Someone’s watching them...

and only he can protect mother and child

Westley Foster is the first person Cady Long turns to when she’s attacked in her new home. As a security expert, her late husband’s military buddy is the perfect choice to guard her and her baby daughter…and figure out how the attacker is getting inside. But as the unknown enemy closes in, can West keep them safe long enough to catch her would-be killer?

JILL ELIZABETH NELSON writes what she likes to read—faith-based tales of adventure seasoned with romance. Parts of the year find her and her husband on the international mission field. Other parts find them at home in rural Minnesota, surrounded by the woods and prairie and four grown children and young grandchildren. More about Jill and her books can be found at jillelizabethnelson.com or Facebook.com/jillelizabethnelson.author.

Also By Jill Elizabeth Nelson

Evidence of Murder

Witness to Murder

Calculated Revenge

Legacy of Lies

Betrayal on the Border

Frame-Up

Shake Down

Rocky Mountain Sabotage

Duty to Defend

Lone Survivor

The Baby’s Defender

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

The Baby’s Defender

Jill Elizabeth Nelson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-0-008-90671-9

THE BABY’S DEFENDER

© 2020 Jill Elizabeth Nelson

Published in Great Britain 2020

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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“I’m sure we’re fine.”

How deeply she wanted that statement to be true.

A strong hand closed around her upper arm. “I may have snoozed in the car, but I’m wide-awake now,” West said quietly, steel underlying his tone. “You and Baby-Bug are safe with me.”

A bicycle whooshed past, the rider snaking out a hand and grabbing the stroller’s handle. The sheer force of the bicyclist’s speed ripped the stroller from Cady’s fingers.

“Livvy!” Cady cried as bicycle and stroller veered onto a dirt path leading kitty-corner through the park.

West’s hand grabbed hers, and they surged forward in pursuit. A fist gripped Cady’s heart. They had to reach Olivia! She was slowing West down. He was practically dragging her along as those military-grade legs

ate up the ground.

Cady jerked her hand from his. “Go, go!”

Dear Reader,

It was my pleasure to finally usher Cady and West into their happily-ever-after. I hope you enjoyed the journey, and I also hope that certain aspects of the story ministered blessing or insight to your hearts.

Families can be complicated—not always as complicated as Cady’s, but certainly with their challenges. Nevertheless, God’s plan for human life has always revolved around the mutual love, belonging and safety intended to be found in family groups. In fact, the family is so foundational that Scripture uses the family analogy to describe our relationship with all others who claim the name of Christ. No wonder the institution of the family has been under perpetual attack up to this present time! Even when it looked like Cady had lost all her family relationships through one tragedy or another, God called others into relationship with her to fill those roles. We can count on God to do the same for us, starting with Himself as our heavenly Father.

West took his role of protector and defender of Cady and Olivia as a sacred trust delivered to him by God. Such courage and faithfulness do credit to the military credo and, even more significantly, honors the name of Christ. In a sense, all Christians are called to display such courage and faithfulness in ensuring justice and provision for the widow and the fatherless, i.e. all the defenseless. In so doing, we serve our fellow human beings, particularly those of the household of faith, and we glorify God.

I enjoy interacting with my readers. You can visit me at www.jillelizabethnelson.com or stop by my Facebook page at www.Facebook.com/JillElizabethNelson/Author. I’d love to “see” you there.

Blessings,

Jill Elizabeth Nelson

A father of the fatherless, and a judge of the widows, is God in his holy habitation.

—Psalm 68:5

To our courageous and dedicated military service men and women and to their equally courageous and dedicated families.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Introduction

Dear Reader

Bible Verse

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

Extract

About the Publisher

ONE

Cady Long bent her neck and kissed the top of her baby Olivia’s head. The peach fuzz of her daughter’s hair tickled her nostrils, and she suppressed a sneeze. It wouldn’t do to startle the child wide-awake at four o’clock in the morning. Livvy had just finished nursing and had fallen fast asleep again in her mother’s arms. The normal routine that had finally developed in this sixth week of her baby’s life consisted of at least another two to three hours of precious sleep for them both before they started a new day.

Yawning silently, Cady rose from the rocking chair and placed Olivia in her crib. A tiny sigh fluttered from the infant’s lips and expanded Cady’s heart like a balloon. How could she contain the love bursting inside her for this blessed child? Olivia was her legacy with her soldier husband, Griffon, who had given his life on a foreign battleground before he even had a chance to know he was going to be a father.

A dull ache that never totally went away throbbed deep inside her as she tiptoed from her daughter’s room and headed up the short hallway toward her own. The rich smell of old woodwork newly refinished teased her nostrils. She’d recently inherited this nineteenth-century home in Glenside, a suburb of Philadelphia, from her great-aunt Anita. Memories of visits to this house featured as bright spots in a childhood deeply marred by parental alcohol and drug abuse. But as much as she treasured this priceless piece of history passed down through her troubled family, especially when she had desperately needed a place to live and raise her daughter, she would trade the massive Gothic Revival house in a heartbeat to have Griffon back alive.

A bittersweet smile flickered on her lips at the thought of how he would have delighted in his daughter and, in order to provide the best for her, would have thrown himself into the restoration projects this old home required. At least now she had West Foster, her husband’s former sergeant, as well as Darius Creed and Brennan Abernathy, two other former army buddies, helping her gradually make repairs on this place without violating the conditions of the will and the preservation restrictions attached to such vintage structures.

