Kitabı oku: «Protector S.o.s.»

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The SHEY GROUP is a private paramilitary organization headed by Logan Kincaid. These operatives take on high-risk, high-stakes missions in accord with U.S. government policy. All members are former CIA, FBI or military operatives with top-level security clearances and specialized skills. Members maintain close ties to the underground intelligence network and conduct high-level, behind-the-scenes operations for the government as well as private clients and corporations.

The U.S. government will disavow any connection to SHEY GROUP operations. Employ at your own risk.

Dear Harlequin Intrigue Reader,

It’s the most wonderful time of the year! And we have six breathtaking books this month that will make the season even brighter….

THE LANDRY BROTHERS are back! We can’t think of a better way to kick off our December lineup than with this long-anticipated new installment in Kelsey Roberts’s popular series about seven rascally brothers, born and bred in Montana. In Bedside Manner, chaos rips through the town of Jasper when Dr. Chance Landry finds himself framed for murder…and targeted for love! Check back this April for the next title, Chasing Secrets. Also this month, watch for Protector S.O.S. by Susan Kearney. This HEROES INC. story spotlights an elite operative and his ex-lover who maneuver stormy waters—and a smoldering attraction—as they race to neutralize a dangerous hostage situation.

The adrenaline keeps on pumping with Agent-in-Charge by Leigh Riker, a fast-paced mystery. You’ll be bewitched by this month’s ECLIPSE selection—Eden’s Shadow by veteran author Jenna Ryan. This tantalizing gothic unravels a shadowy mystery and casts a magical spell over an enamored duo. And the excitement doesn’t stop there! Jessica Andersen returns to the lineup with her riveting new medical thriller, Body Search, about two hot-blooded doctors who are stranded together in a windswept coastal town and work around the clock to combat a deadly outbreak.

Finally this month, watch for Secret Defender by Debbi Rawlins—a provocative woman-in-jeopardy tale featuring an iron-willed hero who will stop at nothing to protect a headstrong heiress…even kidnap her for her own good.

Best wishes for a joyous holiday season from all of us at Harlequin Intrigue.

Sincerely,

Denise O’Sullivan

Senior Editor, Harlequin Intrigue

Protector S.O.S.
Susan Kearney

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Susan Kearney used to set herself on fire four times a day; now she does something really hot—she writes romantic suspense. While she no longer performs her signature fire dive (she’s taken up figure skating), she never runs out of ideas for characters and plots. A business graduate from the University of Michigan, Susan writes full-time. She resides in a small town outside of Tampa, Florida, with her husband and children, and a spoiled Boston terrier. Visit her at www.SusanKearney.com.

Dear Reader,

My HEROES INC. miniseries has been so popular that Harlequin has let me write more of them. Travis and Sandy’s story in Protector S.O.S. was inspired by a genuine love of the sea. I have many fond memories of sailing during New Jersey summers, and while I have never encountered the kind of storm described in this book, I have a vivid imagination. Besides, pushing my characters to their limits, mentally, physically and emotionally is fun for me to write and, hopefully, will be a great read. I always enjoy hearing from my readers, and you can reach me through my Web site at www.SusanKearney.com.

Best,

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Travis Cantrel—Ex-Special Forces, currently employed by the Shey Group, Travis is accustomed to danger, but when he returns home to search for his kidnapped sister, his heart is in the most danger of all.

Sandy Vale—Travis’s ex-lover, she now runs a marina and delivers sailboats with best friend and partner Ellie Cantrel.

Ellie Cantrel—Abducted by strangers, she never gives up hope of rescue. And meanwhile she wonders if Alan Lavelle is a friend or a foe.

Logan Kincaid—The leader of the Shey Group. He never hesitates to support the men who work for him.

Martin Vanderpelt—A mysterious and eccentric millionaire who has a plan—one that can endanger the entire eastern seaboard of the United States.

Alan Lavelle—A man with his own agenda.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Prologue

“You’re late,” Sandy Vale’s eccentric millionaire client complained, his tone filled with annoyance, his wrinkled jowls sagging at his throat.

When Sandy and her first mate, Ellie Cantrel, delivered new sailboats to their buyers, most of them beamed from ear to ear. But not Martin Vanderpelt. He frowned, his lips pressed firmly together, as if he already knew that he would find something to complain about.

