The Butler's Daughter. Joyce Sullivan
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had taken to keep Lexi in seclusion during her pregnancy.
Where had the breach in security occurred?
“Juliana, I have no intention of wrenching that child from your arms. Not now or in the near future,” he said, striving to reassure her. “But you are both coming with me. These are extraordinary circumstances. We will have to work together. I’m sure it has occurred to you that Cort was an intended target of the explosion, as well. Whoever planned it is undoubtedly aware that you’re caring for the child. That puts you both in danger.”
“Why should I trust you? How do I know the almighty Guardian wasn’t behind the explosion?”
He stepped toward her menacingly. “I know you are hurting and wanting someone to blame, but Ross was my best friend. I would never hurt him, nor was I after his money.” A bitter laugh erupted from him. “I have enough damn problems dealing with my own family fortune.”
She didn’t budge an inch. “If you were so close, how come he never mentioned you? Oh, excuse me, your name was among the eight hundred others on the guest list to his wedding. But as I recall, you didn’t bother to attend.”
Hunter towered over her, feeling the tension and the distrust emanating from her body like shrapnel. He just happened to be the nearest target. “How do you know that?”
“I helped Lexi with the guest list. And I was there when your regrets arrived along with your wedding gift.” Her voice quavered, her brown eyes taking on a faraway cast as they glistened with fresh tears. “Ross had the canoe you sent put in the swimming pool so he could recite poetry to Lexi in the moonlight. He did, too.” She wiped away a tear slipping onto her cheek with a jerky movement. “He loved her so much.”
Hunter risked squeezing her arm, needing the human contact with Juliana to help ground his own tormented feelings. So much of his life he’d mastered on his own, coldly and calmly discarding any emotions that got in the way of his job. But he’d lost a friend tonight—Ross had been an anchor—and Hunter was treading water to keep himself from sinking under into the pain. “I know. Ross and I met at Harvard. We were roommates our last year. In fact, he’s the one who nicknamed me The Guardian.” Pain laced his words. “I take the credit for teaching him how to be a little more ruthless in his judgment. We stayed close, but I was afraid I’d be recognized if I came to the wedding. Ross sent me a video of the ceremony.”
She pulled away from his touch, leaving Hunter reeling alone in memories of his friendship with Ross. Her suspicions were still plainly apparent on her face.
“You’ve never even been to the estate,” she said in a clipped tone. “I was a boy-crazy teenager in high school when Ross was bringing his friends home from Harvard. You weren’t among them.”
His lips thinned. He knew the friends Juliana was referring to. She must have gotten quite an education from watching Ross with his self-indulgent buddies…if that was all she’d gotten. She’d probably been as pretty in high school as she was now. His impatience with the conversation grew.
“Juliana, you’re wasting time with these questions. We must leave quickly. I’m obliged to trust you to keep The Guardian’s real identity confidential, and you’re going to have to trust me. Understood?” His gaze locked with hers, studying the shadows flickering in her unusual mahogany eyes like minnows darting in the shallows.
Color rose from her pale throat and splashed onto her cheeks, but her voice was as suitably controlled and decorous as he would expect from an employee. “Quite, Mr. Sinclair.”
Hunter nodded approvingly as he reached for the bags lying on the end of the bed. “My household doesn’t stand on the same ceremony as the Collingwood household. You may address me as Hunter in private. The Guardian is addressed as sir when he’s on duty. Clear enough?”
She gave him a subdued smile. “Yes, sir.”
“The chopper is waiting. You take the baby. I’ll carry your luggage.”
“What about my car?” she asked as she slipped an apricot wool blazer over her sweater and transferred the Glock into one of the blazer’s front pockets. From the way she handled the weapon, Hunter had no doubt she was proficient in its use. Hooking a caramel leather purse over her shoulder, she knelt down to scoop up the baby.
“I’ll send one of my men to pick up your car. You won’t need it where we’re going.”
“We’ll need Cort’s car seat.”
“We’ll go without it. Someone could have tampered with your car since you left it in the parking lot.”
She glanced over at him, alarm sparking in her eyes as she gently tucked a blanket around the sleeping infant. The baby cried out in his sleep and Juliana spoke softly to him, pressing a kiss onto the crown of his head.
The intimate gesture caused anger to rise inside Hunter—anger and unbearable guilt that Ross and Lexi would never kiss their son—or the daughter who’d been snatched from their lives over two years ago. All the security precautions in the world could minimize the chances, but not always prevent a determined lunatic bent on destruction.
In the hospital, all it had taken was for one night-duty nurse to be overpowered by a stun gun and little Riana Collingwood was gone. Though Hunter had vowed to do everything within his means to find the infant, chase every lead that came in over the 1-800 tips line, the grim odds were that they might never find her. Or learn the true reason for her abduction.
The timing of the explosion tonight in a rented house where the Collingwoods had planned to be reunited with their son was suspicious—especially following their daughter Riana’s kidnapping. And it cast Riana’s abduction and the aborted ransom demand into a whole new light.
Ross Collingwood had some powerful enemies. Men whose companies he’d ruthlessly overtaken, who had the financial means to discover his secrets and his vulnerabilities. And who might be determined to destroy his entire family and the Collingwood empire. The aborted ransom demand could have been part of the kidnapper’s goal to emotionally cripple Ross by leaving him agonizing over his daughter’s fate.
Hunter knew far too keenly, far too deeply that all the money in the world couldn’t protect a man’s heart. Love made a man vulnerable to his enemies.
While Hunter couldn’t be sure at this point, he had to assume the security measures set in place to shield Cort’s identity had been breached. He needed to take countermeasures to protect the baby from another possible attack. He owed it to his friend.
Carrying the diaper bag and Juliana’s carry-on bag he moved to the door, motioning for Juliana to wait while he opened the door and checked the exterior corridor to ensure the coast was clear.
“Where are we going?” Juliana demanded sotto voce as they headed out in the brisk night air, their footsteps muted on the concrete walkway.
“New York City,” he said in her ear, cupping her elbow. The scent of her hair reminded him of springtime and apple blossoms. He shook the distracting thought away and focused on checking their surroundings. He didn’t know how much time they had before details of the explosion hit the news.
“Is that where you live?”
“No, but I have a residence there where I can set up a command post to deal with the police and the lawyers and whatever else needs to be done. There will be some reaction in the stock market to his death and the future of the company.” Hunter grimaced inwardly as he scanned the parking lot. Ross Collingwood had been his friend, but he didn’t have time for grief. He was The Guardian. He had to do his job—protect Ross’s son.
The vehicles were dark and silent. Not a sign of movement. They descended the stairs. “The chopper’s in the parking lot of a mall just down the street.”
The street was deserted. The streetlights cast pools of light on the sidewalk.
Juliana adjusted the blanket around Cort. “Where do you call home, then?”
“A