ONE

      A hiss of energy brushed her face as the deadly blade cleaved the air a scant inch from her cheek.

      Olivia Hammond forced herself to remain still. To move even a fraction would cause the knife to slice open her skin. She dared not breathe until the need for oxygen forced her to take a noisy gulp of air.

      “Ah, I see I have your attention. Now you will tell us where you hid it. Maybe we will kill you quickly rather than taking our time about it.” The heavily accented voice held no particular menace, as though the man who pressed the weapon to her face was discussing a business transaction rather than taking her life.

      “Or we will be forced to encourage you to tell us.” This was from the second man who had said little during the interrogation.

      The two intruders had already ransacked the law offices of Chantry & Hammond. It had been her misfortune to return for a file and run into them.

      “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” How many times had she uttered those words? The effort of not moving and the fear of what the men intended to do to her had dulled her energy and her wits.

      Don’t give up. The small voice inside her head had her sitting up straighter despite the duct tape binding her to the chair. She was far from beaten. Her passion for defending the underdog had earned her a reputation for taking no prisoners, both in and out of the courtroom. She called upon that now.

      It was up to her to free herself. No one was coming to her aid. Immediately her mind rejected that. There was always One who was at her side.

      Lord, I’m in a fix here. I need Your help. The silent prayer said, she tried once again to reason with her captors. “Why don’t you tell me what it is you’re looking for?”

      “Enough!” Impatience shimmered in the single word. The first man, whom she’d identified as the leader, nicked the delicate skin of her cheek with the blade.

      Blood trickled down her cheek. The metallic scent of it stung her nostrils and sickened her stomach.

      “You know what we want. Do not play the innocent. You are part of this, along with your boss, trying to cheat us out of what is ours.”

      “Calvin?” What did this have to do with Calvin Chantry, the head of the law firm where she was an associate? And where was Calvin anyway? He hadn’t shown up for work yesterday or today.

      “Yes. Calvin. Your boss. He could not pull this off without help. You, his partner’s daughter, are the logical choice.”

      Though the man spoke English, she struggled to understand his thick accent that gave a hard jab to every syllable. “Please... Calvin didn’t tell me anything. I don’t—”

      A key turned at the office door. Teresa, the cleaning lady.

      Olivia held on to a breath of hope. Just as quickly, the sliver of hope died. Teresa, sixtyish and stout, would be no match for two armed men.

      An exclamation in the woman’s native Portuguese was quickly followed by the clump of her sturdy shoes down the carpeted hallway outside the office. Seconds later, a fire alarm shrilled. Teresa must have pulled it.

      Thousands of gallons of water spilled from the sprinkler system above.

      “This is not over,” the first man said just before he and his partner fled.

      Drenched, Olivia waited for help and said another silent prayer, this one in gratitude for the Lord’s intervention.

      An hour later, after the fire department had arrived and departed and the EMTs had checked her over, she was still answering questions from the Savannah police, some in uniform, some in plain clothes. She didn’t fool herself that she was that important. The Chantry & Hammond law firm, a Savannah institution, carried a lot of weight.

      “I don’t know what they were looking for,” she repeated. “They kept saying I knew where it was. And then they accused me of being in on it with Calvin Chantry.”

      “Did the men say what it was they wanted from Chantry?”

      “Like I said, no.”

      Olivia shivered in her wet clothes. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to go home and change.”

      The older of the detectives, whose suit bore the stains of a quickly eaten dinner, nodded. “Sure.” He handed her a card. “If you think of something, anything at all, give us a call.”

      After promising to do so, Olivia headed home. Though a long shower helped to rid her skin of the memory of the knife and the stench of her own fear, she admitted what she hadn’t wanted to just an hour earlier: she needed help.

      She picked up the phone and punched in the number of the man she had thought never to see again. She needed the kind of help that only Salvatore Santonni could give.

      * * *

      At core, Salvatore Santonni was still a soldier. He shoved a hand through his hair. Though he’d left Delta several years back, he had only recently exchanged the military haircut for a nonregulation one. He missed the buzz cut that had been his for more than a decade.

      Now an operative for S&J Security/Protection, he took the jobs assigned him with the same dedication to duty with which he had carried out missions for his country. Individuals contacted S&J only when circumstances had turned dangerous and they needed a bodyguard.

      When he’d gotten Olivia’s call, he’d driven through the night, unable to wait until morning. He knew she wouldn’t have called unless she was terrified. He rapped on the door of the Savannah law offices of Chantry & Hammond.

      Olivia Hammond let him in and stared up at him, her mouth forming a soft O, her eyes widening. He took a moment to take inventory of her. Tall and willowy, she was elegant in a red suit. He imagined she thought the severe style made her look powerful, even tough, in the courtroom where she shredded witness testimony on a regular basis. Instead, it only emphasized the delicate femininity that was so much a part of her.

      Sun-streaked blond hair swung to her shoulders,