take his place. Sid left. Brendan turned and noticed Chloe Tanner hadn’t budged from the mayor’s doorway.

“You’ll have to leave,” she insisted, glaring at Colleen. “Now.”

“Fine.”

“Just a minute.” Brendan frowned at his cousin. “How did you get up here, Colleen?”

“The stairs.”

“Nobody stopped you?”

“Nobody except her.”

“That’s my job. You should not be here. Please leave.”

“I’m going. You should think about hiring her, Brendan. She’s better than a guard dog.” Colleen jerked her head at Chloe, snapped her recorder closed, turned and walked away. The elevator doors closed behind her.

“Do you know how rare that is?” Brendan stared in disbelief. Chloe ignored him, calmly returned to the desk and checked the open chart. Brendan was used to cataloguing height and weight, but Chloe’s long legs made her look substantially taller than the five feet six inches he’d first gauged her to be. “I can hardly believe I witnessed that with my own eyes.”

“I beg your pardon?” She glanced up from the monitor that gave her a full view of every patient’s room. They could both see Theresa checking the temperature of a patient across the way. “What’s rare?” she asked as she sidestepped him to pick up the ringing phone. She dealt with the caller summarily, then glanced at him, her mouth pursing. “You were saying?”

Her lips were full, enticing. Was she wearing lipstick—and why hadn’t it come off with her lunch? Realizing the path his thoughts were taking, Brendan fought to regain his focus. “Colleen never does as anyone asks. If she thinks there’s a story in it, she doesn’t give up.”

“Good for her.” Chloe stepped around him again, made an entry on a piece of paper and gave a hiss of frustration when she found him in the way again. Her hands clamped onto her narrow hips. “Look, I’ve got things to do and you are hampering my work. There’s really nothing more I can tell you about the mayor, so please let me do my job.”

It was evident she was telling the truth. There were no clues here. Reassured that security was back in place, all that was left was to check with the local cops about other access points and make sure no one else could use the stairs to get to the mayor.

“Thank you for your help. Here’s my card. If you think of anything, call. I’ll leave you in peace now.” Brendan walked to the elevator, paused, then turned back. “Maybe I’ll see you at soccer practice, Mrs. Tanner,” he said. “We don’t have many games left before the season ends.”

“Maybe you will,” she agreed, her attention on the monitor. When a buzzer sounded she hurried away to answer its summons.

On the ride down to the main entrance, Brendan’s thoughts were definitely not on his job, not until he rounded the corner of the parking lot and spotted the deputy mayor lurking in the shadows. At least it looked like Owen Frost. About to ask if he wanted a ride somewhere, Brendan froze when a black car eased toward Owen, who bent over to speak to the person inside. He took something from an outstretched hand then the black car rolled away.

Brendan pressed against a bunch of bushes, hoping they would shield him from the car’s headlights. When he looked around again he saw Owen now sitting in his own car, so he edged closer for a better look. The deputy mayor appeared to be counting bills—twenties.

Immediately the little nerve in Brendan’s neck began its rat-tatting, double time. Since when did the deputy mayor need to skulk in the dark, hide in the shadows? Something was going on and it involved money.

A bribe? A payoff? Or maybe a debt paid off?

Questions bubbled up. Was the deputy mayor involved in the shooting of Mayor Maxwell Vance? But why? The mayor’s job hardly paid enough to make attempted murder worthwhile.

Clearly something was out of place. Brendan intended to find out what.

“He was supposed to kill the mayor.” The man they called El Jefe or The Chief tilted forward, insinuation in every word. “Were those not my orders?”

“Y-yes, sir.” The peon gulped, Adam’s apple bobbing. The other man remained silent, eyes narrowed.

“Then I suggest you see to it, before I find someone more…effective.”

“We can do it, Chief.” He looked at his partner. “We’ll go right away.”

“No. Not tonight. Too many people around, asking questions. Wait a while. Choose the opportunity. Patience is a virtue, you know.” He curled his lips in a smile, but he felt no mirth. “Get it done. Or else.”

They disappeared like phantoms of the night. Almost exactly as planned. One mistake easily rectified then they would move on. He pulled out his cell phone.

“Hola, Miguel! Sí, it is I. Como esta?” He listened, nodded. “Sí, the shop is ready to open. But my merchandise is not all here. Ah. Bueno.” He hung up, then glanced around. The location was ideal, the stage set. If all went well, business would be up and running full steam in a matter of days.

“And no one can stop me,” he gloated. “No one.”

“Okay, guys. Here’s what we’re going to do.” Brendan felt ten feet tall as the youthful faces stared up at him, brimming with expectation. This ragtag bunch of soccer novices was doing well. If only they could win this game, build up their confidence. He whispered a prayer for help as he reminded the players about a new move he’d demonstrated at the last practice. He led a cheer before they tumbled onto the field.

She wasn’t here today. He’d checked the bleachers several times but hadn’t been able to spot a particular shade of red hair that would have identified Chloe Tanner. He should have known better than to look. Madison had already told him she’d come to practice with a friend.

“Come on, Springers!”

A parent’s yell of support drew his attention back to his team and the game. He grinned, hollered his own encouragement. Sure enough, his timid team was trying what he’d asked, coaxing the ball down the field in a mix of stabs and thrusts that had the other team baffled.

“Kick it,” he whispered as they approached the opposing net. “Kick it!”

As if she’d heard, one small foot came out, smashed into the ball and sent it flying straight toward the net. A howl of excitement burst out of the crowd and Brendan held his breath then let it whoosh out in disappointment. The goalie had easily stopped the shot and now kicked it toward his team’s strongest player.

“We’re dead now,” Buddy mourned sotto voce.

