Her Baby's Bodyguard
Read Her Baby's Bodyguard Online
Authors: Ingrid Weaver
Tags: #Contemporary, #Fiction, #Romance, #General, #Suspense
Eva thumped his shoulder with her fist and raised her head. “This isn’t funny.”
He smiled. “Your daughter’s a real trouper, Eva.” He wiped his knuckle across her cheek. “She’s almost as brave as her mother.”
“I’m not brave.”
He kissed her forehead. “You are downright awesome.”
She didn’t know what surprised her more, the compliment or the kiss. “Sergeant Norton…”
“Call me Jack,” he said.
No. She shouldn’t think of him as Jack. He had to remain the sergeant, no matter how beautiful his smile was. How was she supposed to remember he was only doing his duty and that his consideration wasn’t personal? How could she keep from
liking
him?
Dear Reader,
Since the publication of my original EAGLE SQUADRON series in 2003, I have been eager to return to the men I left behind. Like so many of you, I fell in love with this group of Delta Force commandos. Their steady courage under fire, their deep sense of honor and the camaraderie they shared with each other made them natural heroes. Now, with EAGLE SQUADRON: COUNTDOWN, I am thrilled to immerse myself once again in the world of these über alpha males.
My biggest challenge when it came to Sergeant Jack Norton, Eagle Squadron’s medic, was creating a heroine who was strong enough to be his match. So I asked myself, who would be the worst possible woman for a fun-loving, commitment-phobic, gambling man like Jack to fall in love with? How about a defecting scientist with deadly secrets…and an infant daughter?
Being
Her Baby’s Bodyguard
is the last thing Jack thought he wanted. I hope you enjoy how I convinced him to change his mind!
Sincerely,
Ingrid
INGRID WEAVER
Her Baby’s Bodyguard
Books by Ingrid Weaver
Silhouette Romantic Suspense
True Blue
#570
True Lies
#660
On the Way to a Wedding…
#761
Engaging Sam
#875
What the Baby Knew
#939
Cinderella’s Secret Agent
#1076
Fugitive Hearts
#1101
Under the King’s Command
#1184
*
Eye of the Beholder
#1204
*
Seven Days to Forever
#1216
*
Aim for the Heart
#1258
In Destiny’s Shadow
#1329
†
The Angel and the Outlaw
#1352
†
Loving the Lone Wolf
#1369
†
Romancing the Renegade
#1389
**
Her Baby’s Bodyguard
#1604
Silhouette Special Edition
The Wolf and the Woman’s Touch
#1056
Silhouette Books
Family Secrets
“The Insider”
INGRID WEAVER
is a
USA TODAY
bestselling author of more than twenty-five books and has been published by Silhouette Books, Harlequin Books and Berkley/Jove. She is the recipient of a Romance Writers of America RITA
®
Award for Romantic Suspense and an
RT Book Reviews
Career Achievement Award. Currently she lives on a farm near Frankford, Ontario, where she grows organic veggies and Darwinian flowers in a neglected garden of tough love. She loves to hear from readers. You can visit her Web site at www.ingridweaver.com.
This book is dedicated to all the fans of
Eagle Squadron who asked for Jack’s story.
He owes you his life.
Contents
Chapter 1
T
he crust of ice on the puddle cracked beneath Eva’s boots, signaling her presence as clearly as a gunshot. She risked a glance over her shoulder. The road was still empty, yet how long would that last? The stitch in her side was getting worse. So was the cold. It would likely snow by morning. She clenched her teeth to silence their chattering and increased her pace.
The trees gave way to a cluster of buildings, but there should be no one here who would raise an alarm. The village had been deserted long before the complex had been constructed in the neighboring valley. Eva didn’t know where the original inhabitants had gone—she’d never thought to ask—but they’d been too practical to leave much behind. What hadn’t rotted had been carted away years ago. The sole traffic this road saw now was the monthly supply trucks that lumbered through without stopping. Only the village church had remained more or less intact, and that was because it had been built out of stone.
Katya stirred against her chest, no doubt jostled into wakefulness by Eva’s quickened stride. Without pausing, Eva lowered the zipper on her coat and reached inside to adjust the sling she’d fashioned for the baby. It held Katya securely enough, but the knots were digging into Eva’s neck and the small of her back. “Shh. Almost there, kitten,” she whispered. She rubbed her palm over the baby’s back. “It won’t be long now. I promise.”
Reassured by her touch, Katya burrowed closer to her mother’s warmth. Within seconds, her body relaxed once more into sleep. Eva left her hand where it was, letting her fingers ride the rise and fall of her daughter’s breathing. She needed the contact as much as Katya did.