Sure that the cabin was shipshape, Sandy hopped off the deck, tied the bowline around the cleat on the dock, then straightened and tried to ignore Martin Vanderpelt’s scowl. “We ran into a little rough weather, sir. Nothing your boat couldn’t handle.”

Ellie positioned bumpers between the boat and the dock to protect the hull from scrapes, and Vanderpelt’s glance lingered over Ellie’s tanned legs. “For the money I paid, I expected your delivery to be on time.”

“Sorry you had to wait, but I think you’ll be pleased. She’s a beauty, Mr. Vanderpelt.” Sandy held out her hand in a friendly manner, pretending she didn’t notice the coldness in Vanderpelt’s expression. After a week at sea, she normally enjoyed landfall. But as clouds scudded over the sun and the air temperature dropped ten degrees, Vanderpelt ignored her handshake and climbed aboard the thirty-six-foot vessel, and Sandy wished she was back at sea.

She didn’t like the way Vanderpelt had looked at Ellie. Not that lots of men didn’t look at her friend. But something cold in his eyes warned her that he hadn’t made all his millions by being a nice guy.

Reminding herself that Vanderpelt wasn’t just any client and that she needed his goodwill, she bit back her sarcastic “So pleased to meet you, too.” She couldn’t afford to mouth off—not when he had bought a half dozen sailboats for his wealthy guests to race around the island. Despite the rumors about Vanderpelt’s rude manners, Sandy and Ellie were hoping for repeat business. However, while they might not be chosen to deliver Vanderpelt’s next boats, it would be worse if he complained about their service to the boat manufacturer who’d hired them.

Ellie and Sandy needed the extra money they earned delivering boats to help support their fledgling marina. Okay, maybe not so fledgling. They’d expanded over the last two years, adding a lucrative retail supply business to their main operation of leasing slips and selling fuel. They no longer worried over paying their bills, but they had more plans for expansion in the works.

Vanderpelt headed down below and Ellie rolled her smoky gray eyes at the sky, signaling what she thought of the high-and-mighty Vanderpelt. Sandy shrugged. During the past year, they’d had other unusual clients. A buyer in Florida had met them on his dock in his pajamas, a glass of champagne in his hand and a buxom blonde under each arm. A movie star in L.A. had burst into tears at the sight of his boat, totally overcome at finally being able to afford the yacht he’d always dreamed of. Sometimes Sandy felt like Santa Claus—but not today.

She distracted herself from Vanderpelt’s displeasure by perusing his private island. Located about a hundred miles due east of Nova Scotia, and part of mainland Canada, the forbidding rocky shoreline and chain-link fence around the perimeter, with No Trespassing signs posted every ten feet, looked more like a military compound than the luxurious home of an eccentric millionaire.

A stately two-story house with a steeply pitched roof perched on tall pilings next to a clearing that looked like a helicopter pad. Vanderpelt’s pilot was supposed to fly them back to Bar Harbor, Maine, where they could rent a car, head home and regroup before heading out to sea again.

Vanderpelt’s thinning blond head poked out of the cabin, followed by the rest of him. Sandy had hoped his expression would have lightened to pleasure after seeing the rich mahogany cabinetry, the immaculate galley and the well-appointed cabin, decorated by a top Toronto designer.

But his blue eyes had narrowed, and the furrow between his brows had deepened to a fierce glower. “This is not my boat.”

Sandy and Ellie exchanged “uh-oh” glances. Although Sandy’s concern was intensifying with the storm blowing in, she kept her voice pleasant. “Mr. Vanderpelt. Lightning struck the mast of your boat and melted part of the hull. The manufacturer wanted you to have a brand-new, undamaged boat. You’re lucky they had a replacement.”

“You brought me a substitute? That’s not good enough. It’s unacceptable,” he sputtered.

Sandy kept her tone businesslike to cover her annoyance. The customer wasn’t supposed to know that his original boat had been damaged, and she was delivering a substitute, but obviously someone had screwed up either the design or the decor, clueing him in to the switch. “Sir, if you have a beef with the manufacturer, I suggest you call them. I’m a subcontractor. I was paid to deliver this boat to you. If the boat’s unsatisfactory, you need to take that up with Danzler Marine. Not me.”

“Damn right. You wait right here.” Vanderpelt stalked off, his cheeks flushed with rage.

