They were playing a dangerous game.

“Maggie,” he whispered in her ear. “The guy has a gun pointed at us and no one is watching now. We need to disappear before he regains his senses.”

They both hit the door at a run. Just as daylight and cold city air blasted him in the face, the zing of a bullet whizzed past his ear and hit the front window. Glass shattered everywhere.

Bending, he threw his arm over Maggie’s head and shuffled the two of them out the door as fast as he could. “Move!”

She took off without a word, but managed to keep up with him as he dashed along the packed sidewalks. They ran full-out and pushed through midday crowds until they were both out of breath.

“What the hell did you think you were doing?” he gritted out.

Maggie turned and gave him a sweet smile. “Why, Colin, darlin’, you know the answer to that. I was saving your sorry life. What else?”

Dear Reader,

When I began THE SAFEKEEPERS trilogy, I thought of the three traits that I believed portrayed the best of womankind: courage, motherhood and love. The heroines in each of the three stories take a journey to becoming the best woman they can be—by living up to these traits. In this last book, I’ve embodied my ideals of the best of all three traits into one woman. For even though she may never have a child of her own, Maggie Ryan must find the courage to seek out trouble. She must accept both the joy and pain of mothering a child she may never be able to keep. And she must learn to give herself over to true love in order to become the best mother possible.

Maggie is one of my favorite heroines. She’s tough enough to take what she needs. But she must also learn to be vulnerable enough to lose it all—in order to win the one thing she wants most! Count on Maggie to find a way. It’s been great fun writing this trilogy. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did!

Happy Reading!

With all my best,

Linda

LINDA CONRAD

was inspired by her mother, who gave her a deep love of storytelling. “Mom told me I was the best liar she ever knew. And that’s saying something for a woman with an Irish storyteller’s background!” Winner of many writing awards, including a Romantic Times BOOKreviews Reviewers’ Choice Award and a Maggie Award, Linda often appears on bestseller lists. Her favorite pastime is finding true passion in life. Linda, her husband and KiKi the puppy, work, play, live and love in the sunshine of Florida.

In Safe Hands
Linda Conrad

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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To everyone who believes in magic.

Contents

Prologue

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 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Epilogue

Prologue

Icurse you, Brody Ryan! May you and your children be forever barren. From this moment forward, no Ryan of your loins shall parent a child. No grandchild will you live to see! Your family name ends with your children, Brody Ryan, you son of a dog! Vete p’al carajo!

The bruja’s dark curse still rang out in Lupe Delgado’s mind a decade and a half after it had been issued. More of a good witch, the curandera shook off the memory of her mother’s harsh words from long ago. She continued her walk down the beach along a tropical Vera Cruz mountain lake, glancing again at the disturbing note that she had just been handed. Her mother, the ancient, black-magic bruja witch, was dying.

Lupe had known this time was coming. After all, her mother’s lifetime stretched well into her nineties, and her health had been precarious lately. But Lupe wished with her whole heart for her mother to be granted more time. The fifteen-year-old curse was still valid, and her mother’s shadowy soul was still unprepared to meet her God. Lupe’s eyes filled with tears as her thoughts turned to her three Ryan grandchildren, who were currently living their adult lives in Texas. Their great-grandmother had cursed them when she cursed their father, and they had suffered from the old woman’s black magic ever since. Lupe’s mother’s furious words had brought disaster down upon them, not to mention a blackened soul for the old woman herself.

After leaving the beach and returning home to her potions and crystals, Lupe packed up a small traveling kit. Her mother had finally relented a few months ago and renounced her black ways. The old woman was refusing to sell dark charms and hexes to her former customers. With her approaching death, Maria Elena Ixtepan had also agreed to reverse the curse on the Ryan children—if their father managed to perform three selfless deeds.

Lupe had not expected a miracle from her arrogant and defiant son-in-law, Brody Ryan. But so far he had accomplished two good deeds, and Lupe foresaw the possibility of complete redemption in the near future.

They were so close to salvation. Her mother just had to last a little longer.

With prayers in her heart, Lupe started out in the direction of her mother’s mountainside cabin. She knew her own curandera white witchcraft abilities should not be used for such dubious purposes. But perhaps, if Lupe prayed to the right combination of saints and used the proper combination of words, she could keep death from her mother’s doorstep long enough to save them all.

She had to try.

Chapter 1

Colin Fairfax took another shot of brandy from the flask he’d begun keeping in his pocket and resumed pacing the threadbare carpet in the rundown New York flat.

Bugger. It was freezing in here. No wonder the place was all but deserted. What kind of human could live for long in conditions like this? He’d agreed to wait for twenty-four hours, but now he was wondering if that had been the most intelligent thing to do.

He’d been through much worse, of course. Fighting alongside his men in freezing blizzards in the mountain passes in Afghanistan, he had known hell. Yet, even that extreme cold hadn’t chilled his bones the same way the icy drafts singing down the tenement walls were battering both his body and his psyche.

He fingered the weapon at his waistband. Colin was pleased he’d thought of obtaining the automatic from his embassy before embarking on this personal mission. The secretive man he was supposed to meet claimed to have information that would be the most vital clue in Colin’s search to date. According to other local contacts, this man was covertly employed by the Americans. His job was to keep tabs on just the sort of thing Colin wanted to find. Allowances had to be made for that kind of knowledge.

Covert was one thing, though. Being stupid was quite another.

Impatiently awaiting the creak of floorboards on the stairs outside his door, Colin wasn’t sure how much longer he could bide his time in this godforsaken hovel. Once again he wondered why the man had been so insistent that they meet in this place and on this date.

But obtaining information about his brother, John, from the mystery man who called himself “El Cuervo” was important enough to keep Colin right here, freezing his bum for the duration.

A sudden soft knock from the other side of the door took Colin by surprise. At last. An end to this ridiculous waiting.

Blowing out a pent-up breath and deciding that his best defense was the element of surprise, he ripped open the flimsy wooden door, only to find a curly headed leprechaun standing in the shadows of the threshold.

“What?” he asked irritably and half turned away. This person resembled one of his annoying mother’s fairie creatures. It couldn’t be the man he’d been expecting.

“Colin?”

