Night picked the lock and snuck into the room where Holly was being held captive…

She lay on a dirty cot, sobbing. At the sight of her anguish, the anger he’d felt at her for denying him knowledge of his son dissipated. He went to her, his steps so silent that she didn’t hear him until he slid down beside her. She cried out and rolled over to fight him.

“Shh, look at me, Holly. Quiet now.”

Her green eyes widened. Then recognition dawned and she nodded. The sadness in her expression was so strong that Night couldn’t help himself—he pulled her into his arms and cradled her against him.

“Are you all right? Did they hurt you?” His words were a mere whisper in the cave of a room.

“I’m okay. I saw our baby.”

A Warrior’s Mission
Rita Herron

MILLS & BOON

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Award-winning author Rita Herron wrote her first book when she was twelve, but didn’t think real people grew up to be writers. Now she writes so she doesn’t have to get a real job. A former kindergarten teacher and workshop leader, she traded her storytelling for kids for romance, and writes romantic comedies and romantic suspense. She lives in Georgia with her own romance hero and three kids. She loves to hear from readers, so please write her at P.O. Box 921225, Norcross, GA 30092-1225, or visit her Web site at www.ritaherron.com.

The Confidential Code

I will protect my country and its citizens.

I will stand in the line of fire between innocents and criminals.

I will back up my fellow agents without questions.

I will trust my instincts.

And most of all…

I WILL KEEP MY MISSION AND MY IDENTITY STRICTLY CONFIDENTIAL

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Holly Langworthy—A mother who will do anything to rescue her kidnapped baby. Will she lose her life and her heart in the process?

Night Walker—This half-breed Colorado Confidential agent is a loner and the father of Holly’s baby. His mission is to save Holly and her son, but once he rescues them, will they welcome him back into their lives?

Schyler Langworthy—An innocent baby caught in the trap of a mad scientist. Will he survive in spite of the research drug he received via his birth mother?

Samuel Langworthy—The former governor of Colorado was against Night’s involvement with Holly, and has been acting suspiciously. Could he possibly have orchestrated his grandson’s kidnapping to help son Joshua’s campaign to keep Holly and Night apart?

Celia Langworthy—Does she hold some clue as to who might have kidnapped Holly’s baby?

Dr. Theodore Grace—Celia’s former husband has been conducting germ experiments on the unsuspecting public. Has he kidnapped Holly’s baby to seek revenge on Samuel for marrying Celia? And just how far will he go in his research with the baby?

Governor Forbes—He’s bitter about losing the election to Joshua Langworthy, but is he bitter enough to get revenge by conspiring in a kidnapping?

Carlton Sanders—The man Holly’s father wanted her to marry. He has political aspirations of his own—did he have a secret motive for romancing Holly?

To Tashya, for putting together a great bible and giving me my start six years ago.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

Prologue

Mid-July

“Holly Langworthy’s three-month-old son has been kidnapped from his crib.” Colleen Wellesley leveled her gaze at the group of operatives she’d assembled in the secret meeting room at the Royal Flush, the 6,000-acre cattle and horse ranch where the Colorado Confidential organization based its operation. The surveillance room had videos of the ranch access points and of the ICU offices in Denver, and computers that linked to the Department of Public Safety, the DMV and other government agencies on a limited basis.

Ten years ago, Colleen had founded a private investigation agency, Investigations, Confidential and Undercover, or ICU, which took on typical P.I. work—divorces, missing persons, blackmail and other cases. Six months ago, ICU had been recruited as the newest branch of the Confidential organization, Colorado Confidential. ICU’s office in Denver had become a cover for Confidential activities. The private detective business still operated on a highly selective level, but most of the work now was done for the DPS and the federal government.

Confidential agent Night Walker jerked his head toward his boss in shock.

Holly Langworthy had a child?

The beautiful, chestnut-haired, sexy and pampered daughter of Samuel Langworthy, the former governor? Holly—the woman he had shared one incredible night with before her father had run him off and ordered him never to darken the doors of the Langworthy estate again?

“Everyone, this is my brother, Michael.” Colleen continued. “I’ve asked him to join us today to offer suggestions and observations.”

Night tuned out the introductions. His mind was still reeling from the bombshell Colleen had just dropped about Holly Langworthy. Did Colleen know about his previous relationship with Holly?

How old was the baby?

Fiona Clark and Shawn Jameson, two other Confidential agents, sat across from him, their expressions unreadable.

“Although the Langworthy family had not made public the fact that they have a grandchild,” Colleen said, “the baby has been living with his mother at the Langworthy estate in Denver since his birth three months ago. Holly’s father, former governor, Samuel Langworthy, has suggested that the kidnapping is connected to the upcoming gubernatorial election.” Colleen continued, “Of course, now that the media has gotten wind of the story, it will be major news.”

Really major news, since the former governor was a millionaire and his son Joshua was firmly entrenched in the upcoming election as a prime candidate. Even more major news as Night mentally counted back the months and realized the baby might very well be his own son.

A son Holly Langworthy had not bothered to tell him existed.

NIGHT STRUGGLED with the idea that he might have a son as he drove at record-breaking speed away from the Royal Flush, located between Fairplay and Garo, toward the Langworthy mansion in Denver. All his life he had been a loner. His father had died when Night was little, leaving his white mother to raise him in a world that hadn’t wanted her Cheyenne half-breed son. She’d eventually taken him to live on one of the reservations, hoping the people there would be more welcoming, but he had felt just as alone in the midst of his native American Indian cousins as he had in his mother’s world.

He had never expected to have a family. Had blamed his father for leaving him, had thought that loving meant only pain. Especially when love involved the mixture of cultures.

But that one night with Holly had lingered in his mind. He had wanted to see her again, to call her, to touch her, yet he’d known a relationship between them would never work. Had she given birth to his son? A son who might need him?

A son who had crossed the lines between the Cheyenne and the white man, just as he had?