“Like we’re going anywhere,” Ellie muttered. “There’s not another piece of land within a day’s sail.” She glanced at the dark cumulus clouds rolling in. “I think I’d prefer facing the storm and the sea to his mood.”

“Hang on. We’ll be out of here soon enough.”

“I’ve got a bad feeling about him.” Ellie shivered and glanced over her shoulder at Sandy, her usual dancing green eyes dimmed.

Sandy sighed. “I never understood why Danzler Marine didn’t tell Vanderpelt up-front about the lightning, but now I know. They didn’t want to deal with his temper.” Sandy straightened her spine. “Keep in mind that he’s so rich, he’s probably accustomed to his every whim being catered to. When something goes wrong, he has all the self-restraint of a two-year-old.”

Vanderpelt returned shortly with another man at his side. His cohort was about five foot ten, with dark, thinning hair, heavy-lidded eyes and pale skin that suggested he spent a lot of time indoors. His obsequious manner, and the duffel bag he carried, indicated he was an employee rather than a guest. As he blinked at them through his thick glasses, his bland face suggested to Sandy that the man was accustomed to Vanderpelt’s rages. However, in contrast to his meek demeanor, his bulky jacket unnerved her.

“What’s up?” Sandy asked, a lump of fear lodging in her gut. Ellie’s brother, Travis, had worn jackets that bulged under the arm. Like Travis, this man was carrying a weapon. Unlike Travis, he had a shifty look to him. And the fact that Vanderpelt had brought muscle didn’t bode well for Sandy and Ellie.

Vanderpelt raised his voice to be heard over the rising wind, the clanging halyards and the waves lashing the dock. “There’s been a change of plans. Alan will return with you and make sure you bring back the one I ordered.”

“Sorry, we don’t take passengers.” Sandy tried to politely refuse to take Alan.

Vanderpelt shook his head. “My agent at Danzler has agreed.”

“Ellie and I can handle the job by ourselves. We sailed her here, we’ll sail her back, together.” And that couldn’t be soon enough. Sandy untied the front cleat. As if reading her mind, Ellie started the engine.

That’s when Alan drew his gun and aimed it at Ellie. He spoke with no inflection. “We’re following Mr. Vanderpelt’s orders. All of us.”

He stepped aboard and motioned with his gun for Ellie to get under way. Eyes wide with fear, Ellie stared at Sandy, silently begging her to do something.

Oh…my…God. They were being hijacked at gunpoint. And there was not a damn thing Sandy could do about it.

Chapter One

“Travis? Travis? Damn it. Answer the phone.” Travis Cantrel listened to his voice mail, but didn’t need to wait for the caller to identify herself to recognize Sandy Vale’s thick, Maine accent. It reminded him of lazy days at sea, erotic nights and stormy arguments. Odd, how they’d been so good in bed together, when the rest of the time all they’d done was fight. Travis hadn’t heard from her in years. In fact, ever since their breakup eight years ago, the few times he’d been back home, Sandy had conveniently disappeared. His sister, Ellie, and Sandy were business partners at the rundown marina they’d bought, but, although he and Sandy had had no contact in close to a decade, her tone of voice told him she was in a panic.

“Travis, Ellie’s in trouble. Get home. Now. And don’t bring in the authorities. Whatever you do, don’t do anything until we talk in person. Got to go.”

Travis didn’t wait to hear more. Although Sandy had called from a phone number he didn’t recognize, he called her cell, his stomach rising up to his throat. Sandy never panicked. Hell, she didn’t worry over the little stuff, or the big stuff. So if she was hysterical, Ellie must be… Had there been a car accident? Was Ellie sick? A million worries rushed through his head. Travis wasn’t just Ellie’s big brother. After their parents’ deaths in a boating accident—he’d been twenty-two, Ellie seventeen—he’d been responsible for her. Sure, she was all grown up now. But as he stuffed clothing and toiletries into a suitcase, his pulse sped like a skidding race car about to slam into a wall.

Why the hell wasn’t Sandy answering her phone? Why hadn’t she told him what was wrong in her message?

Travis kept calling during the taxi ride to the Newark airport, where he could hop a commercial flight to Maine. After finishing a job in Alabama, he’d flown into New York City for some R and R and to visit his friend, Ryker Stevens. So he was free to pick up and go. Not that his boss, Logan Kincaid, would mind. Family came first, and Ellie was Travis’s only family.

