For Her Protection

“Haven’t you ever done anything rash?” Jillian asked in mock exasperation.

“No. I’m not a ‘rash’ kind of guy,” Luke said. “In my line of work, ‘rash’ equates to dead. The reason I’ve lived this long is because I play out every scenario…and when all else fails, I trust my gut.”

“But your gut may not always be right—”

“Sweetheart,” he interrupted. “My gut is never wrong.”

Luke’s smile faded, and she felt the burning intensity of his gaze as he explored her face. They both knew what they were talking about now, and it wasn’t undercover police work.

His unspoken message was clear. The affair that they were contemplating was wrong. They shouldn’t even be considering it. But, in that moment, she knew she wanted him.

For Her Protection
Lauren Giordano

www.millsandboon.co.uk

LAUREN GIORDANO

grew up in western Massachusetts, where she spent long summer days imagining she was Nancy Drew. She completed her first novel on a manual Smith-Corona at the age of twelve. These days her imagination still runs wild, but the stories flow easier on her computer. Since she started writing again seven years ago, her romantic suspense stories have won several writing awards. Lauren has also published several non-fiction articles in the area of public safety. She currently works in the field of risk and human resource management, and lives in Virginia with her husband and daughters.

To Mom and Dad, who always encouraged me to aim for the stars, and to Dan, who lifted me up so I could reach.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 1

If only she’d run the red light. Jillian Moseby darted a nervous glance at the man crouched in the passenger seat and willed her heartbeat to slow. The gun was still pointed at her.

“I won’t hurt you. Do exactly as I say. No sudden movements and no questions until we’re outta here. Got it?”

She nodded mutely. Dear God, don’t let him harm them. How could this possibly happen? She’d been in the bloody States for less than a week…and now this.

“Look in your rearview mirror,” he instructed. “Tell me what’s happening at the building on the corner.”

“Which side of the street?” She was surprised. Her voice didn’t sound completely terror-stricken. His, on the other hand, had been controlled and unwavering. Whoever he was, he certainly wasn’t panicking. Unlike her. And his eyes… Jillian supposed she should be grateful they weren’t glassy and wild from drugs or fear. No, the eyes watching her were the gold of molten metal and came with the most intense, scrutinizing stare she’d ever been subjected to.

“My side, one block back. Look close.”

“Uh, right.” She glanced in the rearview mirror, aware that his gaze followed her every movement. There would be no chance for escape. Not from this man. He wouldn’t miss a trick. Her hands tightened on the wheel, her gaze flicking to the back seat. Not that she could ever leave them behind.

It was a miracle how children could sleep through just about anything. Two sandy heads were lolled over, nearly touching in their side-by-side car seats. And James was sprawled out next to them. He was sleeping, too, thank God. She couldn’t take a round of his six-year-old’s questions right now.

She knew the golden-haired stranger hadn’t seen the kids yet. He couldn’t have. Why, he’d nearly jerked the door off the hinges when he’d dived into the car. Now he was crouched down so low, he was more on the floor than on the passenger seat. Obviously he didn’t want to be seen.

“What d’ya see?”

Jillian adjusted the mirror away from the children and angled it back so she could see the corner. “Three—no, four—men standing outside the building.” She winced when he cursed and prayed he would lower his voice. Another shout like that and he’d wake the babies.

“Two of them just crossed to the other side.” She bit her lip as the news caused another round of swearing.

“What now? Where are they?”

His tone was angry but not fearful, not really. He sounded more…frustrated that he was relegated to the floor of her hire. She had the awful suspicion he would rather be out there—in the thick of it. She shifted her glance from his tawny eyes back to the mirror. “Goodness. One of them is walking straight up the middle of the street. He’s looking into car windows.”

“Dammit. Watch the light. As soon as it turns, I want you to step on it. Don’t floor it,” he ordered, “or we’ll attract more attention. And don’t let him catch you looking at him or we’ll be in big trouble.”

“Oh, dear.”

“What? What the hell is it?”

His tone was definitely exasperated. She heard him cock the gun in his hand, felt his tension as he readied himself for battle and suppressed a tremor of pure terror. She wasn’t ready for the chaos of America. She’d been very happy living outside of London. Far outside, actually. Away from traffic and guns and violence….