The snowcapped peaks of the Colorado mountains became a hazy blur as the facts of the case imprinted themselves in his brain. According to Colleen, Holly was distraught and had been avoiding the press since the kidnapping. The Langworthys had suggested that Governor Todd Houghton and his buddy Senator Franklin Gettys had instigated the kidnapping to distract Joshua Langworthy from his campaign. In turn, Governor Houghton suggested the Langworthys had staged the kidnapping to garner sympathy for Joshua in the election. Either scenario sounded feasible.

Both disgusted Night.

The odd details of the crime had the police perplexed. How had a kidnapper breached the walls of the Langworthy mansion? Langworthy had topnotch security. Night should know—he’d worked security detail at the estate a year ago. Was there someone on the inside who’d been a conspirator?

The other details were odd, too. Traces of Merino sheep wool, eggshells and dirt from the southern part of Colorado had been found at the scene, in baby Langworthy’s nursery. Colleen had sent Fiona to check out Governor Houghton and Senator Gettys’s ex-wife, Helen Gettys. Michael was assigned to check out the Merino sheep ranch partially owned by Gettys. Shawn was staying on with Colleen.

She had assigned Night to watch Holly.

He had a helluva lot more than watching in mind. Holly owed him some answers. And if she’d had anything to do with staging her own baby’s disappearance, if that child was Night’s…

The fury and anguish he felt at the realization that he might have a son he had known nothing about obliterated his ill-spent desire for Holly. Protective instincts unlike anything he’d ever felt before rose to the surface for the infant. The thought of any child, much less his own offspring, missing, being in danger, being used as a pawn in some kind of political game sickened him. The other possibilities that lurked behind the obvious political ones were even more maddening.

But what if the baby wasn’t his? Would he be able to tell by looking into Holly’s eyes?

He barely noticed the Denver lights as he maneuvered through traffic toward the Capitol Hill area, his mind on autopilot as he made his way to the Langworthy estate. He gave his name at the security gate to the fenced-in Victorian mansion, wondering if Langworthy had blackballed his name from the acceptance list, but as Colleen had promised, he got through with no problem. Apparently, the ex-governor wanted ICU’s help badly enough to tolerate him. Emotions breathed like a fireball in his belly as he drove down the long drive to the house.

His hand trembled as he lifted the photograph Colleen had given him of Holly’s son. The Langworthys had released the picture to the public in an attempt to find out who had taken the three-month-old infant from their home in the middle of the night.

In the picture, the chubby little boy was wrapped in a blue blanket, lying in his crib, a cuddly brown teddy bear snuggled beside him. Night studied the infant’s features. The baby had black hair but he couldn’t quite tell the color of his eyes.

Did he have his brown eyes or Holly’s laughing green eyes?

Thinking of Holly sent an ache through his chest. Photographs of her and the man she’d been dating had been plastered all over the news the past few months. Carlton Sanders—a man who worked for Joshua Langworthy, a cultured man Samuel would approve of, a man suited to Holly’s status. Could Carlton Sanders be the father of Holly’s baby? Or was Night the father?

He touched the name bead necklace circling his neck, the one symbol of his heritage he carried with him at all times. Pride filled him at the memory of his mother’s gift. If Holly and he had a child, he wanted to pass that name on to his son, give him beads to symbolize the Walker name.

A dozen lights twinkled around the stately Victorian mansion as he dragged his gaze to the doorway then upward to the window of Holly’s room. Memories bombarded him. The first night he’d come to work security at the mansion. His admiration for Samuel Langworthy and all that the Centennial family had done for Colorado. His instant attraction to Langworthy’s beautiful daughter, Holly.

An attraction he’d known could go nowhere.

She was rich and spoiled, and he’d pegged her flirtations as those of a rebellious princess wanting to defy daddy by taking a walk on the wild side with the hired help—a half breed at that. But her feminine wiles had been nearly irresistible. She had reminded him of the wild horses he had tamed in the past, eliciting forbidden fantasies of taming her as well. Still, he had resisted at first, walked away from her a dozen times. But in a weak moment, he had told her about the legend of Lillian’s Leap. In the romantic story, his ancestors, North and Lily, escaped from danger by jumping off a cliff then landing on a hidden ledge and diving into the river below. Holly’s passion and youthful romanticisms had gotten to him, had been a balm to his jaded soul.

Then she had touched him. Had lifted a slender hand to trail down the side of his face, then lower to his chest, and lower still. And finally, she’d looked into his eyes, begging him to take her. Even then he’d restrained himself, but finally her lips had brushed his, torturing him, hungry and searching. He had lost control and made love to her.

The passion had been hotter than any he’d ever experienced. Holly’s body was a sultry haven in the midst of a world of corruption, her innocence so sweet it was erotic, primal. He’d wanted to taste it forever.

Yet, he’d had to leave. Especially when Holly’s father had discovered them together. That humiliating encounter was etched into his brain with painful clarity. Night was the hired help, a half breed who was fit to protect the former governor’s precious daughter, but not to touch her.

Samuel had thrown him out, his threats to ruin Night if he dirtied the doors of the estate again a staunch reminder of the man’s power and position, and Night’s lack thereof. Night had dealt with people like that before. The incident with Charity Carmichael for one. Her accusations had dogged him and always would.

This time, Night had known Langworthy was right—he and Holly were not meant to be together. She was lightness to his dark, a society heiress who belonged to the prominent Centennial family, while he was an ex-bounty hunter who belonged to himself and his job. So he had left. And, barring the dreams that haunted his nights, dreams of lying with her again, slick hot skin against her writhing form, he had never looked back.

Until now.

A wry chuckle rumbled from deep within his chest, filled with pain, as he opened the car door and inhaled the scent of freshly manicured lawn and money. Of course, even now, he’d returned to the Langworthy mansion as a special agent to investigate a crime, not as Holly’s lover.

