Soldier's Pregnancy Protocol

A funny catch lodged in Erin’s chest as she watched Alec pat the thug down, ostensibly checking for other weapons, then return to the SUV. He’d saved her life. For that, she figured she owed him the benefit of the doubt, even if the notion of not reporting this terrifying incident to the police galled her. She glanced at the letter sitting on the console between the front seats. What was so darned important about that letter that men were willing to kill for it?

Alec ducked his head in the back seat again and sawed on the strap securing the second man.

“So what am I supposed to do?” she asked. “Just go back home and pretend nothing happened?”

Alec’s hands stilled, and he glanced up at her, his mouth set in a grim line.

Erin wondered if Alec ever smiled, wondered about the life he led that kept his expression so hard and humorless. Wondered how a smile would transform his stony features.

“Once I get this guy out, I want you to dump this vehicle somewhere, then walk about a mile before you call a cab. Don’t go back to your house. They know you live there, and you’d be an easy mark.”

Erin pressed a hand to her stomach as anxiety fueled the wave of nausea that swamped her. “And why would they come back for me? I thought it was you and this Daniel LeCroix person’s letter that they were after.”

He sighed, and the muscles in his jaw jumped. “Because I made a mistake.”

“A mistake?”

He grunted and continued his work. “I came back for you. Rescued you from them.”

She scoffed. “You see that as a mistake?”

“Now they believe I care whether you live or die. They’ll see you as a way to get to me.”

Dread settled in her chest like a rock.

“Do you have a friend or relative you can stay with for a while?”

A hollow ache plucked at her. Loneliness. Grief. And guilt, her constant companion of late. “No. My parents are dead, and I just moved into town last week.”

He scowled. “Then go to a hotel. And be careful. Keep your door locked and don’t talk to anyone.”

“But—” Before she had a chance to voice her complaint, the scuffle of feet drew Alec’s attention to the side of the storage building. The SUV driver had regained consciousness. Hands still bound by the seat belt, the groggy man stumbled to his feet. And ran.

“Damn!” Alec snatched his gun from his waistband and foisted it toward her. “Watch this guy. If he so much as blinks, shoot him!”

Spinning away, Alec sprinted after the fleeing driver. Erin gaped at Alec’s retreating back then down at the weapon he’d shoved in her hands. Shoot Mr. Knife? Even if her own life were at stake, she wasn’t sure she could ever pull the trigger, kill another human being.

Her stomach swirled, and she wished she had some crackers to settle the queasiness. She’d moved to Colorado hoping to build a new life, to escape the turmoil and tragedy that had plagued her the past two years. To heal, to make a fresh start, and to nurture Bradley’s last gift to her. But she’d only been in her new home a week, and already bad luck and danger had found her again. She had to be jinxed.

Hands shaking, she set the gun on the passenger’s seat, terrified her trembling hands would make the gun fire accidentally.

Her gaze darted to the letter—the root of this whole fiasco, the source of the danger she was in. She lifted the missive and held it to the sunlight, trying to see what was inside. Useless. The envelope paper was too thick.

It occurred to her that, like the driver, Knife could rouse, could surprise her, could overpower her. Could steal the letter and escape.

Then all of Alec’s efforts to hold on to the letter and rescue her would have been in vain. Mind spinning, Erin turned the letter over in her hand. Maybe she couldn’t bring herself to shoot Knife if needed, but she could do something to protect Daniel’s letter.

Grumbling to himself in disgust, Alec balled his hands as he stormed back to the storage units where he’d left Erin. He’d lost his prey in the maze of alleys, small homes and parked cars. Worse than that, he’d taken off after the cretin so fast, he’d left Daniel’s letter sitting on the front console of the SUV. While mapping out a plan to keep Erin safe, he’d allowed her fearful eyes, her rebellious pout to distract him. For a man who prided himself on perfection, today’s accumulating list of mistakes chafed.

He sidled up to the back wall of the storage building and peered around the corner to survey the scene at the SUV. If Erin had lost control of the situation, he didn’t want to walk into a confrontation unaware.

Erin paced back and forth behind the rear bumper. Her attention remained glued down the driveway, in the direction he’d pursued the driver. As she marched back and forth, she gnawed a thumbnail, then frowned at the chewed finger. A bulge at the small of her back told him where she’d stashed his SIG-Sauer.

He didn’t see the other thug, but that could mean the man was still slumped in the back seat.

A shadow shifted near the front fender, and Alec tensed. He pulled out the knife he’d been using to cut the seat belts and narrowed his gaze. Grass rustled by the driver’s-side tire.

Alec moved out, skulking toward the SUV with the knife ready. He’d only made it a few steps before cretin number two sprang from behind the vehicle.

The bastard lofted a thick branch and closed in on Erin.

“Erin, look out!” Alec shouted.

Too late. The heavy branch crashed down on her skull, and she crumpled to the ground. Alec’s gut lurched with a sickening dread.

As her assailant bolted down the driveway, he snatched something from the front pocket of her jeans. An envelope.

Alec cursed. Racing to Erin, he fished the SIG-Sauer out from under her shirt and darted down the drive after the escaping thief. He fired a shot as the man dashed around the corner of a clapboard house. Training told Alec to go after the fleeing suspect, but the woman lying, unmoving, in the dirt spoke to something deeper in Alec’s soul.

You left Daniel.

He stared at the spot where Erin’s assailant had disappeared another moment, a razor pain slicing through him when he thought of the lost letter, the danger Daniel could be in with his missive in the wrong hands.

Yet seeing Daniel’s handwriting had fired new hope in him that his partner was alive. Guilt and regret fueled his determination to get his search back on track.

As soon as he was certain Erin was safe.

He’d be damned if he knew why this woman compelled him to break with procedure, to jeopardize his mission, to act counter to everything he’d been trained to do. The inconsistency needled him.

Rushing back down the driveway, he dropped to his knees beside the unconscious woman and felt for a pulse. He released a deep breath when he found a strong throbbing beat in her neck.

Pulling her into his lap, he carefully examined her head for the goose egg sure to be swelling on her scalp. Her feminine scent teased him, and her silky curls coiled seductively around his fingers. Her limp body, her slack face, her vulnerability speared to his core. He’d been trained to steel himself against softer emotions, sympathies that could jeopardize a mission and blur his professional focus. But something about this woman slipped under his defenses and burrowed deep inside him.

Wincing, Erin jerked and raised a hand to the spot on her head where he probed. “Ow.”

Her eyelids fluttered open. With a gasp, she tried to sit up, but he caught her shoulders and eased her back to his lap. “Easy. You took a nasty blow. Go slow.”

Her puppy-dog eyes turned up to his face. “Alec?”

So she could talk and her short-term memory was intact. Both good signs. He focused on her pupils rather than the sexy sweetness of her mahogany eyes. Even. No abnormal dilation.

“Are you dizzy? Numb anywhere?” he asked.

She squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed her head. “I … No. My head hurts like fire, though. What happened?”

“Your charge cracked a limb over your head.” He was prepared to chastise her for her inattention to her prisoner, but she moaned in misery as she sat up.

“Knife! Where’d he—” She whipped her head around, apparently looking for the thug, then yelped and cradled her head again.