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Chapter One July Sarah Cartwright ran into the posh gold-and-porcelain appointments of Teddy Wolfe’s bathroom and puked. She knelt in front of the commode, clutching her stomach and grinding her knuckles against her mouth until the worst of the humiliation had passed. What an idiot. What an idiot! “Sarah?” The millionaire owner of the Riverboat Casino rapped on the door. “Will you be all right?” Only if the tile floor opened up and swallowed her whole. Her mouth opened to form words, but she couldn’t speak. What was there to say after what she’d just learned? After what she’d just done? Was there anything she could say that could make this whole evening go away? She could hear Teddy outside the door, getting dressed. Fine leather creaked—a belt? His Italian oxfords? The holster and Beretta she’d seen lying on his desk? She’d known he wasn’t the average sort of sweet and dependable guy she usually dated. That air of danger about him, that unpredictability, had been what had made him see
Chapter One
Chapter Two Three months later “What do you mean, we’ve got nothing on Theodore Wolfe? I thought Wolfe International was history.” Seth Cartwright’s question fueled an outburst of debates around the KCPD headquarters briefing room. “Their money-laundering setup here in K.C., yes. And we’ve put a serious dent in their drug profits by shutting down their Kansas City base. But we’ve still got some loose ends to tie up,” replied Captain John Kincaid in his typically cool, calm and collected tone. The grumbles subsided. He gripped the desktop podium and leaned forward to make sure every detective and uniformed officer in the room understood how serious he was. “Understand this. I intend to nail the big boss and give KCPD the credit for his arrest before they kick me upstairs to the deputy commissioner’s office.” Leaning back in his chair at the front table, Cooper Bellamy crossed his long legs at the ankle and sipped his coffee as another round of should-haves and what-ifs and let’s-do-its
Chapter Two
Chapter Three He brushed aside the first leaves to fall and splayed his fingers over the cold red marble that marked Danielle Ballard’s grave. Washington Cemetery was a beautiful, tranquil place—except for that nosy groundskeeper who’d asked too many curious questions about his visit so late in the day. It didn’t matter that it was closing time and that that peon had been ready to shut and lock the gates. He’d come a long way to see Dani. To see the woman he loved. No one would keep him from her. He picked at the blood that was drying beneath his manicured nails and stood. He could get used to living in Kansas City. The tree-studded hills away from the heart of downtown reminded him of the Lake District back in England. The rustle of wind through the autumn leaves reminded him of his boyhood in Keswick. Of course, he’d become a Londoner by the necessity of his job description—and there were perks to that historic and sophisticated city, which he’d miss. There was history here, too, alb
Chapter Three
Chapter Four “Dad?” Sarah closed in on the man sacked out on top of her bed. His hair was a shade darker than the wrinkled gray suit he wore with its frayed collar turned up around his neck. He huddled inside the summer-weight clothing, arms crossed, knees drawn up, snoring away on her pillow as if he had every right to be there. “Dad!” He harumphed in his sleep, barely stirring. She snatched up the spare key from her bedside table, taking back what she’d once given him. “Dad, wake up.” Sarah shook him by the shoulder until his eyes blinked open. When he realized who she was, where he was, he swung his feet off the side of the bed and sat up. “Sarah, sweetie.” He smiled and Sarah backed away to avoid the reach of his hand. He pulled his fingers back to scratch at the stubble on his normally clean-shaven jaw. “What, no ‘hi’ and welcome for your old man?” “What are you doing here?” “Catching forty winks.” He stood and Sarah moved even farther away, repulsed by the memory of her abused tr
Chapter Four
Chapter Five A stack of mind-numbing paperwork later, Cooper and Seth were walking out of the Fourth Precinct offices. Though they’d traded see-you-tomorrows and chatted up weekend plans with the desk sergeant when they’d checked out, Coop was deep in thought as they strolled down the sidewalk and headed for the open air parking lot that was kitty-corner from the building. He was pensive enough that Seth pointed it out. “Either you’re coming down with the flu, or you’ve got something eatin’ at you. Cooper Bellamy having a quiet day means something ain’t right with the world.” With Sandoval’s comment about making brownie points with the commissioner still nagging at him, Coop wanted a little more time to think about whether or not he could handle being on Sarah’s detail before he told her family he wasn’t up for the job. Coop buried his hands in his pockets and shrugged off Seth’s concern. “It can wait.” The streetlights were coming on early as they waited for a break in rush-hour traff
Chapter Five
Chapter Six “I hear Seth Cartwright isn’t dead.” Shaw McDonough picked up the broom he’d been pushing through the corridors of St. Luke’s Hospital and carried it into the utility closet. He closed the door after him and pulled off the fake glasses that irritated the newly healed skin on the bridge of his nose. They were about as uncomfortable as the tinted contact lenses he wore, but they’d served their purpose well enough that he’d been able to sweep right past Cartwright’s hospital room and the crowd of supporters waiting to hear an update on his condition from the doctors—without a single one of those clueless cops recognizing him. But now wasn’t the time to gloat at the success of his plan for retribution. Theodore Wolfe, Sr., sounded pissed. Shaw needed to concentrate to maintain control of this phone call. “Where did you hear that?” “You’re not the only man I pay good money to for information on our operation in the States. I just received the disturbing call. Interrupted tea and
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven “You’re sure it was Shaw McDonough?” Sarah gripped the door handle and hung on, rocking back and forth as Coop peeled around another corner and sped away from the traffic congesting the streets surrounding the school and church. That was the fifth time he had asked her that question, and for the fifth time, with her stomach rolling, Sarah looked across the cab of his truck and answered, “Yes!” But certainty was hard to hold on to when everything normal and reliable in her world was speeding away in the rearview mirror. It had all happened so fast. If it was Shaw McDonough, he’d had some sort of plastic surgery to alter the shape of his face. He’d dyed his hair and let it grow down to his collar to make him look younger. He’d worn blue contacts, or at least one. That’s probably what was giving him fits behind the wheel. His right contact was irritating his eye so he’d taken it out, or he’d lost it and was searching for it. Identifying a man by the look in one eye was crazy
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight Sarah swallowed her last bite of wheat toast before carrying her plate and utensils to the sink and dunking them into the hot soapy water she’d started before break fast. She had the dishes clean and in the drainer beside the skillet she’d washed earlier when Atticus Kincaid strolled into the room. “I thought I smelled something good in here.” His hair was still damp from his shower as he buttoned his cuffs and adjusted the sleeves. “You do know you don’t have to cook for us, right?” Nonetheless, he sat at the table across from Mickey Sandoval and picked up a spoon to serve himself the last of the scrambled eggs she’d prepared. Smiling as she dried her hands on the apron she wore, Sarah retrieved the serving bowl and spoon to wash them as well. “Trust me. I have to eat breakfast early every day or I get morning…” She caught herself just in time and covered the awkward pause by shoving the oversize pajama sleeves up past her elbows and dipping her hands back into the suds.