That word caught his attention, and he swung back. A low and sexy female voice had come from the short, lumpy body—and that voice had spoken his name.

Colin did what his gut told him to do. He grabbed her by the shoulders and lifted her off her feet as he popped her into the room. Using his foot, he slammed the door behind them. Then, reaching out with a steadying hand, he turned her around so that he could better study the small, odd female in the combined glow from an overhead bulb and the dusty lamp on his makeshift desk. Was she carrying a weapon?

“Hey!” she complained as she batted at his hands. “Cut out the manhandling.” She sounded as surprised to be here as he’d been when she appeared at his door.

No gun. And at an inch or two over five feet tall, she posed no immediate danger.

“Who are you and what do you want?” he demanded.

She took off the mannish, gray fedora and a tumble of auburn curls spilled out over her shoulders and halfway down her back. Colin revised his original opinion. Not a leprechaun at all. No. Even in the shadowed glow of lamplight, the sight of this woman’s wide and frightened eyes sent a sucker punch of heat straight to his gut. She was actually quite beautiful underneath the ugly green covering. But that doe-eyed look made her appear vulnerable—and too much like the very thing he’d long ago vowed to steer clear of. A lovely woman in distress. Trouble.

He needed to get his head in the game. She knew his name. Perhaps she had been sent with information. She seemed benign, if disconcerting, but she could turn out to be as potentially deadly as one of those beautiful, deserted passes belonging to mujahadin fighters in Afghanistan.

With his senses strung tight, Colin tried to ignore his primal response to her. He was certainly experienced enough to maintain appearances.

Except for her hair. Colin lost focus again, as he stared at that glorious hair. Even in the dim light he could see a hundred different colors shining throughout her mass of curls. Reds and chestnut and ebony. Even a few sprinkles of burnished gold. His hands ached to glide their way through that silken, shiny mane.

She stared at him, and the bare overhead bulb shot a single glimmer of light into her eyes. They were forest-green. The color was blinding.

Whoever the woman was, her body came in a riot of colors under the drab garments. Perhaps she truly was a leprechaun in disguise, sent to guard the pot of gold.

At that wayward thought, Colin took a sharp breath. Was John the pot of gold?

“Answer me, woman. What do you know?” Furiously he blinked away the guilt and pain that always came when he thought of John.

She simply stood there, eyes wide. A compulsive urge to lift a hand to her face and brush aside a flyaway strand of hair had Colin balling up his hands and gritting his teeth. He forced himself to step back and think clearly, reminding himself why he was here.

“My name is Maggie Ryan,” she finally said with a lilting voice and an odd accent. “I’ve come a long way to seek you out. You hold the key to a child’s future.”

As the tall man gaped at her from out of those steely gray–blue eyes, Maggie tried to take in the whole picture with one quick glance, the way she’d trained herself to do. Age about midthirties. Clean-cut, with a strong chin. A touch of gray at his temples, and an expression that seemed both sharp and wary. Her initial impression was of a man both sophisticated and deadly. An odd combination.

But Maggie Ryan wasn’t one to turn tail and run at the first sign of trouble. Even as a kid, she’d stood her ground against both her older brothers and against the magic forces in nature that swirled around their Texas family. She felt tough enough to get any job done. Especially one this important.

Absently, she fingered the protection charm that was tied to a leather thong around her neck, reminding herself of the alternate ways to defend herself, in lieu of wielding ordinary weapons. Her thoughts turned to her Mexican grandmother, Abuela Lupe, and all the lessons in witchcraft and magic she’d learned at her knee.

Maggie had also learned a few lessons in self-defense from her Irish-American private-investigator grandfather before he died, and those would serve her well. But right now she thanked goodness for Abuela Lupe. Her Mexican curandera grandmother had located this dangerous-looking man in her crystals and then told Maggie where and when to find him.

All that Maggie knew so far was that his name was Colin and he was the key to solving all of her problems.

He took her by the arm and dragged her closer. “I expect an explanation—now,” he demanded in his clipped English accent. “What’s all this nonsense?”

His touch sent heat scorching through her body. She couldn’t remember a time that she’d had such a spontaneous, emotional response to a man. Well, not since the idiocy of an ill-advised engagement during her college years. If she’d had a mind to start that kind of thing again, this intense man, with his quiet British accent, his tailored slacks and expensive black leather jacket, would not be her choice of fiancé.

“Can we…um…sit down? To talk.” Looking around, she found that the only chair had papers stacked on the seat.

He scooped up the papers and moved them to the bed. “Sit, then.” Folding his hands behind his back in military style, Colin began to pace up and down the tiny room.

“What or who could be so important, Maggie Ryan,” he said with an arrogant half smile, “that you sought me out through…a…” He shot his hand in the air as if lost for words. “What? How did you find me? A magic spell?”

He didn’t know how close to the truth that was.

Maggie sat on the shaky chair with its one leg shorter than the others and stared up at him. “I’ve come all the way from south Texas to find answers about a lost child. It’s the most important thing in the world. I’m trying to locate relatives for the orphaned baby girl in my custody. It’s vital that—”

“Why me? Why come looking for me?”

Instead of answering she threw a question back at him. “You don’t live in this room, do you? This can’t be your home.”

It was a good guess, since her grandmother had been so specific about her arriving at this place at just the right time. Besides, this man didn’t look as if he belonged in a dump like this one.

She sucked up a breath and took a chance. “Why are you here?”

Colin’s whole body seemed to jerk at her question. The smile disappeared and the dangerous man returned. She could see the change in those glacial eyes.

Bloody hell, Colin thought. She knows something and she’s just playing games.

He swept closer, loomed over her, grabbed a handful of her hair. With a swift jerk, he tugged her head back, exposing the exquisite, smooth column of her neck.

“You haven’t answered my question. Stop playing around. What do you know about my brother? Tell me quick, love, or I’ll break that pretty neck of yours.”

Maggie blinked. “Let go of my hair.” She said it in a steady voice, though he could feel her trembling.

Without warning, a heated tingle traveled from her silky hair into his fingers and right up his arm. He released her involuntarily and rubbed his hands together to quiet the electric jolt he’d experienced.

