Mommy Midwife (15 page)

And Troy had his own agenda. He took out his cell phone and texted a message.
Ambush at Clark’s condo. Need backup.
If Clark was still alive, they needed all the intelligence they could get on the Hatari terrorist cell.

Chapter Thirteen

A pregnant woman in a lavender ball gown wasn’t something anyone expected to find at a crime scene. Olivia knew she was drawing stares from the CIA agents, the cops, the ambulance EMTs, the firemen and the mysterious investigators who spoke only to Troy. They’d all be a lot happier if she hitched up her skirts and left. But that wasn’t going to happen.

She needed to talk to Matthew Clark, and she refused to go away until she looked him straight in the eye and asked him if he was behind the kidnap attempt that had thrown her life into chaos.
One lousy question.
That was all she wanted.

In her bare feet, she stood across the street from the twenty-story condo building. Her toes dug into the cool grass. Everything was drenched when the fire trucks extinguished the flames from the explosions. Water ran down the gutters and glistened on the pavement. Police lights illuminated the crime scene. There were watchers standing on the other side of the yellow tape.

Several of the vehicles parked along the street had been burned and mangled. Clark’s limo was the worst. The gas tank had caught fire and exploded, leaving a twisted hunk of metal that looked like a mad sculptor’s vision of a post-apocalyptic world. And yet, Matthew Clark had escaped without a scratch. Life really wasn’t fair.

His driver and one other man were dead. An ambulance with siren screaming had driven off with two other injured men. One of the fire trucks had also left. A second truck and the crew stayed behind to deal with the fire damage that had scorched the bricks on the first floor of the condo building and had broken several windows.

Troy separated from the mob of investigators and came toward her. Though he was a mess with soot smeared across his clothes and face, he bristled with vitality. The man was in his element; he felt at home in a war zone.

He slipped his arm around her shoulder. “I’d really like to take you home.”

“Not until I see Clark.”

“I don’t know what you expect to get from him. He’s lived a lie for most of his life. What makes you think he’ll tell you the truth?”

“I’ll know.” She looked toward the panel van where the CIA had sequestered Clark. “I don’t know why, but I feel like I’ll know if he’s lying or telling the truth.”

He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Your dad is doing everything he can to get you five minutes with Clark. He’s calling in favors from high-level people.”

“The way I figure,” she said, “the CIA owes me.”

“How so?”

“Simple logic.” It made perfect sense to her. “Because Clark came after me, you and my parents were working together. You pulled up a photo, and Mom recognized him. If I hadn’t been involved, you never would have met. They owe me.”

“Yeah, I get it,” he said. “Keep in mind that the CIA can be damn unreasonable. If they turn Clark to their side, he’ll be a valuable asset.”

“I’m not going to break him.”

“I doubt you could. He seems to be indestructible.” Troy’s gaze rested on the grotesque remains of the limo. “From what I heard, Clark exited the vehicle just before it blew.”

But his driver was killed. Again, she thought, life wasn’t fair. “Do they know who arranged the ambush?”

“If they do, they’re not telling. The significant fact is that there’s a traitor. Somebody passed on the intelligence about Kruger being Clark real fast.” He looked toward the van where Clark was being held. “The only reason the CIA hasn’t zoomed away with their precious asset is because the forensic team I was working with won’t let them. They want Clark.”

“And who are they?”

“I’m not sure. There are so many supposedly elite departments and supposedly elite intelligence units that you can’t tell who’s who. I mean, look at this mess. It’s a circus.”

She had to agree. There were police officers in uniform, CIA agents in windbreakers, crime scene investigators with flashlights, plainclothes detectives and other people with badges she couldn’t identify. “You don’t like the circus?”

“Not unless I’m going to see a pretty lady in tights on the flying trapeze.” He gestured toward a nearby bench at the bus stop. “Let’s sit down.”

“I’d rather stand.” She didn’t want to fade into the background. Though nobody was paying much attention to her anymore, they were aware of her presence. “How does Clark’s capture affect your terrorist cell?”