But the Springers weren’t quite ready to concede. One of the smallest players, Ashley, slipped the ball off the foot of the other player and shot toward the net with all her might, legs churning like windmills. At the last possible moment, with the goalie who was twice her size looming, she drop-passed the ball to teammate Emily Cornell, who promptly rocketed it into the net.

“Did you see that?”

Brendan felt a thwack against his back and fought to catch his breath. Coach Buddy Jeffers might think he was worn out, but it was evident from the thumping on Brendan’s left shoulder that Buddy’s strength had only been in hiatus and was now back full force.

The players rushed toward them, faces beaming with delight.

“You are an awesome team!” Brendan cheered, slapping each one on the back. “Now we’ve only got a few minutes left in the game and we need one more goal. Can you do it?”

Unanimous agreement. He cut short his pep talk and asked them to try the attack they’d worked out at the last practice.

“You faked them out pretty good on that last pass. So think about that and play your hardest. Go, Springers!”

They surged onto the field and took possession of the ball almost immediately. One minute twenty seconds left and they lost it. Brendan could have cried but he clenched his fists and willed them on. Madison Tanner yelled something at the girl across from her. A moment later the two of them took off down the field, Madison clearing the way. She accepted a pass, then before her opponent could attack, whisked the ball across to Emily. A second later it was in the net.

Brendan laughed out loud and quickly stepped out of Buddy’s way as the coach did his jiggy dance. They weren’t out of the woods yet. Less than a minute remained on the clock. The other team could easily tie the game. He called a time out.

“We need one more goal, don’t we?” Madison’s heart-shaped face shone with perspiration. “Otherwise they can tie it and they’ll get into the finals because they have more points than us. Right, Coach Jeffers?”

Buddy’s face sobered. “You’re right, Madison.”

“So we need another goal.” Brendan glanced at the weary group. “I’m thinking our number eight play might just work. Want to give it a try?”

The majority looked dubious, and why not? Number eight was hard to execute. But they had enough time for only one chance.

“They’re pretty big, Coach. We look like midgets next to them.”

“That’s why we need to try it, Emily. They make good targets.” The other kids chuckled at his joke. “Listen, you have really shown what a good team you are. If you want to try something else, we’ll do it. What do you think?”

Nobody said a word.

“All I know is, we worked hard to get here and I’m not giving up yet. Not when we could get into the finals.” Madison stood with her tiny feet planted on the grass, daring the other players. “Are you?”

“Not me.” Ashley grinned. So did the rest.

They repeated it over, one by one, until all were cheering. The whistle went and the team poured out onto the field, ready to give it their all. At the last moment the other coach pulled a smaller player and sent in his biggest offensive player. Madison was no match. Brendan whispered a prayer for her safety. Her heart was big, but her body was small, fragile.

The first twenty seconds the other team commanded the game, moving closer and closer to the Springers’ net.

“I shouldn’t have pushed them so hard,” he murmured to Buddy. “They’re too young and they’re against a much better team.”

“Think so?” Buddy pointed. “Look at that.”

Madison darted around her opponent and kicked the ball as hard as she could. No one was expecting it but her teammates immediately recognized the formation and moved into the pattern they’d practiced. Twenty seconds later the ball was in the net.

And Madison was on the ground. Unmoving.

Brendan raced out to the tiny form, his heart beating so fast he could hardly breathe. He squatted beside her, calling her name.

“Madison? Madison, are you all right?”

“Let me see.” Someone pushed against him, forcing him to move. Chloe Tanner knelt at her daughter’s side, felt her pulse then checked under her eyelids, that gorgeous sprawl of auburn hair cascading over one shoulder and onto the young girl. Able hands slipped over the small bones, checking for injuries. “Come on, baby. It’s Mom. You can’t lie here if you want to win the game, you know.” Not a tremor belied that steady, compelling voice.

“Is she—” Just in time Brendan caught the shake of Chloe’s head and cut off his words. The team had gathered around and were staring down at the white-faced girl who still hadn’t moved.

“Come on, honey. If you’re going to win, we have to finish the game.”

Madison’s eyes fluttered open. She blinked several times before a funny smile flickered across her lips. “Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, yourself. Are you all right? Any dizziness?”

“No. I’m okay. It hurts a little. Here.” She pointed to her shoulder.

“It should hurt.” Emily pointed at the offender from the opposite team. “She jabbed her with an elbow. Deliberately. I saw it. Then she laughed when Madison fell down.”

Brendan glanced up at the referee, raised one eyebrow.

“I didn’t see it. Can’t call what I didn’t see.”

“Come on, sweetie. Sit up and take deep breaths. You’re okay. You just got the wind knocked out of you.” After a moment Chloe gently eased her daughter to her feet, eyes alert for any sign of difficulty. “Is that better?”

“Yes.” Madison was standing now. “Is the game over?”

“Five seconds left,” Buddy told them.

“Then let’s finish it,” Madison said to the other players. She turned to take her place on the field but Brendan laid a hand on her arm to stop her.

“The others can finish wiping them up, Madison. You’ve done your part. You sit down and rest.”

“Yes, sir.” She high-fived the rest of the group then moved to the sidelines. Chloe turned toward the bleachers.

“Aren’t you going to stay with her?” Brendan asked.

She gave him a look that would have curdled milk.

“Have her mother sit beside her, in front of everyone, embarrassing her? Are you kidding, Mr. Montgomery?” And with a toss of that lustrous hair she was gone, jogging across the field, her trim figure perfectly displayed in shabby blue jeans and a pale blue boiled wool jacket.

“You sick, Bren?” Buddy nudged him with his elbow.

“No. Why?”

“You sure got a funny look on your face.”