Still, it might be best to reassure the lunatic before he started firing the bloody weapon with the babies in the back seat. Only a week ago she’d made a vow to Annie that she would protect them with her life. Who knew she’d be tested so soon? “He’s not here yet. He’s about four cars away…and he’s got a gun, too.”

“No kidding.”

She kept an eye on the traffic signal. They’d been sitting here forever. It had to change soon. Three seconds later she gunned the engine and the overburdened station wagon groaned, vibrating in protest as it lurched forward. She heard the stranger mutter yet another curse under his breath and was fairly certain his angry glare had something to do with her driving ability.

“You said floor it, so I did.” She shot him a scowl as his tension began to rub off on her. It evaporated a moment later when she saw his face twist with pain. “Are you all right? Can I drop you somewhere?” Compassion overrode her fear for an instant. Perhaps if she helped him, he would let them go sooner. “I’ve got a long way to go today and I really can’t afford to get sidetracked.”

“You cahn’t?”

“No, I—” She hesitated when she realized he was poking fun at her.

“Goin’ all the way back to England?”

“No. I’m traveling to New Hampshire. I’m starting a new job there.” She glanced cautiously to her right. His voice had an edge to it that hadn’t been there a few minutes earlier. “What’s wrong, now? You look a little green. Are you feeling all right?”

“No, lady. I’m not having one of my best days. Matter of fact, I feel like hell.” He ran one hand along his unshaven jawline as though he were uncertain of what to do next. The white lines around his mouth took on stark relief in his coppery, tanned face.

“I hate to ask, and I hope you’ll understand, but I really must know whether you’re a good guy or a bad guy.” She hesitated a moment and then plunged on before he had time to respond. “And if you are a good guy, then could you please point that thing away from me? It’s rather nerve-racking.”

His eyes registered shock and Jillian wasn’t sure if it was at her audacity or if he simply found her question too stupid to respond to. Whatever the reason, it had the desired effect. She heard a little click as he did something to the gun and pointed it at the floor.

“I’m…a good guy, I guess. Although I know I don’t look like one. I’m a special agent with the DEA. I’d show you my badge if I had it, but I’ve been working undercover, so you’re gonna have to take my word on it for the moment.”

“What’s the DEA?”

“Drug Enforcement Agency. What you just experienced back there was a drug bust gone south.”

“Gone south?” Her gaze left the road for a moment to slide over his. She still hadn’t mastered driving on the wrong side of the road, so she didn’t let her eyes rest on him for very long. Just long enough to see the flash of an earring in his ear. A small stud that was nearly hidden by long strands of wavy, golden hair. He reminded her of one of the surfers she’d seen on the telly.

“Yeah, south. Fu— I mean, screwed up. Those guys back there weren’t supposed to get away. I thought I had ’em, but something went wrong. I was lucky to get out alive.” He shifted uncomfortably on the floor. His frame was so large she simply couldn’t imagine how he’d wedged himself in down there to begin with.

“You smell sort of…like you’re on fire.”

“That was the explosion.”

“Explosion? What explosion?”

“Jeez, lady. Try to stay in one lane, okay?”

She righted the car and swallowed hard. Her heart was lodged in her throat again. “I think you can come up now.” She checked the rearview mirror.

“Is this your car or a rental?”

“It’s a rental. Why?”

“I don’t want to get blood all over the seat.”

“Blood,” she cried as she turned to look down at him. Unfortunately the car moved with her and she careered across a lane of traffic before steadying the wheel. “Good Lord, you’re shot!”

“Dammit. Stop doing that or I’ll end up with a heart attack.”

“I’ve got to get you to a hospital.” Lord only knew what this would do to her schedule.

Jillian bit her lip and carefully glanced down at him. She shouldn’t be thinking like that. The poor man was shot. “Tell me where it is and I’ll take you there, straightaway.”

“No dice. Not till I know what went wrong back there. I can’t risk going to the hospital.” He stifled a groan as he tried to hoist himself up onto the passenger seat. “Just give me a minute to figure out what to do next.”

Her gaze ran over him, searching for the gaping hole she knew had to be somewhere on his body. “Where were you shot?”

The stranger groaned louder and finessed his large frame into the seat. “I suppose I should be grateful. I mean, I wasn’t wearing a vest or anything.” His sigh was one of relief when he finally eased back against the passenger seat cushions. “But it still hurts.”