Her soft pillow beckoning, Cady reached for her bedroom doorknob but a faint yet distinct thump from somewhere downstairs halted her abruptly. The breath froze in her lungs. That noise was not among the catalog of natural creaks and groans this old house often made. Had someone broken into her home? Stock-still and holding her breath, she continued to listen for unusual noises aside from the accelerated drumbeat of her pulse in her ears.

A click followed by a scrape carried to her from somewhere directly below her feet. Cady’s heart leaped against her ribs. Someone was in her house!

Sharp prickles ran up and down her body as heat bloomed in her chest. Was she afraid or angry? Both sounded about right, but she wasn’t about to react like those idiot heroines in the movies and head downstairs to investigate on her own.

Gritting her teeth against a shiver, Cady continued through the door into her bedroom. Her phone was on the charger atop her bedside table, and the gun Griff had given her and taught her to shoot was in the drawer beneath. In smooth, tandem motions, she snatched up her phone and yanked open the drawer. With the cool metal of the firearm cradled in her palm, she thumbed her phone awake and tapped in the number for emergency services. The call rang through in one ear while she strained with her other ear to catch any further sounds from elsewhere in her house. No more foreign noises. But that didn’t mean the intruder was gone. At least the old staircase was not emitting the telltale creaks that would signal someone ascending toward the bedrooms, which meant she could be thankful the person seemed to be confining his or her activities to the downstairs.

The emergency operator answered, and Cady whispered her situation and address into the phone. The operator started saying something about staying on the line, but Cady put the call on hold and tapped the shortcut button for West Foster. Sure, she wanted the cops to show up, but they were strangers. West, she knew and trusted. Her body began to shake uncontrollably. She was going to need a friend by her side at this moment, and West’s apartment building was only a couple blocks away. Besides, if the recently discharged Army Ranger got here before the law, any intruder would take one look at all that solid muscle and power and flee like his pants were on fire.

“Hello, Cady.” West’s tone was sharp and clear even though she had to have awakened him from sleep. More evidence of his military training—instant awareness.

“Come quickly.” She shivered as if a chill breeze had wafted over her. “An intruder is in my hou—”

Something hard crashed against her skull, and Cady’s brain went woozy. She fell forward onto the bed, face-planting onto her pillow. The phone flew from her hand, but the hard bulk of her handgun pressed against her belly where it was sandwiched between her body and the mattress. A weight leaped on top of her middle back, as if someone were sitting on her. Hands shoved her face into the pillow, robbing her of the ability to breathe. A pair of sturdy legs trapped her arms against her sides, rendering her helpless. The weight on her back was a boulder. Clearly, her assailant was larger than her.

Cady kicked and thrashed, pajama-clad legs scissoring the air fruitlessly, but her attacker only increased the pressure that forced her face into the pillow. Seconds passed like minutes, minutes like hours, and even though her attacker grunted with the effort of holding her, no matter how she wriggled she remained trapped. She was being suffocated! Her natural petiteness offered no advantage in the situation.

Pulse roaring in her ears, her heart hammered against her ribs. Her lungs ached for oxygen. She was going to die.

What about Olivia? Who would look after her?

Cady’s heart wept for her orphaned daughter as consciousness faded.

West charged up Cady’s sidewalk, his bare feet slapping the cool cement. Cady was in trouble! That’s all he’d needed to know to send him running without wasting precious time donning his lace-up utility boots or even buttoning the shirt he’d thrown on over his jeans. He’d grabbed his gun and run.

Behind him and closing in fast, a siren sounded. Cady had called the police too—smart girl—but their proximity wasn’t going to slow him down when seconds might count. West took the porch stairs in a single leap and the heavy, ornate front door loomed before him. Cady had given him a spare key since he and his buddies had been coming over to help out with the household projects this old place demanded. He thrust it toward the lock just as the screech of skidding tires and the siren’s blare caught up with him.

“Stop! Police!” A male voice bellowed behind him.

Without a backward glance, West turned the key and burst into the spacious foyer.

“Cady!” His voice echoed back at him from the vaulted ceiling.

No response. The home was silent except for the countdown beep of the home security system that would soon blare if he didn’t enter the access code. He couldn’t afford the noise when the ability to hear evidence of human presence might be critical. He punched in the code as his heart beat a tattoo in his chest. This massive place was a house and half. Where would Cady be this time of night? Upstairs, most likely. West flipped on a light and took the steps two at a time, calling her name. A soft moan drew him to the second door on the right.

Readying his pistol for action, he burst into the room. His line of sight located no one except a pajama-clad figure, lying facedown, gasping and stirring on the bed. He swept his gaze and his gun to the left and then right. Unless someone was hiding in the closet, only he and Cady occupied the room.

“West?” She croaked at him as she rolled over, panting for breath, and sat up. “I can’t believe...you came...so fast.” A hiccuping sob cracked her voice. “The attacker ran off...when you yelled, and the siren closed in. The person was trying to suffocate me. I thought I was going to die!”

Fighting an impulse to run to her and gather her in his arms, West edged over to the closet door and popped it open. Nothing and no one inside except clothes and shoes and a few storage boxes.