Brendan returned to his place on the sidelines, sent out another player and waited for the whistle to blow. They’d won the game. He couldn’t suppress a grin as his team cheered and congratulated each other, then lined up to shake hands with the opposing team. But he kept his eye on Madison, especially when her attacker came toward her.

He needn’t have worried. Madison thrust out her hand as she looked the other girl straight in the eye. “I forgive you,” she said clearly.

Brendan could have cheered. Of all the lessons he’d hoped to impart to this team, this was by far the most important. Last in line, the coach of the opposing team grabbed his hand and congratulated him.

“Just want you to know that I’ll be doing some discipline,” he told them. “We play hard but we don’t play dirty.”

“Thanks.” Brendan watched them leave, saw his own team laughing and giggling as they and Buddy gathered up their equipment. Across the field Chloe waited beside a tall, lanky boy who stood about an inch taller than her.

“Come on, Madison, let’s go see your mom. I’ll bet you’re beginning to feel a little sore, aren’t you?”

“A little,” she admitted, wincing as she moved one shoulder, her blond ponytail slapping against her cheek as she wiggled into her jacket.

“You were a good sport in your behavior toward them. That took a lot of courage.”

“Thanks.” She grinned at him then hugged her mother. “We won!”

“You sure did, honey. Congratulations.” Chloe glanced up at Brendan, her face giving nothing away. “You’re a good coach.”

“You have a daughter who excels at soccer. Besides, I came into this late. Coach Jeffers is the one who deserves the credit.” He glanced at the lean boy who hadn’t yet offered his congratulations. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Brendan Montgomery.” He thrust out a hand.

“Kyle Tanner.”

“Ah, Madison’s brother, I presume.” He squinted. “Not a soccer fan?”

“I don’t mind watching Madison, but it’s not my game.” Kyle looked him up and down. “I suppose you were a jock when you were in school?”

Brendan caught the look of irritation that fluttered across Chloe’s face but he simply laughed at the boy’s sour comment.

“Hardly a jock. But I played soccer a lot. It kept me off the baseball and football teams.”

“You didn’t like those sports?” Kyle seemed puzzled.

“I didn’t like having to live up to my big brother’s image.” Brendan made a face as he ticked the praises off on one hand. “Best quarterback, best pitcher, best hockey forward, best everything.”

“You won a soccer trophy, though,” Madison put in, grinning at him. “Coach Jeffers told us about it.”

“Yeah, my one claim to fame.” Brendan glanced at the backpack Kyle carried. “What are your preferences?”

“I like reading and I have a pet snake named Ziggy.”

Snake? “Oh.” Brendan looked at the ground hoping the kid couldn’t see his shudder of revulsion.

“Sometimes he writes poems,” Madison blurted out. “They’re way cool.”

“I bet they are. I have a favorite book of poems at home that my dad gave me last Christmas. They say things better than I can.” Brendan found Chloe eyeing him with a stern glare, as if she thought he was lying. “Well, I guess I’d better get going. And you get a shower, young lady. A hot one. Might help ease the pain.” He watched as Kyle, looking bored, wandered ahead.

“Yeah. Hot sounds good.” Madison moved her shoulder and winced. Suddenly her face brightened. “Hey, Mom, can Coach Montgomery have dinner with us tonight?”

“I have to work tonight, Maddy. Anyway, it’s just a casserole. I’m sure Mr. Montgomery isn’t all that fond of turkey noodle melt.”

“Are you kidding? I love turkey any way I can get it.” Brendan licked his lips. “I’m not very good at cooking turkey though my mother tried her best to teach me the basics.”

“Oh.” Chloe blinked. “Okay. Well, we’d better get going before it burns.”

The beautiful Mrs. Tanner was an expert at hiding her emotions, which made Brendan wonder about Mr. Tanner. At the moment her face was impassive, which made him question whether Chloe was mad he’d invited himself, or resigned to hosting Madison’s last-minute guests. One thing she wasn’t was overly thrilled. Well, why would she be?

“I’ll follow you there, shall I? Hey, Kyle!” He waited until the boy meandered back. “Want to ride with me?”

“Sure. Whatever.” Kyle shrugged.

Arrangements made, Brendan walked back across the field with the quiet young man at his side trying to think of something to say. Usually he was good with kids, but there was something angry hiding just under the surface with this one and he didn’t want to set him off, even though he wanted to help him.

“This is yours?” Kyle gaped as he took in the black SUV. “I’ve never ridden in one like it before.” He began listing the vehicle specs. “It must handle pretty well. What made you choose it?”

“My mom.” Brendan chuckled at the kid’s open-mouthed stare. “She knows everything there is to know about automobiles. I just took her advice.”

“She must give better advice than mine, then,” Kyle muttered as he climbed inside and fastened his seat belt. “All she ever says is ‘someday’.”

“I’m sure your mother does the very best she can for you, Kyle. I don’t imagine it’s easy for her to do her job, take care of you and fit all the other things she has to into her life. Sometimes we forget that moms are people, too.” He didn’t want to alienate the kid, but he wasn’t going to sit there and let him disrespect his beautiful mother.

“My mother doesn’t understand.” The words brimmed with pain.

“Did you talk to her about what you’re feeling?” Brendan glanced sideways, saw the reddish-brown head shake. “Well then, how could she possibly understand what’s going on inside your head?”

“She’s the one who left.”

Left what, or was it who—her husband? Brendan chewed on his thoughts before offering a comment. “Maybe she didn’t have any other choice.” He pulled up alongside a large contemporary colonial.

Chloe’s minivan in the driveway completed the mental picture he’d drawn whenever he’d thought of her. Nice neighborhood, nice house—definitely not new, but something about this home screamed comfortable. Maybe it was the handmade willow chairs on the front porch.

“Aren’t you coming in?” Kyle shoved his door open, frown in place.