“Where? You’re not going to die on me, are you?”

“No, lady. I don’t think I’m that lucky. He shot me in the ass.”

It took all the restraint she had not to burst out laughing. But the white line around his mouth and the beads of sweat on his forehead convinced her this was not a laughing matter.

“Who’s shot in the ass?”

The stranger nearly flew out of his seat before whirling around to find the voice. The blood had drained from his face when he turned back to face Jillian. “Sweet Jesus! You’ve got three kids back there. Why didn’t you say something?”

“Well, there really hasn’t been time yet. I mean, what with the guns and the chase thing going on.” She tilted the rearview mirror back to the rear seat and found James’s questioning eyes. “This is James, who is six years old and who is going to be very quiet for the next few minutes, right, love?”

James ignored her, turning to stare at the stranger. “Are you shot in the ass? Is it a big hole? Can I see it?”

“James! Please do not say ‘ass’ again. If I hear that word come out of your mouth, I will wash it out with soap.” She darted a reproving look at the stranger. “I would appreciate it if you could please curse more quietly. James knows better, but Samuel is only three.”

The stranger stared at her as though she’d lost her mind. And frankly, perhaps she bloody well had. Jillian had been thinking for the past several days that she truly must be crazy. To give up her comfortable, predictable life back home to face this…wilderness. She’d inherited not only a new country and a new job, but three small children to boot. And in the move, she’d lost Ian. He’d wanted no part of her adventure. Especially not the inheritance part.

“What’s his name, Jilly?”

Her thoughts interrupted, she turned startled eyes to the stranger. “Why, I don’t—”

“Gianetti. Lucas—Luke Gianetti.”

He smiled for the first time, a small, tight smile of pain and frustration. But oh, my. What a smile. Why, he’d be absolutely devastating if he put his mind to it. She’d bet he would clean up well, too. He desperately needed a shave and a haircut, although truthfully, his hair was such a wonderful shade of gold that he looked rather dangerous with it long and wild.

“And you’re Jilly?”

“Jillian, actually. Jillian Moseby.”

“S’nice to meet you, Jillian.” He reached across to shake her hand and she noticed he’d left the gun on the floor. He turned and waved over his shoulder to James. “Nice to meet you, James. What’s the other little one’s name?”

“That’s my baby sister, Sarah. She’s only four months old. She cries a lot when she’s not sleeping.”

Luke’s forehead wrinkled at that bit of news and his voice dropped to a whisper. “I see. Well, let’s not wake her up, okay?”

James giggled in the back seat and Jillian actually smiled. It was the first time since she’d arrived that she’d heard the little boy laugh or seen him fascinated by anything. Of course, it had taken an armed intruder with a gunshot wound to his buttocks to do it.

Luke’s suddenly intent gaze zeroed back in on her. “Okay. Here’s what we’re gonna do. The closest big city is Charleston. Let’s get out to the highway and zip up there. I’ll show you where to drop me and then you guys can take off. I’ll need your name and address, just in case I have to reach you about this case I’m workin’.”

“But what about your…wound? Will you be all right?”

He shrugged it off as though they were discussing a splinter. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“Wow, Luke, can I see it? Before you leave, I mean?”

Luke shook his head in disbelief. “I dunno, kid. We’ll have to wait and see.”

Jillian followed his directions and soon they were cruising up the highway, north to Charleston and eventually all the way to New Hampshire. To a new life. One involving far more responsibility than she’d ever been charged with before. A new job and a new mother. To three children. How would she possibly hold it all together?

They’d travelled nearly thirty minutes when she remembered something Luke had said earlier. James had been peppering the poor man with questions nearly nonstop since he’d wakened. And, she was forced to admit, Luke had been very patient, taking the time to answer each one. Unfortunately, each question grew more gory than the last.

“What’s it like to shoot someone? Have you ever killed—”

“James, hush for a minute,” she interrupted. “What did you mean about that man back there?”

“What about him?” She felt the intensity of his gaze shift to her.

“You said we’d be in trouble if he saw us.” She made sure to hold the wheel in place when she turned, her glance seeking confirmation.

Luke’s eyes narrowed when he caught her troubled gaze. “And?”

“Well, he saw me looking at him in the rearview mirror.”

She sensed him stiffen in the seat beside her. “Are you sure about that?”