He turned toward Cady. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“Drop the gun and get your arms in the air.” The authoritative voice from a husky man in a police uniform cut off any response she might have made.

West complied instantly. He slowly bent and lowered his weapon to the carpet. He had no reason to resist when Cady no longer appeared to be in danger. Thank you, Jesus.

“That’s not necessary,” Cady said. “This is my friend.” She motioned toward West. “I called him right after I called for the police, and you both came quicker than I believed possible.”

“My partner and I were in the area, ma’am,” said the cop as a female officer entered the room, also with gun extended.

“Please, put the weapons away.” Cady’s tone went a little shrill. “I’ve had enough of a shock this morning.”

“You’re holding one, too.” West kept his voice gentle and even.

Her body visibly trembled, and her skin was pale as chalk. Those symptoms, plus her rapid breathing, betrayed the potential onset of shock. The enlarged pupils of her amber eyes were not a good sign, either.

Cady’s gaze fell toward her lap where her hand rested, clutching her firearm. “Oh!” she gasped out and dropped the gun. It thudded to the floor. “Much good that thing did me when I needed it.”

The police officers also lowered their weapons.

The female uniformed cop pulled a small notepad from her pocket. “Would you tell us, please, what happened here?”

West silently echoed the question. Something terrible had gone on in this room to strike such terror into this strong woman.

“Someone attacked me,” Cady said. “The person hit me over the head with something, and while I was dazed, he tried to suffocate me with a pillow. Whoever it was tried to kill me!”

“I’m going to search this house from top to bottom.” West’s fists clenched as his words came out in a low growl.

“No, sir,” said the male officer. “Leave that to the professionals.”

“I am a professional. The army trained me to search dangerous territory and expose hostile elements.”

The officer shook his head. “But—”

“Stop!” Cady’s voice sliced the air. “Whoever it was has to be long gone. I need to check on my baby in the next bedroom.”

West’s gut twisted. Someone had infiltrated the house and attacked a new mother with her infant sleeping next door. How low could anyone get?

“There’s a child here?” said the female officer. “Better let one of us do the checking.”

“All right.” Cady’s mouth quivered beneath her wide gaze. “My attacker didn’t have a spare second to do anything to Olivia, but I still need to be assured of her safety.”

“Understandable,” West said. “Hang in there. We’re all here for you now.”

“Thank you.” She rose to her five-foot-two-inch height and squared her shoulders, her whole countenance firming. “But please be as quiet as you can as you go into Livvy’s room. If she’s slept through this commotion, I’d like her to stay asleep...at least for a while yet. Could you all leave for a moment? I’d like to put some regular clothes on.”

“Sorry, ma’am,” said the female officer. “You’ll need to stay as you are right here until the crime scene investigators and EMTs arrive. The CSIs will need to collect the pajamas as evidence and be on hand while the EMTs check you out physically so that they can collect any evidence from your person. They will also collect items like your pillow for examination.”

Cady slumped, her face losing color again. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Do as you’re directed,” West told her. “It’s for the best. I’ll look in on Baby-bug and then maybe Officer Harmon—” he filled in the name from the pin on the male officer’s uniform “—and I can search the premises. Whoever attacked you didn’t leave by the front door because that’s where these officers and I came in.”

“Sounds like a plan.” The female officer, whose name tag dubbed her Andrews, shot a frown at her partner who was staring at West with a mulish look on his face. “I’ll stay with you, ma’am, until reinforcements arrive.”

Cady nodded silently and subsided into a seat on the edge of the bed. West’s heart twisted. Just when it looked like a modicum of peace and contentment was peeping through Cady’s bereaved sadness, something like this happened to send her back into dejection with an added heaping helping of old-fashioned fear. Whoever had done this had better hope he didn’t find them before the cops did.

Jaw tense, West went with Officer Harmon into the hallway. He headed for the next bedroom, but Harmon brushed in front of him and slipped inside. Scowling, West waited in the hall, mindful of Cady’s request for quiet in checking on Olivia. Not that he wouldn’t rather have given Officer Grouch an earful. That baby was like a daughter to him, a sacred trust to look after in Griffon’s stead.

Harmon soon returned wearing a small smile. “Cute kid,” the cop whispered. “A-okay and sound asleep. The room is clear.”

West swallowed a chuckle. Apparently, babies softened grumpy cops, as well as hardened soldiers.

“What do you know about what took place here?” Harmon asked.

“No more than you do. When she called me, Cady barely had time to tell me she had an intruder when I heard her cry out, followed by a thump and a grunt. Then the phone went dead. I just moved to town, and I’m without a personal vehicle at the moment, so I raced over here from my apartment two blocks away as quickly as my feet could take me.”

The officer stared down at West’s bare toes peeking from beneath the hem of his jeans.

“Fast feet,” he said with a grunt. “From your military background?”

“Army Rangers. Discharged a week ago.”

The officer nodded. “Let’s go scour this house for any sign of the intruder or how he got in or out. That’s got me curious, especially when the security alarm wasn’t tripped. Is there any other way to get up to the second floor but those front stairs?”

West pointed into the dimness farther up the hallway. “There’s an old servants’ stairway at the far end, but the doors at the top and bottom are locked and boarded up for good measure, since the steps aren’t safe anymore.”

“We’d better check them out, anyway.”