Or as her baby’s father.

HOLLY HEARD the explosion in the foyer all the way up the winding staircase to her bedroom. The housekeeper’s low voice, a man’s angry one demanding to see her, her father’s commanding tone ordering the man to leave. Her mother’s soft cry for her father to listen.

“I’m here on official business, looking into the kidnapping of your grandson, Mr. Langworthy,” the man said in a tone so cold that a shiver chased up Holly’s spine. “And I’m not leaving until I speak with your daughter.”

“I was expecting another ICU agent, not you,” her father said.

“All our agents are working the case in one capacity or another. Colleen sent me here.”

Holly’s heart pounded as she realized the source of the familiar voice.

Night Walker had finally returned.

She had been expecting him any day, had known this moment would arrive, that she would have to face him. She had dreaded it with all her being.

He would never understand. Never forgive her.

One trembling hand went to her now flat stomach. The other clutched baby Sky’s stuffed bunny, Bun-Bun, to her chest, the scent of the baby powder and her son’s soft skin that lingered on it bringing a fresh wave of tears to her eyes. She had cried so much already….

But it hadn’t brought her son back. And neither had her father or the police.

Maybe Night would be able to do something.

She reached for the doorknob, ready to face his wrath when the door suddenly opened and Night appeared, her father on his heels, her mother’s fine-boned hand pulling at her father’s sleeve.

Most people thought Celia Langworthy a delicate flower of a woman who did as Holly’s father dictated, but Holly knew differently. Celia was smart and fiercely loving. She would also do anything for Samuel and her children. And her grandson.

“Please, Samuel, we have to do whatever we can to find the baby,” Celia pleaded.

Her father tried to get around Night to block the doorway, but Night overpowered him, his six-four, two-hundred pound body a menacing presence beside her petite mother. Holly drank in Night’s features as he charged into the room. She remembered the way he had looked that evening so long ago when he’d held her naked in his arms. The night he had taken her virginity and they had made a son.

His classically high cheekbones and dark coloring testified to his Cheyenne heritage. His pitch-black hair still brushed his collar and made her ache to run her hands through it. But his golden brown eyes raked over her without a trace of the desire they had that night. Instead, they pinned her to the spot with accusations.

The first time she’d seen Night Walker, she had been infatuated with the mysterious, enigmatic Native American. He was soulful, intense, a creature of the shadows. A loner who had found his place in the world, a solitary place he allowed no one to enter.

What a fool she’d been, certain that their passion was all that mattered. That she could breach those forbidden walls and touch the man within.

But she had grown up fast when he’d disappeared from her life. Even more quickly with her subsequent pregnancy.

“I’m here about the kidnapping,” he said without preamble. “ICU sent me.”

Samuel cleared his throat. “I don’t want you working on this case.”

“That’s not up to you, sir.” Night faced her father, the two men going eye for eye as if wild animals ready for battle.

Holly clutched her arms around her stomach, her insides quivering. Her father had been acting strangely ever since Sky had been kidnapped. She was sure he was keeping things from her. Maybe to protect her. Maybe not. Whichever, she didn’t give a flip about who he wanted on the case. She was tired of being out of the loop, protected, depending on others.

She wanted her baby found.

“Daddy, let me talk to him.”

“Yes,” Celia said, dragging her husband out the door. “Maybe he can help.”

“Then let’s go to my office,” her father said.

“No. I want to speak to Holly in private,” Night demanded.

Holly’s father shook his head. “Absolutely not.”

Emotions clouded Holly’s eyes. “Please, Daddy. I’ll be all right.”

Her father exchanged a charged look with Night, then relented, his body rigid. Night waited until her parents’ footsteps receded before he stalked toward her. Anger rolled off him in waves.

She stepped backward, her legs nearly buckling. Had he guessed the baby was his? “Night…”

“Show me the nursery.”

His sharp order took her off guard. She’d been certain he was going to ask her. Maybe he expected her to speak up….

His hand seized her arm and she winced, then he propelled her through the door and dragged her down the hall.

“Is it this way? Downstairs by the servants’ quarters so the nanny could hear him?”

His insult rankled. He assumed she was so spoiled she’d turn her baby over to a nanny? “No, it’s right here, beside my room.” She halted and jerked her arm free from his grip. “The adjoining bathroom made it easy to slip through and feed him during the night. I didn’t want him to wake up alone.”

His eyes softened just a fraction, but his tight mouth didn’t falter. Again, she thought he might ask about Sky’s parentage, but he didn’t. Maybe her father was right, maybe he didn’t want to know.

“He’s been missing a week?”

“Yes.” She ached just thinking of the empty days and nights since she’d last held him. The hours she’d spent pacing and worrying, wondering who had stolen her son and what horrible things might have happened to him.

What had she done with her time before she’d had a baby? She couldn’t bear to think about going on now, doing mindless paperwork for her father’s investments.

“But you didn’t hear anyone come into the nursery and take him?”

Guilt assailed her as she shook her head. She should have heard something. She should have known he was in trouble. She should have been able to save her son.

“How did someone get past the security on the mansion?”

“I…don’t know.”

He gave her a suspicious look, as if he’d heard the rumors about the Langworthys staging the kidnapping to get sympathy for Joshua and believed them. Then he stepped inside the room, hesitating a second as his gaze scanned the simple decor. The native American border with mountains and bear and buffalo circling the room, the adobe color accented with navy and dark red and greens. Colors that had reminded her of Night and his heritage.

He stalked toward the crib, his trained gaze seemingly scrutinizing every feature.

“Tell me what happened the night he was kidnapped.”

Oh, God, did she have to relive it all again? “I’ve already told the police.”

“I read the report. I want to hear it from you.”

She swallowed, clasping her hands together, trying to block out the worst of the memory as she recited the details. If it helped, she’d tell her story a thousand times. Everything except the evening with Carlton Sanders. “I…I had been out.”