The moon inched past a break in the clouds, turning Eva’s breath white and spreading silver-blue over the rise where the church stood. Shadows of grave markers tilted among weed stalks that sparkled with frost. A birch tree grew at the edge of the churchyard, its bare branches swaying in the wind. Apart from that, nothing moved.
Was she too early? She’d lost track of time. It seemed as if an eternity had passed since she’d slipped past the guards at the west gate, but it was more likely less than an hour. Eva risked another glance behind her.
Even with six kilometers of pine forest and a ridge of limestone between her and the complex, the glow of its perimeter lights was visible against the sky. She had once liked the security the floodlights provided. Against the empty blackness of the surrounding, tree-shrouded slopes, it had been comforting. Eventually she’d grown to understand that the security measures had been for control, not protection. Burian enjoyed demonstrating his power over all within his range.
Not me. And not my daughter.
She sucked more air into her aching lungs, fastened her coat and headed for the stone church.
This was it. The point of no return. If there was a bridge through the valley she’d just crossed instead of a puddle-strewn road, it would be burning. Shouldn’t she be feeling some sadness or at the very least regret? She was leaving her home, her country, turning her back on everything familiar.
But then, the complex had never felt like home. It had been where she worked, that was all. A place for her mind, not her heart. How long had it been since she’d allowed herself to yearn for more? For Katya’s sake, she did now. Home should be sunshine and apple trees, the smell of bread cooling on a windowsill, the liquid, joyous trill of Grandma’s canaries and the soft warmth of her mother’s arms….
The road blurred. Eva blinked against the wind to clear her vision and stepped into the churchyard. The home of her memories was long gone, but she would make a new one. Just her and Katya. When she got to America, maybe she would look for a place with apple trees. They would be beautiful in the spring. She could lift Katya up to sniff the blossoms—
A shadow detached itself from one of the grave markers as Eva passed. It happened so swiftly that she had no chance to react. Before any sound could leave her throat, a man stepped behind her and clamped his large, gloved hand over her mouth.
Panic overrode her logic. If she’d stopped to think, she would have realized who would know she was coming. But she was tired and scared and struggled anyway. Wrapping her arms around Katya, she kicked backward until her boot connected with the man’s shin.
“Whoa, relax, Dr. Petrova.” He eased the pressure on her mouth. “We’re here to help you.”
It was a man’s voice, pitched low, closer to a whisper than to speech. He knew her name. And he was speaking English. That last fact penetrated her fear. She stilled.
“Our code word is eagle,” he said. His tone was gentle, at odds with the strength in his grip. A trace of the American South flavored his words. “They told you that, didn’t they?”
Another shard of panic dropped away. She nodded against his glove, then reached for his arm. Despite the thick coat he wore, it felt like steel. She tugged anyway.
“Sorry about startling you, but we couldn’t let you scream.” He lifted his hand from her mouth. “Are you all right?” She nodded.
“Hate to ask, Dr. Petrova, because it seems pretty obvious to me who you are, but the brass are sticklers for details. Can you give me your code word?”
Her first attempt came out as a gasp. She had to swallow a few times before her voice worked. “Hatchling. My word is hatchling.”
“Check. I’ve got her, guys.”
Though he hadn’t raised his voice, more shadows emerged from among the gravestones. No, not shadows but men. They were dressed in the kind of drab, shapeless winter coats the locals wore, and each held a rifle to his shoulder. They moved in silence in spite of the brittle weed stalks that covered the churchyard. None looked her way. Their attention was focused on the road and the forest at the edge of the village.
Help had really come. Oh, God. After so many weeks of waiting and worrying, it was truly happening. The wave of relief was almost as strong as her earlier panic had been. Eva realized she was trembling.
“Any problems getting here?”
She locked her knees to keep them steady and shook her head.
“Do you have the disk?”
She dipped her chin in a quick affirmative.
“You might as well give it to me for safekeeping, Dr. Petrova.”
She turned to face him. Like the other men, he held a gun, but he had the barrel pointed toward the ground. He was tall—the top of her head barely reached his chin. A thick wool cap was pulled low over his ears, and the moon was behind him, so she couldn’t see much of his features except for the outline of his jaw. It was square and tautly set. As were his shoulders. Although his black coat looked bulky, he didn’t. Even motionless, he exuded an impression of lean strength. He stood with the readiness of a runner waiting for the starting pistol. Or a wolf stalking a deer.
Another tickle of fear fought with her logic. She breathed deeply a few times, forcing herself to think. Regardless of how gently this man had been speaking to her, she couldn’t afford to trust him entirely. Too much was at stake. She lifted her chin, regretting her earlier display of weakness. “Thank you, but the disk is quite safe where it is.” She kept her voice at a whisper, hoping he wouldn’t detect the tremor in it. “I’ll turn it over to the appropriate authorities once I am in American jurisdiction. No offense meant.”