“Your brother?” she asked, acting as if nothing happened when he released her. “I’m not sure. I mean…what’s your brother’s name?”

Outside the filthy window, winter storm clouds covered the moon. Colin’s heart clouded over, too, with a gut instinct about what this eccentric beauty would say. For months now, he’d been feeling that the worst had happened. But he needed to hear the words.

“His name is John Fairfax,” Colin managed to say in a strangled voice. “And if you know anything about his whereabouts, you had better speak up.”

She looked thoughtful. “That could be it, I guess. The man’s name was John. But the last name was Sheridan.” She paused. “What’s your full name?”

Suddenly furious with her for answering questions with more questions, he growled, “Sir Colin Fairfax, Baron Derwent. Also referred to recently as Major Colin Fairfax of the Third Royal Tank Regiment, Her Majesty’s British Army, retired. Look, skip over any other questions that may pop into that lovely head of yours and get to the point. What do you know of John?”

Suddenly weary, Colin turned his back on her and began pacing again. She had used the past tense. He knew what that implied. His younger brother, the one he had lost track of several years ago due to his own misplaced arrogance and indifference, was very likely dead.

Maggie heard the hoarse but heartfelt words and began to experience Colin’s growing misery herself, by way of empathic sympathy. “I have to start with the story of the baby.”

Looking up into his bleak eyes as he strode by, she wished she wasn’t so sure about the facts. “That’s how I got involved in the first place. I live near the border, and about six months ago a couple and their two-month-old daughter were involved in a terrible car crash on our side of the river. The couple died on impact, but the baby in the backseat survived.”

Sighing, she continued. “The sheriff asked me to take the child into my home, as our isolated county doesn’t have any local child welfare services. My neighbor, who runs a day-care center, helps me out when needed.” Maggie swallowed hard, wishing she could be wrong but knowing full well she wasn’t, and went on. “I’m a trained private investigator, so I’ve been looking into the deceased’s backgrounds ever since I took in the child, trying to trace any relatives of the little girl.”

A perplexed expression crossed Colin’s face as he quit pacing and slowly shook his head. “I don’t understand. Are you saying my brother married? Fathered a child? Impossible. I would’ve known.”

“How long has it been since you’ve seen him?” Maggie asked, going on instinct. “Why are you searching for information about your own brother?”

Even in the dim lighting of the sordid room, Maggie could clearly see the pain streak through Colin’s eyes. She hurt for him. If it had been one of her brothers…

Nevertheless, she was still wary. When Colin accepted the facts, would he be willing to leave Emma in her care? Or would he do the unthinkable and demand she hand over his niece? Maggie’s life would stop if that happened. She needed this child. Emma had become her heart—her only chance. With cold fear trickling through her at the possibilities, Maggie reminded herself to take things slow and not jump ahead.

“I…uh…” Colin looked around, staring absently at his surroundings as if he’d only just arrived. “Our family was divided when John and I were children, ages ten and twelve, respectively. As the eldest, I stayed in my father’s care, went to his old school and joined his regiment in due course. John went with our mother to her family’s ancestral home in Ireland.” The words, sounding as if they were spoken by rote, seemed to grow small in Colin’s throat. “As long as my father was alive, we continued to receive word of my brother’s welfare.”

Maggie’s icy, worried feelings began to melt, as warm tears welled in her eyes. “Your father died recently?”

“It’s been several years since he passed away,” Colin answered with a bleak expression. “But I only returned to civilian life four months ago, after a long tour of duty, and then began looking for my brother.”

Maggie waited. There was a lot more to tell, she was sure. But she wasn’t sure how much of it Colin would be willing to give up to a complete stranger.

Funny, though, sometime in the last few minutes she’d stopped thinking of him as a stranger who could take away her whole world. Something about him called to her. Disturbed her, yes, yet made him appear much more like a friend in stranger’s clothing.

Still, she hoped he wouldn’t touch her again. The last two times had completely thrown her out of balance with shots of sexual energy the likes of which she hadn’t known existed.

A few moments of silence had apparently given Colin a chance to regain some self-control. He stopped pacing and turned to her. “Why are you asking questions? Weren’t you sent to talk to me by El Cuervo?”

“The Raven?” Maggie let the English translation roll off her tongue, but a chill ran down her spine. “No one sent me. I sought you out because—”

She sensed the danger an instant before catching sight of a flash of color outside the window.

“Watch out!” Maggie jumped up, knocking hard into Colin’s side at the exact moment the window exploded. Shattered glass and bits of broken wood frame sprayed everywhere as the two of them hit the floor.

Surprised but unhurt, and by no means out of commission, Colin rolled Maggie under him for protection and reached for the SIG Sauer at his back. A loud bang was quickly followed by a hail of bullets through the window. He ducked his head, and when he looked around, fire had ignited in a corner of the room. Bugger it.

From beneath his body, he heard Maggie mumbling what sounded like a chant, but the words weren’t in English. They weren’t in Gaelic, either, which could’ve been expected from her name. They sounded for all the world like a unique kind of Spanish.

The idea of her speaking Spanish made him wonder if she might be part of the Mexican drug lord’s conspiracy. It could be that she was lying about everything just to set him up. Did she know more than she’d said? Especially concerning the international drug sting that had sent John into hiding in the first place?

Ignoring his suspicions for the moment, Colin tensed further at the sudden, deadly quiet and got to his feet. He stayed hunched over as he palmed his weapon and flattened his body against the wall between the door and the window. He took aim out the window, trying to get a fix on the shadowy fire escape of the opposite building—without making himself too great a target.

He gave Maggie a swift glance. If she was guilty, then her own cohorts had turned against her. But Maggie Ryan could not be left to die in a burning room. It was unthinkable, despite the fact she could have betrayed him. It would be up to him to fight their way out.

“Colin, move farther away from the door. Hurry!”

Maggie crawled closer and jerked at his hand, trying to pull him down. He twisted from her grip and concentrated on targeting anything that moved outside the window. From the corner of his eye, he saw Maggie grab again at his pant’s leg, finally giving it one gigantic tug.

Off balance now, he heard another blast just as the wall at his side burst apart. By then it was far too late to move out of the way.

Everything faded to black.