“With Sanders?” His gaze shot to hers with more accusations. Then she realized what he thought, that Carlton was her baby’s father.

She refused to talk about Carlton with Night. Especially with Night. “When I got home, I checked on the baby. He stirred, and I gave him a bottle.”

He simply stared at her, so she cleared her throat and continued. “I put him back down, tucked the covers around him, then went to bed.” There was more, but she couldn’t admit it. Not and watch his face twist with more disdain. He’d already decided she’d jumped straight from his bed to another man’s, when, God help her, the truth was she had never been with or wanted any man except Night.

“And you never heard a sound? No footsteps, door opening, the baby didn’t cry?”

She shook her head. “I was exhausted, I hadn’t been sleeping much, I don’t know how…why he didn’t cry.” Her voice broke off and she looked away, unable to keep the emotions at bay or tell him about the sedative she’d taken. The one she had refused, but the one she suspected their maid, Antonia, had slipped into her tea to calm her from the ordeal with her father and the man he’d wanted her to marry.

Night studied her for a long moment as if he was trying to strip her defenses and read her mind, uncover her secrets. Then he slowly dropped his gaze back to the crib. He ran his strong hands over the edge of the baby bed, stroking the blanket as if it held a connection to him or might offer him answers as to who had taken Schyler. His jaw was a solid rock, his cheekbones so defined her heart squeezed. Her son would share that same profile one day.

“The baby’s name is Schyler?” His voice sounded more hoarse than normal, strains of his Native heritage filtering through.

She nodded, her heart breaking. “North Schyler Langworthy.”

A muscle twitched in his jaw. The flare of anguish that deepened his brown eyes to black sucked the air from her lungs.

Now, he knew the baby was his.

He remembered telling her that romantic story about his ancestors.

How could he even think she’d been with another man after that incredible evening?

“I’m sorry, Night…I—” her voice broke, the pain of the last week, of her father’s humiliating accusations the evening Night had walked out of her life resurfacing. Her father had never let her forget the depth of her sins for taking Night to her bed. Especially when he had discovered she was pregnant. And Night had never looked back. She had needed him….

“Did you ever plan to tell me I had a son?”

“I…wanted to,” Holly said, knowing her excuse would sound weak to his ears. But she had to try to make him understand. “You left and you never called, you never came back. I didn’t know how to contact you.”

“You didn’t try.” Steely rage underscored his softly spoken words.

She shook her head violently. In spite of her father’s fury, she had tried to find Night. “I did look for you, but you just disappeared, and then I…I was ashamed that I’d seduced you. You’d told me all along that you didn’t want me, that you would never be tied down, that you were like a wild wolf, free forever.” Her words rushed out, the contempt in his expression seemingly mounting with every word she spoke. “I didn’t think you’d want to be trapped into marrying me. And I was afraid you’d think I got pregnant on purpose.”

He squared his shoulders, fisting his hands by his sides as if fighting for control. “You were going to marry Sanders and let him raise my baby as his? Were you seeing him before the night we were together?”

“No.” Holly felt the color drain from her face. He couldn’t know the truth.

“Did Sanders kidnap the baby? Is he working for your father?”

“What?”

“Did your family arrange this kidnapping to get publicity for Joshua’s campaign?” He pinned her with a look that burned straight through to her soul. “Did you help them or did Sanders? Are you hiding our baby somewhere until after your brother is elected governor?”

She staggered backward at the depth of his distrust. “No,” she whispered. “Heavens, no. I swear it.” Defenses she hadn’t known she possessed flourished, then anger followed. “How can you suggest such a horrible thing? You have no idea the hell I’ve been through. You walked out of here the night we were together and left me alone to deal with everything, my father, the pregnancy. You never once looked back or tried to contact me. What was I supposed to think?”

“I had no idea you were pregnant because you didn’t bother to tell me,” he ground out. “Your family kept it a secret until the baby was kidnapped.”

“They were trying to avoid a media frenzy,” Holly argued. “And Daddy wanted to protect me. It’s not like you actually cared. I didn’t think you wanted me, much less a baby.”

“I do want my son,” he said, his words cold and clipped, leaving no doubt in her mind that he didn’t want her. “And make no mistake, Holly, when I find our baby, he will know his father. And his heritage.”

He gave her one last look of disgust, then turned and stalked down the stairs, his booted feet clacking on the marble foyer just before the door slammed behind him.

Holly leaned over the crib, tears overflowing.

Another reason she hadn’t contacted him—her father had warned her that Night might try to take the baby from her, that the laws might even give him custody, let him carry their son to live on one of the reservations. She’d even wondered if Night might have discovered she’d had his baby and kidnapped him himself. And when her worst fears had overwhelmed her this past week, when she’d pictured her helpless infant at the mercy of a crazy person or a killer, she’d actually hoped that Night might have taken him. At least then she would know her son was safe.

But Night obviously hadn’t.

Her world spun, crumbling around her.

Where was her precious little boy? Was he still alive? She looked up through the window at the inky sky.

Was he out there somewhere, alone and scared, crying for his mother?

Chapter One

Late November

Where was her baby?

It had been four months since he’d gone missing. She’d thought for sure she’d have him back in her arms by Thanksgiving. Now Thanksgiving had come and gone.

Holly sat on the edge of her seat in her father’s study, twisting her sweating hands together, as she waited on him to finish the phone call.

Something was wrong.

She saw it in the way her father pulled at his chin and angled his face away from her. Between his hushed phone calls with the FBI and local police the past few days, the barrage of extra security on the house, the press hounding them and the claustrophobic feel of hiding out between the walls of the mansion for the past four months, her nerves had reached the hysteria level.

Why hadn’t they received a ransom note?

Why hadn’t someone called with information? And why didn’t her father tell her everything that was going on?