“I’m coming. I hope having me here doesn’t make your mom late for work.” Maybe he should have refused the invitation?

“It won’t.” Kyle was through the front door in a flash, backpack thudding into a closet. “She’s always got everything organized.”

Organized wasn’t exactly how Brendan would have described the interior of the Tanner home, though it wasn’t a mess. More like a jumble of life. He stared at the huge treadmill that occupied a large section of the living room and wondered if that was the secret behind Nurse Tanner’s long legs.

“Come on in,” Chloe called from somewhere to his left.

Brendan followed Kyle, his nose twitching at the mingled aromas of turkey, apples and cinnamon.

Madison was setting the kitchen table. Kyle had the fridge door open in a quest for juice. Chloe, cheeks pink, hair seized in a scarf and tumbling down her back, was placing a salad on the table.

“Have a seat,” she offered. “I’ll get the casserole in a minute.”

“Thanks.” He glanced out the patio door and noticed a cleared area bounded by boards. “Are you building something?”

“Mom, build something? Are you kidding? She’s allergic to hammers.” Madison giggled. “Kyle built that. It’s for my hockey rink. If it ever gets cold enough, that is.” She took pity on Brendan’s confusion and explained. “We flood that section between the boards so we can play hockey. If it’s too warm for ice, we play on the ground. The boards are the edge of the rink.”

“You may have guessed that Madison loves sports.” Chloe sat down, heaved a sigh and smiled. “Now, let’s say grace.”

The children bowed their heads and she said something about being blessed. Then the food was passed around. Silence reigned momentarily as everyone enjoyed the tasty meal. Brendan savored each mouthful. A gorgeous woman who could cook like this while holding down a full-time job and managing two kids—no wonder she was organized.

“Mrs. Mills will be here as soon as we’re finished. Kyle, it’s your turn to scrape the dishes and load the dishwasher. Mrs. Mills shouldn’t have to do it. Then you can do your homework. You, too, Maddy. No television tonight.”

Their mingled moans were ignored.

“This casserole is delicious.” Brendan savored the last of the rich flavors on his tongue and smiled at Chloe. “You should sell the recipe.”

“I’m not sure anyone would pay, but thank you. Would you like some more or would you rather have apple brown Betty for dessert?”

“Dessert wins every time.” He accepted the huge portion she offered, listening as Madison told him all about her cat named Oz and two guinea pigs.

“Don’t forget to feed them tonight. Kanga and Roo were out of water this morning.” Chloe poured them two cups of coffee and passed one to Brendan with the cream. “Your job must be very demanding, Mr. Montgomery. What do you do in your spare time?”

“Mr. Montgomery is my dad. My name is Brendan. I’m starting a model club at the church,” he told her. “I was just wondering if Kyle would like to come. We can always use one more.”

“Models?” Kyle frowned. “What kind of models?”

“Well, the idea is to practice on smaller stuff. Cars, boats, that kind of thing. Eventually I’d like to put together a remote control kit for an airplane.”

“Cool.” Kyle jumped up, dumped his plate on the counter. He started to leave the room, but paused when his mother cleared her throat. “Course, I probably won’t be able to go because I’ll be doing women’s work,” he snapped sourly, his voice brimming with hostility.

“Kyle.” Chloe’s low voice warned him. “You live here, you eat here, you help with the dishes.”

“Nag, nag, nag.” He slammed a dish on the counter, tossing her an angry look. “That’s probably why Dad had to get away from you.”

The clank of the dishes was the only sound in the room. Brendan didn’t dare look up from his coffee cup. He didn’t want to see the hurt chagrin on Chloe’s face, nor did he want her to have to reprimand the boy in front of him which was probably why she was hesitating.

“That was a wonderful meal,” he said, changing the subject. “I’d really like to have the recipe for that casserole sometime.”

“Recipe? You cook?” Kyle’s shock was almost comical.

“If I didn’t cook, I wouldn’t eat. Besides, my mother raised us with the belief that men should be able to look after themselves or they’re still boys.” Brendan rose, carried his own plate to the sink then faced Chloe. “You need to get ready for work, don’t you?”

She nodded, eyes wide, tinges of pink embarrassment still clinging to her cheeks. “Yes, I do.”

“Why don’t you go and change while we clean up?” he said quietly. “It won’t take us long. You’re not nearly as messy as me. I generally use every article in the kitchen when I cook.”

“But…thank you.” She stared at Kyle for several moments then turned to leave the room.

Brendan said nothing, simply continued to carry the dishes to the sink where Kyle began scraping them. Madison remained at the table but didn’t seem inclined to talk. Brendan was on the point of saying something when Kyle finally set down his spatula.

“Excuse me, Mr. Montgomery. I need to talk to my mom.”

“You go ahead, Kyle. I’ll get Madison to help me if I need it.”

Head downcast, the boy left the room, hopefully to apologize.

“Kyle’s nasty sometimes. He doesn’t really mean it, he’s just mad.” Madison began loading the dishwasher, her fingers quick as she slid the plates into place. “Our dad was supposed to pick him up after school today. They were going out for supper, but Dad didn’t show. I guess he forgot. Again.”

“It happens.” Brendan tried not to sound curious. It was none of his business what happened with this family, but he felt as badly for the mother who tried so hard as he did for the kids who clearly wanted a relationship with a man who couldn’t be bothered.

Madison filled the sink with hot soapy water. “You wash and I’ll dry.”

“Why do I get to wash the pots?” he asked, catching a twinkle in her eyes.

“Because you don’t have homework,” she shot back, giggling when he dabbed soapsuds on her nose.

They’d just finished when Chloe emerged looking fresh and ready for what could only be a grueling twelve-hour shift. He noticed two things: Kyle was not with her and her beautiful hair had been confined to a twist at the back of her head. What a shame to hide such beauty.