Chapter 2

Maggie dragged a woozy Colin and his duffel down the shadowed sidewalk. Good thing darkness still reigned in the wee small hours here in the valley between skyscraper mountains. Not many people were out in the crisp night air, though quite a lot of cars still filled the streets. A big red bus stopped at the corner of the block, belching smelly exhaust. The few people who’d been waiting began to board.

She’d considered taking the subway back to her hotel, but had dismissed the idea when she thought about Colin negotiating all those station steps. He seemed delirious, and she wasn’t positive he knew what was going on. He could barely walk. His wound wasn’t bleeding anymore, but if he was in shock, there was nothing she could do for him until they returned to her room. A taxi would be simple, of course, but they were scarce here and she didn’t want to deal with a curious driver.

Hailing the bus driver to wait, she climbed the bus steps, pulled Colin along with her and found two empty seats. During the fifteen-minute ride neither of them spoke a word. Colin closed his eyes and rested.

She felt his body heat without even touching him. Colin’s nearness did crazy things to her, in both body and mind, but she couldn’t get past the dangerous position he’d put them in. Who on earth was this guy really, and who wanted to kill him?

At long last she spotted the side street that led to her hotel’s entrance and hurried them off the bus. The hotel that she’d checked into earlier couldn’t be called a palace, but it was sure a heck of a lot better than Colin’s flophouse room.

Small by Texas standards, the room was at least clean and warm. And temporarily safe. She snuck Colin past the reception desk and into the elevator. When Maggie finally keyed open her door and tumbled Colin and herself inside, she was so danged relieved that she nearly cried.

Her witchcraft would help heal Colin. The sooner he was pain free, the sooner they could talk, and then she’d be that much closer to leaving New York City and Colin’s trouble far behind her.

Plopping him down on the single bed, she shoved pillows behind his back and helped him kick off his shoes. “You rest while I check your leg.”

She turned, but his hand snaked out and grabbed her arm. “You’re not leaving.”

“No, of course not. That’s not what I said.” Swinging back to reassure him, she caught the look he’d been giving her behind her back. Wary. Stark. Lonely. The stricken look on his face struck a deep note of sympathy in her heart.

“You’ll not be calling your friends, love?”

“What friends?” She pulled her arm from his grasp then placed her palm against his forehead, checking for fever.

“The ones who must have come with you. The chaps with the fire bombs and guns.”

He thought she was the one who’d brought that disaster down upon them? “I might ask you the same question,” she said, realizing he had a small fever but nothing her medicine couldn’t cure. “All I did was come to bring you news of your brother and niece, and I got shot at and nearly burned to death for my trouble. I was hoping you would have the answers as to why.”

Colin groaned and grabbed his thigh. “Don’t leave, Maggie.” He closed his eyes, slumped back against the pillows and was fast asleep in an instant.

Swell. Now she was faced with checking his wounds without his assistance. Determined to do the best she could for the man who had caused her even more inner turmoil than whoever’d been doing the shooting, she went to the closet to retrieve her medicine pack.

Maggie Ryan was tough. She could do anything. Isn’t that what everybody always said?

Being tough was one of the traits that had turned her only boyfriend—her college fiancé—against her. In a fit of anger over losing what he’d thought would be his meal ticket for life, he pushed it even further, accusing her of being frigid and asking for his ring back.

That was the last time she’d let a man get close to her. But she was feeling things for Colin that she’d never felt for her ex-fiancé.

Too close. She was too close to caring for this complete stranger. She needed to remind herself why she’d sought him out on this dark and icy night in the first place.

When Colin opened his eyes, it took him a moment to orient himself. He felt beneath his body and discovered he was lying on some sort of bed or mattress. But with the jumbled thoughts in his head, nothing else seemed clear.

The pain in his thigh was most definite, though, and sharp enough to make him more alert. The memory of the wall exploding behind him kept repeating, and the sound of Maggie Ryan’s voice begging him to get down echoed clear and true in his ears.

Was he still in danger? Probably not. Because wherever he was, everything seemed absurdly quiet after all the commotion. Colin’s survival instincts lay still. Nothing screamed in his gut to either run or fight.

Turning his head, he pried open his eyes and glanced around. He found himself in some sort of bland and inexpensive hotel room. He’d seen many of these same small rooms around the world.

“You’re awake again. Good. Do you think you can sit up?”

It was her voice. Maggie’s. That same smoky pitch he remembered from when she’d appeared at his doorway.

Colin tried to rise, but he had little strength in his arms and one hell of a pain in his leg. “Where am I?”

Her soft, feminine arms slid under his back, and with a surprising show of strength, Maggie lifted him to a sitting position. “There you go. You’re in my hotel room. Does it hurt very much?”

Clearing the fog from his head, Colin stared once again at the most striking-looking woman he had ever beheld. The fantastic mass of curls he remembered from before as being dark auburn looked the color of burnt cinnamon in this light. The ugly, pea-colored coat was gone. She wore a long-sleeved, western-cut shirt with blue and red stripes, tucked into dark-blue jeans.

He focused on her face, his gaze skimming across clear golden skin and a soft, full mouth. But it was the eyes that drew him in. Still startling. Still the vivid green of an Irish mist. Just looking at them produced a surprising and unwelcome reaction in his groin.

“I have a few questions for you.”

She had questions? Since Colin’s brain had begun working past the pain, a million blasted questions sat unasked on his tongue.

“But I need to finish working on your leg first,” she added.

“How did I get here?” He couldn’t let her get ahead of him. His control was shaky, but he didn’t trust her enough to close his eyes again.

“You and I sort of limped over here on the bus, after we got out of that room one step ahead of the fire-fighter first responders. You were a little shocked and dizzy, but we made it.”

He gave her a disbelieving look, but she seemed undeterred.

“The shot that hit you only nicked the fleshy part of your thigh. No bullet fragments were left behind, I checked. You’ve got a couple of cuts on your forehead, but none of them are deep.” She paused. “I was afraid to stick around and wait for the cops or the paramedics. Someone must want you dead pretty badly.”

“Yes, it does seem that way.” But was she in on it? He’d been waiting in that room all day, and the shooting had started only after she’d arrived. “Never mind. Where are my pants, love?”