With every day that passed, the chances of finding her son grew slimmer and slimmer. She wasn’t sure she could take it anymore.

Her father dropped the phone into its cradle, sighed and pivoted in his leather chair to face her. His expression looked worried, but commanding, as always. Once again, she sensed he was holding back, hiding things from her. Why?

“Did they find anything?”

Her father shook his head slowly, drumming fingers on his chin. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. There’s no news.”

“There’s something,” Holly said, her voice a mere whisper. “I can see it in your eyes, Daddy. Now, tell me.”

He hesitated, then looked back at Holly’s mother, who had moved to stand behind him, one delicate hand placed on his shoulder. Her mother—the weaker one on the surface, but behind the scenes, the rock of the family, the one always offering support.

“I’m afraid the FBI’s ready to call this a cold case. They’ll leave the phone surveillance intact, but may have to pull back some on the investigation. Other cases…”

He let the sentence trail off and Holly sucked in a sharp breath. “They can’t give up.”

“I didn’t say they were giving up,” her father said. “Just pulling back. And ICU is still on the case.”

Holly glared at her dad. “What are you keeping from me? They found him, didn’t they? They found him and he’s dead, but you’re afraid to tell me.”

“No, Holly, good Lord. Calm down.” Her father raked a hand over his face. “There’s really no other news. I wish there was.”

She pressed a hand to her mouth to calm her emotions. She couldn’t stand the waiting. And her father knew more than he was confiding in her. She was certain of it.

The tension between them had been almost unbearable, since her confrontation with Night. During her pregnancy, Holly had suspected that her father had had some part in keeping Night away from her. Lately she had even wondered if he had orchestrated Schyler’s disappearance to punish her or teach her a lesson for seducing Night, or to gain sympathy for Joshua’s campaign. Politics meant everything to her father. But now Joshua had won the election. If that had been the motive for the kidnapping, there was no longer a reason to keep Sky from home.

Sometimes, her dad seemed genuinely concerned, as if he was really worried about her and his grandchild. As if he feared some horrible thing had happened to her baby. But he had been keeping the details of the case from her, treating her like a child, and she couldn’t stand it any longer.

“You know, sweetheart,” he said in a low tone, “you…we all might have to come to terms with the fact that we might never find Schyler.”

“What?” Holly gasped. She must have heard him wrong.

Celia pressed a shaky hand to her mouth, then moved toward Holly, reaching out her arms. “I don’t want to hear that either,” she said. “But your father’s right. This ordeal is killing you, I can see it—”

Tears burned Holly’s eyes. “You don’t care if we get my baby back!”

“That’s not true and you know it, Holly,” Celia said in a more forceful voice. “But it’s tearing us all apart, the three of us are on pins and needles. I can’t handle watching you suffer so. I see you wake up every day with hope, then go to bed with it shattered at night. You’re not eating, not sleeping.”

Holly’s throat constricted. “How can I sleep and eat when my son is missing?”

Her father stood, shook his head and stared out the window at the gardens beyond. “We’ve done everything we can do.”

“No!” Her heart broke at his words. “I will never accept that my baby’s not coming back. Never.”

Holly backed toward the door, then spun around and ran from the room, tears blinding her as she took the steps two at a time to the empty nursery.

HER BABY NEEDED HER..

Holly rolled over and squinted through the darkened interior of her bedroom, the sound of her son’s cry warming her. He was safe and sound in his crib, but he needed feeding. Again. She hadn’t realized how often infants ate, how exhausting it would be to care for a baby.

How precious every moment she had with him was until she’d lost him.

She appreciated it now—now he’d been found and brought back to her.

Regardless of the fact that she’d just fallen asleep, Holly tossed the duvet aside, shoved her feet into her bedroom shoes and grabbed her robe. She cinched it at her waist, shoving a tangle of unruly hair from her face as she hurried through the adjoining bathroom to her son’s room. The pale glow of the night-light bathed the room, her son’s whimpers a soft blip in the otherwise quiet nursery.

She could already see his chubby arms waving, his legs cycling the air, kicking off the covers, his dark brown eyes scrunched, searching through the darkness for her. She began to sing his favorite lullaby in a low voice to let him know she was there, and crossed the room, anxious to hold him to her breast, the tingle of anticipation already seeping through her, making her feel giddy.

She had never known she could love a baby so much. Had never known she could feel so much pain when he had been ripped from her life.

He lay curled on his side, covered in the crocheted blanket her mother had given him when Holly had brought him home. She gently eased it aside. “Come on, sweetheart. Mommy’s here. We’re never going to be separated again.”

A scream lodged in her throat.

Her baby was gone! Nooooo. Not again.

Tears swam to her eyes as she frantically searched every corner of the crib. But her efforts were useless. Her baby hadn’t come back. They hadn’t found him at all.

He might be lost to her forever….

HOLLY’S EYES flew open, a sob wrenching from deep inside her as she leaned over Sky’s empty crib. How many times in the past four months had she been entrenched in this nightmare and walked in her sleep to her son’s room? Tears flowed down her cheeks and dripped onto her hands as she dropped her head onto the railing and cried.

Why hadn’t they found him? Who had stolen her baby from his crib? Why would someone torture her like this? Maybe she had been spoiled, a rich girl, had played with fire by seducing Night, but she loved Sky, and he…he didn’t deserve this.

Her chest heaved with her sobs, the hope she’d clung to the first week he’d been kidnapped dwindling every day. And now the FBI and her father were practically giving up. Even the P.I.s working on the case hadn’t caught the kidnapper.

A shrill sound cut through her misery and she jerked her head toward her bedroom. The phone was ringing. Not a house phone though, her cell phone. Who would be calling this time of night?

Someone about the search? Night maybe? She’d barely talked to him since he’d stormed out. But she knew he had been watching her.

Knew he blamed her, as she blamed herself.

The price she had paid for her passion…would her misery ever end?