Travis called the Shey Group headquarters to let his boss know he was unavailable until further notice, and to ask for a trace on the phone Sandy had used. He found out the call had come from a pay phone in the back of a bar in the early hours of the morning. But why would she do that when she had a perfectly good cell phone?

Impatient for news, he called Sandy again just before his morning flight took off, and as soon as he landed at noon. He tried Ellie at home, at the marina and on her cell. No answer. Frantic, Travis rented a car and sped down the coast, cutting the two-hour drive to an hour and a half.

Normally he would have called the hospital, the police department, Ellie’s other friends. But Sandy’s warning made him wait. However, if Sandy and Ellie weren’t at the Bayside Marina when he arrived, he would ask Kincaid and the Shey Group for help.

Travis slid to a stop in the gravel parking lot of Bayside Marina. The newly painted sign, the trimmed landscaping and the new roof made the old place look more upscale. Ellie had told him about the retail store, but he hadn’t expected the parking lot to be so crowded. But it was Saturday afternoon, and tourists and locals alike would want to enjoy the summer sunshine.

Travis bypassed the impressive new store and headed for the marina’s office. Striding along the dock, he automatically took in the changes. Sandy and Ellie had added two new fuel pumps and several rows of slips. They’d purchased a new forklift, and one of the operators was in the process of moving a boat from dry storage to the water.

On a busy Saturday, Ellie was usually tuning up one of the boat engines. He and his sister shared an aptitude for all things mechanical, and he kept searching for her to pop up from an engine compartment, a smudge of grease on her cheek. But when he didn’t see Ellie anywhere, disappointment and worry slashed him. She wasn’t in the bait house, or directing traffic at the ramp, or at the tool shed.

Travis headed directly to the office. The old mahogany door sported new gold-leaf lettering that read Vale & Cantrel Enterprises, with operating hours posted right next to a plastic sign that said Closed. Travis knocked anyway. The girls often used the Closed sign instead of Do Not Disturb, which everyone ignored. Besides, he could see Sandy through the glass, her head bent as she perused assorted paperwork.

Sandy’s waist-length tresses were gone. Now, bright yellow sunglasses, worn above her forehead, held her shoulder-length blond locks out of her eyes, giving him a clear view of her face. Sandy wasn’t model pretty. Her mouth was a bit too full and her nose had a cute little bump where she’d broken it windsailing. Her flawless skin was sun-kissed and far too tan. Nevertheless, Sandy was the only woman he’d ever met who sizzled. She had this unexplainable electric energy to her that never failed to engage his senses—at full throttle. Long ago, the passion between them had been charged, but their arguments had been long, horrendous and ugly. Once, she’d been like a fancy-free flame that attracted him with her heat and brightness, but when he’d gotten too close, she hadn’t just scorched him, she’d burned him to the bone.

Nothing short of fear for Ellie could have brought him back. Bracing for bad news, stiffening his defenses against Sandy’s magnificent eyes—they changed color like the sea, from sparkling turquoise when she was happy, to kelp-green when her temper raged, he strode into the office.

A sixth sense must have told her he was at the door, because he’d no more than turned the knob before she’d shot out of her seat behind the desk and rushed to him, flung her arms around his neck and planted a kiss on his mouth. A kiss that sent his senses spinning. A kiss that made the intervening years disappear with magic. A kiss that overloaded his pleasure centers and stole his breath.

Whoa. After eight years, this was not the reunion he’d imagined. No how. No way. Sandy might be one laid-back woman, but she could bear a grudge for a long time. After their last fight, he expected her to hold his words against him forever.

She tasted of salt and sea air and a citrus fragrance that reminded him of spiced lemons. And she fit against him just the way he remembered. Automatically, he raised his arms around her. Their tongues tangled, and in another moment she was going to find out that she still made all the blood in his brain flow south. But she pulled back, her eyes a tempestuous green, and placed a finger over his lips.

What the hell? She hadn’t spoken to him in years, then left a worrisome message on his voice mail, and now she didn’t want him to speak. Every brain cell cried out for him to ask about Ellie, but, as if reading his mind, Sandy shook her head.

“You still good with engines, Travis?”

Confused, his eyes narrowed. Sandy didn’t play games. She hadn’t placed a worried-crazy message on his voice mail without good reason. And from the tension in her shoulders to the tight grip of her hand on his arm, he knew something was wrong.