“I had to cut them off you to get to the wound. But you packed another pair. I brought your duffel with us as I dragged you out of the fire. Thankfully, your leather jacket was only singed in a few spots, but it should be—”

“You dragged me out of the room? By yourself?”

She gave him a sharp smirk before turning her back to dig into his duffel. “I’m tougher than I look.”

Yeah, he would bet she was quite a lot of things underneath those exotic looks. Grace, strength and a sort of magical beauty must have been bestowed upon her at birth by the fairies. But something sinister seemed to lurk about her as well.

He’d already made up his mind to find out everything. She would tell him first whether she had been sent to do him harm, and then she would complete her tale about his brother. The truth. Every bit of it.

It mattered little that her appearance affected him like no other woman’s. With everything they’d been through, he couldn’t imagine why his body kept betraying him with primal, sexual reactions. But he swore to set all that aside.

“What are you up to, Maggie Ryan? How did you know where to find me?”

Maggie winced inwardly, not sure how to explain. “I’ll tell you everything as best I can. But let me work on your leg at the same time.”

He didn’t bat an eyelash, just continued staring her down.

“Please. I swear I can help you. Let me.”

Something must have gotten to him, either her words or the way she stood up to him, because he relented at last. “What are you planning then? Shall we cut off the blasted leg entirely?”

The words had been said without so much as a smile, but they made her chuckle. “Heavens no. I have some…um…lotions that I’ll make into a poultice. It’ll relieve the pain, I promise. And I can put a couple of sutures in, too, if need be.”

Maggie bent to paw through the denim backpack containing her medicines. “Can you lie back again, please?”

She took her bag into the bathroom and mixed up her healing concoctions. Back at his side, Maggie went straight to work, splashing blanquillo, a clear liquid, over his leg.

Ready now to apply the poultice she’d made, Maggie gazed into his eyes. “This shouldn’t hurt. Try not to move.”

He stopped her by holding up his hand. “Tell me what’s in the poultice first.”

Impatiently, Maggie shook her head. “Look, I have training as a curandera—a healer—in Texas and Mexico. I can take away your suffering.”

When he continued to stare at her, she sighed and went on, “The poultice contains herbs and dried plants, nothing harmful. Let me—”

“Which herbs and plants?”

Gritting her teeth, she told him. “It’s a basic mixture of basil, rosemary and rue, the holy trinity for Mexican witchcraft.” When he didn’t flinch at the word witchcraft, she went on. “To those I’ve added three specially dried plants. Mexican arnica—”

“Camphor weed. Yes, I can smell the astringent. What else?”

Surprised, she went on. “Spikenard for open sores and silk tassel for the pain reliever.”

“I recognize the name silk tassel, it’s called quinine bush in some places. But the other…”

“It’s rare. Also called elk clover, and found only in a few mountain areas in the Southwestern United States and Mexico.”

He nodded his head and lay back against the pillows. “Okay, go ahead. But I want your story at the same time. I’d wager you’re the kind of witch that can do at least two things at one time.”

“How do you know so much about the healing properties of some pretty obscure plants?”

With his eyes closed, he answered in a weak voice, “I’ve spent time in some pretty obscure places in the world. The uses for medicinal plants and herbs are not just the province of Mexican witches, you know.”

His eyes flickered open again for a brief moment. “But quit hedging, woman. Begin your story.”

She began applying the poultice. “I’m from a little town in south Texas near the Mexican border. A place called Zavala Springs. It’s a ranching town, surrounded by the multithousand-acre Delgado Ranch. You may have heard of the ranch, it’s pretty famous. The Delgado Ranch is my family’s heritage, but the whole area is a really nice place to live and grow up in.”

Was that a good enough recommendation to entice him to leave Emma there? Probably not.

Colin sat back, watching her work with icy-blue eyes that were becoming evermore sharp and clear.

She decided to approach this from another direction. “I’m really sorry to have to tell you this, but I’m sure your brother was the one killed in the auto accident late last spring. He was using the name John Sheridan and he and his wife had been living in Alexandria, Virginia.”

Shaking his head, Colin leaned forward and spoke with quiet danger in his voice. “In the first place, my brother wasn’t married, as I said before. And second, how could you possibly connect a man named John Sheridan to my brother and then to me?” Not waiting for an answer, he plowed ahead. “I owe you a huge thanks for getting me out of that room, Maggie, and I’m grateful for your efforts at natural healing on my behalf. But what’s the truth of why you sought me out? What aren’t you telling me?”

She fought to get control of the conversation. “Look, I’m sure of my facts. You’ve been searching for your brother, haven’t you? Why don’t you tell me what you’ve learned already, and than we can compare what we know. I think what I know will hold up to whatever you have.”

Colin had to admit that she’d saved his life. And if she had actually wanted him dead, there’d been plenty of opportunities to do the deed. But it was the vulnerable look in her eyes that finally got him this time.

What did he have to lose? “All right. Fine.” He winced as she dabbed the poultice on his open wound. “I’ve discovered my brother was recruited by SIS, the British Secret Intelligence Service, while I was overseas at war.”

That idea still troubled Colin. Had John gone into covert work in an effort to impress him? Perhaps to get his attention?

Focusing on the present, he went on, “A couple of years ago John participated in an international, interagency sting in Mexico. The mission was to infiltrate the Mexican drug trade, one organization in particular. But then the sting went sour and John disappeared.”

Colin caught his breath and watched Maggie’s expression as he finished the story. “It’s taken me months to get a line on what happened to him, to assure myself that he wasn’t murdered in Mexico. A contact in your state department let me know that John had been threatened, yes, but he’d escaped. Someone, a shadowy figure and difficult to find, knew of his whereabouts. That was the man I expected to meet, when you arrived instead—and the shooting started.”

Maggie’s eyes went wide. “I came only because I needed to ask how you feel about…”

Halting her stumbling words, Maggie worried that she’d already said too much in the wrong way, so she began again. “After we…um…buried the Sheridans and I took in their child, I made every attempt to locate relatives, however distant. I searched the Internet for months. Even the rental car agency records were of little help. I found out that the Sheridans had rented a townhouse in Alexandria about a year ago, but their neighbors don’t remember much about them.”