“You really didn’t have to do them all.” She glanced at the sparkling counters. “But thank you.”

“Our pleasure.” Brendan winked at Madison, who followed his cue perfectly and bowed at the waist. The doorbell rang. “That’s my reminder to get going. Thanks again for a wonderful meal, Mrs. Tanner.”

“It’s Chloe. And you’re welcome. Thank you for helping to coach Madison. As you might have noticed, she’s delighted to have you.” She opened the door and welcomed in the older woman who stood on the doorstep. “Hi, Mrs. Mills. This is Mr. Montgomery. He coaches Madison’s soccer team with Buddy Jeffers.”

“Hello.” Mrs. Mills gave him the once-over, hung up her coat and took off as if she’d been scalded.

“Something I said?” Brendan asked, a little surprised by her hostility.

“Mrs. Mills doesn’t care much for men,” Chloe told him, her mouth stretched into a wicked grin. “I don’t think it’s personal.”

“What about Mr. Mills?”

“I don’t know.” Chloe frowned. “I assumed he’s dead and gone. I’ve never met him anyway.”

“Probably a good thing, if he is gone. For him, I mean. All that sourness would be hard to take.” He liked it when she laughed. Her face transformed, lost the lines that worry put there and made her look young and carefree. “I’ll probably see you at the hospital tonight. I want to check up on a few things about the mayor’s shooting—to do with the bullets.”

“Oh.” She blinked as if she were surprised. “Okay. Later.”

Brendan nodded, pulled the door closed behind him, shoved his hands in his pants pockets and walked toward his vehicle, slightly surprised by the chill of the now brisk wind. November in Colorado Springs was always tricky. Balmy in the morning, a raging blizzard by noon and a chinook the next day.

“Chinook weather would be good, Lord. We’ve got a chance at the finals and I’d sure like some sun for it.” He drove to his apartment, trying to decipher his thoughts about the Tanner family. The boy, Kyle, needed a little reining in. Brendan could understand his need for his father, but that didn’t excuse his attitude. Madison was a delight, easy-going, sweet and willing to try anything. Chloe stumped him.

She was gorgeous, of course. But she seemed reticent, restrained, as if she were afraid he might try to take advantage. No, that wasn’t quite right. She’d invited him into her home, made him welcome—so why did he feel she was holding him at arm’s length? Had he expected her to be as open as Madison?

Clearly there were things in the Tanner family that they were still working through, but that was true of any family. Yet he couldn’t help wondering about the kids’ father. Why hadn’t the guy shown up today? What kind of a father let his kid down like that and didn’t bother to phone and explain?

Brendan parked in his spot, rode the elevator to his apartment and grabbed his laptop. He had a lot of questions about the Tanners, but his job was to find out whatever he could about the mayor’s shooting. That subject should help keep his mind off a certain nurse.

Brendan perused the files he’d downloaded from headquarters for over an hour but couldn’t settle into it. Maybe if he checked the hospital records he’d find something else to go on. And he could make an excuse to see Chloe. In a flash he was back on the road, soon pulling into the hospital parking lot. As he arrived at the parkade entrance, he had to wait while the attendant dealt with a customer leaving the lot.

His vehicle was higher, giving Brendan a good view of the other car and the man inside. He took a second look. Something about him seemed…familiar. He thought about the man who’d spoken to Owen Frost the other night—was this the same man? A moment later the vehicle was gone and Brendan shrugged off his impression. Probably just some guy leaving after visiting his wife. Maybe Brendan had even known him once. When he’d lived here, he’d known tons of people in Colorado Springs. Still, he’d been away a lot and people moved.

But as he waited at the office for the information he’d requested, the face swam back into his mind. Not so much the face, he decided. It was something in the eyes that seemed familiar. He thought he’d seen eyes like that before; eyes that held secrets too dark to expose to daylight. Dangerous eyes.

Brendan shrugged off his speculative thoughts and accepted the file of information he’d requested.

They were just eyes. Nothing malevolent about eyes.

Chapter Three

Chloe shifted on the vinyl chair, lifted her heels to rest them on the seat opposite her and checked the clock. Midnight.

She still had twenty minutes of her break left and she needed it. Tonight had been crazy.

“Hi.” Brendan Montgomery’s handsome face loomed above her, his dazzling smile wide.

“Hi, yourself. You’re out a little late, aren’t you?”

“I was working on a file and forgot the time.” He nudged his tray onto her small table. “Figured I’d have a snack before I go home.”

“You’re hungry again?” She clapped a hand over her mouth as soon as the words escaped. A flood of heat burned her cheeks. “Please excuse me.”

“Forget it,” he laughed, sitting down beside her. “I admit I eat a lot. High metabolism, I guess.”

“Lucky you.” She watched him munch on his BLT and fries while her brain unraveled in the relative silence of the coffee shop.

“You look tired. Busy night?”

“Very. A couple of cardiac arrests after drug overdoses. We’re monitoring both of them.” Chloe felt that sinking despair grab her insides. “Why do they do it? One of those kids isn’t even sixteen, but her heart is almost ruined from using crack cocaine. It’s such a waste.”

“Crack?” Brendan frowned. “But I thought—hoped—crack was a thing of the past in Colorado Springs.”

“It should be.” Chloe shrugged. “But I don’t suppose a town’s ever rid of it altogether. This past week has been particularly rough. I think we’ve had the most drug cases since I moved here.” She rubbed the knot in the back of her neck. “It kills me to see kids throwing away their futures, damaging their minds and bodies. But to know that someone is profiting from their misery infuriates me even more.”

“Me, too.” Brendan’s face hardened. “You don’t happen to remember the names of the last two victims, do you?”