The sharp ring drowned out her thoughts, and she dashed through the bathroom and flipped on a light, scanning the clumps of clothes and accessories littering the dresser and her chaise lounge for the phone. Where was her purse?

Panicked now, she tossed items haphazardly onto the floor, digging beneath the rubble until her hands landed on the oversize leather bag she’d purchased to double as a small diaper bag. She’d wanted to be a fashionable young mother.

Now, she would trade every cent the Langworthys had to hold her baby again.

The phone trilled again and she turned the bag upside down and dumped the contents. Lipstick, brush, wallet, powder—cell phone. Sighing with relief, she punched the button and held it to her ear. “Hello.”

“Holly Langworthy?”

“Yes.” She frowned, the hair at the nape of her neck rising. She didn’t recognize the gruff voice.

“If you want to see your son again, listen carefully.”

Her heart hammered against her ribs. This was the phone call they’d been waiting for. Her legs gave way and she collapsed onto the plush carpet, unable to believe it—she might get Sky back. “Wh—what do you want me to do?”

“Meet me at the Langworthy cabin at dawn.”

Her hands trembled as she fought her emotions. “Is my son all right?”

“Just show up. And, Holly…” His breath wheezed out. “Come alone. If I see a cop, or even a hint of one, you’ll never see your baby again.”

REGARDLESS OF the late hour, Colleen Wellesley had called a meeting at the Royal Flush to discuss the Langworthy baby kidnapping. Most of the key Confidential agents were there—Shawn Jameson, Ryan Benton, Colleen’s brother Michael, Fiona Clark, Conrad Burke, and Night.

The Confidential operatives had been working round the clock for the past four months. Although the FBI was pulling back, Samuel Langworthy still wanted Colorado Confidential, known to him as ICU, on the case. Thank God.

But even if Langworthy or Colorado Confidential gave up, Night wouldn’t.

His co-workers had no idea how powerless he felt without answers. Or how Night wanted them to use the Walker name instead of Langworthy when they referred to his son. Not that Samuel Langworthy would ever allow that to happen….

“Okay,” Colleen said after calling the meeting to order. “Let’s recap what we’ve learned so far.” She gestured toward her brother Michael. “Traces of wool, dirt, and egg shells were found by the baby’s crib. The wool fibers were from Merino sheep. I sent Michael undercover to the Half Spur, a Merino sheep ranch partially owned by Senator Gettys, to see if there might be evidence to connect him to the kidnapping.”

Michael took the floor first. “The atmosphere at the Half Spur was secretive and strange. Blood was collected from the flock at regular intervals. We lifted one of the blood samples and sent it to the Fort Collins CDC for testing. The sheep’s blood tested positive for a strange virus and antibodies for a bacteria called Coxiella burnetii, which causes Q fever. It seems the sheep are a test flock for a self-spreading vaccine for Q fever.” Michael paused.

“I received an e-mail from Wiley Longbottom, the director of the DPS,” Colleen added. “He saw those CDC results and suggested we check out a flu that hit Silver Rapids early this year.” She indicated for Shawn to continue.

“About five months prior to the kidnapping, a flu hit Silver Rapids. The people were treated at Gilpin Hospital in Denver. Two died.” Shawn pressed his hands on the table. “At about the same time the kidnapping occurred, Gilpin’s records room was damaged in a fire.”

“Too much of a coincidence,” Night said.

“Exactly. We caught the arsonist but he claims to know nothing about the kidnapping,” Shawn explained. “But we’re sure that the experiments being done on the sheep ranch are connected to the Silver Rapids flu. Dr. Kelley Stanton—” Shawn flushed as he said the name of the woman Night knew had captured his heart “—discovered that the flu was actually a Q fever outbreak. The people of Silver Rapids were probably exposed to a live version of whatever was being tested on the Half Spur flock.

“Senator Gettys still insists that Samuel Langworthy staged the kidnapping for publicity for his son Joshua. Former governor Todd Houghton seems to be in agreement.”

With Holly’s knowledge or without? Night had watched her from a distance these past four months, had seen the strain on her face, the dark circles beneath her eyes that showed she wasn’t sleeping. Even though she loved her brother Joshua and Night still resented the fact that she had kept his son from him, he didn’t believe she’d be a party to such a plan.

Ryan Benton jumped in. “While Michael was at the Half Spur, I investigated Helen Gettys, the senator’s former wife.”

Night turned his attention to Ryan, who explained that the senator was under investigation by the FBI for experimenting with biological weapons. Helen Gettys had given Ryan computer disks, copied from the Half Spur, that all but proved Gettys was involved in experiments that were likely illegal.

“When Senator Gettys was questioned about the experiments being done on the ranch, he was sweating,” Ryan stated. “He definitely supports bio research and wants to make Colorado the location of a premier research facility once the 1972 bio weapons treaty limitations are reassessed. But he insists there is no connection between the germs tested on his sheep and the Silver Rapids flu.”

“What about Joshua Langworthy?” Night asked.

“He’s clear,” Fiona said with a sly grin. While investigating Joshua, Fiona had developed a personal relationship with Holly’s half brother, the governor elect. Now she and Joshua were engaged.

“And Houghton probably isn’t too happy about losing the election,” Night noted.

Fiona shrugged. “He’s a little bitter toward Joshua and Samuel Langworthy. Joshua admits that his father has been acting strangely and thinks we should keep an eye on him.”

Night frowned. Back to Holly’s father. Would he kidnap his own grandson to gain publicity for Joshua’s campaign? Or perhaps he had orchestrated the kidnapping to punish Holly for getting involved with Night? What if Langworthy had decided he didn’t want a half-breed baby tainting the image of the Centennial family and decided to get him out of the picture completely? That would explain the reason there had been no ransom—and how someone had breached Langworthy security.