“Go on,” he urged impatiently, while she gulped in a breath.

“Their licenses and the baby’s birth certificate were registered there, but that seems to be where the trail begins and ends. It’s like they appeared out of thin air a year ago.” She sighed heavily. “So, while I was searching, I became their child’s foster mother. Your niece’s foster mother. How would you feel about…I mean…”

Her words died in her throat. She was too scared to ask.

“You still haven’t said how you connected…”

“You to John Sheridan?” She refused to think of the consequences and plowed ahead. “Witchcraft. My Abuela Lupe helped me. She possesses crystals that see things hidden to others, and she knows how to use their special powers. We weren’t looking for people so much as a specific location of the nearest relative.”

Forcing herself to make eye contact, she continued, “That’s how I knew where to find you. I’m sorry to be the bearer of such sad news.”

Colin lifted the corners of his mouth in what could be either the ghost of a smile or a grimace. “Say for the moment that I…uh…buy into your witchcraft and crystal story, I still don’t understand why a woman who appears—” he waved his hand at her “—as reasonable as you let herself be persuaded to come all this way based on crystals.”

“I believe in my grandmother’s magic absolutely. Besides that, now that I’ve seen you, I’m totally convinced you’re the baby’s uncle.”

“Why?”

“You both have a very distinctive eye color. That clear ice-blue is not something I’ve seen before.”

Colin looked uncomfortable about more than just the bandage she’d applied. “So I’ve been told. But it’s not enough to assure me the child and I are related by blood. I wish for your sake it was.”

This was getting them nowhere. Exhaustion was overtaking them both, making compromise—or even clear thought—impossible.

“Sleep for now,” she whispered. “We’ll talk about it more when you’re rested. I won’t let any harm come to you. Trust me.”

“I don’t trust easily, Maggie,” Colin said as he lay back. “But I will sleep. Then when I awake, we’ll have the rest of our questions asked and answered. Count on it.”

Sunlight streamed down the air shaft outside the hotel room window. Maggie had no idea how long she’d been asleep. Last night, she’d curled up in the overstuffed, ugly, flower-print chair, watching over a sleeping Colin until her eyelids grew too heavy to prop open.

She cast a sleepy glance toward the mussed-up bed and sat up. She couldn’t believe her eyes. Colin was gone.

Holy moly. He must have slipped out while she was asleep. But why? She was fairly sure that she’d cured his wounds, but they hadn’t finished talking about his brother—and more important to her, about the baby.

Jumping up, she checked the room. Colin’s things were missing, too. Darn. She couldn’t just leave and go home to Emma. Colin knew where she lived. He could show up on her doorstep any day and demand she turn over his niece.

Maggie knew what she needed to do. She had to find him. Had to make him agree—in writing—to leave the baby with her for good. She went to her pack and pulled out her grandmother’s crystal, the one that could locate people.

She’d never tried this by herself before. Had never needed to. But this time, as she peered into the glass and focused her mind on finding Colin, the murky depths of the crystal began to clear and images began to form.

A shaft of panic slowly rose up through her spine as she saw Colin’s silhouette in a back booth of a darkened bar. His eyes were trained toward the front door as if he were waiting for someone.

But then another vision came into view in the crystal. A man, hunched into a trench coat, approached the restaurant’s back door. He slid his hand down into the coat pocket and withdrew a gun.

No!

Maggie grabbed her backpack and raced out the door and down the hotel’s stairs. Her mind knew the way to go, and it was clear she had to go now.

But would she be in time to save his life?

Chapter 3

From his booth in the darkest corner of the bar, Colin watched while the blighter who’d dropped off his pint backed away from the table, muttering something in Spanish. Colin tried to ignore the twit’s stares. He knew the fresh scratches on his face must look strange, but they’d already closed over with scabs and were healing thanks to Maggie’s natural potions. Not much else he could do about them now.

Needing to test his muscles, he stretched in his seat. A little soreness remained, but none of the intense pain from before. That Maggie Ryan had done an amazing job on him.

He had no trouble understanding why he’d so easily accepted her natural healing ability, yet still could not believe her witchcraft story. Years earlier, he himself had received training from a curandera healer. His father had been a diplomat, stationed in the Mexican state of Vera Cruz at the time, and Colin went for summer holiday. He’d spent a couple of fascinating months there learning about natural healing, honing the healing skills he’d picked up years earlier from his Irish mother and grandmother.

Colin seldom allowed himself to dwell on his early lessons in native plants, or on the Irish half of his background for that matter. Such thoughts usually turned dark when they led to the uncomfortable memories of his mother’s abandonment, and from there to thoughts of John, and the worthless reasons he’d given himself for neglecting his own brother.

He now knew that no amount of anger toward his mother was adequate grounds for deserting his baby brother. It hadn’t been John’s fault that their mother drove a wedge between the family. Colin realized, too late, that John had looked up to him, counted on him. And Colin had let him down. Stayed away when John needed his big brother the most.

Feeling melancholy, Colin tried to shake off the memories. He’d left Maggie’s room because, if he’d stayed, he might have begun to believe all her stories. Her spirit had called to him, her body set his afire at first sight. He couldn’t think clearly around her.

Natural healing was one thing, but witchcraft and crystals were quite another. Deep in his being, he did not believe.

He wasn’t ready to give up on John. To admit he’d lost his only brother. Not yet.

After making a couple of phone calls, Colin had gotten hold of a man who swore to know the truth. He was to meet that man here, in this pub, in the middle of the day.

It now seemed a waste of time.

Without warning, Colin felt the cold steel of a gun barrel as it pressed against his neck.

“Don’t move, Fairfax,” the deep voice said in heavily accented English. “And don’t make a sound.”

Where had the bastard come from? Colin had been watching the front door, and the bloke had appeared out of nowhere.

“We’re going to take this out to the alley. But if you make any wrong moves, I’d just as soon shoot you here. Understood?”

Colin nodded. His mind was busy calculating his chances, and the choice between making a stand here or out in the alley. Would this man have any real answers for him? Or was he just there to stop Colin’s questions for good?

“Get up. Slowly, por favor.”

Colin found himself leaning more toward the idea that this hombre wanted to kill him, not talk. The thought chilled him to the bone. His brother must be dead after all.