“You know I can’t release that information. You’ll have to check with the front office until someone tells me differently.” Chloe stretched her calves, welcoming the pull that drew out the tension. “I just hope they wise up.”

“You really take your patients’ problems to heart, don’t you?”

Brendan watched her like a hawk. It was discomfiting to be the subject of such intense scrutiny.

“You make it sound like it’s personal,” he added.

“Because it is! Drugs impact all of us. I hate it that someone is sitting out there waiting for my kid to make a bad decision. I hate it that one simple mistake can make such a difference to an entire life.” She cut off the past, told herself to get over it.

“Sounds like you’ve had some experience with mistakes.” If it hadn’t been before, his focus was now completely on her.

Should she tell him? Chloe couldn’t decide. It was personal, a private trial she’d gone through, and yet it had helped her relate to others.

“I know what it’s like to use pills to live through your days, to cover up the pain and heartache you don’t want to face.” She didn’t look away from his scrutiny. “I know what it’s like to need that pill so much that you feel lost and defenseless without it to block out the hurt. So yeah, you could say I take it personally.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that, Chloe.” His big hand reached out and covered hers, warm and comforting.

“Thanks.” She carefully drew her hand away. “It was hard and it was painful, but at least I got through. Some don’t.”

“That’s true,” he said, somewhat distractedly.

Chloe twisted around. “What are you looking at?”

“Who is that?” Brendan asked, his voice low.

She stared, shrugged. “I have no idea. Why?”

“I saw him when I came in. He was leaving then. Seems odd he’d be coming back to the hospital at this hour.”

“Maybe he was called back.” She turned her head to study the man who passed within ten feet of them, his face turned away. “Sometimes a physician will ask the hospital to notify the family if a patient takes a turn for the worse and they feel there’s a need for immediate visitation.” She watched Brendan rub a spot on the back of his neck and wondered why he seemed so interested in this particular man.

“He’s wearing black but he doesn’t look like a man who’s grieving. Look at those boots. They look like combat boots.”

Chloe almost laughed. It was the first time she’d been ignored for a man, and never for a pair of ugly boots, which made it perfectly clear that Brendan Montgomery had absolutely no interest in her. Good.

“I’m going back to work now,” she told him.

“Your break isn’t up yet.” He stared at her with a frown, attention momentarily diverted from the man who now entered an elevator.

“No, it isn’t. But we’re behind. Besides, I want to call Mrs. Mills and make sure everything is all right at home. Good night.” Chloe dumped the things off her tray into the garbage, set the tray on a rolling cart nearby and started toward the elevators, forcing herself not to look back at him.

Agent Brendan Montgomery was a very attractive man, and when he was around her blood pressure soared. But Chloe knew she couldn’t afford the distraction. Men weren’t to be trusted. Hadn’t Steve taught her that lesson the hard way?

All seemed quiet on the floor. Chloe spent a few minutes talking to Mrs. Mills, who was not thrilled by the interruption to her nap.

“Sorry I woke you, Mrs. Mills. I just wanted to check in, make sure all was well. Good night.” Chloe hung up with a grimace. Sometimes she wished she could find someone else to stay with the kids, someone who wasn’t quite so…negative. But sitters weren’t easy at the best of times, and finding one who could stay all night was toughest of all.

“Did you check on the mayor lately?” she asked Theresa, who shook her head “no” and hurried away to answer another monitor’s bleep. “I’ll do it then.”

The mayor’s room was the farthest one away from the station. As Chloe hurried toward it, a noise startled her. The guard wasn’t in his place by the door but flickering shadows told her someone was inside the room.

Some inner caution slowed Chloe. She clamped her lips together before glancing around the corner. A man stood at the side of the bed. He wore scrubs and a surgical mask, which was perfectly normal. Doctors came and went through the mayor’s room, constantly checking on them. But something about this doctor didn’t seem quite right, so she opened her mouth to ask his name. But before any sound could come out, she closed it, her eyes on his feet.

He wore combat boots—just like the ones Brendan had commented on earlier. She could only see the eyes and a tuft of brown hair from under the cap, but Chloe was almost certain it was the man from downstairs, and he was talking to the mayor. Chloe inched around the corner and listened.

“You were warned,” he whispered, his voice carrying clearly to her. He slid a hypodermic needle out of his pocket and inserted it into the mayor’s IV line, his thumb pushing whatever was in the cylinder into the life-giving fluids.

Chloe glanced behind her but her coworker wasn’t to be seen. She’d have to handle this herself and hope the guard would show up soon.

“Hey!” She dashed into the room, knocked the needle away, then hit the IV pump switch marked off, at the same time thrusting her leg out and hitting the intruder with a dropkick. Chloe thought she’d had good pressure but the blow seemed to glance off as the attacker rose in one lithe movement.

The pump stayed silent for a moment then sent up its alarm. She ignored it, backing up as her brain mentally assessed and discarded options.

The man’s face was almost completely hidden. Only the eyes, beady and dark, glared at her. From behind the mask she heard a hissed warning.

“Mind your own business.”

“This patient is my business.” Chloe watched his hand stretch toward her, saw the black spider tattoo on his wrist creep out from the sleeve of the green scrubs. Options—she needed options. “What did you put in there?” she asked, trying to buy time as she inclined her head toward the needle now lying at her feet.

He swung at her. Chloe stepped backward, then realized that had been his intent as he swept up the needle and aimed it toward her. “Why don’t you try it and see?” he said with a sneer.

“I don’t think so. But thanks anyway.” Chloe waited for her opportunity, her eyes never leaving his as he swept the pointed tip in front of her once, twice. On the third sweep she slapped her knee against his wrist and the needle flew across the room and stabbed into the wall. If she could just get in a couple of solid hits, she might floor him long enough to call for help.

