Prologue

“Please find my granddaughter and bring her home.”

Adam Hamilton sat forward in his chair and studied the delicate woman in front of him. Had she lost her mind? “Gita, I don’t think I heard you correctly.”

“There’s nothing wrong with your hearing or my mind,” she snapped. “Erik fathered a girl child when he was out gallivanting around the countryside some twenty-five years ago, and you can find her for me.”

Adam didn’t have any trouble believing Gita’s dilettante son had impregnated a girl and walked away from her. He did wonder why the hell his godmother was assigning him the task of searching for an unknown granddaughter. It was way out of his skill set.

“Surely, a private investigator…” He stopped talking as Brigitta waved her hand in the air.

She rose, still trim and agile at seventy-two, and aimed for the walnut drink tray at one side of the large study. “I need someone I can trust, who understands how important this is, and puts everything he has into locating the girl and bringing her home.” She crossed the stretch of Aubusson carpet between them and thrust a double scotch into his hand.

Adam dropped his cane beside his chair and steadied the drink, before it sloshed over the sides of the heavy crystal glass. Setting it on the side table near his chair, he considered the two inches of peat-colored liquor. Draining the stimulant in one go might dull the incessant pain eating at his hip and thigh. But dealing with his beloved godmother and this newest whim required his total attention. She had the hidden power of a slipstream, and he had never outmaneuvered her.

He couldn’t blame her request on early senility. Brigitta O’Shaughnessy had a mind as focused and efficient as the huge foundation she ran. She’d inherited a fortune from her parents, one of the original San Francisco families, and another from her husband, Michael, when he’d died eight years ago.

Adam had been stateside at the time, on leave, as a lieutenant in the Air Force, stationed at Nellis Air Force base in southern Nevada for the year. He’d just become one of the Thunderbirds, an elite position, a goal he’d set five years earlier and finally obtained. He’d returned to San Francisco for the funeral, for Gita, and because Michael had been a profound influence in his life.

Twenty-two years old, he’d been much younger than Erik, the thirty-eight-year-old heir to the O’Shaughnessy fortune. Their families were close, his parents naming the O’Shaughnessys Adam’s godparents. What he knew of their son, he’d heard second hand from his parents, who spoke out of concern for their friends. Michael and Gita were not able to manage or reach their son, as he raced along a dangerous path from scamp to wild teen, college dropout, and finally, thrill seeker.

“I know Erik never came home after his father died.” Adam hoped he kept any judgement from his voice.

“Not even for the funeral. He knew he could skip his responsibilities, if he could avoid a discussion with me. He would never look me in the face.”

Adam looked into that face now, seeing the steel hidden by the sweet smile, the strength despite the delicate body. What was behind this crazy idea of sending him in search of a woman she didn’t even know? “Why would you want me? I can barely stumble across the room, let alone mount a search that might take months and cover thousands of miles. Do you know if she’s even in the States? Erik traveled all over the world.”

“The mother lived in Albuquerque, New Mexico, when he was involved with her. I found a copy of the birth certificate when I was going through Erik’s papers.”

“Why now?” he asked.

“I just found out I had a granddaughter. You know Erik and I were estranged for several years before he died. When his father passed away, I hoped Erik would assume his rightful position as head of the company, though I knew I’d have to nursemaid him every step of the way. He refused, wouldn’t give up his extreme sports. The boy was an adrenaline junky and lived for the near-death experience. One too many times, he sheared the edge off death.”

Erik had died paragliding off the cliffs at Big Sur early last year. A downdraft had driven him into the jagged rocks below, killing him. The loss of her only son had devastated Brigitta. Adam had been fighting his own battle against death, after barely surviving the crash of the F18 he’d been testing for Hamilton Aeronautics. He’d been in the hospital and hadn’t been able to attend the funeral, or comfort Brigitta, a second mother since his had died.

“I don’t think I’m the right man for the job,” he said levering himself out of the chair.

“Adam, I don’t ask this lightly.” Brigitta leveled her big guns at him. “I think you’re the perfect man. I trust you and know she can too.”

“I’m still on sick leave, scheduled for daily physiotherapy. I can’t traipse all over the country.”

“Pshaw, best thing for you. You need something that pulls you out of yourself. Besides, by the time you do the research, track down the leads, and find her, you will be ready. A little action will be just what you need,” she insisted.

Adam sank back into the chair and dropped his head in his hands.

“Honestly, Gita, I don’t know if I’m up for it.” He was exhausted and depressed. The thought he might never fly again seldom loosened its frightening hooks from his mind. What good could he do?

Her light-blue eyes took on a sheen, but she kept her chin up, her gaze level. “Adam, I think of you as my other son, and I love you dearly. But this girl is my flesh and blood. I need her. Will you find her for me?”

“I’ll do the research.” He couldn’t hold out against the slight tremble in her lips, the loneliness in her eyes. “After that, we’ll see.”

And so, Adam Patrick Hamilton, the Fourth began a search that would change his life.