“You called me—”

“To fix a motor. Didn’t you say you needed a job?” Her eyes begged him to play along.

Job? They hadn’t even spoken. What the hell was going on here?

He shrugged to release the tension between his shoulder blades. “Yeah. I’m at loose ends right now. I could use some work, but I didn’t bring my tools.”

Relief warmed the chill from her eyes. She grabbed a sweater from a hook by the door. “Tools I can lend you. Can you start today?”

“Do I get time and a half?”

“That depends how good you are.”

“You know how good I am,” he bantered playfully, but if she didn’t explain soon, his teeth might crack from the way he was gnashing them. Accustomed to cloak-and-dagger stuff at work, Travis hadn’t expected to return home to a mystery.

Years ago, when he’d been responsible for Ellie, he’d been in a relationship with Sandy. Many of their arguments had been over Ellie. Sandy had considered him too restrictive and over-the-top protective. She’d once told him that if he could have, he’d never have let Ellie out of the house, never mind on a date. But Ellie had enjoyed pushing him to the wall, dating bikers, surfers and all-around misfits. At first he’d been pleased when Sandy had taken Ellie under her wing, but then he’d realized Sandy had been encouraging his sister’s rebelliousness. After numerous heated arguments, he and Sandy had split up—but the girls had become fast friends.

Travis had been none too pleased when Ellie and Sandy joined forces in business. He didn’t like the idea of his sister gallivanting all over the ocean with only one other woman. They were vulnerable, and obviously something bad had happened or Sandy wouldn’t have called him.

“Come on.” Sandy led him through the office door onto the dock. “I’m in critical need of a top-notch mechanic.”

“What—”

“Give me a second.” She squeezed his hand so tight, the bones creaked. “The boat’s over here. The motor’s on the fritz.”

“You want to clarify?”

Sandy tugged the sunglasses from her forehead down over her eyes. “She’s overheating when kept below two knots. The owner has out-of-town guests and is impatient to take her out tomorrow.” Travis didn’t give a damn. He wanted to know about Ellie. But he held his tongue, grabbed a toolbox from the shed and acted as if he intended to fix the motor as Sandy led him to a day-sailer with an outboard on its transom.

He half expected Sandy to tell him that Ellie had hooked up with some guy with a record. Or some loner who lived on a houseboat, collected disability checks and drank away his benefits. Ellie had always had a soft spot for those who were down and out. And she never thought of the danger she might be placing herself in. Every time Travis had tried to talk with her, she’d told him off.

So he’d taught her to fight dirty. But she’d refused to learn to shoot a weapon or keep one aboard. Sandy hadn’t been any more reasonable. Both of them seemed to believe that they were impervious to trouble. But Travis had always known that two women alone at sea were targets. It was amazing they’d gotten along just fine on their own—although he had no doubts that Ellie filtered what she told him about her adventures. There was no telling how many close calls they’d had, how many scrapes they’d been in that he didn’t know about.

Since the two women listened to nothing he said, perhaps his ignorance was bliss. It had certainly been less stressful—until now.

Travis stepped aboard and headed for the engine. He checked the fuel first. The tank was full. He yanked the power cord once and wasn’t all that surprised when the motor fired right up. There was no extra smoke, no sign of the overheating she’d mentioned. In fact, the only thing close to overheating was his temper.

Travis didn’t want to tell Sandy, “I told you so.” He wanted to know that his sister was safe, that Sandy had brought him here for no reason other than to irritate him. But the knot in his gut told him otherwise. So did the tension in Sandy’s jaw, where a muscle ticked. He’d never seen her wound so tight.

With her laid-back attitude, Sandy usually looked at life through mellow-toned glasses. But her live-and-let-live philosophy seemed to apply to everyone but Travis. According to Sandy, years ago, he could do nothing right. He knew nothing about women, nothing about teenage girls and nothing about parenting.

What made their fights so tempestuous was that Sandy had been partially right. But what twenty-two-year-old dude was ready to take on raising a rebellious teenage sister and have a serious relationship? Travis had done his best. And he couldn’t have screwed up too badly with Ellie because she had turned out just fine. She didn’t do drugs. She didn’t drink too much. And she had good friends. If she went too easily from one man to the next, Travis didn’t see what he could do about it. Ellie was a grown woman, but obviously she’d tangled with something bad enough for Sandy to break her silent treatment of Travis and call him.

