One Tough Marine. Пола Грейвс
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ground to the side entrance of the house. The curtains in the kitchen window were closed, he noted. He always left them open.
Someone was definitely in the house.
He hunkered down at the side door and examined the lock. No sign of any tool marks on the dead bolt, but he knew there were other ways in. He hadn’t tried to turn his house into a fortress once he became aware of Eladio Cordero’s threats. He didn’t want to live his life in a prison of his own making, for one thing. Hell, he was at a point now where he welcomed an attempt on his life, just to get it over with. He couldn’t even risk a quick trip home to his family, thanks to the danger.
Cordero’s vow of vengeance had been hanging over him long enough. He’d had all he could stand.
Quietly, he let himself inside the kitchen and stood still a moment, listening. He saw nothing out of place in the kitchen, nor did he hear anything beyond the normal hum of electrical appliances inside and faint traffic noise outside. But he caught a whiff of a strange scent—sweet, a little powdery. There was also a heaviness in the air, as if whoever lurked inside the dark recesses of the tiny bungalow was waiting just as he was, still and breathless, for another sound.
He tightened his grip on the Glock, slid off his shoes as quietly as possible and padded in sock-clad silence into the hallway, where he paused to listen.
To his left, where an open doorway led into the living room, he heard a faint snuffling sound. But before he could turn to enter, a ball of pure energy slammed into him from the bedroom, knocking him into the wall.
He caught a glimpse of wavy brown hair disappearing around the corner into the living room. Scrambling up, he took chase, catching up halfway to the narrow sofa against the wall. He took in a slim waist and nicely rounded backside before he whirled the intruder around to face him.
Cornflower-blue eyes met his, wide and scared. A smattering of coppery freckles dotted her peaches-and-cream complexion. Soft coral lips, as tempting as they’d ever been, parted to release a soft, shaky breath.
“Abby?” he breathed, his whole body tingling with surprise and a darker, richer sensation he’d thought he’d buried three years ago, never to be exhumed.
Had he lost his mind? Had he conjured her up from the fabric of his memories and his longing?
Her gaze softened at the sound of his voice. A hint of guilt flashed in her eyes, then disappeared as desperation took hold of her expression, even as she plastered on a bright, brittle smile.
“Hi, Luke,” she said. “Long time, no see.”
Chapter Two
Abby gazed into Luke Cooper’s familiar face, fighting tears. Despite the disastrous end to their once-close relationship, Luke Cooper had been her best friend once.
And on one bleak, emotional night, he’d become her lover.
She tamped down her sentimental thoughts with ruthless efficiency. Her world had changed since they’d last spoken. And Luke had been nowhere around when she’d needed him the most.
She’d be a fool to forget that fact.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Luke lowered the Glock he’d pulled and slipped it into the holster at his hip. “How did you get in?”
“I knocked,” she said in a feeble attempt at a joke. “I might have broken your bathroom window, too.”
A snuffling sound behind her drew Luke’s gaze to the sofa, where she’d left Stevie napping while she searched Luke’s house.
Luke’s gaze darted back to meet hers. “Yours?”
She nodded, holding her breath. Would he figure it out?
And did she want him to?
“What’s his name?”
“Stephen. I call him Stevie.” It had been Matt’s father’s name. After she’d discovered she was pregnant so soon after Matt’s funeral, everyone assumed he was the father. She’d let everyone believe the assumption; it was easier than the truth.
But Luke knew there was another possibility, didn’t he?
Luke frowned. “You brought your kid on a B and E?”
“Thought I might need backup.” She kept her voice light to hide the fact that she was feeling a little bit crazy and a whole lot desperate at the moment.
“What were you looking for?” he asked.
“I’m not sure.” It was stupid to flail around blindly while the clock was ticking on her son’s life. She should have contacted him directly as soon as an old Marine wife friend told her Luke was still living in San Diego, fifteen minutes away. This cloak-and-dagger rot was for the birds.
She just hadn’t been ready to see him again. And judging by the tremors rocking through her at the moment, she still wasn’t ready.
“Abs, what’s wrong? You’re shaking like a drunk in rehab.”
“Matt took something from somebody,” she blurted. “Somebody pretty damned big and powerful.”
Luke’s eyes narrowed. “Took what?”
“I don’t know!” She pressed her hands to her throbbing temples. “I don’t think they know, either. It’s like they’re on some fishing expedition and I’m the bait.”
“You have no idea who they are?”
Behind her, their raised voices had awakened Stevie. He whimpered, unsettled by the unfamiliar setting and the strange man growling at his mother. Abby ignored Luke’s question and hurried to her son. Stevie clung tightly to her, his yogurt-sticky fingers tangling in her hair. “Shh, baby, Mama’s okay.”
“Beautiful kid,” Luke murmured. “Looks like you.”
The tears she’d been fighting spilled down her cheeks. “They threatened him, Luke. If I don’t find whatever it was Matt hid, they’ll kill Stevie.”
Luke’s eyes widened with alarm. “They threatened him?”
“They were waiting for me in my apartment when I got home from work. Two men.” She sat down, no longer trusting her trembling legs to keep her upright. Luke shoved a couple of magazines aside and sat on the heavy wood coffee table in front of her. “They said Matt had stolen something important and they wanted it back. By the end of this week.”
Luke’s expression darkened.
She continued. “One spoke with a Boston Brahmin accent—but it slipped once, so I think he assumed the accent. The other guy came across as educated. A hint of a southern urban accent—probably born in a southern city but lost the accent.”
Luke’s lips curved, and she realized she was rattling on about linguistic cues in the middle of the biggest crisis of her life. “Some things never change,” he murmured.
“Everything changes,” she replied darkly. “I’m pretty sure these guys are ex-military, officer rank. SEALs or Rangers, maybe Special Forces—guys who came from tough neighborhoods but took advantage of the training and education. These aren’t goons. Whatever I’m up against, it’s big.”
Luke muttered a profanity, then shot an apologetic look at Stevie. “How does Matt figure in?” he asked, though he didn’t sound that surprised by what she was saying.
“I was hoping you’d know,” she said. “You know he didn’t tell me anything about his work.”
“This wasn’t work,” Luke said quietly.
Her heart sank. She pressed her face against Stevie’s soft cheek. “Then what?”
“The timing is interesting,” Luke added thoughtfully.
Did Luke know what Matt had hidden or where to find it? “You know something.”