PROLOGUE

      WOLF MACKENZIE SLIPPED out of bed and restlessly paced over to the window, where he stood looking out at the stark, moonlit expanse of his land. A quick glance over his bare shoulder reassured him that Mary slept on, undisturbed, though he knew it wouldn’t be long before she sensed his absence and stirred, reaching out for him. When her hand didn’t encounter his warmth, she would wake, sitting up in bed and drowsily pushing her silky hair out of her face. When she saw him by the window she would slide out of bed and come to him, nestling against his naked body, sleepily resting her head on his chest.

      A slight smile touched his hard mouth. Like as not, if he stayed out of bed long enough for her to awaken, when they returned to the bed it wouldn’t be to sleep but to make love. As he remembered, Maris had been conceived on just such an occasion, when he had been restless because Joe’s fighter wing had just been deployed overseas during some flare-up. It had been Joe’s first action, and Wolf had been as tense as he’d been during his own days in Vietnam.

      Luckily, he and Mary were past the days when spontaneous passion could result in a new baby. Nowadays they had grandkids, not kids of their own. Ten at the last count, as a matter of fact.

      But he was restless tonight, and he knew why.

      The wolf always slept better when all of his cubs were accounted for.

      Never mind that the cubs were adults, some of them with children of their own. Never mind that they were, one and all, supremely capable of taking care of themselves. They were his, and he was there if they needed him. He also liked to know, within reason, where they were bedding down for the night. It wasn’t necessary for him to be able to pinpoint their location—some things a parent was better off not knowing—but if he knew what state they were in, that was usually enough. Hell, sometimes he would have been glad just to know which country they were roaming.

      His concern wasn’t for Joe, this time. He knew where Joe was—the Pentagon. Joe wore four stars now, and sat on the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

      Joe would still rather strap on a metal bird and fly at twice the speed of sound, but those days were behind him. If he had to fly a desk, then he would damn sure fly it the best it could be flown. Besides, as he’d once said, being married to Caroline was more challenging than being in a dogfight and outnumbered four to one.

      Wolf grinned when he thought of his daughter-in-law. Genius IQ, doctorates in both physics and computer sciences, a bit arrogant, a bit quirky. She’d gotten her pilot’s license just after the birth of their first son, on the basis that the wife of a fighter pilot should know something about flying. She had received her certification on small jet aircraft around the time the third son had made his appearance. After the birth of her fifth son, she had grumpily told Joe that she was calling it quits with that one, because she’d given him five chances and obviously he wasn’t up to the job of fathering a daughter.

      It had once been gently suggested to Joe that Caroline should quit her