Numb and heartsick, Colin shifted and slid out of the booth. The man at his side grabbed his arm and jammed the gun in his ribs.

“Now walk. Nice and easy, sí?”

A commotion in the front of the bar caught everyone’s attention. Colin and his captor slowed then stopped dead.

“Colin, darlin’.” A high-pitched female voice lilted through the barroom. “Don’t you dare walk away from me, you…you…I’ve got something to say to you.”

Colin turned and blinked at the sight of Maggie shoving her way through the tables and heading directly for him. She looked like an avenging angel, storming through the bar patrons, who all watched her every move. An angel in a familiar, pea-green coat. He wanted to warn her to stay away but hesitated to make any quick moves. Instead, he waited for a chance to take control of the situation. Colin knew he could wrestle the gun away from the smaller man at his side if all things were equal, but he didn’t want anyone else to get hurt.

Particularly not Maggie.

She stormed up and raised her voice so she could be heard throughout the bar. “Colin Fairfax, you come home with me right this minute. How dare you leave just when I was telling you about the baby.”

“What?”

Maggie grimaced and shoved at his chest. “Come on. Stand up like a man. Let’s go home and face the music together.” She grabbed his arm and tugged him away from the stunned gunman.

Colin shot a glance at the guy and saw the man’s mouth had dropped open. Colin knew exactly how he felt. What the hell kind of game was she playing?

A dangerous one.

Maggie pulled him toward the front door. Every eye in the place was locked on the two of them.

“Maggie,” he whispered in her ear. “The guy has a gun pointed at us and no one is watching him now. We need to disappear before he figures it out.”

They both hit the door at a run. Maggie leaned against it and shoved. Just as daylight and cold city air blasted him in the face, the zing of a bullet whizzed past his ear and hit the front window. Glass shattered everywhere.

Bending, he threw his arm over Maggie’s head and shuffled the two of them out the door as fast as he could. “Move!”

As they hit the sidewalk, he took control and grabbed her arm. “Let’s go. Run.”

She started off without a word, managing to keep up with him as he dashed along the packed sidewalk. They ran full out and pushed through midday crowds until they were both out of breath.

Panting, he slowed after they’d gone about five blocks. “What the hell did you think you were doing?” he gritted out.

Maggie turned and gave him a sweet smile. “Why, Colin darlin’, you know the answer to that. I was saving your idiotic ass. What else?”

The head of the notorious drug cartel leaned back in his cushioned chair and looked around the veranda. The men in his employ either ate, drank or played cards as they lay around and waited to do his bidding.

All his money. The power he had accumulated. It would all mean nothing if the one man with more power learned of his past foolish mistake. In fact, his whole life would be worthless.

Ten years it had taken. He had worked hard and smart enough to climb to the top of one of the largest Mexican drug cartels. It would be too humiliating to have it come down around his ears, all because he had needed to take one small bit of revenge.

In truth, he’d managed to become the jefe—the boss—by demanding respect, and everyone knew that respect must be maintained.

No one blamed him because his organization had been infiltrated by an international undercover operation. Those agents had had their jobs to do, and he had his. All is fair in such wars. In fact, when he’d learned of their operation—fortunately before much damage could be done to his own organization—he felt respect for the men who had planned such a daring sting.

Respect for everyone but the traitor who’d become his lieutenant. Sighing, he thought once again of Juan. Juan, who’d been like a son to him. Better even than his own sons, because the man had had polish. Juan had accomplished things that his sons and nephews could not. It had been Juan who negotiated the money exchanges with higher-ups, Juan who bought and sold the real properties, Juan who could talk to the patrones and the politicians with more culture and power. Without Juan, the jefe’s connection with the big boss, Governor Garcia, would never have happened. His cartel would’ve been much less powerful.

Congenial and smart, Juan had been a tremendous help. The very idea that he’d been a spy all that time still rankled.

“Jefe, the hombre you wait for, was that him on the phone? El Cuervo de la Muerte? The Raven of Death?” Carlos, one of his men, had sucked up enough courage to interrupt the boss’s thoughts.

He nodded. “Yes, but El Cuervo will find his own time on earth growing short. He has failed in his mission. I have issued orders.”

“El Cuervo did not kill the Anglo? The nosy one?”

The jefe could swear he’d gone over these plans with Carlos earlier. Why couldn’t the man remember even the most important things? Carlos’s incompetence made him think of Juan, and that made him angry again.

“The Raven was supposed to eliminate Colin Fairfax, Juan’s brother. I cannot allow this Fairfax to continue asking questions. He must die. But El Cuervo missed his opportunity.” The jefe spat out the words in a fury. “Twice. The Raven of Death will not live to fail a third time. There are others who can be bought who will not fail.”

Carlos backed up and visibly shivered in his boots. “I do not understand the importance of this Fairfax. Juan is muerto. Why do you care if his brother asks questions? All the world should know el jefe demands respect and loyalty. The punishment for betrayal must be death.” Carlos shrugged, as though the idea was obvious.

The jefe waved his underling away as he had no wish to continue this conversation. The truth was bad enough. He could not afford word of it to spread.

The mistake had not been his fault. How was he to know that the traitor, Juan, had married since he’d disappeared into hiding? No one had heard from Juan for nearly a year when the jefe’s people finally managed to bribe a man who knew of his whereabouts. The minute he had been found, Juan’s fate had been sealed, though the jefe paid extra to make it look like an accident.

Qué carajo! How was he to know about a marriage that had been kept a secret from everyone? The jefe groaned under his breath as he faced his bad luck. Even the killing of an innocent woman should not have been too terrible as collateral damage. Innocent people died in cartel slayings every day.

But it had turned out this woman was special. Of all the people on earth for Juan to have married and died beside, why had he chosen Governor Garcia’s young daughter? And why had she chosen Juan as a means to escape her father?

Thankfully, the young couple had kept their romance quiet. It wasn’t much of a break, but the jefe could use it. Governor Garcia was still looking for his missing daughter and had no idea she’d married. But the powerful man would find out eventually. And then he would not give up until he learned the rest. The governor didn’t have his own black brujo magic the way the jefe did. He couldn’t see the future in the crystals, nor frighten his enemies with hexes and curses, but the governor did have many of his own contacts, and much power. That made it imperative for the jefe to stop nosy questions before the wind could carry the news back to the governor’s ears. All people asking those kinds of questions must disappear.