“Here’s the best-case scenario. Clark tells us the location where they’re planning to strike. We move in. Take Hatari into custody. The threat is over.”

“And the worst case?”

He shook his head. “They carry out their plot.”

“Have you talked to Sergeant Nelson?”

“Nelson and the rest of my team are in New York. Because of our connection to Hatari, we’re right in the middle and ready to take action.”

She heard a note of disappointment in his voice. “Do you want to be with them?”

“They’re my men. I want to support them, but I need to be here.” His smile seemed a little forced. “I’m not leaving you.”

She rested her head against his shoulder. “If I could talk to Clark, I’d know if he was behind the kidnap attempt. I’d know whether I was still in danger.”

“And?”

“If nobody is trying to grab me, there’s no reason for you to stay here and protect me.”

“You’re wrong about that.” He reached down and patted her belly. “This is my reason.”

Her dad came toward them. Though everybody else was grimy, he still looked neat and spiffy in his party duds. She could tell by his expression that he didn’t have good news.

“The CIA is taking Clark,” he said. “They can’t let you talk to him now, but they might arrange a meeting tomorrow.”

She watched the van holding Clark drive away. “Is he talking? Has he admitted to being Kruger?”

“He’s said nothing.”

“But he’s under arrest, right?”

“Technically, he’s being held in connection with a possible terrorist action.”

She wasn’t sure what that meant. “What’s the difference?”

“In this circumstance, Miranda rights don’t apply. He doesn’t have access to a lawyer.”

“That’s probably a good thing.” Her sister’s firm represented CRG Energy and could be called to handle this case. “I’m pretty sure Bianca wouldn’t want to defend this guy.”

“She wouldn’t have to. Matthew Clark is a wealthy man. He can afford a dream team of lawyers if that’s the way he chooses to play the situation.”

Her father deflated as he exhaled a sigh. It had been a long, frustrating day for her, and she imagined it was even worse for him. After revealing his CIA identity to his daughters, his life would never be the same. He would no longer have a veil of secrecy to hide behind.

She took her father’s arm. “Let’s go home.”

B
ACK AT HER
sister’s house, Olivia tried to cuddle with Troy on the twin beds they’d pushed together. It wasn’t going well. No matter how they arranged themselves, one or the other of them slipped into the crack between the beds.

“If I wasn’t pregnant,” she muttered, “this would work. Maybe we can sleep crosswise.”

“And have our butts stuck between the beds?”

She knew that Bianca was sleeping on a lovely king-size bed in her own bedroom, but she couldn’t ask her sister to give up her comfortable space. “Poor Bianca. She’s a wreck.”

“Understandable.” As he tried to get closer the beds pushed farther apart. “Her law firm can’t be happy about what happened to Matthew Clark.”

Making Bianca’s situation even worse was the need for secrecy. If she told her bosses that her parents were CIA field agents, their cover was blown—a serious situation that would put all their international contacts in jeopardy. Bianca had to stick with a lie to explain why her dad, Olivia and Troy had been at the crime scene where Clark was taken into custody. They’d said they were following Matthew Clark to his condo for a drink, and then they’d gotten swept up in the ambush and were questioned by the police as witnesses.

Olivia figured it was the first of many lies that her sister would have to tell. “Mom and Dad were right. It was easier when we didn’t know they were CIA.”

“Both you and your sister had a pretty good idea of what they did.”

“Suspecting is different from knowing.”

“If it’s any consolation,” he said, “I think your dad is ready for retirement. If Clark/Kruger turns out to be a valuable asset, his capture makes a good swan song for Richard and Sharon Laughton.”

“I hope so.” She gave up trying to get close and pushed against his chest. “You go over there on the other side of the crack. I want to talk.”

As he repositioned himself, he turned on the bedside lamp and checked his cell phone for messages. Ever since he’d heard that his men were in New York, Troy had been distracted. He’d taken two more calls from Sergeant Nelson, giving him updates on the tracking of the Hatari terrorists.

When he turned toward her, the pastel flowered sheet slipped lower on his hips. The ridiculous, girlie bed linens emphasized his masculinity. He was shirtless, and the glow from the lamp burnished his muscular shoulders. On his side, he cocked his arm and rested his cheek on his fist.