Suddenly the wail of the mayor’s heart monitor shattered her concentration. Chloe glanced at the bed. Cardiac arrest!

Looking away had been a mistake. Chloe felt the solid smack against her chest and reeled from the hit, striking her head on the metal bed as she went down. Like a shape-shifter, the room bent double then turned upside down in one moment of excruciating pain. Chloe began to lose her ability to focus, but she kicked one last time and heard a grunt of pain.

“Stay out of my business,” a snarl hissed from behind her. Then he was gone.

She hung on to the bed, forcing herself to slide across the floor until she could reach the mayor’s IV. Every movement was agony, her head screamed for relief, but Chloe forced her body forward in spite of it. As much as possible she intended to prevent one more drop of the stuff from that needle from entering the mayor’s body.

The heart monitor was screaming more loudly than the IV machine. Someone would come soon. She drew herself up long enough to free the IV tubing from the shunt in the mayor’s vein. Using her thumb as pressure, she held on for as long as she could.

Then everything went black.

Even before the elevator doors opened, Brendan heard it. Cardiac arrest. That made three tonight, unless he’d missed something. Chloe was right—the night was busy. He walked toward the nursing station, hoping for her sake that it wasn’t another drug case.

Theresa emerged from one room, saw him and beckoned. “I need help.” She began running.

He needed no second bidding. Brendan followed her toward the end of the hall…toward the mayor’s room. The mayor’s room! Once that thought penetrated, the nerve at the back of his neck went crazy. He glanced around, saw the stairwell door whooshing closed, stopped by the leg of a man in a police uniform. He started for that door, heard a yell.

“Get in here!”

Brendan stepped into Mayor Max’s room, caught his breath at the sight of Chloe slumped against the bed, fingers still wrapped in IV tubing.

“She’s pulled out his IV tube. I’ve got to get it back in so the doctors can use it for a push. Move her.”

Brendan gently eased Chloe’s fingers from the mayor’s arm, carried her to the side of the room. She blinked a couple of times, stared at him.

“IV’s contaminated,” she murmured, then closed her eyes.

“Wait,” he yelled as Theresa struggled to reinsert the tube. “Chloe said it’s been contaminated. Get another bag.”

“I hooked this one up while she was on break. There’s nothing wrong with it.” Theresa ignored him.

Brendan chewed his lip as the crash team came rushing down the hall. Maybe Chloe was confused?

What do I do, Lord?

He glanced around, saw the needle still dangling from the plastered wall and moved to close his hand over the nurse’s.

“Get a fresh bag,” he ordered. “There’s a needle in the wall and I’m betting you didn’t put it there.”

She saw it, blinked, then went racing out of the room for fresh supplies.

“I’d like that empty bag,” he told her when she came back with a fresh bag and tubing. “For testing.”

“The hospital will want it, too,” she warned but handed it over.

Once it was safely tucked into his coat pocket, Brendan gathered up Chloe and carried her out of the crowded room.

“What’s wrong with her?” Dr. Robert Fletcher asked, pausing on his way into the room and motioning the other doctor ahead.

“I’m not sure but I think she was attacked. She came to a minute ago then faded out.” There was a stretcher sitting by the wall and Brendan gently laid Chloe on it, then stood to one side as the doctor did a swift check.

“Skin’s starting to bruise at the back of her neck and she’s got a large contusion on the top of her head. She’s going to have a headache. Vitals seem okay.”

A picture of that hypodermic needle flickered through Brendan’s mind.

“You don’t think she was given something, do you?” he asked.

“Given something? Like what?” Dr. Fletcher checked her pupils. “Everything’s returning to normal. I think she’ll be fine.”

“Can you stay with her a second?” Brendan raced back into the mayor’s room and grabbed one of the plastic gloves that lay on the crash cart. He removed the needle from the wall, checked the vial. Still fluid inside. Good. He grabbed his phone and dialed. “Somebody attacked the mayor. He’s gone into cardiac arrest. They got his nurse, too, but I think she’ll be okay. There was a needle left at the scene. The nurse Tanner came to long enough to tell me the mayor’s IV bag was contaminated. Her getting it undone probably saved his life. The mayor’s guard is down, too. I need some help. Now.”

He listened to his instructions then returned to Chloe.

“She’s coming out of it.” Fletcher checked her pulse once more, nodded, then jerked a thumb toward the mayor’s room. “Mind if I join them? You can yell if you need me.”

“Before you do, check the stairwell. There’s a cop there who might need you.”

“Okay. Sounds like someone wanted to get to Max. It’s a good thing she was working tonight.” Dr. Fletcher measured Chloe’s pulse again while staring at the auburn glory of her hair spilling around her shoulders like a silken shawl. “She’s beautiful. I envy you, Brendan.” He smiled, then moved to assist the injured cop.

Brendan realized he should have made it clear that there was nothing between him and the nurse, but Fletcher was busy in the stairwell so he let it go for now, choosing instead to keep his attention on Chloe, who had begun to utter soft sibilant moans.

“It’s okay. You’re safe. Whoever it was is gone.” He repeated the words, squeezing her hand as her irises began to clear and she focused on him.

“The mayor?” She licked her lips, blinked twice.

“They’re working on him now. Your quick thinking probably saved him.”

“The needle. There was a needle.”

“I know. I got it.”

“A man was injecting something into the IV.” She struggled to sit up, grasped his outstretched hand until she got her bearings. “He told me to stay out of his business.”

“This guy spoke to you?” Brendan whipped out a notebook as soon as she released his hand and began scribbling. “What else did he say?”