West popped his head into Cady’s room and let her know Livvy was fine, then he and Officer Harmon set off on their search mission. By the time they’d checked out the servants’ stairway, top and bottom, to discover it was still locked and boarded up at both ends, the EMTs and CSI personnel were arriving, a plainclothes detective with them. Everyone went about their business with calm efficiency while West and Officer Harmon finished scouring the premises.

They’d wound up in the spacious but old-fashioned kitchen when Cady walked into the room wearing a pair of black leggings and a floral-patterned, long-tailed blouse. Her medium-length blond hair had been pulled back in a ponytail. She held her athletic figure erect, chin high, but her eyes wore shadows.

“Did you find out how the intruder gained access to my home?” Her wide gaze shifted from West to the officer and back again.

“Sorry.” West rolled his shoulders in a tense shrug. “Everything appears locked up tight and in order.” It was beyond frustrating that they hadn’t been able to discover the way the attacker got in or the method he used to slip away.

“There’s no sign of forced entry anywhere, ma’am,” Officer Harmon added.

Cady appeared to wilt. “I don’t understand what’s going on.”

West stepped up to her and placed a hand on her arm. She lifted those expressive amber eyes to his.

He offered a small smile. “Let me make you a cup of tea while law enforcement finishes up here.”

“Tea sounds wonderful,” Cady answered with a hint of enthusiasm.

Harmon nodded toward them and vacated the room.

“Pick a seat and I’ll wait on you.” West motioned toward the chairs around the kitchen table. “No argument.” He forestalled her objection with a wagging finger, then turned toward the stove and flicked on the gas flame under the traditional kettle Cady always kept on the burner ready to heat.

“Now, let me see where this creep hit you.” He stepped around behind her, and Cady sat still while he gently parted her hair. The light-colored strands were soft between his fingers, and the pleasant scent of her fruity shampoo wafted up to him. “There’s a red mark, but not much swelling.”

“Yes, the medical personnel told me I should be examined by a doctor once the clinic opens, just to be safe, but they doubt I have a concussion.”

“That’s one good thing.” He moved in front of her. “Did you get any kind of a look at your attacker?”

“Not a thing. The person was behind me or sitting on me the whole time. The detective asked me the same thing, but the best description I could give was that, judging by weight, the intruder could have been a small man or a large woman.”

“A woman?” West let out a soft growl. “I hope they can find some sort of forensic evidence in the bedroom or somewhere in the house to give us a clue who did this.”

“You and me both. Frankly...” She stopped speaking and tucked her lower lip between her teeth.

“What is it?”

“The detective seemed a little skeptical about my story.”

“Why do you think that?”

“He kept asking me if I was sure about the details I was reporting, and he was really bothered about the fact that the intruder didn’t set off the house alarm. Then when they found a couple strands of my hair in the carved woodwork of my bed’s headboard, he asked if I might have hit my head on it.”

West huffed. “Implication being that you caused your own head injury? How ridiculous.”

“I’m not sure what he was implying, but he seemed to take everything I said with a grain of skepticism.”

“Maybe it’s just his way of being thorough.” West went to the cupboards to hide his scowl from her. He didn’t need to upset her further with an anger spike, but maybe he needed to have a personal talk with that detective about his crime-side manner.

He pulled out a pair of mugs, equipped with infusers, from the cupboard where he’d seen her store them last week when he’d been here fixing a leaky faucet. A tea canister sat next to the mugs, still with its plastic shrink-wrap seal. West broke the wrap, opened the lid and took a whiff of the dried roots and leaves inside.

“New flavor,” he said. “Unusual. Smells faintly of celery.”

“When it comes to tea, the odor and the flavor can be quite different. The canister came in the gift basket I received from the neighborhood watch committee when I moved in, but I wanted to finish my Tuscan herbal lemon variety before I opened the new container.”

The kettle whistled and West turned off the heat. The shrill noise faded while he added several scoops of the new tea into the infuser baskets. He poured the steaming water over the exotic-looking dried herbs, then set a cup in front of Cady.

With his own mug he took a seat at the table opposite her. “I’m glad you called me at the same time you called the cops. Your trust means a lot to me.”

Probably too much. His growing attraction to the widow of one of his squad members made him more than uncomfortable. What was he to do with feelings that seemed disloyal to his courageous buddy and were certainly too soon for him to look for reciprocation from his widow? West shook off the internal dilemma and gave his full attention to the woman across the table from him.

“I’m ashamed of the way I depend on you and the guys.” Cady wrapped her hands around her mug, as if her fingers were cold, and stared at the brew inside.

“Are you kidding me? It’s our duty and honor to watch over you and Baby-bug.”

She glanced up at him, those wonderful eyes moist. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that. The three of you even moved to Pennsylvania because I decided to come here and live in this place that I inherited. I know Griff would want you to keep an eye on me, but I almost feel like my choices are dictating your choices. You have your own lives to figure out now that you are civilians again, especially when you’re gearing up to start your own business together.”

“You think we’re too busy for you?”

“Not exactly.” She lifted her mug and started to bring it toward her mouth, but then set it down again. “I mean I don’t want to be a burden. I want—no, need—to stand on my own two feet. Eventually.”

West studied her as he took a sip from his mug. Pleasantly sweet, not vegetable-flavored in the least. Cady was right about the taste being different from the smell.