The jefe’s hands shook as he tried to pour himself a drink. He had also just learned of something else that had the potential to be much worse news for him. Something he had somehow missed months ago and now wasn’t sure he knew how to handle.

It seemed Juan and the governor’s daughter had had a child together. A baby. And that baby lived, despite the “accident” that killed its parents.

Taking a much-needed shot of tequila straight and warm, the way it was meant to be, the jefe felt the familiar burn clear to his gut as he wondered what he should do about the child when he found it. And he would find it. It was only a matter of time.

“What were you thinking?” Maggie shoved at Colin’s chest and narrowed her eyes at him. She should be giving him the evil eye, but he refused to look at her directly.

They’d quit running long enough to stop at the hotel, so Colin could pick up his duffel from the luggage check. Now they were down in Penn Station, trying to stay lost in the crowds. Colin kept his eyes shuttered from her view. She figured that meant he felt guilty for getting them both into that jam back at the bar. Well, he should. That was twice she’d had to save his life.

“Answer me. What the devil possessed you to try meeting with that man again? Are you crazy? Isn’t one attempt on your life enough?”

He folded his arms over his chest, lifted his chin and gave her a cold appraisal. “I couldn’t believe…the man I contacted is an agent for your government. I didn’t expect anyone working for the United States to send an assassin. Rather cheeky of him, if you ask me. I was only trying to find the truth about my brother.”

This wasn’t a joke, darn it. Fuming, she grimaced as she stared him down. His nearness gave her goose bumps, but she wouldn’t put up with any nonsense. She opened her mouth to tell him off, then promptly shut it again. Maggie couldn’t be too hard on him. Not when she understood how devastated he must feel underneath everything else.

Besides, someone wanted him dead. That whole, wild idea made her knees weak.

“Let’s sit a minute and settle down,” she whispered.

They found a quiet alcove, and by some miracle, two empty seats. As Colin plopped both his duffel and himself down, he gave her a quick glance, then began studying his shoes. She could feel the silent grief rolling off him in waves. So he hadn’t trusted her. Big deal. If she’d been in his place, she probably would’ve done the same.

Compassion colored her thoughts, making her heart go all mushy for the poor guy. She decided to give him a break—find a way to keep his mind off of dealing with the guilt.

By talking his ear off. “I have two brothers of my own, you know.”

He shot her a questioning look, and she figured she was on the right track. Give him something else to think about.

“Oh yeah,” she rambled on. “Two big brothers. When we were kids, it was both a blessing and a pain to have them hovering over me all the time. They taught me to ride and rope and swim. The three of us are real products of our environment. Have you ever been to south Texas?”

Without waiting for him to answer—without even taking a second breath—she babbled on. “After being separated for almost fifteen years, all of us are finally living within a few miles of each other. My oldest brother, Josh, he was a Ranger in the army. In Afghanistan. Did you say you were stationed in Afghanistan? You two might have met there.

“Anyway, my other brother, Ethan, was in the Secret Service, guarding big shots like ambassadors, and even the President of the United States on occasion. Both Josh and Ethan are back home in Texas now, helping me with my new business.” Her voice softened. “Josh is married and Ethan is engaged. Both of them are in the process of adopting the kids that came along with the wonderful women in their lives. But that’s another long story. I don’t think you want to—”

Colin lifted his head and raised a hand. “Take a breath before you faint, love.”

Maggie elbowed him in the ribs. She drew in a deep breath and tried to calm down, but kept her eyes trained on Colin’s face. His expression seemed lighter, less sad.

“What kind of accent do you have?” he asked. “I’ve been to a lot of places in the world, but I’ve never heard anything quite like it.”

The idea hit her without warning. He needed to come home with her. Get out of this city and away from whatever danger stalked him. Colin should also take the opportunity to see his brother’s grave and meet his darling baby niece. Maybe if he did all that, it would make him feel a little less guilty about losing track of his brother, give him closure of a sort.

And maybe…Well, if he saw that Emma was happy and healthy and living with people who adored her, maybe he would be more amenable to letting the baby stay where she was.

“The accent’s a mishmash, same as me,” she answered airily. “My granddaddy and Nana Ryan came over from Ireland as a young couple and never lost their Gaelic lilts. I probably picked up a little of their accent when I lived with them.”

She sighed and drew in air. “And my Abuela Lupe, my mom’s mother, speaks with a heavy Spanish accent. She’s living in Mexico now, but she lived with us at the ranch until my mom died when I was fifteen. I learned a lot from her, including how to speak Spanish.”

She had his full attention now. He was staring at her as if he was seeing her for the first time.

“Look,” she began as she rose to her feet. “Why don’t you fly home with me today? You can meet the baby and my family and friends. See your brother’s grave.”

He flinched at the mention of his brother.

With unexpected tears filling her eyes, she had to force herself to continue. “Maybe you’d like to put another headstone on his grave. One with the right name and all.” Lordy, but she sure hoped he wouldn’t want to take his brother’s body back to England. She wanted baby Emma to be able to visit her daddy’s grave when she got old enough to understand.

“Come to Texas with you?” Colin looked a little overwhelmed. But soon enough his eyes cleared and he too stood. “That’s a brilliant idea, Maggie, love.”

“Well…great. Let’s go then.” She turned, but kept right on talking over her shoulder as she picked up her backpack. “We can take the Air Train from here. It’ll get us to the airport in enough time for—”

Colin grabbed her arm, swung her around and pulled her close. Too close. It took her breath away.

“Thank you for saving my life,” he whispered against her lips as he gazed into her eyes. “I’m not sure how you managed all of this yet, but I owe you a debt.”

“Uh. No.” She could barely think while standing this close to the blue and silver highlights in his eyes. “You—”

Breaching the gap between them, he stopped her words—her thoughts, her breathing—by lasering a kiss across her lips. A sudden rush of fire through her veins turned her world upside down, and the unflappable Maggie Ryan finally hit the wall.

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