“Helen Gettys confirmed a connection between Senator Gettys and mobster Helio DeMarco, now deceased,” Colleen continued. “As you know, DeMarco’s web of illegal activities reached worldwide. A suspicious relationship for a senator. The FBI believes that one of Helio’s corporations may be the other owner of the Half Spur.”

Conrad stood, scrubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “We also discovered that DeMarco’s nephew Tony used Holly’s half sister, Marilyn, to steal germ stock from Mills & Grommett, the pharmaceutical company affiliated with the Langworthys. Before he died, Helio implied that Holly might have inadvertently been a subject of germ testing herself.”

Night nearly bolted up from the table. “What?”

Con’s expression turned grave. “Tony tricked Marilyn into bringing Holly to Silver Rapids during her pregnancy. We think Holly was exposed to the germ test that caused the Silver Rapids flu.”

Night inhaled to control his emotions, although his pulse raced as he realized the implications. Both for Holly and their son. How many people had died of the Silver Rapids flu? “Has she been ill?”

“Holly suffered from symptoms during the Silver Rapids epidemic, in her seventh month of pregnancy, and was sick for four days,” Con answered. “Her symptoms also matched Q fever.”

“What are the long-term effects?” Night asked.

“None that we know of, but she’ll definitely need follow-up tests.”

Night nodded.

“And the baby?” His son?

“We have no way of knowing.” Colleen gave him a sympathetic look.

“Why subject a pregnant woman to germ testing?” Night asked. “And risk the life of an unborn child?”

Con released a troubled sigh. “I may have the answer there.” He met Night’s concerned look with one of equal measure. “As a young child, I used to stay with Holly’s mother, my Aunt Celia, when my family was out of town.”

“What does that have to do with Holly?”

“Celia was married to a doctor then, Theodore Grace. Dr. Grace earned his Ph.D. in microbiology at Yale where he met Celia and Samuel Langworthy. At one time, Grace was recruited to work at the federal government’s biological weapons research center in Frederick, Maryland. He made breakthrough discoveries and was working on highly promising experiments in combining viral and bacterial DNA when President Nixon shut down bio weapons research in 1969.”

A deathly chill invaded Night’s body. He had heard the name before. “But he didn’t give up the research?”

Con shook his head.

“No, he became obsessed, moody and abusive to my aunt. He built a home laboratory, locked himself in it for days and continued testing.” He sighed. “One weekend, when I was sick and Aunt Celia was taking care of me, Grace gave me an experimental bacterial concoction to boost my immune system. That was the last straw for Aunt Celia. When she discovered he’d used me as a guinea pig, she divorced him shortly after.”

“No surprise there,” Colleen said. “And later, Celia married Samuel Langworthy.”

Con nodded. “Teddy Grace is one of the few people capable of producing the designer germs Helio DeMarco liked to play with. Grace is connected to the Langworthys through Celia. He’s certainly capable of testing germs on an unknowing public, such as the people of Silver Rapids.”

And on Holly and his son. But why them?

To get revenge on Samuel Langworthy and his wife, Celia?

“For now, all our leads go back to Grace,” Colleen said. “Not only does he hate Samuel Langworthy for stealing Celia away from him, but, if he was involved in the Silver Rapids flu, he might want to follow up on the germ test to see how it affected Holly’s unborn child.”

Night folded his hands in front of him, his calm demeanor a mere smoke screen. Inside, his heart was raging, his anger like a bomb ready to explode.

“So our next step,” Colleen said, “is to find Teddy Grace.”

“I’m taking this assignment.” Night stood, ready for action. “Any idea where he is?”

Colleen shook her head. “Not yet, but we’re looking into it.”

Night headed toward the door. “I’ll go to the Langworthys and see if Celia has heard from him. Maybe she can give us a clue where to find him.”

Hopefully, finding Grace would lead Night to his baby.

“We’ll pinpoint areas where his lab might be,” Colleen said. “The dirt found by Baby Sky’s crib may have come from Southeast Colorado.”

“I’ll call you from the Langworthys and get the coordinates,” Night said.

Colleen hesitated. “All right. But once you find the location, wait for backup. You are not to go in to Grace’s laboratory alone. We have no idea what we’re up against.”

He nodded.

Good God. With all that he’d just learned, Colleen was crazy to think he’d wait for backup. If he found the lab and thought his son was inside, he would do whatever he had to do to rescue him.

SHOULD SHE tell someone where she was going?

Come alone. If I see a cop or even a hint of one, you’ll never see your baby again.

The caller’s words echoed in Holly’s head, nearly making her legs buckle. But she couldn’t be weak now. This was her chance to save her baby. To redeem herself for her son and prove to Night that she deserved to have his child.

Still, what if the call had been a setup? The man hadn’t mentioned a ransom, which was odd in itself. She’d been certain the kidnapper would want money. But as time passed, when she hadn’t received a ransom note, she’d wondered…

Why had the caller told her to go to the cabin? Because it was deserted?

The timing of the phone call didn’t escape her either. She had heard nothing for four months and now this call, only days after the election was over and Joshua had taken office, when her father said the FBI was pulling back, when he’d tried to convince her to give up—a nagging suspicion took hold that her father and his campaign cronies might have orchestrated the kidnapping and now that Joshua was in office, had decided to return the baby. Where better to meet her than someplace deserted, someplace owned by their family, someplace where they might leave the baby or be able to convince her not to press charges?

And if her father wasn’t involved and was giving up on finding Sky, if the FBI was pulling back, then she had to do something. Because she would never give up.

Her hands trembled as she threw off her robe. For a brief second, she considered calling Night for help.

But his bitter parting words still stung, and she had to hurry. Maybe, just maybe, her prayers had been answered and she would have her son back in her arms for Christmas.

Then maybe Night could forgive her. And she could forgive herself.

She scribbled a note and left it on her dresser, explaining she had received a phone call, maybe a lead to where Sky was, and that she had gone to check it out. She wouldn’t disturb Celia—her poor mother had suffered almost as much as Holly had the past few months. No, Holly would have her cell phone with her and would call as soon as she made it to the cabin and was reunited with Sky.