“Independence is one thing,” he said. “We understand and respect your boundaries, but things changed radically tonight.”

Cady visibly shuddered. “I’ll tell you something I didn’t tell the cops because it makes me sound off-my-rocker paranoid. Over the past six weeks or so, I keep getting this creepy sensation at odd moments—like something slithering up my backbone—as if I’m being watched.”

West’s nostrils flared. He’d experienced the sensation on many missions and learned to listen to it. Someone was spying on Cady? The same person who’d tried to kill her? A logical deduction.

If he gripped the tea mug any tighter, he’d break it. “Consider yourself the Triple Threat Personal Protection Service’s first client. Pro bono.”

Cady lifted a hand, palm out. “I couldn’t take advantage of your new company like that. I need your services, but I need to pay like any other client.” A distinctive baby howl blasted through the monitor on the kitchen counter. “Excuse me.” A soft smile spreading her lips, she rose gracefully. “Her highness has awakened quite ravenous.”

She left the room, and West sat nursing his tea and brooding. In the middle of a sip from his mug, he winced at a tearing sensation in his gut. The room began to waver and wobble as if the walls were breathing. West gripped his head and attempted to stand up, but another abdominal pain—like a KA-BAR knife twisting in his stomach—bent him double.

The strange tea!

Did Cady drink any of it? He didn’t think so, but his mind was spinning. He couldn’t remember for sure.

Please, God!

The world dissolved around him.

TWO

Cady paced the hospital waiting room floor, bouncing a fussy Olivia in her arms. What on earth had happened with West? A sudden attack of appendicitis? But appendicitis didn’t cause seizures, did it? The minutes waiting for an ambulance to arrive had been horrible, watching West suffer. The EMTs who’d checked out her head bump had long left the premises, but one of the CSIs finishing up evidence collection had known to clear the area of anything sharp to keep West from injuring himself. Then, as he was being loaded into the ambulance, he seemed to become aware and he kept moaning, “The tea. It was in the tea.” So, feeling a bit foolish, Cady had sent the tea canister along with the EMTs to the hospital.

The clomping of two pairs of booted feet quick marching alerted her that Brennan and Darius had arrived and were headed up the hallway toward her. She’d called West’s business partners, aka former squad brothers, and apprised them of the situation even before the ambulance arrived at her house. The men burst into view, buddies sharing a level of trust that only comrades in arms can achieve. Darius—of the dark eyes, umber complexion and five-foot-nine-inch package of pure muscle—grabbed her close in a quick squeeze. The moment she was released from the breath-stealing hug, Brennan, a six-foot-tall, lanky and pale Kentuckian, plucked Olivia from her grasp and began tickling his honorary niece.

What a relief not to feel alone in a crisis anymore. Cady’s leg muscles went weak, and she sank into a nearby chair. Darius perched on the edge of a seat beside her, as if ready to charge into action at any moment. Cady understood. Soldiers hated to sit still when one of their own was in danger. Even Brennan, the more laid-back of the pair, betrayed hyperalertness in the cool blue gaze that kept skimming the waiting room and up and down the hallways, even as he made goofy faces at Livvy, who kicked and cooed in appreciation. Unfortunately, at this moment, there was nothing any of them could do but wait for a report from the medical team working on West.

“Heard anything more?” Darius asked in his baritone voice.

“Nothing yet.” Cady’s fingernails dug into the palms of her hands as she struggled against tears.

How could she bear it if West were stolen from her life, too? God, You wouldn’t be so cruel as to allow that, would You? Cady thrust the question from her mind. Griff’s death had shaken her confidence in God’s care and protection.

She only knew that in a very short time West had become like an anchor in her personal storm. Ever since Griff was killed in action, West had phoned regularly to check on her—no matter where he was in the world—visited in person when he was on base and acted as a sounding board for the many decisions she’d had to make. She’d never forget how he and the guys had obtained temporary leave to help her move three months ago when she suddenly inherited her great-aunt’s house. That she received the life-changing bequest while she was in her third trimester of pregnancy was hardly convenient, but the stipulations of the will required her to move in immediately or lose possession. Sure, she talked big about independence, but was she ready for it? Certainly not by losing someone else she cared about.

Darius touched her arm and Cady jerked out of her dark meditations.

“Sorry.” He lifted his hands, palms out. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Was there some sort of emergency that brought West to your place so early?”

Rubbing the sore place on her skull, Cady launched into the harrowing tale of her personal attack. If thunderclouds could actually appear on someone’s brow, Darius’s head was wreathed in them, and Brennan’s complexion all but burst into flame as she wrapped up her account of events.

“You’re our first client, for sure,” the Kentuckian bit out.

“That’s what West said.” Cady shrugged her shoulders.

“Then it’s settled,” Darius rumbled. “But right now, you’re going to follow the EMTs’ advice and head down to the ER to have your head examined—literally.”

Cady grimaced. “More than one person in my lifetime has recommended such an exam to me.”

The quip drew gentle smiles from the pair of ex-soldiers.

An hour later, she’d received a clean bill of health from a physician, provided she continued to exhibit no signs of concussion. Now she was back in the waiting room, her chest full and tight, like an invisible fist held her in its grip. Why was there no word yet on West’s condition?