He wanted an explanation, but Sandy left him to man the tiller while she cast off the lines. Amid gulls squawking, and other boaters waving as they passed by, they cruised out of the protected harbor. Travis kept one eye on the temperature gauge and saw no sign of a malfunction.

Sandy returned to the cockpit and sat next to him, crossing her long, tanned legs. “Sorry for the dramatics. I’m pretty sure that my office and phones are bugged.”

Travis frowned, pulled the tiller to his body and motored around a channel marker. “Where’s Ellie?”

“Our last client kidnapped her.”

“What?” Travis didn’t hold back several four-letter words. His temper, already on a short fuse, lit up. It worried him that Sandy didn’t even bother to shout back—a sure sign of serious trouble.

“At least pretend to fiddle with the engine, and I’ll tell you everything.” While he removed the engine’s hood, Sandy’s eyes brimmed with tears and she wiped them off her cheeks. He’d never seen her cry, and his gut churned with fear. “We’d been paid by Danzler to deliver a boat to a private island off Nova Scotia owned by a Martin Vanderpelt. When we got there, Vanderpelt examined the boat, discovered it wasn’t the exact one he’d ordered and went ballistic.”

“I don’t understand.”

“His boat had been struck by lightning. Danzler had a duplicate hull on hand and filled his order. But Vanderpelt insisted we return for the original damaged hull and made us take his associate, Alan Lavelle, with us.”

“You took on a passenger?”

“He pulled a gun on us.”

“Go on.” Travis forced himself to appear outwardly calm, but inside he tensed up with fear for Ellie. Taking out a wrench from the toolbox, he pretended to use it, his concerns for Ellie escalating with every word Sandy spoke. The defeat lacing her words scared him as much as her story.

“So the three of us sailed back to Danzler Marine only to learn Vanderpelt’s original boat had been stolen. We decided to return home to wait for Danzler, the insurance company and the police to find the boat, or decide what to do next. That’s when Alan grabbed Ellie and forced her into a motorboat that came alongside us. He told me that when I found Vanderpelt’s boat and brought it to the island, he’d release Ellie.”

“Why didn’t you call the cops?”

“He said I’d be watched. And that if I went to the authorities, Ellie would suffer consequences.” Sandy met his eyes, her own still teary. “I called you from a pay phone, but was afraid to answer your calls. They are watching me. I don’t know who or where or how, but I’ve heard clicks on my phone, and there are people hanging around the marina that I’ve never seen before.”

Travis forced himself into professional mode. He couldn’t allow his fears to overwhelm him if he was going to help his sister. “When did they take Ellie?”

“Yesterday afternoon.”

“What kind of boat was it?”

“A Grady-White with double Mercury engines. The first five numbers of the serial are 47583.”

“You did good.” He tossed the wrench back into the toolbox. “What can you tell me about Alan Lavelle?”

“Not much. He was medium height, medium build. Nondescript. He didn’t talk much, and said nothing about himself or Vanderpelt. He didn’t seem to know boats, but the closer we got to land, the edgier he became.”

“You think he took Ellie back to Vanderpelt’s island?”

“I don’t know.” Sandy’s voice cracked. “He could have taken her anywhere.”

“What did Danzler Marine say about the missing boat?”

“They filed a police report and are collecting a claim from their insurance company.” She shrugged. “They’ll probably be happier if the boat’s never found. Lightning weakened the hull, and that’s not easy to fix.”

He saw regret in her eyes, and something more. “What else?”

“Alan called me this morning. He told me I had to deliver the boat alone. But I protested, telling him I couldn’t handle it by myself and needed a mechanic. So he okayed one crew member.”

“That was good thinking.” Sandy had done remarkably well under trying circumstances. This kind of pressure often caused people to fall apart, and they failed to think clearly. He made his voice warm, despite the chill in his heart. “I’m glad you called me.”

“I didn’t have much choice.” She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders as if bracing for a blow. He didn’t understand why. They might have fought like dogs over a scrap of meat, but they’d never come to blows. Although during some of their past fights, Sandy had made him angry enough to lose his temper, Travis had never lashed out with violence. But she was steeling herself as if she expected him to go postal.