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine “Wake up, sleepyhead. Your turn for the shower.” The weight on the deep, warm bed shifted and Sarah started to roll toward the side. But a pair of big hands caught her and pushed her back to the center. She snuggled into the smooth cotton pillowcase and murmured, “Just a few more minutes. I’m so tired.” There was a gentle swat on her rump, and a voice she clearly recognized as Coop’s leaned in close to her ear. “Up and at ’em, soldier. What do you think this is—a bed-and-breakfast?” She giggled as she opened her eyes and pushed him away. When he stood up, the mattress righted itself and she regained the leverage to plump the pillows behind her and prop herself up on her elbows. “It happens to be a very nice bed-and-breakfast south of St. Louis, as I recall.” Brushing aside the fall of hair that hung over one cheek, Sarah took in the turn-of-the-century decor with its four-poster bed, dark walnut woods, and drapes, rugs and quilts in various shades of lavender and cream. Sh
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten Though her dreams had been troubling—with images of running and running, of her stomach being cut open, of a baby lying still and silent in her arms—Sarah awoke feeling more rested and less queasy than she had in weeks. If she didn’t have a hitman after her with a loathing for women and an inexplicable hatred for her baby, she might actually think she felt good this morning. A big breakfast, courtesy of Walt Bellamy’s gourmet talents, helped. As did the clean set of clothes. True, she had to roll the loose-fitting khakis up at the ankle, and the untucked blouse and sweater hung down to her thighs. But the tennis shoes and underwear fit and made her feel a little more shielded from eyes and the elements than she had running around barefoot in those atrocious jammies. The only thing missing from this cozy morning in the kitchen was Coop. And he’d disappeared before she’d dressed and come down to join Walt for waffles and bacon. Not that Coop’s uncle wasn’t good company. She b
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven The icy temperature of the water was an immediate shock to Sarah’s system. She was vaguely aware of sinking into the darkness, of ghostly images of mine cars and elevator shafts rusting for all eternity in the fading illumination of her flashlight. But then she felt the tug of Cooper’s hand at her collar. And suddenly, the need to breathe, to swim, to survive, shot adrenaline to her drowsy limbs and she kicked. Alongside Coop she stroked and kicked her way back to the surface. They surfaced in the shadowy darkness, gasping for breath. She heard running feet. Voices. “Over here!” “Stop shooting!” “You idiot! I wanted her alive!” “I hit what I aimed for. I shot the cop.” With a silent signal, Coop pointed toward the opposite side of the dark pool. Sarah nodded, took a deep breath and dove beneath the surface to swim across with him. Her lungs were screaming for oxygen by the time her fingers touched the slimy hard wall of rock. She surfaced in almost complete darkness. The
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve Sarah’s clothes were stiff as she hurried inside the gas station to buy herself a late-morning snack while Coop gassed up the truck. She didn’t mind the scratchy discomfort, though. She was alive. Her baby was safe. And she was with Coop. The plan was to get into the truck and drive back toward Kansas City, spending a few nights in various small towns that a foreigner like Shaw McDonough would have a hard time finding and an even harder time mixing in with the locals if he should happen to track them. Coop’s goal was to maintain an ultra-low profile but also position himself closer to his potential backup from KCPD. He was still being a grumpy butt about nearly passing out from blood loss and hypothermia and not being able to protect her down in the mine, where the arrangement to meet his uncle had been an obvious setup. But she assured him that his timing had never been better, and that there was no one she could count on more to keep her and her baby safe. She’d finall
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen The Christmas Eve wedding service had gone off without a hitch. Well, that wasn’t exactly true, thought Coop, while he waited for his brand-new wife to return from one of her frequent trips to the bathroom. It had gone on with two hitches. His partner, Seth, had stood at the altar beside him, looking unusually tall, despite leaning on his crutches. Commissioner Cartwright had cried—like a mom, not a cop—as she sat in the front pew and married off both her children. Coop had to admire Rebecca Page as she walked down the aisle in her clingy white dress. She was fashion-model pretty, smarter than the man she was going to marry, and the very thing that made his overly serious partner smile. But then a pretty little blonde with an adorable baby bump on her belly had turned the corner at the end of the aisle. And smooth-talking Coop, always ready with a joke, got his tongue twisted up in his mouth. God, how he loved Sarah Cartwright. Sarah Bellamy. Coop threw back the covers
Chapter Thirteen
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