“Don’t worry about your sister,” he said. “She’ll be okay.”

“How do you know?”

“She’s tough like you, and she’s a lawyer, accustomed to thinking before she speaks.”

“That’s not like me,” she said. “I tend to blurt.”

“You act from your heart, from instinct.”

His analysis was on target. She didn’t spend much time thinking and worrying. She just knew. “I wish there was something I could do about Bianca and the prince. It’s obvious that they’re attracted to each other.”

“You might want to stay out of it.”

“Or I might want to buy her a plane ticket to his country and have her delivered to him wearing a big red bow and nothing else.” She grinned at him and wiggled her eyebrows. “It worked pretty well for me when I turned up on your doorstep and jumped you.”

“I want to thank you for that.”

He wasn’t laughing, didn’t even smile. His eyes reflected a steady, cool glow that was a little bit disconcerting. “Troy? What are you thinking? Don’t get all serious.”

“Making love to you that night might be the best thing that ever happened to me,” he said. “I’m glad it worked out pretty well for you, too.”

A wave of warmth washed over her. She felt herself melting. In the past couple of days, they’d gotten to know each other so much better. She never would have pegged him as an understanding man. But he was. Tough and protective when he needed to be. But Troy was also kind.

As she reached toward him, the diamond in her ring flashed. Their engagement charade was over and she ought to give the ring back, but maybe she’d keep it. Just for tonight.

He caught her hand, brought her fingers to his lips and brushed a light kiss across her knuckles. His gaze was mesmerizing.

She stretched toward him, and he did the same. In the gap between the beds, their lips met for a light, tantalizing kiss that sent shivers through her. Her hand slipped from his grasp. She touched his shoulder, his forearm. When she traced her fingernails across the hard muscles of his chest, he gasped.

The distance between them was less than two feet, but it felt like she was reaching for miles. Each physical contact seemed special and unique, almost magical.

He gently cupped her swollen breast. She closed her eyes, imagining a dream lover. His caresses were perfect. The sensations he aroused were erotic and comforting at the same time.

His cell phone buzzed.

His touch went cold. When she opened her eyes, she saw his tension.

“I have to take the call,” he said.

“Of course.”

While he picked up his cell phone, she rose from the bed, walked to the window and pushed aside the flowered drape so she could look out at the moonlit street. Her sister’s house was air-conditioned so the window was closed, and Olivia wished she could open it. In the mountains, she always had her windows open. She missed the natural sounds of the night, missed her cabin, missed her daily routine.

Across the room, Troy paced in a tight circle. His voice was calm and controlled as he talked to Nelson on the phone, but his gestures were agitated. His fist clenched. His back tensed, and she watched the ripple of muscles across his shoulders. He looked good, wearing nothing but a pair of black boxers. If their relationship had been about nothing but sexual attraction, she wouldn’t have hesitated to jump in with both feet.

But it was far more complicated. They were having a baby together, and she really wasn’t sure if a man like Troy could be part of a family unit. His work was so important to him. Being a marine identified him. Earlier this evening when she watched him stroll through the crime scene, she’d seen a warrior, confident and strong.

She twisted the engagement ring on her finger. Could she live with a warrior? A man who constantly put his life on the line? Though he’d said he intended to retire from the field, she doubted that plan would stick. Settling down wasn’t what men like Troy did. They needed action. She knew it was killing him to be here with her when his team was going into conflict.

Disconnecting his call, he strode toward her. “The chatter from Hatari went silent. They must have found out that Matthew Clark is in custody.”

“What does that mean?”

“Could be a good thing.” The worry lines across his forehead told her that he thought otherwise. “They might abort the mission. Or they could change the timing or the location where they intend to attack. We can only speculate.”

“You should go to New York,” she said. “You want to be with your men, and you should be.”

He rested one hand on her shoulder. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“I won’t stand in the way of your work.” Never in her life had she played the role of a damsel in distress, and she wasn’t about to start now. “You don’t have to stay here to protect me. I promise to be careful.”