Realizing winter had already descended, she dressed in warm socks, hiking boots, jeans and a T-shirt, and threw a denim shirt over the ensemble. She stuffed her cell phone back into her purse, checked to make sure she still had the mace she carried for protection, and packed a backpack full of baby supplies—diapers, formula, water, baby wipes. And she couldn’t forget Bun-Bun. She kissed the bunny’s nose, then stuck it in the bag. Then she retrieved the small pistol her father had bought her to take to the cabin. He’d insisted she carry some kind of protection when she traveled there alone. It had been the gun or a bodyguard. She’d chosen the .22.

Anticipation zinged through her as she grabbed her coat, gloves and hat and slipped out the back door. Late evening shadows blackened the walls, nearly obliterating her path as she found her way to her car. Traffic wouldn’t be bad in the middle of the night, but she was nervous, and she didn’t want to drive fast. Besides, she had several hours ahead of her. Then she’d have to get a horse and ride to the cabin.

As expected, she passed only a few cars on the highway, the mountains on both sides cresting and enfolding her in their beauty. A light snow had begun to fall, the crystals splashing her windshield like teardrops. She turned on the defroster, the haze of the storm making visibility difficult. Yet as she drew near Aspen and then turned onto the dirt road that led to the stable where the Langworthys kept horses, snow spewed behind her wheels and the sense of isolation replaced the awe of the mountains. Normally, she loved retreating to the cabin. She’d been tempted to hide out there ever since Sky had disappeared, but hadn’t wanted to leave the mansion in case they received word about the baby.

Prairie land stretched before her, the onset of winter painting the landscape with a blanket of white. Darkness was giving way to predawn shades of gold and orange by the time she reached the stable. Another storm cloud hovered on the horizon, ready to rob the sun before it could explode into morning glory.

She parked by the corral and grabbed her fur-lined denim jacket, hat and gloves, hoping to leave for the cabin before any of the ranch hands discovered her mission and questioned her.

She snuck into the barn, slung the backpack onto the ground, then saddled up her favorite black and white paint, Sledge. After packing her supplies in the saddlebags, she took off toward the cabin.

The air was frigid, the wind howling through the treetops. She tugged the collar of her jacket around her neck and guided Sledge into the hills, resorting to the steep path through the woods that would shorten her journey. Riding again felt wonderfully liberating, as if the tension was ebbing away with her descent into the woods. Yet the nagging worry that the call had been a setup still dogged her.

She tamped down the worry, letting excitement spur her on—soon she would see her son again, hold him. How much had he grown? Would he even recognize her?

The fact that the caller hadn’t mentioned ransom money still seemed odd. After all, her father was a millionaire. Had he orchestrated the kidnapping to gain publicity for Joshua or to teach her a lesson because she’d insisted on keeping the baby, against his wishes, and then because she’d refused to marry Carlton? Surely he wouldn’t be that cruel, although he had behaved strangely the past few months. And the whole ordeal with Carlton…

She shuddered, a wolf’s cry from the hills reminding her how dangerous riding alone could be. Then again, rescuing her son was worth the risk. After all, what kind of life did she have ahead if she had to go on living without her little boy?

Night’s face flashed into her mind, his bitter parting words haunting her. Not only did he despise her for keeping Sky’s birth a secret, but he blamed her for the kidnapping.

Her father, ashamed of her for having an illegitimate child, had kept the baby a secret because of the media, but he’d also wanted to delay public knowledge of her son in hopes he could marry her off to a respectable man—Carlton Sanders. And Night thought she was so despicable she might even have been a party in her own son’s disappearance. As if the fact that he had never contacted her after the night they’d made love hadn’t hurt enough.

Heavy clouds moved closer, casting an ominous feel over the forest, the spiked leaves above her creating a web of fingery shadows. She ignored the chill. In a few minutes, she might be cradling her baby in her arms. Just as she reached the clearing to the cabin, a loud roaring sound burst through the animal sounds of the forest.

A plane? No, a helicopter. Probably one of the rescue teams looking for stranded hikers or tourists. She reached the incline to the cabin, patting Sledge as rocks sprayed from beneath his hooves. “We’re almost there, buddy. We’re going to get Sky.”

The sight of the cabin evoked bittersweet memories of happier times, but also offered hope that the torture of the past few months would soon end. She scanned the exterior for signs of life, of an intruder, even a horse or snowmobile to indicate she had company, but saw nothing. Thankfully, she’d arrived before the kidnapper. She’d have time to prepare.

Still, she approached the cabin slowly, easing up on the reins to gather her courage as well as to keep an eye on the doors and windows. Bringing the paint to a halt, she set him loose in the corral to the side of the cabin and made sure he had water. She’d wait until she checked out the cabin before she unsaddled him and put him in the barn. She might have to escape in a hurry.

Her boots crunched on the icy gravel as she walked toward the cabin. Unease clawed at her as she unlocked the door then it opened. She searched the dark interior but saw nothing. The whir of the helicopter drifted nearer, and she glanced over her shoulder just as it circled the clearing. She paused to see if it was going to land, but a shadow moved in the corner of the room. Heart pounding, she reached inside her purse for the pistol, but someone grabbed her from behind and shoved a rag over her mouth and nose. She bucked backward, struggling to breathe, digging her hands into the man’s arms. She tried to scream, but tasted something strange, and inhaled a pungent odor. Some kind of chemical. Gas? Chloroform?

Desperate, she clawed at his hands, then jabbed her elbow backward to connect with the man’s stomach. He grunted, then jerked her harder against him, pinning her in a viselike grip. She tried to scream again, but sucked in gas. Darkness spun into a kaleidoscope of colors. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she fell into the nothingness. She wished she could have held her baby one more time before she died.

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