Darius and Brennan did their best to provide distraction by showering attention on Olivia, insisting on keeping Cady—the nursing mother—hydrated with good, old-fashioned H2O, and pestering the desk nurse for updates, which were not forthcoming. Finally, a tired-looking fortysomething man wearing a doctor’s coat and a stethoscope stepped into the waiting room and called Cady’s name.

“Here!” she cried, leaping to her feet.

He motioned her over, and Darius and Brennan followed close on her six, as her military exposure had taught her to refer to the area directly behind her.

“I’m Dr. Horton, Emergency Medicine Specialist,” he said, eyeing the tough-looking pair looming in her wake. “These two must be Westley’s army buddies and business partners. He said he figured you guys would show up ‘loaded for bear,’ as he put it.”

“West is all right?” Cady’s words emerged through a constricted throat.

“I wouldn’t call him all right yet.” The doc grimaced. “Full recovery from cicutoxin takes time, but he’s out of danger now. It was a close call. If you hadn’t sent that tea canister along so we could quickly identify what he’d ingested, I doubt I would have good news for you at this moment. Frankly, we would have spent too much time ruling out reasons other than poison for his seizures and gastrointestinal distress. With cicutoxin, there is no outright antidote. Prompt and proper treatment to mitigate the effects on the body is critical.”

“What exactly is cicutoxin poisoning?” Darius folded thickly muscled arms over his barrel chest.

“Cicuta is the Latin name for water hemlock,” the doctor answered. “It’s a highly toxic plant native to wetlands in North America.”

“Cowbane,” Brennan inserted, face washing pale beneath his tan. “My family has lost livestock to that deadly plant. ’Course, cows just eat whatever’s growin’ out of the ground and tastes good, but people who should know better sometimes confuse the plant with wild parsnip and have cooked it up in their fritters—with fatal results.”

Darius scowled. “So, this plant is something common that anyone could obtain if they were knowledgeable about what to look for.”

“I’m afraid so,” the doctor said.

“Can we see West now?” Cady cut in.

All this talk of poison sent her head spinning and her heart rate stuttering. The only route to regaining any semblance of calm would be to see him, talk to him, touch him.

“One at a time,” Dr. Horton said. “And only briefly. He needs to rest while his body works to flush out the remnants of the poison. We’re continuously monitoring his brain activity with an EEG, though the seizures seem to have abated. As far as prognosis, in a strong specimen like him we can hope for recovery to be fairly rapid. Hopefully, we won’t need to keep him longer than overnight.”

Cady exhaled a long breath. “Thank you, doctor.”

Shortly, Cady stepped into a small hospital room that smelled faintly of floor wax and antiseptic. West’s strong form filled out the narrow hospital bed. An IV bag dripped a clear substance into a prominent vein in the back of his hand. Immediately, his head swiveled toward her, disturbing the variety of wires which appeared to sprout from his scalp. Of course, he’d heard her soft footfalls over the beeping from the machine connected to those wires. Her heart tripped over that broad Dennis Quaid smile of his.

Though the edges of her lips wobbled a bit, she managed to grin back. “You look like a wonky science experiment.”

“You mean my new antennae?” His chuckle warmed the last vestige of chill from her bones. “Doc says I have to wear these EEG gadgets until the last chance of a seizure has passed. I don’t recommend having one of those to anyone. Did a number on me. A kitten could wrestle me into submission.”

Cady amazed herself with a laugh. A few moments ago, she couldn’t imagine expressing any semblance of mirth, but leave it to West to bring humor’s cleansing perspective into a frightening situation. She touched his tanned arm, bare beneath the short sleeve of his hospital gown, and found it as much of a rock as ever. Not that she’d had much cause to know what West’s arms felt like—other than the occasional casual friend hug when the squad had gotten together socially between missions—but Griff’s had been like that, too. The sensation was like connecting with something familiar. Safe.

“Where’s Baby-bug?” West asked.

“Darius and Brennan are in the waiting room competing for her attention. Of course, I guarantee if her diaper needs changing, each will be eager to let the other call dibs on her.”

West’s grin appeared again. “I’d like to be a fly on the wall for that face-off.”

“I can’t stay long. She’s going to be hungry again soon, and there’s nothing either of those lugs can do to remedy that problem. Besides, the doc said you need to rest.”

“Rest is overrated.” His brown eyes lost all trace of humor. “I need to get out of here and get on duty.”

“Duty?”

“This time, you saved my life. I need to get on with protecting you—and little Livvy.”

Cady’s cheeks heated. “I saved you? Hardly. I think it’s more like you already started protecting me. The tea was meant for me, but you drank it.”

“Yes, but I served it to you. Not good on me that you neglected to drink it. I almost killed you!”

“Not you. Whoever packaged deadly poison as tea and slipped it into my gift basket did that. I’m pretty sure I’m going to receive more attention from law enforcement now.”

“I’m not willing to leave your safety to them. They can’t offer round-the-clock protection. We can, and we won’t accept a dime. Not from you.”

Sucking in a quivering breath, Cady wound her fingers together. “I won’t argue about that offer anymore. I’m grateful.”

“Good.” West seemed to relax into his pillow.

“Do you know the creepiest thing for me about this situation?” She gazed into his sober eyes. “I’ve deduced that whoever attacked me this morning got tired of waiting—like a patient spider in a web—for me to drink that cowbane concoction and die, so they took direct action and tried to smother me.”