She nodded. “Very sure. It was just a tiny peek, actually. But his eyes met mine for a second before I could look away. It’s funny…he even looked familiar, but that’s rather impossible, don’t you think?” She felt the tension vibrating in him, felt it coil around her in the little car and felt her heart speed up in response. Her gaze left the road again. “Is that very bad?”

His face had gone tight, his features hardening like one of those ancient stone carvings her father’d insisted she study as a child. “Get off the highway at the next exit. Do it fast.”

“Look, I appreciate your concern—truly, I do. But it was a terribly small glimpse and I simply can’t afford to get sidetracked. I’m not exactly sure how far New Hampshire is and I need to get us all settled before I begin my new job.”

“Lady, you’re not goin’ anywhere.” He glanced over his shoulder, craning his neck to get a look out the rear window, but not before giving James a nod and a quick smile. Then he rolled down the passenger window and readjusted the side mirror.

“I don’t think you understand—”

“Here. Get off here.” When she hesitated, he shifted in his seat to face her and she nearly shivered at the expression in his eyes. The mesmerizing golden eyes had turned flat and cold. Luke now appeared ready for battle. He looked…deadly.

“I’m taking you into protective custody. You will do exactly as I tell you until such time that I deem it safe to release you.”

“But—”

“Here.” He jerked the wheel to the right. “Now move it.”

Luke couldn’t believe the streak of bad luck he was having. First, the bust had gone haywire for no apparent reason. There had been no screwups on his end, of that he was damn sure. But the vibes had been off from the beginning, starting when he’d woken up this morning. Something had gnawed away at his gut and it hadn’t been nerves. He was ready for this op. Hell, it was a piece of cake compared to some of the others.

He’d infiltrated Sloan’s group without a hitch. Everything had been building to this day. Every piece of evidence. Every witness. Every damn buy he’d been forced to make. It had been smooth. Maybe that was the hitch. Maybe it had been too easy. Easy that was, until the moment he and Murphy had heard the rumbling of the building coming down around them. Then they’d run like hell. He knew Murphy’d cleared the building, had seen him and the Assistant Special Agent in Charge running for cover—

His thoughts were jarred by the shrill cries of a baby. Oh, yeah. Baby Sarah had quite a set of lungs on her. He shook his head and tried to block out the sound. His butt was on fire. That had been the second thing to go wrong. It was bad enough the bust had gone bad, but then to get shot, and in the ass, no less.

He hobbled into the bathroom and swallowed three more Tylenol. Anything to take the edge off the throbbing pain. The bleeding had stopped, but the bullet was still in there. Had been in there for more than twelve hours now. It had to come out or he’d be in worse trouble. Soon he’d be forced to ask the harried-looking English chick for help. Oh, how he dreaded it.

He limped back out to the main room. Had they been the best of friends or a tight-knit little family, the motel room would’ve been much too small for the five of them. But they were virtual strangers. The room felt like a closet. He glanced over at Jillian. She was trying to soothe the baby, but her awkward, rocking motions seemed to be jarring Sarah rather than calming her.

“Here. Give her to me. I’ll try to shut her up while you make a bottle.”

Her glance was grateful, but laced with guilt. He winked at her to take the sting out of his words and was rewarded with a small, wan smile. Mary Poppins looked pooped. Still, she was surprisingly resilient. It couldn’t be every day she was waylaid by a federal agent and forced into hiding. So far she seemed to be making the best of it.

He couldn’t let them go…not until he knew for sure it was safe. And nothing about this op felt safe, at least not yet. His stomach still felt as though he’d had too much caffeine. He still hadn’t made contact with the rest of the team, hadn’t been able to reach his partner. Since the explosion, every number was relentlessly busy. Hell, they could be dead for all he knew. Very little was being said on the television news, but he knew for a fact the explosion had collapsed half the building.

Jillian turned to face the next set of clinging hands. Samuel was still awake and rarin’ to go. Luke watched in amazement while she settled the rambunctious three-year-old at the tiny kitchenette with a box of crayons that seemingly materialized out of thin air. James was busy mixing the bottle. He wondered about that. Did all kids that age help so much? James seemed far older than six years. Six going on forty. Then again, what did he know?

So far, in his thirty-two years on the planet, all he’d managed to achieve was one former wife. They’d never gotten around to having kids. Never had the chance, he corrected. If it’d been up to him, it would’ve happened eventually. If Linda had only waited.