“That’s it, I think. I hit my head on the bed rail.” She touched the back of her head gingerly. “I shut off the IV pump but when the cardiac machine went off I knew some of what he’d injected must have gone through so I had to get the tube out. After that it’s a blank.”

“The stairwell door was closing when I came,” he told her. She didn’t react. “You didn’t see the guard outside the mayor’s room?” She shook her head. “Can you describe what this guy was wearing?”

Her blue eyes expanded, grew darker. “He had on scrubs and a mask. But it was the boots I noticed. The same ones we saw earlier. Combat boots.”

Like a video, he replayed the scene from earlier, but he couldn’t put a face to the figure he recalled. “What kind of a mask?”

“Surgical. And a cap.” She nodded, winced, her eyelids squeezing before she spoke. “I could really only see his eyes.”

“Okay.” Brendan paused, studied her face. “Anything else?”

“He had a tattoo on his wrist. A black spider.” She rethought it, nodded. “Left wrist. He was talking to the mayor when I found him.”

“Talking to the mayor?” His gut lurched. “Max has been awake?”

“No. I said he was talking to the mayor, not that the mayor was answering him. I should help get him stabilized.” She eased herself off the gurney, smoothed down her clothes then grabbed his arm. “Oh, my. The floor keeps moving.”

“Sit down and wait it out. Dr. Fletcher says you have a large contusion. And you were unconscious for a few minutes.”

“I can feel the bump. But I’ll be fine.” She drew her fingers away from her head, pushed her hair back. “I need an elastic band. I can’t work like this.”

“Your hair looks lovely, but I don’t think you can work at all. You need to rest, let your body recover.” Brendan turned his head as the elevator doors opened. Two of his co-workers burst through the door, followed by a stout man in a three-piece suit who did not look pleased. Some sort of hospital official, Brendan guessed, noting the way the man marched down the hall as if he owned it.

“What’s been going on here, Chloe?” The officious tone smacked of condemnation, his glare suggesting she’d deliberately sabotaged the hospital.

“Someone attacked the mayor.” Brendan didn’t like the looks of this character and figured it was about time he learned the facts. “Mrs. Tanner stopped him and was also attacked.”

“Sylvester Grange, nursing supervisor, meet Brendan Montgomery.” Chloe’s big blue eyes dared Brendan to contradict her. “It’s just a bump. I’ll be fine.”

“You’ll go home.” Dr. Fletcher emerged from the stairwell, winked at Brendan. “I don’t see any sign of concussion, but clearly Mrs. Tanner is not well, Sylvester. Just in case there are some physical after-effects I think it would be wise for Mrs. Tanner to take the rest of the shift off. After all, the incident occurred on hospital grounds. We don’t want any nasty repercussions, do we?”

“If that’s your recommendation, Doctor. Chloe, you may as well leave.” Grange nodded deferentially at the doctor but dismissed Chloe without a second glance. His gaze scanned the area. “Why is that man sitting on the floor? Who are these other people, Doctor Fletcher? Intensive care is hardly the place for them to visit, especially at this time of night. This floor is supposed to be a secure area. I can’t allow all these people here.”

“FBI, sir.” Brendan stepped forward, flashed his badge. “We’re here to ensure the mayor’s safety. The guard was injured tonight by someone who came into Mayor Vance’s room without authorization and tried to inject him with something. We’re not going to let that happen again. I hope the extra security I’m adding won’t be a problem?” He lifted an eyebrow, hoping Sylvester would be cowed by his tone and let them do their job.

“No problem at all. We welcome any measure that will ensure our mayor’s safety. Although one wonders how the FBI allowed this latest incident.” Mr. Grange gave a simpering smile. “Of course, these matters are not my concern. Running this hospital is. Excuse me?”

He was gone before Brendan could say a word to dispute the hint that the Bureau had been at fault. “What an odious man!”

“Welcome to our world.” Robert Fletcher grinned at them both and helped the guard stand. “Slowly now, man. You’ve been drugged. Just wait here till someone comes to take you downstairs. There are some tests I want to run before I send you home. The mayor’s been stabilized, don’t worry.” He turned, focused on Chloe. “You go home and rest. And if you don’t feel one hundred percent by the next shift, phone in sick. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.” She grinned, saluted him.

“Finally, some respect.” Chuckling, Doctor Fletcher left.

“Excuse me.” Chloe half turned toward Brendan with her back to the other agent. Her voice dropped, softened. “I need to get my things and get out of here. But I want to thank you for helping me.”

“I don’t think you needed much help. You seemed to handle the bad guy just fine.” He raised one eyebrow, hoping she’d explain.

“I got a couple of kicks in. I’ve been practicing.”

“Karate. I can testify to your capability.” Brendan smiled at the soft rose wash that flooded her face. “You’re okay to drive?”

“I have a headache, but I’ll be fine. Thanks again. Good night.”

“Good night.” He watched her leave, noted the careful look into the elevator before she got in. Chloe wasn’t quite as confident as she pretended.

“You gonna stand there all night or do you want to fill us in on what’s been going on?”

Brendan faced Fergus MacArthur, knowing neither of his co-workers had missed much about his too-obvious reaction to beautiful Chloe Tanner.

“I’m going to tell you everything I know,” he promised. “Which isn’t much.”

But while he recited the night’s events as they waited for another guard, even after he’d sent Fergus MacArthur to the lab with the needle and the drip bag—in fact the whole time he spent replaying what he knew in his mind so he could look for a thread that would lead him somewhere—that throbbing nerve in Brendan’s neck wouldn’t cease its rat-tatting.

The attacker was brash, determined, and he knew his way around. Whoever he was, there was no doubt he would be back to finish the job. Brendan could only hope and pray Chloe would be far away the next time.

If she wasn’t, she’d have to depend on more protection than her martial arts offered.

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