West’s hand wrapped around hers, spreading warmth up her arm. “We’re dealing with evil here. But God promises never to leave or forsake us. We need to trust Him for guidance and protection.”

Cady bit back the hot retort that sprang to her lips. Where was that guidance and protection when her husband walked into an ambush during some top-secret operation at an undisclosed location in the Middle East?

Instead, she forced a tight-lipped smile at West. “With all my heart, I trust you and your guys to keep me and Olivia safe.”

“You need to trust us with Mrs. Long’s safety, Mr. Foster,” Detective Rooney said to West. He’d been the one on scene at Cady’s home.

Rooney had strolled into West’s hospital room only an hour or so after Darius and then Brennan had been in to see him. The pair had been more than willing to accompany Cady and Olivia home and commit to staying with them indefinitely. So far, the detective had taken West’s statement and had him sign a release to law enforcement of his medical records pertaining to this incident. Now, the investigator was trying to get him to back off on watchdog duty, like West and his men’s presence was somehow going to mess with the police investigation.

West scowled at the detective. “Are you prepared to assign officers to guard her and her premises 24/7?”

“There was no sign of forced entry at the house.” The detective scowled back. “Is Mrs. Long prone to vivid nightmares? She could have been thrashing around and banged the back of her skull against that massive headboard on her bed.”

“Is that what you people are speculating now? That Cady dreamed of being attacked this morning?”

Did the detective know something that he wasn’t willing to share?

Cold iron stiffened West’s spine. “If Cady’s imagining things, how do you explain the poison in the tea that was certainly meant for her?”

“The poison was present in Mrs. Long’s tea container, which implies danger to her, but you say she never drank from her cup, even though it sat in front of her for many minutes.”

“Understandable. She’d just been attacked in her home, and we were talking over serious matters. She was too distracted and agitated to care about drinking tea.”

“Yet you weren’t?”

“I told you how things happened. Stop trying to make something sinister out of it. Are you saying she put the poisoned tea in her own cupboard? That she knowingly let me drink it? To what end? I’ve known this woman since her husband was assigned to my Army Ranger squad almost four years ago. She may be hurting right now. Who wouldn’t be? But she’s as solid as they come, a genuinely gentle and caring person.”

The detective smirked. “I hope you’re right, Mr. Foster, but you may not know Cady Long as well as you think.”

“What is that remark supposed to mean?”

“Just a word of caution that I probably shouldn’t be offering.”

“You think she’s behind an attempt on my life?” West sat bolt upright in bed. The EEG lead wires attached to his scalp yanked painfully at tufts of hair. He ignored the minor irritation and the light-headed swish in his brain. “You’re out of line, Rooney.” He jabbed a finger in the detective’s direction. “I don’t know how you’ve come up with such a ridiculous theory.”

The man shrugged. “Take it easy, Mr. Foster. We’ll get to the bottom of what’s going on. In the meantime, you and your guys need to stay clear of our investigation. You don’t need an obstruction charge on your record before you’ve even gotten your bodyguard business off the ground.”

West ground his teeth. If steam could shoot out his ears, the room would be fogged. The detective had done some fast homework on him, as well as Cady.

“Is that some kind of threat, Detective Rooney?”

“Not at all.” The man offered a bland smile beneath cold eyes.

West snorted. “My team and I can protect Cady and Olivia. You can’t—or won’t. You and your people should concentrate on catching the monster who’s trying to kill her. We’ll do our job and you do yours.” He clamped his mouth shut, not about to let this law enforcement officer know that he and his partners would be conducting their own investigation on the down-low.

“You can count on us doing our job, Mr. Foster.” Tight-lipped, the detective jerked a nod and stalked out of the room.

West got busy yanking the wires off his head and the IV out of his arm. Naturally, those actions sounded alarms and brought medical personnel rushing in, but he bulldozed their objections to his departure. At last, the doc arrived just as West was buttoning his shirt.

Dr. Horton, looking more tired than ever, shook his head and wagged a small piece of paper at him. “This is a prescription for a generic form of diazepam. Fill it and keep the medication with you at all times.” He swiftly outlined specific directions for using the drug. “But only administer it if a seizure or signs of one occur. Instruct your friends on its use, because you might not be able to perform the administration. Then get back to the hospital immediately. Understood?”

“Understood.” West took the prescription paper. “Here’s hoping I won’t need this stuff, but I can’t be sidelined right now.”

“All right, but keep in mind that your best hedge against a seizure is not the drug but keeping yourself hydrated as your body continues to purge itself of toxins.” Dr. Horton frowned. “I gather from reading between the lines of the police inquiries that this was an attempted murder, but you may or may not have been the intended victim?”

“You got that right. Let me ask you, Doc, what would have happened had it been someone a little over five feet tall and maybe 105 pounds who ingested that poison and not a big goof like me?”

The doctor’s frown deepened. “The truth? Survival would have been extremely doubtful. Water hemlock—what your friend calls cowbane—is one of the most toxic plants in the northern hemisphere. You pulled through purely because of your size and the fact that you received swift and accurate medical attention.”

“Thanks for your frankness. That’s pretty much what I thought.”