His thoughts returned to Jillian. A pretty name, just unusual enough to be memorable. And if her name hadn’t caught his attention, her accent would have. He was surprised to learn she’d been born in the States. When he’d asked, she’d said Kansas. Of course, it had come out like “Cahnsus” and he’d thought for a second she’d been messing with him.

But her big eyes had gotten all wide and she’d said that no, really, she had been born there and moved back to England when she was two. She had pretty eyes, actually—a stormy gray-blue that seemed to change with her moods. He watched her smile at James and tussle his hair. She was lanky and lean, but in a careless, nonathletic sort of way. And she looked nothing at all like her three children, he realized. The kids could’ve been his, if genetics were based solely on their coloring. They were all blond, pink-cheeked cherubs with hazel eyes, while Jillian’s hair was long and brown and untamed.

“You’re good at this.” Jillian appeared again, testing the bottle on her arm. “She’s stopped crying. Have little ones of your own, do you?”

He smiled and continued to bounce Sarah. And wondered if she could see the regret he always felt when he allowed himself to think about it. “No. Just a lot of practice with my nephews.”

Her smile was genuine when she moved closer to stroke Sarah’s fuzzy head. “Perhaps you can give me lessons? I’m still learning all this.” She leaned into him, brushing his shoulder as she planted a kiss on Sarah’s cheek and lifted the baby from his arms. “Time for dinner, sweetheart.”

“I’d figure with three of them, you’d be a pro by now.” Man, she smelled great. A tantalizing aroma of something sweet and fresh washed over him and he had to consciously fight the urge to inhale her scent again. He ignored the tingle of current that shot down his arm, choosing instead to grope for a logical reason. Static electricity. That made sense. Or close quarters. Perfectly good reason.

That, or the fact that it had been a ridiculously long time since he’d been to bed with a woman. He took a long, slow breath. No chance of that happening anytime soon, not with a bullet in his ass. Not with a day-care center at ground zero of their musty-smelling motel room.

“They’ve only been mine for three days now,” Jilly admitted as she accepted the baby from Luke’s outstretched arms, unsure whether she wanted to delve into such a personal situation with a complete and utter stranger. Since she’d picked the children up at social services, there’d been one ordeal after another to deal with and an absolute mountain of paperwork.

“Wait a minute. I’m confused. Aren’t these your kids?” The poor man seemed to be in agony. Luke hadn’t said much, but she could tell by the way he limped that he was in a great deal of pain. For a fleeting moment, though, his grim expression was replaced with one of confusion.

“Well, they are now. I’ve already filed the papers to adopt them.”

“You flew all the way over here to adopt kids? What made you do that?”

Her gaze shifted to the corner of the room where James sat in a squeaky armchair, his eyes glued to the telly. In three days James hadn’t so much as mentioned his mum. But she knew Annie’s death had hit him hard. Good Lord, she was still reeling herself. But instinct told her he would speak of Annie when he was ready. Still a complete novice at the motherhood thing, she’d cautiously followed his lead.

Luke’s gaze travelled to James before returning to settle on her. She hoisted Sarah awkwardly onto her shoulder. “M-my sister. She passed away two weeks—”

“I didn’t mean to pry,” he interrupted, clearly uneasy. “I’m very sorry to hear that.”

The flash of compassion in his eyes nearly undid her composure. Her gaze still on James, she blinked back the tears that lately seemed to be too readily available. Lowering her voice, she continued. “I promised my sister I’d come over here and—”

He held up one hand. “I get the picture. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

When she allowed herself to think about it, Annie’s death was like a raw gaping wound. Not that she’d had all that much time to think about anything. For once, she was grateful when Sarah began fussing. There was nothing like a hungry baby to get her mind refocused on priorities. She would have a lifetime to grieve for all she’d lost. A lifetime to wonder over what might have been. If she’d only come sooner.

Crossing to the bed, she sat and slid across the spread to lean back against the headboard. She snuggled Sarah into one arm before slipping the bottle into her mouth. Her sweet little face unscrunched immediately as she began happily sucking. And Jillian sighed with relief.

“She’s a noisy little thing, this one. I wonder if all babies are this loud.”

“I wouldn’t be the right person to ask that question. But if I remember correctly, my nephews’ screams came damn close to shattering glass when they were hungry.” Luke sat hesitantly on the edge of a chair, wincing when his rear end made contact with the vinyl. “I guess that’s nature’s way of ensuring they get what they need.”

“So what happens now, Mr. Gianetti? Have you made contact with your captain, or whatever he is?” Sarah’s eyes seemed to follow the sound of her voice and she giggled in spite of her exhaustion. Lord, she felt like a limp dish rag. No wonder Nanny Margaret had always been so foul come suppertime. After all these years, she finally understood why Nanny’s evening sherry had been such a sacred event. She’d probably been bloody worn out after endless days spent chasing around after her and Annie.

“He’s called a SAC…not a captain.”

“What’s a sack?” Leave it to the Yanks to abbreviate everything. Why did everything have to be shortened to initials? What was their damn hurry?

“Not sack,” he answered patiently. “SAC—Special Agent in Charge. He’s the boss. Then there’s an ASAC—Assistant Special Agent in Charge. Then way down the totem pole, there’s me.”

“And what initials are you?” she interrupted.

“I’m just an SA… Special Agent. Actually I’m a UCSA.”

“A what?”

A fleeting smile crossed his features. “An Undercover SA.”

It was a code she’d have to break. Why, it would probably be even worse on a college campus. Kids today spoke a completely different language. With any luck, she’d be able to hide out in her library. Although she doubted it. She’d been thrilled to accept Dartmouth’s offer. Archiving one of the finest collections of eighteenth-century papers was a dream come true. But then Rosemary had gone and ruined it. Her mother’s catty reminder of their lineage had planted a niggling worry in her mind. Had they only wanted her because of who she was?

Sarah gurgled, catching her attention, and Jilly was content to let her suspicions slide away. Rosemary wouldn’t ruin this for her. She would prove to Dartmouth—and to herself—that they’d made an excellent choice.

“So, SA Luke, were you able to reach any of your initial friends?” She tore her gaze from Sarah and glanced around their meager room. The furniture was threadbare and probably decades old. And the overriding scent was one of mildew. The smell reminded her of the ancient castles her father had dragged his daughters across the continent to visit. Every school holiday had been spent “appreciating” another dreary estate. The only difference now was the temperature. The castles had been cold and dank. Here in the States, it was warm and far too humid for her taste.

“When can we leave this fine establishment?”

“I still don’t know yet.” Agent Gianetti’s tone was clearly defensive.

“We simply can’t stay here indefinitely.” She raised one eyebrow when Sarah belched indelicately. “Well, excuse you, young lady.”

That got a smile out of Luke. “She’s not half bad. With a little practice, she just may have a future.”

“Mr. Gianetti, please. Sarah is going to wear dresses and have tea parties, not learn to burp and spit.” She narrowed her eyes. “Now, please tell me what’s going on.”

“The good news is that we’re safe—temporarily.”

“Safe? From what? You said no one followed us.” He settled back in his chair and then sucked in a sharp breath of pain. “Are you all right?”

He gritted his teeth and nodded. “I’m okay.”

“You don’t look okay,” she persisted.

“I just need to stand up.” His eyes glazed with pain, he grasped the table and hoisted himself from the chair. “The bad news is that I haven’t reached anyone on the team. It’s like the call won’t even go through. All the circuits are down, or some damn thing. And my cell phone isn’t working.”

“You don’t think that man will actually look for us, do you?”

How much did he risk telling her? For the moment she was calm, rational. And Luke wanted to keep it that way. The last thing he needed was a hysterical woman on his hands. Hell, yes, Sloan would be looking for them. He was probably searching right now. Sloan abided by the drug dealers’ creed. No witnesses.

“Until I’m positive it’s safe, we’re not going anywhere. As soon as it gets dark, I’ll try to contact my partner from the pay phone out front.”

Luke was not operating from a position of strength. He had to come up with a plan. They were all dangerously vulnerable to Sloan and his gang of rent-a-thugs. He was saddled not only with the sexy Jillian, but with her three children—babies, actually. A fast escape would be out of the question, so he had to make sure they wouldn’t need one. A quick inventory had already confirmed he didn’t have much cash and until he connected with his partner and found out what had gone wrong, he wouldn’t risk using a credit card. Even his undercover card would be too easy to trace.