An ice block formed in the pit of West’s stomach. Only a few sips of tea would have rendered Olivia an orphan. What would have become of Baby-bug then? If she lost her mother, who would take her in and raise her? Through close comradeship with Griffon, he knew that Griff had come out of the foster care system and had no known relatives...and Cady had admitted she had no siblings, but she’d been stingy with further details about her background. Over time, West had gleaned hints that her parents were still alive, but out of the picture for some unspecified but strong reason. Since Griff had mentioned once that his own foster care situation had been a walk in the park compared to the dysfunction of Cady’s upbringing, those particular grandparents didn’t sound like a promising option for custody of Olivia.

West shook himself mentally. He couldn’t allow himself to pursue any what-if scenarios. Cady’s life had been spared—twice. The only conceivable future was one in which Cady and Olivia survived, and even thrived. That’s where he and his Triple Threat team came in. Brennan and Darius and he were forming their personal protection service to help keep people safe. It was their honor to take Cady and Olivia on as their first clients. Failure to protect them was not an option!

Within the hour, West had taken a taxi to his apartment where he put on socks and shoes and retrieved his wallet. Then he went to a drug store. Now, prescription filled and bottled water in hand, he climbed out of another taxi in front of Cady’s house. He stepped up on her porch and knocked on the front door of dark hardwood and vintage leaded-glass. This home she’d inherited was a historical prize, being one of the few remaining residential dwellings in the Philadelphia area designed by the famous architect Frank Heyling Furness in the late 1800s. She’d been offered big money to sell it. However, not only did the terms of the will prohibit her from selling the property, but Cady admitted she had always loved this redbrick Gothic Revival home, as it featured fondly in her memories from visits here during her young childhood.

Darius opened the door, shaking his head. “I figured you’d show up sooner rather than later. We’ve got everything under control here, Sarge. You should have taken a little more R and R.”

“You know I couldn’t do that.”

“I know.” Darius grinned.

West followed his business partner and former army buddy into Cady’s living room. The furnishings in soft browns and greens were thoroughly homey, but also as vintage as the rest of the place. Cady had inherited everything, even the old-fashioned crocheted doilies under the lamps perched on the small tables flanking the long sofa and the easy chair near the front window. The terms of the strange will required her to keep the decor as is for the first year of ownership; then and only then would she be free to update one room per year, within the restraints specified by the historical society. West figured she might not make many changes, unless it was modernizing the old-school kitchen. Cady liked antiques. She currently occupied a genuine Renaissance Revival armchair designed by famous cabinetmaker Daniel Pabst, a detail West knew only because Cady had told him when he and the guys helped her move in.

Her head was bent over a large book in which she was writing. At his entrance, she lifted her pen and frowned up at him. “West, what are you doing—”

“No scolding,” he interrupted her. “My strength is returning in leaps and bounds. This is where I need to be. What are you writing?”

She held up the book. The cover featured a cute cradle in the center with a variety of infant toys around it. “Filling in Olivia’s baby book. She’s developmentally on track with holding her head up, cooing and turning toward sounds. And Brennan is convinced that this afternoon he stimulated the first real, non-gas-related smile out of her. I’m inclined to agree.” She sent a grin in the Kentuckian’s direction, and the man’s chest noticeably expanded.

West laughed. “Careful there, Bren. You’ll pop buttons. Where is Baby-bug, by the way?”

“Napping,” the three responded in harmony.

“We need to talk strategy.” West took a seat at one end of the high-backed sofa. “First off, one of us will be with you at all times, no matter where you go.”

Cady pursed her lips. “Having a perpetual shadow is going to feel totally weird. What about nighttime?”

“Whoever is on duty will bunk here in the living room, but no sleeping allowed. This creeper has apparently discovered how to get into the house regardless of locks and bolts. We need to be alert and waiting. Further, we need to search this house from top to bottom for any means of access that haven’t been considered.”

“Darius and I already did that,” Brennan said.

“Then we’re going to do it again. It’s a priority to figure out how the intruder got inside and put a stop to any future occurrences. But we’ve got another pressing problem.”

He didn’t see any way around leveling with everyone about what the police were thinking. Forewarned was forearmed, after all. Hating every word that spilled from his mouth, he told Cady and his crew about Detective Rooney’s insinuation that Cady had deliberately not drunk the tea because she knew it was poisoned, as well as the detective using a nightmare to explain Cady’s attack in the wee hours of this morning.

“The man has lost it!” Darius bellowed.

“You got that right.” Brennan snorted like an angry bull.

West turned toward Cady to find that she’d gone so pale he reflexively put out an arm to catch her if she fainted. She didn’t, but if she looked any more crushed, she’d be a speck on the floor.

“Why would the police suspect me of imagining a violent attack on myself and trying to kill a man I value and trust?” The words quavered from her lips like leaves fluttering in the wind.

“They don’t know you like we do. Besides, they’re paid to be suspicious. I have no doubt the detective is soon going to look mighty foolish for suspecting you of anything more underhanded than flipping those awesome chocolate chip pancakes of yours.”

She sent him a weak smile, but her eyes shone with moisture. “I can’t believe this nightmare is really happening! I thought I’d left this sort of thing far behind me.”

“What are you talking about?” West drew his brows together.

She shook her head and clamped her lips closed.

Should he press her for an answer? Now, when she seemed so fragile, might not be the time. But maybe he didn’t know her as well as he’d thought.

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